#pinstripes and sheer shirts for this man always

[areacodefan]

From all.things.austin on IG

I feel like I missed this photo. Seems impossible given my 10-month nonstop obsession, but it’s also nice to know I can still be surprised.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

date night, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: A first date is always nerve-wracking. It can made you anxious and shaky - but alas for Jungkook, he’s anxious and shaky for a slightly different reason. After all, his date is his dom.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; non-idol!AU; dom/sub themes; (slightly) public vibrator use; feels; a ball gag is involved; smut (overstimulation, striptease, m-masturbation, mild restraint, cowgirl); noona dom!reader x sub!Jungkook

Technically a continuation of customer service and ii, but can be read alone.

--

“Sorry, I’m late, Jungkook. Work ran a little longer than I would like.”

He turned around in his chair, looking startled. “Oh, no, it’s fi–”

He froze in mid-sentence. You walked around him, slowly removing your long black coat. One shoulder first, and then the other. It lingered on your arms for just a second before you slid it off, placing it with one fell swoop in the back the dining chair. Red silk blouse with a small black bow at the neck, tight black pencil skirt. Sheer black tights, slim black heels. You sat down, slowly lifting your lashes to view your date.

Jeon Jungkook.

He stared at you; mouth slightly open.

“Something wrong?”

Jungkook looked down at his black t-shirt and black jeans. At least he was wearing a gray pinstriped statin dress shirt as a jacket. You appreciated the low neckline of the shirt.

“N-no,” he gulped, sitting down slowly. He almost missed the chair. You raised an eyebrow at him. “I just… I’ve never seen you wear something like that.”

You tilted her head. “You did ask me on a date.”

Jungkook’s ears flushed red. He placed his hands over them, trying to hide. He was in public, after all. It was a nice restaurant, in the more upscale part of town. People were dressed a lot less fancy than you were, but then again, that’s how you operated.

Plus, making Jungkook embarrassed was now one of your life goals.

You picked up the menu, crossing one of your legs over the other. The round table was small and your movement raised the end of the tablecloth, your heel gently scraping against Jungkook’s pant leg. He started, brown doe eyes shaking. You calmly opened the menu, retreating your foot as you did so. Jungkook scrambled with his, first holding it upside down, before righting it.

“Are you nervous?” you inquired casually.

“U-um…” Jungkook stuttered, gulping. “A little.”

“Did you put it on?” you asked, not looking up from the menu. It was American steakhouse cuisine, hotel-style. The pan-roasted salmon caught your eye.  

“… Y-yes.” Jungkook’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m s-sorry I had to ask how to put it on.”

You lifted your eyes from the text, looking straight into his brown orbs.

“Do not apologize. Asking questions is good. I was happy to answer you.”

You said it very seriously, no playfulness. He chewed on his lip and nodded tightly. Your gaze softened and you placed your menu down for a moment.

“Jungkook.” You spoke quietly, your hand covering his. “It’s me.” You smiled at him. You traced his knuckles, running your fingertips over them. “You can tell me anything, remember? Any question, any frustration, any thought you want to share with me, I will listen.”

His lips parted; eyes locked with yours. You withdrew your hand with a gentle smile. He lowered his head, swallowing thickly. You took that as your cue to look back at your menu.

“… Thank you.”

Your eyes floated back up as Jungkook held the menu over his face, not wanting to show you his tears. Or maybe not you specifically, but the people around you. You wanted to reach over and pat his head, but you let him discreetly wipe his eyes behind the menu before resurfacing, cheeks flushed. A lone, fallen tear clung to his sharp jaw. You reached forward delicately and flicked it away. He turned his head to look at you, eyes wide.

“My pretty boy.”

The mole under his lower lip quivered. He mouthed the words back to you – my? – and you smirked a little.

A waiter came and asked what you would like to drink. Jungkook ordered a red wine and you simply asked for water. He frowned at you, tilting his head.

“You can order something more. I’ll pay.”

You chuckled. “We’ll split it. Besides, I need a clear head.” You rested your elbow on the table and balanced your chin on the back of your hand, cocking a single eyebrow. “For you.”

You didn’t need to touch Jungkook’s pulse to know it skyrocketed.

“Aren’t you… going to turn it on?”

Your free hand slipped between the folds of your coat behind you. The small, sleek black remote was tucked in your inner pocket. You pulled it out, playing with it on your fingers. Jungkook’s eyes widened, watching your every move. You stopped, holding it between your index finger and middle finger. Eyes on Jungkook’s brown orbs, teasing smile on your lips. Then you lowered your hand under the table.

“What if I don’t turn it on at all?” you wondered out loud.

Jungkook squirmed in his seat. “N-noona…”

“Hmm?”

He pouted at you, putting on his best puppy eyes. “Don’t be mean.”

The waiter showed up again with your drinks. He asked you what you wanted to order, staring at your face for far too long. It was the kind of stare you knew, the fascination of your authoritative presence paired with your sharp winged eyeliner and stained red lips. That and your clearly professional style of dress. You were already in command mode from teasing Jungkook. One look at Jungkook’s stiffened stance and you knew it was bothering him. You spoke slowly and deliberately, forcing the waiter to hang on to your every word.

“Of course,” the waiter concluded, scribbling your order down. “And for you, sir?”

Jungkook’s jaw was so tense that he had to unhinge it for a second to respond. “Ah, the ribeye s-steak–”

You pressed a button under the table, expression unchanging.

Jungkook’s body immediately tensed up, eyes wildly flickering to you. You took a long, slow sip of your water, face blank.

“And how would you like it done?”

“Medium rare,” Jungkook gritted out, fingers holding the menu so tightly that they were turning white.

“Sides?” the waiter said pleasantly.

“Asparagus and roasted p-potatoes.” He kept staring at you, the panic evident in his eyes.

“An excellent choice. I’ll take your menus.”

Jungkook hesitated for just a second before handing it over, instantly clenching his hands into fists when the waiter turned his attention to you.

“I’ll put in the order right away.”

“Thank you,” you replied cheerfully.

He turned his back and Jungkook shut his eyes, sucking in a tight breath. You played with the remote under the table, not quite paying attention to him. You pressed another button and Jungkook gasped, hands spreading flat against the table.

“N-noona… it’s too g-good…”

You raised your eyebrows in mock surprise. “Ah, my hand must have slipped.” You flicked through the settings absentmindedly, Jungkook jerking slightly next to you. You got it back to the original setting, a steady, low vibration. “Sorry about that.”

Jungkook took one look at you and you didn’t even try to hide your slyness.

“I f-feel it everywhere,” he whispered, voice trembling.

“That’s what a cock and balls vibrator does, Jungkook,” you replied, each word turning Jungkook redder and redder.

“Don’t say that too loud,” he pleaded, eyes darting from side to side. The music and chatting were far too loud for anyone to hear your words. But that didn’t matter, because you could tell from Jungkook’s shallow pants and blown-out pupils that he was far too turned on by the idea to tell you to stop.

“Safe word?”

“Euphoria,” he said automatically, brown orbs back on you.

You turned off the vibrator. His hand shot out, grabbing yours under the table.

“N-no.” Jungkook’s breathing hitched. “You… don’t have to stop.” His fingers touched the remote’s buttons, running over them. He pulled his chair forward, pressing his hips into the seat. His eyes on yours, begging for more. You smiled sweetly and leaned over, lips on his ear. He stiffened, hand tightening around yours. You breathed hotly against his skin, hearing his soft gasp as you did so.

“Naughty boy,” you purred, running your tongue across his earlobe, lightly flicking his earrings. “Does it feel good knowing I control your pleasure? Does it feel good knowing you please noona?”

His fingertips dug into your skirt, the faintest whimper against your ear.

“Wanna please you so bad, noona.” Jungkook’s voice was nearly a desperate whine. “Don’t care who sees. I just want to be good for you.”

You placed a chaste kiss on his ear and retreated, pulling your hand out of his grasp. He slowly opened his eyes, his dark brown orbs smokey with lust. If you asked him to get on his knees right now, you were quite sure he would have done it.

“I’m going to wash my hands,” you announced, standing up.

Jungkook looked up at you, startled. “O-oh.” He sounded disappointed.

“You should too.”

He gazed at his hands with a confused expression before standing up.

“Okay.”

-

Jungkook stood in front of the restaurant’s bathroom mirror, rolling up his sleeves. The pinstriped satin fabric was being stubborn and refusing to stay up, so he had to fold it all the way to his elbows in order to wash his hands. He turned on the water and looked himself over as he rubbed the soap over his knuckles. Jungkook thought he looked pretty good today, with a little bit of eyeshadow and curled eyelashes. He tried, at least.

But it really was nothing compared to how she looked.

He chewed on his lower lip, feeling his heartbeat accelerate as he thought of her clean eyeliner, her glowing skin, her pretty red-stained lips. The lip color matched her red top, a small detail that Jungkook appreciated. And she carried herself so well, head high, unafraid of the world.

He wanted to be like that, just like his noona.

“Nice tattoos, man.”

Jungkook jolted out of his thoughts. The man on his left was complimenting him. But before he could say anything at all, the vibrator on his crotch came to life. His eyes widened, trying to hide his surprise in the mirror. Oh god.

“O-oh!” He turned off the water with his wrist. What was she thinking? He was right next to someone! Literally less than a foot away from them! And there were other people in the bathroom too–

The vibrations increased a notch.

“Thanks.” Jungkook jerked slightly, heading for a stall immediately. The man blinked, confused as to why he would go right after washing his hands. But Jungkook couldn’t give less of a shit as he threw himself inside the stall, silently gasping as the setting changed again to a slow but rough vibration that radiated all the way up to his chest. He moaned under his breath, leaning against the door, thrusting his hips into the air. Fuck. It felt so good. Even knowing that other people were around him, only a thin wall away, made it feel even better.

Jungkook knew it was wrong, he knew it was bad, but it felt, so, so very good.

He had to touch. No one was looking, right? No one could see him, right? He looked around him even though the only things around was the beige walls of the stall and the toilet. He unbuttoned his jeans. It felt like he could hear it, but perhaps that was only because it was against his body. The setting changed again – to a faster, harder, triple beat – and Jungkook nearly collided with the wall beside him, legs shaking. Unrelenting, continuous pleasure rocketed through him. He mouthed her name into the air, eyes half-lidded and hazy. If only she could see him now. If only she was right there, watching him, eyes on him and only him, watching him suffer by her hand…

He nearly whimpered out loud at the thought.

He tried to pull the zipper down, but it must have hit the vibrator unexpectedly because he instantly heard a sharp whirring sound. Jungkook immediately zipped it back up, terrified. He pressed his ear against the door, trying to tell if anyone heard. It was hard to know. He could hear running water from the sinks. Hopefully that masked the noise.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Hastily, he tried to pull it out, nearly moaning as the action pressed the zipper down onto his crotch, amplifying the vibrations on his inner thighs. He looked at the screen, seeing the text notification.

Having fun?

It was not a mistake. She had turned it on deliberately.

He struggled to stay silent, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he typed a response.

Someone will know.

The three black dots flashed for only a moment.

Not if you’re quiet, pretty boy.

His cheeks burned hot. Oh, how he loved it when she called him pretty. He could almost hear her saying it too, in that seductive, dark tone of hers. It never sounded mean or malicious when she said it. She said it like it turned her on and that was all Jungkook wanted.

Let’s see if you can last one minute.

He furrowed his brows. It already felt like hours, but he had only been in the bathroom for a few minutes.

One minute of

Jungkook accidentally pressed send even though he wasn’t done with the message yet. He meant to type, “One minute of what?” but his hand slipped because, all of a sudden, the strongest vibrations he had ever felt in his entire life attacked his cock and balls, heavy, thudding, rough and so good. He shoved a knuckle in his mouth, biting down hard as it assaulted him, bolts of pleasure going up his thighs and ass, every nerve on fire. It took every fiber of his being to stay silent and not scream. His eyes rolled back his head and he felt pre-cum soaking into his underwear. Oh, shit, he was a fucking mess. He pressed his back fully against the stall wall, breathing hard around his knuckle as the back of his free hand, still holding his phone, pressed down on the vibrator, increasing the sensation across his thighs, spreading it to the deepest points of his body.

His entire crotch throbbed at the assault. He couldn’t take it off. He couldn’t stop it. He was helpless, trembling, barely able to stand, forced to feel the constant, almost overpowering, arousal until she decided it was time to stop, until she released him from her grasp.

And that was exactly what Jungkook wanted.

-

You sat at the table, your phone in your hands, a small smirk on your lips. Your eyes watched the seconds on your timer app tick down, down. Perhaps a minute was too long. Well, actually, you were simply impatient to see Jungkook again. It frustrated you that you couldn’t see his reaction, but you knew it would have a good result. Trust the process.

You put your phone down and pressed the off button. Then you calmly tucked the remote in your coat.

“Here you are, miss.”

The food arrived. You moved out of the way, letting the waiter put down the savory dishes. The waiter was trying to catch your eye. You tucked your tongue in your cheek and raised your eyebrows slightly. It was very likely that he wasn’t going to hit on you. It took someone real fucking brave to hit on you and this guy wasn’t it.

Real brave and on his knees, begging you with his arms tied behind his back.

“Thank you,” you said simply as Jungkook finally appeared. His dark, curled hair was around his eyes, slightly sticking to his forehead. He looked haggard, as if he had just run a mile. He glared at the waiter, but he was already leaving.

“I don’t like him.”

“He’s not going to do anything.”

Jungkook puffed his cheeks. “How do you know?”

You picked up your knife. “He doesn’t have the balls to do anything.”

Your eyes locked with Jungkook’s. Dark brown pools of lust, shimmering with jealousy. Your lips upturned into a slow smile.

“How is noona’s little pet? Satisfied?”

Oh, he looked so delicious and innocent when his eyes went wide and his ears turned red like that.

-

“A-ah…”

“Shh…”

You wiped him down gently with a warm, damp cloth, kneeling in front of him. His black jeans and underwear were on the floor. They definitely needed to be washed. The vibrator was beside you, slick with pre-cum and sweat.

“I-I can do it, noona,” Jungkook whined, head tipping back. He was sitting on his bed, legs spread for you as you wiped him clean. His cock and balls were red and sensitive.

“Let noona take care of you,” you murmured. “Aftercare is important to me.”

Ah, his neck looked so delectable exposed like that. But, no, you had things to do You stood up, taking the vibrator with you. He was only in his black t-shirt, legs spread, eyes closed and head tilted back, resting on his elbows. Looking like a full twelve-course meal. You turned away from the sight, heading for the master bathroom. You turned the water on, cleaning the soft silicone with Jungkook’s gentle soap. You let it soak for a moment. Your black briefcase was open on the counter and you folded the microfiber towel you used, placing it in a plastic bag before sealing it.

You were always a stickler for details. Being prepared was always better than making do.

You lifted your head as you heard Jungkook approach the doorframe. He still hadn’t bothered to put pants on. This guy. It didn’t surprise you.

“Can I help?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head gently as you drained the water to double rinse the toy. “You should rest. You had a tiring dinner,” you added, a hint of teasing in your voice.

He pouted and came up to you anyway, watching you clean. “You’re so careful.”

You chuckled. “I like to keep clean, that’s all.”

You turned off the water and shook off the excess. You grabbed another spare microfiber towel from your briefcase, drying it off.

“You’re always prepared too.”

You shrugged. “When there’s an important task at hand, you bring your tools.”

You stopped moving. Your eyes lifted, looking straight into the mirror. Jungkook’s fingers were playing with the black bow of your blouse. He was so close to you that you could feel his heat, his breath on your hair.

“You always take such good care of me.”

He looked at you underneath his lashes. You knew what he was doing.

“There’s always a bitter to my sweet,” you replied, edge of warning to your tone.

He pulled gently at one end of the bow, teasing it apart.

“Even if you’re poisoned,” Jungkook whispered against your scalp, the sides of his lips curving upwards. “I’ll drink you anyway.”

You wrapped the vibrator in the towel, placing it on your briefcase. Your hand came up and you wrapped each finger slowly around his, stopping him as the bow fell into two black ribbons. You exhaled, long and deep, trying to calm your racing heart. Jungkook’s expression changed. He looked a little lost.

“Why don’t you want to show me your body?” he whispered, voice trembling.

You let out a small puff.

“Are you scared I won’t like it?” His brows furrowed with worry. “Because I will. You’re the prettiest woman in the whole world.”

You smiled into the mirror. “There are a lot of pretty women in this world.”

Jungkook shook his head furiously, his long hair flying everywhere. “No one like you.”

You chuckled. “You haven’t seen it.”

“I know already,” he insisted. He moved behind you, hands hovering over your figure. “I want these legs. These hips. This ass.” He bit his tongue; afraid he had gone too far. When you didn’t berate him, he continued. “This waist. This chest.” His tone changed, becoming tenderer, gentler. “I want these arms around me. These hands to hold me, to touch me.” His fingers brushed your cheek. “These eyes to watch me. These lips to say my name, to smile for me.” Jungkook let his fingers trail down. He placed his palm under your chin, making eye contact.

“Look how pretty you are.”

You smiled at your words repeated back to you. Your hesitation remained. Your chin brushed against his hand as you spoke.

“There are a lot of doms out there, Jungkook. Different ones, maybe better ones,” you said calmly. “I’m just the introduction. The one who opened the door.”

You didn’t want to get attached. You didn’t want to get your hopes up that someone was actually interested in you and not your ability to turn them into a crying, pleasure-filled mess. You had been in a lot of relationships. Long ones, short ones. Meaningful ones that taught you life lessons. But they all ended the same.

The you they wanted was the version they wanted to see. You couldn’t blame them. That’s how you presented yourself, after all. That’s the version they were given, not the insecure you, the unconfident you, the weak you. If only for a second you could control yourself and not start a relationship by straight up fucking them.

Ah, the foolish you.

“Noona.”

Jungkook leaned his chin against your shoulder, staring at you through the mirror. You slowly looked up at him, not realizing your eyes had drifted away.

“For you, I would do anything.” Jungkook didn’t look away from your moment of weakness. “I would bleed. I would sweat. I would cry. Anything. Not because you’re a dom.” Thump. How was it possible for someone to have such soft brown eyes? “You’re you. You’re the one I want to walk through the open door with. You’re the one I feel comfortable with. You’re the one who let me be who I am.”

You chuckled, lowering your head, but Jungkook lifted your chin back up, smiling at you.

“I’m really not that cool, Jungkook.”

He leaned his head against yours. “But you are. Look at these clothes.” His wiggled his eyebrows at you, making you laugh. “Look at that smile.” He nuzzled your hair, breathing in your scent. Your hands were braced on the counter and he placed one of his over yours, thumb caressing your fingers. “I don’t want to run from you. I don’t want to escape you. I want to be tied up by you. I want to serve your every whim.” He began to play with the black ribbons of your red blouse again, gasping into your hair. You let him. It was too late now.

“I want to be your pretty boy, noona.”

Fuck.

You sighed slightly in disbelief. What was this, the third time you were falling for him? You must be crazy, letting him drag you into his desires, giving him what he wanted every single time. What were you going to do, say no?

Fuck no, you weren’t.

You grabbed his hand once again, squeezing hard. Jungkook started, seeing your cold gaze in the bathroom mirror.

“Get on the bed. Naked.”

-

There were two things you always kept with you.

Your smartphone and a ball gag.

Why? Old habits die hard. Besides, a lot of people could use a damn ball gag and do you a favor by shutting the fuck up. You had zero tolerance for the intolerant and ignorant.

You placed it in Jungkook’s mouth, shushing him softly as he whimpered, doe eyes wide as you affixed it on, nice and tight. You were straddling his chest, still fully clothed, the black ribbons of your bow brushing against his tan, toned pecs.

“That’s a good boy,” you purred, placing a kiss on the gag. He mumbled your name, muffled by the rubber ball in his teeth. You lifted a hand to your ear playfully. “Ah, what’s that? You’ll keep your hands on the bed like an obedient boy and not touch me?” He was shaking his head but you ignored him, straightening. “That’s a good idea.”

He was attempting to pout around the gag and it was adorable.

“Now, now, if you listen well, noona will reward you.”

You scooted back a little, your pencil skirt riding up. His eyes went wide, seeing the garters holding your sheer thigh-highs up. Your hand slid down his chest, feather-light. He was non-verbally pleading for more but you retreated your hand, quirking an eyebrow. You lifted one of your legs and pressed your knee between his thighs, forcing them apart. His eyelids fluttered, a muffled moan as the silky pantyhose rubbed lightly against his cock and balls, already sensitive from the events prior.

“Look at me,” you commanded.

He did, clenching fistfuls of sheets, breathing hard. The inky black tattoos of his right arm were a stark contrast to the white sheets. His arms were flexed taut with anticipation. You played with the buttons of the red silk, slowly undoing them one by one, almost lazily. The smooth fabric slid off one shoulder, revealing one of the molded cups of your satin, longline bra with delicate black lace. You gently pushed off the second shoulder with two fingers, leaving it half-hanging on your arms, still tucked into your skirt.

Jungkook’s eyes were so big you were half-afraid they were going to fall out of his head.

You teased the ends out, tossing it aside. It slipped to the floor with a soft flump. You took the art of the striptease seriously. Thumb and index finger on the side zipper of your skirt, using the other hand to hold it taut so the zipper fell apart perfectly. It slid down your legs, landing onto Jungkook’s thighs. One leg out and then the other. You reached down and gently pulled it back with one hand. The stiff fabric fluttered across his semi-hard cock. He hissed, pressing his head against the pillows.

“Very good so far.”

His eyes lit up at the compliment. You slid off his body, and he lifted himself to his elbows, confused. You turned around, looking back at him with your peripheral vision. One handed, pinching the hooks of your bra. You heard him swallow loudly. You held the cups, letting the straps fall down your shoulders naturally. You hooked one finger on one of the straps, pulling your bra away from your body, dropping it onto the floor. Then you slipped your thumbs on each side of your panties, pushing down, down, not bending your legs, your ass in the air.

Jungkook’s moan was stifled by the ball gag.

You turned around slowly, one hand under your breasts, fingers curled and taut. You grazed your nails across your breasts, gasping softly as they scraped your hard nipples.

His cock was insanely hard, sticking straight up as his eyes roamed over your body.

“Go ahead,” you purred, standing at the end of his bed. “Touch yourself.”

Jungkook whimpered, his hands drifting up his thigh. You pressed your index finger against one of your nipples, pushing it in a slow circle. He groaned as he wrapped his hand around his cock, eyes glued to your breasts.

“Not what you wanted to hear, naughty boy?” He shook his head, whining as he slowly stroked himself, his other hand cupping his balls and rubbing them softly. They must still be sensitive and throbbing from the vibrator and he was heightening the dull ache by touching them more.

Fuck, he really was perfection.

You placed your hands under your breasts and kneaded them, your nipples bouncing in the air. You could tell he wanted to rip off his ball gag and beg for more. You watched him touch himself, curious about how he would feel inside you. It made you wet just thinking about it, your juices sliding down your thighs. Your fingers drifted down your stomach, smirking as Jungkook’s eyes followed them.

“You wanna be in here, handsome boy?” you breathed, tongue licking your teeth. You parted your legs lightly, spreading your pussy lips with two fingers. It made a wet, squishing noise as you forced it open.

You saw Jungkook grip his cock hard, stopping his own orgasm. His whole body shuddered, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. His jaw was clenched tight, pupils dilated.

You removed your hands from your body. Walked around the bed, followed by Jungkook’s eyes. Stopping right next to him, you forcefully turned his head to face the other way, unfastening the ball gag. It fell from his mouth, bouncing on the bed. Your fingers danced across his neck, tracing his chiseled jaw. It was wet with saliva and you smeared it against his lips. He gasped and you slid two fingers into his mouth, pressing his tongue down.

You climbed onto the bed, condom in your free hand.

“Ready for your prize, pretty boy?”

Jungkook moaned, the sound vibrating though your hand.

“Y-yes, noona.”

You pulled your hand back, strings of saliva snapping against his lips. You pushed him back against the bed, his dark hair shading his eyes. You took a moment to tuck some behind one ear.

“So handsome.”

You unwrapped the condom and slid it onto his cock. The lubrication seemed to help him – he groaned, back arching, eyelashes fluttering. You positioned yourself above him.

“Jungkook.”

“H-huh?”

You smirked and sank down.

It hit him hard – the oversensitivity, the teasing, the edging he did himself – and he nearly screamed, your hot, wet vice wrapping around him, taking him in slowly. His neighbors were probably not pleased with this, but you didn’t care. He tried to grab your hips but you slapped his hands away, grabbing his wrists and pinning them down next to his head.

“N-noona, ahh–”

You shoved the rest of him inside you forcefully, clenching your jaw as he entered you. Oh, fuck, he felt so good, so hard, filling you just how you liked. Your name tumbled out of his lips, but you gave him no time, already snapping your hips into his, grinding into him, squeezing him. He groaned, unable to fight you as you rode him roughly, the loud, wet slaps of your bodies filling up his bedroom.

“It’s too g-good,” he whined, his hot breath against your lips. “P-please, noona, I-I can’t last…”

“Are you saying you’re going to cum before me?” you growled, your grip on his wrists tightening.

“I-I’m trying not to,” he begged. “Your pussy is t-too good…”

“You want to be used by me, right?” you panted, fucking him harder, hissing as he hit you in your favorite spot. “You want me to use your cock to make myself cum, to be my own personal fucktoy?”

Jungkook slammed his head into the pillows, turning to bite a chunk of his pillow to scream into. You pressed him into the bed, gripping his wrists firmly, nails digging into him. He swelled inside you, throbbing hard, pressing against your walls. His veins were straining against his tan skin, jaw clenched tight. He looked so helpless even though you knew he wasn’t. He let himself give in to you, but that wasn’t enough. You wanted him to lose his mind. You wanted to ruin him. You wanted him so bad and so much that you couldn’t hold back anymore, the familiar tension inside you pulled so taut that even you couldn’t control it.

“Jungkook, cum with me now.”

You slammed your hips down and gasped, moaning his name as you came, pleasure ricocheting throughout your nerves, your pussy throbbing and clenching as liquid spilled between his thighs, drenching them. Oh, fuck. His cock jerked inside you, hard, and he wailed your name into his pillow. You could feel his orgasm fill the condom, the head twitching against your walls, your body shivering at the sensation.

You let his hands go, falling to your elbows. Your forehead leaned against his as you reached down gingerly to hold the condom down as you slowly, slowly removed yourself from his softening cock.  You were a bit worried you had gone too far, but one look at Jungkook told you otherwise. He knew his safe word. He smirked at you, playfully kissing your lips.

“You’re crazy,” you muttered, falling against the bed. His head popped up and he kissed you again.

“So… am I your personal fucktoy now?”

You shut one eye and placed an arm over your forehead. His dark bangs shaded his eyes, making them sparkle with mischief.

“Is that what you want, pretty boy?”

He nodded eagerly, his hair flapping around. You closed both eyes and chuckled.

“Remember you sealed your own fate, Jeon Jungkook.”

-

inventory.

--

masterpost

[taking-over-his-life]

A night of tricks cost me a fortune - literally

It was a warm night in new York, the streets were deserted as I sat in the back of my limousine, the light from the street lights beamed in through the one way glass, making patterns on the black leather seats, and creating beams of light as they hit the diamonds on my cuff links and the gold on my watch.

I was being driven around the lower class backstreets, looking for some hot young cock. I had come straight from my 5th avenue office, where I was the president of a major company, so I was still in my tailored blue suit, silk shirt and tie.

I pulled at my diamond cufflinks as I looked out of the window, for a particular hustler.

His name was Joel, a  muscled, but dumb young fucker about 22yrs, always wore tight leather chaps over his gorgeous ass and a huge package.

I had fucked this guy before but tonight I wanted to breed him so badly.

Leroy was my driver a huge handsome gay black man. He didn't worry about my special needs, as he understood them. It was Leroy who had found Joel for me a few months ago, ensuring

that the kid had everything I wanted.

Leroy was such a hot guy I have always wanted to get into his pants, but I ensured our relationship was kept strictly employer and servant. I knew he felt the same about me and at times the electricity was so powerful, but I always resisted and put him back in his place.

I wont say what I would have liked to do with him, but boy it would be really dirty.

We drove down a deserted backstreet, by now it was raining and the light hit the puddles of water on the ground. Suddenly Leroy started to slow down and I saw a figure in a doorway, it was Joel.

AS the light hit him his muscled legs stood out in his leather chaps , and the light hit his shaved head , he walked over to the limousine and Leroy got out and chatted with him, handing him a wad of notes, they chatted for two or three minutes, I saw Leroy grabbing his crotch and then kissing him before he opened the passenger door.

In he came , he was a vision of a young dumb horny and hot prostitute. Dressed in worn leather chaps, boots shirt and jacket. His head was shaved, with tattoos on the left side of his skull of a butterfly, he had rings on every finger and two gold chains around his neck which I had bought him.

As he got in the bulge in my tailored suit pants began to expand, 'Hi Joel' I said, 'evening Mr Strang" he replied, 'do you want my place again he said. "Yes Joel I do, lets spend a few hours doing what we do best"

I never took him to my home or any of my apartments, I didn't want anyone to know about my extra curricular activities, plus I loved the idea of going to his housing project home, cheap home cheap or second hand furniture, it gave me a real buzz, as my life was sheer luxury.

He got down in front of me and pushed my legs apart as he gently unzipped my pants and started to feel my package through my silk boxers.

He started to chew through the silk at my dick. As I moaned with pleasure. He knew I mustn't cum until I was inside of him and that would only happen in his bed.

It wasn't too long before we reached the housing project.

There were a number of black kids outside his block. They knew the score, but were only sorry it wasn't them.

Leroy paid them to look after the limo, and he put my thick leather coat on my shoulders, as Joel led the way to the sixth floor.

The lift wasn't working so we walked up the stairs, lined with rubbish and stinking of piss. This place was one hell of a slum. But I liked the idea of slumming it, it was so different from what I knew, the smell so horny rather than the cleanliness of my home which was spotlessly taken care of by my two servants and the immaculate lawns. My body smelt of the expensive washes and colognes, so this for me was so erotic. I knew the price of my coat alone could buy one of these places.

We went into his apartment a one bedroom hovel. He was not a tidy kid, but that's what I liked about him.

Le Roy took my coat and sat to watch TV as me and Joel disappeared into his bedroom. The bed was unmade and u could see where his body had been, I leant down and smelled it, so manly so horny, he watched and smiled.

I walked up to him and we embraced, our tongues in each others mouths tasting each other pulling in each others breath. My hands ran to his perfectly shaped ass cheeks as he started to undo my belt and work on my zip

I was rock hard by now seeping precum into my expensive silk boxers, his budge was it normal huge size accentuated by the chaps.

I took off my dark blue pinstriped jacket and put it on a chair, he looked up at me and smiled ‘you smell so good sir’ he said, ‘thanks boi’ I said, he took off his leather jacket and dropped it on the floor, then the leather shirt.

His body stunk of BO, and that drove me crazy, I got down and started to lick at his left arm pit enjoy the smell of a real man.

As I was doing this he pulled off my tie, and shirt followed by my vest so I was bare cheated like him

'what have u got for me Joel ' I said, and he pulled out some spliffs. 'light up boi' I said, we sat on his bed as he lit up the spliffs in the slightly lit room, his face so young so hard so horny, as I watched every move.

The light hitting the rings in his ears, three on each ear and the ring in his nose, he had two in his left eyebrow, not to mention the two I had bought him for his tits.

I reached over and rubbed my hands on the tats on his arms and chest, enjoying his young muscular body.

The match went out and he took a couple of drags and handed the spliff too me. He only bought the best Leroy saw to that, and boy did it have a kick. We kissed and exchanged the smoke as we rebreathed.

The sound of the police sirens and gangs shouting in the streets added to my excitement, it wasn't long before I pushed him on the bed and was removing his boots, pulling gently as the came away from his heels.

I had to smell my boi so I placed them to my face pulling in the smell of the leather and his foot sweat, which made me stand even harder.

He was desperate to unloosen his chaps and jeans so I could gain entry and so gently I pulled them off to reveal the goods I had paid for. His cock was huge and erect the ring through the centre stood up straight as if at attention for its master, his metal cock ring embraced his balls, and helped them gently fall towards the bed

Within seconds my face was in his crotch, smelling the sweat and man smell of his dick and balls, no cologne just pure male, I rubbed my face in it, to ensure his smell was on every part of my face. I held out my hand and he passed me the spliff, I took two deep breaths and handed it back, my head was light I was spinning and in ecstasy as I put his huge member in my mouth enjoying this young boys taste and feel.

He wrapped his muscular legs around my neck to hold me there

I reached for his tits until his dick started to seep, I loved his young manly taste. . I indicated enough and he released me.

I undid the belt of my suit trousers and let them fall to the ground. Looking into his black eyes as huge smile, wanting so much to breed with my tattooed pierced slut boi.

I kick off my shoes and got in-between his legs putting his ankles on my shoulders, ‘you want me boi’?’ yes sir, every bit of you’

I pushed the head of my dick against his man hole and gently began to push

I has so much pre cum it lubed my entry and then gently I moved in, he knew what to do pulling at my tits as I went deeper and deeper into that filthy prostitutes body ramming my manliness into his guts, the sweat was pouring the smell riveting I started to pound him

Stopping only to drag on the spliff.

I didn't hear but Leroy but he had entered the room and was watching it was only when Joel smiled at him that I saw him, he came over,’ no Leroy, you the rules stand back’

Leroy was angry but moved away muttering something like ‘I will fuck you sometime’

I continued to push into Joel, as Leroy watched with his package getting bigger, Joel was ripping at my tits, and I was so high on the spliff, suddenly my balls started to pull and I shot a huge load several wads deep into my boi, god his face was in ecstasy as his cum shot past him hitting the window and gently running down the glass, I collapsed on him, my sweat mingling with his and started to kiss him deeply holding him in my arms as he pressed himself against me, we just started at each other smiling.

Suddenly there was a snide look on his face, something I hadn't seen before.

‘My turn’ he said, I looked quizzically at him, ‘what’?, ‘my turn to fuck you’ he said smiling, ‘dont be stupid Joel’ I said, and called for Leroy, Leroy came over and grabbed hold of Joel but not in the way I expected, he started to kiss him .

They both looked down at me on the bed smiling, Leroy spoke up in his deep black voice, ‘you heard him, he wants to fuck you boi’ he said 

I started to stand up, but he pushed me back down holding a menacing fist to me, ‘what the hell Leroy, don’ be so fucking stupid, ill have you inside if you don't do as I say’

He started to laugh, ‘who do you think you are. Its only your money and possessions that define you, if someone else was in there they would be a better person than you, you fucking snob’ , with that he slapped me hard on the face, I winched, ‘don't be fucking stupid’ I shouted, ‘how much do you want?

Joel came over to me and caressed my face with his hand, ‘your a handsome fucker, I want it all’ ‘all’ I said  ‘yes everything’ he said, ‘once my cum is in your hole our DNA will mingle and you will be one low male prostitute, you like it here and u like me, so you can really enjoy it, I'm off to the Hamptons’ with that he slapped me

‘What! ’I screamed, with that Leroy pushed me down on the bed and gagged me, I struggled but he was too strong, the drugs were also affected my ability.

He tied my hands to the bedstead and within seconds Joel was in-between my legs, ‘I want to taste him first’, said Joel to Leroy, ‘Ok baby’ he said. and with that he pulled my ankles over my head so my ass was easily accessed, I tried to scream but couldn't.

Joel got down and started to lick at my ass, the feeling was unbelievable his warm tongue deep inside me,

He looked up at me, ‘you look terrified, don’t worry, you taste so damn good, but that taste will soon be mine’

He aimed his huge erect cock at me with its piercing, ‘you always liked this soon it will be yours’ Joel said. Suddenly I felt may arse being defiled, id never been fucked before and I screamed through the gag and tried to get free, I was too drugged and weak, inch by inch he delved into me pushing deeper and deeper, it was painful, but felt damn good.

Suddenly Leroy appeared, he had stripped, and stood over my head, he took off the gag and sat on my face, that huge black ass, down on my face his smell over my nose and mouth he was suffocating me. I was struggling as I was being defiled at one end and suffocated with man smell at the other,

I was as hard as steel and excited, then it happened, Joel shot into me I could feel his dna entering my guts and swirling around my body.

My own cum shot all over Leroy, as he got off me.

Joel pulled out of me and kissed Leroy, ‘it will be ours soon baby’ he said, to Joel  ‘yeah and this fucker will get his just deserts, shames its so good a body your giving him’

Joel started to pull out all his piercing and put them on the table and his rings, ‘mustn't have anything on baby when the change happens these are his now’  he said, he then lay down next to me.

He leaned over and started to kiss me with his tongue going deep into my throat, his arms went around me and he wrapped his legs into mine, I enjoyed it and responded, as we kissed he seemed to be sucking me out from the inside my memories intelligence everything.

Suddenly I started to shake and see lights in my eyes I couldn't move.

Memories started to appear in my head, memories of a deprived childhood in the ghetto drunken mother and criminal father, somehow it was as if they were my family.

I was an intelligent guy but it was as if holes were appearing in my brain and the light was getting out, my mind was slowing down a pace and I couldn't calculate or think in the same way, memories of sleeping in the park, being raped it was all me I was that person.

My body was being pulled somehow on the sheets in fact it was reducing in size, I could feel my ass getting tighter, and numerous changes in my muscles and face.

My knowledge as a city broker disappeared although I knew who I was, even my vocabulary was reduced, I felt so dumb so stupid, not in control.

I could hear Leroy from elsewhere in the room shouting ‘its unbelievable were going to be filthy rich’

I was in terror at what was happening, what were they doing to me, and what were they going to do with me, I started to shout, ‘help me, help me’ but it wasn't my voice it was Joel's.

The pain lasted for about twenty minutes, and when I woke up from it, I was soaked in sweat,

I looked around the room and saw Leroy smiling, and lying next to me it was, ME, I screamed and stood up, but it wasn't my body I was younger and covered in tattoos.

Leroy grabbed me tightly from behind holding my arms, and walked me to a mirror, ‘NOOOO’I screamed out ‘NOOO it cant be real. I was Joel the short male prostitute, ‘help me Leroy help me!’ I screamed.

‘Hey babe what do you want me to do to you?’ said Leroy, ‘Leroy its me Mr Strang, your employer’, ‘No man, your Joel a prostitute, a fuck boi’, he laughed and released me.

I looked over and Leroy was kissing my body and it was responding, ‘damn I'm a rich man now, my mind feels so alive’, and he kissed Leroy.

he took some piercing from the table, ‘Joel these are yours now’ he smiled I tried to run but Leroy grabbed me pushing me to the floor, ‘now come on slut’ he said, ‘do as your master says’ ‘Ill give you an extra $50 for this’ he started laughing as Leroy held me down.

He got on tip of me and put the piercing in my ears and then my nose, he moved to my tits which just started my dick rising, and then my dick. ‘all in place’ he said to Leroy, Doesn't he look the part.

I looked at them in tears, ‘but why?’ Leroy looked at me ‘youre a mean fucking bastard Strang, you never cared about any one, now ill get to fuck your ass your useless piece of trash’

‘No,’ I cried .

The old Joel, now me, started putting on my vest and silk boxers, followed by my well pressed silk shirt and tie. He adjusted my diamond cufflinks, and then pulled up my suit pants over his ass and belted himself in. He picked up my socks and put them on sliding into my shoes.

He smiled as he did it, with Leroy watching and getting more aroused.

‘there my clothes’ I shouted, both of them laughed at me and threw Joels jeans and chaps at me, ‘’dress slut’, he said in my body and voice

I pulled the worn 501s up over my ass they felt good as the caressed my balls and dick, then the used dirty leather chaps, they fit me to perfection.

‘Woof’ he said, ‘you'll get some business tonight with that’ as he sneered’

‘Hey Leroy’ he said ‘try out my slut boi, and give him 100 dollars extra, no, he’s given me a lot, millions in fact, tonight $150 should do’

I knew he has control of my millions and there was nothing I could do, Leroy grabbed me and in seconds he was inside me fucking me raw, whispering in my ear as he rammed it home, strangely I enjoyed it, the body was used to this treatment.

I felt I should love Leroy but it was apparent that wasn't the case. Joel was the one he wanted not his body and that is all I was to him.

He stood in front of Leroy and pulled out what was my dick, Leroy sucked it, he had always wanted his bosses attention.

Leroy enjoyed sucking all the pre cum he was in his element. My body suddenly said, ‘interesting memories here Leroy, this body always fancied you, perhaps if he had acted on it he wouldn't be me now, eh Joel’ he said laughing at me.

‘Its time Leroy’ the thief who stole my body said. I was terrified. leroy put my leather coat on his shoulders, ‘get him dressed, his rings are there he said pointing to the table., Leroy got hold of me and made me wear the leather shirt and the jacket

He took my hand and forced 10 rings on them, ‘perfect’ he said, he got hold of my head, I was crying ‘ ah shucks,’ he kissed me,’ ‘heres your keys, lock your place up ’he said ‘and come with us’. I locked the door of the apartment and followed them down the filthy litter ridden stairs to the limo, he got in, then me. Leroy paid the guys for looking after the limo and we were off,

We stopping in the alleyway where I had picked Joel up, he looked at me ‘out boi, go earn some money’ I was terrified, I touched his hand, he slapped me hard his gold ring cut my face, ‘never touch me, my pants are worth more than your life , now get out'

Leroy opened the door and let me out, ‘enjoy’ he said, ‘I will’, they drove off in my limo with my body and my life, I looked down at myself I was a male prostitute with little chance of doing anything else.

A car came by, I got in my life of tricks had begun.

[firstdegreefangirl]

Day Three: Eddie & Chris + Anything

Word Count: 1506

Original Pub Date: 22 April 2020

Read on Ao3 here

Day Three I Day Two I Day One 

“Alright, kiddo. There’s one thing on the list today. That’s it. What’re we shopping for?” Eddie looks down at Christopher as they walk into the department store.

“I get a suit!” He’s three steps ahead of Eddie, hustling out of sheer excitement. Eddie had brought it up at the beginning of the week, how it’s always a good idea for a man to have a suit stashed in the back of the closet, just in case there’s a reason for formalwear, and last time Christopher had dressed up, they’d had to leave the suitcoat at home and roll his sleeves up because everything was a little too small in every direction. He’d asked if Christopher would want to go suit shopping over the weekend, and it instantly became the only thing on the kid’s mind all week.  

He’d practically begged Eddie to take his measurements, and asked him to update them twice in the days after, “just in case I’ve grown any already!” The numbers are written on two sheets of paper, one in Christopher’s jeans pocket and the other tucked safely into Eddie’s wallet, on the off chance that the first copy gets lost.  

Of course, things get hairy as soon as they find the boys’ formalwear department.  

Because none of the suits are sized in a way that makes any sense to Eddie. He knows how to buy dress clothes: neck measurement by sleeve length for the shirt, jackets go by chest size. And he knows how big his kid is, and that he wears a medium in regular shirts.  

But he has no idea what number size that would translate to. Six, eight, 10, that’s how to measure kids’ pants, not suits. He’s got no clue what size shirt Christopher wears, not when the tags are all marked with numbers.  

“Dad? You look confused.” Christopher taps him on the arm. “Are you trying to pick a color?”

“No, buddy. I’m looking at the sizes. You have your numbers?” Christopher pulls the folded-up paper out of his pocket and hands it to Eddie. “Alright, see if you find any tags that match these. Because I don’t see them yet, but they should be here …"  

Christopher wanders off, and together they check every rack and all the shelves. He finds slacks that will fit, but there’s no jacket to match, and there’s still nothing to help him figure out a dress shirt.

He should be able to do this. He knows how to dress up; he’s not immune to the looks he gets when he wears a suit. So why can’t he help his kid have nice clothes too? He just cleared another rack when there’s an excited shout from a few shelves over.

“DAD! Look what I found!”

Finally. If Chris found the shirts, they can get this show on the road.

Eddie jogs over to find him practically bouncing with excitement.  

“Whatcha got?”  

“Look! This one has comic books on it!” Sure enough, Christopher points to a suit adorned with BAM! and POW! and ZAP! In brightly covered comic book bubbles. “Isn’t it awesome!”

“it’s … something.” Eddie has to hide a grimace. “Definitely a statement piece. But, um, you know what? If you get the right suit, you’ll be able to keep it until you outgrow it without having to worry about if it’s in style. You know how long I’ve had my suit?”

“Seven years.” It’s a guess, but Chris sounds so confident about it that Eddie can’t help but laugh as he squats down to Chris’s level.

“Good guess, bud, but not quite. I had to get a new one when I got back from the military because my old one didn’t fit anymore. But I’ve had this one since then, and it’s still a really good suit. How about we look for something more classic, and maybe we can come back for this one if there’s a specific occasion that calls for it?”

“Can we get matching suits? You can have a new one too, Dad!” In the true spirit of a 9-year-old boy, he’s only briefly disappointed before moving on to the next thing.  

“Let’s see what we find for you first, and we’ll see. Mine’s grey, so we can probably find something similar for you if we can work the sizes out.” He stands up and goes back to reading the sizes on the tags, still to no avail.

Eddie must look pretty irritated, because a saleswoman approaches him tentatively and smiles.

“Can I help you gentlemen find anything today?”

“No. We’re fine.” Eddie’s not rude, but his tone is clipped. He shouldn’t need help buying a suit for his kid. This absolutely falls under the umbrella of “Dad Duties” he should be capable of fulfilling without help.  

She smiles and walks off, and Eddie feels a tug on the bottom of his hoodie.

“Dad?” Christopher whispers loudly. “I don’t think we’re fine. You look angry.”  

“I’m not angry, kiddo. Just … trying to figure these out. I thought they’d work like grown-up suits, but –” before he can finish the sentence, Eddie sees a display that he’d missed the first time through the department. “Here, let’s go look at these.”  

It’s a few shelves of pre-packaged suit sets. Each one has just one size, and a chart on the back with measurement ranges. He sighs and looks down at his son.

“Alright, we’re back on track. Let’s see if we like any of these.” He leaves Christopher on one size of the display and circles around to look at the classic, neutral colored suits. The numbers written down in his wallet are way more detailed than they need, but it’s enough to help him figure out which size packet will work for Christopher. He’s picked up a navy blue and a black when he hears him call from around the shelves.

“I wear an eight, right Dad? I think that’s where my sizes go.”

“Sure do, mijo.”

“Can I have this one?” he comes around the end of the display, holding out a suit bundle. Eddie takes it from him and looks down.  

It’s a royal blue velvet coat, adorned with tiny white polka dots. he shirt and pants are simple enough, white and black, but there’s a bowtie tucked into the collar of the shirt that Eddie just can’t see with the coat. It’s red and blue plaid, which wouldn’t be bad as a standalone, but is a lot to pair with the polka dots.  

The suit is the polar opposite of the ones Eddie’s holding, but it’s formal enough, he thinks. Besides, the kid is 9; it’s not like anyone is expecting him to show up anywhere in black-tie. And he’s so excited, bouncing back and forth while he waits for Eddie’s verdict.  

"Pleeeeeeeeeease?”

“Yeah, this’ll work.” He lets Christopher cheer, then continues. “It’s a cool color. Nothing like this hanging in my closet.”

“Yeah, but you said we’d maybe get matching ones! We can go find one for you!”

Before Eddie can come up with an excuse, Christopher’s gone, click-clacking across the store for menswear.

“Chris, wait up!” He jogs after him, trying to find a reason he can’t have a blue velvet polka-dot suit. Nothing comes to mind other than price (and that he really, really doesn’t want one, but he doesn’t want to burst the kid’s bubble) and he doesn’t want Chris to think they’re in any sort of financial trouble.  

They’re not, but even if they were, that’s not for his kid to worry about.  

One thing works out in his favor though, someone is looking out for him, because there are no blue velvet blazers even close to Eddie’s size. Christopher is disappointed for a moment, but his smile brightens when he sees the spinning rack of neckties.

“What about matching neckties? I can have two neckties for one suit, right dad?”  

“Neckties we can do. See something that catches your eye?” Eddie spins the top tier of the display slowly, pointing out a grey pinstripe he thinks would match Chris’s new suit, then a timeless solid red. “This one would probably go with whatever suit you have next, too.”

“This one!” Christopher grabs pulls two identical ties loose from the rack and hands one to Eddie. “I like this one!”

Eddie runs his hand down the silver silk, adorned with tiny yellow flowers and green swirls.  

“You sure? You know, the suit you picked out is blue.”

“Yeah, and the flowers are yellow, and when you put those together, you get green. Like the squiggles!”  

The argument makes sense, Eddie has to admit. And he also has to admit that the next time he wears his suit, when the 118 puts in an appearance at the retiring fire chief’s farewell celebration, he reaches for his new necktie first.  

And when Bobby tells him that it looks nice, he’s proud to have a response at the ready.

“Thanks. Chris picked it out. He’s got a matching one at home.”

[jaxl-road]

Scar Tissue chapter 5

Duff’s fashion expertise is called upon, Slash’s criminal expertise is called upon, and it might not be a date but it’s close enough for Slash.

Pairings: Slash/Duff

Warnings: Self-esteem issues and((not in this chapter)) Implied/discussed past abuse (non-explicit)

Read on AO3

Slash could have cried with relief as things finally seemed to return to normal around him. Well, as normal as things ever were with Guns N’ Roses.

Axl finally emerged from his black mood, jumping right back into pushing his bandmates to get moving with their music, which meant Izzy could relax as well. Tommy’s advice to Steven regarding Vince had been “just fucking talk to him, dude,” and Steven had wholeheartedly agreed and then immediately worked on avoiding the blonde singer like it was his job, which meant he had no problem throwing himself into his drumming. Music was a safe space for all of them; when they practiced they didn't feel like they had to walk on eggshells around each other.

Of course, as they got back into writing and rehearsing their music, Slash had to keep his head down in order to focus on his playing instead of being distracted by their bassist. He had assumed he’d be used to the tall blonde by now, at least enough to be able to play with him without snapping a string and making a fool of himself.

But Duff was so different when he played bass. He was always so tense, even when he joked and partied with the rest of them, always a little bit wary and nervous, eyes following any hand that moved too close, looking over his shoulder every few minutes. Slash couldn’t help but worry sometimes. He wished he knew what to do to help the other boy relax. Even when Duff laughed it felt like he was bracing himself for… something.

And yet all of that went away when GNR played together. Duff played their existing songs flawlessly, and he came up with amazing riffs for new songs, and when he played it was like everything weighing him down got left at the door. Suddenly he could move freely, dancing with the music and flipping his hair back when it got too wild in his face. When the music started, Slash couldn’t help but feel like Duff was the most himself. It was attractive as fuck.

By the end of rehearsal, there were strands of sweat-slick blonde hair stuck to Duff forehead and Slash decided it’d be a good idea to just count stains on the carpet for a bit.

“We sound awesome,” Axl grinned, chugging a bottle of water, “which is good considering I twisted Motley’s arm and we’re opening for them next Thursday," he tacked on nonchalantly.

“Wait what?” Slash snapped his head over to the singer, the rest of the band wearing similar expressions of shock, “Since when?”

"Got a solid confirmation yesterday."

"Dude!" Steven flailed indignantly, his eyes panicked, "You gotta run that shit by the rest of us!"

"Why?" Axl pouted, "It's been way too long since we last performed, and Motley's been bringing good crowds so it's perfect." He frowned, "What, do you not want to do the show?"

"It's the fucking principle of it!" Slash huffed, while Steven groaned into his hands.

Izzy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Look, it's already done, so let's not get all fucked up about it," he turned to Axl, "But next time, call a fucking band meeting or something. We live in a shoebox together, just fucking yell or whatever."

The singer didn't look completely convinced, but he hummed in agreement which was enough for Slash at least. But Steven still looked distressed.

"Fuck," he let his head drop onto his drums, "you're ruining my plans for avoiding Vince."

Axl's eyes lit up, "Ooooh, make sure I'm around if you punch him again. Or at least take pictures."

"I'm not going to fucking punch him again!"

"...Well that's disappointing," Axl huffed.

Packing up their things, they soon found themselves sitting around a table at a bar, having migrated towards alcohol without even thinking.

"Should we change our look a bit?" Slash asked suddenly, catching his bandmates off guard.

"What do you mean?” Axl frowned defensively, “What’s wrong with our look?”

"Just for the show at least," Slash shrugged, "I mean, Motely Crue has a pretty hardcore, over the top aesthetic, so the audience will probably be into that sort of thing. Maybe we should play up some glam ourselves." The singer hummed in consideration, and Slash quickly chugged more of his beer as a thought clicked in his head, “Duff used to play all sorts of punk stuff in Seattle!” He pointed at the bass played excitedly, “He could definitely help us get the look down!”

Duff nearly choked on his drink, face flushing, “I-I mean…”

Steven gasped dramatically, “Are we gonna get makeovers? This is gonna be awesome, I’m fucking down for this!”

Suddenly, despite their initial hesitation, most of the band found themselves debating who could pull off the glam look better, and what sort of looks they could do, and guessing what Duff would come up with even as the bassist quietly gaped at them.

“You guys are… serious?”

His words were quiet, but still caught the attention of all four bickering friends. “Sure,” Izzy shrugged, “What’s the harm? Especially if it can catch us some more attention.”

“Plus we can fuck with the Crue,” Axl grinned deviously.

“Of course that’s why you’re agreeing,” Slash shoved his shoulder lightly.

“Well…” Duff drawled, smirking into his drink, “I dunno, I only have like, a week and a half. I think I need some fairy godmother shit to turn you pumpkins into anything glam.”

“Oh fuck you!” Izzy laughed, as they all started complaining over each other. But Duff was laughing too, and Slash felt his heart stop when the bassist leaned against him just slightly. The past week felt so far away now, as the boys all got drunk or high or both, laughing and sharing delusions of grandeur. He tossed an arm around Duff’s shoulders and kept it there for the rest of the evening.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Slash?”

The guitarist practically shot up when he heard Duff’s voice. It was a week before their show, and when he woke up to an empty room and a silent house Slash had assumed the bassist was at work or something, resigning himself to strumming on his guitar lazily and maybe getting high while he mentally debated the least awkward way to kiss a man so absurdly tall. So seeing him here in front of him, shuffling in the doorway of their room, had him lighting up.

“Duff! I didn’t know you were home!”

Shrugging, he hummed, “I just ran out for a little bit. But, um…” his fingers tapped against his thigh nervously, “Y’know how you told me about how you used to steal shit as a kid just for fun or whatever?”

Slash’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Now that he thought about it, he vaguely recalled rambling about his klepto days during one of the times they had been hanging out- Duff’s voice had trailed off shakily when Slash asked about what growing up in Seattle had been like, and he’d been desperate to get that sad expression off the other man’s face and so he had launched into tales of his own wild childhood, drawing shy laughs from the bassist until he was relaxed again.

Honestly though, he hadn’t expected it to ever come back up, “Yeaaaah…?” he stretched the word out with an almost suspicious tone.

But then Duff looked up at him, grinning slowly, and Slash felt his heart stop in the best way possible, “Wanna help me out with something?”

~~~~~

“Oh fuck yes, this is perfect!” Duff darted forward excitedly, snatching a button up top made of sheer black lace off the rack. He held it up, brow furrowed as he considered the garment seriously, “Do you think this would suit Steven or Izzy better?”

“Hm, I’m gonna say Izzy,” Slash grinned.

This was the second thrift store they had hit. Duff had pouted when he mentioned the band’s existing wardrobes, “I get it, we all love leather,” he had rolled his eyes and Slash felt practically giddy at seeing this side of the bassist, “but we could use a little bit of variety for fucks sake.”

So Slash happily trailed along, chiming in when Duff pulled different articles of clothing out, the two of them discussing what would look best on who, and looking over their shoulders as they shoved their chosen items into their jackets and under their shirts.

Duff treated his mission with exaggerated gravity, carefully debating each item that caught his eye before committing to it, struggling to fight back a smirk every time he held up two items for Slash to choose between, “Choose wisely. Lives are at stake here. Don’t fucking laugh, Slash, this is very serious business! Our band’s future depends on whether or not you choose pinstripes or leopard print!”

By the time they reached the third thrift store, Duff was mostly looking for accessories, rifling through bins of jewelry while Slash eyed a derby bowler hat and contemplated how to sneak it out of the store without damaging it.

Twirling the hat on his finger, he couldn’t resist watching Duff for a minute, a small smile on the taller man’s face as he hummed mindlessly, stealthily slipping some rings and bracelets into his coat pocket before turning his attention to a box of scarves.

“You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?” Slash grinned, “Getting back into the punk and glam aesthetic.”

Duff snapped his head up, giving Slash a quick wide eyed glance before looking away again, trying to hide his blush, “Um, I mean, I’m not…”

Immediately, Slash felt a little guilty for pulling the bassist out of the moment, replacing his carefree movements with nervous fidgeting, so he reached out to tug on a strand of blonde hair lightly, “Hey,” he smiled softly when he finally got Duff to look at him again, “I think it’s awesome. Plus I can’t wait to see you rocking a punk look.”

Laughing lightly, Duff smacked his hand away playfully. Turning back to the scarves he was searching through, he shyly looked at Slash out of the corner of his eye before admitting hesitantly, “...When I first moved to LA I had blue hair.”

“No way!” Slash felt himself grinning excitedly, trying to picture the image in his head, reaching out again to twirl Duff’s hair between his fingers, “That’s fucking rad. Why’d you get rid of it?”

Shrugging, Duff examined a silver sequined scarf intensely, “It was… someone told me it looked dumb. And, I mean, they weren’t wrong. It didn’t really… do me any favors,” he tried to laugh it off as he stood, holding the chosen scarf close, but he seemed almost sad as he cast a glance towards the guitarist.

“Oh, that’s some bullshit. Who told you that?” Because Slash wanted words with whoever had the nerve to say something like that to Duff. But the bassist only shrugged, so he continued earnestly, “You couldn’t look bad if you tried.”

Blinking in surprise, Duff turned away, “Oh shut up,” he blushed.

But the guitarist only smiled wider as he pressed, “Pretty sure you could shave your head and still be unfairly hot.”

“Stop it!” he pushed Slash away lightly with a huff of laughter and started to walk away down the aisle, muttering, “You don’t get to call me hot when you’re standing right there.”

It felt like a record scratch in his head, “Come again?” Slash was pretty sure his jaw was on the floor.

“I- what?” Duff glanced over his shoulder nervously for just a second before walking a little faster, “Nothing.”

“Hold up, what did you just say?” Darting in front of the blonde, Slash stood to face him, a smirk slowly spreading across his face.

“Nothing, I didn’t say anything,” he answered too quickly, face bright red.

“Oh no no no,” Slash held his arms out to block Duff’s way when he tried to walk around him, grinning like a cat with a bowl of cream, “You think I’m hot?”

“I-” Sputtering for a moment, the bassist couldn’t seem to get any words out. So instead he turned on his heel and started walking the other direction.

“Oh come on, man!” He followed after, laughing, “Do you need me to call you hot again first?”

“No!” When he turned back to face him Duff looked almost horrified. He quickly ducked his head in a vain attempt to hide the bright red of his cheeks.

“Cause you are,” Slash sing-songed, stepping a little closer, “You’re crazy hot. Distractingly attractive. I can go into more detail if you want-”

“Okay! Alright! Stop! Stop making fun of me!” Duff snapped suddenly. He was still blushing, twisting the scarf between his hands nervously. But now he seemed upset, brow furrowed and shoulders stiff and hiked up around his ears. Slash could see the tension in his jaw as he ground out, “I get it, okay? You’re like, the hottest guy in LA and I probably look like a fucking joke next to you, you don’t need to rub it in.”

Even as Duff spun around and started walking away again, it took a moment for Slash to even process his words. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, but he felt like he just stuck his finger in an open wound. Quickly rushing forward, he grabbed Duff’s elbow to gently pull his tense body to a stop, “Woah, hey, hold on-”

Duff swallowed thickly, looking away in something like shame as he sighed, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Did you think I was being sarcastic?” Slash asked incredulously.

“I-” he blinked in confusion, shuffling his feet nervously, “I mean…” he trailed off, shrugging in answer.

“Dude,” the word comes out on a breath, because Slash doesn’t even feel like he has room to be shocked or confused right now. He’s too busy being sad. “Dude, no,” he shook his head vehemently, “I was definitely not being sarcastic. I wasn’t joking. I think you’re hot as Hell,” I think you’re fucking beautiful, is what he wants to say, but something about it feels like too much too soon, especially when Duff is staring at him in blatant disbelief, still clutching that slivery scarf in a white-knuckled grip like a lifeline, “You are a seriously good-looking guy,” he gave a grin he hoped was soothing, “and hey, there’s no reason we can’t both be hot, right?”

It took a moment, but finally the bassist snorted lightly, offering a weak smile in return, “So diplomatic. We’re definitely going to have to put you in charge of anything press related when we finally make it big, the rest of us would probably fuck up even with a script.”

He always does that, Slash has realized. This wasn’t the first time Duff had slipped and revealed a glimpse of what Slash was coming to realize was a very battered and fragile self-worth, not that it ever ceased to catch the guitarist completely off guard. But if Slash tried to challenge him on his opinions of himself, Duff would simply smile and redirect the conversation, not arguing, but not agreeing. It made no sense to him. He couldn’t grasp what he was witnessing.

But he got the feeling he was collecting pieces to a puzzle whose picture he already didn’t like.

“I can’t decide if I’m excited for the day Axl punches someone on camera or not,” Slash gave Duff his out. He always did.

Duff laughed, his shoulders relaxing at the new topic, “It’ll depend on whether the person he punches deserves it or not.”

“Good point.”

He knew he'd have to talk to Duff about this eventually. But not yet. He didn't think either of them were ready yet.

With some careful timing, they got out of the store with their pilfered goods, shoving the fabric and jewelry into a couple backpacks they had stashed in an ally around the corner. “Okay, just one more stop,” Duff announced, turning a corner and heading down the street.

“Yeah? Where?” Slash asked.

“Drug store, we gotta grab some makeup,” he stated as if the answer was obvious.

Slash frowned in confusion, “But we already have makeup at home.”

The look of sheer offense Duff shot him had him biting back a smile, “A few broken eyeliner pencils that probably should have been tossed out years ago is not going to cut it Slash.”

Snickering, Slash shook his head as they continued walking. They hadn’t gone far when Duff’s eyes landed on a woman walking towards them, a small Victoria’s Secret bag in her hand. After she passed, the bassist eagerly slapped at Slash’s arm to get his attention.

“What, what, what?” he playfully pushed Duff’s hand away, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

The bassist smirked mischievously, “A bra, a car battery and some jumper cables walk into a bar…”

“Oh no,” he groaned dramatically, but he was already smiling.

“The car battery and jumper cables go find a seat while the bra asks the bartender for three beers. The bartender replies, ‘I’m not serving you! You’re obviously off your tits and your two mates look like they’re about to start something’!”

Snorting, Slash quickly dissolved into laughter, elbowing Duff in the ribs as the other man grinned triumphantly, “Goddamn it, Duff,” he shook his head in a mix of fondness and disbelief, “Where do you get this shit?”

Still laughing, the two made their way into the store, heading to the makeup aisle and sticking out like sore thumbs. It didn’t take very long, Duff seemed to know exactly what he wanted, grabbing a few eye shadow kits, some mascara, and, to Slash’s surprise, a few tubes of lipstick. He knew Motley Crue usually wore lipstick, but he hadn’t expected Duff to use it for them.

They were heading towards the exit when a stern looking man wearing an employee vest called out, “Hey! You two! Wait right there!”

For a moment, the two rockers were frozen, watching the manager approach with an angry scowl on his face. They should have been more careful, Slash cursed to himself, they were practically the poster boys for suspicious characters in a place like this. Glancing over at Duff, the bassist looked back at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights.

Fuck it.

“Go, go, go, GO!” Slash grabbed Duff’s hand, dragging him quickly out the door and onto the street.

“Hey! Get back here!”

The manager screamed after them, but they didn’t stop. Turning and bolting, Slash pulled Duff behind him, weaving through the scattered people in their way and shoving through a group of screeching older women. The shouts and curses of the store manager got more distant, the man clearly not bothering to run after them. Still, they kept running for another three blocks before ducking between two buildings just to be safe.

Leaning against the brick wall, they both panted loudly, their backpacks heavy with stolen goods and hanging loosely from their shoulders. After a few minutes, wherein they both caught their breaths and assumed that no one was chasing them, they turned to look at each other.

Then they burst out laughing.

Within moments they were out of breath again, leaning against each other as they laughed hysterically, “Oh my fucking God,” Duff snickered, “This is why I wanted you to come with me.”

“I can’t believe we were so smooth all day and then nearly got taken down in a Goddamn Walgreens,” Slash cackled.

“I want to be surprised but I’m just not.”

“Could you imagine if we had to call the guys to bail us out cause we stole fucking lipstick?”

“They’d probably just leave us there.”

As they caught their breaths for the second time in as many minutes, Slash peeked to look around the corner, “I think we’re in the clear,” he grinned at Duff, “Fuck, I need a drink or something after that.”

“Agreed,” Duff nodded enthusiastically, readjusting his grip on his backpack, “There’s a bar a couple blocks away that also serves pizza,” he suggested.

“Oh fuck yes.”

Moving to exit the side ally, Duff leading the way, Slash suddenly realized that they were still holding hands from their getaway. After a moment of hesitation, he decided not to let go just yet.

After all. Duff hadn’t let go either.

~~~~~~~~

“Here, you go grab a seat,” The place was relatively crowded, looking like they were catching the end of the lunch rush, and Duff left Slash no room for argument as he gently pushed him in the direction of a small table with two empty seats while he made his way towards the bar.

Slash felt like a teenage girl, already missing the warmth of Duff’s hand in his own as he snagged the table wedged in a corner, sitting right next to a dirty window looking out onto the street. Watching cars pass, he waited for five or ten minutes, wondering what was taking Duff so long.

He got his answer though when the bassist returned, two bottles of beer in one hand and two plates carefully balanced in the other. Slash blinked in surprise as he set down the drinks and slid one of the plates in front of him before sitting down.

Looking down at the two slices of pizza, Slash suddenly realized how hungry he was, grinning gratefully, “Thanks man! What do I owe you?”

But Duff shook his head, “Don’t worry about it, it’s on me.”

“What? Are you sure?” Slash frowned.

“It’s fine, really,” Duff insisted, “It’s like, a thanks. For helping out and shit.”

“You don’t have to do that-” Slash started to argue, but Duff cut him off.

“Seriously, it’s cool,” his fingers peeled at the label on his beer as he looked up and sent Slash a shy smile, “If it makes you feel better, you can pay next time, okay?”

Next time.

“Okay,” Slash answered slowly, focusing everything he had on not grinning like an idiot. But he was so focused on trying to play it cool that the words slipped out his mouth almost against his will, “Sure. It’s a date.”

Duff choked on his drink a little.

But he didn’t disagree.

[toponemuffin]

Lovers Do This Right?

Just a short little thing i wrote the other day, i hope you enjoy it. once it hits 5 likes, chapter two will be out a week later!

Its just a cute little thing i wrote of Ryukyu in a Fake Relationship which slowly will turn into a real one.

Words: 1,473

The sounds of heavy traffic and the sirens of emergency vehicles filled the city of Musutafu, one bright midsummer day. Businessmen were walking around heading to their jobs, carrying briefcases and suits.

A young man with spiky brown hair was seen standing in front of a station. He had sharp orange eyes which can be seen when he looked away from his phone. He was wearing grey slacks, a black sweater over a white dress shirt and a navy blue tie. His outfit was just exuding wealth and a ‘well off’ air.

“E-Elio-kun?” a short woman with chin-length blonde hair, appeared behind him. She had razor sharp teeth and a smile to match. It was Ryuko Tatsuma or by her hero name: Ryukyu.

“Ah…i mean…darling.” She nervously added.

“Ah Lay-Lady Ryuko!” the young man exclaimed, caught off guard from her sudden appearance. Then Ryuko reached out and grabbed his sleeve softly.

“H-hey, we’re a ‘couple’ now right? So maybe a nickname will do me better?” She looked up but kept from making direct eye contact with him.

“…” he couldn’t muster up a reply and instead looked away trying to hide his nervous face from Ryuko.

“Y-you’re right, my bad, i’m sorry lady- i mean…Ryu-chan.” He apologized not noticing the nickname flustered Ryuko a little as her face got flushed.

“How about we get going?” Ryuko requested as she walked forward, not answering his apologies. She threw her hood over her head, a pair of sunglasses and surgical mask to help hide her face.

“Even though she has all that over her, lady Ryuko is super cute!” Leo thought as he observed Ryuko.

“Is everything okay Elio-kun?” Ryuko looked up and asked.

“Ah ye-yeah Ryu-chan. Didn’t you say you wanted to go to some hero dinner tonight?”

“I was thinking about it, but today is our first day of being in a fake relationship in public. Felt like maybe we should have some practice before we go around my friends.”

“Oh, yeah that makes sense.” Elio replied before their walk turned awkwardly silent.

“So darling are you ready for your first date here in Japan?” Ryuko asked, breaking the silence. Her soft words couldn’t reach her beloved’s ear.

The two make their way passing through a huge crowd of businessmen. They kept getting bumped into and were slowly being separated.

“Elio-kun…” Ryuko thought when two tall men in blue suits pushed her back even further.

“C-can’t you just… I know we’re only pretending and all but, hold my hand.”

She could feel her tremble the more she thought of holding hands with him. Ryuko unknowingly ran into a Leo. He slowly reached down and held her right hand with his left.

“This way we can’t get lost, right? Ryu-chan,” Leo asked, smiling and tugging Ryuko along. “Plus couples do these types of things right?”

“Yeah…right.” Ryuko smiled sweetly and enjoyed the moment.

The two made it to a big, lush and green park. Kids were running around,playing, giggling while their parents watched on from the benches. There was a small crepe stand and Leo pulled Ryuko over to it.

“Two chocolate syrup crepes please!” Leo orders, letting Ryuko’s hand go and pulls out his wallet.

“Ahh! Look!” A group of girls wearing nearby high school uniforms screamed and quickly approached Elio and Ryuko.

“You were on the news the other day right!? You’re the hero working with Ryuko, you two took out a villain and saved everyone in a burning building! So cool!’ The girls were blown away and kept screaming, admiring Leo.

“Well sort of hehehe i’m still in U.A. so i’m not a full time hero yet.” Leo skittishly laughed a bit until two of the girls suddenly wrapped themselves around his arms and another girl stood in front of him and rested her back on his chest.

“Can we have a picture please?”

“Uhh well i actually am on a uhh…” Elio nervously looked over at Ryuko who had a smile on her face.

“We’re actually on our way to a dinner to get to at the moment girls. So we kind of have to get going.” Ryuko politely stated before reaching over for Elio’s hand and gently pulling him away.”

“He- Hey what about your crepes!” The stand owner called out with no reply as the two ept walking away.

“Well i guess we won’t need those crepes after all, but i thought you said you didn’t think it would be good for us to go to the party.”

“I guess i changed my mind. Plus we’re doing this to let everyone think i’m not single anymore remember?”

“Yeah you’re right. Heh, i’m sorry Ryu-chan. I guess i should have said something sooner huh?” Elio chuckled and asked looking down at Ryuko who simply looked forward.

“Does he even want to do this? I mean I know I asked him to do this and we’re just pretending. But he’s supposed to be mine at the moment, not anyone else’s or some big dummy being hit on by high school girls.” Ryuko’s inner voice was annoyed and she even had a small twitch in her free hand.

“Well i’m excited to meet everyone!” His cheerful tone was the only happy thing going on during the walk as Ryuko avoided talking to and kept looking forward.

A few hours later the two made it to the dinner party. The room was filled with numerous heroes with almost all of the top ten heroes making an appearance. They all had formal attire with extravagant suits and dresses everywhere.

Ryuko stepped out wearing a red cocktail dress with sheer lace panel under the bust and at the hem reveals skin and shows a little more leg, making this dress anything but innocent! Crisscross straps create an open back.

“I guess I should’ve known better than to ask Nemuri to pick out my dress. Note to self, “Don’t let the X-Rated Hero pick out my clothes” Haaa” Her face was flushed and matched shades with her dress.

“Ry-Ryu-chan?” Elio walked out of his dressing room. He had on a slim and well fitting black pinstripe suit with a white undershirt underneath, and black tie.

When the two looked at one another their hearts almost simultaneously paused and a strong “Ba-Thump” was pounded against their chest.

“Elio-kun you look…” Ryuko tried to get her thoughts out but was unable to speak.

“You, you look. Just…wow. Like you just…” Like a bad copier Elio’s speech was jammed and stuck on stutter.

“Wow look at the both of you!” Yu Takeyama or known by her hero name Mt.Lady appeared and exclaimed.

“Elio you fill out your suit rather nicely! But be careful because i don’t think any of the heroes around here has ever seen our lovely Dragoon hero here in such a dress.” Yu then handed the couple a pair of champagne glasses.

“Make sure you two drink up and enjoy!” Yu picked up her own glasses from a table next to her. “Come on, let’s toast to the night!”

The three then clinked their glasses together before each of them drank their entire glasses.

“Hah! So good! I Love the bubbles in champagne!” Yu took off as she followed a waiter carrying a tray full of filled glasses. “I’ll be back guys!”

“Just two drinks, that’s my limit!” Ryuko thought to herself. Her face was red from slamming her drink and her blood warmed up.

“Ryu-chan?” Elio said as he took a step closer to Ryuko.

“Before Yu-san came over. I was just trying to say that you look really beautiful tonight. Heh so much so i guess i got a little too nervous.”

“Ner-nervous? Why?”

“Well I guess I just haven’t seen this side of you. We’ve gone from being a fan of yours, to a student and teacher, then I became your intern. Now we’re pretending to be lovers. I guess what i’m trying to say is that i always thought of you as a great and inspiring hero but now, i see you’re more than just an incredible hero and are an amazing woman. I can see why you have so many suitors and needed me to pretend…”

Suddenly Ryuko wrapped her arms around Elio cutting him off. She placed her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

“Uh? Is everything okay Ryu-chan?”

“Yeah… Couples do this too right? They uhh hug and show one another affection. You don’t mind it do you? Darling?”

Slowly she could feel a set of strong arms gently wrap themselves around her and pulled her in closer. The sensation was an unreal ecstasy for the both of them. Their heart beats instead of racing was at peace, running in a synced beat.

“Yeah couples do this too Ryu-chan…“

[zarcake-writes]

Wedding Night

This was commissioned by the wonderful @ladyccr It’s a rather sweet and spicy Hanzo x female!reader fic. Reader is a virgin in this, but not much attention is brought to it. Anyways, thank you again for the commission and I hope you enjoy it. 

Warnings: it’s a lemon. fluff. 

The bedroom was lavish and spacious. Everything about the room screamed opulence; from the massive bed that could fit at least five people, to the gold and blue dragon designs on the wall above the bed, to the small cabinet that held different types of alcohol. It was a room meant for a Shimada. But most importantly, it was the room where the Shimada heir would take his wife.

That thought sent a thrill of excitement down your spine and heat pooled in your lower stomach.

Several years ago, the thought of your wedding and wedding night was enough to send you into an anxiety attack. The marriage was arranged by your family without your consent. They pulled you out of college, and despite your fighting, you were sent to Hanamura to live with an aunt. Your pleas to not be married off to a stranger were ignored.

In Hanamura, you were moved into a small house on the outskirts of the Shimada estate with your aunt, who took over your education. But instead of being surrounded by peers and learning, you were now being taught how to be the perfect little wife to the Shimada heir. You had no friends, no one to gossip with, and no way to sleep in. Your aunt was strict with you, her reason was enough to make you cry.

“The Shimada’s are a proud family, and they only expect the best. And the heir is no exception. He expects perfection, so you must exceed his expectations,” she said.

“And if I don’t?”

“The marriage will fall through, your family will lose a valuable ally, and you risk being punished.”

The first time you met Hanzo, you didn’t know it was him. You were sitting in an isolated corner of the Shimada gardens reading a book. The gardens had become a retreat for you. They were massive and filled with fountains, cherry blossoms trees, birds, and so many different plants. It was so easy to get lost here, and it always took your aunt a long time to find you.

You were so engrossed in your book, you didn’t hear the footsteps until the person was standing in front of you. Looking up, you saw a young man dressed in an expensive looking blue and black suit. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail and his facial hair was neatly trimmed. Despite the stern look on his face, there was a curious look in his eyes.

“Greetings. I hope I did not startle you,” he said. His voice was soft and kind.

“Oh, it’s alright. I shouldn’t have been so absorbed in my book. If my aunt saw, she would probably smack me with a spoon.” You looked past him, then behind you as if you were expecting your aunt to jump out. The man let out a soft, warm laugh.

“Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all.” The man sat beside you and you went back to reading your book.

These meetings became a regular thing. You would go to the gardens and the man would show up. He was kind and respectful, always making sure to compliment you and ask how you were adjusting to Hanamura. Somedays, you both would just sit together in silence, other days you both would talk and laugh together.

You learned his name was Hanzo, and that he had been working for the Shimada family for a long time. He knew who you were and that you were engaged to the eldest Shimada brother. He even mentioned he was in an arranged marriage himself. Unlike you though, he had met the person he was marrying. He talked about her often, saying that she was so beautiful and kind.

One day, Hanzo found you crying in the gardens. He rushed to you and began speaking to you in a soft voice. The feel of his body pressed against you, his hand that rested on your back, and the scent of his cologne calmed you.

“Blossom, please, tell me why are you crying?”

“I’m to meet my fiancé tomorrow. And I’m so scared.”

“Are you afraid of him?” There was a sad look on his face that you didn’t understand.

“Partly. I don’t know him, and the rumors about him scare me. If I do not exceed his expectations, then what? I’m so afraid of what he’ll do if he does not like me. And everyone keeps talking about the wedding night. I feel sick just imagining it.”

Hanzo was silent for a moment. His hand ran along your upper back in a comforting way. “The eldest son can be cold, but he is not cruel. He knows you are not from here and that you were forced into this marriage. He does not expect your love, and if you wish to never have him touch you, he will respect that.”

“H-how do you know? Has he told you this?”

“In a sense, yes, he has. He’s also told me he is afraid. But he does wish to get to know you.”

“Really? What’s he afraid of?”

“Why don’t you ask him tomorrow?” You nodded and Hanzo placed a soft kiss on the side of your head.

The next day, when you were introduced to the man you were to marry, you were very much surprised. Standing before you, in an expensive blue and black pinstriped suit, was Hanzo. His father was there, along with his younger brother, but you could only focus on Hanzo. All this time, that sweet man who had been spending time with you in the gardens was your fiancé.

“Hello, it is very nice to officially meet you. You look stunning,” Hanzo told you. He took your hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

“And you, Mr. Shimada, are a sneaky man.” There was no hiding the smirk on your face or the way you blushed.

“I suppose I am.”

The sound of the bathroom door being opened brought you out of your memory. Standing in the doorway, was your husband, Hanzo Shimada. His shirt was off, revealing his fit body and broad shoulders. The black night pants he wore hung low on his hips, just a bit of hair peeked over the waistband. The tattoo you loved to admire stood out against his skin. For a moment, it looked like a shimmer ran down the mark.

“Hello, my blossom.”

“Hello, my husband,” you replied. Hanzo smirked and walked towards you. The look in his eyes and the way he moved was borderline predatory.

“I have waited, so long, for you to call me that, my wife.”

“Oh, I like that very much.” Hanzo smiled at the way you giggled. He took your hands and raised them to his lips. You smiled as his lips touched your skin, his calloused thumbs moved in soft circles over the back of your hands.

“I like it as well.”

Hanzo released your hands and cupped your face. His thumb trailed along your jaw, then traced your lips, making sure to pull your lower lip down. His other hand reached for the tie that kept your bathrobe closed. Before he could undo your robe, and reveal what was beneath, you grasped his wrist.

“Wait, let me.” Hanzo’s eyes widened, but he nodded his head.

You stood and pushed him to sit on the bed. He chuckled as you made him cover his eyes with his hands.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a surprise.”

While his eyes were covered, you undid the robe and let it fall to your feet. A deep breath in, and a slow breath out, you prepared yourself for what was to come. You trusted Hanzo. The years before the marriage gave you time to get to know him, even grow to love him. And tonight, was the first night of many more to come.

“O-open your eyes.”

Hanzo’s eyes widened at the sight of the lingerie hidden beneath your robe. It was a see-through piece with a high neck and a keyhole that revealed some cleavage. There was an intricate lacey floral design along the front of the outfit, the thong had a similar lacey floral design on the front. The garters were attached to a nude pair of stockings. The edge of the stockings hugged your upper thighs, allowing a bit of excess skin to peak over the edge.

Hanzo was silent as he took in your body. His cheeks darkened and his tongue swiped over his lips. You could feel your face grow warm and your hands began to shake. When his hand reached out for you, you jumped in surprise.

“My love, you look… ravishing.” The way he growled that the last word sent a tingle through your lower body.

“Really?”

“Yes. Seeing you like this has made my body… react a certain way.” He glanced down and you followed his gaze. The tent in his pants made gasp and your face grew hotter than you thought possible.

“Oh!”

“My blossom, we do not need to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“I want to though. Hanzo, will you… will you make love to me?”

“Yes.”

Hanzo stood up, leaving an inch between you both. One of his hands rested on your waist; his thumb moved in soft, slow circles. His other rested against your cheek. He pulled you against his body, his hand tightened around your waist, and his lips were pressed against yours.

This was not the first kiss you’ve shared with Hanzo, but it was one of the sweetest. His lips were soft and his facial hair tickled your face. You whimpered when his tongue slipped into your mouth. He tasted faintly of alcohol and that sweet cake you both barely had time to eat.

The hand on your waist began to move up. Through the sheer material, you could feel the warmth from his fingers as they grazed your skin. His hand went higher, ghosting over your ribs and stopping just beneath your breast.

“My love, can I take this off?”

“Yes.”

Hanzo sat on the bed and undid the garters. The sloppy kisses he left along your thighs and the way his teeth nipped the bit of skin that peeked over the edge of your stockings sent chills down your body. He stayed seated as his hands travel up your back to the strap. He helped you pull the top off, leaving you only in stockings and a thong.

His eyes roam your almost bare body. There was a hungry look in his dark eyes that caused goosebumps to erupt along your skin.

He took your hand and pulled you towards him. “On my lap.”

You straddle his waist and drape your arms over his shoulders. Hanzo let out a pleased hum as you gently tug the ends of his hair. His arms wrap around your body, his strong hands rest against your upper back. The kiss you share is soft and hesitant.

This was the most physical you two have ever been. Over the years of knowing each other, there were only a handful of times you both were tempted to be together. His kisses, always gentle but hungry, left your head spinning. His hands traveled along your body and threatened to rip your clothes apart. He always reduced you to moans and soft whimpers for more. But it never went further. So being half naked on his lap was almost too much. Almost.

His hands roam your body, feeling every mark and curve. The parts of your body that were the thickest seem to be a favorite of his. His fingers dug into your waist and squeezed your thighs. When his hands came to your ass, you thought he would never stop grabbing it. Not that you cared. You were completely lost in his touch.

“My love, will you be alright if I lay you on your back?” he asked against your lips. His voice was soft like he was afraid of talking too loudly would ruin the moment.

“Y-yes.”

He was careful as he changed the position you both were in. He kept his body weight off you, whether he was afraid of hurting you or overwhelming you, you weren’t sure. It might have been both.

With the change in positions, Hanzo began to kiss and worship your body. His hands didn’t stop touching or squeezing your skin. His teeth scraped your skin, gently at first, until you begged him for more. When Hanzo finally pulled away, your body was covered in many dark marks. Starting from your chest and moving down to your hips, he had marked your body as his.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he whispered.

“Hanzo.” The desperation in your voice almost broke the man’s resolve.

“Yes?”

“I… I want you. Please.”

“Of course. I can never say ‘no’ to you, my lovely wife.”

Hanzo pulled the thong down your legs and dropped them onto the ground. With a gentle touch, Hanzo pushed your legs apart and stared down at you.

The look on his face was unreadable, and his silence made you squirm. You know he’s been with other women before, and the fear that you weren’t attractive enough to him was a real one. What if something was wrong with you? Or he thought you were gross there? The insecurity made you want to close your legs and stop all this.

“My love, you are a goddess.”

The reverence in his voice and the love in his eyes swept away all your fears. “Really?”

“Yes. May I taste you?”

“Yes.”

Hanzo got down and placed your legs over his shoulders. You couldn’t hold in your whimper as Hanzo touched and kissed your thighs. He moved up and pressed a kiss to your mound, then he moved down. His eyes never left yours.

The feeling of his tongue on your lips and his nose bumping your clit was a surprise. His mouth was hot, but the way he watched you was hotter. Your soft whines and the way you grabbed the sheets below you didn’t escape him, he simply got a devilish look in his dark eyes. The things he did with his mouth were borderline sin. And his noises, those growls, and slurps, amplified everything you were feeling.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t contain your disappointed whine. “Hanzo?”

“Relax, my love. I’m gonna slip a finger into you, alright?”

“A-alright.”

“If it gets to be too much, tell me.”

You nod and watch with wide eyes as Hanzo pushed one finger into you. There was no sharp pain, just a simple stretch. He moved his finger in and out of you slowly, his eyes never left your face. When you began to moan and whimper for more, Hanzo slipped a second finger into you.

His fingers brushed against a spot inside you that was nearly overwhelming. Your body stiffened and the sharp gasp that left you stopped Hanzo.

“My love, are you ok?”

“Y-yes. You hit a spot that felt good. It just surprised me.”

The worry on Hanzo’s face melted away and that smirk returned. “Really? Do you mean this spot?”

His fingers curled inside you and rubbed against that spot again. You barely managed to gasp out a yes as he continued to finger you. His laugh, low and dark, sent a chill down along your body. His mouth latched onto your clit and he began to suck, the slight scraping of his teeth bounced between pain and pleasure.

When you managed to glance down at him, the image of him with your legs wrapped around his head was almost enough to finish you off. But it was the look in those dark eyes, adoration, and love mixed together, that sent you over the edge. His name fell from your lips as your body shook.

Hanzo eased you through your orgasm, never pushing or lessening his contact. Only when it was over did he move away. His eyes ran down your body, noting the layer of sweat along your body and the way your chest heaved.

“My love, you look so beautiful.” His hand rested on your thigh, his thumb moved in soft soothing circles against your skin.

“Hanzo, that was amazing. I’ve never felt that before.” Hanzo chuckled and placed sloppy kisses along your thigh. “Can… can we do more?”

“More?”

“Yes. You… in me.” Your face grew hot as Hanzo only smiled down at you.

“Of course. If it hurts tell me and I’ll stop.”

“I will.”

Hanzo pushed his pants down, and his erection sprung free. His cock was the first real one you’ve ever seen. It was thick and the head was red, a bead of precum dotted the tip. Hanzo grasped his length and pumped himself slowly, his thumb smeared the pre-cum along his head.

His hands separated your legs and he lined himself up. “Are you ready?”

“Y-yes.”

He was gentle as he pushed himself into you. The foreplay had prepared you, but the thought of hurting or scaring you, even accidentally, terrified Hanzo. When he was all the way inside you, he gave you a moment to adjust. He only began to move when you whimpered his name and grabbed for him.

His hand held yours as he took you. Beneath his larger body, you felt safe. His touch and the way he moved made it clear he cared for you. The loving words and sweet promises he whispered into your ear are enough to make you cry. Your tears were kissed away as he made you cum. He followed suit right after, his cum filling you and your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

After a moment of heavy breathing, he moved first. You were barely aware of him wiping you down and whispering soft words in your ear. He pulled the bed’s quilt over your body and climbed in next to you. You were pulled against his firm chest and his hands ran up and down your back.

The feeling of his hands running along your back, mixed with the warmth from his body and sound of his heart, lulled you to sleep. As the world grew dark and sleep began to take over, you barely registered the feeling of lips on your forehead and a voice saying, “I love you, my wife.”

[niuniente]

Tagged by @demonsgold - thank you!

RULES: answer 21 questions and tag 21 people you want to know better

Nicknames: Niu

Zodiac sign: Sun Aries, Moon Cancer, Rising Capricorn

Height: 153cm

Hogwarts house: Slytherin

Last thing I googled: Potsdam tram map

Fave musicians: Billy Idol, Divine, Yuki Katsuragi (and from bands GBH and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy)

Song stuck in your head: Tier by Rammstein

Following:  theme blogs, people who have nice content I want to see on my dash

Followers:  All nice and lovely! :3

Do you get asks: Sometimes. They are always a pleasure!

Amount of sleep: Around 9h, less when I’m traveling

Lucky number: 23, I  like to think that at least

What are you wearing: Grey lose yoga pants (I think these are yoga pants?) and darker grey light shirt with 3/4 sleeves. Just got them yesterday and they are very comfortable. 

Dream job: Content creator who inspires and uplifts people, mainly in art and character creation. I’d love to create lots of characters and worlds for people to enjoy of, get inspired and be supported by!

Dream trip: A round trip in Japan, traveling from North to South via West coast  back from South to North  via East coast. Super dreamy if I could stay in nice hotels and ryokans!

Instruments: None

Languages:  Finnish, English, I understand some Japanese, Swedish and German; Japanese spoken and heard, Swedish read and heard, German currently only read.

10 favourite songs: 

In no specific order:

DIVINE - You Think You’re a Man

DIVINE - I’m So Beautiful

Billy Idol - Don’t Need a Gun

Billy Idol - L.A. Woman

GBH - Sick Boy

GBH - City Baby’s Revenge

Strange Magic OST - Strange Magic

E-Rotic - Bad Boy 

Big Bad Voodoo Daddy - Mr. Pinstripe Suit

Random fact: I collect stickers. I have not counted my collection and tbh I’m intimidated by the idea because of the sheer amount of stickers I’ve got...! I suspect there are 50 000 - 70 000 stickers. Someday I have to count them. Perhaps I should take a sticker counting project and count them in smaller piles over a week.

My aesthetic: punk, steampunk, all shades of black, sleek surfaces, occult, leather, 80′s, Mad Max, monsters, medieval art, naivism, traditional Japan, snow, night, snake patterns, 20′s, minimalism, books, churches, cemeteries, pastel feminism, bling bling

TAGGING: YOU! YOU READING THIS! Have fun doing this :3 

[glorioussoulwerewolf]

The Switch part one

Jonathan grew up never knowing he had a twin brother.  His mother was a crack addict who sold her baby boys to support her habit right after giving birth.  A lovely couple in Greenwich. CT adopted him naming him Jonathan after her father , raising him to be their own.   It wasn't until the passing of his mother that he learned he was adopted.   She told him while on her death bed about his real mother and kept saying over and over how much she loved him.

He was only 6 months old when he was sold to the Baxter's of Greenwich, CT.  He grew up attending the best schools, wearing nothing but bespoke suits, and was molded into a perfect gentleman.  Growing up, he was never without a tie and jacket for his parents insisted upon it.  Formality at dinner was a requirement.  He would change into black tie unless there were guests over for dinner;  white tie and tails were required whenever his parents entertained.  He spoke only when spoken to, always rose when a lady entered the room, and held her chair as she sat.  His hair was always perfectly coifed; kept short  with a deep side part cut in and his bangs brushed back and to the side. His nails were well manicured with a shiny clear polish.  

When he turned six, his parents sent him to Phillips Exeter Academy where his class load included mathematics, science, business, foreign affairs, eight foreign languages to include Farsi, German,  Russian and Chinese, lessons in grooming, etiquette and dance, skeet, English style riding, and lacrosse.  After all, he was a Baxter and should be groomed knowing only the finer side of life. And that he did.  They even hired another student to keep his room clean, his clothing properly pressed, and his riding boots well shined; and when they weren't, he would use his riding crop to discipline him.  

At the age of ten, he started to remain in the locker room after lacrosse practice while the other boys showered.  He loved to smell their sweaty uniforms and jocks, and from time to time, a jock strap would go missing.  But Jonathan knew where it was.  He had taken it back to his room where he would put it over his head with the front pouch covering his nose and mouth.  He would lay in bed all night smelling it with delight.  

His school boy days would not last forever for young Mr. Baxter and off to Harvard he went where he earned a BS in Foreign Affairs and a MBA in Business.  Finding a job was not an issue at all for him as this smart Harvard graduate had a 4.0 gpa, money, prestige, looks and charm.  He had offers from all over the country but he went to work in Boston. His parents set him up with a modest five bedroom,  six bathroom condo that had an indoor pool and servants quarters.  He even had five parking spaces assigned to his condo which was a huge bonus for anyone living in Boston.  

Immediately after moving in to the condo, Jonathan had one of the bedrooms converted into a dressing room with closets built into two walls and mirrors covering the remaining wall space.  A dressing table in the center of the room held his jewelry cases which contained over 100 sets of cufflinks, shirt studs, tie bars, collar bars, rings, watches, bracelets and gold chains.  The closets were filled with bespoke suits and shirts, braces, shoes, and ties. One section of the closet contained his tuxedo collection in black and blue, shawl, peak and notch collars, single and double breasted, vests, shirts with detachable high wing collars, and even three sets of tails.  There were no casual clothes here as Mr. Baxter would never be seen in them.  He was always dressed well and his employers remarked on how superb he looked in the office to the point where they only directed the wealthiest of clients to him.

One day, he was out with a friend having a few drinks when this guy walked up to Jonathan and called him Jake.  Jonathan explained he must have the wrong person, that his name was not Jake but the man insisted and pulled up a photo on his phone of Jake with him at that same bar a month ago.  Jonathan stared at the photo as he knew this was his missing brother but did not let on. "You must be mistaken. That is not me as this is the first time I have patronized this establishment." "Whatever you say Jake.  You can dress up and speak to me as if I were some peasant but I know the truth about you." the man replied.  He left and Jonathan went deep into thought wanting to know more about his brother.

Jonathan spent the morning hiring the staff to tend to his apartment and then went to work.  He instructed his new butler that he dines in black tie nightly, to have an appropriate outfit ready for him when he returns.   He left for the office wearing his three piece navy blue pinstripe suit with a double breasted vest complete with a lapel, a crisp white shirt with a high collar, a red tie with white medallions, navy lapel flower, red and navy print pocket silk, navy sheer OTC hose, black wing tips with a high polish, and navy and white striped braces.  He chose the sapphire cufflinks with a gold tie bar and a gold Rolex with a blue face.   Draped on his arm was a cashmere overcoat as Boston tends to be cold in the winter.  Of course, he was the best dressed person in the office and several others who just started there wanted to know where he shopped for his clothing. "It is all bespoke attire, made especially for me to my specifications.", he replied. Emerson, one of his new colleagues, asked for the name of his tailor as he too would like to dress well. "Here you go my friend.  Give him a call. I do hope you have a large enough wallet to be able to afford one of his ties." Jonathan said with a chuckle.  

Once home, Jonathon found his new butler Harold had everything laid out for him and helped him change for dinner.  He dined alone and when done, retreated to the study where he sat down for a cognac and cigar.  Harold asked if there would be anything else but there wasn't and he was dismissed. This went on every day until the weekend when Harold slipped a ruffie into Jonathan's drink.  He passed out quickly and Harold moved Jonathan into his quarters where he strapped him into a chair, playing music for dear Jonathan. As he awoke, Jonathan struggled but Harold told him there would be none of that and quickly started a monitor with a spiral moving in and out.  "Stare at the monitor." and Jonathan did as he was told.  Eventually, Harold had control over Jonathan.  He planted a suggestion that Jonathan would only wear bow ties from now on, that he loved how they looked on him. Jonathan was released and he went out that afternoon to several shops - J. Press, Caramelo Clothing and Louis - where he purchased over 50 bow ties.  When he returned home, he instructed Harold to box up his neckties, donate them to charity and replace them with these.  "Very good Sir.", Harold replied and then assisted Jonathan as he changed into his attire for dinner.

After dinner, Harold put Jonathan under again.  He stared at the spirals on the screen while a tape played over and over "You are now a bow tie boy; my bow tie boy. Bow ties are important to you now as they make you more and more submissive every time you wear one. You love being a submissive, not being in charge, no longer needing to make decisions.  It is who you are.  You feel good with your new life and you will always follow my instructions."  Jonathan sat in his tuxedo, watching the spirals and listening to this over and over for the rest of the evening.  The next day, he woke, showered and dressed in a three piece grey pinstripe suit with a pink shirt and red bowtie with grey polka dots.  He wore his pink diamond cufflinks and tie tack, diamond ring and black Rolex with a grey face.  Instead of his usual boxer briefs, Harold handed Jonathan a pink thong, grey OTC sheer hose and grey shoes.  Jonathan did not argue; instead he just dressed in the attire he was handed.  He went to church and some of his acquaintances remarked over how well he looked in a bowtie.  In fact, they liked the new look.  He thanked them profusely telling them they were too kind.   He returned to the condo where Harold sat him in front of the screen and continued  his training. "You are becoming more and more submissive every day.  You can't help it.  You no longer see yourself as better than others; anyone I introduce you to is now superior to you.  You can't help yourself.  You must submit to them.  You want to submit to them.  It is important to you to submit to them."

That night, Harold introduced Jonathan to his new guests.  One was his brother Jake; the others were friends of his to include the guy at the bar.  Knowing guests were coming to dinner, Jonathan was dressed in white tie and tails. He greeted them and could not take his eyes off his brother.  "You look exactly like me. Same build, same facial structure, even the same height and weight. You must be Jake.  I've heard that I had a brother but this is uncanny.  All you need is a fresh haircut and you could pass for me.", Jonathan said as he welcomed his guests into the condo.  "Come with me my brother. I think we need to dress you in more appropriate attire."  They went into Jonathan's dressing room where he pulled out a second set of tails and helped Jake change for the evening.  He then applied some of his hair dressing to Jake's hair, combing just like he would comb his own.  "There, now you look like a true Baxter! Tomorrow, we will contact my tailor and have him make a completely new wardrobe for you .  I want you to move in here with me.  Is that ok with you?  Would you like that? And we need to take you to my barber to get you a fresh haircut." Jonathan said to Jake.  

Jake could not believe what he was hearing. He had been invited to dinner by Harold who noticed Jake living in his car in the parking lot of the local market.  Jake was down on his luck.  He had no place to live, no job, showered in the local Y and would rely of friends to help him out with a meal or sometimes a couch but living here? Heck yeah!  Who in their right mind would refuse this?  

They had dinner and when done, they retreated to the study for a cognac and cigar.  Jonathan was a bit uncomfortable as his thong was tight but he did not say anything.   They spoke for a while and Jake's friends departed while Jonathan and Jake had another drink and cigar. Jake sat there and was rather envious of his brother thinking how this could have been all his if he were the one sold to the Baxter's. Harold turned on the spirals and both men went under.  Jonathan became more and more submissive while Jake became more and more assertive.  Without thinking, Jake started to remove Jonathan's tailcoat and pants while Harold brought in a gurney, razor and shaving cream.  Jonathan was led to the gurney and as commanded, laid down on it. Jake proceeded to shave all the hair off of Jonathan - his balls and cock, anal cavity and legs.  He told Jonathan to remove his shirt and then he shaved his chest, arms and arm pits.  Jonathan was now devoid of all hair from the neck down.  He then pierced Jonathan's nipples and locked him in chastity. Harold left and brought in lace panties, fish net stockings and a garter belt and handed them to Jonathan who put them on without question. Jake then put him in a corset which was cinched tightly around Jonathan's torso.  High heels, a wing collar and bowtie, and white cuffs completed the outfit. "This is your new dinner attire. How do you like it?" Harold said. Jonathan replied, "If it pleases you, I must always dress like this for dinner Sir."  Jake shouted,  "Get me another drink boy!" Jonathan did as he was instructed.

Harold left them alone for the evening as he saw his plan coming together.  

[to-star-lake]

blue [ pt. 4 ]

pairing | pcy x reader count | 4.1k rating | M

“Come on, Y/N,” he whined, following you back into your apartment through the open window. 

You threw your empty box of food into the garbage before tossing the bottle of tequila back into your freezer, slamming the door shut. “You’re delusional if you think this is happening,” you said. 

“I’m not delusional,” leaning his back against your kitchen counter, watching you wash your hands in the sink. “I know you like me too.” 

You scoffed, “What could possibly give you that idea.” 

“You could’ve said you didn’t like me, but instead you said the reason we can’t do this is because I’m investing in your company.” You looked up at him, eyes wide in horror at the smirk on his face. “If that’s your only concern here, I could easily solve that problem. Like I said, I’ll just stop funding your project.” 

You felt your eyebrows furrow in anger, but he held his hand up, stopping you from speaking. “Stop worrying, you’ll still get my money, I’ll just make the investment under someone else from the company’s name. See? Easy.” 

“What is wrong with you,” you stared at his arrogant expression, astonished at how offhanded he’s being with all of this. Why couldn’t he understand that this was your work, your career, your livelihood on the line? That you were finally achieving the kind of success that you’ve worked so hard for, but it’s such a fragile line and you have no room for error. 

You walked over to your front door, turning and knob and holding the door open. “Please leave,” you said firmly. 

“Y/N..” he walked towards you, reaching a hand out to your waist. You pulled back, shaking your head. He sighed, standing still, watching you from the doorway. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter if I like you or not,” you looked up at him, seeing that the smirk had disappeared from his face. He was listening, his expression had turned serious. “You and I, we’re very different people. This job, my work, has been my life. And now I’m actually getting somewhere with it and I don’t have the luxury to be careless and spontaneous.”

 “That’s good because I have no plans to be careless or spontaneous about this”, his voice was steady. You looked at him, confused, but unable to find a single glimmer of insincerity in his eyes. He took a step closer to you. “What are you doing next weekend?” he smiled. 

You blinked, staring at him blankly, “Probably looking at commercial properties around the city with that real estate agent for my new office..” you shrugged, your voice trailing off, your mind getting caught by the thought of all the things you have to do for this move. But you were brought out of your thoughts when you felt his hand close around yours. 

“Next Saturday is my birthday,” he said, smiling. “My family’s throwing a party for me at their house and they invited a bunch of people. I want you to come.” 

“To your birthday party?” you scoffed, your words steeped in sarcasm at the idea of attending a party thrown by his parents for him and his rich friends. 

He laughed lightly, recognizing every ounce of disdain in your voice. “Come on, if not for me, then think of this as a good networking opportunity,” he tilted his head, looking at you, “a bunch of people from mine and other companies will be there. You might enjoy meeting some of them.” 

You looked down, considering his words. He let go of your hand, reaching to pat you gently on the top of your head before turning to walk out your door. “I’ll send a car to pick you up at 7 on Saturday,” he said, smiling back at you as he headed down the hall. 

You stood, frozen in the doorway. "Wait!” you heard yourself call after him. “Do I need to dress up?” You heard him snicker in response to your question. But instead of answering, he just waved a hand up at you before disappearing down the stairwell. You stood, glued to the floor until you heard the door of your building slam shut. 

The next week passed by in a blur. You spent hours sitting through meetings with the company’s legal counsel, signing documents and discussing timelines and patents. By the end of the week, you and Baekhyun were completely worn out. The two of you spent all day Saturday traipsing around the city with a real estate agent looking at various open office spaces. It was late in the afternoon when you finally made it back home. 

You dragged yourself up the stairs to your apartment, your keys jingling in your hand. You felt your brows wrinkle in confusion as you walked down the hall to your apartment, seeing a large black box against your door. You walked up, picking up the box and looked down at the black silk ribbon wrapped around it, tied in a large bow at the front. You noticed a tag attached under the bow, and flipped it over, reading the words: ‘Yes, you do need to dress up.’ 

You scoffed, as though you could hear his voice saying that to you. You stuffed the box under your arm, unlocking your door and walking in. Dropping the box onto the coffee table, you plopped onto your sofa, leaning your head back against the wall. You stared at the clock hanging on the wall across from you. It read 6:00PM. You glanced down at the black box in front of you and considered it for a moment. You hadn’t thought about if you would attend that party. In all the madness of the past week, you hadn’t had a minute to think of him at all. 

Taking a deep breath in and letting it out in a single huff, you pushed yourself off the couch and walked into your bathroom, turning on the shower. You let the searing hot water run over you, feeling the tension in your muscles relax. Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped your body in a towel, and walked out to your living room. 

You stood by your coffee table, staring down at the box. Slowly, you reached out a hand to untie the bow, hesitant. You pulled the long, silk ribbon from the box, revealing a logo on the front. You felt your eyes grow wide at the letters embossed in gold lettering across the box top.

You lifted the top cautiously, finding a layer of white tissue paper. Pulling the tissue paper back, you heard a scoff escape your lips as you stared down at the open box. You stared down at the white, sheer chiffon material. Little studs of diamonds and crystals sprinkled throughout the gown. You picked it up, your hands shaky, unsure of how to hold such a delicate material. 

It was an hour and a half later when the shiny black town car he sent to pick you up pulled up behind a long line of cars in front of a house that you could only assume was his parents’. House is not the right word to describe it. Mansion is closer. You stared out at the people dressed in suits and evening gowns walking up the wide, stone staircase that led up to the entrance. 

You gulped, sliding out from the car as a man in a black tuxedo opened the car door for you, signaling you to follow the crowd up towards the door. Following behind a group of people, you walked in through the wide open doors made of glass and dark oak into a marble lobby. You gazed around in awe at the hallway and open spaces around you, the crystal chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceilings, the large windows looking out into the expansive gardens, the marble pillars running tall down the hall in front of you. 

You walked through the halls, passing crowds of people standing, conversing, drinks in their hands. It felt like walking through a dream, in a different world. The dim lights glowing above you through sparkling crystals, reflecting off of the diamonds and gems adorning the bodies of the people you passed. 

You roamed through the halls of the house, admiring the oil paintings on the walls, the antiques on display on tables, the flowers in beautiful crystal vases. You looked at the marble hallways around you, the crystal chandeliers on the ceiling, the bronze sconces hanging from the walls. It all made sense to you. This is where he grew up, you thought.  This is how he grew up. 

Continuing down the hall, you came to an abrupt stop, hearing a familiar voice ringing from the room behind a slightly cracked door in the empty corridor. You took a step forward, stopping just shy of the door, seeing his figure standing through the opening in the door. You looked at his tall form, in a black, pinstriped silk shirt, his long legs in a pair of perfectly creased slacks. You smiled slightly, seeing him so put together, and yet the messy flop of hair on his head completely shattered the illusion. 

You watched as he reached a hand up to his face, hanging his head in exasperation. “You need me at that meeting, I’ve earned my seat at the table,” you heard him say. 

“No, you’ve got some nerve telling me what you think you’ve earned,” you heard another voice say. His voice was low, his tone grave. You stepped back from the door, seeing an older man step into view. “Suddenly you think you’re ready to take some responsibility in your life? I’ve always known you are an ungrateful child, but I never thought you’d be so insolent.” 

You leaned against the wall by the door, your head dropping, staring at the floor below you, hearing his voice grow louder, “I’m the one that got you this deal, this is my merger, you can’t just pull the ground out from under me.” 

“And you need to start showing some respect for once in your life if you expect to one day inherit this company,” you heard the older man say, his voice commanding, his tone finite. You felt your eyes grow dark. You turned, walking back down the hallway. This was not something you were meant to hear, you thought. You regretted staying and hearing as much as you already did. You wandered down the hall until you came upon a seating area in a small alcove. It was empty here, far from the crowds at the front of the house, quiet, and dark without the bright crystal lights from down the hall. 

You walked over to the window by a velvet sofa, looking out at the garden, at a fountain with a tall, Grecian sculpture standing in the middle, a spout of water pouring from its hand, the moonlight reflecting in the ripples of the pond below. You jumped a little, hearing footsteps approaching. Turning, you saw him stopping at the edge of the hallway before it turned into the room. 

His eyes held anger, resentment, sadness. You watched as he lifted his eyes and notice you, and saw his expression soften, his lips curling up into a smile. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said softly, slowly approaching you. You felt conflicted, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to act. “You look beautiful,” he smiled, his voice gentle. 

“Well you picked it,” you said quietly, looking down, pulling at the material of your dress. A silence fell over the two of you, and you shifted nervously, looking at the room around you. You wondered if you should tell him what you heard. You wondered how he would react. You wondered if you should just deal with the guilt you felt about hearing a very grim conversation that was not meant for you. 

“Let’s go,” you heard him say. You looked up at him. He was still smiling, but not in his eyes. His eyes still held onto that sadness, that anger in the depths of his dark irises. “Come on,” he reached out, grabbing one of your hands, and started down the hall, pulling you along with him. 

You stumbled behind him as he pulled you outside to the back of his house, across the gravel lot towards a row of cars. He tugged you towards a dark SUV parked at the corner, opening the door, and pushing you towards it. You watched as he got into the driver’s seat beside you, turning the car over, and pulling out onto the driveway. Gazing out the window, you looked back at the orange lights of the large estate growing dimmer in the distance as he drove away. You felt him grab your hand that was sitting in your lap, squeezing it tightly. 

You spent the entire car ride in silence, looking quietly out your passenger side window, watching the lights along the highway pass by. You felt that your hand had grown numb under the pressure of his hand squeezing it. You found yourself unable to stop thinking what you heard, the words still ringing in your mind. The somber mood you felt even from outside the room. You hardly noticed when you felt his car slow to a stop in front of a highrise back in midtown in the city. 

He stepped out, walking over to your side, opening the door, and you slid out of his car. He took your hand, leading you through the front entrance, into the elevator. You watched as he pressed the button labeled ‘P’ at the top. 

You stepped into his penthouse suite, looking around at the wide open, expansive space of his apartment. You glanced at the stainless steel appliances of his large kitchen, the modular, monochrome living room furniture in the center of the open room, a large bed on a wooden platform on the far end of the room, against a row of grand windows overlooking the city, the room dimly lit by the city lights and moon in the distance. 

He walked towards the sofa, tossing his coat onto it before turning to face you, his hands in his pant pockets, smiling softly. You walked into the room, past the foyer, looking around and noticing a grand piano on the other side of the room, opposite the sofa. “Do you play?” you asked, walking up to the piano, setting a hand down on the glossy key cover, brushing it gently. 

You watched him sit down onto the bench in front of it. “Sometimes,” he answered softly. You turned and looked at him. His eyes looked tired, but still full of the same sadness and resentment you saw earlier. 

“Chanyeol..” you started, your voice in a whisper, looking down. “I should tell you, I overheard you and your dad talking at the house earlier.” You looked up at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but you saw no change in his expression. He simply sat, looking back into your eyes, listening intently. “I mean, I think it was your dad. I didn’t hear much,” you looked back down at your hands, “But I heard..I heard a little bit..I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I just came upon the room and-” You stopped, gasping softly as you felt his hands grip onto your waist, pulling you close to him. 

You stood, his hands clinging onto your waist, holding you still between his legs. He leaned his head against your stomach, resting. “What you must think of me..of my family..” you heard him whisper. 

You sighed. “It doesn’t matter what I think of you or your family,” you said quietly, watching as he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes hidden behind his dark hair falling over his forehead. You reached down cautiously, gently brushing his hair from his eyes. You saw that his anger had subsided, but the sadness remained. 

“It matters a great deal what you think,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “Do you think you could see past this?” he asked, his voice low and soft. 

“See past what?”

“All of this,” he looked at the space around you, then turning, looking up into your eyes. “Do you think you could forgive all of this, see past all of this, and just accept me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you whispered. 

You felt him run a hand up your back, finding the zipper of your gown. Goosebumps rose on your arms as you felt him tug on it gently, pulling it down slowly. You felt the cold air in his apartment brushing onto your bare skin as the back of your gown fell open. He moved his hands up to your shoulders, brushing the straps of your dress down your arms, the rest of your gown followed, falling into a soft, chiffon puddle on the floor around you. 

He slid his hands behind you, pulling apart the clasp that held your bralette on your body, tugging it from your arms, dropping it onto the floor beside him. You watched him reach forward and felt his fingertips against the skin on your hips, shivering slightly from his touch. He looped his hands around the edge of your underwear, pulling them down your legs. He returned his hands to your waist, his fingers gripping into your skin. You watched him sigh, looking at your naked body before him, cautiously waiting for you to move.  

You stood still for a moment in his arms, gazing into his eyes. You reached your hands down to him, carefully aware of your movements, and tugged at the knot in his tie, undoing it, pulling at the material, sliding it from his neck. You felt his arms close tighter around you. 

You felt him lean into you, gasping as you felt the first contact of his lips against your skin. His lips felt soft, gently trailing kisses against your hips, your waist, up to your rib cage. You felt him breathe into your skin, his fingertips digging down into your hips, his mouth opening, biting into your skin, his movements slowly becoming more rough. 

He stopped for a moment, looking up at you. You could see a fire growing in his eyes. Grabbing tightly onto your waist, he swung you around, pushing you up onto the piano. You heard him take a deep breath, sliding his hands around your hips, you bit down on your lip gently, your body responding to the warmth of his palms against your skin. He watched as you reached your hands out to unbutton the top of his shirt. He leaned forward, closing in on your until you could feel his breath against your cheeks. You felt your heartbeat quickening, your breathing becoming uneven, shaking as his lips grazed against your cheek. 

He reached a hand up to your face, grabbing onto your jaw, forcing a soft gasp from your lips. You looked into his eyes, seeing him lower his face to yours slowly, feeling the softness of his lips as they pressed against yours. He moved slowly against you, gradually molding his lips onto yours. You felt him move your mouth open, sliding his tongue onto yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut, whimpering against the taste of him in your mouth. 

You breathed in, your mind growing faint. The smell of his skin and cologne was intoxicating. You felt his hand sliding up your back, your neck, brushing into your hair before grabbing onto it roughly, pulling your head back. You gasped, and his lips crashed back against your open mouth, pushing his tongue against yours greedily. You moaned into his kiss, and he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, your legs around his waist. 

You felt his lips slide to the corner of your mouth, onto your jaw, leaving little bites and kisses, before latching onto your neck. He leaned forward into you, forcing you down onto the top of the piano. You felt his lips gliding down from your neck, to your collarbone, your chest. You shivered, feeling his hands on your thighs, pushing them apart. You closed your eyes, your back arching against him as you felt his tongue sliding down to you, his fingers gripping tightly into your hips, holding you against him. Soft moans escaped your lungs, your body shivering, feeling him tasting you, the sensations creating a fog in your mind, overwhelming you as you felt the intensity of the pleasure building inside of you. You felt his fingertips tracing the skin on your thigh, tugging on your leg and pulling it over his shoulder, before gripping onto your hips and pulling you into him. You gasped, feeling his tongue sinking into you. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, your breathing becoming more ragged. 

He pulled away, crawling over you, his lips crashing onto yours. He reached his arms around your waist, pulling you up onto your feet, moaning into your lips as you reached your hands up hurriedly, unbuttoning his shirt. You pulled the silk material from his body, sliding your hands down, feeling every curve and ridge of his chest, his stomach, reaching down to his belt. His hands gripped down onto your waist, pushing you backwards across the room, until you felt your back against the cold window. You watched him in the moonlight streaming in through from the dark skies, your eyes following the lines on his body as he slid the belt from his waist, sliding his pants and briefs down to the floor. 

He tugged at your waist, guiding you to turn to face the window. You gasped, feeling his hands clench down onto your hips and push you against the glass. “Move your legs apart,” he commanded into your ear. You did as he said, moaning as you felt him push towards you, hovering by your entrance. You could feel yourself dripping down around him, electric tingles spreading throughout your entire body as he slid himself up and down your lips. You could feel the heat radiate out to the rest of your body as your heart pounds harder in your chest as the sensations clouded your mind. You gasped and closed your eyes, breathing heavily, willing him to push himself inside you.

“Tell me what you want,” you heard the low growl of his voice against your ear, this voice radiating through your body, quaking through your core. “I want you,” you moaned, biting down onto your lower lip. You felt him slide a hand around your shoulders, his fingers closing around your neck, pulling your head back onto his chest, forcing you to arch your back against him. 

“Is this what you want?” you gasped, feeling him pressing against you, sliding slowly into you. “Yes,” you whimper, the sensation of him inside you flooding your consciousness as he pushed himself completely into you. “Like this?” he whispered into your neck, pulling out slowly before pushing himself back into you. His hands gripping into your hips, pulling you onto him as he pushed into you with more force, his pace quickening. You heard soft screams escaping your lungs as he thrust into you over and over again, harder with each movement. You felt his breath, hot against your skin, whispering your name as he bit into the skin on your neck, gasping for air. You felt your vision blur, little stars forming over your field of vision, as your body convulsed against his, a loud gasp escaping your lips as you melted around him, feeling him shaking, spasming into you. 

You felt his head drop into the crook of your neck, kissing at your skin gently as you felt your field of vision clear, your heart pounding in your ears. You fell limply against the glass, your skin felt like it was on fire against the sharp coldness of the window. He pulled at your waist, turning you to face him. Your eyelids felt heavy, you were having trouble holding them open. He reached a hand up to your face, lifting you up to meet his kiss. You pressed your lips against his lazily. 

“Stay with me,” he whispered against your lips. You opened your eyes, looking up at him. His cheeks were flushed, his skin glowing in the moonlight, his eyes tired but glimmering. “Don’t leave me.” 

[marisa-writes]

|| i. the man in black. ||

The first time she notices him in her daddy’s church, she doesn’t realize he's not meant to be there. Eccentricities aside, he looks the same as everyone, out of place but not out of the ordinary.

Still, Daddy’s church is filled with old black folks and Ora is surprised to see no one raise an eyebrow at the tall, gangly white man who enters through the double doors to the sanctuary, wearing pinstriped pants and a sheer black shirt with the top few buttons undone.

It’s a look unseen in a small, southern black church like the one where Ora’s daddy has been a pastor for nearly twenty-seven years. Here, buttons are always done up to the collar, and dress shirts are certainly not sheer, and hair is certainly not as long as his, draped down carelessly from beneath a wide-brimmed black hat.

Ora feels a chill run down her spine as she watches him make his way up the middle aisle, between the rows of pews. It’s startling, the way the aisle is filled with church folk slowly making their way into the pews but he glides through them without so much as bumping into a single one of them, his gait slow, like theirs, but effortless. There are rings on the fingers of each of his hands, and he spins them as he walks, his eyes downcast towards the blood red carpet of the aisle.

[read here]

[crowleysqueenofhellwithasmile]

Saving, Mr. Holmes

Chapter​ ​One-​ ​The​ ​New​ ​Girl​ ​in​ ​Town 

Words: 1,624

Warnings: some language. 

A/N: Me and @onepissedofsquirrel are working on this together. So thanks G for editing and adding more! :) 

 London,​ ​England​ ​the​ ​land​ ​where​ ​Jack​ ​the​ ​Ripper​ ​was​ ​able​ ​to​ ​thrive.​ ​My​ ​plane​ ​landed at​ ​eleven​ ​at​ ​night,​ ​I​ ​was​ ​glad​ ​to​ ​be​ ​on​ ​land​ ​considering​ ​it​ ​was​ ​a​ ​seven-hour​ ​flight​ ​from Detroit​ ​where​ ​I​ ​left​ ​the​ ​Winchester​ ​boys.​ ​I​ ​called​ ​for​ ​a​ ​cab,​ ​then​ ​dialed​ ​Dean Winchester’s​ ​number. 

“Kassie…​ ​How​ ​was​ ​the​ ​flight?”​ ​he​ ​answered  

 “You​ ​would’ve​ ​loved​ ​it,​ ​Deano.​ ​All​ ​seven​ ​hours​ ​in​ ​the​ ​open​ ​air​ ​with​ ​just​ ​the​ ​air holding​ ​us​ ​up.”​ ​I​ ​smiled​ ​into​ ​the​ ​phone.​ ​Ever​ ​since​ ​my​ ​parents​ ​were​ ​killed​ ​by​ ​werewolves and​ ​the​ ​Winchesters​ ​took​ ​me​ ​in,​ ​Dean​ ​has​ ​always​ ​felt​ ​the​ ​need​ ​to​ ​make​ ​sure​ ​I​ ​was​ ​okay. Especially​ ​if​ ​my​ ​method​ ​of​ ​travel​ ​was​ ​his​ ​greatest​ ​fear.  

​ ​​ Dean​ ​fake​ ​laughed,​ ​“Very​ ​funny,​ ​punk.​ ​Just​ ​worry​ ​about​ ​the​ ​killings.​ ​You​ ​have​ ​your FBI​ ​things​ ​right?” 

 “I​ ​don’t​ ​see​ ​how​ ​any​ ​of​ ​this​ ​will​ ​work.”​ ​The​ ​taxi​ ​stopped​ ​at​ ​a​ ​red​ ​light. 

 “Don’t​ ​worry​ ​about​ ​that…​ ​Any​ ​problems,​ ​have​ ​them​ ​call​ ​me.​ ​You​ ​need​ ​to​ ​sleep,​ ​it’s bound​ ​to​ ​be​ ​late​ ​there.” 

 We​ ​said​ ​our​ ​goodbyes​ ​just​ ​as​ ​the​ ​cab​ ​pulled​ ​in​ ​front​ ​of​ ​my​ ​hotel.​ ​After​ ​renting​ ​my room​ ​and​ ​settling​ ​in​ ​my​ ​stuff,​ ​I​ ​began​ ​getting​ ​ready​ ​for​ ​bed.​ ​I​ ​quickly​ ​pulled​ ​on​ ​my matching​ ​silk​ ​pajama​ ​shirt​ ​and​ ​shorts.​ ​As​ ​I​ ​pulled​ ​on​ ​the​ ​shirt​ ​I​ ​fiddled​ ​lightly​ ​with​ ​the buttons.​ ​I​ ​grabbed​ ​the​ ​newspaper​ ​from​ ​the​ ​front​ ​desk​ ​off​ ​of​ ​the​ ​bedside​ ​table​ ​and flopped​ ​down​ ​on​ ​the​ ​mattress.​ ​There​ ​had​ ​been​ ​three​ ​deaths​ ​all​ ​bodies​ ​drained​ ​of​ ​blood,​ ​an obvious​ ​vampire​ ​killing.​ ​It’s​ ​not​ ​like​ ​there​ ​weren’t​ ​supernatural​ ​beings​ ​all​ ​over​ ​the​ ​world and​ ​it’s​ ​not​ ​like​ ​there​ ​weren’t​ ​hunters​ ​in​ ​all​ ​of​ ​those​ ​places​ ​either.​ ​But​ ​what’s​ ​a​ ​little​ ​bit​ ​of help? 

As​ ​I​ ​was​ ​reading​ ​about​ ​all​ ​of​ ​the​ ​cases​ ​in​ ​more​ ​depth,​ ​I​ ​noticed​ ​a​ ​common​ ​name. Sherlock​ ​Holmes,​ ​a​ ​consultant​ ​with​ ​the​ ​police​ ​force.​ ​A​ ​quick​ ​search​ ​pulled​ ​up​ ​the​ ​blog​ ​of​ ​a John​ ​Watson.​ ​As​ ​I​ ​slowly​ ​read​ ​through​ ​the​ ​blog,​ ​I​ ​slowly​ ​learned​ ​a​ ​little​ ​about​ ​Sherlock. However,​ ​all​ ​I​ ​used​ ​was​ ​of​ ​no​ ​use.​ ​I​ ​sighed​ ​quietly​ ​and​ ​pulled​ ​out​ ​my​ ​phone​ ​to​ ​text​ ​Sam: 

​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​Hey​ ​baby​ ​Winchester,​ ​can​ ​you​ ​look​ ​up​ ​Sherlock​ ​Holmes:​ ​London,​ ​England​ ​for me? 

​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​A)​ ​I’m​ ​twice​ ​your​ ​size​ ​and​ ​older.​ ​Just​ ​because​ ​I’m​ ​Dean’s​ ​younger​ ​brother doesn’t​ ​make​ ​me​ ​a​ ​baby.​ ​B)​ ​What’s​ ​the​ ​big​ ​deal​ ​with​ ​him,​ ​Kassie?​ ​​He​ ​replied​ ​quickly 

to​ ​my​ ​text.​ ​This​ ​is​ ​why​ ​he​ ​was​ ​my​ ​favorite​ ​of​ ​the​ ​two​ ​Winchester’s.​ ​Just​ ​kidding.​ ​They were​ ​both​ ​cool. 

 ​I​ ​need​ ​to​ ​know​ ​who​ ​he​ ​is​ ​and​ ​there’s​ ​no​ ​way​ ​I​ ​can​ ​lie​ ​to​ ​him. 

​ ​​ Then​ ​seek​ ​him​ ​out​ ​first​ ​thing​ ​in​ ​the​ ​morning.​ ​Get​ ​some​ ​rest​ ​for​ ​now. 

​ ​​ ​​ ​I’ll​ ​try​ ​but​ ​no​ ​promises,​ ​Sammy. 

​ ​ ​​Quickly​ ​after​ ​the​ ​phone​ ​call​ ​ended​ ​with​ ​Sammy,​ ​I​ ​laid​ ​down​ ​and​ ​curled​ ​into​ ​the semi-soft​ ​sheets.​ ​I​ ​couldn’t​ ​even​ ​lie​ ​to​ ​Dean,​ ​he​ ​always​ ​said​ ​‘never​ ​bullshit​ ​a​ ​bullshitter.’ Sherlock​ ​seemed​ ​like​ ​the​ ​king​ ​of​ ​figuring​ ​people​ ​out.​ ​Hell,​ ​he​ ​had​ ​a​ ​blog​ ​about​ ​the​ ​art​ ​of deduction.​ ​My​ ​only​ ​hope​ ​was​ ​that​ ​he​ ​would​ ​believe​ ​me,​ ​I’m​ ​sure​ ​the​ ​John​ ​Watson​ ​fellow would​ ​at​ ​least.​ ​Somehow,​ ​I​ ​fell​ ​soundly​ ​asleep. 

   The​ ​next​ ​morning,​ ​my​ ​alarm​ ​sounded​ ​bright​ ​and​ ​early​ ​7​ ​AM​ ​sharp.​ ​As​ ​I​ ​searched through​ ​my​ ​suitcase,​ ​I​ ​found​ ​nothing​ ​of​ ​interest.​ ​I​ ​walked​ ​to​ ​the​ ​closet​ ​next.​ ​I​ ​grabbed my​ ​black​ ​pinstripe​ ​skirt,​ ​my​ ​white​ ​button​ ​up,​ ​and​ ​the​ ​matching​ ​blazer.​ ​I​ ​hung​ ​them​ ​up inside​ ​the​ ​bathroom​ ​and​ ​walked​ ​back​ ​to​ ​the​ ​room.​ ​I​ ​grabbed​ ​my​ ​matching​ ​black​ ​lace lingerie​ ​set​ ​complete​ ​with​ ​a​ ​garter​ ​and​ ​took​ ​them​ ​to​ ​the​ ​bathroom​ ​as​ ​well.​ ​I​ ​pulled​ ​my makeup​ ​out​ ​and​ ​my​ ​curling​ ​iron.​ ​I​ ​curled​ ​my​ ​raven​ ​hair​ ​delicately​ ​before​ ​twisting​ ​it​ ​into​ ​a gentle​ ​bun.​ ​Next​ ​I​ ​applied​ ​gentle​ ​tones​ ​of​ ​browns​ ​for​ ​my​ ​eyeshadow​ ​and​ ​applied​ ​deep​ ​ruby red​ ​lipstick.​ ​I​ ​slowly​ ​stripped​ ​out​ ​of​ ​my​ ​pajamas,​ ​and​ ​carefully​ ​dressed​ ​in​ ​the​ ​lingere​ ​and garter​ ​belt.​ ​Afterwards,​ ​I​ ​rolled​ ​my​ ​sheer​ ​black​ ​thigh​ ​high​ ​stockings​ ​up​ ​before​ ​dressing​ ​in my​ ​suit.​ ​Lastly,​ ​I​ ​delicately​ ​slipped​ ​on​ ​my​ ​high​ ​heels.​ ​​ ​It​ ​was​ ​the​ ​outfit​ ​Dean​ ​always​ ​had​ ​me wear​ ​when​ ​I​ ​dealt​ ​with​ ​male​ ​cops.​ ​He​ ​taught​ ​me​ ​how​ ​to​ ​flirt,​ ​how​ ​to​ ​seduce​ ​a​ ​man​ ​and break​ ​him​ ​down​ ​to​ ​give​ ​me​ ​what​ ​I​ ​wanted.​ ​“Good​ ​morning​ ​Mr.​ ​Holmes…​ ​mind​ ​if​ ​I​ ​have​ ​a word​ ​or​ ​two?”​ ​I​ ​said​ ​as​ ​I​ ​batted​ ​my​ ​eyes​ ​at​ ​myself​ ​in​ ​the​ ​mirror.​ ​I​ ​smiled​ ​then​ ​“Yes​ ​of course​ ​you​ ​won’t.” 

 ​I​ ​slowly​ ​exited​ ​my​ ​room​ ​careful​ ​to​ ​take​ ​my​ ​fake​ ​badge,​ ​room​ ​key,​ ​and​ ​wallet.​ ​I slowly​ ​stepped​ ​out​ ​of​ ​the​ ​lobby​ ​and​ ​onto​ ​the​ ​curb.​ ​I​ ​stuck​ ​my​ ​hand​ ​out​ ​and​ ​hailed​ ​a​ ​cab​ ​in seconds,​ ​“​ ​221B​ ​Baker​ ​Street​ ​please.”​ ​The​ ​driver​ ​was​ ​quiet​ ​but​ ​glanced​ ​my​ ​way​ ​every​ ​so often.​ ​In​ ​no​ ​time​ ​what​ ​so​ ​ever,​ ​we​ ​arrived​ ​at​ ​the​ ​home​ ​of​ ​the​ ​Sherlock​ ​Holmes​ ​and​ ​John Watson.​ ​I​ ​gently​ ​used​ ​the​ ​door​ ​knocker​ ​to​ ​rap​ ​on​ ​the​ ​solid​ ​black​ ​wooden​ ​door.​ ​A​ ​polite elderly​ ​woman​ ​opened​ ​the​ ​door. 

 “Oh,​ ​yes​ ​sweetie?”​ ​she​ ​said​ ​smiling​ ​at​ ​me.  

 “Hello.​ ​I’m​ ​looking​ ​for​ ​a​ ​Mr.​ ​Holmes.”​ ​She​ ​nodded​ ​and​ ​smiled​ ​sweetly.  

“Absolutely,​ ​just​ ​follow​ ​me.” 

“Thank​ ​you,​ ​Mrs…” 

“Hudson.​ ​Mrs.​ ​Hudson.” 

“Right​ ​Mrs.​ ​Hudson.”​ ​I​ ​followed​ ​her​ ​up​ ​the​ ​stairs​ ​and​ ​then​ ​crossed​ ​the​ ​threshold into​ ​221B.  

“Good​ ​Morning,​ ​Mr.​ ​Holmes.” 

“I’m​ ​thinking​ ​about​ ​something.​ ​Stop​ ​talking​ ​and​ ​just​ ​sit​ ​down.”​ ​He​ ​quickly​ ​snapped not​ ​even​ ​turning​ ​his​ ​attention​ ​in​ ​my​ ​direction.​ ​I​ ​slowly​ ​walked​ ​to​ ​the​ ​chair​ ​across​ ​from​ ​the couch​ ​and​ ​sat.​ ​I​ ​gently​ ​crossed​ ​my​ ​legs​ ​and​ ​placed​ ​my​ ​folded​ ​hands​ ​in​ ​my​ ​lap.​ ​Sherlock jumped​ ​up​ ​and​ ​set​ ​his​ ​elbows​ ​on​ ​his​ ​knees​ ​putting​ ​his​ ​head​ ​in​ ​his​ ​hands,​ ​“I’m​ ​sorry.​ ​You were​ ​here​ ​for​ ​what​ ​exactly?” 

 “I’m​ ​here​ ​about​ ​the​ ​murders.” 

 “You’re​ ​American.”​ ​I​ ​nodded​ ​at​ ​what​ ​he​ ​said​ ​he​ ​sat​ ​up​ ​and​ ​looked​ ​at​ ​me​ ​“You’re​ ​not used​ ​to​ ​the​ ​thigh​ ​highs​ ​means​ ​you​ ​don’t​ ​normally​ ​dress​ ​that​ ​way.​ ​You’re​ ​going​ ​to​ ​try​ ​to seduce​ ​me.​ ​You​ ​obviously​ ​want​ ​something​ ​from​ ​me.” 

“You​ ​are​ ​only​ ​correct​ ​about​ ​two​ ​of​ ​those​ ​statements,​ ​Mr.​ ​Holmes.​ ​These​ ​thigh highs​ ​are​ ​new​ ​and​ ​a​ ​different​ ​material.​ ​I​ ​am​ ​however​ ​very​ ​used​ ​to​ ​wearing​ ​thigh​ ​highs.​ ​Tell me,​ ​Mr.​ ​Holmes,​ ​is​ ​it​ ​working?​ ​Am​ ​I​ ​seducing​ ​you?​ ​After​ ​all,​ ​you​ ​are​ ​making​ ​direct​ ​eye contact,​ ​you​ ​directional​ ​posture​ ​is​ ​centered​ ​on​ ​me​ ​even​ ​though​ ​Mrs.​ ​Hudson​ ​is​ ​now​ ​in​ ​the room,​ ​and​ ​you​ ​have​ ​a​ ​nice​ ​sheen​ ​of​ ​sweat​ ​that​ ​wasn’t​ ​previously​ ​there.”​ ​Mrs.​ ​Hudson snapped​ ​her​ ​head​ ​between​ ​Sherlock​ ​and​ ​I.​ ​She​ ​was​ ​positioned​ ​behind​ ​me​ ​and​ ​was​ ​obviously questioning​ ​how​ ​I​ ​noticed​ ​her​ ​entrance​ ​without​ ​moving. 

“What​ ​is​ ​your​ ​name…​ ​” 

“It’s​ ​a​ ​vampire​ ​that’s​ ​killing​ ​those​ ​people…​ ​I’m​ ​a​ ​hunter​ ​I​ ​kill​ ​the​ ​things​ ​that​ ​go bump​ ​in​ ​the​ ​night​ ​my​ ​name​ ​is​ ​Kassandra​ ​Carter.​ ​I​ ​have​ ​nothing​ ​to​ ​hide.”​ ​I​ ​said​ ​interrupting him. 

 He​ ​looked​ ​at​ ​me,​ ​“You’re​ ​not​ ​lying.” 

 “The​ ​bodies​ ​are​ ​drained​ ​of​ ​blood​ ​their​ ​necks​ ​bit​ ​into​ ​by​ ​a​ ​million​ ​sharp​ ​teeth…​ ​it’s all​ ​right​ ​there.” 

 I​ ​saw​ ​the​ ​excitement​ ​wash​ ​over​ ​his​ ​face​ ​“Well​ ​this​ ​interesting​ ​now,​ ​isn’t​ ​it?​ ​Very interesting​ ​indeed.” 

 “That’s​ ​one​ ​world​ ​for​ ​it.”​ ​I​ ​smirked,​ ​looking​ ​at​ ​him​ ​“I​ ​need​ ​to​ ​know​ ​everything​ ​about the​ ​cases​ ​and​ ​a​ ​map​ ​of​ ​London.” 

 He​ ​got​ ​me​ ​what​ ​I​ ​asked​ ​for​ ​and​ ​I​ ​began​ ​studying​ ​the​ ​cases.​ ​I​ ​plotted​ ​a​ ​point​ ​at each​ ​death​ ​and​ ​connected​ ​them.​ ​He​ ​watched​ ​over​ ​my​ ​shoulder​ ​studying​ ​what​ ​I​ ​was​ ​doing, eventually​ ​he​ ​took​ ​a​ ​seat​ ​next​ ​to​ ​me​ ​but​ ​his​ ​icy​ ​blue​ ​eyes​ ​never​ ​left​ ​me.​ ​As​ ​if​ ​he​ ​were peering​ ​straight​ ​through​ ​me. 

 “Are​ ​you​ ​sure​ ​this​ ​is​ ​right?”​ ​he​ ​asked​ ​after​ ​a​ ​period​ ​of​ ​time​ ​while​ ​motioning​ ​to​ ​the map. 

 “Yes…​ ​Monsters​ ​do​ ​not​ ​need​ ​the​ ​art​ ​of​ ​deduction…​ ​Monsters​ ​are​ ​creatures​ ​of habit,​ ​Mr.​ ​Holmes.​ ​They​ ​don’t​ ​feed​ ​far​ ​from​ ​their​ ​nest​ ​but​ ​they​ ​need​ ​privacy.​ ​Are​ ​there any​ ​warehouses​ ​in​ ​that​ ​general​ ​area​ ​or​ ​abandoned​ ​buildings?”​ ​I​ ​asked​ ​showing​ ​him​ ​the​ ​map with​ ​the​ ​indicated​ ​zone​ ​of��� ​activity. I​ ​watched​ ​as​ ​he​ ​examined​ ​it​ ​carefully​ ​then​ ​finally​ ​pointed​ ​one​ ​of​ ​his​ ​thin​ ​palefingers​ ​to​ ​a​ ​spot​ ​I​ ​marked​ ​the​ ​area​ ​and​ ​smiled​ ​“Great…​ ​it’ll​ ​be​ ​taken​ ​care​ ​of​ ​by​ ​noon.” 

 ​ ​“May​ ​I​ ​come?​ ​I’d​ ​like​ ​to​ ​see​ ​it​ ​you’re​ ​telling​ ​the​ ​truth.”​ ​He​ ​asked​ ​standing​ ​with​ ​me. 

 I​ ​rubbed​ ​my​ ​palms​ ​down​ ​my​ ​thighs​ ​and​ ​sighed,​ ​​ ​“I​ ​suppose…​ ​but​ ​you​ ​don’t​ ​leave​ ​my side…​ ​I’ll​ ​need​ ​to​ ​get​ ​changed.​ ​Meet​ ​me​ ​at​ ​the​ ​diner​ ​down​ ​the​ ​street​ ​by​ ​eleven.”​ ​I​ ​said​ ​as walked​ ​out​ ​of​ ​the​ ​flat​ ​I​ ​almost​ ​ran​ ​into​ ​a​ ​man​ ​with​ ​short​ ​shaggy​ ​hair​ ​with​ ​a​ ​dirty​ ​blonde hue. 

 “John​ ​Watson…​ ​You​ ​are?” 

 “Kassandra​ ​Carter.​ ​She​ ​solved​ ​the​ ​case…​ ​come​ ​on​ ​up​ ​here​ ​John​ ​and​ ​I’ll​ ​tell​ ​you about​ ​it​ ​all.​ ​See​ ​you​ ​at​ ​eleven,​ ​Kassandra.”​ ​Sherlock​ ​said​ ​from​ ​behind​ ​me. 

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At​ ​eleven​ ​Sherlock​ ​showed​ ​up​ ​at​ ​the​ ​dinner​ ​with​ ​John.​ ​My​ ​combat​ ​boots​ ​were​ ​laced up​ ​tightly​ ​around​ ​the​ ​ankles​ ​of​ ​my​ ​ripped​ ​skinny​ ​jeans.​ ​My​ ​leather​ ​jacket​ ​flapped​ ​slightly in​ ​the​ ​wind​ ​and​ ​the​ ​rips​ ​in​ ​my​ ​old​ ​band​ ​t-shirt​ ​allowed​ ​some​ ​of​ ​it​ ​to​ ​brush​ ​against​ ​my​ ​skin. I​ ​looked​ ​the​ ​definition​ ​of​ ​American​ ​beside​ ​the​ ​two​ ​of​ ​them.​ ​I​ ​hailed​ ​the​ ​cab​ ​and​ ​quickly climbed​ ​in​ ​sighing.  

 “I​ ​can’t​ ​protect​ ​you​ ​both​ ​you​ ​know.” 

 “I​ ​don’t​ ​need​ ​any​ ​protecting.”​ ​John​ ​said​ ​showing​ ​me​ ​his​ ​gun. 

 I​ ​couldn’t​ ​help​ ​but​ ​let​ ​a​ ​little​ ​laugh​ ​“That’s​ ​great…​ ​you​ ​know​ ​if​ ​they​ ​weren’t undead.”​ ​I​ ​said​ ​quietly.​ ​He​ ​looked​ ​down​ ​and​ ​frowned​ ​slightly. “No​ ​worries…​ ​I​ ​brought​ ​you​ ​both​ ​something.”​ ​I​ ​said​ ​as​ ​the​ ​taxi​ ​stopped.​ ​I​ ​paid​ ​the​ ​cabbie and​ ​looked​ ​up​ ​at​ ​the​ ​big​ ​warehouse.  

“Well​ ​this​ ​should​ ​be​ ​exciting.”​ ​I​ ​said​ ​smirking​ ​in​ ​the​ ​direction​ ​of​ ​Sherlock. 

[marisa-writes]

writing challenge

@wildestdreamsfics tagged me to share a piece of my writing that I’m fond of, so tonight I’m gonna share a tidbit from a thing I’ve been slowly pecking away at. I’m not sure if I’m ever going to finish it because the idea is sort of Big and Supernatural, but there’s this one part that was such a “yes!!!” moment for me to write in terms of imagery, which is truly my favorite part of writing:

The first time she notices him in her daddy’s church, she doesn’t realize he’s not meant to be there. Eccentricities aside, he looks the same as everyone, out of place but not out of the ordinary. Still, Daddy’s church is filled with old black folks and Ora is surprised to see no one raise an eyebrow at the tall, gangly white man who enters through the double doors to the sanctuary, wearing pinstriped pants and a sheer black shirt with the top few buttons undone. It’s a look unseen in a small, southern black church like the one where Ora’s daddy has been a pastor for nearly twenty-five years. Here, buttons are always done up to the collar, and dress shirts are certainly not sheer, and hair is certainly not as long as his, draped down carelessly from beneath a wide-brimmed black hat.

Ora feels a chill run down her spine as she watches him make his way up the middle aisle, between the rows of pews. It’s startling, the way the aisle is filled with church folk slowly making their way into the pews but he glides through them without so much as bumping into a single one of them, his gait slow, like theirs, but effortless. There are rings on the fingers of each of his hands, and he spins them as he walks, his eyes downcast towards the blood red carpet of the aisle.

I don’t know who’s been tagged at this point but like…if you wanna share some of your favorite writing, please do and tag me so I can read it!