#semi-public broadening

[mrsjellymunson]

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Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie helps you generate a new D&D character, but that’s not the only thing that gets started that day

WC: ~2.5k

C/W: 18+, MDNI! NSFW? Physical flirting and teasing, heavy petting, sort of in public (nobody notices). Smut-adjacent? Thigh riding. Swearing. Nothing overly explicit, but it does get heated. Eddie and reader are both over 18. Trope: oh no, there aren’t enough seats, where will you sit? No y/n, one pet name. No physical descriptions of reader other than she wears a skirt (of unspecified appearance).

A/N: Should I be working on parts for my outstanding series? Yes. Would this not leave me alone until I wrote it down? Also yes. I had fun creating a new character in a different RPG and I have no idea whether this is how D&D works, so if it’s not, let’s just pretend, okay? ��� Text dividers by @strangergraphics Dice dividers by me 🫣☺️

I have a general taglist now, let me know if you’d like to be on it 🖤

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Eddie can’t believe his luck. You’re pretty (gorgeous, actually), insanely intelligent and have, for some as yet indecipherable reason, decided that you want to play D&D. With a load of nerdy teens. And him.

You’ve joined in with a couple of short campaigns at school, seeming to enjoy them immensely and fitting in well with the group, bantering with the boys and bonding with Erica over your shared ‘take no shit’ attitudes. At first Eddie wasn't sure how that dynamic would work, but you slipped easily into letting the younger girl show you the ropes, and Erica is clearly enjoying having more female energy around.

Eddie knows that creating a new character is one of your favourite things to do. He’d never admit it, but it’s one of his favourite things to watch, too. He adores the sparkle in your eyes, your creative brain and how excited and animated you get when you come up with new ideas. Sometimes they’re sketchy, or even impossible, which he finds hugely endearing. He also loves how you’ll always check in with him, asking his advice and respecting his opinion.

This weekend he’s running a oneshot at his trailer for the younger members and you. New characters, novel plot, the works. The plan is to create new characters in the morning, and play the game in the afternoon.

This’ll be the first time you’ve been to his home, or seen him anywhere outside of school, and Eddie’s nervous as all fuck.

He couched it as ‘a good opportunity to develop a greater understanding of the game’, but he definitely has an ulterior motive for inviting you here.

So far, he’s taken every opportunity he can to make you laugh, sit near you, even touch you. Creating scenarios where a subtle hug, or even a playful tickle is somehow appropriate. He covers it quickly by immediately doing it to someone else, hoping you won’t spot the bulge in his pants and the fact that he can’t stop looking at you.

He’s not sure for how long he can keep it up. He wants so much more, and it won’t be long before he either loses it, takes it too far, or, worst case scenario, you notice he’s being a total creep and ditch the group because of it.

He’s been trying to muster the balls to ask you out for weeks, practicing lines and imagining scenarios, but he’s found it more difficult to plan than even the most complex of his campaigns.

And although it’s unlikely given the crowd of nerds that’ll be around, he couldn’t miss an opportunity to be in your company. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d manage to get you somewhat alone and do it today.

He’s tidied up the trailer as subtly as he can, doing all the dishes and straightening Wayne’s caps, hoping the others won’t notice and ask him awkward questions. But he’s jittery and anxious, terrified that you’ll take one look at where and how he lives and decide you want nothing more to do with him…

Eddie has no idea that you’re just as nervous as he is.

You’ve enjoyed the Hellfire campaigns so far, but haven’t really managed to get all that close to the Dungeon Master, much to your chagrin. Sure, the game is enormous fun and you love all the members and how welcoming they’ve been. But the DM? Holy hell, he’s hot as sin, and being able to spend time around the larger-than-life metal-lover only adds to your enjoyment of the sessions. But you can’t imagine it’ll ever go any further than that. You doubt that a geeky D&D novice who he’s hardly spoken to is his idea of the perfect girlfriend…

But god, the physical touches? Christ. It’s as much as you can do to hold it together. You’ve shared a few celebratory hugs, and he’s even tickled you a couple of times, all of which you’ve enjoyed far more than you’d let on, and filed away in your memory for retrieval when you’re alone at night in your bed. But you know that he’s like this with everyone, and are under no illusions that you’re special. So you relish each and every contact, wishing there could be more.

What if he looks at you for too long with those gorgeous, huge, chocolate-brown eyes? And what if you forget how to speak? It’s already happened an embarrassing amount of times, but you’ve managed to pass it off as being stumped because you’re a beginner. You don’t know for how much longer that excuse is gonna fly.

And, if all that wasn’t already enough to send your anxiety levels skyrocketing, you’re also acutely aware that you haven't spent time with any of the group outside of school as yet. You’re worried that you’re going to ruin their social dynamic, or mess up the game. Or embarrass yourself with no easy way to exit, having to wallow in your shame until the mums come back later to pick you all up. Your spiralling makes you realise that although it was really kind of Mrs Wheeler to offer you a lift, you’re now really wishing you’d brought your own car…

All kinds of anxious thoughts are running through your mind, from what if your ideas are stupid, to what if everyone (okay, specifically Eddie) dislikes the cookies you’ve baked??

Neither of you should’ve worried.

As you enter his trailer, Eddie seems a little flustered, running a ringed hand through his gorgeous chestnut waves and unnecessarily straightening a pile of magazines on the coffee table. He smooths down his (new) black tee (that he totally didn’t buy especially for this occasion), and you pay it no mind, assuming he’s just always like this with visitors, and is excited for the campaign.

You barely glance around Eddie’s home, smiling softly at the trinkets you spot, and offering to help plate up the snacks in the kitchen area. You don’t look uncomfortable, and you certainly don’t pass judgment. Eddie eyes you as indirectly as he can, noticing the unusual skirt you’ve got on (that you totally totally didn’t choose specifically for today). He likes it.

Just like at school, you slot easily into the melee of pencils, paper, dice and snacks. Everyone loves your home baked cookies, including Eddie, and Erica even badgers you for the recipe.

Eddie thinks you couldn’t be any more perfect.

You think this isn’t so bad after all, and relax a little.

The morning’s character building is going well, the fact that it’s a oneshot not diminishing anyone’s efforts or attention to detail.

You still haven’t quite got the hang of the dice and numbers parts, always asking for Eddie’s help with that. His help, not any of the others, he muses with a certain amount of pride and delight. (Selfishly, part of him secretly hopes you never get the hang of it, and will always need to seek his input.)

With you now added to the group, there aren’t enough seats at Eddie’s modest dining table. Nobody notices. Initially Dustin and Will are deep in a discussion on Eddie’s battered sofa, and Mike and Lucas are rifling through the fridge, both at that ‘hollow legs’ stage of teen development and constantly ravenous.

Your character’s almost done, and you just want to clarify a few things, so you ask across the table,

“Eddie? Can I bring this over for you to check please?”

He waves you over, putting on a fake English accent and saying,

“Of course you may, my dear. You know I’m always happy to assist my flock.”

You chuckle lightly at his endearing foolishness as you get up from your place next to Erica, taking your character sheet over to Eddie for his perusal. Behind you, the younger players all convene at the table to share their progress, and all the seats become filled.

With no free spots near him, and assuming you won’t be here for long, Eddie pats his leg absentmindedly and says, “Sit here, lemme see.”

You end up on his lap, facing sideways at ninety degrees.

You initially turn towards him and bring your sheet between you, but there’s not enough room for him to properly examine it, so you turn the other way and lay it on the table in front of him, turning so your back is to him, your legs straddling one of his knees. He leans forward and begins to check it over, confirming some details and asking for more particulars on others.

Eddie’s been admiring your enthusiasm and level of engagement all morning, and he’s impressed by the depth of information you’ve already managed to accumulate.

You’re absorbed with your new character, getting excited and gesticulating wildly. Ideas bounce easily between you and Eddie, his face smiling softly and his dimples popping as he gets to see you like this.

It doesn’t escape him, however, that you’re also bouncing on… him. He flushes a little, and hopes you don’t perceive it.

As you gesture at a particularly thorny issue on your paper, it dawns on Eddie exactly what parts of you are in contact with him, albeit through multiple layers of fabric. The softness of your thighs and the heat from your core against his leg fully absorb him for a moment, and he has to ask you to repeat yourself. You don’t seem to mind, assuming it was the general clamour in the room that meant he couldn’t hear you. That same clamour covers the sound of him awkwardly clearing his throat and gulping loudly.

It occurs to him that he’s never experienced anything… like this. Occasional hookups in the woods or after gigs at The Hideout are great and everything, but he’s never before felt like he has a literal, real-life angel sitting on his lap.

And you? You are slowly realising how nice Eddie’s lap feels beneath you. It’s warm and solid, and the denim of his dark jeans feels pleasantly rough on the skin of your legs where your skirt’s ridden up. There’s a pressure against your most intimate areas that’s generating a warm feeling of pleasure in your core. You’re trying to concentrate, but it’s not easy.

It takes a few more moments for you to catch up to where Eddie is, and you register that you’re essentially riding Eddie’s thigh each time you move.

Your lips roll inwards and you swallow deeply, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to compose yourself. It doesn’t help, and only serves to focus your attention even more fully on the delicious sensations beneath your legs. This is the closest you’ve ever been to your Dungeon Master, and for the longest time. And you can’t help how flustered it’s making you.

Embarrassed, you cough and go to stand, but quickly see that there’s nowhere for you to go. Eddie scans the room and notices your predicament, and, in a broken voice that’s almost unbearably soft, tells you, “It’s okay, Princess. You can stay here.”

Fuck. A pet name? You enjoyed that, perhaps a little too much. If you were being rational you could put it down to Eddie referencing your new character, who happens to be an aristocratic mage. But right now? Right now, you’re not feeling particularly rational.

You slowly sit back down, but as you do so Eddie shifts his position, causing you to spread your knees a bit wider than they were and land further up his leg, giving you even more contact with his thigh. You hope he didn’t hear the broken little hum that escaped you.

Eddie leans forward and in a voice that’s far too quiet, and far too close to your ear, he asks, “Are you… okay?”

You can barely breathe, and all you can manage in response is a tiny, squeaked, “Mhm.”

Behind you, Eddie takes a stuttering breath in, letting it out slowly before he resumes discussions with everyone else at the table.

You each become more unfettered as the morning progresses. Further not-so-accidental encounters only serve to increase the tension between you both.

At one point, you lean forwards over the table to get one of the manuals, lifting your butt from his leg. For a moment you hope there won’t be a visible wet patch on your skirt, or on his jeans. But then you wonder whether it would actually be so terrible if there was, and whether it would actually be so terrible if Eddie saw…

Eddie saw. He hums slightly, but it sounds more like a whimper, and he attempts to cover it by clearing his throat for the umpteenth time today.

He wonders whether you’re doing this on purpose, whether you have any idea what you’re doing to him.

As you settle back onto his thigh, one of Eddie’s hands travels to your hip, holding it lightly, just resting it there. A fire travels up that entire side of your body.

You wonder whether he’s doing this on purpose, whether he has any idea what he’s doing to you.

He leans forward to reach for something on the table, and this time brushes his chest against your back for far longer than is necessary. You feel his breathing against your neck speeding up, hot gasps coming from between his lips instead of controlled outbreaths through his nose.

You reach for a die, and as you sit back you half-intentionally push your core down onto Eddie’s leg just a little bit harder. God, he feels so good. And so what if you’ve moved backwards slightly, so your thigh is even further between his legs, and your butt nudges his crotch?

You definitely feel something hard pressing against your ass. The grip on your hip tightens, and Eddie dips his head forward to hide his face and stifle a moan. Christ.

You think you hear him mumble a quiet and stilted, “Sh-it.”

Eddie can barely contain himself, this morning not going at all how he could’ve even dreamed. He had no idea whether you even liked him, and was planning to sound you out and maybe manage to ask if you wanted to do something cheesy like grab milkshakes sometime.

Having you hot and wet on his lap wasn’t even on the edges of the outside of the periphery of his radar. He’s really trying to keep it together, but he’s barely maintaining a grip on his actions.

Attempting to focus, he leans forward again to explain a character point. You turn your head and look into his eyes attentively, whilst simultaneously rocking your hips ever so subtly and chewing on the inside of your bottom lip.

All at once, something shifts. Something big.

Eddie holds your gaze for way too long. Or maybe you hold his.

Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore, as you both silently acknowledge that there’s way more going on here than simple D&D advice.

Simultaneously, you both come to realise that your affections are most definitely reciprocated.

Shit, he likes me.

Fuck, she likes me back.

And then, as your eyes are locked and he sees your pupils blow wide, Eddie loses that tenuous grip.

Suddenly, both of his hands come to your hips, and he presses his forehead against one of your shoulder blades. He grips you tightly and moves you back and forth against him, squeezing, pulling, pushing, dragging. He’s keeping his movements as tiny as possible so as not to rouse the attention of the group, but what he lacks in expansiveness he more than makes up for with strength and intensity.

You think this might genuinely be the most erotic thing you’ve ever done with your clothes on. You’re hot and wet, and you barely care that you’re in a room full of people, supposedly playing a nerdy game.

Eddie keeps moving you. One exquisite movement spreads your sopping folds in your underwear, and your mouth drops open in a gasp, hand gripping the edge of the rickety table. You try to disguise your movements by shoving the end of a pencil into your mouth and hunching over your paperwork.

Eddie totally notices, and stills you. His warm palms continue to press against your hips, his strong fingertips digging into your flesh. Instead of continuing the back and forth movements, he pulls you down as hard as he can onto his lap whilst outwardly retaining his composure, turning the garbled sounds coming from his throat into encouraging noises for the group.

The two of you can barely focus anymore. Eddie hasn’t let his hands travel anywhere above the tabletop, lest his actions be seen by the others, but if your expression is even half as flustered as Eddie’s is red, somebody is going to notice something. And soon.

You take a couple of deep, steadying breaths.

You’ve already completed your character, so you decide to do a faux check in with Eddie, asking, not entirely innocently,

“Eddie? Is there anything else you’d want me to… take off?”

Turning, you add, even less subtly,

“What should I do now, Master?”

Eddie’s face screws up and his jaw clenches, and you feel the rock of his hips as he bucks his hips up underneath you, pressing his hardness into your flesh and muffling a grunt into your shoulder.

His head snaps back up suddenly and his voice becomes clear and piercing, as he inhales quickly and declares to the room, waving a hand,

“Okay, lunchtime! Everybody out!! You guys need some fresh air and I need a break. I don’t wanna see you for at least an hour, and you’d better come back with pizza! Goddit?”

The teens comply, bustling out the door, a few of them eye-rolling and grumbling something about how this is almost like being at home with their parents.

They’re still leaving as Eddie moves his face so close to you that you can feel his breath in your hairline, and his soft, pink lips tickle the edge of your ear.

In a low, velvety voice, he murmurs, in a tone that’s somehow both challenging and pleading,

“Please Princess, turn around and say that to my face...”

You smirk, and reach behind you to pick up a D12.

With all the sultriness you can muster, you raise your eyebrows and indicate for him to take it. He opens his hand, and you place it down, the tips of your fingers lightly skimming the hot, damp skin of his palm.

Looking into his eyes again, you’re relieved to discover that your power of speech remains entirely intact, as you murmur, with more confidence than you thought you possessed,

“Okay, Master. How about this? You roll, and the result is how many kisses you have to give me...”

Eddie swallows and almost chokes, sitting up straight and gently lobbing the die across the mess of paper and writing implements. His chocolate eyes don’t leave yours as it rolls and comes to a stop in the centre crease of one of his manuals. He struggles with the internal conflict of never wanting to break your gaze and a deep desire to check the number.

He has no idea where the rest of today, let alone this, is going, and he’s grateful he has at least the next hour in which to find out. But he does know one thing:

He’s never been so desperate to roll a 12 in his entire fucking life.

Thanks so much for reading!

(This might become part of an anthology of D&D-related adventures - let me know if you’d like to see more!)

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this, it’s honestly like throwing breadcrumbs and roses for your writers 😃🥰

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I have a general taglist now, let me know if you’d like to be on it 😃

Tags: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @wonderlanddreamer

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ᴀᴏ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ɪꜱꜱᴀ ᴠēᴅʀᴏꜱ (you drive me mad)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jacaerys velaryon x targ!reader ⭑.ᐟ

౨ৎ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — the prince is busy studying his high valyrian, you help him with his pronunciation.

౨ৎ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — nsfw, p in v smut, cunnilingus, hair pulling, semi-public sex, slight dom!jace, switch!reader, use of nicknames, possesive behavior, established relationship, reader is Daemon's first born daughter.

Prince Jacaerys is immersed in his studies at the Painted Table chamber in Dragonstone, his gaze fixed on the book in front of him. Papers were scattered to one side of the large desk, the room being lit by candles, casting a golden honey glow onto Jace's face.

The moon light filters through a window wide open, the breeze brushing in slightly. "Aegon iksos nykeā mittys" Jace reads under his breath.

"Your pronunciation is wrong" you say teasingly at him standing in the door frame. You make your way over to him and wrap your arms around his neck from the back, kissing the side of his cheek softly.

A smile tugged at the corners of Jace's lips, he leaned into the soothing presence of your embrace. He chuckled softly, putting the book down on the table and twisting his body slightly to make eye contact with you.

"Oh, is it, my love? Care to enlighten me then?" he asks feigning ignorance with a playful shrug. His hand reached up to intertwine with yours, his thumb caressing the back of your hand softly.

You giggle at him grabbing the book behind him and hoping onto the top of the desk in one swift motion. You make yourself comfortable before reading the words in the book. "Aegon iksos nykeā mittys" you read to him, your pronunciation perfect.

Jace couldn't help but be impressed by your flawless pronunciation. He raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips as he looked up at you sitting on the desk. "Impressive," he complimented, his hand resting on your thigh. "Your High Valyrian is impeccable. You've been studying diligently, haven't you?"

You look down at him nodding your head teasingly. "I truly am a scholar" you joke with him moving your hands down to play with the rings around his fingers. "Aegon is and idiot?" you say teasingly referring to the words that were spoken in valyrian, raising an eyebrow at Jacaerys smirking.

A small laugh escaped Jace's lips at your jest, his gaze following your fingers as they toyed with his rings. He shrugged slightly, a sly smile playing on his face. "Aegon is indeed...unique," he replied, choosing his words carefully. "Let's just say he's not exactly known for his intellect." You laugh at this, listening to him intently.

"But what he lacks in wits, he makes up for in...other areas." he raises and eyebrow suggestively. You let out a small laugh, deciding that you want to tease him, you fain innocence. "And what might that be?"

Jace's smile broadened as his hands slid up your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. He tilted his head, his voice lowering to a playful murmur. "Oh, you know," he said, leaning in closer to you. "He excels in other...physical pursuits." His expression turned more suggestive, the implication clear in his tone and touch.

Enjoying the rise you are creating from him, you continue your act of being oblivous. You reach down for his hand on your thigh. "Is that so?" you breathe cocking your head to the side slightly. "And what do you know of these physical pursuits, my prince" you say teasingly hoping the title would have some effect on him.

The way he was looking at you with deep brown eyes filled with lust. He's barley touched you and you already need him badly. Jacaerys chuckled lowly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat. You keep your gaze fixed on him, hypnotized.

"More than you might think, my love," he replied, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. His free hand reached up to graze your hip, pulling you closer to him. "I'm well aware of Ageon's...physical exploits." He smirked, his eyes locking with yours, a mixture of playful mischief and desire in his gaze.

"Really," you breathe, "enlighten me then" you say smirking down at him. He pulls you closer to the edge of the table by your legs and your hands instinctively cup around his face looking at him with a burning gaze, waiting for his next move.

Jacaerys grins at your words. He then gently starts pushing your legs apart for him slowly, moving closer. His hands move to your thighs again, pushing up your dress. His fingers trace delicate patterns on your skin that has you worked up. He leans in closer to you, his voice a soft, seductive murmur.

With his lips almost touching yours, he asks, "Enlighten you, hmm?" He smiles and gestures to the room you were in, asking, "Should I enlighten you right here?" Even though it wasn't your chambers, you were still somewhat alone. And at this moment, you couldn't even be bothered to consider that someone might hear you. He approaches you with his hands inching closer, but he stops just short of grazing you.

"Careful Jacaerys," you whisper breathlessly, a false warning to make him do whatever he pleases, as long as he touches you. You place your hands onto his arms gripping softly onto him. Jace grins, his arms wrapping around your waist as he holds onto your back. He leans up to press a soft kiss againts your neck, his lips tracing a path along your skin. Your breath hitches in your throat, arching yourself towards him.

His hands move over your body, his touch gentle yet possessive. "Careful, hmm?" he whispers against your ear, his voice dripping with desire. "Don't worry, my love. I promise to be gentle...and very thorough."

You whimper against his touch, moving your face to kiss the side of his jaw. You lull your head back again breathing deeply in frustration. As you lean your head back, Jace takes the opportunity to plant a trails of kisses on your neck, his mouth working gently over your skin. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he looks up at you with a sly smile, his hands massaging your thighs.

"Jace," you whimper leaning back on your hands spreading your legs a little further apart. You look at him with half lidded eyes filled with desire for him. "More please," you breathe out sultry closing your eyes for a second.

"Oh, I've just started my love, patience." he murmurs his voice filled with a mix of desire and promise. His hands slide up your legs, his thumbs rubbing slow, tantalizing circles over your skin. You whine loudly at his words tangling your fingers into his soft curls. You push your legs further apart, "Jace..."

Jacaerys lets out a soft groan at the sound of his name leaving your lips and at the feel of your fingers in his hair. He looks up at you again, his eyes dark with lust, you could loose yourself completely in them. "My love," he whispers, his voice low and husky. His rough hands move to your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh as he looks up at you. "You're so eager...I like that."

You huff out a breathy laugh trying to calm yourself. "You're the one in between my legs" you say back to him. Jacaerys chuckles at your retort, his hands sliding down your thighs gripping them tighter. Your breath hitches once again at the contact, you can't ever get enough of him. You can feel your wetness starting to pool between your legs.

He looks up at you with a cheeky grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. "That I am," he replies. his voice dripping with passion. "Can you blame me for being so? I've got my face in between the legs of the most beautiful woman in Westeros...how could I resist?"

Your heart leaps into your throat at his words. Your pulse quickened and you swear your skin felt like it was on fire. "Jace," you whine again, bucking your hips up slightly searching for some sort of friction. "Please touch me." Jacaerys lets out a low growl at your plea, his hands gripping your thighs even tighter, sure to leave bruises later, but you couldn't care.

"Don't worry my love," he assures you, his voice low, hand rubbing up and down your thigh slowly. "I'll take care of you. In due time." You let out a groan of frustration. "Please Jace, don't tease my love," you say lulling your head back.

Jace can't help but grin as he watches you plead for him, your fingers tugging at his hair . He lets out a soft groan at the sight of you, his eyes moving all over your dress, trying to map out your curves. He couldn't help but tease you, it drove him wild. Seeing you tinted a shade of red, breathing heavily, half lidded eyes, and most importantly; the beautiful sounds you make.

"Tease you, my love?" he asks, his hands moving between your thighs spreading them further as he moves closer to you. He leans his head on your right thigh looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. "Oh, you know me too well. But I promise," he says, his voice low and husky trailing kisses closer to where you needed him. "it'll be worth the wait."

You whine at his words, shivering under his touch, his kisses soft and warm. Jace smiles against your thigh, his lips moving closer to your cunt. He can feel the tremor that runs through your body, and it only serves to stroke the fire burning inside him. "Shhh, my darling Y/N," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

You try to compose yourself hearing your name slip off his tongue so sweetly. "Patience, I won't keep you waiting for much longer." Your heart clenches at the softness of his words. Jace then moves to push your dress up, bunching it around your hips, your pussy on full display before him.

He lets out a low groan lulling his head back slightly. He moves his hand down trailing a finger along your folds, gathering your slick. You breathe shakily at his touch, your eyes on his movements, never wavering. He brings his finger to his mouth and sucks on his finger. He groans at your taste. His hand runs up your leg again, he leans back admiring you.

"Gods, look at you. My beautiful girl, all wet and eager for me," he moves back in again going to plant a kiss right on your cunt. You throw your head back in a low moan as his nose nudges your throbbing bud. "Fuck, I can't get enough of you," he swipes his tongue over your slit.

A loud gasp and moan escapes your mouth into the quite room. Your hands move to his hair again, pulling on them slightly. "Jacaerys." He shivers at the sound of his name leaving your lips, his tongue starting to explore your folds slowly, teasingly. Your legs start to shiver. He moves his hands over the top of your thighs and holds you down so that you can sit still.

"You taste divine my love," he whispers against you, his lips wrapping around your clit sucking lightly. "Shit," you groan out, "Jace please...need more." Your mind is a fog, your words coming out as a babble. He wastes no time giving into what you want, his composure and need to tease you falling away as he hears your sweet voice. His body is boiling with desire, making it his purpose to have you come on his tongue.

Your hands grip onto the edge of the tale, desperate to keep some of your composure. When he'd lock his eyes with you, you could feel the coil in your stomach tightening with each suck and lick. "Feels so good Jace, please don't stop."

He moves to kiss your thighs again to catch his breathe. "I could stay here, my face buried in your cunt, and die the happiest man." he says, his voice breathy and barley above a whisper. His gaze flicking all over your frame and face. He moves back in, his movements vigorous.

You're a moaning mess under his touch, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. 'If anyone could hear you now', you think your face turning bright red, arousal growing at the thought of being caught in such a position. As Jace continues to eat you out like a starved man, he palms himself trying to relieve some of the tension in his pants.

He feels you clench around his tongue, you're close, he always knowns when you're close. He pulls away for a brief moment, "I need you to come on my tongue." You barley have time to respond as he dives back in lapping at you with such skill. You shake and moan, the room feeling impossibly hot.

It doesn't take long after his words before your coming with a high pitched moan squeezing your legs around his head. He holds your legs apart to ride you through your orgasm. You whimper at the overstimulation, panting. You move your hand down to pull on his hair after his sucks don't relent.

He looks beautiful when your eyes lock. Pupils blown out wide, your juices all over his chin and lips. He has a cheeky flushed out grin on his face. "Quite impressive," you breathe out shakily. Jacaerys chuckles lowly at your cheeky grin, a hint of pride and satisfaction in his expression. "Impressive, you say?" he replies, arching an eyebrow at you playfully, standing up to be face to face with you.

His lips capture yours in a deep kiss, trying to pour all the love he has for you into the kiss. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, already feeling wet for him again. His tongue meets yours, fighting for dominance. He cups your face, deepening the kiss, his breathing ragged with desire. The kiss is messy and clumsy.

You feel his erection poking at your thigh as he presses his body closer to yours. Your hand trails down to palm him with a gentle yet firm touch. Jace groans pushing his face into your neck trailing sloppy kisses along your burning skin. He reaches down to stop your hands movements. "If you keep touching me like that I won't last," he whispers sultry in your ear. You tilt your head a little to place a sweet kiss on his cheek.

"Have me then," you say barley above a whisper. Your hands move to wrap around his neck, your legs finding home around his hips. "ᴀᴏ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ɪꜱꜱᴀ ᴠēᴅʀᴏꜱ," he exhales, tapping your hip in a command. "Up," he says.

You get up off the desk waiting for his next words, his hands roam over your body as he kisses your neck and jaw softly. He grips you firm by the hips and spins you around, bending you over the desk slowly. He bunches your dress up again. He groans loudly at the sight of you before him.

"Jace," you gasp not being able to think because of his actions, you wait in anticipation. He looks down at your frame hypnotized. His grip at your hips possessive. "Look at you," he whispers lowly his hands trailing up behind your thighs. His touch ends shivers running through your body. "My pretty girl, all of this just for me?" He traces his hand over your arse, gripping at the flesh.

"Just for you Jace," you moan, your voice coming out desperate. "Gods, my sweet girl. Your so beautiful." He leans down to place a kiss below your ear, pressing his clothed cock against your dripping folds. He pulls back and his hand lands on your arse with a slap. The stinging has you moaning and it immediately turns into pleasure. "All mine," he breathes softly.

In one swift motion he removes his pants. He runs his cock over your folds, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp as the sight of your slick on his tip. "Are you ready Y/N/N?" he asks you gently, the nickname makes you overworked with desire for him. You nod your head vigorously, pleas falling from your mouth for him.

He then starts line himself up with your entrance, he slips in easily, bottoming out in you. He lets out a low groan at the feeling of your walls wrapping around him. "Gods," he swallows, adams apple bobbing. He wastes no time in moving himself out of you and slamming his hips back into you. Pleasure consumes you in a rush, your mouth hung open in loud moans and choked screams.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and wet noise fill the room, the smell of sex hung in the air thickly. Jacaerys throws his head back moaning loudly, his movements in a fast rhythm hitting spots inside you that make you see stars. "Fuck, you're perfect...taking me so well," his voice a whine behind you. You clench around him and he slumps forward withering in pleasure.

Jace;s hands move to your hair, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you back to whisper in your ear. You grip at the desk your knuckles white. "I love you so much," he whispers against your skin kissing you softly. You can't think straight, not with him moving inside you so delicously.

He let's go of your hair and his hand moves down your back, holding you to pound in faster and deeper within you. "Gonna fill you up, put a child in you," he chokes on a moan at the thought of having a family with you, his heart pounds against his chest. "Everyone will know who you belong to, how does that sound my love?"

"Yes, gods. please Jace, wanna give you a baby," you bite down on your lip, the knot in your stomach tightening again. "Fuck, there's my girl." He slams into you, your body bouncing on the desk. Jace can't hold on any longer, the feeling of you clenching around him makes his mouth water. "Need you to come with me," he breathes heavily as his hand moves down to play with your sensitive clit.

You scream at the shock of pleasure, your legs shaking. The knot in your stomach snaps and you come on Jace's cock clenching around him. The pleasure is blinding, the aftershock making you see stars. Jace stops his movements as he feels you come around him, he spills into you with a loud moan, hissing. "That's my good girl, that's my good fucking girl." He tries to catch his breathing.

He pulls out of you and you whine at the emptiness. He turns you around to face him, his expression fucked out. You're grateful he's holding you up with how your legs are shaking.

"And how is my knowledge on these physical pursuits?" he asks smirking at you. You chuckle at his words clicking your tongue. You lean your forehead against his, he closes his eyes as his skin touches yours. "Mm very good, I was wondering if you could show me more?"

[ihavemanyhusbands]

I Found My Love in Portofino

Duncan Vizla x Assassin!FemReader

Also on AO3

Summary: Despite your promise to stay away, the lure of Portofino -- and who you might find there -- is too irresistible. Part 2 to The Black Kaiser's Nightmare

WC: 5.3k words

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), enemies to lovers speedrun into the bed, semi-public sex, mentions of violence, play fighting, breaking shit all over the place, abundant cursing, rough sex (unprotected, don't do it at home!), angst (but there’s a happy ending dw), I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything!

You are responsible for your own media consumption!

------

Sunshine, a gorgeous view, and the fragrant smell of the sea. What more could you possibly need? 

Some dignity, perhaps.

But maybe you’d lost all of it on the other side of the world almost a year ago, buried under many layers of snow. Along with one too many promises you weren’t certain you could keep.

Then again, you’d desperately wanted a vacation somewhere warm, hadn’t you? And Portofino was beautiful that time of year, undeniably so. It was nearly impossible to resist its allure. 

All you had to do was keep to yourself and not let your eyes wander in search of a familiar silhouette. Eat some amazing food, drink some great wine, and maybe brush up on your Italian. Nothing else. How hard could it be, really?

A few days had already passed with no issues, but at all times, there was the slightest prickle of awareness at the back of your neck. But still, you didn’t search.

At least you were slowly building a nice tan, which was long overdue. You’d spent most of your days at the beach, alternating between dips in the ocean and sprawling out on a towel to air dry. It was as close as you’d gotten to true peace in a long time.

Sometimes, when the waves rolled over you, they felt like a lover’s embrace. Powerful and all-consuming, right on the verge of being agonizing. The familiarity of this feeling and these sudden romantic notions were irritating, but you were always a creature of incandescent want. A fatal flaw, most likely.

When the sun began to set, hunger was the only thing that could pull you away. You’d found a place that you liked, which was perhaps a little too pricey, but the view was unbeatable and the food was definitely worth coming back for. On top of that, you felt like you deserved to spoil yourself at least a little bit.

You sat at your usual table, a salty breeze tussling your hair. A passing waiter smiled and nodded at you, already knowing your order. You smiled back, pushing your sunglasses atop your head. 

The world was awash in golden light, the waves glittering like a dream in which swimmers basked. For a moment, as you stared off into the middle distance, your mind was blissfully blank. Not a worry to ruin things.

But then suddenly…

“Your champagne, signorina,” a voice said as an empty flute was set on the table. “And may I just add… you look ravishing when you are so relaxed. It really does suit you.”

You whipped around immediately, eyes widening and heart thumping like a war drum.

“You!” You hissed through clenched teeth, gripping your dinner knife.

Duncan, disguised as a waiter, smiled at you impishly as he poured the champagne. He was the picture of calm, unbothered by the real threat of another stab from you.

“I know you must’ve missed me terribly, but let’s not make a scene now,” he said easily. “I suppose your busy schedule had an opening after all?”

“I happen to like Italy, if you have to know,” you huffed, grabbing the flute and taking a sip. “I told you I wasn’t going to look for you, and I didn’t. You found me.”

“You made it rather easy, but I let you have a few days.”

You gestured at his attire. “And this is how you chose to approach. Real sneaky of you.”

His grin only broadened. “What can I say? I wanted to serve you.”

Annoyance flared to life inside of you, but it was paired with a familiar feeling that made you tightly cross your legs. You pursed your lips for a moment, but you didn’t really want to give him the satisfaction of seeing he was getting to you. 

Instead, you leaned back in your chair with an equally sly grin and said, “So do it, then. You can only keep me waiting for so long…”

He nodded once, straightening up. “Right away. I’ll be back in a moment.”

As he walked away, your body relaxed and you let out a long exhale. Running a hand down your face in frustration, you chastised yourself again for not steeling your will more in the time you were apart. You glanced over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t watching you and slumped in your chair. 

A few restless minutes passed as you waited, but still he didn’t return. You drummed your fingers on the table as your impatience grew into frustration. Then you figured, this was probably his plan, right? To try and get under your skin as much as possible, make up for lost time. It definitely seemed to be his favorite activity. Or one of them, at least. 

Fuck it. Who said you couldn’t retaliate just a little bit? 

You downed the champagne in one go, perhaps for courage, perhaps just because you needed a reason to justify your recklessness. Standing, you made your way inside under the pretense of going to the restroom. You hadn’t really planned what you were going to do, but still you wandered by the kitchen.

From what you could see, he wasn’t there, which made you frown in confusion. It wasn’t a big establishment, so there weren’t many places where he could be. Half-dejected, you walked into the single-stall bathroom… and immediately the door slammed shut behind you, lock clicking into place. 

Before you could process anything, strong arms enveloped you, pulling you against a solid chest. Duncan put a finger to his lips in a motion for silence, right before he threw himself on you, claiming your mouth. You practically melted against him, any sort of animosity you held forgotten for a moment.

But then, when the shock passed, you kissed him back roughly. You tugged at his hair and bit his bottom lip, letting him retaliate by pressing you against the wall, as if punishing both him and yourself for caving so easily to your desires.

“Already breaking promises, huh?” he said between kisses, chuckling as your hands briskly tried to undo his pants.

“Shut up,” you grumbled. “Or I’m gonna put your mouth to better use this time.”

“That reminds me…”

Abruptly, he gathered you in his arms and set you on the edge of the sink. He kneeled in front of you, reaching past the edge of your sundress and tugging loose the strings of your bikini bottom.

“I did say I would serve you,” he grinned, scooting closer and placing your legs on his shoulders. “Let’s see if you’ll be able to keep quiet now.”

You couldn’t keep your chest from heaving as he fully removed the fabric, tossing it to one side. He kissed his way up your inner thigh, his scruff lightly tickling the sensitive flesh. You suppressed a small shudder, readjusting your position. 

As his tongue dipped directly into the source of your ache — the best way to properly savor you — you held onto his head with one hand and gripped the edge of the sink with the other. He groaned, breath hot against you, and trailed his tongue up to your clit.

He guided himself by your reactions — the small spasms of your muscles, your hitching breaths and the subtle hums of your concealed moans. He barely came up for air, content with the possibility of asphyxiation if it meant he’d never get the taste of you out of his mouth.

The precise, relentless way in which he pleased you nearly drove you to madness. His tongue circled around your clit slowly, almost teasingly, but whenever you were about to voice his frustration, he did the complete opposite to keep you on the edge. You looked down and met his gaze for a moment, fire burning in his eyes. The intensity of it made your pussy clench around his fingers, which he’d just added into the mix.

Your back arched, head resting against the mirror behind you. Your eyes were closed in bliss, knees drawing together around his head as you felt the beginning of an orgasm forming.

“Yes…” you sighed. “Yes! Right there!”

And that was all he needed to hear to ramp up the intensity further. Your body trembled, sweat-slick hand almost slipping off the porcelain. Your spine arched further, as if possessed, and a ragged moan escaped you as you came undone. Pleasure felt electric as it swept over you, and he moaned along with you as he helped you ride it out all the way.

As you were left panting heavily, limbs still shaky, he pulled back to look at you and licked his lips. You brought your legs off his shoulders and he stood in order to undo his pants, the hard imprint of his cock straining against the fabric almost painfully. Once it was free, he spat in his hand and stroked himself to spread the saliva. 

“Get inside me,” you pleaded quietly, urging him closer, eyes still shiny with want. “Please, fuck, I need you inside me.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist this time and he guided himself into you slowly. He muttered your name under his breath as he bottomed out, leaning down to touch his forehead to yours.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the way he seemed to fully envelop you. The heat emanating from him, his smell flooding your nostrils, and even the stretch of him inside you was divine… But you weren’t able to dwell on these thoughts as he began to move. 

His large hands held you up by your hips as he pounded into you, no longer holding back. It seemed he had missed you just as much, and all he could do was make up for lost time. 

He leaned down once more to kiss you as it became harder for you to contain your noises. More of your weight, combined with his, was leaning on the sink by then. As he hit that spot inside you that made your body jerk, you heard a crack.

You tried to ignore it for a moment as his movements turned erratic, grip tightening on your skin. He grunted with each thrust, snapping his hips roughly as you clawed at his shoulders. 

Then his whole body tensed, and he pressed all the way into you in one final thrust. The sound that left him was nearly animalistic as he spilled his release inside of you… and it was at that moment that the sink gave out completely.

The porcelain loudly shattered against the linoleum floor as it broke off the wall. The newly exposed pipe gushed water, the puddle quickly spreading. Duncan caught you in his arms before you could fall as well, stumbling a little as he adjusted his position.

“Shit, that was my bad…” he panted. “I got a little carried away.”

The two of you dissolved into a fit of nervous laughter as the reality of the situation really settled in. Reflexively, you had wrapped your arms around his neck, your faces close together.

You could feel his pulse was just as hurried as yours, both of you still coming down from your highs. You avoided prolonged eye contact as you drew away with an amused grin, smacking his arm.

“Real smooth, breaking shit on your first day on the job,” you said.

He started to laugh, but suddenly, there was loud knocking on the door.  A voice called in Italian to ask if everything was okay, the doorknob jiggling to no avail. You and Duncan looked at each other in a millisecond of panic before hastily starting to re-dress.

“Fuck, we have to get out of here,” you hissed as he helped you onto your feet, holding you for a moment as your legs wobbled. “Can’t we have a reunion where we don’t wreak havoc for once?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head as he buttoned up his pants. “I don’t think it’s possible.”

You rolled your eyes but said nothing, intent on assessing your options. The banging at the door didn’t stop, and you figured soon enough they’d get a key to open it. There was a window that seemed large enough for you to fit through, but you weren’t sure Duncan’s large frame would make the cut.

“One moment please! Everything’s fine!” You yelled back before turning to Duncan and lowering your voice. “I just realized I forgot my stuff out there.”

“I’ll go get it,” he said, ushering you towards the window and handing you your bikini bottoms. “I’ll meet you outside.”

You nodded, appreciative and just slightly flustered at the idea of having to sneak out commando while you were still holding in his… Well, that was probably the least of your worries at that very moment. One thing at a time.

“Try to leave them some money, too. We’ve done enough damage.”

He snorted. “Just wait ‘til we get to the hotel.”

You bit back your retort and instead focused on climbing out of the window without leaving a snail trail. Glancing around to make sure you were alone, you made your way to the front of the restaurant surreptitiously. Twice you had to stop and hide as you neared passerby, still jittery with adrenaline. 

It was a thrill that felt both agonizing and yet somehow very arousing. You waited in a side alley, clamping your thighs together as you leaned against the wall. You just hoped Duncan wouldn’t get himself in deeper shit and take more drastic measures. He wasn’t charming enough to get out of trouble with just words, as you were well aware. 

Finally, he emerged from the restaurant after what seemed like forever, dressed in casual clothes. You lifted your arm so he could see where you were, and he hurried over.

“How did you—” you began to ask, but you were interrupted by him clasping your wrist and dragging you away.

“Don’t ask,” he said. “But just so you know, I did get a couple of high-fives on my way out.”

—————————-

As it turned out, Duncan had been staying at the hotel next to yours. You had to stop to get his luggage first since he’d checked out of his room that morning, already having assumed he’d be staying with you. 

You’d raised your eyebrows and scoffed at his overconfidence. Of course, you should’ve expected something like that to happen, but you’d been too caught up on whether you’d actually run into him or not.

The casualness between you felt strange, particularly given your history. He was definitely more at ease than he’d been a year ago, but uneasiness was like second nature to you. Sure, you were enjoying this new dynamic with him so far, but you weren’t sure how far was too far. 

Fucking was one thing, but being on vacation together… You shook your spiraling thoughts out of your head as you led him through your hotel and up to your room. One thing at a time.

“And what would you have done if I decided not to give you the time of day?” You asked as you swiped the keycard to your room. “Sleep on a bench somewhere?”

“Oh please, haven’t I proven to be irresistible?” He said, tilting his head to the side as he smiled slyly.

“Yeah, well, I’m not covering the hotel costs for both of us, just so you know.”

He scoffed, but you could tell he wasn’t actually offended. “I can pay you with my body, that should be more than enough.”

You bit down an amused grin and said nothing, instead turning on the lights and showing him where he could put his stuff. He set it all down without real care as you began undressing, making him freeze on the spot. 

But you weren’t trying to seduce him, at least not then, for there was only one thing on your mind. Your skin felt sticky with sea salt and sweat, your hair was all tangled by the wind, and there was still that little problem between your legs to take care of. 

“Care to rinse off, then? I know I need to,” you said, casually stepping into the bathroom. “Shower’s got room for two.”

You got in before hearing his response, starting by washing your hair under the stream of hot water. As you were rinsing off the shampoo, eyes closed, you heard him get in. Your other senses were all too aware of his nearness, making you jump a little at an unexpected touch on your hand. 

When you were able to open your eyes again, you saw he was washing himself. The way the soap suds slid down his muscles made you swallow hard, and he was smiling deviously when you moved to let him rinse off. He sighed with contentment at the water’s warmth, slicking his hair back, and you couldn’t help but keep ogling him. 

Maybe he wasn’t so wrong about being irresistible… He really was beautiful.

When he turned around, you quickly averted your gaze and reached for the bar of soap, but he shook his head. “Allow me.”

He lathered some soap between his hands, taking it upon himself to wash your body. He kept eye contact as he started with your shoulders and arms, moving slowly but purposefully. Your limbs were loose as you let him keep going, adjusting you this way and that so he didn’t miss a spot.

Even as he reached more sensitive areas, his touch was tender rather than lascivious. Looking at the scars on each other was like a trip down memory lane, but it wasn’t a bitter remembrance. In fact, you felt yourself softening, almost vulnerable. So much stubbornness, so much time wasted, but it all had somehow led to such an intimate moment.

When he was done, you rewarded him with a soft kiss, more chaste than anything you’d had so far. You shut off the water and both of you got out to dry off quietly. It felt like talking might burst the bubble of… whatever feeling the two of you were so precariously sharing at that moment.

An idea struck you then, and you discarded your towel somewhere along the way. He watched as you opened the sliding doors to the private balcony, the faint light silhouetting you. 

Up there, the faint roar of the ocean could still be heard. It was moonlight’s turn to glitter in the dark waves, but you put your back to the view as you gave him an inviting look. 

Truth be told, you wanted to indulge in him as much as you could. A sense of urgency accompanied your arousal, like the opportunity might not come around again. Was it a sign? Could it be fate’s way of making you say goodbye? 

The thought scared you more than you were willing to admit, so you decided to be mindless once again. You let the sea breeze envelop you once again, but soon after his arms took place, drawing you into his warmth. He searched your face for something, but you averted your gaze as you ran your hands up and down his chest.

“You’re quiet,” he noted. “You haven’t even threatened to kill me at least once since we got here.”

You shrugged, going on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. “Does it matter?”

“Well, you know the violence is what gets me going…” he said with a smirk, but you could still see some concern in his eyes. 

You kissed his bottom lip enticingly, returning the smirk. “Let’s tear each other apart, then. For good this time.”

And so he cupped the back of your head and crushed his lips against yours. The kiss was sloppy and desperate, tongues dragging against each other. You reached between your bodies to touch him, fingers grazing the velvety underside of his hardening cock.

For a moment he lost himself to your touch, mindlessly chasing your lips as you withdrew, teasing him. You stroked the head with the tips of your fingers, and his hips bucked in search of more friction.

“Not gonna be so easy now,” you chastised playfully. “Gotta earn your stay.”

He gripped your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck. His free hand roamed up your chest, splaying over your sternum and feeling your quickening heartbeat. He bent down to kiss your neck and collarbones, humming in fiendish delight as he heard your soft moan.

“You little devil,” he murmured. “You should know I won’t make it easy for you either.”

And so commenced a battle for dominance, in which the two of you did not play fair. You practically tackled him back onto the sunbed, frantically trying to pin his arms down. Your thighs pressed against his sides tightly, holding him in place. 

He had a great view of you from that angle, so he got easily distracted, his struggles weakening. But just when you thought you had him, he suddenly grabbed your wrists and managed to flip you under him. You blinked up at him in momentary surprise, but then scoffed.

Your legs and arms wrapped around him as you tried to crush him in a bear hug. You felt his erection pressed against your abdomen, and he grunted with the effort of trying to wriggle from your grasp.

Despite the exertion from wrestling each other, you found yourself smiling, genuinely having a good time. Your cheeks were flushed and you were panting heavily. He kissed all over your face, perhaps in an attempt to distract you, but you gave in amiably for the time being.

“Where’s your knife now?” He murmured against your skin, taunting, his breath close to your ear.

But instead of responding, you pulled his head back by the hair and brought your lips to his. Your other hand rested on his throat, like a silent threat, but it was just a little too tender to actually be one.

The stars wheeled across the sky unnoticed, as the two of you were too wrapped up in a frenzy of desire, all restraints loosened. Eager hands and eager mouths, the violent delicacy of your bodies curled around each other like snakes. Everything else truly ceased to exist.

Not much of the hotel room was spared either, lamps knocked over, framed artwork half shattered on the floor, and different things haphazardly strewn about. At last, the bed became the lion’s den, where the last of the raging fire simmered out, leading into a sated slumber.

You awoke before him, too restless from an influx of dreams you couldn’t make heads or tails of. The early morning had a melancholic blue tint to it, barely illuminating the room. You watched him for a moment, trying to burn him into memory as you followed the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

Keeping your thoughts at bay was becoming harder by the minute, especially wrapped up in his warmth and his smell. Suddenly, you couldn’t bear being in the bed anymore. You left a featherlight kiss on his shoulder before sliding out as quietly as you could. A certain bitterness slid down the back of your throat as you gathered clothes, padding over to the bathroom and dressing mechanically. 

Any sort of logic or reasoning seemed to have left you as well, since you were prepared to flee with just what you were wearing. In that moment, you believed perhaps you could outrun the consequences, and yourself in the process.

But just as you opened the bathroom door and took one step out, you heard the clicking drag of metal and felt the coolness of it closing in around your wrist. You looked down to find yourself handcuffed to Duncan, who was only partially dressed. He looked at you intensely, knowingly even, pinning you in place. Your heart leaped to your throat, stopping any words you might want to say. 

“I told you I wouldn’t make it easy either,” he said, his voice devoid of any humor.

He reached out with his free hand, but you weaved away from it like a skittish stray dog that’d been kicked too many times in its life. Your immediate response was a punch that he took in stride. In fact, he let you try and shove him, although the handcuffs would take you along with him. Your frustration only grew, and this time fighting him was different, more desperate – like a cornered animal.

“When are you going to stop fighting your desires?” He asked firmly, seizing your other wrist. “You can’t just run away this time. You owe me that much.”

“Duncan, please,” you said softly, looking down.

“Please, what?” He pressed.

“Why are we kidding ourselves?” You sighed. “We’re just horny and really fucking lonely…and I guess it helps that we understand each other. But we both know it can’t go beyond that.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t exactly have a profession that allows commitment…” you said, but he only stared, forcing you to continue. “What if they decided to assign us to kill each other?”

“I would gladly fake my death for you.”

You pursed your lips, forcing down the tears that once again crawled up your throat. Damn him and the way he made butterflies flutter around your stomach! 

“But I won’t let it come to that,” he added. “I’ve already decided to retire early.”

You looked up at him in disbelief, eyes wide. “Really? Just like that?”

“Well I’ve wanted out for some time, but you kind of… helped me make up my mind,” he said, searching your eyes to try and solve the riddle of your feelings. 

“And you thought, what? That I would quit too?”

He shook his head. “No. What you do is up to you. All I want is a quiet life, and to settle in one place so you’ll always know where I am.”

“Okay, and what if I have to be gone for a long time? Won’t you get lonely?” You asked, a painful spasm in your chest as you thought about it further. “What if you meet someone else? I mean, hell, I don’t even really know what it is you want with me…”

He frowned, truly unable to fathom your stubbornness. “Are you fucking serious right now? We’re handcuffed together. Do I have to spell it out further?”

Again, you sighed in frustration, closing your eyes for a moment. You hadn’t felt such a strong connection with someone in a long time, especially since you believed you were better off alone. Those you were close to could invariably become collateral, and that was one thing you simply couldn’t stomach.

And when you’d said that you understood each other, that had been the truth. Not many – if anyone at all – that weren’t in the business could understand your lifestyle. The guilt that came in waves, threatening to pull you under. The sleepless nights, the mastery of clinical detachment, the constant need to hide and stay vigilant. It was certainly not easy, but you’d simply gotten used to it over time.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t tired of living that way. Still, you hesitated, feeling yourself toe closer to the edge of the cliff. 

“What if it’s just the excitement?” You asked, opening your eyes once more.

“It’s been years now… if it had died out, so would we,” he sighed, seeming a little aggrieved. “Or what? You don’t believe love and violence intersect?”

“Love!” You gasped, all pretenses shattered now that one of you had finally said that word. “That’s…”

“Is that what scares you most?”

After a moment’s hesitation, where you fidgeted uncomfortably, you shook your head. “I’m barely evenly acquainted with it, but it’s enough for me to know it doesn’t prevent someone from leaving.”

He nodded once in understanding, not having an argument for that. “And you think I’m an expert on it?”

You shrugged, not entirely sure of his romantic history. Still, you could at least tell that it had not been kind to him either. He pulled you closer, lacing his fingers through yours as if the cuffs weren’t enough to keep you.

“Despite it all, haven’t we inevitably found a way back to each other? Sure, the flame that kept drawing us at first might have been hatred, but pettiness could only take us so far…” He straightened so you could appraise him better, gesturing to himself. “I proudly wear the scars you have given me, and I would welcome many more.”

Your vision became blurry all of a sudden, though you couldn’t understand why. At least not until you felt a tear streaming down your cheek, which you wiped away defiantly. He rested his chin atop your head as you leaned against his arm, not looking at him.

“And if you think I will break your heart, what guarantee do I have you won’t break mine first?”

“You don’t,” you admitted honestly, which maybe was the whole point.

“And yet, it is still yours to break.”

You chuckled, but it sounded more like a choked sob. “You’re killing me, old man. What am I to do with so much?”

“You don’t have to carry it all on your own,” he said, bringing his free hand to your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. 

His expression was fully unguarded, like an open book for you to read. There was a vast depth there that seemed to invite you to uncover it, should you actually take the chance. 

And beneath it all, a most desperate hope. One you could recognize, for you had seen it in your own eyes before. It struck you like an arrow, knocking the breath out of you.

One of the deadliest men on Earth utterly undone by one of the most common afflictions — that of the heart. Love.

It was a gift, a real promise beyond what words could express. 

And so, you decided to let yourself fall.

The words left you before you could stop them. “I’m going to retire, too.”

He blinked in surprise, but you barreled on. “It’s not a life I want to keep living. It’s not life at all, really. I was just never really sure if there was anything else for me. But now, nothing is waiting for me out there anymore… I have all I want standing right here next to me.”

Oh, how his eyes brightened at your words. Like the sun rising over the horizon, bringing a new dawn. He wiped your damp cheeks, even if a smile had already spread across your face. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest like a caged bird as he kissed you. It was sweet and unhurried, the culmination of all the yearning and long-repressed desire.

“And what happens now?” You asked softly.

“Anything we want. The world is our oyster,” he said, giving you a pointed look. “You know, there are lots of beautiful chapels around here.”

You scoffed. “Be serious right now!”

“I am being serious.”

You smacked his arm and rolled your eyes, but still felt a swell of giddiness in your chest. “Don’t push your luck, old geezer”

“Can you please come back to bed now? We really should get more sleep,” he said, tugging you along with him.

“Can you at least uncuff us first?”

“No.”

----

[secretmaniacc]

FILL THE VOID

Pairings: the salesman x Fem!oc

Summary: After avoiding him for two days, she finds herself pinned down as he insists they go out to dinner, just as he promised in their bet. Reluctantly agreeing, she anticipates an elegant evening, but the night quickly takes an exciting and dangerous turn.

Warnings: slow burn, language, violence, Dom!salesman x baddie!oc, teasing, degrading, kissing, gun play, Russian roulette, knife play, semi public sex, hair pulling, mentions of blood, oral sex, male recieving, p in v, rough sex, spanking.

Wc: 6.2k

A/n: so sorry for the wait here’s pt.2 for “ride or die” since some of y’all liked it and I’m very happy for that, did some justice this time and spiced it up they can be out of character sometime so forgive me, hope y’all will enjoy it really worked hard on this one, not proofread <3

For two days, she’d managed to avoid him—strategically timing her office hours to when he wasn’t there, ignoring his messages, and pretending not to notice the way he seemed to linger just out of reach. But deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before he caught up with her. 

That time came at the end of a long day when she thought she was safe. She gathered her things and prepared to turn around and head towards the door, only to feel a familiar presence.

“Thought you could avoid me forever?” His voice was low, smooth, and infuriatingly smug. 

Her hand tightened on the strap of her bag as she turned, schooling her features into something calm and unaffected. “I’m busy. Move.” 

He grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Busy ignoring me? Impressive effort, but I don’t take silence well.” 

“I’m not ignoring you,” she lied, stepping forward to brush past him. 

His arm shot out, blocking her path. “Really? Then why haven’t you answered my messages? Or were you too busy pondering about how much fun we had in the alley?” 

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she shot back, her tone clipped as she tried to push past him again. 

But this time, he shifted, moving to block her entirely and locking the door with a quick twist of his wrist. The faint click of the lock sent a chill down her spine, though she refused to show it. 

“Let me go,” she said, keeping her voice steady even as she felt her pulse quicken. 

He leaned back against the door, his arms crossed lazily, as though he had all the time in the world. “Not until we settle something.” 

She arched a brow, masking her unease with irritation. “And what’s so important that you’re resorting to theatrics?” 

His grin widened, his gaze sparkling with that insufferable confidence. “I’m a man of my word. And I promised to take you to dinner, didn’t I? Unless, of course, you’d rather recall how I made you feel so good in the alley.” 

She blinked, caught off guard by the reminder. “That was two days ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

“It matters to me.” He stepped closer, the teasing edge in his voice making her heart stutter. “You won, fair and square. So, dinner. Tonight.” 

“Not happening,” she said firmly, though the conviction in her voice wavered slightly. 

He tilted his head, studying her with mock curiosity. “Why so stubborn? Afraid you’ll enjoy it?” 

Her jaw tightened. “I’m just not interested.” 

“You’re lying.” 

She glared at him, determined not to let him see how her resolve faltered under the weight of his gaze. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re avoiding the truth,” he countered, stepping closer until there was barely a breath of space between them. “But that’s fine. Say no if you want—I’ll still show up outside your door.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, though the uncertainty in her voice made her doubt her own words. 

“Try me,” he challenged, his tone light but his intent clear. 

She sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly in defeat. “Fine. One dinner. But don’t make a habit of this.” 

His grin broadened, a glimmer of triumph lighting up his face. “Perfect. Wear something elegant—something that’ll fit the place. I expect you’ll be just as stunning as you were in the alley” 

“Excuse me?” 

He ignored her indignation, leaning in close enough for his breath to ghost against her cheek. His lips brushed lightly against her skin, leaving behind the faintest trace of warmth. “See you tonight,” he murmured before stepping aside and unlocking the door. 

She stared at him, momentarily thrown by the unexpected gesture. The smug look on his face only made her irritation flare, and she pushed past him with a sharp, “Don’t be late.” 

As she walked away, she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, brushing it off as nothing more than irritation. But the faint smile tugging at her lips told a different story. 

-----

She stood before the full-length mirror, the soft glow of her bedroom light catching the gentle shimmer of her crimson dress. The bodice hugged her figure like it was made for her, the delicate cowl neckline draping gracefully across her collarbones, while the fabric flowed into a silky skirt that brushed the floor with every subtle movement. Her long, black hair fell in effortless curls to her waist, framing her face with a touch of timeless elegance. A sheer wrap rested loosely on her arms, adding a layer of ethereal softness that seemed to dance with every step. 

Her phone buzzed on the dresser, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced down to see his text: "I’ll be there in five." Letting out a small breath, she grabbed her purse, gave herself one last look, and headed downstairs. 

The evening air was cool as she stepped outside, heels clicking softly against the pavement. There he was, leaning casually against a sleek black Audi A6, its polished exterior gleaming under the streetlights. He wore a tailored black suit that framed his tall, broad figure perfectly, paired with a crisp white shirt and a black tie that added a sharp elegance to his appearance. His dark hair was neatly styled, though a rebellious strand fell over his forehead, softening his otherwise sharp features. 

As she approached, his gaze locked on her, a flicker of admiration crossing his face before he straightened and stepped toward her. Without a word, he took her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. 

“You look breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice smooth yet sincere, his eyes holding hers for just a moment longer than necessary. 

A faint blush warmed her cheeks, but she managed a small, teasing smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” 

His lips twitched into a smirk as he opened the passenger door for her, gesturing for her to step inside. 

She settled into the plush leather seat, the soft scent of new car and faint cologne filling the space. The interior was sleek, with polished silver accents and an impressive digital dashboard glowing faintly in the dim light. She trailed her fingers over the armrest, the comfort and luxury surprising her. 

“You own this?” she asked, glancing at him as he slipped into the driver’s seat, his hands confidently gripping the wheel. 

He chuckled softly. “Why? Did you think I’d show up in something less fitting?” 

She shook her head, amused but still impressed, as they drove in silence toward their destination.  He would make teasing comments here and there that earned a chuckle from her.

The car pulled up to one of the most elegant restaurants in town, its grand facade glowing with soft golden lights. Outside, a long line of patrons waited eagerly, some dressed to the nines, chatting in anticipation. 

Her brows lifted in surprise at the sight. “You didn’t mention this place,” she said, her voice laced with curiosity. 

Before he could respond, two security guards stepped forward, opening her door with practiced precision. One took the keys from him while the other escorted them toward the entrance. She noticed how the murmuring crowd shifted, heads turning as they walked past. 

The guards held the doors open as they entered, bowing slightly in his direction. She bowed back out of respect, but he merely did, wrapping his arm around her waist as they stepped into the opulent dining area. 

The restaurant was stunning. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over tables draped in crisp white linens. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking view of the city skyline, and a soft melody from a grand piano filled the air with an elegant ambiance. 

They were guided to a private table near the window, the staff pulling out her chair as she sat. As he took his seat across from her, she leaned in slightly, her tone playful. 

“Care to explain why everyone is treating you like you’re some mafia boss?” 

He chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at her. “Let’s just say I know how to make an impression.” 

She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “Oh, I’m sure you do.” 

The waitress approached with a professional yet warm smile, handing them menus. “Welcome. May I offer you something to start with?” 

She glanced at the menu, the luxurious options catching her off guard. “Are there any prices on this thing, or do we just guess?” she quipped, arching an eyebrow at him. 

He laughed softly. “Don’t worry, dinner’s on me. Feel free to splurge.” 

She smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Good, because I was planning to order the most expensive thing just to annoy you.” 

“Be my guest,” he replied smoothly, his grin teasing. “But I hope you know that means dessert is non-negotiable.” 

her eyes scanning the intricate names of dishes written in french. Brows furrowed, she tilted the menu closer as if the words would magically make sense the second time around. 

“What is... uh, rat-a-tou-ille??” she sounded out slowly, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity. 

His lips curved into an amused smile. “Ratatouille. It’s a vegetable dish—stewed with tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, and herbs. Simple but classic..” 

“Oh, okay. That doesn’t sound too bad,” she nodded before her eyes caught another word. “And this one? Coq... au vin??” 

“Coq au vin” he corrected with a small laugh. “Chicken braised in red wine with mushrooms and bacon. Very traditional.”.” 

She tapped her chin with her finger, pretending to consider it seriously, then moved on to another dish. “Bou-ya... bouillabaisse?” 

“Bouillabaisse,” he supplied smoothly. “.It’s a fish stew with a mix of seafood, Want me to keep translating, or are you planning to make me read the whole menu for you?” 

She shot him a playful glare. “Hey, these names are intimidating, okay? I didn’t grow up speaking fluent…. Uh, whatever this is."

“french” he said, unable to suppress the laugh that bubbled out. “I have to admit, though, this clueless act of yours is kind of adorable.”

She rolled her eyes, heat rising to her cheeks. “Whatever. I’ll just stick to this one.” She pointed to a dish she didn’t recognize but liked the sound of. 

When he glanced at his menu filled with prices unlike hers, his smirk grew wider. “Interesting choice,” he mused, leaning back in his chair. 

“What?” she asked suspiciously. 

“Nothing,” he said, clearly holding back a laugh. “Just that it’s the cheapest thing on the menu.” 

Her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?” 

He nodded, still grinning. “Repick. Or I’ll do it for you.” 

She groaned, flipping through the menu again. “Fine. You pick.” 

He didn’t even look at her menu, already knowing it by heart. “Filet de boeuf Rossini,” he said confidently.

Her eyes widened slightly. “That sounds... fancy.”

“It’s perfect,” he replied with a wink. “Trust me.”

The waitress returned, taking his order for a sole meunière and hers for the beef Rossini. “And a bottle of Château d’Yquem,” he added casually.

When the waitress nodded and walked away, she raised an eyebrow. “Château d’Yquem? What’s that?”

“You’ll see,” he replied cryptically.

Moments later, the waitress returned with a sleek silver ice bucket, placing it on the table with a bottle of golden wine nestled inside. The light caught the liquid, making it shimmer, and her eyes widened as realization hit.

“This is wine?” she asked, pointing to the bottle. 

“Not just any wine,” he said, pouring a glass with practiced ease. “It’s... exclusive.” 

“How exclusive?” she pressed.

He took a slow sip, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re drinking liquid gold?”

He laughed at her incredulous expression, his voice rich with amusement. “Relax. Tonight’s on me, remember?”

She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” he replied with a wink, setting his glass down.

Silence evoked as the air in the restaurant shimmered with quiet luxury, a symphony of muted chatter, piano tunes and crystal clinks filling the room. She leaned back against the chair, her delicate fingers tracing absent patterns on the edge of the table. Her gaze flickered toward the expansive window, the city lights sprawling like a living canvas. There was an effortless grace to her, the way her crimson dress caught the glow of the chandeliers, the silk shifting like liquid fire with her every move.

He couldn’t look away.

His pupils sharpened with intensity as he studied her, the soft curve of her jawline, the way her lips parted slightly as she sighed in quiet awe. Her black hair, cascading in soft curls to her waist, gleamed under the golden light. She was a vision, suspended somewhere between elegance and rebellion, her beauty a contradiction he couldn’t quite define but didn’t want to stop trying to.

She tilted her head, her profile catching the faint light of the chandelier, and his breath hitched. As he took a sip of his whiskey, the taste burned less than the thought that this moment—her, here, now—felt like something he shouldn’t deserve.

He smirked at himself, shaking his head slightly. Get a grip.

But then she glanced back at him, catching his stare, her brow arching in question. “What?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

“Nothing,” he replied, his smirk deepening as he set his glass down. “Just taking it all in.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the slight tug of a smile at the corner of her lips.

Moments later their food arrived, the rich aroma wafting from her plate made her mouth water. She picked up her fork, taking a cautious bite. The moment the tender beef hit her taste buds, her eyes fluttered shut, and a soft hum of delight escaped her lips. 

“This is... amazing,” she said, already diving in for another bite. 

He watched her, captivated by the way she was completely absorbed in her food. Every little sound she made—those happy, involuntary noises—pulled his attention. For a moment, the bustling restaurant around them disappeared, leaving only her. 

“You’re staring, again.” she said suddenly, snapping him out of his daze. 

“You make it hard not to,” he admitted with a small smile. 

She flushed, quickly taking another bite. “Just eat your food, so we can get done” she muttered. 

He chuckled, cutting into his fish. They settled into a comfortable rhythm, exchanging light banter between bites. At one point, she attempted to spear a piece of his fish with her fork, but he caught her wrist with a grin. 

“Ah, ah. That’s mine,” he teased. 

“Sharing is caring,” she retorted, but he held firm, playfully shaking his head. 

He shook his head with exaggerated defiance, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “You want it that bad? Beg for it.”

She narrowed her eyes, “‘Never mind,’” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm as she went back to eat.

He chuckled, leaning closer. “Come on, don’t act like you didn’t do it.”

“That’s it, I’m leaving,” she said, standing up abruptly and grabbing her bag.

He burst into laughter, his gaze never leaving her. “I’m messing with you,” he said, grabbing her wrist gently and pulling her back into the chair.

She shot him a glare, crossing her arms. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love it,” he replied, giving her an amused smirk.

She sighed, reaching for her glass of water. As her gaze drifted across the room, it landed on a couple at a nearby table—so engrossed in each other they might as well have been the only two people in the restaurant. The man’s hand rested on the small of the woman’s back, and their faces were inches apart, whispering between soft kisses.

Her nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Get a room,” she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

He followed her line of sight, his brow arching before a low chuckle escaped his lips. “Jealous?”

She snapped her head back to him, her eyes narrowing. “Jealous? Please. That’s gross. There’s a time and place for that sort of thing, and it’s not next to someone trying to enjoy a meal.”

His grin widened as he leaned back, clearly enjoying her reaction. “You’re awfully opinionated for someone who didn’t seem to mind when I kissed you.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly. “That was different!”

“Oh, was it?” he teased, his tone playfully smug. “Because if I recall, you were the one leaning in first.”

Her jaw dropped. “I was not! You were the one who couldn’t keep it together and kissed me like some—”

“Like what?” he interrupted, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Someone who’s not afraid to take a chance?”

She glared at him, struggling to find a comeback that wouldn’t dig her deeper into the hole. “You’re crazy,” she finally huffed, crossing her arms again.

“not as much as you,” he replied, his smirk softening just enough to make her annoyed

The unspoken tension hung like a storm cloud between them, unshakably present as they lingered in that charged moment. “Are you actually saying you wish you were that couple?” he asked, leaning in with a seriousness that made her heart constrict.

Her heart raced at his words, a flutter of uncertainty and curiosity mixing with annoyance. “I just think PDA is a bit much!” she shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice. “I mean, can’t people keep it to themselves?”

“Really?” he challenged, his voice low, brushing against her ear as he leaned closer. “Or maybe you’re just afraid of what it could feel like to let loose, to feel something real for once?”

Her breath caught in her throat as a rush of heat spread across her cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shot back, a desperate edge in her voice. She could feel the tension weave between them like a live wire, crackling with possibility.

“Maybe I do,” he replied, that daring glint in his eye making her pulse quicken. “Maybe you just need the right moment to let go.”

The couple at the table nearby erupted in laughter again, and she found herself glancing back at them, trying to refocus. But when she looked up, he was watching her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. “Forget them,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, pulling her even further into his orbit. “What do you want? Something real? Or more of this… competition?”

Before she could formulate a response, he suddenly stood, extending a hand toward her. “Come with me.”

“Where?” she asked, hesitating but feeling a rush of adrenaline at the thought of doing something entirely unexpected.

“A place where we can talk,” he replied, a challenge sparking in his eyes. “Unless you’re too scared to follow.”

With her heart racing and her mind swirling with uncertainty, she placed her hand in his. He led her through the restaurant’s bustling dining area, weaving through startled diners and busy waitstaff. But there was no turning back. The thrill of being drawn into the unknown ignited something within her.

They approached a door at the back of the restaurant, and she felt both exhilarated and apprehensive. He flung it open, and they stepped into a dimly lit hallway lined with fancy doors that seemed to whisper secrets.

“Seriously, where are we?” she asked, blinking in the low light as confusion mixed with an adrenaline high.

“Somewhere more private,” he replied, his voice low and dangerous, eyes flickering with mischief and something deeper. “We won’t be interrupted here.”

Her pulse raced, excitement and fear coiling in her stomach. “Is this your idea of romance?” she shot back, the challenge lacing her voice, even as heat coursed through her.

“Maybe it’s just my idea of taking risks,” he countered, stepping closer, the space between them charged in a way that made her skin tingle. “You might even enjoy it.”

The energy shifted as they stood beneath the dim glow of the overhead light, their breaths mingling in the tight space. She caught herself wanting to feel the weight of his words, the electricity in the air. “What if someone catches?” she asked, half playful and half serious, but the way he was looking at her made her thrill with curiosity.

“Let them,” he said, eyes smouldering, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between them. “Are you really going to back down now?”

She felt a rush of defiance surge within her, mixed with undeniable attraction. “I’m not afraid,” she said boldly, but her voice wavered slightly, betraying the thrill and lust she was trying to suppress.

“Then let’s find out how dangerous this might get,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, igniting the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

With that, he turned on his heel, pulling her deeper into the hall, and she felt her heart pounding with excitement and uncertainty. Each step into the unknown only drew them closer together, and she couldn't shake the thrill of what lay ahead—the thrilling uncertainty,

He paused in front of an ornate door that looked far more expensive than the rest, its golden handle glinting in the dim light. With a knowing smirk, he pushed it open, and she was met with an intoxicating scent—rich cologne mingling with something deeper, something intimate that tugged at her senses.

As they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The room was lavishly decorated, a blend of modern luxury and classic elegance. An oversized leather couch sat in the center along with a table, surrounded by walls adorned with vibrant artwork that seemed to pull her in. Warm lights cast a cozy glow, and a plush rug covered the floor, offering a sense of comfort veiled in sultriness.

“wow,” she breathed, taking in the opulence, momentarily forgetting the tension simmering between them.

“Sit,” he commanded softly, gesturing toward the couch. She hesitated for only a moment before obeying, settling into the soft fabric while he moved around the room, his gaze scanning various items scattered about—a vintage record player, a collection of intriguing books, and an array of exotic liquor bottles.

Stopping at a sleek display cabinet, he opened the door and pulled out a pistol, its silver surface gleaming in the warm light. A grin played across his lips as he turned to face her, an unsettling excitement dancing in his eyes.

“We’re going to play a game,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Russian roulette.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you serious?”

“Relax.” He waved his hand dismissively, the light glinting off the barrel. “Only this time, we’re playing with a twist. There’s only one bullet, and each time the gun goes off, we have to strip a piece of clothing.”

A mix of thrill and apprehension surged through her. “That’s insane.”

“Maybe,” he replied, his smirk deepening, “but wouldn’t it be fun?”

With a defiant spark in her eyes, she leaned forward. “Fine, let’s play.”

He sat across from her, the couch sinking slightly under his weight, and loaded the bullet into the chamber with a casualness that both intrigued and unnerved her. He spun the cylinder and brought the gun to his temple, pulling the trigger—click. He laughed, a dark sound that echoed in the room,

“Not so scary, right?” he teased, loosening his suit jacket. With a fluid motion, revealing a fitted dress shirt that clung to his frame, accentuating the muscular definition of his arms and shoulders. The sight made her pulse quicken

“Your turn.” He passed the gun to her.

She arched an eyebrow but took the gun, feeling its weight in her hand. She couldn’t believe they were doing this. She spun the cylinder herself, heart racing, and then pressed it to her temple. Click. A rush of relief washed over her.

“Now it’s time to shed that scarf,” he said with a teasing tone. With a quick, decisive movement, she untied the delicate fabric and let it fall to the floor, feeling freer, more emboldened.

“Here you go,” she responded, tossing the gun back to him. The tension was tangible as he caught it effortlessly.

filled with a languid confidence. “Ready?” He pressed the barrel once more to his temple—click. The sound rang through the air like a taunt, a challenge freighted with electricity.

“Lucky again,” he grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“What’s next? Your shirt?” she quipped, eager to see how far this would go.

His gaze flicked to her, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he loosens the tie taking it off, before he began to unbutton his crisp white dress shirt. With each button undone, the cloth pulled away to reveal the chiselled muscles of his torso, the defined lines and curves making her breathless. He threw the shirt aside, letting it flutter to the ground like a fallen banner of surrender.

She couldn’t help but take in the sight, her breath momentarily caught in her throat. she breathed, both impressed and challenged by the game they were playing.

“Like what you see? Now it’s your turn,” he teased, giving her the gun once more, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

She took the gun, spun the cylinder yet again, and pressed it against her temple—click. Relief flooded her, but the tension was palpable.

“Let’s play it safe,” she decided, slipping off her heels and leaving her feet bare on the plush rug beneath her. The contact with the soft Fibers felt grounding after the intensity of the game.

“Back to me,” he said, taking the gun from her hands once more. He spun the cylinder, glancing at her with that effortless chill. “Here we go.”

With a languid movement, he pressed the cold metal against his own temple, a shrug of confidence reflecting in his posture. He squeezed the trigger—click. The sound reverberated, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake.

She felt a small knot of apprehension twist in her stomach. Could they keep going like this? The stakes were rising, and she felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

He turned to her, offering her the gun again. “Your turn. Only two triggers are left, make sure not to die.”

With a mixture of determination and nerve, she accepted the gun from him. Her heart raced as she spun the cylinder for what felt like the hundredth time.

He stood to remove his shoes, casually tossing them to the side. That simple act ignited something within her, a thrilling edge of power and vulnerability. Just as he prepared to sit down, she lunged forward with a sudden burst of resolve.

With a swift motion, she pinned him against the couch, the gun now aimed firmly at his chest.

"What’s the matter?" he teased, the laughter in his eyes shifting to something darker. “Afraid you will die?”

“Not a chance,” she challenged, taking a seat on his lap, her pulse racing. In a moment of reckless defiance, she kept the gun pointed at him. “You think this is a game?”

He laughed, a wild, psychotic sound that echoed against the walls. his hands resting firmly on her waist, the gun now pressed against his chest as he leaned in closer. “I love it when you take charge.”

“You’re going to regret underestimating me,” she said, catching a glimpse of the wild delight dancing in his eyes.

“so it’s Game over for me?” he taunted, his words dripping with boldness. His hands slowly wandered to her thighs, fingers teasing, sending pulses of electricity coursing through her. “Shame, really. I’d hate to die without pleasuring you.”

Her breath hitched at his insinuation, his cocky demeanour igniting an uncontrollable fire within her. The tension crackled like static in the air, urging her to respond.

“You wish.” she said, her voice wavering slightly with the rush of emotions surging through her.

With a fury of need and desire, she leaned in and captured his lips in a fervent kiss, their mouths colliding in an explosion of pent-up frustration and attraction. The world around them melted away as her heart raced. The moment was electric, and in the whirlwind of passion, she pulled the trigger.

But all that followed was a click.

The sound ricocheted in the silence between them, and her eyes widened in shock as she pulled away. The thrill morphed into a dizzying rush as realization struck—there had been no bullet, no fatal ending, only the raw, intoxicating energy swirling in the air between them.

That's when he took the gun from her hands, his movements quick and decisive, a spark of defiance in his eyes. With a swift motion, he tossed it across the room, the gun landing with a loud thud against the wall.

“If you wanted my tongue against you, then you’ve fucking earned it,” he spat, crashing their lips together in a fierce, hungry kiss.

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging tightly, igniting a low groan that reverberated into her mouth.

"You wanted to fucking kill me, sweetheart," he growled, biting her bottom lip, eliciting a sharp whimper from her.

“It was your game,” she countered, the adrenaline pulsing through her like fire.

“And yet,” he replied, his voice dark and sultry, “I’d never kill you.”

“I wouldn’t either.” She pulled back, a smirk curving her lips as her eyes roamed over his swollen lips and messy hair, an enticing sight.

“So, why did you aim that gun at me? Say it.”

“Because I was too damn scared, you’d do it instead of me,” she admitted, feeling his grip on her loosen slightly.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you really know how to make a scene,” he murmured, his fingers deftly unbuckling his belt with confidence.

“Kneel,” he demanded, helping her rise before guiding her down so she knelt on the floor, her dress cascading around her like a waterfall.

“You want to act like a little slut? Then suck until your mouth isn’t filthy,” he spat, and she flashed him a smirk as she slid his pants down, revealing his hard on.

Her hand wrapped around the base of him, moving up and down slowly, the rhythm sending soft growls of pleasure from his lips. As she continued pumping back and forth, in a rhythmic pattern the more he strived for her lips.

“Did you not hear me? I said suck,” he snapped, frustration threading through his tone.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “You call me a slut yet can’t wait a moment longer?” With a teasing glimmer in her eyes, she leaned forward, taking his tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it while maintaining a steady rhythm with her hand. His breath hitched, a bead of sweat forming on his chest as he succumbed to the jolting pleasure.

Without warning he bunched her hair up in his fist and pushed his tip to the back of her throat, thrusting himself deeper into her mouth until she gagged. The sight of her watering eyes only seemed to rile him up.

“Look how fucking beautiful you are, my darling. Take all of me, just like the good whore you are," he breathed, pleasure dripping from his words.

Her eyes glistened with tears. and he watched her head bob back and forth.

"fuck I'm going to—" he gasped, releasing her head and pulling back slightly. But before he could finish himself off, she caught his hand, her determination surging, and continued, letting the warm liquid hit the back of her throat while he moaned, curses spilling from his lips until he finished.

He fixed his gaze on her as she swallowed every drop, wiping her bottom lip clean with a satisfied smile. “You’re not finishing with me down here,” she challenged, cheeky confidence returning.

“Insanity suits you,” he replied, standing and holding out a hand to help her rise. “Now let’s see just how wet you are for me.”

He led her to the table, and a surge of vulnerability washed over her as he slammed her against it giving him full access to her clit, while her stomach pressed against the polished wood. His hands roamed the insides of her thighs, and she softly moans as he moved her lace underwear to the side, his fingers brushing against her trembling skin

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her head back, connecting their lips once more, sucking on her bottom lip. After He released her hair, his hand quickly found her clit, eliciting a moan that was both pleasure and pain.

“Make a scene, sweetheart. Let everyone hear how much you enjoy this," he seethed, delivering a sharp smack that made her gasp, her stomach hitting the table harder.

As he moved her dress out of the way, he slowly removed her thong. Her grip tightened on the table's edges, anticipation thrumming in her veins. But just as she exhaled, he pressed a blade to her neck, drawing a gasp from her lips as he grabbed another fistful of hair to pull her back.

“I’m going to fuck you until you beg to finish, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But this is on my terms. Move too much, and your blood will splatter.” She nodded slowly, and without warning he pushed himself inside of her.

She gasped, feeling every inch of him stretching her, she felt his eyes darken with lust as he fucked her against the table. Each powerful thrust accompanied by the sound of the table squeaking beneath her, the blade scratched at her skin making her hiss at the foreign pain of the knife grazing her neck.

“you like that? hmm” he asked, delight etched in his expression.

“I do. It hurts," she admitted, breathless.

“Tell me to stop,”

But the words caught in her throat, her senses overwhelmed as the blade pressed deeper, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes back in pleasure.

“ But that's the thing, you like that huh? You don't have to hide what you truly want. I know you like this blade at your neck. Watch how good you take my dick slut" he groaned into her ear picking up the pace and she could already feel herself coming close to finishing.

A few more cuts on her neck and he flipped her over, her back colliding with the table, the sharp contrast of sensations sending goosebumps over her skin.

He poured his focus on the cuts, pressing kisses over the crimson marks as the metallic taste lingered in the air. The euphoric mix of pain and pleasure sent her into a frenzy, her nails digging into his bare back as he slipped himself back inside of her her.

“You won’t be the only one leaving this room marked,” she moaned in between their kisses. Both of them cursing and filling the room with the sound of their pleasure.

Their bodies moved in sync, letting the euphoria continue and their pace become sloppy. a dangerous dance of desire and desperation, the air thick with their shared moans and whispered curses.

“I’m gonna—"

“Not yet,” he interrupted, the tension in his voice low and commanding.

“I can't—” she yelped when he stopped, a sharp smack to her ass, only hard enough to sting.

“You can, and you will,” he grunted, slamming into her again, her hips bucking against him as he threw her leg onto his shoulder, pushing deeper. His penetrating gaze bore into her, making sure she didn’t disobey.

“Beg if you wanna finish.”

“Please,” she pleaded, breathless urgency coloring her voice.

“You're mine. Never forget that. Got it?" he growled. She hummed in agreement.

“Use your words,”

“Yes, yes, I’m yours, please—”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Cum for me. Be a good girl,” he murmured, and she quickly became undone. After a couple more strokes he finished after, his head rolling back in delight.

Her legs quivering and the short circuit of her brain stopping for just a moment. It was almost as if her body was made to be with him alone, each pulse and surge a beautiful convergence of pleasure and pain.

He tucked himself back before effortlessly lifting her off the table. Her feet barely touched the floor before her legs wobbled beneath her, struggling to support her weight.

"I can’t walk," she muttered, clutching the edge of the table for support, the remnants of their passion still buzzing in her veins.

"What was that?" he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"You heard me. Shut up and help me stand up," she sneered, irritation mingling with the lingering satisfaction in her tone.

He rolled his eyes, but his expression softened as he stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her upright. "Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you," he murmured, his voice low and steady. With gentle firmness, he helped her regain her footing, guiding her away from the table as she leaned into him.

They took a few tentative steps, and he chuckled again, the sound warm against her ear. "You really know how to make things interesting."

“Oh, shut up,” she replied, though a smile betrayed her annoyance. “You’re lucky I’m even standing,” she added with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Lucky? I was thinking of round two,” he shot back with a grin, winking at her as they made their way towards the couch. Unaware of long night they’re about to witness.

part 1

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

hello!!!! i love your writing style so much, and your characterization of the M6 is fantastic!!! i was wondering about a headcanon for an MC that plays an instrument?

The Arcana HCs: When MC plays a musical instrument

~ honestly I don't know why I haven't done this one already. thank you for the appreciation anon, it's always good to know I'm on track! enjoy - brainrot ~

Julian

He thinks it's the most romantic thing, which regularly sends him into a "I'm too attracted to MC to function" spiral

He plays the vielle himself, and is determined to perform a beautiful duet with you regardless of how well they pair with each other

If you have the kind of instrument naturally suited to his vielle, wonderful!

If you don't, never fear. He's never composed a musical piece before, but he'll take a crack at it with varied success

He can also sing along if that doesn't work out

Heaps you with compliments whenever you play and always encourages you to pursue your skills as far as you want to

More than ready to gather the entire South End to listen to you play if you so much as mention a semi-public performance

You're hesitant to do this because you've known him to get worked up from watching you perform and the roguish grin he gave you when he promised to behave doesn't convince you at all

Malak, being a crow, can and will imitate your music. This annoys Julian immensely

Asra

Loves it when you play. Wherever and whenever it happens, they'll pause whatever they're doing and watch you with the most adoring, enchanted gaze

Canonically the best dancer of the M6, if you get him in the right mood he might dance along

This is very rare because it means they have to get up from their pillow pile, but it's possible because they like feeling your eyes on them

One time, he danced while his parents were over. Salim joined him and it became the funkiest performance you've ever seen

Very curious about what kind of magic you could do with this

Summoning? Enhancing? Hypnotizing?

More than willing to be your test subject, even for the less advisable ideas. Sometimes you think they might have a little too much faith in your abilities

Will take you to concerts if you're traveling together to broaden your horizons

If they're by themself, they'll keep any eye out for any unusual music written for your instrument and bring it home

Faust likes to bop, wriggle, and blep along

Nadia

Is very content to sit and watch you play during her down time

She loves studying the way your music affects you - how your facial expressions shift with the tone of the music, the subtle changes in posture, your nimble hands

Jumps at any opportunity to play her organ along with you

If it's an uncommon pairing she will interview any traveling musicians for well-written duets

If you prefer to keep music as a hobby, she will respect that

But if you want to develop your skills, she'll have a list of tutors for you to choose from on her desk. You have talent! It's good to pursue that!

In a similar vein, she'll never pressure you to practice, but she'll bring it up frequently

It's really a covert way of requesting that you play for her

It goes without saying that any and all of your musical needs will be met. New sheet music? Cleaning supplies? A whole new instrument? Say the word and it's yours

Chandra has been known to subtly perch nearby to listen in

Muriel

He's not used to this much noise in the woods

Why is there so much noise in the woods

Oh, it's you. This is kind of ... nice, actually. Maybe he can get used to some extra noise in the woods

He eventually finds that work goes more smoothly when there's something to listen to

He might bring it up once or twice that he doesn't mind you practicing in the same clearing as him while he chops wood, or clears part of a path, or works on a charm

If he doesn't have that excuse he'll just pull your instrument and music out and leave it somewhere visible in case you feel prompted to play it

Listening to you play will remind him of some of the sounds he has vague memories of hearing from his early childhood. He'll start trying to collect information on Kokhuri instruments and music

Very willing to involve you in that project, but only if you're interested

You don't know how, you don't know why, but regardless of the instrument you play, it always puts Inanna to sleep

Portia

She thinks it's fantastic

Being an ambassador means lots of time on the boat between countries. This is a great way to pass it

She doesn't play an instrument herself, but she can and will sing along as loudly as she has to to be heard

Which means that, between learning pieces that work with a human voice, and being on a ship, you learn to play for a lot of sea shanties and ballads

You're quite popular with the sailors for the free entertainment as well (whether that's your talent, or Portia's squeaky high notes)

Some of them play as well, and will pick out tunes with you by ear so you can play the same piece together

Anytime Portia hears a new style of music on your travels, she'll ask if you can play it too with the utmost confidence in your abilities

She also invites you to play at formal gatherings. She doesn't necessarily expect you to say yes every time, she just thinks anyone would be lucky to hear it

It always gives Pepi the most intense zoomies

Lucio

At this point, your musical skills are just another item on the list of why you are The Best

Hearing music of any kind is a little bittersweet for him. Where he grew up, it was a frivolous past time when you could be hunting something instead

As Count, he always had music playing, but it was grand, complex pieces with massive orchestras and opera singers

Now the music he hears you play is just one instrument, because you want to, and because it makes you happy

Will request at least one song from you every single night

Especially enjoys it on the nights you spend by a campfire under the stars, after you've finished a job. It's like a reward

He tried singing along, once, but it didn't really work because he's canonically tone deaf and it threw you off

The first few times you played he nearly threw a fit because Mercedes and Melchior kept trying to howl along

They shut up when they're eating, so now he keeps an eye out on the road for a deer or rabbit carcass to distract them with later

[landboundstar-writing]

Chills

An original story

Nightwing and Zach are on a rooftop patrol. What could happen? SFW - but careful, content warnings.

CW: Dick Grayson (Nightwing)/ Zach Zatara, making out, heart to heart talk, pole dancing, semi-public makeout, discussion of potential self-harm.

If you like, tip. (Anything helps)

If you can't, reblog.

Nightwing blew on his hands as they stood out in the cold.

“Here.” 

A piping hot cup of coffee was pushed at him.

He looked over at Zachary Zatarra, who sipped his own coffee.

“Do you think they'll get systems up and running any time soon?”

Zach laughed. 

Nightwing turned.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes.” Clearly unrepentant, Zach smiled and took another sip. “You grew up fighting a guy who freezes things, you know, when you were doing rooftop patrols. And you are complaining about drawing the short straw for rooftop threat patrol while the systems are down?”

“Yes. You work with your hands. I should not need to explain that cold fingers aren't the most flexible or dexterous. Not to mention that it can reach stakeout levels of boredom. Probably not tonight for that, but have had some rooftop threat patrols like that. ”

“Ooh. Dexterous. Borrowing Jason's books again?”

“Bite me. I don't like swinging around on fingercicles, okay?”

He did not miss the eyebrow that Zach raised as he took another sip of coffee. Which, okay, was still steaming hot and warming his hands as he held on to the cup.

“Seriously. Hate cold hands. Do you know what it feels like to have your hands cracked or throw a punch when it’s freezing?”

“It sucks. Picking locks with cold hands is worse. Especially underwater. Do you need a refill?”

Nightwing shook his head. “No. I'm good. Sorry, but which one of your cousin's enemies stuck you in a box, locked up underwater?”

Zach's smile broadened, the cheerful grin making his face light up. “Me. It's part of my show.”

“Of course it is.” Nightwing rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too. He raised his binoculars to do a scan, but everything was still clear. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” Zach sounded relaxed, but Nightwing wasn't fooled. The stiffness in his shoulders that hadn't been there before gave it away more than the smile that no longer touched his eyes. “What did you want to ask about?”

“Why do you split time with Titans and Young Justice. You're listed for both teams.”

“Over half of us are on multiple teams. Young Justice and Titans. Young Justice and full Justice League. Whatever Jason is with the Outlaws, Titans, and whichever other group he added.” Zach looked at the water pipe in the middle of the roof, made of sturdy enough metal to survive attacks as it ran the backup water supply in from a rooftop tank. Then, he took a step back and jumped, pulling himself into a human flag with surprisingly little effort. “And if I was better, I might do that. But I like both teams, and I'm not good enough to be full Young Justice let alone Justice League yet.”

“Not good enough? Want to explain that to someone who can't cast magic missile?”

“I told you before, that was a spell deflection, not a magic missile. And it’s simple. Really.” Zach hopped down, circling the pipe in what Nightwing was pretty sure was an imitation of Gene Kelly's Singing In The Rain dance. Zach, Nightwing had to admit had moves. And for a second he was distracted, imagining the two of them dancing together. 

“I can cast spells.” Zach continued, seemingly unaware of Nightwing’s thoughts “But not as well as Zatanna, or Uncle Gio. Or John. Not in the same category as Dr. Fate. Pretty sure even Raven is better than I am at casting, at least with shielding and defensive stuff. So probably not good enough to be full Young Justice, since they are getting ready to be full Justice League. Especially since I'm not as high of a circle as they are.”

“Like, not as high of a skill rank? Like magic belts with karate?”

Zach fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “Not exactly. Like, I know why they object to my crossing circles. But I feel John Constantine does not get to lecture me about circle crossing when he has possessed himself with a demon to survive a gunshot wound.”

Nightwing put his hand on top of Zach's, stopping his spinning. “Is it something I could help with?”

There was a snort from the magician. “No.”

“You don't know if you don't ask.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Try me.”

Zach looked at Nightwing “You would help me have a near death experience? Like not breathing, heart skips a few beats, near death experience?”

“No!” 

The idea of Zach not being there hurt. Nightwing hadn’t known that it would hurt that badly until Zach said it, but even the thought was too much.

Zach shrugged. “Told you I knew the answer.” He went to start spinning again, but Nightwing kept his hand on top, gripping onto Zach's hand.

“Sorry for not wanting you to die, Zach. And your power doesn't matter as much as you think. I mean, I can't do what you do. And I'd pick you over Clarion any day, no matter how powerful he is.”

“Wow, thanks.” Zach sounded irritated and took a small step forward. It should have had Nightwing back up a step, should have made him let go of Zach's hands to give him space.

But Nightwing wasn't backing away. They stood, inches apart, with Zach's hand covered by his, still gripping the water pipe.

And standing there, Zach wasn't worried about the cold. Hell, his hands were sweating as new thoughts went through his head, scattering any arguments he might have given. 

Nightwing bumped Zach's hip with his own. “Stop hogging the pipe. I want a turn.”

Zach felt weirdly boneless, his stomach flipping as his grip loosened on the pipe. He stepped back, hoping to feel normal once he backed up. Once his stomach stopped flip-flopping . Once his palms stopped sweating. Once his heart stopped beating so fast.

When Nightwing let go of his hand, he almost felt normal. Almost.

Except for the fact that Zach kind of wanted to feel Nightwing grab his hand again. To keep touching him.

He watched as his fellow Titan climbed up the pipe and hooked a leg around it before flipping himself so that he hung upside-down clinging to the pipe by gripping it with his knees.

“Should I applaud?” Zach asked. 

“If you'd like”. Nightwing answered, grinning up at Zach.

“Is hanging upside-down a bat thing or does your family know you like to play on poles?”

For a moment or two, no one spoke while Nightwing swung back and forth, his hips and abs tensing under his uniform in a way that Zach was having a hard time looking away from. Then, he just let go. He somersaulted forward and Zach stepped back instinctively so he didn't get rolled into.

As soon as he stopped rolling, Zach wryly realized that maybe he hadn't backed up enough because Nightwing came up standing right in front of him. If he stepped forward, even an inch, Nightwing would be standing on Zach's feet. 

But for some reason, he couldn't move back another step. He could not move at all.

“It isn’t just you.”

“What? But N-”

“No, not Nightwing. I mean, yes, I am Nightwing. But that is not my name.”

“But -”

“Say it, Zach.”

“What? Richard? Grayson? Dick? What do you want me to call you?”

“Any of them. All of them. I don’t care. Who do you see when you look at me?”

“N-”

A gloved hand touched Zach’s lips before he lowered his hand to his side again. “Let me take the mask off and try it again.”

Zach knew that the weird sound he made as he gulped had to be audible but he couldn’t help it. Just as he could not stop what he said next as he watched his friend take his mask off.

“Dick, whatever I did, you don’t have to do this.”

“I was wondering what it would take to make you say my name.” He still hadn’t moved away, staying so ridiculously close. “And you’re Zach. Zachary Zatarra. You.”

N - no, Dick took a step forward and there was no space at all.

“You’re making it sound so easy. Even if it was not a big deal when you play with magic. Names matter.”

“Yeah, I get that. I would get that even if I didn’t know Zee and John. And so is being yourself and not someone else.”

Dick wanted to reassure his friend, help him feel better. But he wasn’t immune to the tension rising between him. He wanted to hold Zach, but with how worked up the other Titan was he wasn’t sure how he would react. 

It turned out he didn’t need to wait long at all.

For just a second, listening to Dick, Zach saw red. He felt his temper flare, hot and dangerous and he put his hands against Dick's chest and pushed him.

“Don’t, Don't pretend you get it.”

Dick didn't budge an inch. Instead, his stance shifted so his feet were planted on either side of Zach's and grabbed his hands.

“Don’t pretend I get what, Zach? Comparing myself? I grew up in a performing family. My Dad, my cousin Boston, my mom - they were all better because they had been practicing longer. But, no, I couldn't keep up with them. And then they died and Bruce adopted me. Do you think I didn't compare myself to him, especially once I was Robin? Do you think I don't compare myself to everyone who has abilities? Do you think I haven't been where you are? Comparing myself, afraid to be myself? Afraid to let others see or feel?”

“And would you say that if you knew I didn't want to hit you but instead I wanted to-,” Zach couldn't finish what he wanted to say. His mouth was suddenly dry. He had gone from shouting to whispering, and he didn't know when he had grabbed Dick's hands back. When all distance had disappeared so he just had to move his head and -

They were kissing. Dick was always aware of where his body was, and he had Zach in a fight often enough to know the same was true of him. But there was a shift of heads and their lips brushed each other. And that was enough to set off all the feelings between them. Because that brush of lips was not enough.Soon, they were kissing, hands grabbing at hips while their tongues while their tongues warred.

It wasn’t until they came up for air that Zach noticed the back of his shirt was untucked. And the frigid air on his back brought him back to where they were.

“Stop.”

Without hesitation, Dick backed up. “Sorry, you just looked.”

Zach shook his head, panting out words as he tried to catch his breath.. “That. Later Definitely. More. That. Patrol. Roof. Cold.”

It sounded like caveman nonsense to him, but Dick clearly understood and grinned at Zach.

“Yeah. More later.” He picked up the binoculars. “Got any more coffee?”

They picked patrol up again with electricity sizzling between them while they waited for the power to come back on.

[rabbitcruiser]

World Otter Day

Every year, on the last Wednesday of May, the world comes together to celebrate a unique and playful creature – the otter. World Otter Day is a global event dedicated to raising awareness about these fascinating animals, their habitats, and the threats they face. It’s a day to learn, share, and contribute to the conservation of otters, a species that brings joy to many and plays a crucial role in our ecosystem.

History of World Otter Day

The roots of World Otter Day can be traced back to 2009 with the inception of Otterly Mad Week, a week-long event filled with education, fun, and a focus on otters. This initiative was the first of its kind, aiming to shed light on otters and their importance in the ecosystem. It was a week filled with activities, information sessions, and community engagement, all centered around otters.

In 2014, the event evolved into International Otter Awareness Day, broadening its reach and impact. The day was dedicated to educating the public about the 13 species of otters and the challenges they face, including habitat loss, hunting, and pollution. It was a day where conservationists, educators, and otter enthusiasts came together to share knowledge, raise awareness, and promote the protection of these incredible creatures.

The event took another significant leap in 2016 when it transformed into the International Otter Survival Fund (IOSF) World Otter Day. This day, as we know and love it today, is a global celebration and a call to action to protect and conserve otters around the world. The IOSF plays a pivotal role in this event, leading efforts to raise awareness and educate people on how to protect otter habitats. The IOSF’s dedication and commitment to otter conservation have been instrumental in the success and impact of World Otter Day.

How to Celebrate World Otter Day

Celebrating World Otter Day can be as simple or as involved as you’d like it to be. Here are some suggestions:

Educate Yourself and Others

Use this day to learn more about otters – their habits, their habitats, and the threats they face. There are numerous resources available online and in libraries that provide in-depth information about these fascinating creatures. Share this knowledge with others, especially children, to foster a love and respect for these creatures and the environment. Education is a powerful tool in conservation efforts.

Support Otter Conservation Efforts

Many organizations, like the IOSF, work tirelessly to protect otters and their habitats. These organizations conduct research, run conservation programs, and work on policy changes to ensure the survival of otters. Consider making a donation or participating in fundraising events. Every contribution, no matter how small, can make a difference.

Visit a Local Wetland or Zoo

If it’s safe and permissible in your area, visit a local wetland or zoo to see otters in action. Observing otters in their natural or semi-natural habitat can be a thrilling experience. Remember to respect their space and observe from a distance.

Spread the Word

Use your social media platforms to raise awareness about World Otter Day. Share facts about otters, their importance, and what can be done to protect them. The more people know about otters and the challenges they face, the more support there will be for their conservation.

Get Creative

Draw, paint, or write about otters. This can be a fun activity for both children and adults, and it’s a great way to express your appreciation for these animals. You could also create a short video or animation about otters and share it on social media. Creativity is a wonderful way to engage with the subject and spread awareness in a unique and personal way.

Participate in Local Events

Many communities and organizations host events on World Otter Day. These could include educational workshops, clean-up drives, fundraising events, or even otter-themed parties. Participating in these events can be a great way to contribute to the cause and meet like-minded individuals.

Adopt an Otter

Some wildlife organizations offer otter adoption programs. By adopting an otter, you contribute to the care and protection of these animals. You often receive updates about your adopted otter and learn about their progress and life.

World Otter Day is more than just a celebration of otters; it’s a reminder of our responsibility to protect and conserve our environment and the creatures that inhabit it. By participating in this day, we can all play a part in ensuring the survival and prosperity of otters for generations to come.

Otters are an integral part of our ecosystem. They are known as “keystone” species, meaning their well-being is often an indicator of the health of their entire habitat. By protecting otters, we’re also protecting our rivers, our wetlands, and numerous other species that share their habitat.

Source

[fhvsydney]

hc hr licence

 Unleashing Opportunities: Exploring HC and HR License Advancements

The acquisition of Heavy Combination (HC) and Heavy Rigid (HR) licenses represents a significant advancement in one's driving career, unlocking doors to diverse employment opportunities within the transport and logistics industry. These licenses authorize individuals to operate large and powerful vehicles, enhancing their professional capabilities and contributing to the efficiency of freight and transportation services.

1. Heavy Rigid (HR) License: An HR license is a stepping stone to operating heavy rigid vehicles, typically rigid trucks and buses. This license is ideal for individuals looking to pursue careers in sectors such as public transport, delivery services, or industries requiring the transportation of goods in substantial quantities. HR license holders are trained to handle vehicles with three or more axles, ensuring they are equipped to manage the demands of large and heavy loads.

2. Heavy Combination (HC) License: The Heavy Combination (HC) license takes the driving profession to a higher level by allowing individuals to operate combination vehicles. This includes articulated trucks, commonly seen in road transport and freight industries. HC license holders have the authority to drive prime movers coupled with semi-trailers, expanding their capacity to transport more extensive and heavier loads.

3. Comprehensive Training Programs: Obtaining an HC or HR license involves enrolling in comprehensive training programs provided by accredited training organizations. These programs typically cover both theoretical and practical aspects, ensuring that license holders possess the necessary knowledge and skills to operate these specialized vehicles safely and efficiently.

4. Enhanced Career Opportunities: The acquisition of HC and HR licenses significantly broadens career prospects within the transport and logistics sector. Individuals with these licenses are well-positioned for roles such as long-haul truck drivers, delivery drivers, bus operators, and more. The expanded scope allows license holders to explore diverse employment opportunities tailored to their preferences and career goals.

5. Adherence to Safety Standards: HC and HR license training programs emphasize safety protocols, ensuring that license holders are well-versed in safe driving practices and emergency procedures. This commitment to safety aligns with industry standards and contributes to the overall well-being of road users and communities.

6. Professional Development and Recognition: Acquiring an HC or HR license is a testament to an individual's commitment to professional development and excellence in the field of commercial driving. These licenses are recognized as a mark of proficiency and responsibility, earning license holders respect within the industry.

7. Contribution to Industry Efficiency: HC and HR license holders play a pivotal role in enhancing the efficiency of the transport and logistics industry. Their ability to operate larger and more complex vehicles facilitates the smooth flow of goods and services, contributing to the overall productivity of the supply chain.

In conclusion, obtaining an HC or HR license is a transformative step in a driver's career, opening doors to new opportunities and expanding their capacity to contribute to the thriving transport and logistics industry. These licenses not only empower individuals with specialized skills but also position them as valuable assets in the dynamic and essential field of heavy vehicle operation.

[sikshapedia]

Top 10 Medical Colleges in West Bengal

West Bengal, with its rich cultural heritage and vibrant cities, is also home to a robust healthcare and education system. For aspiring medical professionals, the state offers a plethora of options, ranging from government and private medical colleges to top-notch hospitals. In this blog, we will delve into the landscape of medical education in West Bengal, exploring the best medical colleges, government hospitals, and other essential aspects.

Government Medical Colleges in West Bengal:

West Bengal boasts several esteemed government medical colleges that have been instrumental in shaping the healthcare landscape. Among the top 10 government medical colleges in the state, institutions like Kolkata Medical College and Hospital, Nilratan Sircar Medical College and Hospital, and Medical College, Barasat, are prominent contributors to medical education.

Private Medical Colleges in West Bengal:

In addition to government institutions, there are also private medical colleges in West Bengal that provide high-quality education. These institutions play a crucial role in meeting the growing demand for healthcare professionals. Exploring the list of private medical colleges and understanding their unique features is essential for prospective medical students.

Semi-Government Medical Colleges:

Semi-government medical colleges, blending elements of both public and private institutions, are gaining popularity. These colleges often offer a balance of affordability and modern facilities, making them attractive options for students seeking a middle ground.

Top 10 Medical Colleges in West Bengal:

Aiming for excellence, students often aspire to join the top medical colleges in West Bengal. Beyond government and private distinctions, factors such as faculty expertise, infrastructure, and research opportunities contribute to a college's ranking. Exploring the list of top 10 medical colleges can guide aspiring doctors toward the best educational experiences.

Bachelor of Surgery (MBBS) Colleges:

The Bachelor of Surgery (MBBS) is a coveted degree for those entering the medical field. Understanding the offerings of different MBBS colleges in West Bengal, their curriculum, and clinical exposure is crucial for making informed decisions about one's medical education journey.

Government Hospitals in Kolkata:

Complementing medical education, government hospitals in Kolkata are vital for practical training and experience. The top 10 government hospitals in Kolkata, including prestigious institutions like SSKM Hospital and RG Kar Medical College and Hospital, serve as crucial hubs for healthcare services and medical education.

Private Hospitals and Healthcare Infrastructure:

West Bengal is also home to some of the top private hospitals, contributing significantly to the state's healthcare infrastructure. Understanding the dynamics between government and private healthcare facilities is essential for medical students and practitioners alike.

Barasat Government College Subject Combinations:

For those specifically interested in Barasat Government College, understanding the subject combinations available is crucial. This information can help prospective students tailor their education to align with their career goals.

Medical Colleges and Hospitals in Other Cities:

Beyond Kolkata, other cities in West Bengal also host reputable medical colleges and hospitals. Exploring the healthcare landscape in cities like Malda and ranking the medical colleges can broaden the scope for aspiring medical professionals.

Conclusion:

Navigating the medical education landscape in West Bengal involves considering a multitude of factors, from the type of institution to available subject combinations. Whether aspiring to attend a government medical college in Kolkata or exploring private medical colleges in Malda, this comprehensive guide aims to assist individuals in making informed decisions about their medical education journey in West Bengal.

[itscomhes]

Importance of Digital Marketing Compared to Old-Time Newspaper Marketing

There is no denying that the Internet, coupled with technological advancements, has revolutionized the face of marketing. Earlier, the best and the most effective way to promote a business was to get display ads printed in newspapers. But times have changed. Today’s generation is more hooked to the digital world than printed media. Consequently, there is a growing need to shift focus on digital marketing. There is no exception for the healthcare industry as well.

What is Healthcare Digital Marketing?

In healthcare, digital marketing refers to using digital platforms such as social media and websites as tools for marketing communication. The “sponsored ads” that pop up on your social feed and the emails you get from healthcare companies are all a part of digital marketing.

Trends in Healthcare Digital Marketing in India

The past few years have been witness to India emerging as one of the fastest-growing digital economies globally. The period between 2014 and 2017 saw the digital adoption index growing by 90%. Regarding revenue, the Indian digital healthcare market stood at a valuation of $ 116.61 billion in 2018. The numbers will expectedly hit INR 485.43 billion by 2024, with a CAGR of around 27.41% during the years 2019–2024. (Source.)

Why Are the Downsides of Traditional Marketing?

The traditional marketing mode is a conventional method to reach out to a semi-targeted audience through various offline advertising methods. It usually comes in prints, broadcasts, direct mail, telephone, and outdoor advertising like billboards. However, conventional marketing has the following drawbacks:

Very costly

Almost no direct interaction with the audience

Making updates is not easy in a static newspaper ad or an already aired TV commercial.

No room for customizations to target a specific audience

Measuring ROI becomes tough.

The rate of leads converting into paying customers is meager.

Receiving feedback is not easy.

Why Go Digital with Healthcare Marketing?

As per ClickZ, the global population has 57% internet users with an average online activity of 6 hours 42 minutes each day. (Source) With different channels like social media, websites, content marketing, pay-per-click, and more, there can be no better time to tap the digital platform’s potential. While traditional newspaper marketing is still useful, technology makes it easier to broaden your outreach, especially when offering something essential, like healthcare services. So here are the top benefits of adopting digital marketing:

Better audience profiling

Direct interaction with the target audience.

Better prediction of customer behavior

Easier to get feedbacks on your service or brand

Tracking your marketing progress is easy.

Cost-effective compared to traditional advertising.

Enough scope for customizing and updating marketing communication

Conclusion

With progressive government policies, India’s robust digital footprint has played a vital role in nurturing the country’s digital healthcare ecosystem. Healthcare providers are turning to digital media to grow their business while offering their services to the public. Digital marketing has promising prospects for the future, far outweighing the limitations posed by traditional marketing.

There is no denying that the Internet, coupled with technological advancements, has revolutionized the face of marketing. Earlier, the best and the most effective way to promote a business was to get display ads printed in newspapers. But times have changed. Today’s generation is more hooked to the digital world than printed media. Consequently, there is a growing need to shift focus on digital marketing. There is no exception for the healthcare industry as well.

What is Healthcare Digital Marketing?

In healthcare, digital marketing refers to using digital platforms such as social media and websites as tools for marketing communication. The “sponsored ads” that pop up on your social feed and the emails you get from healthcare companies are all a part of digital marketing.

Trends in Healthcare Digital Marketing in India

The past few years have been witness to India emerging as one of the fastest-growing digital economies globally. The period between 2014 and 2017 saw the digital adoption index growing by 90%. Regarding revenue, the Indian digital healthcare market stood at a valuation of $ 116.61 billion in 2018. The numbers will expectedly hit INR 485.43 billion by 2024, with a CAGR of around 27.41% during the years 2019–2024. (Source.)

Why Are the Downsides of Traditional Marketing?

The traditional marketing mode is a conventional method to reach out to a semi-targeted audience through various offline advertising methods. It usually comes in prints, broadcasts, direct mail, telephone, and outdoor advertising like billboards. However, conventional marketing has the following drawbacks:

Very costly

Almost no direct interaction with the audience

Making updates is not easy in a static newspaper ad or an already aired TV commercial.

No room for customizations to target a specific audience

Measuring ROI becomes tough.

The rate of leads converting into paying customers is meager.

Receiving feedback is not easy.

Why Go Digital with Healthcare Marketing?

As per ClickZ, the global population has 57% internet users with an average online activity of 6 hours 42 minutes each day. (Source) With different channels like social media, websites, content marketing, pay-per-click, and more, there can be no better time to tap the digital platform’s potential. While traditional newspaper marketing is still useful, technology makes it easier to broaden your outreach, especially when offering something essential, like healthcare services. So here are the top benefits of adopting digital marketing:

Better audience profiling

Direct interaction with the target audience.

Better prediction of customer behavior

Easier to get feedbacks on your service or brand

Tracking your marketing progress is easy.

Cost-effective compared to traditional advertising.

Enough scope for customizing and updating marketing communication

Conclusion

With progressive government policies, India’s robust digital footprint has played a vital role in nurturing the country’s digital healthcare ecosystem. Healthcare providers are turning to digital media to grow their business while offering their services to the public. Healthcare Digital marketing has promising prospects for the future, far outweighing the limitations posed by traditional marketing.

Source: https://comhes.com/

[dvmons-a]

his smirk only broadens in response. you know what you do to me, damon is music to his ears. " so why fight it ? and don't say her name, that's over. ancient history. who even cares anymore ? we're all adults here. the things i want to do to you feel pretty adult, anyway. " leans in all the further, until their noses brush, until she's forced to feel his breath on her lips. " you want to forget about us. i never agreed. i'm having too much fun. " settles his hands on her hips, pulls her body closer to his — semi-public setting be damned. " would it tempt you if i admitted that i missed you ? hypothetically. "

“Oh perhaps your right- maybe she needs someone bad” she chuckled at her words. She tried to distract herself from what was going on but it was pretty hard.”this is true you never make anything easy.. especially for me.” She spoke her eyes not leaving his for a moment. She could deny nothing between them no matter how much she wanted to but she wasn’t sure how she was to explain it to everyone else. She thought about so much for a second and took a breath not sure how to go from here. “You make it hard from me even if you mean it or you don’t.. you know what you do to me Damon I’m just trying to fight it and it’s not working.” A sigh left her lips. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fight it much longer. She was drawn to him to matter what. Her eyes couldn’t leave his no matter what he did she was just drawn to them” what happened to forgetting us?”

[dimepdf]

𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋. + 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 '𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓' 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

masterlist. / taglist. / any request?

synopsis. since the moment that Ghost laid eyes on you, he has sworn to be smitten. too bad you are Soap's girl.

pairing. simon “ghost” riley x reader , johnny “soap” mactavish x reader

genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, pwp, porn with plot, smut, hard pinning, semi public sex, sub!ghost, power kink, degradation kink, mommy issues, voice kink, humiliation, i know nothing about COD just here for my masked meow meow | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

Simon was no saint: sure, he credited himself for being a morally "sometimes" correct person with pretty decent values. 

That alone should have been enough to build a platform on top of the truly irrational thoughts that would swirl in his thick skull and had only gotten worse since the day he joined the forces. 

He had blamed his rough upbringing for a lot of things since the day he was born, but being as touched deprived as he was now was definitely one of the things he could check at the top of his list as the cause of his crippling mommy issues, and boy was your appearance only adding fuel to the fire.

Being deployed was something he had just gotten used to, the feeling of never really settling down and always being on guard, and being used to having eyes at the back of his head.

But there was one thing Simon could never quite figure out, something that seemed to come naturally to his charming pal Johnny, and that was women.

When Soap had first hinted to Ghost about him being in a two-year relationship so suddenly out of the blue a few months before you even managed to show your face. It was like playing a perplexing game of Where's Waldo to piece together the mystery woman about whom his partner was making risque jokes in their conversations.

At first, Simon just wanted to throw in the towel and was entirely convinced that you were just a figment of the soldier's imagination, not that he would blame him.

Simon understood that the battlefield is a pretty lonely place and wouldn't judge his friend for losing a couple of marbles along the way, but if Johnny was losing some of his rockers, he wouldn’t prefer the delusion to continue on for too long.

Before he could step in and pull the plug, your official appearance had almost knocked the wind from his chest like a brick straight to the heart. 

Throughout the period that you were just a pieced-together image from the shitty descriptive words Johnny had used to describe you, Simon almost stumbled the moment he had laid eyes on you. 

Perhaps it was because he hadn't had the opportunity to fully look at a woman in the way he was able to look at you, but words couldn't describe how your features had him struggling to tear his gaze away.

Luckily, his broadening and usually quiet demeanor were enough to cover up his pure awkwardness during your first introduction. 

Struggling to form a normal question or even his name, Johnny introduces him with a dismissive pat on the shoulder before moving on and rounding up the rest of the team.

Since this, your appearance has been like a plague to him, like an infection burning under his skin, blurring the line between what is wrong and what is right.

If anything, you seemed to want to spread the infection even further from the way you would always try to joke with him, how you were always the only one to get handsy with him when talking, how you would always stand up for him when Soap would do his usual teasing, how your voice would always turn soft when you spoke to him, and despite all of that, you had still been in a loving relationship with Johnny, and yet Simon just couldn't shake you from his head.

You had him so smitten, like a stray puppy just looking for some sort of attention, and your mere existence was the bone of his dreams (literally and figuratively). 

You had him staying up late at night with his makeshift mattress and a bundle of blankets to form the most comfortable cot he could build out in the middle of some country he had forgotten the name of.

Night had fallen, and the team decided it would be best to set up camp not far from the target's resting place in a nearby cleared-out lot. 

Most people would have been thrilled to get a few extra hours of sleep to unwind after all the violence, but for Simon, those quiet moments were the fucking worst, and his erection, straining against his pants, begging for any ounce of attention as it pulsed against his briefs, only proved his point later on. 

As everyone parted ways, not too far but not too close, Simon thought that he had spread out just enough away from everyone, alone in an empty room, to spread out and attempt to find his comfort against the rough hardwood flooring, but the moment he had heard the shuffle next door, his body was as still as a board.

Apparently, Simon wasn’t the only one looking for some alone time for the night.

The noises coming from the other side of the room that you and Johnny had occupied left Simon feeling like he was standing right there next to you as you two went at it.

He could only guess that you were pressed against the wall and being lifted into some sort of position that had you whimpering out Johnny's name and moaning out how big he felt inside of you and whimpering about how good he felt.

Simon would remember how he sat against the wall, listening to every moan and plea of pleasure that came from your mouth. 

Simon knew that he was in dangerous territory the moment his fingers crept past the waistband of his pants and dipped into his underwear to relieve the growing problem tenting in his pants.

It was wrong to imagine fucking your best friend's fucking hot girlfriend, but in his defense, you just sounded so sweet, begging for dick. 

Simon was just convinced it was like you wanted him to hear those sweet little whines.

His hips bucked in at the brush of his cold fingers wrapping around his hilt. 

The sensation, paired with the sound of your hiccuping moans, sent a jolt of pleasure through his senses. 

All he could hear was you as his hand fell in the humiliating action of jerking himself off.

His breath caught in his throat as his head slouched against the wall with a small thump, his heart skipping a beat at the noise but quickly ignored it as your sounds didn't seem to stop, reminding him that you were probably too busy getting your brains fucked out to listen to every little sound. 

If anything, just the sheer realization sparked Simon to want to be louder—the thought of wanting to push that bar as far as he possibly could to the point where you would catch him in the act of pleasuring himself from the sound of your voice alone.

The thought of you punishing him for doing something so wrong—for touching himself without your permission—is terrifyingly arousing.

At the image, he let out a gasp, his mouth open, his eyes squeezed shut, and his hand quickened as he fisted his hands tighter at the scenarios of you controlling him, leaving him strung onto every command. 

As your pleas became less and less audible, the bliss grew stronger and stronger.

Simon wanted to get familiar with the sound, with the noise of your orgasm creeping just around the corner.

As he could only make do with his hand, he imagined the feeling of being inside of you, the warmth of your walls, and as he brought himself closer to his own edge, the thick ribbons of cum shot from him with a grunt that followed just after yours.

The post-nut clarity left him catching his breath, yanking his mess-covered hand out of the front of his pants, and staring at everything that had unfolded with a hard, annoyed grunt.

God how he wished that he could have you.

🔖 comment or check link below to be added...

tap here to be added to taglist.

[tenderlyrenjun]

The One with the Halloween Party

summary: your best friend has a halloween party but all you want to do is make out with your secret fuck buddy

↛ ↛ ↛ best friend’s younger brother!Yanyang x older reader

↛ ↛ female reader, college au, mentions of alcohol, suggestive, halloween party, sneaky relationship, secret make out sessions in a closet, inspired by Monica and Chandler from F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (the one where phoebe hates pbs), the next part is going to be spicier (smut)

↛ word count: 7,6k; previously titled: “The One with the Best [Sex] I’ve Ever Had”

preview > part one > part two

It becomes exceedingly apparent that Ten never replaced the strike plate – the gold one, in the closet door by the front entrance of his apartment. He has been living here for two years and still has not replaced the locking mechanism. And you only really take notice because you feel it. The door opens way too easily. You are not even sure why you turn the handle, since the door opens so easily, so goddamn easily. Then, on top of that, the strike plate scratches your nose when you peek out the coatroom. You have to send prayers, begging for no one to hear you creak open the door or hear the squeak from your throat. And the spotlight effect theory, that Yangyang rambled on last week before his social psych midterm, comforts you somewhat, reminding you that all those cliché Halloween costumes in the living room are probably not attune to your indecency as you think they are. Maybe a quickie during Ten’s overcrowded Halloween party (although it was not this packed last year) was not the best decision. Especially, since your own cheerleading skirt, equally cliché, slips down your waist for the first time tonight, rather than riding up like it did minutes before. And you tiptoe back into the closet again, half-bent over to stop your outfit from completely falling off while pressing a hand to close the door as silently as possible. The thought of accidentally exposing yourself in front of all your friends is so embarrassing that your face heats up nearly enough to brighten the room, like a candle or 80s built house.

Right into Yangyang’s bare chest.

“Ow,” you mutter, palm protectively flying to your forehead. It did not hurt – bumping into him, but hopefully, covering some parts of your face understate the extent of this mortifying rendezvous. You take a baby step backward, then knock into the door and the tongue rattles, making you stiffen, making you freeze for a second. Yangyang puts his hands on your upper arms, rubbing them warm, as you look over your shoulder to verify that the door is still, in fact, closed. Both you and Yangyang are honestly incredibly lucky that no one caught you two, so when you confirm the locked door, your arms droop and you lull closer to Yangyang. Your eyes open after a second, and you jolt up again, realizing just how naked he is and how naked he is going to stay. You drag your nails down his pecs and ball your fingers into loose fists before completely breaking off him.

“Back up,” you whisper-shout, as if this command is part of some grand scheme.

Yangyang smirks, his smile curling wider. “I’m not the one touching someone’s rock hard abs.”

You want your glare to push him back, like your command, between all the jackets and superhero capes, but you get provoked by his cockiness. He was so much quieter and pliable when you first met. Now, you are the quiet, pliable one, or at least you are in this situation. Yet you bite at him – with your words, not your lips like his evil grin implies that he wants. “You wish.”

“That’s not what you said last night.” Yangyang approaches you, gauging your reaction until his breath ghosts over yours. And not seeing any actual restraint, he kisses the corner of your mouth teasingly, like it could start another round. Then he lowers his lips to your ear and whispers, “Or five minutes ago.” You wonder if he can feel your eye roll because he tries to change it from annoyed to turned on, sucking on the vein behind your ear.

And for that reason, you put a hand on his chest again, this time lower, on his stomach, specifically on his abs. His smirk broadens and his lips part again, aggravatingly making that clicking sound with his tongue, so you push on him. “Just –“ You pull your hand back to your face again, noticing the lack of change in warmth between his stomach and your face; maybe he is as embarrassed as you are, or turned on all over again. The latter is worse, probably, hopefully, not really. He looks really good and you just want to … You shake your head. “Wait a minute after I leave so this –“ You gesture between yourselves, touching his stomach again, then jerking away again. “- doesn’t look suspicious.”

Yangyang grabs your waist, sympathetically, although not entirely agreeing with your request. He tugs your bottoms over you ass and you expect him to retract immediately after, including the baby step that you asked for, but he only stops you from moving, keeping you locked in place – in place next to him. You roll your eyes again, unhooking his hands. Before you can completely detach, he interlocks your fingers and pushes you against the door, kissing you warmly.

Your head knocks into the door, loudly you think, and you stiffen again. Until his left hand travels behind your knee, up your thighs, and his lips open over yours, his tongue sliding next to yours. You stand on your toes, back curving into his embrace, off the extremely wiggly door, your arms hugging him closer as he pulls you up, pulls your clothes up. His right hand slides down your spine, thumbing at your waistband. This entire embrace is another persuasion, you note, and it usually works, like those mornings before AB Psych, but you two are in a closet, at a party, barely blocked by an unfastened doors that you are actually not sure is soundproof. So, you come down onto your heels and bring your hands to his chest again.

“Mmm mmm.” You shake your head off him. He trails you forward but you end the embrace, tightening your hands over the lapels, to close it, to close off his dumb attractive abs this time. “We have to get back.”

Yangyang pokes your personal bubble again, sliding his chest onto yours, and your arms stretch behind his neck, the closeness giving you some pressure on your boobs. He looks at you for a second, pupils scanning your eyes before he bends his neck on your, opening his mouth during an open mouth kiss.

“We’ve only been gone for a minute,” he seduces you, simultaneously sliding his tongue between your lips to prod at yours.

You slide your hands onto his face, comfortably holding his jaw in place as you look into his eyes, reinforcing your reasoning. “Try twenty.” You sigh, letting go of him. “I feel like such a bad guest. I haven’t even greeted the host yet.”

“Ten will be fine,” Yangyang reassures you, pushing past your fingertips to kiss you again. “Meanwhile –“ He kisses you deeply and you exhale, basically melting all over again. If he did not support you, you might have fallen onto the ground. God, he has some effect on you, and you cannot entirely describe it. “- I am not fine. You could greet me a little more enthusiastically.”

“I’m pretty sure you finished being so enthusiastic, a minute ago,” you scold. You square your hands over his shoulders and gently lean him off you, successfully separating him in the process, then reach for the doorknob. “We’re playing a risky game here, with the door unlocked.”

Yangyang slants forward, fusing you with the door. Your arm bends behind you, at your side, as he envelopes you, so he relaxes you again, taking down your elbow. You look at him with wide, pouting eyes, like that iPhone emoji. He can keep persuading you, effectively, and you will stay with him, but …

“Mmm mm,” you protest, pulling away. You hit your head on the door, hoping that it was not loud enough for someone to hear. “We – I really have to get going.”

Yangyang sighs, ceding, “Alright, fine.”

He beckons you out, looking away, flicking his wrist. And you wonder if he is actually complying. You look from him to the door, stuttering back to him. This would be the time for him to persuade you into staying again, and his gaze is devastating enough to convince you, but you really have to enter the party. As you grip the doorknob again, Yangyang hugs your back, clasping his hands like a belt over your skirt, and you can feel him pout into your shoulder, chin descending further into your skin. You placate him with a brief kiss to his knuckles – something chaste and fleeting, nothing like the fluttering in your heart. And since you cannot see his expression, you wonder if he actually enjoys these small acts of intimacy, of if he cringes; if he does cringe, then he is really good at hiding it, because you cannot perceive anything from him. Although, the moments in bed, in the most intimate hours, when the pads of his thumbs press into your lower back, you think that he feels it too.

Unfortunately, he cannot do that right now. And you head out the door first, straightening your direction over to the bar like a new arrival, or like someone who did not come to their best friend’s party just to make out with said best friend’s younger brother, or closest thing to a younger brother as he can get.

It only takes a few seconds for Yangyang to consider your goodbye, before completely rejecting it, then he groans into the empty closet, throwing his gaze at the ceiling. After, he pokes his head out the door, looking left and right like crossing the street, until the coast is clear for him to leave. When he rejoins the party, he instinctively searches for you among the cliques of cliché Halloween costumes. And he finds you, easily if he might add, at the bar, chatting with Jacob, probably about your matching basketball uniforms. Well, you wear a Trailblazer’s outfit and him a Jazz one – natural rivals but neither of you take it serious enough to start an argument in a semi-public setting.

Yangyang waits for you to leave the bar and meet up with Ten, interrupting his conversation to say hello. He nicks a capri sun from the fridge, then joins you right after with a bright smile on his face, middle fingers pressing into your lower back like a greeting wave. The act might have been offensive, had you been in a club and he a stranger, but he knows you, he likes you. And he smiles even wider when you relax into his hand. Nevertheless, Ten stands three feet away, putting the two of you on edge, and your spine straightens in the most attentive way possible, like you are a military subordinate or something, even though you are dressed as a basketball cheerleader from the U.S. state where you spent a winter semester abroad during freshman year, before Yangyang joined your university. So, to make the conversation more natural, Yangyang high-fives Ten, while you take his juice box away and open it for him. He stares at you, smile faltering, suddenly feeling smaller as you take care of him and Ten resumes whatever the hell you two had been talking about until he entered the conversation.

“Oh, come on,” Ten whines, hitting your arm after you hand Yangyang the capri sun. You glare at him sharply, then make sure Yangyang is okay, rubbing his arm comfortingly. He wants it to mean more, because he does not know what you want from him, but now is not the time, not when you are trying to keep everything on the DL. “I want to meet the guy who is the best sex you’ve ever had.”

Yangyang mimics your body language, though peppier as he smirks. “Really?” he asks Ten. “That’s what you heard?” He turns to you, tilting his head teasingly. “That’s really what you said?”

You baby-step out of the trio, slightly further from Yangyang specifically until you knock into Winwin behind. Your conversation partners giggle at you as you throw a small apology over your shoulder, then you glare at them upon returning to the group. You exhale slowly, giving yourself time to think before speaking, and redirect your annoyance at Yangyang more than Ten. “I might have.”

“Why didn’t you invite him to the party, huh?” Ten asks, bumping shoulders, wiggling suggestively. He raises his eyebrows, glancing at Yangyang to rope him into the teasing too and he falls into it because your mystery boyfriend is already here. Yangyang stops dancing when Ten’s expression changes, softens and reminisces. “I get the whole ‘respecting his privacy thing, but, like, I really want to meet the guy who helped you get over Renjun.”

The name drop causes Yangyang to shoot his eyebrows to the moon. His neck snaps at you faster than Kun’s when he jokingly accepted a marriage proposal. He watches you widen your eyes at Ten and smack him loudly. Maybe not everyone knew that, he thinks; he certainly did not know that, and he has known Renjun longer than you or Ten have. While you and Ten stare each other off, irritated and shocked, respectfully, Yangyang loudly slurps the last of his capri sun.

Yangyang tries to break the tension by pointing to the wall adjacent from you all, at Renjun. “He’s taking five shots of Smirnoff with Jeno right now, while Jaemin holds lemons at the ready.”

“Big deal,” Ten waves him off while keeping eye contact with you. Yangyang stares at his face, looking him up and down, then decides to take a baby step in front of your leg, almost protectively. He cannot gauge where Ten stands, where the conversation is going, but he knows that he will be there for you, just in case. “I did that when I was 17.”

You smack Ten, with the arm opposite of Yangyang, using the other one to pull Yangyang back into an equilateral triangle. “Don’t normalize underage drinking.” Yangyang almost rolls his eyes at that; who are you even saying that too?

“Hey!” Ten counters. “No one is underage at my party.” He holds your hand and pulls you into his side, into a scalene triangle, while covering your mouth. “Shhh, you can’t say that out loud. I invited Mr. I’m-A-Lawyer-Now, and besides, -“ You pull out of his arms and stand slightly in front of Yangyang. “-I just happened to invite the babies, too. Like Yangyang.” Ten turns to the devil in disguise and pinches his cheeks. “Baby.”

Yangyang single-handedly unbuttons his shirt again, like an act of defiance. “I am not a baby!”

Ten drops his head to the side, quirking an eyebrow. “You respond to baby,” he retorts, “And you’re drinking a juice box.”

“I had a bottle of soju earlier!”

“Oh? Just one?”

Yangyang folds the aluminum capri sun into his pocket, hopefully discreetly, and scrunches his nose at Ten. He feels you gently draw him back at your side, via his wrist, and expects you to defend him, but you just tease him further:

“Pics or it didn’t happen.”

Yangyang straightens up, his jaw dropping, then he crinkles his nose and sticks his tongue out at you. He accepts it though, not changing the topic, because he sees the way your posture shifts when everyone moves away from the romantic department.

Although, he might want to talk to you about it sometime.

Ten grounds him back to the conversation, patting his hair – the same spot you place kisses when the two of you cuddle and he is the small spoon, so Yangyang ducks away, slapping Ten’s hand out of the air. The whole hair touching thing reminds him that you are never really vulnerable enough with him, to let him hold you like baby. He wants to try it, especially since Ten keeps babying him in front of you, but he is not sure if you even like it.

“Yeah,” you agree, your voice low. You poke Yangyang’s side then cross your arms over your cropped jersey. “You’re so cute.”

Yangyang circles his neck towards you, smiling reassuringly, or at least he thinks so. His gaze wanders from your eyes to your fingers, which are coiled around your upper arm, so he starts taking off his jacket, pulling off the cuffs behind his back. But he stops after feeling your hand on his bicep. He glances at your hand, then stares at your eyes before pouting:

“I don’t want to be cute.”

He stops stripping but still decides to keep you warm, with another back hug, this time enveloping you into his jacket while he rests his chin on your head, even tiptoeing just to commit to the hug. When you squirm, shaking your shoulders to hit his pecs, he just hangs on slightly tighter until you stop. And after you relax, resuming natural conversation with Ten about anything other than your former crush, he smiles, coming back down to his heels and leaning on your shoulder. The new position tempts him to kiss your neck, and he almost does, but then he feels Ten’s eyes look at him, so he cannot even press a small peck at your jugular like he does sometimes when he catches you at the café by the physics building – the one that only Jaemin goes to, out of all his friends; the one where neither of you get spotted by your friends so it seems like a date, not that either of you have ever called it that. Nope. He avoids kissing your neck and just brushes his nose along your skin. It does not come off as platonic, he recognizes, but Ten does not ask any questions and Yangyang slowly phases out of the conversation to meet up with Hendery who walked through the front door as a pink bunny rabbit.

Yangyang slipping out of the trio feels so sudden, you think after feeling his hands unbuckle around your waist.

Maybe he does not feel important in the conversation anymore. So, you lock your elbows into your sides, clasping your own hands over your stomach to make him stay put. You knock your head onto his collarbone, prompting him to say something, but he does not, only resting his chin on your shoulder. Hopefully, he is smiling; you like his smile. His cheek pokes you at your neck, similar to how he almost kissed you in front of Ten just minutes ago. Then, he pushes his hand in front of you, to wave at Hendery, opposite the room, and your smile quirks down, somewhat embarrassed, as you trace his direction to the pink, fluffy ears bopping along to last year’s Travis Scott song. Ten copies you, twisting hesitantly behind himself. Meanwhile, Yangyang grows a little bolder, hunching forward onto his tiptoes to kiss your cheek silently, before dashing off with his friends.

Too stunned, eyes wide, mouth smaller, you miss the way Ten turns around, his smile wide with a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue. It goes away though, when he sees your face, so after making eye contact, you are met with an ominous stare. It is also curious, but the ominousness throws you for a loop. Then he raises his brow slightly, and you smack him, simultaneously asking what he wants.

“Nothing, nothing,” he laughs, crossing his arms over his pilot costume. He relaxes once you show no intent to hit him again, then he locks his hands behind his back, leaning toward your face mischievously. And when his nose almost pokes your eye out, you jump back into WInwin again, glare prompting him to ask stupid questions. “I simply want to know what all that was about.”

“What?” you bite at him, annoyed, following your second apology of the night to Winwin. And instead of meeting his eye (to give yourself more time to think of an excuse, no matter how flimsy), you flatten down the bottom of your top, where a iron-on patch of Dillard’s number disrupts the obnoxious Portland ‘P’ – you wonder if anyone connects your costume and Yangyang’s favorite basketball team, because no one says anything. Except, Ten is saying something right now, continuing the silent taunting into your personal bubble, getting almost as close as Yangyang was just a minute ago. So, you poke him away, on his forehead. “You want to know why I keep running into Winwin?” Ten rolls his eyes. Your voice does not feign innocence as well as you want.

“That was all you,” he deflects, eye contact maintained but he points at your vodka party drink, implying that you might have had a bit too much tonight. You swallow the alcohol faster, defiantly, and hold your breath, exhaling longer while you pause, holding the empty cup still above your dry tongue. “No, yeah, but, uh, no, that whole thing with Yangyang.” Ten bumps your arm with his elbow, coming to your side so that both of you can watch the man in question from across the room. “Huh?” he teases lightly. “Are you entertaining him? [Because] You two seem really … close.”

“I’m close with you,” you retort, touching his shoulder, into the crook of his neck, with your head. Then you stand back up, reflexively smiling when Yangyang laughs at a new TikTok dance that Hendery shows him. He even looks back at you, waving once your eyes meet. You throw him a thumbs up, and you swear that his smile gets brighter. It probably was not because of you though, because he starts giggling louder and dancing alongside Hendery right after. “We’re all –“ You turn to Ten, smile still blanketed under your nose, then you frown. “- friends; what’s that look for?”

“Nothing!” He imitates innocence better than you do, baring his palms for dramatic effect. You face him frontally, examining his devilishly handsome face for a crack. And he gives it to you: “It’s just that we’ve known each other for eight years and you never let me cuddle you like that.” He pokes your hip, where Yangyang was attached. “You’re closer with someone you just met.”

“You introduced us. In March!”

Ten waves a hand lazily. “Minor details. Besides –“ He blocks Yangyang from your view, not that it really mattered because you are trying to have a conversation with Ten. But it helps you maintain eye contact. “- you seem really comfortable with him being naked on you.”

You open and close your mouth in one short breath, swirling the empty red solo cup at your side, nervously. He has a point; you know he has a point – you are very comfortable with Yangyang being naked on top of you. Wait, he said on you. Either way, Ten is right. You do not want to admit it because that implies feelings, something that you are definitely not willing to talk about at the moment, especially this moment, but he is right. The question is if he needs to know.

“Did you hear about Yangyang and the anatomy student from Renjun’s class? They’re also close.”

You deadpan. As it turns out, he does not need to know. You are not dating, anyways, so …

“It’s my business, because…?”

“It’s not,” Ten agrees, shrugging. He looks off, turning his head toward Johnny, dressed as the Kellogg Tiger, before looking at you again. “Just thought you’d like to know.” He shrugs again. “If you didn’t already.”

“Uhh, okay,” you confirm, as nonchalantly as possible. You mirror his body language, standing straighter. Ten says nothing, not noticing the way your body stiffens, or at least, you hope so. “So you’re telling to what?” Get you jealous? “Give him advice?”

“Nah, we both know that he’s fully capable on his own.”

“Please,” you scoff. “He’s a baby who lives in a frat apartment with seven other dudes and buys food at the café by the physics department to avoid washing a knife.” Well, he charmed you, so how can you criticize his flirting abilities? You shrug – maybe, he was just that horny. He has always been a typical teenage boy. Although, he turned 20 a couple weeks ago.

“Huh.”

“What?” You come down from the high that somewhat roasted your sex partner … fuck buddy? friend with benefits? He is something to you - a little more than a friend but you do not think he would willingly be your boyfriend. Your voice sounds less excited now, and you run your hand through your hair, pulling slightly harder at the ends.

“Nothing,” Ten shrugs again. He twitches at you, briefly spinning his hips. “It’s just that Yangyang mentioned you go to that café too.”

“Yeah,” you drawl, like it is obvious. Ten smirks, knowingly, you think, so you crush him, “Jaemin, too.” You lift your eyes to the ceiling for a second, like it would give you an out. “And Kun on Tuesdays after 5.”

Ten scrunches his face, now facing you again. “Oh, we both know that Kun goes to the kiosk in the chemistry building for the cute barista with a good taste in music.”

You mockingly smile at him, squinting above your nose. He does not get the satisfaction of an equally annoyed laugh – probably because you might crack, your voice might crack and accidentally give something away. It’s not that you don’t want anyone to know that you are sleeping with Yangyang – you don’t, but not because it is embarrassing. You just do not particularly want to hear the two cents everyone seemingly needs to donate, like a commercial tax, especially with their baby Yangyang.

“Why did Hendery even dress up as a bunny? A pink bunny. Is he puling a Chandler?”

“No,” Ten shakes his head. This is the third conversation change you have made, and surely, he caught on by now. “Only Jisung and Winwin are watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. with Chenle; I think that Hendery just like the costume.” Ten points at Johnny, flashing a wave, then glances at you. “I’m gonna head over there. I haven’t seen Johnny since he left for a Paris project.”

“Yeah, no,” you gesticulate, nodding, “go ahead. I’ll meet you later, or something.”

“We’ll catch coffee on Monday.” Ten’s voice shrinks as he moves away. “After office hours!” He turns around one more time, emphasizing his words louder, “At the physics café!”

Yangyang, along with a couple other people, snaps his neck at Ten walking away from you, especially after hearing the bit about the physics café because, no offence to Ten, but that is his place. With you. The café on 17th is his rendezvous point with you. He likes the whole secret aspect of your relationship – it is so sexy; you are so sexy. It is just … the face that everything is secret prevents him from explicitly opposing Ten’s suggestion. And before he knows it, Yangyang makes his way toward you, waving goodbye to his psych friends.

He already knows where you are, because sometimes he would glance over at you when someone made a joke, just to see you laugh, to laugh with you. Occasionally, you would be smiling brightly, at whatever Ten said, and look to him. So, all he has to do is turn right and find his annoyed cheerleader, to annoy you even more.

The music is louder by the kitchen exit, where you are, curled against the wall with an empty red solo cup, blue light from your phone glowing across your face. Yangyang takes the opportunity to scare you, hiding behind a couple groups until he reaches you, creeping slowly. Then he strikes, poking your obliques.

“Boo!”

“Ah!”

You jump against the wall, clutching all your belongings closer while he laughs at you.

“Aw, did I scare you?”

Yangyang envelopes you into a hug, ignoring the way you glare at him. And he relaxes, when you do, feeling you squeeze his waist and sigh. You will never admit it, but the two of you know that this is how your dynamic works – he annoys you, then you cuddle him. And he has so many ways to annoy you. Like, next, he pulls a 180 – both coming behind you and switching up the mood to grind under your hips.

“What are you doing?” he whispers in your ear, fast, grabbing your waist to guide you over his pelvis. He gets dangerously near your cheek, excusing it as a way for you to hear him better, since you two stand adjacent to the speakers, where the music is above talking decibel. His eye catches onto Lucas’s, and he winks, hands tightening above your skirt, because, despite all the teasing, this is not actually how he wants your entanglement to get out. “Wanna head upstairs? I just found a new TIkTok challenge you can practice on me, like the WAP one.”

“What are you doing?” you retort, laying your fingers on his bare chest – he likes that you keep touching him, not so much when you push him away. He wonders if you know that. Like, he chose his outfit for tonight because, well, he looks good, but also because he figured that you would think he looks good, too. It seems like you do, considering that your hand always finds ways back to his abs. So, he grows more confident, nipping at your ear while you push him against the wall, further away. Your eyes flutter, lashes blinking rapidly as he holds you closer, left hand toying with the hem of your shirt. He has this trick that you always react to, and he wants to do it now, while no one pays attention to either of you (larger parties afford far more privacy than smaller ones). You lean your head on his warm shoulder, then he presses his palm into your spine until you are chest to chest with him, impossible to get closer. Your breath sounds louder, as the music transitions to Goodbye feat. Lyse [slow version], and he wonders if he can elicit a moan from you, in the same frequency as the song’s growl. His right hand travels between your thighs, until you stop him, slapping his hand and holding him still. “We’re in public.”

Yangyang spins you around, showing off his own point of view as a counter argument: no one is paying attention. The whole thing bumps your connected hips into the wall, and his arm belts over your lower waist, driving you to essentially demi plie over his thigh that sneaks through your legs. At the sudden movement, you gasp, death gripping over his arm. He does not mind very much, only the red solo cup tapping rhythmically between the wall and his elbow. You barely get time to relax completely before he drops lower, just enough for him to look up at you. And he takes note of the sexual tension essentially radiating off the two of you, so he alleviates it, giving the illusion that there is only dancing going on right now. Though, you baby-step forward, to give him more space. His smile falters, twitching down, and he is thankful that you seem oblivious to it, because you comply with his action, letting your skirt flower spread over his leg and the smile return to his face. Yangyang guides your swaying left and right, grazing over his abs.

“I’m offering to go upstairs,” he answers definitively, still whispering in your ear. “More privacy.” His hands travel up again, skin getting lightly scratched by your top’s texture. Your nails might do a better job, if he remembers correctly. God, he wants you to take up his offer. “You didn’t have a problem with it an hour ago,” he points out, while dropping his gaze to your neck, once again tempted to mark you. He pulls away some of the baby strands that fell out of your hairdo, then locks eyes as he traces your ear shape. “Do you have a problem with it now?”

“No,” you answer him quickly, shaking your head for even more emphasis. You turn around fully and scan his eyes before shaking your head again. “I don’t have a problem.”

Yangyang smiles wider, instinctively bowing forward. Your ambiguous answer tells him more than he asked. He almost reveals something in return: that he enjoys kissing you, because he would totally do it right now, but you keep stopping him. He is all for consent, honestly; it just gets really confusing with you. Even now, he initiates a small, intimate touch while this moment afford you two some privacy, breathing open mouthed kisses onto the vein behind your neck, slightly illusioned in the dark lights as just talking to you. All the boundaries do no really define what he can, or cannot, do in public. Like, apparently, you two can have sex in a closet right before his best friend’s party – a best friend shared between you two, but there are rules about how close he can stand next to you. Both situations still involve secrecy. Although, one is far more sexier than the other. But he wants the whole damn thing – to hold you in public, and private, to kiss the part of your trapezius muscle that he likes so much, to be able to say that he knows places too, like the physics café where he doesn’t want Ten to take you because he takes you on dates there!

Then, you sigh.

Why are you sighing? It feels like that should be his response.

You clasp your hands behind his neck, evidently hesitating to reveal something – he knows because you fiddle with his collar a few times before moving onto the ends of his hair.

“It’s just …” You pause, so he tries to make his gaze unwavering, to hold you securely. “It’s just that a certain classmate might have a problem.” He furrows his eyebrows, bending onto his knees to ask for clarification. “You know … a certain classmate.”

Yangyang narrows his eyes, lost in translation. He slides up the wall and squeezes your waist, thinking, trying to figure you out.

“Oh!” he catches on. “Oh, I don’t think Hyunjin would have a problem with us.” He moves his hand to your shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. “I don’t really see how anyone in any of our classes would have a problem with us, much less, like, know about us.” He cocks his head to the side sympathetically, lips brushing along your cheek to ear. “I don’t have a problem with us.” He drapes his arms around your sides. “Just FYI.”

“Me neither.”

He smiles wider. You two are on the same page about something. He almost kisses you right then and there, but settles for brushing his nose on yours, simultaneously taking a step backward, closer to the wall so that no one sees the obnoxiously domestic display of affection. Actually, it might be weird for Hendery, Xiaojun, or one of his psych friends to see him act so … boyfriend-like, so romantic. He doesn’t think that anyone would anticipate that kind of behavior from him, and he is honestly too sure if you see him like that. He would try it though, you know, because he is curious and he would like to be your boyfriend.

“Did Ten tell you about Hyunjin?” Yangyang asks, prodding slowly.

You nod, equally slow, eyes falling down. “He didn’t mention any names, -“ Yangyang feels something in his chest drop. He put a name to the idea, and now he watches your eyelashes flutter and the lump in your throat shake, as you try not to say the name. “- but yeah.” He hugs you, bending your arms around his stomach so that he jackets you in his empty shirt. You have said that he has a natural body warmth, and hopefully it is comforting right now, because …

“It’s not really his business who I talk to.”

Yangyang almost apologizes for creating an environment that fosters mistrust or makes room for insecurities. Except, (1) that sounds like a note he would write in his case study’s conclusion for class, and (2) how the hell is he even supposed to say that? He tries to show that this – whatever it is – is exclusive. Like, now, he just holds you tightly, during a Halloween party, only slightly out of view from his friends. He almost apologizes, and it is on the tip of his tongue, but he holds back, pursing his lips as you open your mouth.

“It’s not my business either,” you reason, stepping back. His embrace slackens, like rock climbing because he catches you, not letting you fall off him, even though you wiggle out a little bit, pushing him back into the wall. “Because we’re not dating.”

“No,” Yangyang partially agrees, standing straighter, supported by the wood. “We’re not, but we’re …” He wants to tell you about the exclusivity, that he considers the two of you to be exclusive. Some part of him thinks that you hold the same thought. And he cocks his head to the side, rolling his tongue behind his teeth. “We’re good friends. And, you know, we’re like, yeah. So, it’s your business too.” He rubs your shoulder again. “Wanna go upstairs and talk about it?”

Yangyang smacks your ass for attention, trying to make the situation fluffier, simultaneously gesturing to the second floor with his hair. This is not really the time nor place to dissect your relationship, and he would totally put it under the microscope. Just, maybe, at another time. You seem to agree, walking away first, holding his hand to guide him up the secretive stairs.

And despite this being his idea, Yangyang stops before the first step, waiting for you to march a couple feet taller than him. His eyes linger at the lowest hem of your skirt, until you plant one foot in front of the other, on two separate levels. You look over your shoulder and roll your eyes. He expected it, quickly meeting your gaze innocently. Then he smacks you ass again, as if he were not just looking up your skirt a second ago. You glare at him, but he slaps your ass again and races upstairs.

“You’re so annoying,” you comment after him, still running to meet him at the top.

Yangyang smiles. Yeah, but you love him. He opens the nearest bedroom door, beelining to the bed where he manspreads across the full-sized mattress. You walk into the room quickly after him, turning around to close the door. Your skirt swings chastely around your thighs, and he cannot take his eyes away from it, wishing for you to swing them around his hips.

“Wanna be annoying with me?”

You roll your head, clicking your tongue, after finding him sitting relaxed on the comforter with suggestive eyebrows. “Yeah, I guess.”

Yangyang lifts his arms to catch you when you dive between his shirt, the lower part of your body thrusting on top his as you prowl beside his torso. He leans back, hands anchoring himself to your face. You push him deeper into the mattress, and he feels your nails airily redraw each indent on his carefully contoured abdomen. He smirks, asking if you like what you feel, and tilts his chin up to give you better access to his mouth. You tell him to shut up by biting his lower lip, though you match his expression, shaking your head as you decline into him. Yangyang cannot maintain his position any longer, almost breaking a sweat when you unbuckle his very thin belt and tap into the metal button barely holding his pants together. He whines, briefly breaking the kiss, then he flips you over, bending one of your legs up to fit his in between.

“I don’t want you to just guess,” Yangyang whispers. He slowly retreats his palm from under your shirt to the spot on your stomach where your shirt lifted up; he wants your verbal consent before doing anything else, and he waits for it. The kiss gets longer as you sigh into it, lazily hooking an arm around his neck. So, he stops. And then brushes your hair behind your ear, just hovering over you with tender eyes. “I don’t want you to just guess.”

“I’m not guessing,” you reassure him. You play with his hair, the way he likes, toying the strands on the top of his head then combing through the rest until reaching his neck. He looks at you innocently again, in case you crack. But you don’t. He restarts the kiss, sliding his hand under all the layers covering your torso.

Yangyang helps you out of your shirt, watching the way your chest bounces without support, so he gives you more, adding his lips like a low-set suction. “You’re so pretty,” he confesses, kissing into your sternum after you arch it up at him. And he wants to know your reaction, so as he presses an open mouth kiss into the side of your boob, he looks up at you, your lips parted by a silent moan. “You are so, so pretty like this.”

Unlike you, Yangyang moans audibly.

He feels you curl your fingers into his waistband, touching his tip outside his underwear. With his eyes closed, he drops on his back and feels you move around his lower thighs, teetering above them lightly. You meet him between the velvety sheets, giggling with him as your hair tickles his face. He opens his eyes, combing the loose strands behind your face again, finishing the act of endearment with his knuckles stroking your cheek. Sometimes he lets himself fall into these more romantic displays of affections.

Yangyang grips your ass, under your cheerleading skirt. When he remembers that you have his favorite player’s jersey patched onto your crop top, he pulls his chin up, nipping at your bottom lip. You draw him in further, towering over him until he drags you down with him, mixing between the sheets, laughing again. He really loves hearing your voice, and he loves it even more that he can make you have a fun time, make you grin so vocally during the moments that matter. So, he tries it again, slipping under your underwear too, massaging your skin.

“Mmm,” you moan.

Yangyang feels you slither his shirt off his shoulders, your nails grazing around his biceps as he tilts up to kiss you over and over again. Then, abruptly, you sit back, on your knees, around his hips, alert at attention. The new position allows him to mark your neck, one hand sliding through your waist band, over your ass, to have you grind down on him. His lips nibble at your collarbone, tongue breezing along as he waits for your reaction.

“Wait, wait.”

He stops, looking at you from under his eyelashes. A minute passes, and you don’t give any more restraints, so he resumes taking off your underwear. He keeps the same consistent eye contact because you remain alert above him, but you close your eyes and lean your head closer to him. He pulls his arm completely out of his sleeve so that he can hug you firmly against his body. Your chest grazes his, and he moans.

“Shh,” you silence him, kissing him quiet, hands still on his shoulder, “Do you hear that?”

“No, mm.” Yangyang breaks the kiss. “What are you –“

“Shh!”

You move your hands onto his pectoral muscles, his shirt near completely off his body, as you turn your head at the door. His head stutters in the same direction, stopping every half millisecond to return back to your face and make sure that you are okay. Then, he hears it: Xiaojun stumbling into the walls, jiggling the doorknob.

Yangyang stiffens. “Did you lock the door?”

A bit of light from the hallway cracks into the room, along with intoxicated hushing and giggling.

“Shit, no,” you answer, obviously, then start to pick your clothes off the bed and stand up. After a moment of hesitation, Yangyang follows you, buttoning up the middle of his shirt and meeting you in the center of the room, shielding your exposed chest as you clip on your bra.

Yangyang looks at the door when it creaks louder, eyes caught by a headlight. Before he knows it, you shove him into a closet. Neither of you are getting the opportunity to be annoying together because Xiaojun drunkenly stumbles into your space, moaning after his own date. Yangyang rolls his eyes and feels you slide into his shirt with him, scratching his back with your spangled top. He knows that there is no other option, since you two do not want to expose your relationship, especially like this, but he would rather not ruin his relationship with one of his best friends due to indecency – either of theirs. Thankfully, he gets an out, after Xiaojun hides under the blanket.

When you two make it downstairs, Yangyang bursts into laughter, yours following too until he gives you a long chaste kiss, screening you behind the wall to maintain that secrecy he did not want Xiaojun to break.

Although, Yangyang pulls away, brushing your hair behind your ear again, hand holding your waist to prevent you from leaving. You stare at him, at the domestic moment of tenderness, then fall into his chest again. And that is when he realizes it: he doesn’t really want to be a secret.

[imaginedhaven]

Flames On My Skin

a smutty Rowaelin oneshot

Link to Hot Professors Collection Masterlist

Summary:

Ever since the day she’d met Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin had been promising herself two things: that she would rise above his taunting and be the better person, and that she would stop sleeping with him.

It turned out, she was terrible at holding herself to both of those goals.

Rating: E for Explicit- NOT intended for readers under 18!

Warnings/Contents: Enemies with Benefits, Angry Sex, Semi-Public Sex, College AU where they’re both professors

This was prompted by an anonymous ask, who requested a bunch of dirty talk one-liners in an enemies with benefits scenario. I took advantage of the opportunity to visit a world I’d envisioned but never actually wrote, where Rowan and Aelin are both professors at the same university and get off on the wrong foot. (Heh.)

Enjoy!

~*~*~

Aelin stormed into her office and slammed the door behind her, tossing the folder she carried onto her desk and growling as it exploded on impact, papers flying everywhere. The department meeting had somehow gone even worse than she’d anticipated, and given that she’d prepared as though it was a battle rather than a biweekly check-in that was saying something.

Rather than gather the papers that had scattered across her desk, she allowed herself to instead flop into her chair and lean back as far as it would go. Her hands found their way into her hair and began pulling the hairpins out of her carefully braided and coiled style. Gods, she had spent so long trying to look professional, trying to be the calm and collected professor and researcher she knew she was.

As he did for most things, Rowan Whitethorn had ruined that so effortlessly.

All it had taken him was a handful of subtly pointed remarks and she had absolutely lost it and snapped at him. She didn’t know what it was about him in particular; in her field she’d certainly dealt with difficult personalities before, and it wasn’t like their research interests aligned enough for them to be forced into working together overly often. But ever since her first day in Doranelle University’s psychology department, she and Rowan had been at each other’s throats to the point where Gavriel—Professor Albareda, he wasn’t her uncle while they were working, he was the head of the department—had threatened to sit them down and make them come up with an agreement and sign it.

She could be more mature than that. She would be more mature than that. She…

Fuck. I’m so wet right now, she realized as she crossed her legs and bit her lip.

This had been the other reaction she’d had to his presence for as long as they’d been working together. When she’d first seen him, the combination of broad shoulders and platinum hair with pine-green eyes had immediately piqued her interest, and she’d been about to say something vaguely inappropriate when he’d raised a single eyebrow and asked if her blouse was stained with coffee or intentionally patterned that way.

She’d made sure his shirt was stained too, but even that awful first meeting had done nothing to diminish her interest. It didn’t take a researcher with a specialization in theories of personality to realize that probably said something about herself. Unfortunately for her, she was one, and so she chose not to dwell on it for too long.

Thankfully, while they’d both been kicked out of the meeting she thought she’d seen him head toward his own office two halls away. The others would be in the conference room for another ten minutes at least, and likely closer to twenty. She had a little time. She could take care of things with no one the wiser and escape with the shreds of her dignity intact, so she could lick her wounds and fight another day.

Decision made, she let her hand slide under her own skirt.

She hissed as her fingertips traced along the waist of the panties she’d worn that day and then lower. Gods, she really was wet. This wouldn’t take long at all. Which was a good thing, as this was her office. At work. Fuck, that shouldn’t be turning her on even more.

Suddenly the door opened and she jumped into an upright position, hands smoothing her skirt back down. She hadn’t gotten very far, and it was possible—likely, even—that whoever had come in wouldn’t be able to tell. The flush on her cheeks was easily explained by the fight, and hardly anything else was out of place.

“Well, don’t let me stop you.” Fuck, that was his voice drawling from her doorway.

Aelin glared at the intruder, and sure enough that was Whitethorn leaning against the doorframe. “What are you doing here, Buzzard?” she asked, irritation seeping into her tone.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, all day. Especially while you were yelling at me earlier.” That last bit was said with his trademark smirk, and she hated how it made her want to melt.

“Funny,” she growled, “because I’d done such a good job of almost forgetting the last time we ran into each other.” They had wound up pressed against each other in a supply closet then, and for a dizzying moment she wasn’t sure if she wanted to do it again or forcibly eject him from her office once and for all.

“Is that so?”

She finally snapped. “What do you want, Whitethorn?”

His smirk broadened, a too-familiar light gleaming in his eyes. “I want you to touch yourself for me.”

Aelin sniffed, hoping the gesture hid the shiver she couldn’t quite suppress. “Full of ourselves today, are we?”

“You say that like you think I didn’t see what you were doing. Go on. Right where you left off.”

It was tempting, Aelin couldn’t deny that. It was a terrible idea, but it was so very tempting. Just like it had been last time, and the time before that. Still, she couldn’t resist one last snide remark. “Bold of you to assume that had anything to do with you.”

She slid forward in her chair, though, legs spreading slightly as she said the words. Whitethorn grinned and stepped fully into her office, closing and locking the door behind himself. Good, at least he had the tiniest amount of sense. “I’m assuming nothing. But I know what you were doing, and you know by now that all you have to do is tell me I’m out of line.”

It was an out, and even though she appreciated him offering it, she already knew she wouldn’t take it. As inadvisable as it was to be doing this with a colleague whose relationship with her was antagonistic at best, she just couldn’t bring herself to call it off.

If he was as conflicted as she was, it didn’t show in his face as he watched her fingertips trace up her thigh toward her core. “Gods, you’re so hot.”

The words were whispered, and rough as though they had been torn from his throat without his volition. The harsh yet soft tone in combination with his purring accent made her fingers twitch, and she gasped as they brushed over her clit through the lace of her panties. “I know,” she retorted, though she knew there was a tremble in her voice and she knew he would pick up on it.

“You’re holding back,” was his only reply. “Go on, take them off.”

“Why, so you can steal them?” She grinned as she slipped her fingers beneath the lace instead. “I would’ve thought that kind of thing was beneath you, Mr. High and Mighty.”

He grinned as well, though his eyes were fixed on the movement of her fingers. “I don’t care what you do with them. Stuff them into a drawer if you really feel a need to.” I just need to see. He wanted to say it, she could see it in his face, but something was holding him back.

Deciding to put her colleague out of his misery, she hooked her thumbs in the fabric and wiggled out of it, tossing the scrap of lace at him before settling back down on the corner of her desk and spreading her legs wide for him.

He caught the fabric easily enough, tucking it into a pocket before resuming his nonchalant stance. She knew better, though; she could see from the dilation of his pupils and the tension in his arms and hands that he was far from unaffected, and that was without the evidence that was rapidly making itself prominent below his belt. She grinned, reveling in the strange empowerment of seeing him struggle for composure. “I knew you just wanted to steal them. I better get those back.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up and touch yourself, Galathynius.”

She smirked at him, letting her hand rest against her upper thigh instead. “Say my name.”

Whitethorn scowled. “I did say your name.”

“You know what I mean. You want to watch me shove my fingers in this cunt, you can call me by my first name for a change.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Shut up and touch yourself, Aelin.”

“Much better.” Anything else she could’ve said trailed off into a moan as she finally allowed her fingertips to properly circle her clit, free hand hiking her skirt up enough to grant her freedom of movement and him the view he sought.

She’d already been so worked up before this moment just from their argument, and the look in his eyes as he watched hungrily was only fanning the flames burning within her. But it wasn’t enough, even as she slipped one finger and then another into herself and curled them just the right way. A part of her knew it would never be enough, not like this.

Not when he was right there.

“I need to feel you,” she gasped, not even caring that the words left her even more exposed than her position under his heated gaze.

He lifted an eyebrow in response, even as his hands went to the buckle of his belt. “Do you, now?”

“Shut up and get in me, you arrogant buzzard,” Aelin snapped.

Whitethorn scowled. “You made me say your name, the least you could do is say mine while you’re begging me to fuck you.”

She supposed it was only fair, after what she had made him say just a few short moments ago. It was surprisingly difficult, though, to finally give voice to those few simple words she’d said all too often in her own dreams now. “Fuck me, Rowan.”

The words had an immediate impact on him, and she watched as his eyes closed briefly and his fingers fumbled over his fly. “Just for that, I’m going to fuck you until you beg me to stop.”

“Those are big words for a man who is not currently fucking me.”

The words did their job, goading him into freeing himself from his pants quickly and then just as quickly pressing into her. Her head tipped back at the pleasurable stretch of his cock filling her, laced with just the most delightful edge of pain. Fuck, he was bigger than she’d remembered, but the last thing she wanted to do was give him the satisfaction of saying it.

He could read it from her face, though, she was sure of it. He always had a way of knowing when her own mind was betraying her.

His hips stilled once he was fully seated inside of her, and she opened her mouth to snarl at him before it opened further on a moan she couldn’t hold back as his thumb found her clit. “Pity we don’t have longer.” His voice was deceptively light, but from the way his free hand clutched at her hip he was clearly struggling to hold himself back.

That was highly displeasing, but she could goad him into letting go and moving. She was sure of it. “Why’s that, so you can take twice the time to disappoint me by getting in me and doing nothing? Fucking move.”

“Careful what you wish for,” he taunted, but before she could even think to reply he moved his hand away from her clit to clutch at both of her hips as he pulled out and then slammed back into her.

Aelin gritted her teeth to keep him from getting the satisfaction of eliciting yet another moan from her. A second thrust caught her off guard, though, and she cried out and clutched at his shirt. “More,” she demanded. “Please, more—”

He thankfully cut her off by clapping a hand over her mouth before she could embarrass herself further. “Be quiet,” he hissed. “Or do you want everyone else to hear? The conference room isn’t that far from here, you know. Are you trying to get caught?”

She wasn’t sure if it was the tone of his voice, the thrill of danger, or the continued movement of his cock inside her. Gods help her, though, she trembled and came just like that, biting at his palm to hold back a whimper.

“Fuck,” he whispered before biting his own lip. His rapid thrusts slowed to a steady grind, and his free hand shifted so he could rub his thumb over her clit once more.

The movement made her whine into his hand; she was already so sensitive from having reached her peak once, and it had been earth-shattering enough that she didn’t think she’d be able to again so soon. “I can’t,” she sobbed, the sound muffled by his palm. “Please, I can’t, I—”

“You can. You can, I’m almost there.” Thank the gods, he seemed to realize they didn’t have time for him to draw another orgasm out of her. Instead he kept up the steady motion of his hips and his cock, letting his thumb stop its movements and simply rest over the oversensitive nub of flesh.

She tugged his hand away from her mouth and then surged forward, crushing their lips together in a sloppy kiss before biting his lower lip.

She couldn’t tell what it had been that pushed him over the edge; it could’ve been the kiss, the edge of pain from her teeth, or even simply the change in angle she had provided. Maybe it was a combination of all of those, or something else altogether. Whatever it was, Whitethorn hissed and his hips stilled, and soon she felt the warmth of his release.

They both clung to each other as they struggled to catch their breath, before finally separating. As he tucked himself back into his pants and adjusted his belt, Aelin stood on shaky legs and smoothed her skirt over her thighs. She would need to clean up soon, or the evidence of what they’d just done would be plain for all to see given the material of her outfit. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being the first to leave.

Besides, she wasn’t altogether certain she could walk just yet.

He seemed to have no such problems, for he strode to her door and unlocked it again as she raked fingers through her golden waves to attempt to tame them. “So,” he drawled. “Same time next week, Galathynius?”

Asshole. She snarled in reply. “Get the fuck out of my office, Whitethorn.”

He smirked, though she automatically catalogued that the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

The door closed once more behind him with a quiet click, and Aelin sighed and reached for the bottom drawer of her desk. She fumbled blindly inside it before pulling out a small package of tissues and—

Gods damn him. She’d forgotten she hadn’t tucked her panties away after all, and he’d just walked out of her office with them still in his pocket.

It seemed she’d have to meet him again after all. Perhaps in his office, in a day or two.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @livsdriverslicense @courtofjurdan @danibutterr @woollycat22 @rowaelinismyotp- your tag isn’t working! Sorry!

[internalsealpanic]

Thorn pt3

Summary: Three is a crowd, isn’t it?

a/n: I have no excuse for how horny this got  aside from @littleredwing89 gave me  way too many ideas. Thanks to my wifey, @catxsnow, and @lucy-roo for proof reading to see if it was horny enough. 

warnings: The kinks I recall putting: degredation, praise kink, threesome, gloves, gun kink,  face fucking, double penetration, spanking, sex pollen (dub con on that), brief thigh riding, bondage, anal, fingering,  voyeurism, still semi public sex, overstimulation, and probably something I forgot

“March, you’ve been requested,” Anthony says, giving you a strange weary look. The faint cocktail of pity and worry edging into his amicable features makes your stomach do somersaults. Your insides curl into an ugly shape as you fall into step with him. Anthony holds his arm out to you as he always does when he escorts you. You take it. You cling to him cautiously. You catalog Anthony’s vitals and gestures. There’s a tightness in his jaw that unsettles you.  Anthony puts a comforting hand on your arm and you can feel the thin film of sweat layering it.  In all your months of working here at the Thorn, this was the tensest Anthony had been. 

 You roll your shoulders. You shake your head and chide yourself for over-analyzing the situation.  “Tony, you’re acting like you’re handing me off to the mafia,” you laugh lightly into his side. You feel Anthony’s whole body stiffen and you feel apprehension cascade over you. He breathes for a second but doesn’t stop walking. 

 “No, it’s the client that worries me.” 

 You snort. It was an ugly sound but it made a smile twitch onto Anthony’s lips. The lines of his eyes soften when he looks at you and you feel your smile broaden. “Is Mr.Wilson in a bad mood?” you joke, settling your head against his shoulder in casual affection. That asshole always seems to be in a good mood when he’s teasing you. He did get rough with you when he was in a bad mood but it was nothing you couldn’t handle or enjoy. You trail your hands over your jaw and your pulse where he likes to leave marks

 “About that… you have a different client today.”

This makes you pause. Your mind stalls. 

A different client?

 You repeat the words til they sink in. The thing about your weeks working in the Thorn was that you’ve never been requested by anyone but your favorite pirate. You’re not sure whether it’s  due to the lack of demand or through Slade’s machinations.  It was likely the latter.  The man was possessive. The man would use hickeys to spell out his name on your skin if he wasn’t too busy making you scream it over and over. 

 “A new client?” you stammer out unable to hide your surprise. You walk beside his falling a little behind as your step falters. You shrink into yourself, smoothing over your panic. 

 “March, you’ll need to behave yourself,” Anthony scolds halfheartedly. 

 You pout at him. “I always do.”

 Anthony laughs, an easy sound that makes your stomach twist into the correct shape. 

 “But seriously, this client is a wealthy businessman who doesn’t like to hear no. Please don’t test his patience.’”

 “You’ve just described most of our clients. Tony babe, please be more specific,” you say sharply leaning against his shoulder. He gives you a secret smile. 

 “Fair point,” he laughs into his gloved hand. His posture shifts, relaxing ever so slightly, “Unfortunately for you, this is one of the wealthier ones that the bossman would like to keep.”

 “That so?”

 “The thing is he’s actually been requesting you for weeks now.”

 For the second time that day, your heart stalls. Your mind reels, scraping over the information. “He’s been requesting me?” And somehow, you’re only hearing about this now? You decide to leave that part out knowing you wouldn’t like the answer. You’re not even sure if you’d like the answer to the former either. 

 “This gentleman has been requesting you for weeks,” he repeats slowly as if the problem with his statement had been its pace. He clearly meant for it to clarify things but … it didn’t. You tell him as much with a raise of your manicured brow. You blink dumbly at him for emphasis. Anthony volleys it with his own confused look before explaining further.  

 "Approval just came in last minute from Mr. Wilson."

 Ah. Of course,  that slugfucker had something to do with this. You should have known something was up when he'd given a call this morning. 

 "I have something for you, kitten."

 Your skin heats up, you're suddenly all too aware of what you're wearing.  Slade had been generous enough to send you a special lingerie set as a gift with instructions for you to wear it that night. Wrapped in delicate chiffon was a set of black lacy lingerie with black crotchless panties attached to black stockings.  You wanted to scream. Your skin flushes. 

"All the requests for you have to be approved by Mr. Wilson," Anthony says like it was obvious. 

 Oh, because, of course, he can.  You feel your irritation overtake your shyness. 

 "Can I please get a name for my mystery gentleman?" 

 Anthony shakes his head at your poor attempt at puppy dog eyes. "Sorry, darling, he'd said a regular detective like you would  like the mystery." You try your best to keep the fear and surprise off of your face. That meant whoever this  was knew you outside the club. 

 This was not good. 

 You bite your cheek, trying to dampen your panic. You close your eyes trying to remember the client list you'd read all those weeks ago but you can't seem to recall anyone who would know your civilian identity. 

 “Ladies first,” Anthony says, waving you in. You snort quietly, stepping in and folding your body into something remotely seductive. You would think you’d learned to be seductive by now but apparently, the fidgety type is more their taste. Luckily for you, you are naturally fidgety. 

 On the plush couch is Roman Sionis. 

 Whatever oxygen is left in your lungs is knocked out of you.

 The feeling occupying your stomach at that moment was the same feeling you get when your car careens into the wrong part of the road because of some idiot on the road. The most obvious emotion at the moment was a mix of fear and shock but if you have time to dissect the feeling, you will find a well of anger. You manifest this anger through a confused look you give both Anthony and Slade. 

 “Kitten,” Slade greets smoothly, tipping his glass towards you. 

 You fix Slade with a caustic look, your mouth gaping like a fish. He shrugs at you. He takes another sip of his scotch and winks at you. Your mouth wires shut into a frown. 

 “Now look, kitten, my associate here wants to play with you,” Slade says tipping his glass to Roman who looked smug enough to make you contemplate punching him. “I’ve allowed it on one condition,” your breath hitches, “I watch.”

 You open your mouth to protest. “Don’t act like you don’t like it, kitten,” Slade purrs. You bristle or maybe shiver. You can’t tell but you’re pretty sure you’re pissed. 

 "You're a little tense, Sweetheart," Roman drawls, raising a flute of champagne. You scowl at him with the same venomous intensity as you directed at Slade.  Your eyes flick between him and the glass. You sigh. You can't be sober for this. You just can't. You grab the flute from his hand and quietly note the smug satisfaction on his face. You shake your head and down the bottle. 

 Blearily, you hear Slade dismiss Anthony. Why was your head suddenly swimming? Your ears are ringing. Your skin's too hot. Your breathing's fast. Your skin prickles. You need to be touched. You want someone to touch you. 

 "What did you give me?" you ask, legs wobbling. 

 Roman shifts in his seat, leaning forward. His hands wave in a wish-washy kind of motion that normally would irritate you but your mind is occupied with his fingers and how well they could fill you up-

 "What did you give me?" you pant out rather than bark. Your voice is so breathy and desperate. 

 "Just something to help you loosen up, Doll." This causes you to take stock of your body. You're hot. Unbearably so. You're sensitive. Your core is aching. You're so horny. 

 You force in a deep breath before speaking. "Sex pollen?"

 "Bingo!" Roman claps. "You really are a regular sherlock aren't you, sweetheart?" You snarl but the bite is taken out of it by the shiver induced by the pet name. You flick your eyes to Slade who seems mildly surprised but unopposed to the turn of events. 

 "Do you like Isleys' newest formula? She said it was one of her most potent batches and I knew I just had to test it out." 

 "You could have just tested it on yourself, asshat." 

 "Now, what would be the fun in that?" You shudder at the low playful tone of his voice. He sneers, leaning back. His posture is open as if to say you were no threat to him. With the wobbling of your limbs, you doubt you could be even if you wanted to.  As he leans back, he pats his knee. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

 You clench and unclench your fist and wire your jaw shut. Your mouth is watering at the thought of how he would use you but the modicum of pride you had left insisted that you don’t scramble towards him on your hands and knees. You place a hand on your hip cocking your head to the side as you slowly walk towards him. You feel Slade’s intense gaze following the sway of your hips. You can feel the coil in your stomach grow tighter. Your walls clench on nothing. The clicking of your heels is loud enough to make your heart stutter every other beat. You see Roman’s brow tick with every click. He likely was not expecting this much control from you. You allow yourself a smirk before dropping to your knees. 

 Slade’s eye follows you as you sink down to the floor. You knead Roman’s thighs the way Slade usually liked it, your skilled hands massaging and loosening the muscles. Your effort earns you a pleased rumble from Roman and a severe look from Slade. If he’s planning to be a voyeur, you’re planning to give him a show. 

 Roman leans forward, running a gloved thumb over your lips, smearing your lip gloss. “Wilson here says you’re a good girl, Sweetheart.” The hungry look in his eyes causes a shiver to run down your spine, ravaging your body. “Let’s see if he’s right.” 

 Roman pulls back and you push forward, sliding hands over his dress pants. Your nimble fingers make quick work of Roman’s belt and zipper when something cold presses against your forehead. Your heart races at the telltale click of the safety being released and you freeze. The cold muzzle of the gun slides down your forehead to your nose before settling against your glossy lips. Self-preservation coils around your spine telling you to pull back and kick the gun away. You take a deep breath dampening the urge which isn’t too difficult considering the unbearable heat shooting through your core. 

 “You know what to do, baby.”

 Tentatively, you open your lips letting Roman slide the barrel of the gun into your mouth. It’s the contrast in temperature that hits you first. Cold metal presses against your hot tongue. Then it’s the odd, hard angles that has your tongue fluttering uselessly against the strange object. The scent of metal overwhelms you when you open your mouth wide enough to let the gun press against the back of your throat. The combination of sensations have your eyes stinging with tears. This isn’t the biggest you’ve had to take in your mouth- your eyes flick briefly to Slade- but it’s an entirely different kind of experience and you're not entirely sure you would call it unpleasant. You pant around the metal, saliva dribbling down your chin. You close your lips around the gun sucking on it and making an odd slurping sound around it as your lips work to massage the gun. Roman smiles down at you and begins fucking the gun in and out of your mouth like he would using his cock. 

 The thought of his cock makes your eyes flutter and your walls tighten. You suck at it and rock your hips in rhythm with the gun. Your cheeks are hot whether from the embarrassment, the pollen, or your own arousal. There’s a pressure against your bare pussy that has you shaking. It’s leathery and it takes your mind all but two seconds to realize it’s Roman’s shoe pressing against your core. You moan around the gun as you grind down on his shoe chasing your own high. 

 “What a good little slut,” he sneers, fucking your mouth roughly, “Wilson’s got you well trained.” The pressure against your crotch has you keening around the gun. 

 In your periphery, you hear a pleased hum from Slade. The single-minded focus both men have on you has you moaning and humping against Roman’s shoe. Drool streaks down your chin drawing attention to your already glistening chest. Roman fucks the gun roughly in and out of your mouth, the trigger clipping your bottom lip as he takes it out. There’s a damp spot on his crotch and you’re panting wanting to chase your own high but your hips slow their movement, patiently waiting for further instruction. Your mind is too hazy to deal with how out of character this was. A slow smile spreads across Roman’s features as he runs his hands through his hair. He presses his shoe against your sopping cunt. “Go on, sweetheart. Daddy wants to see you cum.” You rock your needy pussy against his shoe as you get lost in the pleasure. You cum, drenching his shoe with your desire. 

 The world falls into place again as you lean against Roman’s leg. 

 “I told you that mouth of hers was worth the price of admission,” Slade says smugly as he takes another sip of his whiskey. 

 “Hmmm, I’m not convinced,” Roman grunts, gripping your chin, roughly. “Get up, sweetheart.” You follow his instructions and slide yourself onto his lap. You settle yourself on one of his thighs, the thick muscle pressing against you. You bite your lip to hold back any obscene sounds. You begin to rock your hips-

 “Your bra,” he says, loosening his tie. You unhook your bra, sliding it off and tossing it to the side all the while undulating your hips against him. Roman whistles appreciatively at your chest. “You are one fine piece of work.” You flush, fidgeting your hands at your sides. He eyes them, grabbing his belt. “Hands behind your back, baby.” He winds the belt tightly around your wrists and when he’s sure you can’t get out of your binds, he takes his tie and blindfolds you. Your skin prickles, the world growing dark. Your breath hitches, all your other sense sharpening. Roman kisses you roughly, biting your lip. You grind your body against his, his rough touches driving you insane. 

 The world goes sideways when he tosses you roughly onto the couch. You let out a small ‘oof’ which quickly reshapes itself into a groan when a gloved hand kneads your breast, pinching your nipple. “Let’s see how well that pretty mouth of yours can take a thick cock,” Roman says, voice thick with lust. Your breath picks up in anticipation. The cool head of a cock presses against your lips. He rumbles a ‘good girl’ as you open your mouth to accommodate him. 

 The couch dips as large hands caress your sides.  You feel the bristle of Slade’s beard against your thigh as he kisses up and down your inner thigh. He hefts your legs over his shoulders, hooking his hands loosely under your thigh. Your sensitive skin prickles as you feel the pads of his fingers through your stockings. He grins against your pussy, blowing air gently over your clit, watching you buck wildly, desperate for friction. “You just can’t control yourself can you, kitten?” You answer by squeezing your thighs tightly around his neck, Roman’s cock deep in your throat stopping you from forming a snarky reply.

 Slade eats you out like a man starved, eagerness obvious with every stroke of his tongue. He must have gotten impatient waiting to touch you.  You scream around Roman’s cock. “That mouth of yours looks better being used up by my cock,” Roman rasps thrusting into your throat.  Your breathing is heavy as he fucks your throat raw. Roman cums down your throat with a growl. You cum on Slade’s mouth, whimpering as Roman pulls out of your mouth. Slade greedily laps up your juices while humming against your shivering core. 

 Slade climbs up to face you, his lips and beard wet from your juices. He dips his head against yours kissing you deeply. Pulling back, he kisses along your neck.  “Can you taste how much of a slut you’ve been?”Slade asks, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one is long and languid, giving you a good taste of yourself. 

 “Now, Kitten, remember your manners,” Slade says, nipping at your jaw. You swallow and in a breathy whisper you say “Thank you, sir.”

 “Good,” Slade murmurs against your throat, kissing at the warm pulse there.  Roman laughs, sharp and derisive. You breathe deep. Your throat feels so raw. You relax against Slade.  You close your eyes uselessly as you soak up the comfort. You move to wrap your arms around his as you arch your back against his body. You curse lowly remembering the restraints.

  Your body suddenly feels cold, not feeling Slade against you. Roman flips you over on to your stomach.

 "Ass up, Sweetheart." 

 You obey, raising your ass up, eager for his attention. His fingers dip into your folds, curling. You cry out with a loud high pitched keen. "Tch, I'm not even inside you yet." 

 You shift your hips trying your best to press against Roman’s fingers. Your aching pussy was begging for him to stretch it. Roman tuts, taking his fingers out and stilling your hips with the same hand painting your hip with your own wetness. You feel cold metal scraping against the divet of your spine. Your wet saliva dripping from the cold metal of the gun onto your hot back. 

 "Are you that desperate for my cock, sweetheart?" Roman whispers against the shell of your ear, his thick cock sliding torturously against your folds. The sensation makes you sob into the plush cushions. You pant and roll your hips against his hold. "Mr. Sionis, please. Please. God, please," you sob, rutting your hips against Roman’s cock. You wanted anything. Anything to relieve the aching in your core. You were desperate. You made no effort to hide this. 

 "Sweetheart, you look so much better like this, sobbing and panting for my cock," Roman rasps, cock twitching against your folds, hand rubbing light circles against your clit which was raw from Slade’s tongue. "If I'd known you were such a cockslut, I would have given that slutty little ass of yours the thrashing it deserves a long time ago." Roman’s hand lands an impressive blow on your ass. You yelp. Another slap lands on your ass. The sound of skin against skin mixes with the depraved moans falling from your lips. 

 Slap after slap lands on your ass until it was red and raw. You can feel the flesh of your ass stinging and your juices flow down your legs. 

 "Please, Mr. Sionis. Please, sir. Please, make me cum on your thick cock." 

 You can feel Roman smirking against the small of your back. "Wilson, I don't know how you could ever refuse such a polite request."  The grip on your hips tightens as Roman rolls his hips against yours. 

 "I try my best," Slade says nonchalantly. His voice sounds strained from breathing. He's panting you realize. 

 You squirm trying to get his blindfold off. You want to see him. You want to watch his face twist in pleasure.

 Your efforts are halted when the head of Roman’s cock rubs against your folds. The heat pooling in your stomach reignites. "Pay attention, sweetheart." 

 You cry from relief when his girth stretches your velvety walls. He bottoms out with a soft grunt. You feel your walls wrapping around him. You buck your hips slightly begging him to move. Thankfully, he does. He pulls out slowly until only the head of his cock is rubbing against your entrance. He slams himself back in earning him a sharp cry. He gives you a contented grunt as he begins to slam his cock violently into you, using your bound hands as leverage. Over and over again. 

 You're getting lost in the pleasure when Roman’s voice cuts through the haze. "Can you hear him, sweetheart? Can you feel him watching as I fuck you stupid?" Roman says, heavy breaths fanning against the shell of your ear. 

 Your ears strain. 

 Pap pap pap

 You can hear Slade's strained breath. You can hear soft grunts against a closed fist. There's the wet sound of him fisting his cock. From the sound of it, he's practically strangling it. You want to watch him pleasure himself as he watches Roman use you to cum.

  Roman continues to rut against you. He watches as your ass jiggles as he fucks into you. Roman puts a hand on one of your ass cheeks to watch his cock get swallowed by your sopping cunt. Grunting and groaning, Roman rocking his hips against you breeding you like a bitch. 

 You cum, going limp against the cushions. You breathe heavy against the couch and press your face against the cushions. You came but it wasn't enough. The coil in your stomach curls in you. Your skin prickles and you're hot all over again. You shift your hips, moving to fuck yourself on his cock. Roman chuckles looking down at you as he stills your hips. You whine when he pulls out. He grips your ass cheeks roughly when you try to move again. 

 Roman rubs his wet cock against your ass, pressing lightly, teasing. He hums contemplatively as he smiles down at your whimpering form. "Hey Wilson, how well do you think your little slut can take two cocks?" You go completely still at that. Your heart is racing. Your blood is pounding in your ears. Your mouth waters at the thought. God, you wanted this. You needed this. 

 A hand wraps tightly around your neck. He pulls you up against him. His hand shifts in front of you squeezing until you could feel the rings on his fingers bite into the flesh of your neck. You hear a body shift and the slight creak of the floor due to a weight pressing down. You swallow in anticipation as Slade sits in front of you, hands undoing the belt on your wrist with remarkable efficiency. 

 "Let's find out," Slade says as he pulls the blindfold off. You blink, eyes adjusting to the low light of the room. Slade takes the moment of confusion to grab your face roughly with his large hand. Slade presses his lips against yours, nipping and licking at your lips. You run your hands over his muscular chest. Teeth graze against your oversensitive skin. 

 You scream as Slade sinks his cock into your folds and Roman sinks his into your ass. Slade thrusts his tongue into your mouth. He tastes strongly of whiskey. Your tongues dance as they begin to rock their cocks into you, hitting all the right places. 

 You both pull up for air. You lean back against Roman’s and rest your head against his shoulder, panting softly against his neck. Roman grabs your wrist, kissing it before biting it leaving an angry red mark. Slade does the same with your other wrist albeit more gently. 

 Roman winds both your arms around him. He pulls you into a rough kiss while Slade kisses down your neck, nipping and lapping at your flesh.  You don't even have to look to know he's leaving marks. You can tell from the possessive way he's holding your hips. Roman's gloved hands knead your breast roughly making you whimper into the kiss. 

 They switch places. Roman's hands grip your hips with bruising intensity while one of Slade’s hands kneads at your breast and pinches your nipple. Slade's mouth latches on to your other nipple. The man knew how to use his mouth just as much as he knew how to use yours.

  They hold your hips still, putting you at the mercy of their animalistic pace. They jackhammer into you with wild abandon seemingly ignoring your cries. But you know they're drinking up every little noise you make. 

 "Your tight little holes are taking our cocks so well, Kitten," Slade whispers against your skin. “I think you deserve a bit of a reward, “ He says pressing his thumb against your clit. With a whimper, you come. Your walls tighten around them and they follow soon after. Roman fills your ass with his seed and Slade pulls out letting ropes of cum splash against your chest. 

 You let your eyes slide close as they pull out of you. Your breathing is heavy even as it steadies to a less erratic rhythm. Roman pulls away from you and your body rests against Slade. 

 For a moment, everything is quiet. You revel in the strange even rhythm of life thrumming through your veins. A hand forces you to lay down flat on your back. You open your eyes, watching Slade unbutton his shirt. You swallow, eyes tracing the movement. 

 “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” Roman asks condescendingly as he sits back comfortably in a lounge chair with a glass of scotch in hand.  “We’re only just getting started, Sweetheart.” 

 Slade sinks into you and you cry out. 

You’re in a haze. The heat from the sex pollen waning giving way to exhaustion as Slades rips another orgasm from you.  Slade pulls out, pumping his cock until thick ropes of cum cover your stomach and chest. Roman pulls his cock out of your throat before tucking himself back into his pants. 

 “If you want a better gig, sweetheart, I’ve got a place where your slutty little ass could make a killing,” he says, tossing you a business card as he walks away. 

As soon as Roman is out of sight, Slade’s disposition shifts into something softer. He pulls you close, making you lay against his chest. He plants tender kisses all over your face before moving down towards your jaw then your chest. “You ok, Kitten?” You mumble your answer into his chest. A chuckle rumbles through his chest.  You glare at him, pouting against his chest. 

 “You think that was enough time for your partner to get all the information he needed?”

 “I hope so,” you say, shrugging. "Did this idea of yours have to involve me getting fucked?"

 Slade gives you a shit-eating grin. You snarl and swat at his chest. "You shit bag."

 "Dunno, kitten, you looked like you were enjoying yourself."

 "It might have been the pollen," you snip, "what the hell, Wilson?" 

 "To be fair, I wasn't told. Although... I will have to ask him where he got those."

 "What? You gonna use it on yourself?"

 "Darling, we both know you wouldn't survive if I did."

 "Watch me."

 Slade takes out a bottle and shakes it. "Let's find out shall we." Your eyes widen as he pops one of the pills into his mouth. He tilts your chin, rubbing circles against it with his thumb. 

 “Open up, Kitten.”

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Thanks for reading! There will probably be a part 4 I just have to learn to write something. 

Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell   @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

[kpopfanfictrash]

Trouble

Member: The Rich Man’s Crochet Club!Hoseok

Header by: @underthejoon​ aka the best

Prompt: How Hoseok lost his virginity. Based off this line in the fic:  “That’s the whole point,” Hoseok explains, dropping a wink which makes Namjoon groan. “That’s how I lost my virginity, you know. I scored the winning run in a championship game and that night, Tiffany something-or-other jumped me in a dirty frat bathroom. It was…” Hoseok pauses for effect. “Heavenly.”

Rating: 18+

Warnings: semi-public bathroom sex, Hoseok is a virgin, fingering, who-the-fuck-knows-when-this-bathroom-was-last-cleaned

WC: 4,110

A/N: This one shot is told in second person (with Y/N). This is not the same Y/N from Rich Man’s Crochet Club (i.e., Namjoon’s Y/N).  

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

Jung Hoseok is tipsy.

This is not the first time Hoseok has been tipsy, nor will it be the last, but this time is unique in that he has paid for nothing this entire evening. Since his arrival at the party, free drink after free drink has been pressed into his hand. This, accompanied by cheers of, “CONGRATS, ROOKIE!”

Hoseok is not a rookie on the kickball team – not by far – but this the first time upperclassmen have deigned to acknowledge his existence. He supposes this is what comes of scoring the game-winning run. A slow buzz of pride tinges his thoughts, mixing into the warm musk of alcohol.

“HOE-SUCCC!” hoots Jungkook, slinging an arm around his neck. Sipping on his beer – bought at the door – Jungkook eyes the crowd. “So, who’re you going home with tonight?”

Hoseok sputters, turning red above the collar. “What’re you talking about?” he mutters, shoving Jungkook’s arm off. “The club’s still got five members, remember?”

The Rich Man’s Crochet Club – don’t ask about the name – also known as their esteemed group of friends who happen to be virgins. Recently, their number has dwindled from seven to five. Taehyung was the first to lose his virginity, shacking up with some girl last semester and becoming virtually married. Seokjin was next, which came as a surprise to everyone but him.

Now, only five remain. Idly, Hoseok sips his drink and wishes one of the others had come to the party. None are on the kickball team though, leaving him alone with Jungkook. Not that Jungkook is not great, but while he talks a big game, he has yet to have sex himself. Not for lack of options, it might be noted. Jungkook keeps saying he is waiting – although Hoseok has no idea what for.

“I don’t know.” Jungkook glances around. “Tonight could be the night, man. Endorphins are high, drinks are flowing and every girl within a ten-foot radius is eye-fucking you silly.”

Hoseok nearly spits out his drink. “They are not,” he coughs, wiping his mouth with one hand.

Jungkook’s grin broadens. “I may be drunk, but I’m not blind.”

Subtly, Hoseok glances around and – to his utter surprise – finds Jungkook is correct. Multiple girls smile, one waves and several giggle before turning back to their friends. Hiding his shock, Hoseok quickly returns to Jungkook.

Being blunt, Hoseok is not the type to romanticize his first time. Maybe when he was in high school and there was someone to care about – but not now. Not when Hoseok is single, crushing on no one and just wanting to get laid. Multiple times, he has been close but somehow, Hoseok has always managed to psych himself out.

Draining the rest of his cup, Hoseok tosses this into the trash. Pushing himself off the counter, he nods when a teammate of theirs passes.

“That run!” cries Ric, nearly dumping his drink as he mimes the kick. “Man, whatta game, huh? Jung, if you don’t get your dick wet to-NIGHT!”

Wincing, Hoseok’s cheeks are practically scarlet. Multiple people overheard the remark, laughing and whispering when he whirls to face Jungkook. “I can’t do this,” says Hoseok in a panic. “I have to get out of here. Why is everyone assuming I’m gonna hook up, I –”

“Hey, you’re Hoseok, right?”

Hoseok freezes in place. The voice is entirely unfamiliar – new, bright and standing directly behind him. Slowly, Hoseok turns around.

His eyes widen. You are standing before him – short, smiling and fuck, are you cute.

“I – uh, yeah.” Discreetly, Hoseok wipes his hands on his pants. “That’s me. And you are?”

Your smile widens. “Let’s leave my name out of this for now.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows shoot up. “Um. Okay.”

Arching a brow, you look towards the dance floor. “Wanna dance?”

Heart pounding, Hoseok is about to decline – you are clearly way too hot for him – when Jungkook coughs and leans in. Pretending to pour himself more vodka, he mutters in Hoseok’s ear. “Stop freaking out,” he says lowly. “Just go dance.”

Hoseok exhales. Jungkook is right, after all – this is just dancing. The portion of the night Hoseok is good at. Forcing himself to smile, Hoseok nods. “Yeah,” he agrees, stepping forward. “That sounds like fun.”

Smiling flirtatiously, you grab his hand and lead him through the crowd. Hoseok swallows and follows, forcing his nerves into his stomach. The music is louder at the front of the house, everyone dancing as they twist to the bass. When you reach the front, you turn to face Hoseok. A giant speaker to your right is blaring, making it difficult to hear.

“How do you like to dance?” you yell, in order to be heard over the music.

Hoseok’s brow furrows. “What?”

“HOW DO YOU DA – oh, never mind,” you laugh, turning around and placing his hands on your hips.

Hoseok swallows, freezing when you press your ass to his front. Luckily, when you begin to move, twisting around to the beat, his natural instincts kick in. Hell, Hoseok was not captain of his high school dance crew for nothing. Sliding a hand over your waist, he grasps your other hand with his. Slowly moving his hips, Hoseok drapes your arm over his neck.

Exhaling, you lean back on his chest. The song is practically indecipherable, but that hardly matters – the song is not the point of this dance. All Hoseok needs is this; his hands on your body, your hips moving with his and his breath on your skin.

Losing himself in the downbeat, Hoseok grasps your waist tighter. When the tempo changes, you lean forward and – fuck, fuck, fuck – place your hands on both knees. Glancing over your shoulder at him, your lips quirk as you grind your ass on his crotch.

Swearing under his breath, Hoseok quickly grasps your waist in an attempt to hold on. If you keep this up, he is going to pop a boner in front of the entire kickball team. Snaking back up, you turn around in his arms and Hoseok pulls you in.

“You’re trouble,” he chuckles, not letting go.

Your hair is a bit sweaty, skin smelling citrusy and sweet. Grinning widely, you dance closer. “Why don’t you call me that tonight?” you tease, lips brushing his ear. “Trouble.”

“Done,” Hoseok grunts, hands cupping your waist.

Your body moves so easily with his, coming alive at his slightest suggestion. It makes his head spin, makes him want more in the worst kind of way.

Sliding your arms around his neck, you move closer. “So. Everyone is saying you’re kind of a big deal tonight.”

Hoseok suppresses a smile. “That’s a matter of opinion, I guess.”

“Oh? What’s yours?”

“That what’s going on right now is way better than what happened during the game.”

Eyes gleaming, you smile. “Good answer.”

“I try.”

“Huh.” Glancing over his shoulder, you scan the dance floor. “Can I tell you a secret, Hoseok?”

“Are you gonna tell me where the body is?”

“No,” you laugh. “Nothing like that.” Lifting on your toes, you press your lips to his ear. “I don’t actually go here.”

“Oh?” Hoseok turns his head. Your lips are so close to his.

You slowly shake your head no. “I’m an upperclassman at St. Martin’s, actually. My friend goes here. She’s the one who invited me to this party – and then promptly abandoned me for your pitcher.”

St. Martins – the kickball team Hoseok demolished earlier this evening. Lifting a brow, Hoseok smirks. “So, you asked me to dance to pass the time, huh? I don’t know if I’m insulted or flattered.”

“Be flattered.” Still staring, you lick your lips. “I saw you during the game. You seemed like you, uh… knew what you were doing out there on that field.”

Hoseok’s stomach sinks. That may be true for kickball, but for what you are implying is woefully inaccurate. Before he can say anything more, you lean up again.

“Wanna take a tour of the house?”

Hoseok inhales, nearly choking on his spit but luckily, this proves to be his saving grace. Taking this as a yes, your grin broadens, and you take his hand in yours. Hoseok allows himself to be pulled through the crowd, staring hard at your ass and thanking whatever lucky stars have aligned here tonight.

People are dancing throughout most of the first floor. You bypass all of them, coming to a stop at the staircase. Glancing over your shoulder, you raise a brow. “First floor seems crowded. Wanna look at the second?”

“Do you…” Dropping his voice, Hoseok leans in. “Do you know someone who lives here, or something?”

“Nope.” Meeting his gaze, you shrug. “Does that bother you?”

This is the moment Hoseok realizes he has no qualms about any of this. Having sex for the first time at a frat house – not his frat house – in the room of a stranger, with you. Zero reservations.

“Not at all,” he grins, nodding at the stairs. “Lead the way.”

With a laugh, you continue, tugging him up the staircase. The next floor is quieter, distant bass muffled through the floorboards they proceed. A few doorways are shut, laughter coming from behind them. Hoseok’s cheeks heat as you walk down the corridor, coming to a stop at the end.

You reach out, placing a hand on a doorknob and pushing. An unlit bathroom awaits – cleaner than Hoseok expected, but still nothing to speak of.

Glancing backwards, you cock a brow. “Wanna explore this room?”

Heart pounding, Hoseok stares past you. His hands are sweaty, limbs weak and he is five seconds from running away – when you step forward and kiss him.

Your lips part, tongue flicking with his and Hoseok stills for a moment before he finally melts. Hands sliding up your waist, he loses himself in the taste of vodka and mint. Hands twining slow in your hair, he has you up against the wall before he knows what he is doing. Knee wedged between yours, hips grinding together until you break away, panting.

“Fuck it,” Hoseok gasps, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the bathroom.

You shut the door as you enter, pushing Hoseok to the wall and resuming where you left off. He groans, the noise slipping out with an eagerness which betrays him. You do not seem to mind. If anything, you kiss him harder, one hand sliding down his leg to cup between his thighs.

“Fuck,” Hoseok growls, biting down on your lip. “You really are trouble, aren’t you?”

Breaking away, you grin. “I’ve heard that once or twice.”

Hoseok jerks his head. “Up on the sink.”

Cocking a brow, you obey. Grasping the sides of your shirt, you lift this overhead to fall on the floor. When you see Hoseok’s jaw drop, you turn and hop up on the counter. “Now, what?” you say, loosely swinging your legs.

Hoseok stalks forward – all one and a half steps it takes to reach you. Frantic, he tears his shirt overhead and, grasping your chin, kisses you soundly. Fingers sliding along your jaw, he cups the back of your head to open your mouth with his. Hoseok’s other hand falls between your legs, searching until he feels how wet you are. Even through your jeans, the material is damp.

“Shit,” Hoseok mutters, looking down. “You’re already wet?”

Staring at him, you spread your legs wider. “Mhm.” Turning your head, you close your lips over his finger. Staring at Hoseok, you suck – hard. The motion goes straight to his cock. “Take off your pants,” you exhale, letting him fall from your mouth.

Hoseok does not hesitate, hand dropping to his belt and frantically undoing his buckle. His dick feels unbearably hard, pressed to his jeans in a pure form of torture. Reaching down, your hand replaces his as you begin to undo his buttons.

Suddenly, he panics because there is no going back from this moment. “Okay,” Hoseok blurts, placing his hand over yours. Paused in your motions, you look up. “Before we go any further… I feel like I have to tell you something.”

Instantly, you turn wary. “Um, okay. Is this about your penis?”

Hoseok stares. “Huh?”

“I mean, like, does it curve upwards?” You mime this with your fist. “Or, like – do you have a micro? Because that’s cool, you know. We can make it work. Oh!” you blurt knowingly. “Is this a kink thing? Like, you need to see my feet in order to get hard?”

“No – no!” Hoseok blinks, horrified. One of your shoes is off, falling to the ground before he can stop you. “None of those things! God.”

Lips twitching, you scoot towards the end of the counter. “Okay,” you shrug, running a hand down his chest. Hoseok shivers a little in response. “Then, what’s the problem?”

Closing his eyes, Hoseok takes a deep breath and wishes he could melt into the floor. “I’mavirgin,” he mutters.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m a virgin.” His eyes pop open. “I, uh, haven’t had sex before.”

“Oh.” You pause, considering. “Is that all?”

“Is that… all?” Hoseok blinks. “You don’t care?”

“Um, no. Oh – wait.” Wincing, you lean back. “Am I supposed to care? Should I be more… gentle, or something? Sorry. Do you, uh… want to find a bed to have sex on?”

Hoseok’s lips twitch. Before he can stop himself, he begins to laugh. Body shaking, Hoseok steps forward and drags a hand up your thigh. “Nah,” he murmurs, lips hovering over yours. “I’m good with this if you are.”

“I’m good,” you breathe, hands sliding around his neck. “Do you have a condom?”

“Yeah.” Hoseok turns to fish this out of his pants. He places this beside you on the counter. “Been carrying that around with me for months. You know, be prepared.”

“What a boy scout,” you exhale, scooting closer.

Hoseok kisses you again, softer this time. It is not a conscious decision, but somehow it feels right. Even though this is a one-night thing, cannot and will not go anywhere, Hoseok still feels the gravity of the moment. He is leaving a part of himself behind. You are the one he is sharing that with.

Continuing to kiss, your hand falls between your thighs. Cupping his dick with one hand, you slowly stroke up and down. “Nothing micro about that,” you tease, breathlessly pushing closer.

Hoseok snorts, thrusting into your palm. “God, I hope not.”

Kissing you eagerly, his hands slide around your ribcage to find the clasp of your bra. Thankfully, this is one area in which Hoseok is adept and before long, your bra is undone in his hands. Sliding back to your front, Hoseok cups your breasts, playing with your nipples until they are hard. You inhale, arching upwards with the sweetest of moans.

Rolling his hips, Hoseok grasps your knee to hook around his waist.

“Hoseok,” you whimper, burying your face in his neck. Your voice is barely recognizable, thick with desire. “Touch me.”

Reaching down, Hoseok fumbles with your zipper until your jeans are open before him. With your help, he pushes these down your thighs and onto the floor. Spreading your legs with one hand, he gently cups your sex.

“Oh,” you gasp, grabbing his biceps.

Hoseok stares, pulling your panties aside to sink a finger into your wet core. Gaze darkening, you stare as your lips form a silent o. Hoseok begins to finger you, thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit as he slides in and out.

He can feel how receptive you are, body twitching with each brush of his thumb. “Fuck, Hoseok,” you moan, leaning your head to the mirror. Spreading your legs, you grant him a better view of his fingers sliding into your cunt.

All the blood in Hoseok’s body rushes straight to his dick. His cock twitches uncomfortably against the confines of his boxers, pants still half-undone and hanging just off his ass. Your chest rises and falls, hips pushing against the motion until it suddenly becomes too much.

“Okay,” you pant, shutting your legs on his hand. Hoseok stills. “These have to go,” you gripe, reaching out for his boxers. Tugging them down with his jeans, Hoseok’s cock springs up to slap his abs. “I need you inside me.”

“Oh,” Hoseok says, licking his lips. No one has ever spoken to him like this and god, does he like it.

Hopping down from the counter, you turn to rest your hands on the sink. “Well?” you say, looking over your shoulder. “Is this good?”

Wriggling your ass, you sink down on your elbows, pussy on full display. Hoseok stares, wondering dizzily how in hell he is going to last. Steeling himself, he reaches out to grab the condom from the counter. Shoving his jeans to the floor, Hoseok breaks open the packet and rolls it onto himself.

Positioning himself at your center, Hoseok cannot help himself from sliding up and down a few times. Your body is just so warm and wet, inviting him in. With a moan, you duck your head and push back. “Please,” you beg. “Please, Hobi.”

Hearing the nickname, Hoseok arches a brow and grasping your waist, he slips in. “Fuck,” he gasps, stopping out of necessity.

It is nothing at all like his hand. Even when he uses lube, even when he sits on his hand until it falls asleep – this is so much fucking better than that. Your pussy is so warm, so wet, enveloping him with every inch.

“Oh, my fucking god,” Hoseok chokes out, pushing into you again.

You remain still, watching his face in the mirror. Hoseok realizes this when he looks up and meets your gaze.

Staring at him, your lips curl in a smile. “You like it?” you breathe when he bottoms out.

Hoseok cannot move for a second, hips flush to yours. He exhales, mind spinning from the unbelievable sensation of wholeness. Buried in you to the hilt, he wants nothing more than to stay – except. The feeling of pushing inside you was so fucking good. Meeting your gaze in the mirror, Hoseok slowly slides out.

“Yeah,” he breathes, thrusting in just as slow.

Breath catching, you arch your back and shut your eyes.

Grip tightening, Hoseok slides in again and marvels at how similar this is to dance. Each time he thrusts, your body clenches around him. Hoseok carefully watches, trying different angles until he finds one that makes your thighs shake.

“Oh,” you gasp, hand slipping a little on the sink.

Hoseok pauses, tilting his head and thrusting again – harder. The same thing happens, your face twisting with pleasure while he stares in the mirror. Smirking, Hoseok grabs hold of your waist and finally lets himself go.

That sweet mouth of yours falls open, moaning obscenities when Hoseok begins to fuck you. He thrusts into you roughly, cock rock-hard as his hands grip your ass, trying not to slip out. Managing to keep a steady rhythm, Hoseok forces himself not to be a pig and remember your pleasure.

Leaning down, his hand dips in a search for your clit. You help, grabbing his hand to guide him even lower. When Hoseok circles the swollen bud with his thumb, he feels your walls clench around him. Wanting more of that, Hoseok begins to move faster. It is all so much. Your body is so responsive, so wet and hot and his hips have a fucking mind of their own.

Before Hoseok can stop himself, he realizes he is in danger of coming. “Fuck,” he gasps, hand falling to your waist as he tries to control himself. “Fuck, fuck – I’m gonna come. I –”

The orgasm takes over before he can stop himself, releasing into his condom in several short, sloppy thrusts. Hoseok shudders, head dropping as the most intense orgasm of his life wrings him dry. Slowly, Hoseok exhales and looks up in the mirror.

Hair falling into your gaze, you grin – equally fucked out and breathless. “So,” you manage. “How was your first time?”

Even with his cock softening inside you, Hoseok’s gaze narrows.

Pulling himself from your body, he quickly replaces his softening cock with his fingers. Your smile abruptly disappears. “It’s not over yet,” he murmurs, watching you in the mirror. “I don’t think you’ve come yet.”

Lips parting, you try and laugh – which turns into a moan when Hoseok scissors his fingers. “I – Hoseok,” you stutter. “Y-you don’t have to.”

Ignoring this, Hoseok steps closer. Leaning forward, he places a hand on the counter. “Wanna make you feel good,” he says, dropping a kiss to your shoulder. Between your thighs, he slowly slides out – only to snap his wrist forward.

You groan, legs buckling as his fingers repeatedly fill you. Hoseok grasps your waist, pulling you backwards and keeping you still. His hand travels lower, tracing circles around your already swollen clit. Eyes fluttering, your lips part when Hoseok begins to finger-fuck you harder. He can feel you squeezing around him, ass pushing back on his hand at the thrust of his fingers.

It is his hand at your front though, which pushes you over the edge. You abruptly seize, grasping his hand when your body gives in. “Fuck!” you gasp, collapsing forward. Hoseok slows his movement, feeling your pussy pulse around him as your own orgasm claims you. “God.”

Slumping, you pant in relief when his fingers slide from your core. Hoseok stays there for a moment, he cannot help himself – sliding his fingers slowly up your slick, he lazily enjoys the feel.

Turning, you look at him over your shoulder. “Holy shit,” you say, fighting a smile.

Without though, Hoseok pulls back and pushes a hand through his hair – shit. He is definitely going to need a shower when he gets home. “Yeah,” he groans, meeting your gaze. “Holy shit is right.”

Grinning, you bend to grab your bra from the floor. Sliding your arms through the straps, you begin to re-dress. Hoseok turns around, searching for his boxers to follow suit.

“That was, uh…” Shaking his head, Hoseok wonders what he should say.

Small talk seems crude right now. Thanking you seems formal but saying you should do it again would be a lie. He knows you did not come here tonight for that and truthfully, he barely knows you. Tugging off his condom, Hoseok throws this in the trash and pulls up his boxers.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you laugh at his expression. Wriggling your panties in place, you reach out for your jeans. “That was really fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree, tugging your shirt down your torso. “I mean, once you’ve had a little more practice…” Pausing your changing, you give Hoseok a look. “The girls on this campus won’t know what hit them. I mean – they will know. It’ll be your fat dick.”

Hoseok nearly chokes at the thought. “Yeah?”

“Well… above average. But fuck, do you know what to do with it.”

Snorting, Hoseok pulls his shirt overhead. “Hey, I’ll take it.”

Fluffing your hair, you make your way towards the door. Hoseok watches you go, still feeling as though he is missing out on something. You do not seem upset, nor like you want to linger and honestly, this is what you both signed up for. This was a quick fuck in a bathroom, nothing more.

Still, your hand pauses on the doorknob.

“Are you really not going to tell me your name?” Hoseok asks, curious. You really are not like anyone he has ever met.

You hesitate, then glance over your shoulder. “You can call me Tiffany,” you say, flashing a grin which makes Hoseok about fifty percent sure you are bullshitting him. Pulling open the door, you step into the hall. “Thanks, Hoseok!”

“Thanks, Tiffany.” Crossing one ankle over the other, Hoseok leans against the wall. “Am I ever going to see you again?”

Normally, he would not be so bold but right now, Hoseok is feeling pretty fucking good. On top of the world might be one way to describe it.

Arching a brow, you seem to be fighting back laughter. “If it’s meant to be,” you allow. With a wave of your hand, you disappear down the hall. “They say you never forget your first, Hoseok! Let my legacy live on, okay?”

Hoseok stares after you, waiting a moment before shaking his head. Reaching down, he fishes his phone from his jeans and pulls up the chat.

Hoseok: club is just four now, gentlemen [11:48 PM]

Shoving his phone back in his pants, Hoseok runs the same hand through his hair and exits the bathroom.

  © kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

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