#sir whats the secret of your skin??

[tarus18]

Why is he so cute 😭😭

[d1stalker]

Origin [Logan Howlett]

Summary: Two people, one shared past, and decades apart.

Warnings: fem!reader, angst, fluff, longing, things get bad before they get better! WC: 14k - MASTERLIST

A/N: there are plot points that are inspired by Logan's origin story (thank u marvelwiki), but they are so non-canon compliant its funny so don't call me out tyyy 😙

----

Before he was known as Logan, or as Wolverine, he was James. 

Your James. 

—

It’s quiet in the Howlett estate, the kind of stillness that only comes when everyone has long retired for the night. But while the rest of the mansion sleeps, you remain wide awake. Dressed in your nightgown and nestled under the blankets, you glance at the small, brass pocketwatch resting on your bedside table. The hands read 10:22 PM. Any minute now, you think to yourself. 

Then, like clockwork, you hear it—a faint knock on your door. Three slow, deliberate taps, followed by two quick ones. The secret signal never fails to make you smile. You spring from the bed, feet softly padding across the floor as you hurry to the door. You open it as quietly as possible, your grin widening the moment you see who’s waiting on the other side.

James.

He stands there, dark tousled hair and that familiar mischievous smile that always manages to light up the dim hallway. You’ve known him your entire life, growing up together under the roof of the Howlett estate. Your parents, both loyal servants to the Howlett family, were fortunate enough to be granted permission raise you alongside their son.

From the moment you could walk, you and James were inseparable, sharing countless adventures in the woods, running across the estate’s gardens, and whispering secrets to one another under moonlit skies.

"About time," you whisper, teasing him with a playful glint in your eyes. "You really know how to keep a lady waiting, don’t you?"

A soft snort escapes his lips as he grabs your hand, pulling you gently into the hallway. "My deepest apologies, M’lady," he replies with mock formality, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "I had to... attend to urgent business in the necessary."

You snicker, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Ah, I see. Was it a fulfilling experience, sir Howlett?"

He glances over his shoulder, rolling his eyes with exaggerated exasperation, though you catch the small smirk tugging at his lips. He doesn’t respond, but his silence confirms everything. It was.

The rest of the trip is quiet, the two of you moving stealthily through the darkened corridors, careful not to disturb anyone or draw unwanted attention. After all, your mother would certainly disapprove of such late-night rendezvous. It is improper, she would say.

But what choice did you have? The day offered no time for moments like this. You were busy training to take over as the next chief maid, learning the endless routines of the household, while James spent his time with his family or other highborn friends. It was only after hours, when the mansion finally settled, that the two of you could steal away for these secret meetings.

Finally, you reach the gardens. The crisp night air greets you as you slip away from any prying eyes. There’s a familiar sense of peace here, among the fragrant flowers and the towering trees that shield you from the world. James leads you to your usual spot, a stone bench tucked beneath the shadow of the hedges. Wordlessly, he slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before taking a dramatic bow.

"To keep you warm, M’lady," he says softly.

"Hush, James," you laugh, finding his antics endearing. 

You’re grateful, especially as the cool night air nips at your exposed skin. The nightgown, while comfortable, offers little protection against the chill. You pull his jacket tighter around yourself, then pat the empty spot next to you, gesturing to him to sit, to which he does.

“How was your day?" you prompt.

James sighs, leaning back on the bench, his hand casually resting behind you as he stares up at the sky. "Same old, same old," he starts, a familiar twinge of annoyance creeping into his voice. "You know how it is. Dinners with my parents, listenin’ to old men talk about businesses I'll never care about, trying not to fall asleep while they drone on about investments or land expansions. It’s all so posh."

You stifle a giggle, nudging him playfully with your elbow. "Posh? You sound like you're living the dream."

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "If by 'dream,' you mean sitting there pretending to care while wonderin’ how quickly I can escape to see you, then yeah, it's an absolute dream," he quips sarcastically.

Sniggering, you bring your hand up to your forehead, acting distressed. "Oh, how tragic. The poor Lord James Howlett, trapped in a world of lavish dinners and fancy wine. Whatever will you do?"

"Mock me all you want, but it’s unbearable," he groans, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I hate it. All the stuffy clothes, the fake smiles, the way everyone acts like they're better than everyone else." He pauses for a moment, then glances sideways at you. "You're the only real thing here."

The sincerity in his words makes your heart flutter, and you’re suddenly grateful for the darkness hiding the faint blush creeping up your cheeks. Looking away, you try to play it off. "Well, if that’s the case, I guess I should charge you for my company," you tease coyly.

He lets out a huff of amusement, shaking his head. "I'll pay whatever price you want.”

There's a pause as you both sit in comfortable silence. Just then, a soft breeze sweeps through the garden, catching the edges of your nightgown and fanning it up slightly. Before you can even react, he swiftly moves his jacket from your shoulders to your lap, covering your legs. His hand lingers, making sure you're covered before he hastily wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you close against him.

The warmth from his body contrasts with the cool air, and you can't help but laugh softly at his sudden behaviour. "Wow, you really are a gentleman, James."

He tenses slightly, his grip on your shoulder loosening as he looks away, clearly flustered. "I—I just didn’t want you to get cold," he mumbles, his usual confidence faltering.

You smile at how shy he suddenly seems, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Thank you. It’s sweet."

For a brief second, he says nothing, but you can feel the way his heartbeat picks up just a little. Then, almost too quietly, he mutters, "I’d do anythin’ for you."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you tilt your head to look up at him. But you can’t respond, because he clears his throat, looking down at you with a small, sheepish smile. "What about you? Any exciting adventures in the life of a future chief maid?"

Grinning, you recognize his attempt to shift the conversation, and decide to let it go for now. "Oh, you know, the usual. A thrilling day of dusting, folding linens, and trying not to spill tea on your mother’s favourite rug."

He chuckles, pulling you a little closer. "Sounds way more exciting than my day."

You hum in acknowledgement, letting the moment linger. Neither of you speak for a bit, just relishing being in each other’s presence. 

"So, do tell," you say after a while, breaking the silence, "if you could get away from all the fancy dinners and boring conversations, what would you do?"

He smiles slightly, his gaze still fixed on the star-filled sky. "I’d leave. Go far away from here, maybe somewhere quiet. Live in the countryside, where no one cares about wealth or titles." His eyes drop to meet yours. "Maybe you’d come with me."

You laugh gently. "And who would take care of your family if we both ran off?"

Shrugging, his expression grows more serious. "They don’t need me. They need someone who’ll do what they want—someone to follow in their footsteps. That’s never been me."

There’s a weight in his words, and you feel a pang of sympathy for him. You’re about to respond, to tell him you understand more than he realizes, when—

BANG.

Your body stiffens instantly, heart beginning to pound in your chest as you straighten up, eyes wide.

"What the hell was that?" James asks sharply. He turns to you, his face mirroring the confusion and unease you're feeling.

Shaking your head, you swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat. "It sounded like a gunshot."

The two of you stare at each other for a beat, then, right when you’re going to speak again, you hear it—his mother’s scream. It’s high-pitched, panicked, and it sends a jolt of fear through you both.

"Help!" she shrieks from inside the mansion. "James, help!"

Without a word, you bolt to your feet, the peaceful night forgotten as you rush back inside. Your heart is racing as your bare feet fly across the grass, nightgown fluttering behind you. James is ahead of you, moving fast, his expression shifting from confusion to pure fear.

As you reach the back entrance, your mind races with possibilities, none of them good. You burst through the door into the hallway, your breathing laboured from the sudden sprint. Something is terribly wrong.

"Mother!" He calls, his voice sharp with panic as he leads the way toward the main staircase. You follow close behind, anxiety coiling tight in your chest.

Once you get to the bottom of the stairs, you hear footsteps—heavy, hurried—and then you see her. Mrs. Howlett, wide-eyed and pale, comes hurrying down from the upper floor, clutching the banister for support. Her hands are trembling.

"James!" she cries. "Your father—he’s been shot!"

The boy beside you freezes, face going white. "What?" he breathes, disbelief etched into every syllable.

"He—he was in his study, and I—I heard the gunfire. I—I don’t know what happened. I don’t know who—" Her voice breaks, and tears stream down her face as she struggles to speak. "We need to get help!"

He doesn’t waste another second, taking off up the stairs, his long strides making quick work of the distance. You trail after him. How could this happen? Who could’ve done this?

When you reach the second floor, you see the study door slightly ajar, light spilling out into the dark hallway. James' hand wavers over the doorknob for only a moment before pushing the it open wide.

Inside, the scene is worse than you imagined.

There, slumped over his desk, is Mr. Howlett. His once pristine office now looks chaotic—papers scattered, a window broken, and blood, so much blood. A crimson stain is spreading across his shirt.

"Father," James chokes out, rushing to his side, his hands shaking as he reaches for him.

You stand paralyzed for a moment, the sight rendering you speechless, but then the adrenaline kicks in, and you move further into the room. Your mind is screaming at you to do something, anything, but all you can do is watch as James desperately tries to wake his father, calling his name again and again.

Trying to make sense of the horrific scene, your attention is dragged away by the sound of footsteps shuffling behind you. Thomas Logan, the groundskeeper, stumbles in, his movements clumsy, his face twisted with drunkenness. His bloodshot eyes are manic, and in his trembling hand, he’s clutching a gun—the same one that must have been used to end Mr. Howlett’s life.

"Thomas!" Mrs. Howlett yelps. "What are you doing?"

James turns sharply, still kneeling beside his father’s body, his expression hardening immediately. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Thomas lets out a low, slurred laugh, staggering further into the room. His eyes flick between you, James, and Mrs. Howlett, but his focus remains hazy. "I’ve had enough of this, enough of all of it," he mutters, waving the gun in the air. "Your precious mother thought she could keep the truth from you. But it’s time you knew the truth, boy."

"What truth?" The younger man demands harshly.

Swaying on his feet, he points the gun directly at James, his finger twitching dangerously on the trigger. "I’m not just the groundskeeper, you idiot," he snarls venomously, "I’m your damn father."

It’s as if the room has been put on pause. You feel the air leave your lungs, your mind scrambling to make sense of what you just heard. Glancing at your friend, you see the disbelief wash over his features, his eyes widening with shock, denial.

"No," he whispers, shaking his head, backing away slightly. "You're lying. You’re drunk."

But the older man just laughs, the sound hollow and bitter. "You think John Howlett was your father? That man never wanted you! He raised you because he had to, not because you were his. You’re mine, boy. My flesh and blood,” he jerks his head in the direction of Mrs. Howlett. “Go ahead, ask your mama."

You hear Mrs. Howlett begin to blubber in the background at the accusation, but your attention is solely on the boy in front of you.

Betrayal is written all over his face.

His breath quickens, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. You want to reach out to him, concern puling you forward, but then he lets out a scream—a sound so full of pain that you stop in your tracks.

"James!" you cry, but he doesn’t seem to hear you. His eyes squeeze shut, and his body convulses, as though something inside him is tearing him apart from the inside out.

The sickening sound of skin breaking fills your ears, and bone claws shoot out from his knuckles. They gleam in the dim light of the room, sharp and lethal. The sight of them is nauseating, but you’re unable to look away as James blinks, gazing down at his hands, dumbfounded.

"What—" he rasps, his chest heaving. "What’s happening to me?"

“What the hell is this?” Thomas sneers in disgust.  He stumbles, reaching for the wall to steady himself. “Figures... Of course my son’s a freak.”

“You were always a fuck-up,” he continues in his drunken rage. “Useless, soft... a disappointment from the start. Just like your mother. Look at you now, boy.”

“I’m not your boy,” James snarls through gritted teeth, rage building inside him. His eyes flash dangerously. It’s as if something inside him has snapped, some deep, instinctual part of him that has been lying dormant, waiting for this very moment.

“You’re right. You’re no son of mine. Just a goddamn mistake. Should’ve left you in the dirt with your—"

Before he can finish, a roar rips from James’s throat. So raw, so animalistic, you get goosebumps. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, and then, with terrifying speed, he lunges.

In an instant, his claws sink deep into Thomas’s chest with a thunk. The force of the blow sends the older man crashing back, disbelief and agony seizing his face as blood sprays across the room, spattering the walls and floor. His body thrashes, his hands weakly grasping at his son’s wrists, but there’s no strength left in him. 

A gurgling gasp bubbles from his throat, and then it's over. He collapses to the ground, lifeless, as James stands over him, claws retreating back into his skin. 

"James!" Mrs. Howlett screams, her voice piercing. "What have you done?!"

You don’t know how to react. You can’t process it, can’t breathe. All you know is that you need to get out of here—get James out of here, away from this nightmare before it consumes him. Without thinking, you rush to his side, grabbing his bloodied hand.

"We have to go!" you say urgently.

His eyes dart to you, frantic and unfocused but he doesn’t resist as you pull him toward the door. His mother's cries echo behind you, but you can’t stop, can’t look back.

You run—both of you—through the hallways, out the back door, and into the dark of night. The wind whips around you, stinging your face, but you don’t stop. You run until your legs burn, until you’ve entered the surrounding forest, and the Howlett estate is nothing but a distant shadow behind you. 

All the while, James’s hand stays locked in yours.

Branches scratch everywhere, at your arms, your face, and the underbrush tugs at your clothes as if trying to hold you back, but you push on. Only after the first light of dawn begins to creep in, does the exhaustion hit. Bodies aching and bruised, the two of you collapse beside a small stream. 

You’re on your back, catching you breath, when you tilt to your head to look over at your friend. He’s sitting down, with his hands out in front of him, leering at them. He struggles for air, his breaths coming in short, panicked bursts, and his clothes are torn, stained with blood—his father’s blood, Thomas’ blood. 

His claws are long retracted, but the scars of where they came out of his skin are there, fresh. 

"James," you whisper, but he doesn’t respond. Slowly, you crawl over to his side, pain flaring with each movement. When you reach him, you sit on your knees, looking up at him, trying to meet his gaze. You repeat his name, more firmly this time.

He finally looks at you, but he’s broken. His lips tremble as he opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a choked, almost inaudible, "What did I do?"

Your heart aches for him. Reaching out, you gently take one of his bloodied hands in yours, and as soon as your skin touches his, he flinches, pulling back slightly. "I killed him." he whispers, more to himself than anything. “I—I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t mean to!"

"Hey, listen to me," you say. "You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known this would happen."

"I killed him," he repeats. "I killed Thomas. I—" He glances down at his hands, at the scars along his knuckles, and his expression crumples completely. “He was my father.”

You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to fix this, but you know you have to try, so you wrap your arms around him. At first, he stiffens, but then he collapses to the ground, pulling you down with him. You land on top, your chest pressed against his as the weight of your bodies crashes into the soft earth. He squeezes you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, his face buried in your shoulder as his breath comes in short, broken sobs.

"I didn’t mean to do it," he repeats, the words muffled against your skin. "Something just changed inside me. What am I? What am I turning into?"

“Hush," you whisper, moving one of your hands to brush his hair. "Look at me. Just breathe, okay? You’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together, I promise."

His arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer. It’s overwhelming, but you don’t push him away. Instead, you let him hold you as tightly as he needs, your fingers gently stroking the back of his head, trying to console him in any way you can.

"I’m a monster," he whimpers. "What if I hurt you, too?"

"You won’t," you affirm, lips brushing against his ear as you whisper. "You’re not a monster. This… this thing that happened, it doesn’t change who you are. You’re still you."

Beneath you, his body shakes, overcome by emotion he holds onto you. Your forehead is pressed to against his, your breath mingling with his while you continue to whisper reassurances, telling him over and over that it’s going to be okay, that he’s not alone.

Minutes pass, maybe longer—you lose track of time as you lie there together. Gradually, his cries begin to quiet, his breathing slowing as the storm inside him starts to subside. His grip on you loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let go fully, still cradling you in his arms.

Shifting, you raise your head to look at him. His eyes are red, his face pale, but he’s calmer. You start to pull yourself off of him, but as you're standing up, he grasps your hand again, and he looks at you with a tired, grateful expression, squeezing it gently as if to say everything he can’t put into words yet.

Then, you continue. Hand in hand, you move deeper into the forest. And finally, after a few more hours, you notice something in the distance. Through the trees, there are rooftops, small and clustered together, their chimneys trailing thin lines of smoke into the evening sky.

“A town,” you whisper, the first word you’ve spoken in hours.

He follows your gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the sight of the small mining town nestled in the valley.

In it, the people’s faces are etched with lines of hard labour and even harder lives, but still, you know you’ll be safe there. 

—

Initially, it’s difficult—this new life you and James have carved out is a far cry from the comforts of the Howlett estate. The town you’ve settled in is rough and unpolished. You both share a modest shack on the outskirts, a place that feels foreign and strange, but over time, it starts to become home.

He finds work in the mines almost immediately. The foreman takes one look at him, his broad shoulders and strong arms, and practically shoves a shovel in his hand without asking any questions. The job is tough, but it suits him. 

Every evening, he comes back to you covered in soot and dirt, his hands rough and calloused, his face lined with exhaustion. You can see the toll the work takes on him, how his body aches, but there’s something else too—a measure of peace that wasn’t there before. It’s as if he’s found a way to silence the chaos inside him, at least for a little while.

It’s not long before everyone in town begins to call him Logan, a name he offers with indifference when asked.

A new identity. 

Logan is a man who works hard, who keeps to himself, who doesn’t ask for anything more than a paycheck at the end of the week. 

Logan is a man who doesn’t need anyone, who can survive on his own. 

To you, he’s still James. 

In the quiet moments, when it’s just the two of you, he lets down the walls, lets you see through the façade. And when you whisper his name—James—he closes his eyes as if that one word alone soothes something deep in his soul.

After weeks of watching him silently carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, you offer him a rag to wipe his face as he sits down at the small table you’ve cobbled together from scraps. He takes it without a word, rubbing at the grime on his skin.

“You don’t have to do this forever, you know,” you say softly, leaning against the table as he tosses the rag aside. "There’s more to life than breaking your back underground."

He glances at you. "It’s all I’m good for now."

"You’re good for more than that," you reply walking up to him, reaching for his hand. He lets you take it, like he always does. "You can’t let what happened define you."

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he gives your hand a small squeeze, his eyes drifting to the floor as he mumbles, "What’s inside me… it’s different. You don’t know what it’s like."

You don’t argue. How could you?

The changes in him, the way his strength has grown, how his senses have sharpened, it all impacts him. He can hear things no one else can, smell the rain long before it falls, and even in complete darkness, he sees as clearly as if it were day. His powers are evolving, changing him.

But you know, deep down, that the man sitting in front of you is your friend—your James—no matter what he’s become.

You’ve seen him wrestle with the fear of what he might turn into, the fear of losing control, but you also see the man who leans into your touch, who lets you bandage his hands after long days in the mines, who presses his forehead to yours when the nights grow too heavy with silence.

And as your time together in the town goes by, there is a shift.

It starts with small things—a lingering glance, a brush of your fingers as you pass each other in the kitchen, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

Then, it moves to bigger gestures. When you’d pack him his lunch fo the day, you slip in a small piece of parchment with a heart hastily drawn on it, or at night time, instead of falling asleep backs turned toward each other, awkwardly trying to ignore whatever tension is brewing, you fall asleep in his arms, and wake up the same way.

It gets to a point where you can neither of you can deny it. 

You’ve fallen in love.

—

It’s late, and you’re sitting by the fire outside the small cabin, waiting for him to return from one of his now-frequent disappearances into the woods. You used to worry about where he went, afraid he was distancing himself from you, so one night you followed him. What you found took your breath away—him, sitting out on a ledge, with some wild animals surrounding him. There was something in him that they must have recognized, a mutual respect that seemed to transcend anything human.

Since then, you’ve let him go without asking questions, trusting that those nights in the woods bring him the peace he can’t find anywhere else. But tonight, when he returns, he’s different. He doesn’t just brush past you to head inside. Instead, he sits beside you by the fire.

You turn to him, about to ask if everything’s alright, but the words catch in your throat when his hand cups your jaw. His grip is gentle, hesitant, as if he’s afraid to break the moment, but in his eyes, you find a longing, a yearning, that mirrors your own. 

His thumb brushes over your cheek, and for the first time in a long time, there’s no hesitation in his movements. Your heart stutters, and when he pulls you closer, you let him. His lips meet yours, careful at first, but as you kiss him back, you feel the stress drain from his body. 

The kiss deepens, slow, tender, and everything you’ve ever wanted.

—

The next few years are a kind of peaceful bliss you never expected. With each passing day, you and Logan seem to fall deeper into each other, the bond you share growing stronger, more intimate, like you’ve finally found the rhythm of the life you were always meant to have together.

Mornings are your favourite. He always wakes up first, moving quietly so as not to wake you, and he’s gotten into the habit of making you breakfast. You always sneak out of bed and snake your arms around him from behind, pressing your face into his back as he grumbles about you not getting enough sleep. “You’re always up too early,” he’d say. 

“I like being up with you,” you’d mumble in response, and he’ll turn around, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his eyes soft and full of that quiet, steady love he’s never really put into words. And then he’d kiss you like he has all the time in the world, even if he has to head over to the mines. 

On your days off from your job at the pub, you’ll spend hours together, finding little ways to enjoy the simplicity of your life. He will sometimes take you out to the woods behind the house, where you’d walk the trails together. He points out the different wildlife, the plants you don’t recognize, and you tease him about being a mountain man. He’d smirk, giving you that low, raspy chuckle that never fails to make your heart seize in your chest, and tug you closer to his side.

In the evenings, oftentimes, you sit together while you knit, something that started as a hobby but quickly became one of your preferred pastimes. He always pretends to be uninterested, but he’ll watch you anyway. “You’re getting good at that,” he’d say gruffly. 

“Want me to make you a sweater?” You smirk, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he’d grumble, but you can tell he’s secretly pleased at the idea.

The town itself becomes part of your life together, too. You’ve made friends with the locals, joining a small knitting club. If he has time, Logan drops by the pub on your shifts just to check in, sitting at the bar with a beer and watching you work. When your gazes connect very now and then, he gives you that look—the one that says he’s proud of you, that he’s content.

“We’ve got a good thing here,” he murmurs one night, holding you close. 

“Yeah,” you agree softly, kissing his cheek. “We really do.”

But, all good things must come to an end. 

The mining town, though small and isolated, isn’t immune to the tensions that fester beneath the surface. Harsh conditions, grueling work, and the endless grind wear people down, turning frustration into anger, and anger into violence. Fights break out often, especially in the saloon after a long day when men try to drown their sorrows in whiskey. You both have learned to keep your distance from such skirmishes, knowing nothing good ever comes from getting involved.

Still, one night, as you return home from your evening shift at the pub, you hear the unmistakable sounds of a brawl breaking out in the middle of the street. Shouts reverberate through the cold air, followed by the crash of breaking glass. Your heart races as you recognize the deep, guttural growl cutting through the noise—a sound you know all too well.

On impulse, you rush toward the commotion, dread pooling in your stomach. You know this won’t end well. Not here. Not for him.

When you reach the scene, your worst fears are confirmed. He stands in the centre of the chaos, fists clenched at his sides. Two men circle him, their faces twisted with drunken aggression, goading him. The small crowd that’s gathered seems almost entertained, too caught up in the spectacle to understand the true danger festering.

“James!” you shout, trying to get his attention, but to no avail.

One of the men—a burly miner you’ve seen around town a few times, always looking for trouble—lunges forward, his fist swinging. The punch connects with your man’s jaw, hard enough to stagger him back, but instead of falling, you see something shift in Logan’s expression. His eyes darken, his jaw tightens. Then, his claws slowly begin sliding out of his knuckles.

The crowd gasps, and the laughter dies immediately.

“Don’t come any closer,” he growls, his voice low and full of warning. His chest heaves as he struggles to keep control, but you can see the fire burning behind his eyes. He’s on the edge, teetering dangerously close to losing himself.

But the miner, too drunk and furious to notice or care, spits on the ground. “Freak!” he slurs, venom lacing every word. “You think you scare me?”

He charges at Logan again, fists swinging recklessly. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you scream for him to stop. But it’s too late. Logan tries to pull back, to stop what’s about to happen, but the man is too close, too fast.

Everything slows down, the world moving in fractured seconds. Claws slice through the air, meeting flesh with a sickening thud. The miner gasps, his eyes widening in shock as he stumbles, clutching at his chest where the claws have sunk deep. Blood blooms around his hands, staining the dirt beneath his feet.

And suddenly, you’re thrust back into the past. You see James as he was all those years ago, his claws dripping with blood after killing Thomas. The memory crashes into you—the look of fear on his face, the horror in his eyes, the way he stumbled back, realizing what he’d done.

Just like now.

Logan’s eyes go wide, his expression mirroring that same devastation. He steps back, staring at the miner who crumples to the ground, gasping for breath. What follows is a deafening silence, the air thick with shock and disbelief. The townspeople that had been so eager for a show now stand frozen, eyes wide, faces pale.

The man gasps one last breath, then goes still.

Logan stares at the body at his feet, his claws still extended, still dripping with the man’s blood. His chest heaves, his breath shallow, and he mutters under his breath, barely audible, "Oh god… Not again."

You rush to his side, grabbing his arm in desperation. "Come on, let’s go home."

He doesn’t move. He’s locked in place, staring at the man he’s just killed. His hands tremble, the claws still out, and you can see the raw pain in his eyes as the reality of what’s just happened sinks in.

"I didn’t mean to," he whispers again, his voice cracking. "I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…"

—

That night, while you're sleeping, Logan makes his decision.

And when you wake up the next day, the space beside you is cold.

The shack feels too quiet, too still. 

All you can do is stare at the empty spot in your bed. You tell yourself that maybe he’s outside, chopping wood or he’s already left for work. But deep down, you know. 

Throwing on your boots, you don’t bother to change out of your nightclothes, and rush outside. His name is the first thing out of your mouth, sharp and desperate. "James! Logan!" Your voice barrels through the small yard, bouncing off the trees and fading into the cool morning air. 

There’s no answer.

Panic grips you as you search the familiar places—around the shack, the small trail he likes to take into the woods, by the creek where he often spends time when he needs to clear his head. There’s no sign of him.

No footprints, no lingering scent. Nothing.

The townspeople stare as you move through the streets. They know what happened. They saw the claws, the blood. And now, they see you—a reminder of the violence that tore through their quiet lives. But you don’t care about their judgment right now. You’re too focused looking for him, too frantic to worry about the whispers that follow in your wake.

"Have you seen him?" you ask one of the miners who had once shared a drink with him, but he shakes his head and pulls away from you, muttering something under his breath. Everybody keeps their distance, their faces closed off, avoiding your gaze. 

By the time the sun climbs higher in the sky, the truth settles in your chest like a heavy stone. He left. You wander the streets a little longer, until exhaustion finally forces you back to the shack.

He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t even leave a note. The man who you shared your life with, who you fell in love with, is gone—and he isn’t coming back.

In the days that follow, everything changes. The people who once greeted you with a nod or a smile now avert their eyes when you walk by. They speak in hushed tones, voices thick with suspicion and disdain. 

Nobody cares that you had nothing to do with what happened in the street that night. To them, you’re guilty by association.

It starts slowly, but the gossip spreads like wildfire. Saying thinks like: you knew what Logan was all along, that you hid his secret, allowed him to kill their men. Their anger turns to you, and before long, you become the pariah—cut off, unwelcome, the person responsible for the death of one of their own.

The day they decide to exile you is gray and heavy, the sky thick with the promise of rain. No one has the decency to say it to your face. Instead, you wake to a note slipped under your door, the word leave scrawled across it in angry, uneven letters.

You pack what little belongings you have—a few clothes, some keepsakes from the life you left behind at the Howlett estate—and sling a small bag over your shoulder. Then, you walk away without looking back.

Stretching out before you is a desolate, abandoned looking road. Your legs ache with every step, your feet blistering inside your boots, but you don’t stop. The memories of Logan, the town, the life you tried to build together swirl in your mind.

The sound of a a horse whinnying pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to see a carriage approaching. The coachman—a man with kind eyes and a weathered face—slows as he pulls alongside you. His voice soft and cautious as he asks, "Need a ride?"

Nodding, you’re too exhausted to respond with words, and climb into the passenger seat. He doesn’t ask many questions, sensing perhaps that you’re a soul in need of silence more than conversation. He drives in quiet companionship, the horses' feet against the dirt the only sound breaking the stillness.

He takes you to the nearest town, dropping you off with a quiet wish for better days ahead. You thank him and give him a few coins. You’re standing on the edge of a new beginning, unsure of where to go next but knowing, with painful certainty, that the past is behind you now.

—

In this new place, you slowly begin to rebuild what you’ve lost. It isn’t easy—there are nights when the loneliness threatens to swallow you whole and days when the weight of losing your best friend feels too much to bear. Still, you find work at a small shop, rent a modest room in the quieter part of town, and painstakingly, you carve out a new existence. 

Though no matter how hard you try to move forward, he’s always there. A shadow, lingering in the corners of your mind. You can’t forget him—the way he looked at you with those intense, searching eyes, the way he held you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, the way he left without a word. Your entire childhood, your early adulthood, revolved around him. He was the best part of your life. Every moment spent with him was cherished, imprinted in your memory like a brand you can’t erase.

Nights are the hardest. When the world is quiet, and it’s just you and your thoughts, that’s when the ache becomes unbearable. Each night, your mind drifts back to him. You tell yourself it wasn’t his fault—he must have believed he was protecting you by leaving. 

Maybe he thought you would hate him for killing another man with his claws, for unleashing the violence he tried so hard to contain. Maybe he thought you could never forgive him.

But the more you think about it, the more you realize: if he truly believed that, then he didn’t know you at all.

And that hurts. A lot.

You start to feel like him in some ways, burdened by secrets and anger with nowhere to go. More often than not, you slip out of the town in your nightgown and into the nearby forest, hoping the solitude will offer some kind of peace. It doesn’t, not really, but it’s better than suffocating in your room, choking on memories of what was and what could have been.

—

A year passes since the night he left, and you find yourself standing among the trees once again, lost in thought. It’s not fair—none of it is. You lost everything, and for what? Because you loved him? Because you could look past his mutation?

All of the emotions you’ve done a decent job at managing bubble to the surface, a torrent of grief and rage with nowhere to go. Mindlessly, you draw back your fist and slam it into the trunk of a nearby tree. The impact shoots a sharp pain through your arm, but it’s fleeting, drowned out by the rush of anger. You pull back to punch the tree again, harder this time, desperate for some kind of release.

But the tree doesn’t just splinter. It explodes. 

The force of your punch obliterates the trunk, sending shards of wood flying in all directions. You stagger back, staring at the destruction, stunned. What was just a tall, beautiful arbor is now reduced to nothing but rubble, the strength of your blow far beyond anything a normal person could achieve.

Your breath hitches when it dawns on you. You’re standing in the middle of the forest, surrounded by the evidence of your newfound power. You aren’t just grieving the loss of Logan anymore; you’re discovering that you are, just like him, a mutant.

Except, unlike him, you’re alone.

He’s not here to hold you, to help you make sense of what’s happening. He’s not here to run away with you like you once ran away with him. You have no one to share this terrifying revelation with. You have only yourself.

Looking down at your trembling hands, the faint ache in your knuckles nothing compared to the pain in your chest. It’s as if your heart is breaking all over again.

If you had known—if you had discovered this power when he was still with you—would things have been different? Would he have taken you with him? Would you still be together?

You can’t stop the questions, can’t silence the what-ifs that plague you.

Finally, the dam breaks, and you cry.

Pressing your fists against your eyes, you try to stifle the sobs, but it’s no use. The grief crashes over you in waves as the life you tried to build together all plays out in your mind like some twisted, unending loop.

—

The days bleed into one another.

Each is marked by the slow, steady march of time. You continue to live, to survive, but the discovery of your mutant powers changes everything, setting you on a path you had never imagined.

You learn that you can channel energy through your body, whether that be your emotions, or external, and then amplify it for your own gain. It’s a power that protects you, that makes you feel invincible, but the more you use it, the more distant you become from the life you once knew. 

And then there’s the other side of your mutation—the ability to heal others by absorbing their injuries. 

The first time you did it, it was an accident. 

You were closing up shop, and as you walked along the cobblestone roads, you saw a man lying face down. Instinctively, you quickened your pace, and crouched down beside him. Was he drunk? Dead? Gently, almost hesitantly, you reached out, placing your hand on his back with the faint hope that he was simply unconscious. Your intention was simple—just to check if he was breathing, to see if he would stir at your touch.

But the moment your fingers brushed his coat, a violent surge of pain exploded in your mind, like a thunderclap within your skull. The agony was so sudden, so sharp, that it nearly knocked you off your feet. 

It was more than pain—it was as though the man’s suffering had become yours, pulling you into his darkness. Your vision blurred, and for an instant, you could feel it. Blood. Hot and sticky, trickling down your forehead in a slow, steady stream. You raised a trembling hand to wipe it away, expecting to feel the warmth of it on your fingertips.

But there was nothing. No blood. No wound.

Just the phantom sensation of pain that wasn’t your own.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pain vanished. You blinked, gasping for air, trying to steady yourself. When you looked down at the man again, he was stirring, groaning softly. His eyes fluttered open, and he sat up, as if waking from a long sleep. He looked up at you, confused but grateful, oblivious to the power you had just unleashed.

It feels like a curse, the pain of others transferring to you in ways that leave you gasping for breath. But over time, you learn to control it, to take on only as much as you can handle, and to let the rest fade away.

You never stay too long in one place. Town after town, you move, always careful to keep your powers hidden. The people you encounter are kind enough, but you never allow yourself to get close. You can’t afford to—not when the memory of him still haunts you, his absence a constant ache in your heart. 

What if they leave you too?

Every now and then, there are some nights of passion with a stranger, but you never find another lover, never allow yourself to even consider it. 

As the years slip by, and you move through life like a ghost, always on the fringes, never fully there. In the beginning, you don’t notice it—time is something you stopped paying attention to long ago. But then, one day, nearly ten years after he left, you catch sight of yourself in a mirror.

Your reflection stares back at you, unchanged, unmarked by the years that have passed. It’s as if time has forgotten you, leaving you suspended in a state of perpetual youth. This knowledge—that you could live indefinitely—fills you with a sense of purpose you haven’t felt in years.

So, when the First World War breaks out, you volunteer as a nurse, determined to use your abilities to save as many lives as you can. The troops who come to you are broken, their bodies ravaged by the horrors of war. You take their pain into yourself, healing them with a touch, until there is nothing left but faint scars—a reminder of what they have survived.

It’s during the Second World War that you first hear the rumours. Injured men speak in hushed tones of a man they saw—a soldier who seemed invincible, fighting with a ferocity that borders on the inhuman. They talk of claws—long, sharp claws that can cut through anything, and a healing ability that allows him to shrug off injuries that would kill anyone else.

Could it be him? Could he still be out there, after all these years?

You dismiss the thought almost as quickly as it comes. It can’t be. He would be dead by now, just like everyone else from your past. 

He is gone, and you are alone—that’s the truth you’ve come to accept.

—

Somewhere along the way, you meet Charles Xavier. You don’t know how, but he knows you. He knows you’re a mutant—how you helped in the war. And he wants you to join his team.

You’ve spent so long on your own, relying on your powers to survive, that the idea of joining a team feels foreign, almost impossible. But there’s something in his eyes, something in the way he speaks of his vision for the future, that resonates with you. This isn’t just about survival—it’s about making a difference, about using your powers to protect those who can’t protect themselves. 

And, perhaps, it’s also about finding closure.

Maybe you can help mutants who struggle with their identity, like he did. Maybe this time, you can stop them from running away from themselves, the way you wish you could have stopped him.

So you agree.

And when you arrive at the mansion, you’re introduced to the others who will become your teammates—Jean Grey, Scott Summers, Hank McCoy, and Ororo Munroe.

The early days are challenging. Learning to work as a team, to trust one another, isn’t easy, especially for you, after so many years of solitude. But a camaraderie that develops between all of you, and it feels right. You’re no longer just a group of shunned mutants—you’re a family, united by a common goal.

—

This mission is supposed to be simple—investigate a remote facility rumoured to have ties to illegal mutant experimentation. Charles had briefed the team before sending you out, warning that there might be danger but nothing you couldn’t handle as a group. You’ve faced threats before, so when you arrive at the facility, it’s with the usual caution but no real alarm.

The structure looks forsaken at first glance, the exterior covered in years of grime, windows cracked and dark. But as you all approach, something feels wrong. There’s an energy in the air, a hum of activity beneath the surface. You can sense it, and by the looks of the others, they feel it too.

“We should be careful,” Scott mutters lowly as his hand hovers near his visor.

Jean furrows her brows. “I’m sensing...something. There are people here. This place isn’t empty”

Your stomach twists, and once the team cautiously makes its way deeper into the facility, you start to hear it—the muffled sounds of machinery, the low hum of voices, and then...a scream.

You freeze.

You’ve heard that scream before, in the dead of night, in memories you’ve tried to bury.

James.

Without thinking, you push forward, your body moving on instinct as you race toward the source of the sound. The others call after you, but their voices fade into the background as panic claws at your chest.

The scream grows louder, more desperate, until you burst into a large chamber. And there, in the center of the room, suspended in a tank of bubbling liquid, he is.

His body is thrashing against the restraints that bind him, wires and tubes connected to his skin. Machines whir around him, injecting something into his body—something molten, silvery. 

A team of scientists in lab coats and armed guards surround the tank, all of them focused on the cruel procedure unfolding before your eyes.

You can barely breathe. The sight of him, after all these years—being tortured like this is too much. Pain and rage surge through you, and before you realize what’s happening, you’re moving again.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you scream.

The guards whirl toward you, but you’re already on them. The first one goes down with a single blow, your fist connecting with his chest and sending him flying into the wall. You barely register his body crumpling to the floor before you move on to the next. 

Behind you, Jean and Scott rush in, their powers flashing as they help subdue the remaining guards, but your focus is on the man in the tank, whose eyes are squeezed shut in pain, body convulsing. You can’t think straight—you can only feel the overwhelming need to make this stop, to save him before the experiment finishes. 

But it’s too late.

In a roar of destruction, he breaks free from the tank, glass and metal exploding outward in every direction. His eyes are wild, erratic, his mind lost to the pain and the transformation—he’s a force of nature now. A whirlwind of violence and fury.

You try to reach him, but Jean steps forward, her eyes glowing as she raises a hand. “I’m sorry,” she strains. Her telekinetic force slams into him, knocking him off his feet, and his body crumples to the ground, unconscious, the rage finally quieted.

Standing there, panting, your hands are shaking as you stare at his still form. You’re overwhelmed—by the sight of him after so many years, by the pain of seeing him like this, by the fear that you might lose him before you even got him back.

Scott places a hand on your shoulder, his voice gentle. “We need to get him out of here.”

You nod, unable to speak, and together, the team lifts Logan’s unconscious body and carries him out of the facility. The entire time, you keep your eyes on him, terrified that if you look away for even a second, he’ll disappear. When you finally make it back to the jet, Jean lays him on a stretcher, her powers keeping him sedated for the trip back to the X-Mansion. You sit beside him, your hand hovering just above his, too afraid to touch, too afraid to hope.

The jet lifts off, and your mind races with a thousand questions. 

How did he end up here? Why did they do this to him? 

But above all, one thought consumes you: He’s alive.

After all these years, after all the heartache and loss, Logan—James—is still here.

—

He remains unconscious for three days, his body healing from the horrific procedure he endured. You barely leave his side, watching over him as if your presence alone could somehow anchor him back to himself. His breathing is steady, but his face—it’s both exactly the same and entirely foreign to you. He looks like the man you’ve known and loved, but it’s what is on the inside that worries you.

You swallow hard, your gaze tracing the familiar lines on his skin. Where are you, James? you think. Are you still in there?

Jean had done a body scan soon after you brought him back to the mansion, and the results confirmed your worst fears: they’ve bound adamantium to his bones and buried his personality underneath the most powerful brainwashing you’ve ever heard of.

It’s devastating. Whatever relief you’d felt—if any at all—at finding him alive is now eclipsed by the crushing reality of what he’s become.

The day he is scheduled to wake, Charles calls a meeting. The team gathers in the briefing room, and you sit quietly in your chair, replaying everything that led up to this moment.

Following a seemingly endless stretch of silence from you, Charles clears his throat. “If you’re ready, perhaps you could tell us more about your history with him. It might help us understand what we’re dealing with.”

A deep breath fills your lungs as your hands clutch the table’s edge tightly. Talking about him, about everything you’ve been through together, feels like peeling at old wounds that never really healed. But you know it’s necessary. If anyone is going to help him, they need to know the truth.

“I met Logan—James, as I used to call him—over a hundred years ago, when I was very young” you begin, and you can see the surprise ripple through the room at the admission of your age. “We grew up together. My parents were servants at the Howlett estate, and I spent most of my childhood by his side. He was my best friend… and eventually, he became so much more.” Your voice cracks, and you pause for a moment, collecting yourself.

“After a tragedy involving his family, we ran away together. We lived in a small mining town for years, trying to find some semblance of a life, but things fell apart. He left, and I—I spent years trying to forget him, but I never could. He was—is—everything to me."

Jean leans forward. “I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you,” she says softly. “But you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that when he wakes up… he may not be the man you remember, and not just because of how much time passed.”

You look up at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She hesitates, exchanging a glance with Charles before continuing. “The brainwashing they used on him wasn’t just designed to make him forget. It was meant to strip away his sense of self entirely. His mind was… broken down, piece by piece. What you saw back at the facility—his rage, his lack of control—that’s what’s left of him right now.”

Hank speaks next. “We’ll do everything we can to help him, but Jean’s right. You need to be ready for the possibility that he won’t recognize you. He might not even recognize himself.”

Nodding slowly, your heart sinks further and further with each word. 

“We have tools, ways to work through the brainwashing,” he continues, “but it will take time. And patience.”

“Time,” you echo quietly. “I’ve already waited so long.”

Ororo reaches across the table, her hand hovering near yours. “I know this is overwhelming. But you don’t have to do this alone. We’re here to help.”

“I need to see him,” you whisper, your voice firmer than before. “When he wakes up, I need to be there.”

Charles nods gently. “Of course.”

—

When he finally stirs, it’s not a gentle awakening. His whole body jerks, his head whipping around in wild confusion. His breaths come in sharp, uneven gasps, and his eyes dart frantically across the room, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings, and just as his eyes finally land on you, he freezes.

And for a long moment, neither of you speak.

There’s a lump in your throat, and you wait with a bated breath for some flicker of recognition in his eyes, some sign that he remembers you—that he knows you.

But it never comes.

Instead, his gaze narrows, studying you. “Where the hell am I?” he grunts. “And who are you?”

It hurts more than you expected. You knew this might happen—Jean and Charles had warned you—and you thought you had prepared yourself, but it doesn’t make hearing it any easier. 

He doesn’t remember you. 

“Just take it easy,” you manage to say softly. “You’ve been through a lot, James.”

His eyes flicker with confusion as he shifts in the bed, wincing at the movement. "James?" he questions.

You quickly correct yourself. "Logan."

His hand instinctively goes to his chest, fingers brushing against his side as if testing for wounds that aren’t there anymore. “What is this place?” he asks again. 

“You’re at the X-Mansion,” you explain. “You were... rescued. We brought you here to heal.”

“Rescued.” he repeats dryly. “From what?”

You hesitate, unsure how much to tell him. How do you explain everything—the horrors of Weapon X, the brutal experiments, the torture that nearly destroyed him? You can’t even bring yourself to speak the full truth, not yet. 

“You were taken,” you say carefully. “By people who wanted to use you for something terrible. But we got to you before they could. You’re safe now.”

Logan lets out a short, bitter laugh, though there’s no humour in it. “Safe,” he mutters, his voice low and sarcastic. “Right.” He rubs a hand across his face.

“Why do I feel like I’m missing somethin’?” he mutters, his irritation growing. “Like... like there’s something important I should remember.”

Swallowing hard, your heart twists at his words. He is missing something. But you won’t tell him that now. He’s already grappling with so much, and the last thing he needs is the weight of your shared past thrust upon him before he’s ready.

“Don’t worry about it.” Your voice is gentle, coaxing. “It’s... normal to feel confused right now.”

Frowning, he runs a hand through his hair. “Like I’m supposed to believe that.”

“I know it’s hard to understand,” you say softly. “But it’ll get better. You’ll remember in time.”

He doesn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling as if he’s searching for answers that aren’t there. After a moment, he sighs, his eyes returning to yours. “Alright. Who are you, really?” he asks. “Why do I feel like I should know you?”

Because we grew up together. 

Because we were everything to each other. 

Because you were the one person I never stopped loving. 

“Just focus on resting,” you say, forcing a soft smile. 

He studies you briefly, as if trying to figure out whether or not to trust you. Then finally, he nods, thought you can tell he’s still wary “Yeah... okay.”

The awkward silence returns. 

“I should go,” you murmur, standing abruptly. The chair scrapes against the floor, the sound jarring in the quiet room. “You need rest.”

He doesn’t stop you, doesn’t ask you to stay. He just watches as you turn toward the door, and leave.

Your chest tightens painfully as you walk out of the room, the familiar ache of loss settling in once more. It’s worse this time, though—worse because he’s alive, and yet, in every way that matters, he’s gone.

You leave the room in a daze, your mind swirling with a storm of emotions. Your feet carry you down the hall, and before you realize what’s happening, you find yourself in the washroom. 

The moment the door clicks shut, your stomach lurches. You barely make it a toilet before you’re retching. Tears sting your eyes, and you brace yourself against the cold porcelain, gasping for breath as your body shakes with sobs.

Standing up and flushing, you walk over to the sink, and press your forehead against the mirror. How did it come to this? You found him, after all these years, but the person in that bed isn’t the Logan—it isn’t the James—you once knew. 

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you try to pull yourself together. It's not the time to breakdown, you think, and after splashing some water on your face, you turn toward the exit.

Pushing open the door, you’re met with the familiar gaze of Ororo. She stands in the hallway, her white hair cascading down her shoulders, her eyes filled with something that feels like both understanding and pity.

Your eyes widen, caught off guard, not expecting to see anyone, least of all her.

“I saw you come in here,” she whispers empathetically, “but thought you might need a moment.”

You pause, trying to blink away the redness in your eyes, trying to pretend you’re stronger than you feel. But she sees through it. She always has.

“I’m fine,” you say, the words slipping out automatically.

Stepping closer, her gaze softens as she studies your face. “No,” she disagrees, “you’re not.”

The vulnerability you’ve been trying to keep at bay rushes forward again, threatening to swallow you whole. You open your mouth to argue, to brush it off, but the moment you meet her eyes, the words die in your throat. The pity, the compassion—it’s too much.

Silently, she reaches out, her hand resting lightly on your arm. It’s a small gesture, but it feels grounding.

“I saw him,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “He doesn’t remember me.”

“I know,” she says quietly. “I’m so sorry.” 

—

The next few days are a blur. You keep yourself busy—too busy—hoping that constant movement will keep the gnawing ache at bay. If you let yourself stop, if you let yourself think about what’s happened, the hurt would consume you, so you don’t stop.

Most of your time is spent in your room or the garden, taking refuge in the places where you can hide from everything, everyone.

Sometimes, you train, pushing your body past its limits in a desperate attempt to silence your thoughts. Every hit you land, every punch you throw, never feels like enough.

It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. Easier to avoid him, to pretend he never came back into your life. Because the alternative—watching him live here, knowing he doesn’t remember you, doesn’t understand what you once shared—that’s too painful.

You’d rather pretend he’s still a memory than face the reality that the man you love is here, but not really.

When you walk through the mansion, you see him from afar. You can’t help but notice how he’s begun to soften around the others, how the confused man who woke up in that bed is slowly adjusting to life at the mansion. He has daily appointments with Charles, who you imagine is sifting through his mind, doing his very best to retrieve something, anything.

While there is still a distance in his eyes, still a guarded edge to him, but you can see the small shifts—the way he listens when someone speaks, the faintest hint of a smile when Hank tries to crack a joke.

And sometimes, your eyes meet.

From across the room, you’ll catch him watching you. In those moments, your heart skips a beat, wondering if there’s a reason why he’s zeroed in on you specifically, but then he looks away, and it passes. You never approach him, never ask him how he’s feeling or if he’s starting to remember anything. You’re too afraid of the answer.

One night, you sit in the garden, letting the soft breeze play with your hair, eyes closed. 

“Mind if I sit here?”

The voice startles you, pulling you from your thoughts. Your eyelids flutter, and as you turn, your heart jolts upon seeing Logan standing at above you. And momentarily, it’s like you’re teenagers again—sneaking out at night into the gardens to talk. 

“Sure,” you nod, gently patting the space beside you, as you always did. 

He steps closer and sits down, though not without leaving a small space between the two of you. “I’ve been seeing you around,” he says after a beat.. He doesn’t look at you, his gaze focused on the flowers in front of him. “But... you’ve been avoidin’ me, haven’t you?”

A small laugh escapes you, bitter and self-deprecating. “You noticed, huh?”

“Yeah, not much gets past me. Even that one guy’s attempts at being a leader.”

Despite yourself, you snort. “Scott?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “He’s too easy. Guy looks like a human stoplight with those stupid glasses.”

You bite back a snicker, feeling like a teenager again. The banter, the lighthearted teasing—it makes it seem like maybe, just maybe, there’s still something left of the man you knew.

He turns his head slightly, his expression growing more serious. “You know, I’ve been trying to figure it out,” he says, quieter now. “Why it feels like something’s missing. Every time I see you... I know you’re related to it.”

Shifting a little to look at him, you take in the way his facial hair is a little bit more kempt, how he still has his hair tufts. You miss him, and he’s right here with you. 

“I... thought it would be easier,” you admit, staring down at your hands. “For both of us. If I kept my distance. I didn’t want to add to your stress.”

Frowning, his brows furrow as he processes your words. “Add to it? How?”

“Because you don’t remember me,” you say softly. “And I didn’t want to be a reminder of something you can’t recall.”

He stares at you for a long moment. Then, “you’re right. I don’t remember everything,” he says slowly, “but I know there’s something about you.”

You nod, your throat tight, but you don’t push him. You know it’s only a matter of time before the pieces fall into place. “You’ll remember,” you whisper. “I know it.”

He grunts. “I don’t want you to keep your distance.”

“I won’t. Not anymore.” The idea of him wanting to spend more time with you, fills you with joy.

—

For the next few weeks, it becomes a quiet routine—the nightly conversations in the garden. It’s like slipping into an old rhythm, the two of you always finding a way to gravitate toward each other once the sun goes down. You talk about small things, but it's never too heavy. Sometimes he teases you, and you tease him back, exchanging sarcastic quips. Nothing and everything has changed at the same time.

You’ve started training together too, spending more and more time together each day. It’s almost as if there’s a magnet between you that not even time could weaken.

This night, you’re in the gym together on the sparring mat. It’s the usual scenario playing out—dodging, blocking, throwing punches. He’s fast and strong. And it means a lot to see you see him finally embrace his mutant powers and use them, rather than try to hide and run. 

You’re both breathing hard, the exertion pushing your bodies to their limits. You land a solid kick to his side, and he grunts, stepping back for a moment. Without warning, his claws extend, and your gaze locks in on them.

Of course you know about the adamantium, but seeing it like this, so up close, it’s different. 

“What?” Logan asks, noticing your sudden stillness. His brow furrows, and he glances down at his claws, as if he’s only just realizing they’re out. “What are you staring at?”

“Does it hurt?” you question, clearing your throat. “When they come out?”

He tilts his head, his gaze flicking between you and his claws. “Everytime” he sighs. “But not as much as the old ones.”

Your eyes snap up from his claws to meet his. “... What?” you ask. The old ones?

“They were bone,” he continues, “Hurt like a bitch.”

Your heart starts pounding in your chest. Could this be it? Could he be remembering?

Stepping closer, your voice trembles slightly as you push for more. “What else do you remember?”

His eyes widen, and then he blinks, his stare glazing over for a second, like he’s trying to chase down a memory that’s just out of reach.

“I… I don’t know,” he admits with a bit of frustration. His claws retract, his hand flexing unconsciously as he stares at the empty space where the blades once were. “It’s all bits and pieces. I get these flashes, but nothing sticks. Charles said... he said the barriers in my mind are comin’ down, but it’s slow. Like finding a damn needle in a haystack.”

But the fact that he remembers even a sliver, is enough to fill you with hope.

—

This continues, the small fragments of memories coming back to him. They come unexpectedly, at random times in the day. It’s never anything big, never the full flood of memories you’re hoping for, but each time it happens, it feels like another piece of the puzzle falling into place.

You suggest a walk one afternoon. The mansion has felt a little too closed in lately, and you think maybe the fresh air might help clear his mind. Together, you wander along a little pathway that connects the mansion to a nearby river, the sound of the water in the distance a soothing backdrop as you walk side by side. He’s quiet, more so than usual, and as you glance at him, you notice his expression has grown distant.

“Logan?” you ask softly, nudging his arm. “What’s on your mind?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. His brow is furrowed, like he’s trying to fit together pieces of a puzzle, his thoughts distant, swirling. “I remember…” he starts, his voice quiet, as if he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

Your fingers begin to twitch at your side. Every time he remembers something, it feels like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if he’ll fall into the past, if this will be the moment he remembers it all.

“A cabin,” he says finally, his voice rough but certain. “There was a shack. In a small town. I used to stay there.”

You nod, urging him to continue, anticipated building within your chest. “Go on.”

“It was small. Cold most of the time. But I don’t think I cared.” He lets a chuckle. “I liked it. Felt... peaceful.”

You can’t help but smile a little at the memories he’s bringing up. His steps falter, and he stops in the middle of the path, turning to look at you. “Mining,” he mutters, as if the word itself is triggering something. “I remember mining.”

“That’s good,” you say. ‘I’m happy for you.”

—

The memories keep coming.

You’re in the mansion, passing through one of the long hallways together on your way to eat, when he suddenly stops, his hand reaching out to steady himself against the wall. You turn, concern flooding through you. “Are you okay? What is it?”

He frowns, his eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to force something into focus. “There was a girl.”

“A girl?” you repeat, not wanting to push him but unable to stop the question from spilling out.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “In a big house—like a mansion, I think. We'd play together. She was... she was always following me around. Always gettin’ into trouble.”

You know exactly who he’s talking about.

“Do you remember her name?” 

Shaking his head, you can see the frustration etched onto his face. “No. But she must have been important, I can feel it.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you try to hold yourself together. It was me, you want to say. That little girl was me.

“It’s okay,” you say instead, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. “You’ll remember. You’re already so close.”

He looks at you then, his eyes searching yours for something—answers, reassurance. Once a few seconds pass, he sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know how you put up with this,” he grumbles lowly. “With me.”

“Because I know you,” you whisper back. 

To have a chance at another lifetime with him, you’d put up with anything. 

—

He’s busy with Jean and Charles this morning, the duo having started to work together last week, trying to finally break down the wall stopping Logan from recovering his memories. With nothing else to occupy you, you’ve retreated to the mansion’s library, seeking solace in the endless rows of books. The familiar smell of paper and ink is comforting, and for a while, you manage to lose yourself in the words on the page. 

You’re curled up in one of the oversized armchairs, a book resting in your lap, when your ears pick up the sound of heavy footsteps—fast, purposeful, ringing out through the mansion’s quiet halls.

Concern rises in your chest. Those footsteps aren’t casual; someone is rushing, and you’ve been around long enough to know that in here, that usually means something’s wrong.

Setting the book down on the small table beside you, you stand and head toward the entrance of the library. The sound grows louder, the footsteps coming closer, and just as you reach the doorway, you collide with a solid wall of muscle.

"Ho—holy sh—" you gasp, stumbling back, startled. Your hands fly to steady yourself, and you look up, wide-eyed, to see Logan standing there. "Logan, you scared m—"

“James.”

You still. 

"What?" you whisper, your mind racing as you stare at him. His face is different—not just the usual irritated-by-himself expression he’s been wearing lately, but something else. There’s a certainty in his eyes, relief and maybe even—

“My name is James,” he repeats. “I was born in Alberta. We grew up together. I... I killed my father.” His voice falters slightly at that, but he pushes through, his gaze locked on yours, unwavering. “You were the little girl in the mansion. You’ve always been there. And I—” His eyes brim with emotion. “I love you.”

The words slam into you, leaving you breathless. You can feel the blood drain from your face, your heart jumping so hard it feels like it might burst. “You... you remember?” You’re barely able to get the words out.

Logan—James—stares at you. “I remember everything.”

A sob escapes your throat, and you throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as the floodgates open. His arms come around you immediately, holding you tight, his chin resting on the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m so damn sorry. I should have never left. I should have gone back to find you.”

You shake your head, tears soaking into his shirt. “It doesn’t matter,” your voice breaks. “None of that matters anymore. We’re together now. That’s all I care about.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that won’t stop falling. There’s so much love—so much everything—in his eyes, your knees nearly buckle. All you do is hold on to him, as tightly as you can, afraid that if you let go, this moment will slip away.

But it won’t, because he’s really here, he remembers, and he still loves you.

For what feels like hours, you stand there in the hallway, wrapped in each other’s arms. Eventually, you take a small step back, unwrapping your arms and instead grabbing his hands, squeezing them. “We have a lot to talk about.”

He squeezes your hands back in return. “Yeah, we do.”

—

You sniffle, wiping away the last of your tears as you lie in bed with him, pressed so close it feels like you’re trying to merge into one person. His warmth surrounds you, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, hands drawing small circles. It’s like all the years apart never happened, like you’re finally back where you’re meant to be.

“So, what made it all come back to you?” you ask softly, your voice a bit hoarsefrom all the crying you’ve done in the last hour.

James takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. “I guess having two strong telepaths diggin’ around in your mind will do the trick,” he responds. “Shit was brutal, but... worth it.”

Tilting his head down, he presses a small kiss to your temple. If even possible, you nestle yourself further into his hold. 

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” you whisper. “All those years... I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Same for me. Thought I lost you too,” James murmurs, his hand running gently up and down your back. “After I left the cabin, I tried to forget. Tried to convince myself you were better off without me, but...” He trails off. “I was wrong—a coward. I shouldn’t have been runnin’ away. Especially from you.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his. “What did you do all those years? Where did you go?”

He lets out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes. “I wandered. For a long time, I didn’t stay in one place. Fought when I had to, drank when I couldn’t forget. Got into a lot of trouble.” He grimaces slightly. 

You frown. “What kind of trouble?”

“The kind where people like me aren’t supposed to be walking free,” he remarks bitterly. “I gave into the monster I thought I was.”

His words sink in, and you can feel the toll those years took on him, the way they left him scarred, not just physically, but emotionally. “It must have been so hard,” you whisper, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “Living like that, without... anyone.”

Leaning into your touch, “Yeah,” he admits. “It was. But... I didn’t know how to live any other way. Not after everything that happened.”

There’s a long pause, the two of you lying there, bodies tangled together as you both process the weight of what’s been lost and what’s been found. Then, he kisses the inside of your hand, looking at you with a faint, curious smile.

“What about you?” he asks softly, tugging you closer. “When did you... ya know, find out you were a mutant?”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. You’ve never really talked about that part of your life to anyone, at least not in detail. 

“I didn’t know for about a year,” you begin. “After you left, I was... lost. And then one day... I punched a tree.”

James raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. “A tree?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the seriousness of the memory. “Yeah. I was angry—angry at everything. And when I punched it... the damn thing exploded.”

He stares at you for a moment, processing your words. Then, a slow, amused grin spreads across his face. “Exploded, huh? Guess that’s one way to find out you’re not normal.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Yeah, it wasn’t exactly subtle.”

His smile fades slightly. “What did you do after that?”

Taking a deep breath, you let the memories of those early days as a mutant flood back. “I tried to keep it hidden for a while. Didn’t really know what to do with it. But then... the wars started.”

Eyes narrowing, his expression changes instantly. “The wars?”

Nodding, you continue. “Yeah, the First and Second. I volunteered as a nurse. I figured if I could use my powers to help people, then maybe I could make up for everything I lost. I moved station to station, healing soldiers. I couldn’t save everyone, but I tried.”

He’s momentarily quiet, gaze never leaving yours, even as he processes what you’re telling him. Then, slowly, his features shift into disbelief.

“You were on the frontlines?” His voice low, almost incredulous. He reaches out to brush a few strands of hair out of your face. 

“Yeah. I wanted to make a difference.”

Letting out a sharp breath, James sits up slightly in bed as he stares at you. “Holy shit,” he mutters. “I fought in those wars, too. In the trenches.”

You’re speechless, and the realization washes over you slowly. The whisperings you’d heard from the troops, the rumours you’d chalked up to be nothing more than drunken tales, suddenly come flooding back. A man who couldn’t be killed, who healed from every injury, who fought with claws that could tear through anything.

It was him.

It was always him.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “So it was true…all those rumours about the man who couldn’t die... that was you.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Guess it was.”

All those years, all those battles... and you were both there, so close, yet so far apart. 

“We were so close,” you say, moving forward in to give him a kiss. “And we didn’t even know it.”

He kisses you back, his grip on you tightening. Then, when you pull away, he sighs, leaning back against the headboard. “It’s all so different now,” he begins gruffly. “You’re not the little maid in training anymore, runnin’ around that mansion, worried about getting caught”

You smile faintly at the memories of your younger selves, the girl you used to be, and the boy who was so much more to you than just a young lord. 

“And you’re not sir James Howlett or whatever—Lord—anymore” you tease. “You’ve come a long way from the boy who used to sulk in the garden because he had to attend another dinner party.”

He lets out a noise that sounds like a mix between a huff and a laugh “Yeah,” he agrees. “That feels like a lifetime ago. And in a way, I guess it was.”

While neither of you are the same people you once were, in this moment, you can feel that connection—the one that has always been there.

“I’ve thought about you every day,” he speaks up again. “All those years.”

“James…”

“I love you,” he confesses. “And I’ve loved you my whole life. Before we ran away, after I left, even after I thought you were gone... I couldn’t forget. Didn’t want to.” He sucks in a harsh breath, grabbing your hand once more. “I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed. We could’ve figured it out together, but I was so... so damn scared. I thought if I stayed, I’d only hurt you.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes again. “You did what you thought was right,” you whisper, intertwining your fingers. “You were scared, and so was I.”

“I wish I could take it all back,” he says, regret bleeding into his tone. “I wish I could’ve been there for you... We could’ve had so many more years together.”

“We have time now,” you say softly, assuring him. “We have all the time in the world to make up for it.”

He doesn’t respond verbally, but rather he edges forward, brushing his lips softly against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs before closing the gap completely, kissing you passionately.

You smile against his lips, because while he may be known as logan, or Wolverine, he’s still James.

Your James. 

----

A/N: I'm going to have to either write some crazy smut or excessive fluff now because this took it out of me LOL also I hope none of you got confused with the name switching! Thank you so much for reading <3

[tojisun]

!! nsfw; poly 141 ; sexting; fem reader

price gets a video, a measly six-second thing, from ghost.

he's used to getting all sorts of messages from his lieutenant, but a video has never been a part of them.

it was always soap who sends them videos upon videos—saved videos of things that make him lose his shit or links that are his new turn-ons. price even gets personal messages from the fella; sometimes it's his sergeant venting in lilted scottish, sent to price's personal number on a drunken whim, and sometimes they're videos of him pleading.

"sir, please... wanna cum."

kyle is still getting used to the dynamic. he's still a little shy, hesitant, although he seemed to be getting more bold in text. more pushy. descriptive.

then there's ghost. he is a whole different beast from the other two because instead of begging, instead of putting price above his own pleasure, he backs the captain into a corner, pushing him close to the edge with little taunts and teases.

price remembers the first time ghost has done it. he sent the captain a picture of a lacey panties hanging off of ghost's jean pockets, the rouge of the soft material drawing price's eyes to the distinct tent in his lieutenant's pants, leaving his throat dry. he remembers fisting his own cock at the image, mind running because of ghost's anecdote—

"you would like her."

john had never cum so fast when masturbating, and yet there he was, twitching on his office chair, chest heaving as ragged rasps of breaths passed through his clenched teeth.

"your girlfriend's got a good taste," price had messaged back.

"and me?" was what ghost replied with.

"you already know," price sent. then, "you always know how to make your captain proud."

that correspondence might have been what pushed ghost to keep sending more messages. more taunts. more teasing images that had price rubbing himself in any smidgen of a private corner he could find because simon was never one to disappoint.

so this video had set john's blood on fire, heat scorching from his spine and pooling towards his twitching cock. hairline fractures fill the sides of his phone's screen, leaving rainbow lines filing his eyes at every reflection of the light.

ghost had always liked to share you to him. price knew for a fact that simon had never sent pictures of you to the others—"need your permission first, sir."—but he also thought that simon had drawn the line there. that while he was eager to share snapshots of your pretty little lingeries or the way you marked up simon's tanned skin with deep punctures of what john knows must be straight teeth, simon was not going to indulge john any more.

and yet.

he feels his lungs burn. trembling fingers reach to play the video.

the sound of your squealed moans bouncing against the walls was what he registers first. ghost has you on your knees, and john traces the way simon's got a chokehold on the back of your neck. john watches as ghost uses it as a leverage, tugging you back to his cock—his pelvis is pressed flush against the fat of your ass, and price feels his gums throb with the need to sink his teeth into your flesh at seeing the ripples of your fat bunch up against the bulk of simon's muscles.

"si! si!" you sobbed, muffled as you have your head burrowed into the pillows. your hands are useless by your sides, limp and incapable of even fisting the sheets.

"s'right," simon's voice echoed from behind the screen. "show cap'n how you love moanin' my name."

simon's mention of john has him jolting, his breaths stuttering once again.

he thought this little thing they have was a secret. a dirty, little, desperate secret that only he and ghost had the privilege of knowing. the immorality of it had always pushed john to his orgasm faster than his every rub, and he thought that it would all change the moment you know.

but this is a better treat.

it's a feast.

because john sees it for what it is—a promise.

the video ends, reminding john how short it really was. but he is addicted, unable to let go now that he's been given a taste of what will be.

the next time he replays the video, he's got his erect cock in his hand.

he snaps a picture of his cum-filled palm and sends it to simon. he writes, "show her what she does to me."

it takes twenty-three seconds for simon's reply to come in. it isn't a message but a voicenote—"am i a good girl, cap'n?"

"yeah," john records himself say. "so, so good f'r us, doll."

—

sorta pt 02

[heehoonies]

under the table

description: you and sim jaeyun have been academic rivals for as long as you can remember, competing intensely to beat the other in every class you've ever shared. for years, you've hidden your feelings for him, burying them deep down where jake can't find them, and you're hellbent on ensuring he never discovers your secret.

word count: 22k

contents: academic rivals to academic rivals with benefits to lovers, lots of angst, slight crack at points, overuse of nicknames (angel, pretty, gorgeous, etc), jake is kinda mean in the beginning, heejayhoon are flirty frat boy menaces, reader works herself to exhaustion in one scene, jake is stupid with emotions, characters get drunk/drink a lot, lots of party scenes and wonyoung as your roommate/best friend bc she's the first idol i thought of

smut warnings below the cut

a/n: thank u to my lovely bff @seung-log for letting me bounce ideas off of you and for beta reading this fic and giving me encouragement the entire way! ilysm <3

now playing: under the table by banks

smut warnings: dom!jake, sub!reader, hard and soft dom jake, implications of sub!jake (my agenda y'all he had to be here somewhere), degradation (slut, whore, etc), praise, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), fingering, oral (m. and f. rec), handjob, titjob, multiple orgasms, squirting, hate fucking (kinda), cumming inside, cum swallowing, cum as lube (kinda), finger in ass (f. rec), orgasm delay, marking, biting, spit swallowing, dry humping, grinding, slight 'sir' kink, choking, slight size kink (big cock/tiny pussy), fucking with clothes on, overstimulation, crying, slight dacryphilia, clit pinching/slapping.

your eyes drag over your paper hurriedly, looking for the red ink splotched at the bottom of the page, skin tingling as blood rushes to your head.

95.

you flip your paper over, eyes darting to your side where a pair of big brown eyes are already staring back at you. jake raises an eyebrow at you, showing you the big fat 100 plastered on the top of his test sheet.

your nose scrunches as you attempt to not give any reaction to the fact that jake has beat you. once again.

“ha! knew it,” jake smirks, basking in his triumph.

“whatever, sim. you know physics is not my strongest subject.” you try to brush his statement off, but his gloating begins to get under your skin. you poke your tongue on the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to smack him as he continues to sit there, simply staring. “what is it?”

jake shrugs, “nothing much, y/l/n, just the usual. enjoying the fact that i beat you for yet another week in a row.”

he’s absolutely over exaggerating, knowing you just topped his score in english literature yesterday. “whatever,” you repeat, not wanting to him to sense your sulkiness. “stop staring.” you wave a hand in front of his face to get him to look away, to which he relents after a moment.

jake would stare in shock and awe if he ever found out how this rivalry actually drives your anger. losing to him is always frustrating, of course, but nothing is more soul crushing than the butterflies bouncing around in your stomach every time jake looks at you and the way you fail to will them away every single time.

“wasn’t staring,” he disagrees, turning to face back towards the whiteboard, his leg beginning to bounce from the excess excitement.

“sure you weren’t,” you respond dryly, utterly too exhausted to deal with his bickering today. not with that way that stupid button up with rolled sleeves fits snugly on his biceps, round silver rimmed glasses sitting lazily on his nose, strands of hair falling delicately across his face. to top it all off, he’s wearing a ring on his pointer finger, tapping it lightly against the edge of the desk. the sound is bothersome, but not as bothersome as how utterly attracted you are to the mere image of the metal around his long finger. long fingers that are attached to large hands that lead to buff, veiny arms and broad shoulders, the whole sight nearly making you drool.

he must know how absolutely attractive he is right now. he must.

“hey jake, you going to the party at heeseung’s frat tonight?” jungwon calls from the seat behind him.

jake turns, nodding slightly, “jay and hoon are forcing me to go, i told them i already had plans but they wouldn’t listen,” you scoff, digging through your backpack for your laptop, knowing his plans were simply to study the entire weekend, plans that completely mirrored your own. he glances at you with an eyebrow raised in confusion before turning back to jungwon. “why?”

“the sorority girls are all coming,” jungwon cracks a smile, the smugness in his voice dripping with every word that tumbles out. he lowers his voice, leaning in as you still, trying to listen to jungwon’s hushed tone. “karina’s gonna be there, bro.”

you freeze, eyes glancing up as you pray you’ve heard wrong. yu karina of phi mu royalty? the most gorgeous girl on campus who also, unfortunately for your cynical brain who wants so desperately to hate the girl, happens to be the kindest person on earth? of course jake would be interested in her, just like half the student body is.

jake nods slightly, muttering a “thanks, jungwon,” before turning back towards the front. you busy yourself with logging into your laptop, willing your brain to think about anything other than jake and karina together.

god, this is going to be a long day.

luckily enough, friday is the day where you only see jake once during your courses. you head home to your on campus apartment after the day ends, tired of your racing thoughts and hoping to recover in the confines of your warm blanket, cozied up with a good book and a cup of tea before doing some nightly revision.

you are not allowed such a reprieve from the day.

“y/nieeee!” wonyoung greets you at the door, a bright smile gracing her face. “we’re going out tonight!”

you drop your bag on the sofa before plopping down next to it, sinking deep into the cushions. “no, wony, we’re not going to heeseung’s party.”

her smile drops, pretty lips curling into a small frown, “why? and how did you even know there’s a party at heeseung’s tonight?”

“doesn’t matter. we’re absolutely not going.”

she huffs, stomping her foot lightly. “come onnnn y/n! don’t you ever get tired of working yourself to the bone week after week? i think you need a break, even if just for the night.”

you sigh, rubbing at your face with your hands, trying to fend off the impending headache that started on your walk from your classroom. you relent to her, a small sigh escaping your lips before you mutter, “jake’s going to be there.”

“and? don’t you want him to see your sexy ass in something skimpy?”

your cheeks burn at the insinuation of sim jake having his eyes on you in any context other than a negative one. “no, plus karina is going to be there. heard jungwon mentioning her specifically to him in physics today. so i’d rather not go and see something that’ll hurt my spirit more.” you pause for a moment, “he already beat my score on our physics quiz this morning, and i haven’t stopped thinking about him and her together all day. so can we please stay home?”

wonyoung sighs deeply, sitting down next to you. “who cares if they’re going to be there? you’re y/l/n y/n, you deserve to have a life outside of academics and obsessing over jake. and if he does get with her? then fuck him!”

you can feel your resolve breaking, knowing you can never truly say no to wonyoung with her pleading eyes and tiny pout.

“oh my god, fine.” you relent, sighing deeply when she jumps off of the couch with a little squeal. “oh i’m so excited! let’s go to your room, i know exactly what you’re going to wear.”

and that’s how you ended up standing outside heeseung’s frat house, your comfy tennis shoes contrasting the skin tight strappy black dress with a plunging neckline that wonyoung forced you to wear. “i’m not breaking my fucking ankle just so you can have more fun playing dress up, wony. it’s the dress and these shoes or i’m taking my ass there in sweatpants and no bra.”

“come on, let’s get a drink,” wonyoung grabs your hand and pushes her way through the crowd of bodies, “we’re probably gonna need it.”

“welcome ladies! wonyoung, nice to see you again.” you are both greeted by park jay mixing drinks when you step into the precipice of the kitchen. he does a double take when his eyes register you in front of him. “and y/n, wow! you look drop dead gorgeous. i’ve never seen you at one of these parties before.”

your cheeks burn lightly as you opt to ignore his comment, knowing jay’s reputation with the student body for being a man who… definitely gets around. wonyoung lets go of your hand, beginning to browse the drink options laid out on the kitchen island in front of her. “yeah, wonyoung made me.” you respond, coming to stand on the opposite side of jay as you eye the shaker in his hands. “you playing bartender?” he nods slightly. “what’s the strongest thing you can make me?”

jay chuckles in response as he pours what he was mixing in the tumbler. “here, try this,” he hands you the cup. you take a reluctant sip, the liquid going down with a strong burn. you shake your head lightly in response to the strength before downing the entire cup in a few gulps, needing the liquid confidence desperately.

“a woman after my own heart,” he stares for a moment before handing you another drink, this one pre-prepared. “try this one. don’t down it all at once though, i won’t be able to satisfy you if you keep that up.”

you nod, taking a small sip before a warm feeling begins to settle in your belly. “this one is tastier.”

“figured you’d like it, a sweet drink for a sweet girl.”

wonyoung cocks an eyebrow at him before shaking her head lightly at the way his gaze is completely on you, the ogling he’s giving your curves going right over your head but catching her attention instead. “me next, bartender.” he nods, turning back to face the counter. “your regular?” she nods in response, walking around him to slide up against you.

“you have a regular?” you giggle at her. wonyoung nods lightly, the small smile never leaving her lips, “jay’s been playing bartender for me since we were still in high school.”

jay makes wonyoung her drink and hands it over and the two of you exit the kitchen, opting to walk outside for some fresh air and maybe a free spot on the lawn to sit down at. there are small clumps of people scattered around the impeccably green lawn. people sip from cups and bottles, a few from cans. there are fairy lights strewn across the underside of the covered porch, and you wonder which frat member’s girlfriend convinced them to put them there. the moon illuminates the darker parts of the lawn, some of them coated in artificial light from various tiki torches strewn about aimlessly, stuck into the group roughly.

“wonyoung!” lee heeseung’s booming voice carries across the lawn from where heeseung and sunghoon are playing beer pong. “come join!”

you approach the table, “y/n, is that you?” you nod, smiling. “hi, heeseung.”

“is this your first frat party?” you nod again and he cracks a smile in response. “how are you enjoying it?”

“we just got here, so i haven’t seen much.” heeseung nods, scooting over on his side of the ping pong table.

“be my partner, wonyoung go stand by hoon.” you find nothing inside of you that wants to argue, knowing that you and heeseung get along, as much as two people who don’t know each other all that well can get along.

you glance up at heeseung as you stand next to him, “i’ve never played, heeseung.” his smile grows wider at your admission. “well, it’s our turn, so let me show you.”

heeseung moves you to stand in front of him, pressing you between the edge of the table and his wide t-shirt covered chest. “so grab the ball,” he places it in your hand before covering it with his own, much larger one. “aim, and toss!” heeseung guides you to toss the ball, it lands in one of the cups with a satisfying plop and you smile, glancing up at him where he’s smiling back down at you.

across the lawn, unbeknownst to you, an irritated sim jaeyun is ignoring his conversation with karina, watching the way heeseung is crowding your space and holding your hand. he’s not mad, no, why the hell would he be mad? he hates you. he’s got the yu karina in front of him giving him bedroom eyes, yet all he can focus on is the way heeseung presses himself against your back. jake feels the strange anger brewing inside his gut, completely checked out of his conversation with karina.

karina is here, ripe for the taking, absolutely willing and eager to flirt with jake, but all he can manage to do is stare at you, willing you with his mind to glance over at him, to see him standing here with her. he can’t believe you’re standing so close to his best friend, basically inviting him to fuck you in front of everyone here with your innocent stare.

wonyoung takes the cup and downs it, “next time let her throw for herself, hee.” sunghoon accuses, “no cheating in beer pong, man.”

“y/n’s never played!” heeseung defends, never moving from where he’s got you trapped, his body feeling so close and his towering size intimidating you a bit. “had to teach her, it’s the least i can do.”

before he can register how his body is reacting, jake’s leaving karina without so much as a second glance as his legs carry him over to the table. “move over hoon,” jake commands from the other side of the table. heeseung meets jake’s eye, having a silent conversation that not even sunghoon is privy to. heeseung gives sunghoon a look and sunghoon relents, allowing jake to take his place before wandering off to see jay in the kitchen and maybe find out if riki is passed out somewhere. wonyoung catches your gaze, her eyes as confused as yours are at the sudden intrusion. “gonna school you, y/n, just like i did in physics this morning.”

you roll your eyes while heeseung feels your body tense in his hold. “it’s okay, we got this. jake sucks at beer pong.” he says lowly, smiling to reassure you. you nod your head in response.

jake does, in fact, suck at beer pong, a fact you become well aware of within his first few throws. usually jake is decent at beer pong! but heeseung has watched jake down multiple drinks this evening, and when jake gets drunk, his beer pong skills significantly drop off. jake swears under his breath with every miss, hatred brewing behind his gaze every time he sees the way heeseung keeps you held in place, the way the pair of you celebrate every successful toss with a small high five, heeseung’s hand dwarfing yours in size.

“you lose, jakey boy,” heeseung announces as you sink the last ball with a bit of guidance from him. jake downs the last cup before slamming it back down on the table, the flimsy plastic being crushed beneath his hand a bit. heeseung gives you a squeeze of the shoulders and one last high five, “don’t be a sore loser, man.” heeseung moves, finally letting you escape as you walk to meet wonyoung at the other end of the table. heeseung grabs jake by the scruff of his neck, guiding him to another part of the backyard.

“god, that was so weird.” wonyoung shakes her head, “why was jake so mad? and heeseung is being weird too…”

the words swim in your own brain. was jake mad that you were there at all? you’ve never been to one of heeseung’s parties before, so that could be it, he could feel like you’re intruding on his space. you’d feel the same way if he ever raided one of you and wonyoung’s girls’ nights; though wonyoung would argue that that is a completely different situation if she ever heard your battling thoughts. was it because heeseung was so close to you? did he think you were cheating at beer pong like sunghoon did? that’s just too many questions for your already intoxicated brain to handle. your heart swelled at the fleeting thought that maybe he was angry that heeseung was close to you for an entirely different reason, completely unrelated to the game or his urge to beat you in every aspect of your shared existence.

“i think it’s time for us to go home,” you interject her ramblings, the entire situation beginning to overwhelm you, “i’m feeling tired.”

wonyoung eyes you with a raised eyebrow and a slightly squeaky whine as the two of you walk inside, “we just got here! come dance with me at least for a little bit.”

across the lawn, heeseung is scolding jake. “why are you being a fucking asshole to y/n, bro? she’s just trying to have a good time.”

“me? being an asshole? that’s rich coming from you, you we’re basically fucking her against the table, heeseung!”

heeseung rolls his eyes, knowing he was being very tame in comparison to some of the compromising situations jake has seen him in before. and it’s not like you or heeseung felt that way about each other. “i knew you’d be mad at that. jake, open your fucking eyes. people who actually hate each other don’t feel that way you do about her.”

jake’s drunk mind refuses to relent to heeseung’s words, always needing to be right and knowing heeseung is dead wrong, “shut the fuck up, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“i do, actually, and i know better than you do.” heeseung shakes his head, sighing, “you’re too stubborn for your own good, sim.”

“fuck off man,” jake shakes himself out of heeseung’s grasp, heading inside for god only knows what reason. just to get away from heeseung and from his confusing thoughts of you, he supposes, in his far too drunk mind.

wonyoung tugs you into the living room that’s been taken over as a dance floor, but you tear away from her before she can drag you into the sea of people, trying to avoid dancing entirely. “i’m going to find the bathroom,” wonyoung’s attention is grabbed by a mutual friend of yours and she stays to chat with them, watching you stumble into a nearby hallway out of the corner of her eye, following your figure until you disappear around a corner, worry bubbling in her gut.

someone stumbles into you, nearly knocking you onto your ass. “hey, watch where you’re g-”

your sentence is cut off by someone pressing you against the wall in the dark corner of the hall, your eyes rising to meet a pair of pretty brown ones, jake’s pupils wide from how buzzed he is right now. you can feel yourself tensing in his hold, both scared and turned on from the mere proximity of his body. the heat of his body overwhelms you as he places one hand on your waist, the other against the wall at the side of your head, trapping you in place beneath his towering frame. “get off of me, sim,” you push against his chest, his body not moving an inch. fuck him and his broad shoulders and his thick, toned arms.

“are you trying to piss me off or something?” jake seethes, and you can see the anger in his eyes and the way he grips your hip tightly, threatening to leave a bruise. “trying to fuck all my friends? just opening your legs for every one of them like a whore?”

“fuck off, jake!” you argue, anger bubbling as you watch his eyes scan across your face, trying to ignore the bubbling arousal building in your gut, overwhelmed by his voice, eyes, presence, all of him being so terrifyingly close to you. “if i wanted to fuck all your friends, i already would’ve!”

jake’s hand next to your head is suddenly gripping your chin, forcing your head to look up further and stare up at his face. he sucks at the inside of his cheek, trying to reel his anger back in. “listen here, princess. none of my friends would ever fuck you, so stop trying before you embarrass yourself. you’re pathetic,” he moves his hand from your chin to wrap around your throat lazily. you can’t help the way your panties stick to you, wetness growing at the sight of him degrading you, his big hand wrapped around your delicate neck. you can feel your brain slipping already. “you’re worthless, do you understand me?”

you nod dumbly, swallowing a bit of spit to keep yourself from drooling.

“good girl,” is all his drunk brain can tell you, voice gravelly and lower than you’ve ever heard. his vocal tone makes the feeling in the pit of your stomach reignite. “remember your place, doll.” you nod mindlessly again before he lets go of your throat, his hand at your waist shoving you away from him. “get out of here before i have to teach you a lesson.”

monday rolls around unceremoniously, and knowing you’ll have to see jake first thing this morning is making you consider skipping class entirely.

you shake your head, knowing that nobody, especially not a man, is worth jeopardizing your grades over. no matter how annoyingly attractive he is.

you plop down in your seat, ready for the lecture. jake saunters in, his usual smile plastered on his face before it drops at the mere sight of you. your heart sinks, knowing that even your academic rivalry has never produced that sort of reaction from him.

“so, you and heeseung, huh?”

jake sits down next to you, eyeing you inquisitively. “what? absolutely not!” you hiss, “why the hell would you think that, sim?”

“beer pong,” he mentions, in a tone that makes you feel like you’re stupid. “i don’t like heeseung and i know he doesn’t like me. be serious now, jake.” you scold him, desperately hoping he’ll drop this.

“didn’t seem like it to me,” is all he says before tugging his laptop out of his bag and watching as the professor walks in the classroom.

“whatever, sim,” you brush him off, and the rest of your sentence gets caught on your tongue. “not like i care what you think,” you wish you could say, despite knowing just how much of a lie it is.

“good morning everyone, i finally have your test from last week fully graded,” your history teacher greets everyone and begins winding up and down the aisles, handing back papers with various numbers scribbled on top of each.

she places your paper gently on your desk, a huge smile greeting your face once you see the large 100 sitting on top in deep red ink.

“don’t start gloating now, princess. i got the same. you're not special,” jake’s words kill your remaining semblance of a good mood, feeling like he’s being meaner than he usually is.

“jake it’s 8 am, stop being such an asshole so early in the morning.” you fight, shoving the paper in your bag unceremoniously, missing the small frown that flits across his features. his thoughts flick back to heeseung scolding him at the party, making the frown grow on his face. you nose scrunches at his actions not turning you on like they normally did, instead just making you angry at him.

he shouldn’t feel bad, he really shouldn’t, and he's tricked his brain into thinking he truly doesn't care. your relationship has always been like this. something about seeing you this weekend made jake extra angry, and you’re the one he needs to take it out on. and if he kills your mood to match his already bad one? then all the better for his ego, annoying you being one of his favorite past times.

he continues his nasty quips throughout the rest of class, ones you try your hardest to ignore but somehow they slip under your armor and make hits at your fragile heart every single time.

after spending your down time studying in the library, you reach your next course and sit next to jake in math, leg bouncing roughly at the anxiety brewing at the thought of losing to jake again.

“oh thank god,” you sigh in relief, a 99 with a large circle sitting at the top of your surprise quiz from last week. jake feels his face twitch as he glances over to find your test sporting a higher score. he never loses to you in math, and he can feel his anger boiling.

“lucky break, y/n,” he bites, not missing the way your eyes turn downcast silently instead of fighting him with a quick, competitive response. jake doesn’t know why the sight of you ignoring him and not even arguing back makes his heart twinge.

class after class for the rest of the week, you keep topping jake’s score, but you can’t bring it in yourself to care. you feel like his combative words are filled with real venom now, versus the usual merely competitive undertones that they carry. sure, you enjoy when he’s mean sometimes, but it feels like he’s somehow crossed an imaginary line between sexy and hateful. and your brain can only take so much negative rhetoric before you’re closing in on yourself, blurring the edges of your consciousness to prevent any more hurt from being cast upon your body and mind. you barely stumble your way through the week, struggling to even drag yourself to class every day, knowing you’ll be met with his usually soft brown eyes staring daggers into your side profile.

you’re so worn down from the emotional toll this week has taken on you that you don’t even care that wonyoung shoves you into another tiny dress and drags you to another party hosted by heeseung. you choose to keep your inner turmoil to yourself, and wonyoung relents, allowing you to have your secrets for now despite being able to sense that something is absolutely wrong.

“jay, give y/n what you gave her last weekend, she needs it.”

“welcome back, pretty girl,” jay greets you, “bad week?” you nod numbly, meeting his gaze with obviously tired eyes. “let jay help you.” he gives you a soft smile, beginning to whip up exactly what he gave you last weekend.

“thank you, jay,” jay notices the smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but he doesn’t take it personally. “anytime, pretty.”

wonyoung grabs the nearest bottle of whatever beer they’ve stocked up on for this so called rager and follows you as you wander aimlessly. she grips your elbow, leading you to an open seat on the sofa in the living room. the party is less packed than last weekend, with only a few people mingling around the house, the living room no longer being taken over by an impromptu dance floor.

“hi y/n, hey wonyoung,” jungwon greets the pair of you, dropping down into the cushion next to wonyoung. “what’s up? enjoying the party?”

you nod simply, nursing your cup gently as your eyes can’t focus on any one thing in the room, vision slightly fuzzy and never once regaining clarity as you let all thoughts leave your head.

“you with us, y/n?” wonyoung waves a hand in front of your face. unbeknownst to you, ten minutes had already passed and both wony and jungwon had watched you as you barely even moved, aside from the cup occasionally being pressed to your lips. “yeah, sorry.” you mumble out. wonyoung gives your shoulder a small squeeze before rising to her feet. “we’ll be right back, jungwon and i need a refill, okay?” you nod as her figure disappears into the house.

a large shadow casts above you, drawing your attention up to meet big brown eyes. “why are you here? here to gloat some more?”

a small sigh leaves your lips as you tear your gaze from him before downing your drink at once, eyes fluttering shut. you place the cup on the coffee table in front of you before looking back up at him, “i don’t have the energy to fight with you right now, jake. please just leave me alone.”

jake sits down next to you, hand resting on your knee as he whispers lowly for only you to hear, “so you’re trying to act like you didn’t just kick my ass all week? you’re not gonna say anything about that?”

you nod a little, unable to meet his gaze, “jake, i’m so tired, please. i don’t want to fight right now.”

seeing the vision of you, a usually fiery, independent, self assured woman, surrendering to his words so easily causes a twitch in jake’s pants, his jeans beginning to feel a little too snug all of a sudden. “is that so?” he teases, his anger from the week still present in the undertones of his speech. “so you don’t even have the energy to be a good rival and taunt me back?”

you shake your head, “jake, please,” you whine, and its music to his ears. he squeezes your knee lightly, invading your space some more. “please what, angel?”

your cheeks burn at the sudden nickname, mouth going dry at the three little words he’s just whispered to you. you stare at him with doe eyes and a shut mouth. “what is it, you can tell me.” he tries to coax the admission out of you.

“just so tired…” you relent, limbs feeling heavy.

jake stands and pulls you to your feet, ignoring how heavy his cock feels behind his denim as he leads you upstairs, “come on, let’s go find somewhere you can lie down.” the sudden kindness he’s showing you would strike you as strange if you were in your right mind, but the fogginess taking over your brain hides how absolutely weird this would be on a normal day between you and jake.

jake tugs the door of heeseung’s room open, guiding you inside before shutting the door and locking it. “lie down.” his voice is gentle, coaxing you into submission and a sense of calm, feeling safer knowing you’re away from the crowd and are able to breathe a little better without a thin sheen of smoke filling your lungs and obscuring your vision.

you obey, crawling under the covers that he’s pulled back for you before he tucks you under the plush material. “you shouldn’t be here while you’re feeling like this,” jake scolds you. your eyes shut gently, already falling asleep with a heavy heart and heavier limbs. jake watches you with a protective gaze as you drift off into dreamland, a sigh leaving his lips knowing you might finally have time to just exist, versus your usual act of constantly pushing yourself to the limit and further.

“you can’t just let people crash in my room, jake!”

“it’s y/n, hee.” jake glances up at the taller man for a moment, “she… something was wrong, but i didn’t want to send her home by herself. wonyoung certainly wasn’t going to go with her.” he scoffs at your roommate’s inability to grasp how strange you were acting. heeseung’s eyebrows shoot up at this admission, nodding slightly. “is she okay now?” he questions.

“she’s still sleeping,” heeseung had caught jake sneaking out of his room trying to get you a glass of water for when you wake up, planning to run up and continue watching you as you slept. not in a creepy way, just in a i don’t want anybody to come in this room trying to fuck on heeseung’s bed while y/n is sleeping there kind of way, as well as a i need to make sure no one tries to take advantage of her kind of way. why he wanted to do all of this, why he was treating you this way at all was still a mystery to him. “didn’t want anyone coming in and waking her up or messing with her while she’s sleeping.”

heeseung scoffs a bit at his answer, “you still don’t get it, do you?”

jake watches him with a blank stare, “get what?” he shakes his head in response, muttering a quiet “nothing,” before peeking inside his room to check on you.

“she’s fine, heeseung.” jake argues, quietly yanking the door shut. “let her sleep.”

heeseung shakes his head, “just let her uber home with wonyoung,” he suggests, testing the waters further to prove his theory is rocksolid.

jake gives him a glare that could kill, “did you not fucking listen to a word i just said?”

bingo.

“i’m kidding, chill.”

jake lets the comment go as well as he can, “if you’re done saying stupid shit, can you go grab me some water for when she wakes up?” heeseung scoffs at his words, but returns shortly with a bottle of water, to which jake gives him a small thank you in return.

“just… try not to be an asshole when she wakes up, okay?”

you don’t know how you got home that night. wonyoung told you it was jungwon ordering the three of you an uber, opting to leave with you since he lives in your building with sunoo and riki as his roommates. the rest of the weekend passes unceremoniously, your color slowly coming back after an absolutely off week. as you slouch down into the chair next to his on monday morning, you can only hope jake doesn’t fuck up your good mood as fast as he did last week.

“had a fun weekend?” you can’t decipher the tone of his voice.

“it was fine, i guess.” you shrug in response. “i don’t remember most of it.” you admit, not even caring how absolutely embarrassing that sounds, especially coming from someone of your academic caliber and positive reputation.

jake’s face seems to drop at your admission, quickly shaking off the expression, “well, are you ready for another week of me kicking your ass?”

“we’ll see about that, sim.” you smirk lightly, feeling your spark in this rivalry returning a bit, along with your deeply imbedded feelings for the man beside you. jake seems to have let go of the intense hatred he was holding the previous week, a friendly feeling returning to your long standing rivalry. “don’t think i’m gonna go easy on you, now.”

jake smiles secretly, happy to see the pep back in your step, so to speak. he hated seeing you the way you were at the party, your eyes looking lifeless and staring into the void aimlessly before he laid you down for a well deserved nap.

“hmm, what’d you get?” you peer down at the paper your professor has just laid in front of you. “97. you?”

“98.”

jake groans loudly, “god, you can’t just let me win, can you?” a smile graces your lips, “nope, you’ll have to fight me for it, sim.”

“alright, you two,” jay teases the two of you and you turn to face him. “y/n, you’ll never guess what today is.” he smiles brightly.

“i’m not sure, what is it, jay?”

“it’s my birthday, and i’m throwing a party at the frat tonight.” you smile at his admission, “will i see you there?”

jake shakes his head, teasing, “no, she’s probably gotta stud-”

“sure,” you interrupt jake, shooting him a glare before looking back at jay, “i’ll be there, jay.” you offer him a small smile, one which he mirrors while jake looks between the two of you with a scowl.

oh, you’re gonna get it.

you arrive at jay’s party, opting for a more casual pleated skirt and t-shirt since jay told you it was casual wear and he wanted a chill vibe, just some close friends. you’re assuming he invited you because of wonyoung, who had to opt out of tonight’s festivities since the poor girl caught a nasty case of the flu over the weekend. you heated up some canned soup for her and made tea before leaving for the night, telling her to text you immediately if she starts to feel worse.

“hi, gorgeous,” heeseung smiles at you, greeting you warmly and placing a drink in your hands.

“hi, heeseung,” you return his smile, watching him over the rim of your solo cup as you take a sip. “damn, this is nasty. what the hell is this?”

he shrugs lightly, “beats me. jay’s mingling instead of making drinks, so sunghoon’s doing the best that he can, i guess.” you nod before bravely taking another sip of the gross concoction.

“where’s the birthday boy?”

“ask and he shall appear,” jay smiles, coming to stand next to heeseung, “hi, angel, glad you could make it.” you smile at the two men towering over you. “thanks for inviting me, and wony sends her apologies. she got sick over the weekend.”

“that’s alright, hope she feels better.” heeseung says before the two of them begin whisking you off into another part of the house. heeseung separates from you and jay to greet a few people, jay’s hand on your waist to guide you without you getting lost. “i heard hoon’s making drinks? this is nasty, jay, have you taught him nothing?” you tease, glancing behind you at a loud noise sounds behind you. after finding nothing, you begin to turn back to jay before your eyes find jake standing with karina. the sight makes your blood boil, but you nearly shiver after finding him already staring over at you and jay out of the side of his eye. you shake off his dark stare, returning to your conversation with jay, not noticing the way his hand hasn’t left your waist despite the two of you no longer moving through the house.

“i’ll be right back,” jake tells karina, no longer focused on their conversation. karina scoffs lightly, knowing this is the second time in two weeks that jake has left her high and dry while she’s been trying to talk to him.

“jay,” jake greets his best friend, earning him a look of confusion from the birthday boy, “y/n, can i talk to you?” you glance at jay with a confused look, the man in front of you mirroring the same expression back at you.

“i– sure, jake.” you relent, setting down your already empty cup on a random surface before he’s tugging your arm, not caring about the searing grip he has on your wrist.

“didn’t i warn you to not fuck my friends?” jake’s hushed voice meets your ears, a frown pulling onto your lips at the question. you don’t remember talking about being attracted to any of his friends at all, let alone with jake himself.

“what are you talking about, sim?” you question, growing irritated at the implication that he probably thinks you’re easy.

“god, you’re so stupid sometimes,” he growls, pressing you against a bedroom door in the empty hallway. “you don’t even see them all eye fucking you? don’t be naive, y/n.”

you shake your head, convinced he’s fucking with you. “jake, your friends aren’t eye fucking me it’s called being friends with the opposite sex, you should try it instead of being an asshole all the time!”

jake yanks the handle near your hip, tugging the door open and shoving both of you inside before locking it behind him. “you drive me up the fucking wall, you know that?”

“the feeling is mutual, sim,” you deadpan. “are you done yelling at me? i’m ready to leave this fucking room and get far away from you. i’m trying to enjoy myself tonight, jake, i don’t need you fucking with my mood again.”

the dam in his mind breaks, and suddenly jake feels all his resolve slip away. he pushes you up against the closed door and squishes you against it. “god, you’re so fucking annoying, you know that? always know how to push my fucking buttons.”

the proximity has you holding your breath, waiting for his next searing words to tumble out of those plush lips.

“stop staring at my lips,” he demands, taking both of your wrists in one grip of his hand and holding them above your head. “you gonna keep making me mad?”

“stop fucking with me, jake, let me leave.” you know your words hold no weight in either of your minds, your body betraying you as your arousal is evident in the way your legs squeeze together.

jake shakes his head, “you need to shut up and take what i give you, since you’re so ready to be a slut for all my friends.” he grips your chin and squishes your cheeks with his other hand. “you gonna behave for me? or are you gonna be a brat?”

you finally relent, letting go of your argumentative front that you’ve put up around him for years as his grip on your cheeks loosens. you relish in the feeling of allowing him to take control, of jake offering you a moment to just exist without any expectations or responsibilities, to let him take care of you completely, “‘m gonna be good for you, jake.” you watch him with big eyes, his stare unrelenting as he watches you for any sort of discomfort.

“you sure you can take it, angel? i’m not gonna be nice.” you nod briefly, trying to use your hand before he grips tighter, “what is it, pretty? you can still back out now.” he tells you, giving you full control of the situation for a moment.

he watches a look flash across your face before you look downwards, embarrassed at the thought of what you’re about to ask. jake tugs your face to look back at up at him roughly, “want you to choke me,” you mumble. he grins wildly at your admission, hand on your chin snaking down to rest at the base of your neck. “like that, baby?” you nod slightly, pressing your legs further together under his intense stare. “tell jake what else you need.”

you take advantage of his momentary kindness to lean forward and capture his plump lips in a kiss, dirty and messy and utterly desperate. desperate for his touch, however you can get it. jake returns the favor, slotting his lips against yours, feeling every crevice of your gorgeous lips under his own. he fights back a moan, knowing he needs to maintain dominance over the situation. he squeezes tighter on your neck and you let out a small moan, allowing him to press his tongue into your mouth. you nearly gasp at the intrusion, relishing in the feeling of him nearly eating you from the inside out.

jake pulls away to stare back at your face, your expression already portraying how utterly fucked out you are just from a few touches. “can’t just take what you’re given, can you? greedy girl.” his tone is laced with warning.

“i can take it,” you argue lightly and he chuckles before moving you from the door to the bed, making you lie down on the mattress in front of him. “promise.”

“i believe you.” jake admits, sinking down to his knees and flipping your skirt up before pressing his nose against your clothed core. “bet you taste delicious, angel,” he stays there for a moment, licking against the fabric of your panties before pulling away. jake stands back up and unbuckles his belt, “another time, baby. need to fuck the attitude right out of you. always getting on my nerves.”

you watch as jake drops his pants and boxes just below his knees, revealing a thick, veiny cock with a blushing red tip. your cheeks go redder at the sight of him, already afraid of the stretch, “you’re so big.” the words tumble out of you without realization, your cheeks burning at the sudden admission.

“i told you i’m the best, baby,” he taunts you, “don’t worry, i’ll make you take it all like the cock slut we both know you are.” jake rips your panties, pulling a gasp from your chest as he holds the tip against your wet folds, the sight hidden from you by your skirt, “god, this turns you on, doesn’t it? when i call you a pretty little whore?” he feels your walls tighten slightly around his tip at his words and smirk casts over jake’s lips. “so all this time, my little angel has been getting wet every time we talk? dirty girl.” you shake your head, trying to hide your embarrassed face as your cheeks heat up. “don’t lie baby, i can feel you clenching around me.”

all the air is knocked out of your lungs when jake buries his huge length all the way inside, your hands going up to grab his biceps for something to hang onto as he begins ravaging you with a brutal pace, “see what you do to me? you make me so fucking angry, i can’t help but take it all out on you.” he feels your walls flutter around him as his thick cock drags against you, feeling every ridge of your pussy as his tip bruises your cervix with repeated precision. “god, you’re taking me so well, tiny little pussy was made to be destroyed by my big cock, wasn’t it?”

you nod dumbly, feeling cock drunk already, feeling yourself slip further away from reality with every drag of his veiny dick passing through you. jake fucks you into the mattress like he’s trying to split your entire body in half. you can’t get enough as jake moves your arms for a moment to tear your shirt off your body hastily, both hands reaching around and unclasping your bra before discarding both items somewhere in this random bedroom. he watches your tits bounce with each deep thrust, “god look at your tits baby, fuck– i could just eat you alive right now.”

“please,” you whine, not knowing what you’re whining for. “please what, my pretty little slut?” you don’t answer him, moaning loudly as he takes both your tits in his grasp, a hand holding each in a grip that’ll surely leave a mark.

“that’s what i thought,” he quips as he continues to plow into you, his head starting to spin from the feeling of your walls sucking him in with every thrust, never fully accommodating his size, “fuck, just take it all like a good cock slut, you were made to take me.”

his squeezing of one of your tits halts, moving down to pinch your swollen clit harshly, smiling wickedly at the groan of pain and pleasure that escapes your mouth. “too much?” you nod roughly, pleading eyes meeting his dark gaze, “too fucking bad.”

jake begins alternating between pinching and slapping your clit, relishing at the slight squeeze each action grants him, feeling himself tumbling to the edge already. “don’t you dare fucking cum,” he warns as he grabs your hips, shoving you up and down on his length like a fuckdoll, and you take it, sitting pretty with gasps leaving your parted lips as he chases his own pleasure. “fuuuuuck,” jake stills, cumming deep inside you, holding your hips flush to his body until he’s milked his own cock dry. you can feel your body on the edge of an orgasm as you wait for jake to finish you off now that he’s cum inside you.

he pulls out, watching his cum drip out of your gaping hole, “god, you still make me so fucking mad,” jake shoves his length back inside roughly, stuffing his cum back into you, “can’t wait to watch you come undone beneath me.” he moans, rubbing rough circles against your clit. you throw your head back, moaning his name loudly.

“that’s it, pretty baby, let everyone know who’s making you feel this good,” jake leans in and bites the skin on your neck, sucking and licking at the spot to soothe it after. he places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss there before leaning up and prying your lips apart, mouth opening obediently. your eyes open in shock, watching him hover above you before he spits in your mouth, then sliding his hand down to rest at the base of your neck, squeezing lightly. “swallow it.” you follow his instructions promptly, a moan escaping your lips after feeling it slide down your throat paired with the pressure he’s applying.

“cum all over my cock, angel,” jake growls in your ear, the grit in his voice causing your dam to break, the rubber band in your stomach snapping before your eyes roll back, colors passing through your vision and limbs feeling numb and tingly as jake fucks you through your orgasm.

“jake, stop–” you attempt to push him off, your actions doing nothing to halt his movements, feeling overstimulated as your orgasm finishes washing over your body. “jake–”

jake leans in, capturing your lips in a messy, sloppy kiss to distract you as he slowly slips out of you, taking his fingers and shoving the cum mixture back into your leaking hole. he pulls away, glancing down at the sight of both of your fluids leaking out of you, groaning at the sight, “fuck, you’re perfect,” his head feels dizzy as he catches your lips again, biting softly against your bottom lip before pulling away again. “let me clean you up,” jake presses a final kiss against your lips, resisting the urge to slip his tongue down your throat as far as it can reach.

he returns shortly with a wet cloth from the en suite bathroom, manhandling you to sit further up against the pillows before wiping you down, getting the cum out of your gaping hole. he returns to the bathroom, wiping himself off before tugging his jeans back onto his hips and tossing the washcloth in the trash. whatever frat brother this room belongs to certainly won’t be missing that…

you stare up at the ceiling, panting and wiping the sweat from your forehead. “fuck.”

“fuck what? fuck you? i just did,” he argues, grabbing your torn panties from wherever they landed in the room and pocketing them discreetly.

“shut up, sim,” you cover your eyes with your arm, refusing to look at him.

“hey, look at me,” jake pries your arm off and your eyes open slowly, the sight of him with his post sex glow knocking the wind out of you. “you okay?” his question is sincere, his gaze on you doubly so. you nod lightly, a small smile taking over your features, “good.”

“can’t believe you ripped my panties…” you grumble, sitting up slightly to look for your shirt and bra. jake’s hands grip your tits absentmindedly, “i’m not a fucking stressball, jake!” jake just laughs, pinching one of your nipples in retaliation, watching the nearly silent moan that leaves your perfect pink lips. “fuck, don’t do that again unless you want another round.”

he perks up at the words, “you really mean that?”

“i–”

a loud pounding on the door startles both of you, “open the fuck up!”

you scramble to grab your bra and shirt, shoving them back on as jake wills his slowly rising dick to lower once more. he glances at you and you nod at him. jake unlocks the door and swings it open, meeting the eyes of a very tall, very angry man.

“get the fuck out, both of you,” he booms and the two of you scurry out quickly, a small giggle escaping your lips at the sight of his bright red, angry face.

“he was gonna kick your ass, jake…” you tell him as the two of you rush down the hallway, unknowingly in the opposite direction of the living room.

“would’ve been worth it,” jake smirks, stopping and gripping your hips lightly, the intimacy of his thumbs rubbing on your bare skin making your head spin, “your pussy is heaven.”

you smile, small and subtle, eyes wide, “not mad at me anymore?”

he shakes his lightly, “could never really be mad at you.” jake offers you a coy smile.

“doesn’t seem like it,” you argue, smile slipping from your features the tiniest bit. “well… every time you make me mad i can just fuck you like that again. is that what you want, pretty girl?”

your cheeks burn at the sudden nickname, “is that what you want, jake?” he nods slightly, “i’ll fuck you whenever and where ever you want if you’ll let me, baby. no strings attached.”

your heart drops at those three little words leaving his lips, hope of jake reciprocating your feeling sinking deeper into the abyss that clouds your mind most days. his offer is a glimmer of hope, your brain reeling to feel him like that again, even if he’s ‘fucking the attitude’ out of you over and over. you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” you half-lie, continuing to shield your true feelings from him.

“just promise not to fuck any of my friends… you’re mine now.” you nod, heart fluttering at the implication of being jake’s, and the sudden possessiveness he’s now displaying.

jake’s grin grows, pulling you in by your hips for a frantic kiss, pushing his tongue past the expanse of your lips, exploring your mouth with need. you sink into his hold, stomach fluttering at the feeling of one of his hands reaching your ass, squeezing it in his large palm. you groan against his plush lips, allowing him to slip his tongue further down your throat.

“oh my god–” a shrill voice screeching from behind you has you pulling away from jake, seeing sunoo standing there, his hand now covering his eyes, “i’m so sorry, i– jay just told me to round everyone up for cake.” he apologizes and promptly rushes back to the living room.

“don’t worry,” jake whispers, “i can make sure sunoo doesn’t tell a soul, say the word and it’ll be our little secret, angel.”

you nod slightly, staring up at him with wide eyes, “thank you, jake.”

“anything you need and i’ll make it happen,” he promises, giving your ass one last squeeze and a small smack before guiding you forward, “go join the party, i’ll be there in a minute.”

“where have you been, dude?” heeseung questions jake after the cake is cut and shared, prompting the shorter man to shake his head. “nowhere important.” he can see the hidden smile on jake’s face as heeseung watches him, smirking knowingly as he catches your eye in the crowd where you’re talking to riki and waves you over. you excuse yourself and approach the two of them, trying to hide the blush in your cheeks when you glance at jake.

“hi, y/n,” heeseung smiles, “wish you were here earlier, i kicked the birthday boy’s ass in beer pong. it was quite the show.”

you return his smile, “sorry i missed it,” you apologize sincerely, looking down at your plate as you break off another piece of cake to eat. heeseung glances at jake, the smirk still covering his lips. heeseung takes in the way the tips of jake’s ears are turning red as he watches you place a piece of cake in your mouth. “nowhere important, right?” his low tone misses your ears as you munch happily on the vanilla treat.

shit.

jake smacks the back of his head, shooting daggers at his best friend as he whispers, “shut up.”

heeseung leans over to speak into jake’s ear, “just don’t break her heart, jakey boy.”

things are normal between you and jake during the classes you share, for the most part. you can’t stop staring, watching jake and zoning out as your professors drone on about whatever topic you’re covering during the period. you watch his eyes, beautiful and brown, as they stare forward, glancing to meet your gaze every once in a while. you watch his lips, perfectly plump and pink, which tug into a smirk every time jake catches you staring, biting down on his bottom lip at the sight of you watching him.

you take in the overwhelming presence of him, your nerves running in overdrive since the night before, knowing how absolutely stuffed he makes you feel, how jake’s big hands burn where ever they touch, leaving you yearning to be constantly held by him and his soft palms. his hair urges to have a hand run through it, dark and falling across his face in a satisfying way, framing his forehead delicately.

everything about the man beside you overwhelms you, and you can’t seem to look away.

god, you’re fucked.

“what the hell is going on between you and jake?” jay questions as you approach him, nearly falling into him as you try to walk around despite the slight buzz filling your bloodstream.

“jongseong, i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell him, grabbing a seltzer from the fridge and cracking it open, not hesitating to take a few gulps before returning your gaze to him. his eyebrow is quirked up when you look at him again, “you’ve never called me by my government name,” jay challenges, smirking with a knowing look.

“shut up,” you move to cover his mouth, to which he swats your hand away easily, his tolerance much higher than yours. “no,” he argues grabbing your wrist as you try to smack him, “i wanna know.”

you narrow your eyes at him, an action he sees right through, knowing you’re not actually angry seeing the blush growing on your cheeks, “nothing is going on between me and jake.”

“no, there’s something there,” jay tells you, “are you two fucking?”

you nearly spit your sip of seltzer out, coughing for a moment as he hits your back lightly, concern washing over jay’s sharp features. “jesus christ, y/n, don’t die in the frat house, none of these idiots here would know how to help you.”

you shake your head, breathing returning to normal, “jay, we’re not fucking.”

“you’re lying,” jay cracks a knowing smile, laughing lightly, “anyone with eyeballs is able to see there’s something there.”

your resolve begins to crumble, the alcohol seeming to take over your brain more and more, “i– i don’t know what we’re doing…” you shake your head lightly, “we… we fucked on your birthday,” you relinquish. “i… i don’t know how he feels about me, jay.” you hear a noise escape your throat, one that sounds far too vulnerable, and you chase the sound with another swig from the can in your hand. “i try not to think about feelings that much, honestly, they’re so overwhelming.”

jay laughs, “yeah… me neither, don’t worry,” he clinks his solo cup against your can and you both take a sip, “who made the first move?”

“jay!” you shove him, “stop asking so many damn questions!”

“tell her not to shove me like that, jake,” jay says, watching you with satisfaction as your eyes go wide and you whip around to see jake approaching the two of you. 

“don’t hit jay, princess, he has weak skin,” jake tells you, to which jay retorts with “fuck you, sim, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

princess?

well that’s a new one… all of these new nicknames jake has given you since he fucked you have been driving your head crazy, less than platonic feelings swelling inside your tiny, drunk brain as you stare up at the man who grabs a water from the fridge.

“i’m on no one’s side here,” jake argues, twisting the cap off and taking a sip of water. you watch his throat suck the liquid down, adam’s apple bobbing. your body buzzes in response to the small action, stopping yourself from reaching out and running a finger, or your tongue, over the expanse of his throat.

jay tucks a finger under your chin, pushing upwards to make your jaw return to the rest of your face. you smack him on the chest, “don’t touch me, jongseong,” you warn, trying to ignore the fact that you were nearly drooling over jake right in front of him.

“you wanted him to see you drooling, then?” jay counters, voice low enough for jake to miss it.

“shut the hell up,” you ignore his words, eyes returning to jake who is watching you expectantly.

“i’ll be back,” jay exits the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone in the dimly lit room among the various bottles of liquor lining the island and fridge.

“hi, gorgeous,” jake invades your space, pushing you backwards until your back is pressed against the edge of the cold granite countertop.

“jake!” you place your hands on his chest, trying to push him away, “are you trying to make sure people see us like this?!” jake wraps a hand around you, his palm splayed against your upper back, pressing you closer to him.

“maybe.”

you shake your head, watching his eyes darken as he watches you, “did you have fun talking to jay, baby?”

“jake, i’m not going to fuck him, so don’t even start getting mad,” you warn.

“i know pretty, i’m the only one who gets to see you like that, aren’t i?” your silence paired with flushed cheeks gives jake the answer he’s searching for, grinning in response. “good.”

“meet me in the bathroom at the end of the hall in two minutes,” he whispers into your ear before departing from the kitchen, the words making you squish your legs together. you wait with bated breath, watching as the clock on the microwave ticks to the next minute. fuck it, you mumble before setting your drink down and following him, knocking softly on the door before jake tugs you inside.

“hmm, eager, are we?” jake teases, locking the door and pulling you against him by your waist as he leans against the bathroom counter. “couldn’t wait any longer, could you?” you shake your head, words failing you as your face sits desperately close to his, desire swirling beneath your skin. “my obedient girl.”

“wanna suck your dick,” you beg, jake groaning and leaning his head back at your admission, “fuck, pretty, you can’t just say shit like that,” he pushes you down onto your knees, watching in awe as you instantly begin to fumble with his pants, tugging them down. you watch with wide eyes at the sight of his half hard dick sitting beneath his boxers, placing a kiss against the length through the fabric.

“don’t tease me, pretty girl,” jake warns, his tone conveying all the punishments you’d receive for disobeying him. “yes, sir,” you reply, the words going straight to jake’s cock as it hardens in your grasp. “say that again,” he groans, watching your tiny hand as you’re barely able to wrap all the way around his girth.

“say what again? sir?” you watch his cock twitch in your hand, the sight bringing a smirk to your face, kitten licking his tip before placing a delicate kiss on his slit. “you’re so big, sir, i don’t know if you’re gonna fit in my mouth…” you look up at him, blinking your eyes innocently.

you watch as his eyes darken at your actions, “i’ll make it fit, angel,” he presses on the back of your head, guiding you to take his length in your mouth. you slide down, his long cock pressing into the back of your throat harshly, the girth of it stretching your mouth out. “fuck, look at you– you were made to take my cock like this.” jake groans as he watches you suck him in, “my cock.” he reiterates and you nod around his length, continuing to bob up and down before jake takes control, fucking your face.

you begin to drool around his length as you let him use your mouth for his own pleasure, “fuck, baby, taking me so well– letting me fuck your throat like this, you’d let me do anything to this perfect body, wouldn’t you?” he doesn’t need a reply, already knowing the answer as he admires the way your lips stretch around his length, the sight stirring a feeling deep in his stomach. jake thinks you look gorgeous like this, gazing up at him with wide eyes and a hungry gaze, somehow taking his cock deeper every time.

his tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly as jake fucks your face, chasing his high. you keep your mouth slacked, his girth and length making you feel completely stuffed, “look at these tits,” jake watches your tits bounce beneath your tank top, “fuck, you’re perfect,” jake groans as you reach down and squeeze his balls with one of your hands, the other gripping his thigh to keep yourself upright as you sit back on your haunches.

“i’m gonna cum down that gorgeous throat,” jake babbles, even his mindless near-orgasm ramblings sound like music to your ears. he yanks you back and forth along his length a few more times before shoving your face against his pelvic bone, nose smushing against the space right above the base of his dick. you groan at the feeling of his cum hitting the back of your throat, “take it all like the dirty slut you are,” jake commands, pulling away from your mouth slowly after his balls are empty, watching you with a lazy gaze. “swallow.” you follow his instructions promptly, gulping down before sticking your tongue out for him to examine, the sight nearly making him hard again. “good fucking girl,” he praises you, tugging you up off of your knees to meet your lips in a searing kiss.

you groan realizing jake is tasting himself on your lips, the fact not seeming to bother the man as he pushes his tongue into your mouth hungrily, large hands holding your face possessively. “mine,” he whispers against your lips, feeling as you nod in response. “thank you, baby.” he presses one last, gentle kiss against your waiting lips as he tucks himself back into his jeans. “let me make you feel good, too.”

you shake your head, resting both of your hands on his chest, a yawn rising from deep in your belly, “i’m okay, jakey,” you offer him a smile, “tired all of a sudden.” 

“come on, i’ll take you home.”

“i missed you,” wonyoung smiles as the two of you sit together in the library, “feels like that damn flu took me out for fifty years,” she exaggerates, giggling lightly as she sips on her coffee through a small blue straw.

“i know. you’ve missed… a lot.” you cover your face, embarrassment already heating your cheeks. “i… jake and i are sleeping together.”

wonyoung squeals and you glance around worryingly, watching as other students glare at the two of you. you smile in apology, turning to wonyoung and smacking her arm, to which she exclaims a small, “ow!”

“why are you hitting me? this is so exciting!” she whisper yells.

you shake your head, “i mean, yeah it’s exciting, kind of…” you sigh before meeting her gaze, “he doesn’t… it’s… he made it clear that this is a no strings attached kind of situation.”

wonyoung’s eyes go wide, “you’re lying!” you shake your head as her expression shows how much of a hard time she is having trying to process this information. “i– and you agreed to that?”

you nod, shame dusting your face and ears in a deep pink hue, “i just… i couldn’t say no, he had just finished fucking the brains out of my skull, and i think i’m just desperate to have him around in any way that i can… even if it means hurting myself in the process.”

“my poor y/nnie… he still doesn’t know you like him?” you shake your head, to which wonyoung sighs, “it’s been so long, why don’t you just tell him? what’s the worst that could happen?”

“you know exactly what could happen, wony. i could fuck up years of a friendly-ish relationship, and double fuck up the situation we have now. feelings just get in the way of everything.”

wonyoung places her hand atop yours on the table, rubbing the back of your hand in a soothing motion, “well, whatever you decide, it will all turn out okay. i promise. i don’t think jake would ever hurt you on purpose.”

you inhale deeply at the thought of jake caring about you on more than a surface level. “don’t say that, don’t get my hopes up… it’s just gonna hurt more when everything ends up exploding in my face.”

you don’t know how jake convinced you to go to the library with him, citing something about how you’ve been sucking in class these days and he needed to make sure you were studying so that he still had someone to compete against. which was a lie, you were doing just fine in class recently.

you’re absolutely trying to study, but feeling jake beside you makes it an impossible feat. your eyes skim over the digital textbook on your laptop in front of you as jake zones out at random areas of the room, every once in a while his eyes landing on you as he stares for a beat before allowing his eyes to wander around the room once more.

jake’s leg is bouncing up and down as the two of you sit side by side, tapping a pattern on his jeans as he struggles to focus. you eye him up with a confused stare, “what is it?”

jake pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, the sight sending heat straight to your core. “you don’t wanna know, baby.”

his response has a strange bout of confidence sprouting inside your tummy. your hand rises to meet him, rubbing and squeezing on his inner thigh, scarily close to his dick that’s getting harder by the second, “you don’t wanna do that, angel.” jake warns, watching you with a dark gaze. you can see the lust fluttering through his irises, dark and intoxicatingly addictive. you move up to his clothed bulge, giving him a feather light squeeze. jake bites back a groan, his head tipping back as his eyes flutter shut in an attempt to keep his composure. he leans over to whisper in your ear. you can feel his breath on your neck sending shivers up your spine.

“stop, or i’ll bend you over this table right now and fuck you in front of everyone here.”

you gasp in response, grinning as you watch him with a mischievous look in your eye, one that he’s come to quickly recognize since agreeing to your… special relationship.

jake pulls back, his stare darker than moments before and you feel yourself falling into his brown eyes, pupils wide and staring at you as lust dances across his irises. “last chance to back out, angel.”

you shake your head lightly before jake rises, packing both bags in a hurry, tugging you out of the library and heading to your apartment building. “your apartment better be empty, or else wonyoung might get a free show.”

“oh my god, jake,” you’re barely able to keep up with him as he drags you along with him, nearly stumbling over your own feet to keep up. you enter your lobby, leading him to your first floor room and unlocking the door hastily. the moment he’s inside the foyer of your apartment, jake is shoving you up against the door, his lips finding yours instantly. “trying to work me up in front of everyone, baby?” he purrs, one hand cupping your face gently while the other has a searing grip on your hips. every spot he touches burns, watching him with affection in your gaze. “too needy to wait until later, huh?”

you nod dumbly, covering the hand against your cheek with your own, nuzzling against it as you try to hide your growing shame at being so insatiable that you couldn’t even be in public with him for more than thirty minutes before jumping his bones.

“oh, my pretty girl’s all shy now that we’re home? what happened to that brat attitude from before?” jake kisses the back of his teeth before placing a closed mouth kiss on your pouty lips. you hide from his gaze, embarrassed at your bratty behavior from before. “‘m sorry, sir.”

jake nearly moans hearing you use the name he heard for the first time just days before in the bathroom when you sucked his soul out through his dick. he pulls you close in another passionate, messy kiss. “yeah? baby’s sorry?” you nod, watching him with wide, innocent eyes, not seeing the wheels turning in his head as he watches your tiny figure with glee.

jake walks you through the hallway, lips wandering and planting kisses on every bit of exposed skin on your upper half. you lead him to your door, twisting the handle quickly before stumbling inside. jake shuts the door with his foot as he backs you up onto your bed. “i think my baby deserves a punishment.”

jake presses further against your lips, his hands sliding up your frame to hold your tits gently, “could play with these all day,” he mumbles, kneading them in his large hands. you kiss him back slowly, feeling the tension from the past few days dissipate the further he pulls you in, losing yourself in the feeling of his soft lips dancing against yours.

jake smiles as he gives each breast one final squeeze before pulling your sweatshirt over your head, “had i known you were bare under here, baby…” jake sucks harshly on your nipple, your back arching up against his mouth, begging for more.

“you’re lucky i didn’t bend you over that table,” he bites at your breast, leaving a teeth mark on the side of the plump flesh. “everyone would learn fast who you belong to, wouldn’t they?”

you nod, moaning out as he continues his onslaught against your nipple, sucking and biting with fervor, his cock standing tall and proud in his sweatpants.

“you wore those on purpose,” you squeak out between loud moans.

“what? these?” jake motions to the gray sweatpants covering his strong legs, “didn’t know they’d affect you so much, would’ve worn them way sooner if i knew you’d pounce on me like the little slut you are.” he guides your hand to the crotch of his pants, allowing you to squeeze his length through the fabric of his sweats. more wetness gushes out of you at the feeling of the weight of his member, knowing all the damage he can do to you with it. “my little slut, isn’t that right?” you nod diligently, rubbing up and down on his length, trying to rile him up.

jake halts your actions, “naughty whore, can’t even be patient,” he scolds, leading your hand to dip under his waistband. you gasp at the feeling of him not wearing any boxers, allowing you to hold him in your hand, warmth spreading through your body as you jack him off lazily.

jake pulls his sweats down just below the base of his dick and it springs free, hard and ready for you. “fuck–” you groan, watching closely as your hand continues its diligent motions. “love your cock, sir.”

“i know you do, baby,” jake pets your hair gently, “such a good little cock slut, always ready to take me,” he dips his other hand beneath the waistband of your sweats, pushing his hands through your folds. “already this wet and i’ve barely even touched you.”

“just for you,” you groan as he dips one finger inside, pumping roughly, searching for that spongy spot inside of you. jake slips another finger inside, his movements quickening as he listens for the gorgeous noises he loves to hear spill from your lips.

“pull these down,” jake commands and you use your free hand to tug your pants and panties down and off your legs. jake can feel himself salivating at the sight of your gorgeous pussy, slipping a third finger inside next to the other two. he buries them knuckle deep before pulling out, repeating his actions over and over as he watches your facial expressions convey the pleasure he’s bringing you. “fuck, look at you, weak for me and i’m only using my fingers,” the commanding tone in his voice makes you shiver, eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze, dark and swimming with lust. “fuck, jake–” you groan as you feel his fingers begin to reach deeper, your pussy nearly swallowing his hand to the knuckles each time.

“look at how i’ve stretched this tiny pussy out,” jake chuckles, his voice rumbling with need as he glances down at his cock where you’ve halted your handjob, back arching off the bed. he removes his fingers promptly, causing you to whine loudly.

“sir, please–” you plead, eyes brimming with tears, “was so close! i’ll be a good girl!”

jake watches you with amusement, the sight of you whimpering beneath him forcing his brain into overdrive, “good girls do as they’re told. keep jacking me off and if you stop again i won’t let you cum.” you nod at his words, resuming your actions, groaning as you pay extra attention to his leaky red tip, squeezing harder every time you reach the top.

jake dips three fingers back inside you, watching as you squeak out and start panting as he hits a particular spongy spot inside of you. jackpot.

he assaults this spot, other hand snaking down to rub mercilessly at your clit. jake groans as your grip on him becomes tighter as you near your high, “gonna make a mess on my fingers like the good girl you are?”

you nod quickly, mouth hanging slack with your tongue lolling out as you squeak at every jab against your g-spot. “f– f– u– uck–” you scream out between thrusts, your pace on his dick speeding up as you approach the edge. 

with one particularly tight yank of his dick and a swipe over his tip, jake cums hard, liquid spurting out onto your chest and some on your gaping hole. he stills his actions for a moment before coating fingers on both of his hands with his seed. you feel his cum inside you, tears flowing at the onslaught of varying sensations on you at once. his other hand returns to your clit, his lips coming to suck on it as he rubs roughly, while still fucking you with his long, slender fingers.

“ahh!–” you scream out, back arching off the bed as the coil inside you threatens to snap, “fuck! jake–” a slap against your clit followed by a harsh suck of the hardened bud causes you to tumble past your precipice, all of your limbs stilling as jake never halts his actions. he pulls away from your clit to look down. the sight of you cumming, liquid spilling everywhere makes his cock jump, “fuuuuuck, baby,” he continues ramming his fingers inside of you with expert precision, “such a messy girl.”

his words bring a burning sensation to your cheeks, trying to scramble away from jake as he overstimulates you heavily, never ceasing his actions, “jake, please–”

“you’ve got one more in you, baby,” jake tells you, “let jake help you.”

jake removes his fingers before sliding home, his thick cock reaching impossibly deep inside you instantly, sucking him in with familiarity and a still present stretch from the sheer size of him. “fuck, your pussy is heaven sent, angel,” jake’s need overtakes him, jackhammering inside of you harshly, your body jerking with each thrust inside of your already abused hole. he snakes a hand around, holding your asscheeks apart with both hands, lightly tracing a finger around the rim of your asshole. “ahh!–” you gasp at the intrusion, “jake!–”

“this belongs to me, too,” jake tells you, slowly pushing the pad of his finger past your puckered ring, “jake!” you scream, eyes rolling back at the feeling of being double stuffed, even with just a bit of his finger breaching your ass.

“i knew you’d be a slut for anal,” jake whispers as his pounding continues, finger slowly pushing further in through your backdoor, “i’ll hit it from the back next time, how about that, my dirty girl?”

you shake your head, your body’s reaction saying the opposite as jake starts to pump his finger in and out of your tight hole in rhythm with the way his cock is pounding your pussy. “moremoremore!”

“yeah baby? more?” jake shoves his finger further, picking up speed in both holes, nearly cumming seeing the bruise already forming on your plush breast from the searing bite he gave it earlier, the imprint of his teeth visible even from a distance. jake uses his free hand to squeeze your throat tightly, “greedy little cock slut always needs more, can’t just take what she’s given.”

your vision starts to go white from the pressure on your windpipe combined with jake’s dick hitting your spongy spot and his finger pumping knuckle deep into your ass, knowing he’s the only one who’s ever been there. your eyes roll back into your head as you cum, the experience feeling different from any other time you’ve orgasmed.

“you trying to make me cum right now? squirting on me like that, baby?” more liquid continues to gush out of your hole, the wetness on jake’s dick making him groan loudly. he pulls his finger from your ass when the liquid is done streaming from your weeping cunt, smacking your ass harshly and groping at your cheek. “next time, i’m fucking this ass.” he gives you another rough smack, this time on the opposite side, before pulling out of you. “right now? i’m gonna fuck these tits.” jake crawls up your body sliding his dick between your plush mounds of flesh, squeezing them tight around his length. “look at you, letting me use this fucking perfect body however i need,” jake groans, pinching your nipple with one of his hands as he pumps in and out, eyes trained on the way your tits nearly completely cover his length. he chases his high, knowing you’re not anticipating his next actions, your eyes fighting to stay open as he uses you as he pleases.

“fuck, you’re perfect,” jake whispers, teetering on the edge of cumming before he slides away from your tits, shoving his length back into your gaping pussy. a few pumps is all it takes before he’s spilling inside of you, cum hitting your walls in long spurts and filling your pussy, dripping out of you and landing on the sheets beneath you. jake fucks you through his orgasm, pushing two fingers into your mouth before rubbing your abused clit with precision.

“no!– no more, jake!–” you try to push him away, overstimulation tingling around your body after two mind blowing orgasms have already rendered you utterly exhausted.

“your body’s telling me otherwise,” jake smirks, feeling your pussy tighten around him with every pump of his cock and flick of your hardened nub, “gonna give you one more, angel. you can do it.”

you argue against him, the little whimpers leaving your mouth betraying your actions. you scream loudly as the wave of pleasure washes over you, and still jake fucks you through it, his movements never ceasing. you still as it wrecks through you, orgasm finally subsiding as jake pulls out of you slowly, hands running up the sides of your body gently, holding you like you’ll break if he presses too hard. he traces the curves of your body with admiration, wondering how he got so fucking lucky to have you beneath him.

“look at my pretty girl.” he smiles as he watches you return to the land of the living, your mind spinning after three orgasms. jake leans over your body, placing gentle kisses all over your face and neck, littering your body with affection. “did so good for me, angel. such a good girl.” you smile as his words register in your ears, the ringing in them finally leaving as your body returns to its natural state of relaxation.

“no more, please,” you beg.

jake nods, offering you a smile, one that neither of you realize has hidden feelings brewing behind it. “no more, promise. my baby did so good.” he stands on the side of the bed, picking you up and leading you to the bathroom. jake sits you on the counter and starts running water, testing the temperature for you before corking the tub and watching it fill with perfectly hot water.

“mmm– jakey,” you mumble.

he turns to you, standing between your legs, rubbing circles on your kneecaps as he watches your drooping eyes try to focus on his face. “still with me, angel?” you nod lightly as he places a kiss on your forehead. “good, gonna get you all cleaned up and then we’ll get some sleep, okay?” you nod again.

jake sits there for a moment, memorizing the lines of your face and the feeling of your soft skin beneath his fingertips. he turns and stops the water from running. “come here, beautiful,” jake lifts you up again and places you into the tub. you sit there, mind still fuzzy, watching the ceiling lights reflect against the surface of the water. jake tugs his shirt off before sliding in behind you, letting your back rest against his chest.

jake grabs your body wash, lathering it between his hands before he gently spreads the bubbles across your body, diligently scrubbing your tired body clean.

“thank you,” you mumble, leaning the crown of your head back against his chest to look up at him, “of course, angel.” he kisses your forehead and you smile at the action, feeling him rinsing the soap from your skin before your eyes flutter shut for a moment.

the sight of you falling asleep against jake gives him a warm feeling in his stomach.

he washes up quickly, trying to not disturb your sleeping form. jake uncorks the bath and stands, reaching for the nearby towel before helping you to your feet. he dries himself quickly after realizing there’s only one towel, and then he’s wrapping you in it and guiding you to step out of the tub, your eyes still conveying how tired you are. jake tugs on his sweats before stepping back into your bedroom, digging through your drawers for clean clothes. he finds a suitable sleep set and a clean pair of panties before returning to your exhausted form standing still in the bathroom, leaning against the countertop.

“alright pretty,” he guides your legs to step into your panties, pulling them up your legs slowly before following them with a pair of shorts, “did so good for me, baby.” he reassures your tired mind, placing a gentle kiss on your hip after pulling the shorts up to rest on your waist.

jake finishes drying off your top half before tugging the shirt he picked out over your frame, helping you get your arms into the holes. once you’re fully dressed, he watches you with an unknown emotion stirring deep inside his body. “nap time,” he offers you a smile before leading you back to your bed, making note to wash your cum covered sheets later once the two of you wake up again. he lays you down on top of your comforter to keep a barrier between the stained sheets and your freshly washed body, crossing the room to grab a throw blanket and placing it on top of you. jake sneaks in behind you, wrapping his arms around your center and resting his head on your shoulder, breathing in your fresh scent, a smell that brings a sense of peace to his otherwise busy mind.

“get some sleep,” jake kisses your cheek then your shoulder before returning his head to the place it feels most comfortable.

“goodnight, angel.”

you slide through the front door of the frat house the next day, watching as yet another party unfolds before your eyes. you glance around, looking for heeseung or jay, or even sunghoon, knowing jake would reveal himself later in the evening when he got tired of watching you walk around in the tiniest skirt known to man, one you wore purposely just to rile him up.

you pass by a few aquaintances as you continue your search, greeting them kindly, stopping for small talk. the hallways reveal none of the men you’re looking for as you glance down the endless expanse of random doors that line the walls. you stand at the bottom of the stairs, about to head up before you see two people nearly fucking on the top of the steps, causing you to turn around and head back towards the living room.

you walk out into the backyard, finding sunghoon talking with someone near the side of the house, beginning to approach them before you stop. their hushed voices reach your ears as a distinct accent hits you.

“there’s no way you don’t like her, man, i’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“sunghoon,” jake warns, “i don’t like y/n, bro. she means nothing to me, seriously. drop it.”

you feel your heart shatter beneath your ribcage, pieces scattering out and stabbing themselves into your organs as you step back into the house, bumping into someone who catches you before you can tumble to the ground.

“y/n, you okay?” heeseung asks as he watches you, searching your face.

“i– i’m fine heeseung,” you try to wrestle from his hold, “please let me go,” you whimper, tears sliding down your cheeks pathetically, trying to hide your embarrassed face from the tall man.

heeseung drags you into the kitchen, thankfully empty of jay’s usual presence, and he lifts you to sit you down on the counter, the cold surface against your bare legs grounding you the slightest bit. “what’s wrong? do i need to call wonyoung?”

you shake your head, burying your face in your hands, sobs racking your entire body. “i’m so stupid,” you explain between tears, “i shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, i really didn’t mean to, but i heard jake talking about me with sunghoon and i–” you whimper audibly, wiping your eyes with your forearm as you look up at heeseung, who is watching you closely. “i like him so much, heeseung, i have for so long, and he said i didn’t even mean anything to him, and now i feel so fucking embarrassed!” you ramble, your mind feeling fuzzy as you try to fight the tears continuing to tumble down your cheeks, “ever since jay’s birthday party he’s been treating me different, and sometimes i guess i had tricked myself into thinking he might like me back… he– he says the sweetest things whenever we have sex, and treats me so gentle after and calls me all these nicknames… i guess he just says that shit to every girl he manages to get in his bed,” your crying has slowed, anger beginning to mix with sadness as your emotions shift slightly.

“i can’t believe i actually went along with his dumb idea,” you scold yourself, “i’m seriously so stupid.”

you can’t believe you wanted so desperately for jake to return your feelings that you let him use you, believing that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you did. and he shoved your hope right back in your face just to taunt you with it.

god, this is useless.

you’re useless, your brain reminds you.

maybe jake had a point in using you for his own pleasure. he has never once shown you any romantic interest before you agreed to a change in your relationship dynamic, so why would anything change suddenly at the drop of a hat?

why would you think you’d ever be enough for him?

you shake your head, eyes brimming with more tears at the memory of allowing him to use you without question, wondering if you even meant anything at all to jake, sexually or otherwise. how had your crush gotten so bad that you’d let a man devour you and rip you apart just to leave you to pick up the pieces yourself? the sim jaeyun you found yourself crushing on was leagues different than the man you just overheard, and you felt your stomach sink at the thought of the boy you once knew becoming barely recognizable.

“y/n,” heeseung’s voice brings you out of the fog, “y/n, it’s okay, you’re not stupid.” he wraps you in a tight hug, the tears returning as you soak the shoulder of his shirt. “jake’s stupid if he doesn’t realize what a catch you are, pretty.” he rubs your back gently.

“everything okay in here?”

“not now,” heeseung attempts to shoo jake away, to which the australian boy stands still, watching with confusion. “jake, seriously, go away.”

heeseung stumbles as jake shoves him lightly, “what the fuck did you do, man!”

“what you should be asking is what the fuck did you do, jake,” heeseung glares at him, watching his best friend nearly fuck up everything he doesn’t know he’s been longing for this whole time.

jake lets heeseung’s words slip past him, turning to you, eyes lined with concern, “you okay?”

you watch jake, tears still slowly sliding down your red cheeks, shaking your head, “leave me alone, sim.” the venom in your tone tears at his heart, watery gaze watching him with hatred brewing in his heart, “don’t pretend like you care about me.”

“i–”

“jake, leave before something worse happens,” heeseung advises him, holding back the words he actually wants to say to his helplessly blind and stupid best friend. jake obeys, walking slowly out of the kitchen with one last glance at you, the sight of you crying into heeseung’s hold nearly breaking him in two.

oh fuck.

the tidal wave of emotions hits jake all at once, feelings he’s unknowingly denied since you first met all those years ago beginning to settle into his gaze, watching you with hurt at the way you pushed him away with your words.

heeseung pulls jay into the kitchen as he’s walking by, instructing him to take care of you. heeseung approaches jake, who is standing right outside the kitchen and tugs him further into the house, away from you and your sad eyes. “jake, what the fuck dude!”

“i didn’t do anything!” he fights back.

“why the hell would you say that shit about her to hoon!”

realization dawns on him, bringing jake to rub a tired hand against his face, “god, she heard me, didn’t she?” jake asks sheepishly, to which heeseung hits him in the shoulder, saying “yes, you idiot!”

“fuck…” jake sighs deeply, looking up at heeseung, “i really fucked up, didn’t i?”

“yes, dummy!”

jake pinches the bridge of his nose, biting his lower lip out of frustration, “if i was her i’d hate me right now.”

“did you actually mean all that shit you said?”

“i– i didn’t really think much about what we were doing, but hoon was grilling me and saying all this shit like he always does and i just wanted him to shut the hell up, he was overwhelming me with all his stupid questions,” jake shakes his head, frustration brewing in his stomach.

“you like her, don’t you?” jake doesn’t meet heeseung’s eyes, only nodding and sighing deeply, “i didn’t think i did, but seeing her push me away like that made me so sad, dude. i don’t want her to hate me…”

“sometimes you’re stupid, jake,” heeseung places his hands on his shoulders, “just go, man. sleep it off and give her some space. you broke her damn heart, dude.”

you wake up in an unfamiliar bed, glancing around before realizing you’re still in the frat house. “good morning, sunshine,” sunghoon smiles at you as he exits the bathroom, “about time you woke up.”

“sunghoon… what the hell happened last night?” your mind is running a mile a minute, praying you didn’t sleep with jake’s best friend.

“there was no funny business, don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” he reassures you, “heeseung brought you here after you nearly cried yourself into a coma in the kitchen.”

you rub at your eyes, sighing loudly as the night’s events wash over you suddenly. “jake’s not here, is he?”

sunghoon shakes his head, “no, he’s not here, so don’t freak out.”

you sigh loudly, “are jay and heeseung here?” sunghoon nods in response, “yeah, jay’s probably cooking something up for you right now.”

“morning, sleeping beauty,” jay greets you as you stumble into the kitchen, the clothes against your skin meant for a much larger frame as you nearly trip over the extra fabric hanging off the bottom of your sweatpants, the legs too long for your shorter body. these must be heeseung’s…

“hi,” you return the greeting, sliding up to sit at a barstool at the island. “is… are you guys okay?”

“us?” jay questions, glancing back at you from his spot at the stove where he’s frying two eggs for you, “i should be asking how you are, y/n.”

“i– i don’t know, honestly. my head really hurts.” jay nods his head towards the end of the island, “heeseung left some ibuprofen out for you.”

you take it, mentally noting to thank him later. “how are you feeling about… everything you heard?” jay questions, trying to choose his words carefully.

“i– he really hurt me, jay.” jay can hear the sniffle in your voice, mentally cursing out his best friend for being so damn blind to his own feelings this whole time. “i don’t… i don’t think i’m gonna go to class today. i can’t face him right now.” your voice is small, your spirit broken from what you overheard last night, knowing all of this, all of you, everything the two of you experienced together and made each other feel, truly meant nothing to him.

“eat up,” jay presents your plate to you. “how’d you know how i like my eggs?”

jay shrugs, grinning, “lucky guess,” he lies easily, knowing now wouldn’t be the right time to tell you that jake gave all six of his close friends a rundown on your favorite and most hated foods after getting plastered one night a few weeks ago.

heeseung ends up driving you back to your apartment, despite protests that it’s close enough to walk. he drops you off, making you promise to eat lunch at the least.

you spend the day lying in bed, alternating between crying until you can feel your chest heaving and a dryness in your eyes from having already cried all the liquid out of your body, to taking intermittent naps, snuggling under your blanket, grasping it tightly for any semblance of stability.

of all the people he chose to hurt, it had to be you. you, the person who has been with him through many stages of life, competing closely with him and hiding your feelings from the first day that you met. the doe eyed boy you met all those years ago felt like a distant memory from the man who decided to control your life and mind, using you for his own gain and tossing you aside when he felt it was fitting.

oh the things you’d do to forget you ever met sim jaeyun.

the next day you drag yourself out of bed, attempting to at least look presentable before stumbling into class, walking to the back and sitting next to riki, not daring to even glance in jake’s direction. riki greets you with a slight nod of his head and you offer him a small smile, the most genuine one you can muster up, for him not forcing you to speak. you know your voice will betray you, and the minute you start speaking you’ll cry instantly.

jake can’t stop looking back at you, his heart breaking every time he sees the frown etched into your features, brows tugged down and lips curling into the opposite of what he wants to see. he tries to catch your gaze, but you avoid him completely, “can he stop looking back here,” you mumble, pulling a small chuckle from riki’s lips. “don’t pay him any mind, y/n.”

the class goes by agonizingly slow, each pointed glance in your direction from jake tearing the pieces of your heart further apart. you ignore him time after time until the professor dismisses you, and you turn to riki with pleading eyes. “can i… can i walk out with you?”

“of course,” riki’s kindness makes your gloomy day a little bit brighter as he gathers his things and leads you out of the classroom, using the door furthest from jake. jake watches you leave, sighing deeply, hoping you won’t avoid him forever.

you walk into your next class with jake a minute late, glancing around to see all the seats taken besides your usual one beside the man you’d like to see the least right now. you set your things down gently and take your seat, watching the professor as they drone on about the lesson. you will your brain to focus on the lecture, but the presence beside you is causing a thumping in your skull and a buzz in your bones. jake keeps stealing glances at your profile, watching and holding himself back from reaching out to touch you gently, to calm the leg that you’re shaking beneath your desk.

you spend the period zoning out, not even caring when the teacher hands out the tests from last week, a high score sitting atop your worksheet. jake watches as you pick the paper up, seeing that he’s lost to you again. the realization doesn’t bring him anger or a competitive drive today, no, it brings him an immense feeling of being lost. jake thinks he’s lost apart of himself when you started ignoring him, and he knows it’s his own fault, vowing to heeseung that he’d fix what he broke between the two of you

you leave the classroom as quickly as humanly possible, hoping to escape without jake catching you. “y/n, please, can we talk?” he questions after catching your wrist in his grasp in the hallway.

you shake your head, watching him with a teary gaze, unable to even squeak out all the things you want to say to him. you want to curse him for ever making you fall for him completely. you urge to reach out and pound your fists against his chest, knowing he’s not hurting the way you are. you want to cry in front of him, making him watch to see how he’s broken you down to the lowest version of yourself. but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of any of these reactions, knowing he’d love to see you suffering because of him, knowing he played you just the exact way he planned to.

you yank your hand away from his grip, the skin burning after you rip it from his grasp. you leave as fast as your exhausted, beat down body can carry you, opting to skip the rest of the day’s obligations.

“y/n, here,” wonyoung perches herself on the side of your bed, “i brought you some ramen, heeseung dropped it off for you, said it’s his favorite brand.” heeseung had omitted the fact that this brand is actually jake’s favorite and not his, the sneaky bastard. she smiles as she presents the bowl to you, with some fresh toppings she obviously adding sitting atop the broth and noodle mixture.

“thanks, wony,” you take a bite, groaning at the taste, “this is so good.”

“good,” she watches you eat with worried eyes, “how are you feeling?”

you swallow your bite before looking up at her, “a little better, i guess.”

wonyoung offers you a weak smile, knowing it’s killing her inside to see you going through this situation with jake. “are you going to your next class?” she questions, hoping you’ll say yes, knowing your grades will start to be affected if you keep skipping the way you have the past few days. she also knows all too well that no man is worth jeopardizing your future over, no matter how long you’ve liked him.

you nod, slurping up the bowl’s contents with speed, “yeah, my professor emailed and asked if i was okay, and i don’t want to worry her any further.”

wonyoung nods in approval at your response, “good. just ignore him the whole time, okay?” to which you nod, gulping down the rest of your broth.

you approach your next class feeling a bit better after eating the meal wonyoung so generously made for you, even if ramen is quick and easy to make, she really didn’t have to care for you the way she did time and time again.

you feel a tug on your arm as someone tugs you in the opposite direction of the place you were heading to, pulling the both of you inside an empty classroom and blocking the exit.

you look up to see jake watching you, his eyes less bright than they usually appear to be, the spark you see whenever he’s hellbent on beating you seemingly absent from his gaze.

“please don’t,” you beg him, not wanting to hear him gloat or whatever the hell he’s planning to do here.

“y/n, please,” jake begs, eyes searching your face for some kind of reassurance that you wouldn’t leave, “please, i need to apologize.”

“you don’t have anything to apologize for,” you lie straight through your teeth, “so can i please just leave?”

jake’s pleading voice is slowly breaking down your resolve, “please, can i at least explain?” when you don’t answer, he takes the opportunity to start laying his feelings out on the table.

“whatever you heard me say, i know it sounded horrible, but i didn’t mean it.”

“oh, so you didn’t mean that i meant nothing to you?” he winces at the words that you throw back in his face, knowing that was one of the worst things he could’ve said.

“no, i didn’t mean it,” jake tells you, gaze piercing yours, “i– i was stupid, y/n, you have to believe me. i only said that to get sunghoon to back off, of course i care about you. i’ve spent how many years by your side? and you think i would actually hate you?”

the words ring in your ears, making your head hurt as you continue to listen to him. “i’m so sorry, y/n, i really am. sunghoon wouldn’t leave me alone and i just wanted him to shut up for once.” jake rubs his hands over his face, breathing a deep sigh against his palms before shoving them back into his jacket pockets, gaze meeting yours again. “when we started messing around… i didn’t know how i felt… i thought it was just fun. but every time i saw you i felt weird, and i didn’t know what it meant, i figured it was normal because we’ve been rivals for so long and i’ve always felt this drive to be better than you. but it started feeling different… i started to just want to be around you all the time, whether we were fucking or not, and i kept denying it to everyone who would ask me.”

jake’s mind flashes back to the countless times sunghoon has harassed him, asking when he’s going to confess to you. “i don’t know when i realized it, but i like you, y/n. i guess i have this whole time, and i’m so sorry i made you think that i didn’t.” he resists the urge to reach out and hold your hand in his, knowing the physical touch would likely only bring him comfort, versus the intent being to ground you as well. “i… i really fucked up, i shouldn’t have asked you to be in a friends with benefits relationship, i should’ve known that’s not what you wanted. i’m sorry if you ever felt like i was using you, i… i’m sorry i didn’t realize my feelings sooner.”

jake’s speech knocks the wind out of you as you stare at him blankly, tears brewing in your eyes, “jake, i–” you mumble, mind swimming at his admission. “thank you for apologizing, i– i think i need some time, if that’s okay.” he nods quickly in response, the action warming you up inside.

“take all the time you need. what i just said is a lot, and it’s okay if you don’t forgive me. i just needed to tell you before i lost you forever.”

“i– i’ll talk to you later okay?” jake nods, moving out of the way of the door, watching you walk away. anxiety brews in his gut as he hopes with his entire being that you’ll forgive him, even though deep down he wonders if he even deserves an ounce of forgiveness.

jake concludes that he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, that he’s royally fucked up and he’s determined to fix what he’s broken between the two of you.

you let your emotions brew for a few days, jake choosing to give you space during class and every other time you find yourself near him. relief washes over you every time you see him and he doesn’t rush to your side, knowing the simple action would just further complicate the already confusing thoughts in your mind.

you’re still obviously hurt by what he said, jake’s words creating a hole in your heart feeling like you wasted so much time loving someone and hoping to be loved back, even agreeing to a relationship you knew you couldn’t handle without your emotions getting in the way somehow.

the sincerity of his apology and the fear in his eyes when he explained everything to you still remains in your mind, all the positive memories you have with jake sitting in the forefront of your consciousness. you are itching to forgive him, but the fear of him breaking your heart again rings through your mind with every passing thought.

you’ve made a decision in your head, praying it’s the right one, not wanting to get burned again.

“can i talk to you?”

jake nods his head, bidding his friend goodbye as he follows you through campus. you stop at a bench near the fountain by the engineering building, watching as the water spouts up in a gorgeous display, zoning out for a minute. jake waits patiently for you to speak as he takes a seat next to you.

“jake,” you turn to look at him, “i… i accept your apology.” jake’s eyes light up at your admission, “i know feelings are complicated, mine certainly are right now, i just– did you know the whole time how much i liked you?”

jake shakes his head, “no, y/n, i wouldn’t put you through that on purpose, i promise.”

you nod in response, watching your hands that are clasped together in your lap for a moment before looking back up at him. “i– do you really like me? you promise you’re not lying?”

jake nods, reaching out to take your hand in his, giving it a small squeeze, “no lies, i promise.”

“what… where do we go from here?”

jake thinks for a moment, not prepared for the question, before sucking in a breath and asking, “how about i take you out on a real date?”

he catches you off guard with his question, “yeah?” he nods, “yeah, pretty. i meant everything i said, i don’t want you to slip away when you mean so much to me… it just took me an embarrassingly long time to realize how absolutely infatuated with you i am.”

his last sentence makes you embarrassed and you attempt to hide your burning cheeks, knowing your ears are betraying you with the tips turning red. “okay, sim, you can take me on a date.” jake’s eyes sparkle at your agreement, relief crashing over his body in an overwhelming display. you smile at the way his eyes shine as he watches you, feeling contentment settle into your heart, as if he’s putting the broken pieces back together slowly, fixing what he accidentally broke inside you.

“jake, where are you taking me?” you question, brow quirked as the man you’ve wanted for so long stands before you, leaning against his sleek red car. the sight of him waiting so casually, eyes trained off at something in the distance, makes your heart flutter.

“hi, beautiful,” jake greets you, grabbing your hand and raising it above your head, guiding you to do a spin for him as he appreciates your outfit. “you look gorgeous, angel.”

“you don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” you smile at jake as he leads you to the passenger side, opening the door for you and helping you inside. he steps over and takes his seat on the driver’s side, the engine revving to life with the press of a button. “where are we heading?"

jake uses his left hand to steer, the right resting on the gear shift as he takes the two of you off campus, being extra careful as his car now has precious cargo inside. “it’s a surprise,” the midday sun beams down on the two of you as he turns into a neighborhood. you watch his face, appreciating every feature that you’ve admired for years, heart swelling at the thought of the man in front of you reciprocating your feelings.

jake shifts the car into park after a short drive and you look around, taking in the surrounding area. a playground sits in front of you, a small forest sitting a ways behind it, tall trees towering over everything nearby. the sun still cascades through the leaves as jake opens your door, shutting it behind you as you step onto the asphalt of the parking lot surrounding you. he opens his small trunk, pulling a basket out and a small pink and white checkered blanket. you feel a buzz beneath your skin as your eyes sparkle, realizing jake has packed the two of you a picnic lunch for your first date.

jake leads you over to a small patch of grass behind the playground set, the spot having the greenest grass. you wonder if he picked this spot special for the two of you, the possibility of it making your heart soar. he lays the blanket down, flattening it out so no wrinkles are in sight before placing the basket on top and helping you sit down.

“don’t go thinking i’m some master chef now, okay? i had jay help me…” jake says, wanting to hide his face in embarrassment as he pokes fun at himself. you watch as he pulls a variety of dishes out, “but i made some stuff by myself, too!”

this feels strange, but seeing the usually confident and argumentative man you have fought against academically for all these years seemingly doubting himself? it is definitely a different sensation than the ones you’re used to. but the sight made your insides feel fuzzy, butterflies sprouting in your tummy, watching in real time as you feel yourself falling for him even more. “jake, this is lovely,” you place a hand on his arm, his movements halting in response as you reassure him, giving him a light squeeze. “you’re lovely. i’m flattered you did all of this for me.”

“i wanted you to see that i’m serious about this, about us.”

jake takes the plates and bowls out, handing you one, before setting the silverware down in the middle of the blanket. “here, we made some of my favorites and some foods i remember you mentioning over the years… i hope you still like them,” you can hear how nervous he is, “jake, seriously, stop freaking out. it’s just me,” you tell him as he opens one of the glass dishes revealing a bowl of homemade kimchi stew, a dish you know jake has loved for a long time.

“that doesn’t help me,” jake laughs a little at his own embarrassment and nerves, “that’s the whole reason why i’m so nervous… you’re you, and this is my one chance to show you how much i care about you.”

you watch as he opens the next dish, a box of chocolate covered strawberries, “jake,” you glance up, meeting his eyes as you nearly cry at the worried look in them, “i don’t remember the last time i even had these… thank you.”

“i remember you mentioned them sometime in sophomore year,” jake replies sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck nervously. “holy shit, that makes me sound like such a creep.”

you shake your head, watching jake, “stop it, jake, seriously. i think it’s adorable that you remembered that from so long ago. it’s not weird or creepy!”

jake sees the sincerity in your gaze, letting out a breath of relief, “i… i really like you, seriously, i don’t want to mess up my one chance.”

you grab the sides of jake’s face and gently pull him towards you, capturing his lips in your own, hoping to wash away some of his worries with the action. you feel lighter as you kiss him, his plush, delicate lips feeling like heaven against your own. you missed kissing him, and kissing him now feels so… different. refreshingly so, knowing that the man you’re holding in your arms reciprocates your own feelings that you’ve pushed down and hid from the world for so long.

you pull away after a moment, resting your head against his, “you haven’t messed anything up, jake, okay?”

jake stares into your eyes, his emotions bubbling and growing beneath the surface, watching as he falls more in love with you the longer he watches your gorgeous irises stare back at him, ones that he wouldn’t mind getting lost in. “okay, y/n.” you seal your promise with another kiss, feeling him smile against your lips this time, knowing the man you’re sitting across from is the same one you fell for all those years ago. caring, kind, extremely driven, gorgeous, and above all, captivating in every way, his drive and need to succeed always pushing yourself to be the best version of yourself. and you know his drive to be the best has extended here, going above and beyond to impress you with a sentimental date, the concept of which makes you feel mushy inside.

time passes quickly, conversation and good food flowing between the two of you, giggles and stories being shared, feeling yourself fall further for him the longer you spent by his side. when the sky starts to darken with clouds and the threat of rain, you and jake pack quickly, rushing to the car when raindrops start to fall on your heads. jake drives you both back to campus, the ambience of the water falling on the hood of the car along with the low lull of the radio causing you to fall asleep. jake pulls into his usual parking spot outside his apartment building, picking you up in his arms and setting the picnic basket on your stomach, carrying you to his home, a small studio apartment on the second floor. after somehow unlocking the door without dropping you or waking you up, he sets the picnic basket on the counter before placing you in his bed, tucking you in under his freshly washed blanket. jake busies himself with putting leftovers away as you sleep before coming to join you, sneaking under the covers and spooning you.

jake places a small kiss against the back of your head, watching as your stomach rises and falls peacefully with each quiet breath you take. “sleep well, angel.”

“i haven’t told the guys yet,” jake’s statement shocks you as the two of you walk into the frat hand in hand, a bustling party happening around you. you couldn’t believe after three successful dates and jake asking you to be his girlfriend, that he has kept that from his friends for all that time. “i wanted to tell them together, so they couldn’t bully me.” he jokes, leading you through the house, looking for his three best friends.

you find the three of them standing at the end of a hallway, near the room where you and jake first hooked up. you blush at the sight, glancing up at your boyfriend who gives you a quick wink. “what’s happening in your pretty little head, angel?”

“nothing,” you smack his arm, attempting to push him forwards to meet his friends, “let’s go talk to them before you or i do something crazy.”

“crazy doesn’t necessarily mean bad, though,” jake teases you before relenting, walking towards his friends who all smile at the sight of the two of you.

“i told you so,” heeseung grins the widest of all before jay and sunghoon’s faces drop suddenly, “pay up, jayhoon.”

“stop fucking calling us that,” sunghoon shoves his friend’s shoulder before fishing a $50 bill out of his wallet, jay doing the same but with a $100. “jay you should just be my sugar daddy at this point,” heeseung smirks as he tucks the bills into the inside pocket of his jacket.

sunghoon scoffs at heeseung’s words, shoving his wallet back into his pocket. “heejay will never be a thing, so keep dreaming.” jay teases before looking at you and jake again, watching as you lean your head against his arm as you continue to hold his hand. “glad you came to your senses, jakey boy… i told you it’d work out, didn’t i, y/n?”

“you didn’t say anything remotely close to those words, jay,” you argue, to which he shrugs, “well, i was going to but then you started hitting me.”

“you were playing twenty questions with me while i was in a crisis!”

“we’re actually… i asked y/n to be my girlfriend last week,” jake scratches the back of his head, “so expect to see her around a lot more.”

“ha!” sunghoon smacks heeseung’s shoulder, “pay up!” he sticks his hands out to the other two men, who promptly give him $20 each.

you watch as the money is exchanged, “how much betting on us did you guys do?”

heeseung smirks at the two of you, “a lot. it’s been happening for longer than either of you will ever know.”

“nobody expected jake to actually man up and ask you to be his girlfriend officially this soon except hoon,” jake smacks heeseung and jay at this admission as you realize the trio has known of your semi secret dating the entire time, “what the hell, guys!”

“doesn’t matter, because it all worked out, didn’t it, lovebirds?” heeseung watches you two with a pleased look on his face, “and i knew it would happen, it just took a little while for jake to get his head out of his ass.”

“be nice,” you scold heeseung, “he didn’t know, don’t be mean, heeseung.”

heeseung relents, raising his hands in a defensive manner, “fine, fine.”

the five of you fall into a comfortable conversation, with jay cracking jokes and sunghoon laughing at all of them, heeseung watching them both with amusement in his gaze.

“can we go home? i’m kinda tired…” you ask jake after a while of conversing and enjoying yourself with the four men, staring up at him with two wide eyes that he realizes he’s never been able to say no to, and today will not be the day that he starts. little does he know the ulterior motive brewing in your stomach, wetness growing between your legs since you passed by the room where the two of you first slept together. “sure, pretty. let’s go.” the two of you bid your goodbyes to the trio, watching as they bicker about their betting habits as you head out.

the two of you drive back to jake’s apartment, which will soon be yours since your lease with wonyoung is coming up, and your soon to be former roommate and still current best friend has decided to take a semester abroad, getting into her dream program that she’s been talking about since the summer.

“are you really tired, baby?” a mischievous smile overtakes your features as you shake your head, leading jake to the bed and pushing him to sit on the edge of it. “oh, i see…” jake smiles, hands covering the expanse of your hips as you straddle to sit on his lap.

“want you to make love to me, jakey,” you plead, grinding your core down onto him.

“god, angel–” jake groans at the feeling of you pressing yourself against him, “fuck, you drive me crazy,” he pushes you down further onto his clothed member as you continue your motions, needing to feel more friction. “if i weren’t so hard right now i’d make you ride my thigh forever.”

you groan at his admission, movements faltering and he takes your moment of distraction to pick you up, placing you against the pillows. he pulls back for a moment, tugging his shirt over his head and you gawk at the sight of his toned stomach, only ever seeing it in glimpses during your previous escapades.

“mmm, i could just eat you up,” you tell him, running your fingernails up and down gently along his abs, “can’t believe you’ve hidden this under your shirts all this time…”

“you were itching to get a peek all these years, weren’t you, baby?” jake teases as he takes your shirt off next, tugging your bra off after and pinching a nipple between his fingers. you groan, back arching up as he sucks on the opposite one harshly. “j– jake–” you groan, hands threading into his hair and pulling lightly. he groans against your skin, loving the feeling of the pain rushing through his scalp. “oooh, you like that, pretty boy?” jake moans as you pull his mouth away from your nipple, eyes fluttering shut at the sting traveling through his scalp as you tug at his locks again.

“stop,” jake begs, “another time, baby, let me take care of you tonight.” he sighs in relief as you release your hold on his hair. “alright, sim, you’re free to go this time… but i’ll be saving that for later, baby boy.”

“god, you’re such a menace,” jake groans as his mind returns from the subspace he was slowly slipping into, sliding down the bed until he’s eye level with your core, seeing the wetness nearly escaping from your thin panties. he tugs your skirt off unceremoniously, “been wanting to eat you since the first night i had you, pretty,” jake bites at your panties and yanks them down with his teeth, the sight making you whimper at the pure sex appeal oozing from the man beneath you. jake leans in and dips his tongue between your folds. “fuck, knew you’d taste so sweet, angel.”

jake eats you out like a man starved, slobbering into your folds, pushing his tongue into your pussy, flicking his tongue inside of you. you moan loudly, hands gripping the sheets on the bed, a nearly pornographic sound escaping your lips as jake sucks harshly on your clit, stars appearing behind your eyelids.

“fuck, jake–” you glance down to see the man of your dreams perched between your legs, whimpering at the sight of him biting your inner thighs and gripping your legs tightly, holding them wide open for him to have full access. “you close, angel?” he smiles up at you, the vision of him with your wetness coating his mouth and chin pulling another noise from your parted lips. you nod quickly, “please, jake,” you plead, a request he responds to by continuing his assault on your already abused and leaking pussy, his tongue’s movements pulling a well deserved orgasm from your body, watching as your back arches up, pushing your core further into his mouth.

“jake!” you whine, fluid still gushing out, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure continues to pass over you in overwhelming waves. “‘s too much!”

“oh no it’s not, my sweet angel girl can take it,” jake argues before biting your clit.

“ahh!–” you scream, the sound bringing a smile to jake’s face, continuing to push you to overstimulation with his wet muscle’s motions against your pussy.

jake finally relents after you’re nearly in tears from the overwhelming sensations he’s putting your body through, bringing his face up to be level with yours, his clothed member pressing against your still dripping pussy, “you’re so pretty when you cry, baby.” he whispers with sincerity, capturing your lips in a quick, searing kiss before pulling away again to whisper, “i only ever want to see you cry because i’m making you feel good, okay?”

“okay, jake,” you whisper in response, smile tugging at the corner of your lips at your boyfriend’s insistence on treating you right until the end of time.

“no more crying unless it’s on my cock,” jake smirks, the words making you clench at your pure attraction and adoration for the man in front of you.

watching jake tug his pants down his legs makes you groan, staring down at the huge bulge pressing against his thin boxers. “stop teasing, jake,” you whine.

“baby can’t wait any longer?” you shake your head, watching as jake pulls his boxers off, the blushing, leaking tip of his cock making your mouth water. “ahh, what an eager girl. if you weren’t dripping onto my sheets right now i’d make you suck my cock. but i’ll be nice and give my baby what she needs.” jake rambles on as you can do nothing but stare at his length, drooling at the sight of it, knowing the stretch it gives you is always delicious, never fully adjusting to his generous size even after all the times you’ve been together.

jake breaches your entrance, letting just the tip sit inside your hole. you wiggle, trying to force him further inside, “patience, baby,” he scolds and you whimper at his strict tone coming out. “don’t want me to punish you, do you?” you shake your head. you know you could take a punishment, but right now you just want jake to hold you close as he makes love to you.

jake slowly slides in further, watching with hungry eyes as your hole takes him easily, “fuck, baby, i’m gonna keep you stuffed, my sexy ass girlfriend deserves to be filled up all hours of the day,” he babbles as he buries himself to the hilt, the snug fit of your walls filling his brain with even more delicious, dirty thoughts.

“mm– feel so full,” you mutter, watching jake’s face with adoration and love in your eyes, “thank you, jakey,” you whimper as he slides nearly all the way out, allowing just the tip to stay inside before pushing back in slowly, groaning at the feeling of your gummy walls sucking him right back in without protest, “god, this tiny pussy was made just for my cock.” you nod in response, seeing jake watching your face now before he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pressing himself as close to you as he possibly can as he presses his face into your neck, sucking and biting at the junction between your throat and shoulder. jake tries desperately to leave marks, wanting to see them on your gorgeous skin when he wakes up next to you the following morning; little does he know you’ll wake him up with his cock in your mouth, mumbling around the dick that pushes an ache to your jaw about how you just wanted to help as you saw him sleeping with a tent in his boxers.

“need you closer,” you plead as jake rocks slowly in and out of you, love penetrating each thrust as he buries himself as deep as possible inside your pretty hole, the sensations pushing jake to the edge, the rubber band in his stomach begging to snap. “ugh–” you groan against jake’s lips as he captures them in a kiss, slow and sloppy but so full of want and need and unspoken pleas of never leave my side.

jake pulls away from the kiss, continuing to push into you with slow movements, wanting to feel every inch of your walls with each drag of his cock, holding his impending orgasm back behind gritted teeth, “tell me what you need, baby, wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

“just need you,” you plead, eyes watering from the overwhelming presence of jake bearing his body to you, his mind and soul on display as he shows you how much he needs you with each loving action. “just need you,” you repeat, mind slipping away as he continues his movements, hips never tiring as he chases what he knows you need. jake removes one arm from your neck to snake down to your core, rubbing between your folds to gather up your own wetness before rubbing against your clit in the pattern he knows you love.

“fuck– jakey–” you groan, burying your head into the crook of his neck as he stares down at where the two of you meet, mind never getting tired of the visual of you taking him all inside, his length sliding in and out with ease. jake begins to fuck into you faster, nearly rutting against you as he chases the orgasm he knows is brewing in your gut. “come on, my angel girl, make a mess on me,” his words in your ears as you pull away from his neck to look at him. you nearly cry seeing jake meet your gaze; his delicate brown eyes meeting your own, need swimming in his gaze, “fuck!–” you gasp, beginning to babble words that don’t register in your mind as your high washes over you. jake watches your eyes fluttering shut, finally allowing himself to cum with you, pushing as deep as he can. jake watches as your breathing returns to normal, glancing down at the white ring surrounding his length, some of your cum mixture escaping and spilling everywhere. “god, baby, look at you. my perfect angel.” he traces his thumb along your cheek, watching a smile overtake your lips, knowing you’re utterly spent after only two orgasms. the day’s festivities have taken a toll on you, and he can see the tiredness in your eyes as they watch him with adoration.

you smile, “you don’t even know how happy you make me.”

jake cleans both of you off diligently, promising to throw the bedding in the wash tomorrow, knowing the cum would stain if you left it any longer. “i love you,” he breathes out, watching your face for a reaction at his sudden admission. you nearly cry as the words reach your ears, an overwhelming sensation in your gut. “you do?” you whimper, eyesight feeling blurring from the tears accumulating along your lashline. “i do, baby.”

“i love you, too, jakey.” he wraps you in a hug, neither of you caring that you’re both still naked, just needing to feel his hands holding you close to him. your voice is shaky and quiet as he holds you impossibly close, “i love you so much, you don’t even know.”

jake pulls back, holding your shoulders and placing kisses all over your face, on any spot he can reach, “you don’t know how happy i am to hear that, angel. you’ve made my life so much better.”

“now you have a built in study partner for life,” you tease, smiling at his continued onslaught of gentle kisses across your cheeks and nose, on your eyelids and on the corner of your mouth. “for life, huh?” jake teases, watching as your cheeks burn red at the realization of what you’ve said.

“don’t worry, pretty. now that i have you, i’m never letting you go.”

[lustlovehart]

[ Monsters List ] - Sensitive info with targets abilities

A/n: Not my usual writing at all! these details are relationship stuff each character has with the reader that isn’t shown in the main story. (Some details are omitted to avoid spoilers). Now that this is done, I’ll be going back to the main story line now ^^. If i’m missing any warnings, please say so.

Pairing: [Monster!Twst x Reader] Featuring, Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Trey, Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Rook, Epel, Idia, Malleus, Lilia, Sebek, Silver, Rollo, & Neige.

Summary: Dear, [Name], Crowley just informed me he did not give the courtesy of listing all the beasts and their abilities into your possession, please allow me to be the one to aid you. Here are bullets of their names and prowesses, as well as species. Please, do stay safe and out of trouble, and remember to eat and sleep well. Love, From, Rollo.

“Did it send?” “I… I’m sorry Sir Rollo, it seems we were unable to reach [Name] in time…” “…What.”

Warnings: Some fuffy and some aren’t, Stalking, Mentions of Nsfw (Vil). Zombies (Ace, Deuce), Biting (Ace, Deuce, and Jamil), Squeezing? (Jamil, Floyd), Hints of possession in each section, Blood Drinking (Epel, Jade, Lilia), They’re all monsters that are evil so… Murder, Kisses (Kalim, Floyd, Malleus), Blood,

Prologue Chapter

Riddle Rosehearts [ Ghost ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic. [ Magic is a mystery in the field, all that is known is it’s abilities monsters have that aren’t typically in their species skillset, as well as being especially powerful to utilize it ]

- He posses the abilities of, phasing, possession, kinesis (many different kinds), invisibility, telepathy, and short moments of time where he can have a physical body. He tends to forget he’s a ghost leading to numerous times where you’ve accidentally injuried yourself and he rushes to your side to give aid, only for his to hand phase through you instead of truly helping. He feels guilty not being able to help you.

There’s a secret part of him that feels less guilty and more angry, about being incapable of touching you all the time. Sometimes, he wishes he was Ace just so he could wrap some part of him around you, but alas, he can only do so in short intervals, which just… isn’t enough.

- Has a habit of just, watching. You’ve caught him at your window at night. He insists coming in without permission is unlawful, to which you tell him looking at you through glass is just plain creepy. You now invite him for tea parties, yet that still doesn’t stop him from longingly gazing through the glass that separates you two. (freak)

- Glows a bright red when he’s either angry or extremely flustered. You walked in one time when the former was happening and were temporarily blinded, in your own temporary home no less…

With the latter… he was helping you figure out a crossword puzzle from a lost book you had found during the night. When he helped you figure it out, he swears your smile was so bright he was blinded. In your case, at least you didn’t need a lantern to see the page anymore.

- He has numerous stitches on his body, his mouth, his neck, and his heart, or at least, where it would’ve been had he still had it. In the short times when he decides to take on a physical form, he enjoys letting your hands trace over the numerous threads through his skin… He won’t admit it, but it’s a comfort.

- When he’s working, his exposition completely changes. You get scared of him, you forget just how determined he is to being the pinnacle of perfection, even as a monster.

- Survival: Fear and Grievances, prays on victims through Possesion and death.

Ace Trappola & Deuce Spade [ Zombies ]

- Infectious Bites. There have been many close calls where the two almost bit you, secretly hoping to turn you into them in their delusions of being with you forever, it never works though cause when they try, you turn and give them a smile that haunts them so bad they can’t bear the thought of you hating them. The idea always rears its ugly head back to them, but then you treat the two like a regular human and, unknowingly, save yourself just a little longer.

- Anatomy Control (Disassembling limbs and still having control). Deuce has a very common occurring tendency, that leads him to lose his limbs on occasion. He can still feel what they feel, but when they separate from him, they tend to have a mind of their own. There have been several times where you’ve been the one to return a limb, typically his hand, and he’s all fidgety cause it just refuses to let go of you.

“I… I promise this doesn’t usually happen…! I have no idea why it won’t let go of you” with how lovingly it was stroking your hand earlier (which you won’t mention to Deuce)… You’re not too sure either… Does it like the feeling of warmth? “Next time this happens, just… Feel free to stab it” he looks dejected, but you accept his offer nonetheless.

- Ace has asked to sleep with you in your bed because his grave is so cold and lonely. You wouldn’t want him dying alone a second time right? That’s too cruel. He was surprised when you accepted, even more so when you said there weren’t rules like “You have to stay on this side of the bed!” or “Don’t touch me!”, he asked you if you had a thing for him, to which you only quirk up your eyebrow at his question.

“Hm…? I’ve slept with someone before, I don’t think it’s that serious.” … What. Who’s this someone?! He doesn’t end up sleeping as he’s left wondering who you’ve been with before him, little does he know this someone was just a reserved monster hunter who was watching over you with a fever.

- They’re the most attached to you, in a physical sense. Considering at least one, or even more, of the limbs on the duo is just bones, along with Deuce missing an eye and Ace missing part of his face, it’s a bit hard for them to go out without giving people a heart attack. So… They break into wherever you’re temporarily staying, which is typically an abandoned house, and accompany you in every location they possibly can. One very worrying thing they do, is stick their limbs in your bag. They won’t admit it but, it’s cause they miss you. You need to tell them sticking Ace’s eye in there to keep watch is NOT okay.

- Survival: Eating Humans

Cater Diamond [ Ghost…? ]

- Phasing, possession, invisibility, telepathy. Though you don’t see him use any of these capabilities very much. You wonder why but never go through with asking him, how could you when he looks so happy to be in your presence? At least, you think he’s happy. You can never tell if it’s genuine or not… His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes like everyone else…

- Whenever he decides to spend his time with you, his face is never close enough in view for you to decipher any real features of his. What color are his eyes? What does his nose look like? Is the diamond you remember on him even there? The basics of a face are in your memory, but you can never remember the more eunique traits of his. You… Don’t know why that is at all. It feels like you’re forgetting something from the first meeting you had with Cater, but your suspicions tell you it had something to do with his face.

- Even though he’s a ghost, it feels like he forgets something about that sometimes… It’s different from Riddle, who simply forgets he no longer has a physical body, it’s like he doesn’t remember he even died in the first place. You’ve seen him all alone, the sunny disposition he proposes to everyone is gone, a hollow feeling in his vicinity. You couldn’t hear it clearly, the only word heard at all being sisters.

- The moment he sees you it’s like he’s scrambling to change his disposition, walking up to you casually as he mentions how cute you look today, ahh you should take him shopping! He’ll be discreet don’t worry—

“Cater, how did you die?”

“Wha—? W-who cares about that, come on just take me to town kay’?” you do end up bringing him as he points at things he’ll never be able to use, commenting on how cute they would be to have and show off, even attempting to wrap his arm around your shoulder before laughing off at his arm phasing through your body and making your spine shiver.

You don’t miss the way his laugh is more forced than usual, and obvious distress at what happened. Why is he so upset he can’t touch you? Is there a reason he wants to so bad? For once, you wanna know.

“Cater, lets go on a date again.”

“I didn’t know you were so up-front…! But, if you’re asking then I just can’t say no can I?”

- Survival: Fear and Grievances, prays on victims through Possesion and death(?)

Trey Clover [ Frankenstein ]

- The sight of a giant, buff, green, adult man, hovering over you like a doting boyfriend as you bake is certainly a domestic sight to behold. Though it becomes less heartwarming when you remember this scientifically resurrected man is 8 feet tall, he can basically reach the top shelf when he’s kneeling.

- Just like the zombies of Heartslaybul, Trey can disassemble his limbs, but he has more control over it than the other two… You’ve had a fair share of moments where you’re trying to eat and a stitched up hand crawls towards you with a piece of cake., it’s sweet, but horrifying in the dark.

- He’s a glorified brick wall, if brick walls could also fight back at insane speeds. You watched him unintentionally scare off another Monster Hunter once, they weren't intimidated by his size at all, even attempting to throw a punch at him to show off. Their try immediately backfired as Trey stood unfazed, watching them run away cradling their hand. Before you can blink, Trey’s already towering over you asking if there was a pastry he should try making for you. Honestly… You need to tell Crowley to hire better employees.

- Trey has electrocuted you once. Totally unintentional on his part, but if someone asked him what he thought when he did it, he would tell them with a soft smile you look cute. Meanwhile, you’re on the other side of the room trying to make sure Trey doesn’t increase the voltage next time he tries holding you. Everytime he attempts to do just that, you’re quick to jump out the way. He’ll smile softly but he can’t deny he’s a little disheartened... Seems he’ll just have to rebuild that trust.

- Despite all the stitches on his body, unlike Riddle, there aren’t open wounds on his body, so he’s technically the only one who can accompany you without drawing too much attention. It’s a secret kept between the two of you, but whenever you head into the square, you both walk to as many bakeries as possible, tasting whatever you can afford. Whenever he put something in his mouth, he’d make an offhand comment about his family. You wonder… How did Trey even resurrect like this?

- Survival: Undocumented

Leona Kingscholar [ Beastman Mummy ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- His skin is wrapped in so many bandages, all of them he can bend at his will. You’re curious as to what he looks like under the fabric, but one glare and the feeling of binds grappling around your body is enough for you to reconsider. That’s only if you attempt to look underneath, if not, he’ll sit in silence as you admire each carefully placed bind, cracking an eye open to watch you close in on him in curiosity.

- Watching him manipulate sand just to make places to sleep is entertaining, but being dragged into his timeframe of napping is surely not. The grip he has on you is ironclad as the two of you lay on the grainy bed, if you complain about sand getting into your clothes he’ll make a sly suggestion of “Just take off your clothes” before retreating into a slumber that you can’t shake him from. Even if you did decide to do that, how would you even take them off…? He won’t let go of you…!

- Despite being a former corpse, if he was still mortal, he’d essentially be an ultimate being. He’s super strong, fast, he’s quick at recovering, and even if you did cut off a limb of his he’d regrow in just half the time it took to get it off him. To make it worse he’s handsome, has an air of nonchalance, and a prince. You can just imagine the sound of Crewel and Rollo nagging at you for thinking such heinous things about a beast you’re meant to be killing.

- Whenever Leona controls the dead, you hide behind him. Not because you’re scared of his army, but because they remind you of Ace and Deuce, and you’d rather not see versions of themselves not heed danger whatsoever. You were half awake one time when he summoned corpses, your blurry eyes mistaking two of them for Deuce and Ace, wrapping your arms around their shoulders and pulling them into you. You only realize it’s not them when Leona grabs your from behind and hoists your body onto his shoulder like a sack.

“Wrong Zombies.” he makes an effort to have you sleep more before you accidentally kill yourself for such a small error.

- That little pain inducement ability he has? It sucks. It’s funny when he uses it to telepathically pinch Ruggie when he’s away. But, being reduced to a puddle of pure hurt and strain is the worst. Just watching Leona use it makes you remember… nevermind. Seeing his victims fall to their knees as he drains them of their life force is depressing, the burden of your defeat rearing its shame when he just knocks back and naps as their bodies turn to sand.

- Even when his tail wraps around your leg in a form of adoration, you can’t help but feel disdain for yourself remembering all those who are now dust on the ground because of him.

- Survival: Feeding off vitality

Ruggie Bucchi [ Werehyena ]

- Please tell Ruggie to stop tracking you with his senses and your stolen possessions, you’ve been scared too many times by him popping up out of nowhere. It’s even more horrifying in the night since his face looks so scary (His happy face looks the same as his hunting face. Don’t tell him though, he’ll rob you of your belongings in pettiness.)

- His eyes are so hypnotizing, both poetically and realistically. You’ve seen him mesmerize loving couples into handing over their belongings in his human form, only to revisit them later in the night to consume the rest of his steal. You asked him once what the point is in getting their stuff in the day only to kill them in the night, and he just smiles before softly placing a piece of bread on your lips.

You never take the bread from his hands, allowing him to feed you himself all the time, feeding you with the same hands stained with a bloody ending to a romance story. Maybe… it’ll get his pension for praying on lovers to soften, the thought of having his own might put his thoughts to bay… Who are you lying to that won’t happen, it’s how he lives, and how he will continue to live.

You know it won’t change when he’s desperately trying to hide the red stains under his nails.

- He’s very keen on being in your vicinity. No reason, you think, but he’s just always there, talking to you like normal. Which is weird, why does it feel so normal? The more you ponder it, maybe he’s more natural in your life cause of how equalized he is. He’s laidback yet cunning at the same time, not too good, but not too heinous (if you ignore his murders.) It’s a nice change of pace from people who see, to be heavily relent on one trait. Even though with a kinder personality feel weird… So, talking to Ruggie is a nice escape—

“Ruggie, did you take my wallet again?”

“How’d you think I paid for that bread? Shihihi— Augh! Ow okay I'm sorry—!” he makes it up to you by giving you his portion of food. You pretend to take it out of pettiness, but late at night when he’s sleep, you wrap it up and leave it on his bedside for when he goes hungry in the night.

When he does wake up, he knows who left the meal by his side, including the extras that lay next to it.

- Survival: Eating anything he can get his hands on

Jack Howl [ Human…? ]

- You always wondered how Jack got so built. Of course, if it’s from training, you would never undermine his efforts. But, his strength is so hardcore you doubt it’s even humanly possible. There had been a speech from Crowley in town you attended with both Jack and Rollo, all three of you booted to the very back. When you commented on how you couldn’t see, Rollo told you “We could always move forward—” But he’s cut off with shock when he watches Jack effortlessly carry you onto his shoulder, keeping you rested there for an hour straight without complaint, even shifting the way he holds you depending on what you wanted at the moment.

“We could’ve just gone up there, Jack… Now put them down…!”

“I don’t mind, They seem comfortable here anyway.” You can’t help but laugh at Rollo's overbearing nature, patting his head as you hold onto Jack.

- Hes never answered you before on when or how he joined the hunting organization, literally. He’s so silent when you ask, but the moment you switch to a different topic he’s chiming in his opinion like he didn’t just give you the silent treatment for 15 minutes. He told you he’d never lie to you, so, you guess he was telling the truth about that statement.

- Whenever Rollo is unavailable to you, Jack essentially works as his “replacement” according to Sam. You wouldn’t call him that though, Jack cares for you the same way Rollo does, but he’s a lot less… Restricted towards you. You can go out at midnight with him as long as you let him walk you back home, You can eat more junk food, and you can even go into the forest with him outside of a job! Rollo is oblivious to it, but there are moments where you might, just a tinsy weensy bit, prefer having Jack watch over you compared to him. You still love Rollo though! (Never say that to him directly, he will dissect what kinda of love it is you’re implying for him.)

- Overall, you can’t wait to see him again when you go to Savanaclaw! You’re curious as to why he hasn’t reached back to you after the 2 months he's been there though…

Azul Ashengrotto [ Slime Kraken ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- His true form is huge, being bigger than the size of 5 pirate ships combined. When he shrinks himself though, he’s only 7 feet long and huge, rather than 50 feet long and huge! Less scary right? (it’s not, you’re just trying to delude yourself.)

- It’s more dangerous when considering the substance he’s made out of is multi-purpose, making him invisible, essentially unkillable, and extremely capable in offense. You’ve seen it first hand considering you’ve been on the receiving end of his malice once. If you have to admit it though, it’s a lot scarier watching him use his skills on unknowing sailors. You collect what remains of them, and set them to rest far away from the sea.

- During the night, you’re divided on whether or not he can be considered horrifying, or beautiful. The twins glow, but they're limited to their one-color pallets. Azuls body, channels the light from his surroundings, making him more than one color sometimes. It’s a bit saddening when you notice how insecure he is about the material of his body, even using magic to appear more human-like in his state. If you tell him he’s handsome in his regular slime state, he’ll flush in embarrassment. (If you go a step further and hug him as such a gross substance, goodness, he’s already looking through books at the bottom of the ocean about human courting. Never mind you’re still trying to kill him, he’ll slay your heart if he has to!)

- If he uses Magic, he, can turn himself into a human for a little. He never really had a reason to go on land, he’s powerful in the sea, even ranked as one of the 7 most wanted monsters. But, now that you’re in his life, he wants to follow you and see what it would be like to live with you as a person. He doesn’t call it a date, but he thinks of it as one, even imagines himself telling Jade and Floyd (Little does he know they already beat him to the punch on that one…). You take him by the hand and the urge to stay on land with you becomes even stronger. But, so does the need to have you in the ocean with him.

- His tentacles along with his crazy strength, just make him an even harder foe to fight. Truly… What are you meant to do when you’re sitting down and in his sleep, he just clings onto you with a tentacle, and now you just, can’t leave? Besides he’s asleep, how are they latching onto you so hard… They don't have a mind of their own— You remember seeing an article that wrote about such a phenomenon. Okay, so maybe they do act of their own volition… why do they cling so desperately to you?

- Survival: Eating as much of whatever is available

Jade Leech & Floyd Leech [ Skeleton Sea Serpents ]

- During your stay in their abode, you’d wake up to Floyd squeezing you so hard you swear one of the bones on his tail were gonna puncture you. He’s too strong, horrifically strong to the point you fear getting squeezed more than twice a day could genuinely kill you. If you don’t voice this concern, you might risk your death, but if you do, he’ll restrain himself a bit (he couldn’t bear the thought of killing his shrimpy! You’re too fun to play with, let him kiss those sore places better yeah? Besides, just a little biting doesn’t hurt)

- Their senses are so enhanced, it’s just as scary as their strength. You had sliced your hand once, a medium amount of blood pouring out, and before you could even do anything, Jade had swam up to you and latched onto your wrist, pulling you down, almost tugging you into the water, and began licking the wound clean, his eyes empty and his sharp teeth dragging across your skin. You thought he was miles away…?! How did he know you were bleeding…? When he’s done, he pats your hand and smiles before engaging in a casual conversation about your day, uncharacteristically gentlemanly after such a scary display. If you ask him what that was about, he’ll innocently tilt his head and ask you “whatever are you talking about?”

- Just like Azul, their true forms are giant, not as big as his, but still equally as terrifying, the sharp bones that poke out their body further proving this fact.

- Extremely Fast, You’ve seen this first hand when Floyd jumped out of the water and dragged you through the sea to transport you to a “beach date” in the middle of the ocean, in only 3 minutes…He heard of these dates from Azul, “Said he was gonna take you on one, thought it’d be funny if I took yah instead.” You’re unable to inquire what he means by “Azul trying to take you out”, as he’s brightly smiling when he places a sailor's cap on you. The small sight of blood in his canines is all you need to know about where this hat came from.

- Their teeth are sharp that’s for sure, you watched Jade sink his teeth into unsuspecting marine life. The thought of him doing the same to ships 7 times the size of such animals, makes you worried for future sailors, and… For yourself. He flaunts those ivories at you so much, you’re worried he’s trying to hint at his insatiable hunger. (He’s doesn’t bite like Floyd does, but honestly, you’d prefer if he bit you instead of grazing his teeth on your skin so sensually)

- They like to drag you into the water with them. You’re sure it’s how they have fun, the only exposure to the human world other than you is Azul and artifacts they collect from ships they were responsible for destroying. So of course, they wouldn’t know the first thing of human play, yet… you have the underlying feeling they have a reason for doing such a thing that isn’t just entertainment.

- Survival: Anything they can fit in their mouths (Whether it be marine life or ships. Though, these two have a specific craving for human)

Kalim Al-Asim [ Genie ]

- Extremely strong, every time he hugs you he completely forgets his strength. In the moments where he does realize it, he’s quick to apologize. If you tell him where you hurt, he’ll insist “kissing” it will make it better! It’s what worked on his siblings, so it must work for you! If you don’t tell him… he’ll cry, so it’s better to just tell him.

- Wishmaking. He insists on letting him give you a wish, after all, you did save him from being lonely! (You’re not sure if you could call it “saving” considering you were trying to kill him… and still are… ). You never accept his offer, with the knowledge that everything has a price, (Thank you Azul for such a good lesson learned) which makes him sad, but in your awkward ways of comfort, you tell him the only wish you want, is a hug. He is ecstatic and wraps his arms around you, tight. You’re regretting your wish now. Though, the glare from two pairs of slit eyes tells you you’re not the only one who doesn’t like the wish.

- Too many riches too count… You wake up, gifted in gold and jewels, you’re halfway through the day, more diamonds and rubies, going to sleep… Gold and emeralds. You told Kalim no more. He found a loophole and just replaced the cheaper items with more expensive ones. It’s technically not more so… You make a reminder to dump it all on Rollo, he’ll surely enjoy having money to tend to his garden. (He won’t. You already know he’ll refuse anything from a monster. But, if you bat your eyelashes enough he might accept it.)

“Kalim, I don’t need any more rubies.” You’re sat on his golden throne, the optimistic wish granter between your legs with his arms wrapped around your waist as he sits on the floor, a beaming smile making you hesitant on his next words.

“Then I’ll just give you more diamonds!” … Truly, you thought genies could only give out three wishes, why does it feel like this one wants to give you more than that… It’s gotten to the point where you think he wants only you to be the one he grants anything to, going so far as finding a way to bypass the rules. He even gave you his lamp, which you gave back to Jamil upon receiving it.

- You do wonder… Where are the rest of the people Kalims granted desires to? Even more so, the rest of the genies, as far as you’re concerned, Crowley said there was only one left (that he wanted to get his greedy hands on). If you had just searched Kalim and Jamils shared space, surely you would’ve found the corner filled with broken lamps in it.

Survival: Not sure, Either immortal or some secret to survival.

Jamil Viper [ Snake ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- Half snake half man, his lithe body is enough to give you pause no matter how many times you see it, even after seeing the leeches who have a similar body. You think the reason might be more cause of his intimidating eyes rather than his actual body however, 2 sharp slits are enough to make anyone rethink their judgment.

- When he sleeps, he unknowingly wraps around you, his human half bunching you in his arms as if he isn’t squeezing your legs. You think it’s just his instincts using use as warmth considering he’s cold-blooded, so you let him (Little do you know he’s perfectly warm enough, his body is just drawn to you for some reason). When he wakes up, he considers poisoning himself from embarrassment.

- Venomus, the long pointed fangs could tell you that much. When he sheds a tooth after meeting you, he doesn’t toss it away like he used to, he finds a piece of string and slides it through the solid, letting you watch him in skepticism as he slithers towards you, gently placing the newly formed necklace in your palm as his forked tongue sticks out. (He also left a little venom trapped inside, in case anyone gets a little too close than wanted.)

- Don’t stare into his eyes to long, or else you’ll find yourself entranced by the slits in his pupils, and completely hypnotized without even his knowledge. It’s like he’s so enchanted by you that he forgets he can do something like that. When he realizes what he’s done, an hour goes by before you come to. You don’t feel any different, but one looks at your wrist adorned with a snake bracelet that wasn’t there before tells you something happened…

You can’t move it from its place, but you honestly don’t want to, it’s pretty. Works perfectly well in Jamil's favor, if you had, you definitely would’ve noticed the two holes punctured into your skin by a familiar set of fangs—

“Jamil, Kalim gave me his lamp again.”

“… Really?” He’s quick to take it off your hands. If only he could wish instead… it would make his life so much easier.

- Survival: Undocumented

Vil Schoenheit [ Incubus ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- You’re human. You’re not immune to charm and flirtation. It’s disappointing that Vil is so good at what he does. You haven’t given into temptation, at least, not yet.

- Shapeshifting, he’s told you before if you have someone in mind you’d ever want to do such things with, he can transform into them if you hope to practice your confession, when you tell him nobody comes to mind, you fail to notice the devious smile that perches on his lips in victory. It seems the only face that will appear in your brain in such moments of vulnerability will be his, and that’s enough for him.

“Though, Since I used to see Neige almost every day maybe his? He has seen me in moments even Rollo hasn’t…”

What?

- Feasting on the vitality of humans is something commonly known for incubi, you’ve asked Vil before if you’re going to die soon from him touching you… You already know he’s an amazing actor so when he answers you, you can’t tell if he’s lying or if it’s the truth, especially when he takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips like a prince, perfectly playing off the suspicion in his answer.

- You think it’s unfair he’s so attractive, if he had only half his looks it would at least be easier to not stare at his pretty features— what are you thinking…?! You can already hear the scolding of everyone else telling you how heinous it is to think such thoughts, but once again, you're distracted by the feeling of Vil dipping into the couch next to you, offering a drink as if you two were just ordinary people. To be fair, his whole survival depends on how well he can interact with humans… He only smiles when you take the drink.

- Making Hallucinations is just common practice for Vil, Rook praising him for all the people who gave into his temptations from his feats. You were once sure he had never used it on you, you could never fall for such a puny delusion, but now, your confidence has faded. Things in your memory are blurry, unclear.

Has… Vil has been using it on you…?

- Survival: Corruption of humans through desire, feeding off vitality

Rook Hunt [ Boogeyman ]

- You make an extreme effort to avoid all manners of shadows since you’ve met him. Lurking in the dark is his forte, and it doesn't bode well for you because almost all your work is done in the dark. Even then… your efforts are in vain because you still feel the sensation of eyes burning into you at all times of the day. In these cases, you retreat to Vil in hopes he can rein him in a bit.

- Shapeshifting is a rare and dangerous ability. Unfortunately, Rook of all monsters has it. Even in places with no signs of shadows, it feels like he’s still there. It doesn’t make it any better that he hints towards that being the truth.

“Ah trickster, you looked magnifique in that bathing suit!”

“You were the waiter who kept offering me drinks weren’t you.”

“The way I observe my muse shall not be disclosed!”

- Watching Rook feast on fear isn’t scary, but rather… unsettling…? He places his mouth near his victim as what you can only assume to be their fear twists up into his throat, the horrified human trembling in terror. Such a scary expression quickly disappears when he turns to you with the happiest smile and gushes to the poor human about how wonderful you are, rubbing his cheek to yours like a sappy couple.

“Ah! Trickster…! You are quite sweaty! Shall I dry you off—” you shut him up by throwing the same towel he was about to clean you up with, in his face.

- His skill set is already horrifying, but adding in the basic ability of enhanced strength just makes it worse. You can’t even begin to count how many walls Rook has torn through for you… A simple ow, and what you originally thought to be a brick wall, is now a giant hole with the boogeyman at your call. It’s harder to be nice to him when he’s insistent that you train your capabilities on him. The amount of times Rook has turned a stab into a firm held waltz is just too many.

“Non non, You must hide your hand better trickster.”

“I would do that if you weren't cradling me into a dip right now Rook— Stop dancing with me already!”

- Survival: Fear and Grief

Epel Felimer [ Newbie Vampire ]

- He's asked you before if he could suck you dry. He honestly expected you to say no, but when you reached your arm out and told him to just not turn you, he was sure you must be some sort of blessing in disguise. When he’s done, he begs you not to tell Vil, as the incubus banned him from feeding. You’ll come to regret it at some point though, as now he continuously comes back to you in times of hunger.

- He runs at such fast speeds, it’s incredible to you, you’ve clapped for him a couple times, but, every-time you did… he got distracted and would trip. He wishes the sun would come up and kill him in those moments.

- Compulsion is a dangerous thing, you shouldn’t be shocked, but luckily for you, he… doesn’t seem to know how to use it the way it should be utilized. The moment he does finally master such an ability, you’ll have to find someway to get past that. He did try using it on you once, a simple command asking you to tell him how “manly” he is, somehow, someway, the command turned into something much more… embarrassing. He stands in bewilderment at the way your hands are cupping your face, endlessly praising Epel about how amazing he is, and how you wish to stay with him forever.

Vil and Rook stepped in to save you. He was sat in the corner as a punishment.

- His hunger is, insatiable. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen such a monster so bloodthirsty. It’s like he has some goal to just, feast on as many people as he can… He mistook you as a stranger he could freely feast on, jumping on you, ready to sink his fangs into your neck. He’s only narrowly stopped when the moon shines on your face and he knows it’s you. If it wasn’t, whoever took your place would not doubt be dead.

- Survival: Blood

Idia Shroud [ Reaper ]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- With how moody Idia is, you forget what his occupation is until he shows up at your door with the scythe he uses to escort the dead.

- Reapers aren’t necessarily evil or good, which is why you’re always conflicted about how to feel about Idia. Should you… Make your decisions based off his personality rather than what he is to slay him—? Why is he whispering about how all the other monsters should drop dead— Ah, he thinks they’re cooler than him.

- You essentially work as a discounted vent session as Idia talks about how everyone else is so much worthier than him to be slain by hunters. They all have cool abilities and cool looks, what is he stuck with? An edgy cloak and a tool farmers use to cut hay—

- His rant is cut short at the sound of a cheap board game slamming on the table, his eyes looking up to you placing a game piece on the spot, signaling him to take his turn as you tell him how he’s “the only one you find playing games with fun”. Truly, you must be one of the kindest souls he’s had the fortune of meeting, he should know, half of the spirits he escorts are huge douches.

- It just makes him all the more worried about bringing you to the after life.

- Even though Idia doesn’t have a reason to actively hurt humans, it’s still worrying when he describes to you in detail of his After life Capabilities. He once told you a story about how a guy was acting so high and mighty he trapped him in the space between life and death, only coming back to laugh at him when the man was practically broken. He only stops his retelling when he looks up and sees the most hurt expression on your face.

- After that, he sits up before you can even say anything, leaving immediately as he buries his head in his hands. The next day, he’s at your door as you silently stare at him, his form of retribution for your hurt being whatever you mentioned wanting during the week. You accept his gift, but that still doesn’t stop the fear of what Idia does to the souls he guides with a lack of fondness.

- Survival: Unable to Die. (Speculation)

Malleus Draconia [Dragon Gargoyle… And… something else?]

- Warning: Capable of Magic.

- Heavy durability, as he is pure stone. in times of desperation, you watch as green sparkles fly around the man as stone turns soft. His spell doesn’t last long but in his desire he chooses to pepper you in kisses with smooth lips. The first time he attempted to romantically place a peck on your arm, you cringed at the feeling of rough stone on your skin. It hurt his feelings so he opted to just spell himself instead.

- Heavy. He didn’t wanna move away from a doorway you had to exit through to leave. You tried lifting him out of the way, you don’t think you’ve ever tried so hard to move something before. He thought it was an attempt at a hug, so you ended up being smooshed in his arms for an hour before Lilia saved you.

- Camaflouge, the stone he’s made of, and moss that grows on his body can be manipulated in any way he wishes, even his size, it’s scary watching him go from his regular 6 feet to an astonishing 10. This trait of his has served numerous moments where you’re surveying his castle only to feel arms pulling you back into a stone exterior. Your reflexes are swift to throw a punch, only to have the cruel reminder of rock busting your hand.

“Ah forgive me, I did not mean to hurt you Child of hunters”

“My hand is broken Malleus.”

“We can just get you a new hand can we not?” That night serves as the first of having to tell Malleus he can’t always spell you when you’re injured. To this, he tells you that’s nonsense and he’ll expend all his reserves for you.

- Considering he’s also a Dragon, flight, and fire breathing really shouldn’t surprise you. What does surprise you is when he looked more dragon than gargoyle sometimes, his eyes becoming more lively, scales being more obvious, and his wings and horn being truer than they’ve ever been. You have a sneaking suspicion his instincts change forms too, his already heavy clinginess increasing tenfold. You’re either held by his clawed fingers or wrapped in his wing.

- Despite Malleus being marked as one of the most dangerous kills possible, you find it extremely easy to… ask him to do something. In fits of anger, he’ll cling impossibly close to you, trying desperately to attempt to cease the ugly feeling festering inside him. He’ll tell you he never wants you to leave his side. If you’re not feeling like being trapped inside, all you need to do is wrap your arms around his neck and lean into his ear with a low whisper, asking him to let you go. For a moment, his grip will tighten, but slowly he relents, his stone eyes watching you wave goodbye.

- Though, truthfully, You don’t feel like you’re free… Sometimes, you notice gargoyles in places where there shouldn’t be any. Sooner or later, his resolve might break, asking him for such freedoms might not be as easy.

- Not only that but… There’s definitely a side to him that isn’t just some Dragon Gargoyle. Whenever you have the chance to dig deeper into it, you’re met with a wall that separates you from the truth. Just what is Malleus?

- Survival: ???, Unable to Die. Do not attempt.

Lilia Vanrouge [ ??? ]

- Caution: Possibly capable of Magic.

- Certainly the most mysterious of the bunch… To be fair, everyone in the Diasmonia space is filled with anonymity. He doesn’t have any specific qualities that warrant a decisive conclusion, but you’re confident that he’s not a human. Sometimes he has wings, sometimes fangs, sometimes spider legs, just what is he?! (He has used this capability to scare you on numerous occasions, taking the form of a giant wasp and chasing you once. When he gets bored though, he clings onto you endlessly, not as bad as Malleus but still very often. You woke up to him in your bed once, and now he occasionally appears there to “wake you up” by sliding his arms around your waist. Please tell him you’ll only let him do this if he stops turning into freaky stuff…)

- You have no doubt he’s one of the monsters that eat humans. You took a sniff of his red juice once, it’s definitely blood, and considering why you’re here, it’s for sure not animal blood. Out of guilt for failing whatever human is his current meal, you offered up yourself as a blood bag, and he happily indulged, pining you to the table and nipping that delicious spot on your neck. Out of courtesy for everyone else in the castle... You lock the door.

But it doesn’t matter, you’re quite sure he didn’t honor the agreement anyway, as he’s happily feasting on a mystery meat you know isn’t any creature near this castle.

- He always keeps you on your toes, one of the moments being when he used his flight to carry you all over the sky, laughing at you and your body clinging onto him in fear of dropping to your death. It makes it worse that he doesn’t do it slow, he flies so fast you can hear the wind slicing through the air, your arms only wrapping around his neck trying to get even closer than you already are.

“Lilia…! Lilia! Put us down—! I’m gonna die…!” you can feel his hand pat your head as he tightens his grip on your body.

“Aww…don’t worry, as long as I’m here you won’t fall!” you believe him, but that doesn’t make you feel any safer at all…

- Despite how decrepit the Diasmonia castle is, there are still photos of its rein on the wall. In an attempt to know your targets better, you look at some of them, immediately recognizing Lilia in one of the frames… But, his aura seemed different, more cold, more cruel… He was bloodied, and you’re sure that body he’s holding is what you think it is, but, he doesn't have that usual crazy happy look he has when he catches his next meal.

-Just how did Lilia end up like this?

- Survival: Undocumented

Sebek Zigvolt [ Swamp Monster ]

- He says you’re pathetic. (He continues to leave flowers specific from his swamp at your door) You’re not… You’re not very sure what he thinks of you…? He says you’re a coward, yet continues to gift you plants after you offhandedly mentioned how you think they’re pretty. So… What does that mean…?

- Maybe they’re poisonous… Heh… Maybe you can use them on Crowley—

- Your plan of attack is interrupted as a booming voice bursts your ear drums, the source of distress being the green being covered in moss, water, and vines. You follow the trail of plants leading from the swamp to the creature behind you, a bear, wrapped in controlled swamp foliage by the monster of the water. Sebek huffs and chastises you for such carelessness, but the feeling of you scooping his hands into yours and thanking him with a smile makes the words on his tongue go numb. Not for too long though, as he tells you obviously a beast like him can handle such lowly creatures, no wonder you didn’t notice.

- Before you came along, according to Silver, the water he resides in used to be a mess, as he said “Lilia believes it to fit my role of Swamp Monster, so I shall keep it!” so he kept it the way it is and let it out control. But, apparently, after you, it subtly became neater, flowers adorning the ridges of where once was messed moss, his water adorned with petals of your favorite color, the place even smelling like your favorite scent. He tells you it’s just a change of scenery for Malleus, not anyone else, you only smile at him, not replying. Malleus doesn’t have the same favorite scent.

- Like his fondness for nature, his power of water is equally as tantalizing to watch. He didn’t know you were there, but you were watching him train, your eyes becoming more entranced in his movements when you saw him become sidetracked from his patience for a moment. A book was laid in front of him, one that he delved deeper and deeper into with interest. It seems he has a fondness for literature, so after that, you would leave books you had at his residence, watching with amusement at how fascinated he was. Unfortunately, you walked up to him once when he was meant to be training, and in attempt to hide his hobby, he flicked his hands and let the water swallow every page in aqua.

“I have been training this whole time human…!”

“Ah, I got you all those. Now they’re wet…” He acts like he doesn’t care, but he secretly feels bad, so discreetly, he attempts to piece every page lost in the water together before presenting you with a new book.

- Survival: Swamp

Silver [ ??? ]

- Honestly, his abilities are lighthearted when not used to a heavy extent. He can eat dreams of those who sleep, typically, nightmares. There have been rumors spreading of a night creature who creeps into rooms, sucking the ambitions and hopes of its victims… They’re not wrong, if he’s called upon too often he’ll strip the person of all their wants and, dreams. Go a step further, and he might as well suck the life out of a human.

- But… You know he doesn’t mean to… At least you hope not.

- Sometimes your judgment feels misplaced when you watch him go overboard in his hunger, his trance only capable of being broken when you grab him by the shoulder, maybe even point a blade at him in desperation.

- He can travel into dreams. You’ve caught him lurking in your conscious one too many times to count. It’s not like he’s devouring your fantasy, but you can’t help and wonder why he’s almost always there. He doesn’t change what’s happening in it, he doesn’t destroy it so… Why is he there so often?

- it’s ironic, a creature who lives off the manifestation of people’s conscious, sleeps so much. You remember sorting through flowers Sebek had “gifted” you, (You’re not sure if it counts as gifted considering he threw them at you saying “they’re frail, just like a weak human.”) and Silver had sat right next to you, begining a sentence before dropping his head into your lap, a deep slumber commencing on your thighs.

- He wakes up ready to apologize, but the feeling of your hands gently playing with his hair, is enough for him to fall back asleep immediately.

- He’s a lot more welcoming to stay with compared to the rest of the monstrous residents of Diasmonia. If you’re free from Malleus and Lilias's grasp, you’re quick to run over to him. He’s typically sleeping, so, when he’s nodding off you sit down next to him, slowly placing your head on his shoulder as you fall asleep. If you’re to be trapped here for a bit, it wouldn't hurt to have some form of comfort in this run-down place.

As you fall into slumber, you secretly wish to meet Silver in a dream again.

It’s coincidental that he wakes up the moment you place your head on him, it’s a pretty sight to him. He hopes… you’ll stay here, he enjoys your company too much. As soft snores leave you, his hands move on their own, grasping onto your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours.

It’s selfish, he was raised to do what he must to survive as a monster by his father. So he knows, what he feels is natural, but there’s a lingering thought he shouldn’t feel this heavy about a human… He doesn’t wanna let you go.

- Survival: Dream Feasting

Neige Leblanche [ Angel ]

- It’s… a bit unnerving how kind he is… You understand he’s a supposed Guardian Angel specially dedicated to your well but goodness, he was not very good at his job.

- He essentially watches you go about your day, occasionally blessing you to see your eyes light up with happiness.

- Despite how much he grooms the feathers on his back, he never lets you get too close to them, folding them back up when you’re near enough to see them more intricately or graze your fingers on them. It never bothered you, truly, he’s so nice to to you you could never be suspicious of him.

- He had to attend to personal matters once when you were eating together, his wings fluttering before he ascended. A pair of feathers had fallen in place of where he once was, One plumage was as white as snow, and the other…

- Was as dark as ebony.

- Survival: Being Good

Rollo Flamme [ Human ]

- He’s always been by your side.

- He would never be one of those wretched filthy beasts. He’s always cared for you when you couldn’t care for yourself.

- Don’t look at him like that. Why… Why is there scorn in your eyes…? He’d never hurt you, never.

- You’re the only sanctuary of purity in his life, he wants to embrace you. He always has, your happiness has always been his.

- He has always wanted to save you from the hellish life mother nature had dealt you.

So please…

- Let him hug the one thing he cares for one more time. And…

Forget the white lie he gave you.

- Survival: You

The day is today. The date you left Rollo without saying even the slightest hint of a farewell. It has been 364 days, without you.

It’s a sorrowing sight for coworkers of his who know how close you are. But, if they had just looked closer, the looming feeling of festering jealousy would no doubt impede their senses.

Rollo knows he can feel it. He will find a way to drag whatever wretched beasts are ruining you with their filth, down to hell.

“Ah! Mr.Flamme, Hello Hello—!” ringed fingers slam mercilessly into the wood of a desk, any harder and he might’ve broken it. “Be careful…! This desk is expensive…!”

“It’s been a year since [Name] left for these jobs… Why aren’t they back?” Rollos on the verge of bursting a vein, the only composure he has left is strung together by the thin thread of hope he has of you coming back, coming back to him.

“Well, My little Birdie is—”

“There is no My, and there is no Birdie, don’t call them that.”

“Possesive much…”

“It’s not posseviness.” Crowley only nods at him, obviously, he doesn’t believe the man, but he’ll pretend if it means moving this conversation along.

“I will answer your question in due time, now would you please… remind yourself why it is you’re here in the first place?”

———

A/n Did I do a shit ton of research about monsters and their abilities for this, a post that was meant to be a shitpost? No, who would do that? (I would). Anyways, I hope this can satisfy Monster!Twst enjoyers while I work on the heartslaybul chapter, I promise I’m working on it to make it the best possible! (Blame the economy for my lack of activity on it)

[freedomfireflies]

The Playboy*

Summary: The one where you're a Playboy Bunny and Harry is Hugh's assistant. The one person you aren't allowed to love.

Word Count: 8.9k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, exhibitionsim, multiple orgasms, brief choking, overstimulation

Harry's cum is dripping down your thigh.

You can see it, glistening beneath the sunlight, making it almost impossible to look away. You’re completely and utterly mesmerized by the sight of it, but Harry pretends as though he has no clue.

After all, he has to pretend. You know he’s done this on purpose. Know that he wanted to mark you right before your photoshoot with Hugh and the other Bunnies. He's sending a message, making a statement.

And really, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Harry fucked you right and you both know it. And he can pretend all he wants that it means nothing, but you’re the best lover he’s ever had. He told you himself. And perhaps that’s why he’s done this. Why he insisted that you weren’t allowed to wipe it off or hide it. Because he wants them to see. To know who you really belong to.

No matter how hard you squeeze your thighs together or attempt to brush the sticky stain away, it remains. And Harry’s proud smirk is rather obvious even from over on the grass where he observes. 

You try not to look at him. To acknowledge that sadistic glee as you keep your gaze on the camera. Because if you look at him…it’s over. You won’t be able to hide your infatuation and the last thing either of you want is for Hugh to find out.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice. Then again, he has too many people around him at once to pay attention to you and your wet thighs. But you know he’d be furious if he knew what his precious Bunny was doing, one of the many reasons you and Harry are forced to keep your meetings a secret.

But you know Harry likes being your secret. Perhaps just as much as you like being his. Besides, it’s only sex. No strings attached. He’s Hugh’s assistant and you’re one of the beloved Bunnies. It’s against every rule in the book for the two of you to be together, much less sleep together.

Yet here you are.

You sometimes wonder if Harry would even give you the time of day outside of your secret rendezvous. Or if he’d avoid you altogether. You want to believe it goes deeper than just sex, but truth be told, you’re too afraid to ask.

"Your lemonade, Sir."

You watch as Harry nods his thanks and takes the cold glass from the waiter. He’s far too smug for your liking, and you’d chastise him if it were any other moment.

Still, you watch him take a rather long sip as his eyes follow you from behind those dark sunglasses.

He knows you like to be watched. That you thrive off his attention. So, he gives it to you anytime he can. Even when you’re sitting on the lap of the man that employs him.

But you like to watch him, too. And the way he looks right now, with those dark curls pushed back, now slightly disheveled from when you had your hands running through them, is rather delicious.

He leans back in his seat, strong thighs spreading as he takes another sip. It’s almost criminal, and you can practically hear the sighs of the other girls as they notice, too.

He pops the first couple buttons of his shirt free, allowing for a glimpse of his tan, sweaty skin, and you feel your stomach clench. He’s taunting you now. Reminding you who’s really in charge, and you’re nearly tempted to march right over and prove him wrong.

But you know he’s thinking the same thing you are. Remembering just a few moments ago when he had you bent over a chair as he fucked you from behind.

"Tell me how good I feel."

"Fuck you."

"Tell me how deep—"

"Not deep enough. Fuck me like you mean it, Playboy."

The second he saw you in your signature bowtie, he snatched your hand and dragged you away. And you let him, because how could you not? Even if it meant you were late for the shoot and that you’d earn a very firm frown from Hugh. It was worth it, and the evidence has been painted all over your leg.

Suddenly struck with inspiration, you give a big beam to the camera before you subtly drop your hand to your thigh and swipe your finger through the mess.

You notice Harry’s eyes widen as he straightens up, wildly intrigued. But you don’t give him the satisfaction of looking, instead keeping your eyes on the lens as suck your middle finger into your mouth.

Harry knows what coats that finger and you let your lashes flutter as though to tell him how much you enjoy the taste.

Hugh laughs, thinking it's just a clever pose for the photos, but Harry knows this show is just for him and him alone.

He slides his sunglasses a bit further down his nose, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store.

Yet your eyes never leave the camera, your smile wide, and your glee unmeasurable. You enjoy teasing him when you know he can’t do anything about it. 

And it works, if the way he begins to shift in his seat is any indication. You can practically see his erection from here, and you have to swallow a laugh as he clenches his jaw.

Finally, you decide to put him out of his misery, and steal one glance for yourself.

The moment your eyes meet, your chest nearly caves in. The tension is thick, and it feels as though the whole world has gone quiet. It’s just you and Harry, and when he bites his lip and leans back in his seat, you about lose it.

Thankfully, almost as though heaven heard your silent plea, Hugh suddenly claps his hands together and declares the shoot through. He thanks you all for your patience and time before everyone begins to part and the camera crew packs up.

You’re off his lap in seconds, moving for the refreshments so you can grab a glass of lemonade for yourself. And hopefully encourage Harry’s attention to follow you.

You feel him behind you before you even have a chance to turn around. You recognize his cologne and the soft hum in his throat and you bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning.

“Bunny,” he murmurs, and even though it’s only been a few minutes, you’ve missed the sound of his voice. Low and raspy with just a hint of an accent.

“Harold,” you return, tossing a quick look over your shoulder before moving across the yard.

However, he’s hot on your tail, giving you absolutely no room or personal space. “That was quite a show,” he says, jogging around you to catch your eye.

You only bat your lashes as you take a sip of your drink, watching as his attention zeroes in on the way your lips wrap around the straw. 

He smirks.

“Enjoyed yourself, did you?” you retort innocently, attempting to brush past him again when he suddenly grabs onto your upper arm and drags you back to him.

He dips down, mouth ghosting the side of your ear as he murmurs, “I believe you owe me a taste.”

Your eyebrow quirks. “Is that so?”

“It is.” His grip tightens. “And you know it.”

You take a quick glance around the backyard just to make sure Hugh isn’t watching before you pull yourself free and turn to Harry. “Who said you deserve to taste me?”

 “I believe you did. When you were coming around my cock and begging me to do it again.”

You scoff, feigning annoyance as you attempt to walk away. However, Harry is much quicker, and he snatches hold of your wrist in order to drag you across the grass and toward the pool shed in the corner of the yard.

Thankfully nobody seems to notice, and you feel your cunt throb as he gently slams you against the wall, away from any prying eyes. And he cages you there, arms on either side of your head as you bite your lip and peer up at him. 

“You’ve been quite the brat, haven’t you, little one?” he nearly purrs, wedging his knee between your clenched thighs. “Trying to tease me…embarrass me. Get me in trouble.”

You blink. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“No?” He squeezes your chin. “Show me your tongue.”

Slowly, you concede. Parting your lips and extending your tongue as he tilts your head back and stares down your throat. 

“Good girl. Swallowed every drop, didn’t you?”

You nod.

“S’it feel good in your tummy, baby? Hm? Did it taste as good as you imagined?”

Another nod. Quicker and more excited.

He smiles. “Then I think it’s only fair you return the favor, hm?”

You aren’t afforded the chance to answer before he’s dropping to his knees and prying your legs apart.

“Harry—”

“Shh. I’m busy,” he murmurs, flicking the button on your costume undone until he can reach your stockings and tear them down. “S’been too long.”

“It’s been twenty minutes.”

“Exactly.”

He runs his hands along your body, enjoying the way you shiver, that wicked grin is enough to ruin you. He places your foot on his shoulder while you steady yourself against the shed, your fingers already returning to his hair.

And he watches you. So desperate and eager to please. You know he’d bury himself in your cunt with no hesitation if he could, but for now…this is all you get.

It’s one of the things you adore most about him. His need to please you, even despite his ego. In fact, from the moment you met him, he’s put your pleasure first. Demanding that you sit on his face nearly every hour of the day just so he can get a small taste. Savor you on his tongue, go home with you still smeared across his chin.

Some people do drugs. Harry does pussy.

His hands slowly smooth up your leg, taking his time to appreciate your skin while admiring the way it glistens underneath the summer sun. He begins to kiss his way along your ankle and up toward your knee. 

And you work to bite back a heavy sigh. You don’t tend to trip up too often, but when it comes to Harry, you find that you can never stay quiet. And you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s because he knows how to draw out every possible noise and sensation. Somehow, even his kisses leave you whining. 

Either way, you know you can’t make a noise today. Because no matter how loud the group out by the pool are, it’s not nearly loud enough to drown out your pleasured whines.

And he knows it, too.

He pauses his kisses once he reaches your inner thigh and glances up through those thick lashes of his. "You think you can stay quiet, little one?" he asks, lips brushing against your skin with every word.

You force a smile. “Do it right and we’ll see.”

It’s a challenge he’s more than eager to accept. He’s been waiting far too long to get a taste of what he left behind and wastes no more time in dragging his flattened tongue along your leg to collect the salty remnants from before.

The feeling itself isn't much but watching him...you can feel your knees growing weak. Harry knows what you like to see. Knows you adore his pink lips and the rings on his fingers. Knows you like to run your hands through his gelled hair and leave your lipstick on his shirt. 

He hums, rather satisfied with himself. But before he can truly have you, you both catch the sound of commotion happening near the mansion.

You have a rather hard time tearing yourself away, but you know that if you don’t check, Hugh will coming looking for you.

So, regretfully, you drop your leg from Harry’s shoulder and peer around the shed.

Hugh is standing on one of the staircases, pipe in his mouth as he claps his hands to get everyone's attention. "All right, my dears, gather 'round. You've all been doing such good work this week, and I felt it was only right to honor you. So, for the first Saturday of the summer, I've decided we must celebrate.”

The other girls cheer as you toss Harry a curious look. 

He only shrugs.

"You know the rules," Hefner continues. "But I want you to have fun and just relax tonight. The real work starts next week.”

With that, he gives his adoring audience a wink before heading back inside, leaving you to sigh to yourself.

Hugh is a stickler for rules and regulations. Curfews, no outside relationships, and absolutely no visitors. He wants to keep his girls to himself, and you know that applies to you more than anyone else.

Harry is watching you closely as you finally turn back around. “He wants me there tonight,” he tells you.

You nod. You expected nothing less. “I imagine so.”

“We won’t have as much time.”

“I know.” You readjust your outfit and attempt to wipe the lustful look from your face. “I should go.”

You get ready to slip back out into the open before Harry grabs your arm for a third time.

"I'll find you," he murmurs, more so a promise than a threat. "And I will get my taste."

You can’t help but smirk as you pat his cheek lightly.  “Mm. Good luck, Playboy."

There are very few times in life when you find yourself completely and utterly breathless. Transfixed beyond doubt, mesmerized by one singular moment in time when you can't move or speak.

For you, that happened when you saw Harry enter the room for the very first time.

And then it happened again…when he slid inside you later that same night.

Two moments, one man.

One incredibly ethereal, divine, godlike man. 

You hadn't expected Hugh's party to be all that exciting, but it was one of Harry’s first parties as Hugh’s assistant. Turns out…that meant something.

You had specific instructions to stay close to Hugh throughout the evening, as his favorite Bunny, and Harry had instructions to stay close as the assistant. But unlike you, Harry was instructed to follow from behind. Not to interact with any of the guests. And definitely not to be seen or heard.

But from the moment he entered the room, you knew it would be nearly impossible for anyone to keep their eyes off him.

He walked in as though surrounded by light, drawing everyone’s attention to those dark curls and that charming smile.

You couldn’t look away, so spellbound by his presence that you didn’t even realize Hugh was right beside him.

Instantly, you knew that would complicate things.

Still, you liked the challenge. And as it turned out, Harry did, too. Because while you were busy seeing him, he was busy seeing you.

Your eyes met through the crowd, even despite the many bodies and loud music. You felt yourself being drawn closer as you pushed your way toward the center of the room in a desperate attempt just to be close.

Harry did the same.

You wondered if Hugh knew what a threat Harry posed to his brand. After all, Hugh loved being the center of attention and Harry was so effortlessly stealing the attention for himself.

But it didn’t matter in that moment because Harry’s attention was yours, and once you both found your way to the center of the living room…everything changed. 

You did your best to study him. Those gorgeous, textured curls. The unusual shade of green in his eye. That strong jaw that seemed to accentuate his sharp but handsome features.

He was wearing a white t-shirt that hugged each of his muscles in a way that left little to the imagination. He looked clean. Put together. So refined that all you wanted to do was trail your hands down his chiseled chest before you tore is shirt off.

And that’s when it happened.

The Moment.

Ever since that night, the two of you have been inseparable. Fucking any chance you get. In the kitchen, in the car, in the closet. His hand over your mouth, forcing you to stay silent in case Hugh might be somewhere in the mansion—which he always is.

In fact, there’s never a moment when you aren't the focus of each other's attention. Day or night, all you can think about is when you’ll see him next. Creating moments to run into each other. Planning meetings. Making excuses to find time alone.

And as it turns out, tonight is no different.

You know Hugh will be around. And even worse, he’ll be making his favorite Bunny the center of attention.

Which just means you’ll have to try a little harder to get Harry alone. 

Most of the crowd will be desperate to talk to you. They always are, after all. They’ll follow you around, ask you questions, want to be in your presence. 

And Harry will be somewhere hidden, keeping to himself so he’s neither seen nor heard. Although the rest of the Bunnies make that quite difficult.

For some reason, Hugh doesn’t mind if the others pay Harry a bit of attention. He only seems to mind if you do. And even though Harry will never admit it, Hugh’s possession over you makes him quite jealous.

He doesn’t enjoy the idea of having to share you, much less with a whole crowd of people and greedy men. They’ll take up all of your time. Time that should be reserved for him. 

Truth be told, you find it rather cute.

So, you try to make it worth it. You sway your hips to a song just because he’s watching. 

You run your hands down your body, smoothing them over each and every one of his favorite curves. 

You dangle a cherry over your tongue before taking it between your lips, your cheeks hollowing as you suck the sweet fruit into your mouth.

It drives him absolutely mad, and you can already see him fighting the temptation to stride over to you right now.

You’re sitting by the pool, legs dangling over the side as you chat with Paul Newman. He’s leaning his body closer and closer toward yours, inviting himself into your space as you laugh and throw your head back with glee just to give Harry a proper show.

You do your best to flirt with the handsome man—which isn’t all that difficult, really—before you notice Harry march himself over to the drink stand. 

Instantly, he begins chatting up Sophia Loren. One of the most stunning women you think you’ve ever seen and immediately, your eyes narrow.

So that’s how he wants to play it.

He’s not subtle about the way he stares at her, raking his eyes up and down her figure rather shamelessly. And she smiles, eating up his attention until you nearly chip a tooth from how hard you’re gritting your teeth.

It’s rather cute, all things considered. He’s really trying to make you jealous. But why should you be? Paul Newman is every bit as handsome, if not more, and happens to be someone you can actually sit and have a conversation with.

In fact, Hugh was the one who set it up. He introduced the two of you and insisted you get to know each other.

You knew what he really wanted from the interaction, but neither you nor Paul will be entertaining such an idea. After all, he is happily married. And you just enjoy getting to know him.

Paul is still chatting away as you both swing you legs through the warm water, and even though you can’t help feeling rather starstruck by those gorgeous blue eyes…you’re remind of a pair of green ones that are currently still checking out someone else.

So, you gently put your hand on Paul’s chest in a subtle signal for him to wind his story down. You tell him that you’re going to go grab a drink and he nods before helping you stand from the pool.

You make your way for the bar—rather aware of the number of eyes on you as you walk—yet Harry still seems to be rather immersed in his conversation with the starlet. And now you aren’t sure if this really is just for show or if she truly has caught his eye.

Either way, you decide a little eavesdropping can’t hurt. So, you subtly make your way around the pool and toward the back of the drink station, just out of sight. Close enough to hear, but not so close as to be seen.

“Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” Harry is asking, and you catch just a glimpse of those dimples.

Sophia hums, looking around the large backyard that seems to sparkle underneath such a dark sky. "Oh, yes. Hugh always throws the best parties."

"He does. Are you here with someone?"

You suck in a quiet breath while Sophia laughs, shaking out her perfectly styled curls. “No, not at all. I like to…come alone. Window shop.”

“Window shop?” Harry repeats with a smirk.

“Yes. I like to see what’s to be seen. To decide if I’ll be leaving alone as well.”

Harry chuckles, and the sound of it makes your stomach flutter. “I see. Well, I have to admit, that does sound like an excellent plan.”

Sophia studies him. “And…you? Will you be leaving alone?”

Harry runs his tongue over his lip before glancing toward the spot near the pool where you once were. But once he notices you’re missing, his eyebrow raises. “I hope not.”

She smiles. “Come,” she says, taking his hand. “We dance.”

With that, she leads him toward the middle of the yard where a few people are already swaying to the music.

You watch them dance with a rather wounded expression, doing your best to remind yourself what this really is.

You don’t imagine Sophia will be taking him home tonight—he’s handsome, but she’s far out of his league—yet you can’t help that spark of jealousy that finally burns in your chest.

What Harry lacks in brains he makes up for in charisma. And he looks rather breathtaking out there, moving his hips to the melody and grabbing at her waist while she laughs and swings her arms around his neck.

For a moment, you almost wish that you could dance with him like that. So open and uninhibited. But you know that this arrangement only lasts for the summer. Once fall comes, the two of you will part ways, and the fun will be through.

Eventually, the two of them return to the bar for more drinks, and you’re forced to scurry back out of sight just in time to ear the rest of their conversation.

"She is...stunning,” Sophia says as they approach.

Harry’s head tilts. “Who?”

“The woman you keep looking for.”

Harry grins as he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Hm.” She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him. “One cannot win a game if the other player doesn’t know they are playing.”

"Maybe. But I’m not playing any games.”

She scoffs. “Aren’t you? Talking to me but wanting her?”

Harry seems rather surprised by this, and you feel yourself grin as you finally breeze your way around the corner in full view of them both.

“A scotch, please, darling,” you call to the bartender before glancing to your left. “Oh! Hi, Sophia. Harold.”

Sophia laughs. “Hello, dear. Fantastic party. You look beautiful.”

“As do you,” you return. “So happy you made it, despite your current choice in companion.”

Harry’s eyes roll.

“Oh, he’s not so bad,” she says, reaching up to wipe her thumb across his bottom lip. “Rather…sweet.”

Harry feigns a smug smirk even though you can tell he’s rather surprised by the action. 

Still, you refuse to play along. “I suppose he can be when Hugh isn’t around.”

She chuckles to herself before offering you a quick kiss to the cheek before bidding the two of you goodbye so she can make the rounds. 

 Rather satisfied, you give Harry a proud look of your own before grabbing your drink and turning on your heel.

But, true to form, he’s chasing after you and taking a handful of your hip in order to bring you to a stop.

“Bunny,” he warns beneath a raspy breath. “I thought I made myself clear—”

“I don’t know what you mean, I was only chatting,” you retort, pulling yourself from his hand with a huff. 

“No, you were not. You were being a brat and I’d like you to stop.”

“Stop what? Being delightful?”

“No. Stop toying with me.” He regards you carefully. “I know what you’re doing.”

"I'm talking. After all, that is my job—"

"No, your job is to be a good little Bunny, and do as you're told," he argues, straightening up so he has the advantage of height. "And I’m telling you that I will not play these games with you any longer.”

“What games?”

“The game where you try to rub my nose in that,” he says, gesturing angrily toward Paul.

“It’s not a game. He’s quite delightful. And I don’t believe I’m quite through with him yet—”

“Enough,” he seethes, suddenly yanking you back to him. “You know you don't want to talk to him. Or entertain his sad attempts at flirting. So, give it up, and come with me—"

"Beg me."

He leans back. “Excuse me?”

“Beg me,” you repeat calmly, even though your pussy is just about throbbing from the possessive tone of voice. 

His head cocks. “I said end this—"

"Beg me, and maybe I will.”

He looks at you for another moment more before his eyes flick toward the mansion in search of Hugh. Having this conversation in such an open space is rather reckless, especially with so many witnesses. But you just can’t help it. He never seems to listen.

Harry knows his time is running out, as well as his patience, so he runs a hand through his hair and releases a strained exhale. 

“Fine,” he concedes darkly. “Fine. Please…end this. And come with me.”

You bite back a smile. "Hm... I don't know, Paul and I were just having such a good time—"

"Please," he repeats, almost viciously. "Fucking end this. Now.”

By now, you know exactly what Harry's last straw looks like. What it sounds like. His voice, twisted with need and lust, becomes hoarser the closer he creeps to desperation. His grip becomes tighter, and his pupils nearly blow-out with desperation.

It happens when he's fucking into you so hard that you see stars. When his tongue is so far inside you that neither of you can breathe. And when you’re taking him so well down your throat that you think you’ll sink right through the floor.

It's the same voice. The same urgency. And you can’t help but feel a little intrigued.

You nod. “Fine.”

"Good. Meet me in the coat closet," he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "Five minutes."

"Harry—"

“Go,” he repeats, before releasing you so he can slip inside the mansion. 

You don’t need to be told twice. You immediately make your way for the door, weaving your way through the crowd in search of that familiar closet.

The inside of the house is packed with people. It’s loud and chaotic and there are more celebrities here than you can name.

But right now, you couldn’t care less. There’s only one person on your mind. One beautiful body that you can’t wait to run your hands down and it’s only five minutes away.

Once you’ve hidden yourself away in the small, dark space, you imagine all the things he might do. One of his favorites is watching the way he disappears inside you. The way your pussy stretches open to take his cock until you’re both a rather wet mess. You don’t doubt that he’ll find a way to do so tonight, and the thought makes you giddy.

Or perhaps he’ll blindfold you. Cut off all your senses until he’s all you know. Maybe you’ll blindfold him, another favorite. 

Truthfully, it doesn’t really matter what he does as long as he does it. Because even the thought leaves you breathless.

The door swings open exactly two minutes later. Harry is quick to lock you both in and turn on the light, twisting the bulb between his fingers until you can see everything you couldn’t before. Mostly coats and hats, but then…him. Somehow just as stunning as he was a few minutes ago, and smiling in a way that makes you want to drag him to his knees.

“You obeyed,” he whispers, stepping up to you until he can softly run his palm along your cheek. “You are a good little bunny after all, aren’t you?”

You pull your lip between your teeth. “Only when I think you deserve it.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

He leans closer, nose brushing against yours. “And do I still deserve that taste?”

Your lashes flutter before you forcefully push him away and point to his belt. “Take off your pants.”

You don’t want to have to rush, but you know Hugh will be looking for you soon so you can be by his side for his grand speech. Which means you’ll have to save the sensual looks and teasing touches for another day.

He starts with his shirt instead of his pants (just to spite you), grabbing at his collar before slipping the fabric over his head. Then he reaches for his zipper and drags it down, as slowly as he can all while keeping his eyes on yours.

With a rather unamused huff, you finally swat his hands out of the way in order to do it yourself. 

You yank the dark material down his legs, taking note of the boxers around his hips that practically call to you. You allow your fingers to slowly trail along his thighs. Higher and higher, groping at the strong flesh as he sighs and watches you with flushed cheeks.

Finally, you move for the band at his waist, pulling on it until it snaps back against his stomach, making him grunt.

He drops his head back with a curse, but once you start to drag your tongue along his abs…it’s game over. 

His hand is instantly in your hair, tugging at the scalp as though to remind you who’s really in charge. But you can feel his muscles quivering beneath your tongue and you hum when you hear him exhale your name.

You reach his pecs, taking a moment to brush your lips over his hardened nipple. He doesn’t seem to understand why this feels so good, but he enjoys it, and he certainly enjoys watching you do it, too.

You never leave him unsatisfied. You don’t think you could even if you tried. Sometimes, all you have to do is kiss him, and he’s nearly coming in his shorts as he grinds you against his lap. 

He knows his pleasure isn’t nearly as important as yours, but he enjoys the time you dedicate to him, nonetheless. 

You graze the nipple with your teeth, pulling it ever so slightly until he hisses, head dipping as your foreheads meet.

He wraps his fingers around the back of your neck with a firm squeeze before he’s pulling you up and kissing you hard. He starts with his tongue, exploring your mouth like it’s the first time, and honestly…it almost feels like it is.

Teeth clash, noses brush, breaths are stolen. You devour each other, greedy hands roaming freely, tangling in each other's hair.

"Can’t fucking stand you," he nearly groans against your mouth, his hips knocking into yours as he keeps you trapped against his chest. "Teasing me all night. Playing with me."

"You love it," you pant. "Love it when I play with you."

He grins. “Maybe I do.”

His hand moves to your one-piece until he finds the apex of your thighs. He smooths his palm along your cunt, cupping you harshly as you reel. He wants to feel how warm you are—how wet and desperate.

And you want him to feel it, too.

You swallow a needy sigh, almost as though you can’t let him hear. He can’t know how good this really feels. How depraved you really are of his touch. How starved.

But he knows. You know he knows, even through one little kiss.

It’s maddening.

He grabs onto the corset, ready to rip it down and reveal your chest to his hungry eyes, but you quickly snatch his wrist.

“No,” you exhale, shaking your head slightly. “Can’t rip it. Gentle.”

He scoffs, almost as though the thought of being gentle with you is absurd. Still, he knows Hugh would notice if your outfit has been torn, so he obeys, and unzips you instead.

The suit falls away, finally allowing him a good look at what you’ve been hiding from him all night.

Instantly, he’s got your tits in his hands, pulling at the tender flesh with a lewd grunt.

“Pretty,” he murmurs before sucking one into his mouth. “Fucking killing me, Bunny.”

Like a starved wolf, he starts to leave a trail of kisses wherever he can. Sloppy kisses that make you shiver as you fist his curls and laugh at the feel of your nipple between his teeth.

He swirls his tongue just the way you did, then flicks it gently while you sigh in his ear. Eventually, his fingers make their way to their previous spot, brushing at your inner thighs as though to warn you. And you’re given only a few seconds to prepare before he’s slipping the middle one inside and making you gasp.

The noise is covered by the loud music outside of the door, but Harry still hears it, and he beams as he starts to pump you slowly.

Your body invites him in the way it always does, squeezing him gently and clenching as though to keep him close. 

“Shit,” he curses, once again pressing his mouth to yours. “Missed this pretty pussy, baby.”

His large digit suddenly curls upward, motioning a moan from your lips and there it is. That’s what you needed.

You hold onto him for dear life, already lost in the feel. He's always been rather exceptional at touching you. At knowing your body better than anyone else does.

You’ve tried to replicate his actions on yourself, tried to make yourself cum as hard as he makes you when he’s the one doing it. But it's never the same. It feels like a waste of time to even try. It'll be weak and short. Pitiful. And trying again never works because it's just as disappointing as the first time.

But Harry…with his long fingers, his firm hand, his ravenous lips. Nothing will ever compare.

"Feel so good, sweetheart," he praises, lips staining your skin as he kisses the hollow of your neck. "Good girl. Lift for me, yeah?"

You obey, offering him your leg which he's quick to hook around his waist, spreading your open a bit further so he can slide himself deeper inside.

Another finger, another curl, another pinch. His thumb presses into your clit, circling it rapidly, making you whine into his shoulder. You can feel the coil already ready to snap, hardly surprised by how quickly you got here, but you know he’ll make sure to drag it on for as long as possible.

And as if to prove this, he slips his fingers out, and raises them to his lips. You nearly wilt right then and there, but you manage to hold your impatient façade as you cock your eyebrow upward before yanking his hand out and kissing him.

You can taste yourself on his lips, something you always seem to enjoy. The mix of you both together. 

And this is when he decides to ruin you, plunging his fingers back in with vigor until he hits that perfect spot. The one that has you gasping for air and moaning his name.

Your chest heaves with deep breaths. You’re close and you know it won’t be long until your cunt is fluttering around his hand and you’re dripping down his wrist. But you need more than that. Especially because this is the last time you’ll be with him for a while.

So, you grab onto his jaw and forcefully bring his eyes to yours.

“No,” you hiss. “Not like this. Fuck me like you mean it, Playboy.”

He hums, all without slowing his rhythm. “Impatient, little one?”

“Obviously.”

He makes an amused noise, but he doesn’t stop his thrusts. He plans to make you cum just like this before he fucks you and you don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.

You move your hand to his throat, squeezing the sides gently as you feel him swallow. His pulse is pounding beneath your fingertips, blown-out pupils glued to yours as you add just the slightest bit of pressure.

His soft inhale makes your stomach flutter. You happen to adore him like this, on the verge of complete submission. Merciless at your feet.

But you know it won’t last long. And once his eyelids begin to flutter, you yank him down for another kiss. Stealing the only breath he has left.

You can practically feel his cock twitching against your thigh as you tug his curls and suck on his tongue. But he’s not one to be outdone, and he continues rubbing your clit as quickly as he can, sweeping his fingers in a circle while you roll your hips against his hand.

"Gentle, sweetheart," he warns, throwing your own instruction back at you. 

You want to retort with a quippy remark of your own but choose instead to lick a stripe along his jaw. That suffices as your reply.

You don't have a lot of time, at least not for games. You’re playing against the clock, and you know Hugh will be calling for you any second.

Any other night, Harry would most likely edge you all the way to the brink. But tonight, he knows better, and he does everything he can to make you cum.

And when you do, you nearly lose your balance. It’s one of the most blinding and toe-curling orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. So much better than when you do it alone and you’re so grateful for his cocky attitude for the first time all summer.

Your body melts into his as you start to come down from your high. You almost wish it would never end. The way his lips feel on your cheek. The sound of his soft, proud praises in your ear. It’s everything.

But you know that’s not what he’s good for. So, instead, you push him away and step back. “Down.”

He looks at you. “Down?”

You nod toward the floor. “You wanted a taste. So take a taste, sweetheart.”

He crosses his arms. “Mm. Ask me nicely.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ask me nicely to eat you out and maybe I will.”

Your expression falls flat. “Take the goddamn taste, Harold, or I will go out there and find somebody who will.”

He’s amused, but you know he’s also nervous. He doesn’t like the idea that you’d take yourself from him, so, he clears his throat and slowly lowers to his knees.

Exactly where he belongs.

His head bows, something he doesn’t do quite that often, and your heart soars. He looks beautiful like this. Submissive and good. Everything you know he’s not. 

You brush your fingers through the curls draping across his forehead and he seems to settle into your touch before you’re hooking your finger under his chin and lifting his head.

Your eyes meet, a look of utter reverence written across his face as he gazes at you with awe and respect. And your stomach nearly twists as you whisper, “You know what to do.”

And he does. His mouth turns up in a gentle smile as he slowly reaches for your ankle. He resumes his earlier position, the bottom of your heel on top of his shoulder for access, and his other hand reaching to grab your hip and pull you towards his face.

You immediately bite your lip, anticipating the noises that are about to follow. 

Similar to this afternoon, he starts gentle, pressing kisses into your thighs ever so slowly. You know you’re soaking him. Can hear it and see it, even in the dim closet light.

He drags his tongue up your leg, collecting every drop that’s at his disposal, while you continue pushing back his hair so you can see him clearly. 

Finally, he reaches your swollen clit, still sensitive from his last assault, before he’s eagerly tracing it with the tip of his tongue.

You writhe in his hands, head turning to the side as you open your mouth to exhale a curse. And this seems to feed his ego because he repeats the action again, nose pressing into your hip as he inhales you like you’re fresh air on a spring day. Like you’re the only thing he wants in his lungs—the only breath he wants to take.

You pull his head closer as though to encourage him, and your name falls from his lips like rain.

“My sweet Bunny,” he nearly groans. “Can never get enough of you.”

“Good,” is all you can say. “We don’t have a lot of time, though. You need to be quick.”

“Who says I’m through? You owe me, sweetheart.”

You give his curls a sharp yank. “No. Get up and fuck me.”

He pouts, feigning a tantrum, but you know his cock is throbbing rather pitifully for you. So, he obliges, standing to his feet while you gather yourself in wait.

He tugs down his boxers, the only fabric left between you, and you try not to stare as you grab onto his shoulders and prepare to sink down.

“Five minutes,” you instruct softly. “Make it count.”

However, before you can feel that glorious tip pushing its way through, he’s suddenly grabbing onto your hips and spinning you around. Shoving you against the coat closet wall as you gasp.

Instantly, his hand comes up to slap against your lips. “Hush now," he hisses against your ear. "Unless you want Hugh to know what I'm really doing to his pretty girl?"

You’d roll your eyes if you didn’t feel his hips knocking into yours, giving you just a taste of what’s to come. Instead, you glance over your shoulder in an attempt to see him, and nod once.

But this isn’t good enough. So, he reaches for the bowtie around your neck, pulling on it until it snaps off into his hand. He holds it as though it were a prize he won in battle before he’s slipping it over your head and into your mouth.

You take it between your teeth and bite down obediently.

“Good,” he hums, giving your ass a quick spank. The sound echoes between the small walls. “That’s much better, hm?”

You feel him drag his cock through your dripping folds while his other hand ghosts down the curve of your spine. He’s gentle with you, despite his cruel taunting, and you’re almost impressed. Infatuated, even.

His warm body feels so good against yours. Luring you into a sense of security you can’t seem to find anywhere else. And you rather enjoy it as you feel the thickness of him starting to stretch you open.

You moan around the tie while Harry grunts in your ear. Just like the first time the two of you found yourselves in this position. 

And exactly like every other time before, he doesn’t rush you. He lets you feel—lets you enjoy—every inch and every second. Any other time, he’d make you beg. Beg him to go harder, go deeper. But tonight, you can’t, and it’s almost a shame he won’t get to hear it.

Instead, you offer a muffled whimper that seems to do the trick, and he chuckles to himself. “Need more, don’t you?”

You nod quickly, and he wraps his arms around your stomach in order to tug you back and guide you along his cock the way he wants.

He goes faster. His five minutes is now down to four, and he knows he’ll have to make this quicker than usual. Sharp, hard thrusts that make your legs shake and your heart race. But somehow, it’s still not enough.

“You like to play with me, don’t you, hm?” he begins to taunt. An angrier tone than before. “Make me watch you? With him?”

Your eyes nearly roll back, and you whine against the fabric on your tongue.

"Think I don't know?" he scoffs. "Think I don't know who this pussy belongs to?"

He starts to slow. A rather achingly languid pace that’s meant to make you scream, and you nearly do.

“I do,” he promises in a dark whisper. “I know exactly who you belong to.”

You arch your back and reach for his hair. Pulling his face into your neck as he leaves a trail of wet kisses all the way down to your shoulder.

“So stay,” he murmurs. “Stay with me. Don’t go back to him. Don’t make me jealous, Bunny. Don’t make me watch him touch you. Please.”

Please.

A word he rarely uses, even when you instruct him to. But it sounds so beautiful between his lips, and you nearly tell him you’ll never leave him again.

But you know he doesn’t mean it. It’s just what you say in a moment like this. So, you whimper, and tug on him harder. Pretending to agree until he smiles.

The small coat room has become a sauna, your naked bodies now writhing together as the rest of the world continues on around you.

You can hear the music, the people, the party. A constant reminder that while you’ve disappeared into your own little world within this closet...the two of you will never truly be alone.

But you don’t get a chance to focus on that when his hand suddenly reaches around to take hold of your chest. Plucking your nipple between his large, rough fingertips. You brace your forehead against the wall as you push yourself into his palm. Anxious for more, which he happily gives you.

The two of you move like the tide, one fluid motion of your bodies in rhythmic harmony. He leaves your tit to focus on your clit. Forcing you closer to a second orgasm that already feels much stronger than the first.

"Here," he breathes. “Give me your hand. Want you to touch yourself for me, okay? So I can watch you.”

Your arm trembles as you move it toward your thighs, where he easily takes your fingers and places them against your pussy exactly the way his had been.

“Just like that. Good. Rub it for me, sweetheart. Yeah…there you go. Attagirl. Keep going, don’t stop.”

You feel his eyes over your shoulder as you pinch and rub the swollen nerves as your legs shake. After a moment, he grabs your thigh and lifts your knee to the wall. Giving himself a different and deeper angle as you nearly cry out around the bowtie in your mouth.

Everything feels wet. And warm. And perfect. And you know you’re moments away from coming around his cock for the second time today.

“How you doing, baby?” he chuckles when he notices the fucked-out expression on your face. “You all right?”

You nod as best you can and clench down on his cock for confirmation. And he makes a rather animalistic noise before he’s grabbing onto your tit again and groping it in his palm. 

“Good. You gonna cum for me, little one? Milk me like I know you can?”

Another nod. You can hear the party growing louder, which means it’s almost midnight. And that means Hugh’s speech will be any second now.

You’re squirming harder, unable to fight such intense pleasure as it comes from his cock and your fingertips. But he catches you, grip tightening around your thigh as he squeezes so hard, you know you’ll see bruises in the shape of his name tomorrow.

But you don’t mind. You know you’ll be able to touch them in the shower and remember this—remember him.

“Cum,” he instructs, almost viciously. “Right now, Bunny. Fucking cum. Let me feel you. Gotta feel you, honey, please.”

You roll yourself back onto his cock just to feel full while he kisses your jaw and begs you to let go. 

You’re so close you can nearly taste it. And he’s even closer than you, doing his best to hold out but you know it’s rather hard with the watch you’re squeezing him.

And when you feel him start to buck and twitch, you can’t help but smile.

He spills inside you as he bottoms out. He hates coming first, and always tries incredibly hard not to. But tonight, you can’t exactly fault him, and as it turns out, the feel of him inside you—so warm it makes your head spin—is what you need to follow.

The orgasm nearly explodes behind your eyelids as you scream into the tie, forcing Harry to slap his hand back over your mouth to silence you.

“Quiet,” he hisses, nose pressed against your cheek. “Shut up.”

Yet you don’t even try. You don’t care that you might get caught or that someone could hear. Perhaps you will once the consequences catch up to you, but right now? Right now, you moan into his hand and allow every moment of this pleasure to take control of you. 

Your sweaty bodies melt together, damp hair clinging to your skin as Harry finally lets go and steps back.

But instead of pulling his clothes back on, the sadistic man drops back down to his knees, and spins you around.

He brushes your hand away from your clit in order to do the work himself. Resuming his previous pace on your rather abused nerves until you nearly crumble to the floor.

It’s almost too much. Your eyes roll back and your head drops against the wall. You can’t stand it, yet you can’t get enough.

“One more,” is all he says before diving forward for a lick. “Just one more, baby.”

You’re too sensitive. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you watch him through the blissful haze as he closes his eyes to savor the taste.

It’s a mix of you and him, and watching him lap at you like a thirsty man desperate for a drink is sinful. He’s so good. So beautiful like this. Devoted just to you the way no other man ever has been before.

Outside, you can hear the sound of Hugh calling for everyone’s attention. Your heart leaps into your throat. He’ll be furious if you’re not there. If he has to find you. And if he finds you with Harry?

You don’t have any more time. You have to go. Right now. But you’re so close, and Harry isn’t stopping, and you just need to finish, you just need…need—

You cum for the third and final time with a rather lewd and anguished moan.

Instantly, you start to slump forward as Harry leaps to his feet in order to keep you upright.

“That’s my girl,” he coos. “There you go. I’ve got you. S’okay.”

Your vision is fuzzy as you grip onto his shoulders for balance, the taste of the orgasm still bleeding along your tongue. 

But you can’t bid him goodbye just yet. So, you rip the tie from your mouth and kiss him. Drowning in the taste of him and you together. And nothing else really matters except his hands and the way they hold you close. 

“Good boy,” you exhale after you’ve pulled apart.“Knew you could do it.”

He only grins.

The two of you quickly work to redress, pulling on your clothes and shoes while Harry’s cum continues to streak down your thighs. It seems he didn’t get it all, and the realization that you’ll have to go out there with him still snug inside your cunt makes your stomach flutter.

When Harry notices your surprised expression, he winks. “Wanna make sure you’re thinking of me when you’re standing next to him.”

You scoff. But deep down, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Harry helps you secure the tie back around your neck, effectively covering the hickeys he so generously left for you to find later. And you make sure to brush back his curls so they look a little more tame before swiping your thumb across his chin to collect what’s left of you.

And once you’ve finally gathered yourself, you move for the door, only stopping to give him one last glance.

“This was nice,” you tell him honestly. “Just make me a deal, okay?”

His eyebrow raises.

“Next time? Don’t wait so long.”

With that, you’re out the door. Leaving the breathless man behind. But you know it certainly isn’t the last time you’ll see him. After all, the summer is far from over.

And you’re just getting started.

HI!!! I just wanted to say that even though we have a Hugh Hefner in this story, I don't consider it to be the same one as the real one! I used his name because he's so famously associated with Playboy but I do not agree with or condone anything that he's done or how he treated people!

I am only using his name, but please imagine anyone you'd like! 💞

~ Main Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin

@justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda

@vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach

@lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana

@dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@laelamarley @idkkkkkkk123lgb 

[joelscruff]

truth or dare (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

notification blog | kofi | in honor of my bestie han @swiftispunk who recently celebrated her birthday (and in honor of spooky season starting 🎃) i thought i'd step outside the boundaries of what i usually write and try something new. i'd also like to give a huge shoutout to @toxicanonymity whose entire masterlist greatly influenced my desire to try something like this. please heed the warnings!!! and as i said this is my first time writing anything like this so pls be kind 🫠

summary: a harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: dubcon (reader is given a choice to leave, but not immediately), dark!joel, age gap (reader is college age, joel is in his fifties), unprotected p in v sex, use of restraints, ropes, spanking, degradation, sir kink, dirty talk (use of 'little girl' as a pet name), face fucking, rough sex, creampie, brief anal play, humiliation, inappropriate use of a household item (he puts a flashlight up her cooch), marking (with a sharpie), size kink (joel is much bigger than reader and can lift her), pls lemme know if i forgot anything word count: 8.3k

Your palms are sweaty, fingers sticking to your skin as you stand at the edge of the property with goosebumps already blooming along your flesh. The air is chilly, that end of summer evening air flooding your nostrils as a car drives past through streams of leftover rainwater, headlights blurring your vision for a moment. It passes quickly and you're alone again, standing on the street corner with a mixture of anticipation and dread filling your trembling body.

Everything had been fine about twenty minutes ago. A typical party with your hometown friends, one last hurrah before everyone splits off for the third year in a row to go back to their respective colleges, back to long lectures and underwhelming frat boys. It had gone the same way it always does when you get together - shots, secrets, schemes. No end of summer party could ever be complete without a game of truth or dare, not for your crowd anyway.

It had started simple. "Which one of us had the best glow-up this year?" "I dare you to text the last guy you slept with." "What's the kinkiest thing you've done with somebody?" "I dare you to show us the last nude someone sent you." Typical borderline adolescent challenges, things you all still followed through with despite being too old for the game - it's the principle of it, to indulge and pretend, if only for a little while, that life is as simple as it once was.

"Who's the last person you had a sex dream about?"

You'd twisted your hands awkwardly in your lap, felt heat rush to the apples of your cheeks. Usually a question like this wouldn't make you hesitate, but the subject of the answer had been a slightly embarrassing one. As soon as the name Joel Miller had fallen from your lips, you'd been met with screams and squeals and excited chatter from every direction.

"He's so fucking creepy though," one of your friends had said with wide eyes, palm over her mouth, "He gives off serial killer vibes."

"Oh please, he's not that bad," another had chimed in, "He's just a loner, kinda mysterious. I see the vision."

"Are we forgetting the part where he's old as hell? Dude must be in his fifties, at least."

"But that means experience."

"It could also mean limp dick."

"You guys are disgusting," you'd moaned, leaning back on your hands, "It was one dream, let's move on."

And they had. Briefly. Until it was once again your turn and they'd all rounded on you with cheshire cat grins and glinting stares. You should have known what was coming when you chose Dare.

"I dare you to go over to his house."

You'd resisted, of course. The dare itself didn't even make much sense; what were you meant to do? Go over and ding-dong-ditch his front door like a twelve year old boy? But it had only snowballed from there, all five girls tossing in their own thoughts and ideas, talking and giggling over each other. "She should ask him on a date." "She should just flirt a little bit, see how he reacts." "She could see how far she can get with him, maybe?" "Oh shit, that's good."

You could have always said no - there was no way any of them could force you to do it, even if it would have ended the party abruptly with grumbled complaints and a slammed door. But the more they talked the more you found yourself listening, letting the concept sink in, the images of the dream you'd had the other night flooding to the front of your mind. Mysterious and elusive Joel Miller, big hands covered in the motor oil he uses to tinker with his truck, trailing his messy fingers between the swells of your breasts...

They'd managed to convince you just by the reminder alone, though also due to the fact that they'd each tossed in a twenty dollar bill and stated that simply getting a kiss on the cheek would warrant a win. The prospect was intriguing; it would be a testament to your own desirability, your game. How far can you get with your quiet neighbor who probably hasn't touched a woman in years? Who'll probably fold the second he realizes someone as young and beautiful as you is interested in him?

"I'll do it," you'd said with a smirk, rising from the hardwood, "How hard can it be?"

Harder than you thought, apparently. Because now you stand a few feet from Joel Miller's house, loitering soundlessly at the edge of his front lawn, hesitating. The sun has gone down, turning the hedges along the side of his property into frighteningly tall shadows, dark and menacing. A light breeze flows past and you wrap yourself tighter in your well-worn maroon cardigan, shivering, staring at your boots and wondering if you can really bring yourself to do this.

It'll be so humiliating if he rejects your advances. On the other hand, will it somehow be less-so if he returns your flirtatiousness and you then have to reject him once you've gotten what you came for? How will that make you look? You're not even really sure why you care - probably because the man has done nothing to you whatsoever, nothing that would warrant such a foolish prank as this being played on him. It makes you feel bad, in a way. As much as you and your friends make fun of him, he really is just a man who keeps to himself - perhaps this is going too far.

You notice light flickering nearby, a reflection of fluorescents in the puddles of his driveway. You figured he'd be in his garage - it's where he spends most of his time, bent over the exposed hood of the truck he's seemingly been working on ever since he moved in at the beginning of the summer. You've never seen him drive it, never even seen him leave the property, but you've passed by the house on more than one occasion. You've seen the way he rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, forearms splattered black and grey, expression focused on the task at hand while sweat drips from his greying temples.

Having a sex dream about him really shouldn't have been that shocking, now that you think about it. The man is a mystery, sure, but he isn't ugly by any means.

You swallow down your qualms, picturing the faces of your friends more than likely smooshed against the living room window a few houses back, watching. As soon as you turn the corner, you'll disappear from view, obstructed by the hedges and the sudden darkness of night. You take one more deep breath, one last burst of chilly evening air into your lungs, and accept your fate.

--

He doesn't notice you walking up his driveway, taking slow and meager steps as you assess the open garage, the truck with its hood popped as usual, the flickering of the florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. He doesn't notice you, but you notice him. You spot a pair of steel toed boots and long denim clad legs sticking out from underneath the truck, hear the clink and clang of metal against metal while he tinkers with something down there, unseen. As you reach the garage it becomes apparent that you still have one last chance to end this before it begins, turn around and take the loss.

But you don't.

"Excuse me," you offer in a weak voice, teetering nervously at the edge of the garage door, neither inside nor out - neutral ground.

The clinking stops, replaced by the steady pounding of your heart in your chest, the heaviness of your breathing. You try to loosen your hands from their fisted forms and unclench your fingers, focusing on the stretch of flesh and bone while the legs beneath the car slowly begin to inch forward. He's not laying on any type of support, one of those wheeled contraptions you've seen other people use - no, he's simply got his back to the ground, a back and body that's slowly coming into view.

His black and green flannel rides up where he's been laying on it, as well as the grey t-shirt he wears beneath; as he slides out from under the car you spot a bare sliver of skin just above his waistband, a patch of hair that trails down into his jeans. A lump forms in your throat. When he finally peeks his head out, you swallow around it and try to remember to breathe.

Greying hair slicked back behind his ears, cheekbones smeared slightly with something black, scruff lining a strong yet soft jawline, a plump bottom lip, and those eyes... dark brown, almost black. It's the face that's practically been haunting you all summer, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.

His brow furrows as soon as he sees you, "Can I help you?"

It's not the first time you've heard him talk, but it's certainly the first time he's ever spoken directly to you. His accent is stronger than you remember, words slipping smoothly past his lips like butter as he eyes you from the floor of his garage, knees up, hands still hidden in the darkness. A few seconds pass before you realize he's asked you a question.

"Oh, um-" You haven't thought this through very far, that's for sure. What the fuck do you even say? You take a breath and remind yourself that you're good at this, have seduced your fair share of frat boys in the past two years with minimal effort and have never heard the word no. Sure, Joel Miller isn't a frat boy - far from it - but underneath his cold exterior he's still very much a man, and very much capable of falling under the spell of a beautiful woman. You hope, anyway.

"I was just taking a walk," you lie, "Saw your light on, thought I'd come say hi."

He stares at you blankly, like he's unsure exactly how he's supposed to respond - or perhaps he's already seeing through your façade. You take a step into his garage, poised at the edge as you lean casually against the opening.

"Honestly, um-" you push some hair behind your ear and attempt to look shy, though it's not a huge jump from how you're actually feeling, "I've been meaning to talk to you, before I go back to college."

At your words he raises an eyebrow and slowly brings his hands downwards, palms pressing flat against the dark concrete. You watch as he eases himself up and out from under the truck, and god he's tall - tall and broad and huge compared to you, a fact that sends a little flutter into your belly. He takes a step toward the work bench against the wall, eyes still on you as he reaches down and picks up a rag to wipe his hands, big and wide and streaked with oil. You remember your dream and feel a twinge in your underwear.

"Talk to me about what?" he asks, massaging the rag against his fingers.

You shrug as nonchalantly as you can, taking another step inside his garage, closer to where he stands at the work bench. You cross your legs in an attempt to show them off, stretching your ankle toward a spare tire on the floor and accentuating the sheerness of your black tights, the little run that splits the material at the inside of your knee, the hint of bare skin that peeks out beneath.

"Nothing in particular," you say, keeping your voice soft and steady but doing your best to keep that shy girlishness present, "Just... wanted to." You peer up at him from under your lashes and bite your lip, then reach out your hand for him to take. You say your name.

He assesses your hand but doesn't take it, brow still furrowed. "Joel," he replies, "And I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment. Don't really have time to talk." His voice is cold and gruff, absolutely no sign of interest or attraction - dammit.

"What're you doing?" you ask, tilting your head.

He continues to stare at you blankly, "What does it look like I'm doin'?"

Okaaaay, then.

You shrug again and take another step, turning to look at the wall next to you. Tools line the shelves, wrenches and screwdrivers and the like dangling rather precariously here and there, smeared in motor oil and dust. It's a mess but you'd be willing to bet that it's organized chaos, that he likes it this way.

"What's this?" you ask, pointing to a particularly large object, something that looks like a mixture between a pair of scissors and a wrench.

"Bolt cutters," he supplies you monotonously.

"Ohh," you say with a nod, leaning a bit into the confused pretty girl stereotype and hoping maybe he's a sucker for it, "And what's that?" You point toward a small cylindrical object, black and tactical, only a few inches long.

"You never seen a flashlight before?"

Oh. Right. "Woops," you giggle, "Sorry."

You turn your face to look at him sheepishly and he's still watching you, big arms now crossed against his broad chest - impatient. Well, this is clearly not working either. He's frowning, eyes so focused on your face that you feel almost naked beneath it, like he's staring into your soul. You clear your throat awkwardly and tug your bottom lip between your teeth, breaking your own gaze away from him and trying to find something else to comment on.

"So you've been working on your truck," you state, gesturing toward the vehicle as if only just noticing it was even there, "What's - uh - what's wrong with it?"

He's clearly not buying into whatever the fuck you're even trying to sell. He remains silent, eyes still on you, and suddenly it's like you've never even interacted with a man before - and to be honest, maybe you haven't. Frat boys are certainly not men by any means, and nowhere near in the same league as Joel Miller by a long shot, probably almost triple their age with a dark and mysterious aura that feels almost suffocating. He just stares at you, slightly unnerving, but also seductive in its own way, almost like he's challenging you.

"What do you want?" he asks blankly.

"I-I told you," your voice is already faltering, losing its flirtatious edge the more you realize how dumb of an idea this was, "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, I got that," he says stiffly, "Why?"

You've already exhausted the avenues you thought might work, which means you've got one last chance before he sends you packing. With bated breath you take the final few steps toward him and - averting your gaze - you reach your hand out to touch his forearm with your fingertips. It's feather light, but you're suddenly very aware of the goosebumps that rise on his freckled flesh, the way the thick hair on his arms seems to stand on end the second your skin touches his. Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

"I think you're handsome," you murmur softly, feeling warmth rush to your cheeks when you realize that it's not a lie. And it really isn't. As your gaze gradually tilts up you catch a glimpse of the hair on his chest, peeking out from under his grey t-shirt. You spot his pecs beneath the fabric of his flannel, see the throbbing veins in his neck, the coarseness of his scruff, the sharp curve of his nose, and those fucking eyes - looking at you with a darkness, a lust, that wasn't there before.

He's not just handsome; he's fucking gorgeous.

"What're you doin'?" he asks you, that gruffness still present but being taken over by something else, something darker.

"Nothing," you breathe, still trailing your fingers along his forearm until they reach its apex and dip into the soft part behind his elbow, damp with sweat. You swallow, throat going dry as you stroke his skin with your thumb.

"Doesn't feel like nothin'," his voice is quieter, matching yours, and he tilts his head slightly as he continues to stare into your eyes, "Why're you really here, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. The word sends a burst of warmth to your chest, a smile to your lips. You unlock your eyes from his bashfully, watching your own movements as you trail your fingers back down toward his hand and wrap them around one of his fingers, so thick compared to your own. You squeeze gently, biting your lip again as you peer back up at him. Here it is. Moment of truth. You tilt your head up slightly, eyelashes fluttering as you lean forward to connect your lips with his.

Except, they don't connect.

Instead he pulls his hands away from you, brings them upwards and wraps them around your upper arms, squeezing tightly. Your eyes widen, confusion flooding your features.

"Turn around and bend over."

"W-what?" Shock doesn't even begin to describe the ice cold feeling that now makes its way through your body, edged with something else - something you can't explain.

"Turn around," he repeats, his big hands squeezing your arms even tighter - relentless, firm - as he peers down at you with a dark hunger in his eyes, glinting black beneath the fluorescents, "And bend over."

He does not give you another chance to obey - you're too frozen in surprise and confusion to do anything yourself. Instead, he uses the force of his weight on your arms to spin you on the spot, shoving you against the work bench. You feel one of his hands move from your arm to your back, pushing hard until you fold, warm cheek coming to rest against the cold wood.

"Wh-what are you doing?" your voice is meager, weak, and you feel him wrap one of his hands around both your wrists like it's nothing, pinning them against your back like they're simply twigs in his wide palm.

"What you're clearly fuckin' beggin' for," he replies gruffly, and you feel his other hand at your skirt, feel the brush of his fingertips at the hem as he reaches upward to grip the band of your tights. Your eyes widen and instinctively you pull back, pull away - he just pushes you back down.

"I'm not-" you begin, shock quickly being replaced with fear when you realize how easily overpowered you are, how fluidly he's able to tug down your tights and expose your ass to him, clad in only a black thong already lost between your cheeks.

"Oh, you're not, huh?" his voice is cold and stoic, angry, "You think you can play games with me, little girl?" His hand comes to rest against the swell of your behind and you suddenly feel his breath above you, hot in your ear, "Tell me why you're really here."

You try to lift your head up to look at him better but he just shoves you back down again. Panic floods your body, mixed with the unmistakable burn of arousal. You feel yourself twitch in your underwear, feel a sudden gush of warmth spill inside the fabric as he begins to trail his finger up and down the thin line of black cotton.

"I-I'm..." You're at a complete loss for words, unable to articulate anything, unsure of what exactly is happening - or about to happen. Two minutes ago you'd been sure he was about to tell you to leave, practically kick you out of the garage himself, and now you're not sure leaving is even a possibility.

He pulls his hand back and you cry out when it comes down to slap against one of your cheeks, a sharp sting and burn you hadn't been anticipating.

"Tell me why you're here," he repeats - authoritarian, firm.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out except a frightened squeak, something which clearly eggs him on even more. He spanks you again, harder this time, palm flat and wide against your pebbled flesh. The sound that slips past your lips is somehow akin to a moan of some sort, guttural and deep.

"I'll just make it harder and harder, sweetheart," he says then, and the pet name no longer contains the warmth it did mere moments ago; instead it's cold and detached, mocking. You're still reeling when his hand comes down to slap against you again, even harder this time, and your hands ball into fists behind your back as you let out another low moan. More slick gushes into your panties and it's impossible to deny that somehow, despite the fear twinging in your heart, you're so fucking turned on.

"M-my friends," you gasp out, and you feel him squeeze your abused ass cheek which you're sure is already dark with his handprint, "They- they dared me to see how far I c-could get with you."

He lets your words sink in for a moment, squeezing again - tighter, so tight that it hurts. You whimper against the wooden top of the work bench, legs shaking.

"So you came here to get fucked," he finally states.

"N-no, I swear, I-"

"Wasn't a question," he interrupts, and you feel his other hand tighten around your wrists, "You came here to get fucked so you're gonna get fucked, end of story."

"But I-"

Without any warning he suddenly pushes himself up against you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans pressing deliciously up against your exposed skin. You gasp, eyes going wide when you feel the long, thick shape of his dick between your cheeks, huge and hard. He holds it there, his free hand coming down to lay flat beside your head against the work bench.

"You feel that?" he asks, voice suddenly quieter but still full of that ice cold malice, "You feel that cock?"

Fuck. "Y-yes," you breathe, "I feel it."

"You have five seconds before i close this door and stuff you full, understand?" Suddenly all you can hear is the heavy sound of his breathing, the panting of your own, the thud of your heart where it presses painfully against the wood. He's giving you an out.

"I- I-" you swallow, brows furrowing when you feel his hand slacken around your wrists. You could pull away now, yank yourself out of his grasp and sprint down his driveway, return to your friends. Forget this ever even happened.

It's your last chance.

"Five," he begins, breath warm against your face.

Run. Just run.

"Four."

But why?

"Three."

Why don't you want to run?

"Two."

Why do you want to stay?

"One."

He pulls his hand up from the work bench and hits a button on the wall, eliciting a loud mechanical noise to your left as the garage door starts to close. You watch with wide eyes as your chance to leave slowly vanishes inch by inch until it's gone completely, and yet no part of you itches to run, to escape. There's nothing to escape from, you realize. You want to be here. You want him to fuck you.

As the reality of your situation starts to settle, his grip around your wrists tightens once again. You sense him reaching up somewhere above you, and you suddenly feel the harsh texture of what feels like thickly braided rope wrapping around your wrists. The realization that he's restraining you sends another pool of release into your panties, another faint squeak past your lips.

"You gonna stay still for me?" he asks, voice dark and clearer now in the silence of his garage, no sounds of rain or cars to disrupt you, "Huh? You gonna be a good girl?"

"Yes," you breathe, nodding against the wood.

"Say it."

"I'm gonna stay still," you promise, "I'm gonna be a good girl."

He finishes knotting the rope around your wrists, tight and uncomfortable against your skin. He pushes his groin up against your ass again, brings his now free hands downward to reach through your cardigan and squeeze your breasts. Your nipples are hard beneath the soft cotton of your shirt, no bra between the layer of material and your bare skin; he tweaks them in his fingers and you shudder.

"These are mine," he whispers in your ear, scruff nuzzling against the side of your face, "These tits, this ass," he drops his hands from your breasts to squeeze your cheeks again, "and this pussy." His hand drops to the puffy shape of your lips beneath your thong and you whimper. "Understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

You're not sure what he's asking for, what he wants you to say. You take a guess. "Yes, sir," you whisper, and you feel him smile against your ear. Bingo.

He doesn't bother to pull your tights down the rest of the way; instead, he rips them, pulling them apart in his big hands and reaching inside to curl his index finger around the thin strip of your thong. He pulls it - hard - and it rips from you with a rough tearing sound and a painful sting, eliciting a loud gasp from you which he rewards with another spank.

You feel his finger slip between your lips for a moment, gathering some of your release before he pulls it away. "Juicy fuckin' pussy," he mutters, and you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone, vulgar in the quiet room. You have no time to ask about protection, no time to even really process how quickly this is already happening, before you feel the warm tip of his cock pushing against your twitching hole. You gasp again, hands furling under the ropes.

"Shh," he quiets you, stilling for a second, "Don't squirm."

"Sorry," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "I'm sorry."

"What're you sorry for?" he murmurs, feeding his cock to you in small increments, reveling in the noises falling past your lips. It's so fucking big, bigger than you'd anticipated - it feels like he's spearing you, splitting you in half, especially without much preparation. It stretches and burns, but the warmth of it, the way it pulses as it invades your body, just makes you gush even more. "Hm?" he continues, "What're you sorry for? You sorry for squirmin' or sorry you pissed me off?"

Your eyes roll back as he bottoms out, his pubic hair pressing coarsely against your pussy lips, heavy balls firm to your ass. You try to speak but it's hard to get the words out when you're so full, the wide tip of him pushing into your cervix.

"You a virgin?" he asks you then, voice changing for a moment, like for the briefest of seconds he's wondering whether he should have gone slower.

You shake your head quickly, "N-no," you manage to gasp out.

"Feel like a fuckin' virgin," he grunts, pulling out and then immediately slamming back inside. Your head bumps against the work bench, a groan falling from your mouth as he makes a home inside you. "Christ," he mutters, "Tight little thing. You feel me in your stomach, baby?"

You're not sure he wants you to answer, but it becomes clear when his hand slaps down on your ass cheek again and you cry out.

"Yes," you moan, then quickly amend, "Yes, sir."

"S'what happens when you come in here, actin' like a little slut," he suddenly reaches for your cardigan and yanks it off - it catches on your restrained hands and he simply rips it and tosses it to the floor, "But then again, you're not actin', are you? Huh? What's a slut like you doin' wearin' all these fuckin' layers?"

"I'm s-sorry," you repeat, already mourning the loss of your favorite sweater, now ripped to shreds at your feet.

"Sorry's not good enough, little girl," he breathes, thrusting into you again so hard that you yelp, cheek still pressed into the splintered wood of the work bench, "That's it, fuckin' take it."

He fucks you without any reservations, any inhibitions. Your legs shake and you can hear the slap of his hairy thighs against yours as he pounds into you relentlessly. You have no choice but to take it, the stretch of his huge cock becoming less painful the more he gives it to you over and over, the room full of the wet squelch of your pussy gripping him. He grabs your hips, fingertips digging into your bare flesh as he takes and takes; you wish you could see his face, wish you could see how he looks when he's fucking you, getting his pleasure. The thought makes you whine, tears streaming down your face as your body moves back and forth against the work bench.

It feels fucking amazing. You've never had a cock as big as his before, never been fucked so deep and so hard, like he doesn't care if he breaks you, makes you cry. He hasn't touched your clit and yet you already feel you could come from just this, just the relentless push and pull of his dick inside you. Unfortunately, just as soon as you feel your orgasm starting to build, he pulls out. Your brow furrows.

"Stand up," he orders, "and turn around."

You obey, relief overtaking you as soon as you're no longer bent at such an awkward angle. The moment you turn to face him you barely get a look at his face before he's reaching down and tearing your shirt in half - easily, like it's nothing. You don't even have time to wonder how the hell you're gonna get home with all your clothes ripped to shreds when his mouth is suddenly wrapped around your left nipple, and you whine at the sensation. You peer down at him, biting your lip and watching his wet lips suckle around the hard bud, beard scratching deliciously against your skin. Your hand aches to cup the back of his head but it's still pinned behind your back, tied tight beneath the rope.

"Fuck," you whimper, and his dark gaze flashes up to meet yours as he sucks, the hint of a smirk on his lips when he pulls away.

"Feels good, does it?" he asks, and seeing the words come out of his mouth is somehow more sinful than when you could only hear them, "You like bein' used?"

You nod almost immediately despite never having experienced anything like this in your life - though admittedly you've undeniably wanted to experience this, ached to have somebody take control, tell you what to do, make you do things. It's like you've somehow known subconsciously all summer that Joel Miller could be that person for you, despite never having said two words to him. It was just a feeling, an instinct, and that dream...

"Yeah?" he continues, and suddenly his hand comes up to cup your pussy, thumb finally pressing against your clit. You cry out, tears still trickling down your cheeks. "Said you were in college, right? You take any college dick up here? Be honest now."

You nod again, "Y-yes."

"How many?"

"I... I don't know," you breathe. It's the truth, and you can tell as soon as the words leave your mouth that it does something to him. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, two fingers slipping up inside of you.

"'Course you don't know," he murmurs, pushing them as deep inside as he can, making you whimper, "You wouldn't know, would you?"

Your thighs tighten together - squeezing his hand - and he just smirks again, curving his fingers and making you moan. Your lower back digs into the work bench as he stands, pushes you up against it and peers down into your eyes again with a hunger that's only getting worse. You assess his expression, the pout of his lips as he fucks you with his fingers, the focused lines creased into his forehead. So fucking handsome.

"You're not a good girl," he breathes, nose brushing yours, "Knew it from the day I saw you. You're just made for takin' cock. Am I right?"

"Yes," you whisper, nodding shakily and bumping your lips up toward his - he pulls away again and you can't help but feel disappointed, aching to feel his lips against yours.

"Tonight you're made to take my cock, that clear?" he continues, and you watch as his other hand travels downward to wrap around it - just out of your periphery. He's too close to you, crowded so much in your space that you know he won't like it if you break eye contact. You can tell by his arm movements that he's pumping himself at the same speed he's fucking you with his fingers, inhaling deeply, "I'm gonna ruin you, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not."

"Y-yes sir," you whisper, voice squeaking when he speeds up his fingers and pumps them in and out with fervor, thumb rubbing furiously against your clit. Yet again he brings you almost to the edge and then removes his hand completely, stepping back with a low chuckle when you whimper pathetically.

Your disappointment only lasts a moment because now you can see him, see the girthy length of him that's already been inside of you hanging out of his zipper, glistening with your slick. He's huge, tip dark and intrusive, beads of his own arousal dripping from the slit; your mouth waters. His eyes cast down to where you're looking and he smiles, dark and mocking.

"Never gonna see another dick like this, darlin'," he breathes, "So you better start showin' your appreciation." His eyes glint. "Kneel."

You're practically already on your way to kneeling before he says it, in awe of the sheer girth and shape of him. The second your bare knees hit the cold floor he's crowding you again, hand coming around to hold the back of your head.

"Open wide, baby," he murmurs.

Your jaw drops and he plunges inside your mouth quickly and seamlessly, making you gasp around his length as your eyes widen. You can't breathe, looking up at him with more tears already fogging your vision as he immediately slips into the depths of your throat with no hesitation. You gag, eyes bulging as you attempt to swallow around the intrusion, find your breath, but it's impossible.

"Yeah," he breathes, both of his hands cradling your face and holding you still as he lets his cock sit unmoving in your throat, "Yeah, that's it. That's what you're made for."

He only holds it there for a few seconds but by the time he pulls it out you're gasping for air, coughing and spluttering as tears stream relentlessly down your cheeks. He keeps cradling your face, tuts to himself as you try to get your breath back. The head of his cock bumps softly against your bottom lip.

"Not off to a great start, are we?" he murmurs, "Let's try again."

He pushes his cock past your lips again and you try your hardest not to gag, a little more prepared this time. The pulsing head of his cock situates itself firmly in your throat, the pubic hair at the base tickling your nose while his balls bounce against your chin. You look up at him with pleading eyes, watch as he stares down at you with nothing but malice in his expression, contempt. You're just a hole to him, nothing more.

He pulls out and lets you gasp another breath before he's shoving himself back in, hands moving back to hold your head firmly as he fucks your face. You don't move - you don't need to; he does all the work as he drags your head back and forth along his cock, hitting the back of your throat over and over again until you're gagging and practically sobbing for air. Your knees ache against the concrete floor and you know you'll have bruises tomorrow, know that you probably won't be able to swallow properly for a few days either. Somehow, you don't really care.

When he's gotten his fill he yanks himself out and allows you to catch your breath for a few seconds, throat constricting around nothing while you choke and gasp.

"Stand up," he orders, and even though you're still gasping for air you manage to bring yourself back up, legs shaking. Saliva drips down your chin, drooling from your mouth in long strands, but with your hands tied you can't make any attempt to clean yourself up - he probably wouldn't want you to anyway.

His wide palms are suddenly on your hips, and he picks you up and places you on top of the work bench with minimal effort, arms bulging. You're completely naked now save for your ripped tights while he's still fully clothed, dripping cock still peeking out past his zipper, covered in your saliva. He steps between your legs and pushes your thighs open, then slips inside of you once again in one short push, making you yelp.

"Oh, please," he grumbles, gripping your hips tightly and pulling your bare body taut against him, head hitting his chest, "We both know you can take it."

It's not like you have any other choice at this point. He fucks you harder than he had before, now that he has easier access, can pull you so firmly against him that his entire length is continuously swallowed up entirely by your dripping pussy. His nails dig into your skin as his cock fucks up against your cervix over and over, so relentless it's almost painful. It's overwhelming how huge he is, not just his cock but his body in general, the way he towers over you and watches your expressions as he takes what's now his.

"Poor little thing," he mumbles, bringing one of his hands up to thumb the tears on your face, "Never been so full, huh? It's okay, shhh," his finger finds your lips and pushes against them almost mockingly, like he's chastising you, "Shhh, this is what you asked for, remember? S'what you wanted." You shake your head but he just nods, "Yeah, it is. You wanted that cock and now you're gettin' it."

Suddenly you're being lifted from the workbench, carried in his embrace with his cock still buried deep inside. You cry out, wrists straining against the ropes, itching to wrap your arms around his neck and hold yourself up with more stability. His arms come up to stretch along the expanse of your back, holding you still and pulling you even closer. As if on instinct your legs bend upwards to wrap around his waist, curling around his lower back while he pistons inside of you without restraint, without mercy.

"Fuck," you almost scream, feeling the rough denim of his jeans scratching against your ass, the heaviness of his balls slapping against you over and over again, "Fuckfuckfuck!"

"Yeah, there she is, there's that little slut," he says, a smile spreading across his face, voice somehow calm despite the fact that he's pounding into you over and over, "Nothin' like gettin' fucked stupid to sort ya out, huh? Needed to be punished, didn't you, sweetheart?"

You don't answer, can't answer, eyes rolling back as he fucks you with abandon. Of course it's not a surprise when he lands a hard spank against your ass, grips your cheek tightly in his palm and growls roughly in your ear, "Answer me, little girl."

"Yes," you force yourself to gasp out, head tilting back, "Yes sir, yes."

"S'right," he mutters, and you suddenly feel the pads of his fingers against your clit, rubbing at an aggressively fast pace that sends depraved noises spitting past your lips, "Come on that cock, tighten up that little pussy even more for me, baby, come on."

It only takes seconds for him to make you come, your eyes rolling back as your body shakes and writhes in his grasp. He doesn't slow his movements, keeps fucking you deep and hard as your legs loosen at his waist and you flop like a ragdoll in his arms.

"Chokin' that dick," he murmurs, "Had so many cocks in this little hole and you're still the tightest thing I've fucked," his brow furrows as he watches your face, watches as your eyes flutter open and your jaw slackens, "And what about your other hole, baby?" You feel one of his fingers prod against your asshole, circle the rim as he continues to bounce you up and down, "Ever had a cock in there?"

You tense up a little in his embrace, eyes widening. At your reaction he slows his movements, still holding you upright and allowing you to just sit on his cock for a moment while he continues to prod your asshole, "I'll take that as a no," he mutters, "Think my cock'll fit up there?"

"It won't," you whisper immediately, shaking your head.

He assesses your expression, eyes trailing up and down your face calculatingly, like he's weighing the pros and cons. Your heart stutters in your chest and you feel that fear from earlier slowly begin to creep back into your psyche, hands shaking under the rope.

"I won't," he states, and relief floods through your body; you relax in his embrace, becoming aware again of his cock still buried deep inside you. He very carefully prods the tip of his index finger inside your asshole and your eyes go wide again, mouth opening in protest. "Yet," he amends, smiling coldly at you, "I won't yet. Not today."

He pulls his finger out and walks with you to the work bench again, places you down gentler than before and peers at you with something in his gaze that you can't place, a curiosity that wasn't there before. It's gone in an instant though, and then he's fucking into you again without warning, gripping tight to your hips and slamming back and forth until you see stars.

"You thought this'd be so funny, didn't you?" he growls, looking at you again with that detached contempt, black eyes locked with yours. He brings his hand down and starts rubbing your clit again, not caring that you only just came a moment ago. "Thought you'd come here, have your fun, and leave again. But it's not so funny anymore, is it? Huh? Is it funny?"

"N-no," you gasp out, overstimulated to the point of even more tears as you squirm and writhe on the work bench, pussy aching from the insistent way he's pounding you and the relentless rubbing of his fingers against your clit.

"S'the last time you show up here tellin' lies," he mutters, "Understand me? Any time you come into my house from now on you're gettin' fucked, got it?"

"Y-yes," you cry, hands futilely attempting to ball into fists behind your back, and he shakes his head.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir!" you scream it, and just as the words pass your lips he stills inside of you, cock twitching as he starts to come. Your eyes go wide, mouth dropping open as his hand sends you into another climax just as he reaches his. Your head falls against his chest and you hear him groan above you, feel the way his cock pulsates and throbs and spits his cum in long and heavy spurts. Your thighs twitch and you feel his hand at your back, pulling you in close as he cups the back of your head.

You stay like that for a moment without speaking, your heavy breaths the only sound in the garage other than the rain now pelting heavily against the door. You swear you can hear his heartbeat.

"Good little girl, warmin' my cock," he murmurs in your ear, and you're still catching your breath, eyes closed, sobs wracking from your throat repeatedly. "Full o'me, huh? You feel all that, baby?"

You can only nod against his chest, wrists still straining against the rope as your toes curl somewhere below you and your body continues to shake. His cum settles warmly deep inside and your eyes roll back a bit when he pushes in further, like he's trying to keep it inside for as long as he can.

"Guess I found a new little cum dumpster, huh?" he whispers, carding his fingers through your hair, "I'll have to say thank you to your friends, or -" he pauses thoughtfully for a moment, "maybe I'll just have to send 'em a little message back with you."

You pull your face back from his chest, peering up at him with tired confusion. He reaches down and pulls out one of the drawers of the work bench, coming back up with a sharpie. You watch with fluttering lashes, unable to stop him - and not really wanting to - as he uncaps the marker and pushes your hair out of the way to write something across your chest, the cold tip making you jolt slightly.

"Shh," he murmurs, "It's okay, I'll untie ya in a sec."

It doesn't take him very long to finish writing whatever it is on your skin, and then he's slowly pulling his cock out of you. You whimper at the loss, thighs twitching as you peer down and watch his softening length slip past your hole, followed by a steady stream of his cum. He quickly reaches up and pushes what he can back inside, thumbing it back in carefully while the reality of what's just happened really begins to settle. You just let a man in his fifties tie you up, use you, come inside you, and write on your chest.

"Can't have all that slippin' out yet," he mutters, "Now, what can we use?" His eyes dart up to the shelves above you and he reaches up to grab something; when his hand comes back down you see the pocket flashlight from earlier, see the slightly flared base and know almost immediately what he's planning on using it for.

For some reason - whatever reason it is that you stayed here after he gave you an out, whatever reason you really came here in the first place - you don't protest.

He brings the flashlight downwards and quickly removes his hand from your pussy to replace it with the wide end, slipping it inside with only minimal resistance. You whimper and he hushes you, brushing his nose against yours as he assesses his handiwork.

"That should do it," he murmurs, then peers back up at you and pushes some stray hair out of your face "You keep that in there 'til you get home, okay?" His eyes have softened a bit, looking more similar to the way they did when you first showed up - is this the real him? You honestly have no idea.

You don't say anything, just nod slowly, feeling the anxiety from earlier begin to sink in yet again. How are you going to get home when you have no clothes? How are you going to explain to your friends what happened? How can you tell them - or show them - what you let him do to you?

These questions are clearly none of his concern. You watch as he backs up and gestures for you to stand with him; you do, with beyond shaky legs and the cold metal of the flashlight between your thighs.

"Turn around," he orders.

You feel him untie the rope from your wrists, essentially ending your time here - whatever it even was. It somehow doesn't feel real. You let them hang limply at your sides, feeling embarrassment flood your cheeks as you turn back around to look at him. He's watching you with a smirk, arms crossed - his dick is back in his jeans. He looks no different than he had when you arrived.

"Now get the fuck out," he says, dark eyes glinting once again under the flickering fluorescents, "before I change my mind."

--

The air is still chilly. The road is still wet. But thankfully, there are no cars.

You don't know how you manage to get home without anyone seeing you - hunched over, naked in the darkness, avoiding the streetlights, trying to ignore the ache between your legs and the icy intrusiveness of the flashlight still lodged inside of you - but you do. Your palms are sweaty again, heart pounding at the thought of your friends coming to greet you at the door, for the shock and confusion and screaming to begin - but that doesn't happen.

The moment you're back in the house you pull a jacket down from the coat rack and cover yourself, tiptoeing past the living room and waiting to be accosted by the friends who put you in this situation to begin with. Instead, they're nowhere to be seen. You hear the faint echo of laughter from the kitchen, hear the sounds of glass clattering and a fridge being shut. It's like they've already forgotten you even left, like the game meant nothing, and they've already found something new to entertain them, something better.

As if your futile attempt at getting a kiss on the cheek from Joel Miller is already something lost in the past.

And, you think, as you shakily climb the stairs and creep into the bathroom, tear the jacket from your shoulders and stare at your bare chest in the bathroom mirror, see the dark permanent lines that read TRUTH OR DARE...

Maybe that's how it should be.

[sanguineterrain]

Would you be willing to write a Jason Todd x reader inspired by the bulletproof vest scene from Criminal Minds? Maybe it's early in their relationship and they're fussing after hearing he's been shot. Maybe with an annoyed Damian breaking up their flirting?

(Here is the scene if you don't know what I'm talking about!! youtube.com/watch?v=C2bjYavXWec)

Haha this was such a fun prompt! Thanks for sending 🩷 I love prompts inspired by tv scenes

jason todd x gn!reader. minor injury, fluff, suggestive/implied nsfw, making out, implied timkon

****

Jason opens the door, looking extra comfy in his GU sweatpants and a Wonder Woman t-shirt. His curls stick up in fifteen different directions, making him look like an overgrown chick.

You'd coo if your heart hadn't been in your stomach all night.

"Hey, ba—"

You launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. The force of your embrace makes Jason stumble back a step. You suddenly remember his injury and reel back.

"Baby, what's goin' on?" His eyes are wide. Jason holds onto you, inspecting you right back.

"I'm so sorry!" you say, hands fluttering over his body. "Oh God, did I reopen stitches? Fuck, fuck—"

"Sweetheart." Jason places both hands on your shoulders and guides you away from the door. He kicks it shut with his foot. You both settle on the couch. "What're you talking about? Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" You sit up. Jason rests his head on the back of the couch, watching you. "God, Jason, you got shot! I heard you caught fire this morning so I got here as quickly as I could. Did I reopen stitches? Be honest because I swear to God, Jay, if you lie to me about that..."

"Honey. Oh my love. Y'know I'm crazy about ya?" Jason holds your face with both hands and squishes your cheeks. He's smiling. "I got shot in my bulletproof vest. No stitches required. Who told you I got shot?"

You take his hands and hold them to your chest. "Well, I was listening to the comms 'cause I can't sleep when you have overnight missions and—"

"You haven't slept all night?" Jason frowns. "Baby, you need to sleep."

You scoff. "None of that matters, Jay. What I'm hearing is that you still got shot!"

"'S not a big deal, honest. Just a few bruises. Leslie wrapped me up, see?"

Jason lifts his shirt. His ribs are wrapped in an ACE bandage. You feel around for a secret wound.

"No blood?" you ask, poking at the edges.

Jason laughs and catches your hand. He kisses your knuckles. "No, sweetness. No blood. 'S just a little sore." He lets his shirt fall. You're only a little disappointed by the loss of his bare skin.

"Why would Bruce send you out in a bulletproof vest? Of all the stupid—usually you wear your armor! That's actually bulletproof! Vests are bullet-resistant. That's like saying Gotham rats are toxin-proof. Just because they don't die from the Joker gas anymore doesn't mean they aren't higher than kites when it happens."

Jason kisses your cheek. It turns your insides ooey-gooey. He's always so warm, so solid.

"Mm. I'll call Merriam-Webster tomorrow and relate your beef with 'em. And to answer your question, I was undercover, so no armor. But I am fine. Okay?"

"I'll be the judge of that, mister."

You hike his shirt up to his neck and pat down his chest. Jason honest-to-God giggles, which only encourages you. You pinch the soft skin under his biceps, then kiss down his sternum. He squirms, sliding so he's lying on the couch.

"Tickles," Jason says, letting you love on him.

"Excuse me, sir, I'm trying to conduct a very serious medical examination," you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "I think I'll need a closer look at these."

You kiss Jason's right pectoral, and his face flushes pink like it always does because you know how sensitive he is there and how his sensitivity makes him shy. Your mouth grazes his nipple and a tiny grunt pushes out of his throat.

"'M just a piece of meat to you, huh?" He catches you with a hand on your hip.

You smile and nip his neck, careful of his bandage. Jason's breath hitches.

"Please, baby, show mercy. Want me to get on my knees an' beg? I will."

"Sir, that is highly unprofessional language for this procedure. I'm afraid I'll have to give you an oral exam to see what's causing that filthy mouth of yours."

"Yeah, I'll show you filthy," Jason murmurs, cupping the back of your head. "Let's see how filthy y'get when I—"

"Oh my God, stop."

"Todd!"

You freeze with Jason's mouth on your neck and your shirt rucked up. Tim and Damian are at the edge of the living room. Tim looks nauseous. Damian's mouth is shriveled like a prune.

You scramble off of Jason, mortified, and smooth down your shirt. Jason leisurely turns his head, still holding onto you. He sighs.

"What d'you brats want?"

"To erase the last sixty seconds from my brain," Tim says.

Jason grins, all teeth. "That can be arranged."

You roll your eyes. "We're sorry, guys. Did you need Jason?"

"Yes. Father wants you back at the Cave immediately for debrief," Damian says, glancing at Jason's exposed bandages with tangible disgust.

You tug down Jason's shirt. His mouth quirks briefly before he registers his brother's request.

"Oh, hell to the fucking no. I got back two hours ago. Tell him to fuck off."

"I think you tell him enough for all of us," Tim says. "It's just a debrief. Babs started timing him and he's been good about keeping them short."

"He can email me. I'm not going to the Cave for a damn debrief."

Tim squints at Jason, then you. "I see. You know, you're awfully energetic for someone who should be recovering. Leslie benched Dick the last time he overexerted himself."

Jason raises an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be speaking about exertion after what you and Connor did at the Kents' fourth of July picnic last year, Timbelina."

Tim somehow turns more pale. Damian whips his head around.

"Drake? What is he talking about?"

"Nothing. C'mon, Damian, let's go. Jason can debrief later."

He hauls a protesting Damian out the fire escape. Jason waves after them.

"Uh-huh, take care now, bye-bye! Close the window on your way out!"

The window slams shut. You look at Jason, eyes wide.

"What...?"

He shrugs. "Brotherly blackmail. All in good spirit."

"I see. You really don't need to go? I can wait."

"Nah. Bruce can wait. I have a very important injury that needs tending to."

You roll your eyes, smiling. "Uh-huh. Are you sure you're okay?"

Jason kisses you. "Positive," he says against your mouth. "This is nothing. But I appreciate you worrying about little ol' me."

"I'll always worry about you, Jay."

He ducks his head and nudges your neck like a cat. "I know, baby. 'S why I'm the luckiest guy in the whole wide world."

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 01

post cibum - "after a meal" - Kinktober Masterlist TF141 x f!reader Kinks > wet/messy, food play, objectification Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

Your new job as a professional nyotaimori model pays all the bills and then some, but tonight, you are serving a group of soldiers who want more than just the novelty of eating fancy sushi rolls off of a naked woman. After they’ve had their fill of the nigiri and the rolls, they want you for dessert. 

“That’s fine, sir. We can do a seven o’clock tonight. Have you had a chance to choose your selections from the menu?”

You strained your ears as you listened to your maître d' consult with a customer over the phone. You were prepping in the adjoining room, going through your normal routine, but the growling, Manchester accent coming through the speaker was making it difficult to focus.  

“Yeah, give us a full spread. The works. No barriers.”

It must be a big party, you thought. The full spread option included a large array of sushi and sashimi. Asking for no barriers was quite adventurous, and you felt your skin flush with excitement. 

“Yes, sir. And would you like your artist bound or unbound?”

“Mm,” he thought for a minute, and you tried to send telepathic messages to the gruff stranger, “Let’s have ‘er tied down.”

Yes, you celebrated, already imagining the feel of the ropes crossing over the big, wooden table and pinning you to it, forcing you to stay in place all night long.

“And will you be including the sake option?”

“Yeah, sure. Johnny’s a bloody lush.”

Your heart began to race just imagining what sort of night you were in for. The sake option meant needing to shave your sensitive pussy completely bare, so you added that step to your process. Being a food model wasn’t something anyone seemed to take seriously, but you felt like a true artist, and you wanted your guests to have an unforgettable experience when they came to dine with you… on you. 

“Alright, sir, that’s –”

“And we want the additional package. I’ll pay extra. Whatever it costs. Just put it on the tab.”

“Yes, sir. Would you like A, B, or C?” 

The additional package? How did he know about that? You’d never performed for this man before – you would not have been able to forget that voice – and only your regulars knew about your secret options.

“A and B, but keep her mouth open, yeah? In case she gets hungry…”

His dark laugh made your blood burn in your veins. Your add-on package meant that he wanted to fill your holes while you lay on the table for him. Option A was for a large glass dildo in your pussy, warmed and heavy, option B was for a bulbous anal plug made of the same body-safe glass, and option C was for a rubber ball-gag in your mouth. But, he wanted to have access to you there, and that made you almost see stars when you thought about the implications. What did your mystery Manc have planned for you?

“Yes, sir. Do you know how many will be in your party tonight?”

“Four. The one with the mohawk is the birthday boy.”

“Thank you, sir. I will add that to the notes. Any allergies?”

“No.”

“And the name for the party?”

“Riley.”

“Thank you. See you later.”

When she hung up the phone, you listened to her boots clack against the marble floor as she came into your dressing room,

“Hey babes, here’s your ticket for tonight. Table of four. Bunch of soldiers. Sure you’re up for it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, not feeling as confident as you sounded, “Just make sure to keep their drinks coming. They tip more when they’re drunk.”

You winked at her and she laughed, closing the door behind her to let you finish grooming and cleansing your body. 

Each swipe of your razor was another tantalizing part of your ritual. Once you were fully shaved, you cleaned your skin with special antibacterial soap before applying neutral oils that wouldn’t affect the taste of the food. No perfume, no deodorant. Those were the standards. You weren’t allowed to talk, or to move if you were bound by the tight ropes that pinned you to the table, and you were simply there to be a beautiful platter for the immaculately-made sushi. 

At more traditional restaurants, your position was revered, and guests were forbidden from interacting with you directly. You’d worked at a number of venues that hosted nyotaimori events, all with varying levels of standards and rules, but this one paid the most. This place allowed their guests to do almost anything they wanted, and those high risk situations added to the excitement and to your bank account. However, you’d never felt safer. There were cameras, guards, and highly trained staff all over the premises, and if you ever needed to press your emergency button, you could do so. You wore your panic ring at all times, and you’d used it effectively once or twice; it worked like a dream. 

But, you had to admit, it wasn’t just the money that kept you coming back here. You liked the clients. You liked feeling their hands and mouths eating off of your warm body. You enjoyed the more adventurous customers who wanted to taste you and touch you after they were done with their food. It was exhilarating, and you loved being at their mercy. 

Just before your call time, your attendant brought you your glass dildo and anal plug from the back. They had been sanitized, and you used a little lube to insert the familiar, rigid shape into your pussy. You felt yourself already wet from anticipation, and although the glass phallus was thick and heavy, you took it with a satisfying ease. 

The anal plug was another story. You used much more lube and began to play with your hole with your fingers before you committed to pressing it through your tight rim. The pressure from the fat dildo in your cunt made it even harder to accept, but after a few deep breaths, you felt your body relax and allow the round bulb to sit inside of your ass, pushing against all of the sensitive nerve endings inside of your stretched hole. 

You washed your hands thoroughly and cleansed your skin again, just to be sure. Eventually, you finished with your prep and walked through the hallways to lay on your long black table. It was a chabudai, a short table where guests would sit on mats on the floor, and the dining room where you served was dimly lit, very minimally decorated, and had instrumental music playing softly through the speakers. You looked up into the corner and saw the camera light go from red to green. It was showtime. 

Your attendant returned to perform your shibari. You were laying on your back, and she tied your wrists to your thighs, making sure to position your thumb so that you could press your panic ring easily. Then, she began to lay the ropes over your ribs, framing your breasts, using the ties to make them stand perky and proud on your chest. Finally, she fed the bindings under the table and fastened them down. You were stuck. You could bend your knees and twist your body, but that was about it. 

“All good, ma’am?” She asked.

You nodded,

“Yes, thank you. All good.”

“Alright. I’ll tell chef.”

She left you alone, and you tried your best to focus on your breathing. The dildo was nudging a very sensitive spot inside of you, and you pulsed against it, attempting to find some relief. But, you were just making it worse. Your clenching muscles were allowing it to thrust against you, and no amount of wiggling was going to grant you any reprieve. So, you stopped. You shut off your mind as much as you could, listening to the music and imagining an infinite, empty expanse in your head. 

The door clicked open and the sushi chef came in with his two other servers. They set to work, laying slabs of salmon and octopus sashimi across your breasts in a spiral pattern, using delicate roe to dust the inner circle over your hard nipples, making it look like the pollen-covered pistil of a flower, the fish serving as your beautiful petals. 

A row of maki trailed their way down your belly and each arm. More sashimi were laid on all the places where a roll wouldn’t sit, and one of the chef’s assistants began to place thinly-sliced mango across your neck like a choker. Your legs were covered in sushi and more fruit, and finally, right in the join of your legs, you balanced a bowl with a single lotus flower inside. 

The door cracked again, and your attendant poked her head in,

“Chef, your party is here. Should we send them in?”

The chef nodded, and everyone left the room. But, this time, the silence was deafening rather than zen. Your heart was pounding. You couldn’t wait to see and hear and feel what these four guests had in store for you. 

Finally, the door opened, and you heard their jovial laughter and talking. 

“Cannae believe you got a reservation, LT! Been dyin’ to try this for the longest.”

“I know, Johnny,” you recognized that deep, Manchester accent, “Won’t shut up about it.”

Johnny finally came into view. He peered down at you with a uniquely boyish wonder, staring at your face and your body like a kid at Christmas, eager to unwrap his presents. His friends surrounded him on both sides. You guessed that the wry blond was Simon, your vocal crush. You didn’t know the other two, but they were just as nice to look at. One of them was enormous, over-muscled with a bit of a belly, and an odd beard. The other was like a professional athlete, chiseled and masculine, with big brown eyes and dark, smooth skin. 

“Sure is a pretty plate, huh, lads?” The beard spoke with a growling, gravely Scouse accent. He was a smoker, that was for sure. 

“Fittest table I’ve ever seen,” the athlete smiled, his full lips revealing sharp, blinding teeth. 

“Please, have a seat, gentlemen,” your attendant put on her best sexy customer-service voice, “First round is on the house.”

“Oh, shit,” Johnny laughed.

He and his friends ordered an absurd amount of alcohol, and then you were left alone with your party. 

“Think we can get started?” Johnny asked, “Is that alright with you, bonnie?”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as the bearded one hit him lazily on the arm with the back of his hand, 

“She isn’t supposed to speak, MacTavish. Didn’t you fuckin’ listen, or is all the blood that’s meant to be in your brain stuck in your prick?”

“Here, Captain,” the athlete called the bearded one over, “Try this.”

You felt the soft wood of your restaurant’s polished chopsticks graze the side of your breast as he lifted a slab of salmon off of your skin. 

The captain grabbed the fish with his fingers clumsily, but he slurped it down, groaning with pleasure,

“Mm, that’s not bad, Gaz.”

Johnny reached out to you, his hands steady and sure, 

“Lemme try…”

You felt his warm thumb graze over the top of your nipple, pushing some of the fresh roe onto a cut of octopus, and as he curled the fish, he let it drag over the same spot he touched, purposefully teasing you. 

Once they started, they didn’t want to stop. Their hands were roaming all over you, picking up food and feasting on what you had to offer. 

“Look here,” Gaz commented, letting his fingers swipe up the side of your ribs, gathering up dark sauce and licking it off of his knuckle. 

“Oh, tha’ looks tasty,” Johnny smiled, leaning his head down and using his tongue to lick up the rest of the flavor, taking great pains to get as close to the side of your breast as he dared. 

They were getting braver, but you could tell they still weren’t sure what they were allowed to do.

Before long, your attendant was back, ready to get more drinks and appetizers for your men, and you listened to them politely dismiss her, too focused on their task at hand: uncovering you from your delicate morsels of sushi. 

“Mm,” Simon grunted, “Not bad, hm?”

“It’s proper tasty,” the captain agreed. 

“I’m so glad to hear you’re enjoying yourselves,” your attendant encouraged them, “Could I interest you in a sake presentation?”

“Wha’s tha?” Johnny asked with his mouth full, excited to know more. 

“Your artist has more than one talent, gentlemen,” she smiled coyly down at you, kneeling beside the table, carefully removing the bowl from where it was so carefully perched on your pussy. 

The whole room stood still as your smooth, oiled vulva was revealed. Your attendant leaned over you, pouring warm sake into the divot between your closed legs and your mons, filling the space with drink. She made sure the men were looking at her with rapt attention, and she bent to suck the alcohol from your body, her mouth sucking right below your clit, slurping up the delicious sake until it was almost gone. 

“Creepin’ Jesus,” Johnny said under his breath, “Can I do one, lass?”

“Yes, sir,” she smiled, “Of course! You can do anything you like.”

“Anything…”

Johnny’s eyes watched as she filled the crevice between your legs again, letting the sparkling fluid pool and ripple against your skin. Then, when she was done with her pour, he bent to drink from you, putting his mouth exactly where hers had been, gulping and swallowing the sweet brew, his eyes fixed on your pretty pussy until you were empty. Then, he stole a lick, shoving his tongue between your lips to tease your clit, testing the limits of what was allowed, trying to find the boundary. 

“I’ll leave the bottle, yes?” Your attendant asked, leaving it on the table without waiting for an answer. 

“Thanks, love,” the captain smiled, watching his friend hovering over your wet quim as Johnny considered going back between your legs for seconds.  

“Go on, then, Sergeant,” Simon encouraged him, “For what I fuckin’ paid, you better enjoy it.”

That was the only permission the mohawked birthday boy needed. He sank his hot mouth down onto your pussy and began to suckle at your clit like it was part of his meal. He laved his tongue inside of your swollen lips, licking you in rhythmic, rolling thrusts. 

You tried your best to control your reactions, but there was only so much you could do to contain your pleasure. Gaz noticed when your eyes rolled back in your head, your lashes fluttering closed as you tried to breathe through the feeling. 

“Delicious, aren’t ya, babe?” 

He bent his head to your breast, feasting on the two pieces of sashimi that were left behind, using his tongue to pull them into his mouth. You could feel the warmth of his full lips on your skin as he ate from you, and every little touch was electrified by Johnny’s feast between your legs. 

As Gaz chewed on his bite, he used his thick finger to scoop up the fresh roe that remained on the peak of your nipple. Then, he bent over you, smiling like a demon, 

“Open up.”

You obeyed, and you melted into your submission. The hard, unflinching stare from those big brown eyes was enough to crush your will to dust. You felt your skin flush across your whole body as you surrendered to him, as if allowing him to control you made you even more sensitive to the touching, licking, kissing, and groping that was happening to you.

He slipped his finger past your lips, placing the roe carefully on your tongue. You felt the tiny eggs spill into your lips like beads. Just when you were about to swallow them, he grabbed your chin in his hand sharply, his face turning darkly serious,

“Hey, open, I said. There’s a good girl. Stick that pretty tongue out for me. Say ahh, pretty girl.”

You did as you were told, and to your shock, he bent his mouth over yours and spit into your throat. You could feel the bubbling drool pooling in your cheeks and sliding to the back of your tongue, but there was nothing you could do about it. His lips turned up into that same dirty smirk as he said, 

“Swallow.”

You took the roe into your mouth and swallowed it along with his saliva, the salt of the fish eggs mixing with the salt and alcoholic tinge in his spit. He must’ve been drinking at the bar before his party sat down at your table because the herbal scent of gin was unmistakable. 

He pet your cheek with the back of his hand, praising you with his touch, watching your face twist with pleasure as Johnny became almost uncontrollable between your legs. The mohawked man was sucking so hard on your clit that the slurping sounds from his mouth were filling the room. 

Gaz bent to kiss you, and you kissed him back. The softness of his lips lulled you into an even deeper sub state, and you felt like you were melting. Suddenly, he forced his tongue into your mouth and wrapped a huge palm around your jaw, holding you in place as he began to slide his slippery muscle in and out of your cheeks. It was as if he was fucking your throat with his tongue, and your mind fed you an imaginary scene of how his cock might feel in its place. 

When he pulled away, you felt Johnny stop his kisses as well, and your body writhed without your consent, desperate to feel them tasting you again. 

“This is the best fuckin’ birthday I’ve ever had,” Johnny smiled, wiping a hand across his shining mouth. 

The man who’d made the booking, Simon, sat beside his friend and pointed between your legs,

“Pour us one, Johnny.” 

“Aye. Here ya go, lads. Slàinte mhath.”

You watched as he poured sake into the divot between your legs again, but he over-indulged. He began to pour it across your belly as well, letting it pool in your belly button and settle in the dip of your sternum. 

The captain was the first to take a sip. He lapped at the pool of sake that splattered across your mons and lips like a hound, aiming to taste you more than he was the alcohol. Then, he followed Johnny’s trail, dragging his hot tongue along the swell of your tummy, aiming for the well of spirits in your belly button. He hovered over it when he found it, and as he leaned down to drink from you, you could feel the tickle of his mustache, making you squirm.

His filthy, gravelly chuckle made your blood run cold. It seemed that he enjoyed forcing your body to respond to his touch. 

“Ticklish, love?” He returned to your lower belly, letting the bristles of his beard tease you until your breathing became ragged, your lungs trying to suck in, doing your best to pull away from him and yet not being able to escape. 

Your tormentor shoved Gaz around the table so that he could tease your breast with his bearded mouth, and Gaz followed suit, both of them fighting for the puddle of sake between your breasts before suckling on your tight nipples. They had such different agendas. Where Gaz seemed to suck because he wanted to see you squirming from pleasure, the captain seemed hell-bent on keeping you from it. 

You could feel him biting into your delicate flesh with his sharp teeth, causing just enough pain to pull you out of your relaxed, pleasure-induced haze. Then, when he could see your eyes flash with just a hint of apprehension, he would retreat, rewarding your responsiveness with a long, deep suck or hungry, flat licks with his tongue, a barely-there smile twisting across his cheeks as he did. 

You felt something brush against your leg, and Simon was using a napkin from the table to wipe the rest of the food off of your legs, not giving a shit about the hundreds of pounds worth of sushi being gathered up in the cloth. Dinner, apparently, was over. 

Your mind raced. This was far and beyond the bravest party you’d ever served before. They worked on you as a team, giving each other silent feedback, and when Simon finally bent to drink from between your legs, your mind was throbbing from the overstimulation. 

You weren’t supposed to, but you began to let long, cracking moans escape from your throat. Anything you did to hold them back was just making them worse, and your voice only seemed to spur these men to double down on their efforts. 

Simon did not eat you like Johnny did. His Scottish companion ate you out like you were the food, but the Manc was more like his captain. He wanted to see where your buttons were, and when he found them, he began to press them just like a lad playing with a shiny new toy. 

His tongue found the body of your clit and swirled around it, avoiding the searing head, swollen and sensitive to the point of discomfort. Instead, he pushed the tip of his tongue just below it, lifting it up, making the hood stretch just enough to apply its pressure. 

You bucked your hips, the sake that rested in your thighs sloshing out, ignored by your new master. He didn’t give you a smug grin like his bearded boss. In fact, you could barely tell what emotion he was feeling. It wasn’t until you met his gaze that you noticed the fire behind his eyes. 

Only then did he begin to drink from you, emptying the alcohol from your body, letting his tongue venture down into the crevice of your thighs and licking between them as if they were your cunt. He had gone deep enough to feel the edge of your dildo, and when he found it, he turned to the others, getting their attention,

“Had them do something special for Johnny. Wanna see your surprise?”

Johnny had been busy sharing a nipple with Gaz, leaving hungry little hickies across your skin. But, when Simon called him over, he seemed all too eager to return between your legs.

“Aye,” he smiled rakishly, “Gonnae spoil me, Si.”

All four men shifted to the foot of the table, their eyes wide and focused on you like hyenas with a wounded gazelle, selfish and ready for their next taste of you.

Simon took your legs and lifted them up, bending your thighs at the hip, showing the others how two fat, glass dildos were shoved deep inside of your holes. 

“Oh, bonnie…” Johnny reached forward, grabbing the dildo stuck in your pussy gently between his fingers and giving it just the slightest twist, “For me? Such a good lass, innit she?”

Simon reached down below Johnny’s hand and began to tug at the anal plug. The resistance was driving you mad. You tried to relax, but he was not waiting on you, and the pressure began to build and build until finally, your muscle relented and you felt the heavy bulb slip wetly out of your asshole, soaking in lube.

“Bloody hell,” Gaz murmured, not wasting any time, sticking a long finger into the gaping hole left behind by the plug, testing the stretch of your ass with his strong hands. 

Simon pressed it back in, forcing Gaz away, slowly fucking the heavy toy back into you, letting it sink inside of your body with a sloppy pop, pushing on it just a little harder than he needed to so that it would feel like it was thrusting inside of you. 

Then, Johnny did the same with the dildo in your swollen pussy. He didn’t pull it all the way out, choosing instead to fuck you with it, shoving it into your hole with wet, slicking sounds, marvelling at the sight. 

You were so drunk from the pleasure that you hadn’t noticed their captain sneaking around to the head of the table. He startled you, grabbing you beneath your arms and yanking you and your ropes up, strong enough to move you even though you were tied down. He had pulled you far enough that your head hung off the edge, and you found yourself staring at his black slacks, amazed at the thickness of his thighs. Then, you watched him roll down his zipper, stroking his cock until it gleamed with his precome. 

You felt his other hand supporting the back of your head, holding you at just the angle he wanted. Then, he purred his command to you,

“Let me in, pretty girl.”

You allowed your muscles to weaken, opening you mouth wide, unsure if you could pry your mouth open enough for his girth to fit inside of you. He chuckled in that same, devilish way, slapping his sticky head against your lips twice before feeding his head into your cheeks, settling at the back of your throat, letting you gag and cough around him all you wanted and doing fuck-all about it. 

Between your legs, you felt the dildo slip out of your pussy, replaced with eager fingers and a tongue. Now that you had the captain’s thick cock to block your noises, you let yourself whine against him like a gag, moaning and crying out from the overwhelming feeling of being used. 

“Oh, fuck. That’s it, lads,” he grunted, “Make her scream for me.”

Both of his hands were cradling your head as he fucked your throat, guiding his fat dick in and out of you like a piston. You breathed when you could, but it was only just enough, and you felt yourself going light-headed. 

A mouth found your nipple again, and a hand rolled itself beside your clit, making frantic circles from above. Then, below your thighs, a round prodding cockhead pressed its way into your lubricated walls, making your dildo seem like nothing more than a thick finger or two. You were being well-stretched, and your body flooded your cunt with wetness to try and ease his way, doing everything it could to make it easier for whoever it was to fit his prick into your warm body.

He rested your ankles against his neck, and your bare feet scraped the side of his head. Buzzed hair. It was the birthday boy afterall. 

“Mmmph, fuckin’ hell, bonnie. Too tight. Too goddamn tight. Fuck…”

As he pumped himself into you, his movements made free and fast by the lube and your dripping cunt, your whole body began to jerk across the table. These men weren’t just large; they were stronger than you could’ve ever imagined, and you felt like you were nothing more than a mere toy to them. 

The fingers teasing your clit were sending your mind into a panicked orgasm, and your whole body convulsed as you let yourself tumble into the swirling madness of your bliss, your eyes wrenched shut and flashes of rainbow light dancing across them as you came violently. 

Apparently, that was enough to send the captain over his edge because as you were trapped in the throes of your orgasm, he shoved himself all the way inside of you and began to pulse hot shots of his come into your belly. You were desperate for air, but there was nothing you could do. They were in control of you, and you were ashamed by how much you enjoyed being at their mercy. 

“Ohhh, Cap’n. She loves tha’, dontcha, lass?”

“Knew she would,” the captain slipped out of your throat, smiling down at you as you gasped wetly for a breath, “Filthy little slag.”

You watched as he shifted to the side of you, his thighs leaving your line of sight, being immediately replaced by a pair of dark jeans. You knew it was Gaz when his wide thumb reached down to wipe the drool and come from your lips, lovingly cleaning up after his captain’s mess. 

“Being so good for us. Still hungry, baby?”

You couldn’t answer him, but he didn’t care. He tugged his long, curved rod out of his pants and let his balls rest on your mouth. You started to suckle on one of them, taking it into your mouth and letting it roll between your lips.

“Yeah, she is. Mmff-fuck, tha’s it.”

Gaz lifted your head up with his hand to help you reach, stroking his huge shaft with the other, jerking off as you did your best to pleasure him, trying to be careful with his sensitive sack. 

Johnny’s thrusts became frantic. Simon and his captain were taking turns pouring sake across your belly and sucking it off of you, and you were dizzy from the feeling of being fucked with your heavy plug inside of you. When you began to come again, it hit you slowly, building and building in waves, making you tremble from the suffocating joy of it. 

You cried out, and your mouth was open wide in a silent oh. Gaz took the chance to feed you his cockhead, giving you something to scream around. You felt Johnny pause deep inside of you, his cock nestled as close to your womb as he could get, and he began to fill you with his come, shamelessly bending himself over you to fit his rod down to its root in your wetness. 

“Christ, bonnie! Come for me. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Hnngh…” 

He slid himself out of you, but almost immediately, someone filled your empty hole with your dildo, keeping his load sealed safe inside. 

Gaz was still jerking his cock as he rested his tip inside your mouth, and you could feel him shuddering above you, his fingers twisted and tugging at the base of your scalp. 

“Suck on me harder. Yesss,” he groaned, “Just like that… mmfgh. Good… girl…” 

You felt him throbbing, pulsing, and ready to come. Then, just when you were ready to taste him, he pulled out and painted your mouth, chin, and neck white with his seed. There was so much of it, and whatever your tongue could reach, you licked it up, sucking him clean when he let you have the tip one more time before he smeared the remnants of his dripping cream across your cheek. 

Suddenly, Gaz’s hands returned to the back of your head and lifted it up. At the same time, another man yanked your whole body back down the table, making the wood creak from the stress. Now, you could see what was happening to you. 

Simon was holding your thighs, playing with your pussy, making sure your dildo was nice and snug. Then, he removed your anal plug again, twisting it out with a steady tug. When you made a whimpering cry, he looked up at you, and you saw that same light in his gaze, a hunger unlike that of his other friends. Something uncanny and secret about his message that you failed to decode. 

He began to pry open your asshole with his fingers, exploring just past the rim. First, it was just one, but then it was two. They twisted, curling inside of you, plunging deeper and deeper and testing how pliant you were. Your plug was pretty large, so you weren’t usually concerned about a man’s cock being a challenge. But, the way he was preparing your hole made your whole body tense with anticipation, worried about what was going to happen to you. 

You watched him rest your heels on his shoulder, just like his friend had done, and his tattooed hand held your thighs as the other placed his swollen head at the rim of your asshole, teasing it, barely even touching you. 

You thought he would plunge inside, but he never did. He just kept painting little warm circles around you, pressing on the outside yet never allowing himself to slip into your ass. 

“Mngh…” You whined, twisting your hips as much as you could, begging for it. 

“What’s that? Speak up, love. Can’t hear ya.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, knowing you weren’t allowed to break your ceremonial rule but desperate just the same. He let himself smile softly down at you, planting his head at your hole and using the weight of his cock to rest it there. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. Tell me you want it. It’ll be our little secret.”

His friends were kneeling around you, spent but still groping your body, licking and kissing you lazily, enjoying watching Simon torment you.

“She doesnae wanna break the rules, Si. Good lass tha’ she is,” Johnny cooed, letting his fingers rest on either side of your clit, drawing deep ovals and watching your face twist in desperation.

“Let him hear it, love. We won’t tell,” the captain whispered in your ear, using his fingers to slide Gaz’s come from your chin into your mouth, making you taste his salty seed. He kept his fingers inside of your lips, pushing them all the way to the back of your throat, letting you suck on them, “Tha’s right. Our perfect little slut.”

Your mind went blank, and all you could focus on was the feeling of relief that would come to you if you just broke your rule…

The captain removed his hand, returning to your tits to suck on them and pinch your nipples. Then, Simon pressed forward just a little more, giving you his head before immediately taking it away, leaving you hollow.

“... please…” You whispered, your voice so shallow and small. 

“What? Cannae hear you, bonnie,” the Scot smiled, moving his hand faster between your pussy lips. 

“I think I heard something, did you?” Gaz joked, raising his eyebrows at Simon, smacking your ass cheek with the palm of his hand. 

“Say it,” Simon growled. 

His team was all smiles, but he was dead on. You locked eyes with him and said it again.

“Please.”

“Fuck,” Simon’s eyes rolled back in his head, the whites peeking through his long lashes, and he sank himself deep into your asshole in one punishing thrust. 

He was as thick as your plug, but he was so much longer, and you had never felt so stretched out in your whole life. As he began to fuck you, he wrapped his hand around the dildo in your pussy, covered in come and lube, and he fucked you in time with his own prick, making it seem like he was in both places at once. 

“You ready for more?” Simon asked you breathlessly, checking in with you. 

You nodded, fuck-drunk but just as submissive as ever. Whatever he asked for, you were ready to give it to him. 

When he saw your shallow nods, he began to fuck you at an incredible pace. Your whole body was shuddering every time he slammed himself forward, and the strength of his thrusts was making you feel like his cock was even bigger than you thought, your poor asshole stretched past the point of comfort. 

“She’s takin’ it so good, Si,” Johnny sighed, watching your face go slack as his friend railed himself into you.

You weren’t even moaning. You were barely breathing. Your mind only had one goal: making you come and come and come. 

“Spread her legs,” Simon commanded his team. 

You heard the schnick of a knife’s blade being unsheathed, and then the ropes around your ankles were sliced away. Gaz and Johnny pulled your knees up to your chest, forcing you open for him like a book. 

Johnny bent down over your pussy and spat onto your slit, smearing it with his fingers. Then, he slapped you gently a few times, increasing the pain each time his hand came down until you were literally screaming from it. But, it didn’t hurt. It just made you come even harder. The pleasure was muting the pain to an incredible degree. You wanted him to give you more, but you were too far gone to ask. 

The captain was kissing your mouth, using his hands to feed you come again, and you couldn’t even kiss him back. Your body was frozen, your muscles tight and stuck in a loop of pleasure. You were coming in cyclical waves, unsure of where one started or ended, just suspended in blissful torment, sucking in breaths when your lungs allowed you to. 

Then, Simon’s movements stuttered, and he slowed, sinking into you as deep as he could fit before pulling out in one swift movement and jerking his cock right in front of your swollen, punished pussy.

He slid the dildo out of you, leaving you feeling empty to the point of grief, and you watched as he hovered at your entrance, shooting his load into your already-filled cunt. Rope after rope of milky come seared its way into you, messy but accurate. Then, he replaced the dildo and sat back on his heels, out of breath. 

His friends let your legs back down, and they all moved away from you, leaving little kisses on your body as they retreated. 

Once they recovered, they had one more shot of sake together, and Johnny poured one into your mouth. 

“There ya go, bonnie. Job well done, aye? This birthday party willnae be topped anytime soon.”

You swallowed the shot, tasting just not the alcohol but the remnants of Gaz’s come as well when it slid down your throat in tandem. 

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” the captain said, “You don’t have to say your goodbyes yet.”

Simon peered down at you over his shoulder,

“Riverbend street, apartment six, right?”

Your eyes went wide. How did he know where you lived? 

But, before you could ask him, they let themselves out, leaving you stunned, full of their come, and thrilled about what you would find when you finally made it home tonight.

[maxillness]

'•.¸♡ MASTERLIST ♡¸.•'

'•.¸♡TW♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝Pretty Boy❞

╰┈➤ ❝If Daddy Knew❞ → ❝Daddy Knows❞

╰┈➤ ❝Wet Body❞

╰┈➤ ❝Happy Fucking New Years❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝I Can See You❞

'•.¸♡SS♡¸.•'

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Girls Like Girls❞

╰┈➤ ❝She Likes A Boy❞

'•.¸♡CH♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝My Ass❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Dangerous Woman❞

'•.¸♡LL♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝Dangerous Game❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Stacy's Brother❞

'•.¸♡LS2♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝Mafia AU, Chap 2❞

'•.¸♡MW2♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝From People You Know, To People You Don't❞

╰┈➤ ❝Let Them Watch❞

╰┈➤ ❝Malaysia 2013 (Mark’s Version)❞

╰┈➤ ❝Tits Like A Rock❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Light❞

↳˗ˏˋsmauˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Write Me A Song❞

'•.¸♡DR3♡¸.•'

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Favorite❞

'•.¸♡LN4♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝Only For Me To Hear❞

╰┈➤ ❝Blow Me❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Nattely❞ → ❝I Don't Forgive You❞

╰┈➤ ❝Friends Don't Fuck❞

'•.¸♡SV5♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝Praises And Babies❞

╰┈➤ ❝I Love You❞

╰┈➤ ❝Malaysia 2013 (Sebastian’s Version)❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Touch It❞

╰┈➤ ❝Ocean Eyes❞

╰┈➤ ❝Skin❞

╰┈➤ ❝Gorgeous❞

'•.¸♡NR6♡¸.•'

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝I Like You Best❞

╰┈➤ ❝Guilty As Sin?❞

╰┈➤ ❝English Love Affair❞

↳˗ˏˋsmauˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Soft Launch❞

'•.¸♡KR7♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝A Good Use Of That Mouth❞

╰┈➤ ❝Tell Me Your Sounds❞ → ❝Any Silent Man Scream❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Figure You Out❞

╰┈➤ ❝Darling❞

'•.¸♡MS7♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝You’re Gonna Help Me❞

╰┈➤ ❝Dinner?❞

'•.¸♡PG10 ♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝She's What I Like❞

'•.¸♡SP11♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝Mafia AU, Chap 1❞

↳˗ˏˋsmauˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Christmas Problems❞

'•.¸♡FA14♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝ Bébé Gorçon❞

╰┈➤ ❝Stranger Danger❞

╰┈➤ ❝Struggles❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Sugar Daddy❞

╰┈➤ ❝Troublemaker❞

'•.¸♡MH14♡¸.•'

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡… ⋙

'•.¸♡CL16♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝So Pretty, And Just For Me❞

╰┈➤ ❝Different Kind Of Good Morning❞

╰┈➤ ❝Good At Other Things❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Talking Body❞

╰┈➤ ❝Premier Amour❞

'•.¸♡LS18♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝That's What Girlfriends Are For❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Superstar❞

╰┈➤ ❝Shape Of You❞

╰┈➤ ❝Sailor Song❞

'•.¸♡KM20♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝Cold Hands❞

╰┈➤ ❝Christmas Sex❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Igen I Dag❞

╰┈➤ ❝Hooked❞

╰┈➤ ❝My oh my❞

'•.¸♡JH20♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝My love❞

'•.¸♡YT22♡¸.•'

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡… ⋙

'•.¸♡JB22♡¸.•'

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝She's Got That❞

╰┈➤ ❝Older❞ → ❝Perfume❞

╰┈➤ ❝Need You Now❞

'•.¸♡AA23♡¸.•'

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡… ⋙

'•.¸♡ZG24♡¸.•'

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡… ⋙

'•.¸♡NH27♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝A Little Too Much Kirschwasser❞

╰┈➤ ❝What A Mess❞

'•.¸♡EO31♡¸.•'

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡… ⋙

'•.¸♡MV33♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝Fucking Whore❞

╰┈➤ ❝You Say You Hate Me❞

╰┈➤ ❝Head Over Heels❞

╰┈➤ ❝It's Okay To Cry❞

╰┈➤ ❝This Fkn Bratty Attitude❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Dress❞

╰┈➤ ❝FU In My Head❞

'•.¸♡LH44♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝So Good For Her❞

╰┈➤ ❝I'll Show You How Sorry I Am❞

╰┈➤ ❝Sir Lewis❞

╰┈➤ ❝Braid Me❞

╰┈➤ ❝Satisfy The Fans❞

╰┈➤ ❝I’m Sorry❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Secret Love Song❞

╰┈➤ ❝Pipe❞

╰┈➤ ❝All To You❞

╰┈➤ ❝18❞

╰┈➤ ❝Guys my age❞

↳˗ˏˋsmauˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝On The House❞

'•.¸♡MSC47♡¸.•'

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝American Town❞

↳˗ˏˋsmauˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Makkinen 2.0❞

'•.¸♡CS55♡¸.•'

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Tonight (I'm Fuckin' You)❞

╰┈➤ ❝Invisible❞

'•.¸♡GR63♡¸.•'

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡… ⋙

'•.¸♡VB77♡¸.•'

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡… ⋙

'•.¸♡OP81♡¸.•'

╰┈➤ ❝Help With A Girl❞

↳˗ˏˋmusic mondayˊˎ˗ ↴

╰┈➤ ❝Treat You Better❞

Kinktober ‘24

[avocado-writing]

BG3 companions reacting to Tav calling them mommy/daddy?

huehehehehe >:) writing as if you shout it out in the middle of sex without meaning to - minors DNI.

Astarion

Surprised but super into it? Not necessarily because he likes being called daddy but because he can see how much it turns you on.

“Oh? Do you like it when daddy slides his cock into you, darling?”

You go glassy-eyed immediately and he continues to murmur against your skin as he fucks you, aren’t you doing well for daddy? you want to cum around daddy’s cock, hmm?

You do. Harder than you have in weeks.

Afterwards you apologise that you sort of sprung that on him out of nowhere. He smiles and says it was a wonderful little secret for you to share with him.

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” “Absolutely not, darling. Now let daddy give you a kiss. 😌”

Gale

Fucking flabbergasted lmao. Stops mid-thrust

He has never considered himself a “daddy”…

When you see how baffled he is, you clamp your hands over your mouth. You are mortified.

“I am so, so sorry, Gale…” “No, no, love, it’s fine… but maybe… maybe ‘sir’? Not ‘daddy’?”

Your face splits into a devilish smile. “Oh, I can do that… sir.”

His cock hardens even further and he gets to work fucking you again, with gusto…

Karlach

Grins so so so wide

If you try to cover your face in embarrassment, she pulls your hands away so she can make eye contact.

“Aww, you want mummy to take care of you, darling? Make sure you cum?”

All you can do is nod. She fucks you with such vigour that you think you might be about to pass out.

Afterwards she gives you lots of cuddles and checks that you’re okay with how rough she was (you are. A lot.)

Is definitely happy for you to call her that in bed again…

Shadowheart

Is surprised… but interested.

Gives another thrust of her hips, encouraging you to repeat it, letting you be a little writing mess beneath her.

Will keep prompting you. “Call me that again.” “Mummy…” “Again.” “Mummy…!”

Is a bit smug afterwards, when you’re lying there blissed out of your mind from having cum a lot.

“You know, you could have just told me you wanted to use some pet names, rather than letting it slip out in flagrante delicto…”

Laughs when you’re all flustered, using healing magic to soothe any bruises she’s given you. ❤️

Wyll

Another one not super keen on it, and will tell you so.

He just doesn’t find it particularly sexy? He wants sex to be a sweet and intimate thing and well… if you’re going to use names then…

”can you call me your blade? or the blade of frontiers?”

You apologise for springing the ‘daddy’ on him out of nowhere, but when you begin to whisper about him being your 'brave blade' he gets back into it quickly.

Grab onto his horns while telling him to drive his sword home… he’s putty in your hands.

Both have a healthy discussion about what kinks you are and aren’t into the next day. We LOVE a respectful king 👑

Lae’zel

”What? I am not your mother.” “I know Lae’zel, it’s uhh, a sex thing.” “Oh. Why?”

You then have to explain that it’s sort of about respect and domination. A compliment to someone who’s rocked your world.

She smiles enthusiastically and begins to fuck you again properly. Fucks you so hard that your body aches afterwards.

Pillow talk after: “you may call me that again. I enjoy hearing that you know how well I pleasure you.” “Mmm, thank you for that, Lae’zel.” “You are welcome.”

I think it gets brought up in camp because you didn’t realise how loud you shouted it. Your face is on fire for the whole day. Lae’zel just looks pleased with herself.

Halsin

All the blood goes straight to his cock, if that’s even possible when he’s already inside you. He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life before.

He’s been called many things in bed before, but hearing that? From you?

Fucks you with an enthusiasm he didn’t realise he was capable of. You moan and cry out and keep chanting “daddy, daddy, daddy” and he cums so much that it drips out your used little hole all down your legs.

He apologises for his over enthusiasm and checks that you’re alright. You grin and kiss him, and promise to start using that word more…

Minthara

She just smiles, I think, and you know she has you wrapped around her little finger.

She fucks you with what borders on violence, so much force that you actually pass out because you came so hard.

So worth it though.

You wake up in her arms and she’s still grinning, stroking your hair.

”Mummy’s very pleased with you.” This is the only acknowledgment she ever gives of it, but if you bring up the name again in bed, she gives a repeat performance 😌

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

HELLO🫶🏼

i just had another idea... what about royal!au bucky (or mob, which one u prefer) x bodyguard!reader

like she is so rude with everyone but a softie with buck, she takes care of him and protect him all the time (secret relationship?)

idk something smutty, angst and fluffy... you are an expert of writing!

- your fave spidey. 😝🕷️

Mean To Everyone, But You » Bucky Barnes (AU)

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Bodyguard!Female Reader

Summary: You’re Bucky’s bodyguard and you’re rude to everyone except for him.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut (18+), tiny bit of Angst, language, tiny bit of violence, secret relationship, kissing, hickeys, fingering, unprotected sex, riding, praise kink, pet names

A/N: Thank you 🕷️ anon for requesting🩵

Written on my phone. I apologize for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator @barnesdjarin

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Bucky sighs loudly when one of his most annoying employees walks in his office without knocking. He picked up where he left off with his list of complaints and it was giving Bucky a headache. Bucky sent you a text, asking you to come in his office. You’re Bucky’s bodyguard and you’ll do anything to protect him.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You asked as you in his office.

“Yes.” Bucky answers. “Please show him the exit. He will not be working here anymore.” Bucky tells you.

“Will do, Mr. Barnes.” You complied.

“I’m fired?” He scoffs.

Bucky hums and nods his head.

“Let’s go.” You say to him, walking him towards the door.

“I know how to walk!” He smacks your hands away. “Don’t fucking touch me!” He says loudly.

He should’ve known better than to smack your hands, because the next thing he knew he got punched in the face. Bucky was watching in amusement as you escorted him out of his office. A few minutes later, you went back to his office.

“I would like to apologize for the way things got physical with him.” You apologized.

“No need to apologize. I enjoyed it.” Bucky says.

Bucky watched the way you winced and seen your slightly bruised knuckles.

“Get some ice for your hand.” He tells you.

You nodded before leaving his office to ice your hand. Later, Bucky asked you to come back to his office.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You say, walking in his office and closed the door behind you.

“Lock the door please.” He says.

You locked the door and walked over to him. You sat on his lap, straddling him. You gave him a much needed kiss. Bucky’s hands found their way to your waist, giving it a small squeeze.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day.” Bucky says.

“Mmm, me too.” You say with a hum.

Bucky moved his lips to your neck. He placed soft kisses along your skin. You tilted your head to the side to give him more access. His teeth grazed your skin, biting down hard enough for a hickey.

“Bucky…” You breathed. “Everyone will see the marks.” You say.

“Cover it with makeup.” Bucky says against your neck.

You and Bucky are in a secret relationship. You two are risking it by having sex in his office. Even though, it’s not the first time you two have had sex in his office.

“I love it when you’re mean to everyone.” He says as he continues to mark up your neck.

“I love to protect you somehow.” You say.

Bucky’s hand disappeared underneath your dress and rubbed your pussy through your wet panties. A soft moan left your lips.

“You’re so wet.” He whispers. “Is all of that for me?” He asks.

“Yes.” You moaned. “It’s all for you.” You tell him.

Bucky moved your panties to the side and slid a finger inside of you and his thumb began rubbing your clit, making your mouth fall open and a string of moans leave your lips. He moved it slowly and at a teasing pace, making you whine. He smirks to himself, loving the affect he has on you.

“Bucky…” You whined.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” He says.

“Your cock.” You tell him.

“You know how to get what you want.” He says.

You unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his suit pants. Your hand palmed his hard cock through his boxers, making him moan lowly. You bit your bottom lip as you took his cock out of his boxers and stroked it in your hand.

He took his fingers out of you, making you whine. You lifted yourself just enough for your pussy to hover over his cock. You lined his cock at your entrance and slid down onto him. A relieved moan left yours and his lips.

“We have to make this quick.” Bucky tells you. “We have to finish the workday after this.” He says.

You nodded and put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself and lifted yourself up and sank back down on him. Bucky bunched your dress up above your hips and watched his cock disappear in your pussy, covered in your slick.

“Fuck…” He moans at the sight. “You’re taking my cock so well, darling.” He says.

You moaned in response and sped up your movements, his dirty words urging you on. Your clit occasionally rubbed just above the base of his cock. Your moans got a little too loud so Bucky covered your mouth to muffle your moans.

“Shh, sweetheart.” Bucky coos. “We don’t want to get caught, do we?” He says.

You shook your head no, moaning into his hand. He took his hand off of your mouth and slid a finger in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it like you do with his cock before wrapping your lips around it. Bucky watched with lust clouded eyes.

His free hand found its place on your ass cheek, giving it a squeeze before helping you with your movements. Usually, Bucky lets you do your thing when you’re riding him, but he wanted to make this quick cause you two are still at work. Not that you minded. Little does he know that you love it when he helps you with your movements when you’re riding him.

Bucky’s finger left your mouth to rub your clit. A gasp left your lips at the feeling of his spit covered finger against your clit. He put his lips on yours to muffle your moans. His tongue licked across your bottom lip. You parted your lips just enough to allow him to slide his tongue in your mouth. His tongue explored every part of your mouth. His lips left yours so you two can breathe. You bit your bottom lip to keep your moans muffled.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He pants. “I’ll take my time with you tonight.” He promises.

Bucky is a man of his word. He means it.

You lost rhythm with your movements for a short moment due to your orgasm building up, but you regained it. Bucky rubbed your clit faster to get your orgasm to build up faster. His orgasm was building up just as fast.

“Bucky, I-” A whimper left your lips before you could tell him that you’re about to cum.

“Cum for me, baby.” His voice sounding raspy. “I’m close too.” He says.

Your nails dug in the fabric of his suit jacket and you bit down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning loudly as you came. Bucky gave your clit one last rub before focusing on his own orgasm. His free hand joined his other hand on your ass, helping you move up and down so he could cum. He came inside of you shortly after you came. Your movements came to a slow stop. You sat on his lap panting and staring in his eyes. He gave you a sweet kiss before you got off of his lap, his cock slipping out of your pussy.

You stood on slightly wobbly legs and held onto his desk as you readjusted your panties and dress. Bucky put his cock back in his boxers and redid the zipper and button on his pants and buckled his belt before standing up to walk you to the door. As soon as he opened the door, someone he’s supposed to have a meeting with barges in his office without permission.

“You’re late!” The man practically hisses. “Our meeting was supposed to start 10 minutes ago!” He says.

“I was talking to an employee.” Bucky says, referring to you.

The man looked at you, looking you up and down while giving you a dirty look.

“It took you 10 minutes to talk to her?” The man laughs. “What were you guys talking about? Making her overtime?” He says sarcastically.

“We’re done here.” Bucky said to the man. “Y/N, you know what to do.” He says.

You nodded and motioned the guy towards the door, but he didn’t listen to you.

“I don’t need some little girl dressed like a Barbie to tell me what to do.” He says.

“You’re gonna regret saying that to her.” Bucky warns the man.

“Why? What’s she gonna-” You punched him in the face, giving him a bloody nose before he could finish his sentence. “You bitch!” The man shouted, holding his nose.

“Mr. Barnes asked you to leave. Don’t make him repeat himself.” You say.

You grab his arm tightly and used all of your strength to drag him out of Bucky’s office and building. Then you went back to Bucky’s office. Bucky had an amused look on his face.

“Remind me to reward you tonight when we get home.” Bucky says with a wink.

“Will do, Mr. Barnes.” You say, smiling at him before going back to work.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[yawnderu]

"Quit lookin' at me like that." He demands, accent growing thicker by the minute at his frustration.

"Like what?" You manage to gasp out, cheeks swollen and bloody at the beating you just took. Your hands are clasped together on your lap, forced to sir on your knees as you look up at him.

What stared back at you wasn't your loving Simon, no— this creature was much different. Ghost was glaring down at you, eyes cold and devoid of emotion other than pure, raw anger.

"Like a fuckin' lost puppy. Like you don't know what you did." His grip on the trigger tightens, holding the muzzle to your temple.

Please, tell me it isn't true. For the love of God, tell me it's all a lie.

"You leaked our information to fuckin' Konni?" He asks in disbelief, just wanting to confirm what he knew all along. It all connected once he found out; the late night escapades, the detached look in your eyes, how you kept missing every single celebration with the team claiming you were busy. Maybe if he noticed sooner, things would have been different.

Your silence and the way your head hangs low in shame is all the confirmation he needs. His gloved hand grips the pistol harder, the rough material almost merging with his skin.

You don't even have the courage to look at me.

"Everythin' we did together... I trusted you with my bloody life. I told you all my secrets and let you see all of me, and this is how you fuckin' pay me?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, three silenced gunshots ringing in his ears as he dumps the bullets into your chest, looking away before he hears the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground.

Goddammit. God damn it all to fucking hell.

Simon chokes on a harsh breath, the corners of his mouth twisting into a frown underneath his balaclava, jaw slackening. He doesn't dare look at you, unwilling to let his last image of you be a pool of blood with dead eyes.

He cried all his tears when he was a little kid, yet he can somehow feel the familiar sting in his eyes, causing him to sigh loudly and shake his head. His pistol goes back in its holster as he turned to leave, not sparing you a single glance.

Dying alone is a scary thought. You come to the world in a room full of people, your mother's happy face looking at her own creation, nurses and doctors smiling and celebrating you even when all your tiny body can do is to cry.

The thought of death isn't what scares you, no. Being a soldier for the special forces only ends two ways: retirement or going home in a box. That's something you came to terms with a long time ago, when your much younger hand held the pen, signing the contract that sold your soul to your comrades, a silent eternal promise of "we fight together, and we die together".

Your shaky hands grasp at the snow as you drag yourself forward, gear all of sudden heavier than ever; crushing you down like Atlas holding the sky. Your blood leaves a dirty trail on the pure, clean snow, marking you down as an easy target if Simon decides to come back for you— you know Ghost won't.

By the time someone manages to find you, your fingers are purple and your lips are painted an awful shade of blue, body adorned with burns from the cold snow digging into your bare skin. You allow yourself to rest as soon as the warmth of someone's hand makes contact with your skin, barely able to register the panicked scream and loud orders being barked.

Labeled as a hero after saving the country from Makarov's terrorist attack, Simon sported a new brand of chest candy on his uniform. Colorful ribbons adorned the right side of his blazer. His chest is still puffed out with pride as he steps into his small flat in London, all memories of you thrown away, including the ring he kept hidden in a drawer.

''Cute shoulder pads.'' Your finger hovers above the trigger, finally stepping out of the dark.

[venusbyline]

Pretending ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 25, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Aaron Hotchner x love affair!reader

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: deepthroating

— summary: Hotch is trying to teach you a new blowjob method, but things are not that easy when you are still sexually inexperienced.

— word count: 1.0k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 25th day, female!reader, intern!reader, rough!Hotch (BUT NOT REALLY), soft!Hotch, deepthroating, rough oral sex (male receiving), mild dubcon, degradation, aftercare, accidental orgasm denial, praise kink, curse words, mild verbal humiliation, mild dumbification, corruption kink, cooking, dacryphilia, crying, college student!reader, married!Hotch, age gap (older man/younger woman), BAU member!reader, jealous!Hotch, gagging reflex, sex gone wrong, fluff, inexperienced/innocent!reader, secret relationship, cheating, referenced infidelity, minor Aaron Hotchner x Haley Hotchner, implied Derek Morgan x reader, implied Spencer Reid x reader, bittersweet ending, dom!Hotch, sub! reader, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

"Watch your damn teeth, girl. I've already warned you once and you can be sure I won't even warn you if there's a third." Hotch growled as your beautiful eyes filled with tears at the feeling of his cock pushing its way into your mouth.

Your jaw felt like it was going to rip in half, wide enough so that your teeth would not scrape painfully against Hotch's sensitive skin. Your body was lying on your back on the bed, which was quite high and made the position easier for the new experience. Your head tilted back as Hotch was right there, trying to take his length in carefully. He knew it was not a very comfortable position for either of you and it would probably be difficult for you to deepthroating him like that, but he was interested enough to see the shape of his cock highlighted inside your delicate throat.

"F-fuck... Your little mouth's even tighter." His muffled moan echoed through your room when he pushed deeper, taking advantage of the new angle to hit the head of his cock in the back of your throat, causing you to suddenly gag. Your eyes widened and tried to move back down, but Hotch grabbed your neck, keeping you in place and taking the opportunity to squeeze the bulge that became clear as he continued thrusting, fucking your throat. You whimpered around Hotch's cock, filling him with goosebumps from the vibrations your lips made when you tried to explain explain with gestures about how this was already too much. "We've barely even started and you're already acting like a crybaby whore?"

A few minutes passed and every time Hotch was getting close to cumming, you gagged around him and tried to pull out.

"FUCK! What the hell, girl?" When Hotch saw you were starting to sob and cry hopelessly, he growled and pulled his cock out, watching you stand up and start coughing, your lungs thanking the world for the return of air. However, all it took was for your sad eyes to turn to Hotch for him to sigh, putting his black boxers back on and sitting on the bed, pulling you to snuggle into his chest, hearing you crying softly and feeling how your tears soaked his skin during the hug. You could not say anything coherent, but Hotch knew very well that you were feeling bad about not being able to give him a good deepthroat. "It's okay, darling. It's not a big deal, it was just a stupid kink that I wanted to try out with you. I was really so fucking horny and I took it out on you by being rude. I'm so sorry, little girl."

You shook your head, pouting your lips. "I-It's not a stupid kink, Sir. Any men likes deepthroating." You muttered with a frown. He was about to tell you to stop calling him by the name you always used within the BAU, when he was pretending to be just an agent mentoring a dedicated intern, but something caught his attention.

"Yeah? And since when do you know what men really like?" Hotch's husky voice caught you off guard and you looked down with shame. It was obvious that he knew that you had not done anything like this with other guy, after all, he had been the one to take your virginity a few weeks after your arrival at the internship at the BAU.

“Well, the guys at my college talk so much about sex very loud during the class…” It was all you said and he rolled his eyes. Damn it, he hated teenagers with raging hormones and especially frat boys.

Hotch cleared his throat, determined not to let you know he was jealous at the mere thought of your classmates trying to flirt with you on a daily basis. He wanted you in the office at all times, where he could watch you and make sure Morgan was not trying to ask you out or that Reid did not have an arousal every time you brought coffee to everyone's desks. "Anyway, we can try it again another day when you're more comfortable. In another position, maybe."

You smiled at Hotch's suggestion. "I'd love to try again in a few days, Sir... Sorry! Love, just love." You corrected yourself when you saw his frown at the unnecessary formality. Hotch chuckled lightly and got up from the bed, immediately followed by you. "You're leaving right now?" You asked worried, both because he had not cum yet that night and also because he was not even saying goodbye.

"What? Of course not, darling." Hotch defended himself, looking quite offended that you would even consider him to be so careless to you. "I'm gonna sleep here tonight, forgot? So now I'm just gonna make some hot tea to help your sore throat. Then we can watch some pathetic romcom movies and have sex later, but nothing too rough for now."

The teasing in his tone made you smile. Still naked, with your cheeks wet with tears and your lips swollen, you caressed your own neck to soothe the sore throat during the process, watching Hotch wearing only those black boxers and opening your cabinets to look for things to heat up some tea. You would love to see him like this every day, practically naked in your kitchen, looking like the real husband material's definition, cooking and spoiling you as an aftercare. You would love to have him as your boyfriend, as your husband, as the future father of your children... However, you knew that the next morning the lie would have to be maintained. You would have to keep pretending he was just a BAU agent, just your mentor. Hotch would have to keep pretending that he was loyal to his wife and son, and did not care about the cute young intern of the office.

Both of you would have to keep pretending that nothing was happening between you two and that you did not have sex often. Both of you would have to keep pretending you did not love each other.

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[sadesluvr]

Turbulence

You join the mile-high club with a mysterious English gentleman. 

A/N: First BT fic! Been obsessed with this movie, and just had to make something with one of our favourite assassins. I had to do a weird amount of research on flying for this... It won’t be my last so follow for more! :)

Set pre movie. 

Word count: 2.5K 

Tags: SMUT / Porn with little plot / Minor spoilers for references in Bullet Train (2022) / Unprotected sex / Creampies / Hookups / Mentions of birth control / Quickies / Canon-typical language / Canon-typical banter / Minors + Ageless blogs DNI

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight 4B7 to Tokyo. We are currently second in line for take-off and are expected to be in the air in approximately five minutes time. At this time, we ask you to please fasten your seatbelts and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. I’m Goldie, and thank you for choosing our airline. Enjoy your flight!” 

Hanging the speaker up, you smoothed out your skirt as you fixed yourself to take the final walk before take-off. ‘Goldie’ wasn’t your real name of course, but a nickname given to you by a sleazy boss. You would’ve hated it, but you found that it greatly helped with creepy passengers who were searching for a place in the coveted ‘mile high club’, or those who simply flew with the intention of sleeping with flight attendants across the world. On the contrary, it was always cute when toddlers cooed your name from across the plane, calling for you as if you’d known them their entire life.  

As you pushed past the curtain to the business class, your eyes fell on a pair of men; one dark-skinned with curly dyed hair, the other with long, slicked back hair and a moustache. They wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary had the moustached man not been holding a phone to his ear. Great. There was always at least one person who never listened to the announcements, but there was something about those who rode in first or business class that held a different kind of entitlement entirely. 

Swallowing, you put on your best customer service and sauntered over to them. The dark-skinned man noticed you first, raising his brows before nudging the one next to him, who seemed deep into an important, but strained, conversation. 

“...Yeah, yeah. We get the kid and the briefcase, then the train to Kyoto...Yes, we know who we’re dealing with, I forwarded Lemon the briefing. Right, can we go now? Take-offs in two minutes --” 

“Excuse me,” you cut in. “You’re going to need to hang that up...” 

The man did a double take, holding his phone away from his ear as he glanced up at you. If it wasn’t his old English accent that captivated you, it was his eyes, a striking blue with hints of grey that seemed to stare directly into your soul.  

“I’m going now.” He said snarkily to the person on the phone before hanging up, placing the object into the pocket of his navy-blue suit before staring up at you with a charming, but cheeky smile. 

“My apologies darlin’,” he said, his voice as smooth as butter. “Work won’t give us a break.”  

“Don’t I know it?” you replied, shifting your weight as you prepared to move on. “Thank you, sir. Enjoy your flight...” you said before looking down at his hands; strong and adorned with gold rings.  

“...Nice watch.” You finished with a knowing smile. Given the parts of the broken conversation you’d heard, and the elaborate way they were dressed, you figured that they were at least some kind of secret service members - not that it was any of your business, of course. Still, there was something particularly arousing about the blue-eyed man in the three-piece navy suit with the nice watch, and you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you broke your ‘no-sex-on-the-job’ rule, just this once. If he wasn’t busy with mission stuff, of course. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He replied, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiled, watching you as you walked off, admiring the questionably short length of your skirt in the process. Sitting back in his seat, he chuckled to himself before turning to see his brother Lemon hastily swiping through the movie selection on the screens. 

“The fuck are you doing?” 

“Tryin’ to see if they’ve got Thomas...” Lemon said matter-of-factly. “It’s alright though. I always come prepared.” he finished, tapping his laptop pointedly. Tangerine frowned, shaking his head as he sat back in his seat, side eyeing you as you made your way to your jumpseat in the corner.  

It was going to be a long journey, but at least he had a nice view. 

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

As soon as it had been safe to take seatbelts off, you’d wasted no time in making your way back down to the business area. The best part about the job was that you were able to walk about, getting a good glimpse at the passengers you thought were attractive – all under the guise of providing good customer service. The man with watch was reading a book, whilst the other seemed engrossed with whatever was on the screen, with his fingers covering his face in a concerned manner. They seemed like polar opposites, yet seemed to work so well together, something that made your job a lot easier when it came to seating passengers. If only everyone was like them. 

If it hadn’t been obvious, you were rather interested in the blue-eyed gentleman in particular. Whilst he hadn’t given you definite signs he was interested, you fixed your make up in your compact mirror regardless, and opened a button on your blouse so it was just a little lower than industry guidelines. It never hurt to try, and it certainly wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. 

Smiling, you guided a cart down the narrow aisles, stopping at the pair of men. 

“Refreshments?” 

The dark-skinned man, ‘Lemon’, as he had been referred to, answered first, eagerly pausing his screen to speak to you. 

“I’d love somethin’, love,” he said, holding the same accent as his partner. “D’ya have anything fizzy?” 

“Of course,” you hummed. “We have Coke – regular, Diet and Zero, Dr Pepper, Sprite, some SanPellegrino --” 

“I’ll have a Coke, love. Make it Diet...” he said, and you nodded, quickly finding the box for the right can. “It’s a shame ya don’t do any bubble milk tea up here...I got a real craving for one...” 

You laughed as you handed him the can. “Luckily for you Tokyo is full of great places to get one. You probably could even find one in their vending machines...Don’t get those in the West, do you?” 

“Certainly not in London,” he chuckled, opening the can and taking a swig before pursing his lips and tapping a finger on his chin. “Say, I don’t suppose you could settle a little argument for me, could you?”  “Oh here we go...” the other man interjected, drawing himself from his book to huff and look between the two of you. “Fucking unbelievable.” 

Lemon rolled his eyes.  

“That SanPellegrino of yours...Which flavour do you sell the most?” 

You bit your lip. 

“Depends...It’s usually lemon because people think it might taste like lemonade. The orange one never goes to waste, though...” 

Lemon gave the other man a pointed look, and he scoffed before looking at you. 

“Not to completely waste your time, love, but if you had to choose between a lemon or a tangerine...” he didn’t finish, probably because it would’ve pained him to, and moved his hands as if he were balancing weights on scales.  

You stared blankly between the two men, confused but utterly endeared. 

“Tangerines are good on their own, but lemons are far more versatile...”  “See?” Lemon said triumphantly, celebrating with himself before shaking your hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, darlin’.” He grinned before restarting his movie, moving on as if nothing had happened. You chuckled to yourself, conscious of the hundred other guests that needed you, but looked back to lock eyes with the other man, ready to ask him the same question. He wore a knowing smirk on his face, the curve of his pink lips still evident under his thick moustache and tutted chidingly. 

“Really thought you’d be on my side there, sweetheart,” he sighed. “Suppose you can’t trust everyone, can you?” 

“I’m sorry,” you pouted. “You must give it to him though. Lemons are pretty good.” 

“Darlin’ I don’t have a problem with the message, but the messenger,” he said, nodding to the man next to him. “He’s a grown arse lad watching Thomas, that one.” 

You chuckled, glimpsing at the screen to see that it was indeed correct. Shaking your head, you scanned the crafted features of his face before raising a brow. 

“So, what’s your poison?” 

“A gorgeous lady pushing a cart, it seems.” 

“Smooth,” you hummed, unable to ignore the way a dangerous heat shot through your stomach and down to your core, making your legs feel like jelly. He’d hardly done anything, and yet you were under his spell. “What would you like to drink?” 

“Nothin’ at the moment, love,” he grinned. “I’m a bit peckish, if anythin’...” 

Sighing, you quickly checked the man out again, this time eyeing his body. Broad shoulders, muscular thighs, thick legs...The total package.  

“Hurry, up! I’m thirsty!” Someone from across the aisles said. The man was about to argue, but you halted him, nodding in the direction where the voice came from.  

“I tell you what,” you said softly, lowering your voice as you stared into his eyes, your composure so controlled that it would’ve been impossible to tell that your heart was pounding in your chest as you spoke. “-- Us staff have our own snacks. If you meet me by the toilets in fifteen, I can get you some...” 

“Don’t leave me hangin’, sweetheart.” The man grinned, not-so subtly uncrossing his legs and giving a cheeky wink before you headed off down the aisle. Gripping onto the handle of the cart, you tried your hardest to walk straight, excitement boiling in your loins as you counted down those fifteen crucial minutes with every strained smile at a customer. 

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

He was there when you arrived. 

“Took ya’ long enough -” was all he said before cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a passionate kiss, pressing your body against the wall of the bathroom. It was by far the most glamorous place to have sex, but there was something about the sleaziness of it all (with such a put-together man, nonetheless) that made it that more enticing. His scent was an ode to his masculinity; aromatic and woody, and it consumed you as he kissed down your neck, nipping at your collarbone as his large hands caressed the sides of your body. You moaned, writhing your front against his pelvis, desperate to feel the outline of his erection against your own. Admittedly, you weren’t entirely sure what to do with your hands, settling to drape them around his neck in fear of messing up his hair. He seemed like a man who took pride in his appearance, and he certainly wasn’t going to be able to fix it up in an airplane bathroom. 

“Feel me, darling. I don’t bite...” he whispered, his hands now sliding between your thighs as he fought to push your panties to the side. You took this as a hint, and you combed your fingers through his roots with one hand, whilst the other fumbled to undo the button on his trousers, difficult to do with his considerable bulge. You let out a broken gasp as you felt his cock, likely over average sized with a nice girth, and he shuddered in response. 

“Goldie, is it? You’re a naughty one...” he sighed, slipping a finger into your wet cunt. 

“Mhmmm,” you crooned. “’S nickname. I don’t suppose you’ll give me yours?” 

“You’re a bright bird, ‘m sure ya figured it out.” 

“Tangerine, huh?” you hummed, throwing your head back as he began to finger fuck you, his gold rings adding the extra girth that would prepare you nicely for his cock. “I like tangerines...” 

“Ya didn’t seem to back there.” 

“Well, give me a reason to...” you chuckled, and he grinned, grunting before he hoisted your leg up around his waist, his cock dangerously near your entrance. 

“Better be quick,” you teased, staring at him through your lashes. “They’ll get suspicious if I’m not back in five.” 

Tangerine chuckled.  

“I can do that. Just know it’s not a reflection of me at my best.” he sniffed. 

“Good to know.” 

Your words were unfounded as he pushed into you, his girth filling you completely as you moulded perfectly around his cock, gripping onto his shirt as he began to buck his hips. The man grunted, accosting himself to the feel of your warm, wet hole – raw and unfiltered, sighing into the nape of your neck as he fucked you. He steadied himself with his hands, gripping onto your thigh with one as the other rested above you, lending him the luxury of staring into your eyes as he drilled you. 

“God...” you panted, your lips wet and raw from his kisses. “T-Tan -- You’re so good...” 

“That’s it, love,” he beckoned, words rolling off his tongue like honey as he rolled his hips deeper into you. “Say my name...” 

“Tangerine...” you whined, eyes fluttering shut as you drowned out the vacuum-like ambience around you, focusing on the small grunts and sweet nothings the man whispered into your ear, his warm breath sending chills up your spine. The room around you was making a slight creaking sound, and you barely even cared that your calf was banging slightly against the door.  

With every passing second his thrusts became more focused, solely intended to bring you both to that point of ecstasy- yet you didn’t doubt that Tangerine was the kind of man who made sure you finished, even if he himself didn’t.  

His hair was beginning to become undone now, brown strands falling in front of his face, just barely clouding his vision, but enough to make him look even hotter. Both of your shirts became more and more dishevelled as he pressed up against you, the muffled sound of his clothed thigh against your bare ones becoming more frequent as he growled, the sound coming from deep within his muscular chest. 

“Fucking hell, darlin’...’M gonna make a mess...” he hissed through laboured breaths. “I’ve gotta pull out --” 

“It’s alright,” you lulled, and you could’ve sworn that his cock twitched at the phrase. “I’m on the pill...” 

“You naughty girl...You’re gonna get me in trouble --” he groaned, throwing his head back as he gave you a few fast and sloppy pumps, shutting his eyes as you clamped down on him during your own release, creaming around his cock as he filled you with his own. You dug your nails into his clothes as you rode off your respective highs, hair and clothes askew as he rubbed small circles your trembling leg before lowering it to the ground. 

Panting, there was a brief silence as you dressed yourselves, with Tangerine preening himself in the tiny mirror. 

“You look good as gold.” You said with a smirk, fixing your hat.  

“Thanks,” he said with a broad smile, popping some gum into his mouth as he looked you up and down. “You’re a dime a dozen, y’know? Fly this route often?” 

“Sometimes,” you hummed, opening the door so that the sign no longer read ‘occupied’. “Why, are you thinking of coming back?” 

“I’ll be headed to Kyoto,” he said, looking around before he stepped out. “Maybe I’ll catch you there.” 

“Yeah,” you grinned, fixing the final button on your shirt. He’ fucked you so good you could barely even remember what your next journey was. “Maybe.” 

[sinner-as-saint]

I loved you in secret

Mob!Bucky x Detective!Reader 

Run-through: Your relationship with Bucky was the kind of dangerous secret that could destroy you. But you couldn’t let him go either, he was too addicting. And neither was he willing to let you go, despite all the risks. The city was his playground, and this game of hide and seek you both played was his favourite. 

Themes: mob!bucky, smut, fluff, detective!reader, metal arm, 

a/n: I missed writing and I missed mob!bucky so here’s a little fic for you ily guys so much muaaahhh

You were immediately on high alert as you left the pub. 

The team was celebrating a big case finally getting solved, so a few rounds of drinks was mandatory. But you left just after the second round of drinks because you wanted nothing more than to just get home and take a nice, long bath. 

Your apartment complex was a 20-minute walk away from the pub, and the precinct. And the thought of a warm bath made you walk faster through the city. 

But you being on high alert meant that something wasn’t right. Your gut was telling you something but you couldn’t figure out what. 

Right as you passed a dark alley, a hand reached out and grabbed you, pulling you into the alley and pressing you against the wall. A cold hand covered your mouth, muffling your scream. You were ready to kick and fight your way out of the man’s tight grip, but that was until you realised who it was, and sagged in relief. 

Bucky chuckled, removing his metal hand and uncovering your mouth to let you breathe properly. “Hi babygirl,” He nuzzled your neck as you took deep breaths to calm your racing heart, “Missed me?” 

His soft lips brushed against your skin as he left kisses all over your neck. “Bucky!” You whisper-yelled. “You can’t just be here, you know that. We talked about this, you can’t be anywhere near this area.” You tried reasoning, but you couldn’t help the gasps and moans that left your mouth as Bucky’s kisses got more and more bitey. 

“I know, I know,” He sighed, pulling away to look at you. His handsome face was partially hidden in the shadows, only one of his piercing blue eyes was visible and you couldn’t help but smile as you looked up at him, despite knowing that if anyone saw you here in his arms, your career was over instantly. “I needed to see you. I missed you, baby. I was away all week, I couldn’t just sit at home and wait for you, you know?” 

You rolled your eyes, leaning in and pressing your forehead to his. You breathed in his scent and it helped you calm down a little bit. “I know,” You whispered. “You’ve been following me all night, haven’t you?” You asked, already knowing he was what your gut was trying to tell you about. 

Bucky smirked, kissing your forehead. “I have. Ever since you left work.” He kissed down your face, along your jaw. “I couldn’t resist,” He whispered, “You know how much I like watching you walk around in your suits,” He chuckled into your ear, hands dropping down to grab your butt for emphasis. “Now, can we go home so I can take it off of you?” 

As much as you wanted to go with him right away you said, “You go ahead. I have some stuff I need to grab from my place and then I’ll see you at yours, okay?” You cupped his face as you spoke. He gave you his rare puppy eyes, then groaned. 

“Fine. I'll send a car for you. I want you home in less than an hour.” He whispered, playfully biting your lip. “You hear me, detective?” He teased, “Less than one hour.” He repeated. 

Everytime he referred to his place as ‘home’, your heart skipped a beat. You smirked, “Yes, sir.” You replied, winking as you pulled away to walk home as fast as you could. “Now get out of here before you get us both in trouble.” 

—

As you walked to your apartment, you knew an all black, heavily tinted SUV was following you from a distance. It would’ve freaked you out if you didn’t know that there were just a few of Bucky’s men in the vehicle, ordered to ensure you make it to your apartment safe. 

You smiled to yourself as you took the elevator to your floor. Already making a mental list of all the things you needed to pack for the weekend that you would be spending with Bucky. He was gone for the whole week for some ‘work thing’ and you had missed him so much. 

You and Bucky couldn’t text or call like normal couples, because the risk of getting caught was too high that way. If any one of his associates or allies found out, you could be in terrible danger. And if any one of your colleagues ever found out, you were done for. So it could only be brief late night phone calls, or messages only a few times in a day. 

As you packed, you thought of the day you met Bucky. 

A little over a year ago, you were undercover in an infamous club in the more corrupted part of the city. That’s when you caught Bucky’s eye. He walked over to you, flirting shamelessly, constantly asking if he could buy you a drink, asking you to dance, and whatnot. 

You had taken your gun out then, and had discreetly pressed it against his side. ‘Leave me alone, or I’ll shoot.’ Bucky had chuckled in that proud way of his, and pulled you closer. ‘You don’t wanna do that, detective. Now leave before I set my guys after you.’ 

He had known you were a cop in an instant, but he played along. 

‘You could always do that, even if I leave. Why would I trust you?’ You’d asked. 

He had given you that devilishly handsome smile of his and said, ‘You don’t have a choice, detective. There’s a car waiting for you outside, get it in and go where it takes you. I’ll join you in a while.’ 

For some reason you had done as he asked, and that’s how you woke up in his bed the next morning after the best night of your life. 

And since then, the two of you couldn’t walk away from one another. Your little risky situationship had turned into something so much stronger over the past year, and now you couldn’t imagine life without him. 

—

A car was waiting for you downstairs, as always. You got in with your bags and couldn’t wait to get to Bucky’s place. Home, as he called it. 

Bucky’s mansion was found on the outskirts of the city, hidden within the rather dense and heavily secured forest. Very few people had access to this place. It felt like it was another world, cut off from the rest. Quiet, luxurious, and private. 

The moment you walked in through the huge front doors, you were ambushed. By a pair of muscular arms, and an eager mouth. His relentless kisses had you giggling as you tried to maintain your balance. 

“Bucky!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around him. 

“Fuck,” He growled, hugging you so tightly it hurt. “I missed having you in my arms, detective, you know that?” 

You tried to pull away to breathe but he wouldn’t let you. His metal arm tightening extra hard around you. “I’m gonna pass out if you don’t let me go.” You choked out through giggles.  

Bucky pulled away, laughing as he grabbed your hand and led you towards the giant staircase. “Come on, we have so much catching up to do.” 

— 

The two of you barely made it to the bedroom before Bucky got handsy. He pushed you up against the nearest wall and undid the buttons of your shirt 

“I missed you, babygirl…” He whispered against your mouth, kissing you hard. His hands slid your shirt down your shoulders, dropping it on the ground before he began undoing your pants as well. “I need you,” He breathed. 

“Bed,” Was all you could mumble in your lust-drunk haze. 

Bucky dragged you to his bedroom, stopping a few times on your way there to kiss you or get rid of an article of clothing. 

By the time you both made it to his large bed, you were both naked and starved for one another. 

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered as he laid you down on his bed, hovering above you. “Look at you…” he leaned down to kiss your neck, “You’re fucking perfect, aren’t you, babygirl?” 

You arched your back, pressing up against him and he nibbled on your skin before pulling away to look down at you. His stare was intense, fiery, eyes darkening with lust. His voice was deeper than usual as he said, “I love you so fucking much.” 

You smiled up at him, running your hands all over his back, shoulders, fingers running through his hair. You were starving, breathless, and trapped between his strong body. “And I love you, Buck.” 

He leaned down again, kissing you even more ferociously. “I’ve been dreaming of having you here with me, in my bed. Do you know how hard it is to be away from you?” He kissed along your jaw, “It drives me fucking insane.” 

His mouth slowly moved down your body. Kissing along your neck, biting your breasts and briefly sucking on them, kissing down your stomach, your hips, your thighs until he knelt in between your bare legs and stared down at you.

You lifted your upper body up onto your elbows and met his intense stare, burning with desire. You smirked as you held his feral stare. “Go on then, what are you waiting for?” 

Bucky held your stare as he chuckled, leaning down to trail his lips up to your inner thighs then placed his hands on both your thighs and spread your legs further apart. “So bossy, detective…” He whispered quietly under his breath as he held your gaze. 

Your wetness slowly dripped out of you as he kissed you everywhere except for where you needed him the most. You were whining and squirming under him but he acted like he was suddenly in no rush. 

“Do you know how desperately I’ve wanted this?” He spoke, lips brushing against your heated skin. Then he scoffed, “I bet no one even knows how wet and needy you get for the bad guy, huh?” He taunted, “I bet no one knows how pretty the little detective looks when she begs the wanted criminal to fuck her harder and deeper.” He spoke and each warm breath of his made you whine and squirm even more as he held you there, open for him. 

His words gave you butterflies in your stomach, made you clench hard around nothing. 

“Bucky, please… I need you.” You whispered, your voice barely audible to yourself with how loud your heartbeats echoed in your ears. 

“Beg.” He said. “Beg me to touch you. Come on, babygirl. Beg for my tongue.” 

You whined. “Bucky please… It’s been so long, please. I need you,” You whispered. “I need your tongue, baby, please.” 

Bucky smirked upon hearing the desperation in your voice. “Good girl.” He quickly pressed his lips to your inner thigh again, his mouth getting closer and closer to your dripping core. 

You tipped your head back, sighing quietly as you felt his breath against your wet folds. Your body shivered and squirmed. You couldn’t help but slide your fingers into his soft hair, which only made him groan even louder. 

You couldn’t help but moan shamelessly as he brought his mouth over to your clit, sucking on it hard enough to make you squirm in pleasure. His tongue slid up and down your folds, teasing your entrance, occasionally flicking your clit. “Best thing I’ve ever fucking tasted,” He whispered. 

You tugged gently at his hair causing him to growl against your skin in response. His tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit, parting your wet folds with ease. You were sure your arousal must be coating his entire mouth and lips by now. 

“So fucking delicious…” Bucky whispered, as he kept making you moan louder and louder with his tongue. He parted your legs further as far as they would go as he slowly brought a metal finger up to your clit, sliding it agonisingly slowly down your slit, parting your wet folds.

You shivered under his cold touch, then bit your lip to refrain from moaning too loudly. “Oh Bucky…” You sighed, then gasped audibly as he slid a finger inside you, stroking your walls gently while he placed his mouth back on your clit. “Please…” You begged, wanting more. 

“Does that feel good, babygirl?” He asked, and chuckled when you were only able to moan in response. Lips brushing against your wetness he asked again, “Does it, baby? Hmm? Did your fingers feel this good when you touched yourself while I was away?” He growled as you kept whining and squirming under his addicting touch, “Answer me.” 

“No…” You gasped. “No, it didn’t feel this good.” You whispered, breathless and wanting. “Bucky please…” You moaned. “Stop teasing me.” You said, looking down at him. 

He gave you a cocky smirk. “You’re mine. I’ll tease you if I want to.” 

You whined again, “Baby, please…” 

His ocean blue eyes watched you as you lost control under his touch, whimpering and legs shaking as he teased your clit with his tongue and finger-fucked you. “You look so beautiful like this, you know that?” 

You squirmed and gasped under his addictive touch. “Bucky…” You moaned out loud, your eyes closing and your head tilting back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you. 

You came hard, all over his tongue, your walls clenching violently around his finger, your moans and gasps of pleasure filling the room. You tugged harder at his hair as you came, gasping for air as you came down from the high.

A faint giggle escaped your lips as Bucky left small kisses up your body until he hovered above you again. He stared deep into your eyes. “I love you,” He said. 

“And I you.” You wanted him so bad it hurt. “Please, Buck…” You begged. “No more teasing, please.” 

Bucky’s smile was genuine as he said, “Okay, babygirl. Whatever you want.” He leaned in to kiss you again. You moaned into his mouth at the taste of you on his tongue. 

You kept waiting for more, but Bucky wasn’t quite done kissing you yet. So you scratched down his back, frustrated as you pulled away and demanded, “Will you fuck me already?!” 

Bucky laughed at your little outburst, “Well spread your legs then,” He smirked when you obeyed instantly. He held your stare as he slowly slid inside of you, both of you grunting softly as he went. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” He whispered, nothing but desire and love in his eyes. He leaned in again, whispering against the corner of your open mouth, “How the fuck did I survive without this for a whole damn week?” 

You felt his cock stretching you, filling you up. Every thick inch of him sliding into your tight cunt. “I don’t know how I survived without you either, baby.” You gasped. “You… you feel so good.” You could feel your eyes tearing up at how snug he felt inside you. 

Bucky pulled away to watch you, “I don’t care, I’m bringing you with me wherever I go from now on.” He held your stare as he reached down to grab your legs and wrapped them around his waist. He looked down to where your bodies connected, quickly spitting right on your clit, his metal thumb spreading the wetness around as he leaned down to give you a messy kiss, swallowing your desperate moan in the process. 

You couldn’t help your loud moans as he moved his hips the slightest bit. He said, “I forgot how good you looked with my cock buried deep inside you, babygirl.” Bucky pulled away and watched you as you whined at the feeling of his cock slowly moving in and out of you.

You could feel your walls clenching around him as he sped up and pounded into you. You felt all of him stretching you, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you until he was all you could focus on. The problems of real life didn’t matter anymore. 

“You feel so good…” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly, his metal hand wrapping around your throat as he bent down to bite your lower lip and tug on it. “So perfect for me.” 

You moaned at how perfect his hard, muscular, tatted and slightly scarred body felt against yours, his weight pressing down on you. His slight stubble tickled your skin as he moved.

Your legs trembled as you wrapped them tighter around his waist. His thrusts, relentless and unbearably good. The pressure around your lower body, tight and hot.

Bucky looked down at you as you tightened around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “Look at me, babygirl.” When you did, he whispered, “You’re mine. Only mine.” 

You nodded. The possessiveness in his voice only made you clench around him again. Normally the idea of anyone claiming they owned you would’ve pissed you off. But damn, he made it sound so hot. 

He gave you a lazy smile, “Are you gonna come for me now?” His metal hand squeezed your throat, making you moan even louder. “My dirty little detective. Look at you, all cock drunk and still wanting more…” He scoffed, giving you a messy kiss. “Come all over my cock, come on. Be a good girl and come.” 

You whimpered, unable to say anything because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. The familiar pressure formed at your core and you whined again when his hand let go of your throat and his metal fingers found your clit, toying with it while he pounded into you mercilessly.

Bucky loved that look on your face, that look of utter bliss, pain, pleasure, lust and hunger all at once.

“That’s it, babygirl. You’re doing so well for me, look at you. Now come, come all over me,” He whispered and that was all you needed to hear before you came undone all around him. Whimpering and back arching off the bed as you came hard around his cock, tightening around him. 

Bucky kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under his intense gaze. 

“Fuck, baby…” He watched you, lips parted, breaths in rags, heart racing. “I need you again.” He said, crazed with hunger for more. 

He pulled out, his cock still achingly hard. “Already?” You squealed as he flipped you around – your hips and ass up while your face was pressed against the pillows. You were still catching your breath when his metal hand teased you in between your legs, his cold fingers rubbed around your clit and made you tremble. “Ah,” You moaned due to the sensitivity. “Be gentle.” Your voice sounded muffled because of the pillows. 

His body bent over yours, his warm chest pressing against your back as he kissed your shoulder and the back of your neck until his mouth reached your ear, “I love you, but don’t you fucking dare tell me how to fuck you,” He said, softly but you could hear the untamed hunger in his deep, now growly voice. 

“Buck…” You whined, “I’m gonna be so sore.” 

“Good.” He licked along your neck and said, “I want you to feel me all day tomorrow.” He playfully bit down on your shoulder and you let out a loud moan. He chuckled at the sound of it.

You whimpered, “You always do this.” You murmured, voice laced with need and lust as he pulled away from your ear and kissed along your shoulders.

“Hmm. And you like it.” 

You felt his hands on you, warm and cold, as he gripped each side of your hips then pushed into you from behind. Slow and deliberate strokes, until he slid inside you fully.

Bucky groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely all over again, and moved in and out of you hard and deep, desperately trying to make both of you come this time. 

Your fingers gripped the cool, satin sheets beneath you tightly, and your mind was all foggy, and you moaned wantonly as he pounded into you from behind, not once slowing down. 

His metal hand grabbed you by the back of your neck, using that grip to create a delightful momentum that had you tearing up again. “Fuck,” He growled, “Remind me to use a plug on you next time. Your other hole is looking pretty empty.” 

You couldn’t help the groan that escaped your mouth. “You can be so fucking filthy sometimes.” You said, whimpering just at the thought of being filled like that. 

Bucky chuckled, not stopping. “You love me.” He said. All true. 

Your walls throbbed and clenched around him each time he filled you up, as he took you higher and higher all over again. 

“Fuck, babygirl.” He hissed. “I’m gonna come deep inside you.” You felt his thrust becoming irregular, and felt his cock throb against your walls violently. “Come for me again.” He hissed again, then groaned as you tightened around him – coming undone again. 

Bucky growled as he buried his cock deep inside you, coming undone inside you like he promised. You whined and whimpered as you felt him filling you up, feeling some of his cum drip down your thighs. 

“Fuck…” You whined, feeling your tears wet the pillow beneath you as you caught your breath. 

“Oh babygirl,” He whispered as pulled out and he laid down beside you, pulling you into him for a cuddle. “I’ll clean you up in a bit, okay? I just need to hold you for a while.” He said, kissing all over your face. “Fuck, I love you.” 

You sighed in bliss, still trying to calm your racing heart. “I love you more.” You whispered. 

—

“So,” You spoke, putting another piece of fruit in your mouth as the two of you laid in bed in your robes. You were both too lazy to put on clothes after showering so here you were now, lounging in bed in your robes, with food and wine. “How was work?” You asked, “What did you do all week?” 

“Apart from missing you like a lovesick madman?” Bucky smiled, placing his empty wine glass on the bedside table. “I made more money for you to spend.” He said with a wink. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Meanwhile I had to pretend I was closer to putting some of your guys in jail. They just happened to be faster than me so I very conveniently lost them in a car chase. On an empty road.” 

Bucky smirked, “You’re the best, baby.” 

You threw a napkin at him. “I’m gonna lose my job one of these days because of you, I can feel it.” You taunted playfully. 

He scoffed. “Well good, we can finally move to the island once you do.” 

“There you go again,” You rolled your eyes again. 

Him and that island – the small private island he owned and on which he planned to spend the rest of his life with you. He was obsessed with the idea of the two of you living there and calling it home, cut off from the rest of the world. Honestly, you didn’t hate the idea. 

Bucky turned to face you, placing a gentle hand on your exposed knee. “Baby, we talked about this.” He reasoned. “At some point we’ll have to move. There’s no place for us here.” He added. 

You knew what he meant. You knew he was right. But then there were other factors to consider. “Buck… what will I even do there?” 

Bucky sighed, grabbing your arm and pulling you on top of him. You straddled him with a coy smile as he lazily caressed your thigh while he spoke. “You can do anything. Everything. You won’t even have to work, I’ll take care of you. You know that, babygirl.” 

You chuckled, cupping his face and giving him a loud kiss on the lips. “So you want me to leave my entire life behind, move to a private island with you and do what? Twirl around in a pretty dress all day? While you work your ass off?” 

He smirked, “I quite like the thought of that actually.” 

You smacked him on the chest. “I’m serious, Buck.” 

“So am I.” He argued. “Look, I’ve been carrying an engagement ring around for more than six months now. But I don’t want to force you into doing anything. We can wait, I’ll wait for you. Just know that this is gonna happen sooner or later. Us, the island, our future together. It’s happening and you can’t stop it.” He then squinted at you, “Why aren’t you surprised concerning the ring?” 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You keep it in the drawers of your bedside table. It’s not exactly a secret spot to hide an engagement ring that big.” You teased. 

Bucky smirked then pushed you down on the bed, getting on top of you again. Your robes untied in the process. You squealed and laughed as he tickled you incessantly. “That damn smart mouth of yours.” He growled, leaning in to kiss your face. “If you knew about the ring, why didn’t you bring it up? Hmm? Why haven’t you said yes to marrying me yet?” He nuzzled your neck, biting down on your shoulder. 

“Ow!” You hissed in pain, then giggled as he kissed it better. “Because you haven’t proposed to me properly.” 

“I don’t have to” He mumbled, kissing down your neck. “You’re marrying me and that’s it.” 

You scoffed. “So fucking controlling.” You teased him, your back already arching beneath him as his kisses got more and more steamy. 

He pulled away to look down at you, his chain dangling from his neck right above your face, tickling your skin. Suddenly you wanted to live in this moment forever. Safe, warm, under him. This was your favourite place in the whole world. 

“Then you shouldn’t have fallen in love with a criminal if you didn’t want a controlling man, detective.” He slapped your thigh, making you yelp in surprise. “And don’t pretend as if you don’t like me like this.” He sounded just as cocky as he did the day you met him. 

You sighed. “Unfortunately I do.” You pulled him closer and kissed him. A soft, gentle kiss as he pressed his entire body weight down on you. “And yes, I will marry you. Eventually.” You whispered through the kiss. 

He smiled against your lips, “Good.” 

“Not right away though,” You said, “I still have many bad guys to catch.” 

He chuckled, “You’re lucky I’m so in love with you.”