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marshmallow-phd · 4 years

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Healing Touch

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Summary: Medical school abroad was the last line on your to-do list before starting the rest of your life. Everything was going according to plan. Everything, that is, until tragedy strikes your campus. In the wake of a professor’s untimely death, you’re partnered with the cute boy with a breathtaking smile in the newly combined labs. You find yourself unable to resist the dimples and shy glances, but his life is here with no plans of leaving. Will you continue on as planned or will you accept the hand that Fate had dealt you?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Final

You were anxious, but you couldn’t describe exactly why. Was it as narrowed down to Ran and Yixing simply interacting? The two worlds colliding? Or was it as broad as the fact that Yixing was stepping into your apartment?

The place wasn’t dirty. Both you and Ran were diligent on keeping on top of the dishes and dusting. You weren’t necessarily the “make your bed everyday” type, but it wasn’t too much of a jumble of sheets. There were no leftovers out on the counter or crusted plates in the sink. The air smelled of artificial citrus thanks to the plug-in that Ran kept up with on a steady rotation.

Ran ushered everyone in and then closed the door with no concern of a noise level. “Pizza should be here any minute.” The only responses she received were silent nods.

It was awkward as the three of you stood around, no one talking, no one moving towards the available seating in the living room. Ran often brought friends over and they naturally made themselves at home. Whenever Victoria or Amber were in town, you met up with them at coffee shops or restaurants serving brunch. Your apartment was not a typical place to congregate. It was your sanctuary, the place you went to in order to get away. Now the outside world was coming in and you weren’t sure what to do.

“Yixing, you want a drink?” Ran offered.

He nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Ran shot you a very pointed look before whisking off to the kitchen. Yixing’s eyes roamed over the mostly empty walls. Neither you nor Ran were good with tools so ramming a nail into plaster didn’t seem like a logical way to spend an afternoon. Any decorating done to give the apartment a homey feel was done on the side and coffee tables. Ran’s novels were stacked in with your medical textbooks for easy reaching. Picture frames containing silly faces and fond memories sat on top of the wooden surfaces. Your favorite was the one of you and your aunt mid laugh, soaking wet from the water ride that had splashed from behind. Wherever you went, that picture went too. Yixing found it after a few seconds, walking over to it like in a trance. He picked up the cheap, plastic black frame with a gentle hand. A dimple made an appearance in his right cheek as he studied the photo.

“You look like you had fun.”

A small laugh pushed out as the memories of that trip flashed through your mind like a PowerPoint. Lost chargers, multiple changes of clothes from water rides and dropped ice creams, and dozens of wrong turns to get to the right ride. Neither you nor your aunt were good at working the app made for the amusement park, but that only added to the adventure.

“We did,” you replied. “That was right before my freshman year here. One last hurrah before moving on to adulthood.” That was what your aunt had said, anyway, though both of you knew she meant it sarcastically. She didn’t believe in full adulthood. A little bit of childishness was necessary to live life to the fullest – a concept that you couldn’t quite fully understand in words but could when you were looking at her. Yixing nodded, the smile growing by a few centimeters as he set the frame down again. Ran entered from the kitchen and handed him a steaming mug of fresh tea. You nearly hid your face in your shirt when you noticed which cup Ran had chosen or the gesture of a gracious host.

Little chibi figures depicting characters from your favorite drama danced around the porcelain mug. It was cute in your eyes when you’d ordered it from the online shop. Now, it was mortifying. You just hoped that Yixing assumed that it was Ran’s and that Ran didn’t mention anything to the contrary.

“Thank you.” Yixing blew on the steam that danced from the caramel colored liquid and took a sip small enough for a mouse. Still, no one sat. Ran glanced at you with a curious expression. If she was telling you to do something, you weren’t able to pick up on what that thing might be. Miraculously, you were saved by the door knock.

Ran shuffled over to the door to answer it. Yixing leaned down and placed the mug on the coffee table and that’s when it hit you.

He still wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Grabbing his wrist, you pulled him into your bedroom while Ran was distracted with the delivery guy. You let go of Yixing and started rifling through your closet for a more unisex shirt.

“What’s wrong?” Yixing asked right behind you.

You jumped at his sudden closeness but didn’t look behind you. “You’re still just wearing the jacket. When Ran notices, she’ll start asking questions.” Your fingers landed on an old band t-shirt that you hadn’t worn in a while. The black was a neutral color and most of the wording was faded. You doubt Ran would recognize it. “Here. Put this on.”

Seemingly laughing at you in his head, Yixing smiled and unzipped his jacket.

The first time you’d seen him shirtless, you were too distracted by the hiker to take real notice. Now that he was the only one around and standing in your bedroom… heat exploded all over your body. And the jerk seemed to notice as he took his time to take off the jacket and push his head through the shirt. You scurried around him and poked your head out of your room just in time to see Ran hand over the tip, closing the door with the pizza boxes in hand.

“Smells good,” Yixing commented as he snuck up behind you once again. He really needed to stop doing that.

“And its still warm, too,” Ran cooed, having heard him. She took a long whiff. You couldn’t help but take one, too. Delicious. Your mouth was already swimming when you sat down at the table. You didn’t even remember telling your feet to move. Ran grabbed plates from the cabinet before flipping open the lids, engulfing the apartment with that familiar scent. “Bon appetite!”

“Thank you for dinner,” Yixing said again. He was always so polite. It was endearing. So much so that you had paused midbite and started staring at him with a grin of your own pulling at your lips’ corners.

Ran chewed through a mouthful before answering. “No problem. You just have really good timing.”

A silence that you couldn’t quite call comfortable settled over the meal. You thought over and over of what you could say to continue a conversation, but all options fell flat. The consequence of that? Ran jumping in.

“So, Yixing, how do you know (y/n)?”

“We have class together,” he explained, not bothered at all by the questionnaire he was about to receive. Or he was simply unaware that this might only be the beginning.

“Which one?”

“Human physiology.”

Ran’s eyebrows shot up. “The one that just combined? So, did you have the other professor?”

Yixing nodded solemnly. “I did.” Though there were still several bites left of his current slice, he put it down and folded his fingers with his elbows resting on the table. “She was a good teacher.”

“That’s what I heard a lot,” Ran agreed. “It’s scary what’s going on. You never know who’s going to be next. I heard that there might have been another attack today.”

You looked at Yixing thinking that he would do the same given your shared knowledge that there was indeed another attack, but he didn’t turn his head in the slightest. He kept staring at the table. You knew this was bothering him. It was written in every facet of his posture and face. But Ran didn’t seem to notice.

“I think they should send the rangers out and put down the animal. I mean, I hate to kill anything that is just living its life, but there’s obviously something wrong with it. Like it went mad or something. Putting it out of its misery might be—”

“Ran, do you have plans tonight?” you jumped in.

Ran blinked as her mind quickly changed gears. “Yeah. Hae In is picking me up in a few minutes and we’re going to go out. You two are welcome to join us.”

“That’s okay,” you answered for both of you. “Thanks, though.”

Ran grinned cheekily. “I kind of figured.”

A quick succession of knocks rattled from the front door. Ran leapt up and ushered her friend inside.

Hae In, a girl whose personality was as bright as her blonde hair, waved excitedly at you and Yixing. “Hey! Ooo, that looks good!” She was quickly distracted by the pizza, grabbing a slice as soon as Ran gave her the okay. She swallowed down a few bites. “I’m Hae In, by the way,” she said to Yixing. “Are you (y/n)’s friend?”

“Yes, I am,” he said, a bit his previous light coming back. “I’m Yixing.” Standing up, he held out his hand for her to take.

“Nice to meet you,” Hae In shook his hand after wiping the grease off on an unused napkin.

“We should probably get going,” Ran suggested. “You know Marnie will take forever and we want to get there before they start charging covers.”

“No kidding,” Hae In giggled. She waved goodbye and followed Ran out the door.

Yixing turned to you. “They seemed nice.”

“They are,” you nodded as you stood to your feet and started clearing the table of the dirty dishes. Yixing was soon on his own feet, helping by moving all the leftover pizza into one box and then closing the lid so it could fit in the fridge. You rinsed off the plates, the water plashing all over the counter. After a quick clean up, you put the plates in the dishwasher. Yixing had moved on to the living room. He was seated on the couch, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his thighs and looking deep in thought. You sat down beside him. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he said none-too-convincingly. He sat up so he was now sitting back into the couch. “I’m okay. It’s just been… a day.”

You snorted. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

He didn’t respond to what you had said. He changed the subject in a sharp turn. “This shirt’s comfortable.”

You frowned, confused. “Yeah, its old so its been washed a few times. But it was soft like that when I bought it.” What were you even saying? Why were the two of you talking about your shirt? Honestly, you wanted to forget for a second that he was wearing your clothes at all. Because then you mind drifted to what was underneath the cloth.

“I think I’ve heard of this band,” Yixing said as he tugged on the front where the members were proudly displayed in a tough-guy fashion. There were a few breaks in the plastic-y photo that split some of the faces at odd angles. “They’re a pop group, right?”

You cleared your throat as you shifted in your seat. “Yeah. I guess you could call them that.” Why were you suddenly dying of humiliation? Why should you have any anxiety over what music you liked? One fear might have been that he was one of those people who looked down on others for liking such “shallow music.” You never thought the group in that way. If the vocals were good, who cared if the songs were mostly about love? “I like them anyway.”

To your surprise, Yixing was smiling. “I like them, too.”

In your heart, you were sure he was saying something else. Implying someone else that he really liked.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Because… well, you were realizing that you liked him. Very much. More than a friend. You liked Yixing. And you wanted him to like you, too. While you weren’t a mind reader, you thought that maybe there was a chance that he already did.

Going with the second thought that popped into your head, you looked at him shyly. “Thanks for coming along when you did, by the way. I don’t think I would have been to get him help in time if you hadn’t.”

Instead of returning your soft expression, Yixing remained stoic. He reached out and touched your cheek with the tips of his fingers. They were warm against your skin – No, not warm. Even with the minimal contact, you could feel the fire. It felt like a constant wave of sunshine pulsing into your skin. By sheer instinct, you leaned in deeper to his touch. That was encouragement enough for him to shift so now his palm was against your cheek. The reaction to pull away coursed in your mind, but you couldn’t bring it to fruition. If it had been anyone else, you would have been up and off that couch, putting plenty of room between you and them. But with Yixing… you simply wanted to move closer.

And someone did.

You weren’t sure if it was you or him – your money would have been on a mutual understanding, an equal pull that shifted both of you like magnets. But there was no gnashing of teeth or crumpling of shirts. It was a softer collision. A hesitant one. Your hands dug into the cushion to force you not to move as his lips brushed against yours. When he pressed more, his other hand came up and pulled you in closer by your hip. You didn’t resist, encompassing the space that was his lap.

That fire – that heat and warmth like a log alite on a winter’s day – was everywhere now. But just as it was growing, it was also drifting farther back in your mind. Yixing’s presence, his touch, was consuming your thoughts. You were not the kind of person who did this. You shied away from intimate moments like this. The weeks you had known Yixing were short, but that felt like a detail of little consequence. You believed yourself safe in his embrace.

The kiss ended abruptly. With hands that were simultaneously harsh and gentle, Yixing removed you from his lap, placing you on the cushion beside him. He gave no explanation for his sudden switch in direction. You weren’t sure what for, but the urge to apologize was swelling up, like you were the only one who had crossed a line.

“I’m… sorry.”

Yixing rubbed his eyes, releasing a sigh. “No. Don’t be. I just… I need to figure some things out first.”

“Some… things?” Was he… already seeing someone else? That’s what that usually meant, right? In all this time, he had never mentioned having a girlfriend. He wouldn’t have let you borrow his jacket if there was a chance that another girl might see it. Unless— unless she didn’t go to the university in town and they were in a long-distance relationship? The more you thought about it, the more your stomach was beginning to churn.

“I know that’s— What I mean is—” With another heavy sigh and a shake of his head, he stood to his feet. Not looking at you, he concluded, “I should… probably go.”

You were in state of confusion and sadness as he hurried out the door. Your eyes stayed trained on the last space that he had occupied. This was exactly why you didn’t do things like this. No moment of bliss was worth the terrible heartache that was always doomed to follow. Bringing your feet up on the couch, you made yourself as small as possible. Minutes went by. You weren’t sure why you didn’t move. Was there some stupid part of you that was waiting for him to come back through the door? Things like that only happened in the movies or a teen novel. As if to prove yourself wrong for why you were still in that spot, you peeled yourself up and walked into your room.

Laying there on your bed, folded like a store window display, was the jacket. Divided more than ever, you continued to stand in your doorway and stare at the last remaining evidence of Yixing’s presence.

As soon as he was outside, Yixing whirled and threw his fist into the grimy brick. Shaking out the pain, he cursed at himself under his breath. Stupid. He didn’t lash out like this. It wasn’t the right way to work out his anger. Even if it was towards himself.

The wolf both cheered at the line he’d crossed and whined at the sudden retreat. Part of him knew what the outcome would be once Ran left the apartment. The right thing to do would have been to say goodbye immediately and leave. But he had you to himself and to a wolf with his mate, that was a drug that couldn’t be discarded. So, he sat down on that couch, waiting for you to join. Sitting so close, Yixing’s muscles had tightened from the restraint. And then he snapped.

The scent rolling from you was too great to resist. Besides, you were leaning in, too. You were wanting it, too. Lips so soft as they kissed him back. Minseok had been right; it was like heaven on earth.

Then his mind pulled him back to hell.

A hiker had been attacked right around the time that he had blacked out. Again. And this time, they’d lived to describe the animal that had charged on him. A gray wolf. The same color as his own fur.

He fought against the thought that it might have been him. He held on tight to the chance that it was coincidence. But if it wasn’t… he couldn’t risk you getting hurt. If he did something to cause you harm… he’d never be able to forgive himself. He needed to get a handle on this, and fast. He just hoped that you didn’t hate him for the stunt he pulled back there.

In his pocket, his phone rang. Thankful for the distraction, he pulled it out and then the gratitude scrambled away.

It was Junmyeon.

Already knowing what this call would be about, he answered it. “Hello?”

“Yixing? Where are you? I need to come back to the house for a family meeting.”

He didn’t even bother to pretend to not understand. He didn’t ask for the reason to cover his current state of mind. “Okay. I’m in town, so it’ll take me about an hour to get home.”

“We’ll wait for you.”

Exhaling as his thumb hit the red button on his phone, Yixing pushed off the wall of the building and hopped into his car. A back and forth debate carried on as he drove down the backroad. Would he tell his pack what was going on and risk being ostracized? Or did he try to do this on his own and risk everything?

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ryttu3k · 3 years

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Elijah’s character sheet, V20 version! A bit trickier than the V5 version, since the only benefit of Amalgam disciplines did at least mean the V5 one had access to Thaumaturgy and Koldunic Sorcery as well as Dur-An-Ki, haha.

V5 version, for comparison. Onwards!

Elijah 'Pyre' Carter

Clan: Banu Haqim (Sorcerer) Generation: 12th (via diablerie, originally 13th) Concept: Magical hacker Nature: Pentinent Demeanour: Visionary

Attributes

Physical: Strength 1, Dexterity 2, Stamina 3

Social: Charisma 3, Manipulation 3, Appearance 2

Mental: Perception 3, Intelligence 4, Wits 3

Abilities

Talents: Alertness 2, Awareness 2, Streetwise 2, Subterfuge 3

Skills: Drive 1, Larceny 1, Stealth 3

Knowledge: Academics 3 (History), Computer 4 (Hacking), Investigation 2, Occult 3, Technology 2

Advantages

Disciplines: Dur-An-Ki 2, Obfuscate 1 (Cloak of Shadows), Auspex 1 (Heightened Senses)

Backgrounds: Alternative Identity 2, Contacts 1, Domain 1, Resources 1

Virtues: Conscience 4, Self-Control 4, Courage 2

Humanity 8

Willpower 7

Merits & Flaws

Merits: Efficient Digestion (Physical Merit 3), Languages - Latin, Hebrew, Greek, Arabic (Mental Merit 2), Natural Linguist (Mental Merit 2)

Flaws: Dark Secret - committed diablerie in 2015 (Social Flaw 2), Derangement - Sanguinary Animism (Supernatural Flaw 3), Prey Exclusion - people (Mental Flaw 1), Soft-Hearted (Mental Flaw 1)

Derangement: Sanguinary Animism, developed after committing diablerie. Sticks to bagging as he believes the soul impression fades after leaving the vein. Avoids drinking from people at all costs.

Sorcery

Paths: Hand of the Magi 2, Life's Water 1, Path of the Levinbolt 2, Path of Warding 2, Whispers of the Heavens 1

Rituals: Horoscope

Profile

Concept: InfoSec expert for hire! Hide your dealings from prying hunter eyes! Sweet, compassionate, good kid who also does Crimes and occasionally gets the extremely strong urge to eat bad people.

Age: Born 28 December 1993, Embraced September 2013. Apparent age 19, actual age 28

Description: 5'6", scrawny and pale, looks perpetually exhausted. Curly black hair, grey-blue eyes. Perpetually bitten nails (they were like that way when he was Embraced and now he's stuck with them!). Usual outfit: skinny jeans, graphic tee, Converses, black choker necklace, oversized red hoodies for days nights.

History: Quiet kid, only child, didn't make too many waves in childhood but was pretty rebellious as a teen and got heavily into hacking and general Computer Crime Shenanigans. Went to uni and started computer science, was not at all academically inclined, dropped out after a year and a half and worked menial jobs to try and survive.

Was Embraced shortly before his 20th birthday in 2013. The Banu Haqim were rapidly increasing their ties to the Camarilla, and the sire, a Dispossessed Sorcerer who neither wanted to join the Camarilla nor bow to Ur-Shulgi halfway across the world, wanted a childe to help build up their personal power. Both Elijah and his sire are fairly young, never lived under the Tremere curse, have never been to the Middle East, and have no connection to Banu Haqim culture in general. However, his sire was ambitious and knew that power was the best way to stay alive, and when they tracked down a Banu Haqim elder in torpor, they ‘encouraged' Elijah to diablerise her (this sire, incidentally, is a diablerist as well).

This was deeply traumatic for the poor kid (it was only a year or two after his Embrace, and he picked up a derangement in the process) and he promptly cut contact with his sire, even if it hurt him greatly to do so. He just… did not want to deal with them. Has spent the last 5-6 years working in information security for people wanting to avoid hunter detection, and trying to expand his knowledge of blood sorcery. Would want to find another Banu Haqim Sorcerer to teach him more Dur-An-Ki, or even learn Thaumaturgy from - ugh - a Tremere.

Personality: Still a genuinely sweet kid who likes! helping people! and so the Humanity hit from the diablerie wasn't too bad, really, and it helps that he felt hideously guilty and traumatised from it. Very very strong moral code - protect people from exploitative institutions and people, even if that means he occasionally gets the extremely strong urge to eat bad people, which he also doesn't want to do because he would rather not like any more souls in his head. Quiet and melancholy, but he can put on a pleasant and calm facade. Can get extremely impatient with himself and doesn't tolerate making mistakes (both for himself and sometimes with others), and is very frustrated with his existence as, well, a blood-sucking parasite. Still craves closeness to others and can be a bit promiscuous, although due to his derangement (see above), he tries to avoid drinking from them at all costs.

Goals: Stay alive. Don't eat anyone (unless they really, really deserve it). Learn Koldunic Sorcery (Path of Fire, Spirit) and Thaumaturgy (Technomancy and Hacktivist paths, level 2 rituals Seal Egress and Deny the Intruder).

Allies & Contacts: One contact - Jackson Lucas, bored employee at Red Cross that Elijah occasionally hooks up with. Slips Elijah blood bags that are about to expire and be thrown out.

Gear & Equipment: Sunbag (lightproof sleeping bag). Beaten-up backpack containing laptop, spare chargers, smartphone (used as emergency computer, not connected to anything), flip phone and spare prepaid SIMs, blank USBs, those USB things with prepaid internet on them, hacked Kindle with blood sorcery grimoires (Dur-An-Ki and Quietus, Thaumaturgy, Koldunic sorcery), basic ritual kit (small knife, lighter, metal, glass, and silicone containers, tea lights, amulets and charms), water bottle (kept mostly full) and muesli bar for sake of appearance.

Haven: Rental apartment in cheap area of town. Blinds not actually lightproof in living room, better in bedroom - still, ��bed' is for show, has actual sleeping space in wardrobe (his actual clothes are in the pantry in the kitchen). Keeps an emergency sports bag with clothes, mini ritual kit, smartphone, flip phone and prepaid SIM, and chargers under the bed.

#vampire the masquerade #vtm #banu haqim #oc: elijah

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mimithings97 · 5 years

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How to Make Him Cum 101 (M)

Summary: You’ll love each other in sickness and health, hungover or hangry, sexless or… well, it’s becoming a little harder for the pants to stay on despite the calls of ‘let’s take this slow’ on the first date.

Pairing: Jungkook x Y/N

Genre: University AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst (tiny bit), Crack

Warnings: (Plenty my friend) Handjob, Fingering, Squirting, Sex without protection, Tongue fucking, Jungkook being whipped, Chocking (brief), Dry Humping, Jungkook cumming in his pants, lots of swearing, lots of alcohol consumption, consumption of weed

Word Count: 15k (it was meant to be 10k, but I fucked it)

A/N: I love Jungkook in this, he’s a sweetheart who has no fucking idea what he’s doing. Took me way too long to write this and I’m sorry if it drags, but I split it into little scenes to make it more manageable. It’s also pretty casual - no real storyline. Enjoy and suggestions always welcome x

“I swear to fuck, if he throws up my £2000 bourbon...”

And by some miracle, neither the end of Taehyung’s sentence nor the £150 shot Namjoon halfheartedly threw back makes an appearance.

“Nah big man can handle his shit right Joon,” is the mere drunken support offered by Jimin. It’s also accompanied by an all-too heavy hand to the back that has the elder spluttering on air, the shot well and truly burning a hole in his stomach by now.

You observe from the distance of the kitchen, fortunately barricaded from the testosterone fest by the island and several misplaced sofas. It was Jimin’s idea to upgrade the sofa scheme to one that was more ‘drinking and smoking friendly’ so he liked to call it, taking a sufficient 30 minutes just to manoeuvre several pieces of furniture into a circle that centred around all too expensive liquors and cheap weed - the irony of the contrast had most certainly dawned on you.

Your unexpected appearance to the gathering was on the account of boyfriends hazy state. He was all ‘come save me’ and ‘i’m dying’ over your texted conversation but upon arrival, the boy was all over that tequila bottle like he was downing chocolate milk.

Despite your best intentions of remaining inconspicuous and merely Jungkook’s driver for the night went to shit when Jimin, unapologetic and somewhere between happily stoned and confident drunk demanded you join their escapades.

“Booze or bud but not neither Y/N.” Nothing like a typical Taehyung to welcome you to the action.

“Well you didn’t say I couldn’t have both,” is your reply that’s laced with a brazen tone and paired with a smirk.

You’re met with Taehyung tonguing his cheek.

“That’s my girl,” Jungkook shouts mid-laugh and gives you a smack to the ass for good measure. You find comfort in the gesture, so following his drifting hand to the point that you settle in his lap.

Jungkook must have drunk his weight in alcohol because it’s all touches from behind you, cold hands finding their way under cloth and onto warm skin, lips clamping down on your neck and teeth unforgiving on your ear lobe. Your boyfriend’s a modest guy even at worst, so his provoking actions are met with raised eyebrows on your behalf.

Slowly but surely, with the burn of smoke in your lungs and the even harsher burn of rich whiskey (because £2000 bourbon is a harsh no), Jungkook’s hands roam freely.

“Jesus mate, if you’d have fucked her the second time you would’ve had that pussy on hold, swear down.” Somewhere between your silent touches and unauthorized smoking of all of Namjoon’s weed, the conversation had delved into the topic of Jimin’s overly privileged sex life.

“That’s exactly what I said but the bitch pussied out,” Hobi pipes up from the corner where he’d faded away from being too legit faded - boy never could handle his smoke.

“Fuck off did I pussy ou-”

“Nahhh she had you whipped babe, that second shag wasn’t even on the cards,” you mouth speaks for you. Or more like your high speaks for you at this point.

You feel Kook smile into your shoulder from where his head was perched.

“This’ll be good,” it’s under Taehyung’s breath but not inaudible.

“Fuck do you mean, ‘she had me whipped’, she was all over me that night at Joon’s...” Jimin swigs mid-sentence, flushed from the buzz of liquor and his overly defensive tone, “had her wrapped around my little finger.”

… the opportunity was too good to miss.

“What little finger?” You refrain from laughing at your own remark for dramatic effect but Jungkook’s squeezing your sides and the lightness of your head betrays you.

Jimin’s eye contact with your falters as if his ego broken, and the others pass around comments along the lines of ‘fucking brilliant’ and ‘unlucky mate’.

You take a final drag before passing it behind you to the already seeking hand of your boyfriend who’s still amused by your smart-mouth.

“Jimin, I’m just saying,” you elaborate in hopes of restoring his cracked masculinity somewhat, “from what Stephanie told me, Mina had four guys on hold at that party and wasn’t inclined to let any of them stick in on her cos she’s got a full-on guy waiting for her away from uni.”

He huffs, throwing himself and his bottle backwards onto the sofa, causing it to slosh around and out. You peer over at Taehyung, waiting for the boy to morph into an expression of disgust because god knows, this sofa cover costs more than your rent, but he never does - eyes glazed and a small smile instead.

“Fucking brilliant, I was fifth on a girls ‘need to shag’ list.” You almost feel bad for the sod, but one thing Jimin could never do was keep his mouth shut when it needed to be. “At least I’m doing better than you, Y/N, you can’t even get a fuck off your boyfriend and you’ve been together for months.”

Taehyung’s smile drifts, Hobi shifts in his seat and Jungkook stiffens from behind you - the air dries up.

“Jimin, mate, come on,” Joon tries to reason, but as per usual Jimin keeps his mouth moving.

“I said what I said.”

Yeh, he sure fucking did. And if one thing was known to be uncharted conversation between the lot of you, then that was your and Jungkook’s abstinence. But in true style, Jimin just had to pry.

----------------------------------------

“Fuck it, maybe we should just have sex,” he finally says as you stall over wiping off your eyeliner to laugh at his exasperation. Jungkook wasn’t insecure but he was easily influenced when something hurt his pride - and you could tell, from Jimin’s comment, throughout the awkward air that lingered in the car, to just now, that he had been stewing on the dent to his ego from the moment it was spoken.

You want to tell him with all the sarcasm in the world how ‘romantic’ he’s being about it all, but you refrain to save further damage.

“Kook-”

“Nah, seriously Y/N, I’m tired of this shit…” you want to diffuse his state, but he persists, “and- I don’t really know what I’m waiting on now.”

“Baby,” you finally get a grip on his attention as he lets out a huff and welcomes you onto his lap. “You’ve had your reasons to wait on this, I’ve always respected that. But…” he groans and you lean into him as a warning to let you finish, “buttt, I’m not gonna respect any shit when you’re letting Jimin decide for you. Just cos the boy can’t get his dick wet doesn’t mean you have to.”

You feel him snicker against your shoulder as he lowers his head in frustration.

“You do this on your own time. Not mine,” you weave your fingers through his locks and anchor him to you, “not Jimin’s, not anyone but yours,” and finalise your sentiment by situating your lips on his temple.

With eyes fluttering shut into your touch and a heavy breath out he indulges in his insecurity. “I just can’t afford to lose you.” And you know it takes his booze-filled conscience to let you in.

You have to admit that there was some level of hurt you managed to hide at this point. That even after relishing in one another's company for 5 months, Jungkook still couldn’t find it in himself to trust you in that way. It was a mental thing, an emotional instinct of too many failed relationships where he was a victim to being cheated on, left after being used for sex and prayed on for good looks and unfortunate vulnerability. You knew within yourself you would never and could never do what so many have done before you. Fuck, you couldn’t even see yourself being sane and capable without him, ever, period. For that, you respected his decision - whilst frustratingly prolonged - because you knew he was worth the wait.

“I need you just as much as you need me.” You sense the slump in his shoulders, the heaviness of too many pressures and burdens weighing them down. That and his drug-induced state causing unwanted fatigue. “Hmm?” So you lift his chin and search his eyes till they meet yours, passing on a reassurance that he finally accepts with a curt nod.

“Yeh, I know.”

You press a kiss, or two to his lips and lean back to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Now are you gonna keep sulking to yourself like a bitch or let me make you cum?” His instant response is his eyes blowing out in shock of your statement before laughing into your chest. You know him well enough that he is using your chest to hide the blush in his cheeks but you don’t mention it.

Instead, you wiggle your hips with no subtlety into the twitch of his groin that seeks your mouth so desperately, laughing when he grabs you at the cheeks and pulls you away to say, “You’re fucking mental.” But against his lips you can’t help the, “-Nd you love me for it,” that is mumbled.

Yeah, this boy was definitely worth the wait.

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Weekends seem to roll around at a quickening pace when you have a needy boyfriend and even more demanding party schedule to fill the gaps. And by some freak of nature, you hadn’t managed to drop your education off a cliff in the meantime - in fact, you had begun to make a living off having beer in one hand and highlighter in the other.

University wasn’t a walk in the park, but you’d been enough of a devoted intellect in your first two years of it to allow yourself to drop off the map a little. So, after becoming a co-captain of the swim team somewhere into your second year, it was only a natural, human instinct kind of reaction that your fellow captain, the hunk of abs who graced poolside, would slip a few too many flirty remarks at you before you called him your boyfriend. He’d pined and you’d fallen - simple as.

He came with baggage though. Six boys and a whole lot of booze and weed. You were no saint before Jungkook, hell, you almost weren’t allowed swim captain because you’d slept in one too many of the guys beds. But as soon as you’d said ‘yes’ to the going out for drinks invitation he offered, you had also said ‘yes’ to the party on Saturday at Hoseok’s, and the one on Sunday down at the river, and for every weekend for the next 5 months. And slowly but surely, it was no longer, ‘this is my girlfriend’ as an introduction, but you asking the familiar face around the party with all urgency where the nearest bottle of tequila was.

It’s also how you’d landed yourself filthily hungover in your Monday lecture, listening to Professor Snape (nah, it’s his real name and all) with a noticeable shake in your hand and last nights mascara somewhere down your face.

“If you look that shit, then what the hell does Kook look like.” Mina, the best friend, the only one allowed to hold back your hair whilst you would throw up in a second-floor bathroom, and the roommate who made student life just a bit more bearable than the shit show it was.

She takes the seat next to you, her question probably rhetorical but you make the effort to reply, all the same.

“Still asleep in the bathtub I reckon.” Ah, yes, the boyfriend. At somewhere between 1 in the morning and blackout drunk you, Jungkook and your infamous competitiveness called for beer pong - minus the beer, add the vodka. So it was only gonna be a certain amount of time before both you and him were pushed into a cab on top of one another and drafted back to his flat so he could throw up in his bathtub.

“Jesus,” Mina mutters with a laugh, probably just relieved someone ordered your taxi to go to his and not your shared apartment - like hell was she listening to Jungkook throw up at 5 in the morning.

“Honestly, why does Yoongi host that shit on Sunday,” you groan into your laptop, turning down the brightness because you can already feel the afternoon hangover headache arising.

“He doesn’t have a 9am like the rest of us.”

“Fucker.”

Good host though, Yoongi. A postgrad, with his own two-storey apartment and too much time on his hands. You’d known him before the boyfriend too, working shifts with him in your first year at a music production company, both in the catering section because you had time to fill and tuition to pay and he was hoping to find his break into the industry. He fucked it though and has ended up with some crazy paid apprenticeship at a financial branch in the city centre.

“Oi, Bob’s this weekend?” Mina poses the question as the lights brighten in the lecture room and everyone starts shutting laptops - yours was shut ten minutes ago when you stopped listening and started wallowing in self-pity.

“Bob’s?” Bermuda Bobs. A club in the centre of town, and somewhat of a regular for Friday nights, when Hoseok had had just about enough of hosting. “Yeh. Yeh, I can do Bobs.”

Mina’s up and off before you can even open the zip on your bag, something about she’ll miss her lift to training, but you mumble that you’ll see her at the apartment later before you can see the back of her head.

All you can think as you conquer the steps to the exit of the hall is how much of a blessing a shower and a cup of tea would be - ‘so easily pleased’ Mina would say. So, when you look up from your phone to see Jungkook opposite where you walk out, a cup of tea in hand, you might just believe in fate.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he says, throat hoarse as he takes you bag from your shoulder and places the coffee into your welcoming hands. You laugh at him, a snort because it’s ironic considering the bloodshot eyes and beer-stained hair he sports.

“You were passed out in the bath legit an hour ago,” his hand finds yours despite your teasing and when you finally take the first sip of tea as you walk, anyone would think the noise you made was nothing short of an orgasm - Jungkook certainly takes notice. “Did you bring the car?”

He snorts, “Like fuck did I bring the car, I’m still drunk.”

“Babbbyy,” it’s a whine as you throw your head back and pull his hand to make your point into a tantrum.

“It’s literally a 5 minute walk babe, suck it up.” He continues ahead, but you go full 5 year old tactics on him, stopping in your tracks and whacking on your face the biggest pout your lips will allow.

He merely rolls his eyes and kisses it away before presenting his back to you, arms out, legs bent and you hop onto him like the spoilt girlfriend you are.

“You’re a brat, you know that.” Is all he says as he starts the walk out of the building and towards his, so you kiss behind his ear.

“Mmm, call me that again, it kinda turns me on.”

“Fucking filty,” but you see the crinkle in his eyes that lets you know that he loves you for it.

----------------------------------------

Friday nights roll around quicker than you know when Bob’s is calling. They start earlier than most nights as well - lecture leads to swim training, swim training calls for afternoon drinks at Warehouse and then Warehouse blurs into Pre’s that blurs into Bob’s.

So with beer curdling in your stomach, trying to flick the wing of your eyeliner and failing for the fifteenth time is as funny as Jimin’s pinkie to you and Mina.

She is, of course, ready. Has been for almost 2 hours, so whilst you struggle to slip into your dress, she finishes your eyeliner for you.

The buzz of your phone has both of you looking to the vibrating device in confusion, having to double-take with each other because the taxi isn’t supposed to be here until Jungkook is and he isn’t supposed to be here for another half an hour.

Your fumbling with a zip so it’s Mina who reaches for it, and when the screen lights her face, her features go from confused to ‘for fucks sake’ in less than a second. She turns it and that god awful photo of Jungkook and his swimming goggles on lights up the display.

“I’ll get the door.” She’s exasperated. He’s early and she can’t stand that - all it took was him showing up at the wrong time on a Wednesday whilst she was naked on the sofa with a girl between her legs that caused the ‘come when you’re fucking asked to come’ attitude - poor boy didn’t even know she was gay.

You do a once over in the mirror before the door swings open, Mina has a scowl but your boyfriend has a lime in one hand and tequila in the other, so you don’t care.

“Shit, you look hot,” Fuck, so does he, but he’s pressing a kiss to your lips before you can drink him in fully, “s’that dress new?”

“I did the makeup, thank me.” Mina was always loud, and speaking at the wrong places and in the wrong conversations.

“Kindly fuck off, you did the eyeliner and shit all else.” You turn back to Kook, now leaning against your wall, eyes still trained on you, or at least, your legs, and he looks fucking thirsty that’s for sure. “And yeh, got it when I went in the city the other week.” He replies with a nod and a smirk. Those damn bedroom eyes, they hold your gaze, as you fiddle with the clasp on the side of your dress.

Mine pipes up from the sidelines, “God, it’s like I’m watching a fucking mating ritual or something.” Jungkook scoffs and his shoulders ease as though he’s calming himself down, “Well, I’m ready so shots it is.” She grabs the bottle of tequila from Jungkook’s hand and is off into the kitchen without looking back.

“Who put a foot up her ass then?” He only says it once the door is closed, knowing he’ll get a whacking if Mina heard him, so you scowl at him, albeit through a smile.

“Oi, watch it,” you’re in front of him now, leaning into the arm he stretched out to embrace you in.

“Sorry,” and he means it. He genuinely likes Mina, you’re sure of it, but they go at each other like cats in an alley when you’re not there to referee it.

He’s warm around you, his shirt with buttons undone at the top so that the cologne he’s wearing goes right to your head - and to your core - either one. The proximity does the same to him as he takes a handful of your ass, groping so that when you gasp and try to pull away, he administers a slap.

You can’t deny you’re horny for him, and the way his trousers frame his bulge perfectly - you lick your lips subconsciously at the thought - but you can almost hear the sadness of Mina pouring and downing Tequila shots by herself.

“Fucker,” you whisper and lean out of his hold almost, only to see that fire in his eyes.

“I love this ass,” hands now sneaking underneath the fabric of your dress - like it was covering much anyway, but that doesn’t change the way his cold fingers spread across your behind and almost make you moan out. It’s when he takes your bottom lip in his teeth and pulls back agonizing slowly until it pops back into place that the moan you were stifling releases, slowly, seductively, and his crotch stirs at the thought of you making the same noise around his dick.

But if Kook can restrain himself enough into denying you a fuck for 5 months, then you can be just as disciplined now - whether the wetness on your thighs tells you something different or not.

You toy with him though.

At a pace nothing short of tormenting, you lean your leg into the space between his, drag your lips across his cheek to his ear and let your fingers draw a line from the gap in his shirt, underneath and across his chest, “But you know what’s better than this ass, baby?” You play the seductress with you voice, and you know it does bits to him.

Your question was rhetoric, but when he doesn’t reply, you can’t help but grab at his belt with a hand and tug his crotch into your leg. He sputters out breathily into your neck, “W-what?”

You lean back, wait for his eyes to open and gage the lust and excitement brewing within them before opening your mouth against his…

“...Tequila shots.” You smack his thigh, turn and are out the door before his erection can say ‘shit’.

Two can play at his game of denial.

Your all kinds of worked up despite your best efforts, but Mina’s got lime in her mouth and her face crinkled into an expression of disgust as you eye the empty shot glass on the counter, so it’s not like she’s gonna be sniffing out your hormones any time soon.

“Fucking shit, rancid, I hate it, don’t wanna drink ever, absolutely not,” you laugh at her outburst as you refill her shot glass for yourself.

“Lightweight,” you tease her as you throw it all back, wincing internally as you feel the hole burn in your throat, but suck it up for the sake of your competitive streak. She merely scoffs at you as the bedroom door swings open, Jungkook - still a fine piece of ass right now - tucking his shirt into his trousers. No way did he just finish himself off in that time, but your eyes travel down to his hard on that is very much still there. You can’t help the smirk.

“Kook, get your shot down you then we’re off,” Mina announces.

“Taxi here already?” he questions but she shakes her head as she now sports a wine bottle in her hand, and clearly a mouth full of wine as she fails to verbalise.

Shots are down, wine is drunk, and heads are well and truly dizzy when you reach the club. The cab was early much to Mina’s dismay, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing the tequila bottle from Jungkook and downing a healthy portion of the liquid before collapsing in instant regret - ‘we’ve all been there Min’ was your only advice. As for Jungkook. Well, the boy never showed when he was drunk until he would take his shirt off and shout he was wasted, so the only way you could gauge his state was by the way his fingers dug into your thigh the entire journey - you just couldn’t work out whether it was the alcohol or his dick talking.

“Y/NNN!” you hear before see Jimin, despite the music that reverberates through the floor and up your body. As always, he has bottle in hand and a girl in the other, but he releases her to embrace you.

It’s a love, hate with Jimin, but he was Jungkook’s best friend, so there was and could not be bad blood between the two of you - much the same to Jungkook and Mina. Jimin swam as well, so you were no strangers to sharing situations that required great comfort with one alone - such as you in a swimming costume and him in his damn speedos. There was only one thing better than Jimin in speedos though, and that was Jungkook in speedos.

“Where’s your boyfriend, he owes me a fucking drink,” and you point to the bar, where he leans over the counter in all his glory and much to the fortune of your eyes. Jimin escorts himself and the girl he’s with over to the bar before you can catch her name - she’s pretty, though, which is no surprise with Jimin’s taste.

It takes the next 30 minutes, or possibly longer because alcohol tends to blur hours to minutes before you’ve made conversation with everyone there. It’s almost admin now, having to do the rounds when all the people from swimming go out - a swim captain apparently has certain obligations of seeing everyone had a drink in hand and a ride to go home in. Kook was doing the same too, across the club, slowly but surely making his way towards you as he talked to some of the guys. He’d winked one too many times at you for it to be coincidence, and the alcohol you’d been consuming was screaming out to you now to fuck the pointless conversation and grind on your damn fit boyfriend.

“Fuck Josh, Mel, the boy can’t even get it up, and you’re too much of a hot piece of ass to waste on him,” Mina’s on one of her motivational talks with the social sec, Mel - absolute sweetheart, heart of gold and awful taste in men. Also the subject of Mina’s subconscious flirting for the last hour or so, but you don’t have the heart to tell Mina to stop - she’s drunk and probably horny knowing her.

“Y/N,” you’re face first in your vodka red bull (double), to hear Mina, having zoned out from her pining after she started getting emotional. “Y/N!” You finally ease up on the drink when you hear her this time.

“Hmm?” mouth half full.

“Have you ever seen someone get eye fucked?” Her eyes flicker from you to something else, but you’re too caught up in the absurdity of her question to notice.

“The fuck?”

“Because I’m watching it happen right now,” and it’s a nod that finally directs your questioning gaze away from your best friend and to a figure at the bar, elbows tucked behind him, a bottle of beer at his side, legs to die for and eyes boring right into yours. He’s playing dirty tonight, is all you think. So despite the way your core tightens and the hair on your neck unknowingly rises, you feed into his game, the cat and mouse kind of thing he seems to be grabbing at, and put up your facade.

You're slow to get to him, but it’s deliberate. And instead of giving in to his gaze or his touch, you place your feet right beside his, leaning towards the bar and into the sight of the bartender.

It’s the raise of her eyebrows at you and the curt smile that prompts you to talk, “two shots of tequila please,” she begins to spin but you stop her, “oh, and plenty of salt and lime.”

It takes physical energy not to give in to human instinct - to touch and to grab him, to let go of the role play.

“Anyone would think you’re ordering for two,” his voice is gravely, and fuck if it doesn’t shoot straight down you. But his comment makes you smile, smirk actually.

“You say that as if I can’t handle my alcohol,” you raise an eyebrow to yourself, still feigning your confidence by not looking his way.

Two shots are lined up in front of you, limes perched on top, and a generously filled salt shaker to the left of them.

“Well tequila is a dangerous game to play,” you pick up either shot in your hand, and fight the urge to shiver as his words that are breathed against your ear. You round from the side of him, eyes finally lifting to his and filling some void that was there, but by no means lifting any tension between the two of you.

“Then let’s play dangerously,” you say, eyes sultry and him waiting on your every move, “the first one to have their salt, their shot and their lime gone first is the winner..”

“And what does the winning get?” Damn, he’s eager.

You lean in, but still don’t touch. “That’s for the winner to know, and the loser to find out.”

You can see a vague pick up in his breathing, a sheen of sweat forming against his brow and a vague smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth. Lifting the lime off your shot, he almost proceeds to do the same, about to take the shot to his lips but you stop him, instead pushing your shot into his vacant hand. The only explanation offered is when you take your lime down the column of your throat and down to your cleavage, before reaching to the salt that’s behind him. You pour a small mound of it onto your finger and follow the path that the lime drew. He eyes you like artwork, and doesn’t lift his gaze from your cleavage where you nestle the lime.

You pour more salt onto your forefinger, and his eyes finally lift in an expression of confusion, but words evade him - hell, he hasn’t taken a solid breath for the past minute. Slowly, tourturningly, you lean into him, carefully avoiding his shot, and catch his breath hitching as you press the point of your tongue into the base of his neck, dragging it upwards until you meet his jaw. You almost couldn’t stop yourself from proceeding further, drinking in the salty taste of him and eating away at his sanity with your tongue - but you refrain, all in the name of dramatic effect.

“Fuck,” is all he says as he keeps his breath hitched, and you push your finger down the line your tongue drew, spreading salt southwards.

He almost looks tapped out when you take his lime from between you, eyes completely glazed, and fortunately for you they blow out even further when you tug the belt of his trousers and place your lime in the waistband - like his erection wouldn’t have held it up anyways.

Retrieving one of the shots from his grasp, where his knuckles had turned white against the glass, you hold his gaze.

“I think you should go ahead,” you’re more breathy than you realised, even despite it being your game.

“I-I thought,” he has to clear his throat, “it’s who can do it the fastest,” it’s barely even a question with how quiet he mumbled the words - you’re not even sure he knew what he was saying.

“Who said I wanted to win, baby?” And he lets out a moan, a full blown moan before he encases your throat with his mouth, and he’s almost animalistic in the way he growls against your skin at the taste. He bites down when he reaches just above the lime and your eyes roll back unconsciously before opening to see him throw his head back with the shot, not a single wince in his eyes because they are so driven by desire. The shot glass is slammed behind him before he dives into your cleavage to retrieve the lime, and in some display of masculinity that almost has you keening he rips the lime from his mouth and tosses it behind you, juice rolling down his face and onto his jaw to linger with the line of salt that glistens there.

You don’t even realise you're on his throat until the overly salty taste pricks your mouth and you can feel his jaw tense beneath you. You're almost in a haze when the tequila sets your throat ablaze but you become fully conscious of the way he grabs a fistful of your hair, pushes you to the floor until your dress bunches and has you sucking at the lime that rests mockingly above his hard cock.

By some miracle you find yourself back up at eye level, chests heaving to the point of almost touching, and if you didn’t have a lime in your mouth right now you’d either be swearing obscenely in some gesture of saying ‘your so fucking hot’ or your lips would be around his dick.

With a gulp and a tilt of his head backwards, he gains a level of composure that allows him to ease the lime from your lips with his fingers, letting them brush at your skin to have you shivering.

It’s almost comical the way you both pant, eyes ablaze in each others, and completely oblivious to the outside world and how many, way too many people have seen your display. But there is nothing but the burn in your bodies right now as he grabs your hand wordlessly and drags you as fast as your heels will allow.

It’s like a switch had flipped in him somewhere back there. Even if this whole thing was roleplay, at least you knew how to play it with your boyfriend back there, knew the way he ticks and what would make his cock twitch - Jungkook’s normally easy to read like that. But when he almost breaks the disabled toilet door down with his hand, there is no game left to play - the restraints are off and the fire of lustful rage is fueled.

“You-” he slams you back against the door before its even swung shut and you can get a single word in. It’s carnal the way he’s latching onto your mouth, grabbing your hands that try to clasp at his neck and throw them up next to your head, and shoves a knee between your sopping thighs.

“I almost fucking came in my trousers back there when you got on your knees,” you don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice so low and rough before but it courses through you more than the heavy bass of the club music. “You had me stood there ready to fuck your mouth open, but you thought you’d fucking tease your way through it.”

He’s domineering and your completely and utterly keening for it. Even more so when the grip he has on your wrist tightens and brings it down to his crotch, forcing your latch onto the erection that strains sinfully, painfully in his trousers and you feel intimidated enough at his display that you don’t palm him, don’t give him a pleasureful squeeze like you normally would when you had more control of your emotions. But you're shocked and fucked out - beyond that even.

“You feel that shit. Fuck, I’ve never been this hard before,” you moan out lowly, finding it increasingly difficult to control your breathing, the nature of the lust in your body calling out for some friction on your body. But he stands there, eyes ablaze, panting his taunting remarks into your agape mouth. “You’re making it so damn hard not to fuck you.”

“Do it,” you whisper without even knowing and neither does Jungkook because the ringing in both of your ears is deafening.

“I’ve always wanted to see you fall apart around my cock… lose it as I fuck you,” his crotch starts riveting into your hand and you know he’s imaging what it would feel like with his dick nestled deep in your walls right now, “God I want to pound into you.”

“Fuck.”

Fuck, because never have his words been so dirty before.

“You’re so damn hot I actually can’t control myself right now,” and his dick follows his words. Your hand now acts as your pussy - in his head anyway - as the friction of his trousers begins sending him neck deep in pleasure.

You actually think you could come from watching it. How his head now bows into your neck and his teeth set into your skin because he can’t even control how slack his jaw has become. The way he’s getting harder and harder against your hand and his movements are constantly seeking more. Fucking hell, you’re both fully clothed, his dicks rock hard in his pants but he’s so pent up on you and the desire you’ve caused that he’s chasing an orgasm basically untouched.

“I- oh fuck.”

“Come on baby,” you feed him, words moaned against his ear and hand flattening more purposefully against him, “fuck me harder.”

“Argh- fuc-fucking hell,” he’s spurred on by the illusion you offer. His eyes rolled back in his head as he imagines the feeling of being balls deep in you.

“Think how good I’d feel. Fuck, you’d be so deep uhh,” you moan out at the end as the harshness of the way his hips snap into yours causes your hand nestled between you to deliciously rub on your clit.

You hadn’t realised that your dress had ridden up in the commotion of you sex driven states, that your ass was pressed up against the cool surface and gave you goosebumps despite the way you body oozes heat, that you panties were so wrecked by your arousal that your hand might as well be rubbing you raw. And with Jungkook’s quickening pace, the friction against your clit makes you all too driven to seek your end as well as his. It’s filthy.

“Ko-uh. Fuck, Kook, I need you fingers- ah,” your walls are throbbing at the thought, but his teeth remain deep set in the junction between your neck and shoulder, his hips still thrusting up and into your hand, so you think you’re desire has gone unheard.

But all too quickly, he forgets the end he was chasing.

Suddenly, he backs away from you, leaving you untouched and leaning forward into the air, whilst his cock screams in the confines of his trousers. He growls at the way he had to stop himself from cumming too soon.

“Baby,” it’s a whine from the back of your throat that you had no plan to release. But the way your chest heaves and your thighs cross one another for friction just spells to you and him just how inflamed your body is.

His eyes move away from your desperate ones, and his neck reclines back as he swallows - trying with all his strength to keep it together, to not cum from merely watching your cleavage, drenched in his and your sweat, rise and fall with the way your breathing staggers. Watching him is torture for yourself, but you don’t want to miss the way his cock throbs.

You have no idea how long you’re there, him grappling at his sanity and you watching him.

“Baby, I-”

“Fuck, don’t talk,” his face almost contorts in pain and his head lowers into his chest to halt his urge to look at you.

But, you’re horny and you're a brat, so you persist.

“Jungkook, I need you right now.”

Silence falls for a mere second.

Like a man possessed he lunges back towards your body, and before you can react he’s on his knees violently pushing the thin fabric of your dress up and ripping your panties down your legs.

“What don’t you understand about shut the fuck up.” And with that he’s on your clit, hands shoving your legs in opposite directions and over his shoulders so you lose your balance and end up speared on his tongue.

“Kook!” It’s a cry that’s shouted into the air when your head is thrown back - a reaction to both the immense feeling that tightens at your core and a warning to the man below you that you might just crush him.

But he’s devouring your pussy whole. He’s no longer tending to your clit, but lapping his tongue up and down the entire expanse of your slit, letting the muscle of his tongue slip into your entrance making your stomach drop every time. He’s hellbent on making you cum that’s for sure, because no matter the tug of your hands at his scalp to let up even just a little, he’s growling into you and plunging deeper.

You want to pull away, to finally take a break from the intense pressure on your core or maybe to breathe for the first time since he decided to drop to his knees. But you’re feet don’t touch the ground, literally, and he’s suspending you on his tongue.

His hands push you down further onto him and he growls into you, vibrations coursing through you that almost makes you cum then and there. But he breaks away.

“Fuck,” he sounds fucked out himself, taking in all the air he can, because god knows he was eating your pussy like it was oxygen. “Baby, you gotta cum on my tongue, please.”

He was the one eating you out, yet you had him pleading. Boy always did submit in the end, whether he liked it or not.

“Fingers then. Use your fingers,” and he obeys, releasing your thigh in favour of thrusting two of his digits deep into you. All your weight goes onto his shoulders and the two fingers set so far into your womb that you were crying out in pleasure. It wasn’t until his mouth resumed sucking on your clit that you lost all control of your tongue and rambled into the air like a mad woman.

“F-Fuckkk Kook. I want ah- fuck I want your cum inside me. I want your dick so bad,” he’s moaning with you and with your words, being spurred on by the image you paint. He curls his fingers deep inside you, and you lose yourself on the feeling - being so stimulated that you miss the fact you’re grinding on his face, thrusting up as if his fingers were really his cock. He’s moaning at it, at the way your pace picks up on his tongue and you’re seeking your end.

“Don’t stop, oh fuck, oh fuck, please- don’t stop.”

You’re driving yourself deeper and deeper into him and fuckkk if the pleasure hasn’t taken over your senses beyond belief. Your stomach pulls so tight with the need to release that you’re grappling at the strands of hair on the back of your boyfriend’s head and using them to anchor yourself. He’s purely a mouth and two fingers to fuck yourself on at this moment and you couldn’t stop yourself even if you tried.

“Shit, fuckk,” his fingers start going at a rate, not even your hips can keep up with, and he’s so deep you almost choke like the pressure inside you has reached up into your throat.

“Come on baby, fuck,” his gravelly voice seeks out for you to come all over him.

“Holy fuckin-” the feeling comes on so intense inside of you that you struggle to warn him, your breathing constricted almost into nothingness. You feel like you’re about to cum with such strength that you might die.

“I can’t Kook- oh fuckk.”

“Give it to me.”

His teeth clamp down on your clit at the same time as his fingers curl against that spot inside you that suddenly has everything spiralling at once.

“Don’t stoppp, don’t stop, oh fuck,” you sputter into the air as a band snaps in your lower stomach, blood pumping everywhere and anywhere in your body so that your hips begin spasming and convulsing on top of his mouth.

He whines into you as his mouth keep fastening all too strongly against your bud. It’s when the pressure that keeps falling in your stomach and Kook is forced to pull his fingers out of you that you feel your juices spill and keep spilling all over you and him.

“Holy fuck baby… Y/N shit.”

You tumble further and further and miss the noises that are pushed from your throat. In the intensity of the pleasure you also miss the way Jungkook’s body, his tongue on your clit, his fingers on your thigh and the ones lodged deep inside you, all tense up.

Shit.

You wonder if you’ve blacked out when the slump of your body takes over, the eventual air you take in in one large breath making your senses begin to come back all too strong. You’re broken from the waist down, legs numb to the point you can barely feel Jungkook’s teeth tight on your thigh and breath glazing the skin strongly. Shit, you can’t even feel how wet you are yet.

You know the weight he’s bearing on his shoulders, but you can’t muster the strength to move, merely loosening your hands from how tight they were wound in his locks and instead soothing down to his neck with your trembling fingers.

Finally, the spin in your head stops and your eyes are open enough so that you can look down at the sight below you.

He’s breathless and wet. Wet from sweat and the way you’d just squirted all over his tongue, fingers and trousers - well that’s what you figure anyways. His eyes are sewn shut though in the aftermath of it all, and your thoughts begin to piece together.

“Baby, you good?” you’re scared he has too much literal weight on his shoulders. You’re also scared he’s still painfully hard. “Kook?” and finally a coherent mumble of ‘yeh’ against your thigh tells you, no, you didn’t just kill your boyfriend by cumming on his face.

It’s a slow process the way he lets your legs down, and you wince as he does so because you swear his fingers just split you open. You also forgot about the heels practically taped to your feet, stumbling a little one foot at a time as he lowers you off his shoulders.

His eyelids still hang low, and he makes no move to join you at eye level, instead, pressing his face into your thigh and running his ragged breath there for too long.

“Fuck, seriously, you good baby?” your pussy still throbs, but your boyfriend is too still for you to take notice.

And suddenly he’s laughing. Wholeheartedly laughing into your skin, back, that’s slicked with sweat, raising up and down as he does so.

“Shit,” is all he says when his eyes, crinkled in laughter and exhaustion finally meet yours, peering up from his squat. It’s infectious and has you laughing too, albeit half heartedly because your throat hurts and you’re not sure if your lungs can take much more unnatural breathing.

“You literally just made me cum in my pants.”

Fuck. You’re eyes bulge and pass between the look of disbelief of his face, to the, now, very noticeable stain on his crotch, and back again. Boy literally just came untouched because you can still feel the imprint of one hand on your thigh and you’re pretty sure the other hand was occupied if you remember correctly.

“What the fuck!” Is all you can say.

“Yeh, I know ‘what the fuck!’ Sorry but since when could you squirt.” His legs are still shaking beneath him. “It made me just fucking shoot my load on sight.”

You’re laughing, bending at the waist to help the poor boy up to his feet, and he accepts the help as he finally towers over you and meets your eyes - both looking at each other with warmth and a vague emotion of disbelief, because as if he just came in his pants!

“Seriously, don’t know what the hell you just did to me, but I don’t think I’ll ever be that turned on ever in my life again,” he’s sputtering out now like a boy charged on drained hormones and ageing drunkness.

You laugh at his state and the way his eyes still bulge, grabbing the skin of his neck that’s thick with sweat and push a kiss to his lips. It doesn’t linger because you’re too spent and oxygen is like gold dust to you right now.

“So you enjoyed yourself I’m guessing?”

“Fucking hell did I!” You both can’t stop the way your laughter spills at the situation.

You see his shoulders eventually relax, his breathing less frequent and the look in his eyes turns soft.

“Fuck, I’m so in love with you.” Despite your heart still beating like it’s on steroids, you feel it skip a beat, equal to the way you can’t help the tug on the corners of your mouth.

“Cringy bastard,” you whisper next to his lips, a whole new warmth spreading through you at the way his eyes are filled with adoration.

“Only for you.”

“You make me sick.” But in your head, you’re saying the opposite, because you can’t fight the blush despite how generic his cringe worthy compliments hit.

With clothes vaguely realigned, you’re ready to join society once again, albeit hobbling, but your boyfriend refuses to break the bubble you’re in for just a second longer.

“Say it back.” And when you turn from the door to him, he’s actually pouting, eyes a little less bright as though you’re unspoken words have hit harder than you realised. “Please.”

Your relationship with Kook was built off backhanded compliments and competitive sarcasm, both equally easy-going people with a knack for not taking anything seriously. It was how you two worked. But there’s some things you can’t feign, and the way he said “I love you” with deliberate sadness was one of those things, because hell, you sure loved him too.

His cheeks nestled in both of your palms now as your soft eyes met his ones, vulnerable with the way he’d bared himself and pleaded after you, you spoke softly.

“I love you.”

---------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck you, Kook. Stop acting like you own me.”

“Then don’t try to sleep with the whole swim team.”

Dick.

This shit is rare. Fighting Jungkook is rare. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Because whilst you’re both too easy going for your own good and take most things on the chin, jealousy hurts like a bitch.

“Jesus you’re fucking testing my patience.” You settle yourself deep in his kitchen, long strides over there because his presence alone is making you want to rip hairs out of your skull. But he’s there soon after, leaning to try to get into your line of sight as you busy yourself with a glass and fuck, where’s that bottle of wine.

“Nah, don’t act like I’m pushing you. I asked you why Jimin’s asking to meet you, and you can’t come up with a damn straight answer or show me your phone.” You find the wine in the fridge, pretending Jungkook is background noise like the petty bitch you are, but his words are ringing in your head louder than you care for. “Don’t treat me like I’m delusional.”

You slam the bottle down a little too hard on the counter and his eyes jump to the sound. But your expression is dead set, angry, persistent, but he’d say stubborn.

“You’re actually dumb. The whole fucking issue is that I shouldn’t have to tell you why someone texts me or not.” His mouth opens to argue but you’re off on one, “Whether it’s Jimin, whether it’s my mum, whether it was your fucking maintenance guy, it’s my phone, don’t check it, and don’t pretend you’re entitled to.”

His eyes narrow and you almost think there’s something in him contemplating your words, maybe, just maybe trying to hear you out and understand where you’re coming from. But if you were stubborn, then Jungkook was competitive - he wouldn't stop until you thought he was right.

“Why the fuck did he text you.”

You want to scream. You want to smash his glass against the floor and scream fucking murder. But instead you find your body tensing and you face heating up with the need to cry. He’s getting in your head and you hate it, because he’s never like this. He’s easy. He’s such good company and probably your best friend but why is he making it so hard to like, let alone love him right now.

“Fuck it. Here,” you fish in your pocket, eyes still on his despite the feeling of them heating up and the wetness pooling. You unlock your phone and push it to his chest. “God knows, we were just trying to arrange something for your birthday without you finding out, but you and your fucking jealousy can’t take that, can they Kook?”

You have so much more to say. Your head is spinning with the need to empty your gut of all the words you want to throw at him. About how jealousy is certainly not a virtue in this case, about how you can’t bear that he doesn’t trust you despite all you’ve given up for him, about how damn unfair he is being right now. But you hit his shoulder with yours and are half walking half running to his bathroom before you can contemplate what you’re doing.

“Y/N, fuck,” and of course now he’s apologetic. Calling after you in a tone that screams innocence but to you, he is anything but that right now.

You close the door with haste and push your back against it even faster.

The worst part is you’re not even that angry anymore. The tears fall in sadness.

“Baby,” his knock rattles the door but only gently in an attempt to be sensitive with you. He’s fucked up and he knows that, but there’s a combination of not wanting him to see you cry and the need to be away from him for a minute that has you still sitting by the door, not making any attempt to open it.

“Baby, I didn’t know- I wouldn’t have.”

“Jungkook can you give it a rest for one minute,” you sound pained. You feel it as well. Maybe you’re overreacting, you think, as you hear him sigh and mumble an ‘okay’ before his footsteps peter out into another room.

You cry more and continue to do so as you begin to run the bath, and then more tears flow when you watch yourself in the mirror as you tug at your stained cheeks with a cloth. Your tears are still wet on your cheeks when you lower yourself into the warm water and become absorbed in the feeling of it, melting away until you fall into the slumber of sleep. It’s the same slumber that doesn’t cause you to be startled when the door creaks open, your boyfriend pausing to take in your state before he strips himself down to join you.

You know he’s there when he gently sinks into the water behind you, but you make no attempt to move out of the way his knees encase you. His touch is apprehensive and careful, and you can practically hear the thoughts in his head move at a thousand miles an hour.

You know Jungkook. You know all too well that right now, he’s cut up inside, thinking of every way possible to take back time and to undo the stupid shit he was spouting earlier. He’s thinking about how fucked up he was to let jealousy do that to him, to get the better of his, and he’s thinking of every which way to make it right to you. You know, because you’re the same. We’re all in the wrong at some point, and everyone is more than the worst thing they’ve ever done.

So you grab at his hands that still hover in the air with unspoken uncertainty and you pull them to yourself, tight, and on your neck there is a desperate sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry,” his tone is so apologetic you almost start crying all over again, but exhaustion and the need to forgive are all too strong. “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I-”

You know there are more words he wants to say, maybe to show you how bad he feels, maybe he’ll try and justify himself, but either way, you’re pushover ass forgave him before the argument even happened. You also simply like the boy too goddamn much to see him splutter in your neck because he’s scared he’ll lose you.

With your lips pressed to the back of his hands that you’ve encased in yours, you mutter, “Shhh, I know you are.”

The water sloshes in the distance somewhere as he pulls you tighter to him like you’re an anchor and if he lets you go he’ll be lost. Kisses are placed down your neck gently and you let your eyes flutter shut again because you can’t lie in that he is the most comforting place to you right now.

Silence falls but not uncomfortably, fingers brushing skin like its china and breathing soft as you both give into each others touch.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

Maybe you are too forgiving Your mother always told you you were - ‘people won’t be so kind to your patience one day Y/N.’ - that’s what she’d told you. And she’s probably right that one day you’ll come to find that you’ve been used and abused for all the ‘it's okay’s’ and ‘I forgive you’s’ you’d uttered. But you didn’t use forgiveness as an easy way out, you used it when it was deserved. And Jungkook’s jealousy, whilst fucking annoying, was a human instinct - possibly more of a male instinct than female, you think - but it’s a natural reaction all the same. Compromise instead of conclusion.

“You have to start trusting me, you know.”

“I know,” a hasty response, maybe because he actually has realised he needs to trust you or maybe he just doesn’t want to prolong discussion. You hope and believe the first,

“You can’t keep this jealousy thing up. Particularly not with Jimin, I don’t want to be the reason your shit is ruined, it’s too good.”

The two of them best friends from the womb. But boys apparently will be boys and think any dick that goes near their girlfriend is aiming for one place and one place only, whether 21 years into friendship or not.

“I know.” The repeat of words makes you think he’s not listening to you, but then he sighs. “It’s just- I can’t- Fuck! He drives me up the wall, says all kinds of shit behind your back and mine about how fit you are because he knows it grills me.” This is new. “And then he sends you texts when I didn’t even know you had each others number and you won’t tell me what they are. It just fucked with my head and when you end up picturing the worst it’s hard to get that picture out of your head.”

It made sense, and he was getting angry with himself by the way his tone spiked, so you diffuse the tension.

“Hmm but if you weren’t so jealous your birthday wouldn’t have been ruined,” you feel his head slump and then he laughs, and you laugh, and then he’s squeezing you and forcing your eyes to his.

“You make me mental that’s why,” you’re close but he makes no move to kiss you, “and I’m sorry that I got like that when I had no reason to do so. I’ll change that I promise,” he sounded sincere, looked sincere, and you’re a sucker for the way he’s naked and so close his breath hits your smile that you’re kissing him before you can feign trust.

-------------------------------------------------------------

“You know you almost got me in big shit the other day,” the bell rings above your head as you and Jimin leave the cold in favour of the warmth of the bar. Thursday nights didn’t call for many people, so you found a seat easily at a booth, casual wear on and smile dancing across that idiots face.

“Kook told me.” Of course he did, “As if he got his dick caught between his legs because I sent you a text. Like does he really think I’d shag you.”

You scoff, “Cheers for that.”

“You know what I mean. If I got the chance I’d fucking take it, but Kook’s my brother,” and to be fair you did know what he meant. In fact it was a miracle Jungkook had been all calm and breezy when you’d told him you were meeting Jimin for drinks - maybe it was this new thing he was trying called ‘play it cool and let her do her own thing’ - even so, you liked it.

You end up ordering beers, after all, it is only a Thursday so that means no hard spirits, but it’s also the afternoon so that means alcohol.

“I’m glad to hear you’re not gonna pounce Jim.” He laughs, you laugh, thank god, because ever since you and Jungkook had shouted about the texting and Jimin issue, you were scared you’d have to keep a distance from the boy to prevent awkwardness. “How you been anyways?”

“Is that another way of saying who’ve I fucked since we last spoke,” his eyebrows wiggle like he’s got something to be proud about.

“Jesus, you only do think with your dick don’t you?”

“Come onn, ask me who I took home the other night,” he’s leaning forward with a smile that you want to smother, but you humour him for the sake of conversation.

“Which unlucky bird shared your bed the other night then?” You say it with a downward tone to express your distaste for the way your conversation has headed. You also nod a thank you to the waiter who’d brought beers over, pint on either side of the table.

“Well, maybe you should ask your roommate.”

Beer must fly out of your nose, mouth and ears with the way you choke. Literally, you’re spluttering everywhere and he’s laughing and you’re sure it’s a sick joke, but his smile says otherwise.

“She’s fucking gay!” That’s all you come up with. You know your roommate like the back of your hand, or so you think, and every part of you is wracking every part of your brain right now for some conversation where she said she’d shag Jimin, or shag a guy in fact. Nope, nothing.

“I thought so too, clearly she didn’t.” You’re angry at him by the way you scoff and take another long sip of your beer but you don’t even know why. Maybe you’re angry at her, but that also kind of feels invalid.

“As if she didn’t tell me.” He just shrugs. “... nah what the fuck man!”

“Listen, talk to her about it. I’m pretty sure I was mad drunk, so was she, and she left before I woke up so…” The last bit sounds about right, Mia was never one for sticking around for morning cuddles, but it’s all just wrong and it’s stewing in your head like a bad memory.

You're still questioning your entire existence it seems like when the conversation moves onto why you’re really here, or as Jimin says it, “So if the fucker knows we’re doing something for his birthday now, does that mean we actually have to do it?”

God, he’s hard to talk to. You find yourself for half your conversations with Jimin either saying ‘fuck off’ or your scoffing. You do the latter now.

“We were doing something anyway, don’t act like you don’t care. But yeh, he knows, so why don’t we just fucking put in money for alcohol and bud and hit up the beach or something at Hobi’s. Simples.”

Jimin downs his pint - it’s a Thursday and you don’t know why - and then nods, “Yeh, sounds like I can fuck with that. But let’s tell Taehyung cos he’s rich and loves weed more than the next person.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Like hell was there booze and weed. Taehyung had done the most, with Namjoon, and there was enough for 200 people to get fucked 10 times over, which with the 70 people that were apparently already at the beach, seemed like a mass death wish.

Hoseok, poor Hoseok, was hosting. You’d asked and he’d accepted like the selfless man he is and also because he loves Jungkook like a mother loves her child. It wasn’t his uni place, but his parent's beach house on the part of the coast where the beach stretched 20 yards deep and the water felt like the arctic on your skin, but even so, the parties out there were sick.

You can just tell by the boyish grin on your boyfriends face he knows exactly the way this route takes you, the taxi driver, however, keeps giving you evils through the mirror probably because this journey is long and you’re not even on a real road at this point. But the vodka already in your system means you don’t care and you hold Jungkook’s hand in full-fledged excitement.

You swear you’re not corny.

He keeps his hand in yours even when you pay the driver, and tightens it further when everyone around the back of the cabin rings out in a chorus of ‘surprise’. He even holds your hand when he’s handed both a beer and a joint, somehow juggling them both in his free one.

Somewhere along the line between sharing conversations and drinking yourself silly, he whispers a ‘thank you’ in your ear, and presses a grateful kiss onto your lips.

The sun had been low for a while, with the expanded horizon offering the perfect view to watch it set.

Still not corny, you promise.

But the smoke flowing through your system and the light hum of alcohol to accompany it just doesn’t allow for you to leave his side. Even through conversation after conversation, ‘happy birthday’ handshakes that made him switch which hand he was holding you with just so he didn’t let go, and even when the boys attempted a birthday bumps, you were there, glued tight.

“Fuck it, I wanna skinny dip!” Oh Jimin, oh that poor poor boy and his utterly delusional brain.

“Mate, that’s the high talking, leave it out.” You’re glad your boyfriend speaks sense when intoxicated because Tae’s there behind him clapping his back, encouraging him.

“Jim, legit 5 degrees right now, your dick’ll fall off if you go anywhere close to the sea.” And Namjoon, also ever with the straight head. Ah, you say that, but when you turn to the geez he chucks the small end of a lit blunt in his mouth and then swallows it down with beer - I guess his head will be going sideways now, in T-minus 5 seconds.

“You guys are pussys, my dick’ll just shrivel a bit…”

“Fucking rancid, don’t wanna hear it.” Throwing your half empty beer can also seems to do the trick of shutting him up about his dick as he hangs his jaw that’s dripping with beer, warm from being half finished.

“Bitch.”

“Oi! None of that, Park.” Jungkook’s tone is serious but he’s smiling all the same, content in the setting he’s in, not despite of but because of the deluded conversation, the weird dynamic you guys all have, the way he’s just himself, and the fact you’re there too, with a vice grip on his hand.

It’s all breathy laughs and the occasional pressing of lips on your neck from where you’re sat on your boyfriend’s lap, as the conversation delves from somewhere between Jimin’s sex life (surprise surprise) to what Hoseok would look like on steroids - the mutual group decision, so, so, wrong.

“Baby, I wanna get going.”

“Hm?” You were caught in laughter and didn’t think you heard him right, so you turn in his lap to throw an arm around his shoulder, all eyes and ears for your man.

“I kind of wanna get going home.”

You’re surprised, looking through the glaze in his eyes to see if he’s too stoned or not having a good time, but you just see him content gaze, boring adoration into yours. Leaving now would also make you the first to leave, and it was his party.

“You wanna go like right now, right now?”

“Mmm,” and there’s something you can't pinpoint in his expression, apprehension maybe.

“Okay, should I be worried? You’re good right?”

And his head drops to make you think ‘shit’, but then he’s laughing, shoulders shaking under your tense arms before he grabs at your face and places a kiss on either cheek. The blush creeps up on you before you can hide your face in his shoulder.

“I’m fine, so good.” It’s almost a shout of a confession as he throws his head back to demonstrate the emotion behind the words, but the way his smile lifts to his eyes tells you all you need to know. You’re still not quite getting why the happy boy you’re perching on wants to ditch his own surprise party, but each to their own, you think.

“Okay? You’re sure you don’t want to stay?”

Affirming you’re correct with a head shake, he leans in once again, squeezing at your sides ungraciously tight before smashing his lips to yours in a rough, open mouthed kiss that is neither something you were ready for or something you’re about to do with Jimin and Namjoon next to you.

So, you’re both laughing, him attempting to plaster his lips to your face and you swatting as his arm that fixes you in place to him.

“Kook fu- baby,” you begin to scramble away and he lets you, laughing out at the way you flatten your hair and fumble at you jeans as a means to compose yourself, “Time and a place, you dick.”

Stares and smiles are all you give each other as the ambient sounds of others continue around you. It’s like that with him - the world keeps buzzing around you but you’re not in that world, you’re somewhere too deep in his.

Please believe me, you’re not cringy!

“Come back,” hand out, legs spread wide to make room for you and you cannot help the way your feet appease his every word.

You’re eyes down on him, and his up at you, blown full with love, lust and everything in between and you settle in the warmth of his proximity and in the heat of his gaze.

“I love you.”

So you kiss him, because, “I love you too Kook.”

“Now order that fucking taxi, I wanted to go all of two hours ago.” And there he is, earning himself another smack to the arm.

“You bastard, you’re lucky I’m whipped.”

“Yeh you fucking are Y/N!” Jimin can suck a dick, the wanker. Throwing a final middle finger up to the offending boy and holding the other hand out for your boyfriend, you get onto the route home.

Silence is not always a bad thing. You’d told yourself that the whole way home. You especially knew how car journeys when inconceivably high and drunk could make the head spin and the voice mute, but neither of you were inconceivably high or drunk. His hand was still there on yours from beach to taxi, taxi to apartment, apartment to bedroom, but the smile was gone.

“Baby, what’s wrong, talk to me.”

“Mmm?” Playing it off, yet he still won’t look at you - the boy never could do confrontation or telling you what he wants.

He’s across the room, carrying the tea he’d made you to your side of the bed when you told him you’d felt a headache coming on. And you’re there just watching, the moping, the shrug and the way he now stops as you reach out your hand to tug at his shirt.

“Oi, look at me.” Eventually, and what looks like with effort, he does. “You gonna talk to me now, or what?” And you begin to worry at the way his gaze digs into your face, eyes pouring emotion that is scattered in so many different directions you can’t keep up. Is he sad? Nervous? Why would he be nervous?

“I love you.” There’s more to be said just in the way those three words come out, and it scares you.

“Okayy…”

“Like I really love you. So much sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing with you.”

“Koo-” He grabs at your neck and finally takes control of his voice, no longer apprehensive and filled with mixed signals, but so affirmative that it takes every word from your mouth.

“You’ve waited for me Y/N. So fucking long. I’ve been shit to you as well recently. I just can’t fathom that you’re here and you’re mine and it fucking scares me, you have to get that.” Eyes well on both his and your side, as words unspoken, are finally spilt. Maybe it’s the occasion or the alcohol but you don’t care. “Everything about you is everything I ever want and what happens if I fuck it up and lose it. I can’t lose you.”

“I can’t lose you.” It’s a mantra spoken by him on so many occasions, like if he says it, it’ll never happen.

“And what if I feel the same, Kook.” Forehead to forehead now and so deep into the caverns of his eyes, you’d give him your whole soul if he asked.

“You do?.. Feel the same?” You’re sure he knows you do. You’re sure he hasn’t been deaf to the thousands of ‘I love you’s’ and wholehearted confessions made by you. But he’s fragile to the extent that he needs to hear it. Needs to hear you say that you’re willing to lose everything here.

In a passing breath you whisper your confession, “yes,” and he squeezes at the hairs at the back of your neck that stand on end with every goosebump in your body.

The tears fall just as he puts his lips to yours and oxygen becomes gold dust with the way you’re so breath taken. But it’s the happy kind of breath taken, that feeling right before christmas as a kid when you know everything’s waiting for you on the other side of sleep, that feeling where the sinking dries up in your stomach and every fibre of you body buzzes uncontrollably, the kind of breath taken where you smile and laugh in full-fledged giddiness.

Pulling away, you do just that, laugh against his mouth, smile without thought, and despite the tears that drip onto your lips you keep kissing at him, peck after peck because he’s laughing and crying with you.

Fuck, this was the moment you were converted to cringe. You didn’t give two shits about it either.

“I thought you were about to fucking break up with me, you absolute knob!” He thumb scoops up the tears as he laughs at you, sniffling to himself in the emotion of the moment that you two were still somewhere swept up in.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe.”

Before the last tear is swept away at the motion of his thumb on your cheek, Kook ducks down and sweeps you up, over his shoulder and then with a not so forgiving thump to your back, you hit the bed - looks like he forgot his bed was made of fucking rocks, great for sex though, no squeak. And suddenly it dawns on you as hard as you just hit that mattress. That look in his eyes, now, earlier at the beach, the entire strung out fucking monologue he just gave you. All in the name of sex.

“Can we- you want to- do it.”

Fuck, it’s actually happening.

You suppress the butterflies with a laugh that surfaces from the way he stutters.

“Well, what the fuck dyou want me to say. We’ve waited 5 months and you want me to just say, ‘oi Y/N, let me fuck you’.”

But the laughing doesn’t seize.

“I’m sure fucking not saying I want to make love to you, because imagine that gettin relayed to the boys. Instantly my dick goes from a 7 on hard to a 5.”

“Aw babe, give yourself credit, you’re at least a 5 and a half.”

“Bitch.”

And with that he presses his full weight into you, smiling into the kiss that sucks deep into your lips, harsh but tender in all the right places. It turns you on the way he goes slow with you, maps outlines on your skin with his touches, and it makes you even hornier when his boner slowly grows into the meat of your thigh.

It’s a moan in response to him biting your lip that has him off you and flipping the position so you straddle him. But tight jeans don’t accommodate for being on top, the fucking inconvenient bitch, so it’s with the slow teasing pace, that he seems to be going for, that you take as the jeans come off.

“Fuck,” is whispered somewhere between you purchasing yourself right on his crotch and the way you raise you crop top over naked breasts.

This is not uncharted territory. The two of you aren’t nuns who have abstained from everything and anything in your relationship. No, you’re far from holy. But the way your boyfriend gapes, eyes blown and breathing sharp, he’s like a virgin on steroids.

When you lean into his body, claiming his lips once again you notice the shaking, the way his body uncontrollable shivers underneath you despite the perspiration that soaks through his shirt.

“Baby, you’re shaking,” you whisper into his mouth, and he simply nods a frantic ‘yes’ against you. “Kook, calm down, relax, baby,” and after grasping gently at his chin to pry his lips off yours, you find his gaze, eyes blown in lust and fear.

“Okay? I’m all yours,” you take his hand and lead it to your breast, then ushering it towards the steady beat of your heart, felt beneath trembling fingertips. “All yours.”

Running your hands over the tension in his biceps, you attempt to put him at ease with the roll of your hips. His bulge hadn’t gone unnoticed for a second and it was perfectly place with the tip resting on your clit, that you could probably both go to town like that - who said romance was dead!

“Fuck Y/N.”

“There you go,” you push him on, sucking into the rift between his neck and his shoulders and strong arms now scoop over and round to your ass. The squeeze is convincing, hard enough that you don’t fight back the moan and hard enough that your hips move that little bit harsher.

Breaths are heavy in your ear as you find yourself slipping deeper into the pleasure of the moment, but you know he’ll never take the initiative and make the first move.

“You’re so hard Kook.”

A groan in all he responds as you hit that spot just on his tip that he loves so much.

“I want you so bad.”

“Fuck, me too,” and desperation for more than the slow grind you opted for overcomes him. Lips latch onto yours in a harsh display as he flips you once again.

You can’t help but smirk to yourself, pure filthy excitement taking over the fibres of your body as he stares down at you now, hungry and horny.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted this so bad for so long Y/N you have no idea.”

“Off,” and he gets the message with how his shirt is off and somewhere across the room without his dick leaving its place nestled in your crotch.

“I’ve been dying to have you, all of you.” His teeth are clawing at the skin of your neck as he pants out his dirty confession to the rhythm of his hips.

“You’ve been dying to fuck me, Kook?” It’s a teasing tone, but there’s no hiding the breathiness behind your voice.

“Fuck yeh.”

“Then go ahead and fuck me.”

When his gaze meets yours, his eyes are wide and disbelieving. But you’re more focused on the stain of his lips from sunken teeth and the way his hair sticks to his face from sweat. You also haven’t failed to miss the bare, toned torso pressed neatly onto your chest - abs to die for and v lines that leave the eyes wandering an unholy amount of southward.

“You want me to go in raw?” You feign laughter at how giddy he looks at the prospect.

“Birth controls a saint innit.”

“Fuck, I’m scared I’ll come in two seconds.” Great turn on. You think, you don’t say.

His trousers are off fast but when it comes to your panties, he’s calculated in the way he lowers himself to eyes level with your core, breathing haphazardly in his lust induced state into the material that he proceeds to run down the length of your leg and off at your feet.

Eyes trail up your body as he crawls his way back to your now exposed core, “Jesus, you’re so sexy.”

“Jungkook! What would God say if he heard you talk about his son that way!”

His head literally drops and he groans, as if the turn off button hadn’t already been switched when he told you he’d blow his load as soon as dick met pussy.

“I literally have no words Y/N.”

“Well, you better put that mouth to better use then baby.”

“Bitch.”

But his tongue is darted out and into your folds, no matter the reluctance, and he soon finds that same taste, bitter and sweet all at once that draws him in every fucking time.

“Fuck Kook.” The reaction is instant, spine arched away from the mattress as his tongue sets to work inside you, darting in and out so fast that your hips couldn’t keep up if they tried. It’s when he flattens it against your clit and the hand once pinning down a thigh pushes two fingers in so fucking deep that the moans spill.

“Shit that’s tight,” he mutters to himself more than anyone as his delving fingers reach that spot that has you stringing his name and curses into an aimless sentence. And the scene below you is even hotter than the feeling at your core, Jungkook, nestled between your legs with lips to clit, hand to pussy, and hips rutting desperately into the mattress. He’s a whole fucking view and it has you keening with your hands rooted in his hair that are telling him wordlessly not to let up.

When his eyes meet yours, you knows its game over, smirk overtaking his features as his fingers piston and fuck you open, thumb taking over the role his lips had on your clit just so he gets to watch you fall apart under him.

“That’s it baby, cum for me.”

“Holy fuc- shitt. Jungkook.” And your moans are the hottest things he’s ever heard as you tumble into a hell of a fucking orgasm. Shocks ripple through your body with the rate of his fingers and everything pulses as you cum, and keep fucking cumming.

Kook can barely help the way his cock seeks better friction against the mattress because of the bliss written on your face. And he almost forgets to let up on the frantic way his fingers still fuck you because your glistening chest lifting up and down in the light has his focus completely elsewhere.

“Kook, I can’t.”

“Sorry baby,” he lets up with one final kiss to your clit, the jolt of pain and pleasure causing you to whine briefly. His cock twitches at the sound.

“Y/N I’m so hard, please.”

You drag him up with the hand still woven deep in his locks so he’s eye level, and dick level with the place he wants it most. Wordlessly and still driven by the buzz from your orgasm, your hand guides him into you and fuck if the moan against your mouth isn’t the best thing you’ve ever heard.

“Holy fuck.” Nestling his head into the crook of your neck with deep breaths to accompany it, you can tell he’s trying to hold back the feeling of his balls tightening and ignore the way you still pulse from your orgasm. It’s tight and it’s so fucking bare because he’s never gone raw before. Fuck, neither of you have had sex in six months so the feeling might just make you both combust on the spot.

“Slowly baby, it’s been a while.” You’d known he’d reach your stomach just from the way he fucked your throat every other day - his girth is nothing far from impressive and it’s stretching you without even moving.

Light kisses press their way from neck to jaw to mouth as he pulls out to the hilt and then back in, slowly, tantalising slowly so that you both moan into the other's mouths, breathy and completely consumed by the feeling of each other.

“Fuck I’m never gonna get enough of this now.”

“Mmm,” you really hoped he wouldn’t.

“God I love you so much, your pussy is actual heaven.” And you hate to say the way the praise goes straight to your core, but your boyfriend can most certainly tell from the clench you hold his dick in. “Fuckkk, so good.”

It’s slow and it’s deep and he’s hitting your g-spot and clit with every roll of his hips. Throughout the murmurs of affection and sex filled admissions, you grasp at each other's skin, his hands pulling your hair so your mouth meets his and your hands across the muscles in his back that flex under your fingers with each thrust.

It’s when he drags one hand to your throat and grips at it to balance his sped-up movements that you’re finding yourself teetering towards the edge again, spilling words never spoken and sounds never heard but he’s saving every one of them to memory.

“Faster baby please,” and he obliges instantly as he dives into you hard and fast, “babyy oh shit.”

“Y/N you’re clenching so fucking hard right now,” but he’s left you breathless to the point of no reply.

Several punishing slams that also attack your clit have eyes rolling and you biting down into his shoulder, suppressing the scream that surfaced without your consent.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He keeps pounding away, forcing you deeper and deeper into a spiral of pleasure, until his lips are on yours and he ruts a final few times, grunting and moaning into your mouth. “So good, so good,” and he repeats this until he’s still above you and finally the hand wound into your neck lessens it’s pressure so the throb in your body and up to your head dies into a tingle.

It’s the most content and blissful silence, post orgasm, wrapped in the warm and wet body of your boyfriend. That is until he begins mumbling inconceivable words into the shoulder he decided to rest on.

“What baby?”

“I said,” lifting himself to eye level, and he’s a fucking sight for sore eyes. “Worth the fucking wait.”

And with a tired, fucked out smile, light kiss to his lips, you can most certainly agree.

Worth the fucking wait.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #BTS jungkook #bts #bts smut #bts one shot #jungkook one shot #jungkook smut #BTS au #jeon jungguk #jungkook drabble #bts jeongkook #jungkook things

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spnsisterimagines · 4 years

Text

Homecoming?

Summary - Y/N brings her first boyfriend home and has to face the terrifying wrath of her older brothers and single father.

Pairings - Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader , Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader , John Winchester x Daughter!Reader

Word Count - 2,891 words

It was her very first homecoming. When she was a freshman, she didn't get to go. For one thing, she and Sam were set on research for Dean and their father. For another, nobody asked her to go because she was the weird new girl that had a throwing knife in her book bag after that nasty cheerleader Henrietta Marycomb thumbed through it in the girls' locker room after gym. Y/N easily took care of that situation, however, when she took one of the spiders near her motel room and slyly slipped it onto her lunch tray the next day.

But everything was going to be different for her sophomore year. It was a new school, so she wasn't known as the scary new kid with knives and spiders. She actually had a handful of friends, and she knew they would stay there until Christmas since her father had a lead that would keep him busy for a good few months. She also finally had someone ask her. James Cleese was her friend from Geometry. He was a junior, only one year older than her, and he was probably the cutest boy she'd ever met. He was tall and lean, his legs muscled from being on the varsity soccer team. He had messy brown hair that fell over his forehead, constantly tempting Y/N at running her fingers through it. He had the biggest brown eyes she had ever seen, which he often used on her at lunch when he wanted her milk carton. He constantly talked about soccer games and Harry Potter. Overall, he was a great guy, and he had asked her in the sweetest yet corniest way possible.

Their friend group consisted of four people, including himself and Y/N. The other two were Jane Collins and Elyse Porter. He had convinced them to wear custom t-shirts that had the question stitched on the front and answer choices on the back. After handing her a check mark with a slip of tape across the top, she had put it on the shirt that read yes before squealing in delight as he pulled her into his arms and spun her around. It was what almost every high school kid wanted from a date. It was sickeningly romantic, and Y/N couldn't wait to go with him.

Unfortunately, the step after accepting his invitation was notifying her brothers and father, which she forgot to do until the day James was supposed to retrieve her. Sam and Dean had to have known homecoming was coming up. At least Sam should have known since Dean had graduated that year prior, but he was always excited for the big dances and football games, even if they rarely got to attend due to their shabby attendance record.

As for Sam, he was keen on spending his senior year with his nose behind a book; Y/N was sure he wasn't even aware that it was October. Either way, neither her brothers nor her busy father knew that she'd be attending the Homecoming dance with a boy they'd never met. And she truly intended to tell them, but every time she tried they were either busy with a case her father was stuck on or arguing about some stupid football team. Besides, Y/N had no idea how they would react.

Dean and Sam were always relatively protective over their baby sister, but that was with hunts and monsters. The thought of boys(or girls) never really crossed their mind because they figured Y/N was never interested in dating. It never bothered to occur to them that, perhaps, Y/N would be open to seeing other people that weren't her brothers teasing her or her father playfully ruffling her hair as he wandered to the fridge to get another drink. This would be a rather dramatic wake up call. No warning. No foreshadowing. Just a boy appearing at their door in a cheap outfit with a flower in his tightly clutched hand.

James didn't question the fact Y/N lived in a motel. He didn't really care where she lived, and for that she was grateful. Most people would make fun of her, and they have.

Anyway, the night approached for the dance. Y/N had managed to use up all her allowance for a cheap purple gown that fell down to her knees. A pair of nice sandals would suffice for her shoes for the night. She wouldn't be caught dead in heels. She'd fall right on her face, she was sure. She had spent over two hours in the bathroom getting ready, putting on little make up to make her eyes pop along with a little lip gloss that Jane let her borrow. Her father was asleep on the arm chair, so he didn't notice. Dean was watching television and Sam was content on one of the beds with a book pulled open on his lap. They didn't bother to check in on their sister, figuring she was just taking a shower. But Dean really had to use the restroom, so now he was pounding annoyingly on the thin wood.

"Y/N! C'mon! I ain't goin' outside!" he called for the fifth time, not taking no for an answer again. Y/N was attempting to curl her hair, but the cheap iron didn't want to work with her. Eventually she just decided to pin it back, smoothing out any bumps and checking her face for any blemishes or stray marks from the mascara she had used. She looked very pretty. Swelling with confidence, she unlocked the bathroom door and opened it wide, scowling up at her brother.

"You're so whiny," she insulted, stepping around him toward her duffel bag that contained the small purse she wanted to take to the dance.

"Woah, woah, woah," Dean said, forgetting all about his need for the bathroom. "Why are you so dolled up?"

From the bed, Sam looked up. He eyed his sister in surprise. She normally wore flannel and skinny jeans; basically anything that had her ready to fight was her sense of style. He rarely saw her in anything remotely feminine. His eyebrows creased, closing the book and inching his way out of bed as though he was going to inspect Y/N closer.

"Is that make-up?" he asked.

"Yes," Y/N said hesitantly. This was going to come out sooner or later. "I'm going to the homecoming dance tonight."

"You've practically got nothing on. The hell do you think you're doing wearing something so short?" Dean snorted. "Wait a minute, since when were dances your thing?"

"Since I was asked?" Y/N replied sarcastically. "And you can't even see my thighs. I'm not exactly dressed like a flapper."

"Wait, you were asked to the dance?" Sam asked, looking thoroughly surprised. How could he not know about this? They attended the same school! Granted, she stuck with the sophomores and juniors while he was perfectly fine by himself in the library, but that kind of news normally spread like wildfire, especially in a small town school like theirs. "By who?"

"James Cleese. You don't know him. He's a friend from my math class," Y/N shrugged it off, hoping if she played it off as though it weren't a big deal, they'd do the same. Clearly she didn't know her brothers as well as she thought because now they were rounding on her like two mother hens. Sam was fussing over the amount of mascara she was wearing and Dean was adamant that she not go out at all unless she had something to cover her shoulders with. Their father snoozed on, completely unaware of what was happening with his three children. They were only interrupted by a knock at the door. Their father stirred, opening his eyes groggily and looking over the top of his chair.

"Who's there?" he grunted, suddenly alert. "Who the hell knows we're here?"

"Daddy, it's my friend," Y/N supplied with ease, sending him a calm smile. That didn't work since he was now a third witness to her appearance. He shot out of his chair, suddenly clutching his right hip where his trusty gun sat. "Dad, no! It's just James. He's here to pick me up. He's a really nice boy, you'd like him! You'd all like him! Let me just get the do-"

Her father didn't listen, instead marching right over to the door and unlocking it aggressively and yanking it open. James stood there awkwardly, for once not wearing his cheesy grin he used on Y/N constantly. He had on a nice button up with a navy blue tie neatly laid over his chest. He held onto a lily in his right hand, his left held up as though he were going to knock again.

"Uh, hi," he greeted. "You must be Y/N's father. I'm James, sir. James Cleese." He thrust out a hand for John to shake, but he just stared down at it before slamming the door in his face.

"Dad!" Y/N hissed, pushing past her brothers and getting to the door, quickly pulling it back open. "James, you just wait here!"

"O-Okay. Is everything alr-" She slammed the door back in his face and whipped around to face the three men, all of which had completely forgotten what they were previously doing, instead shocked over what Y/N was now putting them through. She wasn't supposed to be interested in boys yet. That was supposed to be a foreign concept to her. She still needed to think they had cooties, but here she was dressed really nice with her hair pinned back and make-up really bringing out the beautiful details in her now hostile face as she looked at them.

"Alright, so I didn't say anything. But it's because I knew this was exactly what was going to happen!" she snarled, pointing an accusing finger in their direction.

"I'm sorry, can someone clue me in on what the hell is going on? Why are you dressed like that? Why the hell is there a boy with a flower on my doorstep?" John demanded.

"Y/N got asked to the homecoming, Dad," Sam explained hastily.

"And she's not going," Dean added.

"Excuse me?" Y/N scoffed, completely offended.

"We don't even know this kid. For all we know, he could be some dick wanting to lose his V-card to the nice girl that blew into town unexpectedly." Dean scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Right, because he really seemed like the type! Dean, he's my friend. I know him. Really, I do. I know it's hard to believe I have a life outside of the three of you, but I do!" Y/N said. "Daddy, I promise you. He is so nice. He likes me. He really does. He plays soccer, he's okay at math, and he's really funny! He likes all those stupid old sitcoms that you like!"

John shook his head. "I dunno. This is the first I'm even hearing of this. Why the hell would you wait for the day of?"

"Like I said, I knew you guys would react like this."

"What, like reasonable family? Look, I know you're living in that little fantasy in your head. You want to believe this guy is good through and through, but let me give you a tour behind the curtain. All men are assholes. All of us." Sam looked slightly offended at that, but he didn't say anything. But that seemed to be the last straw for their sister.

Y/N grit her teeth, fighting off the urge to kick off her sandals and beat the living hell out of her elder brother. "Actually, he's a nice boy that's my friend that wanted to go to the dance with me, alright? You know, that's so unfair! None of us bat an eye when you go home with a girl or when Sammy talks to a girl when he's not nose-banging whatever law book he's managed to find! And I'm not even being inappropriate; it's a school dance that's supervised by staff members! Jane and Elyse are tagging along! He's not gonna pull me down in the middle of the dance floor and hoist up my dress!"

They grimaced, feeling even angrier at just the thought of a boy violating Y/N, but they couldn't find much of an argument. She just wanted to go out and have fun. Who were they to stop that from happening? It was selfish. And...maybe she had grown up from that little girl that didn't give boys a second glance. Plus, she was also a Winchester. She was perfectly capable of defending herself against anyone that put their hands on her, including a stupid boy from class that wanted to take her out for the night.

Sam was the first to speak. "She's right. It's just a dance, Dean. C'mon. She never really asks to go anywhere."

Dean didn't answer right away. He stared at Y/N, his arms still crossed stubbornly. She was giving him her best puppy dog eyes, clutching her hands to her chest as she looked him in the eyes. He hated when she did that. That was the face she often pulled on dad when Dean and her were arguing so he'd take Y/N's side. Dean could understand finally why it always worked. It was very difficult to say no to that face. He finally looked up to his Dad, who also had his arms crossed. The two of them would be the hardest to crack, and they didn't seem to want to make a move until the other did.

"Okay, he's still waiting outside, and I don't think he'll be there much longer. Someone say something," Y/N said, throwing her hands out in exasperation.

"Fine," John said at last, lifting a hand to rub at his temples. Dean looked up at him in surprise. Y/N elicited an excited squeal, throwing her arms around her father in a tight hug. He gingerly patted her head, not used to the physical affection. He loved his daughter to the moon and back, but they weren't necessarily a family that constantly hugged and exclaimed 'I love yous'. Dean still looked hesitant, but he couldn't stop her now that their father gave her the green light.

While she went to hug Sammy, John opened the door back up to James, who was standing there bouncing on the tips of his toes. He froze once he saw him again, his eyes flying toward the gun that was very obvious in the streetlights. He gave him a nervous smile, holding the lily a little tighter in his fist.

"James...I'm John Winchester, Y/N's father," John said, as though he hadn't previously slammed the door in his face. This time he held a hand out for James to shake, to which he did so eagerly. Although John seemed to be holding his hand a little too tight, making James wince. When the handshake finished, he let James step in and see Y/N separate from her hug with Sam. His mouth slightly dropped and his eyes brightened considerably.

"Wow...you look amazing," he complimented. "I only saw a glimpse of you earlier before you..."

"Yeah, let's not talk about it," Y/N smiled, walking over to him and taking the lily and pinning it into her hair. "You look really nice, too. A little sad you didn't go commando like I wanted." Dean physically growled. "I'm kidding, Dean! Let me just get my purse, James, and we can go." She pecked his cheek and, once more, went to dig through her duffel bag. This left James with her two big brothers. Some would say they're an even bigger threat compared to John.

"Hey, James, I'm Sam," Sam introduced himself, also thrusting out a hand for him to shake. James obliged, wishing he chose a different hand since it was still slightly sore from John's handshake. "Not to be that guy...but we do expect her home at ten. And if there's any sign that anything happened...we're proud gun owners."

"Okay," James squeaked. Dean came up behind Sam, not holding a hand out.

"We mean it. Even if it's just a hair out of place or the tiniest hint at a hickey...I will personally find you myself."

"Nothing will happen, I promise," James declared shakily, grateful when Y/N returned to his side with her purse slung over her shoulder.

"They're just joking with you, don't take them so seriously. Dean can't even aim at the toilet," Y/N smirked, ignoring her brother's disgusted pleas for her to shut up. "You ready to go? Jane and Elyse are probably wondering where we are."

"Yes, yes I am," James eagerly nodded his head. "It was nice to meet all of you. I promise to have Y/N back at ten safe and sound."

"That'll give us enough time in the back of your truck," Y/N smirked, slamming the door shut behind them.

"Y/N!" Dean shouted as a warning.

Both brothers watched through the only window their motel room offered as James' truck pulled out of the parking lot and down the road.

"Don't you worry, boys. Nothin's gonna happen to your sister," John assured, going through the fridge and grabbing a beer.

"How are you so sure?" Dean asked.

"Because I slipped a knife into her purse before she left," John answered coolly, popping open the can and slipping back into the armchair.

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #dean winchester imagine #sam winchester imagine #john winchester imagine #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #john winchester x daughter!reader #supernatural sister!reader #supernatural winchester!reader #winchester!reader #sister!reader

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x0401x · 4 years

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #1

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

Index || Next →

Cleopatra’s Pearl

Yesterday, for the first time in a while, I had a night shift in my part-time job at the TV station. I continued working there for just a little, to an extent that wouldn’t get in the way of my Saturday part-time at Jewelry Etranger.

Only the channel of the station I worked for was displayed in the muted TV of the night shift room. There was a history-type quiz show going on when I came in at six. It wasn’t a genre that I had any particular interest in, but…

“Hey, Richard, do pearls really dissolve in vinegar?”

“Cleopatra’s anecdote?”

“Whoa, as expected of a jeweler.”

“This is common knowledge.”

It was said that Cleopatra, once the queen of Ancient Egypt, had a battle with the Roman general Antonius as to which of them could arrange the richest dish. In a direct attack, Antonius showed her rows of delicacies from all over the world, but the queen used an unpredictable move. She dissolved one of the large pearls that she wore as earrings with vinegar that she had poured into a cup, drinking it up in front of Antonius. By the moment she smiled at a dumbfounded Antonius, saying that she could use the other side in case one had not been enough, their contest was already over.

As I talked about the anecdote of the unexpected trick, Richard nodded with a composed face. “That is Plinius’s description of it, right? If you look for a book called ‘Naturalis Historia’, you will find it written there.”

“So it’s true?! No, that’s impossible, isn’t it...? Vinegar can’t really dissolve pearls, right?”

“Depends on its density. If the acidity is strong enough to affect your body after you drink it, it can indeed dissolve pearls as well. But then I cannot conceive that the Queen of Egypt drank it.”

“Thought so...”

“I believe it is unreasonable to expect chemical accuracy from ancient Roman literature, but at the very least, it conveys the romance that he was attempting to tell. The worth of Cleopatra’s large pearls must be immeasurable.”

I had never seen pearls being used much in Etranger, but were there any requests from the clients, this magus-like jeweler would always stock up the necessary goods in rows. As I asked how much a pearl cost, Richard answered that it depended. When I formed a big circle with my fingers and asked, “What about this?”, the beautiful man sighed.

“A gem worn by a royal is a special good among special goods. There are no other comparable items for sale in this world. Therefore, the speculation of ‘how much this costs’ has next to no meaning.”

“So no matter how much money you pay, there’s no way you can get your hands on something that doesn’t exist.”

“Exactly.”

Antonius’s treat was food. It was not cheap, but one could manage acquiring it with money somehow or other. In contrast, Cleopatra all too abruptly dissolved something unique and drank it. I see.

“That’s Cleopatra’s value, huh. So moral of the story is that, even if it wasn’t true, Cleopatra was a step above in sagacity.”

“Right you are. Authenticity aside, it is possible to do a rough analysis from the nature of the anecdote.”

“Cleopatra loses in the end, though.”

Antonius and Cleopatra did join hands, but in the end, they lost to a different general who had come from Rome and both died. Apparently, the new general had no interest in Cleopatra’s beauty. It wasn’t like everything would go well for someone so long as they were good-looking. My break time had ended there, and right before the end credits, I received a task to guard the studio’s management counter.

I would take the night shift four days a week until I started working in this shop, and thinking back on it now, my body sure had endured it. My skin was three times bumpier than normal when I woke up after sleeping until eight o’clock in the nap room. I was by no means a peerless beauty type like Richard, so this was the kind of experience where I became self-aware that even the things we couldn’t see would wear down little by little. Speaking of which...

“Is something the matter, Seigi?”

“No... I was just thinking a bit about the relationship between beautiful people and gemstones.”

Gems lasted more than people. Richard had said before that stones nestled close to people’s lives.

“Gems are stones, so they don’t get damaged so easily and stay beautiful for about forever, right? The reason why rich people feel like collecting them might not be just for using up their fortunes.”

All human beings grew old. Someone had also told me in the past that “luxury is the same as dirt to the wind”. But I could understand why someone would want to think that, by some sort of exception, they would never age and things would always work out for them.

After all, stones – being stones – would retain their beautiful forms.

Richard exhaled curtly with a “hun”, sipping his royal milk tea. Today’s serving was a work I had confidence in.

“Seigi, do you know how pearls are made?”

“Eh? From oysters, right?”

“Precisely. In order to tell apart the way they are formed from the way that minerals form in the ground, they are called ‘carbonate minerals’. As oysters have soft bodies, they are weak to pollution and pain, and dealing with them normally requires meticulous care. It is exactly because they are sensible natural creatures that they have been loved as symbols of beautiful women since times of old. From the fact that the shellfish is nurtured for a long period and born out of the mother’s body, it is also popular as a protection charm for childbirth.”

“‘Carbonate mineral’... something like calculus?”

“You say such emotionless things. It can be considered a delicate gem, close to human flesh. If the owner can successfully manage to coexist with it, it can guarantee a graceful beauty.”

A sensible gem born from shellfish. Hence the “coexistence”. As expected of a jeweler. He said some smart things.

Had Cleopatra also tried to explain herself away to the enemy general like that? She probably had. But it’s useless when it doesn’t work.

“Would it have been useless to give the pearl that she had set aside to the attacking Roman general and say, ‘Please pardon us with this’? It wouldn’t work, huh...”

“You sure are obsessing over it. If Cleopatra had won against Rome’s Octavianus, history might have changed.”

“That’s a hindsight-based opinion, isn’t it? Beautiful people are also part of this world’s riches... Ah, just now! It’s not like I was saying this and that about you!”

“I get it, I understand. Do not shout so loudly,” Richard said, making a bitter face.

My apologies. Up until now, I had been complimenting the appearance of my beautiful boss over and over countless times, and would end up praising him too much, making his face get suspicious. Regardless of the day.

“Survival tactics sure are difficult, both now and in the past.”

“Gemstones cannot speak or hold grudges. They do not increase in numbers if left alone. While their owners change as the people in power are replaced, stones simply exist. The beauty of stones lies in their thoroughly passive charm. Even if there are interpretations for them, they cannot interpret people. That is exactly why people can accept them without any ado even if they belonged to an opponent. The same would not apply to a living person.”

“Speaking of which, it was said on TV that Cleopatra committed suicide in the end, I think.”

If she were truly an unmatched beauty, she might have had her life spared even if she had lost the war. But in that regard, I felt something like pride from a queen who had fought carrying a nation on her back. Like, “I am not the same as gemstones”. It wasn’t as if I knew what the actual course of events was, though.

“Gems also have it hard. Even if they’re cherished because they’re oh-so-pretty, they can’t pick their own fate.”

“So you say there are stones that complain about their own sorrows? How surprising. To think your knowledge of the spiritual side of things would be this deep.”

“That’s not what I’m saying...”

Richard asked, “Is that really so?” and I furrowed my brows. Eh?

“Stones also choose people.”

“You saying that for real?”

“For real. It is like a chance encounter. Just as people choose one another, stones choose people as well. It is precisely because fate ensues that they settle into a person’s hand, I believe.”

“Hearing you say ‘for real’ is kinda... nice.”

“Ha?”

“The gap is incredible, like seeing Cleopatra chug down beer from a tankard... Ah... Sorry about that.”

Richard cleared his throat in displeasure and stated, “Tea” with his usual tone. Whenever he was a bit embarrassed, he would chase me away into the small kitchen.

Today’s snack for the Etranger staff was ramune that we received from a client who had come from the Kansai region. The pastel-colored little spheres were tightly packed inside a lovely box that looked like those hat boxes from department stores. They dissolved in bubbles once we put them in our mouths. Though they were delicious and pretty, as one would expect, eating them in heaps with the clients while talking about stones could have a bit of a bad effect, and I felt like it would make me laugh, so we decided to finish them in private.

“I can even bet on it, but these are definitely tastier than a pearl dissolved in vinegar.”

“What do you intend to bet? How foolish.”

Richard and I absent-mindedly ate the sweets that most certainly neither generals from ancient Rome nor the Queen of Egypt ever got to tasting. We ate and ate but there was no end to them. While we were at it, it felt like we were binge eating pearls, which made me feel just a little sorry for Cleopatra.

As I grimaced a bit, the unrivaled beauty raised an eyebrow only slightly, looking puzzled, and then began wolfing down the ramune again.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #the case files of jeweler richard #jeweler richard #richard ranashinha de vulpian #nakata seigi #richard #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation #jr short story collection

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shnuggletea · 4 years

Text

A Long Night (A MirSan Birthday Fic)

Happy Belated Birthday @sapphirestarxx.

Although, I did give you this the other night. But the banner is new as is the playlist. This sweet girl is a lover of MirSan (as we all are) so this is my first for her. Sapphire was one of the first people to friend me in the Inu fandom and one of the things she lamented the most was the lack of MirSan fics.

So who’s ready for some Miroku x Sango romance with a side of InuKag established relationship? In this “we’re not setting you two up” fic Miroku and Sango have one wild night that hopefully ends well for both of them. This is also me playing with 3rd person omniscient again. I hope that doesn’t bother you Sapphire!!

I was going to do a one shot but for those of you who know me, my one shots aren’t really one shots... expect the next chapter soon!! Working on it today hopefully.

Playlist is here!

Tags!

@underwater0phelia @lavendertwilight89 @mamabearcat @nartista @nopenname22 @echobows @superpixie42 @smmahamazing @redflamesofpassion @jme-chan @cstorm86 @cicleydark-light @ruddcatha @lavaffair @kirrtash @sistasecbhere @obsessandfangirl @britonell @lordofthechips @mcornilliac @faolenwolf @keichanz @phoenix-before-the-flame @artisticloveexpressitsall @lamuertadehambre @noyourenotreal @mitty-san @thenoammonster @little-deeluna @royaltrashpanda @sailorbabydoll92 @storyweaver2017 @malditamigs @adorabubblesblog @lilms-obsessed @petri808 @anniehcresta @fan-dumpp @itzatakahashi @utakuprincess @theschultinator @all-too-ale @little-inukag-obsessed @theseagullqueen @queenofthesquirps @jolinaaa00 @knowall7k @neutronstarchild @fawn-eyed-girl @eringobroke @sapphirestarxx @clearwillow @dangerouspompadour @misspepperpottss @kagometaishostory @egosolivagant @fandompromptsandfun @fandomartlover @fanficnewbiee

Chapter One

8:24 pm

“You promise this isn’t a setup?”

“For the hundredth time, yes. We are just meeting up with some people. That’s all!” Kagome called out from the bathroom as she finished lining her eyes. Sango paced in the living room, already in a bad mood. “You need to relax!”

“I’ll relax when this night is over and I’m back in my bed. Alone!”

Kagome emerged, light sundress and heels next to Sango’s jeans, tank, and tennis shoes made them look like they were going to different places that night. “At least wear your hair down?”

Sango rolled her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to go out tonight. The week had been rough enough as it was. Nothing but bratty debutants for clients and with no one calling for a guard this weekend, she had to worry where her next paycheck was coming from. Her roommate, Kagome, was the only real reprieve she got from the paranoid, ‘so rich they choke on their money’, assholes she had to deal with on the daily. So she tugged the elastic out of her hair and let it fall around her shoulders.

“Better?”

“Much.”

Their door shook from the knock someone did on from the outside. Kagome’s boyfriend was here! Due to him being such a stand-up citizen that could clearly take care of (and cared for) Kagome, Sango tolerated him. Actually, she really liked Inuyasha. He was the only ‘down-to-earth’ rich prick she had ever met. She was pretty sure that had to do with the fact that he was the illegitimate child of a CEO and his secretary. He had money now but he didn’t grow up rich.

Neither did Sango or Kagome. And their apartment reflected that; comfortable but cheap along with all the furniture inside it. Sango knew Inuyasha was a good guy when he came over for the first time and didn’t so much as flinch.

“Hey, Baby.” He leaned in and kissed Kagome before entering.

Sango looked away (never comfortable with PDA) but could still hear them whispering. It was sweet, however, it grained on Sango’s nerves. Especially tonight.

“Where are we going tonight?” She had asked Kagome but the doe-eyed look her roommate gave made Sango give up quickly.

“Out,” Inuyasha answered gruffly.

Sango was pretty sure Inuyasha was only sweet and soft towards Kagome. “That’s been made clear. Got a location in mind? Or are we wandering the streets like hookers tonight?”

Inuyasha grinned, he liked Sango. She was clever and snappish. She never took shit which was why he was sure his buddy was so enraptured. Not his word, fucking Miroku’s (of course). “If you’re into that, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Screw you.”

“No thanks. I’m good.” Inuyasha grabbed Kagome by the waist and pulled her in tight to his side.

Kagome giggled and Inuyasha smiled brightly down at her. It made Sango’s heart ache. She would never admit it but she really wanted something like the two of them had. Comfort, stability, and love.

She grabbed her cropped leather jacket and pushed around the pair. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

“There’s the spirit!” Kagome cheered sarcastically.

Inuyasha kept his arm around his girlfriend and leaned in close to whisper. Sango wasn’t that far from them but he figured, with the intimacy, she wouldn’t listen. “Did you tell her anything?”

“No, and it wasn’t easy.”

“Nothing about you is easy, Baby.”

She gave his ribs a playful smack; taking in his appearance in full. Her favorite part about her boyfriend? His long hair. It was pulled into a ponytail at the top of his spine right now but tonight it would splash with hers; a pool of silky black hair that neither could tell who was who’s. Sango walked ahead of them and sat up front in the cab. The beauty of tonight was that Inuyasha and Kagome didn’t know where they were going. They only had an address.

Which was why Kagome squealed, Inuyasha groaned, and Sango cursed when they pulled to a stop. “What the hell?”

“Goddammit, I’m going to kill Miroku.”

“Dancing!!!”

It was a dance club, already bursting at the seams with bodies going in and out. A long line (that had Sango hopeful) and a bouncer stood between them and a night full of scantily dressed men and women and overpriced drinks.

Kagome was already swaying to the beat on the sidewalk (yes, it was that loud) and Inuyasha wrapped an arm around his girl’s shoulders before she danced away. “We’re not exactly dressed for this. Maybe they won’t let us in?”

He said, consoling the hope he and Sango had. Neither of them wanted to go inside. But then Kagome turned to face both of them, hitting Inuyasha the hardest with her puppy dog eyes. “But… it looks like fun!”

“If you wanna dance then you can do it at my place. I’ll let you go nuts.” Sango chuckled as Kagome pouted. No way they were getting out of this now, Kagome wanted to dance. “Goddammit,” Inuyasha growled and threw a hand through his bangs, messing up the black mop that fell on his brow.

Sango knew where this was going as Inuyasha stepped up to the bouncer. Truth be told, Sango probably could get them in too; she recognized the bouncer from a work outing a year ago. Times were tough; good bodyguards had to moonlight as bouncers. Maybe she should ask if this place was hiring while they were here?

A few hushed words, some money slipped between them, and they were walking unimpeded into the den of demons. The place was actually called Hengoku (which meant Limbo). It seemed fitting, bodies undulating all over the place as if listless.

Kagome was trying to go to the dancefloor but Inuyasha kept a tight hold on her; guiding them all to a set of stairs towards the back. He didn’t know where Miroku was, but if he was here he’d be in the rooftop club for ‘high rollers’. And if he wasn’t there yet… then Miroku would be there eventually.

Grabbing her from his hold, Sango hissed loudly in Kagome’s ear. “You told me this wasn’t a setup?!”

“It’s not! We’re just meeting up with Miroku too! So we can all hang out?!”

Taking a look around, Sango didn’t see Miroku from the stairwell they were on (a clear view over the entire club). “Where are we going now?”

“No clue.”

Kagome caught back up to her beau and Sango caught on to the name of the rooftop bar. Tengoku. Seriously? Was the basement called hell? The roof was Heaven, the middle Limbo, and the bottom was probably a tattoo parlor. Sango couldn’t imagine anything worse than being drunk and near a place to permanently mark yourself.

The music changed; hard beat with the singers talking about Karaoke. At least they weren’t doing that tonight. And she seriously hoped the song didn’t give Kagome ideas. The roof wasn’t as crowded and Inuyasha had to pay their way into it as well. She couldn’t decide if Inuyasha being loaded was a good thing tonight. Because it was clear neither Sango nor Inuyasha wanted to be here. But it did make Kagome happy so they both went with it.

That is until Miroku stood and waved them over.

Inuyasha broke away from Kagome, rushing up to his friend and punching him in the gut. Miroku groaned and fell back to the booth he had for them, taking several breaths before struggling to speak. “Good to see you too…”

“A fucking dance club? Seriously?!”

Miroku recovered and smirked. “I knew once Kagome saw it, she’d make you guys come play.” The clever bastard considered his soul clean and turned to Sango. “Sango, my dear, so glad you could make it.”

“Drop dead.”

“I just might. You look exceptionally well tonight. I love your hair like that.”

Turning towards the crowd, she hid her blush as best she could. “Whatever.”

Miroku got to his feet again and allowed Sango to sit. She continued to scoot around, though, until she was mostly in the middle. Kagome sat on the other side of her and Inuyasha closed them in, keeping Kagome from escaping to dance. Miroku didn’t sit back down, looking over the group of fine (albeit mostly agitated) friends he had out with him tonight. He let his eyes linger on Sango and didn’t care if she noticed.

“First round’s on me.”

Inuyasha huffed. “You mean all rounds are on you. And I ain’t a cheap date. You owe us drinkssssss tonight!”

Miroku just held up his hands. “As you wish; Inuyasha, beer and whisky; Kagome, strawberry daiquiri; and Sango…” he paused to think but also to look her over again, “Jack and Coke?”

“How did you do that?!” Kagome asked, amazed.

Miroku shrugged with a grin. “Special talent of mine.”

He left to get the drinks and Sango turned to Inuyasha hotly. “If this is you guys trying to punish me for something, I promise I’m sorry.”

Kagome hugged Sango sympathetically. Then continued to dance in her seat. That wasn’t going to last long, Inuyasha was going to have to set the bird free. Miroku set drinks down and sat closer than Sango liked next to her. But with Kagome trying to get Inuyasha to stop pouting, Miroku was the only person she had to talk to at the moment.

“Want to make a wager?” Miroku said, a curl of a smile on his lips.

Her eyes danced from his mouth to his eyes and found she couldn’t resist smiling in return. “Yeah?”

“I bet you a dance that Inuyasha dances tonight.”

Sango huffed and glanced back at her friends. Inuyasha had one arm slung over the back of the booth, pretending to watch the crowd on the dance floor. But really he was watching Kagome as she shifted in her seat. Any second now she was going to spring free and leave them behind. Because no way Inuyasha was ever going to dance.

“You’re on.” Miroku held out a hand to shake and she took it. But then he held on, shaking slow and steady. Sango sucked in a deep breath; Miroku’s eyes were locked on her and made it hard to swallow. But she found the will soon enough. “If he doesn’t, then you have to do something super embarrassing.”

“I’ll gladly strip for you, Sango, but that won’t be embarrassing in the least.”

There was a twinkle in his eyes that both fascinated and terrified Sango. Miroku was just another trust fund baby. He didn’t have to work but he did. Miroku worked hard at the advertising firm and was now the owner. She could see it; someone like Miroku would be a natural at selling shit no matter how useless.

His finger snaked out and started rubbing her palm. That was when she yanked away. Miroku wasn’t deterred in the slightest. He never was as far as she could tell. But the truth was, Sango was the only one that made him feel unworthy.

After their second round, Kagome got free to dance. It looked like a combination of begging and promises that included some kissing that made Sango uncomfortable to no end. She stayed at the edge of the crowd insight and Inuyasha’s attention was almost completely on Kagome. Save for the small fraction he gave to Miroku.

“I fucking hate you, dude.”

Miroku balked. “Why?!”

“You never said anything about a damn dance club. You know I hate this shit.”

The glance Miroku sent Sango’s way had her worried. “I know. But Kagome doesn’t, clearly. She loves it. And just think how much love she’ll be giving you later tonight? Or how much she would be giving you right now if she wasn’t alone on that dance floor?”

All three of them turned back; Kagome was floating around on a high, twisting to the music without a care. Inuyasha suddenly didn’t give a shit about anything else and left his friends behind. He was welcomed warmly by his girlfriend while Sango grimaced back at Miroku.

“Someone owes me a spin on the dancefloor.”

She rolled her eyes and quickly slung back the rest of her second drink, hoping it would help her. Miroku waited for her at the edge of the booth, taking her hand to pull her to her feet. She ignored the skip her heart did and he enjoyed the rough feel of her skin. Sango had calluses on her hands from all the training she did. It was so different from all the other women he had touched… he probably shouldn’t put it like that but he did do a lot of handshaking.

The song was a little slower but still heavy and suggestive. A woman sang about ‘feeling good’. Miroku felt Sango made him feel good whenever she blessed him with her presence. It was clear she had been hurt, but he desperately wanted to be the one to silence that.

Kagome was curled into Inuyasha; the two oblivious to the pair that now joined them. Sango looked away when Inuyasha grabbed Kagome’s ass to get her closer. Miroku tried to do the same to Sango and she pushed his hand away hard. “Don’t push it!”

He chuckled and grabbed her elbow instead. Miroku put a hand on her hip as well, but she couldn’t bring herself to push him away; his eyes were on hers and she really liked that. They were swaying together; not really dancing together like the other couples were. But then again, Sango wasn’t trying to screw Miroku. But she was enjoying this, being close to Miroku while he was being decent for once. He wasn’t groping her or someone else. And he was silent so she didn’t have to hear his ridiculous promises of devotion.

Sango liked hearing them, she just didn’t believe the man whore for a second.

The song changed but neither made any indication of caring. Miroku pushed his luck and kept dancing, pulling Sango a little closer. His hand on the small of her back, he pressed his cheek against hers; it sent his hot breath down her neck to her shoulder. She was far from cold but it made her shiver.

Slowly, Miroku pulled and turned, brushing his nose along her skin. Sango knew what he was doing but couldn’t find the want to pull away as he lined his lips up with hers. Now his hot breath puffed across her mouth and cheeks; causing her to shiver again.

“Walk away.”

She snapped out of it just as Miroku did; a loud and angry voice making it over the other noise. And it belonged to Inuyasha.

The couple had drifted away; the distance made by either Sango and Miroku or Inuyasha and Kagome but now there were bodies between the friends. Miroku held Sango’s hand as he pushed his way back to their friends. Inuyasha was squared up to some guy and Miroku cursed loudly.

“What?” She yelled to him over the music.

He pointed. “That’s Koga. And he has always hated Inuyasha.”

“Why?”

“No clue. Jealousy? Inuyasha was a poor kid until a few years ago when his father found him. Koga has his own money and hates the status Inuyasha received with his money or something like that. Some people just want to hate on others. And Koga… he likes to mess with Inuyasha any chance he gets.”

Miroku said nothing more, pulling her along with him the rest of the way until they stood next to Inuyasha. Kagome was behind Inuyasha, holding tight to the back of his polo and stretching it out. But she was scared. Scared Inuyasha would get hurt and it didn’t seem worth it. The guy came out of nowhere and pulled her out of Inuyasha’s hold. Then tried to force her to dance with him! Inuyasha got back to her fast enough and now Miroku and Sango were with them. So it would be okay, right?

“Koga! How nice to see you again!” Miroku had his ‘seller’ voice on.

“Fuck you, Miroku.” Koga spat.

Two other guys stepped up and Sango glanced Miroku’s way. She felt a little pulse in her heart and thighs when the Letch didn’t back down in the slightest at the new threat. It was… hot.

Koga stuck out a finger and started ‘adding’. “Half, half,” and when he pointed at Sango, “zero. One against three doesn’t seem all that fair. How about, I get a dance from the girl and we call it even.”

Inuyasha growled and shoved Koga back. “What the hell is wrong with you? She’s not a thing!”

“She’s making my thing ding; far too pretty for you, Tashio.”

Miroku glided between the two alphas with his hands next to his face. “Why don’t we all act like grown men and walk away?”

Sango rolled her eyes at that; it was a nice idea and certainly the grown-up thing to do. However, nothing said or done so far was the actions of an adult.

The one in front of Sango reached out for her and put a hand on her arm. “Don’t you wanna go dance, Sweetheart?”

Miroku and Inuyasha both lurched; going to help her. It was unnecessary as Sango grabbed the guy’s hand and twisted it back. His arm was now a pretzel and she held tight. “Look, don’t touch asshole.”

“Okay, okay, okay, I’m sorry. Let go!”

Miroku chuckled and she glared his way for a second. “You didn’t say the magic word!”

“PLEASE!!”

She released the prick and he scampered back to ‘his side’. The three of them took a step back now. Miroku still stood between Inuyasha and Koga, putting two men between the creep and Kagome.

“Enjoy the rest of your night, half-breed,” Koga called out as he walked away.

Inuyasha turned on his heel, grabbed Kagome, and made for the exit. Kagome didn’t fight him on it either and Miroku continued to stand still as he watched the threesome disappear in the crowd. Sango had to stand on top of him and speak in his ear.

“Are we leaving now?”

He blinked at her; a slow grin spreading on his face before he nodded. Then he tested out a theory, wrapping an arm around Sango’s waist to guide her away. “It might be best.”

Kagome was still trying to calm Inuyasha down while they waited for Miroku to pay the tab. More PDA, Sango turned and took up watch for their remaining friend. The relief she felt at the sight of him was only because Kagome had started giggling behind her. That was the only reason: nothing else.

Miroku returned his hand to Sango’s hip, his arm wrapped around her. She allowed it but only so she didn’t feel like an odd wheel with Kagome now on Inuyasha’s back. The only good thing about Koga’s appearance was how eager Kagome was to calm Inuyasha (in his book). Not that Inuyasha expected anything else from her; she would have ‘calmed’ him down with a simple ask from him. But he never had to ask and it was one of the things he loved about Kagome.

“How did you know he would dance?” Sango’s question broke the silence between them and it took Miroku a second to follow. She had thought she understood Miroku but now, Sango wasn’t so sure. “How did you know Inuyasha would dance?”

“Maybe I just wanted to get naked for you?” He said with a chuckle but she wasn’t buying it. So he sighed and pointed to the couple before them. “You didn’t know Inuyasha before Kagome but he wasn’t like this.”

“Like what?”

“Happy.”

She looked at the couple again -closely- but it was impossible to imagine with the shit-eating grin on Inuyasha’s face. One he always seemed to have. Save for a moment ago in the club. The guy was prickly yet caved to Kagome’s every wish like it was nothing. Sango should have known the fucker would have danced for Kagome.

“I have to say, I was impressed with how you stood by him in there.”

Sango was giving him a coy look and it nearly stopped his heart. “Oh, come on! Like I’m going to run and hide?”

“I don’t know,” Sango smirked to the sky above, “you strike me as the flight instead of fight type.”

“I am a lover not a fighter, Sango dear.” He whispered, leaning into her ear.

She kept shivering, every time his hot breath touched her skin. It was why she didn’t like Miroku, he was always getting the better of her. Like now. “Miroku… get your hand off my ass.”

“What if I said ‘please’?” Her answer was to glare up at him. Miroku laughed and pulled his hand back to rest on her hip. “Too bad. It’s a very nice ass.”

“Look, don’t touch.” She growled.

“Happily… for now.”

She glared at him again but he was tipped back, looking straight at her ass as she walked. “Miroku!!!”

He straightened and laughed; Inuyasha and Kagome had stopped and turned to face them. Kagome’s head hung over Inuyasha’s shoulder to look down at them. “What are we doing now?”

“Going home?” Sango hoped.

“Mine or yours?” Miroku begged.

“Awe, come on guys! It’s early!” Kagome cried.

“This one’s drunk already.” Inuyasha groaned.

They were silent for a moment save for Kagome’s whimpering (sounding like a puppy). Inuyasha caved quickly and started carrying his load towards a bar or something. Kagome was cheering and rubbing his shoulders like a deep massage so Inuyasha decided to be happy with the choice. Sango looked to Miroku who hadn’t moved at her side.

“Shall we then?”

His dark brow twisted upward suggestively and she groaned. “It’s going to be a long fucking night.”

“Oh… I really hope so. Especially the fucking part.”

Sango really hoped he didn’t feel her shiver again. At least he couldn’t hear her heart as it danced in her chest. “Keep dreaming, Letch.”

#inuyasha fandom #inuyasha fanfiction #happy birthday #mirsan #a long night

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atomicstrawbrys · 4 years

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Sometimes Devils Aren’t That Bad

Warnings: Some cursing, brief mentions of death and alcohol abuse.

Summary: Arthur’s job as an angel is to help his human live a selfless life. Alfred’s job as a devil is to let his human be selfish. Though Arthur may be hesitant to admit it, sometimes being a little bit selfish is okay.

Author’s Note: i wrote this a long time ago and never posted it lmao, but I’ve had a couple people request some angel/demon stuff and that reminded me that this fic exists. enjoy! let me know if you liked it! //

Morals. Standards. Conscience. A general sense of right and wrong. Every human being on earth has one- a code by which they live their lives, a line in the sand which they won’t cross. Whether they admit it or not, a person’s life is entirely based on how okay they are with stepping on others to get what they want. Some listen to that tiny angel on their shoulder and stay on that path of righteousness no matter what temptation comes their way. Some can justify looking out for themselves more than others, and indulge in the earthly pleasures whispered in their ear by their little devil.

Arthur’s job was to be that path of righteousness. Though he didn’t sit directly on his charge’s shoulder -that tidbit of information was misinformed at best- it was his job to help steer his mentee to do the right, honorable thing. He would try his best to put them in situations where they would be encouraged to do good and to collaborate with other angels to bring them into contact with holier, wiser influencers on earth.

His...colleague...Alfred’s job was to do the opposite. Alfred, for all his charm, was a devil, one who thrived on encouraging nasty habits and trying to get their human involved with a bad crowd. Alfred was the perpetual thorn in Arthur’s side, made only worse by the fact that they spent nearly every moment together. If he was on one side of their human, Alfred was on the other, trying to get them to do the opposite of whatever Arthur encouraged. And the worst of it all was the fact that Alfred seemed to think it was so funny to get him worked up. Alfred never suggested the human do anything too bad, not really, but it was the little things that drove Arthur absolutely mad.

This was one of those little things. Their charge, Matthew, was sitting on his bed, phone in his hands. He was a teenage boy, just sixteen, and thankfully had not had to make any of the tough moral decisions in life yet. He was a kind, gentle and soft-spoken boy who believed in being a good person, and for that Arthur was grateful. However...he was also a teenager, and teenagers were notorious for pushing their boundaries and sometimes putting a toe across that line in the sand, just to see what would happen. Arthur was not very grateful for that.

“Come onnn!” Alfred whined, lying on his back on Matthew’s bedroom floor. “What’s the worst that could happen! Just text him back and say you’ll go!” Matthew, of course, could not see nor hear Alfred directly- instead, the essence of his words swirled in the back of his mind, nagging at him. Ultimately it was Matthew’s decision, but both his guardians had a gentle pull. Arthur sat in the chair at Matthew’s desk, turned to face the two of them. He lightly kicked Alfred’s side.

“Matthew has a history test tomorrow, and history is his worst subject! He needs to stay home and study, so he can get a good grade and have a future!”

Alfred snorted, looking up at him with blue eyes that always gleamed with mischief. “So what? His life isn’t gonna be determined by one little test. Besides, he really likes Gilbert, why not jump at the chance to go out with him?”

Arthur rubbed his temples with a frustrated groan. “Because Gilbert is a bad influence. He skips school, he disrespects his teachers, he drinks and has parties every weekend, and he’s definitely not going to go to college…” He shook his head. “No. No, I won’t let him influence Matthew into throwing away his future.”

The devil only shrugged and shifted his gaze from the angel over to his charge. He grinned, a little. “Sorry, Babe. Looks like Matthew’s going out.”

“Don’t ‘Babe’ me- wait, what?!” Arthur sat up quickly, feathers on his wings ruffling.

“Yep! Text has been sent, Gil’s probably already on his way,” Alfred teased lightly, sticking out his tongue. “Suck it, Artie. Matt’s having fun.” The smile on his lips was good-natured, but, Arthur wasn’t amused. He simply huffed, crossing his arms and glowering.

“If you think for one second I am going to just stand by and let this happen!” He got up, pacing back and forth across the room. “Do you enjoy it? Destroying someone’s life before they even get a chance to live it? He’ll start drinking and partying like Gilbert and soon his grades will slip and he’ll drop out of school and he’ll work a dead-end job for the rest of his life until he tries to rob a bank and dies in the shootout!” Arthur’s chest heaved, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He retched, and the shit-eating grin on Alfred’s lips fell away into concern.

“Woah. Woah- do you really think that’s what’s gonna happen?” Alfred stood, walking to him and placing a hand on his arm. “Arthur, relax. We’ll go with them, okay? We won’t interfere, we’ll just..keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid. I promise I won’t egg him on.”

Arthur sighed, his shoulders slumping. “...Promise?” When Alfred nodded, he seemed to relax. Just a little. “Fine. But I’m doing all I can to get him out of there if things go wrong.” Alfred conceded to that.

Arthur did have to admit that, when Gilbert showed up to the door with flowers, it was...a sweet gesture. One that Matthew seemed to like quite a bit. And, well...Gilbert’s plans for the date seemed innocent enough, too. A trip to the park, a bite to eat, and home before nine. Though Arthur wasn’t sure Gilbert would stick to his ‘plan’ -it could all be a lure to get Matthew into the car- it did sound nice.

As the group of four headed out to the car, Alfred plucked a rose from Matthew’s bouquet. Neither Matthew nor Gilbert noticed- the bouquet hadn’t changed, not for them. Alfred had simply conjured up a replica. He held it out to Arthur, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“A rose for my rose,” The demon cooed, tucking the flower behind Arthur’s ear. Arthur made all the appropriate protests and indignant squawks, but ultimately he didn’t take it out. He supposed he could humor Alfred, just for a bit. He liked flowers, after all.

The two of them didn’t ride in the car with Matthew and Gilbert, but they did fly overhead. Gilbert was true to his word and drove them straight to the local park. It was a beautiful evening- The lights strung in the trees were on, the fountain was bubbling, and the afternoon crowd was gone. A few people walked up and down the paths and enjoyed the park's amenities, and Arthur found the atmosphere overall quite cozy.

“See? The world isn’t falling apart yet.” Alfred teased lightly, as they watched Matthew and Gilbert embark on one of the nature trails. “They’re just kids, let them live a little.”

Sighing, Arthur watched as Matthew disappeared into the park’s adjoining forest. He...he wouldn’t go. He’d let Matthew have some privacy -the walks only took ten or fifteen minutes anyway, they weren’t long- he’d be back soon. He’d be back soon. Arthur took a deep breath, and he sat down on one of the benches, head in his hands.

“Arthur, you’ve gotta learn to relax.” Alfred sighed as he sat down next to him, rubbing the angel’s shoulders. “We’re not his parents- we just give him a little nudge.” He shot Arthur a crooked smile. “We’re like his really, really distant uncles. I’m the cool one with the motorcycle, and you’re the lame, strict one who went to Yale.”

Arthur peeked at Alfred through his fingers, and couldn’t help but give a little laugh. “Well. At least I went to Yale.”

“Yeah! And you know, you could have, if we were human. You’re definitely smart enough.” Alfred playfully elbowed his side, reaching over and gently prying Arthur’s hands away from his face. Arthur was smiling underneath them, and Alfred’s breath caught. His cheeks flushed red, just the slightest bit, but before he could say anything more, the chime of a bell seemed to catch his attention.

Alfred turned, and Arthur looked over his shoulder to see what it was. An ice cream cart rolled along the path, and Alfred grinned, letting go of Arthur’s hands. “Oho! It’s our lucky day, Art. What flavor do you like?” He asked, already halfway to the little stand. Arthur didn’t even get the chance to think of what he wanted before Alfred came back with two chocolate scoops on cones, the ice cream man none the wiser. Though Arthur supposed he should probably scold Alfred for leaving in the middle of conversations or for conjuring things whenever he wanted, he couldn’t find it in him. It wasn’t hurting anyone, and, hell, chocolate was his favorite.

They sat together, talking and joking around until Gilbert and Matthew appeared at the other end of the nature walk, holding hands and laughing. Arthur jumped to his feet, throwing the rest of his ice cream in the trash. “They’re back!” He said with glee, turning back to the demon. Alfred nodded.

“They’re back.” He replied, seeming oddly disappointed. “On to the next stop, I guess.”

Though Alfred’s reaction confused him, Arthur didn’t have the time to worry about it. He fluttered back to his charge and breathed a sigh of relief when Matthew seemed happy and unharmed.

“He’s okay!” Arthur called as Alfred flew over.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t he be?”

Arthur just rolled his eyes, falling in step behind the humans on the way back to Gilbert’s car. He noticed that Alfred wasn’t really following as closely, and, to his great surprise, that...upset him. He turned to face him and waved him over. The attention seemed to cheer him up, at least a little.

Gilbert did not take Matthew anywhere fancy for dinner. It wasn’t fast food at least- instead, it was a cheap diner that specialized in an all-day breakfast. It was...a good choice. Gilbert and Matthew settled down in a booth, as did Alfred and Arthur, though they settled down on the other side so that the others would have space.

Alfred sat down in front of Arthur and slid him a stack of pancakes over the table, having nicked a copy from another booth. He smiled, lopsided. “Well? Have you changed your mind? They seem happy.”

Arthur cut into his stack, looking over the restaurant at his charge. “I..suppose they haven’t dropped out of school and gotten matching face tattoos. Perhaps Gilbert...wasn’t as bad as I thought he was.”

Alfred smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “Of course he wasn’t. I wouldn’t let Matthew go out with him if he was. And..you know, Arthur..I’m not so bad, either. I know I’m a devil and all that, but I’m not trying to like, turn Matthew into a murderer or anything. I like the kid- I want what’s best for him. I just want him to have fun every once in a while, too. I want him to be able to loosen up.” Alfred gave Arthur a long look. “And he’s not the only one.”

Arthur paused, staring down at his food. His brow creased as he thought, his wings drooping. “Matthew...isn’t my first charge, you know. I’ve had other humans, before..the last one, she was a disaster.” He mumbled, glancing up at Alfred, who had leaned in to listen to him.

“No matter what I did, she was cruel and mean-spirited. She was a bully and a cheat. She was manipulative and aggressive and...I still wanted what was best for her. I tried so, so hard.” His voice trailed off, softening into a whisper. Slowly, Alfred reached over the table and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Arthur didn’t pull away.

“She died young. It was her own fault, really- she would often drink and drive, it’s just a relief she didn’t hurt anyone else when it finally caught up to her. But...I was a failure, Alfred. She was entrusted to me, I was supposed to make her into a good person, but I failed. She died alone, drunk and hated and it was my fault.” Tears dripped onto the cheap, yellowy wood of the tables, and only then Arthur realized he’d begun to cry. Alfred took a moment, to let the information sink in before he responded.

“You know it isn’t your fault.” he sighed. “Deep down, I think you know. Sometimes people are just..like that. All we can do is try our best to help, but sometimes we get people who aren’t ever going to listen. You did everything you could, I know you did because you do now.” Smiling again, softer this time, Alfred laced their fingers together. “Seriously. You’re like a super-angel. I’ve never had to work this hard.” he chuckled, shaking his head. “She might have been determined not to accept help. She might have been awful, but Matthew isn’t. Look at him. He’s a good kid. You don’t have to worry about him.”

Arthur gave a long sigh, looking over the restaurant at Matthew. He really was a good kid. Being kind was just in his nature- he wouldn’t fall down the moment Arthur removed his training wheels. He could..he could manage on his own, now.

“I...suppose you’re right. But..what do I do now, then? If I don’t have to watch him?”

Alfred leaned in a little more. “Let’s...back off.” He suggested, his thumb rubbing over Arthur’s knuckles. “We could kick back, watch Matthew grow up, get married, maybe have kids...our job is easy from here on out. Let’s just relax and let him be the good person he’s gonna be. And then, maybe we could start applying to jobs as a team instead of separately if you want to work together again. We could even hang out more, just us. More days like this, if you want. I’d..I’d really like that, personally.” Arthur met his eyes. Was Alfred blushing?

“You had fun today,” His demon continued. “I know you did. We could have fun again.”

Arthur opened and closed his mouth a few times, words escaping him. He wiped his eyes, then finally nodded. “Okay.”

Alfred beamed.

When they left the diner and headed back to Gilbert’s car, Gilbert announced that he had a surprise third destination for Matthew. He probably wouldn’t be home until ten or eleven if he agreed to go, but Gilbert insisted that he’d have fun and that it wasn’t anything weird. Matthew eventually agreed, and hopped into the passenger side, pressing a little kiss to his date’s cheek.

Arthur stood in the parking lot as the car pulled out, Alfred standing beside him and holding on to his hand.

“You’re sure you don’t wanna go? You don’t want to know what the surprise is?”

Arthur smiled, a bit sadly, and shook his head. “I’m okay. He’s smart, he’ll manage on his own.”

Alfred stepped closer then and wrapped an arm around his angel’s waist. He pressed a kiss to his hair. “He will. You ready to go home?

Nodding, Arthur turned and walked with Alfred, the tail lights of Gilbert’s car fading away behind them.

#usuk #ukus #hetalia #aph #aph england #aph america #hws #hws england #hws america #prucan #on the side #angel #devil #tw alchohol mention #tw death #not character death tho lol #at least not main characters #tw gun

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beyondconfessor · 4 years

Text

Principle Decisions [2/24]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: “On your knees,” she said, not unlike a school teaching asking the class to sit down in their seats.

N.B.: Also posted on AO3. This is pure fantasy, please suspend your disbelief.

Classes for the week had been exhausting. Every time that Zelda taught the first year undergrads, she was reminded as to why she loathed teaching them in the first place. Many of them avoided class, or worse, turned up stinking of cheap vodka and pot as they made their way to the back of the classroom with a heavy set of sunglasses––as if she didn’t know what a hungover teenager looked like. Please.

If she was going to teach, she wanted her class to be engaged. She especially preferred to have her students respond to the questions she asked rather than staring blankly back at her. Her third year students were used to her way of teaching, having completed her second year subjects, so they knew how to conduct themselves in her classroom, reminding Zelda of why she continued to teach, despite how much of a headache it gave her.

But the first years.

Zelda drew herself taught in her chair, hands curling into fists. Never again, she vowed, knowing that Faustus would somehow manage to convince her to take up the classes again next year, threatening to cut her course entirely because there was no one else available.

Well, there was Shirley. But Shirley usually taught religion and whenever her grubby hands taught the first years, Zelda was left trying to un-teach them everything they learnt.

Educating the first years herself was just the lesser of two evils, in a way.

She needed a drink.

No, she didn’t. What she wanted was a cigarette, but she’d have to leave her office for that and currently she was on open hours for any student to come meandering through her doors to beg for extra credit because they realised they were failing her course.

She looked to the clock that hung on the wall and felt the itch grow under her skin. Fuck it. She needed a smoke and there was only fifteen minutes left of her office hours.

Opening her drawer, she went to pull out her cigarette case, when she stopped at the sight of the red business card.

Lilith.

She swallowed, picking up the card.

What she needed was relief. It didn’t have to be sex, it just needed to be…something. Intimacy with another human being.

Last night she’d drained the batteries of her favoured vibrator and despite rolling through three orgasms, there was still an arousal pricking under her skin.

Before she could even come to terms with what she was doing, she’d always picked up her phone and typed in the number. If it was a student, she’d be able to cancel the line immediately––and given that her office line was private, they wouldn’t be able to call her back.

The phone line rang and suddenly an anxiety built. Was this really a good idea? To engage in the services of a dominatrix? Wouldn’t it be better to drive up to the city and just pick up some––

“Good Afternoon, how can I be of service?”

Zelda paused, feeling her mouth become dry. The voice was new, unrecognisable from anyone she recalled teaching. Or knowing at all, for that matter.

“Hello?” the woman said, an annoyance frosting over the words.

“I––“ she paused, biting her lip. “Found your business card.”

“Oh? And which business card is this?”

Zelda paused. Which business card? She supposed that although they were a twin-town, neither Riverdale nor Greendale probably held the population to frequent the services of a dominatrix. Likely the woman had a second job that paid the bills, like a graphic designer perhaps, or…

“The red card.”

“Mm. Remind me again of what the exact service of that is?” the woman asked, her voice a purr as she laughed into the receiver.

Zelda shivered, her eyes flicking to the door of her office, ensuring it was closed. “You know perfectly well.”

“I do, but I need to hear you say it.”

“And why do you need that?”

“If you really want the service, you need to be able to say the word.” There was logic to it and yet Zelda tugged at her skirt, adjusting herself in the chair. “Come on, use your big girl words and I promise to stop teasing.”

Zelda swallowed, shutting her eyes. “Dominatrix,” she said, lowering her voice in case any student was out wondering the hall.

Panic filled her once the word was spoken. She shouldn’t have done this. She should have done it in her car, or at home, or not at all. What did she need a dominatrix for? She should have just picked up new batteries, instead of even thinking about dialling this number. What if it was a student, or worse, a––

“Well you’ve called the right woman. I have an opening for tomorrow evening. Say…six o’clock?”

“Six?”

“And do be on time. I don’t approve of tardiness.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. She’d never been late in her life. “I’ll be on time,” she scoffed.

“Good girl. Now, I’ll just need a name for the booking.”

“…a name?” Of course she did. A hundred names filled her head, and yet the consequences of using any of them seemed to fill her with dread.

“Just a first name. You don’t need to worry, I promise absolute discretion.”

“Zelda,” she answered, feeling her heart beat fast. Perhaps she should have chosen a pseudonym.

“Zelda,” the woman echoed, drawing out her name on the tongue. “Do you know the address?”

“No, I do not.”

The woman, presumably Lilith, provided the address and a confirmation of the pricing for a forty-five minute session. “But given that this is your first session with me, expect that it will go for about an hour so we can run through some housekeeping.”

“And what sort of housekeeping should I expect?”

“Just a few ground rules so this is enjoyable for us both. The only one I advise before hand is that I don’t allow my customers to be intoxicated before arrival. It tends to dull things and I need you wide-awake.”

“That’s the only rule?”

“Well, I expect you to be showered before you arrived, but I assumed that was common curtsey. I do have facilities, however. In case you need to clean-up before you leave.”

Zelda felt her thighs press tighter together as her tongue pressing against the back of her teeth. They were barely discussing it and already she felt anticipation growing inside of her. “Wonderful,” she said, because a response was needed and she didn’t want the woman to know the effect she had on her already.

And yet, the woman made a humming noise, as if she was amused. “Well, I need to run off, but I look forward to meeting you tomorrow, Zelda. I can’t wait to play with you.” The receiver clicked off and Zelda looked down at the phone.

It was booked. She was booked for tomorrow.

What the fuck was she going to do?

The answer was agonise over her choice of clothes. Should she wear something formal or informal? Should she…dress up in leather and lace? Did it even matter what her choice of attire was, so as long as her lingerie was acceptable? Did that even matter? Zelda had never engaged in any sex work. She’d been to informally organised orgies, and attended a few sex parties, but this was different, and…it was exciting, if she was being honest. It’d been a long time since she’d felt butterflies fill her stomach.

All of Saturday morning, she found herself looking to the clock on the wall, checking the time and watching it tick from eight in the morning, to nine, to ten…and so on as she finished the last of her paperwork for the weekend and found herself preparing to leave by five.

“A rather late meeting,” Hilda said as Zelda drew her coat over her shoulders. “You know, if it is a date, you can tell me.”

“It’s certainly not a date,” Zelda said, ensuring that line was firm. The last thing she needed was her sister’s curiosity piqued. “I’ll be home sometime after seven.”

“Alright, well, shall I have dinner set for seven thirty then?”

“If you wish.” She gave her an appearance a last check before taking her handbag from the table. All she needed was her phone, wallet and her make-up so she could fix it up before her return to the home (and to cover any marks the woman made). “But don’t hold up for me.”

She passed Sabrina in the foyer and paused, watching as niece’s expression shifted to something neutral. “You’re going out?” Sabrina asked.

“A meeting regarding some funding, I’m afraid. I’ll be home for dinner.”

Sabrina gave a short nod, her fingers tapping at her sides as she swayed from side-to-side, seeming to hold onto a thought.

“Was there something else?” she asked, feeling a familiar tightness grow. She loathed when Sabrina danced around a topic.

“Roz and Theo are having a sleepover tomorrow. Could I stay over? Mr Walker will take us to school the next day.”

Zelda’s lips pursed, suspecting that this was likely her niece trying to dance around the fact that she was going to wander off and see Mr Kinkle. And yet, did she actually care? Zelda, herself, had snuck out at the age of sixteen. At least Sabrina wasn’t climbing out of the bedroom window and crawling down the old willow tree. “If you have your homework done by then.”

Sabrina beamed, nodding. “I will,” she agreed. “Thank you.”

Zelda waived a hand dismissively. A part of her considered gently reminding her niece to take protection, before she decided against it. Zelda had purchased a set of condoms for Sabrina once she’d begun dating Mr Kinkle (much to Sabrina’s embarrassment) and had revisited the sex talk, ensuring Sabrina understood consent and equality in sex. The last thing she ever wanted her niece to go through was shame or a selfish partner.

Sabrina knew that she could come forward if need-be. But more importantly, she had a clever head on her shoulders. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Enjoy your meeting,” Sabrina said, before wandering away, a skip in her step.

Zelda exited the house, going to where her car was and climbing in. She sat in driver’s seat, taking a minute to consider her own wants. There was a flutter in her stomach as she buckled her seat belt and placed the car into drive, driving down the gravel road of the land, down to the main road.

The address that Lilith provided her lead to the warehouse district. There was a brief concern as she pulled up her car on the empty road that she was being conned in someway. Only a lone truck passed her, seeming to make its way through the town to the highway. But at the same time, she doubted it’d be a viable business––far easier to just rob someone at the ATM.

She looked into the rear view mirror, fixing her hair before she stepped out, taking her handbag with her.

The building was a small brick building, two stories high with ivy climbing its walls. It was nestled in between what appeared to be a garage and a mattress repair store, both of which appeared to be closed. Thank God.

The lights were on upstairs of the building, and Zelda could see movement in the upper window, like someone was walking around in the room (though a curtain blocked any clear view of who they were).

She was fifteen minutes early, which really meant she was right on time as she locked the car and walked up to the front step. A hesitation pulled at her as she was sharply reminded of what she was doing. Earlier today she’d pulled out a week’s groceries worth of cash, and now she was on the top step of the woman’s business, anticipating prickling down her spine.

She stepped forward and rang the doorbell before she could stop herself.

A light flickered on the lower level, shadows flickering through the opaque glass, and then the door was being opened.

The woman’s eyes drew over her, a smile breaking out over her red lips. “Oh, aren’t you just divine.”

Zelda drew in a breath, taking in the woman. She was more than she had dared to expect. When she’d thought of a dominatrix, she’d fantasied about a great many women from movies, before settling on the fantasy of a plain woman wearing red lipstick, and while the woman was definitely wearing red lipstick, she was by no definition plain. If anything, Zelda felt a visceral reaction as she gazed upon her.

She had assumed that Lilith would be dressed in pvc or a great array of leather. Instead the woman wore a burgundy blouse, and a pencil skirt. Her hair was out, drawing down her back, and the longer she stared at her, the more intense of an urge Zelda had to draw her fingers through it as she was pressed against the door frame.

Lilith’s eyes sparkled as she let out a short laugh, as if knowing where her thoughts were sinking to. “Usually I’d make some snide comment about where my eyes were, but I like you.”

Zelda straightened up, trying to mask her embarrassment as she reached into her handbag. “Lilith, I take it?” she asked, pulling out the card. “I found this in a book.”

Lilith’s grin only widened and Zelda had the sudden feeling of being a mouse in the sights of a cat as the woman’s fingers came out and plucked the business card from her hand. “I had a feeling someone special would find this. Well…come inside,” she said, pushing the door open wider before gesturing for Zelda to enter. “I’ll give you a tour.”

Zelda stepped inside, her heels clicking over the hardwood floor as the door was closed behind (but not locked, she noted). Lilith led her away from the stairs, down a hall to begin with. The walls contained modern artwork, scrawled with unfamiliar artist names in their corners. “We have the kitchen,” Lilith begun. Zelda tore her eyes away from the art to listen attentively. “After a session, I like to set you here with a cup of tea until I’m certain you’re safe to drive home. Then there’s the garden if you would like to do any outdoor sessions,” she said before flicking the outdoor light on.

Soft lights flickered on, enough to show a small, well-maintained garden with high brick walls to prevent any nosy neighbour from overlooking. There was a tall, old tree in one corner that hung its branches over the grassed section. If Zelda didn’t know exactly what this place was, she would have been impressed over the garden’s selection of flowers.

“There’s an outdoor shower too,” Lilith said, pointing to the side of the house.

Zelda looked around, nodding shortly, uncertain if she should say that she wasn’t comfortable in an outdoor setting. But before she could even open her mouth, Lilith had flicked off the lights and was raising her eyes brows playfully at her. “Follow me,” she said, before leading her back down the hall, up the narrow stairs.

At the top of the stairs, the woman paused and looked over her shoulder. “Now, I ask all phones be switched off before we begin.”

“Of course,” Zelda agreed, pausing to pull out her phone in her handbag and ensuring it was switched off.

“While I don’t mind a photo sessions, I do request that they’re negotiated before hand,” Lilith said, as she continued to lead her up to the higher levels.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Lilith ignored her comment, instead showing her where the bathroom was (a grey towel already laid out), before leading her to the bedroom.

As the door was opened, Zelda felt her stomach tighten, and then unknot as she looked around at the expanse of the room.

She wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected (maybe something more dungeon like with shades of black and red) but the bedroom was warm. Almost straight out of a furniture catalogue nice, but with a bit of home comfort to it. It had ambient light, a queen sized four-poster bed, and more modern artwork on the wall. There was a dresser under the window (with which the curtains were closed), and a floor length mirror to one corner.

There was even a sheepskin laid out on the floor.

If it wasn’t for the hook hanging from the ceiling, and the fact that the wardrobe to the other side of the room was partially open, showing an array of kink tools, she would have thought that this was the woman’s actual home.

“How does this work?” Zelda enquired. “Forgive me for being candid, but this is the first time in engaging in any such services of…this profession.”

“No need to ask forgiveness so soon,” Lilith said, moving to take a casual step closer. “To begin, we’ll negotiate what you want versus what I’m comfortable with doing, I’ll confirm a few safety things with yourself and then we’ll begin.”

Simple enough.

“Do you know what you want?”

Zelda paused, her eyes drawing away from the woman’s face to look over the room. This was not the time to be coy, and despite a hesitation in her, wanting to play demure, she swallowed it back. “Submission, mostly. I like bondage and…” she thought of the riding crop she’d seen, hanging from the wardrobe. “Being struck…consensually.”

“Impact play,” Lilith said, showing her teeth in the wide grin she bore. “Barehanded or with a tool?”

Zelda swallowed at the words, feeling her nerves alight as she watched Lilith made another step closer to her. She was barely a yard away now and Zelda couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be thrown over her lap. “I have a selection of devices that we can play with. Given that you’re the client, it’s entirely up to you in how we do this.”

“I don’t mind,” Zelda said, feeling the words stick in her throat. She wasn’t sure how she wanted to ask, but the idea of laying things out seemed…too clinical.

“Did you want me to lead you in a scene, so you’re not quite sure what would occur?”

Zelda nodded, feeling the heat crawl up her chest. “That would be satisfactory.”

“Satisfactory,” the woman teased, and now she was walking around her in a circle, close enough that Zelda could reach out and touch her if she so desired it. “I’ll demand the utmost obedience if you want submission. Are you prepared to obey?”

A shiver ran down her spine, and Zelda drew herself up taller as the woman came to stand before her again, a foot away. She could kiss her. “If you’re as good as you seemed to think you are.”

Lilith’s laughed. “I think we’re both going to enjoy this.” She drew in a breath and paused, running her eyes down Zelda’s body, seeming to inspect certain sections before drawing her eyes back up to hers. “If we’re to do some domination with impact play, is there any thing specifically off limits?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I keep to all the lovely fleshy areas, away from anything that might do any serious damage. But…there are a few areas that fit that description that some people aren’t comfortable with.”

Zelda swallowed, realising what she meant. Her voice was hoarse when she responded, “I don’t mind.”

Lilith smiled. “This is very new for you, isn’t it?”

Hissing in a breath, Zelda folded her arms, “I’ve engaged in plenty of things during my time. I’m hardly some twenty-year-old virgin looking to get their cherry popped.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have. I’m sure you’ve played with spanking and handcuffs and thought they were delightful. It’s where we all begin,” she smiled at Zelda in a way that seemed to strip Zelda bare of any retort. “How about I show you a standard play and at any time you find your self uncomfortable or even if you stop enjoying yourself, we’ll stop?”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“Good. Not that’s out of the way, before we begin, I need to run through a few things with you.”

“Housekeeping?” Zelda asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Ah, so you do listen, that’ll make things easier. I’ll be direct then, I don’t engage in sex in the first session, no matter how…lovely the client is,” Lilith’s seemed to pause, drinking her in as she bit her lip. “I’ll need you to get tested first.”

“Tested? I assure you––“

“Assurances are all well and good, but I don’t know you and you don’t know me. We don’t have to engage in sex if you don’t wish to disclose that, but those are my rules if you do.”

“And how will I know about your history?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Lilith said, giving a sharp smile.

Zelda bit her tongue and nodded. She didn’t even know if she did want to engage in sex, or even if she would do a repeat session, so it wasn’t worth discussing any further than that.

“Now, is there anything I should know? Any triggers or fears that I should be mindful of?”

“No,” Zelda said with as much honesty as she could manage. There was nothing she could think of worth bringing up that would come into play.

“Do you know your limits?”

“I do.”

Lilith tilted her head as she crossed her arms underneath her chest. The way her eyes narrowed, Zelda had the feeling that she was reading into the phrasing before she gave a short nod. “And what’s your safe word?”

Zelda frowned. “Stop isn’t sufficient?”

“No. And don’t choose mercy either, I quite enjoy begging and you’ll enjoy doing it on your knees.”

Zelda hissed in a breath at the words, blinking at the woman. Begging? She hadn’t begged for a single thing in her life.

Lilith grinned at her, and despite how utterly frustrating the woman’s cockiness was, Zelda couldn’t help but feel arousal tightening low in her belly, making her all the more aware of the lace she wore underneath her garter belt.

“I recommend a word that’s two to three syllables long that you can say through a gag––so probably avoid your plosives and fricative constants. And you might want to look at something that’s jarring if said in the context of any role-play you may be inclined to engage in.”

Zelda looked around the room, and then unsatisfied with anything she saw, racked her own brain for an idea. “Fine, what about music box?”

“Suitable choice.” Lilith said, and then expression softened. She stepped forward, asking, “Now, final question, what are you hoping to get out of this?”

Zelda’s mouth parted, but whatever lie she had prepared didn’t come out, instead she found herself looking into the depths of Lilith’s blue eyes, and responding honestly. “To let go.” It was a vague answer, but Lilith nodded as if she understood completely.

“I’ll need you to remain honest with me about your current state. Any time you feel unwell or you stop enjoying the scene, you need to let me know.”

Lilith stepped away from her and walked over to a dresser, she bent forward casually, as if it wasn’t a performance (though Zelda wasn’t fooled) and opened one of the lower drawers.

Zelda watched as she picked up what looked to be a length of rope and a blindfold, before closing the drawer. She then stood up and walked over to the wardrobe, opening it up wide for Zelda’s view.

Her hands drew over different items, fingering tools and toys individually before she seemed to pause over the riding crop, Zelda stood up taller, and then watched as her fingers passed it. Sighing, she looked away, trying to not be overly concerned. This was a woman well versed in her own play, she needed to trust her.

The doors shut, the items were placed on the bed and then Lilith was walking over to her, and Zelda noticed with distinct pleasure, she had a riding crop in grip. “Do you have any questions or concerns before we begin?” she asked.

“You will be discreet. This won’t come back on me?”

“So as long as you assure the same thing, I swear to you that I will never speak a word of what happens between us to another soul.”

“Good, because I have excellent lawyers.”

Lilith laughed, “As do I. Now that those needless threats are out of the way,” she said as she stepped back, drawing her eyes over Zelda again. And then the visage changed and the woman seemed to grow taller in her heels. She turned and lifted up the lid of the ottoman bench, showing the empty storage. “You can place your bag, jacket and your dress in here.”

“My dress?”

Lilith stared at her, as if waiting for Zelda to say something further. Perhaps protest.

Zelda drew a breath and stepped forward, placing her bag onto one side of it, before removing her coat and setting that in the ottoman, too. Then it was just completing her last request.

Lilith stepped closer as she hesitated, standing behind her to reach up and draw Zelda’s hair over her shoulder, before she unclasped the top of the dress and then slowly drew the zipper down so Zelda could feel the material part, cool air brushing over her skin.

The dress was tugged down her arms, down her waist and hips, and then she was stepping out of it, thankful for the comfort of the slip.

“You can keep your heels on.”

Zelda bent, picking up the material before placing it into the ottoman. She stood up tall again, watching as Lilith closed the ottoman lid.

Now what? She wanted to ask as her eyes flicked to the items on the bed.

Lilith moved, setting herself on the side of mattress, next to the items, before she crossed her legs. “Stand here,” she directed before her.

Zelda moved, standing before. So far, it seemed to be a game of patience and although they were getting closer and closer, she felt an anticipation rise in her, wishing the woman would just get to it.

“On your knees,” she said, not unlike a school teaching asking the class to sit down in their seats.

Zelda swallowed, and bent down, adjusting to kneel before her. Her hands clenched at her sides, and then stretched out. Lilith stared at her blankly, her eyes staring deep into her own. “And now?” Zelda asked.

“And now, until I say otherwise, you may only speak when spoken to. You are my servant and I am your Queen. You will obey implicitly,” she paused then, cocking her brow as if to dare Zelda to say otherwise. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, my queen,” she corrected.

“Yes, my queen,” Zelda affirmed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the words, and yet my queen sounded easier on the tongue than mistress.

“Hands forward.”

Zelda obeyed, setting them out before her, palm facing forward. Lilith adjusted them, turning them so her wrists faced each other, a few inches apart as she took the length of rope and began coiling over one forearm.

And then like a parlour trick, she was knotting and twisting the rope, and before Zelda could think about squirming away, both of her wrists bound before her in an elegant design. In all honesty, Zelda was impressed, watching as Lilith’s fingers slid between the bindings of rope, ensuring their comfort and tightness against the skin.

“Does it pinch?” she asked.

“No, my queen,” Zelda answered as she dropped her bound wrists down.

The riding crop hit her bare shoulder, a sharp smack ringing over skin. Zelda’s face looked up at the woman––both with surprise in how fast she’d managed to grab the crop, and in confusion as to what the hit had been for.

“Did I tell you that you could drop your hands?”

“No,” she said, lifting her hands again.

The crop hit her again, this time on the other shoulder and Zelda hissed in a breath, feeling the pleasure of the pain rush across her nerves.

“Do you know what you did wrong that time?”

Zelda blinked, in all honestly, she was still reeling from the hit. Swallowing, she found herself hoarsely whispering, “no.”

She watched as the riding crop was placed down on the bed and Lilith’s hand drew up, touching over where the mark was on her shoulder. The sensory shivered across her skin, and without intending to, she found herself leaning into the touch. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer ‘yes, my queen’ or ‘no, my queen’, every time, without hesitation or question. Can you do that for me?”

There was such condescension in the words, that Zelda gritted her teeth.“Yes,” watching as Lilith’s eyebrow arched as she reached for the crop. “My queen,” Zelda added, though she looked to the crop, watching as Lilith hand fingered over the leather handle, as if considering striking her for the insolence.

But the hand pulled away and Lilith’s expression pulled into a smile. “Good girl,” she purred. Reaching beside her, she took the blindfold. Zelda shut her eyes, feeling the leather placed on and done-up on the back of her head. There was movement, seeming to be Lilith standing up and moving around her, and then she felt fingers in her hair, combing through it.

Lilith’s hands settled on her shoulders and Zelda waited, feeling her hands grow tired at holding them in position.

There was a warmth that tickled her ear and Zelda felt her chest in-take with a small gasp as the woman spoke in low whisper into her ear, “Move forward until you feel the bed press against you here.” Her fingers drew over Zelda’s body, touching under her ribs.

Drawing in a breath, Zelda felt the hands hold over her firmly before slipping away. Taking that as the direction, Zelda moved slowly on her knees, and then felt her hands touch over the mattress. She shuffled further and when the frame pressed against her stomach, she stopped. Nothing followed. No order, no words and she found herself slowly drawing a breath, anticipating the riding crop to hit her.

Behind her, there was the sound of a drawer opening (the dresser?) and then it slid back. Lilith had rummaged for something and whatever it was, Zelda felt heartbeat go quick. Was it another tool, a cane? Or perhaps a gag to keep her quiet?

“Look at you, keeping perfectly still,” Lilith said as she seemed to settle behind her, fingers drawing over her shoulders, nails bluntly running down her forearms as she pressed against her back. “So obedient.”

Zelda bristled at the comment, and yet as her jaw clenched she found herself holding back from saying anything.

“I can’t wait to watch you come undone,” Lilith said, before standing up, drawing Zelda’s arms up, above her head. She could feel the woman set her heels on either side of her calves, her skirt brushing against the back of her head as she seemed fiddle high above her with the bed frame.

Zelda could hear the noise of fibres zipping against something, and then the feeling of the rope bindings being fiddled with, a vibration running through it, before it was tugged, hoisting her arms a little higher until they were stretched above her head, causing her to sit up tall. And then Lilith’s hand were drawing down her forearms again, checking the restraints.

Her fingers were warm against the coolness of the air, nails blunt as they slid under the rope. It was strangely intimate, in a way that had Zelda feeling all the more aware of her state of undress.

“Do you remember your safe word?” Lilith asked as she once again began drawing her fingers through her hair, seeming to brush them over her shoulder and off from her back. It was gentle and soothing, but it had Zelda wanting to press harder against the nails.

“Yes, my queen,” she said, feeling a flutter low in her belly.

“And, what’s your safe word?”

“Music box…my queen,” she said.

Lilith stepped away, and then there was nothing. A quiet pressed over her again and Zelda could feel how high her chest rose and fell, the way her heart was pounding loud in her ears as she stretched her fingers in the restraints.

And then something cold touched her back, sliding from the bare skin, down, over the slip before sliding down her back. She shivered at the touch, feeling it drag against the length of her spine before it lifted away.

That was her warning.

The crop snapped against her shoulder blade. Zelda gasped, arching against it. The pain rippled over her flesh, and yet Zelda felt the endorphins flood her bloodstream. A second snap came, and then a third just as quick on the other shoulder and Zelda’s mouth parted, a sigh pulling from her.

Fingers brushed over her shoulders, running over where the crop had struck her. She could smell the perfume sweep over her senses as Lilith stepped behind her, the crop dragging low against her backside. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Zelda bit her lip, nodding.

A short thwack against her ass had Zelda jolting in the restraints, a wetness pressing between her thighs.

“I expect you to use your words.”

“Yes.”

Another thwack against the other cheek, harder this time and Zelda was biting her bottom lip, trying to suppress the moan.

“Yes, my queen.”

“Good girl.”

There was a quiet again, an anticipation in the darkness of the blindfold as she felt Lilith walk around. Floorboards creaked beneath her knees and Zelda’s arms strained in the restrained, a soreness pulling at her shoulders as she squeezed her muscles, feeling the rope draw against them.

She ached and yet every strike stung with fresh relief. She wanted it. The creeping hesitation. The uncertainty of the strike. The moment with the brief touch, drawing against her skin to both soothe and tease before the next strike came, hard and fast.

And then the excitement turned to relief and Zelda felt her emotions bristle. It was like the very brick walls she built herself had turned to glass and the strikes were causing them to crack.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. But one strike hit her high across the shoulder blades and it wasn’t a gasp but a sob that broke through.

And then Lilith was there, her body pressed against her, arms around her. “Are you ready to stop?” she asked.

And Zelda nodded, clamping her jaw shut because she couldn’t cry. She didn’t know why she wanted to cry, but the words weren’t coming out and she knew she needed to say those fucking words, but if she did she was going to sob and she couldn’t sob and––

Lilith’s hand pressed firm under her chest, splaying over her ribs as she felt her tug at something, and then Zelda’s arms dropped and she was sagging back against Lilith, drawing in a tight breath as her lungs seems to constrict.

“Lift your arms,” Lilith said, her voice soft and soothing and Zelda lifted her arms and felt the ropes untangle. The blind fold was removed and they were all dropped away beside her, her arms falling at her sides, and still she felt Lilith’s hand splay over her chest, holding her steady against her.

She breathed, once, twice––pressing her tongue against the roof of her mouth until her breath evened and the need to cry ebbed away.

“I’m fine,” Zelda said, and felt herself tremble, the words tightening in her throat.

“You are,” Lilith agreed before bowing her head, pressing her lips against her shoulder.

Zelda squeezed her eyes shut, willing the prickling in her eyes to cease as she drew in one more breath, then another and then…the hand eased, dropping away and she felt Lilith move away.

Opening her eyes, Zelda blinked away the blur, watching the room sharpen.

A hand came into her vision and Zelda looked at it before realising that Lilith was offering to help her stand.

Taking the hand, she pushed up onto her heels, standing awkwardly for a moment as she felt the world sway. But Lilith’s hand tightened on hers, as her arm came around and held around her waist.

A part of Zelda wanted to crumble against her. Collapse from the exertion of it all, but she didn’t. She took another breath and then steeled herself, straightening her back, shoulders back.

“You don’t need to do that,” Lilith advised, one hand steady on her waist, the other still holding her hand, thumb sliding over her knuckles. “You’re allowed to let go.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are,” she agreed, “but you’re also allowed to take a moment. There’s no one else here.”

Zelda swallowed, feeling the painful prick in her eyes before she looked away. “I should get dressed.”

Lilith drew in a breath and smiled softly as Zelda pulled her hand from hers. Her knuckles felt alight, as if she’d somehow gently awoke every nerve ending there.

“Before you do, I just need to check over the marks.”

Zelda nodded and allowed herself to be turned around. The woman’s fingers were gentle as they touch over her back, examining the upper area of her shoulders, before she drew the hem of slip up, looking over the marks oh her hips and thighs. Her touch was soft and Zelda found herself wobbling on her heels, her muscles twitching as the woman touched over the welts.

“They’ll be down by morning,” Lilith said, adjusting the slip over her. “I can put cream on it.”

Zelda cleared her throat, knowing that if the woman so much as stroked a thumb over her cheekbone, she was going to burst into tears again. “No, thank you,” she said firmly. “I can manage that myself at home.”

“As you wish. I’m going to make a drink. I have tea and coffee, or a soda if you wanted something else?”

“Tea’s fine,” Zelda said, her voice thick with emotions. She cleared her throat, blinking as she felt the tightness in her chest grow and ease. Lilith’s fingers burned where they rested on her hips.

“I’ll zip up your dress when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

Lilith stepped away and Zelda heard the sound of the door clicking shut. Carefully, Zelda dressed, doing up half of the zipper before giving up with how her arms shook.

In the mirror she could see her face was flushed with red. Her hair was mussed, but not so much that a quick comb through with her fingers couldn’t fix it. Pulling out her make-up, she touched up her lipstick, fixing her eye make-up enough that she didn’t appear as though she’d been crying.

Taking her hand bag and throwing her coat over it, she stepped out of the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Downstairs, she could heard the sound of water being poured into tea cups. For a moment, Zelda considered leaving, entirely embarrassed by what had occurred.

Except…she hadn’t paid and didn’t desire to have the woman chase after her for that.

Mustering up as much pride as she could, she stepped into the kitchen and watched as Lilith set down the milk and sugar in the centre of the table before smiling up at her. “Do you need help?” she enquired, pointing to her dress.

“If you don’t mind.”

Lilith walked over and brushed Zelda’s hair over one-shoulder, as she had before, before zipping it up. Her fingers smoothed down the back of the dress, brushing over the shoulders before fixed her hair again. “I wasn’t sure how you liked your tea,” Lilith said, before somehow managing to guide her into a chair and sit her down before Zelda could protest. “Tea, there’s almond fingers there too.”

And then Lilith was bustling behind her, fixing everything back into its rightful space as Zelda placed two cubes of sugar in her tea and watched it dissolve in the water as she stirred it.

She didn’t feel like crying any more, but if she was honest, there was a heaviness to her. Like she could sleep. She hadn’t felt this tired since…back when she’d been doing her doctorate.

“How do you feel?” Lilith asked as she sat down on the chair opposite her, taking her own cup of tea (though Zelda noticed she left it black without sugar). “And don’t say fine.”

“Exhausted,” Zelda responded honestly.

“That’s to be expected, you took quite the beating,” Lilith nodded. “More importantly though, did you find the relief that you were after?”

Zelda’s mouth parted. A part of her wanted to argue that she did not. The idea of crying in front of a stranger––despite the intimacy of situation––soured whatever relief she took from it. But it wasn’t true.

All the frustration she’d been feeling over the week was gone. Her shoulders felt lighter, her back was sore, but it didn’t feel overexerted. In truth, she felt good. “I did,” she answered.

Lilith smiled. “I’m very good.”

“And arrogant.”

“Comes with the territory,” she teased.

Zelda brought the cup to her mouth, trying to disguise the smile she felt growing.

The tea was decent, soothing as she sipped at it before setting it back on its saucer. It was a nice set, and it made Zelda all the more aware how much money had been poured into the apartment, giving it an elegance that differed so far away from the dungeon-like fantasy.

It suited her, and yet she couldn’t help but wonder where all this money came from.

She looked up and noticed that Lilith was staring at her in interest, likely trying to read where her thoughts were––but how could ask such a thing politely? I see you have money behind you? Does being a dominatrix make a lot of money? No. She couldn’t ask such a thing.

And yet it made her all the more aware that the woman still hadn’t asked for payment. Was she meant to broach that?

“Careful. You’ll wind yourself right back up and be on my doorstep by the end of the week.”

Zelda blinked, setting her cup down. “I beg your pardon?”

Lilith grinned, looking as if she might take the bait inadvertently left in the statement, but decided against it. “You’re overthinking something, I can see you stiffening to get to whatever thought you have––likely unspoken due to some…social propriety. Whatever it is, just say it.”

Zelda felt a frustration roll inside of her, disliking how the woman seemed to read her like an open book. “I was thinking about how payment worked.”

“Cash or card,” Lilith shrugged. “If you use card, it’ll pop up as a clothing boutique on your statement.”

“Do you run a clothes store?”

“Mm, story for another time,” she said, setting her cup down. “Now, cash or card?”

Zelda pulled out her wallet, drawing the dollar bills she’d picked up that morning. “Cash,” she advised.

Lilith smiled and took the money. Zelda half expected her to count it front of her, but instead, she set it on her table and rose, opening up a cupboard where she pulled out an invoice book and a pen.

She scribbled on the page, and then ripped it off, handing it back. “You take me as the type of woman who likes to keep her books in order,” she said. “On the very bottom, it has my website. If you go to services offered…you can explore what other interests you might have. If it’s not on the list, we can negotiate the next time you visit.”

Zelda took it tentatively and blinked at the invoice. All it advised was for services rendered in one column, with an amount of time, and then the tax and subtotal on the very bottom. It was all very…professional and Zelda found herself looking up at Lilith with a strange fascination.

Was this a business, or was it as much as a leisure pursuit for Lilith as it was for her clients.

“And just why do you think there’ll be a next time?” she asked with as much indignantly as she could manage.

Lilith leant back in her a chair, a knowing smirk on her lips. “Because you’re going to go home and shower and touch over the marks as you think of me.”

Zelda blanched at the comment, “Excuse me?”

“And then you’ll wait a few days for self control but a part of you is going to dig up that invoice and type the website into the search bar of your computer and scroll through all the services I offer until something just clicks, and then I’ll have the delight of your voice on my phone again.”

“I certainly will not.”

Lilith shrugged. “Suit your self, but do check out the services page first. I’m sure you’ll find a few things that will pique your interest.”

Zelda felt a humiliation burn through her cheeks as she stared at the woman. A part of her wanted to rise and storm off, or snap back at the woman, but she didn’t. She was locked to her seat, the fury building in her––but more importantly, she felt excited.

Excited in a way she couldn’t remember feeling since she was a twenty-something year old, getting up to no-good mischief because she could. Because it made her feel––

Ah, she realised suddenly

That was it.

She felt alive.

#lilith #zelda spellman #madam spellman #zelith #caos fanfic #morgans fic #morgan writes

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