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little-diable · 4 months ago

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Cocky Tornado Wrangler – Tyler Owens (smut)

Finally watching Twisters tonight. My poor aunt who has to listen to me gush about our husband. Thank you so much for the love on my other Tyler fic, I hope y'all will love this just as much. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: There are many things (y/n) would prefer to having to share a room with the man she hates. But does she really hate him? Or will the bed they share be enough to push them closer together?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), piv, enemies to lovers, lots of teasing

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3.8k words)

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Her voice dripped with exhaustion, eyes tired and ready to flutter shut any moment now. But fuck, she couldn’t give in just yet, had to fight yet another battle with the self proclaimed tornado wrangler who was staring down at her with his signature smirk glued to his lips.

The smirk he wore in every video of his. Videos she watched whenever they were uploaded to his channel. Not that she’d ever tell Tyler that. And god forbid he’d ever stumble upon the saved favourites she watched in moments where she needed distraction from everything but him.

“Well, seems like your prayers were answered, pretty. An EF4 and now we get to share a room, certainly feels like we’re even closer to heaven now, doesn’t it?” Tyler’s hand found her waist to give it a soft squeeze before he gently pushed her further into the motel room. It had been an exhausting day, filled with adrenaline highs as they chased tornadoes until the late evening. Even though they had been mesmerised by the beautiful disaster, they were now forced to stay in one of the close towns, cut off from the highway heading home.

“I can take the couch.” She had her eyes set on the rather worn out couch which had been pushed against one of the walls that were painted in a faded out pink colour. The whole room made her feel like she was back at her grandparents home, letting an almost melancholic feeling settle in the pit of her stomach.

“You sure you don’t wanna share? The bed’s big enough, or I could take the couch.” Tyler hung up his still wet hat before placing his bag down on the bed. (Y/n) watched him take in the room, giving her a few seconds to curse him for wearing a white shirt that now clung to his muscular upper body. His back muscles were shining through the wet fabric, letting her get lost in the thoughts of how it must feel to brush her nails along his soft skin. Thoughts that shot heat straight down to her core, knowing that she’d have to take care of that cursed longing in the shower.

“In your dreams, Owens, and we both know you won’t fit on that couch.” His raspy laugh left her grinning, unable to stop her tired face from reacting to the man (y/n) claimed she hated and yet needed to feel close at any given chance.

“Trust me, baby, my dreams are all about sharing a bed with you and so much more.” With a wink thrown her way, Tyler plopped down on the bed. He studied her for a moment, taking in her wet frame while his tongue kissed his teeth and his muscular arms were locked behind his head. She needed to get out of here, needed to find shelter in the warm shower before her body would do something she couldn’t stop it from doing.

“I’ll grab a quick shower.” (Y/n) didn’t wait for his reply, darting for the bathroom that was just big enough for her to let go of a deep breath.

She hated that she had dreamt of moments like these, wondering how it may play out with Tyler by her side, having to share a bed while the world outside was ending. And all they’d have eyes for would be one another, no matter how many tornadoes called for them.

Within seconds, (y/n) had shuffled out of her wet clothes only to step into the small shower. She couldn’t stop her soft moan from leaving her as the warm water cascaded down her back as if it were hugging her. The silence she was now offered forced her thoughts back to the longing she couldn’t shake, the need to take care of the pulsing between her thighs that grew stronger with every passing moment.

Her fingers moved quickly, knowing that she didn’t have much time before Tyler would disturb her peace, desperate for a shower himself. With her teeth buried in her lower lip, (y/n) let her fingers circle her pulsing bundle, imaging Tyler’s fingers instead of her own.

Would he touch her with the same kind of urgency? Would he draw the same moans from her she oh so desperately wanted to give in to? No, he wouldn’t. He’d make her feel things she had never felt before, clashing through her like a tornado stronger than she had ever been fortunate enough to study. Tyler Owens was her own personal disaster and she was close to letting him rip her off her feet, close to allowing him to have his way with her without being able to protest.

“Fuck,” the word rolled off her tongue all too quickly, knowing that she was already close to giving in to her high. (Y/n) didn’t pay the ache in her forearm any mind, didn’t worry about the way her fingers begged her to move slower, all she was focused on were her thoughts that painted a picture of Tyler and the way he’d touch her.

And with her head rolled back and her lips tightly pressed together, she came. (Y/n) let her orgasm wash through her, rubbing her pulsing bundle a few more times before her tired body found its way out of the shower.

It took her a second to realise that she hadn’t taken any clean clothes with her, drawing yet another exhausted groan from her. Carefully, she opened the door, hiding behind her towel while her eyes found Tyler’s frame. No longer was he wearing his shirt, exposing his muscular upper body to her eyes which tried to burn every inch of his naked skin into her mind.

“Tyler,” her soft voice drew his eyes from his phone. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”

She expected a snarky comment, anything to tease her and rile her up some more, but Tyler stayed quiet, eyes focused on the parts of her body that weren’t covered by the door or her towel. (Y/n) could have sworn that he had swallowed heavily first before rising to his feet to reach for his bag. His eyes stayed glued to her while he reached a shirt out for her to take, letting his fingers brush against hers for a moment.

It was cheesy almost, the buzz of lighting striking her at the small contact. A touch so small and yet so significant, her mind would probably think of it for days and nights to come.

With a small “thank you” rolling off her tongue, (y/n) stepped back into the bathroom to put on the shirt, grateful that it was long enough to cover her panties. Trembling legs carried her back into the room, not daring to look at Tyler, whose eyes she felt on her frame. No words were spoken between them as he pushed past her into the bathroom, allowing (y/n) to deeply exhale the second she was left alone once again.

……

The moments after Tyler had returned from the shower, wearing nothing but boxers that clung to his body just as tightly as his wet shirt had, had been filled with a tight atmosphere. Barely any words had been shared between them, not as she had made herself comfortable on the couch, not as he had turned off the light while stretching out on the bed.

She had turned her back to him to stop her eyes from wandering, knowing that no matter how tired she was, her mind wouldn’t let her rest. Not when he was so close to her. Not when she heard his uneven breaths that told her he was still awake. Not when she could easily move closer to feel him pressed against her.

What was he thinking of? Was he still riled up by today’s chase? Or was he also thinking of those moments where he had passed his shirt to her?

Even though she begged her body to stay calm, to not move back towards him, she lost the fight within seconds. Her front was turned towards him, letting her eyes rest on the parts of his body that weren’t hidden by the blanket, making her awfully aware of how close he was to her.

This was unusual for them, quiet moments where neither spoke, where no teasing or bickering could be heard. Nothing but the breaths both let go of while he kept his eyes focused on the ceiling and she wasn't strong enough to look away from him just yet.

“I can feel you staring, pretty.” Tyler rolled his head towards her, eyes meeting (y/n)’s like lightning striking a tree, buzzing straight through it to set it ablaze. “What’s going on in that confusing mind of yours?”

“Just because you’re not smart enough to understand my thoughts it doesn’t mean my mind’s confusing.” The words had left her all too quickly, drawing a gritty laugh from Tyler. A sound she loved hearing, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. A sound that left her smiling the second her ears were fortunate enough to hear it.

“You wound me. I’d say we’re a pretty good team when it comes to understanding your plans.” Heat spread through every part of her body, a heat she was all too used to by now but still didn’t know how to work with. She rolled her eyes at Tyler before refocusing on his handsome features, taking in every part of the face she knew like the back of her hand.

Her breath hitched in her chest as he lifted the blanket, patting the spot next to him, “Come up here, I don’t need you complaining about back pain tomorrow.”

(Y/n)’s body moved without holding back, crawling to the spot next to him as if she had done this numerous times before. It felt awfully right to lay next to him, to feel Tyler’s arm slowly wrap around her middle to cage her against his chest.

“Do you remember the first time we chased together?” She tried to stop her hand from moving as he spoke, she really did. But yet (y/n) miserably failed, unable to keep away from his soft skin any longer, needing to feel it beneath her wandering fingers as she traced slow patterns on the skin of his warm chest.

“I wanted to break your nose that day, god, you were even cockier back then. Do you still think people instantly recognise you when you meet them?” He shook his head with a smirk playing on his lips, tightening his grip on (y/n) as she shuffled even closer. That day was replaying in her mind every now and then, remembering how he had misjudged her for a fangirl, expecting her to almost faint when shaking his hand. And yet she hadn’t known much about him, had never watched any of his videos before that day. Something Tyler hadn’t taken as lightly as he should have, turning into the cocky asshole she had cursed for the past months.

“I no longer care about that, only worry about impressing you, pretty.” He pressed a kiss to her hairline before he let his eyes flicker back to the ceiling. His sharp jawline was exposed to her wandering eyes, making (y/n) awfully aware of how easily she could kiss him right now. It took everything in her not to move, to hold still as her heart picked up its beat. Whatever it was that had urged her on to fight against him these past months, it was now gone, leaving her unable to fight back and in need of something more.

“We both know that’s a lie, Owens. All you worry about is tornadoes and busty women who ask you to sign their cleavages.” Her laugh was mixed with his as he let his gaze find hers again while squeezing her side. She fought against his grip, hating that he had found her most ticklish spot that made her toss and turn against him. Tyler seemed to enjoy the sight, letting his fingers find the spot again while shifting her around to hover over (y/n). With one hand pressed to the pillow and his knees caging in her right thigh, he left her no room to move away from him.

“Do I hear jealousy?” His eyes wandered over her face, focusing on her lips as she fought against the need to look away. “You know there’s no need to be jealous, pretty. All you gotta do is give in and stop fighting our bond.”

A sharp reply was burning on her tongue, and yet her body managed to win the fight, letting her fingers find the back of Tyler’s neck to pull him in for a soft kiss. He instantly replied to the touch, adding more pressure to the kiss with his body shuffling closer. It felt as if they were burning, tied together like two matches setting a petrol station ablaze, ready to alight the darkening night.

With every swipe of his tongue, with every moan rumbling through them, it set in further that this was finally happening, that they were finally crossing that last bridge. No longer was she set on fighting it, purely focused on Tyler’s touch and the need to feel him as close as humanly possible.

“Talk to me, baby, what do you want?” Her mind was torn between the kisses they kept sharing and the feeling of him growing against her thigh, telling (y/n) that he needed and wanted this as much as she did. Her fingers combed through his hair, letting her nails scratch his skin with just enough pressure to leave him tingling in excitement.

“Everything, I want all of you, Tyler.” Hours ago she would have cursed herself for giving in so easily, for admitting that insatiable hunger she had felt for months now. But she no longer found it in herself to care, could no longer shy away from having whatever Tyler was about to offer her. Her words drew a groan from the tall tornado wrangler who kissed his way down her throat while shifting his weight onto his knees. They held eye contact as his hands disappeared beneath the shirt of his she was wearing, finding their way straight to her chest.

“Fuck, feels like you were made for me, every part of you.” His praises sank in like a ship hitting the ocean ground, sinking lower with every passing second, forever resting on the ground like the praises he spoke to her. Forever etched into her mind. Forever remembering the way they made her feel lightheaded and giddy.

Urgently he pulled the shirt over her head, set on exposing her body to his hungry eyes. Tyler let go of another groan as he looked down at her, making a silent promise that he’d have to take a picture of her in that position one of these days. He dipped his head down to suck on her nipples, making her moan for him while she spread her thighs for him. His core met hers, leaving both breathless as his clothed cock rubbed against her clothed heat – a feeling so intense, it only urged Tyler on to move further down her body.

“Will you let me taste you, pretty?” Only a breathless “Please” left (y/n), drawing a smirk to his lips. She watched his eyes light up as he pushed her panties down her legs, looking like he was marvelling at art – art so mesmerising he couldn’t stop staring.

“Let me make you feel good, baby.” Those were the last words Tyler spoke before his tongue brushed her folds, drawing a moan from the both of them. His arms wove their way around her thighs, keeping her pressed to him as he ate her out like a starving man, high on her taste and the sounds she made for him.

Nothing but moans managed to leave (y/n), getting lost in the feeling of Tyler sucking on her pulsing bundle, while he pushed two fingers into her – doing just what she had imagined him doing in the shower a while ago. He instantly managed to find that spot that made her see stars as he pressed down on it with his fingers, forcing (y/n) to choke on her sounds.

“Oh god, Tyler,” he chuckled against her skin, letting the sound vibrate through every part of her. From the corner of his eyes he could see her fist the covers with her free hand, the one that wasn’t buried in his hair, telling him that she was already close. And yet Tyler knew that he’d pull away soon, wanting to feel her cum around his cock like he had imagined her doing the past months.

Tyler had worked hard for her attention, knowing that he had fucked it up the first time they had met. She had instantly managed to push him off his high horse, bruising his ego with her sharp words he could still recite today. And yet it had only made him desperate for more, set on pulling her closer like no other woman before her.

“I could die a happy death between your thighs, pretty, but I need to fuck you now.” The dazy look she shot him made him feel proud, knowing that she had been about to cum on his tongue. She didn’t reply, at least not with words, with nothing but a whine did she pull him towards her for another kiss. He shuffled out of his boxers, freeing his twitching cock with a few movements.

“Let me grab a condom.” He left her side for a moment, allowing (y/n) to sort through her thoughts which were all over the place. And yet she couldn’t carry about anything but the need to feel him buried inside of her, knowing that once she knew what it feels like to have him so close, she’d never be able to let him go again. A thought that left her torn between excitement and anxiety, unsure what was awaiting them.

“Do you still want this? We don’t have to do this if you’re unsure, (y/n).” Tyler’s whispers ripped her out of her spiralling thoughts. She shook her head at him before pulling back in, focused on his handsome face, mustering every spot she could blindly find.

“I want this, want you.” That’s all he needed to hear before aligning himself with her heat and slowly pushing into her. With his forehead pressed against hers, both needed a moment to adjust, not expecting to feel this, unable to put the sensation into any words that would make sense to their minds. It felt like they had been made for one another, made solemnly for this moment that felt as if the world had spinning, thrown off its path.

“Move, please, Ty’.” He instantly gave in, pulling out of her only to push in with more strength. Their bodies met with every ferocious thrust, sending bolts of electricity down her spine. She arched her back off the mattress, needing to be even closer to him while he kept burying himself inside of her.

Blood rushed in her ears, drowning everything out but the sounds Tyler made, sounds so raspy and deep she feared it was another tornado growing in the distance, guttural sounds which left her walls fluttering around his cock. Her fingernails scratched at his shoulder, set on leaving red marks that wouldn’t fade for days, claiming him in the most primal way she could come up with at that moment.

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you like that for the rest of my life.” The words roll off his tongue just like that. There was no way he could stop them from leaving him. And for the first time in minutes she finds herself ripped out of her state, staring up at him with wide eyes. But Tyler doesn’t say another word, all he does is study her while fucking her closer to the edge.

“Do you mean that?” She struggled to speak, needing to ground herself before choking on her words. Their eyes kept holding contact, even as he nodded his head while watching a smile grow on her slightly swollen lips. “Good, I don’t want you to let me go again, Owens.”

He took the words as a challenge, adding even more pressure to his thrusts to throw (y/n) back into her dazed state. With his fingers circling her pulsing bundle, he knew that it was only a matter of moments before she’d cum around his cock, allowing him to take in the most beautiful sight he’d ever be fortunate enough to see.

His name left (y/n) one last time before falling off the edge. His hips kept meeting hers, fucking her through her high while feeling his own crawling closer. She clung to him, murmuring his name like her own personal mantra as he followed her, letting go with a groan she’d forever remember.

It took both a moment to move again, for him to pull out of her and to get rid of the condom and for her to slightly shift around on the mattress, watching his every move with her weight balanced on her forearms. Tyler found his way back to her within seconds, hovering over her to press another kiss to the lips he’d never get tired of kissing.

“Are you okay?” His whispers left (y/n) grinning, nodding against his lips while another wave of euphoria swapped through her.

“More than.” Unspoken feelings were hanging heavily in the air, knowing that both would have to address them rather soon, but all they did was look at one another, marvelling at the person they never wanted to let go of again. “Thank you for this.”

“Nothing to thank me for, pretty. And hell, I’m not even close to being finished with you tonight.”

#Tyler Owens smut #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens imagine #Glen Powell smut #Glen Powell imagine #twisters

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irl-simon-riley · 5 months ago

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WIP whenever

I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THIS. I was going to do this last week but I had some stressful health and ID stuff that I had to deal with and just couldn't bring myself to work on my WIPS :( I wanted to get a bit more written before I shared but oh well. Anyways, I was tagged by the very very cool @pricegouge to post a current WIP. I have a lot to choose from since I am an absent father, but I will go with my slowburn ftm bodyguard!ghost x rockstar!soap that doesn't have a working title atm. This fic is inspired by a dream I had. I hope y'all enjoy :D

//gender dysphoria, misgendering & dead-naming in reference to pre-transition self, emotional angst, Ghost's canon backstory, Ghost is ex-military

Ghost watches his feet as he walks along the side of a forested road, the smell of moss surrounding him from all directions. The forest is too dense to be anywhere near Manchester, the growth too old, like something from a nature magazine. The lush greenery shading him from the summer heat, the sun would only affect him more with his all-black gear.

He's not alone. In front of him is his mother, following him is Tommy. His mum crosses the road and the boys follow like ducklings. Ghost's mother says something that he can't quite hear, all he notices is that he's breathing much too easily with his mask on.

He finally looks up, a shotgun-style house in front of him. His mum and Tommy are already halfway through the screen door, leaving him behind. A concrete staircase leads down from the road to be level with the house, as if the house was built before any roads were around. Ghost follows behind them, opening the doors that were shut in his face.

Once inside he enters the room immediately to the right. His room.

The layout is almost the same as his childhood bedroom, only the door has switched walls and there are no windows.

The walls are covered in pastel purple wallpaper with white daisies that look hand-painted. Light greens and pinks are the only other colors that occupy the space. A quilt covers the mattress, held up by a white wrought-iron bedframe. On painted wall shelves there are trinkets, the only one Ghost can focus on holds porcelain figures of the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and a cherub-like angel. Everything is bathed in candlelight, but Ghost can't smell the burning over the scent of mothballs. The room denotes nothing but love and care, the kind that Simon could only dream of as a child---the kind he begged for.

"It's just for tonigh'," He grumbles to himself.

The urge to get out of his gear and sleep consumes him. He turns and his eyes catch on the full length mirror directly next to the door.

He sees... her. Hannah: the name Simon never wished to hear again. A name he thought he left behind at 16, but now... he was 14 again and she was standing in front of him in the mirror. She wears a pink, ruffly tank-top and cotton shorts.

Is this even real? It can't be, he---he's supposed to be out! He got out!

Right?

Simon sucks in a breath and reaches a trembling hand up to the auburn hair that covers his chest and rakes his fingers through it. It's real. Her face morphs into one of fear as she feels the soft strands tendril out between each finger.

In this moment he realizes she's exactly the daughter he was supposed to be; and all the other rooms burn around him.

---

pls help me title this work I am so bad at titles

#wip wednesday #wip whenever #current wip #call of duty mw2 #call of duty fanfic #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost

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pickledpascal · 1 year ago

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Killer Queen

Chapter Two: Walk This Way

Warnings: barely any plot, smut, oral, could be considered a bit non-con but id say its more consensual non-con, the start of some pavloving, slurs

Word Count: 2.9k

Killer Queen Masterlist

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Taking care of Soldier Boy, and housing him, was not what Amber signed up for when Butcher told her about this imaginary weapon. But Ben was powerful, very powerful. Enough to take away the powers of any Supe within distance of his blast. So Amber complied with Butcher's request. She was careful enough not to drive down any populated areas just in case the street cameras caught a glimpse of him.

"Man, you live in the middle of fucking nowhere." Ben murmured as he slammed the car door shut and took in the house in front of them.

It wasn't too far away from the city but far enough that Butcher trusted Ben, and Ryan, wouldn't be found. Ryan especially. The house looked plain on the outside, siding painted white with blue roofing, and had two stories. But there were a few surprises inside.

Amber bit the inside of her cheek. The urge to slam the guy against her car and show him who the boss was bubbled inside her. She refrained with gritted teeth. "Might be good for you, not fucking randos every chance you get." She led Ben inside, checking to see if Eden was home. If she was, Ryan wasn't too far behind. "Eden! Where ya at?"

"My room!" She heard her friend call back.

Amber had Ben stay in the living room as she went to go talk to her friend. Which left him with the only option to look around the house. He observed the living room. A flat screen TV donned a wall while framed posters hung on other walls. They looked like movie posters but Ben didn't know any of them.

After a few minutes, Ben got bored and ventured into other parts of the house. The kitchen was uninteresting. Partly because he didn't care about cooking. So he scaled the stairs and tried to look through a few rooms. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Most were locked until he came to one at the end of the hall.

"Oh, hello," Ben hummed as he entered. Lights were hung up at the edges of the ceiling, there were quite a few shelves hung up, more posters, a desk, and a large bed that sat in the middle of the room.

But what piqued his interest the most was the porn magazine that rested at the edge of the bed, it was open but faced down to keep its place at a certain page. Ben lifted it to take a look and blinked, heat on his face. He didn't think shit like that affected him anymore. Nonetheless, it did. On the page was a girl, with a strap-on, fucking a guy whose face was incredibly blissed out.

Ben nearly dropped the magazine when the door behind him slammed closed. "Whatcha got there?" Amber glared at him.

"Found it." The man tried to be as nonchalant as possible but it wasn't working, Amber could tell how he felt.

But Amber could care less about that. She snatched the magazine from his hands and threw it on her desk. "Look, I have a few rules I'm gonna need you to follow." Ben rolled his eyes but stayed silent. "A kid lives here and I don't need you being a dick or saying something you shouldn't." Amber took a breath. She was way too worked up and she knew it. Might be best she kicked Ben out of her room after this and did something with her frustration. "Don't be saying slurs and shit, at least not when he's around."

"God," Ben sighed, shaking his head. "Y'all are a bunch of pussies these days, huh?" In the last few days, he could tell the world was a lot more sensitive than back in his day.

Amber's jaw clenched. Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. She tried to remind herself that she needed to calm down. "I can take your shit but I don't want this kid growing up to be like you." She stared him down. They were the same height and Ben was physically bigger than her but Amber knew she would be able to hold her own against him, nuclear powers or not.

That cut Ben a little deeper than expected. So he returned the fire like he always did. "So he could grow up to be like you? A tranny who probably didn't get enough pussy so he decided to get one for himself, huh?"

Amber let out a breath through her nose and decided fuck it. She grabbed Ben's jaw harshly, causing him to claw at her shoulder to try and get her off him. She didn't budge. Not an inch. Amber grabbed one of his arms and twisted it behind his back. Ben winced. He hadn't felt that kind of hurt in a while. "You think you're funny? Watch your fucking mouth." She whispered into his ear, "Or maybe," Amber glanced down. Ben had quite the hard-on. "Maybe you need a lesson."

"Fuck you." Ben growled, his nostrils flaring as his other hand grabbed at Amber's arm.

Amber twisted his arm a little more, making him take in a sharp breath. "Say it again. Tranny. I fucking dare you." Her breath was hot against Ben's ear and he couldn't help the strained noise that escaped his lips. Her brain lit up with a twisted desire. The man was all macho on the outside but he liked this. Not being in control, letting her take the reins.

"You didn't even cut off your cock, huh?" Ben could feel Amber's crotch against his back as he struggled. "I bet any guy in their right mind wouldn't like that," He accentuated the word. Partly because he wanted to see what would happen if he did. "Tranny."

That was it. Amber let go of his jaw and slammed Ben against the wall. His cheek was pushed up against it as he struggled to break free. "You like it." She pushed her knee between his legs. He swallowed, not wanting to admit it. "Be a good boy and do what I say and you might be able to form a coherent thought tomorrow."

"Fuck off." Ben spat. The only response he could come up with.

Amber clicked her tongue, "That's no way to talk to a girl." She kicked the back of his knee, causing him to lose balance so she pushed him onto her bed. "You were looking at my porn for a few seconds too long for you to be disgusted by it. You liked it. You want that don't you?" She bent over him, flush against his ass as she whispered into Ben's ear. "You're lucky I come with the attachment."

Ben glared at her from the side of his eyes. "I'm not a fucking bitch. You can't–" Amber took off her shirt and suddenly he was speechless. Her hands were removed but he stayed there. On the bed. By choice.

"Can't what?" Amber grabbed the back of Ben's head by his hair and pulled. He let out an involuntary whimper. "You like me being in charge. I think I could do whatever I wanted with you and you'd like it."

Ben swallowed thickly. Somehow, Amber figured him out in the matter of being with him for just a few hours. He had been at the top for years, in all senses of the word. And, well, Amber was one of the only women to ever retaliate against that. And had the strength to match. His body responded to that in ways his brain told him it shouldn't.

Amber retracted her hands and looked down at Ben with a dark glint in her eyes. "Tell me you don't want me and I won't. But if you do, you're going to be mine. And that means every single time you do something wrong, you're gonna face consequences."

Ben's eyes narrowed a bit at the mention of punishment. A part of him wanted to know what they could be. "Fine." He huffed, sitting up on the bed.

"Then get on your knees." Amber ordered as she unzipped her pants. Underneath was a pair of plain blue underwear. Ben complied without a second thought. He didn't know why. Just her voice—the way she sounded, he had to listen to her. "That's better." She ran a hand through Ben's dark hair before she gripped it tightly. "You said a few choice words earlier. Hurtful stuff. Which means you don't get what you want. Only good boy's do." Amber slipped her underwear off and shoved her cock in his mouth.

Ben let out a noise of surprise and tried to push off her but Amber's grip on his head was like a vice. No budging. Her dick was long enough that it made Ben gag but he couldn't move his head and so he was forced to adjust to the feeling of her in his mouth. It took a while. Tears started to form at the edges of his eyes and saliva dripped from his mouth. Ben couldn't remember the last time he cried. He couldn't remember if he cried at all. His brain felt fuzzy and he wasn't sure why. It scared him. And excited him all at the same time. Ben's hands naturally sat behind his back after a while. Amber hadn't even told him.

"That's a good boy." Amber used her free hand to brush a few strands of hair that fell into Ben's face. "If I let go, are you gonna be a really good boy and suck me off?" She loosened her grip on his hair. Just enough to let him nod.

Ben looked up at her and nodded. There was an eagerness in his eyes that wasn't there before. So Amber completely loosened her grip as he swallowed, causing a soft sigh to escape her lips. Ben had no practice in this area, at all, but there was that gnat in the back of his head that seemed to know what to do. With its guidance, he started to move his head. His gag reflex seemed to disappear since Amber's cock hit the back of his throat multiple times.

He loved it.

He didn't know why. In his right mind, Ben might've been disgusted with himself. Scratch that. He certainly would have been disgusted. But he wasn't.

Ben loved the noises Amber made. Small huffs of air or light pants escaped her lips. He also loved the power she had over him. The way she could have easily shoved him onto her bed and had her way with him didn't go unnoticed. Instead, Amber chose this. Similar. But different where it counted. Ben, begrudgingly, knew he would have liked that too.

"Almost there…" Amber breathed, twirling a finger around a few strands of Ben's hair. "You want a taste, right?"

Ben simply hummed in response, a little too focused on getting her off that he didn't fully register the question and what it meant. And then he felt something shoot down his throat. He pulled off Amber, coughing. Nothing came up since he already swallowed it but the surprise was enough.

Amber looked down at him, amused as she pulled her underwear back up. She tilted Ben's head back up at her with a finger under his chin. "Stand up, sweetheart." Ben pursed his lips as he slowly stood on wobbly legs. She guided him into her bed with a hand on his waist.

Like a switch, Ben drew in a deep breath. "I can't believe I fucking did that…" That headspace. He didn't know he was capable of going there. Especially with someone like Amber. And, strangely, he didn't mean her extra parts.

Amber let out a small laugh as she got redressed. "You know I own you now." She whispered. She could picture Aang's disappointed face.

Ben swallowed at her tone. He did. God, he did. "I'm not… easy." He sat up a little in the bed, bending his knee. Ben wet his lips as he looked up at her. She was standing at her full height and he felt… small.

"I don't expect you to be." Amber said honestly with an eyebrow cocked. She imagined it strained Ben to be even a little open with her about his feelings. "Unfortunately, you're a product of your time. It's the 21st century, though, so you don't get a fucking pass if you wanna act all pissy anymore."

Ben stared up at her, jaw clenching and unclenching. He looked away, a scoff escaping his lips before he could even think about it.

The bed shifted with the added weight of Amber. "You want something." She studied his face. As much as Soldier Boy wanted to hide his emotions, they showed on his face. They usually came out as anger but Amber was quick to see past that. "You want comfort." She hummed.

In her mind, Amber was screaming at herself to stop whatever was gonna happen next. She knew she was better than this. Better than all of it. She should've just kicked him out of her room and punched a wall or something. But another part of her wanted to see what Ben would do. Apparently he was pretty good at following orders when he wanted to.

"Eat shit." Ben huffed, crossing his arms. His defense was back up already.

Amber pursed her lips. Soldier Boy had been put through a lot. Perhaps she needed to be the bigger person and take his words with grace. Sometimes. She lifted a hand to his face and he flinched before he felt just how soft her touch was.

Amber studied Soldier Boy. His posture was rigid and, judging by his reaction to her touch, he hadn't had a good experience with supposedly comforting touch. Whether that was because of his previous life or the Russians she didn't know. But she could tell he wanted it. Badly. It was those 1940s gender norms that told him he couldn't accept it.

"Look at me." Amber said. Begrudgingly, Ben complied. "If this… thing is going to work, you're gonna need to tell me how you're feeling. No pushing shit down." She wasn't playing around and he knew it.

Ben let out a breath through his nose as he nodded. "I'm feeling…" He paused. "Like I want to kiss you."

That wasn't exactly what Amber meant but she wouldn't exactly complain. "Okay." She leaned forward to press their lips together. Ben's lips were rough against hers but he was on ice for forty years so that might've contributed to it.

Ben lifted a hand to cup Amber's cheek out of instinct, bringing her close with a hand on her shoulder. Amber's lips were gentle, soft and slotted against his perfectly. He didn't know he could feel like this. It scared him. Amber had him under some sort of spell that he didn't want to get out of. It felt like every single emotion he blocked for the past hundred years he'd been alive suddenly bubbled over. Ben didn't register the tears rolling down his cheeks until Amber had pulled away and wiped at his cheekbone with her thumb.

"I'm… yours, huh?" He swallowed, feeling a tightness in his throat for the first time.

Amber hummed. "Yeah. Mine." She whispered.

"I-I could," Ben paused, glancing away from Avery with a sniffle. It was taking all this willpower not to completely break down. "I could get used to that."

Out of pity, Amber wrapped her arms around Ben and hugged him. Just like that, he cried into her shoulder. His earlier anger had dissipated into pure sadness. The person he thought he loved sold him out and hated him. He didn't know what hurt worse. The fact that the Countess despised him or what the Russians did to him all those years. The Countess didn't even get paid to do it. She wanted to get rid of him. Forever. And for what? She died in the end.

"Shhh, it's alright." Amber cooed, rocking him slightly. "You're alright. You're safe here." The complete truth. It was why Butcher trusted her enough. The safest place on Earth for anyone to be was near Amber. And sometimes she forgot that.

Ben shook with sobs, clutching onto Avery like a lifeline. "Don't… don't leave me." Everyone did eventually. They either died or left him. No one ever stayed. He blamed himself for that. Ever since he took Compound V, his life had been a rollercoaster. Ups and downs. Mostly downs.

Abandonment issues were not on Amber's bingo card. PTSD, for sure. A narcissistic personality disorder, yeah. This? Absolutely not.

"I won't," Amber's mind cursed at herself. She was supposed to house Soldier Boy. Not this. She couldn't help it. She had a knack for thinking she could help people. Apparently, Soldier Boy was no different even if he was a major bitch when they first talked. "I won't." She repeated.

When Ben's tears stopped flowing, he pressed his face into her neck and sighed. She smelled nice. It lulled him to sleep. Though, his emotional outburst did take a lot of energy out of him too.

Amber rubbed his back and sighed, opting to lay in bed next to Ben. Hopefully, they'd talk a little more in the morning and he wouldn't revert back to his asshole ways. Though, Amber knew it would take a while for him to get her lessons through his thick head. This was a stepping stone. A small one across a lake of problems.

-----

taglist: @aleemendoza2425-blog

taglist open here !!!

#oc #oc: amber cali #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x oc #jensen ackles x reader smut #jensen ackles smut #soldier boy x oc #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #the boys #the boys amazon #the boys tv

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linnorabeifong · 1 year ago

Text

"I'll Be Waiting"

Summary: “Her eyes are a soft color. A delicate green like the expensive jade bracelets all the heiresses of the Earth Kingdom wear. He loved the sound those bracelets made as they rattled against each other and jingled softly. He decided then that he liked her too.”

Notes: What do y'all think ? I kind of wanted to write some cute teenage LinZolt and write about dancing because of my own background. Also how would you feel, about smutty chapters later ? What direction should I take this happy ending or sad ending ? Also I want to flesh out Ember Island, and establish it as having it's own unique culture and dialect. How do we feel about some French-speaking LinZolt ? (translations will be provided of course).

Critiques: Do y'all have constructive criticism ? I'm still developing my sense of style and I have no writing experience and have never taken a creative writing course in my life so I need all the help I can get.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51405040

Chapter 1:

Kenzo or as his friends liked to call him “Zolt '' was new to Little Caldera. Frankly, he never imagined himself living in such a nice area. Solidly middle class, with the best schools and entertainment to be found in Republic City. Unlike the other boroughs every shop, residence and school there had electricity. Located just on the cusp of old cranefish town, and just outside of downtown, it was a short walk from Yue Bay. The harbor brought in all sorts of business. Little Caldera had a special character to it, its own unique appeal. Spotless and crime free but with great nightlife. High end restaurants and cheap seafood were both in abundance. Contradictory. Perfect. Well, nearly perfect but Caldera’s flaws didn’t touch the likes of Zolt.

Through some stroke of luck his mother managed to find a job as a dance instructor. The position came with lodging right above the studio. It was a small space but more luxurious than either of them had known previously. Two closet-sized bedrooms, a kitchen that was more of a hallway and an entry way that just barely managed to fit a genkan, coat closet and an armchair.

The apartment while small was by no stretch of the imagination shabby. It was well maintained despite its age. The walls were freshly painted and papered. The entryway in a rich cream, the kitchen was a sunny yellow, the bedrooms sported white and crimson wallpaper with a sun motif. They had real hardwood floors. The kitchen appliances were brand new, and for the first time in his life Zolt experienced the pleasure and convenience of an ice box.

They even had their own private bathroom, which was surprisingly large compared to the other rooms. The toilet portion was walled off from the bathing area and the sink stood in between the two. The bath was wonderfully deep, made to be soaked in. To his surprise, the first night he spent in the apartment and drew himself a bath the water heater actually worked. He had discovered this when he reflexively heated up the water with his bending and nearly boiled himself like a dumpling. At his previous home the promise to repair the heater was never actually met. Over the years he had taught himself to warm the water, a skill he no longer needed here.

Every day he discovered a new luxury. The apartment even had underfloor heating, his need for slippers was gone. Despite the lessons going on at all hours of the day and night below them and their close proximity to their neighbors it was surprisingly quiet. The thick walls muffled the sound.

The views were perfect. The windows were large and spilled in bright wonderful light, only obstructed by the glorious shade of the Sakura trees planted all over his neighborhood. From the kitchen he could take in the view of the perfectly manicured street in front of the studio. His bedroom had an especially nice view. Behind the studio there was the nicest apartment building he had ever seen. It was built in a u-shape around a huge courtyard, complete with a fountain, pool, turtleduck pond, rose garden and a playground. It stood five stories tall and was built in a traditional style. The countless balconies were all decorated with paper lanterns and fire lilies. The fire escapes would actually be handy in case of emergency, unlike the rusted ones he knew. He had never seen the Imperial Palace of the fire lord, but he imagined it to look just like this, elegant and overflowing with flowers. It was his newfound vision of paradise.

The end of summer was fast approaching, but he still needed something to fill the last of the golden weeks with. He ends up brushing up on his dancing skills, not that he needed to, he was a natural. His mother had made sure of that. Before he could walk, he could dance. Since toddlerhood he had studied every type there was, from the Fire Nation to the Water Tribes. He was well versed in traditional and contemporary forms. His technique was precise, he was fluid, a master of the countless skills each genre demanded. The head of the studio quickly figures this out and offers him a deal. He signs on as a student teacher, requiring him to be at the studio at least twice a week. In exchange he receives free lessons, and they’ll cover his private school tuition. His mother is overjoyed at the thought of sending him to “Avatar Roku High School” -the best in the city. She squeals in delight when he takes the offer. His summer was very quickly filled with rehearsals, costume fittings, lessons and performances.

He’d taught groups before but this is his first time teaching a private lesson. For the life of him he couldn’t remember her name. What did Asuka say it was ? It had an “r” in it somewhere. The girl is staring at her form in the mirror, warming up. He assesses her. She is a sleek little thing, like a cat strutting through an alleyway at night. Her skirt is red and has a slit making it easier to see her motion. Her tiny top matches it and reveals her abdomen. Judging by her curvy build and outfit she must be from Ember Island like him. She’s practicing her fa’arapu. Tui and La, she has the speed down. She’s nearly perfect. He can easily fix this.

He approaches her and introduces himself, he encourages her to continue warming up. After a while he comes up behind her. She stops, he places one hand on her stomach and the other on one of her delicate shoulders. “You’ve got the motion, muscle control and the flexibility. You're just stiff and your posture is bad. You're tucking in your spine like this” he says demonstrating. “ and you’re hunching your shoulders, like you’re trying to make yourself smaller” he explains as he gently adjusts her position. There, now she’s perfect. “Don’t do that, you’re a pretty girl. Have some confidence” he continued. He didn’t mean to say that last part out loud.

He looks up into the mirror, taking in her face for the first time. She really is a pretty girl. Her cheeks are flushed pink, she is biting her lip. It is a cute nervous habit, it makes her lips even redder.

He catches her gaze in the mirror. Her eyes are a soft color. A delicate green like the expensive jade bracelets all the heiresses of the Earth Kingdom wear. He loved the sound those bracelets made as they rattled against each other and jingled softly. He decided then that he liked her too.

#legend of korra #lin beifong #lightning bolt zolt #linzolt #ao3 #meet cute #dancing #francais #french language

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jazziejax · 2 years ago

Text

Tiana’s Theme

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

1940’s

The sound of children's laughter filled the air warm air. The faint sound of up-beat music and the smell of food cooking gave the atmosphere a familiar feeling. The Louisiana sun was beaming down on them, the heat near unbearable. A beautiful women walked out of the large green and white house. Her light brown skin illuminated under the harsh sun, making her glow. She stood on the porch, observing the group of kids that were playing by the lake not too far from the house. Some swung from tire swings that hung if the trees, some ran around playing a game of tag.

"Don't get too close to the water, kids!" She yelled to all of them, getting a chorus response from them all. She smiled at them, admiring their care free behavior. She turned to make her way back inside when the pitter patter of feet caught her attention. A group of girls emerged from the other side of the wrap around porch, out of breath. They looked to be around 7 to 10 in age and there was about eight of them. One girl held a jump rope in her hand, wrapped around her knuckles, indicating that their exhaustion was from said activity. Some of the little girls took a seat on the porch swing, trying to catch their breath, while some others remained standing.

"We're going to the bathroom, Ma." She told the woman, blowing out a breath of laughter. The woman smiled at her, reaching over to pat her hand lovingly. The little girl cheesed, basking in her mother's affection. "Well y'all gon' right ahead. I'm gonna go back to the back." She told them sweetly before heading to the house. The girls, standing and sitting, filed in after her, departing way once inside. "I'm using the one downstairs first!" A little girl yelled before running off.

Her statement caused the others to start running, all to different parts of the house. The little girl in the green dress stumbled. With everyone running every which way around her, she was thrown all over the place.

Once the chaos cleared, she stood there. The large home now stilled in silence besides the faint sound of music. She walked further into the home, coming to a stop at the end of the staircase that was in the middle of the home. She gulped as she followed each step with her eyes, coming to a stop at the top of them. Her vision was blocked by the stairs but she could see that the hall the stairs led to was dark.

She gulped before taking her first, planting left her white sandal onto the dark wood.

After that, it seemed as if the stairs elongated, the top moving further away from her. Now slightly shaking, the little girl laid her hand on the cold, wooden, banister to ease her her discomfort. And with slow steps, she made her way up the stairs, edging closer to the darkness that waited.

Arriving at the top, the music that grounded her got faint as she was consumed by the dark hall. She stayed near the edge of the first step, the light from the sun outside grazing her back as her front was covered in black.

She observed the hall, taking note of pictures frames the adorned the wall between doors, the way the walls expanded from the narrow path of the stairs, showcasing just how large this house really was. The old light that swayed above the the long rug that went down the middle of the hall.

During her eye-excursion, she caught the sight of a light switch on the wall to her left, dashing over to see it if it worked. Flipping the switch, a flickering, yellow light dimly shined down on the old carpet. Glad that there was some sort of light to illuminate the room, the little girl sighed, now on her way to the bathroom at the very end of the hall.

Walking, the little girl admired the picture and painting she could now see more clearly. Pictures of old black people she didn't know and black children she didn't know. She continued observing until she came to a stop at a picture on the left side of the hall. It was a picture of four kids and two adults. Standing in front of this house. Her observing was interrupted, however, at the sound of whispers coming from behind her. She turned looking around the hall but seeing no one. Not a single door was opened. She glanced over at the stairs to see no one, but she did take in the fact that the stairs were farther away than she liked.

Looking back to the painting, she stared harder, taking in every detail of every person there. The black baby girl, the little black boy clinging to the black woman's leg, who she could only assume was his mother. The older black girl around her age with her head resting on the man's arms. Every single last one of them with a smile plastered on their faces. But what made her stop to look at the picture longer was the man in the photo. He had his arm around the waist of the woman next to him with the babygirl in his arms.

But what made her really shocked was that the man was white. And that the woman he had his arm wrapped around looked like a younger version of her great-granny.

But before she could question herself further, the hanging light buzzed loudly as it continued to flicker. The little girls head snapped up to the light watching as it got brighter, indicating that it was about to blow.

She dashed down the hall towards the bathroom door, her heart banging in her in ears as the sound of the rushed whispers from earlier came back, this time louder than before.

Her feet thudded against the the old carpet that laid about the hard wood floor, matching the beat of her heart. The hall seemed to stretch, pushing the door back further as the whispers got louder. The hanging light began to swing, the glass bulb buzzing louder behind the little girl.

Running as fast as she could in her church shoes, she damn near sprinted until she hit her destination. Immediately shoving the door open and slamming it shut behind her. She put her back against the door, her chest moving up and down as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes were closed, head against the door as she awaited to be met the the same darkness when she opened her eyes. She braced herself, taking in a deep breath before opening her eyes.

Expecting to be meet with darkness, she was surprised to see that the small room was semi-lit from the sun outside. Said light was shining through a small window on the wall, in between the bathtub and the toilet. The girl gulped, basking in the pace the room brought. She could now hear the faint sound of music again, along with the laughter of her peers. She sighed as she leaned against the sink next to her, closing her eyes as she listened to the muffled music from the backyard, the upbeat music calming her heart.

Not wanting to dwell any longer, she at on the toilet to do her business. Sitting there, she took a look around the bathroom, softly humming the music. Her hums stopped however when she saw shadows moving from underneath the door. The girl wiped away a bead of sweat that rolled down her face before wiping herself.

She was quick.

Quick to stand up and wash her hands. Quick to splash water and her face.

But what she want quick to was placing her hand on the door knob. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself. And counting down from 10 to get ready to open the door.

And when she finally did, she ran without looking back. She could see the shadows under the doors that lined the halls. Some seeping out into the hall floor like ooze. The whispers from earlier came back even louder. Loud enough for her to decipher some.

"Run."

"Run, Tiana."

"Keep going."

"Don't let them stop you."

"Don't loop back."

"Run."

"Run, Tiana."

"Run."

Run. Run. Run. Run.

That's all the little girl could hear as the hipsters got louder and louder and the same buzzing light from before finally burst. She screamed at the sound, tears running gown her face as she made it to the stairs, stumbling down in a rush.

Her running didn't end there, she ran outside and around the house, still crying when she made it to her back yard. Her figure made the some of the adults turn their heads to her. But she didn't care. She was looking for one person and one person only.

"Tina?" The woman from earlier questioned as she took her white cat eye shades from her face. She didn't even have time to register what was going on before the little girl crashed into her arms, crying hysterically. She wrapped her arms around the little one, kneeling down to her level.

"Tina, tell me what's wrong?" The woman questioned. Tina continued to cry, laying her head on her mothers shoulder. The woman didn't question her again, just embracing her little girl into her arms.

"Quit entertaining her stupid behavior, Evelyn." A man yelled not too far away from them. His words were muffled by the cigar in his mouth as she sat around a table playing cards with his friends.

The woman, Evelyn, looked over at his with her baby still in her arms. "Now what if some kids were picking on her? Then what." She asked him sharply. Said man scoffed, looking at her over the shades he had on. "Maybe it'll teach her some good. I know I'm tired of her, that's for damn sure." He said, causing some of the men at the table with him to chuckle. Evelyn scoffed before standing back up with her daughter still clinging to her, now more calm than before. "Oh, shut the hell up, Franklin. Maybe an was whoopin would do you some good. Cause I know I'm sick and tired of your mouth, that's for damn sure." She yelled at him before walking off with Tiana around her hip.

The woman walked with the girl to the front of the house on the wrap around porch. Once they got to the front, she sat them down on the birch swing that over looked the lake. Evelyn had her arms around the girl as she laid her head on top of hers. She rubbed Tiana's arm with her thumb, soothing the hiccuping girl.

"Are you gonna tell me what wrong, Tina?" The woman asked her softly. "You know you can talk to me."

Tiana moved away from her mothers arms looking down at her hands. Evelyn watched her closely, reaching over to take her daughters hands into hers. "It's okay." She said softly

"Uh...when I was upstairs...I heard voices but no one was there." She told her. She looked up to her mother, a single tear slipping out of her eye. Her mother looked at her.

The little girl was expecting shock, anger, confusion, something other than what the woman gave her. Evelyn smiled. She gazed at Tiana with watery eyes but a smile on her face. Tiana stared at her mother confused as more tears poured out her eyes.

"Is there something wrong with me?" She asked, worriedly. Evelyn shook her head. "No, no honey. There is nothing wrong with you." She told her daughter, bringing the girl back into her arms. Evelyn laid her head on top of Tiana's, slightly rocking their hug. "But you cannot tell anyone of this. You can never speak of this again." She told her firmly.

Her words caused Tiana's heart to drop. Just when she thought she was gonna get answers, she was back to questioning herself and what happened more than before. But she didn't question it, she just nodded her head and continued to hold her mother.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

So, what do you guys think?... I’m not really a writer, I’m more of a reader and I definitely don’t write horror or whatever this is, so let me know if you you all have any suggestions or tips!

#atticus freeman #lovecraft country #jonathan majors

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poohbea · 2 years ago

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐭𝐨𝐨.

eren yeager | angst (because i want to see y’all suffer), fluff | aristocrat!au

PART ONE

wordcount: 5k

content: dramatic argument, depression (not in a clinical sense), miscommunication, momma comes to comfort you, very light suggestion of alcohol abuse, fluff all round

— synopsis: tired of eren's sour attitude you're finally about to get to the bottom of it

note from pooh: you see what i did with the title there? huh? did ya? hehehehe im so funny. but on a serious note, thank you all so much for all the love and praise SYLM 1 received, at the time of releasing this it’s almost hit 2k notes 🤯 unbelievable. so sorry i kept you all waiting for so long, life had other plans. additionally thank you to all those who responded to my poll and helped me create something that y'all would enjoy.

Hope you enjoy ♡ reblogs are greatly appreciated

The sound of water beating against itself came to a steady halt as Eren turned the faucet closed. Steam clouded the pristine white and cream tiled room, painting an almost heavenly scene under the warm light of the small crystal fixture.

You watched him through the mirror, his naked form glowing with a layer of perspiration that accumulated the longer he remained in the heated room. Your own reflection wasn’t much better, matted hair that refused to stay tame and purple marks that littered your skin in a random fashion. Faint traces of his hand prints still kissed your skin a rosy hue, others with speckles of violet.

He dips two fingers into the steaming bath, filled all the way with bubbles and essential oils just how you liked it. The aroma of lavender folding in the air with the steam as it rose. One that seemed to you before even stepping foot into the water.

With a satisfied hum he shakes the excess foam from his hands and looks to you in the mirror, still running a hand over the marks he’d left as a reminder. The ones he would continue to leave for as long as you let him. “C’mere.” He beckons you with an outstretched hand.

You approach him silently, one arm wrapped around yourself while the other accepts his touch. He pulls you into him, eyes soft but face unreadable as his arms slip around your waist, fingers splaying out on your lower back. “Warm enough for you?” He questions, mentioning the bath but his gaze still locked with yours.

You lean over slightly to feel for yourself, smiling at the heated water touching your fingertips. “Perfect.” His lips touch yours in a chaste and prolonged kiss that had his arms tightening around you, enough to force you onto your tiptoes.

“Go on then.” With your hand in his he guides you into the club footed tub, letting you sink into the frothy bubbles that blanketed the surface.

You miss the glint in his eyes as a soft moan escapes your lips, eyes closing with the onset of relaxation that overwhelmed your tired muscles and sticky skin. If not for his lingering touch you’d probably have fallen into it completely, submerging yourself whole. “Mm, how is it that you always know how to run my baths?”

He crouches and pecks a tender kiss on your knuckles. “Practice makes perfect.”

“In our situation I’m not sure that’s a good thing, ‘Ren.” You chuckle, leaning against the back of the bath, suds sticking you your hair.

He doesn’t respond, instead giving you that sad look he’s been harbouring the entire night. It was still beyond you what the real issue was. Why his actions and expression were so contradictory it made your head spin. In all honesty it was growing tiresome, this roller coaster he involuntarily put you on.

After a long and muted staring contest he finally speaks. “I’ll leave you too it then.” As he moves to stand and make his exit your hand tightens around his desperately.

“Wait, ‘Ren… stay.” You plead softly, anxiety panging in your chest as his back still faced you. What made you think he was going to accept? You weren’t a couple. He didn’t owe you his company.

“Why?” He responds plainly, looking at you over his shoulder.

You didn’t really have a good answer. Maybe it was a heat of the moment thing. But something inside you wanted him there. Needed him to stay with you. The thought of being left alone with your own subconscious after everything that just happened terrified you. Recalling the history of depressive episodes that had you overthinking time and time again in his absence. But you couldn’t tell him any of that.

“It’s late.” You produce the first thing that comes to mind. “And I’m sure this tub is big enough for two.” It was a lame excuse, you were very much aware of that fact, but you still had hope it was enough to convince him.

He puffs out a chuckle, turning to face you fully. “What are you trying to do, princess?”

“Just… stay. Please.” You whine, pouting your bottom lip playfully and batting your lashes.

When you watch his eyes roll and a faint smile upturn his lips you knew you’d won this battle. His foot breaches the bubbly veil as he sinks into the water slowly, making it rise before letting his long legs rest on either side of your hips. The tips of his hair dance in the cleared patches of placid water, floating gracefully on the surface as his eyes lock with yours. Brow raised in question.

“Happy now?” He rests his arms on the edges of the marble tub, leaning back into it with a sigh.

“Almost. Just…”

“Y/n…” The nervous tone in his voice was evident as you climbed into his lap, resting yourself against his chest. He eventually laid an arm over your lower back, giving up on trying to push you away anymore.

You remained like that for a long time, soaking up the aromatics and warmth of the steam emanating from your skin. Hair hanging over your respective shoulders, bodies sunk deep into the water, soaking away the trials and tribulations from the past few hours. It was proof you could be cordial with one another, relaxing quietly like this. As a glimmer of hope made itself visible, your thoughts began to spiral out of control, plaguing the peaceful atmosphere with doubt.

The events of the night replayed in your mind, overthinking the actions you witnessed. There was a pull inside you, inside your heart, one that demanded answers to the questions that refused to dissipate.

You watch him through your lashes as your head rested on your arms on the side of the tub. He sat there unmoving, bar the steady rise and fall of his chest. His face was relaxed, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape, cheeks flushed with the warmth enveloping his body.

As if sensing your stare, his brows furrow. “If you have something to say to me, spit it out.” He says nonchalantly, peeking down at you through a squinted eye.

It was now or never. “Why… do you hate me?” The question lingered in the air, his eyes opening fully to look at you with an expression that held offence.

“What?”

“You heard me, Eren.” Your gaze doesn’t waver as you answer but your rapidly beating heart was a dead give away.

“I don’t hat-“

“I thought you said you didn’t like lies, ‘Ren. Yet here you are spewing one.” His mouth sets in a hard line when you cut him off, jaw clenching tight when you proceed further to call him out.

“It’s not a lie.” He answers honestly with a dry laugh. “I don’t completely hate you.” The joke didn’t make you laugh.

“Oh, so you do hate me a little bit then.” You answered sarcastically, your tone drawing an eye roll from the man.

“It’s not as simple as that, y/n.” His wet fingers comb through the chestnut strands that fell around his face.

It was your turn to frown. “So then explain it to me, Eren. Because I’m tired of this,” you gesture between you both. “This back and forth, hot and cold bullshit. What is happening here? You act like you hate me in front of others, like being in my presence pains you. But in private you do things like this.”

He scoffs softly, head shaking in disbelief. “The pot calling the kettle black? What about you, huh?”

“What about me?“

“Don’t act like you don’t do that exact same thing to me. And also weren’t you the very same one who initiated this relationship?”

“If I recall correctly it was a mutual agreement, don’t you blame this all on me! It takes two to tango, Eren. You also kept coming back after the first time.”

“Mm and look where that’s gotten me?” You eyed him with confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

His lips pursed. “No. We’re not doing this.” He breaks your heated staring match by shifting his attention to the bathroom tile. That only pissed you off more.

“Why?! Why whenever I try to get you to communicate with me you just shut me out?!”

“Y/n… don’t.” As his eyes darkened you could see the anger threatening to burst from within. You didn’t care.

“No! I want an answer. Why do you hate me?”

His eyes close as he lets out an exasperated nasally sigh, trying to remain calm in the midst of your heated conversation. “I don’t. How many times do I have-“

“So then what is it, Eren?! What makes you go around spreading bullshit about me? Meddling with my suitors, ruining my chances for a relationship with them and god forbid my business relationships.” You watch his jaw clench tighter and tighter with each passing word, his expression brewing wrath. “What is your problem with me?!”

“It’s because I’m in love with you, y/n!” There it was, that explosion, the one that he’d been shielding you from since he first became aware of it all. He watched your expression change, anger melting into shock, then into confusion.

You move off of him, putting a breathable distance between you both. “You… you what?” So many feelings rushed over you it was beginning to make you dizzy. Love? How? Why? When could this have happened? You wracked your brain for any sort of answer. Any form of reason to all this.

He shys away from your scrutinising gaze, embarrassment and trepidation settling in the pit of his stomach. “…I love you.”

A small chuckle escapes you in disbelief. “W-why? You… I don’t understand. Are you joking with me again…?” As his gaze locks with yours your heart sinks at the tears pooling in those forest green eyes of his.

Before you could get another word out he’s stepping out of the bathtub, water trailing down his skin onto the pearl ceramic under his feet as he strides to wrap a towel around his waist.

“Eren!” You call after him, fumbling with your own towel that you haphazardly covered yourself in.

He was already in the bedroom, buckling the belt of his slacks he’d previously abandoned. “Eren stop! Hold on!” You begged finding purchase on his forearm that tensed under your touch.

His eyes search the floor before he picks up his shirt, freeing himself from your grasp as he moves to put it on. “Eren!” You plead, on the verge of tears. “Please wait, talk to me.”

He continues to dress himself, avoiding your gaze entirely. Tears fell feely down your cheeks, dripping down your jaw sporadically onto the surface of your chest.

As he makes his way to your door you rush to find a nightgown, tying it around yourself before making chase. He’s halfway down the hallway when you reach him, clutching to his arm for dear life.

“‘Ren!” He stops at the sound of his nickname leaving your lips. By this point you were a sobbing mess, breath tightening your throat with each intake, tears staining your skin. “‘’Ren please. Please don’t leave me like this.” He mimics the same stance as in the bathroom, turned away from you, refusing to meet your teary eyes. “You can’t do this to me! You can’t just say you love me and leave! It’s-it’s cruelty!”

“Cruel?” He ponders, voice hoarse. There was a long pause between his words, like he was contemplating what to say next. “You don’t feel the same way… do you?”

The question had you at a loss for words. You didn’t even know yourself. All of this was so sudden, you barely had time to actually think, to process his confession. Fuck, what we’re you supposed to say? If you said yes would it be the entire truth? If you said no it’d be a complete lie.

“I don’t know ’Ren. Fuck I don’t know! This is so sudden, I don’t know what to think.” He peers at you through his lashes over his shoulder and you finally see the streaks of tears glittering in the low light.

“You can’t be that dense y/n.” He spits. “That for so long, you never once realised any of it. You wanna know why I made those fucked up rumours? Because I see the way they look at you. Every man that comes through this house, every fucking suitor that comes to court you. None of them, not one is going to love you like I do.”

“‘Ren.”

“I’ve known you for practically all your life, I know you. From how you like your liquor to how you like your baths. Fuck, I know you better than you know yourself, princess.” The laugh he lets out is pained, struggling through hitched breaths and watery eyes. “And I hid all of that. Behind this facade of bitterness and petty insults. I hid it from you because I knew…”

“No, no, Eren please. I-I didn’t know.” He watches you fall to your knees, hands clutching his shirt he didn’t even bother to button up all the way.

You tear soaked skin, flushed pink. Lips a deep dusted shade of rose, eyes pleading, hair partially wet from the bath you’d left to chase him. The subtle scent of lavender lingered on your both, filtering through the corridor.

His heart was breaking, piece by piece the longer he stood in your presence. He didn’t know what came over him sharing that bathtub with you. All the accusations you’d thrown just pushed him further and further to the edge. His emotions got the better of him; they somehow ended up verbalised. Screaming at you, just so you would finally wake up and maybe he would too.

After suppressing them for so long, bottling them inside over and over again, the cap finally burst. And he couldn’t stop the truth from spilling out. He felt like an idiot. Seeing your reaction, your laughter and denial. It was like a punch to the gut. How could he have read you so wrong? Thought that you’d reciprocate his feelings after all the bullshit he put you through?

He only had himself to blame.

“I can’t do this with you anymore.” He pulls his arm from your grip, taking one last look at you before starting again down the hallway.

Your chest was so tight it was hard to breathe. Every inhale set your lungs aflame, pain searing into your chest repeatedly. It was never ending. You watched through blurry vision as his dark figure disappeared from sight, leaving you on the carpeted floor, sobbing and alone.

“Y/n!” Your mother calls for the second time behind your bedroom door, a light knock echoing from the thick wood.

You laid beneath the covers, gazing into the darkness you’d enveloped yourself in for who knows how long. Hiding yourself away seemed like the most logical option, you didn’t need to give anyone more fuel to feed the raging fire that was your emotional state. The dread and guilt weighing on your chest just refused to go away, even after all the tears and self isolation. The image of Eren’s face haunted you, his words even more so.

The creak of hinges sounds and her soft footsteps follow before there’s a weight near your foot. “Baby.” She calls softly, placing a hand on your covered shoulder. You continue to stare into the abyss, eyes closed, trying your damnedest not to let your feelings surface. “Y/n, speak to me sweetheart, what happened? You’ve been up here for four days.”

“He loves me, momma.” You groan, the emotional dam beginning to crack at just the mention of the topic.

She pulls the duvet back to uncover your head, a soft smile on her lips as she takes in your puffy eyes and dishevelled hair. “Who, baby?” The look in her eyes told you she already knew who the person in question was, but you weren’t going to argue with her.

“Eren.” You peaked at her through your hair, frowning at the smile she was trying to stifle with the back of her hand. “It’s not funny!” She snorts slightly at your outburst, not bothering to hide it anymore.

“It’s a little funny.” A quiet gasp leaves her when you pull the blanket back over your head, fed up. “Oh, come on y/n.” Her hands tug at the sheets and so do yours, but her’s proved to be stronger. She tucks herself into your side, laying an arm over your waist which causes you to snuggle into her instinctively. With a forgiving sigh she places a kiss to your temple that was buried in her chest, fingers playing with your hair absentmindedly. “Tell me what happened.”

“S’nothing, Ma.” You lie, another crack forming in your calm facade.

“I saw the poor boy running out the door half in tears. And here you are hiding away from the world for the last four days. I’m pretty sure it’s not nothing, y/n?” Her gaze weighs on you like a tonne of bricks, scrutinising but valid.

Her words resonate within your mind, imagining a distressed Eren pushing through a crowd of people, eyes curiously watching the eligible bachelor hold back tears as he excused himself for the night.

Boy did that scene sound familiar.

“He told me he loved me…” The admission was met with silence, one that told you to continue. “And I… I thought he was messing around, like he usually does. Trying to get a reaction out of me. You know Eren, he never takes anything seriously. But you should’ve seen his face, mom… I broke his heart.”

Your mother hums in thought, nails tracing lazy tracks into your scalp gently. “And how do you feel?”

“I don’t know how to feel about it. I never really thought it’d actually happen given everything he’s been doing. Pushing me away, the rumours, the teasing.”

“Mm and the whole friends with benefits thing.” She adds casually, finally making you come out of hiding.

“Wait, you knew?”

“I’m your mother, y/n, of course I knew. You think I wouldn’t notice you two disappearing in the middle of the night, over and over again? I wasn’t born yesterday.” Her thumb traces your cheekbone as she spoke, still tender and understanding.

“Mmm,” She laughs as your face dives back into her chest bashfully, groaning loudly as you did so. “Don’t even get me started about that.”

“Well, what did you think was going to happen, baby?”

The sigh you exhale makes your face heat up. “I don’t know, Ma. I thought that with the mutual disdain it could work. That that’d be enough to hold off the emotions that came with it.”

“And what emotions are those?” She shifts your face so you meet her gaze.

You stared at her for a long time, searching yourself for the answer to the question that’s been eating you up for so long. Truth be told you did feel something for Eren. At one point it was so strong it scared you enough to hide it away, afraid that he might not feel the same. That fear was only solidified by the growing dislike you’d developed overtime as he proved you right, but unbeknownst to you he was doing the same thing.

Bottling up everything and projecting it in the form of ridicule and pettiness. But physically he showed you his intentions, behind closed doors and between silken bedsheets. That was the real Eren, always taking care of you, making sure you were warm and cleaned up. Running you a bath almost every night when you were together. The kisses, the smiles, the sadness that lingered in those emerald irises. He was silently telling you how he really felt.

But was what you were feeling really love? The safety you experienced laying in his arms for the first time. Listening to the lullaby of his heart as you drifted off into sleep at the end of every weary and sex-filled night. He was familiar, comfortable, and addictive. No one could rile you up like he did. Make you so utterly frustrated like he did. Knew you inside and out like he did. You didn’t know what pissed you off more, realising that he was right or the fact that you’d been blind for so long.

“Let me ask you something, y/n.” Your mothers voice interrupts your thoughts. “Do you think you’re ready to admit what you feel? To take that next step with him?”

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly. “Not right now, anyway.”

“And that’s okay, baby. You don’t always have to reciprocate someone else’s feelings right away.” Her compassionate nature emanated from her in a glow that made you warm inside. Easing your nerves just that little bit more.

“But I do have feelings for him, mom. All of this is just happening too fast.”

“Well did you tell him that?” She questions with a raised brow.

You shake your head, embarrassment settling in your chest. “I didn’t get a chance to. After I asked him if it was a joke he stormed out on me.”

Her sigh wafts the strands of hair laid on your forehead. “You kids and your inability to communicate…” You couldn’t help but laugh, remembering all the lectures she and your father would give you about communication growing up. “You know you’re going to have to talk to him sooner or later.”

“I know..I’m just scared.”

She pulls you closer, letting her warmth envelop you. “We’re heading over there tonight for dinner, maybe you can have the conversation then.”

The silent agreement was made as soon as you stepped foot over the threshold of the Yeager residence not only a few hours later. Greeted warmly by Carla and Grisha before being ushered inside their home.

The scent of disinfectant and citrus floated through the grandiose hallways and sitting rooms, an aroma you’ve long since associated with the Yeager household considering their medicinal ties. The place was spotless as per usual, but homely nonetheless in it’s neutral shades of cream and white.

They guide you into one of their many sitting rooms, a teapot already brewing on the marble coffee table. “So how have you all been, we missed you at the ball, y/n.” Grisha asks, taking his place beside his wife on the loveseat across from your own.

Your parents glanced at you knowingly on either side, the attention making you gulp. “Oh, I had to retire a bit early, too much champagne I’m afraid.” You chuckled coyly, fiddling with your fingers as you spoke.

They both laugh, Carla reaching for the teapot to offer you some tea. “Mm, we know how much you enjoy your liquor, sweetheart.” She frowns, looking to the staircase in thought. “Speaking of… Eren’s been drinking a lot more lately. Would you have any idea why? He hasn’t been talking to us much lately.”

You mother sips her tea with a curious side eye, your father entering a separate corporate conversation with Grisha. Swallowing your own tea you place the cup back onto the saucer on the table with a shaky hand. “No, I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t aware he’d even been drinking as of late.”

Carla lets out a heavy sigh, fingers playing with her hair. “Would you be able to speak with him? Grisha and I have tried everything, but he’s shut us out. You’re his closest friend, maybe he’ll listen to you.”

The awkward smile that graced your lips went over her head as she gave you a hopeful look. You just couldn’t say no to her, she was like your second mother after all. “Sure. Where is he?”

“Oh, thank you sweetheart.” Her whole demeanour changes with your answer, becoming brighter, more cheery. “I’m sure he’s up in his room at this time, he came home just before you got here.”

Finishing the rest of your tea you excuse yourself and make your way to the staircase, stopping as you hear the hearty chuckle of the couples in the room adjacent. Upstairs was dim, save for the lights littered irregularly through the long corridor, those being your only savour when you threatened to bump into a table or one of Grisha’s many display cases full of trophies and certificates.

Running around this place for most of your life, you knew exactly where to go, soon finding Eren’s bedroom door looming over you in an intimidatingly protective nature, sealing the man inside. You let your knuckles tap against the wood softly, ear raised to hear no reply. Hearing the same upon doing it again.

“Eren.” You call, hand on the door knob. “I’m coming in.” As you crack the door open you notice the room empty. The only indication of life being the tossed about bedsheet and the light that shone beneath the door frame of his bathroom door. Shadow danced in the space at foot of the door, soon opening to reveal his half naked frame.

He dries his hair with a smaller towel roughly as he strides out, stopping as his gaze settles on you in the doorway. “Well, look who it is.” He smiles mockingly before continuing into the room. “Come to fuck up my mood even more have you?”

You watch as he tossed the hand towel and flops onto the ruffled sheets, damp hair scattering around his head like a broken halo. “Your mom wanted me to come talk to you.”

“My mother?” He chimes with a sarcastic undertone. “And here I was hoping you’d come of your own free will.” His gaze fixed to the ceiling as he spoke, towel dangerously low around his waist. You were fully aware he was drunk, it was evident in the way his words half blurred into each other as he mumbled them out.

“Eren-”

“Don’t fucking say my name.” He snaps. “Hearing it come from you… it just makes it worse.”

“Can we talk, please?” For the first time since he left you he meets your gaze, a bored expression painted on his features as he gives you a once over.

“What is there to talk about, y/n?”

You shut the door behind you, starting on your approach to his bed. “About the night of the ball.”

A huff leaves his chest as you sit beside him, careful not to touch him. “You made yourself quite clear.”

“That’s not fair, ‘Ren.” Hearing his nickname made his jaw tense. “You never even gave me a chance to talk.”

“Okay.” He paused for a moment to shift himself to face you, brow raised expectantly. “So talk. What more could you possibly have to say to me?”

A deep breath stutters from between your lips as you muster the courage to finally speak, to finally unlock the chains you’ve had so tightly wrapped around your heart. “I like you, Eren. As much as you piss me off and make life difficult, you somehow always still find a way to make everything better.” He listens to you ramble silently, green eyes boring intensely into yours. “When you told me you loved me that night… I didn’t know how to respond because for so long we’ve had such a weird and complicated relationship. I mean, can you blame me for reacting the way I did?”

You were right. After all the pettiness he subjected you to it was no wonder you were hesitant, it still didn’t make the rejection any less hard though. In all honesty if it weren’t for the alcohol drowning out the pain he’d been in for the last four days he’d probably have told you to get out of his sight. But a deeper part of him wanted to hear your side, to listen, most of all to understand. It was only fair after all.

“I guess not.” He mumbles aloud, the sound bringing a hint of a smile to your lips. “So what are you trying to say?”

“I like you, Eren. Maybe even love you. But I need you to be patient with me.”

His head nods slowly in agreement. “Okay, I can do that.” There was hope and that was all he really ever wanted to hear. To know that there was some kind of chance, an inkling that you’d like him back. Your words somehow managed to lift a lifetime’s worth of weight off his chest, one that seemed to be burdening you as well.

He chuckles as you flop beside him with a soft groan, your scent melding with his own in close proximity. “Why did we go through all this bullshit?” You question, feigning exasperation.

“Because feelings are scary.” His heart swells at the sound of your bubbly laugh, your contagious smile upturning his own lips.

“You can say that again.”

“I’m sorry.” He adds. “For everything. I’m an asshole for putting you through all that. All because I tried to hide my feelings for you. I just ended up projecting my insecurities onto you.”

“Wow, the great Eren Yeager apologising? Is hell freezing over?” You squeal as he playfully smacks your thigh, shifting to tickle your side.

“I’m trying to pour my heart out here and you're taking it as a joke? Huh, am I a joke to you?” He grits teasingly through his teeth, not letting up at your waist. Your hands clawed at his own, trying desperately to pry them away from your sides.

“Okay, okay!” You cry.

He watches you writhe beneath him in amusement. “Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’m sorry! You’re not a joke!” You manage between breaths, stuck in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. “Eren, stop my tummy hurts!”

Per your request his hands cease, slowly trailing their way up your arm before settling on your cheek. His gaze locks with yours for a prolonged period of time. “I’m serious, y/n. I don’t know how you can ever forgive me.”

"I forgive you, 'Ren." You draw him in by his hair, lacing it between your fingers as your lips brushed against his. “But I do know a few ways you can make it up to me.”

tags: @getosarea, @gardenof-venusenus, @sintiva, @sailewhoremoon

additionally thank you to @satorhime for helping me get through my overthinking rut, talking with you literally eased my stress. thank you for keeping me company at 1 am lmao

565 notes · View notes

apocalypticgargoyle · 4 years ago

Note

okay okay could i request some nsfw with professor!techno giving a little extra praise to one of his students and asking to see them after class (presumably a bad grade of sort, but thats most certainty not the case). I love your writing by the way !! could i be <3 anon?? thank you so muchhh !!!! :DD

˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ welcome <3 anon ˚⸙͎۪۫⋆

im going fucking feral for this idea, thank you for gifting it to me. i- my mind went to dark academia!techno and i lost it. if y'all know me irl, you don't after this. also this techno fanart by EtecteraArt, if you don't have clear skin yet.

𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒. ⚚ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫!𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐨

pairing: professor!technoblade x fm!reader

± warnings: nsfw (minors dni), pure filth, professor/student, slight degradation, domination, minimal dialogue

It started out as shameless flirting for you. You’d wear the most revealing thing your closet held, crossing your legs and leaning over to pick up a pencil just so you could show him the curvature of your body. You’d tie your hair up or pull it away from your neck when you answered one of his questions, basking in the slight smirk painting his face as his eyes surveyed your movements. You chewed on the ends of your pens and wore a shade of lipstick you knew would draw in his attention. You were positive your fellow lecture members cast their eyes downward at you, believing he was giving you special treatment just because you toyed with him.

You made sure to show him you knew what you were talking about and actively studying his assignments and works published by him. You were, in a word, hopelessly obsessed with Techno. This obsession led to his appraisal in class when you could fully grasp a more advanced concept he had posed. You didn’t even care about the other girls’ glared burning into your shoulder from behind you as he favored you over them.

One day in particular, you came to class a bit earlier with a coffee for him in your hand. You stopped before entering, pressing your back against the outside wall beside the door as you heard a feminine voice cooing to him. You smugly enjoyed the tone of his voice as he countered their attempts to hit on him with a grace only a man like him could muster. He thanked the woman for coming in and told her that his office hours were open if she needed actual help on an assignment. You swiped your thumb across your bottom lip before smearing the hue of your lipstick against the white plastic lid of the coffee cup. It was barely noticeable, something only he would take note of.

The woman exited the room, brushing your shoulder as she went past you. The two of you shared a look that could equate to two territorial wolves in a dispute. The only leverage you had was that he never shot you down, in fact, you noticed he usually enjoyed your under-the-collar comments. As you turned into the room, you noticed him lean back in his chair, running his fingers into his short pink hair and shutting his eyes slightly with a sigh.

You chewed the corner of your cheek as you approached the lecture desk, his eyes prying open with a small smile as he spotted you. “Good morning, Professor,” you hummed, setting the coffee in front of him. He sent you a hint of a grateful look as students began to file into the room. You turned on your heel and walked to find your seat, swaying your hips slightly, only because you knew he was staring after you.

As you settled in, you watched Techno bring the cup towards his mouth before his eyes darted to the edge of the lid. With the ghost of a smirk swirling into his expression, he looked up to make direct eye contact with you before pressing his lips to the spot and drinking from the cup. Your breath hitched, heat pulsing through your body at the slight gesture from him. You studied him as he swallowed, letting his tongue dart out to wet his lips as if he were further savoring the mild taste of you from the lid; something an outsider wouldn’t have noticed.

You clenched your thighs together as you thought about his rejection of other girl’s advances while now he was practically eye-fucking you from across the lecture hall.

That lecture had been an hour and a half of agony. Your tongue wettened as he twisted a pen in his hand absent-mindedly as he lectured on Eros, his eyes surveying your reactions as he’d quietly roll the pen in his fingers. You weren’t sure how he could have such an effect on you without even touching you. You knew the other girls were squirming in their seats as he sat on the edge of his desk, leaning his elbows on his knees as he answered questions towards the end.

All you wanted to do was get out of the lecture hall and do what you always did after his class: shower in cold water and plan your next phase of attack.

Techno had other plans.

He called out your name at the end of class, meeting your eyes as he instructed you to meet him for office hours. You hear someone whine next to you, nearly making you laugh as you agreed.

And that’s how you found yourself, pulling the door shut to his office behind you. He dug into a folder on his desk, setting a copy of your latest essay in front of him. Your eyes raked down his arms as he pulled his gold-rimmed glasses on top of his head and leaned over his desk, muscle tightening against the rolled sleeves of his shirt. “Come take a look at this,” he stated. Your eyes darted to the red pen marks, his handwriting only scripting praise on the first page. You knew you aced that essay before you’d even turned it into him.

You smirked to yourself, dropping your bag beside one of his client chairs and mimicking his stance, planting your hands in the space between his. The size of him dwarfed you, making your mind race vulgarly. This was always how it was, you invading his personal space and him teasing you to go further. “What am I looking at, Professor?” You quizzed sheepishly, feigning innocence.

You leaned your weight on one of your hands, the fingers of the other tracing closer to his large hand. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you just barely close enough to him that you could feel his breath. Your cheeks flushed, goosebumps spreading over your body. “You think I can’t see what you’re doing?” He needled, voice dropping an octave to send heat straight to your core.

You gulped, practically tasting him he was so close to you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor. But I could learn,” you avowed; your words barely above a whisper. For a moment, you truly believed he would kiss you, his breath cascading over your face with sweet hints of mint and the coffee you’d bought him.

His lips barely brushed against yours before he pulled away, sending fire to burn in your chest and your knees to turn to jelly. He stood back, his eyes dancing with a mocking ego, knowing he had you on a leash. He lowered into his seat, pressing his back against the leather of his chair, fingers tugging at his collar to undo a few buttons as he looked at your shocked and submissive frame. He chuckled darkly as he eyed you. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. You’re just a child,” he teased.

You had half a mind to dig into your bag and sign over your ID to prove you were the opposite of his beratement. Instead, you let your breathing shallow, slowly walking around his desk. He tilted his head at you, watching you intently as you placed your hand on the back of his chair, and pushing him away from his desk. As you lowered to your knees, you allowed that hand to travel the length of his body. As your knees settled against the cold linoleum in front of him, you raked your nails down his thighs, making him chuckle softly, a sardonic expression flickering across his face.

You sharpened your eye contact, your fingers nearly hooking around his belt loops. “Teach me then, Professor. Use me,” you practically begged, making Techno smirk, his hand moving to rest in the crook of your neck while the other supported his head.

His fingers felt coarse against your skin, the feeling of him finally touching you nearly was enough to send you over the edge. You turned your head, pressing your lips to the inside of his wrist. “So needy. Like a lost puppy vying for my attention,” he mocked, gaze dancing from your lips to your eyes. “What would your boyfriend think of you like this? On your knees in front of a grown man.” His voice dripped with lust and restraint, yet he was completely calm and utterly in control.

His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, almost mimicking your gesture from earlier as if he’d pictured your actions with his coffee lid. “I don’t have a boyfriend, Professor. And if I did, I doubt he would taste as good as you,” you muttered, silently signing over your soul to him.

You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he debated what to do with you first. He pressed his thumb into your mouth, flattening your tongue with his finger pad. Your lips instantly closed around him, looking up at him with doe eyes. “Stop talking, pet,” he grumbled, the rest of his fingers angling your face closer to him and he leaned towards you. “If you’re going to beg like a toy, I’ll treat you like a toy,” he promised, making your heart flutter.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth, only to wrap his hands around your throat, bringing your lips against his roughly. You moaned at the taste of him, wanting to swim against his tongue and give him your dying breath. He groaned into your mouth, kneading your bottom lip with his teeth.

Techno tugged you to your feet, wrapping his hands around your thighs before pushing you on top of his desk. His hand slipped into your shirt, palming your breast while his other gripped at the flesh of your ass, pulling you closer to him as he ground his hips against yours. You tugged your hands through his soft hair, tugging slightly and savoring the moans he poured into your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to alleviate whatever distance there was between the two of you.

Your fingers moved to skim down his toned body, unzipping his pants and palming his cock outside of his boxers. His lips moved to dig his teeth into your shoulder, muffling his groans of praise as he ground against your hand. You panted at the loss of his lips on yours, digging your nose into the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply as he moaned your name. You were convinced you were trapped in one of your many daydreams involving him, but with each nip of his teeth sending a flush of pleasure to your core, you were reminded that he was in fact, about to ruin you.

Techno pulled you off the desk, spinning you in his hold and bending you over the hardwood. You bit back a smirk as you heard him undo the rest of his zipper and discard his belt behind you. The anticipation of him made your knees shake as your hot breath drew clouds of moisture on his desk. His fingers pushed your skirt further up your hips, blunt nails dragging along the skin of your legs before gripping your hips. You felt him grind himself against your entrance, your mind already blurring with pleasure. He kicked your feet further apart. “God, I've wanted to do this for so long," he nearly growled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade before pushing himself into you.

You moan, your body adjusting around his length, begging him for more. His hands gripped your hips, driving himself deeper into you, beginning an animalistic pace. You groaned out his name, one of his hands holding tightly onto your side to give himself more leverage. Your mind blurred, mouth hanging open slightly as your cheek was pressed firmly against the wood of his desk.

Each of his thrusts sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your veins, as his deep, breathy moans hissed into your ear like a sinful symphony. His hand moved to thread his fingers through yours, giving you some kind of anchor as his large frame wreaked havoc on your body. You whimpered out moans of arousal with each of his movements.

His teeth grazed against your neck again, dragging himself deeper into you. You picked your head up, reaching out one of your hands to grip the edge of the desk, hearing him chuckle behind you. His hand snaked around you to wrap around your neck, bringing you up a bit further as he pressed his lips to one of your flushed cheeks, probably basking in the beads of sweat dotting your hairline from his campaign.

"Mark me," you begged. "I'm yours," you moaned, rolling your hips back against him. The satisfied moan that slithered from his lips sent goosebumps spreading against your skin.

He dug his teeth into you, finger tightening around your neck and you knew the brushes he left would be enough of a sultry reminder to keep you wet for a week.

He pulled you upward, pulling out of you only to put you back on his desk, pushing himself into you as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His lips melded against yours again, stealing your muttering of his name and replacing it with his hungry moans.

You ground your hips into him, wrapping around him again as his lips moved to your neck, breath cold against the cold spots from his teeth previously and the thin sheen of sweat coating your skin. With the new angle and his hands digging into your back, your legs were beginning to shake, the tension he'd been binding was becoming too much to hold off.

His hand tightened around your throat as if encouraging you to finish. He pulled your irritated lips towards him again, wanting to taste you as you went over the edge.

After that day, you stopped dressing so provocatively. You could wear a turtleneck and padded jeans and you knew he'd still be looking. He knew what you looked like under those clothes: marked up from his teeth, quivering only for him. No longer was there shameless flirting, only glances that told you to wait for him after class.

He was always hungry for you; whether it be in his car in a vacant lot, in his office to test his chair's range of movement, or in the bathroom of some random club you probably didn't have the qualifications to get into without him. It didn't matter, because he knew that you were his.

You liked watching the other girls throw themselves at him like you had, mainly because he'd always praise you later with your lips around his cock. You were his favorite, his star student. In his eyes, you didn't hold a candle to the rest of them.

#<3 anon #i am in love w him #technoblade x reader #techno x you #techno x reader #techno x y/n #techno smut #technoblade smut #college au #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #mcyt smut #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #professor!techno

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melancholymetropolis · 3 years ago

Text

Dumb Bitch Itis

Pairings: Athlete!Nanami Kento x PlusSize!Reader

Summary: Olympics AU After her shirt gets painted with scalding, hot coffee, Y/N proceeds to wash her shirt in Olympic Volleyball player Nanami Kento's hotel room.

Warnings: This is only SMUT. There's a dash of fluff, but that's really it. It basically jumps right into. Kinda unedited.

A/N: I missed y'all!!!! On god! You guys are so freaking supportive and patient. I love you guys so freaking much! It's been a pretty rough summer, so writing has been my only peace out of everything. I am grateful for all 703 of my followers!!!!!! If you want to commission me, click here!

My birthday is coming up, so if you could show ya girl some love, I'd appreciate it.

Word Count: 4500

The coffee cup collapsed against my chest before its hot liquid erupted from the broken seal. Like magma, the beverage seeped through my clothes and was probably hot enough to melt it right off. I pushed away from the smaller gentleman and released a disgusting sling of curses. Hoping that with each profanity I yelled the pain would lessen.

It didn’t.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t see you—” He stumbled forward causing more coffee to fall on the floor just at my feet.

“It’s fine!” I said through gritted teeth. “Just let me move out of your way.”

I turned on my heel and started speed walking down the hall. More curses fell from my lips as my white tennis shoes started to squeak against the tiled floor. The heat from the coffee made the leather feel like a furnace and the longer I walked the more I wanted to throw them at that intern’s fucking head. I moved the gift basket to my other hand and reached into my back pocket for the door key. I narrowed my eyes at the descending numbers, constantly repeating 2297 in my head as I walked along the corridor. The door arrived on my right and didn’t hesitate to slide the bit of plastic in the slot. The door automatically opened and I practically leaped into the room. I kicked my shoes off at the door and ran to the kitchen.

I placed the massive gift basket on the circle table in the center of the room and strutted toward the sink. I turned on the water and proceeded to ring out the sopping coffee patch from the front of my shirt. The brown liquid swirling in the silver bowl as it danced down the drain. After about a minute of leaning over the sink, a dull ache started to intensify in my back and I quickly repositioned myself. I practically tore the garment from my body and threw it in the sink. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed.

I was seconds away from losing it. This day had been nothing short of a nightmare. The coach wouldn’t stop pestering me about the players’ performance at the games. The press had been hounding me all day, trying to distinguish what hotel room which payer was staying in. A bunch of groupies was waving signs in the lobby and screaming for Gojo to greet them. Then, the icing on the cake got scalded by coffee on the way to my last errand of the day. All I wanted was to take a hot shower and put my feet up. Was that too much to ask?

The slam from the heavy metal door snapped me from my mind and forced me to face the newcomer. Nanami Kento. The middle blocker of Japan’s Olympic volleyball team. He was dressed in a pair of Adidas joggers and a plain white t-shirt. Although the outfit had been relatively mundane, he looked absolutely phenomenal in it. His broad chest stretched the comfortable cotton and was practically painted on it. Yet, the shirt hung very loosely near his waist. Highlighting how narrow it had been. His hair had been combed back and sunglasses were resting atop his head. His brown eyes inched up and down my body. Almost as if he were determining if I had been truly there. In his hotel room. In the kitchen area. With my shirt off.

“Hi!” I said nervously. “I was just dropping off your goodie basket.”

Nanami looks down at the massive gift on the round table and back at me. He doesn’t say a word.

“I just—” I turn around and look down at the sink. I gather my soaking garment from the bin and ring it out. “Some guy ran into me with four cups of scalding hot coffee and practically painted me with them. It just happened, before I got here, I mean.” I turned around to face the athlete, who was a few steps closer to me. His eyes still gracing my figure and presence are so intimidating. “I’m sorry for intruding, I’ll just go—”

“You don’t have to apologize for something that wasn’t in your control,” his voice was low and powerful. It filled the room with ease and demanded to be heard.

“Oh, okay,” I stammered over my words. His intense gaze had been going to my head and making everything around me so fuzzy.

His body was a mere foot from mine a moment later and I could feel a blush rise to my cheeks. “There’s a laundry room down the hall. You can use the shower while I put your shirt in the wash. If that’s what you want?”

“Y-Yeah! But, I don’t have anything to wear in the meantime,” I replied, digging my nails into my palms.

“You can borrow some of my clothes,” he reassured me.

I brought my eyes down to his chest and allowed them to graze over his body. Then, I looked down at my vessel. My plump thighs, a chubby tummy, and ample breasts immediately come to mind. “Uh… do you think they’re gonna fit?”

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said, turning away from me. “I’m sure I’ll find you something.”

Upon opening the bathroom door, I found a neat, little pile of clothes on the floor. I craned my neck and looked on either side of the room: I was alone. Nanami must’ve been in the laundry room. I quickly grabbed the little mountain and closed the door. I lifted the first garment to my body. It was a Nike sweatshirt. I slipped it over my body and was relatively surprised to see that it fell just above my knees. It was enormous. And, so soft. I brought the sleeve to my face and gently brushed it against my cheek. His woodsy cologne filled my nose and I allowed my eyes to flutter shut. Even after two years of working with the Volleyball team, Nanami’s warm aroma still made me weak at the knees. He always smelled so fucking good. Like a warm fire and maple syrup. He smelled of Autumn nights in the woods and wondrous dreams. Even when he was a sweaty mess on the court, he kept his scent. As much as I tried to ignore him, or keep my distance, I always managed to get close enough to smell him.

Underneath the sweatshirt had been a pair of cotton gym shorts. The tag had still been on them. Just as I slid them against my legs, I could feel the waistband tightening: they were far too small. I folded the shorts and placed them on the toilet seat. As I looked on the bathroom floor, I realized something. I hadn’t only given Nanami my shirt and pants. I gave him everything. My shirt, pants, bra, underwear, and even my socks. I had nothing else to wear but this damned sweatshirt.

“Oh fuck,” I said as I palmed my face. I groaned loudly and tightly gripped the sleeves of the sweatshirt. “Talk about dumb bitch itis.”

After a few seconds of silent complaining, I gathered the shorts and exited the bathroom. Just as Nanami was entering the kitchen area. He looked down at me with a questioned glint in his eye.

“Did they not fit?” He asked abruptly.

“No, they didn’t,” I said with a disappointed look. “My ass is too fat.”

Why the fuck did I say that?

A blush erupts on my face seconds later and I immediately press a hand to my face. “Ignore my stupidity. Please.”

A smooth chuckle filled the room and a large hand was placed on my shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said with an amused twang in his voice. “I find your little remarks funny.”

I removed the hand from my face and looked into his mahogany eyes. His pupils were expanded the longer I gazed into. Just as his lips gently separated. I had never seen the older man so realized. He almost had a youthful glow about him.

Why are you so fucking attractive?

I cleared my throat and handed him the shorts. “Thank you. For everything.”

“No worries,” Nanami responded as he retrieved the garment.

I took a seat at the small round table, where the gift basket rested. I eyed the imported meats and jams from all around the world. Along with two bottles of wine and chocolate-covered strawberries. My stomach growled, despite all my efforts to contain the wounded whale noise. I nervously looked up at Nanami and he just gave me a little smirk. He turned over to the cabinet and removed a few items. Two small plates, wine glasses, and a knife. He placed the cutlery on the table, before turning away again to reach for something on the other side of the counter. To my surprise, it was a baguette, stored in a white paper bag. Nanami took the seat across from me and began opening the basket.

“I must admit, I was a little bit hungry myself,” he said gently. “But, I just didn’t want to say anything.”

“Oh really?” I questioned leaning forward.

“These events always go on for so long,” he continued. “It is so hard to find the time to get a bite in without the camera watching your every move.”

“You’re not wrong,” I agreed with a nod.

Nanami removed the large plastic covering from the basket before tossing it to the side. He eyes all the goodies before slightly groaning. “They gave me chocolate-covered strawberries.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Not really,” he replied. “I just don’t particularly like them, that’s all.”

“How could you not like chocolate-covered strawberries!?” I asked in complete disbelief.

“It’s either the coating is too sweet, or the strawberry is too ripe,” Nanami explained. “So, it just takes like a puddle of mush in my mouth. It’s not a great feeling.”

“I see your point,” I nodded.

He slid the clear box across the table and simply said, “Try them and tell me how they taste.”

I popped the lid off of the container and took the fruit by the stem. I opened my mouth slightly and took a bite. My eyes widened instantly, as a moan fell from my lips. The strawberry was perfectly ripe, so it had a nice snap to it. While the chocolate was a rich, dark kind and it perfectly tempered the sweetness from the fruit. I finished off the berry with a satisfied grin on my face, before reaching for another one.

“So. . . ?” Nanami asked from across the table.

“These are so good!” I said with a smile. “You gotta try them!”

“Hmm. . . I don’t know—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” I interjected as I rose from my seat. I leaned across the table and held out the berry that I had in my hand. “Now, open up .”

“Aren’t you bossy?” Nanami smiled to himself, before separating his lips and taking the fruit into his mouth. His brown eyes never left mine as he took a small bite of the treat. He chewed slowly. Savoring the decadent flavor and texture. He opened his mouth some more, taking another bite. This time it was a little bit bigger than the last. Again, Nanami took his time to savor the dessert. Keeping his eyes glued to my flushed face. I was so sucked into his aura that I completely disregarded the streams of strawberry juice painting my fingers. When I went to wipe it off, Nanami simply gripped my wrist and gave a disapproved look.

“Come here,” his voice deepened and Adam’s apple bobbed.

I moved around the small round table, taking my sweet time as I went. And, when I was directly in front of him, I could feel my heart pound in my chest. Nanami removed the green bit from my fingertips, before opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue. He dragged the pink muscle across the surface of my hand slowly. Sensually. Never taking his eyes off of me.

Air seemed to leave my lungs as I watched his tongue do all the work. My mind slowly started to fog and my legs weakened. Everything happened so quickly. One second, Nanami was seated before me at the table and the next I was seated on the countertop with his waist between my legs. His lips were on mine. Taking my very breath away. Nanami moaned against my mouth before taking my bottom lip between his teeth. I widened my legs, greedily wanting him to be close to me. My entire body was hot, and my womanhood was dripping. I felt one of his hands creep into the small separating our bodies and settle on my naked thigh. His thumb seductively teased my vulva before going straight for my clit. My legs twitched at the new stimulation and a moan oozed from my mouth.

“You’re so wet for me, little one,” he said against my lips.

“Mhm!” I replied with a low moan.

Nanami pulled away from the kiss and looked down at me. Eyes nearly black with lust. “Do you want me to make you feel good, darling?”

“Please, Nanami,” I slurred as I felt his thumb move a little faster on my bud. “Please make me feel good.”

“Kento,” he said as he kissed down my jaw to my neck. “You call me Kento from now on.”

“Okay,” I replied breathlessly. My eyes fluttered closed and I craned my neck to the side. Just enough for him to suckle against the sensitive skin. “Kento, please make me feel good.”

“Good girl, Y/N,” he replied before removing his hand from between my thighs.

Nanami proceeds to kiss down my clothed torso before settling on his knees. He moves my pelvis to the very edge of the counter before he spreads my lower lips and kisses my throbbing clit. “Look at you. So pink. So pretty.” He runs his tongue against the throbbing bud and a moan falls from my lips. “And so sensitive.” Nanami forces my legs open wider, before spitting on my already wet cunt. He drags his wide tongue against my folds slowly, tasting all of my slick before dipping it into my awaiting center.

My legs twitch again and a squeal dances across my lips. “Oh fuck!”

“Oh, so you like that, huh?” His brown eyes gaze up at me, observing my every move. “You like it when I fuck you with my tongue?”

I nodded shyly. “Yes, please don’t stop.”

Nanami dipped his head back to my core and used his thumbs to thread my folds apart. He dipped his tongue in and out of the slick crevice sensually. He swallowed the muscle around as he did so. After a minute or two of the action, his hot mouth made it back to my clit. His lips wrapped around the throbbing bud, as his tongue wiggled all over it. Nanami hadn’t been the type of man to give a woman cute, little kitten licks and call that oral sex. He wanted me to feel every centimeter of his tongue. Not just the tip, but the top, both sides, and the bottom. The blonde man swirled the muscle against my clit, making sure to cover to caress every side of the little bud. And when he had been tired of that motion, he hollowed his cheeks and began to move his head side to side. Just when I thought I could take any more stimulation, he proceeds to push his thumb in my core.

Animalist sounds had been pouring from my body as I hand tightly gripped the roots of his hair. The other hand was pressed flat against the counter, providing support for my back. I started to roll my hips against his lips and I swore fireworks were erupting my eyelids. My clenched jaw began to relax as I felt the tension within me rise. I was so close to reaching my peak, I didn’t want that moment to end. I licked my lips and dropped my shoulders. I took deep breaths to calm the incoming wave of pleasure. To lessen the blow, I eased my eyes open and released the grip on Nanami’s hair. The effort didn’t last very long, since Nanami began to bob his head up and down. Whilst sucking my clit. My toes curled against themselves and my legs tense. My right hand gripped the collar of the sweatshirt and dug my nails into the cloth. My breathing increased and my eyes started to water. My stomach hallowed as the throbbing of my womanhood increased.

“I’m gonna—! I’m gonna—!” My sentence was cut off by gasps.

I desperately found it increasingly hard to breathe, let alone string three words together.

And, just like that, all the feeling in my body stopped. The vibrant sounds all around me— the slight hum of the air conditioning, the slight chattering of the people passing by, and the soft groans of Nanami— muffled. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and my mouth fell open. A low groan erupted from the depths of my being as the orgasm formed. In the heat of the moment, all I could process was how skilled Nanami’s mouth was against my aching cunt. I couldn’t process the vibrating phone on the kitchen table. Nor could I have taken in the rivers of fluid dripping my hole.

When the wave came to a gentle end, Nanami rose from his knees and looked me in the eye. He brought his thumb to his lips and sucked. The blonde man smirked and situated himself in between my thighs.

“Who would’ve thought you were a creamer?” He said with a low chuckle. “And such a good girl.” He captured my lips against his own and moaned. “You taste so good, little one. I want to keep you all to myself.” His hands slide underneath the sweatshirt, scrunching the material along the way. Seconds later, the garment was tossed across the room and I was sitting stark naked on the granite countertop. Facing a fully clothed Nanami. “Now, before we go any further, I’m gonna ask you something really important.”

“What is it?” I replied, looking up at the towering man.

Nanami placed an index finger underneath my chin before pressing a sweet kiss onto my lips. He pulled away from the embrace and looked me dead in the eye. “Are you comfortable with continuing our little rendezvous?”

“Y-yes! I’m comfortable,” I answered, as a blush rose to my cheeks.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” He pressed on, leaning closer to me. “I don’t mind stopping if you just aren’t feeling up to it.”

I took a deep breath and assembled all the courage in my being. What was about to say next had been completely out of pocket, but I couldn’t think of any other way to get my point across. “Kento, stop being such a fucking gentleman and take me from behind.”

Without a word, Nanami rids himself of his shirt and unbuckles his belt. He shoves his pants down his legs and kicks them off. He pulls my body off the counter and twirls me around. In the near distance, I hear the familiar crackle of a condom wrapper and the slamming of the bathroom cabinet. With my chest pressed against the surface, he sank into me. His hard shaft stretched my walls as he pushed himself inside.

“Oooh, you’re so big,” I said with a gasp.

“And you’re so tight,” he replied before combing my braids to one shoulder. “Tell me when you’re ready, darling.”

I relaxed my back and took several deep breaths. He had been the biggest man I had ever been with. His heavy cock had already been resting neatly against the roof of my vagina and I already knew that I was a goner. I wiggled my hips to alert the blond man of my comfortability, somewhat afraid that if I speak that I’d sound even more desperate. He eased out of my core, leaving just the tip in, before pushing himself right back at it. No with brute force, but with some kind of resistance. He continued those deep, slow strokes for a little while. Making sure I had warmed up to him long enough for his main assault. When I started to throw my ass back to meet his thrusts, Nanami began to move his hips faster. Hammering his member into me without any warning. Pleasure rippled through my body. His girthy cock had been stretching my canal in every possible way. Gravity had made it fall right on of my g-spot, which made each thrust insanely brutal. I felt his arm wrap around my waist and hold me in position, while the other hand rubbed soft circles on my clit. With my hands flat on the counter, I pushed my body up and arched my back. My breasts bounced violently with each thrust, and so did my ass. My plush body practically became a puddle against his rock-hard muscles.

The longer he pounded into my fat cunt, the more I was astonished by this union. How the fuck did I end up bent over a kitchen counter, and fucked into oblivion by one of Japan’s sweethearts? Some horny, middle-writer must’ve taken the wheel because this kind of thing has never happened to me before. Sure, I hooked up with hot guys all the time, but this was different. Nanami Kento was a man that millions of women would bend backward for. He had options, including other Olympians. Motherfucker could be in one of the orgy parties happening at this very moment. Yet, the older man decided to spend a Friday afternoon railing his coach’s assistant.

What a time to be alive.

Nanami kept his rapid, deep pace well into the rendezvous. But, after a short while, he removed the hand from my aching little and placed it on my throat. A grateful moan fell from my lips as my eyes fluttered closed.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He growled in my ear. “You little my hand around your press throat?”

“Yes,” I replied, breathless.

He groaned softly and squeezed his fingers. “You are such a good girl. Taking my cock with no complaints. Moaning my name like no tomorrow. Milking me for everything I’m worth.”

Nanami’s hand collided with my thigh and I squealed.

“You have no idea how long I waited to fuck that juicy cunt of yours,” he continued. “You were always so sexy to me. Showing your legs in those short tennis skirts. God, I just wanted to drag you to the locker room and fuck you right then and there. Have you screaming for everyone to hear.” Nanami grunts loudly and tightens his grip around my waist. “You are mine now. Mind, body, and soul. No one and I mean no one gets to fuck you like this ever again. You don’t get to scream anyone else’s name but mine. Do you understand me, Y/N? You are mine.”

I pressed my palms harder against the countertop and tried to slow down my breathing. My arousal had been dripping down my thighs in milky streams and my ass had been a bright red because of the harsh slaps he had given it. My knees were slowly turning into jelly as my walls began to pulsate. The peak of my bliss had been rapidly approaching and I had no way of dumbing down its intensity. I relaxed my jaw and allowed my eyes to close. The gentle humming of the orgasm approached and I rode the wave. My knees wobbled against the lower cabinets as deep, throaty pants were pulled from my body. I hunched my back forward and pressed my palms against the countertop. Aching for some sort of stability. Goosebumps rose on my arms and legs. All the sounds in the room melted away and left me with a dull ringing in my ear. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt tears roll down my cheeks.

“Oh my god. . .” I slurred underneath my breath as the peak of my ride subsided.

Nanami’s lips released a string of sensual moans before I felt his cock twitch within me. He forces out a deep breath and presses his body against my back. The older man pulls out of my slick entrance and begins kissing my shoulders. He gently spins me around to face him and plants a wet kiss on my swollen lips. He doesn’t say a word, just looks at me with half-shut eyes and combs the braids from my eyes.

It was my vibrating phone that snapped me back to reality. I quickly pulled away from the athlete and reached for the device on the round table a few feet away.

“Hello?” I said breathlessly.

“Where the hell is Nanami?” Coach Yaga screamed on the other line of the phone. “We started practice over thirty minutes ago and his ass isn’t even here!”

“I-I haven’t seen him, sir,” I replied. “I just dropped off his basket and left. He wasn’t in the room when I was there.”

“I understand it’s your night off, but I need you to find that asshole pronto,” he snarled. “I’ll give you the entire weekend if you just bring him to the gym.”

“O-okay! Will do,” I said with a nod.

“Good, call me back when you find him.”

I hung up the phone and looked over at the athlete; who had remained as naked as I left him. Yet, he was no longer soft.

“You better get in the shower,” I boasted with narrow eyes. “I will not be out of a job because you missed practice.”

“Let me remind you, little one,” Nanami said as he closed the distance between us. “You are the reason why I am late. So, the only person you can blame is yourself.”

“I didn’t ask you to fuck me— “

“Actually, you did—”

“I will beat your ass!”

“I’d like to see you try.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked up at him. “If you don’t hurry up and get to the gym, this will be the final time you’ll ever see me naked.”

Nanami’s hands gripped my waist tightly as he pressed his body against mine. “You make a tough bargain. But, I’m gonna need a little more convincing.”

“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “I guess I’m gonna take Gojo up on his offer.”

“What offer?”

“He wanted to go on a mochi date tonight. Maybe have some ramen. Depends on how the night goes.”

“You better not be teasing me Y/N.”

“I’m not. He’s super into me and I kinda want to give him a shot. What do I have to lose?”

“Millions of brain cells.”

“Be nice.”

“I don’t have to. He’s a fucking idiot.”

I laugh loudly and pull away from the skyscraper of a man. “Well, I find it charming. At least he cares about volleyball. Unlike someone, I know.”

Nanami groans softly and departs in the direction of the bathroom. “Fine, but you better be joining me. Can’t meet the coach all sweaty and sticky.”

“Only if you keep your hands to yourself.”

“No promises.”

348 notes · View notes

timextoxhajima · 3 years ago

Text

Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [3]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, smut *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: i genuinely don't fucking know i think it's at least 4k WHY THE FUCK IS IT GETTING LONG ERJSJSJSJDNAKD

taglist: @from-xero @taeyongandfree @ten-gift @louvyves @sweetutopia @yyyereum @jung-breadshop @sunwoowuvbot @mashedpotittiess

protip: links of BGM are linked~

{this is a work of fiction}

eric swipes his thumb across his bottom lip and drags his index finger over the tip of his nose, tongue still sucking on his teeth as if it hadn't already been a day.

he was sitting on the other side of the tutorial room and you just so happened sat in a spot where he was the first person in your view when you looked up.

stupid hexagonal tables.

the moisture in your mouth suddenly evaporates, leaving your tongue dry like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth.

the lustful blanket over his eyes threaten to rip your mentality apart, and even without him touching you, the heat in your abdomen starts to clench and throb.

the thought crosses your mind, just so you can convince yourself: if eric can associate himself with sex within your primal instincts then the brain that got you here can associate him with a big, fucking, red flag.

you suck in a deep breath and hold it for awhile, eyes plastered to the ipad under your palms. crossing your legs tightly, your jeans hug your hips and waist all too perfectly.

yujeong had smacked one of her baseball friends earlier that day for staring at your legs.

after the likes of wooseok's party and the incident yesterday, you made it an effort not to show up in dresses or skirts anymore. call it ptsd, call it trauma, call it not wanting to get into trouble.

whatever it was, you didn't want eric anywhere near you.

well, despite how good he mad-

"can you stop eye-fucking him from across the room?" yujeong harshly whispers at you, glaring at you from the corner of her eyes.

"what?" throwing your tied-up hair to your other shoulder, you tilt your face to her.

"what do you mean 'what'?" yujeong hisses, nodding to the boy across the room. "y'all are fucking in your heads!"

"yes, broadcast it to the entire class, would you, please?" the sarcasm drips off your tongue with a frown.

"I'm just saying if you want him so bad then just go get a room. fucks' sake, go find a practice room or something."

"i think I'll go with 'or something'."

and in that second, your iPad lights up with a notification from the school email account.

yujeong parts her lips with a retort, but you quickly shush her by pressing a finger to your lips when the professor seemed to glance over at the two of you.

she inhales a deep breath, spotting the notification pop up on her laptop screen too.

to: all students

from: the college union

title: dance union winter getaway

dear students,

every year, more than 200 students apply for the dance union but only 20 are accepted. thus, it is of high regard that the members of the dance union utilise the annual winter getaway to bond.

this year's event will be held at lake white. all students in the dance union with leadership positions are expected to be present and those with valid reasons of absence are required to fill up the form attached to this email.

if you're interested in joining the dance union, please apply in the first week of the new academic year. applications open first week of the semester.

regards,

the student union

staring wide-eyed at the email with your apple pencil trembling in your fingers, you gulp.

fuck.

yujeong's lowly snicker sounds from next to you, and you look to her, only to watch a bright smile stretch across her face.

"what?" she snorts, tears in her eyes. "don't look at me. look at your captain."

your neck snaps to the boy across the room, who's got his phone lifted with the screen displaying the email page. he waves it around a little, raising a brow with a menacing shimmer flashing across his eyes.

your blood begins to boil without reason.

why were you suddenly stuck to him? it's like the planets and stars aligned just so he glue himself to you; so he could ruin your title and rip you apart, inch by inch.

your fists clench around the apple pencil, and you're only snapped out of your inner rage when the professor calls on you.

yujeong leans into the lockers with her books against her chest, mindlessly scrolling through her phone as you go on incessantly about the student union's decision to make it mandatory.

you swing the locker door so hard that it bounces off its limit and nearly comes back down onto your hands, but you stop it before it does.

"how does the fucking winter getaway improve our bonds?" you hurl a textbook into the locker. "it's not like we're gonna sit in a circle and sing hallelujah, right?"

"you went for that getaway last year-"

"yeah, and we did nothing besides getting shitfaced! fuck this stupid winter getaway."

"sis, say that any louder and your 'innocent heartbreaker' image is gonna change into something more like 'brutal heartbreaker'."

"don't fucking call me that," you hurl another book into your locker. "and why does everybody talk like that nowadays? 'say that any louder'? where was that from? a movie? a tiktok?"

"why are you so on edge?" yujeong pushes herself off the metal doors and frowns. "you've been on edge ever since wooseok's party."

"i am always on edge."

"what?" yujeong pulls her lips up into a slight wince as her eyes half into squints. "bullshit. what happened to your little 'innocent heartbr-"

"don't," you lift a finger, shutting your eyes and stopping her. "say another word."

yujeong raises both her brows, smirk plastered to her face as she readjusts her bag. "don't worry."

you look up at her, placing the last item in your locker.

"i don't have to."

"what?"

"so," then that godforsaken voice rings from behind you, and all your physical senses start to shut down one by one.

yujeong sees right past it, smirk turning into something less devious as she puffs her cheeks.

"about the winter getaway."

"i'll leave the two of you at it."

"what? no-"

"bye!"

"yujeong-"

she turns and strides off, short hair lathered around her neck. she waves with a bright grin, leaving you to back face the vicious heartbreaker.

you remain rooted to the ground, locker door wide open and bag slung around your right shoulder. eric waits until yujeong disappears down the hall, leaving a few other students within the vicinity to turn and stare at the two infamous dance captains.

eric walks to your side, reaching out and resting his palm on the outer edge of your locker.

"we're in open space," he smiles, gradually pushing the locker door inwards and closing it for you. then he rests his palm against the metal door, sandwiching you again. "there's not much i can do to you."

a few students turn to stare.

"unless you want me to."

"stop it."

"stop what?" he smirks and buckles his arms, forcing you to lay your back flat against the metal surface. "I'm not doing anything."

"then what are you doing now?" you frown and look up at him, knuckles whitening around your bag straps.

"having a conversation."

someone fishes a phone out, and the flashlight flickers.

eric whirls around, keeping his arm anchored to the locker.

"stand down, kid."

"sorry," he fumbles with the phone, and now you'll never know if he actually took a picture.

"anyway-"

"look, i don't know what kind of game you're playing but this isn't healthy for us if we are supposed to work together. especially with the winter getaway coming up."

eric licks his lips and lowers his head, smiling at the sudden cast of professionalism.

"it flatters me that you don't care too much about having fucked outside of wooseok's garage-"

"eric-"

"nor getting fucked out in the practice room-"

"eric-"

"or even the fact that you tied up your hair today-"

"i tie up my hair whenever i fucking want to."

"ooh," eric winces at the snap, his pearly whites glimmering under the lighting. "the 'innocent heartbreaker' is angry!"

"will you shut the fuck up?"

"aw," he coos, leaning into you and breathing down your philtrum. "make me."

your fists finally clench, jaws locked and temples tightened.

"I'll rip off your dick if you touch me again. now, back off."

you press your palms flat into his chest and shove him away, breaking him into light chuckles as he stumbles back.

you pull your bag back onto your shoulder, turning sharply and stomping off.

"hey! we still need to meet up to discuss the plans for lake white!"

the scent of half-painted canvases with acrylic paint washes through your nose when you enter your room.

it's definitely bigger than what a normal room should look like, but it's not your fault that both your parents work under Lee Enterprises, the country's telemarketing company.

the studio corner of your room is in a mess, and you're just halfway done painting the edges of your mirror.

which for specific reasons, you can't really look at it anymore.

the peculiar object you chose to decorate the glass surface hang idly on the corner of the frame, reflecting the afternoon sun spilling into the room.

eric son: so when do we discuss the plans for lake white?

eric son: i don't like to procrastinate

"'discuss the plans for lake white'," mumbling under your breath, you dump your bag into the corner of your room, huffing and resting your hands on your hips. "he's the damn captain, isn't he? he can do it on his own."

notification: acrylic paint to be delivered today

your phone automatically links up with the bluetooth speaker in the room, and you mindlessly tap on the shuffle button before pulling off your shoes.

eric son: okay so I'm thinking groups of four

you pull off your jacket and let the ends of your ponytail brush across your back where the camisole doesn't cover, cool air rushing across the hairs on your skin.

eric son: we can play truth or dare

the bass rumbles through the flooring as you pull off your jeans, throwing on one of those open-holed shorts that no one was ever going to see you in - not even yujeong.

the doorbell rings, yanking you out of your mental rage session over eric son.

acrylic paint.

picking up a cardigan and tying it around your waist, you jog down the stairs and pull open the door without hesitation.

She's just that type of girl

"what. in the world. are you doing here?"

eric tilts his head to the side, his eyes running the length of your body - all the way down to your feet and back up.

"you weren't replying my texts so i thought-" then he raises both hands from his sides, taking a step back and gesturing to your front porch like he owned it. "what better way to have your presence than to go to you?"

"how do you know where i live?" a frown befalls your brows, and your grip tightens on the door handle.

"it's in the school records for student leaders," he offers you a smug shrug, taking a step back to where he was previously standing.

your lips part in an attempt to challenge his explanation, but then he waves it off with a cheeky snicker. "I'm joking. yujeong told me."

"now, why the fuck would she give you my address?"

"hey, captain to captain! plus she knows i won't hurt you."

a scoff runs off your tongue. "you want me to believe that you won't hurt me?"

eric's tongue darts across his lips as he leans on the door frame. "not in your house. oh, i wouldn't dare, princess."

with a huff, you blink away the eye contact first, taking a step back and tugging on the door. "don't fucking call me that."

but his hand flies out and thuds against the wood, keeping the door open. he slowly steps forward, letting himself in.

"then what should i call you?"

"names exist," you step back and grip onto the empty arms of your cardigan around your waist. he closes the door, pulling the chain to lock it.

"then do you prefer y/n or 'innocent heartbreaker'?"

you squint at him, cocking your face at an angle as you back up again.

the answer settles in your head, but you can't say it out loud.

because he's already debunked it.

She's just that type of girl

"fun playlist," eric nods up the stairs, arm stretching out to you and snaking around your waist.

"don't fucking touch me-"

then his other hand circles you as well, his arms around you as he holds you to him, lowering his face into yours. an arching back tries to keep his face off yours, but any more and your spine would've snapped into two.

his nose presses into your cheek as he slots his lips between yours, and the world goes into a muffled silence for a few seconds.

or maybe that was just your playlist moving on.

your nails dig the inside of your clenched palm, fists against his chest as he pulls you up to deepen the kiss, lips moving with yours in some intricate dance of dominance.

on beat with the distant bass coming from your room.

he lets out the first groan, his hands gradually sliding down your back and groping the flesh of your rear that's poking out from under your shorts.

the harsh grip squeezes a whimper out from you, your entire body cringing forward into him and closing the gap between you. with one palm still holding onto your ass, the other comes back up in between your shoulder blades, keeping your chest plastered to his.

eric turns you around, holding you against the wall that leads up to the stairs. your back is flat against the surface, hair stuck to the felt of the wall with your thigh being pulled up over his pelvis.

We should just calm down and fuck some time

then he pulls away and huffs, lips hung wide open and his eyes completely lost in yours. in a low growl, subtly shakes his head as if to disapprove your disobedience against the song lyrics.

"oh, we fucking should."

eric doesn't bother waiting for a response before dipping his nose into your jaw, lips latching onto the tender skin of your neck.

"you coming here-" a jolt of bliss rushes through you when he finds a tender spot, his arms tightening around your waist to keep you close and against the wall. "-was not an invitation-"

the cologne on his clothes starts to intoxicate you like alcohol does to any normal person, the scent of his hair and his clothes wafting and shuffling all around you.

"but you don't hate me being here, do you, princess?" he mumbles into your skin, nipping at the spot behind your lobe. your eyes flutter shut, fists clenching against his shoulder blades.

"come on," he whispers. "we've done it outside and in a practice room, surely you must feel more comfortable in your own bed?"

your eyes widen upon the suggestion, the thought of that cursed object hanging over the corner of your mirror in the room suddenly pulling your soul back into your body.

"no, we can't."

eric pulls away from you, lips reddened from the nipping. they are apart, and his breathing slows as he studies your face.

the panic in your eyes is far too grave for him to miss.

"why not?"

gulp.

"you don't happen to-"

"it's not a vibrator."

eric raises his brows, caging you between his arms as he corners you further, chest on yours and his lips right above your lashes.

"perhaps a-"

"it's not a dildo either."

he pouts in slight disappointment when he can hear the stark honesty in your voice.

his chest rises and lowers under his shirt, listening to your breathing that hitches in your throat every now and then; observing your discipline to keep your eyes away from him.

"you're not gonna tell me what it is?"

glaring at him through the corner of your eye, you shake your head with a resounding 'no'.

he pauses.

then he leans into your ear.

"you being scared is just making me a little more curious, princess."

"curiosity kills the cat."

eric pulls away and slides his arms off the wall. "cats have 9 lives."

the number of sirens that go off in your head spikes, and before you can process his words, he grabs your arm and pulls you onto his shoulder.

"oh my god!" his arm wraps around your lower back, knees against his chest and the world from your eyes upside down as he hoists you up the stairs. "put me down, jesus christ!"

"the more you yell, the more you're gonna regret it, princess," he warns while chuckling to himself. "what could it be, if it's not a dildo or a vibrator?"

then the warmth of his palm reaches up to your shorts, and his fingers dig under the cloth of your underwear.

"fuck, eric-"

all too easily, he pushes a finger into you, your entire body cringing from the sudden intrusion. your eyes blur out just as he makes it to the second floor, and he doesn't need to ask which door he should be heading to.

not when your door has a framed portrait of yourself from last year's concert.

the door creaks open when he pushes the two of you into your room, greeting the sunlight drawn across the floor and his finger still buried inside you.

you heave a sigh when he pulls his finger out and shoves it into his mouth, leaning over your bed to rest you into the cushion.

automatically, his eyes are on high alert, scanning your room. but by the time you've regained your senses and the blood's returned to the rest of your body from your head, he finds it.

resting on the back of your forearms, your breath turns shakey and your eyes twitching from the sight of it dangling off his fingers.

eric turns to look at the mirror, turning the item in his fingers to match the painting of it on the edges.

"so," he returns to you, raising a cocky brow and smirking. "you get high off painting handcuffs on your mirror?"

you tightly shut your eyes as the frown cements into your forehead.

"fuck."

eric scoffs, tongue dragging across his upper lip as he walks towards you and lifts a knee to your bed, the other following.

"this really makes me question how you even got your reputation," eric jingles it from his fingers, his free hand reaching down to draw circles on your right ankle.

"it's just acrylic paint. i paint something new every month-"

"and so your choice for november was... handcuffs?" he wraps his hot fingers around your ankle and yanks you downwards, your crotch nearly meeting his knees.

"it's not my fault you decided to play this game the month i decided to get something remotely inappropriate."

"'remotely inappropriate'," eric repeats, smiling as he lowers himself. the handcuff still within his right hand, his left draws trails up your right leg, playing with the rim of your shorts where they were already riled up enough to expose a bit of your underwear. "so, tell me princess. why did you choose this-"

he holds it up and jingles it over your nose. "to paint?"

"surely it's not because it's pretty."

"or maybe you think it'll look pretty around your wrists?"

eric reaches for your hands and you struggle upon instinct, he pins your dominant hand down first and clips the first cuff around your wrist.

"eric-"

he finds your free hand and connects both your wrists, clipping the other cuff despite your struggling.

eric sucks a deep breath, then parts his lips to exhale. pushing himself off you, he pulls your shorts off first, eyes trailing across every inch of your body with your wrists cuffed together.

the thoughts wash through you involuntarily.

the wooden planks. the dress. the torn underwear.

the mirror. the fogging. the skirt.

the tears collect in the corners of your eyes even before he can completely get it off your ankles.

then he pulls your legs apart for him to lock them in place with his own thighs, crouching over your body like a lion devouring his prey.

he pushes your arms up and above your head, making it difficult for you to bring them back down with your wrists bound together.

his breath is hot on your chest where he first dips his nose into, tongue swiping across the skin of your heaving ribs. hands coming up your waist and pushing them up your torso, it exposes your ribcage and bra.

inch by inch, he breaths down the length of your torso, from your chest and over to your stomach with your camisole rolled up messily over your bra.

upon reaching the rim of your underwear (and heaving stomach as you pant and huff in a bid to calm your nerves), he stops and looks up at you.

"thank god you rejected wooseok."

then both his hands come down to your chest to rip apart your camisole, pulling it out from under you before he unbuckles your bra.

you swallow the first whimper already on the tip of your tongue, but your stomach plunges and your back arches violently when he takes the tip of your breast between his lips.

left hand coming round to grip your other, his right travels down to play with your sensitivity, forcing your body into subtle jolts with the overwhelming sensation.

he tugs on your tip, grazing it between his teeth before releasing it and latching his lips onto the tender flesh in a bid to make his mark.

your brows finally furrow into a frown of bliss, jaw hung agape though struggling to contain the lewd noises prancing about in the back of your throat.

he rolls the other tip between his index finger and thumb, sucking and kissing the reddening flesh of your chest.

and down below, he's pushed your underwear aside, thumb abusing your sensitivity and buckling your hips upwards.

he provides you one sharp bite on your tip, earning a strained hiss from between your teeth. it feeds his pride, for he removes himself off you completely and stares down at you, admiring the painting he's made on your chest.

hickeys.

grip marks.

and the wet patch on your underwear between your legs.

he turns and shifts off the bed, leaving you to catch your breath and cross your legs over one another.

the clacking about in your studio corner drives the tears into your eyes, listening to the lid of the box where you keep your paint come off.

you shut your eyes, resigning to fate.

for your body is in burning need and the discipline to go against his word has betrayed you.

you hear his belt come undone, the weight of his clothes hitting the carpeted ground before the mattress around your legs sink again.

"oh... princess~" he sings, coaxing you out of your mental begging that this was just a nightmare.

a corner drags across your stomach, and your eyes fly open to see his fingers wrapped around a bottle of acrylic paint, completely oblivious to him pulling your underwear off your legs.

black.

the only color that was still relatively abundant.

then the sight of his nudity drives you up a wall inside your head; better yet, driving your resignation up against your own skull.

the lines of his pelvic bone leading down to his manhood all for your eyes to feast on, and even if you wanted to look away, you couldn't.

fuck.

"listen to me very carefully, princess..." he shakes the bottle, then proceeds to unscrew the cap. "I'm sure you don't want any of these on your bed, right?"

chills run through your body when he tilts the bottle over, squeezing the paint onto his palms.

"so," he blinks back to you, eyes wide and cautious. "my advice?"

and with that, he carefully caps the bottle, effortlessly tossing it over his shoulder and back into the box.

he presses his palms together, spreading the paint across his skin.

"don't move too much."

with a wide grin, he smudges the paint into your thighs and up your stomach, sliding the paint all the way to your breasts where he offers a harsh grip.

he doesn't give you a chance to respond to that before he slides himself into you, your neediness allowing him entrance far too easily.

by now, your body was somewhat conditioned to recognise his size, but the idea of him buried deep inside you and his groaning coating the room makes you a little more feral; a little more insane.

the whimper that runs off your tongue is mercilessly lapped up by him when he leans over to kiss you, tongue shoved into your mouth in a bid to shut you up.

he rolls his hips back and forth, unwilling to stop and definitely unwilling to give you any kind of mercy when it comes to making you lose your grip on reality.

he pulls away and resumes an upright position, abs flexed and his palms still gripping onto your chest like his life depended on it.

but eric seems to be a little on edge himself, for this was his first time seeing all of you under him, instead of your humility covered by a dress or a skirt and worrying about being caught in school.

no.

now, he can feast his eyes on you like the predator he is.

not only does he decide to leave his own marks, but marks that you gave him access to.

his handprints are black on your skin and the entire bed is jerking along with every thrust he's offering you.

you finally let out a strained cry, tears collecting in your eyes with the bliss rushing through you over and over again like a broken record. eric's breath turns shaky, and his grip on you begins to loosen when his thighs start to convulse.

by some miracle, the last thrust hits your climax and he pulls out almost immediately after to coat the paint on your stomach with himself.

cream on black.

eric huffs arrogantly, taking deep breaths to retain his breathing as he releases you, stepping back to take in the sight of you in your own bed, ruined by him.

"you definitely look pretty in cuffs."

#nevertheless: wishful thinking #eric smut #the boyz smut #tbz smut #eric sohn smut #eric scenarios #eric imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #eric x reader #eric sohn x reader #the boyz x reader #this was too filthy

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erensproudsimp · 4 years ago

Text

Celestial

Armin Arlert x reader

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Content Warnings: sort of public sex?, Cunnilingus, vanilla sex, masturbation, a lil bit of fluff too

Summary: A date with Armin at his family owned theater, Armin makes you feel like the luckiest girl alive. *cough*y'all bang too*cough*

word count:3.4k

Also, fanart is by atosaido on insta.

Gazing at the sunset at the horizon spreading its rich hues of red blended with orange, purple and cimsons into the grateful sky when you heard your phone chime. The name on the notification itself was enough to pull the corners of your mouth into a smile. Gently you placed the book that you were reading on the table to grab your phone and unlocked it to see the message. It was from your boyfriend, Armin. Your heart swelled reading the contents. Armin requested you to get ready for a date that he was coming to fetch you in like an hour, however he didn't mention where he'd be taking you. Not giving yourself a chance to try to assume the location, you looked at the time. It was currently six in the afternoon, plenty of time to dress up until seven.

Clothes thrown all over your room, scavenging the closet you were having trouble settling on an aesthetic for your outfit. Since Armin was the type of person to take you to places that could be either cosy or extravagant or both, you made up your mind to a dark academia getup. A brown checkered mini skirt complimented with a beige sweater seemed to be quite perfect for the date. Your hair straightener was heating up while you were doing a light make up. Ten minutes later you were ready. It was almost seven as you went outside to wait for Armin's car to pull up to your apartment.

A fresh chilly wind brushed against your face pickling your nostrils but it brought you out of your daydreams to your senses as you felt alive and connected to reality. You rubbed your nose for warmth with your sleeve when right at that moment a white BMW. You swore your heart leaped in your chest upon seeing him. Like a happy puppy running to its owner, that's how Armin saw you when you were running in your boots to him. Throwing your arms around his neck, you jumped for a hug. Armin being quite well-built was able to handle your weight as he lifted you up to spin you around.

"Ahaha y/n I'm so glad to see you," Armin's voice muffled against your hair.

"Me too Armin, me too," you replied pulling back to make eye contact with him.

You had no idea how Armin liked you saying his name, especially when you were screaming it.

"Let's get in the car shall we? It's getting a little chilly," Armin said opening your door to let you in. You gave him a light smile for his chivalry. Closing it after you sat, he went to take his place in the driver's seat.

"So, are you going to tell me where you're taking me?" you asked him.

"Hmmm, nope," Armin answered bopping your nose with his index finger, "I'm keeping as a surprise till we reach it, besides I think you'd probably guess it with the route we're taking."

"Well then, let's see if I guess it right. Let's go!" you excitedly shouted.

Analysing the passing buildings and blocks, a light bulb went off in your head.

"Wait, are we going to your family owned theater?" crossing your fingers you questioned.

"Heh, you've got a good memory," Armin smiled over to you one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your thigh rubbing small circles.

Shrieking in happiness, you couldn't help it as that theater was nothing but a comfort place for you. Pressing the button to pull down the transparent glass, you let the cold wind hit your face making your hair fly, a smile stretching your mouth aware that this was going to be a good night well spent. Across the seat, Armin admired you for a while before pulling into the parking. How he wished he could keep looking at you forever. You were like drugs to him, no matter how much he consumed of your presence or just you in general, he's never satisfied.

Before you could get out, Armin came to your door to open it, extending his hand. Taking it, he pulled you closer to him, faces millimeters away. Smiling against his mouth but you didn't kiss him. Instead, you placed your finger between your lips, "Quite a gentleman, aren't you?"

"Only for you my love," Armin replied dragging you to the theater's entrance.

Hand in hand, you both ran to the magnificent creation that was the building. Nobody was in sight signaling you that you two were the only beings present in that place. The only sounds that could be heard were you and Armin's giggling and the rustling of the trees with the wind. The moon was shining so bright in the sky lit up by thousands of stars. It's brightness was the same as the one Armin brought in your life. He was your sole source of joy alongside the reason why you adored being alive so much.

"You really like the night sky, don't you?" Armin asked as he looked at you staring at the moon.

"A lot. The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I could die happy."

Your heart felt lighter than air at his answer.

"Before we go inside, mind if I blindfold you? I don't want to ruin the surprise," Armin requested holding up a black cloth.

"Sure thing," you replied as he tied it lightly so as not to hurt you.

Rather than taking your hands to guide you inside, Armin choose an easier method which was to carry you in his arms. At first you were bewildered but then when it hit you, it didn't really faze you as he was always doing sweet unexpected actions like this. He treated you as though you were the most precious thing to him, which you in all honesty were.

While he was walking to take you to the destined spot, he couldn't stop himself to gaze at you. You gave so much meaning to his life and to every little thing to him. From the feeling of the first sunlight hitting his skin, he was reminded of your warm smile to the moonlight illuminating the dark sky, he thinks of the way you bring him positivity even in the toughest of situations. He couldn't be in anymore bliss as this was the definition of heaven to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck for support, he was carrying his literal embodiment of happiness.

Gently putting you down, he asked, "Are you ready?"

"I'm more than ready!" mirthfully you exclaimed.

"Okay then", Armin said removing your blindfold, "Ta-dah."

At that moment, you couldn't decide whether you were more likely to smile because of what you were seeing or more likely to cry because of what you were seeing. Your mind chose the later as tears started to run down your cheeks.

"He-Hey, don't cry, why are you crying?" Armin confoundedly wiped your tears with his thumbs as he cupped your face.

"Did you do all of this... for me?" sniffing you looked at him.

"For who else did I do this stupid? Of course it's for you y/n", he beamed.

Apart from the usual dark room with a dark vibe like a traditional theater has, for this date, Armin had set up projections on the ceiling. And it wasn't any type of projection, it was the space scattered all across the white roof.

In awe, your eyes widen at the celestial beauty in front of you. Stars twinkling like little fairy lights, even a nebula in vivid details. It doesn't stop at that as there were loads of other spatial phenomenons occurring. Not only did Armin set up a picnic on the stage but beside it was also a mattress big enough to accommodate both of you to 'stargaze'. The fabric set with Ratatouille in a bowl, a bottle of red wine glimmering under the light and various pastries sat in soliditary splendor in the middle of the wide open space which was the stage.

"I feel like I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have you Armin", you said sitting on the cloth spread on the wooden floor.

"No, I feel like the luckiest man to have the most perfect woman," he corrected you as he was pouring some wine into your glass.

Red tinted your cheeks.

"Cheers ?"

"Cheers," you raised your glass to clink with his.

This night couldn't be any more flawless.

A nice dinner in your favorite place with your favorite person, what else could you ask more?

As soft as clouds, the mattress sunk in with both of your weights. The wine coursing through your veins served as intoxication transporting you into this realm of abstractional interstellar.

Still mesmerised by the exquisite visual that resembled as though some heavenly artist had crushed crystals into his paint and then colored the cosmos with the finest of brushes, it didn't even compare to the beautiful man on whom you were laying on. Your hand on his chest, head on his shoulder, Armin held you so close to him as though you were going to disappear if he looked away. The blues and purples of the projection caressed his face.

Moving strands of your hair away with his finger, Armin asked, "What's the matter y/n?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering how pretty you are."

"I-I thank you," Armin blushed.

Gosh he was so cute.

Lifting yourself up, a frown on Armin's face at your action but then replaced by a astonishing look when he realised that you were straddling him. You had no clue of what you were doing, maybe it's was the wine or maybe it was just your desire for him, nonetheless, you craved his touch.

Your soft skin reflecting the light of the led made his fingers curl with the urge to stroke it. To his surprise, you grabbed his hands and placed it on your thighs revealed with your skirt lifted up. A light squeeze was given to them as Armin began stroking with his thumb waiting for your next move. The light illuminating from your behind aligned your figure making you appear as an angel in Armin's sight. Running your index finger from his cheekbones to his lips, you neared your bodies to press your boobs on his chest as you kissed him. His left hand dragged up your flesh to grab your ass while the right one entangled itself in your hair pulling your faces closer. Lips overlapping each other as you fought for dominance with him. Though Armin seems like a very sweet guy but looks may deceive, well, not completely. In bed he's like a cocktail, a combination of gentleness like flavored syrup or juice and of roughness like the alcohol in the drink.

Pushing your hips to his pelvis area, a groan leaving his lips cued you to further tease him. Up and down you grinded on him. Breaking the kiss to pull back, Armin went lower to your neck to pepper small kisses all over your sensitive skin, all the way to your jaw, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth to back on your neck to suck on your sweet spot. A light pain accompanied with pleasure made a tiny 'ah' leave your lips as he was marking your body. This only turned Armin more than he already was the moment he saw you.

Bringing his face back up , you collided your lips to his, more passionate than before. Sloppily you unbuttoned his shirt.

Abruptly he grabbed your back to switch positions with you. His chest now exposed was in front of your eyes. Removing the fabric off his body, his muscles shined in the light. This man was built like an art piece, his chest sculptured like the Greek soldiers.

"Allow me to be the one to please you," Armin's breath tickled your ear.

Feather like touches brushed your throat down to between your breasts to your stomach through your clothes. He took all the time in the world to appreciate the fact that you were with him and for him. You've probably never experienced such tenderness before meeting Armin. While making out with you, he his hands underneath your sweater to cup your boobs unaware of the dampness pooling between your legs.

With a swift motion, Armin took off your sweater and threw it across the stage. Black laced bra covering your breasts made you look more lustful. Armin's breath hitched in his throat.

"I don't think I'd ever get enough on beautiful you are y/n, everytime I undress you, it always feel as though it's the first time", he breathed.

You tugged at his belt, unbuckling it.

"Then show me how much you want me," you swiped your thumb over his lips.

Armin smirked. If looks could kill, you'd probably be dead by that.

"As you wish my lady."

Armin's big hands stroke your curves, brushing his lips from your collarbones slowly down your bellybutton but he didn't kiss your skin until he pulled down your skirt for your damp fabric to come in view to him. His soft lips didn't hesitate to press against your core.

"Ah- Armin-"

"You look so hot making that face, baby," Armin replied mouth still on you, you felt the vibrations of his voice through your underwear giving you goosebumps.

Armin dragged his tongue from the buttom to your clitoris, sucking on it making your underwear even wetter.

"Does this feel good?"

"Hmmm yes~," you reached out to grab his hair.

He chuckled at your reaction and proceeded to remove your last piece of garment. Your entrance dripping with anticipation, Armin gulped hard.

Like a wild animal out of cage, Armin attacked your pussy with his mouth. You leaped at his rough action and gripped on his hair for dear life as it seemed like this man wasn't going to leave you until he's had every part of you. Out of nowhere, Armin stuck his tongue into you making you arch your back. Thrusting it in and out of you, he gripped your hips in place so that you wouldn't squirm away.

"Gosh you have no idea how good you taste y/n," Armin panted sending chills down your spine.

Your tiny little pants and moans only fueled him to gain speed as he flicked your pearl in his mouth with the tip of his tongue.

"Oh-ah-Armin- Don't stop I'm close ~"

Taking your words into command, Armin didn't cease until you gasped and released everything in his mouth.

He swallowed every single drop of you as though it was his last time drinking any sort of liquid. While he was licking his lips to consumed everything he removed his pants as you were catching your breath. His dick sprung free from his cage, tip leaking with precum.

"May I?"lining his dick in front of your cunt he asked for consent.

"Just fuck me already Armin."

Slowly, Armin stoked it on your wet folds to lubricate it for it to enter more smoothly. Wet sounds of both of your excrements mixing filled the theater.

"Fuck you're so tight,"Armin groaned in his first thrust into you,"Are you okay baby? Do you want time to adjust? "

Still panting over his big size you nodded your head, your arm covering your eyes.

"It's okay love, take your time," Armin gently moved your hand away from your face to stroke your cheeks.

"Okay, you can move now," a minute later you told him.

Intertwining your fingers, Armin held your hand while the other held for support on the bed, Armin began to move.

With the projector in the background, this moment seemed so magical.

"You feel so good y/n arg-"

You hummed still doused in this dreamy state. The world around you blurred as the only thing visible in your peripheral vision was paradise. You could feel him moving so slowly between your walls, each of his popping veins so clearly. With time passing, your need for him grew bigger.

"Please go faster Armin."

"Anything for you," he replied as he picked up speed, this time more rougher on you.

Skin slapping, you arched your back, this time Armin slipping his hand on your back to make your bodies touch each other. Chests rising and falling rapidly, you brushed Armin's hair from his face to see his expressions better.Face twisted with pleasure, this man was so attractive.

It wasn't long until you felt the knot building up in your stomach.

"Y/n I'm-I'm close"

"Me too Armin, please cum with me"

Eyes boring into yours, Armin didn't hesitate to go even more rough with you.

Bending down Armin kissed you as he released his hot fluids into you.

"Are you okay? I hope I didn't hurt you my lady," Armin moved your hair away from your sweaty forehead.

"No Armin, I know you could never hurt me, that's why I love you."

"I love you too y/n," Armin kissed your nose.

Helping you to get up, he took some tissues from the straw bag in which he carried all the food in. While you were tying your hair into a ponytail, Armin wiped his cum from your body.

"I'm sorry I made such a mess on your beautiful skin y/n."

"Armin, why are you even appologising for this, please don't ," you giggled then grabbed his hands and kissed them.

Inhaling a deep breath, Armin got up to fetch your clothes and helped you wear them.

"Let me drop you home okay?" he carried you in bridal style to the car due to your legs shaking and being unstable. Throughout the whole voyage back, you just wished this night could last forever but alas reality is a bitch. His hands warming your thighs till his car reached your house and he took you to your bathroom to help you get into the bathtub.

Not wanting to hold him any longer, you reassured him that you were now okay and that he could take care of the theater to clean it for business the next day. The thought of people coming to a place where you and Armin banged without them being aware of it brought all the blood to rise up in your cheeks.

Parking the car, Armin entered the building with the scent of sex still lingering in the air. Taking care of all the stuff on the stage and cleaning it, he went to remove the projectors. Out of the blue it clicked in his head. Security cameras. Heaving a sigh of relief that he recalled this crucial detail, he rushed into the surveillance room to discard of the recordings for the night. However, before he did that, he did in fact consider to watch it. Debating in his head like attorneys in a courtroom he finally yielded to looking at them. He didn't even play the video that he was already blushing redder than his blood. Pressing the play button, he sat down on the wheelchair.

Holy shit did he not regret watching it. Even in bad lighting, you looked so hot on camera. It felt illegal for Armin to be doing whatever he was doing then.

"Ah-ah Armin-" you moaned his name and that awakened something in him or more like that hardened something in him.

"Fuck," he whispered under his breath.

From his pants, he could see the lining of his growing erection but he tried to ignore it. Eventually it began to feel a little painful from the restriction of release. Giving in into his urges, he unzipped his pants to let his dick breath from its suffocation.

He hissed as he spread the oozing precum across the tip looking himself eating you out. With his face buried between your legs, at that moment he couldn't clearly see your facial expressions compared to now.

The way your breath got stuck in your throat, your mouth made an 'o' when you tried to control your moans. The next time he was going to make love to you, he's keeping in mind to prevent you from holding back the sounds you make as he wants to hear each and every one of them.

Stroking his shaft up and down just like he's thrusting in and out of you, his motions rhythmic, he threw his head back on the chair hearing your sweet voice resonating the room.

Sinful.

To his shock, he came at the exact timing he came within you in the recording. Letting his actions absorb, still drown into the cloudiness of his mind, Armin couldn't wait for the day he could at last marry you.

Without further ado, he deleted the clips after he sent them to his phone as a token.

End.

Thank you for reading this. :)

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ladydimitrescuspet · 3 years ago

Text

Just This Once, Your Ears Only

AO3 link! this is for my anon that just found out about miss d and the pallboys and wanted a fic about it so here you go! I hope y'all enjoy this and apologies for any grammatical errors!

Tag List (form to join): @lord-dimitrescu, @alwaysgoodnight, @paint-it-periwinkle, @lightspica, @ultimatebottom69, @sexyheisenbeast, @crazy-obsessed, @squid3, @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu, @the-obscurity, @sapphicalciee, @ladydimitresculove, @solemnnova, @itsyourgirlmalise, @the-little-shadow, @marvelwomen-simp,@rachelthefanfictionwriter, @d14n4ol, @peachesandlesbians

-----

Alcina didn’t talk much about her past and that was fine. You always cherished the things that she had told you about her time before Mother Miranda and the cadou. You never pushed her to tell you more than she was comfortable, but when you found that old jazz album in a box your curiosity was piqued. How had she not told you that she used to be in a jazz band called Miss D & the Pallboys? Honestly, you were pretty shocked that Alcina hadn’t told you about this part of her life. So when you brought it to her, your find, she was a bit hostile about it.

“Ali, come on. This is really cool.” You said. “I know you don’t often talk about your past, but I really want to know more about this.”

Alcina sighed, rubbing her temples to ebb away the oncoming headache. “Dear, I’ve already said that I don’t wish to revisit such a trivial time in my life.” Alcina replied.

“But I’ve never heard you sing.” You counter. “I’ve heard you hum, I’ve heard you play the piano, but I’ve never once heard you sing.”

“And I’m afraid you’ll never get the opportunity to. My singing days are long behind me and I’d like to keep it that way.” Alcina replied.

You frowned, but ultimately accepted your defeat. “Alright, Ali, I’m sorry. You win.” For now, at least. Time for Plan B. “Can I visit Karl this week?” You asked.

Alcina groaned. “I am not sure how you became friends with that annoying little imp, but I do need you out of the Castle tomorrow so I suppose you may go and visit him then.” Alcina responded. “However, when you leave, have him escort you home. As much as I despise that man-child, there have been lycans spotted around the village and forest more so than usual in the evening, so you’ll be safe with that little idiot by your side.”

You gave her a smile and nod as you did an internal happy dance. “I will call him now to let him know. I’ll even throw in a little threat so he knows you’re serious, Ali.” You teased. Alcina snorted at that. “Alcina?” She hummed in acknowledgment. “Have you ever tried to say something nice about Karl or even tried to be a little bit nicer to him?” You asked.

Alcina looked up at you. “When that insufferable idiot is nicer to me then I shall repay him in kind. Until then, if he keeps calling me lady super sized bitch, I will continue to refer to him as a child. Although, he really is a child regardless of what affectionate nicknames he has for our so called family.” Alcina replied. “But Heisenberg being nice to me will never happen in a million years.”

"Are you willing to bet on that?" You asked. Alcina whirled her eyebrow at you. "If Karl does something nice for you then you have to sing one of your jazz songs for me."

"And if he doesn't?" Alcina asked.

"Then you get whatever you want from me." You replied.

Alcina hummed. "And if I want you chained to my bed all day to do with as I please, I can have that?" You nodded your head. "Then I believe we have a bet on our hands, dear."

You gave her a nervous smile before excusing yourself from her study. After you left, you made your way to your own study. The thought of it made you smile. Alcina had realised that you didn’t have a room in the castle to call your own, so she allowed you to remake one of them into your own, so to speak. It was still decorated the way Alcina had, but now it had more of your things in it to keep you occupied if Alcina went out for a meeting or if you just needed a quiet space to be in.

The first thing you did upon entering your study was call Karl. You let him know that you’d be over early and you even mentioned the bet you had going on with Alcina. “Lady Super Sized Bitch is going down.” were his exact words and they made you laugh. After you said goodbye to him, you called Donna and asked her if she could sew some costumes up for you, the girls, and Karl. You were glad that she had agreed and accepted your invitation to Jazz Friday as opposed to Opera Wednesday. This week’s meeting had been moved from Friday to Wednesday so Opera Night had been moved to Friday. You really hoped that Alcina wouldn’t mind you hijacking her night with your plan and with only five days to get it all planned, you really didn’t have time to work yourself into a tizzy with worrying.

You spent the next day with Karl, telling him what instruments you’d need him to produce for the show. With that taken care of, you could talk to the girls about the surprise and the parts that they’d play for Jazz Night. You made sure all of the Lords had an invitation for Friday. You would’ve invited Mother Miranda, but she was out of the village on business. You were nervous when Friday finally came, making sure everything was perfect.

“Hey, kiddo, don’t worry. Alci’s gonna love it.” Karl said as he fussed over his tuxedo.

You let out a deep breath and smiled at him. “Of course. Or at least I hope she does.” You replied. You held the microphone in your hand when you heard Alcina’s voice.

“Donna, Moreau, it’s a pleasure to have you two with us tonight. I see Heisenberg has failed to join us for another evening.” That made Karl scowl. “Nevertheless, the show must go on. My wonderful daughters and my lovely partner, Y/N, have prepared something special for us tonight. So please sit back and enjoy the show.” Alcina said, finishing off her speech before sitting in her seat.

A couple of maids opened the curtain and you could hear the small gasp Alcina let out, your face starting to heat up. You’d had Karl make a saxophone for Bela, a piano for Cassandra that she could comfortably sit at, a cello for Daniela, and a trumpet for himself. Whilst Donna made tuxedos for all of you. The girls and Karl wore black tuxedos with white dress shirts, the only difference being that the girls had their gemstones on the collar of their shirts and Karl’s didn’t. Your tuxedo was white and you had a hat on with a feather like the one Alcina wore on the cover of the Miss D & the Pallboys album. You managed to not let your nerves get to you as you sang a Nat King Cole classic, Unforgettable. When the performance was over the five of you bowed before the curtain closed.

“Y/N, that was amazing!” Bela said. “I think I saw Mother tearing up out there so I’d say that she loved the performance!”

You scratched at the back of your head, laughing nervously. “Really? I just wish we could’ve sung a Miss D & the Pallboys original for her too, but you can’t go wrong with a classic like Unforgettable.” You replied. “Now you three go get changed, you still have to do that Italian opera piece your mother picked out for you.”

Daniela gave you a hug. “Thank you for putting this together.” Daniela said into your ear.

Cassandra gave you a smile. “And we completely understand if you want to skip the rest of the show. Putting together something like this sounds very tiring.” You nodded your head before wishing them good luck.

The rest of the night was purely opera, but you didn’t have it in yourself to join the others back out in the audience while the girls did their performance. So you had made your way back to the room that you shared with Alcina, putting on your pyjamas and curling up into bed with a book. And that’s how Alcina found you, except you were almost half asleep with the book lying across your stomach.

“Darling?” Alcina called out softly, rousing you from your sleep. You hummed in acknowledgment to let her know you were still with her. Alcina took that opportunity to put on her nightgown before slipping into the bed next to you, pulling you into her side. “Did you put together that whole thing just for me?” Alcina asked.

You nodded. “I did. Not alone though. Karl and Donna really helped out. And Moreau was the one that recommended the song I sang, Mother Miranda bless him for the suggestion.” You mumbled out slightly before yawning.

Alcina pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, My Love. Now, I do believe I lost a bet so I’ll give you your reward, yes?” You sleepily nodded your head against her side. “Alright, little one, but just this once and for your ears only. And only because you got that idiot oaf to do something nice for me.” Alcina said.

“Be nice, Ali.” You mumbled again, smiling at the grumbling noises that Alcina made at your words but you could faintly make out her saying “Fine,” before you let out a hum of approval.

After a few seconds of silence, you heard Alcina start to sing the words to a song you didn’t know. You could only assume that it was one of the songs she sang with her band and you smiled. Alcina really did have a beautiful singing voice.

#jacquelyn's fics #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #lady dimitrescu's daughters #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #heisenberg #donna beneviento #moreau #salvatore moreau #extra tags

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1234-angelika · 3 years ago

Text

Restorations

an:Hey y'all! So the weather is finally cooling down a bit here, not that I wasn't loving it, but I am finally managing to get some work done. This is the fifth installment in my Happily Ever After series for Derek. As always, hope y'all enjoy!

words:1.3 k

warnings:PDA (maybe) but other than that, I don't think there are any

summary:"We shape our homes and then our homes shape us." -Winston Churchill

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

You knew that outside of his work at the BAU, Derek had a side business restoring and flipping houses.

Since he used this business as a stress reliever and a hobby, that’s usually how he would spend his days off. When you were together, though, you would usually spend the afternoon with take-out in a movie-marathon haze. Occasionally, you would go out, but it was more important to the two of you to spend time together. You had only been to a worksite once. So, Derek promised that he would bring you out to a worksite one day, and you would work on it together.

It was five-thirty in the morning on a Wednesday, and you had just come back from your run when the phone rang. In an effort to answer the call promptly, you paid no mind to the caller ID.

“Hello?”

Derek’s voice rang through the receiver, “Hey Sunshine. That’s the hello I get?”

Giggling, you answered, “Good morning casanova.”

“Loving the new nickname sunshine.”

You smiled as you heard D’s nickname for you. “What’s up Derek? Usually you don’t call this early, especially on a day off.”

“Can you meet me later?”

“For sure. Where?”

“I’ll text you the address. Does eleven-thirty work for you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Ok. I love you Sunshine.”

“I love you too, hercules.”

You took a long shower to relax. Deciding that an hour in the shower was long enough, you finished up and made your way out to the closet. The weatherman said it would be reaching an estimated high of 87°F. This heavily influenced your choice of an outfit. You grabbed your favourite pair of shorts, a comfy black tank top and a blue flannel to wear on top. You paired your most comfortable pair of shoes with the outfit while still keeping cool in the Virginia heat. After getting dressed, you did your hair and then went on to makeup. Meandering into the kitchen, you started to think about breakfast. You gathered the components and started making it. You had just put the bread into the toaster when your phone alerted you of a text message. Picking it up, you read that it was from Derek.

Hey Sunshine.

The address is 3972 Hazelmere lane. I can’t wait to see you.

You shot a quick text back confirming that you were still meeting him and asking if he needed anything. Then, you put down your phone and continued with your breakfast. You ate your food while flipping through the latest edition of your favourite magazine. Once you finished your food, you had to make an effort to keep busy. You tidied your condo before getting started on some paperwork for your upcoming training sessions. You worked and worked until all of a sudden, the clock read eleven. You decided to just leave your place and be early for whatever you were going to do.

The drive took longer than anticipated. Instead of the fifteen minutes, you estimated, the drive actually took forty. Finally, you pulled up to the address, and confusion overcame you. At the address was a beautiful house with a lot of yard in the front and plenty of trees. You parked the car—which wasn’t done super well, parallel parking—grabbed your bag and climbed out. Looking around, you spotted Derek’s car but no sign of Derek. Taking a chance, you walked up to the front door, but when you knocked on it, it just got pushed open. You walked towards the deafening banging sounds you heard, and it was there that you found Derek. He was taking down the rotted cabinetry and dropping it on the ground. He paused when he noticed you in the doorway and climbed down the ladder.

“Hey sunshine,” he said, kissing your cheek.

“Hi Der. So, where are we?” You asked, trying not to be too apparent in your ogling of his sweaty body. As you finished your question, his body language became nervous. The same as it was when he had asked you to be his girlfriend.

“Y/N,” he said, and instantly you noted the severity of the upcoming conversation, all playfulness was gone from his voice, “you know that I do this as a side business and I did promise you that we could work on a project together. I thought it could be this one. If you’re up for it, we could make this our forever home. What do you say?”

You squealed out in happiness and launched yourself into his arms. He readily caught you, and as you hugged him, you felt his chest rumbling beneath you, an indication that he was laughing. You pulled away, and he looked at you with a brow raised.

“So I guess that’s a yes?”

“Yes!” You kissed him hard, making sure your point got across. “So Derek, where do we start?”

He grabbed a spare pair of protective glasses from the counter and handed them to you. “We start with some demolition. Don’t bang out any walls. We’re just removing cabinetry, mirrors, light fixtures and flooring.”

You nodded and walked off to what you could only guess was the living room. You made a cut into the carpet before starting to pull it up. You slowly made your way around the house, pulling the flooring up, room by room, focusing only on carpet and laminate. You were now in one of the bedrooms pulling up the last floorboard when Derek appeared in the doorway.

“Need any help gorgeous?”

Standing up, you shook your head, “nah, I finished the flooring.”

“Are you done for the day?” Derek asked you, hoping you still had the energy to do some shopping.

“Not yet. I’m still good, why?”

“I wanted to take you shopping for some materials for the house.”

“Our house,” you said, correcting him with a grin.

“Our house.” Derek said with a smile akin to your own.

The drive to the hardware store was quick. The two of you walked hand-in-hand, picking and choosing the hardware and appliances. The hardware and the appliances were easy to determine, the hardware was matte black, and the appliances were stainless steel. Both complemented the cabinetry planned for the home, white for most of the cabinets and sage green for the island cabinets. However, paint and flooring ended up being a different story. You and Derek had utterly opposing ideas, and coming to a compromise was no easy feat.

“So, what paint were you thinking?”

“Well, I was thinking we do grey on grey.”

“Are you saying grey paint AND grey flooring?”

“Yeah. It’s simple…design-wise anyways.”

The opposition to the idea was evident on your face, and he sighed before saying;

“What were you thinking Y/N?”

Taking a moment to consider his ideas, you said, “What if we went for a lighter grey for most of the walls…and instead of the grey flooring, we go for a walnut coloured vinyl instead?”

He nodded as he considered your ideas. “What do you mean most of the walls?”

“Well, I wanted to use shiplap in the entrance way but I was thinking that instead we could use it as a feature wall against the staircase.”

“Y/N, have I ever told you what a genius you are?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p.’

“Well you are an amazingly talented lovable genius,” he said before leaning over and kissing you.

The two of you were walking through the aisles of the hardware store pushing the cart, your head leaning on his bicep when he asked;

“So, what about the kitchen?”

And that’s how you spent the rest of your day off and others alike. Building your forever home together.

taglist: @multixfandomwriter @myescapefromthislife @gspenc

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #derek x reader #derek morgan x reader #happilyeverafter #hea

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imgucciking · 4 years ago

Text

Mmmh [KAI]

Listen as you read

Pairing: Idol!Boyfriend!Kai X Fan!Reader

Genre: Smut, Smut, Smut. After care fluff. And some fluff at the start.

Words: 2k

Warning: Masturbation! Cursing! Marking! Eating out! Penetration! Size kink! Unprotected sex! [stay safe y'all]

A/N: My first work on tumblr, I wanted to start of with Kai.

Kai was your boyfriend, and he had been for a total of 3 years last month. You had spent the time well at home, he had even cooked some dinner for the both of you! A surprise cake was baked by him as well, in the flavour of chocoltae, your favorite [ You didn't tell him how you found a few egg shells in it]

But right now though, the pair of you were separated. You lived near the outskirts of Seoul, while the headquarters of SM, as well as Kai's house was in the middle of the busy city. Kai was busy with the preparation of his new solo, whiich he hadn't even revealed the name for to you.

He said it was super secret and it would be ruined if he revealed. You of course had pouted, and even tried some aegyo, which you never did in order to get him to tell you what the song was called, atleast. Somehow though, he never told you. On the november 25, the teaser of mmmh had been revealed.

You had watched the video, then went straight to your bed, your phone in hand, already dialling kai. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? WHY YOU GOTTA KILL ME?" He had laughed. He fucking laughed. That. Was. It

You were so excited for today! Mmmh was finally getting released and of course you were excited! You got your big computer ready, put it on full screen, 4k quality and the volume was full on. Your phone was right beside ou incase kai decided that he was going to kill you in this mv like the teaser.

You used the phone a lot. You called him the moment the song started, and of course, he was there, like the sweet boyfriend he was to listen to you fangirl over him, and then gasp and pretend to die when he revealed his abs. He found it very endearing that you did all this. Then, once you were done watching the mv for about the 100th time, he asked ou to always call him like this cause he found it awesome.

You blushed before replying with an ok and then cutting the call.

It had been a month since then. You were going through the many memories you and Kai had created right now, looking through the million selfies and photos on your phone, your background music being a 10 hour version of mmmh. Bless the soul which made such an awesome repeat.

"You make me feel so mmmh hmmm~" You mouthed the words. All of a sudden, the repeat got over. You pouted to yourself, your hands reaching over to your phone to see what was going on. But suddenly, the song played again, only this time his voice sounded deeper, sexier. Your thighs automatically came closer, his deep voice doing something to your inside.

Tentatively, you let your hand travel lower down your body, underneath jong-in's hoodie which you had on. You let out a breathy gasp as your fingers came in contact with your heat. You allowed your hands to travel the rim, but not deep in. You wanted to tease yourself.

And oh were you doing a good job at it. You lied your body more comfortably on the bed, then spread your legs wide, your/kai's hoodie pulled up until it was bunched up underneath your neck. Your nipples had formed hard pebbles due to the cold air in the room, and your left hand was currently playing around with your left breast, twisting it around, rubbing it, and playing with your tits.

One hand still rested comfortably within the folds of your clit, gently flicking it and pinching at the sensitive nub. One important rule of kai's was that you never played with yourself, because he wanted to be the one to please you, but the thought was long gone from your head, and besides, it wasn't like kai was coming home today, was he?

Oh how wrong could you have been.

The door clicked open loudly, as Jong-In stepped into the house. "I'm home baby!" His words, however were left to drift into the silence, as you were far too lost in the pleasure your fingers were causing you. Granted, they weren't as large as Kai's, but it did the deed and that's all you wanted.

You were edging closer and closer to your high. "O-Oh! Kai!~" You screeched, as you finally cummed all over your fingers, the white sticky substance coating your hand. Kai heard you. And judging by the way you sounded, he also knew what you were doing right now.

His cock twitched in his pants, like waking up from a long nap. "God Y/N..." He groaned, before pulling his shoulder back off and placing it on the table. Unbuttoning the top 2 buttons of his top, he walked into your shared bedroom. God how you lay on the bed, his hoodie all bunched up on you, your fingers still buried deep within your cunt. The tent in his pants became painful to handle as he stalked closer to you.

Your eyes were shut from how you rode out your high, your breathing heavy as you rested. Jong In edged closer to your body, before he put his lips very close to your ears. "Didn't I teach you to not touch yourself?" Your eyes shot open as you looked up at his figure hovering over your tiny self.

His lips were curved up in a smirk. "K-Kai I-" You were cut of by him placing his finger on your lips. "Hush...." He removed his finger once he was sure you would keep quiet, his fingers now wrapped around your airpods, as he plugged one of them off your ear. "What were you listening to, baby?"

He puts one into his ear, greeted by his voice singing out. "Ahh baby.... My song?" You nod furiously, not wanting to do anything that might displease him. He let out a groan seeing you so submissive. He pulled it out, then curled his fingers round your phone which lay forgotten beside you.

He disconnected the earphones, allowing his voice to sing out loud. "I'm going to fuck you, with my voice in the background. Is that okay babygirl?" You nod once more. His fingers curl around your neck, a tight grip. "Use your voice~" You quickly let it out. "Yes, kai!"

"Ah ah!" He tutts, his grip around your neck tightening. "What is my name?" Your eyes widen before you remember. "Yes s-sir!" He nods, before smiling, his fingers unravelling from you neck, to your hair as he gently strokes it. "Such a good girl for me, aren't you?" His tugs at your hair, pulling you up into a sitting position.

"Such a good, good girl.... But you've been bad now.... Should I punish you?" Your eyes widen. "No sir! I'm s-sorry!" He smirks, before pulling the hoodie of your body entirely. He inches close to you, and you think he is about to kiss you so you pucker your lips. "Ah ah! Only good girls get kisses!" You pout, and Jong in almost wants to kiss you now.

"I'm sorry!" You say again, as you try to pull him towards you. But he, is able to resist, and he buries his face deep into your neck, gently breathing in and out your scent, his breath hitting right on your sensitive area. He knew how crazy you get when he does that.

"Sir!" You moan, your voice sounding foreign to even yourself. Kai's teeth sink into your soft unmarked skin, as he paint art on you. He was the artist, and you were the canvas, nothing you could do would get you out of this. Once he was done with the hickeys covering your neck, he stood up and went to the chest of drawers were you stored your... toys..

Kai was a bit overexcited with the usage of toys and such, so the pair of you had bought an entire cupboard to keep in the stock of your sex toys.

He selects a black blindfold, and fuzzy cuffs. Mmmh...Your favorite.

He ties the blindfold around your eyes, and seats you up on the bed, with your hands cuffed tightly. Not too tight enough for it to hurt, but tight enough to not allow you to escape its grasp. You struggle a bit, adjusting your body, till you feel a flat muscle lick against your cunt.

Your body goes rigid and you stop moving around. He smirks against you, and he knows you can feel him right there. He lets out a soft groan, when you start grinding yourself onto his face, but his hands go to your thighs and he quickly stops you by holding your thighs.

You whine and whimper at the sudden hold, but he teases you by letting his tongue wander all over your heat, but not where you want it this most. "Kai!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Please!" He suddenly stops. "Ah, ah... What's my name?" "Sir!!!!!"

"Good girl, I'll award you, shall I?"

He starts lapping at your juices, sucking, pinching, and stroking at your cunt. Your eyes had rolled back so far into your sockets, that you thought it might get stuck right there. His tongue was much better at pleasing you than your fingers, and the tightening in your stomach only increased.

"Jong In!! I'm gonna c-" His warmth suddenly leave you. You look up at him, to see him smirking at you. You whine at not being able to release. "I think you've been stretched quite enough, right Jagi?" He unlocks the handcuffs, before tying it again onto you, except this time its not against the bed.

He undresses himself quickly, and as soon as he gets his underwear off, his large member flips against his lower abdomen. Your eyes feast on his naked body, all the ripped muscles on it. You want to trace your fingers over him, but your hands are unfortunately locked.

You groan at this fact. His hands curl around his member as he strokes it, coating it with his pre cum. Once its enough, he bends over and produres his head into your heat. You groan at the feeling, clenching him and trying to pull him. "So thirsty for my dick, babygirl? Well then, I'll give you what you want!"

He suddenly pounds into you, thrusting hard and not even allowing you to adjust to his length and girth. "God!" You screech, the pain and pleasure mixing together to cause something totally new. Your hands tug of your blindfold, wanting to see Kai fuck you deep.

He lifts your left leg up, and places is onto his shoulders, reaching to places within you that had never been touched. "Feel me there? Right in that pretty little stomach of yours baby?" "Oh god yes! You scream, and you know your neighbours will be able to hear you quite well.

But Kai liked that. He liked to show them all who you belonged to.

He grunts as you clench tightly around him, nearly not allowing to thrust. You were close and he got that. He pound into you even harsher, like an animal unleashed and allowed to do whatever it wanted with your body. He reaches over to your hair, and tugs you up.

You comply, placing your head on his chest as he continues his work. These move was all you needed for you to come, and you let your cum flow, your eyes rolling to the back of your socket and all you can see for awhile is white.

He continues pounding into you, chasing his own high. You, being hypersensitive clench tightly around him. This pulled him over the edge, and he cummed into you, releasing his load well.

He lied next to you, both of you panting and sweaty. His cum flows a bit out of you, wetting the bed below. "That was-" Kai smiles at you. "I love you, Jagi"

You grin, feeling a bit sleepy. "I love you too baby"

149 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 4 years ago

Text

Game of Temptation

➜ Words: 16k

➜ Genres: 60% Smut, 35% Angst, 5% Fluff, Succubus!AU

➜ Summary: As a succubus, your beauty is unrivaled and shaped to tempt mortals. But it's still hard to resist Taehyung, and there's little you can do once you've been coerced to do his bidding for him. This time, you find yourself entering the affluent Kim Household as a housemaid. And these poor humans don't know your intentions are far from being angelic.

➜ Warning: seduction, sex, homewrecking, infidelity, daddy kink, creampie, etc. There were no morals in the making of this fic. I do not subscribe to my characters’ beliefs, y'all. It's just some crazy fiction. Reader discretion advised.

It’s your chance to have a little fun, peach. The four wheels of the luggage roll against the smooth pavement, over the cracks and up the massive driveway. The sweltering sun isn’t a bother when the feeling of flames licking against your cheeks is such a familiarity. Yet, you still feel disgruntled as Taehyung’s words ring inside your head. I know you want to try your hand at it. And you’ve been telling me how much you want a little subordinate of your own. You could do whatever you want with them. There are no rules. He’s a bastard. If it wasn’t for you being so wrapped around his finger and dancing in the palm of his hand, you would never do something this ridiculous. But it’s not like you have much of a choice. Taehyung’s words of persuasion act like you do have a choice when in reality, he mocks. Yet, in spite of what you might really think, you continue on your way, lugging your heavy baggage up the stairs and steadying your breath. Feeling a sense of calmness, the pad of your index finger presses the doorbell. You listen to how the sound echoes inside the enormous manor. There’s shouting, footsteps, and a second later, the door swings open. There’s a plump woman with an apron tied over her body, her gray streaked hair pulled back into a bun. She’s out of breath as she is fatigued even though it’s only eight in the morning. But she still greets you with a smile that spreads into her chubby cheeks. “Hello! You must be the new live-in nanny and housemaid! Come in, come in. Don’t just stand out here! It’s so cold!” She helps drag in your luggage. The large foyer opens up to a grand staircase, two archways on both sides that allow you to peek into the chandeliered and golden curtain rooms. There’s antique china in a display case and vases on tables — more to paint a picture of wealth than for any actual purpose. But while one would expect a quiet and proper home, there’s chaos instead. Feet rumbling from upstairs. Sharp laughter and exhausted sighs. Noises of shouting and screaming. “You’re younger than I expected. What’s your name?” “Y/N, madam.” “Oh, I’m not the madam,” the woman giggles at the thought and bats the air with her hand. “The madam isn’t as old as I am. I’m the Kim’s housekeeper, Ms. Yoo. We’ll be working close together. Have you eaten yet? The trip must’ve been long and tiring. Would you like to rest?” The corner of your lips quirk. “I’m alright, thank you.” “I’ll give you a tour around then. The faster you can become accustomed to this home, the faster you can help out.” You nod, but before she can get in another word, there’s thundering stomps down the stairs. A boy’s face pokes through the banisters and he gives a toothless grin. Not more than five years old, he wears a blue, collared shirt and khaki shorts, one foot with a sock and the other without — he’s no doubt a spoiled, little brat. The kid makes a ruckus while running down the rest of the steps, jumping from the last three and he comes up to you, eyes wide and sparkling as he looks up. “Who’re you?” You lower yourself and offer a soft smile. “I’m going to be your daddy and mommy’s new little helper. We’re going to have lots of fun from now on.” “Jaesun! Jaesun, get back here! What did I say about slamming your bedroom door?!” A frail woman with grating vocal cords comes down the stairs as well. Her chest is rising and falling, evidently winded from her son but her eyes visibly light up when she sees you. “You must be Y/N, aren’t you?” She’s a pretty woman with few wrinkles even in her forties, dressed cleanly in a rosy blouse and white skirt. But her dark circles ruin the pristine image. “Yes, I am, madam.” She shakes your hand vigorously. She looks at you like you’re her guardian angel. An irony that tickles your senses. “Oh, I’m so happy you’re finally here. I’m Kim Yijin, my husband is Kim Namjoon, but we should head to the kitchen to talk. There’s not much time left.” The housekeeper smiles. “Yes, I was about to show her the way.” “Let’s go, Jaesun.” You offer your hand to the boy and he happily takes it, something that Yijin doesn’t miss and even grins at. The kitchen is twice the size of the foyer, two stove sets and two refrigerators side by side. The counter space is enough to stretch your entire body across and you can only marvel at the surroundings. “I hope you don’t get too overwhelmed,” Yijin says as she turns to get her coffee started and Ms. Yoo sets out breakfast for Jaesun at the table. “But I should tell you now before I forget to. My family eats a gluten-free diet. Our Jaesun is lactose and tolerant, so he’s only to have soy milk and calcium-fortified orange juice. My daughter has poor digestion, so try to avoid whole-grains when you’re preparing the meals.” She stops for a second, lamenting, “and she has such bad skin these days, so avoid milk and anything bad, like instant noodles, even if she begs for it. The girl doesn’t know what’s good and bad for her.” With her steaming coffee cup in hand, Yijin waltzes around the kitchen, forcing you to follow her whims. “Make sure the kids have at least three servings of fruits and vegetables. My husband doesn’t like eggs and Jaesun isn’t supposed to have candy. Also, this is less important, but I really like fried foods that aren’t too oily, so if you have anything you can make…” The corners of your lips lift. “I have a fried chicken recipe.” “I like you already.” She snaps her fingers, smile brightening. She looks over to the older lady, calling out to her, “Ms. Yoo, I can get breakfast ready for today. Would you like to continue showing Y/N around?” “Yes, I will.” Even when you could tell from the outside, the house is grand. It’s a closed concept, full of mahogany wood panels, twisting halls, oak doors and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It looks like a place Taehyung would enjoy. “Every day, we meal prep breakfast, lunch and dinner. Typically only the master of the house is here for lunch, so we have to watch our portions. He works a lot from home. Oh, his younger brother is also living here for some time. He’s an editor, so he’s quite busy. I tend to deliver his meal to his room if he doesn’t come down for dinner.” You nod, entering the living room. There’s a giant family photo above the mantel that looks all too artificial — stiff smiles and pressed clothes with a white background. But the space is warmed with cedar bookshelves, a coffee table to match and perfectly positions cushion chairs. In one of them is a sleepy man with dark hair, sipping on a mug as he reads the newspaper. He looks up at you, features more tender than expected. “Hello.” You dip your head to the so-called younger brother, keeping your voice soft-spoken. “Mr. Kim, this is our new helper,” the housekeeper introduces. “Yes.” His voice is also surprisingly husky. “I’m Yoongi. It’s nice to meet you.” The two of you stare at one another until you dip your head as Mrs. Yoo keeps going and you leave the room, walking upstairs. “We dust every day and clean the kitchen each night. Every other day, we do laundry and vacuum the rooms. The living space and foyer get especially dirty, so we have to stay vigilant. If your back ever aches from hunching over so much, tell me and I’ll give you some cream and heated pads.” A door down the hall shuts and there’s an audible sigh. What follows are footsteps and a teenage girl in an ironed school uniform, backpack on her back. Her black hair is sleek, ending at her waist and in spite of puffy cheeks, her eyes are cat-like. “Good morning, Sohee. Sleep well?” “I guess.” As her pupils dart from the housekeeper to you, her steps slow and she halts altogether. You lock your gaze with her and smile. “Hello. I’m the new housemaid, Y/N.” You extend your arm, but she dwells — staring like a deer in headlights. It takes a moment for Sohee to come to her senses and she shakes your hand while brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She timidly murmurs, “O-oh. Nice to meet you.” “Sohee!” There’s a sudden screech of her name from downstairs, grating to the ears. Immediately, the young girl deflates. “Coming!” she shouts back to her mom with a groan, rolling her eyes before running down the stairs. The housekeeper smiles sympathetically. “Sohee’s going through a bit of a growth spurt, so she’s been a bit sensitive lately.” You nod and she continues, “We clean the bathrooms once a week and once a month, we wash the carpets. Your room is just this way.” Down the corridor is a small mahogany door. But there’s grandiose double doors with golden handles right where the hall begins from the open area. And your strides reduce. You linger from curiosity and peer through the crack with an eye. Vaguely, you’re able to make out bookshelves and an imposing desk. More importantly, there’s someone seated in the leather seat behind it. Mrs. Yoo notices. “Oh, that’s master Kim’s office, but there’s no need to bother him right now.” Your body moves a little too late. While you’re still peeping through, the man behind the desk raises his head. Your eyes meet, but you leave before either of you can get a good look at each other. The room you’re given is a meager space — more like a closet compared to the rest of the house. You hold in your scoff, looking around at the single bed. The empty desk. The tiny window with dead bugs on the sill. The wooden chair with splinters sticking out of it. It looks like antiques shoved in a shed. Not even Taehyung treats you this poorly. “The bathroom is across from your room, so it’s rather convenient!” You set your luggage down. “Also, you’ll be watching Jaesun when he comes home from kindergarten. You’ll wash him and put him to bed as well. I’ll help you out until you get the hang of things, so don’t worry too much.” You wonder if the old lady ever shuts up, but you keep your voice soft-spoken and your demeanour timid. “Thank you.” “It’s not an issue.” Ms. Yoo pats your shoulder. “Oh, you can get settled a little later on. We should help the madam with breakfast. She doesn’t cook very well.” It’s possible to get lost in this abyss of a house. There are endless halls and pompous rooms. You don’t understand the purpose of having a large music room next to a drawing room, but you suppose with this much money, it’s fun to throw it into a blazing fire. The housekeeper continues yapping away as you make it back downstairs. But on your way, you catch a different individual standing in the foyer. Someone in a black suit with doe eyes, boyish features that draw you in. He seems surprised to see you too. “Ah, Jungkook! Have you eaten yet? Would you like a coffee?” “I’m fine, Ms. Yoo.” He has a cute smile full of teeth and his eyes flicker to you. “This is...?” “Oh, it’s the new helper I was telling you about. Y/N, this is Jungkook, Mr. Kim’s personal chauffeur. He’s been working with this family for almost as long as I’ve been here.” “Not that long,” Jungkook retorts mischievously. “I only started here a few years ago after I finished school.” “Only? Oh my. Feels like you started here thirty years ago like I did! Time goes by so fast!” “Only when you’re having fun.” Jungkook grins and then redirects his attention towards you, clearing his throat. “I-It’s nice to meet you.” “Likewise.” You shake his hand and dip your head with a tiny smile. He averts his vision too, becoming shy. Yet, when you lift your head, your eyes meet each other’s. You can feel the way his hand is getting sweaty, but you let it linger for a longer amount of time than necessary. Until you’re the one to let go. He’s too cute. You catch the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. The tension between the pair of you is only broken when a voice coughs from the top of the staircase and Jungkook breaks apart from you, taking a step back. You look up at the master, Kim Namjoon. A man in his forties, tall with a commanding aura. His hair is styled neatly, thick glasses sitting on his face, sharply dressed in a tailored suit. Everything about him screams of new money. “Good morning, Mr. Kim.” He hums at the housekeeper. “Good morning, Ms. Yoo. This must be the new helper. It’s nice to meet you.” The man comes down and visibly inspects you, as if trying to figure you out and only looks away when he’s satisfied. “I hope you’ll do a good job.” “Yes, sir.” “Are you going already, daddy?” Sohee comes from the kitchen, crestfallen. The volume of her voice is quiet and tapers off, “You’re not going to have breakfast with us...?” “I don’t have time today.” The words tumble out and he looks at his phone. Ms. Yoo opens the door as he answers a call outside. You look over at Sohee who’s become dejected. Her shoulders have slumped and her hair falls in front of her face. She pouts and tries to hide it. But Jungkook smiles softly and ruffles her hair. “Don’t be so sad. I’ll have breakfast with you tomorrow, okay?” “Really?” Sohee looks up at him, eyes gradually brightening and her cheeks becoming rosy. He nods. “I’ll make sure to come early.” “I’ll have to cook more eggs then,” the housekeeper chortles and Jungkook grins until his eyes travel to you. The glance turns into a gaze and neither of you speak until Ms. Yoo turns. “Come on, Y/N! We can’t dawdle all day now.” “Yes,” you murmur and follow after her, all too aware of Jungkook’s stare on your backside as Sohee still talks without him really listening. Once you turn the corner, the older woman pauses and your brow cocks. “Is….there something the matter?” She smiles endearingly at you and shakes her head. “No, nothing’s wrong. You’re just very beautiful, that’s all.”

The house is chaotic. Before going to bed, Ms. Yoo gave you one piece of furniture to add to the sad collection — an alarm clock. And it blares with red digits reading that it’s five in the morning. Lugging yourself up, you’re bombarded with chores. From laundry to wiping down windows and making the bed. “Excuse me.” You knock against the door and there’s a muffled ‘come in’. Yoongi sits at his desk with a stack of papers in front of him and a red pen in his hand. His room is similar to yours, cramped and modest, but with a larger window and mattress, and a proper wardrobe and closet. The man in his pajamas doesn’t look at you. “You can leave it there,” he mumbles and you set his tray of breakfast food on his nightstand. Your eyes linger on his slouching form. But he never turns around, so you leave. The noise and bickering from the kitchen can already be heard from the stair landing. The stove top fan is blasted while Ms. Yoo fries eggs, Jaesun sitting at the table with his legs swinging and spitting his cereal all over the place as he plays make-belief with his robot, but most of all— “Why won’t you let me go?” Sohee is standing by her mother, exasperation and the furrow of her brows ruining her otherwise innocent exterior. “It’s only Yeeun’s house! And you already know her mom!” “I already said that she isn’t a good influence on you!” “We’re only studying! I don’t get why you don’t like her!” “Her family is lower than ours.” Yijin forces herself to become calmer and feeds Jaesun a spoonful of yogurt as he plays. She glances at her daughter after a moment. “If you know what’s good for you, you’d become friends with Lee Sunmi. At least they have something to offer us. And are you going to eat that bagel? It’s filled with cream cheese. We have to watch your weight, remember?” “Why are you always picking on me?” The girl drops her choice of breakfast and cries, “What about Jaesun?!” “Are you going to compare yourself to your brother?” She gives her an astonished look full of disbelief, tinged with disappointment. “He’s only five.” Sohee is frustrated to no end. “I hate you all!” She screams and stomps away as you resume slicing the strawberries, eyes lifting every so often. You watch as Jungkook enters the kitchen at the same time Sohee’s leaving. She pauses for a second but then pushes past him. Her mother screams after her. “Sohee! Are you not going to eat at all?! That girl! So rude.” In the meanwhile, Ms. Yoo reads the expression on your face and smiles. “Don’t worry. They never argue for too long.” “Shouldn’t we at least say something?” She shakes her head. “I’ve tried to get involved a few times, but it never helped much. Better to keep quiet. Every family argues.” The housekeeper finishes up in the kitchen while Yijin settles down and sips on her coffee as she scrolls through her phone. She asks for a plate of fruits from Ms. Yoo and at the same time, you notice Jaesun scooping his cereal and purposely spilling it on the ground. No one notices. It sloshes into a pile. You hold in your cusses and grab a rag. The five year old realizes he’s been caught in the act and grins like a little shit. You get on the floor, scrubbing the mess. But the moment the floorboards are back to brown again, there’s another splatter of milk by your hand and a spoonful of cereal flakes that follow. It splashes on your hair and apron and you raise your head to find the little shit plastered with a ginormous smile. “Done eatin’!” He announces, scooting back his chair before running off in giggles. May Satan have mercy on the child before you tear his limbs apart. The minute you’re finished scrubbing the floor and clearing the table, you go off to find the brat. Because god forbid there’s a scratch on him. You find him in the hallway between the laundry room and garage. “What do you think you’re doing?!” There’s a bright red crayon in his tight fist. And he’s scribbling all across the wall while laughing at a piercing volume. At the sight of you, Jaesun draws a line as hard as he can until his knuckles are white, bits of wax are sprinkling and the crayon is a half the size it used to be. The kid runs away before you can snatch him. Much to your dismay, Ms. Yoo merely smiles in endearment when you tell her. “Kids like to have so much fun, don’t they? I remember when my son was at that age, he was such a troublemaker too. But it’s nothing a little baking soda can’t fix!” You end up on your knees, scrubbing the wall with a damp rag dipped in the white powder. You’re humiliating and exhausted. Taehyung was wrong — there’s nothing fun about this whatsoever. You swear to God you’re going to murder someone. “How are you doing?” You look up, discovering doe eyes and pink lips quirked at you. Jungkook is dressed in his suit that’s a bit too big for him, hands dug into the pants pockets as he glances at the wall. You smile at him, brushing away the strand of your hair that came loose from your bun. It’s not too bad of a time to be sweating. To allow the beads to roll down the nape of your neck. “It’s tiresome, but nothing I can’t do.” “I’m assuming this is Jaesun’s little artwork project.” “Who else could it be?” Jungkook grins boyishly. “Once he decided to paint the inside the car using the leather seats as his canvas.” “Why don’t they ever discipline him?” you ask genuinely, tilting your head up at him and he matches the playful glint in your eyes before shrugging. “Probably because he’s the youngest and the only son, so it’s natural they spoil him.” “But this is a bit much, isn’t it?” You shake your head, voice pitching upwards into a whine. The irritation was leaking through the facade you’ve created, but all it does is make Jungkook’s grin widen. “It is. You know—” “Y/N!” There’s a call of your name in a screeching voice. “Can you come here for a second?” “Yes!” For the most part, the crayon is taken off and you breathe a sigh of relief. You look over to Jungkook as a tiny smile appears on your features. “See you.” “Y-Yeah.” His eyes linger on you as you leave. “I’m about to be late for work, so can you please bring this up to my husband?” Yijin hands you a wooden tray with a tall glass of some sort of sludgy green liquid filled to the rim. The drink stinks of kale and lettuce. You wonder if she’s trying to poison him. “He hasn’t gotten anything to eat yet and I’m worried. That man never takes care of himself properly. Oh, and I’d really appreciate it if you could Jaesun dressed. Don’t know where he’s run off to.” You nod and balance the drink up the stairs before coming to the familiar grandiose doors. You knock timidly. There’s a disgruntled noise of acknowledgment, one that signifies he’s inside but preoccupied. Still, you push the parted doors open and come forward with the tray. Namjoon never looks up at you, busy studying the files of documents. The room is warmer than expected, oaks and mahogany, paintings and bookshelves, a large desk that reminds you of a judge’s bench — imposing, commanding. Not unlike him. There’s a fireplace, two leather sofas facing each other and a coffee table in between, and above the mantle is another family portrait that exudes a kind of stiff perfection. You place the glass down on his disorganized desk, eyes peering up at the man. As you retract your arm, your skin brushes against a stack of papers and they’re knocked to the ground. He whips his head over, brow cocked. “I’m so sorry, sir,” you whimper. As you frantically pick them up, you bend over in front of him. “It’s fine.” You feel his eyes linger on your rounded behind before he looks at his document again. You mask a smirk. Namjoon mutters from the corner of his mouth, “Where are you from?” You purposely pause so he directs his attention to you again. “I grew up in the countryside not far from here, sir.” You hold the tray to your stomach, presenting a timid disposition as if his gaze weighs heavily on you. “And what did you do before you took this job?” “I was in university, sir, but I’m taking a break to save some money.” The man gives a pleasant nod. “What was your major?” “Education, sir.” You divert your vision elsewhere, but a sweet smile pulls on your lips. “I would love to become a teacher someday.” He hums in approval, “I could see you doing that.” “Daddy?” The conversation is interrupted by Sohee at the door. She’s dressed in her school uniform, but is nowhere near ready to step into a classroom with the way she’s teary-eyed and her voice croaks with a lump in her throat. “Mom’s not letting me study with Yeeun!” Namjoon exhales exhaustingly. He sits back in his leather chair, looking at the ceiling. Sohee’s eyes stings at how she’s evidently annoying her father. But you don’t dwell, bowing your head and dismissing yourself. // You would’ve never picked up this job unless you had to. Not even for the useless money. You detest education. Never did well, never had fun, never got along with anyone. Be a teacher? You could scoff ten times over. You hate children. You hate kids. They’re absolute brats. Noisy at their best and tormentors at their worst. There’s only a few perks to this job. Like right now. “I’m glad to be of service,” Jungkook breathlessly laughs. His hot breath ghosts along your cheek while your legs wrap and lock around his waist. A comfortable darkness surrounds you. The moonlight cascades through the small window, enough that you can see his handsome profile. And the slick, obscene sounds are covered by the dryer machine still rumbling underneath you. It has the last load of towels the housekeeper wanted to get done tonight — and it’s also helping Jungkook release his load into you. The vibrations of the dryer flow through your body, adding to his raw strokes and the moans choking out of you. It didn’t take much to convince him to sneak away. The one-dimensional family is completely oblivious too, sleeping upstairs in their warm beds. You’re tempted to whine Jungkook’s name louder and make one of them investigate. You wonder what the look on their face would be if they found their little maid and chauffeur fucking in the laundry room. Jungkook tugs down your dress further and gently noses your hardened nipple before his mouth travels upwards to the juncture of your neck. You feel his lips suck into your soft skin, but the fingers sunk into his dark hair tightens and you pull his head back. He gives a throaty groan, half-lidded eyes pinned on your face. You writhe against his hard chest every time his thick cock drags out of your walls. He’s bigger than you expected. Eager too. Jungkook is a healthy and young one, hips and strokes fluid albeit a bit fast and excited. You can tell he likes you a lot. “I-I would’ve never guessed you hated kids.” The boy watches how his cock enters you and disappears. Your pussy clenches around him and he sweats at his hairline, trying to hold back from cumming so soon. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you sing-song cutely and roughly pull him in by his shoulders, batting your lashes. “Can you kiss me, please, Jungkookie?” He nods enthusiastically and leans in to nose your cheek. Then, he tilts his head and your mouth meets his. Your lips immediately part to welcome him deeper and his hands force your thighs farther apart, fingers digging into your flesh. Jungkook’s tongue licks into your hot mouth, making you moan. Yet, the kiss is somehow sweet. Much too pure for someone like you. The two of you break apart, lips wet with his spit. “I-I’m close.” Jungkook’s strokes start to lose their rhythm. They become frantic. Frenzied. He can feel the shaking of the dryer jumping beneath you, how tight and wet you are around him. You watch him through hooded eyes, tempted to coo at him and tell him that he can do it — encourage him that he can release his load right into your womb. But not wanting to ruin his fun moment, you instead squeeze as tight as you can. Jungkook groans, hips jerking and he plunges deep inside your cunt to cum. He gives two more thrusts. His entire body trembles and he realizes you’re still unfinished. Even with half a mind, he has the courtesy to lick his thumb and rub at your clit. You writhe with moans of his name, holding him close and a few seconds later, you get to where you want to be. As you come down from your high, you pet him. “Good boy. Thanks for that.” “Y-You’re so pretty.” “Am I?” you hum and he nods madly. Jungkook’s sticky breath heaves, chest rising and falling and you wrap your arms possessively around his shoulders. Whining incoherently, he understands that you’re pleading for another kiss. He happily obliges and you angle your head to deepen it. The kiss is lazier. Languid. Giving you a chance to taste him properly. Jungkook starts to groan when you don’t pull away after thirty seconds. He tries to part, losing oxygen. But you keep him in your tight grip. And you inhale. It’s delicious. It fills you with a sense of euphoria, making goosebumps raise all over the back of your arms. It’s been a while since you’ve had a soul for yourself. And as it leaves his body, you feel him go limp around you. Jungkook falls to the tiled floor, leaving a sopping mess at your center. “Would you look at that?” A deep timbre sounds. He appears, manifesting himself across from you with the corpse in between. The corner of his thin lip is curled as if he’s impressed. His blonde hair looks white in the milky moonlight and the darkness causes his piercing brown eyes to glow. “Not too bad, peach.” “It’s so easy, it’s not even fun.” You hop down from the dryer machine. Taehyung’s devilish smirk grows. “That’s because you’re so naturally enticing.” You roll your eyes. He comes close, large hands lifting to cradle your cheeks. Taehyung kisses you without much warning — not that you need it — and he licks into your mouth, inhaling deep. He retrieves the soul you took, taking it right from your parted lips. The two of you part and the thin strand of saliva breaks. Taehyung boops your nose. “I always knew my succubus was a talented one.” You scoff. “Don’t act like you came here to praise me. You just wanted to collect the soul.” “Can’t I come here for both?” He lolls his head, another smirk gracing his perfect visage that’s been sculpted by porcelain angel tears. “But it looks like you don’t need my help, so I’ll be on my way.” Taehyung winks and takes the discarded body on the ground, disappearing with it. He vanishes as quickly as he came. After he’s gone, you dip your hand between your messy legs. It’s the last remnants of Jungkook and it’s salty on your palette when you lick your fingers. // The mattress is soft against your knees. It cushions and molds against you each time you push down. But still, your wrists strain against the hardened muscles and knots. Yijin hums, a pleased smile on her face. “A little harder please. And oh, up there. Yes, yes. That’s the spot.” You continue to massage her, making sure to knead your thumbs into the sweet spots. The madam of the house moans in satisfaction. If she wasn’t so annoying and if her soul wasn’t so bland to you — you would’ve taken it long ago. But well, she might be fun to have around a little longer when you start messing with her family more. “You’re good,” she hums. “Where did you learn?” “Here and there. My grandma had a lot of sore muscles, so naturally, I kind of picked it up.” In reality, Taehyung makes you rub his shoulders all the time. She looks like she’s enjoying herself, head placed to the side, eyes closed and the corners of her mouth raises. She’s melting under your touch. But even when she’s this relaxed, she still manages to yap. “It’s been so long since I’ve been treated like this at home. I used to go to the spa often but there’s nothing like a home massage,” Yijin mumbles, “Namjoon used to do it for me all the time before we had kids and then he got busy with work, and well, it’s the reason we have this big house.” She flips her head to the other side and you rub between her shoulder blades. “I used to be as pretty as you are.” You keep your voice quiet and meek. “Pardon? You’re still pretty, madam.” “You don’t need to flatter me.” “But it’s true…?” Your voice pitches upwards as if you’re incredulous as to how she could think otherwise. “You have a maternal aura about you that I don’t have and you’re an established professional. Women can only dream of having that.” Peering at her, you catch the way her smile sweetens. At the same time, her husband enters the bedroom. Sighing and pulling off his tie, he places his briefcase down and moves to the minibar. Namjoon pours himself a glass of whisky and collapses into the white armchair beside the modern standing lamp, thighs spread wide and rather inviting. You look up at him, lashes fluttering in curiosity. “What’s wrong?” Yijin opens one eye, clearly catching how stressed Namjoon is. “I found that damn punk’s resignation letter on my desk. He’s gone.” He lifts his glass, taking a long sip of the amber liquid and letting the glass rest between his fingertips. “Who?” “Jungkook.” “What?” Both of Yijin’s eyes peel back, pupils widening in shock. “How could that brat leave without warning?” “I don’t know.” Namjoon looks to the whiskey, exhaling yet again. “After years of working for us, he upped and disappeared. I guess workers are always like that. Sohee’s been crying and throwing a tantrum. But anyway, I need to hire someone new. I don’t know who’s going to work this far from the city though.” You continue rubbing Yijin’s back and you feel Namjoon’s gaze traveling to you from his place on the armchair. From the profile of your face, the nape of your neck, to the skin of your thighs that’s exposed from your dress being hiked up so you’re able to kneel on his mattress. Yijin makes a noise. “Well, there’s nothing we can do. Do you want a massage too? Y/N’s really amazing.” Namjoon looks away, tearing his eyes from you. “No. I’m fine. I only need to rest a bit before I have to go back to work.” His wife opens her eyes again and this time, she gets up. You lean back, allowing her to do so. “Oh my goodness! Your associate is coming for dinner tonight, isn’t he? I almost forgot!” She snaps her fingers and looks at you. “Can you please draw me a bath, Y/N? I have to look presentable.” // The business associate is Taehyung. You couldn’t roll your eyes any harder when you see the blonde seated on the leather sofa as if he owns the place, suit and tie crisp, shoes polished. You don’t know what he’s doing or how he even set himself in their lives, but you suppose you had planted yourself in this household in dubious ways too — with his help, of course. So you don’t question it too much. “I must say, this house is much more beautiful than I thought it was going to be.” “That’s all thanks to my wife,” Namjoon chuckles, hands clasped together. “She has a better sense of aesthetics than I do.” Yijin smiles. She’s dressed in another one of her rosy blouses and white skirts, polished without a hair out of place — to both play the role of the perfect wife and appeal to the handsome stranger. “Thank you. I wanted to be an interior designer a long time ago, so it was really fun to try my hand at it even if it’s not much.” “Nonsense. It’s wonderful. Do you still want to be an interior designer now? You certainly have the skills for it.” “Oh, no.” She bats the air with her hand. “I lost the dream when I got married and had kids. Plus, I don’t think I could ever work for anyone. It doesn’t really suit me.” “Ah.” Taehyung leans back, all too comfortable as he is playful. “You prefer reaping the benefits of your husband and enjoying yourself? Can’t say I blame you.” The corner of Namjoon’s mouth tilts while you approach with a bottle of wine, setting the crystal glasses down for them. “You know how women are.” “On the contrary, they’re the more intelligent ones for letting us do all the work while they take pleasure,” Taehyung says, causing the other man to laugh and agree. You round the table to pour him a glass of wine and Taehyung looks at you with that infamous smirk, but you try to not make eye contact for long. “Thank you.” You dip your head wordlessly. “Oh yes.” Yijin perks up. “Thank you for recommending the company that you did. If not, we wouldn’t have been able to hire Y/N.” “It’s not a problem at all. I’m always happy to help.” He smiles, taking the stem of the wine glass and rotating it to slosh the ruby liquid inside. “I take it she’s a good addition to the house?” “Yes, she is.” Taehyung exhales through his nostrils, lips adorned with a devilish smile. “I’m glad.” You return to the kitchen unscathed, but damning Taehyung in your head for messing with your game. Though your irritation can’t last for long when Ms. Yoo hands you a wooden tray heavy with bowls and dishes. “Can you bring this up to the master’s younger brother? He’ll be having dinner in his room today.” “Okay.” You knock on the door. There’s a pause and after a moment, you open it. Yoongi is in the same spot he was this morning, crouched over his desk with a red pen in hand, papers in front of him and round reading glasses perched on his nose. The curtains are drawn but the glow of the lamp gives him enough luminescence to work. “You can leave it over there,” he mumbles and you place it on the usual spot. The man never raises his head or pays any attention to you. Your brow cocks and you take the tall glass, deciding to bring it to him. “Here’s some water, sir.” And you purposely waver. The liquid sloshing on the sides and unceremoniously spills onto his lap. Yoongi jolts, arms lifting to save his papers while you sharply gasp. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry!” You fall onto your knees and begin dabbing all over his lap and crotch with your apron. Yet your antics doesn’t last for a few seconds before he’s brushing your hand away. “It’s fine. It’s just water.” You peer up at him through your lashes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kim.” “I told you to leave it over there,” he grunts, casting a measly glance at you. “But it’s fine. If you have nothing else to do, please leave. I have a lot of work to get done.” You rise to your feet and exit. He’s a harder one to crack. Those little tactics might not be enough, but you’ll get there soon enough. You’re certain of it. “Y/N?” There’s a strangled whimper and you turn around in the dark corridor to see Sohee emerge from her room. The area underneath her eyes are reddened, nose raw. Her whole body trembles as she sniffles. The girl looks small and vulnerable, almost like a puppy. “Is there something wrong?” you ask gently, akin to a mother cooing at her child. Sohee’s eyes flicker up to you. “Did...Jungkook ever tell you anything before he left?” You shake your head. “No. We were never that close. I’ve only spoken to him a few times.” She nods. There’s a beat of silence and you lift your hand to caress her hair. The girl is startled but then eases, even leaning into your tender touch. You draw your fingers through her long, straight strands, petting her gently. “I’m sure he left for good reason. Maybe something happened or it was a family emergency. He was always close to you, right?” Sohee nods again while choked cries come from her. “W-We were family.” You embrace her, patting her back and she leans on your chest. “You’re not alone, Sohee. You have me now and I won’t ever leave like Jungkook did.” She squeezes you back. But the moment is shattered by a grating voice of her mother. “Sohee! Where are you?! Get down here and greet your dad’s friend!” Her jaw clamps. She parts from you, rubbing her eyes. You watch her go and she turns around to look at you. You smile at her. // “Your maid outfit’s cute.” He appears. A creeping shadow casted against the wall first, then flesh that stitches into the room. You’re resting on your bed, leaning against the headboard and filing your nails one at a time — the yellow glow of the desk lamp giving you barely enough light. “I didn’t get a good look last time.” “What are you doing, Taehyung?” You blow against your index finger and finally ascend your gaze. “Just having a little fun,” he chimes and muses that— “You’re taking a lot longer than usual.” “Well, I’m just having some fun.” Taehyung scoffs. “Don’t take too long.” “You shouldn’t act like you’re busy when you’re not,” you bite back without missing a beat. His brow cocks, smirk playing on his lips. “I think it’s been too long since I’ve disciplined you.” Before you can react, he ambushes and pins you flat onto the bed. Taehyung hovers over you with a glint in his eyes, heavy body on top of yours, hips pressed together. He holds your wrists above your head, preventing you from squirming. But you make no attempts to do so, simply glaring at him like a petulant child. You’re neither surprised nor caught off guard. Taehyung always likes to be the one on top, in a literal and figurative sense. And truth be told, you don’t particularly mind. His pink lips are curled and he leans down to your neck. He starts to suck into your skin, rough enough to break through and your pathetic cries only spur him on. Making him smirk against you. But your fingers find their way into his hair and you yank his head back. Flesh coated in his saliva, a giant purple bruise is left blooming on your supple skin as the redness fades. “I told you no marks.” “You’re going to need it, peach,” he says with a mischievous grin and then vanishes. You’re left rolling your eyes. // The grandiose double doors have never been intimidating. Even when Ms. Yoo has warned you on your first day to not disturb the master working and to not approach unless necessary. As much of a brat as the five year old is, even he doesn’t come close to his father’s office. But to you, those doors have always signified that a very fun game is waiting behind them. Your knuckles rap against the wooden surface and you pull the golden handles without waiting for confirmation. Kim Namjoon’s seated in his leather chair behind the imposing desk, eyes flickering upwards and you smile, holding your tray higher. “It’s fruit, sir.” “That isn’t necessary,” he says and you feign dejection, downcast eyes, shoulder slumping. He swallows hard and then beckons you over. “You can bring it here.” You come forward and place the plate on a single empty spot on the desk not coated in file folders. You’re close enough that he catches a whiff of your scent and the hickey on your neck. A scoff spills from Namjoon’s chest. “You’re doing a lot of unnecessary things in my home,” he comments offhandedly, perhaps not for your ears to hear. It’s passive aggressive and you mask your smile. Namjoon looks at you. “I would prefer if you would work properly and complete your duties without doing much else.” You feign confusion. Wide-eyed blinking. Lashes batting. As if giving you the reason for his mention, his eyes linger at the hickey. In a delayed manner, your hand raises to the juncture of your neck, covering the spot Taehyung made like that alone could remove it. And then, you immediately drop to the ground on your knees. “I-I’m so sorry, sir. It...it wasn’t my fault,” you cry out, searching the floor as the volume of your voice becomes timid and shy. It isn’t hard to come up with an excuse. “J-Jungkook did it. I didn’t know what he was doing, but he cornered me in the laundry room and I..told him to stop...but…” He slams his desk. Hand curled into a tight fist. Making the pens on the surface jump. It’s startling and you look up at him, viewing just how upset he is. “He left the next morning and hasn’t been back…” “So that’s why he left. Why didn’t you tell me?” Namjoon stares at you in distress. “This is very serious.” You shake your head. “I was afraid of saying anything. I know Jungkook’s been here longer than I have, so I didn’t think anyone would believe me and I can’t lose this job, sir.” Your head tilts to look up at him, eyes gleaming through your lashes, lips pouted, still on your knees. “I’m sorry.” The man sighs. “There’s no reason to apologize. If he ever comes back, I’ll call the police immediately. No one in this household should ever feel unsafe. I’ll promise you that.” You nod and he helps pull you up by your arm. You stagger upwards and on weakened knees, you stumble. With agile skills Taehyung would be proud of, you land on the man’s lap. Perched on his spread thighs, your legs placed along one side, and hands securely on his shoulders. Namjoon’s steadied you as well with his own palms sprawled on the small of your waist. And your parted lips are gasping mere millimeters away from his. It’s an intimate moment. One where your gazes lock. One where you make sure lasts three seconds to imprint into his mind. And then true to the character you’ve created, you pull yourself away. You grab your chair and dip your head. “I’m so sorry, sir.” Before the master of the house can get another word out, you run out the room. The minute you’re outside, you run into Yoongi. Passing by, he cocks a brow at the way you frantically shut the doors and your breathing is laboured as if you ran a marathon. “Something wrong?” Your head shakes and you devilishly smile at him. “It’s nothing at all.” // It’s a game with these mortal men. You know they want you — that they helplessly dream about you at night. Your words, your lips, you crawling over to them and doing whatever they ask. Showing what reality could be. But the more you let them peek without giving it to them, the deeper they fall into your trap of honey. “What do you think?” You place the papers down, a tender smile placed on your features. “Shouldn’t you ask your uncle who’s an editor to look over your essay instead of me?” Sohee playfully sulks. “Yeah, but he’s always busy. I don’t want to bother him.” “You made a few errors here and the conclusion isn’t as strong as the introduction. I think you should expand on this point into one or two more sentences. But overall it’s very well written, Sohee. You might even have a knack for writing.” The girl nods with a grin and when you stroke her hair while telling her how proud you are, she looks up at you and leans into your touch. Ms. Yoo enters the dining room, endeared at the sight of you and Sohee sitting together at the table and working on her homework. She’s reluctant to interrupt but does so anyways. “Y/N, the master is calling for you.” The housekeeper never tells you for what purpose, but you have an inkling sprouted from your intuition. Swiftly, you leave and Ms. Yoo takes your place as Sohee continues on other assignments she’s able to do on her own. The pair of them are equally unsuspecting. It’s evening and long after dinner. The sun is dipping over the horizon, crimson shades fuzzy in the sky. Everyone is preoccupied and there’s no real reason why he should be calling you. But you don’t hesitate. Your knuckles rap against the grandiose doors. There’s a pause and you push it open. Inside, there’s a fire roaring in the fireplace — above the mantle is the family portrait — and the man is standing and staring at the flickering flames. His face casted by the warm glow and he’s nursing a glass of whiskey. Namjoon raises his head as you push the door back to where it was, leaving it slightly parted. “Good evening.” “Is there something wrong, sir?” He shakes his head. “Not at all. I’ve just been thinking and I...realized I haven’t been as kind to you as I should’ve been. It didn’t occur to me that this wasn’t a safe place for you and I want to change that. I don’t want anyone in this house to be afraid.” You know he’s referring to what you’ve accused Jungkook of doing and promptly you close the distance. Your steps are slow as your hips sway and you look at him through lidded eyes. “Sir.” You keep your voice low. “This has always been a safe place to me, because I know you’re here.” Your eyes locked into one another and a tense silence lingers. Finally, Namjoon swallows hard and diverts his vision. “Would you like a drink?” “I-Is that allowed, sir?” “I’ll allow it.” The suited man smiles and moves to sit on his dark leather couch. There are two couches facing one another by the fireplace with a coffee table in between, opposite of his desk and the bookshelves. A once private sanctuary meant for no one but him, yet you have an exclusive invitation. His thighs spread as he gets comfortable and he reaches for the fancy bottle of whiskey. Namjoon pours a glass of the amber liquid. It sloshes on the side and he extends his arm. You take it nervously as if you’ve never drank much before. “You don’t have to drink it all if you don’t want to.” “It’s not that.” You smile at him through your lashes. “I’m just wondering how expensive it is.” Namjoon scoffs lightly, but not out of malice or annoyance. It’s from endearment. “You don’t need to worry about that.” The rim of the glass is placed between your plush lips and you take a sip. It’s bitter, but slides smoothly down. He watches you and in the meanwhile, your eyes flicker away from him. Something catches your attention on a mahogany bookshelf, so you cross the room. You allow your knees to brush against his, the loose strands of your hair nearly skimming along his nose. Namjoon clears his throat, holding the crystal glass casually between his fingertips. “Can I ask what kind of perfume you use?” You twist around with another easy smile. “I don’t really use any, sir.” Bending over in his line of vision, you look at his stacks of books and other knick-knacks on his shelf. “You have chess?” “I do.” He places his glass down. “Do you want to play?” You turn around with another coy smile. “Can we really?” The darkness of the room thickens, fire crackling and sputtering in the background. The glow is dim against your profiles and casts your shadows along the wall. The game of chess has been set on the small table. You tell him you barely know how to play to which he replied he’d go easy on you. A few minutes have passed and you’ve moved a few pawns around. Yet, it’s intimate and quiet as if the room is hidden away from the rest of the house. Something you’re sure isn’t too far off. “Are you alright, sir?” you ask in a husky murmur, pupils flickering up to him as he’s mid-way from taking another sip of his whisky. “You seemed pretty stressed a few days ago.” Namjoon leans back into the seat. It sinks underneath his weight. His thighs are spread as you hold your knight, still debating on where to place it on the board. “I still am, but it's just the usual business stress.” “Your wife worries a lot.” You place the chess piece down and he leans forward again, capturing your pawn with one smooth move of his rook. “You don’t need to try to make me feel better. I know she doesn’t care.” “That’s not true,” you refute half-heartedly. “Why do you feel that way?” “It’s obvious,” he mumbles and takes another pawn of yours when you move it. “My wife is more preoccupied with using my credit card and all she does all day is nag which makes it worse.” You move your bishop across the board. “Because of her, we have to have two live-in maids in the house at all times,” Namjoon continues. The liquor makes it easy for him to relax and let the truth spill. He’s defenseless. “Sohee doesn’t get along with her at all and Jaesun isn’t disciplined whatsoever. Sometimes I wonder why my family is like this and where it went wrong.” The older man exhales and slides his king forward. He waits for your next move, but you don’t go. Your gaze is pinned on him and his eyes travel upwards to connect with yours. “It doesn’t need to be that way, sir,” you whisper. It’s your moment. You can feel it. And you disregard the game in favour of crawling towards him. The chess pieces knock over, some to the table and the others collide to the ground. He has no idea you were two moves away from checkmate. In seconds, you straddle his thighs. Namjoon’s at a loss, arms not yet touching you, but hands never pushing you off of him. His eyes have gone hazy. He’s completely entranced by you, bewitched under your spell. Vulnerable to your seduction and the wicked temptation you offer. “What are you doing?” His breath laboured and he tries to muster sternness to no avail, as if you shouldn’t entice him with such a dangerous game. The corner of your lip pulls into a devilish smile. “I’m doing to fulfill every single one of your fantasies, daddy.” And you kiss him. Slotting your soft lips against his chapped ones, letting them move gently. It’s a brief moment before Namjoon surges forward like a man possessed. Namjoon’s hands grab your ass and he pushes you forward until you’re sitting directly sitting above his crotch. You whimper, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His brows furrow, mouth parting from the pain and you steal the chance to deepen the kiss. He struggles for control but you ultimately give it to him, feigning submission. It’s too easy. You roll your hips over his hardened crotch, feeling how your panties stick to your slick folds, and he grabs hold of your waist. The pair of you break away from the kiss with your arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders. “God, you knew what you were doing this entire time, weren’t you?” Namjoon’s chest heaves against yours. “Every time you fucking bent over. Every time you tried to play coy. Such a goddamn tease.” His fingers rub over your wet lips then down to your neck and collarbones. His hands travel to the low collar of your dress and then he tears it. The fabric rips against the threads and you whine in shock. But Namjoon never halts, undoing your bra and tossing it aside. He grabs a handful of your soft breast and pinches your nipples roughly until the bud hardens against the pad of his fingers. You sob out as he watches you through lidded eyes, mesmerized by the way your expression contorts into pleasure. “I can see why Jeon liked you so much.” “But I didn’t want him to touch me, daddy.” You pout at him. The thin layer of your panties and his slacks prevents you from feeling it completely, but it’s still dry fucking. “I-I only wanted you.” “And you’re going to have me,” the man grunts and pulls aside the skirt of your uniform. His hand dips past your thin, white underwear and his fingers feel against your folds. “Fuck,” he hotly exhales, “you’re soaked. Do you really want me that badly?” “Yes, daddy.” Without warning, Namjoon’s index and middle finger plunges into your cunt until he’s knuckle deep. You cry out, hugging him tighter to you and he pants, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Your cunt is so tight.” You squeeze around his prodding fingers. “Tighter than your wife’s?” Before he can answer, you kiss him again. Your sticky tongues interlace, sloppy and obscene. You taste his spit at the back of your throat — and it’s just the way you like it. The kiss lasts long enough that you can swallow his groan and you pull off his suit jacket. The rest of your dress pools around your hips. It becomes frantic after that, breaking apart just to rid of your clothes. He tosses your ruined underwear aside, but keeps the rest of his own attire on. It’s some kind of power play as if you should be the only one naked and vulnerable. Yet he’s oblivious to how you have him wrapped around your finger. “Tell daddy.” The older man’s hand wraps around your throat gently. “Have you ever been fucked properly before?” His slacks have been tugged down enough that his cock has sprung free and his other hand grips the base of it. The reddened tip leaks with a bead of precum and you eye how big he really is. It’s more than Jungkook’s but less than Taehyung’s. You shake your head and lie. “No.” Namjoon cusses. “Is that okay?” you timidly whimper and he smirks. “More than okay, baby. It won’t hurt too bad.” He guides his shaft to your pulsing cunt and runs the head of his cock along the collected wetness that has stained his pants and dripped to his leather couch. Both of you lower your heads, watching as he starts pushing through your folds. Immediately, your fingers tighten on his shoulders, wrinkling his expensive white shirt that was ironed by his wife. Namjoon shushes you. “Relax. It’s okay.” “I-It’s too much, daddy,” you complain in a pitched voice. “It’s too big.” His jaw ticks, fingers sinking deeper into the flesh of your parted thighs. “You can take it.” You nod and sink down on him slowly, making sure to draw it out as long as you can. And Namjoon’s head falls back. He groans and makes it balls deep inside of you. You make sure to tremble and squeeze around him, keeping his cock at a vice grip. “Is this okay?” “Uh-huh, sweetheart. It’s great.” With his eyes closed, he misses your smirk. You begin to fuck yourself onto him, feeling the pull and thrust of his big shaft dragging along your wet walls. The way your cunt stretches deliciously. Namjoon meets you half-way, hips thrusting upwards while you rock yourself against him. Your nipples are hardened and your breasts bounce in front of him. Tying the sight all together, you reach behind and pull the pins from your hair, letting it cascade down. You know it must be a sight for sore eyes. While you’ve never flaunted your appearance, you know you’ve been subtly altered to lure mortal men in. Your face and body are the accumulation of their fantasies. And it’s effortless to tempt them. To captivate their attention with a simple smile. You’ve looked at yourself enough times in the mirror to know that you aren't shabby too. “Daddy, it f-feels...so good,” the words are choked out of you, sobbed as you bat your lashes. Jungkook, the poor boy, was much more eager and sweeter. But with Namjoon, his experience is evident in his strokes. He’s rougher with the way he squeezes your ass until a handprint is left. There’s less regard with how he treats you, as if you’re just a pretty placeholder merely giving pleasure. His hard thrusts against your cervix would hurt if not for how the pleasure overtakes you. “You have to pull out, daddy,” you stutter. “I-I can’t get pregnant.” Your kind can’t carry children from mortals but he doesn’t need to know that. “I’ll do whatever I want,” Namjoon grunts, jaw clamped and brows furrowed. He sweats at his hairline. “I’ll cum where I want.” You give a loud and exasperated moan that you hope he enjoys. “B-But it’s not right.” “Shush. I’ll take care of you.” You squeeze around him again, hands tight on his shoulders. Namjoon’s eyes are shut as he revels in the feeling of you rocking against him and you smirk, looking down at him. At how pathetic he’s gotten. Just sitting on his lap and giving a simple kiss was enough to reduce him to this mess. From an established mogul in his forties into a helpless, hormonal teenage boy. In a few minutes, he’s thrown away years of marriage and loyalty for his wife for some maid’s cunt. A measly housemaid who’s supposed to be only a few years older than his own daughter. Taehyung was right — this is fun. At the same time, Sohee walks up the stairs while humming, hugging her textbooks to her body. She beelines straight to your room at the end of the other hall, wanting to show off how she’s finished everything and secretly hoping that you’ll gently stroke her hair like you always do. But as she passes by her father’s office, her ears catch a high-pitched whine. She stops. On sheer instincts, her head swivels over. And through the crack, she finds her dad’s backside. She sees the way you’re on top of him, naked, riding her father. Your eyes flicker to her through the gap. She gasps. Sohee backs away into the darkness. She turns around, a thick lump forming in her throat, her brows knitted together. But she doesn’t watch where she’s going and her mother meets her in the corridor. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be in bed, Sohee.” Yijin’s voice is grating to the ears and she frowns at her daughter’s disposition. The way her downcast head and eyes search the ground. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. “What’s wrong with you?” She doesn’t mean to — but Sohee’s eyes incidentally travel back to the grandiose double doors. And Yijin follows her line of sight. // “I can’t believe you’ve done this!” Her screeches fill the manor. It’s always been noisy, but never solely because of an individual and certainly never at this ear screeching pitch. “How could you do this to me?!” Yijin’s absolutely deranged. She’s throwing a fuss early morning after what she saw last night and retreated to her bedroom. She waited for him to return. Yet Namjoon never came to join her. Now she stands at the foyer with a suitcase that Ms. Yoo packed, but she has no plans of leaving. Instead, she’s tossing porcelain vases on the ground and tugging the tablecloth off of the table. The display case is open and fragments of antiquities litter the marble floor. Jaesun is crying hysterically at the staircase while rubbing his eyes with two tight fists. Sohee remains silent, standing at the top and looking down at her mother. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The woman shrieks at Namjoon who stands there motionlessly, expression blank and impassive. It doesn’t seem like she’ll be satisfied until she gets a remorseful reaction from him or tears this entire house apart. Either of which you’d be amused to see. “You selfish bastard!” Although this was entertaining in itself. You’ve never seen her like this before. The once polished and poised woman has been diminished to this vengeful bitch that’s about to pop a vein — a version of herself that you always knew was hidden deep inside. Ms. Yoo is the only one who comes forward and tries to put a stop to it. “Please, madam. Don’t do this,” she pleads softly, tears streaking down her own face. Jaesun weeps. “Mommy!” “Madam, please,” Ms. Yoo begs as if she’s trying to placate a child throwing a temper tantrum. “You’re only going to hurt yourself.” “You can’t do this to me, Namjoon!” Yijin’s hair is all in front of her face in a tangled mess. Her dress is wrinkled and she’s bare feet. Crazed — just like her husband was last night….except in different contexts. Ms. Yoo starts to guide her away from the foyer to the front door, dragging the suitcase with her. “Even if you divorce me, I could still get the house! Get our kids! Namjoon! Fuckin— Namjoon!” Ms. Yoo pulls her out the door while crying and Yijin collapses at the steps as violent sobs wrack through her. The housekeeper sets the suitcase outside and looks down, hesitating. Namjoon deadpans, “Close the door, Ms. Yoo.” She shuts it. Fists bang against the surface for a moment before it stops, being replaced by the noise of wails. Instantly, Sohee runs upstairs, disappearing from sight. Namjoon turns away. Ms. Yoo sighs, taking Jaesun’s hand and comforting him. The only other person is Yoongi. His gaze is darkened and he leans against the wall with arms crossed. You turn and his eyes pierce into yours. But wordlessly, you bow your head to him and go on about your day. // The house is finally quiet. Just the way you like it. But it brews with a sort of intensity, a tension that doesn’t let you breathe easy. It was the calm before the final storm and your guard wasn’t going to be put down just yet. You knock against Sohee’s bedroom door and after hearing no protests, you open it. She’s laying on her bed, covers over her head, having skipped school today which no one blamed her for. You clear your throat, speaking gently as if you were cooing a puppy, “You didn’t have any breakfast, so I brought you hot chocolate, Sohee. I’ll leave it on your nightstand.” The mug is placed down and as you turn away, the sound of rustling slows your steps. She’s come up for air, hair in a disarray and covering her face, and she calls for you, “Y/N.” “Hmm?” “Are…..” She hesitates and you take the invitation to sit at the edge of her bed. The girl looks up at you after a moment. “Are you going to become my new mom?” The pause is purposeful. It makes it seem as if you’re considering it. Makes it seem as if you’re staring at her because you’re wholeheartedly endeared by her. And that nothing else matters. To top it off, your arms reach out and you hug her. Sohee is vulnerable, small against you and she eases in your secure embrace, allowing you to hold her. You even run your fingers through her hair, caressing her gently and she softly sighs, relishing in the comfort she never received from her own mother. In a lot of ways, you share many similarities with her. “I’m sorry, Sohee,” you murmur. “I didn’t mean you to see that. For all this to happen. I adore you and if you want me to be your new mom, I will, but it’ll be a decision made with you.” She nods against your shoulder and the corner of your mouth pulls into a subtle smirk. To think she would ask such a question merely hours after her biological mother was booted out the house is both astounding and unsurprising. It’s partly from her poor relationship with the woman and how she was charmed by you moments after your first encounter. A kind of love at first sight. Not unlike how most men succumb to your allure — yet differing from lust. Instead, Sohee has developed a familial affection towards you. But not everyone is as welcome as she is to the new change. “Did you have anything to do with this?” Yoongi asks you. A surprise that he’s stepped out of his bedroom for some sunlight. Or perhaps to find answers. You hum, continuing to place the stack of books back onto the shelf in the living room. “Maybe.” His cat-like eyes are focused, pierced into you with a kind of intensity that would make anyone sweat. But you aren’t anyone. “What are your plans? Is it the inheritance? The status? Namjoon’s money—” “Neither.” Finished with your task, you move to the kitchen. But Yoongi blocks the doorway, leaning against it and never moving away. You stop, allowing your bodies to press together, testing as to who will give in first. Yet, he never once yields. Wavers. You’re close enough that he can feel your hot breath against his skin and as his jaw clamps, your pupils flicker down to his pouty mouth. Against his own will, his eyes mimic yours. They follow to your own lips. And you smirk. It’s a heated moment and then you brush away from the sharp-witted man. // For a short while, there’s a mirage that the game has several winners. But the instant gratification comes with consequences and there is only one ultimate victor. “I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t work in these conditions. With the madam gone, it’s just too hard for me. I…” Ms. Yoo shakes her head tearfully, a wrinkled hand placed over her chest where her heart is. “I’ve spent decades working in this house, master Kim, and I think it’s time I retire and spend some time with my grandchildren.” Namjoon stares out the window, unable to work, unable to move. His frustration overwhelms him. “I won’t force you to stay, Ms. Yoo. Sohee and Jaesun will miss you, but you’ve done a lot for my family and I. We couldn’t thank you enough for your dedication and hard work over the years.” He is calm and she bows her head before retreating. You catch her in the corridor and she takes your hands, squeezing them and wishing you the best of luck with a sweet smile. After Ms. Yoo leaves, you wipe your hands against your collared dress. You knock on the grandiose doors. “Get out.” Disregarding his command, you enter anyway. Namjoon is disgruntled, seated behind his desk in his leather chair, a finished glass of whiskey discarded on the side. His hands are clasped together, elbows propped on the surface and he leans his head on his fingers. “What don’t you understand? Leave!” But you approach him until you can press your hands on the edge of his desk and lean forward. The once powerful man established in his wealth looks up at you, dark circles deepening, the wrinkle between his brows made permanent. He stares at you as if you’re a fearsome curse, a bothersome pest, a fiend. And you have to resist the delicious smirk that tickles your lips. “You did this to me,” he mutters, simmering in animosity. “You destroyed me.” You round the oak furniture and plop down onto his lap. Before he can shove you off, you grab his hair from the back of his head, letting the strands thread through your fingers, and you pull. He groans, chin lifting up. “You were the one who made the decision,” you tell him. “It’s you who became weak. You thought about me and even now, you still want me.” The edge of your mouth tilts and you watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat before you lean in, whispering in his ear, “You can’t stop thinking about me, can you, Namjoon?” “You’re a vixen.” “Oh, I’m much more than that.” You end up sinking to your knees and taking him to the back of your throat. He cums there, the taste salty and consistency thick — a kind of bitterness that you’ve learnt to find savoury. And Namjoon cums again in your tight cunt when you’re bent over his desk and he’s pounding into you, fucking you hard enough to feel his anger and for your ass to bruise against his pelvis. “N-Namjoon, it feels so good.” “Shut the fuck up, slut.” He sweats at his hairline, holding your hips and jostling you around as he chases his own release. You look across the room to the family portrait above the mantle and smirk to yourself. “I-I’ll spank your cunt again.” He couldn’t even scold you. He couldn’t blame you for ruining his marriage. You have him wrapped around your finger. // The photograph captured a moment of Namjoon holding newborn Jaesun, Yijin smiling with her arm looped around Sohee who was only eleven at the time. They’re in front of the house with Ms. Yoo beside them wearing a grin. She remembers that day, the family barbecue outside, the laughter and joyous atmosphere. Yet now, Ms. Yoo only sighs to herself and packs the framed picture into her duffle bag. “You’re still here?” Your voice nearly startles the old woman to death. She jumps and turns around, finding you at the doorway. “Yes, I was just finishing up. I didn’t realize I had so many belongings. I guess this is what thirty years gives you.” Ms. Yoo takes a gander around the room, what was her home, then to you. She never once notices Namjoon’s cum dripping down your thigh from your messy and puffed center that still delightfully aches. “I’m going to miss this place.” “Or you could always stay.” Not wanting to waste any more time, you take three strides and your mouth presses against hers. The older woman is shocked, eyes widened at your kiss, but you inhale. She goes limp against you. Her soul taken right from her. And Ms. Yoo collapses to the ground. You shudder at the taste, at how your guts coil inwards. It’s terribly bland. Her soul isn’t half of what it takes to satisfy you. Not like you’re surprised. As a succubus who’s meant to entice mortal men, male souls are the desirable ones. You wait for Taehyung to come pick up the corpse, but he never shows up and you curse him. He always finds a way to show his face and steal the good souls away from you, satisfying his own appetite and leaving the scraps left for you. But when it comes to souls that are bland to you and therefore bland to him, suddenly he has no business manifesting himself. You kick Ms. Yoo’s lifeless body and having no other options, you roll her heavy body with the rectangular carpet. You start sweating as you heave her up. But with enough effort, you manage to stuff her in the closet and shut the doors. Someone will deal with that later. // It’s amusing. Namjoon does everything within his power to act like nothing’s changed. That nothing’s happened and he isn’t missing his wife or housekeeper in his home. He grabs onto any semblance of normalcy, perhaps to cope with the changes of the past twenty four hours. He calls for dinner to be set at the usual time and you’re thankful Ms. Yoo made sure the fridge was stocked up before she was to leave. All you do is slap the container food into bowls and heat them in the microwave before setting the table as you usually do. The entire family gathers around the table — Sohee, Jaesun, Namjoon and even Yoongi. “Y/N will be joining us for dinner,” Namjoon suddenly announces as you set down the last bowl. Your brow raises and Yoongi’s eyes round but no one questions it. Not even Jaesun who often throws tantrums. The kid merely pouts. Never once lifting his spoon of rice into his mouth, putting on a defiant act, but you don’t care. If the brat wants to starve, he can starve. You sit down beside Namjoon, across from Yoongi and diagonal to Sohee. It’s tense at the table, the silence suffocating those around it. But you settle in comfortably and even pass some side dishes directly into Sohee’s bowl that you know she likes. Her eyes flicker up to you and a tiny smile tugs on her face. “Thank you.” Namjoon clears his throat and looks to his brother. “You were working on editing a science textbook, right?” “Biology,” Yoongi answers shortly. “For grade eight students.” “And how is that coming along?” They continue their conversation, making some small talk and you chew in your cheek while your foot lifts underneath the table. Your leg stretches and it grazes along the leg of the man across from you. Yoongi immediately freezes. His brown eyes pool close to black and he glares. But you don’t let up, stroking the inside of his leg as you eat and look away from him. Yoongi pushes away. You scoot yourself forward. He tries not to draw attention to himself. Asked another question, he gives half a mind to responding. Your toes slowly travel up to his thighs and then they tickle and twitch against his crotch. Yoongi’s breath staccatos. No one knows that you’re playing footsies with Yoongi underneath the table. That you can feel the way he hardens against his sweatpants. “What game do you think you’re playing?!” he harshly whispers after dinner when the two of you are away from the others. Yoongi corners you, his good looks sadly marred by his twisted expression. You blink, feigning ignorance. “What do you mean?” But the little act doesn’t faze him. You knew it wouldn’t work the second you met the man. “I know you have something to do with Yijin leaving.” “I didn’t do anything, Yoongi.” You grab his shoulders, pulling him closer until his body is pressed against yours and you grin, breath skimming along his neck. “The dominoes were already in place long before I came here. You know that too. I just needed to give it a little push,” you exhale the word and he can’t stop himself from swallowing hard. From staring at you. He eventually musters enough self-control to push you away and leave. You turn the corner, the darkness enveloping the corridor and bringing a sort of eeriness. But it might just be from Taehyung who you find leaning against the wall. His arms are crossed and he’s smirking. “Aren’t you having a little too much fun, peach?” “This is the best part.” You loll your head to one side. “Sometimes playing with your food before you eat it makes it much more appetizing.” He laughs, chuckling from his chest and the sound tinkles. “I taught you well.” Taehyung pushes himself off the surface and as he passes by you, he taps your butt. He disappears seconds later, leaving you on your lonesome to keep playing. // Everything is falling into place. It’s like you’re playing chess without an opponent, simply arranging your pawns as you’d like on the board. But because of how effortless and simple it is, it’s easy to get bored. One day you’re waking up to a blaring alarm clock and slaving after the whims of humans as their servant and the next, you wake beside Namjoon in the master bedroom, having taken the madam’s place. You slept on her sheets, on her pillow, beside her husband. There’s nothing fun about it anymore once you’ve won. You roll over to straddle Namjoon’s hips, placing his morning wood right under your center. He’s shaken awake by the movement and groans, rough hands instinctively coming to grab your ass. “W-What time is it?” his voice is still thick with sleep and you smile devilishly, rubbing your clit through your silk slip that barely covers your nipples. Your pink cunt is still swollen from last night’s endeavours, but you think one last one ought to be enough. You won’t miss his cock after this. “You were dreaming about me, weren’t you, Namjoon?” you whisper and before he can respond, your hands reach out, wrapping around his neck. He’s completely at your mercy. The man slowly blinks awake, coming to consciousness and a staggering exhale leaves his mouth as you position the bulborous head of his shaft to your folds. He mumbles something about how insatiable you are and lightly chuckles. But Namjoon should consider himself lucky. It’s not often you let the same human fuck you three times. He pounds into you, hips lifting off the mattress. The stretch of your pussy is rather pleasing, but with the repetitiveness, your mind wanders and your hands around his neck tighten. You cut off Namjoon’s airway and his eyes slam shut with a loud groan. You can practically feel his cock twitch inside of you. Unfortunately, the man loses it all too soon. It’s a bit amateurish for someone as experienced and punishing as he is, but you don’t blame him. Well...only a little as you lean down and capture your mouth with Namjoon’s before inhaling sharply. Out of the three times you spread your legs for him and the numerous times you let his cum leak out of your pussy and drip down your thighs, he only made you cum once. It’s kind of sad. Selfish. Once you’re done with him, he falls back. You hum to yourself as you climb off the man’s used dick and move to the vanity across the luxurious bedroom. You freshen up and pin up your hair, allowing a few strands to frame your face. After you’re satisfied, you grab Yijin’s shawl to cover your top half and you stride down the hall to Yoongi’s door. He’s at his desk as usual, red pen in hand, crouched over a stack of papers. But the curtains aren’t drawn, allowing the bright sunlight through his modest room. “Mornin’.” He turns around, brow raised, eyeing how you’re leaning against the door frame, casually greeting him in spite of being dressed in a measly scrap of fabric. “What are you doing?” You quirk your head. “Something we should’ve done a long time ago.” “And what is that?” “Hmmm, I think you know, Yoongi.” You flick a piece of dirt from underneath your fingernail. “Let’s not drag this on for any longer than we have to.” You stay ambiguous and he maintains an impassive expression. But his stoicness has no effect to deter you when you smile and approach him slowly. “You know, I was once like you. Complacent. Quiet. A little like Sohee too, maybe even more naive than she is right now.” “Once?” “A long time ago,” you hum. “I was going to get married to a bad, bad man until I became liberated.” You come close enough to grab a fistful of his hair at the back of his head. His head tilts upwards when you tug, powerless to your enchantment. “It’s okay to give in, Yoongi,” you whisper against his skin. “It’s okay to be selfish and indulgent. You’ve done so well up to now.” “What makes you think I’ll sleep with my brother’s mistress?” he asks in a harsher tone. “The whore that ruined his entire family.” You laugh. “That’s not very nice.” “But isn’t it the truth?” “It is. But I’m supposed to be irresistible to men. Your restraint is impressive, Yoongi, but it’s only natural that you give into your primitive needs or at least be honest with yourself. You dream about me, don’t you?” The ongoing silence makes your grin widen and your eyes glimmer in the morning sunlight. “You’ve fantasized about me a lot. You want me.” You lower yourself, hooded eyes connected with his. Your hair is messy, yet not in a disoriented way from sleeping. Yoongi smell it on you too — the sweat and musty scent. “You fucked my brother.” “And I can fuck you too.” You surge forward, capturing his mouth with your own. It’s different. Languid with the soft caresses of tongue, his lips not chapped but puffy. The kiss is slow and lazy. Not eager like Jungkook but not as rough as Namjoon. Yoongi sighs, savouring and truly enjoying it, and it’s something you lean into. You match his speed and rhythm and once you pull away, his eyes are hazy. Yoongi pants, swallowing hard. “Who...are you?” “Secret,” you sing-song and pull him towards you. The two of you nearly fall to the floor, though his bed is close enough in his small room that you collide against the mattress. The man hovers over you and you hold his arms in a vice grip. Cocking your head to the side, you giggle. “This is fun, isn’t it?” “You’re a heathen.” “Not quite, but close enough.” You grin and kiss him again. It feels good to. Not long after that, you’re beneath him and he’s bare, quiet without a single moan. His cock draws deep into you leisurely, languid rolls that’s not necessarily chasing for an end but relishing in the pleasure. “I was never going to fuck you,” Yoongi murmurs. “Even if I wanted to.” You pout. “Why not?” “Because I have dignity and respect for myself.” You scoff. “Guess you lost all that.” “No. I still do.” His voice is husky around the edges. “But if I give you what you want, maybe I’ll understand your intentions better.” The corner of your mouth curls and your hips lift to meet Yoongi’s. You squeeze around him just to tease. “And what do you think my intentions are?” “I-I still don’t know yet.” He sweats, hips sped up and then keeps a constant rhythm. “Why do you do the things that you do? Why did you try to tear this house apart? Gain Sohee’s favour.” Yoongi’s brown eyes pierce into you. He’s a perceptive man. “You don’t love Namjoon. I don’t think you loved Jungkook either.” “Jungkook?” “He would’ve never left like that out of his own free will.” “You’re smart,” you coo affectionately and run your hands through his fluffy hair. It’s such a shame he’s just a mortal. “I promise you’ll know by the end of this, Yoongi.” Another minute passes and Yoongi pulls out. You watch as he pumps himself thrice and finishes on your stomach with a quiet grunt, cum painting all over your flesh. You’re about to grab his shoulder to kiss him, but he parts your thighs and lowers himself. His mouth attaches to your cunt, forcing his wet tongue inside your used hole and he eats you out, licking at the juices that leak out of you. But he remains meticulous and careful, drawing unrestrained moans from your lungs. “S-So good…” Yoongi works you up until you feel hot all over your body and your hands have sunk into his head of hair, threading through the strands. As if that wasn’t enough, he sucks on your clit and inserts his index into your walls. He sinks deep and curls the finger against the perfect spot. Your back arches and you cum all over his tongue. He lets you ride it out against the stiff muscle and his plush lips before he’s lifting himself up, revealing all of your slick that’s coated his mouth and chin. “Thank you,” you pant, chest heaving. You gaze at Yoongi with heavy lids and you sit up. “I’ll give you the answer to your questions. Who I am. Why I’m here.” You cradle his cheeks in your palms and you lean forward. Yoongi’s eyes droop and he kisses you back, softly and deeply. You keep it slow too, savouring the taste of yourself on his palette and then, when the moment is right, you inhale. His lids open slightly, feeling himself weaken. Yoongi’s not sure if it’s from exhaustion, but as your kiss continues, his surroundings blurs more. He groans at the back of his throat, wanting to pull away, but without having the strength to. The world around him darkens. His consciousness lasts three seconds afterwards. Enough to realize you’re a monster. Yoongi’s body falls back onto the mattress. His soul has been consumed by you and as tasty as it was, you’re a bit regretful. You pull the plush blanket up to give him some modesty and you ruffle your fingers through his bangs. “Truthfully, I liked you the best in this house.” The sadness lasts another second before you’re humming and climbing off the bed. The job is finally done and you roll your shoulders, walking out the room. As you do so, your exterior finally sheds of your human disguise into your true form. While your face remains the same, your lips redden and your hair becomes luscious and longer, draping your backside. The white, silk slip morphs to a dress in the blinding shade of crimson. It hugs your body, from the dip of your waist to the swell of your breasts. And at the crown of your head, two small horns manifest. Downstairs, Taehyung is standing on the porch. He turns as you join his side and smirks. “About time you finished, peach.” He’s been watching Jaesun. The five year old is running around the backyard underneath the sun and flinging around the toys his wealthy parents got for him. He’s completely oblivious to the situation and unquestioning to Taehyung’s presence. Taehyung is the tamer of all brats after all. “Didn’t you say I could take my time to have fun?” “I think you’ve been having too much fun.” The corner of your reddened lips pull. “I don’t think so.” “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself though.” He lolls his head over and grabs a hold of your chin. Taehyung leans himself down to your height and comes forward for an invasive kiss. Without warning, he licks into your mouth and you moan helplessly, completely at his mercy. Taehyung’s tongue is sticky as he tastes you, calm yet impatient. It’s a pleasant kind of intimacy as he steals your breath. But when he starts to inhale deep, you bite him. Taehyung pulls back with a grin, the bottom of his lip split slightly. You pout. “You should at least give me some. I worked hard for those souls, you know.” He gives you a look. “Did you really?” “More work than usual,” you bite back. A black cat mewls at Jaesun. The kid swivels his head over, fascination growing as the feline hops from the fence to the grass gracefully as if inviting him to play. The cat has a short but luscious coat and its tail curls, green eyes wide. Jaesun instantly drops the ball he’s holding. His greedy hands extend and he follows the cat behind some bushes. There’s a flash of bright light and Jimin stretches himself out from his feline form. He cracks his bones and leans over, interrupting your conversation. “Thanks for the kid, Tae.” Taehyung waves. “No problem, Chim.”

Sohee wakes up to a silent house. There’s a strangeness in the air, a certain uneasy feeling in her body, but she dresses herself and continues her morning. It’s when the peace is ongoing that she searches for people, for her father first. She screams when she discovers Namjoon on the bed lifeless. No matter how much she shakes him or calls out his name, he never moves or twitches. He doesn’t breathe. The girl cries and runs to her uncle for help. But he, too, isn’t sleeping and isn’t resting like he appears to be. The man’s skin has gone cold, eyes shut tight, his lips pale. She cups a hand over her mouth, silencing a sob in the eerie house and she stumbles down the steps. There’s only one person left. One person to help her. And she sees you through the back door on the porch. Standing next to a tall man. Sohee’s confusion stops her tears while hiccups continue to wrack through her body. “W-Who are you?” The two of you turn at the sound of her voice. Taehyung grins. “Oh. Nice to see you again, little girl. Remember me?” Sohee’s eyes are swollen, cheeks stained with saltwater. Her body trembles as she grips the door frame. You coo at her, stepping forward with your arms open but she flinches. “W-What did you do to them?” You sigh, arms dropping to your side, yet your voice remains tender. “They got what they deserved, Sohee.” “W-W...h..at?” “They succumbed to their primitive desires and suffered the punishment for it.” “This is what you wanted, didn’t you?” Taehyung’s brow cocks and he smiles at her. “You were the one who summoned me here in the first place.” Confusion is marked across her visage — brows furrowed, mouth lopsided. But it was Sohee that called out to you and Taehyung. She was the one who began your assignment. She was the one who invited the pair of you into her home. Practically opened the door and ushered you in desperately. “All those nights of prayer, did you really think God would grant you such evil wishes to get rid of your family? You were praying to the devil, little girl.” Incubi and succubi like you and Taehyung need invitations to enter an abode. Yet Sohee handed the both of you that on a silver platter. Taehyung might’ve assigned the task to you, but it was a win-win. Not only could you grant her wish, but you could reap all the benefits by stealing the souls of her family members and indulging in their lust. “All those nights of wishing your mother would get hit by a car. That your brother would cease to exist. That your father would fail his business….” It was a victory from the start. You give Sohee a moment since it looks like she needs it. It’s understandably shocking. You were once in her position after all and just as surprised. But the realization seems to sink into her with the way her eyes widen. “I-I didn’t know this is what would happen!” “You wanted an escape from your life,” you say to her in excitement. There was one more benefit to this ordeal too — just as Taehyung has you, Sohee will become yours. “This is it, sweetheart.” If you didn’t know you would get such an endearing subordinate from all this, you wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of it all. But ‘subordinate’ and ‘underling’ are such unpleasant words Taehyung uses. Sohee’s more like a little puppy for you to love, mentor and show around. “Come with us.” You extend your hand, palm open to the sky. “We came all the way here for you.” Sohee looks at both you and him, brows furrowed, hesitation evident. “What will happen to me?” “You want to be like me, don’t you?” You smile at her along with Taehyung who remains patient. “I’ll take care of you and so will Taehyung. What else does this place have to offer you?” This is the true game of temptation. No one is ever forced into making a deal with the devil. It’s a choice. And one she takes. The girl lifts her arm, taking your hand. A bigger smile pulls on your features. And just like that, the three of you vanish together.

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