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#I need to research this but WHY SIR
lidensword · 10 months
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Nikolai dressed in Streltsy clothes !!
Honestly, I don't understand why they weren't given this outfit in the movie (that's the most common uniform I've seen for the Streltsy). I like it a lot actually (although I love the one they wear in the movie !!). I just want to know where they got the inspiration/base to make Ivan's men's outfit.
I'm just as lost as this dude:
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tragicomedys · 2 years
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fuckign hate straigjt cis dudes even the “cool” ones
#why are they so obsessed with concepts that low key connect to gender essentialism#Like fr they’re so obsessed with the ‘differences between men and women’ and reproductive shit and whagever#brothers trying to say there needs to be an inherent instinctual trait that has made people give girls dolls across cultures and history#that goes beyond social/cultural norms and pressures but connects to something inherently linked to their psychology. even during stone age#times/times where the world wasn’t so connected and stuff#Like bro…. and the thing is neither of us have even researched this topic well#so fucking arguing with him about this is literally like grasping at straws#and i’m not out either so i can’t pull my nonbinary card LMFAO…#like geez i’m not great at arguing against gender essentialism but you’re not qualified at all to be making connections across history/#cultures/sociologically speaking on how many girls have this instinct to care for a humanoid doll and how guys probably have this instinct#to be interested in shit like. Fucking a boulder falling in a pond or shit (tiktoks this ones for my male audience type vids)#like those tiktoks are jokes dog#anyway it’s so tough arguing w him cuz he’s also so defensive and sure he’s correct. sir you don’t fucking know shit on this topic and#neither do i. i just know that gender essentialism is stupid and we’re seeing that more and more in today’s times as lgbt communities make#themselves and their thoughts more known#No but for real straight cis dudes even the ones that are accepting actually make such a big deal about figuring out differences between#(Cis obv) women and men. and ofc it always goes back to reproductive functions + ‘hunger gatherer times’#it creates such an echo chamber bc his essentialist ideas are what is more generally believed by cis people and since he will never go#beyond that to research the topic he will always keep believing in this popular notion that isn’t necessarily based in facts. and that’s why#i hate arguing with him. i’m stuttering and confused for a reason and that’s bc i can admit i can’t argue this topic properly 😭#💭.txt
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rumisgf · 3 months
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PASSENGER PRINCESS - connie springer x black!reader
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summary: your... best friend takes you on your weekly late nights drives. but, this night is different: both of you are aware of the tension between y'all even though neither of you address it- until tonight. warnings: marijuana usage, best friends to lovers, eventual smut, yk car sex, french kissing
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you just had got off work, and today really wore you out. it was the usual: your manager was getting on your nerves, there was this lady who tried to argue with you over the counter, and you had to train probably the most incompetent teen who had just got hired. all you knew is you need a blunt and a nap.
as you're laying on your bed ready to kick your clothes off, your phone buzzes. a text from connie, probably the only person you have patience for right now. it reads 'you home?' to which he knows you are, he found out when you get off work (because he listens, of course. totally didn't do his own research before you even told him directly). the minute you text back he's calling your phone, and you roll your eyes a bit 'cause you already know he wants to bother you now.
"hello, sir?" you can hear him smack his lips.
"man, you not even tired! i'm 'bout to head out anyway, just wanted to see what you was doin' right now."
"what, you trynna pick me up?"
"don't ask dumbass questions, you want me to pull up or not?"
you smile to yourself, and get up to change out your work clothes. "mmm... yea. c'mon."
"bet." *click*
soon enough, you see his car pull up from your apartment window and make your way out the door. as you walk down the stairs, you can't help but grin to yourself. no matter how bad of a mood you're in you would never miss an opportunity to chill with his fine as- you mean, the only tolerable dude you know.
you open the car door, the smell of weed hitting your nose. "yooo!" connie greets you with a smile, and a wood in hand. he already had started to roll up before you even made it to the car.
"nigga, what did i tell you 'bout smoking outside here?! if i get in trouble, it is not gonna be my fault!"
"you'on wanna hotbox?" he asks obviously, making you roll your eyes as you buckle in your seatbelt.
he starts the car up and places one hand on the wheel, ready to find an empty parking lot. he notices how you stare outside the window, hand resting on your cheek. "work piss you off?" you simply reply with, "why?" and he says "you not talkin' like usual and actin' all bothered."
he was right, work did piss you off. but for some reason, he was making you especially nervous today. "ion know, just my manager was on dick today. and i had to train this lil' boy he was pissing me off too. i know he a kid but damn, this why i ain't wanna be a trainer in the first place. i already work overtime most of the week i don't be having the energy for that shit, y'know? he keep giving me all these things to do like my schedule not already tight and i'm busting my ass just to still not get promoted yet." it was nice to get stuff of your chest like this because it really calmed you down. better yet, he knew how to calm you down. he knows how to listen while making sure you're still having a good time.
he eventually pulls up to a gas station. "well, don't let that shit bother you. you probably gon get promoted anyway cause you actually do your job. besides, if that don't happen, i been telling you to quit anyway." getting out the car, he pulls his hoodie over his head and comes to open your car door. "now c'mon." "i don't want noth-"
"i said c'mon, mama, i'm getting you snacks! and i want some too i'm not leavin' you in here."
having no argument, you get out and walk with him inside. since it is late, you're the only ones in there and there's only one cashier in sight. the mid aged lady smiles at the two of you as she notices the door bell ring. you both grab a drink of choice from the freezer and make your way to the counter. he sees your eyes dart to a bag of chips, and he picks it up to place it down before you grab his hand. "you don't have to, con." he ignores you, sliding it to the cashier to scan. "oh, stop it, you act like i haven't payed for your hair before."
"your total is $12.59"
he pulls a 20 out his pocket, handing it to her a taking his change. as you both leave, she says "by the way, you two are such an adorable couple!" but, before you can correct her, connie replies
"thank you, ma'am!"
now, you're both sat in the car laughing at the interaction that just happened. "thank you? for real?" you say through giggling. connie simply shrugs, "i ain't wanna make her feel bad!" in your mind, you began to question his response still. why didn't he say no? "i mean shit, you don't look bad so." he stops, furrowing his eyebrows and side eyeing you. "oh, if i was ugly you woulda had a issue?" you look to the side as he pretends to start to be offended. "well, yeah duh." he laughs in response, you following after. "alright, dude."
eventually, he pulls into a random parking lot. you see a bench and a sign, so you assume this is just some park in the area. luckily, no one's here anyway. connie's hand finds the back of your headboard as backs up into a spot. "found this spot like yesterday, nobody really around at night. plus it's chill, i wanna talk to you and ion wanna be bothered seeing other people around."
you can't help but focus on his jawline as he looks back, barely paying attention to the words coming out his mouth. "you even listenin' to me?" he snaps you back into reality. you turn back in your seat as you smack your lips and he chuckles, settling back into his seat. he picks up from where he started, rolling a blunt for the both of you. once he finishes he pulls out a lighter from his glove department, bringing it to his mouth. your eyes pay good attention to his eyes glancing down at the wood, his fingers, his mouth as he inhales, and the way he looks at you after he puffs out smoke.. god he looked fine.
"damn, nigga, you gon' take it?" he asks before you even get the chance to zone out completely. you mutter "my fault" before taking it and bringing it to your own mouth. now, its his turn to examine your movements. you don't even notice him eyeing you: the way your acrylics look as you hold it, your makeup still looking nice after a full day of work, your closed lids, the way you're slightly titling your head back... fine as fuck he thinks to himself. he takes off his hoodie as his body warms up. when you look back at him, you see his toned arms in the moonlight and your face begins to heat up. "you feel better, ma?" you nod in response, attempting to contain yourself. however, he can't help but examine you and you begin to notice. "so, what you wanna talk abt?"
he uncharacteristically fiddles with his thumb and looks down. "well shit..." you take another hit, still making eye contact with him. "after that thing just happened it kind of reminded me even more," he takes a pause. he puts his hand out, and you pass the blunt to him before he continues. he brings it to his lips, slowly inhaling. then as he exhales,
"what if we was a couple?"
you take a second, nearly being took out your high that barely started coming over you. "oh.. uhm-"
"not like that, just what if, y'know?" he quickly interjects to save himself from possible rejection. "yeah of course....well, ion know like i said you not ugly." you end up shrugging. sure, you guys are friends, but it would be a complete lie to say you haven't thought about it yourself. you had just never planned on voicing it. "well, what do that mean?"
"i don't know, you not ugly. if we talking hypothetically you my type i guess." you explain, avoiding saying how you actually feel. "i guess is crazyyy." he leans back in his seat, throwing one of arms behind his head as he takes another hit. "so, i'm yo type?"
you feel yourself start to smile. "now what do you mean, sir?" he simply laughs. "i think you pretty too, y/n." his statement catches you offguard, and you find yourself speechless. he only laughs more and looks straight at you, now half-lidded with red hued eyes. "you ain't notice me starin' at you for how many times you been in my car? and you the only girl i really be having in my car, you basically my passenger princess."
the name passenger princess makes you feel warm in a place that you are not willing to acknowledge. "...well, i been starin' at you too. surprised you ain't notice" he's quiet for a second, then looks down at his lap with a smirk. "i did." you smack his arm and he's now in a fit of laughter as he relishes in your embarrassment. after a minute, he smiles at his eyes cant help but focus on your lips. "what?"
he takes a minute to think over the choices he's about to make. and after some thinking, he comes to a conclusion. "...c'mere, mama."
you stare at him for a second, questioning if this is a good idea. but, the way his arms look after removing his hoodie and the way he's manspreading is definitely blinding your judgement. so, you find yourself climbing in his lap just slightly raised up enough so you're not actually sitting on him. but, his hand wraps around your waist and makes you sit down. "aw c'mon, why you bein so shy? it's just me." and he's right. this isn't even the first time you've been this close to him or sat on his lap. your friendship has very little... boundaries. or better yet, you two have a closer platonic relationship than others.
he stares back at you as he raises the blunt in his hand to your lips. you take a hit, blowing smoke directly in his face. you both smile and laugh softly, connie biting his bottom lip. "you so goddamn fine, i swear."
all you respond with a soft giggle as you lean closer into his chest. he wraps an arm around your shoulders and holds eye contact. finally, you both slowly lean in, closing the distance between your faces. his lips instantly catch yours and set a steady pace. he tastes like soda and indica, but right now that is so delicious to you. subconsciously, you slowly move your hips on his laps in rhythm with the movement of your lips on his. he lowly grunts and pulls away. "woah, what you trynna do?" he mumbles, eyeing your body on top of his. "shit, i been holding in a lot, con... i'm on what you on."
his eyes find your thighs, then comes back up to your red, lazy eyes. "you sure, ma?" you bite your lip, "yeah... you want to?" a soft chuckle leaves his lips and he leans back in, centimeters away from your lips. "i been wantin' to do so much to you, y/n, i wanna make you mine.."
his lips crash onto yours and his hands immediately find your ass, massaging the plush skin hidden by your leggings. your tongue finds it way into his mouth and he matches you, tongues dancing with each other. you can feel his boner from under you, and you hope he can't feel you throbbing on top of him. he pulls away again, and tugs at the hem of your leggings.
"can i move these, baby?" he asks. you nod, and he pulls them down to your knees. you shimmy them off knowing you're better off without them restricting your ankles. in return, he scoots you back and he unzips his pants, pulling them down to reveal his stiff hard dick under his boxers. nearly drooling, you eagerly move back up and kiss him again. you grind your hips on his lap once more, moaning into his lips at the feeling. his hand go to guide you and kneed on your ass. he groans into the kiss, you making him harder than he already was.
then, you pull away. he takes a second to look down and notices the wet spot forming on his boxers. he smirks to himself, "damn, baby you that wet?" you look away, still grinding on him. he laughs to himself at your reaction then slides his hand down, pulling your underwear to the side. this thumb finds your clit and you gasp at the sudden contact. he rubs slowly, eyes glued down. he pays attentions to the way your hips begin to buck upward at his touch. then, he slowly slides two fingers into your entrance. "o-oh fuck-!" you moan out. looking back up to you, he licks his lips and focuses on you. "like that, mama?"
you hum in response, eyes closing with pleasure. grinning, he curls his fingers and earns a louder moan sliding out your lips like butter. the sound of you and your wetness as he plays with you is music to his ears. "c-connie..." as you moan out for him, he perks up teasingly. "hm, baby?" you open your mouth to speak, and cut yourself off with another moan. "i- fuck.. i need you"
"need what, babygirl?"
you whine, knowing he's making you say it. "..need you t' fuck me, bae.."
with that, he slips his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and keeping eye contact as he licks them clean. while he does this he lets you pull him out his boxers, dick springing out. you already had a feeling, but he's big. you stroke him slowly, taking notice of how he squirmed in your touch. "fuck, y/n.." his hips buck upward and his lids close for a second, slightly throwing his head back. you end up throwing off your underwear, leaving you in only your hoodie you left the house in.
"take yo time, okay?" he says softly as you lift up. you nod, and finally begin to sink down onto him. he bites his lips as he feels your slick coating him as you slide his dick into you. your hands grip his shoulders as you sit all the way down, feeling every inch of him. you both moan at the feeling. after a few seconds, you start moving up and down on him. your head falls into the crook of his neck, moaning onto his skin and sending chills down his spine. "f-fuck...baby.."
his hands find your hips, following your movements. "damn baby, just like that.. ride that shit.." you pick up the pace and your grip on him tightens. he now goes to grips your ass, helping move you up and down on all his length. "fuck-! 's so big.." you're whining and moaning into his shoulder, working yourself on him.
connie starts to move his hips in unison with you. "yeah, you like that shit? he starts grinning, looking at your face buried into him. "mhm.. love this dick.." your slick is staining his boxers even more as it drips down while you coat his dick in arousal. "i know, mama, this pussy takin' me so well... you wet f' me." he smacks your ass, earning a small gasp out of you. "look at me, ma."
you lift your head and he smiles at you, admiring your current state. "sexy as fuck.." he moves to massage your hips before pecking your lips. "love you, princess." your heart flutters, as well as your pussy, and your lips form a small smile. "love you, pa" you circle your hips on him and he hums with satisfaction, curses falling out his mouth. "yeah, just like that.. so fuckin' good.."
you ride him with intent, doing it like you had always did in your fantasies. "you feel so good.." you moan, your hole gripping him tighter. "fuck.. i know, ma, i know. takin' this dick so well."
a knot begins to form in your stomach and your eyes squint again as you look back at him. "baby, 'm gonna cum.." you moan, now moving up and down faster. in response, he begins fucking up into you at the same pace.
"mhm c'mon, nut all on this dick." your moans grow in volume and you become putty in his hands. "fuckfuckfuck!" you cry out as your eyes close shut, and you're slamming your ass down on him as you chase your high. he moans as he watches you, holding you tighter. "yeah, there you go mama..." soon, you begin writhing on him as you cream on top of him, painting his dick white. you can feel the strings of your own cum as he continues to thrust into you, reaching his own orgasm. "c-connie! fuck!"
"'m close baby, 'm close, i know." his breathes are frantic and his head is thrown back. "holy fuck, baby.. shit-!" he pulls out as he jerks himself, releasing himself on your ass. you both lay on each other, out of breath as you come down. he looks at you, a smile growing on his face. "don't you go fuckin' somebody else like that, you mine now."
you smile back tiredly, leaning in to kiss him. this kiss is slow, and loving. you pull away, "and you mine."
© rumisgf
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switchingdesires · 7 months
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Sir… I'm a recovering feminist and I need you... I'm begging...!❤️
I need a guide to be a good girl…I'm touching myself atm, thinking about your superior intellect …🥵 It makes me so wet …
Please please please please Sir, I really REALLY want to be a good girl , but I need a bullet point explanation, because I'm a dumb fucking whore…
How can I humiliate myself and remember my place as a cocksucker ? 🤤
Your devoted holes ❤️
"recovering feminist"… I like that term 😌🩷
Here are some things you can do to remember your place and to embrace your inferiority:
Edge frequently, it’s a cute hobby for any slut ✨
Repeat some mantras while you edge to reprogram your little brain faster. Go with some classics like "brains are for boys, my thoughts are just noise" <3
Watch more porn, the more pathetic the women in it the better 💕
Put yourself on a dick diet frequently eating phallic food like bananas, carrots, hotdogs, eggplants, cucumbers…
Make a list of all the things girls are typically bad at, reflect on how you’re really not that great at them and edge to that 🥰💖
Make it a habit to specifically ask men when you need help with something
Practice imaging only men when you’re reading or "thinking" about scientists, doctors, philosophers, inventors….
Research a list of misogynistic quotes by intelligent historical figures. Create some phone/desktop wallpapers with them, add them to some daily inspirational quotes app if there’s a custom mode, maybe even have them printed on a mug
Write an essay on why girls are inferior to men 💞
Slut up your wardrobe to be better eye-candy for men <33
Practice taking nudes to be prepared when a man ask for some
Be a good girl: always show men that you‘re aware of your inferiority 💗✨
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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 10 months
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The List (1)
Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader
Warnings: None
Word Count: 3.1k
A/N: Not Beta’d. I was going to conclude this with an actual ending, but it was getting long so I’ll let the readers decide how it ends. If enough people are interested, I might do a part 2. Comment if you want a part 2.
Series Masterlist
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Chapter 1
Rumors spread through the underground of New York like the plague. Four murders of New York's most elite in the past 72 hours. Floating around the city was a list of names, a hit list for anyone involved with the mafia. Bucky was no stranger to a threat on his life. Being a mob boss, he constantly walked a thin line, a trapeze artist always one slip away from falling into the hands of death. Bucky had the resources and power to not be taken out so easily. If his name was on the list, he’d be toward the end, but no one knew home long the list was or who was on it. His team had spent the past 3 days searching the city for any information on the list. He had to know who was on it.
“Mr. Barnes, sir,” Peter Parker stammered, catching his breath in the doorway. Peter was a prospect, a good kid with a good head on his shoulders. Bucky couldn't understand why such a gifted kid was so eager to join the mob. Regardless, Bucky couldn’t be happier to have such potential, but the kid picked the wrong time to join them. “We have a lead.”
Bucky’s head snapped up from his desk. He had been engrossed in his own research on his laptop that he had forgotten about his men’s quest. Peter’s spine went rigid under the mob boss’s intense stare. He had yet to get used to it. Peter was certain that was why Bucky’s right-hand man, Steve Rogers, had sent him to retrieve Bucky. Well, that or it was part of Sam Wilson’s attempt at a joke to haze the new guy. Either way, Peter had been a fan of Steve growing up. Steve usually was the face while Bucky worked in the shadows, which only made Bucky more intimidating to Peter. He respected Steve though which is why he found Bucky without hesitation.
“Follow me, sir.”
Standing abruptly, the chair Bucky had been sitting in crashed into the wall behind him with a loud bang. He smoothed his rough palms down the front of his pristine white shirt before straightening his black suit jacket. Without a word, he extended his hand behind Peter, encouraging him to lead the way.
Peter anxiously peered over his shoulder the entire way down the hall. He thought he might have been walking too fast, but Bucky’s pace never faltered. Bucky was hot on his heels, always one step behind him. Stopping unexpectedly outside of the boardroom, Bucky hissed nearly crashing into the teen. Before Bucky could reprimand him, Peter explained, “Before we go inside, Steve told me to give you a message.” Bucky’s shoulders relaxed a bit leaving Peter relieved his boss wasn’t going to chew him out. Still, his own dress shirt began to cling to him with the amount of sweat he was producing. Bucky may have relaxed a bit, but his posture was always disciplined, predatory, and intimidating.
“Spill it out,” Bucky huffed, his hands resting in the pockets of his slacks.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Peter nodded, “Right, um- He said don’t do anything stupid and that we need her.”
The jaw of the boss twitched before he stormed past a confused Peter. His hands pressed into each of the double doors using his full force to slam the doors wide open. All eyes snapped to Bucky as he strode into the room, confidence and determination oozing off of him. Peter ushered in behind him, awkwardly failing to close the doors several times before succeeding. A string of apologies escaped his lips as he stepped further into the room. The serious look Steve shot Peter had him clearing his throat and adjusting his dress coat.
Sam and Steve stood side by side on one end of the room, their arms crossed. They were cautious, guarded rightfully so. Any one of their lives could be on the line. For all they knew, everyone in the room was on the hit list. Spying the woman sitting at the middle of the conference table, Bucky stalked across from her. With his eyes trained on the floor, he dragged the chair away from the table but made no move to sit down as he stepped up to the table.
When his eyes met hers, he puffed out his chest. His arms remained at his sides, his hands burrowing in his pockets. Without so much as a greeting, Bucky began his interrogation, “Who created the hit list.”
The woman raised an eyebrow, a frown etched on her crimson-painted lips. “Right down to business, huh Buck?” A smirk replaced her frown. “I should’ve known, you never were one for much foreplay.”
Bucky pressed his tongue to his cheek. He had expected this, her teasing. It was always a dance between them, one he wanted to avoid by cutting to the chase. She always knew how to rile him up, in more ways than one.
“Princess-”
‘No,” she stopped him with her hand raised, “you don’t get to call me that anymore.”
Bucky snorted, leaning forward, “Isn’t that what you are now?”
“Who is she?” Peter attempted to whisper to Steve, but everyone heard him.
Taking pity on the clueless teen, Sam answered, “She’s Bucky’s ex-wife, Y/N.”
Ignoring the other men, Y/N flashed her diamond engagement ring at Bucky. The light reflected off of the ring making it impossible to miss even from where Steve, Sam, and Peter had been standing.
“That title is pending, followed by queen,” she sassed.
It started out as a term of endearment. Y/N always had a taste for the finer things in life, Bucky’s lifestyle satisfied that craving. He enjoyed spoiling his princess, but that was all she would be. A princess, someone no one would take seriously. It had been an ironic twist of fate that she had met an actual prince after her divorce from Bucky.
Examining the rock on her finger, her signature red nail had been replaced by a nude shade. She was no longer accepting his blood money; she had a good man and clean money now. His eyes traveled back to her face, zeroing in on her red-painted lip. Her hands may be clean now, but her lips were still tainted. The secrets she could talk about his business alone could ruin him which reminded him of why she was here in the first place.
“Who created the hit list, Y/N,” he tried once again to control the conversation.
Pursing her lips, she let him.
“I don’t know,” her gaze dropped to the table, “but I know who has it.”
Finally getting somewhere, Bucky reached back pulling the chair behind him. Once he was seated, he snapped his fingers. Not a moment later, a pen and paper were placed in front of him.
“Give me a name,” Bucky demanded, pen in hand.
Y/N raised her head, the man twirled a pen between his fingers tempting her to sign a deal with the devil. Shaking the image from her head she placed her hand over his, ceasing his movements.
“It’s not that easy. He won't meet with just anyone.”
“He?” Steve asked.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Bucky isn’t just anyone,” Sam called out.
Y/N rolled her eyes, “He may very well be suspect number one. It would be bad for anyone to meet with Bucky alone.” Feeling Bucky’s hand turn beneath her own she went to pull away, but he grabbed her hand.
“What about a future queen?”
Eyeing him beneath her lashes, Y/N pulled her hand back to her chest. Noticing the hesitant look on her face, Bucky leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t a fool to think she was here willingly. She wanted something; she needed something.
Crossing his arms across his chest, Bucky asked, “What do you want?”
Thumbing the ring on her finger, she contemplated lying. She didn’t want to need Bucky, but she did. One look at Bucky and she knew he would see through any lie she would come up with, so she told the truth, “I need protection.” Suddenly she felt exposed with everyone's eyes on her. “If my name is on the list,” her voice shook. She wasn’t Bucky’s dirty little secret. People knew she was his wife, well ex-wife. She had ties to the mob and if her name was on the list or if her fiancé found out, the engagement would be called off.
After a long pause, Bucky spoke, “Get me access to the list and let me worry about the rest.”
Relief flooded Y/N. He could have turned her away. He could have blackmailed the information out of her, but he didn’t. Bucky was a rough man, but he was also kind. She had seen it first-hand for many years. Guilt ate away at her for her earlier actions. He knew she had been engaged but she didn’t need to rub it in his face. She wanted to hurt him but only because he had hurt her. A small part of her hoped he would protect her not because he was kind but because he still loved her.
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Y/N was able to request a meeting with the man not even 24 hours later. His assistant had sent her an invitation, but it wasn’t for what she had been expecting. Instead, the man had invited her to a gala. He was a businessman after all, and her appearance would be good for business. At a time when she should be laying low, she was about to attend a high-press event.
It wasn’t long after Bucky was notified that he insisted he escort her. Y/N protested but he had argued that he couldn’t protect her if she was dead. That had convinced her, on one condition, they arrive separately. She was still engaged.
The event was beautiful but high glass windows had Y/N on edge. Anyone could see her. She tried to distract herself by searching for the host. There were so many bodies and no sign of the man who had invited her. In the middle of her search, a hand circled her wrist tugging her in the opposite direction. Y/N began clawing at the man’s wrist, an attempt to pry him off. When he stopped and spun around, she crashed into his chest. With her face in his chest, the unmistakable scent of expensive cologne hit her. She shoved his chest putting enough distance between the two.
“Bucky,” Y/N hissed, “you’re supposed to be laying low.”
Surveying the crowd, Bucky muttered, “I am. It’s you who is running all over the damn place.”
Y/N shook her head glaring at him. Not only did he smell good, but he looked good too. He had shaved since she had last seen him. He had traded in his white dress shirt for a black one, forgoing a bow or tie. The top button of his shirt was open, relieving his collarbone. Instead of drooling over her ex-husband she continued to glare at him. It was easier to hate him than to pine over him.
“If someone takes pictures of us together and my fiancé finds out-”
His cerulean eyes shot down to meet her eyes, “Where is he anyway? Shouldn’t you be asking him for protection? Surely, he has the resources.”
Y/N froze, her hands clutching the sides of her silk gown. “He doesn’t know,” she mumbled, then her voice grew. “He doesn’t know about the list, my past, or about you.” Bucky’s eyes softened. He had his doubts before, but he was certain now that she wasn’t happy. He wanted to gloat, to rub it in her fiancé’s face. He knew Y/N better than her fiancé did, and even better, she wanted to tell him. Bucky wanted to make a joke about how keeping secrets in a relationship was unhealthy, but he kept his mouth shut. Y/N sighed, running her hands down her dress to smooth out the wrinkles she had created. “He’s out of the country right now.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she wrapped her arms around herself. His gaze dropped to the floor, but Bucky’s remained on her.
He recognized a lonely soul when he saw one because he was one himself. His lifestyle left few people he could trust. He hadn’t always been lonely though, and neither had she. Bucky’s hand twitched to reach out and hug her, but he didn’t think she would appreciate that with cameras around. He took in her appearance and couldn’t help the squeeze he felt in his heart.
“You look beautiful.”
A giggle escaped her lips, “Thanks, Buck. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
He had meant to cheer her up, but her giggle was unexpected. He missed it, he missed her. Everyone he knew in the mob lifestyle had died in the mob. It was poetic in a live by the sword, die by the sword type of way. No one got out, but she did. With his status, he’d never get out and a selfish part of him wanted to pull her right back in.
“You got out, you got away from the life,” Bucky hummed, admiration in his voice, respect.
Y/N shook her head. “No, I just got away from you.”
It was his turn to laugh, “Now if that were true, I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”
Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. I am standing here with you, not you are standing here with me. He meant it. Even if she was here because of him, he was here for her, to protect her. He put her first.
“You of all people know once you’re in there’s only one way out.”
That was it for Bucky. He wasn’t pulling her back in. She never left. They might have been divorced but they had both meant it on their wedding day when they said, “Till death do us part.” Bucky’s calloused hand cupped her jaw just below her ear, pausing. She didn’t push him away. With both hands, she cradled his jaw pulling his face down to meet hers. Their lips brushed one another, slowly at first, testing the waters. Then his other hand slid up the length of her neck, sliding back to tangle his fingers in her hair. It was a dance they were all too familiar with.
The flash of a camera penetrated Y/N’s eyes beneath her closed lids and it was like pouring a bucket of cold water over her. Quickly, she pulled away shoving Bucky’s chest when his lips tried to follow her. She was fucked, royally.
“Y/N?”
Wiping her smudged lipstick, she ignored Bucky’s lingering gaze before turning to face the new voice. A woman in a blue silk dress approached the pair.
“Virginia?” Y/N asked.
The woman waved her hand in the air. “Please, call me Pepper. We spoke on the phone yesterday. Mr. Stark is ready to meet with you. Follow me.”
Without looking back, Y/N followed Pepper through the crowd. She knew Bucky would be right behind her. She would deal with him later. Right now, she needed the names on the list. Upon their arrival, Pepper exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her. On the other side of a glass desk was one of the wealthiest men in the world, Tony Stark.
“Did I interrupt something?” Tony asked eyes darting between Y/N and Bucky. “I swear there wasn’t so much tension before you two walked in.”
Y/N sent him a tight-lipped smile holding up her left hand. “I’m engaged.”
Tony shrugged, “What you do is none of my business. Besides, something like this would be published on the front page.” Y/N’s stomach dropped. “You know what they say, all press is good press.”
“Says the man with a new woman every week,” Bucky grumbled.
Tony smiled. “Precisely, I would know.”
“Mr. Stark-”
Tony loosened the bow tie around his neck. “Call me Tony.”
“Tony,” Y/N corrected, “so you know anything about a list?”
With a raised eyebrow Tony laughed, “If it’s a list you want, I suggest you talk to Pepper. She handles all of that stuff.”
“Not just any kind of list,” Y/N took a step forward, her hands clasped in front of her, “a hit list.” From this distance, Y/N couldn't miss the way Tony’s eyes shifted to Bucky.
“Are you looking to assassinate anybody?”
Bucky held up his hands, “I’m just looking to protect the people I care about.”
Y/N stood still, watching the intense stare-off between the two.
Eventually, Tony sighed, “I don’t want to be in the middle of any of this.” He tapped a few keys on the computer on his desk before turning the screen. “You better get out of here before your fiancé sends someone.”
“What?” Y/N gasped, blindly clutching Bucky’s forearm beside her. Both of their names were written in green on the list. Beneath them were some of Bucky’s most trusted men; their names written in white.
Tony leaned back in his chair. “Green means active. You’re both next on the list and judging by the number of cameras here, someone probably already knows you’re here.”
“You knew,” Bucky growled.
Tony barely flinched. “Your names weren’t active until recently. Other people’s lives are on the line. I can’t get to everyone in time.”
“Wait, why would my fiancé send someone, he’s not even in the country,” Y/N asked, trying to wrap her head around everything.
Tony frowned. “Your fiance is the one who put the hit list out. What better alibi for your significant other’s death than being out of the country at her time of death.”
Y/N would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Bucky’s quick reflexes. He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her weight.
“Why?” Y/N whispered wide-eyed.
Bucky wanted to drag her out of the building toward safety but was there even a safe place? People already knew their location.
Tony shrugged. “The New York mobs aren't the only mobs out there. They're all over the country, they're in other countries. There are some real higher-ups in the mafia in other countries. The mafia controls everything, it's one of the most powerful positions. Take out other mobs and you can control more area, more power.”
Y/N felt sick. When she said you never get out once you get in, she hadn’t realized how deep she was in life now. Turning to Bucky, he was already on his phone typing. “Bucky, we need to go.”
“No. I text Steve, he’s rounding everyone up. They’ll be here soon.”
Tony’s eyes widened, his eyebrows reaching his forehead. “You can’t be serious. There are cameras everywhere. This will be plastered on every news station.”
Bucky shrugged, lifting the back of Y/N’s hand to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, a quiet promise to protect her. “All press is good press.”
Next Chapter
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okaylikesmomo · 8 months
Text
Photographer Part 1
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“You’re welcome.”
“For what?” you asked, barely even glancing at the folder your coworker and friend just dropped on your desk as you focused on your screen. “Another session you need me to cover for?”
“No, this one is a gift.”
“A gift?” you asked, picking up the folder and taking a look. “So you’re telling me you could take this appointment if you wanted to?”
“Well, not exactly,” your coworker replied while leaning against your desk.
“Of course,” you sighed, putting the folder back down. “I’d love to help you again, but I’m already booked this time around.”
“Hold up, hear me out,” he protested, picking the folder up and holding it out to you again. “You’re right, I can’t make it, but I fought pretty hard to get you this gig.”
“And why did you feel the need to do that?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Because I owe you for last time, take a look at who it is.”
Even though you were still suspicious of his motives, he had your interest. You accepted the folder again and looked more thoroughly.
“Lee Ji-eun, actress?” you read out. “I’ve told you before, I don’t watch Kdramas.”
“Yeah, but you listen to Kpop.”
“So what? Get me a photoshoot with Eunbi then.”
He looked at you in shock.
“Wait, you really don’t know?” he asked, his mouth agape.
“Don’t know what?” you asked, getting tired of his games.
“You’re really in for a surprise,” he laughed while turning around. “Get there at least an hour early, just in case.”
“I told you, I’m already booked,” you replied infuriatingly.
“I’ve already covered your schedule,” he said while walking away. “Thank me later, and make sure you don’t tell anyone else about this one.”
What made this appointment so special that he would go through the effort to clear your schedule? You shook your head, deciding you’d worry about it later, before turning back to your screen.
Are you there yet?
Even though you weren’t sure why this appointment was such a big deal, you made sure to be an hour early just like he suggested, and you also dressed up nicely to give a nice first impression. You sent him a quick test saying you just arrived before putting your phone away and walking into the building.
There was so much work to be done, you never got around to checking out who this Lee Ji-Eun girl was. Typically, you’d like to do a bit of research about your clients, but you were on track for a promotion and spent all night working on a project that you were certain would get you there.
“You must be the photographer.”
“That’s me,” you replied, handing the lady at the front desk your ID. “Beautiful building by the way.”
“Are you surprised?” the lady laughed while handing the ID back. “Are you a fan?”
“Um, sorta,” you said awkwardly, feeling extra embarrassed that you didn’t do any research. She likely played a role in some new drama that had everyone hooked.
“Just follow the hallway and take a right. The whole third floor is hers.”
It wasn’t unheard of for someone to request an outcall for their shoot, but booking an entire floor for the studio was a bit of a flex. You racked your brain, trying to figure out if you had seen the name before - it did sound a bit familiar.
“You must be the new photographer? I need to see some ID, please,” a security guard approached you as soon as the elevator arrived on the third floor.
“Oh, uh, one second,” you said while stumbling with your bag. “Here you go.”
He accepted the ID and looked you up and down before handing it back to you.
“I see you’ve heard the rumors based on how you dressed,” the guard said while gesturing for you to follow him. “She doesn’t care and just does whatever she feels like, but if she’s going to play her games then I like seeing a bit of effort on your end. Some of the other’s barely try, showing up in sweats and a hoodie.”
“Thank you, sir, we try our best to be very professional.”
He burst out laughing while holding the door to a small room open for you.
“Professional? That’s one way you can describe it,” he said. “Non-disclosure is on the table, give it a sign before anything happens.”
Slightly confused by the comment, you bowed respectfully before walking in and placing your bag down. The room was far more comfortable than most waiting rooms, in fact it didn’t even look like a waiting room - it was more like an office.
There was a luxurious desk with a huge window behind it, bookshelves along both walls, and a large couch on either side of an oversized coffee table. It was a bit strange, usually you’d just be given a little room with a coffee machine and some refreshments.
After admiring the room, you quickly signed the document. Not every shoot required you to sign one, it was somewhat odd now that you think about it, but it would make sense for an actress to require it. You decided it would be a good time to look more into who this girl was, but just as you opened your laptop, there was a gentle knock on the door.
“Hello, I’m-” you began while opening the door before suddenly your heart stopped.
“You are?” she said while chuckling at your reaction with her eyebrows raised.
“You’re IU.”
“Yes, I am,” she said casually while watching your mind go blank. “But I think you were saying who you are, not who I am.”
“B-B-But, you’re IU!”
“We’ve already established that,” she laughed while entering the room and picking up the NDA you had signed earlier. “Perfect, am I safe to assume this is you?”
Speaking wasn’t an option while you stood there like an idiot, barely managing to nod in response to her question. She put the paper back down and walked forward, closing the door from behind you before taking you by your hand towards the empty couch. Her delicate fingers barely touched your hand as she pulled.
“You seem quite shocked to meet me,” she laughed while guiding you to take a seat. “Shouldn’t you have expected it? After all, you’re going to be doing a photoshoot with me aren’t you?”
I’m such an idiot you thought to yourself. Lee Ji-Eun, that was her real name. You had only ever called her by her stage name, but it just now clicked as to why that name sounded familiar.
“I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I am a huge fan - am I supposed to say that? I bet you get this all the time, I’m-”
“Relax,” IU cut you off while smiling softly.
She took a seat on the couch next to you, her perfect posture leading your eyes to her body. For the first time since meeting her, you properly took notice of what she was wearing. You took a deep breath, in awe at how pretty she was up close.
Her salmon-colored dress fell beautifully down her body, the sheer sleeves giving just enough visibility to keep you intrigued - intoxicated. The little black buttons gave just enough contrast to break the steady hue down to her thighs, where the dress opened up to showcase those slender legs of hers. On the other end, her intricate butterfly necklace framed that unrealistically pretty face beautifully.
“It is an honor to meet you,” you said respectfully, finally finding your voice again.
“Likewise,” IU responded, still smiling in the most comforting and endearing way. “I assume, especially after that reaction, this is your first photoshoot with me? I generally don’t forget my photographers.”
“Yes ma’am, my first time.”
“I know we make you sign an NDA, but have you heard any rumors?” she asked while playing with her hair. “Do you know what usually happens next?”
“My guess is that I’m here to take your pictures,” you replied awkwardly.
“That’s right,” IU giggled, flipping her hair around. “You’re quite adorable.”
IU just called you adorable.
“T-Thank you,” you stammered.
“Before that,” she said softly while placing a gentle hand on your thigh. “I like to give all of my photographers a bit of a thank you.”
“Before the shoot? But I haven’t done anything,” you said, confused by her words. “Surely you mean after?”
She leaned back and tilted her head slightly, as if she was analyzing you in a lab.
“If you did a good job, I planned to thank you afterwards as well,” she said softly, still examining you. “This is so interesting, you’re the first person who has come here without knowing. Assuming you’re not just playing along.”
“With all due respect, without knowing what?” you asked innocently. “Not playing any games, I truly just don’t know.”
She ignored your question and stood up, walking over to the desk and looking out the big window behind it. After a few moments of silence between the two of you, she turned around and spoke firmly.
“Take my picture.”
“Right now?” you clarified, your heart rate elevated by her gaze. “Sure, just give me one second.”
After fumbling around with your shaky hands until you pulled out one of your cameras, you walked up towards IU to get a good angle.
“The lighting is a bit odd because of where the window is, but I think I can make this work.”
She opened her mouth to speak before closing it again and smiling.
“Whatever you think works best,” she said kindly while posing for you.
She was unbelievably pretty. Despite the unoptimized setting, your camera loved her; It felt like every picture was a masterpiece - she was born to be a model. You had her pose in a couple of different ways before giving her full freedom to pose however her heart desired.
“That’s gorgeous,” you muttered, looking at her through your lens. She was showing off her side profile with one leg slightly raised on the desk. “You’re amazing at this.”
“I have some experience,” she commented casually while you took your last few shots. “There, now you took some photos, can I thank you?”
“You’re very welcome,” you said while bowing deeply out of respect. “But I still have many more to take.”
She looked like she was in shock with her mouth slightly opened, her lips curled up in a little smile.
“You’re really not playing games,” she said softly before walking past you. “We’ll start in fifteen minutes, I can’t wait,” she added over her shoulder before leaving the room.
“So, do you pitch for the other team?”
“What? No, why would you ask?” you replied, astonished at the forwardness of the security guard.
“I don’t mean any offense, many photographers are,” he said while squinting his eyes at you. “But if you’re not, then you are the first one I’ve seen who…”
“Who what?”
“Nevermind, it’s none of my business. Come this way, she’s ready.”
This whole situation has been an odd one. Despite being confused out of your mind, you followed the guard across the room, carrying your camera with you. When you arrived at the set, you realized that this whole floor was probably being used to record a scene for a music video or something.
IU smiled politely at you before you got started. Luckily, the rest of the staff seemed to be acting normal, and the shoot went quite smoothly. Working with such an expert of the industry made it incredibly easy - the most difficult part was controlling the inner fanboy inside you.
“You’re doing great,” you said while snapping pictures constantly. “Try to look a bit more pensive.”
“Pensive? Okay,” IU replied before adjusting her expression.
“Perfect! Just turn a little bit more to your left,” you instructed, trying to stay as professional as possible while your heart was beating out of your chest. “Absolutely beautiful, I can feel the melancholy flowing through me.”
She giggled softly before quickly focusing again, controlling her laughter.
“Wait,” you said while looking up from your lens. “I need to see that again.”
“What? A giggle?” IU asked as her lips curled upwards slightly, clearly amused by you.
“That smile is far too pretty to skip.”
“I didn’t realize that was part of this photoshoot,” IU replied, smiling fully with her head tilted slightly.
“When you’re this beautiful, you just have to act naturally,” you said calmly while resuming your barrage of pictures. “It’s my job to try and capture it.”
She laughed openly, allowing you to catch a few stunning shots before she quickly covered her mouth in embarrassment.
“Sorry!”
“Don’t apologize, you have a gorgeous laugh,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes locked on her through the eyepiece of your camera. She truly was stunning, especially when she smiled. “Let’s take a quick five minute break, please.”
While a group of stylists quickly ran up to touch up her makeup and hair, you walked over to a table on the side and poured yourself a glass of water.
“She really likes you.”
As you turned towards the voice, you saw the security guard from earlier next to you.
“I’m sure she’s just being respectful,” you said after taking a sip.
“Trust me, I’ve been working with her for a while, she tells me basically everything,” the guard said while pouring himself a glass as well. “She likes you.”
Well, I’m glad. She’s great to work with, I see why this is such a sought after position.”
He gave you a look of pure confusion before setting down his glass.
“Such a sought after position, yeah,” he said knowingly. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly happened in that room earlier?”
“Before the shoot? She came in and we just talked for a bit,” you answered while refilling your glass. “Oh, and then I took a few pictures.”
“What kind of pictures?”
“Just some casual ones, I think she wanted to see what I could do before the actual shoot started.”
The guard gave you one more bewildered glance before another staff member from across the room called you back over to finish the shoot. The rest of the session went by quickly, there was only one outfit change. Afterwards, you quickly thanked all of the staff and IU personally before heading back to the waiting room to collect your things.
After taking apart your camera, putting on the covers, and packing each lens individually, you were ready to go. You took one last look around the room, thinking about IU leaning against that desk earlier.
“Mind if I come in?” a sweet voice called out to you from behind.
“Oh, of c-course,” you stammered, turning around to observe IU leaning against the open door. “What can I do for you?”
“Do you have a few minutes?” she asked while closing the door behind her, slowly.
Truthfully, you were desperate to get back to the office and finish this report, but there was no chance in hell you would deny IU right now.
“I do,” you lied as IU sat down on the couch.
“Please, join me.”
Your heart could be felt throughout your entire body, each pulse of blood coursing through your vessels. Taking pictures of her for hours didn’t change how nervous you were sitting right next to her, nor did it prepare you for how unbelievably pretty she was in this instant.
The two of you stared at each other for a few moments. Despite it being painfully difficult for you, she kept her gaze locked on you with ease - she was remarkably seductive. It was unclear if she was waiting for you to say something, and you began to sweat slightly as she stared at you. Luckily, she eventually broke the silence.
“You did a great job,” she said softly while keeping her eyes locked on you. “I wanted to personally thank you, again.”
“You’re very welcome, if there’s anything else I can do for you-”
“There is one thing,” she said, finally lowering her gaze. “It’s a very strange request, but could you help me take off my shoes?”
“Your… shoes…?”
“Yes,” she winced while reaching down to her feet. “I’m not trying to be a princess, the buckle is just too tight for me to take off myself.”
“Oh, of course,” you quickly dropped down to your knees in front of her and began working on the straps. She wasn’t lying, they were incredibly tight.
“Thanks,” she sighed, leaning back on the couch while you fiddled with the strap.
Eventually you got both open and slipped the shoes off before gasping in shock.
“Oh my God, are you alright?”
“Much better now,” she said while inhaling sharply as you began to rub the red marks on her feet.
“I can’t believe they made you wear these,” you commented while massaging her feet.
“Life of a celebrity,” she responded with a laugh before moaning out loudly. “Oh that feels so good.”
That sound she made immediately filled your insides with warmth, and you started to get slightly embarrassed. Without thinking, you looked up to see IU leaning her head back in pleasure - but by doing so you also happened to catch a glimpse up her short dress. Your face began to burn up as you quickly looked back down with the vision of IU’s underwear ingrained in your mind.
“You didn’t have to do that,” IU moaned softly while wiggling her feet before standing up. “I really appreciate it, though.”
“I know, it was just my instinct,” you said while trying to avoid eye contact. “I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
Her single finger was placed on your chin as she knelt down next to you and gently turned your face. You started to truly notice how beautiful her eyes were now that you had to gaze right into them. No colorful contacts, just dark and rounded with a faint brown tint. All you could do was wait and pray that she didn't notice how anxious you were at the moment.
“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” she whispered into your face, faintly hitting you with her warm breath, while putting a hand on your shoulder. You had no idea what was going on right now as she delicately pressed into your body with her slender fingers. “Were you uncomfortable?”
“No!” you answered a bit too enthusiastically.
She blessed you with another smile before patting the seat of the couch in front of you. Slowly, you got up off the ground and took a seat, facing IU who was now standing in front of you.
“Your shoulders are quite stiff,” she commented while leaning forward over you and pressing her fingers into your skin again. “You must be under a lot of stress.”
“Oh, yeah, work has been…” you trailed off, trying to find some distraction as this position made it impossible for you to not look down the neck of her dress. “Please, miss-”
“Just call me IU, if you’d like,” she whispered before standing up straight. “Do you mind if I massage your shoulders properly, just a bit?”
“I’ll be fine, you don’t have to do that for me,” you spluttered awkwardly. “I appreciate the offer.”
“I insist,” she said sternly, reviving that deep gaze of hers. “I’ve been learning how to find knots.”
You nodded, almost as a sign of submission, and then gulped, giving her the okay.
“I promise I’m good at this,” she said before casually straddling your lap. “It must be difficult carrying such heavy equipment around all day.”
Part of you wanted to scream. You assumed she would massage you normally, from behind, never in a thousand years would you have predicted her to position herself like this. Slowly, with her hands on your shoulders, she sat down on your lap; it was incredibly embarrassing because you knew she could feel the anticipation in your pants right now.
Not that it was your fault, surely anyone in your situation would be feeling the same way. A massage, a pretty girl on your lap, and your eyes situated perfectly to look down her neckline, these three facts combined meant you had no chance.
Even though she could most likely feel your erection, she ignored it entirely and focused on pressing your shoulders. It just now dawned on you how terrible this would look if someone walked in right now to see IU straddling you. Despite the nervousness coursing through your skin, it actually felt phenomenal.
Not only was IU sitting on your lap a dream come true, she didn’t lie when she said she was good at this. Frankly, she could have been completely useless at giving massages and it wouldn’t have mattered in this situation. Her whole body began to move up and down slightly as she really got into it, her crotch repeatedly bouncing on your lap did not help with the situation in your pants.
“Does that feel good,” she asked with her sultry voice in response to an involuntary moan you had let escape your lips.
“Mhmm,” you moaned again while she pressed all your pains away. “Why are you so good at this?”
“I told you, I’ve been practicing,” she said proudly before hopping off your lap. “I’m glad it’s paying off.”
“It really is,” you commented shyly while placing both your hands on your crotch.
“Is there anywhere else where you feel some tension?” she asked with extra emphasis on that last word, her eyes darting towards your lap. “I’d love to help relieve it.”
“Oh, thank you so much, but I’m alright,” you said shyly, trying your best to cover up.
For a second she looked disappointed, but quickly her beautiful smile returned.
“You are very cute,” she said tenderly before standing up and walking towards the door. “Have a lovely evening.”
After she left the room, your mind began doing backflips. Everything suddenly hit you at once as you sat there on the ground. You just massaged IU’s feet and she moaned. Not to mention that sight which you could not stop thinking about, that sight that would be living in your head for the foreseeable future.
On top of all that, she just called you cute.
“How did it go?!”
“I just finished the report,” you announced proudly, leaning back in your chair and grabbing your mug.
“Fuck the report,” your coworker shouted while slamming his hands down on your desk. “How did you get IU to personally ask for you again?”
“She did?!” you asked in shock, almost spitting out your coffee.
“I can’t believe this,” your coworker sighed heavily.
“Hey, you’re the one who gave me the shoot knowing it was IU of all people.”
“Well I owed you, and I figured in the off chance the rumors are true, you’d enjoy it more than I would,” he laughed while sitting down. “Also, it was my sister’s wedding last night, I couldn't exactly miss that.”
“What rumors?”
“Holy shit you actually don’t know?”
“Man, I feel like everyone knows something that I don’t,” you sighed. “What rumors?”
“Nothing’s confirmed, apparently she makes every photographer sign an NDA-”
“Yeah, I had to sign one, too,” you interjected.
His eyes shot wide open.
“If that part is true… word is that IU likes to personally ‘thank’ her photographers.”
“Yeah, she came in and privately thanked me,” you said, the view of her underwear flashing into your mind again.
“It’s true?!” he shouted before quickly looking around in a panic and whispering. “Sorry, but you have to tell me everything. Hands? Mouth? Some people say she goes all the way, but I don’t believe them for a second.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Bitch stop holding out on me,” your coworker replied angrily. “I might be gay, but I still wanna know.”
“Wait,” you mumbled, everything clicking in your head all of a sudden. “I’m so fucking stupid.”
“Hold on, did you or did you not-”
“I didn’t.”
“Hand?”
“No.”
“Mouth.”
“No.”
He flashed you an expectant look without saying anything.
“No, definitely didn’t do that either,” you answered his unasked question, making him stand up in disbelief. “All I did was massage her feet a bit.”
“Alright wait, that’s something,” he said, immediately sitting back down and leaning over your desk in excitement. “How the hell did you get your hands on her feet?”
“She was very…” you thought about how to word it. “Comfortable?”
“Yeah, clearly, if she let you suck on her toes.”
“I didn’t suck on her toes.”
“It sounds like she wanted you to!” he snapped back. “In what world does a girl casually let you massage her feet?”
“She said her feet hurt,” you mumbled quietly.
“She said her feet hurt,” he mocked you. “Did she also say her pussy hurts and ask for you to massage it too?”
“She also massaged my shoulders,” you muttered under your breath.
“She what?” your friend gasped. “She massaged you as well and you still didn’t get the hint?”
“I thought she was being friendly!”
“Saying ‘thank you' is friendly,” he said angrily. “Putting her hands all over you is three steps past friendly.”
“But she-”
“I can’t believe this,” your friend started pacing back and forth. “The rumors were true, the rumors were true.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before I went?” you sighed while slumping back into your chair.
“Don’t blame me for your stupidity!”
He had a point.
“Wait, we're ignoring something very important,” he continued.
“I’m an idiot who can’t read the most obvious signs ever?”
“Well, that, and also she asked for you again.”
“You’re right!” you gasped, sitting back up in your chair with your eyes wide open. “But what if she’s only asking for me because I didn’t do anything?”
“I guess you’ll find out in two days,” he said while walking towards the door. “I have to get back to work, but I swear if she asks you to lick her foot you better swallow it whole.”
This time around you were far more nervous than when you didn’t know who she was. With extra care taken regarding your presentation, you walked into the building for today’s photoshoot. The man at the front desk directed you to where the shoot would be taking place and you made your way there. As you entered the photoshoot area, the same security guard from the last shoot approached you.
“Wow, two photoshoots in one week, and you didn’t believe me when I said she liked you,” he laughed while guiding you to a little room.
“Maybe she just liked the photos I took,” you suggested awkwardly while playing with the strap of your bag as you walked through the room, seeing IU on the far side surrounded by stylists. There were fewer staff this time around, and the room was considerably smaller.
“We haven’t even seen them yet,” the guard said while opening the door for you, his eyebrows raised in confusion. “Hey buddy, drink some water. It’ll help with your nerves.”
The waiting room was more typical than the last one, but it was still extremely luxurious with plenty of comfortable sitting room. There was a big table on the side and a small window overlooking the neighboring buildings.
“Nothing to sign this time, the one from last session is still valid.”
“Thank you, I’m ready to start whenever,” you said while putting your bag down.
Even though you had plenty of time before the shoot, you couldn’t focus on doing any other work. All you could think about was if IU was going to walk through that door personally again. Time ticked by, and you were starting to lose hope when suddenly the door flung open without a knock.
“Miss, sorry, I mean IU - may I still call you that?”
“Yes, you can call me IU still,” she said while attempting to stifle her cute giggles. “Why are you so flustered? We’ve already become acquainted, haven’t we?” she asked while closing the door behind her.
“Yeah that’s true, we’re basically friends at this point,” you said awkwardly, trying to suppress the urge to confess your love for her.
She gave you a long, thoughtful look as her lips curled into a smile and her adorable dimples were on display. It might have been your mind playing tricks on you, but you could have sworn she licked her lips as she eyed you up and down. Your face began to get warm under her gaze.
“I like you, you’re very cute,” she chuckled before walking up to you and unwrapping the blanket she was wearing off her body. “Since we’re friends, I wanted your opinion on my outfit for today’s shoot.”
“It’s… it’s… wow,” you mumbled while gawking at her beauty.
The outfit was simple, yet so charming. A white shirt with a white skirt, her midriff just peeking out ever so slightly, almost like she was teasing you with her body. The main attraction, however, were her beautiful legs. The skirt was short enough to where you could see her slender legs in their entirety. To top it all off, she had her hair tied up in an adorable ponytail with a purple hair tie.
“You look so beautiful,” you whispered under your breath with your mouth left hanging open afterwards.
“You’re so sweet!” she cheered happily while lunging forward and hugging you. “Thank you for coming again!”
“Any time,” you responded while your senses got overwhelmed by her divine aroma. As if you weren’t already in love with her, she smelled so delectable. “I loved working with you last time.”
“Me as well,” she said kindly with a bright smile after moving back. She glanced down at your lap before giggling softly. “I’ll be waiting for you, come out whenever you’re… ready.”
The photoshoot felt like it only lasted minutes, as the entire time that you were taking her photos all you could think about was how badly you were lusting for her. All that flirting, surely she meant for more to happen. Then again, would a celebrity as big as IU really be willing to do something like that with a random photographer that she just met? But why would she even flirt to begin with?
The internal battle raged in your head throughout the shoot. What did she really want? Maybe she just liked teasing - but all of those rumors, what if they’re true. Was there a chance IU would actually touch you? She already touched you, that hug wasn’t any normal hug; Unless you’re being delusional, in that case she really was just being friendly.
“Can you turn, put your legs on the other side please,” you instructed IU.
She nodded before tossing her legs across her body. In doing so, she very clearly gave you a view up her short skirt, flashing her light pink panties in your direction. You froze, being reminded of the last time you got a glimpse of her underwear.
“Is this not what you wanted?”
“Oh no, it’s perfect,” you answered, snapping out of your trance.
The photoshoot went on for a bit longer, and you had IU keep switching up the positions. Almost as if to confirm your suspicions, she put on a whole show each time - making sure to flash those pink panties into your view each and every time.
“We’re five minutes overtime, but if you need to continue it’s no issue,” one of her staff members informed you.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry, lost track of time,” you responded before quickly putting the camera down. “I believe I have what I need, thank you again.”
Casual chatter filled the area as you made your way back to the little room. You began to pack your bag, as slowly as possible in the hopes that there would be a knock on the door. You were willing to accept any excuse - any delay - as you began to wipe your lenses with a microfiber cloth. Then it happened: That knock you craved so badly.
“Please come in.”
“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” IU peeked her head through the door.
“No! Please, I was just waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me?” she smirked, this time locking the door behind her.
It took her only two lines to get you all flustered, forcing your next slurry of words to become an incoherent mess.
“I just don’t… thank you… I was leaving soon.” you stammered, having the sense to put your camera down before you dropped it.
She walked right up in front of you, wearing a kind expression, and grabbed your hands.
“Is everything okay? Your hands are shaking,” she noted, rubbing your fingers up and down.
“Oh no I’m great, how are you?”
She chuckled softly, giving your hands a quick squeeze before letting go.
“Would you like to just chat for a bit? Unless you’re in a rush, of course.”
“No rush at all!”
“Mind if I get a bit more comfortable then?” she chuckled softly, knowing that she had full control over you right now.
“By all means, do you need help with your shoes again?”
“I think I’ll be fine this time, thank you,” she laughed openly.
She turned around before she began to very slowly bend over at her hips. Slowly, lower and lower she went - this time there was literally zero chance you’d miss this hint. Especially when she made it all the way down and started taking her shoes off, as this was the best angle up her skirt.
Those light pink panties she flashed at you earlier were gone - replaced by nothing. Even though you could barely see, you were completely hard now; hiding your excitement would be impossible. The pressure kept building up as IU faked a struggle with her shoes, grunting and moaning until they finally slipped off.
“Oh that feels good,” she moaned as she stood back up straight and turned to face you. “I enjoy dressing up for photoshoots, but taking it all off feels so good.”
“Yeah, I bet,” you stuttered as she began walking towards you.
“Being a celebrity can be so… hard,” she whispered right in front of you, pausing to look down for that last word. “Mind if I show you something?”
Before you could answer, she put one foot up on the couch next to you. Her skirt rode up her thigh, giving you the most jaw-dropping view. It was straight out of a dream, you could literally see IU’s pussy right now - and she knew it, too.
“Look at this bruise I got,” she said casually, pointing at her knee. She knew very well that you could clearly see her private bits, there was no chance that she didn’t know, but she pretended not to notice. “I don’t even know where it came from, I find random bruises all over my legs after busy schedules.”
“Yeah, that must… that must be… really… painful…” you faltered, attempted to make coherent sentences while absolutely failing to avoid staring.
“Can I ask another favor, since you’re my friend?” IU asked sweetly while putting one of her hands on the back of your head. “Could you kiss it better?”
You licked your lips carelessly and leaned in to place your mouth against her knee. As soon as your lips contacted her skin, she began to moan softly. Thanks to her lovely voice, even her moans sounded like music to your ears. While your eyes remained fixed up her skirt, you continued to kiss her, essentially making out with her leg.
“Oh yeah that feels so much better,” she moaned softly. “If you don’t mind, the inside of my thigh….”
This was unreal. IU was giving you permission to lick her legs freely: You knew there were no bruises. You got straight to work, kissing the insides of her leg - daring to go higher and higher with each kiss. She was squeezing your hair, but she never pulled back as you got closer and closer. At this point, it would only take a short plunge and you would have found yourself with your mouth against IU’s pussy.
You paused, your face close enough to notice the faint shine of her wetness. Your mind was begging for you to get closer, but you lacked the audacity to physically comply. For now, at least, you were satisfied with rubbing your tongue all over her inner thigh.
“Ah!” she cried out. “I’m sorry!”
It happened so fast, you were left in shock. One second you were admiring her thighs, the next second she had fallen forward - pressing her pussy directly onto your face. There was no doubt this was intentional, this had to be her way of giving you consent. You opened your mouth wide, accepting the sudden change of events as she began to grind on your mouth for a brief moment before backing up.
“I lost my balance,” she joked, quickly fixing her skirt, pretending to be flustered.
It took some time to get over the shock of having IU press her pussy to your tongue. She was so soft, just a bit wet, and driving you insane. You only made contact for a few seconds, yet your mind was starved for more - you needed more.
“Please, lose it again.”
She burst out laughing, dropping the act temporarily before recovering.
“Thanks for that, I feel so much better now,” she whispered, her eyes locked on your crotch. “Allow me to repay you?”
This time there would be no hesitation, no politeness; If IU wanted to touch your body, she had an all-access pass. You slid your hips forward slightly, slumping down into the couch. When she saw your enthusiasm, the corners of her lips curled up in delight.
“Finally you’re done making this difficult,” she whispered under her breath while dropping to her knees before you.
“I just wanted to give you some more massage practice,” you replied casually, trying to control your heartbeat. “Free of charge.”
“Well aren’t you a gentlemen,” she smirked up at you while fiddling with your buckle before turning her full attention to your crotch. Inch by inch, she lowered your pants all the way down to your ankles, leaving you with the bulge in your underwear staring IU in the face.
“Look at all this tension,” she moaned softly, bringing up fingers up to your underwear and outlining your cock with two fingers. “You’re all swollen.”
Despite wanting to flirt back, play her game, you found yourself incapable. With just two of those delicate fingers of hers, she began stroking you through the thin fabric. While toying with your cock, she leaned forward and puckered her lips before gently pressing them against your tip - this was when you truly realized this was happening.
“Please,” you begged, reaching for your waistband.
“Tsk tsk,” IU slapped your hand away. “Your job is to relax, let me do the work.”
She ran one finger up the underside of your shaft, pressing down firmly. Just the single finger, she moved it up and down, toying with you. When the teasing was starting to become too much, she reached up and hooked the top of your underwear with her finger. She pulled the fabric back, just far enough to expose your stiff cock, before letting it snap back to your skin.
Her eyes were taunting you, smirking while she watched your squirm. Your attention wouldn’t leave her lips. Those pretty, delectable lips, you needed them on your cock. Ideas flashed through your mind as you watched IU lick her lips, but you couldn’t act on any of them - yet.
“Can I remove your underwear?” IU teased, knowing it was the only thing you wanted right now.
After your enthusiastic nods, she took hold of the garment. In one very swift motion, she yanked the underwear down to your ankles, flinging your cock up straight towards the roof. As much as you wanted to make some cheeky comment, something to lighten the mood, IU gave you no opportunity as she immediately leaned forward and put your cock into that beautiful mouth of hers.
“Oh!” you gasped, briefly closing your eyes before realizing that missing this view was not an option.
Evidently, there was no more time to be spent because IU immediately started working your cock. Her lips moved up and down on your shaft while creating a tight seal. As her lips rubbed against each nerve in your shaft, her cheeks became completely hollow. It felt amazing.
She was unrealistically beautiful with a cock in her mouth. All of those pictures you took had absolutely nothing on this - the perfect face for sucking dick. Her expertise was clear as she started to look up at you, maintaining eye contact while your length repeatedly disappeared through her lips. You could feel your climax rapidly approaching when she released your cock.
“Does that feel good?” she asked casually as her hand temporarily replaced her lips.
“Good is…” you moaned softly, “an understatement.”
Her bright smile combined with the gentle strokes of her hand were making your cock twitch, but you weren’t read to cum just yet. This whole situation had made you more daring, more willing to push your limits, yet coherent sentences were still sometimes a struggle.
“Can I…” you groaned, her hand never giving your cock a break. “Please?”
“Can you what?” she chuckled, planting a quick kiss on your cock before smiling up at you with a confused expression.
Instead of attempting to speak again, you reached forward with both hands and pulled IU up. She followed your lead, still looking somewhat confused, when you pulled her onto your lap.
“The confidence,” she gasped before slowly grinding her hips on your crotch. Her wet pussy making direct contact with your saliva-coated cock. “I’ve never gone this far, what makes you special?”
“You tell me,” you whispered into her face while bringing your hands up the back of her skirt, planting them on her ass. “You’re the one who called me back.”
“That’s true,” she whispered back. Then she leant forward, right up in front of your face, and playfully bit your lower lip. “If you really want it, then take it.”
Ignoring the metallic taste in your mouth, you quickly moved one of your hands off her ass. You snaked it between her legs, feeling for your cock. With the base in your hand, you began to rub your tip against her folds.
“Put it in before I change my mind,” she begged softly into your face, her eyes angry yet compassionate.
You aligned your cock with her entrance while keeping your eyes fixed on each other. She slowly lowered herself upon you as her mouth gaped in delight. Your other hand squeezed down on her ass as she descended deeper down your cock, her pussy gripping even harder than her mouth was only moments ago.
Her pussy held your cock so tightly that it was initially challenging to move - arguably impossible. You gave IU some time to adjust before giving your hips a little pump to gauge her response; She gasped sharply, before taking control of her own movement. Slowly and delicately, she began to move up and down - relishing every inch of your cock inside her.
Now that she was really into it, she started to sweat. Her face screwed up in pleasure as your cock penetrated her deeply, and that seductive gaze she wore so expertly was no longer present. Your enthusiasm mirrored hers, and as she glided down, you softly pushed your hips deeper into her tight pussy.
“I’m getting…” you panted before leaning forward closer to her body, pulling your hands out of her skirt and embracing her back.
“On my face,” she whispered, her fingers running through your hair, pressing your face harder against her chest. “Tell me when,” she added with a soft moan.
You were straining to hold on while utterly out of breath from the panting and grunting. With how tight her pussy was, it was clear that you wouldn't last for much longer. While holding IU in your arms, you mustered your remaining strength and started pushing your hips up as quickly and forcefully as you could.
“Now!” you cried out into her chest when the pressure was too much.
She quickly leaped from your lap, leaving your cock twitching and poised to blow at the slightest touch. She was too swift for you when you attempted to grab it on your own, using her soft fingers to stroke you as she dropped into position. Your cock started spraying white lines before her knees even managed to make contact with the floor.
“Ah!” she squealed as she got onto the floor, her hand gently pumping your cock as it blasted your cum onto her.
There was a lot. IU’s entire forehead was painted white, the enthusiasm in your crotch launching your cum harder than you could have ever imagined. Ignoring the first couple that missed completely, each splatter on her face made her recoil just slightly, her eyes shut tight.
“Wow,” she mumbled, using her pinky finger to wipe the corners of her eyes before opening them.
Even though you wanted to say something, you were too winded to even attempt. You settled with watching as she walked over to grab some tissues off the desk, first wiping her hand and then bringing the entire box over to the couch where she sat next to you.
“That was a lot of cum,” she said casually while starting to wipe it from her face.
“Sorry,” you panted, starting to slowly recover.
“Don’t apologize,” she laughed, handing you a tissue as well. “It just means you liked the massage.”
“Why did you…?” you asked as you sat up straight and began wiping yourself off.
“Just as a thank you for the amazing shoot,” she answered.
“But you asked for me specially.”
She turned to face you, cum still all over her face.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “You’re cute.”
Her comment made you shy, and also made you very aware of your pants still being around your ankles. You awkwardly bent forward and pulled them up before reaching for your bag and pulling out a wet wipe which you gave to IU.
“Always the sweetheart,” she said kindly while accepting the wipe. “Maybe that’s why I like you.”
“Oh, well, since you like me and all that, maybe I can become your regular photographer?” you suggested hopefully. “We’re still friends, right?”
She leaned towards you and kissed your cheek.
“Sure, but next time maybe I’ll just let you finish inside,” she giggled. “This was way too messy.”
---
A/N:
I wonder how many people could have predicted an IU fic. I'll admit, even I wouldn't have predicted this a week ago, yet here we are with a random 8k words release. Please pardon any mistakes!
Hopefully you guys like it, I wrote it fairly quickly. Special thanks to @capslocked for doing a preread, and @turtleturbulence for helping me pick a cover picture (also for elevating my IU mood lately)!
At this point I have a few more idols I want to write short little one-shots for, but I also have a lot of motivation to work on my Dating Seraphs series. Expect updates soon, I have a lot of writing inspiration at the moment!
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coryosmin · 1 month
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Extra Credit - Professor Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader
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summary: Coriolanus Snow is your communications professor at uni and it so happens to be the only class that your grade is dropping in. So you decide to ask your handsome professor what you can do to get extra credit. He gives it to you.
warnings: modern au, age gap (reader is 19, coryo is 25), college setting, nsfw content, mdni, p in v, oral (m receiving), flirting, soft dom coryo, praise kink, degradation kink, etc.
word count: 2,300
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enjoy!
Being a university student, it takes a lot to maintain good grades. You’ve always been a good student, taking your time to learn the material, studying frequently, and wanting to maintain high grades. And you’ve achieved that in all of your classes except for one, communications.
It’s not that it’s a hard class. Communications is quite easy when you really get to the fundamentals of it. However, your professor, Professor Snow, was a harsh grader and will nitpick the tiniest of errors. Some may call him passionate about what he does, others may call him ridiculous. You personally think the latter.
Professor Snow was the professor that many of the students fawned over. He was young, some students being the same age as him or similar. He was blond, muscular, and always looked good in a suit. He was stoic and never really smiled for any particular reason. But his personality most certainly put a damper on his beauty.
You sat in your communications class, frowning at the paper you had just gotten back. It was an essay on conflict resolution, something you thought you did really well on as you had studied and researched the topic. However, the grade you received on that paper made you realize otherwise. In red ink was a big old “C-“ with no other information given. No feedback, nothing. And you were quite worried about your grade.
So after Professor Snow had dismissed the class, you stayed behind, nervously biting your lip as you waited for the other students to clear out. There were of course stragglers which made it a bit harder to have the confidence to talk with your professor. Once they had left though, you gathered your things and walked up to Professor Snow, who was erasing the whiteboard. “Sir,” you said hesitantly, getting his attention.
Professor Snow turned his head around to see you before going back to erasing the whiteboard. “Yes, Ms. L/N?” he said in that beautiful voice of his.
You cleared your throat before speaking. “I just wanted to possibly chat about my essay,” you said.
Professor Snow finished erasing the whiteboard placing the eraser down before turning around to face you. He rubbed his hands together. “What about it?” He asked, looking at you with his blue orbs.
“I don’t quite understand how I got a C minus when I met all the requirements that you assigned in the rubric,” You exclaimed, holding your paper in your hand.
Professor Snow motioned for you to hand him the paper so you did. He stood next to you, pressing his shoulder against yours as he showed you what you did wrong. “There are a few grammatical errors,” he said, pointing at a few of the lines. “This line right here isn’t a direct quote so I’m unsure as to why it’s in quotations,” he said.
“Because it’s paraphrased,” You replied.
“Paraphrasing doesn’t need quotes, it needs the citation,” Professor Snow exclaimed, glancing at you before looking back at the paper. “Overall, it’s a bunch of small errors that are silly mistakes which is why you were given the grade you were given.”
You frowned in frustration. Shouldn’t the content of the essay matter more? You sighed. “Is there anything I can do for extra credit?” You asked, looking up at your professor. He was already looking back at you when you had asked, the two of you only a few inches away from one another.
Professor Snow tilted his head slightly, tapping his chin as he thought to himself. After a few moments, he smirked, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “There’s certainly something you can do…” he whispered.
You gulped at the proximity, your heart racing in your chest. “What?” You whispered back.
Professor Snow smirked, pulling away as he moved to close the door of the lecture hall, locking it behind him before walking over to his desk chair and sitting down. “Get on your knees for me,” He said simply as he spread his legs.
Your eyes widened as you realized what Professor Snow meant. You hadn’t taken him to be that kind of professor. “T-that’s breaking many different university rules, Professor Snow. I hardly think-”
“If you want the extra credit so badly, you’d do it,” He shrugged, raising his shoulders as he did so. His expression was amused, as though not expecting you to take up his offer whatsoever. Which made you realize what exactly he was doing. He was challenging you. And you never back down from a challenge.
So you did what he hadn’t expected which is drop your things and walk over to him, kneeling in front of your professor. “I’ll do it,” You replied, looking up at him.
Professor Snow’s eyes widened before he quickly recovered. He cleared his throat, licking his lips. “Get to it then,” he said, his voice thick.
And so you did. You unzipped his red slacks, your eyes fixated on the bulge forming in his pants. “If you want me to stop at any point, sir, please let me know,” You said, pulling his pants down gently.
Professor Snow simply watched, anticipating your touch. He helped you pull his pants down just enough to reveal his black briefs. “Keep going,” he replied.
You brought a hand to his bulge, palming him through his underwear. Professor Snow let out a small groan at the feeling, his cock hardening from a semi to a full erection underneath your touch. You couldn’t help the smirk on your face at the reaction of your professor. It was most certainly hot and sent a wave of arousal down to your core. You licked your lips, moving your hands to the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down enough to reveal is pretty pink cock. Your eyes widened at the length, unable to help the gasp that escaped your lips. “You’re so big,” You said in amazement.
Professor Snow smirked at your reaction. It was true. He was at least eight inches, maybe a little bit more. “Yeah?” He asked, looking down at you.
You blushed, nodding your head. You looked up into Professor Snow’s eyes before looking back at his cock. You leaned in, licking a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue at the top. Professor Snow shuttered at the feeling, a hand moving to your head. You slowly eased him into your mouth, making it about halfway before his cock was hitting the back of your throat. You moved your head back up, swirling your tongue, before moving it back down. Then you got into a rhythm.
Professor Snow moaned, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he relished in the warm feeling of your mouth on his cock. He knew this was definitely forbidden, students cannot sleep with teachers. But he just couldn’t help himself. You had always been his favorite student though he tried not to show that by nitpicking every little thing you turn in. You actually do wonderful work. But he didn’t want to accidentally reveal his favoritism towards you simply because he’s attracted to you. It’s a weakness and Coriolanus Snow was not a weak man. “Such a dirty whore, sucking your professor’s cock for a grade,” He groaned, opening his eyes to take in your beauty.
You moaned around his cock, arousal pooling between your legs. You clenched your thighs at Professor Snow’s words, trying to relieve some tension. You continued moving your head up and down rhythmically, using your hand to jerk off the amount of his cock that you couldn’t fit in your mouth.
“Getting all worked up from sucking my cock?” He asked, caressing your hair. “Dirty whore.” He moaned. “I’m so close. Are you going to be a good girl and swallow?”
In response, you continued your movements, sucking his cock so well. His cock twitched in your mouth, signaling his release. “Oh fuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back in pleasure before cumming in your mouth. You swallowed his cum, sucking him through his orgasm. And when Professor Snow finished, you pulled off of his cock, looking up at him with pretty eyes, swollen glistening lips, and messy hair.
“Did I do good, sir?” You asked, giving a small smile.
Professor Snow breathed heavily, giving you a breathless chuckle. You looked so attractive to him. “Yes, you were a good girl,” He replied, causing you to clench your thighs. Professor Snow’s cock twitched in interest again, ready for more. He smirked at you. “Come here, baby.” You obliged, getting up off of your knees and crawling onto Professor Snow’s lap. Your skirt pooling around the both of you. Professor Snow gripped your hips, leaning in to kiss you on the lips.
You kissed him back, eyes fluttering shut as you moved your lips in sync. He kissed you deeply and hungrily, as though you were the air he needed to breathe. And you absolutely adored it. Professor Snow’s hands moved underneath your skirt to grab your ass, massaging the flesh through your panties. You moaned softly against his lips, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and explore you.
After a few minutes, he pulled away from the kiss, looking into your beautiful eyes. He moved a hand to your clothed pussy, feeling it through the fabric. “You’re soaked, baby,” He murmured.
You let out a shaky breath, nodding your head. “So wet, Professor Snow,” you murmured back.
Professor Snow smirked. “Call me Coriolanus or Coryo when we’re alone, baby,” He said as he slowly rubbed your clit through your panties.
You let out a soft moan, nodding your head at Coriolanus. “Yes, Coryo.”
“Good girl,” He replied, kissing your lips. “Gonna fuck you, okay?”
You nodded your head in agreement. “Please, sir,” you asked, biting your lip.
Coriolanus gave you a soft smile, still rubbing your clit. “Such good manners,” he said. And then he moved your panties to the side, grabbing his cock and rubbing it between your folds. “Are you on birth control?” A very important question and a good one to ask too. You are a college student after all.
“Yes,” You replied, sighing as you felt the tip of Coryo’s cock rub against your pussy. And without any more hesitation, Coriolanus inserted his cock into you slowly, causing you both to moan. It was a bit painful at first, Coryo being the biggest you’ve ever really had. But it felt oh-so-good. “Wanna ride you,” You whispered, wrapping your arms around Coryo’s neck.
“Go ahead, baby,” Coriolanus replied, grabbing your ass. “You deserve it.”
And so you did. You began to move your hips slowly up and down Coryo’s length, causing the both of you to moan. Coriolanus kissed your lips while you moved your hips. You were so wet and tight around him. You whined at the feeling, grateful to finally being able to relieve the ache you’ve had between your legs for some time now. You pulled away from the kiss, throwing your head back in pleasure as you moved your hips a bit faster. “Oh fuck,” you moaned out.
Coriolanus watched you ride his cock. You were so gorgeous and pretty. Your cheeks were red, your cunt was so tight and warm. Coriolanus couldn’t believe he was finally fucking you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, stopping your movements. You looked at him confused until you felt him bucking his hips, fucking up into you at a harsh pace. You let out a squeal before bringing a hand to cover your mouth, muffling your moans.
“You like that, baby?” Coryo breathed harshly. “Like my cock fucking you so hard?”
You nodded your head, mewling. “So good, Coryo,” You moaned out. “So deep.”
Coriolanus continued fucking up into you, feeling his release approaching rapidly. He reached a hand between the two of you, rubbing circles on your clit, causing you to let out a muffled loud moan against your hand. “Such a good girl, taking my cock so good.” He moaned out. “Gonna cum inside your beautiful pussy. Would you like that, huh? Would you like to be filled with my cum?”
You whined pathetically, nodding your head. “Yes!” You moaned out. “Please cum inside me, Coryo, please.” Your orgasm was approaching quickly, the familiar heat building inside your abdomen. “Am so close. Can I cum? Please let me cum.”
Your words and begging spurred Coryo on. God you were so fucking perfect. “Yes, baby, cum for me. Such a good girl,” He moaned, resting his head against your shoulder as he continued his movements. And soon you both were cumming at the same time, you gushing around his cock as he came inside of you.
And when you both came down from your highs, you breathed heavily, looking down at Coryo. You both were silent for a few minutes until you broke the silence. “So…” You breathed out. “Did I earn my extra credit?”
Coriolanus let out a small laugh, nodding his head against your shoulder. “Yes, baby, you did.”
You grinned at your professor. “And do you do this with all of your students who need extra credit?” You asked.
Coriolanus lifted his head to properly look at you, an amused smile on his face. “Only the special ones. And I only have one of those,” He replied charmingly.
Later in the week, when you went into your Communications class and Professor Snow passed out your previous assignments, your essay from earlier was handed to you. The C Minus was crossed out and replaced with an A+ and a note that read “See me after class.”
It’s safe to say that after that, Professor Snow was your absolute favorite professor.
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q1ngqve · 2 months
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idk if you take requests but like..........
dr ratio x bratty gf,,,, perhaps a bit of daddy/sir kink as well,,,,,,,, you're really good at writing him like i literally luv your work :3
(btw sorry if this isn't allowed)
ANON THIS IS SO (>/////<)♡
CW; fem! reader, implied relationship, bratty reader, sir kink, manhandling, murder, choking, knife play, fear play, biting?, vaginal penetration (with the knife & his dick), orgasm denial, slight degradation but he calls you pretty <3
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do not, I repeat, do not act like a brat when you are with your boyfriend, unless you want to be completely and absolutely destroyed by him, verbally and physically. but where’s the fun in being good when you know how thrilling it is to rile him up?
veritas ratio’s eyes narrow as you prance around the room, giggling at something this random guy said, slapping him lightly on his arm. he’s not exactly one for jealousy, but when you’re so oblivious to the way other men are looking at you in your short skirt has his head going fuzzy with irritation.
truth is, you know exactly what you are doing. your boyfriend has been so caught up in his research the past few days he hasn’t had much time for you, and your fingers just aren’t enough to satisfy yourself. so consider this as punishment for not giving you the attention you needed.
the man’s lips graze your earlobe as he leans in, whispering something flirty that makes you sick in the stomach. you hide your face in his chest, acting as if you’re embarrassed, and wrap your arms around his waist.
before the man could slide his hands down your back, you were pulled away harshly by someone from behind, a small yelp leaves your lips as you’re dragged away and out the bar, tripping over yourself with almost every step from how fast he was walking.
your head whips up when the two of you finally stop, only to find your boyfriend glaring down at you, his hair tousled and brows furrowed, clearly displeased with your actions. you lock eyes with him, and a shot of electricity runs up your spine — ah, there it is, that delicious feeling of being hunted.
“get in the car.” and he’s gone.
you watch from your seat as he walks out of the bar ten minutes later, hair slightly wet, blood splattered on his jaw, his strides long and angry, and you feel yourself sink a little deeper into the leather seat.
silence fills the air as he drives, the tension so thick you could barely breathe. why is there blood on his face? did he just murder someone? oh god, it better not be that guy from before…did you just accidentally help in ending an innocent person’s life? you feel your body shake as you watch him from your peripheral, his jaw and shoulders relaxed, which is worse than when he’s mad and showing it.
you’re immediately dragged out of your seat when he stops, carrying and dropping you onto the hood of the car. his touch is gentle as he runs his fingers up to your chin, gripping at it harshly and forcing your head to tilt up uncomfortably to look at him.
your eyes adjust to the dimly lighted empty car park, legs closed shut as he towers over you, his shadows ungulfing your own on the hood. “what is that?” you break the silence with a stutter, your eyes flitting between his other hand and his face, body tensing at the sight of a bloody knife in his grip.
the man before you smiles softly, something he rarely does, so you know this is gonna be bad. “you like making me angry?” your lips part slightly at his question, knowing the answer is yes, but his aura is so terrifying that nothing leaves you other than heavy breathing.
his other hand grabs the underside of your knee, pushing your legs apart as he steps between your legs before leaning down even further, chuckling when your breath hitches at the intensity of his stare.
he flips your skirt up as he runs a finger up your already drenched underwear, the slick sticking to the pad of his finger. you squirm backwards when he lifts the knife, twirling it in his hand like a toy. “no— what’re you going to do with that?” the bloodied knife glistens under the dim white lights, and you swear his eyes turned a shade darker as he runs the tip down your neck, reveling at the sight of you trembling beneath him in fear.
“teaching you a lesson.”
your legs twitch involuntarily when the sharp blade reach between your legs, whines escape your lips as you feel it press softly against your entrace. tears sting your eyes, every inch of your body is telling you to run the moment he presses in harder, the thin fabric of your lace panties tearing immediately.
“‘m scared…”
veritas ratio laughs, the sound cruel and deep, straight from his chest. “this is punishment,” smirk returning to his face, making him look like a devil in disguise, “for acting like a brat.” a strangled gasp leaves you when he plunges the knife handle into your pussy, your walls tightening around the rubber like a vice.
oh god, there’s a knife in me, was all you could think of before he fucks it into you again and again, the rough textures rubbing deliciously against your gummy walls. the adrenaline heightening your senses, making this feel better than it should.
“you wanna act like a brat? wanna be a little slut and flirt with every guy you see? go ahead, be my guest. your boyfriend’s jaw finally clenches, allowing his anger and jealousy to take over as he bites at your collarbone, the stinging pain has you scratching at his biceps. “‘m sorry!” a flurry of apologies fly from your puffy lips as you cry from the pleasure and humiliation of having a knife making you feel like you’re in heaven.
“sorry, what?”
“sir— sorry sir!”
calling him ‘sir’ seems to bring out his animalistic side because the knife clatters on the concrete floor instantly, before being replaced by his dick. the air is knocked out of your lungs the moment he slides in, so long and thick, stretching you out nice and wide under him like a toy.
another whimper leaves you when he wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing tightly at the sides, successfully controlling the amount of air leaving and entering your lungs. panic fills you as you claw at this hand, tears streaming down your face like a waterfall.
“take it,” his other hand reaching down to circle your clit, “like the pretty little slut you are.” black dots fill your vision as you clench around him, getting off of everything that is happening to you.
your boyfriend groans above you as he cums, warmth engulfs you while he continues to pound into you, riding himself down from his high. “sir, ‘m close— please!” you manage to say breathily, your hips bucking into his on its own accord, chasing your high.
veritas ratio steps away in an instant and your eyes fly open at the empty feeling of your core, seconds away from your orgasm. “wait, no!” he flips your skirt down before kissing you roughly on your lips.
“only good girls get to cum.”
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⭒ A/N — not proofread yet!
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yuri-is-online · 5 months
Note
Azul totally has an octopus and shrimp plush that he makes kiss.
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Who? How? Usually when I get an ask I know where it comes from (or why anyway) but this time I just looked at my phone and got hit by a bus. But you know what annon? You are so right, he totally does.
notes: they/them used for Yuu, Azul engages in some SSS tier simping (shrimping?), once again this is a joke but I am not taking cold meds this time! Please look at my masterlist for more serious works.
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Plush toys do not exist in the ocean, the concept of them was something Azul had been made aware of in his research and made note of in land training camp. But of course, as was the case with more things than he would ever admit to outside of a court order, Azul failed to grasp just how ubiquitous and popular plushies were. He had even been gifted an octopus plush as a prize during one of the first Board Game Club events he attended, something he had intended to brush off as childish until he saw the way his club mates reacted, even if he didn't understand why himself the little guy was clearly an enviable prize. A claim made less believable with how he hadn't let Floyd squeeze it, or Jade poke at it, and he certainly had not agreed to give it to Idia no matter how much he had begged.
The shrimp plush had been a... strategic purchase. No really, if anyone asked he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he had bought this specific plush that he had to go out of his way to find, order, and watch out for to make sure that Jade didn't bring it to him with the rest of his mail. The Mostro Lounge was always going to expand to have a merch store, and since plush toys were so popular with humans it made sense to have some! He just needed to ensure this particular brand was of a high enough quality to commission-
No one was going to buy that excuse. All the more reason to keep this little indulgence a secret, even if the seller had been confused by his request for discreet packaging.
"It's just a plush sir?" To them maybe, to him this is a painful sign that he should just say something already but he needs to plan for that and this should help. The two plushes certainly look natural enough together, Azul has seen pictures of some beds that have a bunch of little guys set up on them and he's beginning to see the appeal. Maybe he should get two eels? Smaller than the shrimp, obviously, it's the only way the real ones will ever let him live it down. But by thinking that he is sort of acknowledging who the little shrimp is supposed to represent. And they're sitting next to him in his bed.
He takes back his previous thought, Azul has no idea how humans sleep with things that remind them of the objects of their affections, it's filling his mind with situations.  He props himself up against the headboard, holding both plushies close to his face so he can see them without his glasses.
“I was so lonely.” Azul is incapable of picturing him otherwise.  “I really missed you.”  He sniffles, and the little shrimp jumps to comfort him.
“I missed you too!”  The little shrimp is friends with the octopus?  Azul has no idea when that happened he just got them today-  “Let’s never be apart again ok?”
“Do you really mean that?”  The little octopus tentatively reaches out one of his stubby tentacles towards the shrimp, who takes it happily.  “I don’t want to let you go…”
“You don’t have to.” comforts the little shrimp. “We can get married and do our laundry and taxes together forever and you won’t ever have to be lonely ever again.” 
And that is apparently when Azul decides to come back to his senses, just as he is halfway through humming a wedding march and making the plushies kiss.  He remembers himself enough to keep them from dropping to the floor, but they still fall to his side as he collapses back onto his pillows redder than a boiled lobster.
Maybe he should just… give the little shrimp over to Yuu.  And make some actual progress on that laundry and taxes bit.
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exhaslo · 2 months
Text
Corruption Ch3
(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)
Ch1, Ch2
Warning: Minors DNI, smut, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship?
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Four months, twenty days until D-Day
Finally, it took you ten full days to understand your abilities and make your suit. It did feel somewhat shameful by how much of a struggle it was to get everything ready. You had to rely on a close friend to make your suit and beg them to not say anything.
You were finally going to start your life as a super hero. Your secret identity had to be top secret. Mainly, because you were afraid of how Miguel would react if he saw you. You loved the man, but you were terrified of his villainous nature.
"Alright, suit is kind of tight, but it will have to work." You whispered, staring at yourself in the mirror.
The suit was tight against your skin, showing off each of your curves, breasts and ass. It almost felt sexual, but what heroes in the past wore baggy suits? Unsure if you wanted to do that research, you knew that you needed something that won't get your snagged on a flag or something.
Patting down your skirt, you glanced at the zipper you had custom made in case for an emergency bathroom visit. Honestly, it made you chuckle since you thought of such a thing. Miguel would probably laugh at you if he ever found out.
"Alright, now for the scary part." You inhaled deeply.
Opening your window, you took deep breathes. You were terrified, but without this leap of faith, how were you ever going to bring Alchemax to justice? How were you going to show Miguel the light in his heart?
"I can do this." You whispered before shooting your web and swinging into the city.
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Miguel hissed lowly as he sat in his apartment. There were a million things going through his head. One of them being how to perfect his spider genetic splicing DNA. He wanted to create the ultimate human. The superior human race.
Unable to think in the comfort of his own home, Miguel decided to take a walk around the city. He did need to buy a few things anyway. As he left his penthouse, Miguel grumbled lowly as he avoided the people around him.
How disgusting. All of these regular humans trying to smile and cozy up to Miguel. None of them had what it takes to be at his level. Unless they were willing to place themselves on his metal table for experimentation.
"Miguel, you won't believe this." Lyla appeared on his watch. Miguel lazily glanced towards his AI,
"Won't know until you say it."
"There are reports of a Spider-woman swinging across the city. People are in shock and whispering that the age of heroes might be making a comeback." She explained. Miguel scoffed,
"I'll believe it when I see it. Don't bother me with such nonsense."
Age of heroes his ass. Miguel knew better than to believe that such a time would revive. As he made his way into his local well-off supermarket, Miguel couldn't help but wonder why such reports would come to be.
A spider-women none the less. Miguel hadn't experimented on any women yet and everyone he did had perished. As he grabbed a cart, Miguel hissed to his ignorant thoughts. He shouldn't allow his genius brain subcome to such foolishness.
"Ah!!!" Someone screamed.
With a heavy roll of his eyes, Miguel glanced behind him. His eyes twitched as he saw a fire break out. Just his luck. Making his way to the checkout, Miguel ignored the people's screams, continuing his purchase.
"Sir! You need to leave! It's dangerous!" One of the workers yelled. Miguel just ignored them,
"Dangerous?" Miguel resisted a chuckle as he finished his purchase.
Right as he left, there was an explosion. His eyes widen as he felt the wind push him down. Surprised, Miguel let out a soft groan as he slowly got up. As he did, Miguel felt another wave push him back down.
"I got you!" A woman yelled out.
Furrowing his brows, Miguel saw someone approach him. He grunted, feeling himself being lifted up. Which was quite a surprise since Miguel was a tall and heavy man. Glancing towards the brave fool who came to his rescue, Miguel's eyes widen in shook.
"Spider-woman?!" He nearly gasped in shock. You smiled softly towards him,
"The one and only!" You chirped.
Miguel felt nearly flabbergasted as he observed you. The one thing he had been trying to recreate was right in front of him. There was a surge of emotions coursing through his body.
"Are you alright?" You asked, patting Miguel off as you escaped the building with him.
"Allow me to have a blood sample," Was the first thing Miguel said. You flinched, taking a step back,
"Haha, that's a....uh, unusual request, but I'll have to decline." You said, trying to hide your nerves. Miguel grabbed your shoulders,
"You don't understand. I've been trying to create someone like you for years. Please, I need to know how-"
"Perhaps if we bump into each other at another time, I can give you an answer, but I really must go. Take care of yourself and don't get hurt, okay?"
Miguel reached out to you once more as you swung away. The look in his eyes were one of desperation and frustration. How were you here? How did he not notice such a fine, perfect specimen in his city? This whole place belonged to him....
Including you.
Grabbing his items, Miguel hurried back to his penthouse. He needed to research on you. Miguel needed to find out more about you. Miguel needed you in his lab!
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Finding a good building to land on, you let out a small squeal. You had been swinging around doing little things here and there and finally, finally, you managed to do something heroic. Best of all, you had saved Miguel.
Trying to cover the blush on your cheeks, you recalled the warmth of his body pressed against yours. The look on his face was something else too. You've never seen him so shock, so amazed. If only he looked at you like that and not Spider-Woman.
"Mhm, but he just had to ask for a blood sample. I almost gave in too! I have to be careful!" You whined.
Sitting at the edge of the building, you glanced down at the messy, beautiful city below. You were going to have to get better at Super Hero stuff if you wanted to make any real change.
That, and you would have to control your emotions better if you ever wanted to change and heal Miguel. He was far too talented and smart to fall down the same fate as his father.
"I will save him."
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Miguel was on a man hunt. He had gotten Lyla to pull up anything on this new Spider-Woman, despite there not being much. He had to know who you were and where you came from.
Unable to retrieve much, Miguel decided to do things the hard way. He pulled up every single file on women who lived within or near the city. Miguel was determined to know who you were. Even if he had to do things the long and hard way.
"Let's see. Judging by her body, she is defiantly within the age ground of twenties to thirties. Let's start removing everyone else."
"Yes, sir." Lyla replied, shorting the age gap.
Miguel grunted since the list was still quite large. At least, whoever you were, you didn't cover your hair. Just a cute little mask that covered the top half of your face. Narrowing the list shorter, Miguel just inhaled since it was still a hefty list.
"Is speed dating out of the question?" Lyla asked with a grin. Miguel let out a rare laugh,
"Highly."
Wondering how to approach this, Miguel started to pace around his living room. He needed you. He wanted you. You were the key to creating the ultimate human race. If Miguel couldn't find you naturally, then he would have to make you come to him.
"I will make her mine."
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It was going to be another rough day at work. You had entered Alchemax with two large coffees in hand. Clocking in, you let out a heavy sigh as you made your way to Miguel's office. He had been blowing up your phone all morning.
"Miguel, could you maybe now tell me what's going on?" You asked softly as you opened his door.
"(Y/N), finally! We have a BIG day ahead of us!"
"We do?" You questioned as Miguel approached you, taking his coffee out of your hand, "Ah-Are we doing the seahorses?" You asked innocently.
"Ha!" Miguel chuckled darkly as he patted your head, "What am I to do without your blissful innocence."
"Awe, are we going back to spiders?"
"Always." Miguel hummed as he drank his coffee, "Have you heard about the new Spider-Woman in town?"
You felt a nervous sweat run down your back.
"I-I have! Was that...not your doing?" You asked, knowing that it sort of was, but Miguel didn't need to know that.
"No, and that's what infuriates me." He spat, placing his drink down, "I need to know how she came to be. I will not be stopping my spider experiments anytime soon. Not until she submits herself to me, or I recreate her very existence."
"Miguel...You can't have someone submit themselves to you like a trophy. You'd have to understand them...and honestly, if she really is a hero...I don't think...she will like...what you're...doing...here." Your voice kept getting lower and lower as Miguel slowly approached you.
"(Y/N), do you think what I'm doing here is wrong? Trying to advance us measly humans into something greater?" Miguel asked, twisting his views into yours. You bit your lower lip, holding your tablet close to your chest,
"N-No...I-I think the idea...is right..."
"Oh, (Y/N), try not to think too much, okay?" Miguel hummed as he casually stroked your cheek, "Remember, our work here will be one for the history books."
You tried your best to calm your racing heart as you leaned into Miguel's touch. How could such cruel words come out through his sexy mouth. His low tone just made your brain fuzzy. And his touch? Oh, you were feeling that down to your panties.
"Okay," You whispered, giving into his demands, "What will we start with today?"
It was going to be a long road, but if you couldn't change Miguel as you, perhaps you had to change him as Spider-Woman. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel will listen to you with the mask on. It was a slim chance, but you wanted to save him so bad.
"While I start collecting more spiders, I want you to find me more willing test subjects."
"B-But Miguel, y-you know...how I feel about going to the prisons." You whimpered, tugging against his sleeve. Miguel just chuckled, lifting your chin and leaned towards you,
"You can do it." He hummed and saw the tears about to spill from yours eyes, "I'll have Lyla accompany you. Does that help?"
"I guess," You whimpered once more. Miguel let out a heavy sigh as he had Lyla downloaded to your watch.
"Off you go. I want you to be back to file down each of my spiders."
"Yes, sir."
Shaking as you hurried out of Miguel's office, you tried to calm down. Miguel was being extra touchy today...and cruel. The only good thing about you leaving was that you could finally see the prisoners in a new light. As a hero, you needed to learn what villains think like...aside from Miguel.
"Are you ready to go, (Y/N)?" Lyla asked, appearing before you. You just smiled towards the AI,
"Yep! Let's go!"
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Next Chapter
@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @chaoticlovingdreamer @sukioyakio @killjoy-nightshadow @heyohalie @the-pan-liquid @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @kpopscoups17130000 @pochapo @killerwendigo @barbiecrocs
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cno-inbminor · 11 months
Text
repertum (pt. 2 - final)
summary: no matter how much you want alhaitham, you don’t think you can ever have him. he may or may not try to prove otherwise. // cameos from lumine and nahida // wc: ~15.1k
a/n: well, here it is! many, many thanks to @allsaiint for being my beta once again, especially for this monster. i love her to the ends of this universe. fair warning though, the smut at the end is un-beta’d so you’ll probably come across many grammatical/syntax errors. sorry, in advance. 
cw: afab!reader, fem!reader, more angst (but with comfort), 3.4 spoilers, probably some incorrect game lore and timing/mechanics, smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)
smut tags: derogatory/degrading terms (slut, cocksleeve, cumslut, cockslut), referring to alhaitham as ‘sir’, size kink, twinges of dacryphilia, one (1) pussy slap, some overstimulation, light bondage (reader’s wrists get tied together), blowjob, cunnilingus, hints of reader entering subspace (dom!alhaitham, sub!reader), will add more if i remember later but i think those are the highlights lol
please read part 1 for context! | AO3 Link for better viewing if the app is being a bitch
-    
As agreed upon you meet Lumine and Paimon on the walkway leading up to the Sanctuary. The traveling duo go inside first, as you’re sure they have much more private and serious matters to discuss. While you wait outside, you gaze over the ledge at the breathtaking view of Sumeru in the direction of the Lokapala Jungle, and its waterfalls still bright even in the darkness of dawn. Taking in everything around you— the breeze and the stars— you feel some peace in your heart knowing you have a place to call home and return to.
The doors swing open with Lumine looking a little less happy than earlier. Paimon mutters – or  at least attempts to – under her breath, while a man with a wide-brimmed hat trails out after them. The traveler provides no explanation,and instead informs you that Lord Kusanali wishes to speak with you for a minute. Perhaps the time together will let you know more about this mysterious man – child? – and why he seems to have put Paimon in such a bad mood.
“Y/N,” the Dendro Archon greets you warmly. Her voice is gentle as ever and full of compassion. “Thank you for coming here. I simply wanted to see if you had everything you needed for your travels and research.”
You show her your bag with thinly-veiled enthusiasm. “Thank you for the opportunity and your consideration of my proposal. The fact that you took the time to read through it and ask me about it really means a lot to me. It was luck that the traveler happened to be heading in that direction as well.”
“She will be a good companion. Please watch over her whenever you can.”
“Of course, though I imagine she’s going to watch over me more than her,” you jest and Lord Kusanali shares your amusement. “Is there anything else you needed?”
“No. May you have safe travels, and please visit whenever you return. I look forward to your findings.”
You bow with as much reverence as possible before waving goodbye to the Archon and heading out the doors. The man from earlier is nowhere to be seen, and Lumine appears more relaxed.
“Everything all good?”
“Yes! Should we head out then?”
“Very well.”
Those with Visions have always fascinated you with the way they could make their weapons appear and disappear, and materialize things in midair. Lumine does so with what appears to be a map of Teyvat, humming to herself as she pinpoints a location. She waves it away with dainty fingers and holds out her hand.
Though confused, you trust she means no ill will and Lumine grips your hand tight when you take hers.
“Teleportation is always a little rough for first timers. Just hold on and you’ll be okay.”
“Teleporta–”
You disappear in a flash of blue light. For a split, disorienting second, you see nothing, and in the next you’re greeted with a view of what appears to be part of the Mawtiyima Forest, if the luminescent treetops are any indication. Slight nausea overcomes you and your stomach does a small turn – shit, she wasn’t lying.
“Are you alright?” Lumine asks with concern, searching through her pack for a remedy..
“Do you want a cold towel?” Paimon adds on and flutters around you to search for any signs of injury.
“I think I just need to breathe for a second,” you say, collapsing against the cliffside. “And sit for a minute.”
“Take your time. We’re quite close to the border. I would’ve taken us straight into Fontaine, but since I’ve never been before, none of those teleport waypoints have been activated.”
You point towards one in front of you. “You mean these?”
“Convenient, right?”
“...very.”
-
Distraught, perhaps, is one way to describe Alhaitham’s current state of mind.
By all means, it makes no sense. Did he get to know you well in an alarmingly short amount of time? Sure. Did he really look forward to those initial 36 hours passing, to the point where he felt time was crawling by at a turtle’s pace? Perhaps. Was he trying to satiate a curiosity that he had never really felt before and attempting to answer a personal unknown? In some way.
The attempting-to-resign Acting Grand Sage has read his fair share of historical texts – especially conflicts driven by love and lust. A force so powerful that it could twist the minds of even the brightest and most logical – what was that like? From a young age, he was only ever introspective in an academic sense, and the scholars touted him to be a genius. But feelings, emotions, felt abstract and out of reach as he grew up. He only ever understood his lust as a byproduct of his development as explained in the textbooks. A branch of psychology mixed with biology described everything from why humans feel attraction and the need to copulate to what is deemed healthy and alluring in a potential partner, all in the name of posterity and evolution.
Alhaitham first concluded his initial draw towards you could be explained away by all of these findings.It didn’t quite fit all the checkboxes, but enough for him to deem it understandable and valid. Those checkboxes had been visited once before when he lost his virginity, but that was all there was to it. He wouldn’t be blind enough to deny that it was a pleasurable experience, but there were other, more pressing matters at hand. Yet, even after drawing his conclusion, nothing academic could help explain why his desire to be near you was so strong. The more carnal desires took a backseat to his need to pick your brain, to make you laugh, or to have you challenge him. He learned as many of your little mannerisms as possible, all the while pretending he was completely unfazed by your presence. Your different smiles, your nervous movements, your stressed looks, your interests and dislikes – he wanted to know all of them, and not so he could store it in his brain for cautionary purposes. It was all for the sake of getting to know you.
And then he became greedy.
Another sin Alhaitham didn’t quite understand before meeting you was the growing, bubbling pit of a constant want want want for you to be by his side. To have the fantasies of coveting your soul, retching on the inside at the mere thought of others seeing you the way he did you – he was starting to see why individuals were so often thrown into a fit of rage over their loved ones and why the law has separate stipulations regarding “crimes of passion.”
And even as he sits at his usual table in his usual seat (especially on days when he really doesn’t want to be in his office during work hours), sending glares to anyone who dared to approach him or even come near your seat (which was very much not your seat by any legal means), he finds himself buried in books of philosophy. Not that they are so far out of his usual reading, for they typically align with his understanding that there are universal questions that will never be answered yet should be stated, but he has never felt the need to dive deeper than the tip of the iceberg on different schools of thought. One line in particular catches his attention, however.
“Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions.”**
Moral philosophy, the area where this statement hails from, was intriguing, yet Alhaitham knew the respected experts could talk in circles for days and do their best to argue their reasoning. This particular philosopher suggests that passion is the cause for reason, for understanding why humans do the things they do. And as the word connotation suggests, there is no room to discuss whether or not this line of thought is rational. Just as passion drives reason, reason can also serve as the breeding ground for the passions.
Abstruse to several, esoteric to many, ambiguous to the masses – Alhaitham wonders if he’s found some sort of solution to his internal dilemmas. To have it all summed up in a single sentence resonates deeply with him. Simple and succinct, yet speaking volumes to the implications; finally with a deep breath.
The next day in his office, he leans and falls back into his seat, gaze focused on the domed ceiling above. He’s always hated this chair; far too grand and impractically large. One thing he doesn’t mind is the proportionate size of the desk, as he’s learned over the years that if you give him the space, he will inadvertently cover every inch of it with his materials. Even with their dwindling number of research applications, he manages to fill the voids with his own research, books laid open and aged parchment collecting dust. For being so far above the ground level of the House of Daena, it makes sense that silence is usually his sole companion, as he tends to ignore the other researchers and matra milling around. But there must have been some memo sent out because no one is there today, and no one has come up in hours.
Surprisingly, he finds the quietude and quiescence unnerving rather than welcoming, so much so he removes his treasured earpieces and places them in his lap. The white noise he’s often found bothersome is… comforting?
A distraction, perhaps, from the absence of you.
A long, heavy sigh leaves his chest as he pulls himself up and ambles over to a locked filing cabinet with all the approved research project applications. Before he became Acting Grand Sage, the remaining applications had been split between him, Lord Kusanali, and a few other individuals. First sorted by subject area and then by last name, he rifles through with an absent mind until he catches your name on a tabbed folder. Alhaitham wastes no time plucking it from the confines of the drawer and opening it, taking care to make sure the stacks of reports and research diagrams don’t spill out onto the floor. Kaveh would have a field day if he knew just how enraptured he was by the mere sight of your handwriting. He may even take him to Lord Kusanali herself for psychological treatment or interrogation because there was no way this Alhaitham was his same sarcastic, scathing, infuriating roommate – and despite the slight amusement the thought gives him, he cannot ignore the painful pull in his chest.
It’s been five weeks since you were last seen in Sumeru, and five weeks since he had knocked on your apartment door only to be greeted by your next-door neighbor, who announced you’d left early in the morning with no definitive time of return and no mention of your destination. You would be back eventually, but would it be in six days or six months? Nobody seemed to be the wiser.
He had had half a mind to reach out to Cyno and call in a special favor to track you down for his own internal peace, but he knew the request would be irrational and unnecessary. So once a week, he stops by your apartment to see if you’ve returned, and with each unsuccessful visit and your doormat collecting more and more dust, his heart sinks just a little bit lower. If he wasn’t in his current position, he’d be halfway across the desert by now (and ultimately in the complete opposite direction) under the guise of searching for ancient ruins. Merely searching for facts and truth; nothing more, nothing less.
All to say, Alhaitham wishes he had looked through this filing drawer earlier because the file on his desk contained all the answers to his questions of your whereabouts.
The relief of knowing you were safe in a nearby nation surges through every vein in his body, tension in his muscles disappearing with the rays of sunlight beating down from the stained-glass window above. He would’ve been much more concerned if you’d gone to Inazuma – even if this Captain Beidou that Lumine spoke highly of was more than adept at crossing the treacherous seas from Liyue, the mere possibility of you falling overboard or being forced to stay in the nation was still unsettling, to say the least.
Leaning his weight onto the desk, Alhaitham drinks in everything your research has to offer. There are a few mistakes and edits that could be rectified here and there, but nevertheless, it is well done. He remembers now seeing some of these papers before, as notes you had been scribbling down on some early afternoons in the cafe. Pleased isn’t enough to describe the hum in his chest when he notices some of his suggestions incorporated into your application, fondly recalling the moments when you had picked each other’s brain regarding the topic at hand. Never once did you mention that any of this had been in preparation for your big research journey, but he would be remiss not to believe recent events had served as the catalyst for your sudden departure.
“Do come back to me,” he murmurs to no one. As he lifts his head, the cosmical, automated orb— reminiscent of an Auspicious Branch— just above the elevator platform seems to mock him. It’s An inaccurate teller of time as it spins and spins in its orbit, and Alhaitham yearns for the day you return home.--
The day you return to him.
-
Traveling with Lumine is fascinating, to say the least.
Ignoring the fact that feeding Paimon is like feeding three grown adults, watching the Traveler gather and store every fruit and herb and loot in sight makes you wonder what kind of life she had led before all of this. The way she takes down some wayward Treasure Hoarders is a sight to see, like a well-rehearsed dance. It lends to your understanding of why the term is “martial arts” because the way Lumine maneuvers around the enemies and her sword is, very much so, an art.
But more time together means more time into probing the real reason you’ve decided to come to Fontaine with her, and for whatever reason, she is really good at getting you to spill the beans. Lumine’s heard most of your life story at this point.
“Who are you running from?” she asks one night. After checking in with the Adventurer’s Guild in Fontaine’s capital, you’ve joined Lumine in her journey around the nation to activate the rest of the teleport waypoints. You send her your sheepest look, begging with your eyes for her to not ask anymore. But you’ve skirted around this topic the last few weeks and you figure it’s time for her to know.
With a heavy breath, you set down your bowl of biryani on the grass. “Promise you won’t judge?”
“Promise.”
“...it’s Alhaitham.” The crackling of the little campfire Lumine had put together is deafening, even louder than the ripples and waves of the river crashing onto the sand in front of them.
Naturally, Paimon speaks up first, though speaking is an understatement.  “Alhaitham?! You mean that– that super mean Acting Grand Sage? The know-it-all? Can’t really care less about others? Condescending?”
“That’s a pretty big word there, Paimon–” Lumine cuts in.
“Hey!”  
“See?” you respond, the smile on your face small, awkward, and bittersweet. “Things happened and well… I thought it’d be better if we stopped seeing each other.”
“You were seeing each other?!!”
“Paimon, stop!” Lumine interjects and shoots the floating fairy a disapproving glare.
You really wish you had some alcohol with you right now.
“Well…”
For the next several minutes, you provide a detailed summary of how you came to meet and learn more about Alhaitham, the nature of the budding relationship, how all your insecurities came to a head on that night, and how you ended up here. Lumine remains silent when you finish explaining everything, clearly thinking through all the information and trying to find the right words to say.
“You know,” she begins, “Alhaitham may be one of the most infuriatingly logical men that I’ve ever met. And a really good actor, too. Remind me to tell you the details of what he did when we rescued Nahida.”
“...I don’t think that makes me feel any better.”
“I’m just saying, but I also think you know by now that Alhaitham isn’t someone who does anything that isn’t for his own benefit, in some way.”
“Again, not helping.”
“What I’m trying to say is if he just wanted to get his dick wet, I’m sure there are plenty of other people who would agree to help out in much less time.”
To which, Lumine has a point. A very good point. But still you say, “He’s super picky though, I don’t think he’d just sleep with anyone regardless.”
“Which brings me to my original point: he picked you for a reason.”
“Because I’m easy?”
Lumine flicks your forehead before you can even blink, and with a decent amount of force as well. Your resulting indignant yelp pierces the atmosphere as you rub the sore spot. “What was that for?!”
“For being unreasonable. I’m trying to say that you must be special to him, that’s all.”
“... but what if he didn’t want to see me again after sleeping together? Sure, let’s say that I am ‘special’, heavy emphasis on my air quotes right now, but I want more, an actual relationship. How do I know that’s also what his end goal is?”  
“You don’t,” Lumine affirms. “But there’s no use in wading through the what-ifs. You know what you want, and I think you’re allowed to communicate that to him, regardless of what he says.”
It’s hard to come to terms with the underlying implication that you’re being something of a coward, with not a whole lot of reason to be. You’re grateful for the open water before you, its lullaby comforting with the breeze it brings. Years of academic research have made you painfully familiar with the concept of trial and error, but to apply it to human relationships? It leaves much to be undesired. Five weeks, in the grand scheme of things, are certainly nothing more than a miniscule blip of time. But in your limited life with the overhanging unknowns of the world, it was a sizable enough amount of time filled with passive rumination and downward spirals.
“You’ll figure it out when you get there. But I’m warning you, we’ve still got a lot of ground to cover.”
You can’t help but laugh in relief. “That is completely okay, I promise you.”
Running away might as well be your newly developed skill at this point.
-
A few weeks later
“I mean, I could stay with you there in Fontaine, right? You know, extra set of hands and all?”
“You’re not getting out of this.”
“Lumiiinneee,” you whine, petulant pout making itself known.
“Just talk to him – whatever happens, happens. If it’s not meant to be, then it’s not meant to be. But you owe it to yourself to say your piece, as well as to him for an explanation that he needs to hear. Now go.”
She all but (gently) shoves you into the Akademiya, watching over you with an encouraging wave of her hand. When you’re less than five steps away from the door into the House of Daena, you look over your shoulder once more for any signs of escape. As expected, the Lumine-shaped obstacle stands firm in her spot.
You clutch your final report to your chest, mind racing with a thousand thoughts per second, and don’t even realize you’ve already made it to the elevator platform. And once it gives a mechanical shudder and starts to go up, you want to scream and simultaneously steal a glider to jump off and land safely back on the ground level.
Is it good or bad luck that no one seems to be around? Maybe he won’t be at his desk and you can just leave the report there and fucking bolt. Maybe it’s not even Alhaitham in the Grand Sage’s chair. Maybe the man is gone altogether and is somewhere in the desert looking at ancient runes.
Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore and has forgotten about you. Maybe he told himself to let bygones be bygones, and that you were simply another scholar in the Akademiya. No one special.
Your initial hopes of his coincidental absence are dashed as you walk up the stairs. His silver hair stands out among the sea of azure and viridian, and he doesn’t even bother to look up from the stack of papers in his hand. Not that you were a bull in a china shop by any means, but the man would even notice with his eyes closed if there was a fly on the complete opposite side of the office. Your heart is ready to burst from your chest with each shaky step, and too soon, you stand in front of his sprawling desk.
“My office hours will be ending in a few minutes,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone without looking at you. You risk a sharp inhale at the sound of his voice, an all too familiar mix of gentility and sternness. “If it’s something that requires more than that length of time, come back tomorrow.”
Fuck fuck fuck fuck – “I’m just, um, turning in a research report?”
At the sound of your voice, Alhaitham doesn’t even bother to amuse himself. He’d much rather not look and not be disappointed, than to do so and become reacquainted with dashed hopes. “...And the necessary cover sheet is on top? Does it have your name, project number, and corresponding title?”
“Y-Yes.”
Still perusing through the paperwork in his hands, he frees one hand to point it at a basket on his far-right corner. “Leave it there. Your advisors and I will be reviewing it within the next two weeks.”
“Oh, o-okay.”
You do as instructed, but with each second that passes without any eye contact or direct acknowledgement of your presence, you begin to wonder if he’s purposely ignoring you. Or maybe he forgot about you entirely and wrote you off as a failed pursuit. Perhaps that would be the best-case scenario and you could hole up in your apartment for the rest of… eternity. Maybe. Lumine can come and scold you later and you can take it like a champ.
But your heart, ever so fickle and occasionally diabolical, plays one last card and causes you to stop at the top of the stairs. “Have a good night,” you muster out. “Thank you, Alhaitham.”
The rustling of his papers ceases as you turn and hurry down the steps, taking extra care to not trip over your feet. Just before you can activate the elevator, a frazzled “Y/N?” is called from above. With sweaty hands, a sullen heart, and a leadened brain, you nervously orient towards the scholar inhabiting your dreams, who stands on the edge of the platform above and peers down to confirm his suspicion. His stance looks as if he had leapt over his desk and sprinted at top speed towards you.
You’re not sure how to take it all in, how to take him in – the “feeble scholar”, for once, appears as such. If possible, his cheeks seem a little more sunken in, further accentuating the sharp edges of his jawline. His hair looks mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it several times too many. The cloak around his shoulders rests askew from his sudden movements.
But his eyes—
Those seafoam irises and amber pupils pierce through your soul, but not in an inquisitive and calculating manner. In fact, it’s quite the opposite – he looks unsure, disbelieving, and hesitant. To elicit such a reaction from this man should be recorded in the most prominent historical annals, but you do have to admit it’s a bad look on him.
When you open your mouth to say something, anything, the elevator begins its descent. Any words you had are wiped from your mind, and you do everything you can to maintain this staredown. Weeks ago, you couldn’t even begin to guess what this man would be feeling based on his eyes, but now? His heart is on his sleeve, and you can’t help the green envy in your veins at the possibility that others have seen him in such a vulnerable state.The constant battle between an illusional desire to be his everything and knowing that you never could and never should be, rages on.
You’re the first to look away. Sorry, Lumine, you think, as Alhaitham’s figure disappears from view. All you’re left with is the rotating orb above, spinning and spinning until it makes you sick to your stomach. You just want to get back to your apartment and start sweeping the dirt away, to return to some sense of normalcy before all of… this appeared. You never should’ve indulged in your whimsical desires.
-
Alhaitham hovers in a state of shock as he watches the elevator take you back down – after weeks of catching a glimpse of who he thinks is you at the cafe, hearing your voice in his head as he scribbles away on paperwork, or dreaming of escaping his duties to find you in Fontaine, he’s not sure if he really believes you were here or if it was some effective lucid dreaming. But the sudden pull, the impulsive need to just check the cover sheet when his name left your lips, was far too strong and he had dived right in without a second thought.
And there in your handwriting, in all its glory, was your name printed neatly at the bottom. One second, he was at his desk and the next, he was at the edge of the outer office ring for confirmation.
The last few minutes of his workday have never gone slower as he paces back and forth in front of his desk. He’s doing his best to stay calm and formulate a plan, but even that has become difficult for him. There are too many extraneous factors at play, several he can’t be sure of – did you meet someone new in Fontaine? Were you going to leave again?
Did you even want to see him?
You could’ve left without another word once your research paper landed in that return basket. He would’ve been none the wiser until he physically picked up the report, which probably wouldn’t have happened for another few days, what with all the cleaning up he’s trying to do before his resignation is official. All that lost time in between would have left him even more distraught.
But the fact that you had stopped and made a point to thank him, to call him out by name, means something. Like him, it seems you are just as unsure of where the two of you stand.
And that’s all he needs to move forward.
-
Granted, moving forward didn’t initially involve climbing up the fire escape ladder behind your apartment building.
With a takeout bag of your favorite foods from Lambad’s Tavern, he was originally going to knock on your front door like any other individual. But before his knuckles could rap against the Adhigama wood, he thought, why not check to see if you’re even home? That would eliminate the possibility of you seeing him through the peephole and then pretending you’re not home – or worse, you opening it and then slamming it back in his face.
His unparalleled logic led him to skip the ladder and jump onto the first floor. It’s not that he wouldn’t be able to climb it with one free hand – the food would’ve gotten messy with all the jostling around. He ignores the sound of laughing children as he ambles past, but allows the semblance of a grin to dawn his face when he hears, “Whoa, look at that mister!” Alhaitham looks above him as he climbs the next set of stairs, noticing a light peeking through the living room window. That’s one good sign, at least, because it means you’re home, right? He peers past the half-open curtains when he arrives at your floor. He’s just checking. Nothing suspicious or untoward. Yet all of that is scrapped— another deviation from his initial plan— when he sees you sitting on your couch, sorting through a pile of mail on your coffee table. With a mind of their own, his knuckles knock lightly against the glass and he can’t help but let a humorous snort slip out when your body jerked with a visceral startle, head whipping towards the source of your adrenaline spike.
You don’t need to verbally question his sudden appearance when it’s written all over your face.  Your eyebrows are knitted and arched, mouth turned down in a slight frown, hands clenched in fists with visible tension and unease. “Alhaitham, what– I mean–”
He holds up the food behind the windowpane for you to see. “I wanted to bring you dinner since you probably don’t have anything prepared on your first night back.”
Without another word, you slide open the window, letting him clamber through as you take the bag from him. He retrieves it as you lock the window and yank the curtains together, setting it on the table away from a mound of what he presumes to be junk mail. You scramble for words and coherency as you search for clean plates and utensils, but the effort is fruitless. There’s a trapped shriek in your chest and you don’t know how to snuff it out.
Dinner is a quiet affair, save for some awkward small talk here and there. He makes it a point to give you extras, whether it be a little more mint cilantro or tamarind chutney for the samosas (despite it being his favorite) or more of the lamb from the biryani. Each little morsel pushes your heart further up your throat, further sending you into a downward spiral. Why is he so kind and caring when you had essentially kicked him out last time? Why is he going out of his way to make up for a wrong he never committed?
Alhaitham basks in your company, taking in every detail of your outward appearance. You seem skinnier than before, hair just a little bit longer. A few fresh, healing cuts on your hand stand out to him and he hopes they were all accidental and not intentionally created by another human being. There’s so much he wants to say and question, but for once he cannot find the right words. Rarely has he ever felt as though he was skating on paper-thin ice with someone – years of not caring or sparing thoughts for how others might perceive him lends nothing to resolve his state of incertitude. So the only way he can currently try to communicate is through actions, hence the extra foods and your favorite parts of them, making sure you have a usable napkin at all times, refilling your cup of water when it starts to look low, and more.
With a full belly, you sigh with satisfaction, a breath that appeases Alhaitham just the slightest bit. “That was good. Thank you for bringing it.”
“You’re welcome. Was the food in Fontaine not to your taste?”
You hum in thought. “A bit bland, honestly. Not as many spices are used in their foods like they are here.”
“Ah.”
The two of you sit silently for a few moments. You’re looking anywhere and at anything but him, your knee bouncing and hands wringing together. Is he trying to let you down easy? Soften the blow? What is his end goal?
His fingers tap the table in a silent rhythm, noticing that despite the small talk, the tension in the air is still viscous. He ignores the gnawing desire to hold your hand and squeeze it tight, to graze his thumb over those scabs and kiss them. He’s not ready to leave yet, which is why he juts his chin towards the only unopened bag on the table and says, “I also brought dessert. Would you care to have some now?”
No. Yes. I don’t know. I can think of something else I want for dessert but that’s not the point right now, is what runs through your head.
“Sure. What is it? I might have something to go with it.”
“It’s baklava.”
For him to remember that baklava from Pupusa Cafe is your preferred dessert when eating your favorite dishes is even more mind-boggling in this whole situation.
You stand on shaky legs and walk towards the pantry. “Does wine sound okay?”
Alhaitham ponders your last mutual experience with alcohol, which had ended in a disaster, even if he knew full well that it wasn’t a cause by any means; an unintended catalyst. As long as neither overindulged, it would be harmless. Right?
So he nods. “That sounds good.”
You return with a corkscrew opener, two stemless wine glasses, and one of your better bottles of aged wine. Alhaitham remains silent as he takes the opener from you and drives it into the cork, hand twisting the top knob with ease. You feel shameless in the way you stare at his arms, watching his muscles flex. The veins in his hand become more visible and you can see the tension in his forearm through his arm guards, all the more when he pushes the levers closed and wiggles the cork out of its confines. He takes good care to tactfully remove the cork and place it on the table, and pours a glass for you first.
“Thank you,” you murmur as you take it from him with both hands, ignoring the way his fingers seem to linger after making contact with yours. You portion out the baklava as he pours a glass for himself and he voices his gratitude in turn.    
As you nibble on the delicacy, the silence weighs heavily on your chest, both a burden and a source of comfort. “Did you find everything you needed in Fontaine for your research?” he asks, once again attempting to make some neutral conversation. Alhaitham has never been one for sweets, but he’s willing to eat it for and with you. The cafe’s baklava is one of few desserts he can handle, as it’s not as sickeningly sweet as some other places’ when they’ve added too much syrup.
You chew slowly as you think of your answer. “I think so. I feel pretty good about my report.”
“I’ll be sure to read it soon,” he responds. After all, he is a pretty quick reader, and with the dwindling number of research project applications, he can efficiently get through the other reports to make sure he reviews yours before he goes back to being the Scribe.
“You know, there’s no need to rush on my account,” you say. Honestly, that’s the last thing you need because it would confirm your worst fears and assumptions. Everything discussed with Lumine would’ve been tossed violently out the window, and you so badly don’t want it to manifest.
“...I won’t,” he assures you. Alhaitham understands your research paper needs to be treated like every other one passing through the Akademiya, especially if he is going to be one of the formal reviewers.
You feel your lungs losing air, your heart rate soaring through the roof. With a stroke of luck, your glasses of wine are finished off and the plates hold nothing but crumbs, which provides a perfect excuse for you to get up and get away.
“I’m gonna wash the dishes,” you announce, voice doing little to hide how nervous and shaky you’re feeling. It’s another miracle that you don’t drop anything on the trek from the dining table to the sink as you wonder if you’ve killed any chance of being with Alhaitham. Where was the confidence you possessed when you first met the man?
Even being mere meters away from him becomes painful. His presence alone provides a sense of security, strong and silent. The lack of warmth, the string between you two pulled taut, ignites an obdurate yearning – the very same yearning experienced when you spent days avoiding the man prior to your departure for Fontaine. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they all say, and there certainly was some merit to it.
The silence remains suffocating, in some ways, but also comforts you with its deep pressure, distracting you enough that you fail to notice Alhaitham moving around. He removes his cloak and earpieces, draping them neatly over the couch armrest before he comes to stand next to you at the sink. He grabs a towel and is ready to dry when you’re done washing the dishes. Your muscles begin to relax, that earlier frost of loneliness gradually dissipating with his presence nearby. He dries everything with the utmost care and lines them up neatly as you hand them over, and you ignore the little brushes of his fingers against yours with each relinquished plate. You can’t help but wonder if he can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks because honestly, you feel like your face is on fire.
Alhaitham finishes drying off the last item – the second stemless wine glass – and turns to lean his back against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He waits as you rinse down the sink and passes you the towel to dry off your hands. Your timid smile leaves him hopeful that you’re not visibly shying away from him— not visibly, at least. Seconds pass, and now there is nothing left for you to do or keep yourself busy. He waits for you to gather your bearings and settle to show that you’re ready to talk about… whatever this is.
Those haunting irises suddenly meet his with an alarming amount of determination, holding steadfast and searching his for something, anything. He can’t bear to lose and look away, not that he wants to. Yet you remain quiet, and Alhaitham leans into his impulses.
With firm, sure hands, he pulls you toward his original spot and lifts you up just enough so that you’re sitting on the counter. Alhaitham plants them by your waist and bends down to be level with your gaze, which now holds hints of fear and surprise. They’re open wide, your pupils slowly dilating, and he catches a glimpse of your fingers curling around the edges of the counter. He so badly wants to cradle your face in his hands, to feel your physical presence and prove to himself that you’re really here before him. But that is intimacy he hasn’t quite been granted yet and he can’t mess this up. He must’ve done something wrong the last time he was here, and he most certainly doesn’t want to risk the same outcome again.
“I like you,” he proclaims with a resolute tone. Alhaitham has always hated beating around the bush when unnecessary, and at this point he needs it said out loud for you to know. “I have been attracted to you since the moment we met, and I used to believe that it was purely a biological response. But then I wanted to know more about you. I wanted to learn more about who you are and how your mind works. To be quite honest, I can’t stand the thought of anyone else being in my position right now. I will not hide the fact that I am selfish and want you all for myself, if you would have me.”
You are struggling so hard to keep the smile off your face, your mouth pursing while your teeth dig into the inside of your bottom lip. Three months ago, you would never have seen this coming, and you would have laughed in anyone’s face if they had suggested it.
“If you need time, I can wait. I am not always the most patient person, but for you, I am willing to do so. And–”
“I was worried that you wouldn’t want to see me again after having sex,” you interject and confess. The embarrassment of your thoughts and actions quickly becomes a heavy weight in your chest. Your nerves strain to get the better of you and shut you down before saying more, but you force yourself to push past them. Alhaitham provided you with honesty and transparency, and he deserves the same from you. “We had so much tension between us and I was worried that once it was all resolved, you wouldn’t feel the need to see me again.”
Alhaitham takes a moment to process your words, but he can still see the tension in your shoulders. You won’t meet his gaze as you look past him or at other parts of his body. “There’s something else, is there not?”
You look down at your hands in your lap, your fingers intertwined and fingertips applying pressure where they land. With how forthcoming he has been, you owe it to him to extend the same courtesy, despite how silly it feels now.
“I couldn’t understand why you would even like me,” you say, voice soft and barely audible in the silence. You’re unable to mask the melancholy in your tone when you remember how it felt to internally question his affections and assume the worst. A quiet chuckle slips past your lips, but it’s derisive and bittersweet. “I’m just another scholar and you— you were the Scribe and later Acting Grand Sage. I thought maybe people would accuse me of… providing sexual favors, to put it lightly, if you showed me any leniency or favoritism in my academic career.”
The back of your knuckles brush against his cheek as you lift your head up to take him in. “You could have anyone in the world and you deserve nothing but the best. So why me?”
“I would need a few all-nighters and several pieces of paper to pen down every reason why.”
His quick reasoning with all indicators of certainty – his tone, the lack of any dishonesty in his eyes, the way he holds your eye contact – takes you for a loop. You’re only able to let out a soft “oh” as you let the implications of his words swim in your brain, leaving you helpless to find a suitable response. How do you follow up on an answer like that?
When he feels your fingers slipping down his jawline, he stops it with his own to press his cheek into your palm. “If it provides you any comfort, I will no longer be the Acting Grand Sage by next week. You know how long I’ve waited for them to process and approve of my resignation. And as the Scribe… it still does not matter. People who would assume something so salacious are simply capitalizing on their own insecurities, and they do not deserve a second of your time or an ounce of room in your thoughts. I do my best to exercise fairness and reason in all matters for the Akademiya, and even as my partner you would not be safe from that.
“I’ve never shied away from telling you how things are and you know this. I can ensure you would not earn any favoritism or leniency within the boundaries of the Akademiya, should my presence be involved in your research.”
The smirk that creeps up at the corner of his lips ignites a small flame in your belly – thrill and heat and trepidation all melding together. “Now, outside of those boundaries, it’s a different matter. If I may pry once more, what is your answer?”
Liquid fire pumps from your heart and into your veins, further fueling the heat in your core. Just as it dips dangerously lower, so does your hand, and the other joins in lightly scraping your nails down his abdomen. You feel him jump beneath your touch and relish in the sound of his swallow, and how his breath hitches when your fingertips dip into the band of his pants. They tug him forward until he’s standing between your thighs, just centimeters of nothingness between you two. Even as close as he is, Alhaitham can’t help but think there’s still too much space unoccupied.
Your eyes scream, beseeching him to understand your actions and for him to respond in kind. It can only mean one thing, but he wants to hear those words. He wants it engraved in his memories for the rest of time, despite the desperation to give in and give you both what you desire and need. Alhaitham grasps your chin between his thumb and curled index finger, leaning forward closer and closer until his lips barely touch yours.
“Use your words.”
Arousal seeps through your underwear as the subdued tenor of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Wholly unfair, this man is. Devilish, demanding, teasing, controlling – but most of all, he is yours.
“Please let me have you, if you will have me,” you whisper against his lips, eyelashes fluttering closed at the faint touch.
No sooner when you are greeted by darkness does he fully slot his mouth against yours, hands gripping tightly on your hips to pull you against him. A groan slips past and into you because gods, he’s missed this so much. After nights of waking up with the ghost of your kisses, he never wants this to end and longs for a reality where time can stop and he can take his sweet, sweet time to worship every millimeter of your body with his lips, and then some. Excitement electrifies his whole body when you reciprocate his desire ounce for ounce, and even more so when you let out a pretty little whine, just for him.
When he pulls back for a chance to breathe, he doesn’t move far. “Good girl,” he praises so sweetly, the words washing over you in something akin to pride for eliciting his approval and pleasing him. Alhaitham slides the tip of his nose against yours, moving to kiss your forehead, then your cheeks, your jawline, and the pulse point on your neck. Even the slightest pressure has you tilting your head to the side, granting him permission and room to do as he pleases. Alhaitham bides his time to press whispers of kisses onto your skin until he nips a sensitive spot. A sharp inhale pierces through the kitchen when he sucks on the patch of skin caught between his teeth, taking the utmost care to break the little capillaries underneath. He wants you to experience his phantom touches on these spots in the hours when he’s away from you, a constant reminder that you are his and his alone.
Your fingers dig into Alhaitham’s silver locks, torn between pressing him further into your neck and pulling him away. “Haitham,” you plead and tug on his strands, which only prompts an even harsher abrasion from him. “Wanna kiss you.” Your voice is breathy, and you feel as if you’re on the verge of tears. Who is he to deny such a reasonable request?
Though instead, he pulls you off the counter and rushes to your bedroom with you in tow, granting your wish as soon as you enter. The back of his knees hit the foot of your bed and Alhaitham drags you with him when he sits on top of your blankets. Despite your eagerness to clamber over and straddle him, he disapproves when you attempt to exercise a modicum of control over the situation by leveraging some height over him, utilizing gravity to lean into his embrace and kisses. His palms slide up your thighs with reverence until they dig into the crevice of your hips and yank them down. To have you pressed fully against him is most certainly a blessing, and there’s no way you don’t feel his growing arousal against yours.
When he feels his bottom lip stuck between your teeth, Alhaitham smiles. It still seems you’re not fully understanding the position you’re in. Perhaps, he might need to remind you of just who exactly is succumbing to who.
You keen when his hands dip underneath your shirt to draw meaningless patterns into your waist, but also to make his mark as he holds tight enough that you think you would feel some internal bruising tomorrow. They dance higher and higher, until they meet the bottom seam of your bra, and you nearly choke with the arousal suffocating your lungs.
“Can I?” Alhaitham almost begs, but watches for any sign of hesitation.
“Yes,” you breathe back. You lift your arms up, waiting with thinning patience, and he wastes no time in following through, tossing the shirt to the side with one hand as the other busies to unhook the metal clasp of your bra. Soon enough, your upper body is bare for him to see, to touch, to love – and his breath is taken away because you are so, so beautiful; perfect breasts with hardened nipples, an empty canvas all for him. He made a mistake last time for not seeing them properly, having been too focused on the way they felt against his chest instead.
“Fuck me,” he murmurs. His subsequent scoff feels derisive, sardonic, self-destructive, and his thumbs ghost over your areolas. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous – this is unfair.”
“You’re the one who’s unfair,” you retaliate with a shaky breath as you nearly tear off his shirt. One look at his muscular and toned frame, and it takes everything to stop the drool from spilling past your lips. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“Be careful,” he warns, his fingers digging into the flesh just underneath your breasts. Alhaitham holds onto you as he scoots further back onto the bed, and once he deems there’s enough room, he rolls over until he’s hovering above you, panting and hair splayed and lips swollen. “I’m just a feeble scholar.”
When you roll your eyes with an excessive amount of sass, he dips down to capture your right nipple in his mouth and gives a harsh suck as punishment, satisfied when all defiance on your face morphs into pleasure. Pretty, responsive, little angel, all for him, so sweet, so delicate, so adorable when your spine arches into his mouth and continues to suspend itself as he pays his respects to your other breast. You feel your conscience become fuzzier and fuzzier, dissolving into mush as the tendrils of overstimulation begin to grow, and once again, you find yourself torn between wanting to let him continue and wanting him to stop.
He decides to grant you some mercy when you can’t help but twitch and shy away. Alhaitham’s primal desires begin to crest and wash away any rationale, desperate to keep the taste and feel of your skin between his lips and on his tongue. He doesn’t quite understand this newfound desire to nip and bite, but all he knows is that when he does, his arousal pulses and nearly threatens to break past the seam of his pants. Alhaitham moves lower, lower, ghosting past your stomach, nudging past the band of your bottoms and underwear to tug them down all the way. Those are thrown out of view and he finally, finally, gets to continue from where he last left off, taking no time to push your legs away towards your chest and give a lascivious lick up the length of your cunt. The tip of his tongue meets your clit at the end of its journey, and he firmly holds you down when your hips buck into his mouth as it circles the nub.
It’s game over when he takes it fully in his mouth.
Your hands twist themselves once more into his silver hair, expletives slipping off your tongue as you chase your high. You feel your pussy clench around nothing the higher you climb, the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter. He eats you out like a man starved, enthusiasm unveiled and clear. His passion unbridled and sending you further into the clouds, you feel tears in your eyes begin to well up from sheer bliss, so sensitive and so unbelievably unprepared for everything this man was going to give you tonight. “Haitham,” you cry over and over, his name a mantra and prayer.
When he leans back, you catch a glimpse of the sheen on his chin and the way his eyes remain focused on your arousal, pupils blown. “You taste so good,” he compliments, his voice somehow having dropped an octave lower. “Could eat you out for hours. So good for me, fuck.” It’s dangerous how much you love to hear him curse, knowing that you are the reason why. The rational, feeble, well-spoken scholar, his prose extending to situations such as now, is almost reduced to such crude and filthy vocabulary.
Alhaitham would need to be blind to miss your sticky precum practically spilling from your core after what he said. It’d be a shame to let any of it go to waste, he muses, as he drags his tongue up the length of your cunt and pays attention to your clit again. He watches for every reaction, what makes you tug him closer, what makes your body twitch and convulse, what causes the shakiest exhales from your lungs, what contributes to your squeals and cries – he wants you to get a taste of just how unhinged he becomes in your presence.
Each moment of friction, so wet and slick, against your core seems to send you further and further into oblivion. Tears overflow when your heart bursts and Alhaitham doesn’t miss them – the sheen sliding down the sides of your face shines in the moonlight and he knows there is no reason to fear you’re in pain. He drinks in your moans and feels your fingers tangle further in his silver strands, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, your hips with a mind of their own as you grind against his tongue and nose to chase your release. Alhaitham pays no mind to the way his cock twitches once more in his pants or the unmistakable wet spot that’s formed from his own precum.
The coil in your abdomen wounds tighter and tighter. There is nothing on your mind but the man between your legs and your impending orgasm, one with an intensity you haven’t experienced in ages. “ ‘m close,” you gasp and meet his burning gaze. “Please, wanna cum – yes – please, sir–”
How he doesn’t cum in his pants at the title is beyond his comprehension, but the stroke to his ego is welcoming, to say the least. Alhaitham never felt any type of way when others addressed him as so, sometimes annoyed even, but from you? It is everything. A verbal indication of relinquishing your power to him, your existence at its highest vulnerability, the underlying respect, the implicit trust hidden between three letters – only has him pushing down harder against your thighs, leaving no room for you to fight. The resolve and determination to have you cum on his tongue only increases and his thoughts plunder further into hell. Cum for me, cum on my tongue, let me taste your release that I give you, so fucking addictive – his silent commands painted on your tight bundle of nerves.
With Alhaitham exercising a dizzyingly sinful strength against you, leaving you helpless and defenseless, you let yourself succumb as your heart rate increases. Your breathy warnings and pleas, the oh fuck!s, the whimpering sir!s, confessions of love on the tip of your tongue – you have one minute, moment of clarity when your body freezes, and the coil snaps.
You don’t think you’ve ever cum so hard before, reality-shattering, nerves on overdrive, your body trembling beneath his palms as you ride out the pleasure for as long as you can. The quiet scream from your lungs is inevitable as it dissolves into sobs and Alhaithm follows you when your hips buck. There’s not enough oxygen for you and you can feel the visceral clenching of your abdomen as you fight for air and some semblance of control again – but that flies out the window when, for the first time tonight, Alhaitham slides his tongue inside your quivering cunt.
Said Scribe cannot help but groan, and he wishes he’d done this earlier. To feel your creamy walls squeeze as his taste buds slide amongst them, your keening ringing in his ears, the shaking of your thighs a prisoner between his fingers, the intoxicating taste of your cum – all of it is more than he could have ever dreamed of. Right where he wants you, and all his, his, his.
The incessant tugging of his hair tells him to stop for now, as much as he doesn’t want to. If it were up to him, he’d have you cumming on his tongue for hours, his hard cock be damned. But your convulsions of overstimulation manage to generate the slightest bit of sympathy and he laments when pulling away. His eyes hone in on the way your pussy contracts around nothing, almost begging for something to fill you again. “Good girl,” he praises, tenor delicate and charming, as he rubs gentle circles on your abdomen in an attempt to ground you. There are stars in your eyes, and he waits for you to come back to him.
You barely register Alhaitham’s hand on your body as you stare up at the ceiling, brain and soul somewhat disconnected due to the high of your orgasm. So good to me, your thoughts coo. Haitham, sir, how can I show my gratitude to him?
“Y/N,” and at last, you make eye contact with him. He preens at the blissed out look on your face and moves forward until he’s lying next to you, his weight supported on one arm while the other brushes away your baby hairs. A dreamy smile graces your lips, and he can’t help but lean forward for a soft kiss. Languid, sensual, pliant – several minutes fly by as you bask in each other’s presence until the need for more begins to bloom again. Alhaitham lets out a chuckle when he feels your hand wandering down his frame until it rests on his crotch. Making out with you has kept him semi-hard, and he’s happy you’re taking the initiative. Not that you’re in control, by any means, but it’s cute that you might think so.
Your mind reels from just how big he feels beneath your palm. You can’t deny the times when you’ve sneaked glances at his crotch, his tight pants outlining a slight bulge from day to day – but you never thought your fingers would be splayed so far apart, and you just know they would struggle to meet when gripping his length. Your whines reach his ears as you fumble with the clasp above the zipper, and Alhaitham is so kind, kind enough to take over and do it for you. Seconds later, his pants and underwear join the pile of forgotten clothes, and you immediately look down at what you’ve been waiting for.
The instant pooling of saliva in your mouth is embarrassing, shame and lust spilling into your chest and through your veins. Alhaitham’s cock is so beautiful, just like the rest of him, and you’ve never wanted something in your mouth so bad. It twitches under your reverent gaze, and the tip glistens with his precum. Even the noticeable veins drawn along his length are beautiful, and his balls seem to be engorged, heavy with cum. You prove your earlier hypothesis when you hold it in your hand, and your fingers truly do not meet around the circumference. A gush of slick leaks and paints your inner thighs, your hand seemingly tiny in comparison as you slowly stroke him.
Alhaitham hisses at your touch, so cold against the heat of his cock. There’s a passing thought of wanting to keep that fawning look on your face at all times, the metaphorical hearts in your eyes with his dick in your hand. In a moment of weakness, the thought begins to spiral into darker fantasies, how to keep you hooked and dependent on him, his cock, his mouth, his touch. A flash of a daydream crosses by of him sitting in his office chair, you on your knees between his legs, his shaft bullied deep in your throat as you keep it warm for him, drool and spit spilling from the corner of your lips, so submissive and desperate for him to fuck your face–
Your thumb glosses over his frenulum and he is ripped from his reverie. At risk of cumming too quickly, he thinks of how to keep your soft hands away for now. What can he use? How can he restrict you?
Ah.
Confused whimpers follow after him when he abruptly stands up from your bed and walks over to the pile of discarded clothes. You miss the warmth of his body next to you, goosebumps from the sudden chill rising on your skin. But before you can begin to chase after him, he returns to sit on the bed and beckons for you to sit up for him.
He loves how willing you are to obey him, your eyes wide and a little awestruck as you follow his gesture – almost as if he were your puppeteer. Alhaitham holds out his hands in front of him, palms facing the ceiling, and you match the posture with intrigue painted across your face. As you wait, clarification comes to you when he reveals the patterned, teal sash that usually encompasses his hips. Slow, deliberate movements as he wraps the cloth around your wrists (in case you don’t want it because he would never force you to do anything you were uncomfortable with), indicate this uncharted territory. And when the tie is made and the knot is pulled tight, you look up at him.
“Is this okay?” He asks. When you give a mute nod, he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Words, Y/N.”
“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “Yes, sir, it’s okay.”
Alhaitham watches as you lay back until your head meets the pillow, and your bound wrists lay prettily above your head. Your constrained and exposed body greets him. He sees your eyes strain to catch another glance at his cock, and the smirk on his lips is nothing but smug as he gives it a few quick pumps as a gift to you.
“Can you come here?” You plead because you know there’s no room to make any demands, and it’s his turn to be curious. Nevertheless, he resumes his original position by your side, but you shake your head. You can tell he doesn’t know what’s happening, but you are feeling shameless and powerless, at the mercy of this man, and you want him to really, really, drive that point deeper.
“Can you…straddle me? Like above my chest though?”
If this is going where Alhaitham thinks it’s going, he might just abandon the Akademiya altogether, whisk you away to his house, kick out Kaveh and have him live in your apartment instead, and keep his own doors locked for eternity. He does as you ask as he thrums in excitement, his cock weighty and leaking when you’re satisfied with where he is.
Time slows to a crawl as he watches you lift your head up with your pretty mouth open and take the tip of his cock between your glossy lips.
The tight heat is maddening, a strangled “fuck” falling off his tongue, and you push forward to take more of his length in your mouth. So dutiful and loyal, you have proven yourself, as you suck his cock with your eyes closed and moans vibrating around him. Given certain physical limitations, there’s only so much you can take in, which is where he believes it’s his time to act his part. He places a hand on the back of your skull to provide you some relief, but also to sink deeper down your throat. Naturally, you fall back until it’s just the head between your lips again, but he is right there to drag you back towards him and fill your depraved mouth.
“Look at you,” he hisses, controlling your pace. Such a good little fucktoy, no?  “Who knew you would want my cock so badly? For me to sit on top and watch as you struggle to even take half of it in your mouth? I don’t think you have any idea of what you’ve started. Your lips are stretched so wide, but just wide enough for me to fit perfectly in between them, like it was made for me. Maybe that’s what it is.” His perverse thoughts run wild without any composure or filter, and he is unable to hold it in. “You were made for me and my cock, and– oh fuck – it seems like you love the idea of being my personal cocksleeve.”
Your eagerness to please him increases as you strain to take more in, his tip slipping into and catching the back of your throat. The sound of you choking on his cock rings in your ears, sending you further and further into oblivion. Every word from Alhaitham sounds true, and he’s right – right that maybe you were specifically made for him, his own blessing from the Archons, and right that you deeply, painfully, love the idea of letting him use you as he wishes. A garbled cry, followed by more sticky release dripping from your cunt, doesn’t go unnoticed when his voice sounds ragged on the word “cocksleeve.” It’s a lascivious tone of accord and approval, and your tears flow when he pulls you as far down his length as your quenched throat allows, your chained wrists resting atop your skull, and he keeps you there.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice. “I have no objections to fully commit to being yours, your sir. But you must understand I expect the same commitment in return. This cock is yours,” Alhaitham promises, relishing in your muffled whimper of agreement. “And you are mine. My,” – a pause – “personal, depraved, slut.”
At first, he worries he might have gone too far with such a derogatory term, but they are all dashed aside when he watches your eyelids flutter closed and eyes roll into the back of your head. A long whine sends him into overdrive, and even more so when you try to fit more of his cock down your throat. Expletives slip from his tongue as he pulls you away completely, a tendril of saliva connecting your lips to his tip, your mouth still wide open while gasping for air. He sees your own tongue peek out and rest on your bottom lip, pliant and waiting for him to return.
Alhaitham lets go of your skull and watches you fall back to your pillow. He moves your tied hands above and over your head until they settle right above your belly button. The position allows him to trap your arms beneath him and move just a little further up the bed for the bottom half of his length to weigh heavily on your eager mouth. It remains open as he drags his shaft along your tongue, teasing you by slipping the head of his cock in your mouth. Your lips immediately close around it, but they are no match for when he pulls away, and you’re left empty once again.
“Truly a cockslut,” he chides as his hand takes a hold of his length and smacks it against your tongue. “You’ll take everything I give you, won’t you?” And he smirks when you nod, still beckoning, still waiting. “You’ve done well for me so far. Perhaps I should give you a gift.”
There’s little time to regain your senses when he shoves his length in until it hits the back of your throat once more and grabs onto your headboard. Just that angle gives him enough leverage to fuck your face as he pleases.
“If your mouth is this tight, I can only imagine what your cunt will feel like on my cock,” he grits out. Your brain goes numb as you take it all in, content and satisfied to please Alhaitham. You focus on making sure your teeth don’t drag against his skin, tongue swiping patterns and circles around his cock when possible. “I’ll need to take my time stretching out your tiny pussy, won’t I? Fuck, need to make it fit inside you. Isn’t that right?”
Alhaitham pretends to be dissatisfied with your moan, all garbled and thick with drool. “How many times do I need to tell you to use your words?” He teases, knowing full well there’s no way for you to form any right now. But a wicked, joyous laugh rings in your ears when he can tell you’re attempting to do it anyways. It goes straight down his dick and into his balls, and as they tighten further, he knows he’s close.
You don’t know how it’s possible for him to grow any thicker, but somehow it happens when his pace increases, and he tells you, “I’m going to cum, okay? Going to give you all my cum, make you my cumslut. You want to be my cumslut, you’re doing so well, so perfect, letting me fuck your mouth. Shit, cumming, cumming –!”
At the very last second, he pulls out and furiously pumps his cock, shifting back just in time for his cum to paint your breasts. “Fuck!” He growls and rides out the high until there’s nothing left to give you, blinding light beneath his eyelids before he snaps them open so he can watch you become covered by his release. Viscous, white ropes paint over you, some even landing on your cheek and neck. His chest heaves and his eyes remain unfocused from the fog in his brain.
That is, until he watches you swipe his cum from your neck with your fingers before it drips onto the bed, and place them in your mouth. Your sigh screams content as you lick them clean, and as far as he can tell, you’re enjoying the taste of him – as if he was the one to sate your thirst rather than the other way around. In a trance, he joins you in your meal by feeding you more with his own appendages, and his dick returns to half-mast once all the cum is visibly gone and slid down your throat.
“Thank you for your cum,” you say, your voice dreamy and euphoric. Alhaitham pulls you by your bound wrists again until you’re sitting up close enough, and buries his head into your shoulder, embedding his own kisses of gratitude into your skin. It doesn’t matter that there’s dried spit on your chin and your hair is a mess – you’re still so incredibly stunning to him.
To look into your eyes, to cradle your face in his palm, to ghost his thumb over your cheekbone, how lucky he is to be in a position to even ask you, “Was that okay?”
“Very,” you smile, unabashed and clearly happy with everything that had just happened. A small giggle slips out as well.
“Good,” he murmurs after kissing your forehead. “Would you be open to one more round? It seems I haven’t gotten enough of you.”
You see the evidence of his claims, how his cock gradually grows and rises under your watchful stare. His earlier words of needing to stretch you out before he can fuck you play in your head, and they remind you of just how wet you are. Still tied up, you scoot back away from him until you can stretch your legs out, parted to reveal what you so desperately wanted to touch as his dick was lodged in your mouth. Alhaitham’s pupils dilate and zero in on the mess between your thighs, and he chases after you to spread your legs farther.
“You became this wet from me fucking your mouth?” His fingers slide against the folds of your puffy cunt, your clit peeking out and swollen. “Tsk, all this pre gone to waste,” and you whimper when his nails barely graze that bundle of nerves, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. There’s no resistance when he works his middle finger inside you and your breath hitches. He turns his wrist as he fingers you, creating more and more arousal coursing through your veins. Alhaitham is proud that one finger of his affects you so. You whine and reach for him with grabby hands, managing to latch onto his wrist so he can keep his appendages buried inside you. “My my,” he teases, and his fingers curl, searching and searching until his fingertip taps against the exact spot that makes your back arch.
“You’re so eager to be filled,” Alhaitham taunts as he lubes up his ring finger with your slick. You feel even tighter when it slips in with his middle finger, and he finds that spot again in no time, already having memorized where it is. “You don’t have my permission to cum yet,” he warns, a decision just made when your walls are really beginning to clench around him.
“B-but–”
A third finger joins in, cutting you off from any protesting. “You either cum on my cock or not at all,” he offers and you think it’s beyond cruel. Why can’t you cum on his fingers and his cock?
With every last thread of your existence, you stamp down the growing desire to cum again. It feels like hours have passed, your sanity barely intact, when Alhaitham hums, just loud enough to be heard amongst your moans and whines. “I’m beginning to question whether I truly am too big for you,” he contemplates out loud. “What do you think, Y/N?”
It’s so hard to answer his question when you’re using everything else inside you to not break around his fingers. The depraved squelching of your slick only adds fuel to the fire in your core, and you’re trying to think, you really are–
The friction ceases, and before you can even address it, there’s a light, punishing slap across your clit. “Fuck,” you whimper, throat dry.
“Answer my question. Do you think I might not fit inside you?”
You know what answer he’s looking for. You know he wants you to surrender to his hidden intentions, that, “It doesn’t matter,” and you swallow. “I will…make it fit.”
In turn, he removes his fingers with care, but leaves you horribly empty with the void expanding into your chest. “Do you have a condom?” Alhaitham asks while looking around your bedroom.
“The bottom drawer on the right in the bathroom.”
Your sir leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your stomach. “I will return soon.”
For the seconds that you try to catch your breath, to calm your beating heart, to ignore the vacuity between your legs, you realize just where you are and who you’re with. You haven’t had much of a clear mind since the second he knocked on your window, caught up in the whirlwind of your nerves and paranoia – and then to have it turned on its head where you now lay in your bed, free of any prior anxiety, and drown in your lust.
Alhaitham wanders back into your room, focused on the package in his hand. Shameless and perverse, your eyes drink in his length, bobbing with each step. Even you’re beginning to doubt your ability to take him all in, but the anticipation, the threads of excitement that you may be filled again clouds over everything else.
“Hold your legs for me,” he commands gently, and you obey once he unties the sash around your wrists. Your arms hook beneath your knees so that everything is displayed and exposed to him. He sets the condom to the side when he shuffles closer so his hips meet the bottom of your thighs. Your breath hitches when he presses his cock onto your abdomen, and it pleases both of you so much to see that his tip just about reaches your belly button. “Look at how deep it’ll be inside you,” he coos, your whine following. “But it’s okay if you can’t take it all, you can’t help it that your little cunt is so tight.”
There’s a twinge of faux disappointment in his words. As if on instinct, you shake your head in vehement disagreement. “I’ll make it fit, sir, I promise,” you gasp and pull your legs closer to you. “We have to make it fit.”
“Mmm, my eager cocksleeve,” he responds with mirth, his regales washing away the panic from your system. You wait with bated breath as he grinds the underside of his entire length against your glistening folds, purposely catching onto your clit when possible. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand the torture, becoming wetter and wetter with each glide. “The color system is okay to check in with you?”
“Yes.”
He nods and leans back so the tip of his cock is just outside your entrance. His fingers roll and stretch the condom down his length. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to tear his gaze away from your core so he can obtain your consent to start, and the determined nod he receives sets his heart aflame.
A sinful perversion enters his mind as he watches your messy cunt split open and stretch over the head of his cock. He thinks about the future and wonders when the day will be for you to be in his lap and sink down his cock with no hesitation. His thumbs spread your folds further apart so he can get a better look, his lustful illusions from many lonely nights finally coming into play. Your breathy gasp when the head pops in is alluring, and he craves more of it. That perversion echoes its lack of satisfaction, that this is not enough, and he needs it all. Pride fills his chest as you take the first few inches with no problem, trying to take deep breaths as he continues to bully his way into your pussy.
Though internally, your mind is on the verge of breaking from how thick Alhaitham is. The emptiness from earlier has long been fulfilled, and you take a look to see that he’s barely fit half oh him inside you, and you already feel so full.
You were made for me.
I was made for him, you remind yourself, rationality thrown out the window because serving Alhaitham is all that matters in this moment. He’s giving you his cock, taking his time for you, providing a subtle reminder of just who you will belong to from here on out. Alhaitham has been so kind to you, you think. The least you could do is to be his good little slut, so eager and always yearning for him.
“You’re doing so well,” Alhaitham praises, though his voice chokes. You’re terribly tight around him, so much so that he wonders if he would even be able to pull out once he’s buried all of himself inside you. It wouldn’t be much of a problem, he thinks, to have you stuck on his cock for eternity, fucked dumb with nothing on your mind but him and pleasure. His hand puts the slightest pressure on your abdomen, but it’s enough for you to break with an “oh!”
“Fuck, I can almost feel myself inside you,” he marvels. “Color?”
It takes you a few seconds to process his question. “Green,” falls off your tongue with a whimper. But the bit of hesitation is enough for Alhaitham to stop in his tracks.
“Y/N, look at me.”
A dreamy hum on your lips, your blown out eyes meet his, and he realizes how far gone you are. “We can stop, it’s okay if we do.” But that may have been the wrong thing to say because your face falls, tears prickling your eyes. “I can do it,” you sniffle. “Please, sir.”
There is no way for him to remain unaffected by the way you address him, but he ensures to take extra care for the last few inches.
“You’re doing so well, taking all of me in. You’re keeping your promise, I’m so proud of you,” Alhaitham coos. The bottom of his shaft is just a little bit thicker, and you let out a happy squeal when your cunt stretches as much as it can to accommodate him. His tip barely grazes your cervix, and through your floaty thoughts, you almost wish it was deeper. The groan from Alhaitham as he bottoms out provides you comfort. It can only mean that you’re making him feel good, and that you did manage to have him fit inside you. So pleased with yourself, your pussy clenches around him and coaxes for more, for his cum.
If Alhaitham didn’t have better control of himself, he would’ve cum right then and there. Buried deep inside you, warm velvety walls sucking him in – it’s hard to believe that this is really happening. The person he loves is in his arms, joined with him in the most intimate way known to mankind. He never wants to leave you, leave this, yet his cock begs for friction. Your adorable whine of protest as he slides out a couple inches beckons him to return, and return he does as you let out a sound of pure satisfaction.
“Loveyou,” your words slurred together and fuzzy. “Love, love your cock, please, wan’ more, please?”
Archons, how are you so perfect for him? Alhaitham sets a steady, moderate pace and focuses on you, ensuring that you’re okay and pleased. It seems there’s a permanent grin on your face, even when you gasp or scream, and he’s determined to keep it there. When you seem completely accustomed to his pace, his strokes become longer and more indulgent. “Fuck,” you cry each time he fills you up with more and more of his cock with each stroke. His thumbs rub circles into your clit and drive you closer to your peak – you don’t know if you’re ready to cum yet, or if you want this to end. You don’t, but you’re so close–!
“Such a good girl for me – your little cunny was really made for my cock. There’s no one else for me, just you, pretty girl,” he breathes, seeing the hesitation on your face as your walls clench tighter than before. “I know you’re gonna cum soon, I want to see you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me?”
Anything he asks for, you would go to great lengths to give him what he wants. So if he wants you to cum, then you have to. You nod with a pout on your face, but Alhaitham leans forward, pushing your legs back further as he reaches to kiss the pout away. “That’s my good girl, so perfect.”
He pulls out completely, but why?
Alhaithm grabs and maintains eye contact with you for two agonizing seconds, and then commands you to, “Cum for me.”
And you do just that when he slams his entire length inside you as soon as those words leave his lips.
Alhaitham basks in your scream and sobs, your body convulsing and trembling beneath him, your walls an impossible vice around his cock. He grinds against you to go as deep as he can, “fuckfuckfuck”, and a growl buried in your neck as he cums. In your high, you think you can feel the heat and its spasms of it all, passively wondering what it would feel like to have him cum inside you without a condom. Perhaps one day you’ll be granted a nice little breeding session, but that is neither here nor there.
Alhaitham plants pecks and kisses all over your face, neck, and shoulders, smiling when your little giggles reach his heart. If anything, he’s just happy that everything turned out okay and didn’t end up in a disaster like last time. As he observes the serenity gracing your complexion, he cannot contain his affection any longer.
“Thank you…for having me.” I love you.
Another giggle. “I love you, too, Haitham. A lot.”
You’re kindly gifted a most adoring eskimo kiss. “I need to get you cleaned up, so I need to pull out, okay?”
The pout returns despite your agreement, and Alhaitham spends much needed time to pull out without you breaking. The devil on his shoulder protests otherwise, as it attempts to coax him into keeping you speared on his cock for the night, or more. Your whine of loss tugs at his heartstrings and feeds into his greed, and he embraces you once more to keep you grounded. Slowly, but surely, you return to your senses. Alhaitham is heavy and sweaty against you, but it’s more than you could ask for. A few taps on his shoulder are enough to tell him that you’re back on the same plane of reality with him, and he dives in to kiss you again, painting compliments and praises of how amazing you were along your lips.  
Alhaitham then sweeps you off the bed, into his arms, and takes hurried steps towards the bathroom. You’re like a delicate flower with the way he places you on the toilet, and he reminds you of the importance of peeing after sex. Your privacy is granted when he leaves to remove and tie off the condom to discard it in the kitchen trash can, and later returns with a warm, wet towel. He waits until you’re back in bed and comfortable before he tenderly wipes away any excess fluids and leaves it on your nightstand before cuddling next to you. You turn towards him and burrow into his chest, content as his arms embrace you with an air of security and protection.
He mumbles something into your hair, but you’re out before you can even think to ask what he said.
-
When you finally come to, you can’t remember the last time you slept so well. No tiresome dreams, no sporadically waking up in the night – weeks out in the nature with Lumine had turned you into a light sleeper, and you missed this feeling of being so well-rested.
But the soreness in your thighs screams otherwise, and you wince when they refuse to cooperate. A muscular arm rests around you as if it has always belonged there. At first you question why it’s there, but then your brain decides to wake up and remind you just exactly of what transpired last night. Despite the mixture of shock and embarrassment (mainly at just how wanton you acted), you look up from where you are buried into Alhaitham’s chest. Somehow, you’re surprised to see him already awake. Well, surprised may not be the right word. But the clear adoration in his eyes is unmistakable, seizing and pulling on your heartstrings.
Alhaitham quite enjoys watching you think and process, imagining the fine-tuned gears and cogs in your brain working in overdrive. He remains silent as he smooths out some of the tangles in your hair, and he patiently waits to hear from you. You two had already experienced many hours of quietude before, so this was nothing new for him. There are very few moments in his life when he’s felt this serene and content, half-naked and you pressed against him, both drinking in each other and the light of day coming from your window. He could get used to this. He wants to get used to this.
“You’re making me breakfast in bed,” you decide with your first words of the day, grumbling with a pout on your face. “I don’t think I can walk properly.”
The former scribe arches a perfect silver brow, but the shit-eating smirk stretching along his face is anything but confusion. He knows exactly what you’re implying, and he’s quite satisfied with himself for causing such a situation. Perhaps he should do it more often.
“That I can do,” he agrees, his morning voice deep, yet full of mirth. After a quick kiss on your forehead, he rolls out of bed to do just as you command.
The growl from your stomach prevents you from calling him back because you’re cold now. A shiver runs down your spine as you tighten the blanket and sheet around you, tucking some beneath your chin in an attempt to trap whatever warmth you have left. But when you catch a hint of Alhaitham’s lingering scent, you feel yourself immediately calm down and breathe evenly. The gentle cluttering from your kitchen provides another layer of security as well.
Lost in your basking, you’re quite startled when you feel Alhaitham’s lips on your cheek, a tray in his hands with a light, yet nutritious breakfast arranged. But as you continue to lay there, he can’t help but laugh.
“Do you need help sitting up?”
“No.”
“Don’t be stubborn.”
You do, in fact, need his strength to sit up comfortably against some pillows. The embarrassment hasn’t quite worn off by the time he slides back underneath the sheets to sit next to you, an arm slung over your shoulders as you eat. But in seconds, it dissipates, and is replaced with something akin to love. For you both to finally be here, together as if you two have been dating for years, is exactly the outcome you have been wishing for.
“You know,” he starts before being interrupted by a forkful of food shoved into his mouth, courtesy of you. “You’re a perfect reason why I can finally kick Kaveh out of my home.”
You swat his shoulder with your free hand. “That’s so mean!”
“He can just move in here. I’m not that heartless to leave him homeless. Is that what you think of me?”
You answer without hesitation, “Yes.”
With the hand hanging off your shoulder, his nails scrape lightly in retaliation against the skin beneath your collar bone.
“If I recall, I was pretty fair with you last night,” he murmurs into your hair. “Perhaps I need to remind you just how fair when you’re done with breakfast.”
And you’ve never finished a meal so quickly.
fin.
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neil-gaiman · 7 months
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Hello sir, I hope you are doing great. First of all, thank you so much for the world of Good Omens you've shown to us. I love the stories so much, there are so many things to talk about, such as love, gender, disability, earth, death, life, etc., etc...and maybe we need 6,000 years more to talk all about it. However, there is one thing that's been bothering me. It's the Japanese "research ship" (not a whaling ship, OK) in season 1, episode 4. Why are those crew members covered with something inky and so dirty? I mean I get the message regarding whaling. But describing those people like they are kind of unsophisticated, unclean, is, sort of...biased? Prejudice? Maybe that's not what it was meant, but I felt so. Well, anyway, I still LOVE the stories. I backed Good Omen's kickstarter, cant wait to get the graphic novel! Wish you happiness :)
I'm not sure what you're describing here. Can you give me an example?
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baek-at-it-again95 · 4 months
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We Know
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Pairings: park seonghwa x fem reader x choi san
genres/content: action, agent au, mafia au? rivalry, leader bang chan, angry seonghwa, y/n is san's weakness lol
Warnings: profanity, violence, weapons, suggestive content!! please take care of yourselves <3
A/N: I am nervous about this one y'all 😳 I've never written something like this before, but it ended up being so fun! This is for my friends, @milfks and L, who had these wonderful ideas! Love you two lots <3
Synopsis: Tonight's mission is in your hands, and you're eager to prove that you're capable of handling it on your own. Unfortunately, your plans are interrupted a bit sooner than you expected.
***
"I've got eyes on him," you mumble, pretending to fix your diamond earring as you adjust your earpiece. Surveying from the platform of the mansion's grand staircase, your eyes follow a man in a black suit as he turns the corner and disappears down a far hallway.
Chan's sigh rings in your earpiece. "Be careful."
"I can handle myself. Trust me."
"I trust you, Y/N. You know that. It's everyone else that I don't trust. It's your first time unaccompanied," Chan says.
"Like I said, I can handle it. Besides, the boys are always out by themselves and they're just fine." If you could see Chan right now, you know he'd be pinching the bridge of his nose out of stress, holding back from giving you a lecture on why your situation is different from theirs. You know his concern is out of love, and he would blame himself if anything were ever to happen to you. But this is your chance to prove yourself. Tonight, you'll be participating in an auction to get your hands on the Cromer, a powerful artifact that can control time. It's been rumored that ATEEZ has their sights set on it as well, so Chan had you do as much research on them as possible. Unfortunately for you, they're quite good at covering their tracks and keeping their identities under wraps. You know only a few of their names and faces, so you'll need to be extra careful about your approach to this. 
The auction will begin in about an hour, and you'd rather not hear a lecture from Chan. "I'm going in," you whisper. Your black dress flatters your figure perfectly, and you're excited to show it off tonight. With a deep breath, you make your way down the staircase, your heels silent on the expensive red carpet.
Clusters of people stand together around the large space, sipping champagne and chatting amongst themselves. Many wives have separated into groups away from their husbands, who go on and on about their latest business ventures and investments. Understandable—how boring. You greet some people as you go, your charming smile in effect as their eyes land on you. One woman compliments your dress as you pass by, and you enthusiastically return her compliment, telling her that her own dress brings out her eyes. She blushes and tells you it's custom made, which basically means "my dress is worth twice as much as the average person's monthly paycheck." 
You continue to weave through the crowds and admittedly get a bit distracted, still thinking about the woman's compliment. As you turn into the hallway you witnessed your target disappear into, you bump straight into an oncoming person. A strong arm wraps around your waist before you can lose balance on your high heels. 
"Woah there, doll. Straying too far, are we?" A tall man with dark hair looks down at you, his eyebrows raised.
Park Seonghwa. Just the man you were looking for. 
"My apologies sir," you say quietly, feigning innocence and avoiding his eyes. His arm leaves your waist after steadying you. "I was wandering in hopes of finding a vacant room to lie down...I'm afraid I've had a bit too many drinks too early in the night." You stumble for dramatic effect, hoping he'll eat up your lies. "I have to sober up before the auction," you say, shaking your head. "Daddy will throw a fit if I spend all his money tonight."
The man looks amused. "Yeah? Better be careful, princess."
"I can handle myself," you say for the second time tonight, stepping closer to trace the pads of your manicured fingers over the fabric on his chest. He tilts your chin up gently, and you meet his intense gaze. He's breathtaking. Suddenly, you have an idea that seems much more fun than your previous plans.
Sorry Chan, you think as you press yourself against Seonghwa.
***
You didn't find anything of importance on Seonghwa's person, but you did manage to slip a tracking device into his suit pocket. Chan should be able to access his location any minute now.
You enter the auction room fifteen minutes before the event is scheduled to start, scanning the tables for your seat. It's dimly lit, a majority of the lighting coming from a screen behind the stage. You don't see Seonghwa seated anywhere yet.
"And what are the starting bids on you, lovely?" a low voice asks, breath tickling your ear. You turn to look at the owner of the voice, his strong facial features almost as striking as his neatly-styled red hair. He's practically undressing you with his eyes, and you can't say you hate it.
"Whatever you've got to offer, pretty boy," you reply sweetly. He smirks, pleased with himself as one of his hands finds your waist.
"My friend says you're not as innocent as you look."
"Pardon?" you ask. The man turns you around, your back against his broad chest as his free hand reaches up to your ear. Before you know it, your earpiece is on the ground in front of you, crushed beneath a polished designer shoe. Looking up, you see that the shoe belongs to none other than Park Seonghwa. Of course they're working together.
You freeze as something cold presses to the exposed small of your back. 
Fuck.
"One wrong move and you're done for, princess," the man with red hair says calmly, lowering himself back down to your ear. "Try to cause a scene and innocent people will pay the price."
You take a deep breath before nodding your head in submission. You slowly turn back around and watch as he returns his gun to his shoulder holster, his expensive blazer completely concealing it. No one around you sees the ordeal, too distracted and eager to spend their money. The man then puts his arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the auction room. Seonghwa follows close behind, making sure you aren't able to slip away. You have no idea if he is armed at this point in time.
You're led into a large meeting room at the very end of the upstairs corridor, the bright moonlight seeping through the open balcony doors and illuminating the glossy wooden table at the center of the room. You catch a glimpse of the pretty garden below the balcony before the man guiding you throws you to the floor. You can feel the bruises forming on your knees instantly.
You don't dare fight back yet—your training in hand-to-hand combat doesn't do shit when your opponents are armed with guns, of course. You would attempt it if he were alone, but with Seonghwa present and potentially armed, you'd rather feel the situation out. 
God, Chan will never let you out onto the field again. He's probably losing his mind now that you've lost contact with each other. Not to mention the fact that you were busted before you even had a chance to get what you came here for. The auction is going to start any minute, and now you're certain there are other ATEEZ members in the auction room that are ready to claim the Cromer instead of you.
You're angry with yourself for not being more prepared with your own weapon, but your favorite handgun unfortunately didn't fit under your dress of choice. You sigh to yourself. At least you look good in it. 
"Give it up, sweetheart. We know what's going on here," the man with red hair says. Seonghwa locks the door behind him before speaking.
"I saw your wolf tattoo, and I've seen only one other just like it. You're working with Bang Chan," he states, is emotions unreadable. 
No. You had forgotten to conceal your waist tattoo since your dress fully covers it. You hadn't expected to completely remove your dress tonight. Rookie mistake. You should expect everything. 
"All this over a tattoo?" You eye him, downplaying the situation.
"How brave of you to interfere with our operation by yourself," the other man comments, ignoring your previous sentence. "No back up here to save you, huh?" 
"Oh, you don't really believe she's here alone, do you, San?" Seonghwa asks. Choi San. You recognize that name. Seonghwa comes over to you, a completely different aura surrounding him now. He's intimidating, gripping your chin with much more force than he had earlier. "Be a good girl and tell us where your friends are, yeah? Don't make things difficult." A chill runs down your spine at his threat. 
"I'm not here with anyone," you state. It's the truth. Even though Chan had insisted he wait in his car nearby, you convinced him to stay and monitor operations from your base. If you don't make contact within the next hour or two, he'll know something is wrong and follow Seonghwa's location.
"Wrong answer, princess." He grips your hair harshly and you wince. "I have a hard time believing that they would put you in a situation like this without back up. Where are they?"
It's sweet of him to underestimate you, honestly. You got yourself into this situation, and you're sure as hell going to get yourself out. You're already halfway done formulating your escape plan. "I said they're not here," you answer again. He lets go of your hair with a hiss.
"It would pain me to ruin such a pretty face...I think we'll let the boss deal with you." 
The boss? Chan told you that no one knows the leader of ATEEZ—it's safe to assume that anyone who's seen him hasn't lived to tell the tale. You're not sure if he'll have any mercy at all to offer you. But maybe these two still have some in them.
"No, please!" you plead, your fists balled up as they rest on your thighs. "If I tell you where they are, will you go easy on me?" You let your head hang low, looking at the floor. San lowers himself in front of you and you find his eyes. You blink, letting a few tears slip down your cheeks. 
"Sure, doll face. We will." You look away from him to briefly meet eyes with Seonghwa. He still stands at full height, arms crossed as he looks down at you. Perhaps it's your tears making your vision blurry, but you swear his gaze softens at the sight of you. You look back to San, sniffling.
"You promise?"
Now, never ever would someone in their right mind trust a promise from someone like them. But you're not planning on following through with your own side of the promise, either. Two can play at this game. You would never jeopardize the safety of SKZ...you told Chan you could handle yourself and you meant it.
"Promise," San says. He's truly something else, radiating such strong and convincing charm. You would fall for his promise in a heartbeat if you didn't know who he really was.
As you slowly rise from your knees, San stands with you. "They made me do it," you confess, more tears spilling from your eyes and taking your favorite mascara with them. "They said they would kill me if I didn't," you whisper, looking away. 
"It's okay, doll," San says, coming closer to comfort you. You flinch before he touches you. "Just tell us where they are, okay? We'll help you." You bury yourself in his chest, your frame shaking in his arms as you cry quietly.
Your best performance yet, if you say so yourself.
After a long minute in his embrace, you begin to pull away. In the process, you grab the gun out of San's shoulder holster and hold the barrel to the center of his chest. He curses under his breath, raising his arms in defeat. You slowly step backwards, turning your aim to Seonghwa as a warning not to try anything, and then returning your aim to San. Seonghwa makes no attempt to grab for anything, so now you know for a fact that he is unarmed.
"I told you the first time that there's no one here with me." You smile. "But it's nice to discover that you both have a heart." 
"Tell Chan we said hi," Seonghwa replies, irritated. 
"Of course, it would be rude of me not to. It's truly been a pleasure, boys." You give Seonghwa a wink. "We'll meet again, right? Maybe you can introduce me to your boss next time."
You've backed up far enough to step onto the balcony, assessing the situation above and below. The garden below is deserted now that the auction has started, but it's a far drop to the ground. There is another balcony above you, but it seems a bit too high for you to escape to. You're trapped, so you're going to have to pull this off fast to avoid getting hurt. 
All you can hear is the sound of your own heartbeat as you throw the gun over the railing into the garden. If you slip up, they could get their hands on it again, and you cannot let that happen. You'll fight the real way if you must.
As soon as it leaves your hands, the men launch at you. You quickly dodge them, ducking under San's punch and managing to sweep Seonghwa's leg, knocking him to the ground. Now that they're both on the balcony, you run back inside, shutting the french doors and locking them behind you. You know it will barely do anything to set them back—they could easily break them down if they wanted to. Through the glass, you watch as San pulls Seonghwa off the ground and looks at you. He doesn't make an immediate effort to get inside.
Is he letting you go? 
You shouldn't wait around any longer to find out. You blow him a kiss before taking your exit out into the main hall. 
But after stepping out, you see why they let you go...
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wildestdreamsblog · 27 days
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Latibule Spinoff: Elysian
Pairing: Doctor/Mafia!Kim Seokjin x Intern!Reader 
Warnings: Yandere behavior, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: If you like this, kindly consider reblogging
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Masterlist, Part III of __
The drive back to the hospital was blurry to Seokjin. He reminded himself to give Yoongi a call, after all, he did break a lot of traffic rules and regulations just to arrive at the hospital to…why exactly? Why was he so adamant on driving back to the hospital in such a hurry? What was he to do once he saw the reason for his misery?
What exactly was he to do once he got to you? Once he saw you? And what if you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore?
He didn’t have to think long because there you were- smiling so sweetly at the hospital staff, your absence definitely felt not just by him. Everyone noted your absence. You were the sunshine of the hospital and when you left, he felt…unbelievably cold. Nothing was right in his world and he even found a pimple on his glorious forehead this morning! The audacity of such thing to grow on his otherwise lovely and godly face! All because he stayed up all night tossing and turning! It was all because of you that he wasn’t getting his beauty sleep!
He almost believed that he was really affected by your absence, and he wasn’t…was he??? 
“Oh, Doctor Kim! You’re back!”
He blinked when he heard his staff greeted him, her eyes holding confusion at his sudden appearance. Seokjin understood her, though. After all, he just left not more than an hour ago. He should be at home resting his beautiful face.
He watched as your back stiffened before slowly, and Gods, ever so slowly turned to him. For the life of him, he didn’t know why his breath hitched when you met his eyes. Or why his heart beat faster when he could finally see you. Or why his heart felt uncomfortable when you left.
Was he experiencing a minor myocardial infarction?!
And heavens, why did his cheeks feel a lot warmer when you smiled at him?! Did he now have to pay his dermatologist a visit?!
“Do you need anything, Doctor Kim?” his staff asked him to break the silence when enough moment had passed and yet, the hospital’s director was merely looking at you.
Kim Seokjin finally blinked, wrenching his eyes from your beautiful ones. Your eyes seemed so soulful. He didn’t know why there was a sudden fluttering in his heart, and he did not care to know why at the moment. Instead, he cleared his throat, his gaze briefly dropping on the table of his staff. “I…left my pen.”
“Your pen,” you repeated with a heavy tone of confusion and disbelief.
And there it was, your first words to him after your week-long absence. He was such an idiot, he thought. In his beautiful life, he never thought he would be reduced to calling himself an idiot when he was brilliant! He was always the top in his classes! He was always quoted in the medical research for his intelligence! He was so clever and for the life of him, he didn’t know why he blurted out that sorry excuse.
But there was no way to get himself out of the hole he dug. “Yup. And look, there it is!” he leaned in to grab the pink and glittery hello kitty pen from the staff’s table. “It has sentimental value,” he murmured as though it was all it took to explain the bizarreness of his presence. “I don’t feel comfortable being without it.”
His staff frowned, her mouth opening to protest. “Sir, that’s my daughter’s-”
“Anyway, now that my presence is perfectly explained,” he quipped up and effectively cutting of his staff, he clapped his hand once before turning his full attention on you, completely ignoring the other person. “Where have you been?”
“I’m sorry?” your head tilted at what you heard. Did you hear him right? Never once did he ask you anything, so why start now?
You looked up at his expressive eyes, his plump lips hanging agape as he grappled for words to explain his unusual question. “I-I mean, the hospital is so understaffed and as the chief, it is my responsibility to make sure that this institution runs smoothly. After all, lives depend on us.”
“Sir, my leave was approved by my direct superior,” you said, trying to reason calmly at him.
“But still, one week is still too long. Next time, don’t be gone for a whole week,” he replied back with an air of finality that you definitely did not appreciate. In your barely restrained annoyance, you walked ahead and pushed the elevator button a little too hard before turning to him. You took a deep breath as he only looked down at you, the ridiculous hello kitty pen still clutched in his hand.
“Doctor Kim,” you started with an emphasis to his title. “I’ve only ever been gone one week a year. One. I work even when I’m sick, I attend to my patients even when it’s holiday, even when it’s my birthday, even during the death anniversary of my parents, or even when I’m not scheduled to be at the hospital. Never once did I careless about any of my patients. So please, don’t make it seem like I don’t care.”
“That’s not what I meant-“
“But that’s what you’re implying, Sir,” you snapped back, locking eyes with him, a resolute expression on your face. He didn’t like it, he realized later on. He had grown accustomed to your soft gaze, accustomed to your face lighting up when you looked at him. And now that you were looking at him with the absence of what he was used to, it didn’t sit right with him.
Kim Seokjin would later on realized that he had always ever wanted you to look at him like that, with that undeniable focus and intensity, solely for him.
You averted your gaze away from his as soon as the elevator bell chimed. You were resolute on entering the elevator and getting away from his vicinity when it opened, revealing a patient along with several nurses and doctors bustling to exit and you were on the verge of being caught in the commotion. You were about to get hit when Seokjin encircled your wrist, swiftly pulling you away from the oncoming gurney pushed by the rushing nurses. His hold on your wrist was firm and your brows inevitably pulled together, a flash of pain passing through your face.
None of that went unnoticed by Seokjin.
Seokjin frowned, his eyes trained on your wrist covered by your white coat while you were watching as they hurried to the operating room. He knew he didn’t pull that hard, too aware of his own strength and too unaware of his desire to never hurt you. You didn’t even feel when he pulled up your sleeve. He did it so softly, a glaring proof how terrified he was of further bringing pain on you, regardless of how he never meant to.
And there they were.
Several bruises of varying intensity marked your beautiful skin. Scattered on your forearms were day-old scrapes that looked like they had started healing after causing you pain.
Seokjin's heart clenched with a mix of remorse and an anger that surged within him, fierce and unbridled.
You finally noticed him when the nurses passed, the gentle way he was holding you was too contrast on how hard his jaw was clenched, his face almost impassive as he glared down at your scrapes and bruises as though they offended him. Your eyes widened as your injuries were exposed to his eyes that you pulled your arm away from his grasp. A silent acknowledgment passed between you, recognizing that he had allowed the release only because his grip had been secure.
“I-I have to go, Doctor Kim,” you couldn’t even meet his eyes as you bade him goodbye. His intensity, a stark departure from his usual demeanor of avoidance, left you unsettled. The memory of his comical attempt to escape you in the hospital lobby flashed in your mind, highlighting the irony of the current situation.
Literally.
He ran away from you once in the hospital lobby and there were several witnesses as the Chief ran as though there was an emergency.
You were about to enter the elevator when he spoke, his voice emotionless, his eyes bore into you with an unsettling coldness. And you could have sworn right then and there that he was an entirely different person that day.
“Who did this to you?”
The question hung in the air, laden with an ominous weight. In that moment, the stark transformation in Seokjin left you grappling with the realization that beneath the goofy and childlike facade you had come to know, there existed a man capable of chilling intensity and a protective instinct that seemed poised to unravel a hidden side of him you had never witnessed before.
You averted your eyes before letting out an awkward chuckle, hyperaware of the eyes on the two of you. “Don’t worry about them.”
It was apparent that that was not good enough explanation for him and you found yourself gulping from the force of his eyes that you were left no choice but to supplement your explanation. The words tumbled out in a hurried confession, “I was cleaning my house, lifting those boxes when I missed my step and fell down the stairs, okay?”
For a moment, Seokjin blinked, and in that subtle shift, the cold intensity dissipated, replaced by a flicker of understanding. There it was—the familiar Seokjin, the one you knew. The tension in the air lifted, and as his features softened, you couldn't help but marvel at the duality that existed within him.
He let out a soft sigh, before taking your wrist in his hand. He looked down at the bruises with heaviness and a touch of sadness in his eyes, his thumb softly running back and forth on them as though he could sooth them.
As though he could take the pain away and make it his own. And in that very moment, Seokjin knew that that was what he wanted- and that strangely, he never wanted to see you in pain. Without a word and uncaring of anyone that was looking at the two of you, he pulled you to his office.
---
“This is really unnecessary, Doc,” you winced as he gently put cream on your healing wounds, his face that of concentration as he sat in front of you.
You found yourself in an uncharted territory. You had never been this close to him knowing full well hat your attraction to him was one-sided. While it was fun for you to chase him around the hospital, you knew there could be nothing more to it. The line between lighthearted pursuit and genuine emotion was a boundary you were careful not to cross. There could be nothing more to it, you reasoned, convinced that your damaged self wasn't fit to be with someone as seemingly perfect as he was.
You knew where you stood.
“Y/N,” he spoke with a kind voice, his eyes still trained on his task. “Can I ask a favor from you?”
“Of course!”
It took a moment for him to answer, and he only did once he deemed his task complete and flawless. Gently, he reached for your sleeves, pulling them down with a delicate touch. His beautiful eyes met yours, a sincerity in his gaze that tugged at the edges of your guarded heart. “Can you please not get hurt anymore?”
The simple plea hung in the air, laced with a genuine concern that touched the depths of your soul. In that moment, the walls you had carefully constructed around your emotions quivered. His earnest request left you grappling with the realization that, perhaps, the line you had drawn between you and Seokjin wasn't as rigid as you had thought.
You wanted to cry, you thought. No one had ever cared if you got hurt. Not once. And here stood the perfect angel you perceived him to be, asking you to not be hurt anymore.
And so, for the first time, you lied to him.
You flashed him a faux smile, fronting your, nodding your head as you said, “I promise, Doctor. Wouldn’t want to disappoint the most handsome man in this hospital.”
His blush was definitely worth it, though.
---
“What are you even doing here?!” Kim Seokjin finally had it here and shouted as he heard Jungkook sighed so loudly again for the twelfth time and he could no longer focused on the research paper he was reading! He was even sure that his secretary outside could hear him behind the wall.
This was such a waste of time, he thought. Their golden maknae was wasting his time when he should have been done with this an hour ago.
“I’m just existing here, hyung. Go back to your work,” he mumbled from his position faced-down on the couch.
“You’re existing so loudly!”
Jungkook suddenly sat up, turning to face his hyung with an indignant expression, “Ah, so when you were the one pestering me in my office, it’s okay? But when it’s me, it’s not?!”
Seokjin responded with a smirk, a touch of mischief in his eyes. "Exactly!"
“How does that make sense! That is hypocritical and I’m going to sue you!”
“Dibs on Namjoon as my lawyer!”
“You can’t just call dibs!”
“I just did!”
“Well, Namjoon hyung likes me more!”
“Are you sure?! Or it’s you that like him more?!”
“You-“
Their banter was abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door. Both heads turned towards the entrance, watching as the door slowly opened, revealing you. Your eyes shifted between the two handsome men, assessing the situation that seemed like a mid-battle exchange.
“Am I interrupting?”
Seokjin's demeanor shifted almost imperceptibly, a master at maintaining composure. He flashed you a reassuring smile, only to shoot Jungkook a discreet glare when your attention was diverted.
“No. Everything is good,” Seokjin affirmed, keeping his smile intact while subtly warning Jungkook with his eyes. The unspoken tension lingered in the air, leaving you to wonder if you had just stumbled into the aftermath of a friendly dispute or something more significant. “Do you need anything?”
You blinked before showing him the form you needed him to sign. He smiled as he gestured for you to come in. He was looking over the form as Jungkook observed you.
It was you, he noted. He was sure it was you that was making his hyung lose his mind little by little. His mischievous side won and he stood up, walking to you with his hand outstretched.
“Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Jeon Jungkook, his little brother,” he introduced himself. You shook his hand once, smiling at the polite and charming man.
“I’m Doctor Y/N, nice to meet you.”
And then out of nowhere, Jungkook said the most absurd lie Seokjin ever heard him say. “It’s my birthday today. Eat dinner with us?”
“Jeon Jungkook!”
---
You and Seokjin walked behind Jungkook as he skipped merrily to one of his favorite restaurants, the streetside stall that he passionately swore served the best grilled pork. The randomness of the situation left you questioning how you ended up here, but it was undeniable that saying no to Jungkook and his enchanting doe eyes was practically impossible.
“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to,” Seokjin mentioned casually beside you. His hands were in his slacks, his eyes trained ahead. He was matching your steps, your surmised.
“Do you not want me to be here?” you asked in that small moment of courage. You looked on the other side, your heart skipping a beat from the anticipation of his answer as you watched the flow of traffic. Silence reigned for so long that you were sure he wasn’t going to answer, or if he was, you were sure that he was going to gently turn you down once again.
You were waiting for the blunt from his kind rejection, yet this time, it didn’t come. The air remained pregnant with unspoken words, and for a moment, you were suspended in the quiet tension until he said something that made you fall for him just a little bit deeper.
“I want you here.”
The shocked from his words left you reeling that you stopped walking altogether just to stare at his broad back. He hadn’t noticed yet that you stopped walking until he was few steps ahead of you. He frowned before turning back to look at you.
And that moment, a genuine smile spread across your face as you noticed telltale hint of red on his ears. The man couldn’t even meet your eyes, instead, his simple admission reduced him to blushing man that shuffled from foot to foot.
Uh oh.
You were in big trouble.
You were surely and slowly falling for Kim Seokjin. And this time, it was beyond a harmless crush.
You were, as the folks said, fucked.
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cursedwoman1859 · 8 months
Text
Arm Candy (Silco/F!Reader)
“I need someone who can look pretty on my arm and be trusted not to make off with the silverware from a topsider estate. That’s you.” Silco needs a plus-one for a fancy topsider party. You don't really have a choice but to agree.
AO3 Link
Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)
Words: 5.8k
Content: Resolved sexual tension; semi-public sex; vaginal fingering; dirty talk; dubious business ethics
---
It wasn’t often you got called into Silco’s office first thing in the morning. You were a paper-pusher, not one of the battle-hardened henchmen who usually hung around the Last Drop, and your work mostly kept you at your desk. Calculations came as naturally to you as breathing, and you could crunch numbers faster even than Silco himself. In the few months you’d been working for the Eye of Zaun, you’d made yourself indispensable. You helped keep track of the Shimmer shipments going to and from Zaun, you effortlessly slipped the profits from the drugs business into the earnings from the various factories and bars and properties that Silco owned, and once a week you’d spend the evening alone in the office with your stern, exacting boss while you went over that week’s financial reports. Silco needed someone to cook his books, and you prided yourself on being the best damn chef in the undercity. You kept to yourself, you prayed he never noticed your furtive glances up at him when he was absorbed in his work, and you did not cause trouble.
So it was only natural that your stomach twisted itself into knots as you stepped into his office, and that those knots tightened when he looked up from the paper he was reading, his bicoloured stare pinning you and making your walk to stand in front of his desk feel like miles instead of metres.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” you said when you were near, and the way his eyes flicked over you, almost too quickly for you to notice, did nothing to calm you.
“I did,” he said, his chair creaking as he leaned back in it. You’d definitely never wondered if it could hold two people. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
You could swear that sentence made your brain fritz like a faulty wire. “I, um—” Absolutely nothing was the real answer, but for some reason you didn’t want to admit that. “I made plans with…Ran and Dustin,” you said, saying the first names that came to your mind even though you’d never shared more than small talk with either of them.
Silco’s eyebrow raised as if he could see right through your lie. Which he probably could, because it was completely transparent. “Then cancel them. I need your help at an event.”
“What kind of…event?” you said, your mind reeling with all the things Silco could be alluding to. Shakedowns, back-alley deals, assassinations…
“Don’t look so frightened,” Silco said, taking a cigar from his ashtray and lighting it. He took a deep drag, letting the smoke billow around him as he spoke. “Are you familiar with Ko Shosu?”
It took you a moment to remember the name from some of the background research you’d carried out on Silco’s competitors. “Doesn’t he own that factory that makes gears or something?”
“The very same. He’s hosting a party at his residence topside tomorrow night and unfortunately, I’ll need to make an appearance. Shosu seems to think we’re acquaintances. And on top of that, I happen to know that one of his associates has run into some financial trouble as of late. His factory makes components that are essential to the Shimmer-tanks we’re developing. Now isn’t that a stroke of luck?”
“You want to get to this associate so you can get him to work with you?”
“Exactly. His name is Rupert Torek and he’s run up gambling debts with some very unsavoury people. I’m sure he’ll be cooperative once he realises I can lend him enough money to get himself out of debt before his wife finds out.”
You decided not to ask how Silco could have information like that on someone he’d never even met. For your sanity’s sake, it was better not to know. “And why do you need me, sir?”
It might have just been your imagination, but you could swear Silco looked you up and down again. Slower this time. “I thought that would be obvious. I cannot exactly show up to something like this alone. I need someone who can distract Torek’s wife so I can get five minutes alone with him, and who can look pretty on my arm and be trusted not to make off with the silverware from a topsider estate. That’s you.”
“I, um—” you floundered for a minute – the words look pretty on my arm setting your heart racing, which was stupid, he’d literally just said he wanted you to be his arm candy for a night, it meant nothing – and Silco raised an eyebrow at your hesitation.
“You’ll be paid overtime for your trouble, of course,” he said.
“That wasn’t—thank you, sir,” you said quickly.
“Good,” he said, flicking through some of the papers on his desk, his focus already slipping back to his work. “Meet me outside Ko Shosu’s house at eight sharp. Wear something nice and do not be late.”
It was a struggle to focus on your work for the next two days. The figures that usually came so easily to you seemed to blur together until you had to triple-check your spreadsheets in case you’d made an error while your mind insisted on screeching Silco think’s I’m pretty over and over like a stuck record. You were sure he’d meant nothing by that offhanded comment, but that didn’t help anything.
It was almost a relief when the next evening rolled around just so you could focus on doing something.
But that relief didn’t last long when you realised you didn’t have the first clue what you should wear to a party at a topsider’s fancy estate. There wasn’t time to hit up the markets even if you could justify the expense, so you settled for a black dress that was simple, but showed off your figure without showing too much of anything else, as you could at least guess that anything shorter than the knee-length hem of your dress might not go over well among the stiff, buttoned-up topsiders. You’d had the dress a long time and had to stitch it once or twice, but surely nobody would notice a little thing like that.
You felt strangely buoyant as you made your way through the upper districts of Zaun, where at this time in the evening business was just starting to pick up. Lines were forming outside the nicer clubs, the street hawkers were packing up to make way for the crowds, and the air nearly sparkled with Shimmer residue as you passed the open doors of some of the edgier establishments, where topsiders went to get a taste of the undercity without actually having to venture below. You couldn’t even find it within yourself to be annoyed at the arrogant topsiders who came to Zaun to indulge in all the things they couldn’t in Piltover before returning to their cushy homes and easy lives. Tonight felt like an infiltration, and it was you who would be inserting yourself somewhere you could never belong.
-
You met up with Silco outside the gates of Ko Shosu’s estate. He’d gone straight there from a meeting with some topsider businessman, and he was dressed as elegantly as he always was. As you approached you glanced at the people milling around on the wide driveway, and you suddenly felt underdressed.
“You’re almost late,” Silco said by way of greeting, and the nervous knot in your stomach only tightened.
“Sorry, sir. Border guards held me up. You know how they are.” The Enforcer at the checkpoint on the bridge had made a huge fuss over your ID photo having a slightly different hairstyle than you did now, just being an asshole because he was an Enforcer and he could.
“Hm,” was all he said as his eyes raked over you, and your mind instantly went to those little stitches in your dress. You suddenly felt as if he could see every little flaw in you, and the feeling only worsened when a couple of women in glittering floor-length gowns swept past, arm-in-arm and laughing airily.
“Do I look all right?” you said just to break the tense silence. “This is the best I have.”
“You look perfectly acceptable,” Silco said, and that was almost worse than if he hadn’t said anything. Acceptable. You’d be lucky if you weren’t mistaken for a servant. “Shall we?” he said then, offering you his arm. When you hesitated, he rolled his eyes. “Take my arm. We have to at least appear as if we both want to be here.”
“Do you want to be here?” you said as you curled your hand around his elbow, trying to ignore the jolt you felt at touching him, even if he was wearing a coat.
He scoffed. “Of course I don’t. But needs must.”
As you made your way up the long driveway, you couldn’t help but gawk at your surroundings. You knew this wasn’t even close to being the grandest house in all of Piltover, but at that moment you could have believed it. There were at least four floors, the upper two ringed in balconies spilling over with hanging flowers and vines. The next closest house had to be at least a hundred metres away, and in the dark space between you could make out the open expanse of a lawn lit by a ring of ground-level lamps, and manicured trees on each side. You couldn’t imagine what the topsiders would do with such a space – you could probably fit a whole other house in there, even one as large as Shosu’s.
And when you entered the house itself, you actually gasped. “Someone lives here? It looks like a palace.”
Silco shot you a glare as you stared at your surroundings with wide eyes, barely even registering the doorman who came to take your coats. “Remember how I said you were the only one I could trust not to fill your pockets? Don’t make me regret it.”
But you were hardly listening as your eyes roved over the crowded ballroom. It was a sea of fine suits and jewel-toned gowns, with servants darting through the throngs like the quick little fish that lived in the shallows of the river, trays of drinks and tiny pastry-like things balanced on their fingertips. Music drifted from somewhere you couldn’t see, almost drowned out by the chatter, and diamonds glittered at fingers and throats – and even on the ceiling, you noticed as your eyes drifted upwards, or at least it seemed like the chandeliers were draped in strings of gemstones that scattered the lights in every direction.
“Concentrate, girl,” Silco muttered close to your ear, making you shiver. “Remember why we’re here. Torek is over there,” he said, though you couldn’t possibly guess which of the guests he was indicating. “Do you remember your task?”
You dragged your eyes away from the spectacle before you to meet his mismatched eyes. “Keep his wife distracted while you get him to consider working with you. I’ve got it.”
“Good. We won’t need to stay long – an hour at most, then you can go home and do whatever you’d like. Maybe you can even catch Ran and Dustin.” As he said this the corner of his mouth tilted up, and you realised with some shock that the Eye of Zaun was teasing you.
You shrugged in what you hoped was nonchalance. “It takes as long as it takes. You know I’m not one to rush a job.”
“I’m aware,” he said as you started to make your way through the crowd, weaving through the throng as if you weren’t aiming straight for your unfortunate target. Perhaps it was because people knew he was from the Undercity, or maybe whispers of the things his people did in dark alleys and dingy establishments travelled ahead of him, but the dense crowd of people seemed to loosen before him, as if people suddenly remembered they had other places to be when he approached. If it offended him, Silco gave no sign, but instead he leaned in to you again. “He is close now. Laugh like I’ve said something terribly clever, you look petrified.”
“I’m fine,” you insisted, but you did as he asked anyway, and it seemed to help. The tension you had felt in the air around you receded a little, and before you knew it Silco was shaking hands with a tall, portly man. You barely heard as he introduced you as his guest for the night, your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears. Rupert Torek had an open, kind face, his eyes crinkling at the sides when he smiled, and he didn’t seem surprised that Silco had sought him out. You wondered if he had any idea how fucked he was.
“We haven’t met before! I’m Liana, Rupert’s wife,” a voice at your side said, making you start, though you quickly smoothed it over with a smile as you turned to the woman who had appeared next to you, introducing yourself and hoping you sounded like you knew you belonged here, just like she did.
Liana glanced between you and Silco, who had already captured her husband’s full attention. Her brows lowered slightly, and you wondered if she had suspicions about her husband’s gambling. “I didn’t know Silco had a partner,” she said carefully.
“Oh, we’re not…together,” you said, laughing airily. “I’m just accompanying him tonight.”
“I see,” Liana said, though now her smile seemed frozen in place, and you wondered if you’d offended her somehow. But nevertheless she called over a couple of her friends, whose names you quickly forgot, and for a moment you were very pleased with yourself. There was no chance Liana would try to join her husband’s conversation while you had her distracted like this.
It was at this point that things started to go wrong.
In hindsight, you should have realised what Liana thought you were implying when you’d said you were accompanying your boss, and what a topsider would think of that particular occupation. But you were a few minutes into a banal, vapid conversation with Liana and her friends about something that you weren’t really paying attention to before you realised that they all thought you were a whore he’d hired for the night, and apparently found this very offensive judging by the bladed smiles and barbed compliments that started heading your way. It didn’t help that you were inadvertently showing much more skin than any of them – and how you were supposed to know the current fashions topside, you had no idea. Pretty soon your fingers were itching to take off one of your high-heeled shoes and beat Liana’s face in with it, but you couldn’t exactly square up in the middle of a ballroom as if you were in a Zaunite dive bar.
So instead, you just played dumb.
You let the thinly-veiled insults, the insinuations that you didn’t belong among them, glance off you. Nobody spent their whole life in Zaun without growing their own kind of armour. Right now yours was keeping your smile frozen firmly on your face, and so Liana was too busy with you to notice that her husband was making a business deal with the Eye of Zaun himself, right under her powdered nose.
That thought made you glance over at Silco, and the second your eyes met his, you felt a strange sort of calm descend over you. Rupert Torek was still chatting away, not even a hint of discomfort on his round face. Silco gave you a minute, almost imperceptible nod, raising his glass of wine slightly.
It had actually worked.
You tried to keep your face blank. That only became harder when Silco turned his attention back to Torek and you realised that when you’d looked over at him, he’d already been watching you.
-
Soon after, you excused yourself to go to the ladies’ room. You were pretty sure Liana and her friends forgot all about you as soon as you were out of sight – or at least you hoped so. You didn’t want to know what they’d be saying about you as soon as you were out of earshot.
You didn’t head to the bathroom, though. Instead you went out the way you’d come in, not bothering to collect your coat from the doorman as you went down the stone steps as fast as you could without running.
As soon as you were outside, away from the glare of the house’s lights, you felt the tightness that had settled in your chest loosen. You hadn’t even noticed the anxiety creep under your skin with every barb Liana and her friends had thrown your way, but when it finally dissipated you wondered how you’d been able to breathe at all.
You should go back now that you’d got your fresh air. You couldn’t just disappear.
But one glance back at the shadowy figures moving through the ballroom windows had you moving away from the house, into the shadows of the grounds where nobody would notice the Zaunite girl who was hilariously out of place among them.
The pathways were lit by low electric lights, and there was nobody else out here. You chose a path along the edge of the grounds, shielded on one side by a high wall and on the other by a huge rosebush bordering the lawn. You weren’t sure whether you were really supposed to be out here, but nobody stopped you as you wandered further into the grounds. 
Eventually you found a bench and you sat down, tipping your head back to watch the stars in the sky. You’d only ever seen them when Silco sent you up to Piltover on business, and on those nights there was never time to stop and really look at them. Down in the Undercity it was difficult to see the sky at all through the smog, let alone the dozens of stars that shimmered through the haze of Piltover’s lights.
For some reason you couldn’t name, tears sprang to your eyes unbidden, and you tried to blink them away without ruining your makeup.
Of course, that was the moment you heard footsteps approaching.
“Drinking alone already?”
Your head snapped up to see Silco strolling towards you, and it was then that you realised you still had your glass of wine in your hand. You sighed, taking a sip as your boss sat down next to you.
“Just needed some air,” you muttered as Silco slung his arm over the back of the bench. It didn’t escape you that if you leaned back, he would have his arm around you. “How did it go with Torek?”
“I expect we’ll be getting a visit from him or one of his associates in the near future. His wife wasn’t too much for you, I take it?”
“I handled it. But they’re all just so…ugh.”
Silco chuckled as he pulled a cigar from somewhere in his coat, and you tried not to let the sound startle you. You’d never heard Silco laugh before, not even a little, and the sound was surprisingly warm. “Don’t worry, we won’t have to do this again for a while.” You watched as he held the cigar between his crooked teeth as he flicked his lighter, the strange angle of the lights highlighting his sharp cheekbones as he took a long drag.
“You know, I don’t think we’re allowed to smoke out here.”
“I don’t care.” He blew a long puff of smoke out into the crisp night air, staining it with a rich scent of tobacco and spices. “Is something bothering you?”
You searched for words to explain the anger tightening your throat, but came up with nothing that made sense. You were a numbers girl. Words were Silco’s thing. You shrugged. “It’s stupid. It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m asking, so I would say it does.” His voice had hardened, and you glanced over at him in alarm, though he didn’t look angry.
You didn’t want to push it, though, so you sighed and took a sip from your wine to buy a few seconds, feeling Silco’s mismatched gaze on you the whole time. “It’s just…all they did in there was bitch about things. What I was wearing, how I acted, their husbands, their lives. And yet…” you gestured vaguely at your surroundings. The gardens that must have needed a whole team of people to maintain. The lawn that sat empty when it could have grown enough food to feed a whole street of hungry Zaunites. The house. “They have all this, but it’s all they’ve ever had, so they can’t even see how privileged they really are. Meanwhile we have to scrape every penny just to put food on the table and some people in Zaun don’t even get that. If I lived up here I’d never complain about anything ever again,” you finished, and by now you were speaking into your wine glass, your eyes fixed on the ground.
Silco was quiet for a moment, and you didn’t dare glance up at him to see if you could gauge what he was really thinking. You’d never been so candid with your boss before, and you half expected him to leave and pretend tonight had never happened. The very last thing you expected him to say was, “What if I told you that tonight had been something of a test of your loyalties?”
Now you did look up, and he was watching you with that kind of calculated detachment he was so good at, though something in the hard lines of his face had softened. Or maybe it was just the moonlight.
“I don’t understand, sir.”
He took his time answering, taking another long drag of his cigar and releasing the smoke in a ring. “You’ve been with me a short while now, and you’re a very talented accountant. With your skills and some forged papers you could easily find work topside. Something with less risk and more pay.”
You flushed at his insinuation. “You pay me just fine.”
He rolled his eyes. “All wages are higher topside, you know that. You could have walked out of that house with a whole list of people who would pay you far more than I can for the same work, but you didn’t. Instead you stood there and allowed me to work on Torek while everyone in that room thought you were just some girl I’d hired for the night.”
You started to splutter a protest, but it died on your lips when you realised Silco was right. If you’d revealed your real job it would have raised Liana’s suspicions.
“It’s a long road ahead of us until Zaun is an independent nation. The topsiders won’t let us go without a fight,” he said, his voice dropping in case you weren’t alone in the gardens. “There will be times when you are tempted by offers of money, better jobs in better places, employers who won’t ask you to break the topsiders’ laws every day. I needed to know that you were true to the cause, that you would remain loyal to me even when you had the opportunity to make things easier for yourself.”
“You were giving me an out,” you said as it clicked into place. “Why now?”
“Because by now, you know exactly what you’re getting into by staying. Your choice to work for me is a genuine one.”
“So did I pass? Your test, I mean.”
“We would not be sitting here now if you had failed.”
You weren’t involved in the…bloodier side of Silco’s business, but you weren’t ignorant to it, either. You knew what he did to people he suspected of disloyalty. Would he really have let you go if you’d wanted? Or would you have disappeared into the shadows of the Lanes, never to be heard from again? You wouldn’t be the first. But then you realised that you’d never been afraid of that, because you would never give him a reason to doubt your loyalties. Zaun had to break free of Piltover, and he was the only one with the wits, the resources, and the sheer bloody-mindedness to finally cut the undercity free.
A sudden cold breeze blew in off the river, making the hedges surrounding you tremble, and you became acutely aware that you had left your coat inside. Before you could give yourself the chance to think better of it, you leaned back, and as you’d suspected, Silco didn’t move his arm. He didn’t quite put his arm around you, but he traced a circle on your bare shoulder with the back of his thumb, almost as if he was reluctant to touch you in case he scared you off.
“We can return to the party if you wish,” he said, and now he was near enough for his warm breath on your ear to send shivers along your skin that had nothing to do with the chilled night air.
“I prefer it out here.”
“As do I.” He held his cigar between his teeth as he reached into his coat and produced a small metal hip flask.
You couldn’t help but snort as he uncapped it and the smell of whiskey hit your nose. “You brought your own alcohol?”
He took a swig and then passed the flask to you. “Better than the swill they’re serving in there.”
“That swill is probably very expensive.”
“So is this. Drink.”
You took a small sip and were proud of yourself when you didn’t cough, even though the whiskey was strong enough to make your eyes water. A pleasant warm sensation spread out from your chest as you swallowed, though, and you shivered as you licked a drop off your lip. “Definitely tastes expensive.”
You looked up at him, and Silco’s eyes quickly snapped away from your mouth as he made a vague hum of agreement. For a while neither of you spoke, and you only passed the flask back and forth in companionable silence. The music that drifted towards you on the wind picked up in pace, and you heard the occasional drunken shout in the distance. Still nobody ventured into the dark grounds.
“Earlier I told you that you looked acceptable,” Silco said all of a sudden as he tapped out his half-smoked cigar and put it back in the tin. “I believe I should have told you that you look lovely instead.”
You felt a flush creep up your neck, and you risked a glance up at your boss – who had told you that you would look pretty on his arm, who had trusted you with this mission and had noticed when you slipped off to be alone. Nobody ever did that.
Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe you were delusional or perhaps just stupid. You didn’t really know why you did it, but before you could think better of it, you leaned over and kissed him.
It was only a quick, chaste press of your lips against his, and you instantly regretted it when Silco stayed completely still against you. You jerked backwards, already apologising. “I’m so sorry sir, I shouldn’t—”
You didn’t get to finish your sentence. Silco’s hand was firm on the back of your neck as he pulled you towards him and kissed you. Properly this time. It was your turn to freeze in shock, but you quickly got over it as his tongue danced against yours and you tasted whiskey and smoke. You eagerly let him in as he deepened the kiss, shivering as his hand slid up your leg from your knee to your thigh, and for the first time that night you were glad of your too-short skirt.
You gasped in surprise as he pulled you onto his lap, barely breaking the kiss as he made you straddle him, your skirt riding up as your thighs spread. Feeling bold, you ran your hands through his soft hair, and he hummed in approval as you raked your nails through the short hair at the base of his neck. In response he gave your ass a firm squeeze, grinding you down onto his lap.
And onto the hard length beneath you.
You circled your hips against him as he moved down to your neck, holding you in place with a hand in your hair pulling just tight enough to hurt as he bit more than kissed you, leaving marks that would definitely be impossible to hide in this dress. You couldn’t give a shit. No way were you going back into that stupid party after this.
“Tell me how long you’ve wanted this,” Silco said, emphasising his point with a sharp snap of his hips up against you.
“I—” you started, but you could only focus on his hands creeping up your thighs again. Except this time, they didn’t stop.
“Go on,” he coaxed, as if you were supposed to focus on anything except his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. You hissed as he tugged them down and the cold night air hit your pussy, and it faded into a whimper as he trailed his fingers along your lips, pausing to circle your entrance in a way that made your back arch. “And don’t you dare try to lie to me, sweetheart, because you’re already wet for me.”
“Um…” you tried to focus on anything but the soft, barely-there brush of his fingers against your pussy. Every time you tried to grind against his hand he moved away, keeping his touch just a little too soft, the bastard. “I think – maybe…”
“A few weeks?” he prompted.
“Mm – no…”
He raised an eyebrow, but rewarded your answer by pressing his thumb against your clit, though he still refused to give you what you wanted. Needed.
“Months?”
“Longer. Since… I wanted this since my first day working for you.” Finally, Silco slid one long finger into you as his thumb drew an agonisingly slow circle over your clit, and your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.
“Do you want to know a secret, my lovely?” he said, his fingers moving faster, obscene wet noises filling the air.
“M-hm.”
“I have you beat. I’ve wanted this since I interviewed you.”
Your eyes flew open at his admission just as he sank another finger into you without warning. Later. You could think about what he’d said later. For now you just let yourself enjoy the curl of his long fingers inside you, the expert ministrations of his thumb on your clit that sent waves of warm pleasure up your spine.
Until the bastard stopped.
He withdrew his hand from you, and his fingers glistened in the moonlight from your wetness. Your eyes widened as he licked them clean, then he motioned for you to stand. “Get up. Go and stand at the end of the bench.”
You followed his directions on shaky legs, and Silco followed, casually strolling around to stand behind you. You had a good idea of what he intended. He trailed his fingers up your bare arms, then fisted one hand in your hair while the other held your bicep in a bruising grip. “If you want this to stop,” he purred in your ear, “say the word now.”
You only pushed back against him, feeling his hard length behind you.
“I thought not.” Then he bent you over the arm of the bench, the ornate steel armrest digging into your hips as he lifted your skirt and pulled your panties down to your knees. You weren’t sure if you shivered with the cool breeze or the anticipation as you heard him unbutton his pants, his hand still in your hair. Then you hissed as you felt the press of his cock against your centre, arched your back as he slid it through your wetness before finally sinking into you as his free hand started playing with your clit once more.
Your voice rose in a high, keening cry as he sheathed himself inside you, easing the ache of his entry with his fingers on your clit. He stopped abruptly, pulling you up by your hair. “Hush now,” he hissed in your ear as he let go of your hair and shoved his fingers in your mouth. You could taste the echo of yourself on his skin. “You don’t want them to think you really are my whore, do you?”
You choked around his fingers for a moment before you relaxed your throat enough that you could shake your head and make a garbled nuh-uh sound, which earned you a low chuckle.
“I didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart,” he said as he started to move, setting a quick, urgent pace that reminded you that anybody could come around the corner and see you bent over a bench with the most powerful man in the Undercity driving into you from behind as you gagged on his fingers. Every thrust of his hips ground yours against the metal armrest, and you knew you’d surely have bruises in the morning. “I wish we were somewhere I could fuck you properly. Take you apart piece by piece until you’re nothing more than a writhing, crying mess in my bed. But perhaps you do like the idea of someone seeing you, seeing how well you’re taking me. How wet you are.” His breathing was becoming shallow as he fucked you, but that didn’t stop the stream of filth from his mouth. “I don’t know about you, but I would kill to see the look on Ko Shosu’s face when he realises we used his party to lure his friend into our web and then defiled his rose garden right under his nose.”
He said something else after that too, but you’d stopped listening to his words and let the low, rough cadence of his voice be the final push you needed over that peak you’d been approaching, once interrupted and now higher than ever. Even Silco’s fingers in your mouth weren’t enough to muffle your cries as you came, your thighs shaking from the strain of standing while your walls clamped down on Silco’s cock, over and over again in waves of agonising bliss. He followed soon after, and you felt a warm rush as he spilled himself inside you with a groan he muffled in your neck.
For a moment you both stood there, catching your breath. You sighed in relief as Silco removed his fingers from your mouth, and after tucking himself away he cleaned you up with a handkerchief before pulling your panties back up for you. “You felt just as good as I’d imagined you would,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your abused scalp.
“Is that something you imagined often, sir?” you said teasingly.
“Most nights,” he murmured into your hair. “And perhaps some days, too.”
Well, damn. You had no idea what to say to that, other than, “Me too.” Maybe you had actually drank too much. “Take me home,” you said, leaning back against his chest as he straightened out your skirts. You felt him smile against your hair.
“It would be my absolute pleasure.”
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cyberpunkgyu · 7 months
Text
Safe With You - P.SH
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pairing: sunghoon x reader
genre: fluff, romance
warnings: none
inspired by latest ‘en-o’clock’ episode 67. sunghoon’s too cute 🥰😭
☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆
the carnival is full, as it is a weekend, mostly families wanting some quality time, teens wanting to have some fun and forget about the final exams they had just taken the day before, and you and sunghoon are one of those people.
it has only been two weeks since sunghoon confessed his feelings to you, and of course you agreed to going on a date with him, but once final exams ends, which is why the both of you are here right now.
sunghoon thought it was a good idea to bring you to the carnival for your first date, because he learned you loved going on rides, which he learned from your best friend winter. yes, this boy did his research. but, surprisingly enough, it’s the opposite for him. he hates rides.
obviously he wasn’t going to admit that, not when he sees how happy you are. but, this, this is definitely not right up his alley.
“that looks dangerous yn, uh, and look, the line is so long.” he tried pulling you back, hearing the screams of the people riding the pirate ship ride.
“but all the lines here are long, come on! look how fun!” you pouted, guilt tripping the boy who’s eyes soften at the sight of you. “we’ve only been going on kiddie rides.” you continued, gently tugging on his hand.
you paused, curiously tilting your head. he looked nervous, which is something you haven't seen before. “wait. are you… scared of that ride?” you questioned him, making a face as if you offended him. maybe hurting his pride a bit. “pftt. what? of course not! just… being cautious.”
“but it’s safe sunghoon, it’s a pretty popular carnival. but if you really don’t want to, fine. i can go by myself,” you decided, not wanting to force the poor boy. “just wait for me here, yeah?”
as you were about to walk up to the line with sunghoon behind, he halted you by grabbing your wrist. “uh wait, no,” he glanced up the ride and then back at you before sighing, finally agreeing. he can't just let you go there alone. “i-i’ll go.”
“only because you’re cute.” he muttered under his breath, letting you pull him towards the line. sunghoon unknowingly gulped, looking around his surroundings. there were a lot of chatter, noticing how there are also kids lining for the ride. “aren’t these kids too small for this ride? what if they slip out of there.”
rolling your eyes as you let out a laugh “that’s what those safety bars are for,” sunghoon kept shifting around, but still holding onto your hand, making your heart flutter. he is quite clingy, and you didn't mind.
the line moved fairly quickly, as the ride can hold a whole lot of people and sunghoon did not like that, at all. “oh, look, it’s getting a bit dark now. maybe we can just do this next time? we can just go and get something to eat.” he rambles his excuses, his ears turning red.
“come on, sunghoon.” you pulled the boy as the line moved forward, and soon enough both of you were now part of the next group to get on the ride.
climbing up the stairs with sunghoon following behind you, he lets go of your hand as you stepped in the ride, choosing to be in the back. you looked up at sunghoon, who seemed hesitant. “come on, it’s not that bad, i promise.” you tried reassuring him, the ride quickly getting filled.
the workers started to push down the safety bars, but sunghoon is still not convinced that this ride is safe and supposed to be fun. he is afraid, yes, but again, he isn’t going to admit that to you.
“sir, are you going?” one of the workers asked as he finished pushing the second last row’s safety bar, only needing to do theirs. “yes i will, just, hold on.” he exhaled through his mouth, ignoring the stares of the people in the ride. for a dude who looks tough and intimidating, you’d assume he’d be cool with such rides. “sir-,” “okay, okay. jeez.”
sunghoon finally steps in and sits down next to you, watching the worker push down the safety bar, “make it tight.” sunghoon comments, making the worker shake his head. you giggled softly, watching the boy nervously look around.
“here, hold onto me.” you wrapped your arm on sunghoon’s feeling his grip tightened around you. “are you okay? don’t worry, i got you.” sunghoon said, although it was probably the other way around, it’s you who got him.
the ride started slow, swinging smoothly back and forth. a bunch of “oohs” and “aahs” are heard, mostly hearing sunghoon’s voice getting louder as the ride started to swing at a much rapid pace.
both of you were now screaming along with your fellow riders, the wind blowing on your faces as well as your hair. sunghoon slowly started to enjoy the ride a little, but still holding onto you tightly. you two started laughing, enjoying your time together.
the ride quickly ends, people getting off the ride, some rushing out the exit to go to the other rides the carnival has, wanting to make the most out of it. you turned to sunghoon as you both walked out, watching as he fixed his dark hair before smoothing his clothes down.
“see! that wasn’t so bad now was it?” you grinned, taking a hold of his hand, stepping closer to him. he playfully side eyed you, intertwining your fingers together.
“not too bad.” he looks down at you, finally giving you a cute smile of his that you love.
“maybe you deserve… a prize?” you teased, feeling him press his forehead against yours, his breath fanning onto you softly. he hummed, his eyes shifting down to your lips and back to your eyes.
closing your eyes, your lips gently pressed against his, feeling him kiss you softly and slowly. he lets go of your hand before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you up, making you tiptoe due to the height difference.
you felt yourself smile into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck. “if i get this type of prize every time i go on this ride, i will definitely do this again,”
“and definitely to hear your laugh.”
you slowly pulled away, smiling widely to the point that your cheeks started to hurt. “you don’t have to do that. you can always get kisses, it's unlimited.”
“i’ll take that offer then.”
even though he hates rides, perhaps it isn't that bad after all. as long as he's with you and gets to see you smile, and unlimited kisses? best first date ever.
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