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#I’ve been preparing but I’m still not ready
invisibleicewands · 3 days
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Interview with Michael Sheen
What made you say yes to being a part of The Assembly?
I said yes to being a part of The Assembly because it was just such an extraordinary and interesting idea. Then reading about the original French series, it just sounded so extraordinary, different and potentially a very revealing way to approach the tried and tested interview process, but obviously it is a lot more than just being an interview. The interview part of it is just one aspect of the project and I think there is still a lot of confusion, ignorance and fear around people with any kind of difference. I think being able to be involved in a project like this could maybe break down some of those barriers.
How is this different from any other TV show you’ve been a part of?
It’s very much unfiltered and that’s really exciting and quite nerve wracking for that reason! So much on TV is sort of smoothed out and filtered and made safe and this, certainly in the making of it, felt very not that! All the better and more refreshing for it too. I know a lot of work is put into the research and preparation for a show like this, but in terms of the actual questions being asked and the experience that you have in all being together when you’re filming, it feels very unpredictable in a really good way and really lead by the people taking part, which is terrific.
How did you feel going into filming?
Well I didn’t really have anything to go on, so I was excited. Sometimes when I’m going to be interviewed, I know what the interview is going to be about, I have a vague idea of the questions that will come up, I know the sort of things that I need to get across about what I’m there to talk about. But with this, I really had no idea what I was going to be asked, so I had to be prepared for everything and anything, there was a kind of freedom in that I suppose. Because of the unfiltered nature of what was going to happen and not being able to anticipate what might be asked, it was a little nerve wracking yes, but I was mainly just very excited!
Did your experience differ from what you were expecting and if so how?
Well I didn’t know what to expect really, so it’s not that it wasn’t what I was expecting because you can’t expect anything! There's no way you can expect anything because you just don’t know what’s going to happen, and because it is so unfiltered and unpredictable in terms of what might happen, where things might go, how people might be feeling on the day. For all the difficult questions that got asked at times, it just felt very loving and joyful and that everyone was very happy and excited to be there even though people were nervous or had anxiety at different times. There was a genuine feeling of community and I felt very welcomed into that community and ready to play so to speak, and you have to be ready to play. I felt very safe and looked after and it was just really, very funny as well – there was lots of laughter and wonderful things that people asked, responded to and performed, I mean I wasn’t expecting all of that, that was just wonderful! So many moments that I’ll never forget.
How does this compare to any other interview you’ve experienced?
It’s so unfiltered! The closest thing I can say is The One Show, where you go on to talk about one thing and then they ask you about everything else that’s going on on the show, so you get a question about your favourite bus route, then they ask you about otters! There’s an extraordinary pinball effect of questions and that’s the closest I could describe, but The Assembly is that x100. It really is extraordinary and that’s very unlike any other interview I’ve done really, usually everything is meant to follow on logically and have a kind of smoothness and polish to it, and this is just really raw and unfiltered and uncensored and I love that, I thought that was wonderful.
What can viewers expect from the show?
I imagine it will be very funny and I think quite moving. I was quite moved at times by seeing how much people had to struggle to overcome certain things they were dealing with in order to ask questions at times. That was uplifting. I think it will be different, it will be thought provoking I hope, and challenging in certain ways; challenging certain kinds of myths and stereotypes I think and ultimately just really entertaining and fun and joyful. I can’t really remember what I said, so I don’t know what people will learn about me... but it’s not about me, it’s about that fantastic group of people, but I certainly got a huge amount out of it too and I hope an audience will as well.
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knight-princess · 3 days
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Kit’s attitude with Elora all episode seven is so funny and so beautiful like she’s all. hey I have noticed you have been slightly out of character today. No I’m not asking because I care about you shut the fuck up I’m just curious. I’m being deeply introspective about the fact you saved me and I’ve been using you as a scapegoat and a target for all my feelings of abandonment and inadequacy but I’m not ready to say any of this yet but I’m marinating. I’m still mad at you btw. I’ll find you under the stars and we’ll talk and it’ll be a balm to the soul. I’ll watch you as you pour your soul out into training. You’ll collapse at the edge of the world and your need for me will be fuel on the fire I’ve been preparing this whole episode and I’ll embrace you to me and assure you that my sword will ever be yours and if you tell me you’re afraid I’ll press our foreheads together tenderly and tell you that I’ve been afraid too and “my fear, it doesn’t get to decide. I’m not giving it the power. I’m giving it to you” and promise that whatever we face we’ll face it together. we’ll go over the edge holding each other
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Fëanorian Week Day 1: Maedhros
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Prompt: Childhood Word count: 2,061 Summary: Maedhros tries to prepare his speech for Finwë's party at the last moment, but his brothers are always needing his help.
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Maedhros was panicking. Despite having three weeks to prepare for the upcoming family gathering, he had not memorized the speech he was expected to give—and his father had made it very clear that it would mean dishonor on their whole family if Maedhros slipped up.
He understood why this was such a problem—the eldest of Finwë’s grandchildren were each to deliver a speech in honor of his birthday celebration, and the absolute last thing Fëanor wanted was for his eldest son to be outshined by Fingolfin’s son, Fingon—but that put a colossal amount of pressure on Maedhros’s shoulders. And Maedhros had never performed well under pressure.
“Esteemed kin, we gather under Laurelin’s silver glow and Telperion’s golden boughs … no, that’s not right! We gather under Telperion’s silver glow and Laurelin’s golden boughs to celebrate the birthday of my grandfather and King …” Maedhros muttered to himself as he frantically pulled on his formal robes, his tall, burly figure drowning in liquidy red silk gilded with rubies and topaz. As elegant as his clothes looked, his deep red curls were every bit as unmanageable as his mother’s, and he swore loudly as he tried to brush it into submission.
“What do you think Atto would say if he heard you curse like that?” came a voice from the doorway, equal parts smug and reproving. Curufin was leaning on the doorframe, smirking. “Bet he would be angry.”
Maedhros turned and glared at him threateningly. “If you tell him, I’ll throw you off the balcony,” he warned. “What do you want?”
“I can’t tie this,” Curufin said, pulling his long, dark hair aside and motioning to the clasp on the back of his tunic.
“Did you ask Ammë or Atto?”
“They are busy helping the twins get ready.”
Maedhros sighed. “Fine,” he said, striding over and hastily fixing the clasp. “Now go on, I am still getting ready!”
Curufin left without another word—not even a thank-you—and Maedhros went back to fixing his hair, which he ended up just braiding back and decorating with the gold coronet his father had given him earlier. “In his wisdom, he has been more than a grandfather to me, but a friend to all, guiding us in a realm where … did I put ‘creativity’ or ‘passion’?”
He went to his desk and pulled out his notes, squinting at the hastily scrawled lines he had written, scratched out, and smeared many times. He cleared his throat and began to recite the line again, when the sound of footsteps came from the hallway and Maglor burst into his room like an indigo tidal wave.
“Mae! Where are my music sheets?” his brother exclaimed frantically.
“How should I know? They’re your music sheets,” Maedhros answered, but he still felt a pang of distress on his brother’s behalf; Maglor was to be performing his song in public for the first time, and had been meticulous with every detail to avoid being nervous—but if he did not have his music sheets, there could be a huge problem.
“I need them!” his brother stressed. “You’re sure you don’t know?”
“Just calm down, I’m sure they’ll turn up somewhere. Just keep looking,” Maedhros said. Despite this, Maglor did not look at all comforted—in fact, his large black eyes became glassy with tears. Maedhros bit his lip and glanced at the clock; there was only an hour left before they had to leave, and he needed that time to practice his speech …
“Come on, I’ll help you look,” Maedhros said, putting his papers down. Maglor nodded and left, his elder brother following behind him. 
“I’ve checked my room, the workshop, the library, even the kitchens—but I haven’t found them anywhere,” Maglor supplied, wringing his hands.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find them,” Maedhros said, hastily descending the stairs and scanning the large parlor for any sign of the missing music sheets. “Where did you see them last?”
Maglor bit his lip. “Well, I left them on the table there, but when I went to get them they were gone …”
Maedhros groaned. That meant they could be anywhere—the twins certainly could have taken them, and he would not put such sabotage past Celegorm or Curufin either.
Speaking of which, he caught a blond-haired figure slinking down the hall in his periphery. “Celegorm,” he said sternly, “have you seen Maglor’s music sheets?”
The immediate answer was “No,” but Celegorm did not turn to look at him, which made Maedhros very suspicious. “Come out here,” he ordered—and when Celegorm did, both Maedhros and Maglor let out horrified gasps.
“How did that happen?” Maedhros demanded, pointing at the large smear of mud on the front of Celegorm’s robes, which reached all the way up to his cheeks. His hair, which had been clean only a short while ago, was tangled with sticks and leaves. He looked like a wild urchin.
“Huan and I went for a walk,” Celgorm answered sullenly. “He jumped on me.”
Maedhros swore loudly again, slapping a hand to his forehead—if there was one thing that would be more disgraceful than Maedhros forgetting his speech or Maglor missing a few notes of his song, it was Celegorm on any given day. He was already boisterous and rude as it was, but if he showed up at a formal gathering drenched in mud, Fëanor might just erupt into flames. 
“Under no circumstances is Atar to see you like this,” Maedhros said. When Celegorm nodded abjectly, Maedhros added, “I’ll help you change if you tell us where you last saw Mag’s sheets. And I won’t tell our parents.”
Celegorm turned a little red and said, “... I may know where they are.”
As it turned out, Celegorm had hidden them in his room as a joke. When the sheets had been returned to Maglor, Maedhros helped Celegorm pick out another outfit and remove the moss and sticks from his hair before he finally returned to his own room, horrified to discover that nearly thirty minutes had elapsed.
“What a waste of time!” he wailed, snatching up his notes and reading through them once more, the realization creeping up on him that there was no way he could memorize it now. He debated whether he should just shove his notes into his pocket and recite it at Finwë’s celebration, but ultimately decided against it. If he had to, he would just make something up and hope it sounded moving.
“Children! Fifteen minutes!” came the loud voice of his father from downstairs. Maedhros sighed.
“Raise your voices in cheer, for it is the pride of all Finwë’s descendents and people to celebrate and honor the day of his birth, and celebrate what he has done for us.” He could remember that last line well enough, but something about it simply did not sound right. The whole speech would sound terrible; he would never be as good a speaker as his father. Maedhros put his head in his hands and tried to calm his frustration.
A soft knock on his door interrupted his thoughts, and Maedhros quickly looked up to see Caranthir in the doorway. “I don’t want to go to the party,” he said glumly, his grey eyes fixed on the ground. “Ammë says I have to be nice and talk to everyone, and Atar’s making me wear this stupid thing.” He half-heartedly raised his arms to show his disapproval of the plum-and-silver tunic edged with scarlet, which was a far cry from his preferred taste: solid black clothes that would make him blend into any crowd.
Maedhros sighed.
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “At least you don’t have to give a speech.”
Caranthir nodded and shuffled into the room, taking a seat on Maedhros’s bed. “Galadriel is going to make fun of me.”
Maedhros kept back a smile; his golden-haired cousin, just a few years younger than him, certainly did like picking on him at times. “Just try not to get in a fight with her,” he advised, glancing up at the clock. Five ‘til. He did not have time to get into a long conversation with Caranthir about his feelings, which was what usually happened when he came to talk to him.
“That’s why I don’t want to talk to anyone,” Caranthir said, “because no one wants me around anyways, and even when I am around them, they make fun of me!”
“I don’t make fun of you,” Maedhros said, kneeling down in front of him. “Anytime before or after my speech, if you just want to stay close to me, I won’t let anyone bother you—even Galadriel.”
Caranthir looked up at him. “You mean that?” he muttered.
“Of course,” Maedhros promised. 
“Boys! We have to leave now!” their mother called.
Maedhros stood up, trying not to look disappointed—his last precious moments of practice had disappeared, and now he would just have to hope for the best.
Finwë’s party was as resplendent as it was full; all of the Noldor had been invited, as well as his own family, so the High King’s palace was packed with guests, decorations, and fine food.
All Maedhros could think about was the thousands of eyes that would see him completely ruin his speech. He neither ate nor drank, and tried to avoid running into any of his relatives—especially Fingon, his regal, collected, too-polite cousin who was his biggest competition—until the time came.
When all of the guests had taken their seats at the long table in the Dining Hall, Finwë raised his glass and gave a brief welcoming address.
Maedhros frantically played the words of his speech in his mind, willing himself to remember them as his grandfather went on, hardly hearing the words. ‘Esteemed kin, we gather under Telperion’s silver glow and Laurelin’s golden boughs to celebrate the birthday of the High King, my grandfather—
“Mae! It’s time!” Maglor hissed into his ear, making him jump. 
Maedhros looked fearfully around the table, seeing that every single one of the guests had turned to look expectantly at him. They clearly expected something grand from the eldest son of Fëanor. He dared to glance at his father, who had fixed him with a prompting stare that was likely more intense than he intended, but it gave him no confidence.
Maedhros swallowed and began to stand up, but Caranthir—who was sitting on his other side—pressed something into his hand. “Take this,” he whispered.
It was Maedhros’s speech—but not the dirty, messy paper he had left at home. It was neat, organized, and clear, and more than that, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand without being noticed. Relief flooded him, and he looked down at Caranthir, who gave him the barest smile and nodded for him to continue.
“Esteemed guests,” Maedhros began, “We are gathered under Telperion’s silver glow and Laurelin’s golden boughs to celebrate the birthday of the High King, my grandfather Finwë.” His voice, rather than being a shaking, muttering mess, was clear and resonant, like that of a confident lord who was reciting words he knew by heart. “In his wisdom and kindness, he has guided us since our begetting, fostering the forge of our passions with love that burns as brightly as the stars above. Never have I heard him speak a harsh word, make a wrong decision, or make anyone—myself included—feel like we are less than him. He is the best King, and the best grandfather, the Noldor could have asked for—gifted by the Valar in more ways than we could count. Without him, the world would be a much darker place. So, let us raise our voices in joy to honor his birthday, and may we do the same for every year to come.”
The assembly erupted in applause, pride swelling in their hearts for both their King and the eloquent young Prince who honored him.
Maedhros caught his parents’ eyes, and saw that they were beaming with joy, his father clapping heartily along with the rest. Pride filled Maedhros’s heart, and he sat down before his legs gave way beneath him. He hardly heard Fingon’s speech past the pounding in his heart, remnants from his earlier panic—he still could hardly believe he’d done it. Far from failing miserably, he had received a standing ovation!
He looked down at the little paper in his hand, finally processing it; where had it come from? That was not his messy scrawl on the sheet, but Curufin’s neat print, surprisingly enough. He glanced quizzically at Maglor, who leaned in and whispered: “It was the least we could do after you sacrificed all your time to help us, brother.”
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I know I'm a day late, and I'm quite ashamed of myself ... who eagerly awaits their favorite challenge for an entire year and then starts participating late!? I really hope you forgive me, @feanorianweek, and I hope this story is still entertaining! If you want context for the narrative of my stories, read this post!
Despite how challenging this story was to write, I had so much fun with it - I really feel like I nailed that frantic time preparing for a formal event with so many people, and I wanted to focus on Maedhros in his adolescence; not as refined or eloquent as he will become later, but always there to help his little brothers (however reluctantly) and always striving to be a noble leader!
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lunasfics · 6 months
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Found Family
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summary: In which Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent engage in a custody battle over a clone created from both their DNA, or, in which you get saved from a lab and gain two new families who would move mountains for you.
pairing: Bat Family x f! Reader, Supers x f! Reader
word count: 8.2k
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a/n: hello! IT'S FINALLY OUT WOOHOO, it's a bit long but i had a lot of fun writing it. certain characters may be a bit ooc so i do apologize as i'm still getting my footing on how to characterize certain people. let me know what you think! constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated (just pls don't be mean lol)! i left a somewhat open-ish ending because i wanna make this into a series/universe, and will start taking requests for drabbles in this universe, depending on how this is received! - luna :)
reblogs are appreciated!
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“I’m in. Robin, what’s your status?” Bruce spoke into the earpiece, swiftly moving through the shadows of the lab. It was a simple mission: get into the lab Lex Luthor had created under Gotham City, collect intel needed to take down said lab, and leave. Unfortunately, it’s never really that simple, is it? 
“I’m in, making my way through the west wing, cover is still intact,” Damian muttered back. 
“Good. Nightwing?” 
“Just entered the center lab, heading down to the bottom level now, haven't been spotted,” Dick said, making his way down the steps, careful to remain silent. 
“Good. Remember the objective. In and Out.” Bruce muttered as he continued, searching for the locked file cabinet he was looking for. 
“Files located. Ready for extraction” Damian said quietly through the intercom. 
“I’ve made it to the bottom level. Requesting immediate backup, there's something here you guys need to see” Dick’s voice echoed through the earpiece, “They’ve made another clone.” 
Bruce stopped what he was doing, silently making his way down the hall towards the staircase Dick took around a half hour before, “I'm on my way. Damian?”
“Heading there now. Files are downloaded.” 
Upon arriving at the lower level, Dick bypasses security to let them in, making sure to reactivate the lock behind them, “Look.”
He gestured to the incubation tube not far from them, inside of it stood a young woman, who looked no older than 20, wearing a black skin-tight suit, a familiar “S” symbol adorning her chest, only it was the center of another symbol, the bat symbol, with bat ears at the top and bat wings on either side of it, a dark burgundy color with gold lining along the edges. The plaque below the tube read: 
Attempt 1: G6B24 
Specimen 1: Superman (Identity: Unknown)
Specimen 2: Batman (Identity: Unknown) 
Status: Failed - Shows excessive signs of emotional intelligence (unfit for purpose), Subject is not invulnerable, Lacks thermal vision
‘Emotional Intelligence’ you must have shown hesitation, a moral compass. 
“Father… what are we going to do?” Damian asked, he was at a loss, part of him felt slightly threatened, if you were taken in, he would no longer be the only child related to Bruce by DNA, and you were older, stronger— perhaps you would take his place, the place he’d finally felt he truly belonged; however he remained silent, his past self likely would have attempted to argue against your rescue, but he’d grown, he knew deep down you deserved a chance at this life just as much as he did. 
Bruce looked up at your unconscious figure, at a loss for words, you were his daughter, intentional or not, there was a part of him in you, he only hoped that part wouldn't screw you over for life. As surprised as he was, he had an obligation to you the same way he did with Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Barbara, Duke, Damian, and every other vigilante he had taken under his wing.
His Batman instincts kicked in very quickly though, immediately refocusing himself, reading through the files, in an attempt to prepare himself for any possible scenario, he turned to Dick. 
“Find all the DNA samples they have belonging to both me and Superman, we’re taking them,” he said, making sure to not hyper-focus on the thoughts flooding his mind. 
“We’re not just leaving her here, are we? The plaque says ‘failed’. Who knows what could happen to her?” Dick said, he was frustrated.
Conner had gotten a chance to build a life for himself. You deserved one too, the mere thought of Bruce wanting to leave you there angered him. 
“She’s coming with us. Damian, watch the door, Dick, find the samples," Bruce said gruffly, moving to the tube, bypassing the database to open it, without setting off any system safeguards. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out his shard of kryptonite, just in case it was needed to neutralize you. 
The tube opened slowly, a swoosh sound filling the air as the cold fog escaped the tube, spilling into the air, your eyes fluttering open as you looked around, your eyes focusing on him.
You flew at him, full speed, pushing him against the wall with a thud, knocking the wind out of him, your eyes boring into his, glowing red, just as you were about to terminate him with your heat vision, he uttered the safe word he had seen in your file. 
“Blue Pineapple” he grunted out, the red in your eyes fading away instantly, as you stared at him with wide eyes. You backed away slowly, lowering yourself to the floor. Your eyes fixed on him once again.
You recognized him from your programming, the man whose combat skills were engraved into your mind.
“Batman?” 
Dick and Damian rushed over, making sure Bruce was okay. He was fine.
Dick turned to you, holding out his hand, “Come with me. We need to get you out of here, you aren’t safe here.” 
You stared at him, your eyes narrowing, “Why should I trust you?” 
Dick sighed, Those damn Wayne genetics, he kept his hand extended to you, “Because we’re helping you escape, if you come with us, you can meet Superman, be a hero just like him and Batman, you could actually see the world” he promised. 
"I know what the world looks like." you stated bluntly.
He sighed, his hand not wavering, "But have you ever experienced it? Let us show you what that's like. You can have a life."
You thought for a moment, before letting out a small grunt, nodding at him and taking his hand, allowing them to lead you out of the lab grounds seemingly undetected. 
When you stepped out, you stopped, eyes completely transfixed on the brilliant night sky. Blends of blues and purples and grays danced together to make the beautiful endless abyss above you. You knew every color there was. You knew everything, but at the same time you really didn't. You stared up at the stars, you knew how they came to be, you knew every scientific explanation there was yet seeing them… it made you feel a way you couldn’t explain.
They led you to the batmobile, situating you in the back seat with Damian, starting the drive to the Batcave. Bruce dialed Clark’s number into the keypad, it rang twice before he picked up. 
“Hello?” 
“Meet me in the Batcave. It’s urgent. Bring Conner.”
“What’s going o-”
He hung up. 
Dick covered his mouth to hide his snicker, “So, Bruce, you and Clark have an official love child now, right? What will Lois think?” he feigned concern, placing the back of his hand over his forehead, committing to the drama, “Oh, how scandalous, I mean really, the shame! I can already see the headlines ‘Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne turned common whore after breaking up happy metropolis family’” 
Damian covered his laugh with a cough.
You looked at the three of them, utterly confused, still processing what was going on. 
Bruce huffed, shooting them both a glare, “Dick, be mature.” 
Dick smiled, “I can't help myself, just wait til Jason finds out.” He smiled in excitement, as they pulled into the side entrance of the Batcave. 
Bruce let out a deep, tired sigh.
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Clark sat in silence in the Batcave, Conner standing to his left, his eyes wide as he stared at you, possessing some features belonging to both he and Bruce, and other features that seemed to be entirely your own.
You stared back, that same stoic nature radiating off of you that radiates off the Batman, however, he noted the defensive look in your eyes, one so similar to the one he saw in Conner when he first met him. He eyed your suit, noting the familiar “S” symbol, only it was a burgundy color, a rather interesting combination of the Batman and Superman emblems, and he was utterly confused.
He looked over at Bruce, still in his bat suit, his cowl pulled off, “Bruce, what the hell is going on?” 
“I had to call you here because Luthor decided to create another clone. I did the DNA test, Clark, she’s a combination of both our DNA” Bruce looked at him, Dick and Damian standing to his right. It was silent for a moment, you felt like a guinea pig, the way they all stared at you. It made you angry. 
Conner was the first to speak, stepping forward before opening his mouth, choosing his words carefully, “What’s your name?” 
You responded immediately, it felt automatic. “Experiment attempt number one. Code G6B24. I was made to be the future killer of the Batman and the Kriptonian.” 
He nodded slowly, “I’m a clone too, and Clark took me in— well, he took me in eventually— that’s besides the point. He showed me how to become my own person, we can help you do that too.”
You looked at him, eyes softening ever so slightly, but you kept your guard up like your Batman programming taught you to. “I was made to be a killer, if I don’t do what I was made to do, what am I worth?” you said quietly, voice unwavering.
Damian watched you, your words striking him in a way he hadn't expected them to, he understood what you were saying all too well. 
Bruce decided to speak up next, “You were created, it’s not your fault what their intentions were when they did so. What you become from here on out is your choice.” 
You stayed silent, eyes darting around the room—What is this feeling? Vulnerability? You knew it by definition, like you did most other feelings, but feeling them… it was different. 
Dick noted the way you seemed overwhelmed, he approached you slowly, pulling up two chairs, motioning for you to sit, you chose to remain standing until he sat down first. 
“You know, we trust you, we want to figure out a way for you to become the best you can be. On your terms” he said, offering you a small smile. 
You looked around, the others nodded in agreement, “I was made to be only the best parts of you” you said, your gaze focusing on Clark and Bruce, they both put their best qualities forward to help others, how could you use those same qualities to destroy that?
“I… don’t want to be a killer. They said I was too… human. I thought I’d failed them.” 
Damian decided to step forward, “You didn’t fail anyone, you are meant for greater things. You haven't killed anyone, you can choose your path. If the path you choose is the Robin mantle... I am willing to work with that.” 
At this, the other men in the room turned to look at him, Clark and Conner were slack-jawed, this was the same kid who fought Tim tooth and nail over this mantle. The same mantle he was just… willing to give you? 
Meanwhile Dick had a proud smile on his face, you thought you saw a small tear in his eye.
Bruce’s face seemed unreadable, however, you took notice of the way the corners of his lips turned up for a split second. before reverting back to their natural state. 
You weren’t sure what to say, again, you knew what this mantle was, by definition. The reality was you had no sense of what it meant, the weight it carried. And you knew that.
“Thank you, but I feel like that title isn’t mine to take. I think I need to… become something that's true to who I am, whatever that may be.”  
Bruce looked at you, the corner of his lip barely twitching up into a smile, a smile so subtle that only someone of your… background would notice, an attempt of his towards getting you more comfortable, “We should start with a name.” 
You looked at Conner, he gave you an encouraging smile. 
“Like I chose Conner, so now I’m Conner Kent,” he said with a small shrug, “You can choose whatever you want.” 
“I see,” you thought for a moment, “I like Y/n.” 
Clark smiled, standing up and clapping his hands together, “Great! Y/n Kent, has a nice ring to it.” 
“Wayne.” 
He turned towards Bruce, eyes narrowing slightly, “Kent.”
“Wayne.”
This time Conner spoke, “Kent.”
The three men stared at each other, arms crossed mirroring each-other’s glares. 
Dick cut in, “How about Grayson?”
“No.” came their simultaneous response. 
Dick frowned, slumping in the seat next to yours, “Jeez.” 
Damian spoke next, “I suppose Al Ghul is off the table…” 
Dick snorted, breaking out into a fit of laughter, you grinned softly at the sounds of his laughter, it reminded you of a windshield wiper. 
Conner sighed, “Fine, what about Wayne-Kent?”
Bruce huffed, “I suppose.”
Clark nodded, the smile returning to his face as he turned to you, “Y/n Wayne-Kent”
You nodded, “I like it.” 
Dick could help but laugh from beside you, “It's like I'm watching reality tv. Love me some baby mama drama.”
Clark opened his mouth to speak and closed it, before sighing and looking at Bruce, who just pinched the bridge of his nose. 
Conner chuckled at the sight, turning to Damian, who’s lip quirked up in amusement. 
Bruce looked up, his attention directed towards you, “Y/n, you can stay here for the night, I’ve asked Alfred to set up a room for you. Clark, Conner, come by tomorrow with Lois and Jon, I’ve called the others to come by as well, we’ll get everything situated tomorrow. For now, get some rest.” 
Everyone nodded, Clark and Conner heading to the exit of the cave, Damian, Dick and Bruce leading you to the room that was prepared for you. 
Dick brought you a sweater and some sweatpants to change into, closing the door with a soft, “Goodnight, kiddo.” 
You changed in silence, slowly getting under the covers and drifting off to sleep, marking the start of your new life. Tomorrow would be an interesting day. 
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You woke up the next morning, to a soft knock on the door, your super hearing picking it up better than you would have liked. You opened the door, revealing an older man you hadn’t seen before. He smiled softly, giving you an instantaneous sense of comfort you couldn’t explain. 
“Hello Miss Y/n. My name is Alfred, I am the butler,” he greeted you, handing you a folded set of clothes, “Master Kent chose these for you, however if they are not to your liking, do let me know.” 
“They’re fine…Thank you.”
He smiled warmly, the kind old man giving you a nod, “Once you've changed, do come down, I’ve prepared breakfast. The other members of the family will arrive soon to meet you.” 
You gave him a short nod, he smiled again, your demeanor reminding him of the young Bruce he’d looked after all those years ago. He shut your door softly before retreating down the staircase, leaving you in your room to change. 
You picked up the small note that rested at the top of the pile, reading it over. 
Comfortable, Practical, and cool. Hope you like it. - Conner
You looked down at the neatly folded clothes, unfolding a black long sleeve turtleneck shirt, the material was thick but breathable, you slipped it on with ease, the foreign material soft against your skin, you appreciated that it didn’t suffocate you. 
You reached for the pants next, dark gray cargo pants, these were thicker, and the had an overwhelming amount of pockets. You slipped them on before slipping on the boots that were at the bottom of the stack and exiting the room, going down the staircase. 
Upon entering the dining room, you were met with Bruce sitting at the head of the table, reading the paper calmly eating his pancakes, to his right sat Dick chatting excitedly to the boy next to him, who smiled at him as he listened, he was a slender boy with black hair who looked a bit younger than Dick. Then there was Alred, calmly enjoying his breakfast. Finally there was Damian on the other side of Bruce, leaving an empty seat between Damian and Alred. You sat down, the pale boy noticing you first. 
Bruce looked up, “Tim, this is Y/n.” 
“Hello.” You sat up awkwardly. One thing you never learned was how to navigate social interactions.
He studied you for a moment, offering you a small smile, “I’m Tim.” 
You gave a nod, returning his smile with a smaller one of your own. 
“She knows, by the way.” Dick chimed in.
His eyes widened, was that why you were there? 
“How?” 
All eyes are on you. You opened your mouth to speak but Damian spoke first. 
“She’s a clone. Father will explain everything when everyone else arrives so as to not waste time, until then, hold on to your childish curiosity. I’d like to enjoy my breakfast.” 
Dick nodded, “She was literally made for this shit.”
“Watch your language Master Dick, it is deplorable to speak in such a way at the table, much less in the presence of a lady.” 
Dick blushed, “Sorry Alfred.” 
Bruce simply gave a nod. 
Tim slumped back in his seat, wanting to ask you questions about your abilities, your earliest memories, who were you a clone of, how your programming worked, the boy was itching to know it all. 
Breakfast passed by relatively quickly after that, you weren’t bombarded with questions, much to your relief. Alfred kindly asked you how you slept to which you replied that you slept well. The sound of casual conversation and glassware scraping together filling the room. You enjoyed observing the atmosphere.
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Clark and Conner were the first to arrive at the manor, greeting you happily, with them was a woman and a younger boy, who immediately went to sit by Damian. 
Clark brought them over to you, the woman smiled warmly at you. It made you feel safe. 
She held your hand in hers, “My name is Lois,” her voice was kind, genuine. You noted how she carried herself. Strong, secure, honest. 
Clark was quick to bring Jon over, excited to introduce him, “This is my son, Jon.”
“Hi!”  he beamed at you, you smiled, he was cute. Cheerful as he smiled brightly at you. 
“Hello, my name is Y/n.” you greeted the two, who smiled at you.
Conner was the next to approach, “Did you like the clothes? I picked them out cause it was all I used to wear, but who knows, you may want something more… fashionable.”
You smiled softly, “They're nice, thank you.”
“On that note actually,” Clark said, “I was thinking we can take you shopping later, Bruce and I can pay.” 
Bruce deadpanned, “That’s a joke, right?” 
He smiled, “Of course, you’re paying for everything.”
“Sounds about right.” 
Chatter filled the room not long after, Jon and Damian catching up on the couch while Conner and Tim started a conversation of their own. 
The next people to arrive were three young women, blonde, brunette, and red hair. They had arrived together.
The blonde spoke first, “Why'd you call us here Bruce? We had planned for brunch.” She bitterly narrowed her eyes at him, the brunette behind her giving a short nod of agreement.
Bruce sighed, “We’re waiting on Jason. He’s late.” 
“As always.” The redhead said with a sigh, though you could see she wasn't actually upset.  
The blonde girl turned to you first smiling, “I’m Stephanie, but call me Steph. I’m assuming you’ll be joining our vigilante posse.” She seemed funny, and kind, like she truly cared for those around her. 
“Somewhat, I don’t really know. I’m Y/n.” You said bluntly.
“Pretty name.” She smiled, gesturing to the red haired woman behind her, “This is Barbara, but she's really just Babs.” She then gestured to the brunette, “That’s Cass. She’s lovely.” 
You looked at them and nodded, “It’s nice to meet you.”
Barbara smiled warmly at you, “You too, I’m so glad there’ll be another girl around, we can always use more company.” She smiled at you so kindly, despite having only just met you. Her voice was sweet, like honey. 
Cass smiled softly at you, “Come to brunch with us later. Or, lunch, now since Jason is holding us up.” 
You nodded your lip quirking up into a small smile, “I’d enjoy that.” 
Truthfully, you didn't know what the fuck brunch was. But she said lunch and that you knew. You'd find out about brunch later.
Then, as if on cue, the man in question arrived, walking through the door, slipping off his brown jacket and tossing it on the couch. He was tall, with a stocky frame, jet black hair with a white streak on the front. 
“This better be good.” 
Tim mumbled, “Finally” 
“Miss me Timmy?” 
“Quite the contrary.”
The one called Jason laughed before giving him a small nudge, to which Tim swatted his hand away. 
His eyes fixed on you, then on Bruce. 
“Dude, seriously? Another one? You have a problem man. You’d think you would’ve stopped after me.” 
Bruce stood up, “Jason, sit down. Now that you’re all here I wanted to introduce you to Y/n. She’s a clone, made from both mine, and Clark’s DNA.” 
“Holy shit, man.” 
“Jason, will you shut up?” 
“Never.” 
“As I was saying, she’ll be here in the manor for the time being, I’ll be training her and assessing her combat technique.” 
“Hold on,” Clark interjected, “She should come with us, she needs to get the hang of her powers.” 
“Clark, I have a state of the art training area in the cave.” 
“So? We’re supers, all we need is an open field.” 
“We need to assess her combat skills, and also assess the extent of her powers. She isn’t invulnerable. We need to prioritize getting to the bottom of that.” 
Clark huffed but nodded, understanding the full extent of your abilities was vital in actually training you. 
“It’s like I’m watching a custody battle.” muttered Steph, Barbara laughing quietly beside her. 
“Wait- So Y/n is basically if you and Clark had a baby?” Tim gawked at them, his eyes shifting from Bruce to Clark, to you. When his eyes landed on you, he fired questions like he was on a time limit. 
“How do Bruce’s genetics affect your abilities? Are you immune to kryptonite and invulnerable? How does your thermal vision work? Enhanced strength? Can you fly? Can you fly as fast as Superman? Do you have combat training? How do y-” 
Conner smacked a hand over his mouth, leading him back to his seat, “Lets try not to overwhelm her with the questions.” He chuckled. 
Tim nodded, looking up at you, “Sorry, Y/n.” 
“That’s okay. To answer your questions, his genetics don’t necessarily have a huge impact on any of my abilities, I was created with every available video of Batman fighting embedded into my mind, and the combat skills were engraved in my memory, I should be able to replicate his fighting style to a tee. I’m not invulnerable, but in theory, the stealth I was programmed with allows me to stay agile enough that I shouldn’t often get hurt. I don't have thermal vision, but I do have laser vision, enhanced strength, and flight, although I haven’t tested how fast I actually can fly. And like I said, my combat training is essentially the combat footage uploaded into my mind.” 
Tim had nodded, eyes trained on yours in complete interest as you answered each question, occasionally jotting something down on the notes app of his phone. 
Lois narrowed her eyes slightly at both Bruce and Clark, “I do hope you’re factoring in giving her the opportunity to build an actual social life. Maybe get her enrolled in school.” 
“She has doctorate-level information on several different topics stored into her mind, as well as fluency in 8 languages. I think she’ll be fine, Lois,” Bruce replied. 
She rolled her eyes, “Okay, so school’s not necessary, what about building a social life for herself? That’s important.” 
“There’s Young Justice,” Conner said, “I figured she’d join.” 
Tim nodded in agreement, “I can help her get situated.” 
“Where will I stay?” you asked, you didn’t particularly enjoy how they were all discussing you as if you weren't there, but there honestly wasn’t much you could do. 
“You can stay at the manor, or you can stay with the team, but it'd be best if you lived here in the Manor.” Bruce replied.
“Why isn’t Metropolis an option?” Clark muttered. 
“Because it’s more practical to have her here in Gotham, living with Tim will make it easier to adjust to the team.” 
“I want time with her, Bruce.” 
“You’ll get it. We’ll have her assessed, then three times a week she’ll train and get a hold of her powers with you.” 
Clark nodded, satisfied with that answer. 
Lois spoke again, turning to you, “Y/n, how does that sound to you?” 
You blinked. “It sounds fine. My super hearing allows me to hear every conversation proficiently.”
She chuckled softly, “It’s a figure of speech sweetheart, I meant if you’re okay with everything that was said, you’ve been a bit quiet.”
You felt your face grow hot, “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay with it.”
Clark gave you a fond smile. 
Bruce looked at you and smiled softly, a barely noticeable one, but a smile nonetheless. 
The bulk of the conversation was over. The people in the room falling into easy conversation with one another, you look around, not sure what to do. That is until Jason approaches you, a kind smile on his face. 
“Hey Y/n, I’m Jason, I’ll be honest, you probably won't see me too often cause I can barely stand being around Bruce, but… if he’s ever a dick, call me and I’ll either punch him for you and take you somewhere he’s not.” he grinned, “Or both.” 
You laughed softly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
He nodded, “I’ll be raiding the kitchen, but if anyone asks, I left.” He shoots you a grin before slipping away. 
It’s not long after that when Jon approaches you, Damian by his side, he shoots you a toothy grin, “So, you’re like, my sister now, right?” 
You’re not sure how to respond, but you feel a puddle of warmth pooling in your heart, it’s nice. You smile at him softly, “I suppose so.” 
He grins, “And that would also make you Damian’s sister. right?”
“I suppose so.” 
“See Damian, we’re blood brothers by extension.” 
“Jon, that is the most imbecilic logic I’ve ever encountered. Just because Y/n is both my blood and yours doesn’t mean–” 
“Blood brothers!” He had shouted cheerfully, before walking away and over to Lois to inform her of the good news. 
Damian sighed, though you took notice of the soft smile that flashed across his face, you concluded that he cared for him. 
A lot of people in this family– Bruce’s family specifically, tend to hide affection, despite the fact that it is apparent to you that they feel it. You decide not to focus on it, people are complicated. 
You chat a bit with various people in the room, Lois telling you that you’re always welcome to visit whenever you’d like, Barbara talking to you about how her work as Oracle, Steph telling you all about the other vigilantes you’ll probably end up crossing paths with. Tim and Conner sat by you, telling you all about the team and the people you’ll meet once all your training is done. 
Slowly, people start to leave, you saw Jason slip out the front door first, sending you a wink. Dick left not long after, needing to return to his responsibilities in Bludhaven, making sure to tell you you’re always welcome to visit him over there. Then Clark left with Lois, Jon, and Conner, leaving the residents of the manor plus, Cass, Steph and Barbara.
Damian and Tim had retreated to their rooms, while Alfred busied himself with household chores, Bruce stood up, approaching you before saying, “Did you still want to go shopping? You’ll need training clothes.” 
You nodded, “Yes, please.” 
Steph perked up, rushing towards the two of you, “Oh, we have to come.” 
“Steph, you go shopping every week. With my card.”
Barbara chimed in, “It’s not about that Bruce, you have a terrible fashion sense. We can’t let you impose that onto Y/n.”
Cass nodded in agreement. 
“We’re just buying training clothes.” 
“She can’t wear training clothes in her daily life,” Steph rolled her eyes, “She needs a wardrobe.” 
You smiled, “I would like a wardrobe.” 
“See?”
Bruce sighed but nodded, “Let's go then.”
Steph cheered while Barbara and Cass high-fived behind her, it was an amusing site. 
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When you arrived at the mall, Steph immediately linked arms with you, dragging you around to her favorite stores, paying no mind to your super strength potentially being able to accidentally break her arm. It caught you off guard, not only the physical display of affection, but the trust.
Again, you felt that soft puddle of warmth pool in your chest. You could get used to that. 
You had gotten to know Barbara and Cass fairly well during the trip as well, Barbara was sweet, she and Steph made you laugh more than you thought you could. Cass and you got along well too, she picked out the clothes you liked the most, always nodding in approval when you would try anything on, a soft smile on her face. The three of them opened their group up to you so quickly, it had surprised you, you felt that with their company you were better able to navigate finding yourself. 
The four of you hadn’t paid much mind to Bruce trailing behind you as you went from store to store, not that he minded. He held a fond smile as he observed the four of you giggling, talking, and having a good time.
He knew his focus on training was important, but he also knew Lois was right (not that he’d admit that to anyone), you needed a social life too. And he knew your heightened emotional intelligence would surely allow you to obtain that, you just needed to blossom, and allow yourself to break free of the restraints you put on yourself. 
He’d lost count of how many times he had swiped his card that day, at some point he had decided to just start waiting by the front, once you guys were ready, he’d walk over, swipe his card, and you guys would move on to the next shop. He wouldn't say this to anyone, but he enjoyed doing things like this, taking care of the people he cares about. 
The last store you had gone to was WayneTech, it was Bruce’s idea. You needed a phone in order to keep everyone’s contacts. So they brought you there where you got the latest model of their cell phone line, it was sleek and thin. You picked out a case and you got a screen protector. Bruce had told you that once you got to the Batcave he’d input league contacts, safety features, as well as league-level security settings. 
By the end of the trip it was early in the evening, Bruce had his arms absolutely filled with shopping bags, and what he couldn’t carry was carried by you and Steph. The five of you stepped out into the parking lot, the sun setting, casting a deep orange hue on the parking lot. You took in the image in front of you, you didn’t know suns could set so beautifully.
The ride home was nice, the car was filled with the soft chatter of the four of you, Bruce didn’t feel the need to listen in. The soft music playing on the stereo as a background was a nice addition to the atmosphere. 
When you’d arrived at the manor, the girls had bid you goodbye, but not before making sure they had your number to add you to their group chat. You were warned by Steph that Cass’s meme game could not be beat. You were slightly confused but nodded, a happy smile on your face. They each gave you a hug before getting in their cars and heading off. 
The walk into the manor was silent, but not awkward, mainly the two of you taking armfuls of bags up to your room.
As he shut the door, Bruce turned to you, “It’s not too late, if you want, we could start out on some training.” 
You nodded, going into your room to change, “I’ll be down there in a bit.” 
He nodded, walking away to change as well. 
You entered the Batcave shortly after, comfortable in your black sweatpants, and a black long sleeve athletic shirt. Now, having a better opportunity to take it all in, it was massive. You looked to your left to see Damian sparring with Tim in one of the further training areas. You walked over to Bruce, he gave you a small smile, leading you to the second training area by Tim and Damian, who by now had stopped sparring, in favor of observing your skill. 
“You can replicate my fighting style to a tee, right?”
You nodded.
“Let’s see it.” 
You charged first, making sure to suppress your strength, your movements swift and calculated, landing a fast right kick to his abdomen. He sidestepped, landing a swift punch to your side. You kept attempting attacks on eachother, each one dodging the other flawlessly.
Tim and Damian watched in awe as the two of you gracefully moved, as if you were dancing. This went on for several minutes, until you attempted a fast left kick to his side, which he caught, using as leverage to flip you over on your back.
Your limbs ached, you looked up at him, “How did you do that?”
He held a hand out to help you up, “I’m not as fast with my left kicks as I am with my right ones. My weaknesses are your weaknesses.”
You nodded. Made sense. 
“You have good technique, and you replicate my fighting perfectly, but that’s all it is. A replication. You need to make it your own. Adapt it in accordance with your abilities, you can’t do that now because Clark hasn’t trained you, but in time you will.” 
You nodded, your chest swelling with pride at his compliment, you knew after your training with Clark you would be able to better adjust your fighting style.
Damian walked over to you, “Y/n. I’d like to spar, you’ve proven to be a worthy opponent.” 
You nodded, it would be good to spar with someone with a different fighting style. Tim sat down to the side, perfectly content with just observing for now, like earlier, he occasionally jotted down some notes on his phone. You decided you didn’t mind it. It was endearing. 
This time, Damian charged first, landing a swift right kick to your ribs, you turned and landed a hard kick to his chest, sending him back, before he flipped and caught himself, running towards you again. His smaller frame provided him with an advantage as he jumped onto your shoulders, before he could land his blow, you flipped your body, sending him to the floor, landing on his back with a thud. You crouched over him, extending your hand.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” he took your hand, getting up to his feet, you gave him a soft smile, which he returned, giving you a nod of approval. He, like Bruce, didn’t often use his words, but you were able to discern their intentions just fine. 
Bruce then led you to a machine he had in the cave, where it analyzed your genetics in comparison to Clark’s, he had determined you were missing the genetic composition that happened to be the main source of invulnerability, therefore the reason you were the way you were. You are unfortunately still weak when exposed to kryptonite. 
You were tired by the end of the night. You felt you had bonded with Damian, he had asked you to spar with him another time, to which you agreed.
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The next day, Bruce had sent you over to Smallville, where Clark had decided on training you, ‘A good old fashioned open field’ were his exact words.
He made sure to send you wearing your original suit, not knowing how fast you would be flying, just in case, only you didn’t like it, so you opted to wear some sweats over the suit. 
And there you were, floating about 300 feet in the air with him, as he explained the basics of flying. 
“You want to create your own leverage, using your flight, you should be able to do this.” He bent one leg, tilting to the right as he effortlessly glided in that direction, he repeated the action only now going in the opposite direction. 
You nodded, imitating his movements, gliding from side to side before stopping and looking at him. He smiled brightly at you, “You’re doing great, kid. There was never a point where you didn’t have powers, so this should be easy. Now, we’ll test your speed.” 
You nodded, “How are we doing that?”
He pulled out a stopwatch, “I’m going to wait here while you fly to Gotham and back. You know the route?” 
You nodded. 
“Okay… and…. Go!”
You immediately shot forward, a slightly bumpy start but your body adapted immediately, you felt the wind whip through your hair, and a smile spread across your face as you made a U-turn around Gotham, making it back to Clark in seconds. 
“2.6 seconds. That’s good.” He smiled at you. 
You went on like that for the next few hours, him giving you encouraging words of advice, and you gained better control over your abilities, him providing you with tips he learned over the years. For that last hour, Jon and Conner joined the two of you, the four of you eventually just playing air tag until Martha and Lois called you in for dinner. 
They insisted you stay for dinner, and you had no mind to refuse, spending time with them was nice. Jon insisted he sat next to you at dinner, excitedly talking your ear off about whatever he’d gotten to that day, and sharing his favorite stories about Damian with you. He acts like he doesn't like people, but he’s got a soft spot for a lot of us, were his exact words. You honestly completely agreed, you smiled at him as he continued talking. 
That day you’d gotten to know Martha and Jonanthan Kent, who insisted you called them Ma and Pa. They instantly coddled you as if they’d known you since birth, though, in a way, that is technically the case. 
They didn't let you leave empty handed, sending you off with tupper-ware filled with leftovers, cookies and pie. You thanked them for their hospitality and headed back to the manor. 
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The next few months were mainly doing morning and evening training with Bruce, occasionally Dick would stop by to train with you, always telling you he was proud of your improvement, which never failed to make you glow just a little brighter with pride. He’d begun a tradition where he would treat you to a burger after training, or whatever it was you were craving. He said that it was his goal to get you to try every fast food joint in Gotham, deciding that it was just an essential part of living there. You quickly decided you hated fast food, but never said anything because that wasn’t at all what mattered to you, what mattered to you was the bond you were creating with your older brother. 
Your relationship with Bruce wasn’t perfect. There were times you saw how focused he was on his mission, neglecting the feelings of those around him, he could be an asshole. And with you still navigating your emotions, you’d get angry and yell, and so would he. If you saw him brushing off Damian, or Tim, one look at the crestfallen expressions on their faces was enough to get you angry. You shouldn’t have been surprised, truthfully, you weren’t. You were too similar. You were just fortunate enough to be surrounded by people early on who could convince you to let them in. 
Regardless of the imperfections between you and Bruce, you knew he cared. He always showed it with the small smile he’d give you as he held up two tickets to the movie you had wanted to see. Or in the way he’d lure everyone into the living room with snacks for a movie night. Or how he’d try his best to always express to you that you were doing well. That you were enough, and that you deserved to be there. 
You’d grown closer with Tim, too, always willing to help him with his assignments (not that he often needed it, but on the rare occasions his sleep deprived self couldn’t wrap his head around a problem). You’d often go to him when you needed help figuring something out on your phone, to which he would offer a simple solution you hadn’t seen before.
Tim was kind, he showed he cared for you by fixing things, when you cracked your screen protector by accidentally tapping it too hard, he made you a new one that could withstand the force of a bullet. He learned to confide in you over time, telling you about Bernard, expressing his worries to you about whether or not he’s good enough. You’d always tell him he was more than good enough. 
Damian had taken to calling you ‘sister’, often challenging and teasing you when he could, you’d developed a relationship where he’d go to you for company. You’d sit in the garden and take in the life around you, while he sat a few feet away and drew it.
Once, he drew you while you weren’t looking, when he finished, he handed it to you without a word and walked away. In the bottom right corner you read ‘Y/n Wayne-Kent’ in neat handwriting, just below that, ‘sister’. That was the first time he’d used that word for you. Your heart swelled. 
You continued seeing Steph, Barbara, and Cass, regularly having lunch with them and talking with them on the phone. Barbara, or as you now called her, Babs, was always there to guide you when you needed it, she’d often send you small gifts from time to time, like jewelry that reminded her of you.
Cass and you would often find the most peaceful company in each other. She would listen to you talk about all the things you'd been learning, telling you about her own experience adjusting to a new life.
Steph and you bonded over poorly written hallmark movies, she always giggled madly when you would point out plot inconsistencies, wearing the most confused expression she had ever seen on a person, you didn’t understand why at first, you would just state facts, but you always enjoyed the time with her. She always says you guys should start a podcast, and you always agree. You hope she never asks you what a podcast is... because you genuinely didn't know.
True to his word, you didn’t see Jason often, but there were a few instances  where you felt particularly suffocated by Bruce’s training that you took him up on his offer to take you somewhere he wasn’t. Those moments were... nice. Every time, he would bring food, and take you to his apartment, where you talked about books and he introduced you to some of his favorite movies. You didn’t know why he and Bruce didn’t get along, but you chose not to pry.
Alfred had taken a liking to you instantly, he enjoyed giving you etiquette lessons, and would bake all kinds of scones and cookies for you to try. His humor was at times very dry and sarcastic, which never failed to make you laugh. He taught you how to bake once, finding you were exceptionally good at it, ‘Miss Y/n, I think we’ve found your natural talent’. You hadn’t expected to be good at it, but Alfred said you were phenomenal. 
You’d also train with Clark 3 times a week, getting even closer with the Kents, integrating yourself in both families. It was interesting being part of two very different families. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 
Clark had shown you a lot about your powers, but it was never just training. It had become a necessity for the two of you to fly to some famous landmark and have lunch together, before flying back to Smallville for more training.
Clark was constantly trying his best for you, he still had his regrets from his initial relationship with Conner, and although he was forgiven and their relationship was rebuilt, he knew he lost time. And he absolutely refused to repeat that and hurt someone else who didn’t deserve it. 
You always stayed for dinner, you found that you could never say no to Jon, the one time you tried was awful, you felt so bad that you went back the next day and took him shopping. With Bruce's card, duh.
Jon was stuck to you like glue whenever you were over. He always insisted on sitting by you and talking to you about whatever he’d been up to. He flew around with you a lot, you guys would play games that he taught you how to play. Your favorite moments were when he and Damian would allow you in to watch them play video games because ‘How do you not know how to play video games? That’s just wrong. We’ll teach you.’
Conner had spent more and more time with you as well, telling you about a lot of social cues, the importance of boundaries, etc. He was determined to help you adjust in every way he could, he shared his experiences with you when he first started working in teams. You learned a lot from him, he was very affectionate with you, but in that awkward-older-brother way. He’d give you a soft pat on the back and a smile, he knew you’d do just fine. 
Lois became your role model, you truly admired her. She was strong, outspoken, confident. She helped you not be afraid of forming your own opinions and voicing them. One time she saw you yell at Bruce over something he’d done, and all she could do was smile proudly.
These people whose lives you just appeared in one day, very quickly became your family. Every day you were reminded of how lucky you were to have come to care for them as much as you do. Bonding with them was nice, and you very quickly understood the appeal of having family.
These are people who care for you unconditionally, simply because they want to. Because every moment that they spend with you, they choose to.
And just like that, you were ready to meet the team. You had learned to combine your combat skills with your powers, if you need to, you can fight in mid air. You’d learned to incorporate your abilities into your technique to enhance your own personal style. And it felt amazing.
You knew every possible way to deliver an effective, non-lethal blow.  Of course, you needed a suit. Bruce offered to enhance the one you had worn the day they rescued you, but you wanted a new one. To you, that suit represented what you were created to be, and that is not who you are. You wanted something true to yourself, and he understood and wholeheartedly supported you. Damian helped you make a sketch, and together you’d designed the perfect representation of you. And you became Eclipse. The alignment of two heroes, though unintentional, created a whole new hero. You.
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Taglist- @one-green-frog @bonniecat @minnieearsposts @chickentenderx @murkyponds @loserwithnofriends @ilikefanfics4 @fangirlvibez @instantplaiddream @lovelywritersgarden @calicocat45 @strawberrycreamh @sappynappysworld @zyuuuu @allycat4458 @lovelypitasworld @batfamlover @pterodactyl-hater @american-idiot21 @starlets-things @th1s-b1tch-1s-dead @dontgivemeyourname @normal-internet-user @sillyfinn @lostgirlsstuff @llvmakk @princess76179 @vanessa-boo @1lellykins @blitzythefanvergentpitsterthings @samibrewss @pickyblue12 @thetiredtoad0-0 @lacklustertrashbag (I'm not sure why some people's tags didn't work,, I am very sorry, if anyone has suggestions onhow to fix that i'm open to fix them)
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fangswbenefits · 10 months
Text
Memories
𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You are ready to tell Miguel he is going to be a father… but he isn’t.
𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
Hurt/comfort. Fluff. I teared up writing this and figured I needed someone else to share the pain with me :D
“Miguel.”
You looked on as the man before your eyes paused the video on the hovering screen.
“It’s late,” he said in a low voice, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Did something happen?”
The lump in your throat was hard to swallow at first as you realised he was once again replaying old memories. Miguel O’Hara was stuck in the past while trying to preserve the future.
“I have something to tell you.”
You had considered waiting until he got back home, but you needed to let it all out now.
He turned to fully face you and stepped from the platform. The closer he got to you, the more you felt your anxiety soaring.
“Did something happen?” He repeated, planting a soft kiss to your forehead. “You should be home.”
This is what Miguel did. He took care of others. He couldn’t help it, even if his lifelong concern got in between the two of you.
Or three, you should say.
“I wanted to tell you now,” you smiled briefly as you took his hand in yours while taking a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”
His red eyes widened slightly and then… nothing.
He merely stood there as if frozen in time, the grip on your hand slowly faltering.
“You’re not going to say anything?”
“How?”
You arched an eyebrow. “Really? You’re asking me how?”
“No! I mean…” he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “When did you find out?”
“Today.”
Giving your hand a final squeeze he let go, his warmth suddenly vanishing.
“Huh… I thought…” your next words died in your mouth and your heart dropped.
Seeing him walk up the platform steps left you speechless. You thought he wanted this… to rebuild the life that he lost.
Tears began to sting your eyes, but you refused to let a single one stream down your face.
A video of his daughter giggling and running around started playing and you saw him clenching his fists. Her giggles echoed through the room breaking the silence that had settled.
“Miguel O’hara, look at me!”
Had this been a mistake? Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe you two had rushed things.
“Miguel,” you called out again, anger filling you with such intensity you felt like shooting your webs at his back to have him turn around. “I’m carrying your child. Look at me!”
The cheeky giggles stopped at once and nothing could have prepared you for what came next.
Miguel did what you asked and that’s when you saw a single tear running down his hardened face.
In that moment, your anger shattered and the overwhelming need to take care of him took over.
You promptly joined him on the platform, burying your face in his broad chest. His arms circled you in a tight embrace, and you remained silent for a while.
“I’m broken.”
“Miguel… don’t…”
He heaved a deep sigh. “You deserve better.”
It wasn’t easy to go through his insecurities with him. He had built a wall around him that kept people out.
“I can’t forget her…”
Miguel O’hara had once been responsible for the destruction of
“I don’t want to forget her!” he nearly yelled, pulling you away from his embrace as his red eyes flickered with hurt. “I don’t… I don’t want to move on without the memory of her…”
You brought both hands to frame his face. “Miguel, I am not asking that of you… she will always be part of you.”
He refused to look you in the eye, his jaw tensing.
“I thought you wanted this…” you whispered, voice cracking.
“I do.”
You felt like crumbling down inside. “I thought you’d be happy.”
Miguel’s eyes met yours. “I am.”
“Then…”
He shook his head. “You don’t get it. I’ve been telling myself I’m worthy of a second chance for a long time. I tell that to myself every single day,” he paused momentarily to place a large hand on your belly. “But maybe I am wrong. I’ll mess this up, too.”
Your hand came to rest atop his and you offered a kind smile. “You won’t. You’re still healing. You need—”
All of a sudden both hands came to grip your arms and that’s when you saw panic splattered across his face.
“You don’t get it! I can’t lose you,” he said, eyes darting from your face to your belly. “I do all of this, because I owe an unrepayable debt. My mistake cost the lives of so many. And I’m being selfish again…”
“You don’t get it, do you?” You suddenly said, breaking free from his grip. “Why do you think I chose to be with you? To build a family with you? You’re the most honourable person I know,” you added, not able to hold back a few tears. “Yes, you made a mistake,” his face hardened. “But you paid for it. You paid the highest price.”
He was getting ready to interrupt you, but you raised your hand. “You’re going to be a father again and don’t have to forget her. She lives in you and in all that you do.”
“What would I do without you?” he finally spoke.
You chuckled, placing the softed kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’d probably set camp here in this room, and live the rest of your lives as a hermit.”
Miguel silently glared at you and when he got down on one knee, you felt all the love and adoration for him crashing down on you.
“You’re going to have an amazing mother,” he whispered softly before placing a kiss over your shirt.
Your fingers tangled in his thick brown hair before pressing the side if his face flat against your belly. “And you’ll the best father.”
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eddiesghxst · 3 months
Text
LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACCIÓN - AN EDDIE MUNSON X READER AU
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credit for cute lil cut off divider: @cafekitsune
————
18+ — MINORS DNI
pairing: eddie munson x pornstar!reader
summary: eddie is short on rent this month and needs quick cash, luckily he stumbles upon an ad for casting in an adult film and finds himself shooting a porno with you
contains: strangers to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, mentions of smoking, awkward situations, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected — be safe pls), mentions of people being judgemental of readers line of work, mentions of anal, slightly exhibitionism, lots of smut, a sliver of mechanic!eddie, and eddie being the charming loser he's always been <3
word count: 13.5k (i am so fucking sorry omg)
-masterlist-
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Eddie might be way in over his head.
Eddie’s been naked in front of groups of people before (the high school boy's locker room is a scary place to be, honestly), but never in those awful days of forced physical education was Eddie’s dick the center of everyone’s attention.
It’s weird, no doubt about it, standing at the front of a conference room with a table full of producers and writers and whatnot just… ogling Eddie’s naked frame.
“Can you lift your dick, please? So we can see your balls.”
Yeah. This is definitely going at the top of Eddie’s ‘weird things I’ve done for money’ list.
Still, Eddie reaches down and presses his dick up against his lower stomach to give his audience an unrestricted view of his balls.
Jesus.
“Okay, you can put your clothes back on.”
Honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Robert, the manager at Eddie’s job— well, old job. 
Robert had some kind of weird fucking vengeance out for Eddie. Maybe it was because Eddie came back high from, like, most of his lunch breaks, but should that really matter if Eddie still got the job done? How coherent do you have to be to organize music records by name? Not very fuckin’ much.
Robert disagreed, though, so he fired Eddie.
Robert was an asshole, though, and whenever Eddie would nicely warn him, ‘Hey, Rob, I’m gonna be out of town next Saturday,’ Robert would still fucking schedule him to close on that exact day! 
Good riddance.
Except now, Eddie’s short on rent for the month, which is why he’s found himself standing fully naked in a room full of adult filmmakers.
Eddie’s almost dropped out of this deal ten times by now. He wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea of his bare, naked body being out for the entire world and future generations to see. But then Eddie thought about it, and, well, he’s got a pretty decent cock. It’s an average size, and it’s not weird looking or anything, and his balls don’t sag— and, like, isn’t his dick primarily the star of the show? Eddie Jr. could pass for a star, Eddie thinks, and so do the people looking at it right now. 
And he also really fucking needs the money, so. Porn it is.
Whatever.
Eddie could deal with it as long as he gets enough money to keep a roof over his head. Which reminds him— “Hey, uh, how much will I be getting paid, by the way?”
Eddie’s now fully clothed, car keys in hand, and ready to go now that he’s been dismissed, and he’s scratching the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.
One of the men at the table (Eddie thinks his name is Brian, but he’s not 100% sure) glances up at Eddie from the pile of papers he’d been sorting through, “Eight hundred for the booking and ten percent from the sales.”
Which, yeah, that covers Eddie’s rent. It also leaves a little bit of change in Eddie’s pocket, so “Sweet.” Eddie nods.
So, Eddie follows one of the assistants to her office, where she hands Eddie a file with the word SCRIPT written in bold and red letters, “Read over it, practice the lines a few times, do whatever you need to do to prepare for Friday.” She kindly smiles.
She’s sweet. Short, stout, and pretty, and she has these cute glasses that remind Eddie of a ladybug. Eddie takes the manila folder, bowing his head with a cheesy smile, “Thank you, Emily.” 
“So, will I be getting a costume? Do pornos still have those dramatic plots with, like, pirates and shit?” Eddie rambles as he cracks the folder open to take a gander.
Emily snorts, “Sure, but unfortunately, you’re not a pirate for this one,” Eddie glances at her and dramatically pouts, “You will be taking on the role of a neighbor. Pretty simple and easy, not much setup needed, but I’m sure you’ll see that when you read over the script.”
Eddie looked over the script as soon as he got in his van, and Emily was right: there’s not much setup at all. There’s a few cheesy lines, cliche porno shit that definitely gets skipped over, and then they go straight to fucking. Eddie tries to run his lines a few times, but then he fails miserably, so he ends up tossing the script in his passenger seat and making a mental note to look at it later.
How hard can it be?
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Apparently pretty fucking hard.
It’s Friday, and Eddie’s a chaotic mess as he walks in through the doors of the film studio. He’d just spent the last 30 minutes in his van trying to practice his lines, but Eddie was never the greatest theater kid, and the lines wouldn’t stick, so he ended up smoking a joint to ease his nerves.
People are bustling around the room, calling out orders and setting up lights, mics, furniture— the whole mile. It’s an entire ordeal that Eddie has walked into, and for a second, Eddie forgets that he’s one of the actual stars when someone walks up to him and says, “You're the new talent?”
“Huh?”
“New talent. Are you the guy we’re filming today?”
Eddie glances around and catches a glimpse of a half-naked girl eyeing him from across the room as a lady fixes her hair for the cameraman. She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Nice body and soft-looking skin that Eddie would like to sink his teeth into and leave pretty little marks.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.”
“Good. You’re late.”
Shit. Eddie must’ve lost track of time while practically hacking up a lung in his hotboxed van.
The person drags Eddie to a vanity and nudges him toward the high chair, “You’ll get your hair and makeup done, then we should be rolling in about half an hour.” 
It’s jarring, really, seeing the amount of work that goes into the shitty raunchy films Eddie jacks off to, but it’s captivating nonetheless. Eddie can see the movement behind him through the vanity mirror, but he’s more focused on the pretty girl still posing for the camera. If that’s the girl Eddie will be working with, then this will be way easier than Eddie thought it would be because he’s already getting hard. Some might call it pathetic, but oh well.
“Hiya, hon! You the new talent?” A chirpy girl walks up behind Eddie, pearly white teeth and glossed lips working in tandem as she chews her gum and blows a quick bubble. She doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response as she digs her fingers into Eddie’s curly strands, tossing and gently pulling them about to see what she’s working with. 
Her name is Nicki. She’s friendly and very talkative; Eddie comes to learn, because for the majority of the time that she’s working on Eddie’s hair, her mouth is running nonstop. Eddie doesn’t mind, though; honestly, it helps to take his mind off of whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into.
Emily, the assistant from earlier, walks up to the vanity, her cute ladybug glasses slipping down her nose as she steps into Eddie’s view— and Eddie is happy to see a familiar and kind face. “Will you be needing a fluffer?”
Eddie blinks, eyes fluttering when the hairstylist dusts his bangs over his lashes, “Uh— a what now?”
Nicki loudly pops her gum as she shakes a can of hairspray, “A fluffer, honey. Someone to jack you off and get you ready for the scene.” 
Eddie’s eyes widened for a split second, and he made the mistake of glancing over at the girl who was still modeling across the room. Her tits are out now, and they’re perfect, and she catches Eddie’s eyes for the second time, and it makes his already stiffened cock stir within his pants.
Eddie shakes his head as he looks back at Emily, his voice higher when he responds, “No, I uh… I think I’m good.”
Which, duh. Eddie's dick is practically breaking the seams of his jeans because of the pretty girl, and it’s only getting worse because now she’s walking toward him dressed in a white robe. “You must be Eddie.”
Eddie’s surprised you know his name, but then he figures, obviously, you must know his name given the fact that you’re about to let him swing his dick near you. “That’s me,” Eddie smiles, “You must be… I’m sorry nobody’s told me anything.” He awkwardly laughs.
You nod with a shrug and tell him your name, “Is this your first time filming?” You ask.
Eddie nods, “Is it that obvious?” He nervously asks. You shrug, “Most guys in the industry need more than a pair of tits to get that hard.” You nod towards Eddie’s crotch— and oh god. How embarrassing! She knows you were checking her out!
“No need to be embarrassed though, Eddie. Pretty soon, you’ll be shoving your cock down my throat, so.”
Eddie’s cock may have gotten harder from those words alone.
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“A rookie? Seriously, Don?”
Your makeup is being done, so you don’t see how your manager rolls her eyes at you. “When I said I wanted someone fresh, I didn’t mean never-been-under-the-camera fresh.” 
The makeup artist finishes with your touch-ups, and you take the opportunity to turn to Don and glare at her, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Don.”
The older lady waves a dismissive hand, “He’ll do just fine, babe,” she deadpans. You shake your head, turning to look at the man of the hour. He’s attractive; you’ll give him that. Tall, pretty curly hair, sweet brown eyes, a panty-dropping voice. Sure, he’s attractive, okay. But he’s got no clue how to do this type of thing. Clearly— I mean, you’re literally watching him gaze down at the dildos that have been lined up for you as if he’s never seen one in his life— which you doubt. If he knew how to find an adult filmmaking studio, then he’s definitely seen some fucking dildos.
You suppress a laugh when he accidentally drops a glass dildo, turning back to your manager as you ignore his chorus of apologies to the staff, “My case in point.”
Don fails to hold back a laugh, “So he’s a little off the walls,” she shrugs, “He’s cute though. And his dick is nice. Trust me.”
And, well, she’s not wrong.
Don’s never been one to lie without reason, so unfortunately, Eddie’s cock is nice. Pretty, even. Which is weird because after some time being in this industry, the thrill of a nice-looking cock has gotten lost on you because they practically all look the same— just different shades of colors, really.
But Eddie’s cock is nice in the sense that it’s real. He’s not shot up with steroids to make it overly veiny and big or cleanly shaved or any of that superficial camera-ready shit. No, Eddie is natural. He’s got neatly trimmed curly hairs across his pelvis that smell like his body wash when you nuzzle your nose against it, and he’s big enough to wrap your hand around, but you know the second he pushes inside of you, it will be a nice stretch. He’s cut, and he has a slight curve to the left, and he’s so sensitive his cock jumps when you tap the pearly white drop that leaks from his tip. You giggle, shuffling forward on your knees as you stroke him.
You’re already done with the opening scene, finally. Eddie couldn’t remember any of his lines, so it took a lot longer than it should’ve, but you think it was worth it either way because the way Eddie moans when you finally wrap your lips around his tip is the prettiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.
“F-fuck,” He quietly curses, hips shifting as you swallow more of him. He sinks a slightly shaking hand into your hair, gently cupping your head as you work your mouth over him. Your eyes flutter to gaze up at him, and your stomach flutters at the cocky grin he gives you. “You’ve got such a good little mouth on you, sweetheart. Gonna let me fuck it?”
You hum and nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth, and he hums, “Open up for me, baby.”
You shift on your knees, finding a comfortable position for the action before blinking up at Eddie, indicating you’re ready. Eddie’s hands are steady and certain as he cups both sides of your head, holding you still as he draws his cock out once before slowly thrusting in until your throat tightens around his tip.
He fills your mouth so perfectly, just enough to where you won’t get bored, but you also won’t get an overly aching jaw, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. Can’t wait to feel how his cock twitches when he first nestles deep in your walls or how much better the sounds he makes will be.
It’s a nice feeling, having Eddie fuck your mouth, and you usually don’t care much for shots like this because most of the time, it’s either underwhelming or overwhelming, but Eddie fucks your throat in a sense that’s dirty yet so caring. He’s spewing out filthy praises, and you're drooling onto his balls, but he’s looking at you with these soft brown eyes and caressing you so gently you might quiver. Fuck, you really wanted to hate him.
Behind the camera, the director makes a motion for you to cut to the next action, but since your back is to them, Eddie is the one that sees it and gently coaxes you off from his cock, cooing when you let out the smallest whine that only he can hear. He smiles, thumb running beneath your swollen lip to catch the strings of spit and cum, “What? You liked having me down your throat, sweet girl?”
You mewl, pressing your chin into his palm as you nod.
"Yeah. Want it, please?" You whisper. God, you didn’t expect to be fucked out within the first scene. "Aw, maybe next time, princess. You can keep me warm as long as you'd like."
It’s almost embarrassing, how much you like the sound of that and how it makes your tummy flip, but you don’t have much time to think about it because Eddie’s ushering you up from the floor to climb onto the couch and straddle his lap. 
You’re both bare now, and when Eddie had first taken his shirt off, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands down his graffitied chest, but you were too busy sinking to your knees. But now you have the chance, and boy, do you fucking take it.
You marvel as you coast your hands across Eddie’s body, fingertips gliding through fields of inked stories and vast skin. His breath hitches when you graze over his nipples, and his hips shift beneath you, wet cock slipping against your sticky folds. You whimper, grinding down onto him, and he curses as he grabs ahold of your hips. “Y’like them?” He sweetly asks, referring to his tattoos.
"Yeah," you nod, grinding down harder to have his cock nestled between your folds, his ruddy tip nudging your clit. “I can tell you all about them if you want.”
You giggle at his timing, but before you can respond, a director speaks up from the side, “Less talking, please.”
Eddie glances over your shoulder and salutes the man, “Roger that, sir.”
You can’t help but snort at his actions, but you’re quickly hushed when Eddie reaches down to paint his cock between your folds before lining himself up, “Go ahead and sit on it, baby.” He whispers.
You listen, nuzzling your face against his shoulder as you wriggle yourself down the length of his cock.
And god, you love being fucking right. The stretch is so good, better than you had imagined it to be, and you can’t help the high-pitched moan that slips from your lips when Eddie thrusts up into you. 
"O-oh. Oh fuck," You whimper. You’re practically boneless as Eddie fucks you, your entire body just draped over him as his hands dig into your ass to help bounce you on his cock. “Jesus fucking— you feel so good,” He pants, and you mewl, cunt clenching around his cock as he drills up into you. “You gonna cum for me, hm? Be my best girl and cum for me. I know you’ll sound so pretty.” He whispers.
Before you know it, you’re moaning out and writhing in Eddie’s hold, juices dripping down his cock and forming a sticky mess in the patch of curls at his base as you cum.
“Let’s have a shot from the back.” 
Your body feels weightless as you and Eddie change positions so you’re on all fours. You’re blinking through a hazy fog, and it feels so good. Eddie’s hands send chills up your spine as they grip your waist and tug you towards him. 
“Oh, baby, you’re shaking,” Eddie hums, running his hands over the fat of your ass, thumbs digging into the skin to spread you open. You’re so wet you can hear the sticky noise of your folds parting, and Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. “You open up so well for me, sweet girl.” 
Jesus.
You don’t get much of a warning before you feel Eddie lapping and sucking at your cunt, devouring you until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and quivering limbs.
Jesus Christ, that wasn’t in the fucking script. Half of the shit Eddie’s doing isn’t in the fucking script, and it's making your head spin.
God, who is this man?
You whimper his name, reaching a shaky hand back to grapple at his hair, and Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into your cunt, nose nudging your ass in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s good. He’s really good, you’ll give him that.
You and Eddie go at it for about an hour, switching positions and pausing every now and then to get a good shot of your cunt wrapped around Eddie’s cock, or Eddie’s tongue lapping over your clit or tits.
And it's fun doing this with Eddie.
Eddie is like a breath of fresh air. Most guys in this industry are stuck up and make things annoyingly serious, and most girls are either bitchy or just want to get it over with, which you don’t blame them for. 
But Eddie makes things feel so normal— like you’re just two best friends getting filmed having sex— because he keeps whispering tiny jokes to make you giggle. He tells you how pretty you sound and look, and he’s so incredibly clueless because he keeps leaning in and asking things like, “Is this, like, a good angle for the camera?” and “Should I maybe kiss you more?” and “Is it okay if I stop fucking you for a second? Because I’m about to blow.”
And all you can do is breathlessly moan and nod because he’s plunging himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, but it’s so good.
You’re so fucked out you barely even register Eddie’s words when he tells you he’s about to cum, but your body immediately reacts when he pats your hip, indicating for you to get ready.
You scramble down from the couch, limbs weighted from pleasure as you settle on your knees, batting your lashes up at Eddie as he towers over you, stroking his wet cock. Eddie rests a hand on your head, fingers grasping your hair to keep you still as he gazes down at you. You’re impatient, so you can’t help but let yourself sneakily lick the tip of his cock, and he grins, “It’s coming, precious girl. Stick your tongue out for me.”
You shuffle closer, sticking your tongue out as you eagerly await the taste of Eddie on your tongue— and when you get it, god, you never want it to stop. Everything about it is perfect: the way his face twists up, the way he tastes, the pretty moans he lets out. You want it on repeat.
You might buy this film just to relive it.
You take every last drop Eddie has to give you with a happy hum; a little bit catches your lip, and Eddie swipes it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and suckling. You whine, frowning and causing Eddie to laugh, “You got most of it, sweetheart. Can’t be too greedy, can you?”
It’s like you’re both in your own world. Only talking to each other and enjoying each other's bodies because Eddie just… it’s weird, but he makes the room go away. He makes things feel less performative— and maybe it’s just your hazy, blissed-out state of mind, but you think you might like Eddie.
You’re snapped from your trance when the director yells cut, and then everyone’s springing into action to tear down the set because another crew will be using it next. Eddie helps you stand on your wobbly legs, “You alright?”
You nod, “Great. You did good, by the way.”
Eddie leans forward and grabs your robe that had been pushed to the side. He smiles as he holds it open for you, “Thank you. You did pretty awesome yourself.” He responds as you slink your arms through the sleeves.
You turn to Eddie as you close your robe and tie it shut. Your assistant, Emily, hands Eddie a robe for himself, and he thanks her, curtly bowing his head as he grabs the plush article. “So,” Eddie starts as he slips on the robe. You both start walking towards the dressing rooms as he speaks, “Think I could make a career for myself here?” He asks. 
You halt at that, turning to Eddie with a confused look, “Is that… is that not why you’re here?” You ask.
Eddie shakes his head as he ties his robe, “Nah, I got fired from my job. Needed some cash for rent this month.” He explains.
Is it selfish to say you’re disappointed to hear this? If Eddie had been wanting to join this industry, you would’ve had the opportunity to work with him again. But maybe it’s more selfish to say you’re happy he isn’t joining this industry. Eddie becoming an adult film star would mean half of the time, he’d be fucking other people, and unfortunately, that idea alone makes your gut twist with jealousy.
You nod, pursing your lips as you fiddle with your fingers, “Well… would you be interested in this type of thing?” You try your best to sound casual about it, and you think it works because Eddie only shrugs again with a short hum, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t be opposed to it, I guess.”
Before you can respond, Emily calls your name, “Don needs to speak with you in the other room about your next shoot.”
You turn back to Eddie and try to commit his pretty brown eyes to memory, “I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie.” You smile. Eddie smiles back and does somewhat of a dramatic bow, and you snort as you walk off.
You glance over your shoulder as you walk with Emily.
“Could you do me a favor?” You ask her. Emily nods, and you take one last glance at Eddie before he disappears into the dressing room. 
“Get his number for me. And leave it in my purse, please.”
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A couple of weeks have passed since Eddie made his big debut in the film world.
Eddie made a pretty penny from that film, enough to pay his rent and have some play money on the side. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have to scramble for cash this month again because he got a job at the mechanic shop downtown. It’s a lot of labor and a lot of hours, but the pay is good, and nobody gives a shit if Eddie comes back from lunch smelling like a dispensary, so.
Suck that, Robert.
However, Eddie’s still thoroughly surprised to see you sitting in the shop office when he returns from a quick smoke break. “Woah, funny seeing you here. Car problems?” He questions. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen you completely bare before. Tries not to think of how he’d spent over an hour in your guts last month or how you swallowed his load like it was nothing. Eddie fails miserably.
You shake your head as you stand up from the leather couch in the office, grabbing your purse as Eddie walks closer to you, “No, actually, Lola’s doing great.”
Eddie cocks his head, “Lola?”
You nod, “My car.” You gesture out towards the window where your car is parked. Eddie makes an understanding noise as he nods. 
“I was actually hoping to talk to you.” 
Eddie pauses at that, confusion settling over his body as he looks at you. You’re beautiful, kind, soft eyes with soft, pretty lips that Eddie thinks about kissing when he goes to bed. Eddie points to himself with raised eyebrows, “Me?”
You nod again, “Yeah, about like… my job and stuff.”
Oh.
Ohhhh.
“Oh, shit, yeah, um,” Eddie glances around the office and nods, “Yeah, we can step out and talk, like, in my van, maybe?” He offers. Not because he’s, like, ashamed to talk about porn or something, most people watch it! But a few of the guys that work here are downright dipshits, and Eddie won’t hesitate to punch one of them if they say some sly shit about you or your job. And, well, Eddie would like to keep his job, so.
You don’t take offense to it, though; you just nod with your pretty smile and tell Eddie to lead the way.
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Eddie’s van smells like weed, cologne, and a hint of whatever he had for lunch.
“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles as he clears off the passenger seat that’s filled with bottles of different drinks, rolling papers, food wrappers, and things of the like. “She’s seen better days.” 
You smile nonetheless, thanking him when he steps away and holds the door open for you. You hop into the seat, glancing around as Eddie shuts your door and jogs to the driver's seat.
He gets in with a heavy sigh, hair unruly from the wind, brown eyes wide and excited when he looks at you. “Hey.” He huffs with a smile, and there’s a piece of hair in Eddie’s bangs that’s sticking straight up. “Hey.” You giggle, reaching out to fix the rebellious strand. Eddie softly thanks you, and you swear you see a hint of pink dust across his cheeks.
He shifts in his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs as he sighs again, “So… what’s up?”
God, he’s so cute. So incredibly weird and awkward and cute. He looks handsome in his navy blue coveralls, grease stains smeared across his torso, and some sneaky smudges on his neck. “You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know?” You tease.
Eddie’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?”
You shrug, distracting yourself by poking around at his dashboard, sifting through the CDs and tapes he has lying about. Eddie doesn’t stop you; he only watches, and you give him a cheeky smile. “My assistant got your number, right? But then you, like, never answered my calls.” You shrug as you flip through more of his things. You hear Eddie mumble something about needing a new cord for his home phone before he asks louder, " So, how’d you find me?”
God, he must think you’re a stalker or something. You didn’t really think that through, honestly.
You hum, “Just asked around a bit. You’re a bit of a hot commodity around here, by the way. Heard you started a cult? What’s that about?” 
Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, and you laugh, “Oh god. Jesus, no, I didn’t start a cult. I just,” he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was just weird in high school.”
“You’re still weird.”
Eddie’s face falters at your words, but you smile as you add, “I like it.”
Eddie blushes again, but he turns to look away this time, and you think he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever set your eyes upon. He turns back to you with a shy grin, “Did you come here just to flirt with me?” He teases, wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger to twirl in a shy manner. “Maybe… but I also have a question.” You respond.
Eddie nods, “Shoot.”
You take a deep breath as you shift in your seat, “Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you maybe…” You glance at Eddie, who's expectantly awaiting your question, and your stomach twists with nerves. Why are you so nervous to ask Eddie for something you’ve already done before?
“Well, I’m doing a shoot tomorrow,” you finally begin, “And I just found out the guy they paired me with is, like, a total asshole— I’ve worked with him before, he’s just… awful,” You explain. “So, I was just… I don’t know; I was just wondering— hoping— you’d be up for it, maybe? To take the guy's place, I mean.”
You finish rambling and glance at Eddie as his eyes widen, “Oh, um. Like— like, film with you again?”
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Eddie could leap for joy right now.
Not only are you, like, the cutest, prettiest, kindest fucking human being to ever grace this earth, but you’re sitting in Eddie’s van, chewing on your lip and asking Eddie to fuck you for the cameras again.
Eddie must’ve done something incredibly right in his past life.
“Oh!” Eddie starts, “ Um… yeah, I’d love to!” What? Weird, take that back. “No, I mean, like, not in a weird way. I just— I’d rather not let the asshole do it if I can do it.”
God, could Eddie sound any more pathetic?
Still, despite how dumb Eddie sounds, you smile and clasp your hands together, “Oh, are you sure? I know it’s last minute, and it’s not really the ideal task—” 
“Woah, wait. What do you mean not the ideal task?” 
Because literally, what do you mean? How could that not be the ideal task? And who made you think that fucking you isn’t the ideal task? If it’s that asshole you were supposed to work with, then Eddie has a few colorful things to say about and to him.
You shrug, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Nothing, I just know my job isn’t… you know, traditional or whatever. And you had only done it that one time because you needed it, so I get it if you’re, like, not in the mood to fuck on camera for a bunch of random people.” You ramble. Which, uh, no. You could not be further from the truth. Eddie would love to fuck you on camera for a bunch of random people. Hell, Eddie would love to fuck you under any consensual circumstance, if he’s being honest, so. Yeah, he’s pretty excited.
“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “No, I— I want to, really, I do.” Eddie nods.
Your unsure frown spreads into the prettiest smile before you reach across the center console to pull Eddie into the most bone-crushing, you-scented, chest-warming hug Eddie’s ever been given as you spew out a chorus of thank yous.
“I brought a copy of the script for you to look over so you’re not totally confused,” Eddie watches as you pull back to reach into your bag and pull out a manilla folder. “I usually like to color coordinate my scripts, so I did it for you too. The pink is me, and the red is you, and the specific actions they want us to do are in blue.” You point out. And Eddie thinks he might kiss you right now— you’re so fucking cute!
“Wow, thanks, um… I wish I were, like… good with these types of things, but I think you saw how majestic I am with scripts.” Eddie huffs out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. You smile, “I can help you— if you’d like.”
Oh, you’re trying to kill Eddie at this rate.
Eddie nods either way, even though he’s six feet underground and knocking at the fiery gates. “I would love that, actually. I finish work in about three hours if you’re free.”
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Eddie definitely broke a handful of laws while driving home.
Since you offered to help Eddie with his lines, you both decided to meet at Eddie’s place. He gave you his address, told you how to get into the complex, and said see you later. Now, Eddie is ecstatic to see you, obviously, but Eddie can’t remember if his home looked normal or like a Walmart clearance aisle after black Friday, so he ran through multiple stop signs and red lights to get home before you showed up so he could clear things up.
He’s hustling through his apartment like a madman, picking up strewn clothes and cat toys before speeding through the few dishes he had in his sink. Honestly, Eddie’s apartment has seen worse days, so there’s not much cleaning he has to do, but he’s still stressed when he hears a knock on the door. 
Eddie doesn’t even like candles, but he lit one just in case there’s a smell he’s grown used to lingering about. Eddie just doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob. Because he isn’t. He just has an orchestrated chaotic lifestyle.
Eddie couldn’t be happier when he opened his door because there you were, beaming with a smile and a bag of takeout, and Eddie thought it wasn’t normal to be this soft for someone you’d basically just met.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie dramatically bows with an extended hand to show the entrance of his small, homey apartment. You smile as you walk in, taking in your surroundings.
It’s nothing extraordinary, honestly. Eddie’s home is really just vomit of everything Eddie likes: favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite game characters, etc. It’s like Eddie’s brain exploded and painted itself all over the place. Eddie had a girlfriend many moons ago, and she changed things around to become more coordinated, so now it’s less of a shit show and more of an abstract museum sort of thing.
Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway because you’re gasping and picking up the little roommate Eddie has. 
“Who’s this?” You coo at the little creature. You’re looking down at the furball as you scratch behind her ear, “That,” Eddie sighs, “Is the reason why I didn’t get your calls.”
You look up at Eddie, confusion written across your face. Eddie points across the room to the wall where his home phone hangs, except the wire is broken. “Little asshole chewed through the wire, and I’ve been slow to replace it. Her name is Banshee.”
The cat meows at the mention of her name, wide eyes blinking up at Eddie as you coddle her. She’s a fluffy cat with a black coat decorated with two white spots: one on her back and the other just behind her ear.
You hum, “So technically,” You drag, “It’s your fault.” You tease. You coo as you press your cheek to the tiny kitten, gazing up at Eddie with these soft eyes, “I don’t think you can blame this cutie for your laziness.” 
Eddie rolls his eyes, wills away whatever power he has to not kiss you, and gently takes the takeout bag from your hands so you have less to carry. “Fine then. Ask her what happened to the laces of my work shoes, too, since she’s so innocent.”
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Eddie’s home is so… Eddie.
He’s got music and horror movie posters framed along his walls, cute little scary figurines randomly placed within his bookshelves, and there’s an overall smell of Eddie’s musk and the sandalwood candle he has burning. It’s cozy, a nice space for one person who enjoys their alone time, and he let you choose a record to play from his extensive collection, and he has the world's cutest little cat, so it’s safe to say you could spend an eternity in Eddie’s world.
“Shit, that wasn’t my line,” Eddie stresses. You smile as Eddie tosses the packet onto his coffee table and falls back onto the couch, “We’re wasting our time here, princess. I dropped out of theater for a reason.” He grumbles.
You sigh, tilting your head against the couch cushion as you gaze at Eddie, “You’re thinking too hard about it.” You say. “It’s a porno, not a Grammy-nominated film.” You point out.
Eddie snorts before giving a short shrug, “For the record, I think you could land a Grammy, sweetheart.” 
You roll your eyes, “Yeah, right. You don’t need to suck up to me, Eddie, you’re already gonna fuck me tomorrow.” You jokingly say.
Eddie waves you off and shifts into a more comfortable position. “So,” He starts, “What’s the asshole guy's deal?” 
Banshee has hopped onto the couch and made her way into your lap, tiny paws kneading the material of your jeans as she settles. You gently pet her as you glance at Eddie and shrug, “Not sure, he’s just a total dick,” You grumble. “I worked with him once last year, and he, like, told me I wasn’t the best or whatever— which, okay, I can totally understand,” You ramble, “I don’t think I’m, like, some sex god. I don’t expect to be everyone or anyone’s best fuck, but still! It just… it didn’t make me feel good, the way he said it.” You windedly explain. You distract yourself with the cute animal in your lap as you finish your explanation, “So, I asked my manager never to pair us again, but—” You shrug.
Next to you, Eddie shifts once more and scoffs. “He’s a fucking shitfaced liar, princess.”
You snort, playfully rolling your eyes, “Eddie—” “No, I’m serious. He’s a liar. Anybody who even gets the chance to touch you is a lucky fucker, okay? If anything, he probably begged your manager to let him work with you again.”
“You’re just saying that. I don’t need you to try and make me feel better, and it was so long ago anyway.” “Yeah, but that’s the thing, I’m not.”
You frown as you gaze over at Eddie, watching as he sits straight and looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s up with that guy, maybe he was dropped as a baby too many times, but anybody with common sense and a properly functioning dick knows just how fucking amazing you are. End of discussion.”
And well, it’s pathetic how your chest warms at his words, but it does. And as Eddie goes on to ramble about his hectic week at work, you can’t help but let your mind spin with Eddie’s kind words until nothing is in your mind but the echoes of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
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Not many times has Eddie woken up with a girl in his home. Well, at least not a girl that he’s actually liked for more than a one-night stand or a shortly-lived fling.
After running the script for the last time, Eddie suggested putting on a movie and digging into the takeout you’d brought. The meal was delicious, and the movie you’d landed on was hilarious, but it’s hard to keep your eyes open on a full stomach, so when Eddie felt your head drop onto his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his body sink into the couch and fall asleep too.
You’d woken up about an hour later and tried to make your escape quietly, but Eddie insisted you shouldn’t drive in such a sleepy state, so he let you make yourself comfy in his bed. Banshee, the little traitor, trotted right behind you and left Eddie on the couch to snuggle up beside you for the night.
You’re cute in the morning, Eddie thinks. You have an adorable little pout, and you yawn about 80 times until you’ve had a sip of coffee. 
It takes nearly a lifetime to drag you away from Banshee so you and Eddie can head to the studio because you adore the little asshole, and Banshee loves anything that’ll give her the time of day. You make Eddie promise to let you see her again, though, so you sadly say goodbye with a soft peck to the fluffy area between her eyes and let Eddie drag you to his van.
The car ride is nice; Eddie lets you mess around with the contents of his van and go through the stack of CDs he’s compiled over the years. You land on one of Eddie’s favorites, an old mixtape Wayne made in college that Eddie spent most of his high school blaring loud enough to blow out a speaker.
Today, you’re shooting in a house— a nice one that Eddie could only conjure up in his dreams—but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s being dragged over to makeup and hair as soon as he steps in.
“You thinking of joining the industry?” Nicki asks as she works a nice-smelling mousse into Eddie’s hair.
Eddie had been busy watching you talk to one of the producers, but he finds the strength to tear his eyes away and gaze at Nicki through the vanity mirror. “No, not exactly. Just… doing a favor for a friend, I guess.”
Nicki raises an eyebrow, “A friend? Don’t act like I didn’t see you two come in together.”
Eddie’s face warms at that, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters, “Huh?” 
Nicki looks at Eddie with a ‘Don’t bullshit me’ look.
“I mean, like, yeah, we had breakfast together–” “Mhm.”
Eddie huffs out a gentle laugh, “No, really, we’re friends.”
“Friends that fuck on camera and look at each other the way you two do? Sure.”
Eddie doesn’t ask what Nicki means by that because— well, he knows what Nicki means by that. He’s caught himself looking at you like you put the stars in the sky one too many times, and it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.
But can you blame Eddie? Can you really blame him when you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, the softest smile, the greatest laugh, and the sweetest personality? It’s not Eddie’s fault that you’re perfect.
Eddie just thinks you’re neat. 
He thinks you’re amazing, actually, and it’s hard to remember his fucking lines when you’re standing under a steaming shower, wet body glistening and pebbled nipples practically begging for his mouth.
He’s butchering the script, that’s for sure, but he figures it’s not too bad since nobody’s corrected him. 
The scene starts with you taking a shower and Eddie being a peeping tom, which ultimately leads to Eddie sinking to his knees and licking into you until you’re a quivering, sticky mess on his tongue. Eddie would spend forever on his knees, between your legs, if he could because you taste heavenly and sound better than any song Eddie’s ever listened to, and that says something.
Your fingers thread through the wet strands of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie rapidly blinks when he gazes up at you, only to get an eyeful of his wispy bangs. You smile, petting back his bangs so he can see, and he hums, nudging his face further against you, his tongue teasing more, fingers curling deeper.
It doesn’t take long to make you cum, and the second you do, Eddie is standing up, shutting off the shower, and ushering you out into the expansive main bathroom. It’s almost as if it’s just Eddie and you in the room. No cameras, no directors or producers, or that weird pervy lighting guy that compliments you way too fucking much for Eddie’s liking. It’s just you and Eddie.
“Let’s do an over-the-counter shot next.”
Fuck. It’s not just you two, actually.
What a buzz kill.
Either way, Eddie finds himself pressing your wet, naked waist down against the sink, smiling when you squeal at the cold marble touching your skin. “Stick your ass out, baby, let me see that gorgeous ass.” 
You mewl as you follow Eddie’s instructions, tipping your hips back to present yourself to him and the cameras. You’re dripping. Swollen and wet and throbbing, and Eddie— god, Eddie feels like a fucking animal.
“Got such a pretty pussy, honey. All wet and ready for me, hm?” He teases, gently running his fingers through the sticky arousal between your legs. You shakily breathe as you nod your head, “Yeah. All for you. Please.”
Eddie steps forward, grabbing his cock and painting it between your swollen lips as he hooks his other arm across your shoulders, pulling you back to press against his chest. He presses a wet kiss to the skin of your cheek in front of your ear, voice dry and needy as he whispers in your ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” His eyes catch yours in the mirror as you keen. “Ask me to fuck you.”
You whimper out loud, wriggling your hips back into his as your hands grip the counter, “P-please fuck me. Please. Need it so bad, want your cock so bad I— o-oh.”
The slide to home base is fucking otherworldly. It was life-changing the first time, and it’s life-changing now, and if Eddie ever gets the chance to fuck you again, he knows it’ll be life-changing then.
You’re so warm, and you're sucking Eddie’s cock in so nicely, so sinfully, that Eddie almost makes a deal with the devil right then and there. Your chest is heaving by the time Eddie’s pelvis presses to your bum, his cock nestled deep into your pulsing cunt. Eddie leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he loops an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to him as he gives one slow thrust. He coos when your eyes flutter shut, and your jaw drops, a shaky hand reaching up to sink your nails into Eddie’s forearm.
“S-so deep,” You slur, wriggling your hips back against Eddie.
Eddie grunts, “Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Always so warm and ready for me, hm?” Eddie’s lips are wet against your jaw as he whispers into your ear, and you nod with a mewl.
Eddie works up the pace relatively fast in favor of the cameras, and at some point, he reaches down to grip the thick of your thigh and haul your leg up to rest on the counter so you’re spread open even more. The angle makes it easier for him to catch your spot, and it’s better for the camera to capture the sight of your soaking pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock, dribbling onto both of your thighs and creating a sticky ring of arousal at the base of Eddie’s dick.
Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your throat when you begin twitching around him, mumbling promises of your climax, and Eddie doesn’t waste time in sinking his hand between your legs to help you reach the edge quicker. Your moans fall silent, eyes squeezed shut, and jaw dropped wide open as Eddie fucks you through your orgasm— and fuck, you feel so good. Squeezing and pulsing and dripping around Eddie’s thighs, throat vibrating beneath his palm when air comes back to you.
“There we go, baby. Get it all out, push it out, honey.” Eddie encourages you.
You’re shaking, trembling like a leaf in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie wants to spend forever tucked into your pussy, warm skin sticky against him, pretty little whines and mewls coating his brain in this cutesy pink fog that makes him want to fucking marry you.
Get you a home, give you his babies, maybe even get you a fucking dog and just live happily goddamn ever.
Jesus, Eddie’s a goner.
“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”
Eddie pulls out last second, jerking himself off between your cute ass cheeks until he’s spurting white ropes of cum up your back.
Eddie, ever the considerate man he is, pushes your hair out of the way to avoid getting any of his sticky release in it. You’re breathing heavily, pretty eyes glazed over as you glance back at Eddie, a shy glint in your eyes at the sight of your skin painted in his cum.
Eddie’s obsessed with you now, no doubt.
His ringed fingers slide through the sticky mess on your skin as he grips your ass cheeks, gently spreading them apart and humming when you arch your back, proudly swaying your ass in front of him. The sight makes Eddie dizzy; pools of cum dripping down your back to slink its way through your ass and over your sticky folds. “You’ve got such a cute little hole, baby.” Eddie compliments, taking his thumb and smearing his cum over the puckered muscle, softly laughing when you whine. 
He lightly slaps your ass then, reaching forward to gently grasp your face with his messy hands and pull you back to press a firm kiss over your lips. His thumb, the one that had smeared his cum over your tight hole, sinks between your moving lips, pushing into your mouth and onto your tongue as he whispers a small command to taste it, and you mewl.
“So good, princess—”
“Cut!”
You both jolt at the booming voice, getting rudely snapped out of the daze you’d fallen into. 
These fucking cameras.
You smile, dropping your cheek onto your shoulder as you bat your eyelashes up at Eddie from over your shoulder, “You’re a natural, Eddie, you know that?”
Eddie huffs a laugh, thanking the assistant when they bring you towels and robes.
“Well,” He breathes as he slinks the robe over his shoulders, watching as you do the same, “I’ve got the best coach.” He winks.
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Now that you and Eddie have done two films together and basically had a sleepover, you’re practically inseparable.
It’s funny, really. Eddie thought maybe the fact that you’ve seen each other bare and had sex on camera might hinder the aspect of any friendly connection because, well, Eddie’s never done this before! He’s not a pornstar, so he’s not sure how the friendship/relationship aspect of it works, but luckily, it’s easier than most normal friendships Eddie’s had before.
You talk almost every night over the phone (Eddie finally fixed the wire), going over one another’s day and laughing at embarrassing or funny moments. You go on for hours until either one of you falls asleep, and it’s usually you since Eddie has the sleep schedule of a newborn baby who doesn’t know the difference between night and day. All the better for him, though, because he gets to poke fun at you the next day and tease you about how you sometimes snore.
And Eddie loves listening to you talk— could spend hours cuddled up with Banshee as he listens to you ramble on about whatever new show you’re watching or the latest gossip at work. It’s Eddie’s favorite part of his day, talking to you, so he kicks himself when he realizes he forgot to call you last night.
He’s getting ready for bed when he remembers, and he practically sprints to his phone on his nightstand and dials your number in less than thirty seconds. It takes you three rings to answer, and Eddie smiles at the sound of your voice, “Hello?”
“Hi, princess,” Eddie responds.
You gasp, “Eddie, hi! Oh, I was just about to call you! Where have you been?” You ask. Eddie groans, dropping back onto his mattress with spread arms. “Working. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. I just started a new schedule at the shop, and the hours are awful.”
Eddie can hear your frown when you respond, “Bummer. I’ve got a way to cheer you up, though.”
Eddie’s eyes are closed, and sleep is so heavy in his bones he feels like he’s sinking through the mattress, but he smiles as if it’s second nature when he responds, “Hit me.”
You cheer, and Eddie hears the rustling of grocery bags on your end as you speak, “My manager gave me a shit ton of holiday chocolates she had left over, and well, I was wondering if you’d like to drown yourself in sugar with me?” 
Eddie softly laughs, folding his arm to rest his hand on his tummy as he nods, forgetting you can’t see. “You didn’t even have to ask.”
The drive from your flat to Eddie’s is typically around twenty minutes, but with the benefit of it being nearly midnight and most normal people being in bed by now, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door in just a little under twelve minutes. 
Eddie opens the door to let you in and immediately just wants to kiss you. You’re dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, loose pajama pants with cute little ducks printed on them, and fluffy house slippers. You grin up at Eddie as you lift a bag full of candy, “I come bearing gifts!”
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Eddie had been exhausted all day, but now that he’s had two handfuls of sugary treats, he’s ready to run a fucking marathon.
He’s sucking on a sour apple jawbreaker and watching some shitty romcom with Banshee curled in his lap when he feels your head softly drop onto his shoulder. He glances down at you and sees the soft flutter of your eyes, “Are you tired? You can take my bed.” He offers.
You tilt your head to blink up at him tiredly, “Will you come with me?”
And well, Eddie was originally going to take the couch, but you’re looking up at him with these cute, bleary eyes, and Eddie can’t even imagine saying no. So, he shuts his TV off, makes a mental note to clean up the candy wrappers sometime tomorrow, and lets you drag him off to his room.
Banshee decided to take advantage of the new space on the couch and sprawl out, so Eddie doesn’t have to worry about asking if you’re okay with her cuddling up on his bed like she usually does. 
Eddie doesn’t do this very often— sleep with other people in his bed, he means. And sure, he’s had partners before that would stay the night here and there, but he hasn’t had that in over a year now, so it’s safe to say that Eddie’s a little bit nervous.
He doesn’t know if you want to be close, but considering how cuddly you are on a daily basis, he’s not surprised when you press yourself into his side with a content sigh, snuggling deeper into the warm covers. He turns, shifting to wrap his arms around your frame, trying his best to ignore the fast beating of his heart in his chest— but that’s not the main issue. The bigger problem is— “Eddie? Are you hard?”
Shit.
God, this is awful. Nothing even remotely sexual happened, and Eddie’s popping a boner and practically stabbing your stomach. Fuck, you probably think he’s a perv now. Nice going.
“No.”
It falls silent for a moment, and Eddie can feel the quiver of your body as you giggle into his shoulder. He smiles, an embarrassed blush rising over her cheeks as he lifts a hand to palm at his eye, “I’m so fucking sorry.”
You turn in Eddie’s arm, pressing a hand to Eddie’s shoulder to lay him on his back. You stay lying by his side, body pressed to him, head resting on his shoulder. You nose at the curly strands of hair on Eddie’s neck, and your hand runs down his torso, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “O-oh. No, you don’t need to, princess.” Eddie says, yet his voice is shaky and holds anticipation as you drag your nails through the coarse hair leading to his cock. 
“I want to. Please?” You ask. And you’re so good, so obedient, not touching Eddie’s cock until he swallows and nods his head yes. You wriggle, like a happy pup that got a treat, and your hand sinks lower, wrapping around the thick of Eddie’s cock.
Eddie’s breath hitches, sinking into the feeling of your warm hand stroking up his cock, your thumb running over his leaking tip. Eddie curses, hips twitching up into your hold, and you press a kiss to his jaw, and Eddie nearly bursts into stars.
You press another kiss to his jaw, soft and sweet, and Eddie slinks an arm around you, sinking his hands into your hair and shakily breathing. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna— fuck.”
And it’s so pathetic; you’ve only had your hand down his pants for less than five minutes, and Eddie’s quivering like a virgin having their first time. God, this is so embarrassing.
You kiss Eddie once more, “Wait, wait. Not yet.”
And then you shuffle away from Eddie, and he’s frowning because he feels cold without you snuggled against him. But then you’re sinking underneath the covers, and Eddie’s cursing, “W-what are you doing, honey?”
He lifts the covers just as you wriggle your way between his legs and hook your fingers over the band of his sweats. You peel his sweats away, mouth opening like a hungry lion when Eddie’s cock pops out. You push the front band of his sweats to catch just below his balls, and Eddie’s hips squirm from the pressure making you giggle when his cock twitches.
You loop your fingers around his cock, twisting up on a long stroke, “Did I ever tell you how pretty your cock is, Eddie?”
Jesus Christ.
Eddie breathes shakily through his nose, tummy quivering as your gaze flickers; he shakes his head no. Eddie sinks a hand to pet your hair back, smiling when you nuzzle into his touch, letting your lips brush against his tip, “You think it’s pretty, baby?” He asks.
You nod, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth to catch the pearl of pre-cum dripping from his tip. You don’t say anything else as you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him, languidly taking him as far as you want and sucking him for all he’s worth.
Eddie’s head drops back then, his entire body just losing strength to do anything as you slowly fuck your mouth over him. The blanket falls over you then, and Eddie curses, scrambling to push it back over your head so you don’t, like, suffocate on his cock.
And Eddie was already close before, so it doesn’t take long for him to start cursing and warning you that he’s gonna cum. Before he knows it, he’s emptying himself into the warm cavern of your mouth, soft mixes of curses and your name tumbling from his mouth as you happily take every last drop.
You pull off of him with a small pop, licking up the small remnants of cum that drool down his cock. Eddie feels weightless now; the effects of sugar are long gone now that you practically sucked his soul through his dick. You tuck Eddie back into his pants, and as if you couldn’t get any cuter, any sweeter, you press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s tummy right where the waistband sits.
Eddie’s got a loopy grin on his face when you crawl back up to snuggle back into his side, mumbling something about how you love licking his cock. Eddie nearly dies, by the way.
He thinks he’s in love with you, maybe.
You breathe in deep, draping an arm across Eddie’s tummy and slinking your leg between his, and you sigh all sleepy and cute as you say, “G’night, Eddie.”
Yeah. Eddie’s definitely in love with you.
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Weeks go by as you and Eddie become thick as thieves.
You carry on with your nightly calls, obviously, but now there’s a healthy mix of one of you going to the other's home and crashing there for the night, then that bleeds into the next day where you just spend hours with each other doing fuck all.
Eddie just likes being around you. You don’t have to be doing anything particularly fun or sexual; no, Eddie just enjoys your company. And most times, you and Eddie will be doing your separate little activities— you reading or watching a movie while Eddie writes up new campaign ideas for Dustin— and you will reach out to twirl a strand of Eddie’s hair around your knuckle and gently tug or poke your finger into his cheek where his dimples reside and Eddie just melts.
Most of the time, you’re only doing it for your peace of mind (Eddie knows because you told him when he asked), but something tells him maybe you actually have something to say when you poke Eddie’s cheek for the third time.
He turns to you, brows raised and hiding beneath his bangs that so badly need a trim, “Yes, doll?”
You smile now that his attention is on you, and you shift, careful not to wake Banshee in your lap from your movements. Eddie thinks Banshee might like you more than she likes him, which is just downright traitorous, considering Eddie’s the one who feeds her and keeps a roof over her head. He doesn’t really blame the cat, though. 
“What are you doing on Saturday?” You ask.
Eddie hums, closing his notebook and leaning back into his couch, “This Saturday?”
You nod, and Eddie shrugs, lips pouting as he speaks, “Nothing, I’m pretty sure. Why?”
You sigh heavily, sinking into the couch as you gently pet Banshee behind her ear, “We have an event for work, and I was just wondering if you would maybe wanna tag along?”
Eddie’s head tips in interest, “Sure. Is it, like, fancy dress shit?” He asks. Eddie thinks he has a tux somewhere deep in the trenches of his closet. Probably the one he wore to Wayne's wedding two years ago; he hopes he still fits.
You shrug, “Eh, nothing too fancy schmancy. Slacks and a nice shirt will do,” You mindlessly watch the television, gently rubbing Banshee’s ear between your fingers. “That I can do, princess. But uh,” Eddie pauses, “You don’t seem too ecstatic about this.” He points out.
You shrug, glancing over at Eddie, and Eddie wants to kiss your pouty lips because you look adorable swallowed up in a throw blanket with sleepy eyes blinking up at him. “S’cause I’m not,” You huff, “I hate those ignorant assholes— don’t get me wrong, some of them are good friends of mine! But most of them are just…” You make a face and roll your eyes, and Eddie softly laughs. You let your head lazily turn to gaze at him, “Don says I have to go, though. So I figured I may as well drag someone I actually enjoy being around.” You softly smile.
Eddie’s heart flutters and grows three times the size of his body.
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Saturday night comes quicker than most, and Eddie spends nearly an hour digging through his closet. By the time Eddie finds a nice enough shirt to pair with his neatly ironed (to Eddie’s standard, which is probably not very high) slacks, he’s running behind and starts to stress that he won’t pick you up on time, and he’s just totally made an ass of himself.
It’s five o’clock when Eddie gets to your flat, and when he knocks on your door, he’s out of breath because he smokes more than a godman grill, and he skipped every other step on the staircase to get there quicker. He’s thinking of a million ways to apologize for being late, and he thinks he has it right when you open the door, but then— “Oh. Hey Eds! You’re early!”
Eddie huffs, nearly doubling over in exhaustion because he seriously needs to quit smoking, “Wha– early?”
You hold the door open for Eddie to step in and nod. You’re in a white fluffy robe with house boots on, and your hair is tied back, so you have a clear canvas to work with for your makeup. “Yeah, it starts at seven.” 
And, oh, what the fuck? Here Eddie was stressing and thinking he’d completely ruined his chances with you because he decided to be an asshat and lose track of time on his video games, but in reality, he’s nearly two hours early?!
“Oh, but now you can help me pick a dress. Come on.”
No, Eddie has zero complaints, actually. He’s grateful that he’s timely challenged, he thinks as you drag him toward your room.
Eddie spends the next thirty minutes or so seated at the foot of your bed, judging whichever dresses you surprise him with from out of your closet.
It isn’t easy to give a solid answer because, well, you look good in all of them. And Eddie’s not even being biased because he’s got a sickening crush on you— no, you genuinely look amazing in every dress.
“Eddie, you’ve said yes to all of them.” You huff. “Because they all look good!” Eddie exclaims.
You frown, resting your hands on your hips and tilting your head at him. Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know why you’re upset with me when it’s technically your fault.” He points out, to which you roll your eyes and jokingly throw a dress at his face.
It takes a while for you to decide; by the time you’ve figured it out, there’s about forty minutes until the event begins.
The dress you landed on is evil, to say the least.
It’s a black puffy babydoll-style dress, except instead of a poofy top half, it’s tight fitting and pushes your chest up to sit nice and pretty, and the straps are thin, and Eddie thinks about the sound you’d make if he just reached out and teasingly snapped it against your skin. Wants to coo when you squirm and mewl and press yourself into him.
And the dress is so short, long enough to cover everything, but you wouldn’t have to bend over very far to flash a lucky person, and the sight of your thighs makes Eddie’s head spin.
He doesn’t know where the courage comes from because Eddie is anything but bold when it comes to people he has ridiculous crushes on, but Eddie couldn’t help himself, watching you bent over the sink as you do your last touch-ups to your makeup, the way your silky thighs rub against one another when you shift to get closer to the mirror— Eddie didn’t stand a chance.
He’s behind you before he knows it, and you’re smiling at him through the mirror, “Almost done, promise.” You say.
Eddie lets his hand slink around your waist, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck, brown eyes fluttering up to hold your gaze through the glass as he kisses your skin before playfully nipping at you. You squeal, curling away from him, and he smiles as you push at him. “You’re cute,” Eddie softly says, and he grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip when you shy away from his gaze, “So pretty.” He adds.
Eddie turns you to face him as he presses you against the bathroom sink. He seeks your lips, but you pout and shake your head, “My lipgloss.” 
Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to catch any of the sticky application before sinking to his knees, hands gentle and greedy as they caress your thighs.
Eddie leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, “Gonna let me taste you, honey?” He hums, leaning in the press a kiss further up the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, legs subconsciously spreading wider to accommodate Eddie. Your nails dig into the countertop as you shakily breathe, “W-we’re gonna be late,” You weakly say as Eddie lets his tongue draw shapes in your skin. Eddie hums, sucking the fat of your thigh into his mouth before leaving with a pop, lips brushing against your hot skin as he says, “I’ll be quick. Promise.”
He doesn’t wait for your response as he coasts his hands up your thighs to loop his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down your legs and helping you step out of them. 
Eddie doesn’t waste time then; he kisses a sloppy wet trail up the inside of your thigh, fingers digging into the fat of your skin and helping you spread open for him so he can nuzzle his head beneath the fluffy tulle of your dress and begin his task of devouring you. You’re wet, dripping, and throbbing for Eddie’s tongue, and this is the third time that Eddie has found himself licking into you, and god, it never gets fucking old.
The sounds you make, the way you writhe, the tiny gasps you give, and then the way your cunt pulses around his tongue— it’s the pinnacle of Eddie’s night, he already knows. 
“E-Eddie— oh,” Your breathy whine makes Eddie stuff his face further into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit as he thrusts his tongue into you, your hands scrambling down to sink into Eddie’s hair and tug.
And it took Eddie longer than he’d like to admit to get his hair slicked into the neat bun he’s sporting, but with his tongue plunged deep inside of you and your pretty moans filling his ears, Eddie can’t seem to care that you’re definitely messing up his hard work.
Eddie could spend eternity here, down on his knees, under the dress of your skirt, lapping at your pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. And sure, Eddie makes this conclusion, like, every single time he finds himself between your legs, but can you blame him? You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of dealing with.
You lift a leg to hook over Eddie’s shoulder, the heel of your foot pressing into his shoulder blade and pushing a moan from the depths of Eddie’s chest as he snuggles deeper into you, licking and sucking and nipping. 
“S-so close…” You whimper, thighs beginning to quiver on each side of Eddie’s head. He fixes his grip on your hips because Eddie wouldn’t dream of letting you fall in his presence, and you’re standing on your tiptoes when you fumble over the edge, crying out for Eddie as you soak his tongue.
Eddie’s moaning into you, fingers massaging and caressing the thick parts of your hips and thighs as he continues working you through your orgasm. You’re twitching and heavily breathing when Eddie parts his mouth from your slick folds, strings of arousal and spit snapping and falling to his chin. God, it makes Eddie ache in his pants.
He presses sweet and sticky kisses to the insides of your thighs, savoring every moment he has here, breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you, hearing you. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks like a madman when he brings his head out from under your dress, and you giggle, pressing your hand to your lips.
Eddie wants to hear that noise on repeat. Put his headphones on and, like, clean his house or something. Let your giggles play on a constant loop until they’re engrained into the grooves of his brain so he never has to go a second without hearing them.
“What?” Eddie smiles, hands still under your dress and soothingly squeezing the shaky muscles of your thighs. Your eyes are glazed from pleasure, and you look warm as you speak, “I– your hair,” You laugh. You press the wispy curls of Eddie’s bangs back, “I’m so sorry. It looked so nice, and I messed it up.” You happily frown.
Eddie huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your knee and shaking his head, “That’s okay,” He responds, reaching over for your panties to help you slip them back on. “It was for a good cause.” He winks.
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Eddie doesn’t frequent fancy parties.
The fanciest event Eddie’s ever been to was a masquerade-themed dinner that he and Jeff snuck into because there were rumors of a big hit producer being there, which, big fucking shocker, they never found him since everyone was in a fucking mask. It was a waste of time, but at least they ate like kings that night.
Besides that, Eddie doesn’t go to fancy places— it’s just not his kind of scene. And it’s not like the event you’ve brought him to tonight is, like, Buckingham Palace tier, but everyone here looks like a million bucks and up, and Eddie’s not quite sure he’s up to that standard.
He would be more worried if you weren’t clinging to him like a koala bear and keeping him in light conversation.
You introduced Eddie to a few of your industry friends, and one or two of them even remembered Eddie from the films he’d done with you, which, Eddie doesn’t know why, but his head grew three times bigger in size from that. And for the most part, you keep to Eddie’s side, pointing out different people from across the room and telling him the lore behind them and whatnot as you share a plate of snacks.
And you love grapes, apparently, because Eddie’s had to get up and refill on them about three times now. “Do you want more?” Eddie asks when he realizes you’re almost done. You glance at him with a small smile as you nod, “I’ll get it this time, though. I want to try some of the cheese.”
So, Eddie nods and keeps an eye on you until the crowd obstructs his view. He busies himself with watching the room, tries to see if he can pick out anyone from any pornos he’s watched before he realizes that’s fucking weird and cringes at himself for being a perv. He finishes his glass of champagne, which Eddie isn’t a champagne guy, but it was either that or whiskey, and Eddie would rather not get shitfaced tonight.
And what’s taking you so long? You’ve been gone for a while now, and Eddie had first thought you maybe made a quick stop at the restrooms, but it’s been more than enough time, and he misses you (as fucking sappy as that is), so he gets up and makes his way to the food bar.
He’s got his empty flute in one hand and the other in his pocket, brown eyes softly scanning the room as he walks. And then he spots you, near the food where you said you’d be, with some guy talking to you, but something isn’t right. 
Eddie’s spent enough time with you now to be able to tell when you’re feeling uneasy just by the way you anxiously drag your nail against the length of your thumb, the way your eyes dart around, or the tense pull of your shoulders.
Your gaze lands on Eddie, and your eyes soften, and Eddie doesn’t even have to think twice before he walks over.
The man's back is facing Eddie, so he doesn’t see the curly-headed boy until he steps around and slinks an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a soft smile, “Been looking for you, sweets.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you sink into him.
“Mm, just catching up with..a friend.” 
Eddie doesn’t miss the pause. He looks over to the man you’d been talking to, and you take a breath, “Eddie, this is Chris, a coworker.” You introduce the man. And Eddie remembers that name; he thinks he remembers seeing it on the script of the last film you and Eddie did together— the one where you’d asked Eddie to take over because the other guy was an asshole.
Chris reaches out a hand, “Chris. You must be a good friend of hers?”
Eddie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t refer to you by your name, or the smug grin on his face, or the sly tone in his voice when he says it. 
And Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, okay. He doesn’t know why the words fly out of his mouth or why he didn’t, like, think it through, but suddenly, Eddie’s introducing himself as your boyfriend. Which, Eddie is not your boyfriend. And you’re not his girlfriend.
Eddie would love to be your boyfriend, and he’d love for you to be his girlfriend, but— but you’re not. So, Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he does, and god, it’s comedic how the guy's face falls. Eddie can feel your gaze on him, and he panics a little because what if Eddie just crossed the line big time?
Chris’s gaze flickers to you, and his brows raise as you look at him, “So, I take it this is why you’re only doing solo content now?”
Which, fucking gross. That’s definitely none of this meathead guy's business! So what if you’re making solo content only? And why does he know, and why does he care? God, this guy’s a creep.
But also… why are you only doing solo content? Eddie can’t help but wonder. Did something happen? Was it this asshole's fault? Eddie will kill him if he has anything to do with it. You and Eddie have become so close; you tell each other everything about everything, so why didn’t you tell him about this? It’s not a big deal or whatever, but—
“Does it matter?” Shit, Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud.
You’re both looking at Eddie in shock, and Eddie just blinks and waits for an answer.
You take in a deep breath, arm squeezing around Eddie’s as you answer— since this guy can’t take a fucking hint, “Yeah, actually, it is. Just didn’t feel right.” You shrug.
The guy nods, pursing his lips together, “Fair enough. Well, if that ever changes, you know where to find me.” He winks before turning around and leaving. Eddie cringes, and he almost steps forward to say something, to tell him to fuck off somewhere, but your grip tightens around his arms, and Eddie understands that you just want the conversation to be over.
Eddie’s quickly turning his attention to you, though, when you press yourself into his side, “Thank you.” You sweetly say.
Eddie nods, a warm hand reaching up to squeeze your hand that's resting over his bicep, “Don’t sweat it, princess. That guy’s a douche.” And you huff, nodding your head, “Yeah. You definitely scared him, though. It was pretty hot.”
Eddie tries not to let that get to his head. 
He fails.
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The rest of the night goes well with fewer dickhead run-ins and more grapes, and Eddie is more than Elated when you say it’s time to go.
The ride home is pleasant, and you’ve been extra cuddly all night, so Eddie’s heart is practically the size of Texas when you bring his hand into your lap and slink your fingers together. You’re spending the night, so Eddie’s kind of excited to get in bed and snuggle until you both pass out— but then Eddie’s thrown in for a loop when you both get under his covers.
Banshee is busy in her bakery down at the foot of the bed, kneading little biscuits in preparation for her sleep, and you’re fresh-faced and wrapped in one of Eddie’s shirts when you look over at him with a teasing look, “So,” you start, “You’re my boyfriend.”
Eddie blinks at you, wishing the bed would just let him sink in and become one with the mattress. “Oh god,” He groans, pressing his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, it just came out! That guy was being a dick, and it was the first thing that I thought of, and— god, I’m sorry.” He drags his hands over his face and shoots you an empathetic look. “You can totally, like, kick me in the nuts.”
And Eddie kind of braces himself for you to chew him out or something; tell him he’s a weirdo, and he’ll never in a million years get to call himself your boyfriend because you’re way out of his league. But then you giggle. 
And it’s not the teasing ‘get a load of this loser’ giggle— no, it’s your sweet, kind, and adoring giggle.
“No, no. I was… I was wondering when you would ask, actually.”
Eddie’s never turned his head so fast. He thinks he imagined you saying it, like, maybe he drank too much champagne even though he literally only had less than two full glasses the entire night. “Huh? I– w-what do you mean?” Eddie gapes. “Like… like, ask you to be my girlfriend?”
And you’re so cute as you shyly nod, glancing at Eddie with this expectant gaze.
“Shit, well uh, I-I wanted to ask you in like a bigger way. Like flowers and shit because I… well, I really like you, and it’s what you deserve and—”
You cut Eddie off with a laugh and scoot closer to him, and if Eddie’s heart beats any faster, he might die. “Eddie,” You lowly and softly say, holding his gaze. Eddie nods, eyes darting down to your lips as he holds his breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”
Shit, Eddie’s never said yes so quickly in his life.
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a/n: HELLOOO! if you have made it to the end of this awfully long baby i am so thankful and appreciative of you, these two are my babies so I hope you enjoyed them as much as I've enjoyed my time with them <3 as always, thank u for reading and being here, i love and appreciate any feedback, ILYSM MWAH <3
————
cutie teeny taglist: @vol2eddie @paleidiot @hideoutside
3K notes · View notes
xbellaxcarolinax · 9 months
Note
pls do virgin miguel o'hara w/ a huge cock and fucks both of u dumb 🥹
I hope this is what you meant, babe. Miguel might be ooc, idk, anyway, here ya go:
NSFW below the cut, minors DNI.
Nothing could have ever prepared you for this.
He's big—massive even. The head’s swollen, precome beading at the very tip. All that from a heavy makeout session.
You stared, almost fascinated, stunned into silence.
"...is it okay?" Miguel grunted, watching you carefully with nervous eyes. He was sitting rather uncomfortably at the edge of your bed, legs spread apart and briefs pooled around his ankles.
"Uhh…yeah," you sank to your knees in front of him, "just never seen one so...big." Miguel grew increasingly flustered at your words, even more so when you gripped him firmly in your hand, squeezing ever so slightly. His cock looked ridiculous in your small hands but that only fueled you to take up the challenge. You knew it'd hurt so good.
You bit your lip before devouring him, taking as much of him as you could. He choked, hand flying to grip your hair, and you were certain he’d take the lead and move you over his cock at the speed he desired, but he didn’t. His fingers were gentle, almost hesitant as he buried them within the strands.
It was your first time tasting him. You got lost in it, slobbering over the tip and down his shaft with the intention of taking him whole but he pushed you away, causing you to release him with a pop.
“Fuck, cariño,” Miguel panted, shaking his head, his dark hair damp with sweat, “I can’t—you can’t—it’s too much, I won’t last.”
You looked up at him with a teary gaze, wanting to make eye contact but he refused, content with turning his head to the side to look at the wall.
“Mig?” He ignored you, jaw clenched and nose flared as he fisted the sheets under him.
“Miguel,” you tried again, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you stood. He ignored you still and you grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes, “what’s wrong?” You smoothed his hair away from his brow, hoping the action would soothe him. His eyes were lidded but he looked at you, brows arched.
“What’s wrong, baby?” You cooed.
"I don't know what I'm doing." He muttered, shutting his eyes as soon as the words left his lips.
"What do you mean?" You questioned, pressing your lips to his forehead in a chaste kiss, "you’re supposed to sit and enjoy.”
“That’s not what I mean,” he sounded frustrated, his large hands falling to your hips, gripping you tightly, “I’ve…never done any of this before.” You paused, processing his words while stroking your thumbs over his high cheekbones. 
He’s never done this before? Had no one ever sucked his cock?
Did he mean…?
Oh. OH.
“You mean you’re a…?”
“Virgin. Yeah.” He finally said, dropping his into the plushness of your breasts. 
The last thing you assumed was that Miguel O’Hara was a virgin. The man was the very definition of confidence. You’ve seen how women acted around him. It never crossed your mind that he lacked any sexual encounters. But now it made sense. You’ve been dating Miguel for a few weeks and within those few weeks, you did nothing more than kiss like the world demanded it from you. That was fine; he was an excellent kisser.
Anytime it seemed like something more would come from the kissing, he’d stop, nipping it in the bud, saying he had work in the morning. He was a busy man and, well, that was that. You thought he never had much time for anything else.
But you understood now.
“Ahh Mig, nothing to be embarrassed about,” you said sweetly, brushing the tip of your nose with his, “we can stop if you want—”
“No!” He roared, bringing you down to his lap. You could feel his erection, hot and wet with your spit, pressing hard against your clothed core. You gasped, letting your hands fall to his shoulders as he buried his face into your neck, “Don’t wanna stop. Wanna feel you.”
“Yeah?” you breathed, eyes fluttering as he nibbled your skin, “a-are you sure? If you’re not ready then—”
“I’m ready,” He growled, pressing his brow against yours, “just thought you should know, cariño. Don’t want to disappoint you.”
You rode him for what felt like hours, his giant cock slamming into where you needed him the most. You ached from the stretch of him, your cunt swollen and raw, gushing all over his length. He was a moaning mess, biting every surface of you he could: your neck, your shoulders, your collarbones, your breasts. He was insatiable, cumming within minutes of your pussy swallowing his cock. Refractory period non-existent. He’d go again and again and again till he painted you completely with his spend and you were too fucked out to speak.
Nope. He didn’t disappoint. Not even a little.
5K notes · View notes
ahundredtimesover · 3 months
Text
I Want You to Stay (02) | JJK
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Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut
Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 11.9k
Series Masterlist
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Status: Ongoing
Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.
Playlist 🎶: on the way home
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A/N: Hiii really touched with all the love for this story! I don’t know about you but this hits harder with all the boys away and we’re missing them so badly. But we’ve got this! 💕 But thank you thank you for all the messages (sorry I can’t get to each one!) and the interest and excitement. Hope you enjoy this one ☺️
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰
PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!
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Despite hoping that he wouldn’t, Jungkook, in fact, pushes you further away on his second day on the job. 
To his defense, it was partly your fault. You smiled at him last night - perhaps due to your delicious dinner that you didn’t even know was from him - and it disarmed him. 
The words you uttered after just flew over his head and he just nodded, too out of it to confirm what you’d said. It probably had something to do about you not coming to his penthouse, because it’s Tuesday morning and you’re still not here. He’d expected that like yesterday, you'd prepare his breakfast, and after all that transpired, debrief after yesterday’s meetings and discuss the next steps. That was his routine with Lucas, and for all the things that you seemed to know and do right - from his room design, the doneness of his eggs, and his coffee - this was a miss. 
“Aren’t you supposed to be assisting me from the start of the day?” Jungkook says over the phone, his tone sounding annoyed. “I’ve been waiting for you since 6:30.”
Your heart drops at his words, the memory from last night of him agreeing to you sticking to the same schedule you had with Hoseok suddenly feeling like some made up scenario. You remember telling Jungkook that you go straight to the office the rest of the week; you’d only go to Hoseok’s house on Mondays to prepare his clothes and brief him because he’s able to manage from Tuesday onwards. Your new boss, for some reason, perhaps misheard your question. And now you’re the one in trouble. 
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bring yourself to say, your voice in a panic because regardless of who’s in the wrong, making him wait is not a good start to his day nor yours, and especially not to your already rocky relationship. “I can get a cab then head to you.”
“So you want me to wait for you some more?” He chides, his dry laugh making you want to throw your phone just so you won’t hear his voice anymore. “Just stay wherever you are, but I want the meeting minutes from yesterday ready when I get there since you’re not here to go over them with me.”
Jungkook hangs up and your head thumping on your desk is immediate. It’s barely the start of the day and you already want to go back home and probably never come back. 
You left the office at 9 last night, knowing you were too exhausted to continue working on the annotated documents, and then got soaked in the rain on your way home. You planned on coming to work early - given that your boss didn’t require you to go to his penthouse, a claim you stand by - so you can continue, but now he wants the meeting minutes in an hour, and that isn’t usually due until three days later. 
Neglecting the sandwich you planned on eating for breakfast, you work on your notes from the first meeting and then move on to the next. Every footstep you hear makes you anxious, and you breathe a sigh of relief every time you find out it’s not him. Every minute counts and you’re thankful for each one. Until, of course, you run out of it. 
“Send them to me now and meet me in my office,” his voice echoes through the hallway that leads to his room. 
Jungkook walks straight past you and doesn’t even give you a look.
“Yes, sir,” you squeak, quickly sending the email then scurrying to where he is. 
You find him seated on his chair, his leg crossed over the other one as he goes through the notes on his iPad, his furrowed eyebrows making you sweat in worry. He doesn’t seem pleased. But from what you’ve witnessed so far, you doubt there’s much that pleases him.
He encircles words and scribbles on the sides, mumbling “incomplete,” “what does this mean,” and “this is not what I said.”
Jungkook sets the device on his desk and groans. He turns to you with a hard glare, and you clearly see just how displeased he is. Not that you have any defense - it’s your job to do what he asked in a manner that’s up to his standards - but you already felt discouraged in the morning, and your meal skipping caused you to lose focus in the afternoon, resulting in your less than satisfactory documentation of the meeting.
“Ms. Cho, do you know the value of these documents? And why I require them to be comprehensive and done on time?”
“Uh, ye-yes, sir,” you drag out.
“Why?”
It’s too early for this, you think to yourself. Clearly you know why they’re important; you’re just too tired to articulate the reasons to him. But you try, as the words form in your head. You’re about to say them when he stands from his chair and walks towards his desk, leans on the edge and then intently looks at you, as if he’s judging even the way you’re breathing or standing. And you’d probably fail, given how your body seems to cower in his presence. 
“Because decisions are made through them,” he says, drowning out your thoughts with his stern voice. “I attend numerous meetings everyday. Decision points can be buried in the discussions unless they’re documented properly. And even when they are, they’re not actioned upon immediately unless I have access to them and unless they’ve been processed and verified. I don’t leave those conference rooms and forget about what took place. They stay in my head, that’s why I ask you to write them down, and that’s why I require you to meet me first thing in the morning so that I can process them with you, and let those points guide me for the rest of the week.”
His glare continues, so does his voice getting louder. “My job isn’t just to sit around and listen to people. I make decisions. And it’s your job to make sure I have all the correct information to make them.”
“I… I understand, sir. And I… I apologize for the oversight,” you stutter, still unable to look at him. “But about this morning, uh… you, uh last night, I—”
“Was there an explicit statement from me about not having you come in the morning?”
“No, sir.”
He lets the silence draw out, perhaps to let your own words sink in. He does have a point. You stand by your claim that you’d asked, and he nodded, but you should also know that such gestures aren’t clear responses, and that’s on you to make sure that you’re both on the same page. 
“I’m sorry, sir,” you say with conviction. “I made an assumption when I should have clarified. And even then, it’s your first week as Vice President. I should be assisting you in all the ways I can.”
Jungkook watches your form, hands clasped together with your nails sinking into your skin. Your head is bowed down, unable or unwilling to look at him this whole time. He knows he’s at fault, too, but he’d never admit it; he’s not exactly the type to do that. 
You stand there in submission and a part of him wants to apologize, but that’s not the type of weakness he wants to show, not when he needs to establish authority and more importantly, distance.
“I require Lucas to still come every morning because that’s the only time we can debrief about the previous day’s activities,” he says, making his voice calmer now. “We go through the minutes, clarify things, finalize them, and then disseminate so that people don’t forget. Teams collaborate effectively when there’s accountability and when timelines are adhered to. It’s my job to make sure they comply. And that means it’s your job, too. I don’t have to remind you of your roles now do I, Ms. Cho?”
“No, sir,” you respond, finding the strength in you to finally look at him, his hardened stare still unnerving you. 
He uncrosses his arms and walks back to his seat. “My cousin and I work very differently from each other. It’s on you to adjust.” 
“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in acknowledgment. “I’ll be at your apartment at 6:30 every morning and I’ll do better with my documentation and preparation of all the files.”
Jungkook just hums then proceeds to work on something on his desktop, which you take as your cue to leave. You bow again and excuse yourself, but his voice stops you as you open the door.
“Push back this morning’s meeting to 9:00,” he says. “And make sure you have something to eat. I can’t have you be unfocused again like yesterday.”
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You survive the rest of Tuesday. You eat snacks rather than proper meals, and you find that that helps you more with time and focus. The meetings for that day are less intense, but with you still figuring out exactly how Jungkook wants the documents prepared, you stay up after hours and work on them for the next day, with you constantly going over the recording to make sure that you documented everything correctly. 
You arrive at his penthouse at 6:30 every morning during the week. You make his breakfast while he takes a shower, which is really whatever’s in his fridge or pantry. He doesn’t seem to mind what you prepare for him, and you’re glad that he doesn’t find any more severe reasons to dislike you. There’s still the occasional correction of your minutes, but you chalk it up to him just being too particular. There are terms he uses that you’re not familiar with; he’s an architect by training after all.
Perhaps it’s why he’s as specific and detail-oriented as he is, and more visual than anything. Hoseok is a perfectionist like him, but the older man has everything organized in his head and then executes them, whereas Jungkook needs them all laid out before him. Whether it’s about a policy, a process, and especially a design, he makes sure they’re drawn out, and the way they all just make sense to him is immediate. 
You suppose that’s what he’s used to. Plans need representation beyond words; he doesn’t seem to be the type to use much of them, in fact, unless he’s correcting you. But that’s what you’ve noticed. At some points during the meeting, he’d draw something on his iPad and send it to you; you both discuss it the next morning, with you finding the words for it for proper documentation. 
But his mind doesn’t seem to stop, as you catch him on the way to work sometimes doodling some design on this leather notebook that he carries with him everywhere. Whether it’s the Arts Center or something else, you’re not sure, but you know that any moment he pulls it out, he’d spend a good amount of time on it before getting out of the car.
He remains distant and disengaged as you expect him to be. Unlike Hoseok who asks you how your evening went or how the trip to his house was, Jungkook doesn’t talk about anything that doesn’t concern work. And so when he isn’t talking about it, there’s just silence - whether in the car, in the elevator, or the walk to his room. There’s none of the laughter or the questions about how you’re coping with all your tasks, and there’s definitely nothing about his life that he shares. Not that you thought he would, but the difference with your old boss is striking, as you think of the times when Hoseok happily talked about the salsa studio he was at with A-yeong over the weekend or the movie they watched together the night before.
The comparisons remain in your head throughout the week. You try to focus on your responsibilities but you realize that you haven’t properly moved on from the culture and environment that you used to enjoy when Hoseok was still leading the team, and that has affected your work in obvious ways, and especially your approach to it. 
There’s anxiety with every task that Jungkook asks of you, even if they’re things you’ve done so many times in your three years as the VP’s assistant. You find yourself constantly clarifying his instructions, prompting him to question your ability to take them. You feel like he’ll be displeased regardless of what your output is, yet you still end up spending too much time going over files that you forget to eat or clock out too late. You don’t get proper sleep either, nervous about what the next day will bring. You second-guess yourself constantly, and all the confidence you built in all your time here doesn’t seem to have as strong of a foundation as you thought. 
So when you make another mistake the following Tuesday, whatever belief in yourself that you have left dissipates. 
“Ms. Cho, where is the folder?” Jungkook asks, his gaze hardening the longer you look at him without a word. 
You’re currently at a restaurant, given that your boss has a meeting with Mr. Hu, the owner of the company that produces quality materials that Jungkook wants for the Arts Center. This was scheduled just yesterday, which is also when he’d asked you to put together the rough draft plans and design that he worked on last weekend. The project is in its early stages but the plans are clear to Jungkook and he wants to secure this deal early on, especially with Mr. Hu leaving the country for a few weeks. 
You finalized this last night and left it on your desk along with the portfolios that Yoongi and the support team have been taking from your shelf. Given the week you’ve had - lack of sleep and frustration more than anything - you rushed to get ready and mistakenly took a portfolio and not the folder meant for this meeting.
“I… I’m so sorry, sir, but I seem to have taken the wrong files,” you stutter, eyes on the ground as you clutch the portfolio for support. “They… they were on my desk along with others and I left them in the office.”
There’s a long pause before Jungkook speaks, the irritation clear in his voice.
“Do you at least have a soft copy?”
“It’s on a USB, sir,” you reply, nervously raising your head. “I left it as well.”
You try your hardest not to look at him, even if it seems like he wants you to, just so you can see the burning way he does it. Because you feel him huffing, you can see how he’s clenching his fists as he controls what he’s feeling, which is definitely anger towards your stupid mistake. 
Jungkook clears his throat before turning back to the man seated across from him, his voice apologetic as he explains that you weren’t able to bring it. 
“Ah, what a shame,” Mr. Hu says, judgingly glancing at you. “I was really looking forward to seeing your plans, Jungkook. I could’ve advised my people to check on the materials you want this early.”
“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook says. “Perhaps I can email them over to you?”
“Oh don’t bother, I’ll be chasing the Italian sun for the next three weeks,” the older man chuckles. “I’ll see you when I get back. By then, I hope you and your assistant have sorted things out and could give me actual information about what you want.”
“We will, I assure you,” Jungkook says, before saying goodbye to him.
He walks past you and you follow, with no words said as you both wait for the car and enter. 
You can hear him panting, and you know enough that's due to an extreme emotion he can’t express. He won’t look at or say anything to you, and that feels more terrifying. 
His phone rings, and not only does the person on the other line talk about what just happened, you happen to hear it, too.
“Hey, I heard what happened with the big boss,” the man says. “Did you really go to the meeting unprepared?”
“It wasn’t me, but yeah, what a mess,” Jungkook huffs, his head leaning back on the chair, his eyes closed as he calms himself down. “What did he say? Is he angry?”
“Nah. You’re a Jeon; he can’t be. He was just a bit annoyed because he was supposed to have a meeting with another client but he chose to see you.”
“Fuck. What an embarrassment,” Jungkook groans.
“Well, he does have high praises for your father.”
“And this is his first time working with me. My dad’s gonna hear about it and give me shit for it.”
“Just another normal day at the office, right?” The man laughs. “So, was it your assistant that screwed up?”
Jungkook hums his yes, knowing you’re two seats away from him, although he’s unsure if you can hear their conversation. For your sake, he hopes you can’t.
“See? This is why you should’ve taken Lucas! That guy was always two steps ahead of you.”
“That’s what I said, but when are my requests ever granted? Never. Another normal day at the office, huh?”
“If she’s pretty, maybe you can forgive them and just suffer through her incompetence,” the man laughs again. “I mean, she’s got to have some redeeming quality somehow. If she doesn’t, that just sucks for you.”
“You really enjoy making fun of my misfortunes, huh?” Jungkook huffs.
“Just sometimes. Not used to you not having your way, that’s all.”
“Well, nothing is going my way, that's for sure. But whatever, I’ll figure it out. Make sure Mr. Hu holds out for me, okay? I need you to help me this time.”
“Hey, I may laugh at your misfortunes but I always have your back,” the man says. “Good luck, VP. I’ll see you soon.”
Jungkook drops the call and you feel him glance at you but you remain stiff on your seat, unwilling to move nor look anywhere else that isn’t your lap. You’re glad that he decides to close his eyes for the rest of the ride, though, so you take your chance to shift towards the window and watch the buildings fly by, willing your tears not to fall.
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You hold out until you arrive at the building. That is, until Jungkook heads straight to his room and asks you to follow. 
“Own up to your mistake and look at me,” he says, his voice seeping with disdain. 
You lift your head and meet his eyes, his gaze piercing right through you and you’re unable to move, to speak. But you try - a futile attempt, really - at appealing to the compassionate side of him, if it even exists. 
“I’m so, so sorry Mr. Jeon,” you plead for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to forget the folder. It’s been a tough week and—”
“A tough week?” he mocks, his voice getting louder now. “As if you’re the only one who’s had one? I come here and find myself doing your job. I spent the weekend drafting the designs because I need that deal early only for you to screw it up! My father’s been on to me about this project and I need everything done right but I can’t seem to because my assistant, who’s supposed to be assisting me, can’t even get the most basic things done. All you had to do was bring the folder. You didn’t even have a contingency plan of having a soft copy. Were you not trained for this role?” 
You visibly shake but Jungkook doesn’t let up.
“Answer me.”
“I… I was, Mr. Jeon,” you tremble. “I know I’m not the smartest but I work hard and I—”
“You work hard?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In what?”
“In preparing your files and organizing everything for you and…” you try. 
A month ago, you’d be saying these things and more with so much conviction.  But all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to break you down and make you doubt every single skill you’ve developed and been praised for the past few years.
“And I can criticize each of those tasks in just this one week you’ve been my assistant.”
“I… I just needed guidance, sir, because it’s a new—”
“I need guidance. I need assisting,” he sneers. “My father wanted me to keep you because you apparently know how things are supposed to be done but you’re asking for guidance from me?”
There’s silence on your end and you’ve never felt as small as you do right now. The way Mrs. Byun abused her power over you and humiliated you during your first years here continues to be unmatched, but being treated this way by a man whose family you respect somehow hurts you more. 
You want to give up now. You’ll lose everything if you decide to just quit but it’s not like there’s much left of you to go by anyway, given the week that you’ve had. But if there’s anything your mother taught you is that the lowest you can go is when you don’t fight for yourself, so you gather what little dignity you have left and look him in the eyes. 
“You do things very differently from Mr. Jung like you said, and I admire your thoroughness,” you start, trying your hardest to calm the tone of your voice. “You’re adjusting to your new role with a new team and a new assistant that you didn’t choose but somehow you have to trust and that’s unnerving if you’re used to being in control of everything. With all due respect, however, perhaps if you let the people around you adjust as well, we would all find a way to work together effectively and respectfully. A little bit of compassion wouldn’t hurt, and it goes a long way.”
At his silence, you continue, digging your nails deeper into your skin to help you remain stable.
“I apologize for all the mistakes this past week. I know it has been unpleasant for you as well. I’ll do better, that I can promise. But if the way I work is not something that is up to your standard, then there’s only one thing to do. Me quitting would put you in a worse light; you can fire me if you think it is best,” you bravely state. “I can deal with the consequences.”
Jungkook continues to just look at you, unable to say anything this time. Perhaps he isn’t used to someone speaking to him like this. Maybe he’s finding the right words to hit you back and break you even more. The tiniest part of you wants to think you’ve softened him up a bit; hopefully he’ll be less angry at you the next time.
“Is there anything you need me to work on, Mr. Jeon?”
“No,” he answers. “Just hold off all calls for me for the next hour. I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Understood, Mr. Jeon.” 
You bow and head out the door. 
Jungkook watches you leave, and the farther you become, the more he wishes you’d stay.
He’s unsure why. Perhaps it’s the way you spoke to him, similar to the way you did the first time you met over a week ago - with conviction and grace despite you putting him in his place. Maybe it’s him, trying to find the words to apologize without seeming weak, or to encourage you without being comfortable. The tiniest part of him just wants you around; he doesn’t know what it is about you but he finds himself feeling intense emotions because of you - frustration, fear, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret. 
He returns to his seat and glances through the window, the angle of his chair allowing him to see you outside, although he’s unsure if you’re able to see him. Either way, it’s not like you’ve ever looked his way anyway, so he feels a little safe doing this now. 
You’re seated and turned away from the desk, with your fingers pressing over both your ears, as if you’re blocking out the sounds of the room; perhaps you’re blocking out his voice that’s probably still echoing in your head. He’d seen you do this last week, too, after you failed to show up at his penthouse in the morning. He thinks it’s your way of dealing with stress, a quiet one, in contrast to boxing like what he prefers to do. It’s the only time he’d ever allow himself to express anything, after all, other than getting mad at you apparently. 
You finally turn around, but it’s not long after when Do-hyun arrives and takes your place, leaving him to wonder where you’re off to. He focuses on his work like he meant to do, opting to read and send emails while he calms himself down. His eyes always turn to your desk, though, and when he sees that he’s halfway done but you’re still not back, he decides to head out.
“Mr. Jeon,” Do-hyun stands up and greets him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Where’s Ms. Cho?”
“She had to go to the washroom so she asked me to cover for her first,” she responds. “But, uh… She’s been gone for half an hour. I… I’m not sure what she’s up to but I can—.”
It’s at that moment when you return, and the way that both Do-hyun and Jungkook look at you that you know they can tell. You can’t exactly cry for 20 minutes and then expect to ease the swelling of your eyes for the next 10. But you act like nothing’s amiss, so you dismiss the younger woman and turn to Jungkook.
“Was there something that you needed from me, Mr. Jeon?” You ask nonchalantly.
“Just, uh…” he stutters now, taken aback by the casual way you speak to him despite your glassy eyes. “I’m meeting the CEO and President tomorrow to discuss the Arts Center. Put the initial plans in presentation format and send it to me first thing in the morning.”
“Yes, sir,” you respond, returning to your seat and not sparing him another glance. 
You work on the presentation in between the other things you need to finish. You draft memos and letters for Jungkook’s approval, and it’s half past 4 when you enter his room to have them signed. 
“I’m heading out at 5 for dinner,” he says as he signs the documents. “I’ve added points on the shared file for the presentation. Make sure to include those.”
“I will, sir.”
There’s a brief moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.
You wish he’d offer an apology.
He wishes you’d say that you’re okay.
You want to tell him that the Arts Center already sounds amazing; you hope it turns out the way he imagines.
He wants to tell you that he won’t fire you, that despite how he’s been, he doesn’t want you to go anywhere.
But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and then head out the door. 
He leaves at exactly 5, merely nodding at you as he leaves. 
Jungkook sees you again that evening, four hours later as he drives home after having dinner with Seokjin and Taehyung, the brothers he’d grown up with. The office is on the way, and it’s near the bus stop where he spots you, trying to catch a cab that someone always gets to before you do. 
The rain has started to pour, and his anxiety builds; he was never fond of it, given the memory it holds. But it’s you in your thin coat that suspends that for a while. You’re clearly shivering, unable to get a ride, and getting wet from the downpour. You cross the street, seemingly just submitting to the weather, and you disappear amongst the crowd of people just trying to get home. 
He checks his phone as he gets a message and sees the email you sent 20 minutes ago - the presentation he’d asked you to submit in the morning. This is you, making up for today, he guesses. He’s why you’re braving the rain. If he’s being honest, he’s why you’re suffering at all, and he can’t help the way his heart stings at the thought. 
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The convenience store is bright and dry unlike the streets outside, and that’s why there’s a substantial amount of people seeking shelter from the downpour that came out of nowhere. 
You welcome the rain. It served as a distraction when you were growing up and your mother’s ex-partner would yell nonstop. You’d hide in your room and cover your ears like your mother taught you to do. When she was able, she’d stay with you and cover your ears with her own hands and tell you that it’s gonna be okay, that even if you can’t stop the scary sounds, you can drown them out enough that they’ll stop bothering you. 
You didn’t think you’d ever do so again but you’ve done that twice in one week, and all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to lecture you about what your job entails. He didn’t yell, but his voice was still piercing, firm and low as if he reserves that intensity for instances of pure frustration. 
That kind of thing takes a lot out of someone. It’s different when a boss is out to abuse their power and take advantage of you. Mrs. Byun made you do her work so she could spend her lunches out and then take credit for outputs without acknowledging you. She sucked up to the directors to overcompensate for not knowing how to answer their questions. And then she had the guts to embarrass you and call you out in front of the team for not being able to do your primary tasks, which was only because you were doing hers. It took a while but her incompetence caught up to her and her departure felt like freedom. But the experience with her was constricting, suffocating, humiliating. It was dehumanizing, too, as you went home to an empty apartment every night, feeling less and less of yourself.
But the way Jungkook treats you hits differently. You’ve survived the worst and ended up in a good spot under Hoseok’s leadership where you built your confidence. During those years, you felt capable, like you were trusted; you felt that your hard work earned you respect. 
Now, you feel all that crumbling. You feel exposed, bare; as if you’re realizing you’re not that good after all. How you’ve been isn’t like you. You’re meticulous, analytical; you’ve sat in so many meetings as an observer and know how things work, how the directors think, and the kinds of outputs expected from you. But recently, you find yourself just lost, questioning everything all the time, and so incapable.
You let yourself feel the burden weigh you down as you eat a small cup of noodles and call it dinner. You walk down the aisles and pick out your favorite snacks, first eating the roasted almonds as you head out the door. 
The rain has let up, with but a drizzle left this late evening. You catch the bus and munch on pepero and chocopie this time. You’re in your neighborhood by the time you tear open the frosted mini donuts. You’ve been mindlessly eating the whole time, but once you get off your stop, you start walking towards the community center. The public library is closed but something about sitting outside the door gives you comfort, just like it used to when you were growing up.
Your mom couldn’t really afford daycare. She’d spend her lunch break picking you up from school then dropping you off at a library where her friend worked; that nice woman always looked after you until your mom came back to pick you up. Some days when she wanted to take you away from the mess that was her partner, she’d take you there, too. 
You read mostly picture books and colored on your coloring book and played with your paper dolls. Even as you grew up, you didn't really read; you just liked that the library was quiet, comfortable, that it made you feel safe. 
Your phone beeps and you see a photo that your mother has just sent of her dry living room floor. 
[From: Mom] it isn’t leaking anymore! 
You smile, imagining her sigh of relief and the way she’s probably humming about the house. You decide to call her; another bit of comfort would definitely help.
“Hi, darling,” she answers after the first ring. “Min-woo went to the hardware store when he arrived in the afternoon so he could fix the roof. What a relief.”
“That’s great, mom,” you reply, wishing you were back home with her. “You can have a good sleep tonight, then.”
“I will. What about you?”
“I hope so.”
“Have you had dinner?”
“Hmm, yeah,” you hum. 
“And where are you now?”
“Outside the library,” you say. 
There’s silence that comes after, a way in which you both say things without words sometimes. Your mom is good at that, and even if you can’t see her, you know there’s love in her eyes. And even if she can’t see you, she knows there’s sadness in yours. 
“So, work has been tough lately, am I right?”
Even without any confirmation, she already knows. She probably knew when you said that everything was fine after she asked how things were going during your visit over the weekend. She probably picked up the faintness of your smile and the way you fell asleep on her lap while you both watched TV and she combed your hair like she always did. 
“The new boss is quite hard on me,” you admit. “He expects too much, asks me to do too much… I’m trying but I keep making mistakes. I’m missing things I normally don’t. I’m not like this, mom. I… I’m better than this.”
“Oh, darling,” she sighs, wishing she’d hugged you a little tighter before you left. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Maybe you’re still adjusting. That’s valid, you know? It’s only been a week.”
“Yeah, but he acts like he’s the only one who needs to adjust and that I just magically know how to do things his way,” you groan. “It… it just makes me feel like I’m not good enough. That I… that I shouldn’t be here.”
“___, you didn’t suffer through your first few years there just so you would continue to doubt yourself,” she responds. “You deserve your role, regardless of what he thinks. You work hard and that means everything.”
“Not to him apparently. Even if I work hard, if it’s not up to his standards, it doesn’t mean anything. I can’t even do anything about it because he’s the CEO’s son.” 
“You can quit, you know?” She says after a beat of silence. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much, and especially if it’s unfair. Just because you know you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should.”
The thought settles in your head. You did just tell Jungkook that you’d rather he fire you, which honestly terrifies you because much as he’s insufferable, you do need this job. Helping your mom over the weekend reminded you of that. From the health insurance to the salary, you don’t have to worry too much because you can finally repay her for all her hard work in raising you, in protecting you, in surviving for you. 
“I know,” you sigh. “Maybe I just let the tough first days get to me.”
“Whatever it is, you shouldn’t suffer. And you definitely shouldn’t suffer alone,” she advises. “I’m glad you came over during the weekend even if for unpleasant reasons. I got to hug you even if I didn’t know you needed it.”
“I always need it, mom,” you admit. “I don’t have to say it. It’s the only one I get anyway.”
“Well, it’s because it’s the only one you accept,” she points out. 
“True,” you laugh. “But I… I’ll do better. I’ll get my head straight tonight and treat tomorrow like my first day and you know, show him I’m capable.”
“That’s good. And you can come over again this weekend if you want. The storm should be gone by then. The girls want to go to the park. I know they’d love to hang out with you. If you don’t have plans of course.”
“You know I only ever have actual weekend plans when Jimin and Soomin visit me. But yes, I can take the trip on Saturday. If Jungkook wants me to do any work… screw him.”
Your mother laughs, only because she knows you don’t mean it. You know it, too. Regardless of how you think of your boss or your job, you know the value of your work, and you’re not one to sacrifice it for any reason. 
“Are you feeling better, darling?”
“Yeah,” you smile. “The rain’s stopped somehow. I needed to be here. And I… I needed to hear your voice.”
“Good. You know you can call whenever. I don’t have to summon you with photos of a roof or grilled makchang or something every time.”
“I know. And I will. I’ll see you soon.”
You drop the call and start walking back home. Talking with your mom is the strength you need to get through such a tough day. It doesn’t change your situation; maybe Jungkook will still be upset with you in the morning but you’ll handle it, just like you handled all the difficult times before. 
Your mother taught you something else - it was grace. You’d fight back if you need to, but you can always do it with gentleness; sometimes that works wonders, especially if you can’t afford to respond with rage. 
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You’re quite nervous walking to Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning. 
Before he left last night, you were sporting glassy and swollen eyes, after all; it wouldn’t have taken much for him to know what you were up to by being away from your desk for half an hour. But you’d been too upset to think of what he would think about it, so you acted like it was nothing when you returned to your seat, took note of his instructions, and watched him walk out. No other words were spoken and quite frankly, you don’t know what either of you could have said after what transpired. It’s a new day, though, and like you told your mother, you’ll just focus on your work and try to get that old version of yourself back, the one you’d felt slipped away this past week.
You enter the front door - as he’d told you to just go in so you don’t disrupt his workout - and immediately hear the loud sounds of leather hitting leather. He seems to be aggressively punching the sandbag, with more evidence of it coming in the form of his deep and successive breaths that you can hear as you walk towards the kitchen. You stop on your tracks, though, as a pair of red laced underwear lays crumpled on the floor.
That definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning so it must’ve been from last night. You’re not one to judge; he did have a frustrating day that you caused and releasing all that stress in this way is understandable. You just wish he had the courtesy to clean up, knowing that his assistant would be coming but then again, you also don’t know if that’s too much to ask of him.
You don’t realize that you’ve been staring at the underwear until you hear him, his deep breaths in tandem with his steps. You walk towards the counter and set him a glass of water before he notices what’s got your attention, but he still does, as he stops at the spot where you were and lets out a grunt. 
From your periphery, you see him pick up the piece of lingerie then throw it in the trash. You turn to him and bow in greeting, and Jungkook merely nods, the slightest of head tilts to acknowledge your presence, seemingly avoiding your eyes, even as you ask what he prefers to eat this morning. You’d like to think that in the recesses of his bitter heart, there’s remorse over yesterday at least, if not over the past few days. But you’ll take it; his silence is better than anything at this moment. 
You follow him towards his bedroom, stopping briefly as you look around and make sure you’re not intruding. You’re unsure if the woman is still here, but he picks up on that.
“She’s gone,” he says, walking to his bathroom. “I never make them stay.”
It’s a part of his life that you’ve only heard of. The gossip that Do-hyun hears from the washrooms in the office may be true, considering his weeknight bang and the left-behind underwear on the kitchen floor. He still had some energy based on his morning workout though, and you don’t know why the thought of him fucking someone and then boxing in the morning is making you feel hot all over. 
You snap yourself out of it, knowing it’s inappropriate and definitely not what you should be worrying about. He’s a stressed, obviously attractive, and rich bachelor; you’re not surprised he’d have women at his beck-and-call and be nonchalant about it.
You walk inside his closet and choose the shoes and accessories he’ll wear today before heading back to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. He walks in 30 minutes later, and you approach him to fix his collar and his tie like you always do, now getting used to his natural scent with hints of jasmine and bergamot. Your eyes focus on the silk necktie, hoping you’re able to control your nervous breathing being this close to him. 
He may still be annoyed at you and you may be invading his space, and the realization makes you step away quickly, taking his plate from the counter and placing it on the dining table. You open your iPad and go through the presentation he asked you to do, surprised that he’s already added a few things.
“Is the presentation final, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. “I see you’ve already looked through it.”
“Sort of,” he responds. “I woke up at 5 and reviewed it before my workout. Let’s go over them now.”
He looks through his iPad as he eats, going over each slide with you as if he’s practicing. The more he speaks, the more you envision the Arts Center and how he wants it done. The way he puts together the ideas into a coherent design is impressive. You almost see it as he does, and much as you thoroughly dislike him right now, for the sake of all the good things that this center will do for people, you really want him to succeed. 
You remind him of a few more things before he finishes his meal, and it’s not long after when you’re in the car, the silence thickening the tension between the two of you once more. This continues until you reach the office, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the distance between the both of you now. 
While you do feel better, the anxiety remains. You don’t want to mess up. And as you enter his room to give him papers to sign and you see him going through his presentation while the leather notebook he was drawing on earlier lays open on the desk, you find yourself also just not wanting to disappoint him. He clearly works hard and despite his treatment of you, you want things to work out for him. 
It’s an hour later when you’re both walking towards the elevator to head to the conference room on the CEO’s floor. It’s just Jungkook with his father and cousin today where he’ll present the initial plans for their comments and their verbal endorsement of the draft budget. 
It’s a massive project that’s working within strict timelines and Jungkook is adamant on getting this ready by mid-next year. You can tell how much he wants to deliver this well - the board of directors would be his next audience and a boost of confidence would be much needed. 
You make him a cup of coffee the way he likes and sit next to him. The distance allows you to keep your eyes away from him; with the pressure he’s under, you don’t exactly want to be close to where you can easily trigger him. 
CEO Jeon and Hoseok arrive, greeting you with their bright smiles, a reprieve from the stoic looks and tight-lipped and furrowed brows you get from Jungkook everyday.
“Hi, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “A week has passed, huh? How has it been?”
“Challenging,” you say honestly, “but still good. I’m learning new things, Mr. Jeon.”
“That’s good,” he smiles, glancing at his son whose eyes are focused on his laptop. The elder seems unconvinced by your half smile but he nods, turning back to you. “By the way, I heard on the news that the typhoon hit your hometown pretty badly. How’s your mother and her family? Mr. Ri mentioned that there was an incident over the weekend. Is everything okay?”
You’re used to CEO Jeon asking things like this prior to meetings. He believes it’s a way to release certain feelings and not keep them hidden, and while you don’t really want to talk about it right now, you appreciate the concern. 
“She, uh. A large tree fell over our house last Saturday,” you say, to the surprise of both CEO and President. “I had to travel in the morning to help my mom. A portion of the roof was damaged and she had to call a company to fix it. Min-woo and the girls were away and mom didn’t want to deal with the workers since she was alone so I had to stay over the weekend.”
“That’s unfortunate,” the elder Jeon laments. “How is your house now? And your mom?”
“The roof is sealed. But she slipped on some debris and had to be assisted; she was being stubborn about it. She’s okay, though.”
“Ah, it must’ve been a tough few days. And for you, too,” Hoseok says. “I mean, given all the work and then having to be there for her. I’m sorry, ___.  But I’m glad she’s doing better. Tell her I send my regards, okay?”
“I will, thank you.”
Jungkook tries not to look affected as the older men ask you more details about what happened that he, of course, didn’t know about. There’s that guilt over how he treated you yesterday, learning now what you had to do over the weekend. You don’t seem the type to blame any oversight or mistake on something like that, but he would know that the tiredness and preoccupation could definitely affect things. Even more, he’d implied that you don’t work hard and that you’re being a burden to him, which is far from the truth. 
The conversation ends and he’s unable to look at you, as he stands from his seat to begin his presentation. Everything is set up, including a pointer and a marker and a glass of warm water on his side. He proceeds, presenting his design, the materials, the budget, and the timeline. 
You take note of all his answers to the questions and the ideas he comes up with on the spot, with him repeating things and stating how he wants certain points written down. You’re immersed in your own task, feeling like you’ve found your rhythm because you’ve done this so many times but the fear got ahead of you. This morning, it’s as if you’re in your element again, and there’s relief that fills you this time.  
The meeting is moved to a restaurant after the third hour. There’s an event that the CEO suggests that Jungkook’s team organize as a way to build linkages with the arts and culture networks, making sure that the younger Jeon becomes known in those fields as well. 
You have to go by memory as you listen and eat your meal, but the distance from Jungkook remains. You merely nod at his words and avoid looking at him unless you need to. It’s your way of getting over last night, you think. You still have his look of frustration etched in your mind and it’s still a bit fresh; you’d need at least another day before you can look at him normally again. You hope that other than Jungkook himself, no one notices. 
But you suppose you’ve underestimated Hoseok’s ability to pick up on your behavior; it’s one of his strengths as a leader, after all. He’s always been good at reading people, a skill that Jungkook clearly didn’t develop. 
“Hey.”
“Mr. Jung,” you greet, a wave of nostalgia hitting you because his smile is one you used to see everyday, regardless of how stressed he was. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No, not really. It’s just been over a week but I’m still getting used to the bigger office and the new secretary but I just wanted to check in,” Hoseok says. “You and Jungkook have been very busy, I rarely catch either of you.”
“Well, he wanted to get all the introductions out of the way so he can focus on the Arts Center,” you reply. “There’s a lot happening with that one so he’s in meetings and calls all the time.”
“Ah, of course. It’s a good design and I’m sure it’ll boost the local arts scene. He got inspired during his travels in the Southeast Asia sites and has been talking about it for years. It’s good he has the freedom to work on this now.”
You merely nod, not having much to say about your boss’ passion project that’s just made him angry and frustrated. Quite frankly, you don’t know how he is when he isn’t working on such high-pressure matters, but you can already tell he isn’t someone you’d want to be around in any other context. 
“But how about you? Are you getting enough rest? All these meetings and then traveling home on the weekend is tiring, ___. I hope you’re looking out for your health.”
“I am,” you try to assure him. “I can handle it.”
You smile before shifting your eyes to your desktop screen, not wanting to look at him any longer because a second more and you’d probably burst into tears. Experiencing Hoseok’s kindness for these few minutes has just reminded you of what you constantly miss - that feeling of safety and care, of someone looking out for you and not holding you back. 
“I’m glad you are,” he smiles again, holding your gaze when you glance at him, and Hoseok hopes that in this short moment of calm, he’s able to give comfort that he just knows you need. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop by. I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“I’ll see you, Hoseok.” And as if you knew why he came over in the first place, you add, “and thank you.”
Jungkook sighs in frustration as he watches your fading smile before returning to type away on your desktop. He was about to call you to ask for a project portfolio on the shelf but stopped once he saw you talking to his cousin. You seemed a tad bit lighter than usual; Jungkook could only assume it’s your natural state, even if all he’s seen of you is that of perpetual worry and stress. 
He thinks to himself that a part of that is because of him. Maybe a big part, he admits. He wouldn’t have known about your town in Daegu or that your mother resides there and that you had to go home over the weekend, hence, your oversight yesterday. He’s at least decent enough to acknowledge that he shouldn’t have been so harsh on you in the first place. He’s just not used to things not going his way; he wonders now what the people under him suffered through to make sure of that.
Not wanting to disturb you, he decides to get the portfolio himself, so he exits his room and leans on your desk, his eyebrows scrunched as he reads through the spine labels of the folders. He doesn’t notice you stand up and attempt to ask what he needs but he does find it, reaching over on the third shelf for it. 
“I could’ve gotten that for you,” you huff.
Jungkook spots a small pout as you utter the words, disarming him a little.
“It’s… it’s fine,” he mumbles, willing his mind to go back to what he was thinking about before you said something, which is the other project he wants to look at. 
But you pick up on his words. “Seongbuk, 2021,” you repeat. 
You look up and know exactly where the portfolio for that project is. You drag your stool with your foot and walk up the steps, carefully pulling out the folder and underestimating just how heavy it is. But before it can slip out of your fingers, Jungkook gets a hold of it, his right hand gripping the spine while his left palm supports your back. 
You stiffen when you realize just how close he is to you then step down the stool, somehow nervous to look at him.
“I, uh, sorry. You were about to fall.”
You stiffen again because he didn’t just apologize, did he? Your eyes are glued to the ground and you don’t see Jungkook’s surprised look.
Because he did just that. What felt more alarming than his apology was that it had been a reflex for him to have his hand behind you, his heart leaping a bit because you really were close to falling. An injured version of you isn’t something he wants to deal with, and he convinces himself that it’s because it would look absolutely terrible for his assistant to get hurt on the job, and especially in his presence. 
“Is that all you need, Mr. Jeon?”
“Uh, yes,” he responds. “Be, uh, be careful.”
He takes both folders and heads back to his room, his face buried in the pages as you sneak a glance at him from the window.
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“So, how’s the second week as VP going?” Hoseok asks his cousin from across the table of their favorite Japanese restaurant during their Friday lunch. “Worse than the first?”
Jungkook, not keen on answering truthfully, merely shrugs. 
“Well, I can bet you though that ___ is definitely having it worse than last week.”
“Did she say anything? About me specifically?” Jungkook asks, his curious eyes telling Hoseok that it’s more of concern than anger. 
“Of course not. She’s there to protect you, Kook, not tell on you. Is there something to say? About you specifically?”
Jungkook knows how well his cousin can read people, especially him. They’d grown up together after all, and had gotten close because the older man always stayed next to him, knowing how shy little Jungkook used to be. So he narrates what happened - that he’d gotten angry, that he was being too strict, that he wasn’t leaving you room for adjustment. He’d of course excluded his own oversight and need to establish distance and authority, chalking it up to not having the familiarity and conveniences he’d been used to back in Singapore. 
“I feel like working with father even closer now, it’s like I’m under a microscope,” Jungkook continues. “I don’t wanna mess up. I just don’t wanna give him a reason to criticize or question me.”
“Well, if he learns about how it’s been with ___, he’ll do exactly those things,” Hoseok responds. “He cares about his people, you know? I’m sure that’s the one thing he wants you to do right.”
“Can’t say I’d know. It’s not like he’s any more compassionate than I am. We’re talking about a man who yells at the managers who can’t get things done right.”
“They were abusing their power, that’s why,” Hoseok explains. “And I’m not here to defend the man - I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger twice and saw how he’d push people to their near breaking point a few times but he’s not a terrible person. I’ve seen him be understanding and caring to his staff way more; you just haven’t been around that much.”
“It’s not what I saw growing up.”
“Well, we remember what we want, and forget the parts that don’t make sense to us.”
Jungkook stays silent as he munches on his steak.
“He wants to get closer to you, you know?” Hoseok continues. “He hopes that with you being around, he can mentor you, learn from you. All those years that you were home, you felt so far away from him, farther away than Jeong-sik who wasn’t even here, and he doesn’t know why.”
“He can’t expect to be a rich, ambitious businessman and be close to his son,” Jungkook huffs. “All he ever cared about when I was growing up was work. Sure, he had rare good moments, but we all know it was to compensate for always being too busy. He pressured me to do well at school then missed awarding ceremonies. He scheduled some family time then left me and my brother in some cabin in the woods by ourselves. He wants to work with me here then disallows my requests. What does he want from me?”
“Your time, I suppose. Maybe your understanding, too.”
“Did he give those to me when I was younger? He had so many chances these past 30 years and he wants those now?”
“People are complicated, Kook. Sometimes they lose sight of what’s important, of what’s in front of them… doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” Hoseok says. “And it doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a second chance. I mean, don’t we all want that? Don’t we all grow out of our bad habits and just yearn for something good?”
“Not everyone does that.”
“Maybe not, but your father has. And he just wants another chance. And whether or not it was her fault, I’m sure ___ wants that, too.”
“Did you really ask me to treat you to lunch only to advocate for the people I don’t really care much about?” Jungkook laughs bitterly. 
“No,” Hoseok chuckles. “I really wanted to try it here. But also, uncle took me out to drinks before you arrived and was all honest with me, which was a little weird but I guess he thought he could get some perspective from you through me. And ___ was my assistant and I think highly of her. It’s upsetting how things started for you both. I guess I just feel kind of caught in the middle between you and the people you actually care about. So yes, I deserve this free lunch.”
Jungkook doesn’t correct his cousin, more for the fact that Hoseok really does get caught in the middle - always has, even between him and his older brother whom Jungkook never really got along with; it definitely isn’t because he acknowledges that he cares about you. There’s no reason for him to feel that; you’re just his assistant, after all. 
Being beautiful and capable and hardworking doesn’t have anything to do with being cared about. 
“I… I admit being too hard on ___. I get that she’s good and stuff but maybe that fits with your leadership style more,” Jungkook tries to reason. “Maybe she just thrives in a team where she’s led by someone like you, someone who’s good with people and who’s process-oriented and I don’t know, someone who isn’t as tough or meticulous like me.”
“I’m sorry, Kook, but you sound stupid. You clearly don’t know anything about her. She’s experienced all the lows - the disrespect from the men, the abuse of power from the women, all the long hours and ridiculous deadlines, the loudest of yells and the craziest demands,” Hoseok exclaims. “She’s been here for just eight years but it feels more. Sometimes I don’t know why she stayed but I’m glad she did, selfishly, and that’s because she helped me so much. Are you… are you giving her reasons to leave so you can have Lucas with you?”
“No,” Jungkook dismisses the thought, although he does admit it entered his mind before he even started. “I’m just… not used to her. And the mishaps didn’t help. I just wanna be able to do my job and do it right.”
“And you will, if you just loosen up a bit and give her a chance to show you that she can help you. It’s just that I’m not seeing that same joy and energy in her eyes and her smile,” Hoseok explains. “I was thinking last Wednesday that maybe it was because of her mom but during the meeting this morning, it was the same. I’d hate to think that’s because of you. Because if it is and she’s thinking of resigning, I won’t stop her. I might even suggest it to her. “
The thought of you being gone causes a lump in Jungkook’s throat. It’s selfish, really, because despite how he treats you, he still wants you here. It’s just as silly, and stupid, and something he doesn’t have a clear reason for. But other than his cousin not trusting that he could treat you fairly, it’s the possibility that you might just quit yourself, something you seem to be capable and willing to do. And that voluntary departure is something he doesn’t want to deal with. Once you leave, you’ll just be gone; he won’t have a reason to seek you. 
“I’ll do better,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll stop being such a pain in the ass and be… kinder, I guess.”
“She’ll probably see right through you if you fake it,” Hoseok laughs. “Just be fair. Trust me, that’s what she’d want, too. Correct her if you need to, but do it constructively. And please, try to smile every once in a while. It won’t hurt you. Nor would it ruin whatever tough guy image you have.”
Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes but he lets out a chuckle. His cousin won’t ever let go of the fact that 18-year old Jungkook had his first tattoo because he wanted to look tough. 
“I still have to establish authority, Hoseok. I can’t do it like you do.”
“Well, you’re missing out. Smiling always makes you feel a hundred times better.”
“She’ll probably see right through me if I fake it,” Jungkook repeats his cousin’s words almost mockingly. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m not… cheerful. It’s like, how I’m compared to you.”
The two start walking back and Hoseok takes a jab at the younger man. “Actually, I heard that I’m the handsome one, too, and the stable guy, the family man, the man you’d take home to meet your parents…”
Jungkook laughs along. He agrees, and while it was not Hoseok’s intention at all, it does make Jungkook wonder even hours later - given all the things that characterize him, which are nothing like the older man’s - who would want him? Who would even take a chance on him? Who would even think it’s worth it to be with him?
Chaerin did, and then he self-sabotaged and lost her. Maybe the women he meets at clubs and takes home, but then all they want is a good time anyway, just like him. Maybe it’s someone he’s never met, but he also doesn't know how to be someone that someone else would love. 
Maybe there isn’t any. And maybe that isn’t so bad. Perhaps he’d have to start getting used to that fact; it’s easier than realizing he’s not meant to be with someone after all. 
He pauses the thought and decides that’s for the weekend version of him to lament over. This Friday afternoon, he’s focused on firming up the project details with the design and logistics teams. He’d just finished his meeting with them, with you barely looking his way just like you’ve done throughout the week - which he can’t fault you for because he was doing the same - and he’s back in his room to coordinate with other units. 
You, on the other hand, seem to be fixated on the quarterly reports that you’ll be handing over to him. It’s past 5 and he knows you’ll be staying up late again, given that he’d ordered you at the start of the week to finish the reviews by Friday. He’s given you too much to do, and after everything he’s done, letting you off early is a way for him to apologize without actually apologizing. 
He picks up the phone and calls you.
“How many reports do you have left to review?” He asks.
“Three more, Mr. Jeon,” you answer. “I’ll finish them tonight, please just give me another hour and a half.”
“Are you going home to see your mother tomorrow?” 
“Uh, yes, sir. I leave in the morning,” you say, curious at the question that you never thought he’d ask.
“You should clock out now, then.”
“Oh, but the reports, sir. I—”
“It’s okay,” he says, surprising you. “I’ll be busy with Arts Center details this weekend so I won’t have time to sign off on the reports anyway so you can continue them on Monday.”
You’re too shocked to speak that it doesn’t register that you’re indeed not saying anything.
“Ms. Cho?” Jungkook repeats your name.
“Oh, uh, yes, as long as it’s okay, Mr. Jeon.”
“Yes, that’s what I just said.”
“That’s, uh, thank you,” you mumble, turning on your roller chair to retrieve your bag and start packing, only to look up and see through the window that Jungkook can see you right now, smiling like a giddy child. There’s this movie that’ll show on your favorite local channel and you’re glad that you’ll be able to catch it tonight. 
You’re unsure what Jungkook’s eaten to be dismissing you this early. Maybe it was the lunch he had with Hoseok earlier; maybe it was the older man knocking some sense into him. You don’t have the energy to think about it, given that you now also have time to cook yourself proper dinner and enjoy eating it while watching and curling under your comfy blanket on your tiny couch, just like how you used to enjoy your Fridays. 
You’ll deal with the unreviewed reports and Jungkook returning to his normal, grumpy self on Monday. Tonight is all about you, and the weekend version of you is about being with your mother, her partner, and your stepsisters. There’s nothing like being with the people who make you feel safe; you’ll deal with the stress when a new week rolls by.
Jungkook watches you excitedly leave your desk. He can’t imagine the relief you’re feeling of being relieved this early and then spending your Friday evening the way you want, however that is. He lets himself wonder for a bit how you would spend time by yourself. Yoongi did say your friends aren’t in Seoul and your family obviously isn’t.
But then again, maybe you do have a partner, and maybe that’s why you looked as happy as you did. He’s not quite sure what to do with the slight distress at the thought, but with the absurdity of the amount of times he thinks about you, he decides it shouldn’t matter anyway. 
He has his own plans, too, like watching sports over bottles of beer that night, and then playing video games the next day before going to a bar with Seokjin and Taehyung. 
That Sunday, he works all morning then works out in the afternoon. In the evening, he decides to meet his friends again. 
Entering the club, he spots the table where they are - Seokjin has his arm around a woman and his lips glued to her ear; he pulls her closer as she laughs at his words. Taehyung has one next to him, too; they’re engaged in some serious conversation, it seems, given how passionately they’re talking to each other. That is, until his hand slides inside her dress; maybe it wasn’t that deep. 
Jungkook doesn’t know how his friends can converse with the women they find in these places. Given, Seokjin tends to stick to the same one for months and Taehyung is just naturally flirty and friendly so maybe it’s not that hard. 
For Jungkook, it’s just not something he’s able to fully or even properly do. What does he say? He’d brag about his work and his lifestyle if he was the type, but he isn’t, and there’s nothing else about him that he’d like to share. He’s always straightforward when it comes to these things. He’s picky; he does have a type, after all, but he always knows what they want and so do they. 
So when he spots a woman by the bar - the one who’d bought him a drink last night - he just smirks as she takes her shot and bites her lips when she catches him looking. 
“Hey, I finally caught you sober,” she giggles in his ears after she meets him halfway. 
“And I finally caught you without a man next to you,” he whispers. “Should I be worried?”
“Nah, he was just my plaything last night,” she responds. “I could be yours.”
Jungkook chuckles, enjoying her bluntness. He takes her hand and waves at his friends; they already know he’s taking off and they won’t hear from him for the rest of the night. 
It’s the way most of his evenings go anyway, whether he’s here or in Singapore or elsewhere, really. 
Jungkook likes the thrill, he likes the shallow intimacy he gets from the feelings of ecstasy and carnal desire. He likes that he doesn’t have to share anything about himself apart from his name so they could scream it, likes that there’s nothing about the other person to uncover, and that there’s nothing about himself he has to be honest about. He likes that he’ll remember the pleasure until the next day but nothing else - not her breathing, not her gentle touches on his chest, not her soft whispers of his name. 
There’s nothing much about her he’ll care for other than that she had a good time. And there’s nothing about tonight he’ll regret, except not making sure that she left his apartment like he always asks them to do.
Because it’s Monday morning, and there’s that woman wearing his coat and nothing else. 
And then there’s you, dressed in your skirt and blouse in his living room, with a look of shock on your pretty face. 
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kaiijo · 6 months
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WORK WIFE — KUROO TETSUROU
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pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem! reader content: fluff, timeskip! kuroo (he’s so sexy)
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you’re not really sure when kuroo started calling you his ‘work wife,’ but you honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. like many of your colleagues, you’ve been taken in by his teasing smile and charm and the way he brings you your coffee and bagel in the morning, just the way you like it. “good morning, wifey,” he says as he hands you your breakfast with a flourish. “vanilla latte with oat milk and an extra shot of espresso and a toasted everything bagel with cream cheese.” 
you smile and thank him, sliding the bagel out from the waxy paper bag. you glance back inside and sheepishly open your mouth but kuroo beats you to the punch. “and, of course, your stirrer.” he sticks his hand in the pocket of his slate gray slacks and produces a wooden stirrer. 
you chuckle, “you keep those in your pants just for me?”
“a gentleman always is prepared for a lady!”
“‘gentleman,’” you snort. 
kuroo presses a hand over his heart. “i am a gentleman through and through!”
“uh-huh, keep telling yourself that.” you take a sip of your drink. “but thanks again for breakfast.”
he pats your head and sings out, “anything for my favorite work wife!”
“i better be your only one!” he laughs loudly at your reply, the sound bouncing off the walls as he heads down the hall to his office. 
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when lunchtime rolls around, kuroo, as usual, appears in your doorway with his lunch in hand. he never has the same thing, you’ve come to learn; today’s meal is grilled fish over rice, and kuroo asks, “up for a lunch date?”
you try to fight the warmth rising to your cheeks, still not used to his wording despite the many times he’s asked the exact same thing. you shake your head and sigh, “unfortunately, i’m behind on inputting the quarter two estimations so i think i’ll be working through lunchtime.”
kuroo still walks into your office and comes around to look at your computer screen. “have you been doing these all by hand?”
“yeah?”
“here, there’s an easier way to generate these estimates.” with a few clicks and keystrokes, you watch as numbers and figures fill the spreadsheet cells before your very eyes. you slump back in your chair, relieved. you glance up at kuroo. he’s so close that you can very clearly smell the way his cologne mingles with his minty toothpaste. your breath hitches as he stares down at you with pride. “you’re a lifesaver.”
“had to save my lunch time with my work wife.”
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you stifle a yawn as you save your last pitch for the budget board and power off your computer. you looked out the window, the sun beginning to set on the horizon. you roll your chair away and stretch your hold body out, humming in relief as someone knocks on your door. it’s not hard to guess who it is. “come in.”
“hey,” kuroo pokes his head inside, blazer folded across his arm and his lanyard in hand. “ready to go?”
“yep, let me just get my stuff.” you gather your things and sling your bag over your shoulder, locking up your office and following kuroo out. you walk side-by-side in comfortable, tired silence until you get out of the building. “how was the merch presentation?”
“oh, it went really well,” he says. “thanks for letting me co-opt your time for rehearsal.”
“you know i always have time for you.”
kuroo gives you a smile that’s almost way too soft and sweet for you to handle, and you quickly avert your eyes to the street in front of you as you two come to the metro stop. he asks about how your younger brother is settling into college and you inquire about his grandparents, and it’s an endless stream of conversation as you two board the metro together. 
“oh,” kuroo says suddenly, voice shifting to a quieter tone. “i’ve been meaning to ask, do you want to—?”
you desperately want to hear the end of his question but you’re coming up to your stop and you have to hurry home to walk your dog. “sorry! text me the question?”
he shakes his head. “i’ll tell you later. see you tomorrow, wifey.”
you wave to him over the shoulder as the doors close behind you, and you’re left with a warm feeling in your chest and burning curiosity about what he’ll ask you. 
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it’s the next day when your boss calls you into her office, asking you to let the newest employee to the sports promotion division shadow you for a little while until he gets the hang of what you guys do. his name’s nakamura eijun and he seems nice enough so you agree.
nakamura’s in your office as you go over how the jva’s filing and record-keeping online works when kuroo comes in with your daily breakfast. you sit up straighter, ready for him to finish whatever question he was about to ask. 
he stops short when he sees nakamura and asks, “new guy?” nakamura nods and introduces himself, to which kuroo responds with an enthusiastic “i’m kuroo tetsurou. welcome to the team!” and without your usual banter, kuroo drops off your bagel and coffee and leaves without another word. 
he peeks into your office again at lunch and you’re about to wave him inside, but he shakes his head and says, “i’ll come back later!”
he doesn’t. you don’t see kuroo for the rest of the day, which makes your heart sink. it’s the first time in months that he hasn’t followed the unconscious routine the two of your started. you try to look at the silver-lining. kuroo (and thinking about kuroo) is your main distraction of the day, so maybe it was a good thing he didn’t show up so you couldn’t make a fool of yourself. 
what unnerves you, though, is that the following days are much the same. kuroo silently brings you your breakfast and peeks in every now and then, smile never quite meeting his eyes as he sees you eating with nakamura in your office. the days stretch to weeks and you realize two things: one — that kuroo’s avoiding you, and two — nakamura’s a lot less capable than you thought he would be, given that he’s still shadowing you after about two and a half weeks. 
thankfully, you get a little reprieve when nakamura informs you that he’s out sick for the day. you perk up when kuroo comes in with your breakfast and give him your chirpiest “good morning.”
he leans up against your doorframe, glancing around. “your new work husband’s not here today?”
“what are you talking about?”
he says, “your new work husband. he have some emergency or something?”
you frown at his tone. “sorry, let me be more specific. who are you talking about?”
“nakamura,” he responds. finally, he crosses the threshold and hands you your bagel and coffee, the stirrer already inside the bagel bag. he plops down heavily in his chair, arms folded across his chest. 
“you know you’re my one and only,” you say, offering a smile. when he doesn’t reply, your smile fades and you ask, “why do you think he’s my new work husband?”
“he’s been telling everyone that you two spend so much time together that he might as well be.”
you can’t help but roll your eyes and you reach across the desk, tapping your hand on the surface to get kuroo’s attention. he finally meets your gaze and you say, “we’ve been spending a lot of time together because sakura asked me to let him shadow and he’s—” you lower your voice to a conspiratorial whisper, prompting kuroo to lean in closer, “—not very smart.”
“really?” 
you watch as the tension kuroo held in his shoulders disappeared and something like relief washed across his features. you can’t help but laugh a little, “really. is that what got you so grumpy these past few days?”
“hey!” he protests, “i wasn’t grumpy. pouty, maybe, but definitely never grumpy.”
“sure, sure.” you pause and then ask, “why were you so bothered by nakamura saying he’s like my work husband?”
kuroo’s face flushes and with an uncharacteristic shyness, he says, “because, y’know, that’s— that’s our thing. and i’m not too keen on letting someone steal my wife away.”
“good to know you’re a protective husband.”
he chuckles and says, “well, gotta get back to the trenches. those advertisement pitches aren’t going to pitch themselves.”
“don’t i know it.”
as he goes to leave, he hesitates in the doorway. then, he turns back to you and asks, “would you like to have dinner with me tonight? if you’re not doing anything, of course.”
your eyebrows raise but you can’t help the bright smile from breaking across your face. “yeah, that sounds great.”
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a year and a half later.
nakamura and you are sitting in the conference room, brainstorming ways to help boost the sendai frogs’s popularity. nakamura taps his pen against his chin and suggests, “maybe we should tell koganegawa to stop yelling so much?”
“no, their fans like his enthusiasm,” you say. 
“well, tsukishima’s their most popular player… maybe we can ask him to ramp up the fanservice. as in, do any.”
you snort but before you can make some snarky comment about how that absolutely will not happen, a voice comes from behind you. “you’re signing a death wish with that. no way tsukki’ll bite.”
nakamura’s face sours and he mumbles something as kuroo towers over both of you. you grin at him in greeting and give him a playfully chastising look, adding, “you’re right but you know it’s rude to interrupt a conversation.”
“just making sure my wife—” he gives nakamura a very pointed look, “—knows who she’s dealing with.”
you quirk an eyebrow. “your wife is a very capable woman, thank you very much.”
he smirks and bends down closer, deepening his tone. “oh, i know.”
nakamura scowls. “we get it, she’s your work wife.”
“actually…” kuroo’s shit-eating grin grows wide like a cat who got the cream and simultaneously, both of you hold up your left hands, matching silver bands glinting under the fluorescent lights. “she’s my wife-wife now.”
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killinfate · 5 months
Text
writing this in honour of Halloween (it’s literally over now)
HALLOWEEN.
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MIKE SCHMIDT X READER
— HALLOWEEN WAS TOMORROW NIGHT AND MIKE FELT SOMEWHAT NERVOUS ABOUT ASKING YOU THIS.
Mike was your boyfriend, however he also held the responsibility of being Abby’s guardian. Although he wanted to spend Halloween with you, watching some horror movie full of gruesome monsters and have that cliché moment where he asks “are you scared?”, Abby had reminded him of something that morning.
As he served up breakfast, his sister approached smiling , sitting at the table opposite the kitchen.
“You’re still taking me trick or treating right?” She asked. Mike closed his eyes for a moment, scolding himself.
Of course he was meant to do that.
Abby’s face faltered for a moment, worried her brother would turn her down. Naturally, Mike couldn’t.
“Yeah, yeah of course.” He told his sister, her face lighting up once more. Mike reflected his sister’s smile before it dawned on him he wouldn’t be spending the night with you.
He called you up that evening, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he dreaded the thought of disappointing you.
“Hello?” He heard your voice on the other line.
“Hey.” Mike said, attempting to sound cheerful.
“Hey, is everything alright?” You asked. Mike took a moment to sigh. He dreaded letting you down. He hadn’t been open to getting into a relationship before but now he had more of a grasp on his life and had found you. He was constantly scared of messing up; never having had loved someone the way he loved you before.
“Listen I’ve got to take Abby trick or treating so we can’t do anything on Halloween night, I’m sorry.” Mike apologises.
“Oh…that’s okay.” He hears you say simply but he knows you don’t mean it. You have to at least be a little disappointed.
“You can come if you want.” Mike murmurs the suggestion.
“Really?” Your voice sounded perkier and lively as if you were fond of the idea.
“Yeah but it’s stupid you’d probably hate it there’s just running, screaming kids all in the neighbourhood—“ you cut Mike off.
“No seriously I’d love to, that’d be nice.” You said with certainty. You wanted to spend time with Mike on Halloween and had no problem accompanying him with Abby to go trick or treating.
Mike goes quiet for a moment, his brows furrowing. “Are you sure?” He asks confusedly. He didn’t know you’d be so sure with the idea.
“Yeah, I’ll come with.” You tell him. You’d only just started dating Mike for a month and hadn’t acquainted Abby all that well. It was a good opportunity for you to bond with the girl better and ultimately spend time with Mike.
“Okay, sure yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Mike says, relaxing more.
“Bye.” You say quietly with a smile, hanging up the phone.
-
The next night you came over, parking your car at the curb of Mike’s house. You locked your car before walking onto the porch and knocking on the door.
Mike opened the door, candy bucket at the ready before realising it was you.
“Sorry to disappoint, you were so prepared.” You say sarcastically with a smile. Mike shakes his head slightly with a faint laugh and kisses the corner of your lips.
Mike leaves the bowl on the porch and you laugh slightly. “What?” He asks as he looks up.
“You know kids are just gonna take handfuls of that, right? It’ll be gone in seconds.” You tell him, looking down at the bowl.
“I know but…we all did that at some point, right?” Mike replied.
The both of you head out with Abby who makes conversation with you as she walks. Mike enjoyed seeing the two of you talk, appreciating the moment with his two favourite people. He knew the both of you would end up getting along.
Eventually, the three of you got back to the house. Abby was fulfilled with the amount of candy she’d got but grew tired quickly as her excitement died down. However, she was still eager to spend time with you and Mike.
"Well, we were gonna watch a scary movie." Mike tells her, hoping she'd be put off at the idea.
After the Pizzeria, nothing phased this girl.
"I can handle it." Abby assured him smiling, kicking off her shoes and getting comfortable on the couch already. Mike sighed a little before walking into the living room.
The two of you decided on the movie Halloween from 1978 and you rested close to Mike, your body resting against his. Mike's arm was draped over your shoulder and he kissed your forehead, Abby soon falling asleep against you not long into the movie.
"She thinks you're great you know, she's started drawing you." Mike murmurs against your forehead, glancing over at Abby.
"Really?" You asked, a smile gracing your lips upon hearing this. "Good to know.
Mike was glad you were fond of Abby, not wanting you to see her as some kind of burden for his time being split between you and looking after Abby.
However, that was the complete opposite of how you were, clearly happy to look after Abby and care for her too.
Mike loved that about you.
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atomicami · 5 months
Note
cami would you write a sub abby? like maybe where she needs your help to get off?🤭🩷
my sweet dani, that mind of yours truly is incredible…i wrote this one just for you querida 🤍
close call
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contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader
- summary: it’s the night before the annual bake sale, and abby needs your touch now more than ever.
- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, contractor/engineer!abby, texas living, no sarah, joel & jerry are still alive (jerry is not a doctor in this), reader has a business degree, abby gets needy, sneaking out, oral & fingering (a!receiving), masturbation (r), abby whimpering and begging?? and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything
- author’s note: well if i’m being honest i really did not expect to be writing another contractor!abby fic so soon, but this request gives so much desperate contractor!abby energy that i just had to do it. however i do have to clarify that this is not a part 3. i’ve stated this before in one of my asks, but part 3 is going to be more about the bake sale…this is just more of a little bonus chapter i guess.
anyways, this one’s for you dani, and for all of my contractor!abby fans out there that need a little pick me up rn. i hope y’all enjoy it 🫶🏻
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You didn’t expect to be doing it again so soon.
After you had snuck your way out of work to go see Abby at her father’s contracting site, you have to admit that the rest of this week flew by surprisingly fast for you.
You had been keeping yourself occupied in the meantime, between doing customer calls at work and preparing for the bake sale, you’ve been quite patient with yourself and didn’t feel the need to have to sneak out again until the next time you’d plan to see Abby. It was almost as if you simply had just been sick that day, and Abby’s touch was the remedy that cured you.
Although…there might be a feeling that you’ve jinxed yourself in saying so when you receive a phone call the night before.
You spent the morning on your work shift as usual, and your dad was generous enough to let you go before lunchtime so you could start baking for the sale tomorrow. After spending the rest of your day prepping, mixing, baking, and decorating, you were left with a variety of fresh pastries by sundown, ready to sell the next morning.
By the time you finished cleaning up the kitchen and getting ready for bed, the clock struck 10 p.m. Normally you’d stay up a little longer, but after the exhausting day you’ve had today, you genuinely needed to rest for tomorrow. You had to be downtown by 7 a.m. to set up at the farmer’s market for the bake sale. Given how weary you were, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.
However, you were only able to get a few hours of sleep in before your phone began to ring.
The sound of your ringtone startles you awake. Letting out a tired groan, you muster up the energy to reach over to your nightstand to turn on your light and pick up your phone to see who was calling you.
“Abby?” you whisper to yourself, rubbing your eyes to get a better look at the screen. Once you do, the phone call disappears and your lock screen shows with the missed notification, giving you a chance to look at the time.
It was barely past 1 a.m. Why the hell was she calling you this late?
Her contact name shows up once again in a second call, and this time you swipe to answer.
“Abby…what is it?” you answer groggily to her.
“Hey…are you awake?” she asks shyly.
You roll your eyes before responding. “I am now.”
“Look, I’m sorry if I did wake you up, but I really need you right now…”
Her words start to replay in your head. The tone she had in her voice…she didn’t sound like her usual, cocky self. She sounded desperate…kind of like how you were the last time you saw her.
“Abby, it’s one in the morning…what is it that can’t wait until later?”
You knew what she was asking for, you just needed to make her say it. Kind of like how she made you tell her last time.
“I um…I can’t get myself off,” she muttered back. It was quiet, but not quiet enough to where you couldn’t hear her.
You simply nod, soon remembering that she couldn’t see you right now. “Alright, um…do you have your boxers on, then?”
“No—I mean, yes I do, but I don’t mean this…I need you to come over.”
You scoff at her through the phone. She truly can’t be serious. Having to do this over the phone would already be difficult enough for you. But to sneak yourself out in the middle of the night to do so? It was going to be too much.
“Abby, you can’t be serious right now—“
“Come on, baby, don’t be like that…My dad isn’t even home right now, please?”
“Okay, but my dad is.” You reply to her instantly. “There’s no way I’m gonna be able to get out of my house without waking him up.”
You keep trying to tell her that it’s not going to work out, but Abby continues to beg about it. As much as you wanted to, it clearly wasn't the right time to do so. But eventually, you just had to give in.
“Okay, fine! I’ll come over…” you said, quickly lowering your voice down. “Just…just give me five minutes.”
After hanging up the phone, you get up from your bed, taking the time to stretch in the process. Grabbing the first pair of shoes you find, you quickly slip them on before grabbing your phone and keys and exiting your room.
Once you’ve shut the door, you begin to tiptoe down the hall as to not wake up your father. The door of Joel’s bedroom was slightly cracked open, and you could see that he was fast asleep. You quietly pass by his bedroom and make your way down the stairs, praying that the wood doesn't start creaking from the weight of your footsteps.
Before you know it, you’ve successfully made it out the door, and you begin to cross the street to Abby’s place. Once you’ve made it to her front door, your phone buzzes again.
“Abby: there’s a spare key under the mat.”
Jesus. The least she could’ve done was to have let you in her own house, especially since you had to do most of the work sneaking yourself out.
You reach down and slide your hand under the doormat, quickly finding the key that was hidden underneath before unlocking the door and letting yourself in. It’s the first time you’ve been inside Abby’s house, and you’re not bothered to even get a good look at it, you just needed to find her right now.
After wandering throughout her house for what feels like forever, you finally find her bedroom. Not even bothering to knock, you simply walk in to see Abby lying in the center of her bed, her long blonde locks draped over her shoulders, and her muscle tank covering her top half while the rest of her body was covered with her duvet from the waist down.
“Hey,” she pants out, propping herself up on her bed to get a better look at you. “I’m so sorry I had to—“
“Sit up,” you tell her, cutting off her sentence.
“What?”
“You heard me. Sit up.”
You then walk your way over to the left side of her bed and kneel on the ground, causing Abby to scramble around and sit up from her bed. Once you’re settled on the ground, she’s got her legs hanging off the bed, and you can see that she doesn’t have anything on underneath.
“Thought you said you had your boxers on,” you told her.
“I-I did…I just couldn’t wait for you to get here…” she replies, looking away from you as she does so.
“And you say I’m the needy one…” you mutter to yourself. You then spread Abby’s legs open, revealing her pussy to you. Despite how truly annoyed you were that she made you have to sneak out in the middle of the night, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be touching her like this right now…because your mouth was practically watering at the sight of her wet pussy.
Without hesitation, you insert two of your fingers inside her. Her body jerks back for a moment at the sudden touch, before soon settling down, letting her pussy relax around your fingers.
It seemed like Abby was trying to compose herself right now because you could hear how hard she was trying to hold back her whimpers and whines as you kept slowly pumping your fingers in and out of her.
“M-More…” she whispers out to you, trying her best to not sound needy.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” You asked, eyes still fixated on her pussy.
“I-I need more, please…” she responds, her voice just a little louder this time.
You look up at her as your fingers continue to move inside her pussy, your movements not stopping as you maintained eye contact with her. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific than that, Abigail, or else I’m not giving you what you want,” you tell her sternly.
You can easily see her trying to hold back her frustration right now, and you were honestly enjoying it. The fact that you’ve put her in this state of submission outside of her usual cocky persona truly has you beaming with pride.
“I—fuck—I need your mouth, p-please…” she whines out to you, hands gripping onto the sheets as your fingers curl into her g spot.
“See, there you go…That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” you tease back at her before leaning in and attaching your mouth to her clit as you continued to finger her.
It didn’t take long for the speed of your fingers to increase inside her pussy and for your mouth to suck harder on her throbbing clit. Between the pleasure you were giving her and the whimpers and moans that were escaping from her mouth, you can’t help but feel the need to take care of yourself down there.
As you continue to eat Abby out, your non-dominant hand begins to trail its way down into your shorts and slide below your underwear. You instantly feel a sense of relief once your fingertips reach your clit, rubbing it gently as you continued to give Abby the pleasure she needed.
You began to whimper and moan into her pussy, the vibrations from your mouth causing chills to rush through Abby’s body as she tried to chase her orgasm.
Her pussy soon began to clench around your fingers more than usual, indicating that she was close. You briefly removed your mouth from her pussy to speak to her, quickly replacing it with your thumb in the meantime. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?” you asked, looking up at her.
Abby nodded quickly in response. “Y-yes, fuck, p-please don’t stop…” she whined out, quickly grabbing your head with one hand and pushing it back into her pussy while her other hand grips onto the edge of her bed.
You were practically being suffocated in between her strong thighs right now, but you could honestly care less. You weren’t stopping until she finished. You continued to desperately moan and whine into her pussy as you kept rubbing your needy clit with your other hand, trying to chase your orgasm as well.
“Oh fuck, baby, right there, I’m gonna—Fuck!”
Abby tried her best to warn you, she really did, but before you both knew it, her release was already spilling out of her pussy and onto your fingers and mouth, causing you to greedily drink up every last drop of her before slowly removing your mouth and fingers out of her.
Once Abby had recovered from her orgasm, she looked down at you just in time to see you take your other hand out of your shorts. She kept her eyes on your fingers, admiring how they were covered in your release as a result of the pleasure you just gave to her.
She brings her hand down to your chin and lifts it to meet her eyes with yours. The deja vu feeling was hitting her now the second she saw your pupils blown out once again, just like how you were not even a week ago when you went down on her under her desk while she was sitting across from her father.
You hesitate for a moment before soon making the effort to stand up to her height, bringing your two fingers that were coated in your slick up to her lips.
“Clean them up,” you commanded.
Abby nodded as she held the hand that was put to her mouth before parting her lips and sucking your fingers clean. Her eyes were trained on yours, maintaining eye contact as she did so.
“There you go, just like that…” you mutter out to her quietly.
Once they were clean, Abby removed your fingers from her mouth, making a slight pop sound as she did so. You lean in to plant a kiss on her lips, tasting a bit of yourself from her lips and vice versa. You then reach down to grab your phone and keys before walking towards her bedroom door to leave.
However, you pause in your tracks for one moment and turn your head around to look at her fucked out self one more time.
“I’ll see you at the bake sale.” you reminded her, that same smirk appearing now on both of your faces before you turned back around and exited her bedroom, now leaving her by herself.
Well, it’s safe to say that Abby was going to have to return the favor for you real soon.
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- a/n: i have to admit this one’s not my best work, it was my first time writing sub abby y’all believe me i tried my best 🙏🏻
also, i don’t usually self promote my fics but i did post my first dina fic the other day, it’s called overnight sensation and it’s a smau series. i’ve spent a lot of time and effort in making that fic so far so it’ll truly mean a lot to me if you guys could check it out 🤍
but other than that, i’ll see you guys in part 3!
tags 🏷️: @abbyscherry @whore4abby @zombholic @aouiaa @uraesthete @lia-winther @gaptoothedlesbo @deadbolted @abbysfavewh0rx @echostinn @mochiivqi @floptron @totallyghostdgirl @swtsuna @bellaramslover @naomis-daydream @ur-fav-pixi @sirenbxby @paprikahoernchen @thesevi0lentdelights @mostlyhornyandsad @tohoko
(^ i think that’s everyone?? let me know if i missed anyone/if you’d like to be tagged in the real part 3 LOL)
2023 © atomicami | all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.
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in-my-feels-probably · 7 months
Note
Hi there, hope you're doing well. I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better. Cheers!
Right Where You Left Me
Request: I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better.
Hi! I’m so sorry for the wait, it took me forever to get to this request, and even longer to finish it. I’ve been in a bit of a slump, but I feel better. I love this request, thank you so much for sending it in! I hope you enjoy it :)
(Warnings: swearing, mentions of azkaban and sirius’s treatment there, mentions of death, vague mention of nudity, let me know if i missed anything)
When you received the Patronus from Remus telling you Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, it brought you to your knees. 
You thought about him every day. But you could only ever picture him in the days before he was arrested. It hurt too much to think about him rotting away in prison. But hearing that he got out? That he was out in the world and could be anywhere by now? The fact that he was suddenly much closer to you than you thought he would ever be again?
It terrified you.
You married Sirius right after school ended and the war was beginning to pick up. He proposed on a whim, telling you that the rest of your days weren’t guaranteed, and he didn’t want to live through another day without you tied to him. You would have always been by his side, but this was tying more than just your lives together—it was your souls. When Harry was born, you were named his godparents. All was well for a while. Calm, even. Of course, the calm didn’t last. 
It wasn’t long after your marriage before that night in Godric’s Hollow came, and Sirius was taken away from you. 
But it wasn’t just Sirius. 
It was James, Lily, and Peter—even Mary. Marlene was in the weeks before, and Dorcas too. They were ripped away from you, far before you were ready to let them go. Remus was the only one who you kept in touch with after that night. You clung to each other in the weeks after, seeming to be the only people in the world the other could find solace in. But as the years passed, your visits and letters became few and far in between. 
Then—after all that time—another Patronus came. 
Sirius had come to Hogwarts, and he’d proved his innocence to those who mattered. It was Peter who had betrayed everyone, and he was still alive. 
And, while Sirius had you and Remus on his side, he was still considered a fugitive. The Aurors were after him, and he needed to be kept some place safe where they wouldn’t come looking. Luckily for you, the flat you bought was outside of Wizarding London. Sirius had always loved the feeling of places untouched by magic, so after you married, you moved in together in a quiet area on the outskirts of London. It was his idea to use magic to ward it so that people looking for you would have a hard time, and after so long away from the Wizarding community, not many people would think it was worth it or even remember to come looking for Sirius in hiding with you.
After twelve years of solitude, you couldn’t fathom the idea of your husband coming back to you. You couldn’t fathom the idea of him being part of your day to day life again. All you could do to keep yourself together was tidy up and prepare for Sirius’s arrival.
You couldn’t believe it when Remus finally brought him home to you. 
Your boy—who was a man now, or at least the shell of one—was sitting right in your living room. The only home he had ever known outside of Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts, and he couldn’t have looked more out of place. 
Neither of you spoke when Remus eased him down onto the couch, before coming to your side. You’d always pictured that by some miracle if Sirius ever came home to you, you’d rush into his arms and he’d hold you like no time had passed. You spent years missing his touch, wishing you could hug him just one more time. But now he was right in front of you, and you had no idea how to act. You didn’t know if he even wanted you to touch him. You couldn’t take your eyes off Sirius, eyes wide as you looked him over. 
Time had not been kind to him. 
You could see the man you once knew bleeding through, but so much of this version of him was unknown to you. Sirius kept his eyes on the floor, but would occasionally glance up at you. You knew he was seeing a stranger, too.
“I have to go back,” Remus whispered, turning your attention to him. “They’ll know what’s happened back at Hogwarts if I don’t leave soon, and too many people know what’s happened already. I’m sorry. I’ll come back as soon as I can, yeah?”
You could hardly hear him, but you quickly nodded, giving him a squeeze. “Be careful, Remus. I’ll take care of him while you’re gone.”
“I know you will,” he murmured, squeezing you tight.
He let you go, kneeling down next to Sirius who was watching you both with a look full of anxiety. Remus placed a hand on Sirius’s shoulder, his touch light and gentle.
“I have to go, alright? But you’re safe here. I promise. It’s just Y/N.”
Just Y/N, Sirius thought. He just nodded, a conflicted look on his face. Remus stood up, giving you one last look of sympathy, before walking out the door. He left a deafening silence in his wake.
It took you forever to get your feet to move. But when you did, you were falling. You landed on your knees just in front of Sirius, peering up at him through teary eyes. You could see him take a breath, stilling as you got closer.
“Can I touch you?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.
Sirius swallowed hard. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, and you gently reached your hand up, your fingertips hovering over his face. Taking a breath, you cradled his cheek in your palm. You could feel the stubble along his jaw, and the sharpness off his cheek. His skin was cool, far from the usual flush you remembered from all those years ago.
“You’re really here,” you murmured, your voice catching in your throat. “Oh, love. You’re so beautiful.”
Your words pulled a pained whimper from Sirius’s chest. He nestled his face into your hand, a few stray tears pooling in your palm. You were quick to wipe them away, leaning in close. He tilted his head down, resting his forehead against yours. He took a deep breath, taking you in.
“I pictured your face every day, and I still think I’ll never get tired of looking at you. How could I? You’re right here in front of me, as beautiful as the day I lost you. But you’ve always been the pretty one in this relationship, haven’t you?”
You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head. “In my dreams. But it’s good to see your sense of humor is still intact.”
The next few moments were quiet, nothing but the sound of sniffles and shaky breaths reaching your ears. 
Finally, Sirius forced himself to look around. He’d braced himself from the moment he walked in to see all that had changed since he left. He’d expected you to move on and live your life without him, and he’d expected the flat to reflect that. It was honestly more of a shock to him when Remus told him you still lived there than anything else. But as he looked around and took everything in, he realized how wrong he had been. 
“You haven’t changed a thing,” he said, looking at the art on the walls you’d picked out together when you first moved in.
You glanced around as well. You wanted to tell him how you didn’t have the heart to change anything. And although seeing him in everything around you felt like you were being stabbed, you just couldn’t get rid of anything. Getting rid of it would mean getting rid of all you had left of him.
And you would have rather been stabbed a thousand times than do that.
You shook your head, pointing to the spare room. “Actually, Remus lived here for a while. He pretty much flipped that whole room. Said something about you having too expensive a taste for him to have to endure for extended periods of time.”
“Merlin, I bet it looks like grunge threw up in there,” he mused, making you smile and nod.
You stood up, offering him your hands. “Are you hungry? We need to get you fed and cleaned up, love.”
Sirius looked down to the robes he was wearing. They were tattered—resembling rags stitched together more than they were resembling clothes. His hair was greasy and matted to his head, and his face and body was caked in dirt. He had almost forgotten just how dirty he was, a flush spreading across his cheeks as he gave you an embarrassed look. 
“It’s alright, darling,” you said softly, taking his hands in yours. “We’ll take it at your pace. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
Reluctantly, Sirius nodded. You smiled, gently leading him up off the sofa and into the kitchen.
It took ages to find him something to eat. 
You nearly keeled over when he told you that pretty much the only thing he had been given to eat for the past twelve years was bread and water. It was what he’d grown accustomed to eating, and he wasn’t sure he could stomach anything else. You had to choke back tears when you finally suggested soup—one of the first things he learned to make on his own without magic. It took a while, but he managed to get most of it down. 
You made small talk while he ate, telling him little things he’d missed while he was gone. You left out the most painful details. You could tell him about those later.
Finally, he couldn’t stall anymore. 
He let you take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom, his eyes on the floor as you shut the door behind him.
“Shower or bath?” You asked, turning the water on to let it heat up. “A bath might be easier. You look tired, and I don’t want you falling over or something.”
Sirius just nodded, and you assumed he was alright with you choosing for him. You let the tub fill up, making sure the water wasn’t too hot before you turned the faucet off. You turned back around, frowning when you saw Sirius looking back at you with anxious eyes.
“It’s ready,” you said softly, stepping out of the way.
Sirius watched you for a moment, fidgeting back and forth on his heels. Just as you opened your mouth to speak again, he beat you to it.
“Can you turn around?” He asked, lowering his eyes to the floor. “I don’t mind if you stay, but could you…could you maybe turn around for this part?”
You quickly nodded, stepping towards the door. “Of course! I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask if you wanted me in here—”
He was quick to speak, his voice shaky. “I do! But this is just a little weird, you know?”
You nodded, backing up to the doorway and turning to face it. You could feel the heat creep up to your cheeks as you heard his clothes hit the floor, followed by the sound of him climbing into the tub. You had seen Sirius naked a thousand times before. He was never ashamed of his body, he never shied away, and you had seen plenty of him in your years of knowing him. This version of him made your chest tighten, and all you could do was stand there and hope he wasn’t feeling the emotions you were. You waited another moment before talking over your shoulder.
“Do you need anything, love? I’ll wait outside if you want me to. Unless you want me here. I’m happy to do whatever you want, it’s up to you.”
Sirius cleared his throat. “Uh…could you maybe help me? My hair is matted and I don’t think I can fix it on my own.”
There was probably a spell you could have used—some sort of detangling charm to help get the mats out. But Sirius had gotten used to not being able to use magic, and you didn’t feel like using it either. The truth was, you preferred it this way.
It was an excuse to get close to him again and spend time with him.
It was an excuse to take care of him.
You nodded, turning around to grab your brush. You kept your eyes on his as you sat down on the edge of the tub, trying your best not to let your eyes wander. You set your brush on your knees, reaching for a cup off the ledge of the tub to dip down into the water and fill up.
“Tilt your head back for me, love,” you directed, smoothing your hand over his hairline as he tipped back far enough for you to pour the water over his hair.
You repeated the process a few more times before setting the cup down and grabbing the conditioner. You smoothed it through his hair, gently tugging at the knots with your fingers before you grabbed your brush. It was silent while you worked, making slow but steady progress. Eventually, Sirius shifted, and the water sloshed just over the side of the tub.
“Sorry,” he muttered, looking over his shoulder with guilty eyes to see if he splashed you.
“Don’t be,” you replied quickly, smoothing a comforting hand across his shoulder before moving back up to his hair. “Are you alright? Getting cold?”
Sirius opened his mouth to speak, before deciding against it and closing it. He just shook his head, growing silent once more. You knew there was something he wasn’t saying, and you didn’t want to push him. But you hadn’t made much progress with his hair, and you didn’t fancy sitting in silence for the rest of the evening.
You set your brush down, gently smoothing your palm over his hair. “Sirius…you can tell me anything. You know that, right? I know this feels strange, but it’s still me you’re talking to. Alright? It’s me. There’s nothing you can’t tell me. Whatever it is, I’m here to listen.”
There was another splash as he shifted, twisting around to face you. He was going to say that he’d tell you another time, and that he didn’t have it in him to say it just yet. 
But then he looked into your eyes.
And you were looking at him with such sincerity and warmth that he couldn’t help but spill. You watched his eyes fill with tears, and you quickly reached for his hand which he gladly let you take.
“I saw Harry,” he finally choked out.
You felt your breath catch in your chest. A deep sorrow spread through you, filling your gut with dread. You could feel your own tears stinging behind your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. It wasn’t the time for them.
“He looks just like them, doesn’t he?” You breathed, squeezing Sirius’s hand. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Remus promised he’d say hello for me once he got to Hogwarts.”
“He knows who you are?” Sirius asked, his voice full of surprise.
“Dumbledore wouldn’t tell me where he was when they came for him. The bastard said I was “in no shape” to look after him, and it was too dangerous for me to get involved. I tried so many times to get him to tell me, but I knew he had already pushed me and Remus to the back of the list as far as who could be around Harry…I didn’t even catch a glimpse of him until he was eight. Merlin, you have no idea how angry I was when I found out they had given him to Petunia and her sorry excuse for a husband.”
Sirius’s jaw clenched. You could see the anger brewing inside him, watching as he took deep breaths to calm himself. But he didn’t let it out on you. He just squeezed your hand, tightening his grip.
Sirius cleared his throat. “Did you try and go get him?”
“Dumbledore threatened to have my magic taken away if I didn’t leave the matter be. He didn’t tell me anything about Harry or where he was kept hidden away. He just brought me a picture of him, and promised that when it was finally time for Harry to go to Hogwarts, he’d let me see him. Remus had to keep an eye on me till he was sure I wouldn’t do something stupid before that time came. He’d been waiting as long as me—he’s just better than me at patience, I guess.”
“You never were very good at being patient,” Sirius mused, but you could hear the strain in his voice as he spoke.
You gave him a tight lipped smile, trying your best to mean it. “Anyway, I met Harry for the first time in Diagon Alley. Dumbledore finally let me see him under the condition that it be in a public and magical place—but I wasn’t allowed to tell him about you.”
Sirius frowned, and you could feel your chest tighten. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, your eyes in your lap.
“I wanted to tell him—so badly. But Dumblefore wouldn’t let me. All I could say was that I was a friend of Harry’s parents, and that I was there to help him get ready for school. I finally told him I was his godmother last summer when I took him for school supplies again. He spent the afternoon asking me about how I knew his parents. He kept pressing for every detail about them and how I knew them, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I told him everything about James and Lily I could remember. It just about killed me—”
Your words caught in your throat, cutting you short. Sirius reached his other hand up to reach for yours, his brows furrowing in concern. You looked up, giving him a sad smile.
You swallowed, choking back tears. “He’s so like them, Sirius. He’s got James’s ridiculous hair, and Lily’s fire. I can hardly look at him without seeing her eyes staring back at me. It’s so fucking unfair.”
A pained sound was pulled from Sirius’s throat, and you stopped yourself from talking about James and Lily any further. You grabbed the brush again, burying your nose in your work as you tried to ignore the sorrow you caught in his eyes before he turned his head straight.
“Tell me about it,” you prompted, changing the subject. “Tell me about him.”
Sirius was quiet a moment, like he was trying to find the right words. “He was…beautiful.”
You smiled, nodding for him to continue as you worked the knots out of his hair.
“He’s got this little witch by his side who quite honestly scared me—”
“Hermione,” you finished for him, grinning. “She’s a wonder, isn’t she? Ron, too.”
Sirius nodded, wringing his hands. “I’m glad Harry has someone. They seem like good friends. He’ll at least have them by his side to keep him from getting into too much trouble. He’ll certainly have a better shot than we did.”
You chuckled, smoothing your hand over his hair. “Remus told me he’s doing really well. It was a big year for him, but…he’ll be alright. We’ll see to that now.”
Sirius stiffened, turning around to face you. You paused what you were doing, setting down the brush. His eyes were lowered, his voice quiet as he spoke.
“I told him he could come stay with me, at least once it was safe to and he was able. I wasn’t really thinking about where that would be. My first thought was Grimmauld Place, but I don’t think I can stomach having him there. It’s not right. But I didn’t think to ask you—”
“Sirius, love,” you interrupted, gently cupping his cheek. “This is your home. You can invite whoever you want—you don’t have to ask my permission. And Harry will always be welcome here. If it’s what he wants, he can come stay with us. It can be his home too.”
His eyes softened, and his shoulders fell as he let out a breath of relief. “Merlin, I missed you.”
You could feel yourself growing emotional again, but you refused to let it show. There was so much you wanted to say to him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak without your eyes welling with tears. You just cleared your throat as you leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder.
“Tilt your head back for me again, darling,” you managed to whisper, rinsing his hair out. “Almost done. We’ll get you cleaned up so you can rest, alright?”
Not long after, you had Sirius clean and out of the tub, bundled up under the pile of blankets you had dragged over to your bed. He looked a bit ridiculous buried under them all, but it made you smile seeing him comfortable, and he was very happy to oblige you. 
You laid next to him, under a considerably less amount of layers. “Warm enough?”
A warm laugh came from next to you as Sirius rolled over to face you. “Yeah, I think I’m all set, darling.”
You smiled, and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Out of habit—one you didn’t even know you still had—you reached for his hand under the sheets. You used to always wind down every night like this, cherishing the time you had together. You never knew how much longer you’d be able to do it with the war raging on, and you both got quite used to doing this each night. 
Sirius stiffened in surprise when he felt your fingers reach his, but he quickly recovered once he realized what you were doing. He let you take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers.
“This bed is so soft,” he murmured, tilting his chin down to look at you. “I forgot how soft it was.”
You tried not to let your mind wander, thinking about the sleeping conditions he would have had in Azkaban. He would tell you one day about what it was like there. 
Neither of you were prepared to talk about it just yet.
“Do you wanna sleep somewhere else? I could make up the couch—”
“No, love,” he said, squeezing your hand. “This is good.”
You nodded, resting your head against the pillow. Another silence fell over the room. You shuffled to get a little closer, absentmindedly tracing your thumb along the back of his hand. Sirius let out a heavy sigh, drawing your attention up to him. You waited for him to speak, lying still until he looked down and his eyes met yours. There was a pain in them you couldn’t describe.
“Did you think I did it?”
You sucked in a breath, your grip on his hand tightening. You could feel his eyes on you as you frowned, bring your joined hands up from under the sheets to rest on top of the blanket.
You had been waiting for him to ask you this.
You knew he must have spent the past decade wondering what you thought happened. He’d sat in that cell all alone, thinking his wife thought he was a cold blooded murderer who had killed her best friends. 
The world thought he was a killer. Why wouldn’t you?
You dropped his hand, gently reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm against yours, a pink flush spreading. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? You didn’t know. You caressed his cheek, giving him a sad smile. You could see his eyes welling with tears.
“No,” you finally said, your voice sure. “I didn’t think it was you. I didn’t know what had happened, but I didn’t think it was you.”
Sirius let out a breath, his voice cracking. “Really?”
You swallowed hard, nodding.
“You would have died before ever hurting James—and you would have done a lot worse to save him. There wasn’t a single part of me that thought you could have killed James and Lily. I just couldn’t fathom it. There was no one in this world you loved more than them, and I knew that it couldn’t have been you. I didn’t know they had made Peter the secret keeper last minute, and I didn’t know where his body was if he was supposed to be dead, but I knew you had absolutely nothing to do with it. I think Remus knew it too…deep down. He thought I was crazy with the theories I was coming up with to try and absolve you. But he never truly blamed you—and eventually, we stopped talking about it all together. It hurt too much to keep trying to solve the mystery. It was easier to let it go.”
Fresh tears spilled, and Sirius was quick to wipe them away. Your heart ached at his kindness, even after all these years. All these years of solitude when you had left him behind, and yet, he was the one consoling you.
“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, composing yourself the best you could. “I’m so sorry I didn’t try harder to get you back. I’m so sorry you had to suffer there all those years while I got to just keep living my life. You don’t know how sorry I am. Please forgive me, Sirius.”
Sirius quickly shook his head, his palm resting against your cheek. “None of that, pretty girl. It’s not your fault—”
“But it is,” you tried to say, but he just kept shaking his head.
“Well, I don’t care—it doesn’t matter…I don’t blame you. I never blamed you, darling. So stop blaming yourself. I’m sure you’ve spent long enough doing that, and I won’t watch you torture yourself. Don’t you think we’ve both been through enough torture?”
You could hardly believe what you were hearing. He was so strong. It shocked you, just how strong he was. He had been through so much, and yet he still carried himself like the man you knew. He still let other people lean on him even when it should have been him doing the leaning. It was remarkable, really.
“Since when did you get so wise?” You asked, and you had mustered a grin that made him smile too. “Where’s the stubborn man I once knew?”
Sirius shrugged. “He’s still in here somewhere. Just needs a little practice. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll meet him again soon.”
You scoffed, breathing out a laugh. “That’s alright. I kinda missed him.”
Sirius chuckled, and your smile widened. This felt easy—this was good. You were so worried that, after all this time, you wouldn’t know how to act around each other. You were so afraid that Sirius would walk around the flat like a ghost of the man who once called it home. But he didn’t. It only took him a few hours to start cracking jokes, brushing his fingers against yours. 
It wasn’t perfect—neither of you expected it to be. 
But it gave you hope. Sirius was going to be okay. You both were going to be okay. And you’d get there together.
A/N - Hi! Again, I'm so sorry for the wait. I honestly don’t love the outcome of this, but I figured I’d finish it anyways. I loved this request, and I just kept coming back to it and adding it. Hopefully this is what you were looking for, sorry if it’s shit. Thanks for the request :)
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bloatedandalone04 · 1 month
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The Night has Just Begun
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➪the one where you and hayden make a sex tape.
Warnings: sex tape obvi, smut, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (m receiving), swearing, think that might be it..
Word Count: 3.2k
Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡
The way Hayden looks with short hair never fails to drive you crazy. 
He had just finished filming Vanishing on 7th Street, and you would’ve been upset about his character’s end in that movie if he didn’t look so damn good in it. He had cut his hair short for this movie, and he got to act like a dick for most of it, and the contrast of that to his usual kind and friendly behavior had you going a bit feral. 
In celebration of the film being completed, he suggested a night at a nice hotel before going back to your house and settling back down after the chaos that occurs on set during the process of making a movie. You agreed, of course, then presented the idea of perhaps filming some behind the scenes stuff at the hotel, and he was all on board. 
Hayden was sitting at the bottom of the bed when you entered the room, and you looked to the right to see the camera and smirked a bit as you closed and locked the door behind you. 
His jacket was tossed onto the chair in the corner of the room, leaving him in just a white tee and jeans, and the simple yet extremely attractive outfit had you biting down on your lip as you paused a few feet away from him. 
You knew you were in frame now, and Hayden knew it, too, as he gave you a small smirk and beckoned you over to him, “Come here,” he softly demanded, but you just stood still with a mischievous glint in your eyes as you began to shrug off your jacket. “Come here, baby.” He tried again, and you gave in.
Walking over to him, you were a few feet away when he wrapped one hand around the back of your thigh as his other one gently grabbed your wrist and halted your action of ridding yourself of your jacket. 
“That’s my job,” he murmured as he pulled you to stand in between his legs and dropped your wrist in order to push the fabric from your shoulders. 
Heat takes over your entire body as you slide your hands up his arms as his slide down the backs of your thighs. “Oh, right,” you say as he leans down to begin placing kisses down the front of your shirt. “I was getting ahead of myself.”
Hayden hummed as he grinned up at you before sliding his hands further down to press against the backs of your knees, making you fall forward a bit. You settle on his lap as a blush takes over your face, and you hide your head in the crevice of his neck. “What?” He laughed quietly. “Why are you hiding?”
You huff and lift your head again, glancing off to the right and looking into the camera lens before returning your gaze to him. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” You confessed, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you shifted on top of him. “I’m nervous.”
“It’s okay,” Hayden nodded in understanding as he leaned in and placed an open mouthed kiss to the base of your throat before looking at the camera as well. “Me too.”
He sure as fuck didn’t look nervous to do this. He looked ready, prepared to get you off in all the ways he’s done before, but this time on film. 
“We don’t have to,” he said quietly. “I can turn it off-”
“I want to do this,” you mumble and bite down on your lip. “But what if someone sees it?”
Hayden smirked a bit, “Well, then they’re in for quite the show,” he teased then softened his gaze as he grabbed your hips. “I promise, no one other than you and I will see it. It’s just for us. It’s just us.”
That was really all the reassurance you needed to forget about the camera and instead focus on the achingly beautiful man beneath you. “Just us,” you say back and close your eyes as he leaned in and kissed along your neck. 
His hands grip your waist tightly as he moves your body so you’re straddling his right thigh. “Just us. I’m not letting anyone else see you like this,” he promised. “It’s all for me. Now ride my thigh.”
Your eyes open at that, and you nearly moan at the look he was giving you. “Okay,” you easily give in as you slowly start to rub your core against his thigh. You actually moan as he bends his leg more and gives you a firmer surface to grind on. “Hayden.”
His hands help guide your movements, and you slowly build up the pace as your fingers tangle in the hair on the back of his neck. “Does it feel good?” He asked, but you both knew he was well aware of the answer to that question. 
Still, you’d always give in to him. “Yes,” you whimpered as he took full control of the way your body moved on top of his. The fabric of his jeans was rough and created the perfect feeling against your core, making you whimper softly. “It feels so good, Hayden.”
He smiled lovingly up at you, still finding the dirtiest act romantic and intimate in the best way possible. Hayden leaned in and pressed his mouth to your neck and shoulders, kissing and sucking on your soft skin as you worked yourself against his thigh. 
“More,” you feebly whined as you helplessly clenched around nothing. “I need more, Hayden.”
He hushed you with his mouth, his lips meeting yours in a deep kiss. “I know,” he rasped, kissing his way up your jaw until he found the skin under your ear. “I know, baby, you’ll get more. We’ve only just started, you’re going to get so much more after you get yourself off on me.”
His words were filthy and only for you as he kept this side of himself very well hidden to everyone else. You weren’t even registering the camera capturing your sinful actions as you rubbed yourself harder against him, your hands grasping for anything to hold onto as he guided your movements. 
The stimulation on your clit was making your eyesight blur slightly, and your release was creeping closer and closer with each drag of your hips. Hayden never failed to get you off easily the first time around, when the night was just beginning, and it really didn’t take much. 
Just the fact that the man who is gripping your body so tightly right now and working you into a whiney mess for him is all yours was enough to have your body jerking as you come on his thigh and bury your face against his neck. 
Hayden releases your hips in order to let you ride out your high in much slower movements, and when you lift your head again with a lazy smile painted on your lips, he was powerless to stop his own from forming. “Are you okay?” He asked and you nodded and pressed a final, deep kiss to his lips before getting up and grabbing the camera with shaky hands. 
“My turn,” you grin as you hand it to him and sink to your knees between his legs. You run your hands up his thighs before popping open the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down. Hayden lifted his hips and allowed you to push the fabric down his legs before sitting back down and pointing the camera at you. 
Despite your current position on your knees in front of him, you give him a shy smile then kiss him through his tight boxer briefs. His breath hitched in his throat as you licked a damp spot along his length before tugging that material down, too, and tossing it aside without a care. 
Then you were taking him into your mouth and sucking him expertly. You started off slowly, then increased the pace with each bob of your head, and suddenly Hayden was having a very hard time keeping the camera still, despite him holding one countless times now. 
This was probably the dirtiest thing he had ever done. He liked to have you all to himself like this, and while he loved to show you off at premieres or date nights, this was completely new to him. 
While he’s been on camera for all of his career, you hadn’t, so to see you right now through the LCD screen felt surreal and filthy and unlike anything he’s ever felt. “Look at you,” he grunted as you took him deeper than before and encouraged him to grab your hair with his free hand. “You look so pretty like this.”
You blush and use one of your hands to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Your other hand tightly grips his thigh as a form of stability as you let his girth destroy the back of your throat. 
Hayden cursed under his breath as he adjusted the camera and leaned back. “You should’ve been an actress, baby,” he mumbled as his hand pulled on your hair and made your head lift a bit to show off his spit covered dick. “The camera loves you.”
You blush more and roll your eyes as you remove him from your mouth and stroke him quickly. “Not nearly as much as it loves you,” you mutter and poke your tongue out to lick his throbbing tip.
He moaned and released your hair so he could softly caress your jaw. “I don’t know, sweet girl,” he grunted. “You’re looking pretty good from my perspective.”
You smile and kiss up the side of his length. “You’re only saying that because you want me to be in a movie with you,”
That was true. He’d been begging you for years now to play a part in one of the movies he and his brother worked on, but you always give him the same response of ‘the camera not being your friend and making you look terrible’ which was total bullshit since he is seeing how perfect you look on camera right now. 
“This is definitely not helping with that. If only you could see how fucking pretty you look right now,” he groaned as you swiped your thumb along his tip. You repeated that action with every stroke of your hand, and sped up the pace when you saw his hips jerk. “I’m gonna come.” He warned and gently stilled your movements by wrapping his hand around your wrist. 
“Good, I want you to,” you say and move your face closer to his wet and pulsing cock. “On my tongue.”
That sounded nothing short of amazing, but he is really worked up at the moment and wasn’t sure how long he would last later if he were to come right now. “But I want to come in you,”
You whine as he pulls you to stand up and away from his spit coated dick. Leaning down, you kiss him deeply as his hand runs up your back, taking your shirt with him before pulling your body closer to his. Straddling his lap again, you wrap your arms around his shoulders as  he holds you against his chest and sets the camera aside in order to flip you over so you’re on your back. 
Wrapping your legs around his waist, you lean your head back as he peppers kisses all along your neck and shoulders before tugging your shirt off and dropping it onto the floor beside the bed. He then snaked his hands behind you and fumbled around with the clasp of your bra, and you looked over to see that the lens was pointed at you. Before you could grab it, Hayden tore the lacy fabric away from your body and picked up the camera. 
You blush deeply as you were almost completely exposed on film now, but you didn’t have time to feel self conscious as Hayden grunts, “Look how pretty you are,” it was more to himself, but since it was just the two of you in the quiet room, you heard him clear as day. “You’re so fucking pretty.” 
“Hayden,” you whimper softly and reach over to trail your hand up his bare thigh. “I thought you wanted to fuck me.”
He smirks at you as he sets the camera down further up the bed so both you and him are in frame. “I will,” he promised as he kissed down your bare chest before he reached the top of your leggings. He pulled them down, as well as your panties, as he added, “Just had to compliment my girl first.”
You blush even more as he tugs his shirt off and drops it into the growing pile of clothes on the floor.  “Such a gentleman,” you say back then moan when he leaned down to kiss your neck as he ran his tip along your folds.  “Oh, God, I need you.”
He grinned at you before sinking into your warm and inviting core. Your previous orgasm made it very easy for him to bottom out completely after just two thrusts, and the relieved moans that left both yours and Hayden’s mouths sounded like something straight out of a porno. They kind of were, given the current circumstances. 
Your body was on fire and your whines got louder with each drag of his hips, you could barely think straight as you reached behind you to grab the camera with numb fingers. To have such a private and intimate moment be filmed felt dirty and sinful, but it also felt exciting and hot and you both knew that no one else would ever see it, so why hold back?
Not used to holding a camera, and definitely not used to filming something while being railed, you weren’t sure how well you were capturing the whole scene. You could barely see through the LCD screen as you pointed it downwards and filmed his slick-covered cock as it disappeared inside of you. 
Then you angle it upwards and capture just how beautiful Hayden looked like this. His brows were furrowed and his mouth was slightly open as deep groans left his lips, and when he glanced up and saw that you were filming him, he gave the camera a smug smile that nearly had you dropping it. “Fuck,” you whimper as you wrap your legs tightly around his waist and kept the camera on his face. “You’re so hot, Hayden, fuck, you can’t look at me like that.”
He laughed, and it sounded more deep than usual, and that really did not help your case as it had you clenching tightly around him. Hayden could barely pull out as you were impossibly tight, but it just made the pleasure you were both feeling intensify. 
“I always look at you like this,” he managed to mutter, and you just shake your head as you reach up with your free hand and grab onto his hair.
Each thrust had your body inching further up the bed, and you had to tighten your hold on him to keep his body connected to yours. “Tell me you’re mine,” you requested in a breathless tone. 
Hayden was fucking you so hard, you barely had any control over your words right now. It was clear that he was also losing himself in you as he lifted his head and smirked down at you. “You feeling possessive, baby?” He teased. “Do you really think someone else will get to see me like this? Get to have me like this?” 
His words send heat waves through you, and you arch your back as you set the camera aside in order to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “No,” you answer in a whisper. “No, but I want to hear you say that you’re mine…all mine.”
The camera was still capturing everything as Hayden pressed a searing kiss to your lips and braced himself on his elbows at either side of your head. “I’m yours, baby,” he promised, kissing you again afterwards. “All fucking yours.”
You moan loudly as he pulls away and sits back on his knees. He grabs the camera and resumes fucking into you, but this time he’s the one filming it. One hand grips your hip as the other holds the camera above your body, and his point of view allowed nearly the entire thing to be captured. 
You were so worked up, you weren’t even paying attention to it as you stared down at where you connected. “Fuck,” you whimpered when the thumb of the hand that was on your waist moved to rub harsh circles onto your swollen and throbbing clit. “I’m going to come again.” 
Hayden hummed as he kept the camera focused on himself sliding in and out of you while he looked above it, his dark eyes narrowed at your fucked out expression. “I want you to,”
You shake your head, “I don’t want to yet,” you whine, making him laugh quietly. “I don’t want this to be over yet.”
Hayden tilts the camera up towards your face. “It’s okay, pretty girl,” he cooed, holding off his own release. He’s shamelessly been close since the second you started going down on him, so he wasn’t going to last much longer either. “We can make another one. Fuck...we can make as many videos as you want, but right now I need you to come for me.”
You moan softly then arch your back as your second orgasm washes over you and makes you see black spots for a few seconds. You blindly reach for his hand and tangle your fingers with his as he fucks you through your high, and the extra warmth and wetness triggers his own. Deep grunts left his mouth as he slowly fucked you through his own high, knowing how sensitive you had to be at this point and not wanting to overstimulate you too much.
He had to grip onto the camera tightly so he didn’t drop it, and he focused back down at your dripping core as he slowly pulled out. You were shaking as he gently pulled his hand from yours and fucked his release back into you with his fingers, quiet groans escaping his throat at the way your walls eagerly took his seed. 
Tossing the camera aside, Hayden leans back down and hovers over you again as he presses kiss after kiss to your puffy lips, and you moan softly as you wrap your arms loosely around his shoulders. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured and trailed kisses all over your face. 
You laugh and glance over at the still rolling camera with tired eyes. “I can’t wait to watch that as our foreplay for next time,”
Hayden hummed in disapproval as he shook his head and turned it off, setting it on the nightstand afterwards and pulling you into his arms. “I can’t do that, I’ll come before I even get to touch you,” he said and you could tell he was serious, even with the hint of humor in his voice. 
“Okay, maybe we’ll just watch me riding your thigh and me sucking you off before acting out the good stuff that comes after it,” you offer and he nods with a lazy smile on his lips. 
“I love you,” he mumbles and guides your bodies further up the bed so you’re laying on the pillows. 
“I love you, too,” you say back as you rest your head against his sweaty chest, a flicker of excitement in your eyes as you glance over at the camera. This definitely wouldn’t be the only video you and he make together.
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venting-town · 2 years
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Regardless of what others say: I’m the biggest fucking burden on my family + everyone close to me ( or that were close to me )
#vent#tw vent#7/4/22#my mom has recently begun asking me how I’ve been the past few days#I don’t like answering because I feel the exact same way that I’ve been feeling for years ( of course sometimes the days are worse or better#but for the most part they’ve been the same )#I’m not trying to sound/be ungrateful but I don’t want her to ask that to me#ESPECIALLY not everyday. I’m tired of answering back the same ‘ I’m okay ‘ or that ‘ I’m good ‘ everytime she#or for ANYBODY to ask that really#I’m tired of having to constantly lie about how I’m feeling JUST SO I won’t make others upset#I mean what? do you REALLY want to hear about my constant shit feelings/existential crisis’s/fucked up thoughts/etc???#I can PROMISE you that you really truly don’t. especially since I have them EVERY. SINGLE. FUCKING. DAY#and tbh I wouldn’t want to either. and I DONT.#I mean I want other people ( if THEY want to ) to talk about their thoughts/feelings/etc. but please: don’t come to me about it#and I mean that in the kindest way that I can because I’m just so fucking tired of all this stupid shit#existenting/spiritual stuff ( since mortal bad shit isn’t enough. there’s probably shit ASIDE FROM mortal/spiritual )evil/bad in general/etc#*existing#and I’m already dealing with the giant fucking mess/fuck up I am. not to mention I’ve had to play therapist for YEARS ( mainly if not ONLY#for my bio dad )#but still. I want people to get help but I’m not ready/prepared to give it myself#tw existential angst#tw existential dread#tw existential bullshit
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pixieknj · 8 months
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strawberries n cream 🍓⊹。໒꒱ | JJK (18+)
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♡chapters: one / two / three / four / drabble♡
​⊹🍓series ❤︎ ˚ ༘ ⋆
❥pairing: jungkook X black!reader
❥genre: smut, ex lovers/fwb
❥summary: jungkook’s late night visit to your dorm 🍓…
.⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆ .⋆༶⋆˙❀
❥!!warnings!!: rough sex/fight sex, detailed smut, some toxicity, crying during sex [nothing sad lol], mention of choking, hickeys, fingerprint bruise
❥other warnings: sexual intercourse, raw sex [please use protection!], oral [fem receiving], some fingering, jungkook is so p^ssy whipped and clingy, puppy jk, princess nickname, pillow princess reader [she just wants her nut okay🎀], mention of weed, comparing brown coochie to food 🍫🍓🍦, featuring jimin, POV switching
❥word count: 3.9k
-inspo: seven by jungkook ft latto, gif from jjkgif on twitter, pics from Pinterest
-author’s note: Seven made me push my other wips to the side and write this soo here it is. I love the song and how Jungkook’s been lately so I was deeply motivated. I am still working on updates, but thank you for waiting. I also have some fic recs to share that I’ve kept. I hope you enjoy this for now💕!
-dedicated to: @maltate123 @mayawastaken26 @lelewright1234 @frogs2857 💗 they’ve been motivating me so much to finish my drop, thank you! and @jkoo-njoo because I miss them 🫶🏽
———————————୨♥︎୧———————————
Jungkook showing up at your dorm at 2:30 in the morning brandishing a My Melody plushie and your favorite snacks further enacts the futility of Jimin’s ability to keep his mouth shut.
What other reason would your ex-slash-situationship be knocking at your door with big eyes and damp, curly hair? With how dramatic Jungkook is, anyone else would have thought he trekked through the light drizzle outside to come comfort or grieve with you. But you know why he’s begging you to let him in and accept his gifts of… proof.
You don’t say anything as you leave the door open for him and go back to making your fruit bowl on the counter. You’d finished showering and doing your skincare routine to prepare for bed, but you’ve been too restless to sleep, hence, why you’re eating. Jungkook appearing out of nowhere looking like that isn’t going to help either.
The sound of him closing and locking the door and then slipping out of his shoes has your skin burning in goosebumps. Only now do you notice your frilly, revealing pajama set when Jungkook sets down his offerings and comes up behind you to hug your waist.
“Princess.”
You ignore him, arranging your strawberries and kiwis on top of the pineapples in the bowl. Being mean doesn’t seem to bother him much at first, since he tightens his grip and steps closer, shamelessly sniffing your sweet skin and watching you make your late night snack. His chin digs into your shoulder until you finish off the dessert with whipped cream.
“Princess,” he calls again. But you shake him off and eat a strawberry slice. You’re supposed to be relaxing. It’s becoming impossible with his breath on your neck and the beat of his heart on your spine.
“Jungkook, seriously…” You scold, finally turning around and looking at him head on. “You never understand what space is.”
Jungkook’s eyes are all twinkly and round when he sees you, despite the reddening in them that you know came from smoking weed. You can faintly smell it on his gray hoodie as he presses you up against the counter.
“I’m clingy, so what?” He mumbles. “Why are you ignoring me?”
“I’m not ignoring you,” you lie.
“Missed calls, missed texts… Telling Jimin you need to stay away from me,” Jungkook lists off. “Did I do something wrong?”
Urgh. You knew it was Jimin. A best friend playing both sides in between meant anything you said would make it to the other ear. You could just picture him with the nastiest grin ready to tell your ex all you’ve said about him. Jimin does it to you, too, smiley and hyped about news he needs to tell you about Jungkook.
“Not everything is about you,” you sigh. The way he’s confronting you has suddenly decreased your appetite and replaced it with nervous adrenaline. “Why are you even here?”
“I can’t come check on you now?”
You scoff. “That’s not why you’re here.”
Jungkook licks the piercings in his bottom lip, a solemn expression of that of a puppy’s gracing his boyish features. His head falls to your shoulder in slight shame.
“You think that lowly of me?” He asks. “That I’d walk all this way in the rain for some ass?”
“You’ve done much worse,” you remind him, pushing him off so you don’t have to hear him manipulate his way back into your underwear. Not that it takes him much effort. You think he talks how he does because it makes his dick hard and easier for you to succumb.
Jungkook clicks his tongue at how you read him but follows closely behind you to the other side of the dorm, plopping down onto your bed right next to you like it’s his own and cuddling one of your many Sanrio plushies, half that he bought. You roll your eyes and grab the remote to put on old cartoons, realizing he’s not going anywhere.
Leave it to Jeon Jungkook to be the attached and sickeningly pathetic lover boy of an ex. You hate that he still wants to see you and hang out. You hate that he doesn’t disown you to other people and shit on your name. You hate that he holds onto the connection between you both like it’s his lifeline.
He treats you as you did when you were dating, and it fucking sucks. Even though you lost him, you still have him, and it eats at you that you pushed him away for shit he didn’t have anything to do with. It’s not fair how you’re treating him in return, and you know he deserves better.
Your mind isn’t in the right place to give itself to him like he wants. But your body is. Always.
So you only resist a little when he tugs you into his side, ensuing the push and pull of tonight’s theme. Undoubtedly, the best atmosphere for the best sex. Jungkook understands how he’ll have to play to get your tiny, lace panties down your legs.
Determined, obsessive, and just as hateful back to take control.
Jungkook caresses your skin for a while before he’s pulling you over him, hips pressed together and grabbing your wrists to keep you from fighting him.
“Just give it to me,” he grumbles against your neck, seeing no need to keep beating around the bush. “Don’t you know how bad I wanna fuck you?”
Of course you do. He shows it every time, acts like he can’t go a day without you being wrapped around him or he’ll go insane.
His mouth drags kisses down your jaw as if you’re his last everything and that he needs to prove to you he’s worthy by giving it his all. You briefly think about how deliciously bruised he’d have you in mere minutes when he starts teething at the spot on your neck, aiming to get your pussy drenched and inside of you as quick as possible. But you’re not stupid. Remembering why he’d came over.
“N-No marks.”
Jungkook pauses to lean back, chortling a “What?”
“Don’t give me a hickey.”
He blinks. “Why?”
Don’t you understand blooming little flowers on your flesh is his favorite foreplay for a reason…
You, however, hold his puppy dog eyes and state as seriously as you can, “I just want you to make me cum and then get out.”
Fuck, you’re being rude. But you couldn’t bring yourself to explain about your stupid dress and how you need your skin free of Jungkook’s stupid blemishes for your stupid date in less than 24 hours.
Hickeys mean someone is dicking you down. Hickeys mean you’re taken. You don’t want whoever to see Jungkook’s bruises on you and assume you have a lover.
And you’re positive he knows about it by how he tongues his cheek. Now you’ve pissed him off. He thought Jimin was half fucking with him when he mentioned you were seeing someone.
“Fine,” he huffs, maintaining a calm demeanor, and goes back to leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat. Obeying your wishes and using more tongue than suction.
His plush lips still get you horny nonetheless. They feel cloud-like against your sternum and the nipple Jungkook frees to suck in between them. He’s already so set on giving you what you want, well-versed in what to do, even the promises of not actually fucking you could deter him.
His bedroom eyes have your thighs clenching as he leans up to unzip his hoodie like he means business, revealing a tank top and toned arms, sharp tattoos. There’s a gold chain around his neck that adds to the sneaky-link/boyfriend look, and you go to mush imagining how you’re flopping this whole situationship so bad.
But it’s okay. Jungkook is fucking it up just as much, for he’s kind of an asshole behind the doe eyes and really fucking crazy about you. Had to work on some anger issues, but that emotion didn’t help win you back the first time. Now, it’s hard to tell what either of you are doing anymore and why he can’t leave you alone.
He doesn’t want you to become just a girl he used to know. Never.
A pretty girl who loves getting her pussy ate any time of the day isn’t how he wants to remember you either, but how could he stop giving you princess treatment, treat you as anything but? You are his princess, and that for sure isn’t going to be taken away.
Jungkook’s jacket is discarded on the floor and so are your soaked, delicate panties after he tugs them down your ankles. He noisily whines at you spreading your legs for him, aware how all the sparkling shades of brown and the bit of pink on the inside makes him want to devour you whole.
Your skin smells of your strawberry shortcake body wash when he bends to suck on your inner thigh, unapologetically biting and marking there because he really can’t help it. He doesn’t believe you’ll let anyone near his prized possession out of respect anyways, no matter who your date is. This is wholeheartedly his pussy.
It’s why you don’t complain about him adding more onto those fading bruises and willingly hold out your tongue when he brings his fingers to your mouth to suck. He sucks on them after you for good measure, rubbing your clit for a second before sliding two inside.
A dimpled smirk graces his face as you nod your head back against the pillows and moan, grabbing his wrist.
“There she is.”
Jungkook takes a swipe of your cunt with his tongue and slides his fingers in further. Just to tease you with what you’re missing, because he knows you love being stuffed full by his cock over oral... So then he’s taking them away from you, pulling you closer by your hips and settling your thighs over his shoulders. And plunging tongue first into your pussy.
His lip piercings rub against your folds as he sucks and nibbles, stiffening his muscle whenever it nudges your swollen clit. There’s no strategy in mind when he goes down on you, so he’s everywhere, licking hard, more so focused on how good you taste and the wetness coating his mouth.
Jungkook groans as you run your fingers through his scalp and push his head closer, arching your hips in a rhythm he hazily matches. You whimper a “fuck” when he lets you take control of his tongue for a second, tilting your head and tightening your thighs around his neck.
“Right there,” you tell him, watching him eat you out like he can’t get enough, hungrily kissing your cunt like he would your lips. He groans back in acknowledgment, not risking speaking over your buildup. But you don’t want to suffocate him, knowing how dirty you play when you’re about to orgasm.
So you push his curly hair back over his forehead to give him some air, seeing him slowly blink up at you with his tongue assaulting your entrance. His brows angrily furrow and his eyes roll closed as if he’s lucid dreaming this, like he’s in his own world. With the addition of his breathy moans on your pussy, you’d think he was addicted.
Jungkook has you cumming in less than seven minutes from his ministrations, although he could have hung it out for hours if he really wanted to. Your sexy, quick orgasm is worth it with how you’re trying to ride out the high, your legs squeezing his head and tongue captive while your cum oozes.
It always amazes him how he can eat you til you cream your pretty pussy right before his eyes. In addition, the rich and saccharine taste of your essence competes with that of strawberries and cream.
Chocolate-covered strawberries and cream to be exact.
He feels the need to let you in on it, too, and forces his tongue into your mouth. You moan and kiss him back, licking the taste of yourself off your lips when he disconnects.
“You really want me to get out?” Jungkook questions, breathless. You can feel his dick against your leg.
You shake your head. “No…”
You can’t have dessert without dinner anyways, right? Why did you think you would be able to kick him out right after? Jungkook is a certified munch and eats cat the same way he fucks. How could you pass up another round?
“No? You want me to fuck you, princess?” Jungkook whispers, your cunt throbbing in new arousal at how he holds your eyes for confirmation.
“Yes. I want you to.”
Jungkook purposely takes his time to pull off his muscle shirt, enjoying how you start toying with your nipples while you watch him undress.
You swear his sleeper build is insane. Muscles and abs, pert chest littered in hickeys you gave him a few nights back. Going feral over that deep v-line of his as he undoes his belt and tugs his baggy jeans down.
You literally moan at the sight of his pretty dick slapping up against his abdomen. You want to swallow it down your throat til you can’t breathe and choke, but then you think about how giving him the best suck of his life isn’t exactly “leave me alone” behavior… None of this is.
Jungkook is left in his gold chain necklace as he repositions between your legs, and you are already about to tear up when he pulls your hips up on his waist for the angle and spits on you. Mixing it in with your past orgasm and then over the dusky head of his dick as lubricant.
“Jungkook…”
He’s taking too long admiring his tip tease between your folds. He looks down at you with a smug grin.
“You want it that bad? Just so you can cry?”
You shyly glance away at the taunt, feeling small underneath him and not as in much control. He has the upper hand for the rest of the night, and it’s going to be hell.
Jungkook digests your silence as submissiveness, and he dislikes that. He wants you to bark back, get feisty with him, and equally as pissed as he is about that date. You would be livid if he was putting his attention into another woman.
It is pure betrayal he feels when he presses himself to your entrance and pushes in all the way. No moment to adjust like he usually gives you. Just hard and raw cock kissing your cervix in one thrust.
“What’s your fucking problem?” You hiss at the sudden sting. It’s ridiculous that you try to hold him back.
“You’re my fucking problem.”
It comes out in a growl, and before you can ask him what the fuck he means by that, he’s gripping your thighs to push them to your torso, leaving you no choice but to wrap your arms around him and dig your nails into his back as he begins thrusting.
“Oh, fuckkk,” Jungkook whines in your ear. You’re tighter like this since he has to fuck you open and can feel you wetting his dick even more for easier slip. But he jerks his hips through the death grip you have around him that he’s sure he’s hitting your g-spot by how loud you’re getting.
His skin starts stinging from you scratching so sharply you draw blood, but he keeps going. You’re losing it, truly, grasping onto the back of his neck and shoulders to hold your ground as he fucks you hard into the mattress.
“I’m right here, princess,” he reassures you and pecks your lips. Your face is scrunched up in pure pleasure, mouth agape, eyes watering. “Feels good?”
You nod.
He knows it feels good, feels like you’re teetering between life and heaven.
“Yeah?”
“Y-Yes, yes, fuck, so good,” you loudly moan, palms falling to his shoulders when he angles his hips a bit deeper. You go to push him to let up, but he moves your hands out of the way, thrusts barely faltering. His stamina and consistency is nothing to play with.
You get a good grip on the hair at the back of his neck next, but it doesn’t stop shit. If anything, Jungkook seems to enjoy how hard you tug at his damp hair while he pounds into you ruthlessly. Speeding up as if he’s about to cum like a masochist, but controlling himself to glide into the pace again.
You want to pass out from how he’s beating your pussy like you owe him money. Your ex is too strong to shove off you, and you’re only weakening with every snap of his pelvis against yours, with every fluttering in your lower stomach. Your eyes are pricking in tears, and you know your orgasm is at the edge.
“Is my princess gonna cry?” Jungkook asks, yanking your hands off of him again and actually stopping to give you a breather. “She’s so big and bad until I fuck her…”
Jungkook lets you fight at him for a bit more because, yeah, you really can’t take dick. Definitely not good, mental dick like his. You cum a lot from the slight pain, though, so he isn’t going to ever deny you your sick pleasure.
Plus, you love it so much. Getting thrown around and manhandled how he likes. He can barely pick up a rhythm after he pins your wrists down to the bed beside your head, you clinging onto him with a baby trapping grip. He grinds so thickly into your walls and against your love button to make damn sure you can sense him in your stomach days later.
Jungkook maintains eye contact as he looks you in the face and lets you cry about it, saying sweet nothings on how pretty you look and how you’re taking his big cock like a good girl. You cum again, holding out for Jungkook so that he can, too. Which he does by pulling out and cumming on top of your sex. He just needed to see that creamy ring around his shaft and knew he could finally let go.
You both lie side by side to calm down and cool off afterwards, staring up at your fairy lights quietly and listening to the sound of another thunderstorm brewing outside. Until your ex tries to cuddle into you, and your heart beats to hurt as much as your cervix.
“Get out.”
“No.”
You sigh. No shit it wasn’t going to be as easy as telling him to leave.
It’s back to ignoring him while you get up and head to the bathroom to pee and turn on the shower. Jungkook, to no surprise, slips in behind you, too. The shower is only big enough for one person, but he doesn’t care. He gets into the crowded space with you, wrapping his arms around your waist with his soft cock against your ass.
You clean and lather each other in your strawberry shortcake body wash and complimentary lotion before leaving the bathroom. Jungkook gets in your bed butt ass naked, so you decide you mine as well do the same.
You allow him to hold you this time, tracing your waist and the curve of your spine until you doze off.
.⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆ .⋆༶⋆˙❀
The thin scarf around your neck shockingly looks amazing with your strapless dress.
It’s more natural and fashionable in a not-trying-too-hard-to-impress-your-date kind of way since it covers some skin, although you wouldn’t have to wear the damn scarf if you didn’t wake up to Jungkook next to you.
You forgot he chokes you until you’re near death so that your orgasm has a higher chance of killing you than he does. Now you have a dark fingerprint bruise on your neck and ten more on your hips.
He finally allowed you to kick him out by afternoon after demolishing another fruit bowl dessert you made him, to which you’re sure that’s not the last of him, but it’ll do for tonight. He’s the biggest cockblock, and you’d be stupid to bring your date back here if it gets far.
Unfortunately, the universe continues to voice its disdain for the split from your ex and prevents you from escaping him.
Your date, a college peer, brings up Jungkook over and over at the restaurant. Asking if you two were high school sweethearts, seeing each other, or if he needed to talk to Jungkook before taking you seriously. Like he needed a blessing from him.
Detaching Jungkook’s name from yours and yours from his would be impossible when everyone watched your relationship from beginning to end, rooted for you both. Jungkook lives in your skin everywhere you go, and you have to accept it.
The evening gets boring fast. The guy is more interested in you and your ex’s situationship than you. And constantly bringing up how gorgeous you look and that your skin is glowing, instead of any individuality questions. You think he would personally praise Jungkook if you told him he was the reason for the afterglow.
You don’t order dessert or bother to offer more of your time by declining his ride back to the other side of campus. It starts raining, too, but you decide better on going alone.
You’re waiting for an available lyft ride when you get a message, your battery beginning to drain the rest of the juice it has left.
chimmy🤍: lol ur date thinks ur into him
chimmy🤍: texted me that he thinks ur really cute and wants another date
you: 🖕🏽hell no.
you: he’s boring and jungkook would scare his ass off easily
you: not for me :(
you: just tell him I had a great time
chimmy🤍: will do 🫡
chimmy🤍: did u make it back already??
You glance around the half empty restaurant and the dark parking lot being pelted in rain. On the app, there’s no rides nearby because of the thunderstorm.
you: im gonna walk
chimmy🤍: bitch.
chimmy🤍: if u dont text ur man
chimmy🤍: i set up the perfect date for u two to angry fuck
you: we did that last night and this morning but whatever
chimmy🤍: gasp!
chimmy🤍: fucking disgusting how u cant keep ur hands to yourselves geez..
chimmy🤍: text him
You groan, but you try not to think twice about sending Jungkook your location right before your phone fades to black. You feel terrible about texting him after the way you’ve been treating him as disposable, so you wouldn’t be mad if he decides to ignore you.
It’s fine.
The rain doesn’t seem to be slowing down almost ten minutes later, and you deserve to get drenched in this date outfit.
As you go to step off the covered platform, a figure suddenly knocks into you from the street. They stop you from tripping over yourself in your heels, holding you upright.
It’s Jungkook.
Dripping wet and panting as if he’d ran a marathon.
You weren’t expecting him to come…
“What happened? Why are you crying?” He rushes over his words after getting a good look at you. “Where is he? Imma fuck him up.”
You can’t help but to giggle at Jungkook looking inside of the restaurant windows for the guy, more emotional tears stinging your eyes. You hadn’t noticed you were crying the whole time you were standing here.
“I’m okay.”
You hug him, wiping your runny nose on his wet t-shirt. Jungkook squeezes you tight for a minute, noticing you still sniffling and steps back to cradle your face.
“Then why are you crying, princess? Tell me.”
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” you sigh. Pulling his palms from your cheeks and holding one of his hands. You can’t believe your feelings right now. “Let’s just go. Please?”
Jungkook looks from you to your hand and then back at you again. It’s been a while since you’ve held his hand platonically, but he instinctively grips yours back, comforting.
“Wherever you wanna go, princess. I’m right here.”
“With you,” you say.
“Okay, princess.”
Jungkook removes his jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It’s soaking, but it’s the principle that makes you gush at him being so boyfriend and so adorable.
You offer your hand again before he twines his fingers between yours, stepping out into the cold, pouring rain, walking contently through the darkness together.
.⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆。⋆༶⋆˙❀༺⋆。⋆༶⋆˙ .⋆ .⋆༶⋆˙❀
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borathae · 6 months
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"Yoongi can’t talk right now. He is so ruined and it’s only been seconds. This is going to be the biggest torture you ever made him go through. Being touched and licked should have prepared him for your pussy, but it didn’t. When you played with him, Yoongi noticed the spell but it felt more like very intense edging to him. He is starting to realise that this is so much more."
Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader
Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut, domestic Fluff
Warnings: switch!Yoongi, switch!Reader, this goes from Dom to subbiest!Yoongi, he is all cocky at first but then turns into the whiniest baby, i love when men submit :), he spanks her casually and talks about putting her over his lap, it’s not in a sex related context but with heavy sexual undertones, she is such a tease when she subs ahaha, and a sexy demon when she Doms, explicit flirting, dirty talk, istfg the tension between them, a lil bit of dry humping, sex spells, magical orgasm control, strength & size kink, she lifts him onto the counter to feel him up, stripping, he sits on her lap as she gives him a handjob, edging, praise, good boy kink, she calls him kitten, he calls her Mistress, begging, sexy possessiveness, messy nipple sucking, blowjob, deep throating, CBT, masochist!Yoongi, she rides him, his big vampire cock makes an appearance, so much cum besties, subby boy tears, his fangs make an appearance too, she fucks him into non-verbal subspace, dollification in the sense that he can't move anymore cause it feels so gooood, this is both the kinkiest sex ever but also deeply emotional for him, you know me there's gonna be an emotional conversation at the end, they're in love :(
Wordcount: 11.4k
a/n: listen besties, you know my thoughts on them. i can't form any more words. i just love them and i want them to be happy always 🤎
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“My love?” you say, sitting down next to him and draping your arm over his tummy.
He was lounging in his living room, writing lyrics in his notebook when you interrupted him. 
“What do you want?” he asks, not looking up.
“Why do you think that I want something?”
“You’ve got your needy princess voice on.” 
“I don’t have a needy princess voice”, you mumble with a pout. 
Yoongi lowers his pen and gives a look, cocking his right brow up.
“Even if I do”, you give up, “you can at least give me a chance to voice it.”
He lowers his book to his lap and turns just a little so you are facing him better. 
“I’m all ears.”
“Okay so”, you begin by taking his hands and bouncing on the sofa excitedly, “I’ve been thinking and I wanna show you something.”
“Okay?”
“Here. This”, you place a piece of paper into his palm, “read it.” 
Yoongi sighs in defeat and reads whatever secret you put onto the paper. He looks attentive at first, but soon his expression changes into utter surprise and shock until landing on confusion.
“Where did you get this from? I didn’t show you that yet.”
You snicker mischievously, grabbing his thigh to shake his leg.
“What do you think of it?”
“I wanna know where you got this from. That’s not the magic we’ve been practicing.”
“Tae. He had this really interesting book on sex magic and he gave it to me and I went through lots of spells with him already. This was one of them.”
“Princess”, Yoongi says in his scolding voice, lowering his eyes at you, “what did I tell you about doing new magic behind my back?”
“Technically you said that I knew enough control these days that I can feel safe in myself.”
“Yeah and then I followed it up by telling you to discuss new magic with me before trying it. Perfect control doesn’t mean being master of all magic. You can still get hurt or hurt others. This is crazy”, he says, lifting the piece of paper to wave it in the air, “you’re not ready for this kinda stuff.”
“But I am.”
“What do you mean?” he squints his eyes, “princess, what did you do?” 
“I’m only gonna tell you if you promise not to get mad.”
He squints his eyes even harder, making it difficult for him to see. But he doesn’t need to see clearly right now, to see the utter mischief in your eyes. You may pretend to be sorry right now, but you aren’t. You are completely and utterly confident in your past sins and Yoongi is meant to accept them all. He loves that you feel safe enough with him to feel no fear in confessing to him, but he also hates that your trust in him means that you will act reckless way too frequently. 
“Fine”, he grumbles through gritted teeth, “I won’t get mad.”
“Okay so, I practiced with Tae. Many, many times until I was good at it. Then I practiced it on Tae and at first it didn’t work, but the second time we tried it I was able to control it for ten minutes. And by the third time we tried it, I managed to do it for an entire session.”
“Fucking hell, this is giving me a headache”, he murmurs, massaging the bridge of his own nose, “what else? I get a feeling that’s not it.” 
“Of course not. I did it a few more times with Tae and it went splendidly with all of them. And then I did it, okay so remember how Kook and I went on a camping trip?”
“You did it to Kook?!” Yoongi gasps, “are you outta your mind? Princess, don’t do that.”
“No, it’s not like that. I did it to him and it went well”, you calm him down, taking his hands, “it went really well. So well actually that I gave him a Ripper high without blood.”
Yoongi gawks. The silence between you and him is heavy, but not uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, you did what?”
“I gave him a Ripper high without the blood, just by controlling his orgasms and making him cum really hard.”
“Stop fucking with me.” 
“I’m not. This actually happened. Ask Kook.”
Yoongi studies your face with distrust in his eyes.
“Go on, ask him”, you stress, shaking his arm.
“No, don’t be weird”, he whines and shakes you off, “I’m not gonna ask him that. Goddamn it princess, I wanna be so mad at you right now. You’re so reckless. Do you even have an idea what could have gone wrong? What you could have done? What-”
You silence him by kissing his lips. Deep and passionately. With your hands cradling his face and your tongue tasting his surprised gasps. Deeper. You need him to forget he ever wanted to be mad at you.
You climb his lap, hook your arms behind his head to pull him close. Yoongi sounds so utterly helpless underneath you. His thighs keep pressing together and his fingers cling to your body desperately. How obviously ruined he is. Just from simple kisses. 
You break them because you know that you’ve got him enchanted.
“Nothing happened”, you whisper. 
“If you think that I’m just okay with it because you kiss-” 
You kiss him again, even deeper than before.
Yoongi shakes you off, “princess, stop that. You-”
You pull him back into the kiss, silencing his growl of complaint by stuffing his mouth with your tongue. His fingers twist your jumper at the back, his throat produces a small keen of helplessness. His tongue tangles with yours. He couldn’t even control it happening. It was instinct. 
Your fingers begin scratching him behind his ear. He’s sensitive there, resulting in his chest to rub against yours as he arches his back. 
He’s distracted. Good. Your plan has worked. 
You break the kiss again, basking in the desperate sigh he lets out. His pouty lips chase you. You know that he wants more. Good. He can’t think about scolding you if he craves your kiss.
You flutter your eyes open once you are far away enough that you can comfortably look at him. He has his head tilted back and his eyes half-lidded. They switch between staring at your lips and gazing at your eyes. 
“Don’t do that”, he whispers.
“Just needed you to shut up”, you answer him as your fingers play with his hair at the nape of his neck. You know how much this makes him shiver. He gets so weak because of hairplay.
Yoongi chuckles deeply, sliding his hands to your butt. He spanks you with both hands. Hard enough to make it tingle and to force your body to flinch into him instinctively. You even let out a surprised moan, arching your back. 
“Say shit like that again and I’ll put you over my lap”, he warns, rubbing the tender spots on your pulsating buttocks, “understood?”
“You’re being unreasonable”, you argue, earning yourself another spank. You had hoped that it would. It burns so good, making you sigh his name. 
“Are we understood?” he stresses as his big, manly hands rub your tender flesh. His touch feels addictive. 
“Yes”, you get out, “yes, we’re understood.”
“Good girl. I like you so much better when you listen”, he praises and runs his hands along your waist. Up and down, back and forth. His touch feels like electricity on your skin. 
“Yoongi”, you sigh, grinding on his lap instinctively. The spanking made you needy, “Yoongi, I wanna try the spell on you.”
His touch stops. Silence. His eyes are widened as he stares at you.
“I’m sorry?” he gets out.
“I wanna do it with you.” 
“Why do you wanna do that?” Yoongi gasps with widened eyes. 
“I don’t know, I just thought that it could be fun”, you say, shrugging your shoulders.
“You’re just gonna mess it up”, he is pretending to be against it. You can see it in his eyes. 
“I know I can do it and you’re the only one who didn’t get to experience that yet”, you try harder.
“I’m three thousand years old. What makes you think I never experienced that before?”
“Because you were a brooding loner, who didn’t wanna be touched, for most of it”, you throw back.
“Wow”, he lets out and laughs. It’s heavy in amusement. His hands slide to your ass, taunting you because they aren’t lifting for a spanking again, “I was a perv for the first few centuries. You know that I was.” 
“Yeah well, then you didn’t experience it with me yet”, you throw back. 
Yoongi smirks. He’s so sexy when he does that you feel your heart flutter at the view. 
“I’m busy with lyrics.”
“That’s okay. We can do it whenever you have time.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t act stupid”, he says and picks you up so he can lie you down on the sofa. He hovers above you, pressing his crotch against yours, “you’re so fucking wet already and you wanna act all innocent with me”, he rasps, rolling his hips into you, “as if I have the choice to still say no.”
“You always have a choice. You just gotta be stronger than your urges and stop getting affected by my smell.”
“You’re a brat”, he says as his amused smirk grows, “fuck, I wanna make you cry on my cock.”
You shudder. He’s driving you insane. He can be so dirty-mouthed if he wants to.
“You can only do that after I made you shake”, you tell him, earning yourself a deep growl from him.
“See? I have no fucking choice.”
“Yeah, you do.”
His eyes gleam in the thrill of this little game you are playing. He closes the distance between your lips, needing your kiss. The tug was too unbearable otherwise. He is so hungry for you. 
You however, turn your head away. It results in his lips to mouth at your jawline. He lets out a chuckled whine, dragging his fangs over your skin without pressure.
“Don’t deny me”, he whispers deeply.
“I don’t wanna kiss right now”, you lie, twisting his hair playfully.
“Yeah, you do. You just get off on being cruel”, he rasps and nibbles on the spot where your jawline meets your ear. 
“Maybe. Or maybe I just don’t wanna get lost in something which isn’t my plan.”
“Plans can change.”
“No”, you laugh and push at his chest harsh enough that he has to sit up. You sit up as well. Your legs are tangled together, your middles pressed closed. “Not this plan. I still have lots to do. Potions to brew and bottles to fill, so you still have a few hours to think about your answer.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then you can have my kiss and you can make me cry on your cock.”
“See? That sounds like a good plan.”
“Definitely, but I also know that you’re only pretending to be against my plan.” 
Yoongi chuckles, cocking his right brow up.
“Brat”, he says, making you grin victoriously. 
“Yeah, I know”, you say and untangle yourself from him. You get up from the couch even if Yoongi tries so hard to keep you with him. In the end however, his hands slip from your hips and he is left feeling cold and desperate while you look down at him.
You run your hand through his hair. Yoongi tilts his head back instantly, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. 
“Think about it”, you tell him, “I gotta go back to work.”
You step back, but Yoongi manages to snatch your hand. He holds it tightly, guiding it to his lips so he can kiss it. 
“Stay. Don’t go”, he begs, looking up at you with pleading puppy eyes.
You really want to stay. Hell, you want to kiss him and touch him and allow him to make you feel so good that you cry. But you can’t. The game of chase is too much fun with him and you know for a fact that Yoongi loves it just as much. There are many occasions where you turn each other on without acting on it instantly. The thrill of denial and the desperate hunt which follows, makes the sex all the more intense. 
“I’m sorry, I can’t”, you tell him and slip your hand out of his hold.
“Princess”, he pleads, but you step back.
“I’m in my kitchen. Yeah?” you tell him and turn to leave.
“Fuck”, Yoongi drops in the sofa, running his hand through his hair, “you’re so fucking cruel.”
You are in the doorframe, looking over your shoulder. The playful smirk you send him, makes him crazy.
“See you later”, you coo and finally turn to truly leave. 
You spend the next hours getting needier and needier. You just can’t stop imagining all the possibilities of tonight and as your mind produced vivid images of Yoongi being lost in pleasure, it couldn’t help but wander to past evenings with him. Shared moments of intense pleasure run through your mind and make you all the more desperate for him. It may sound peculiar, but you love those feelings. Thinking about sex with him is just as exciting as actual sex with him. You love swimming on those thoughts and especially when you know that your near future will include sexy times with him. The knowledge makes the fantasising just all the more sweet.
You managed to fill an impressive amount of potions in the time you thought about Yoongi. 
You made a deal with Maël and the Seville pack to deliver potions for the upcoming blue moon next week. The wolves want to strengthen their lifespan and asked you to deliver the needed potions for it. The ritual will be a werewolf only event, but you are allowed to see the preparations with the explanation that you are Min Yoongi’s mate. It is honestly remarkable which places you are allowed to enter without question because you are his love. It is also very nerve-wrecking to think about which important people trust your magic because they know that Yoongi has his entire trust in you. You are obviously excited about all the opportunities, but if you told your past self what kind of life she would be living one day and what kind of job she would be pursuing, she would have called you crazy. You’re a witch, delivering potions to an established and highly important werewolf pack and you are helping your vampire Creator mate keep the peace between the supernatural factions. Goddamn, your life is awesome.
There is a sudden knock on your door. Your heart does somersaults in your chest, your knees almost give up on you. He is here. Yoongi is finally here. You check the clock. It’s not even been two hours. It felt so much longer than that however.
“Yes?” you call out, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
The door opens and in steps Yoongi. He seems to have taken a shower as he is in a rope and nothing else. The rope is black with golden dragons on the material and a golden belt. His long raven hair is tied into a bun.
“Oh? Hey there”, you tell him as calmly as possible, while your heart is almost giving up in your chest. You pretend to be busy with wrapping rope around the potion necks, whilst in reality you are just waiting for him to make a move.
The door locks.
Your heart races even more.
Yoongi is by your side within seconds, wrapping his arms around you from behind and connecting his lips with the side of your neck. His big hands squeeze you while his strong arms pull you against him. You stumble because of it, but Yoongi holds you with enough strength that you barely even notice the stumble. He sways you from side to side slowly, helping you instantly float on the sensation of being close.
You feel light-headed. Fantasising about being intimate with him made you so sensitive that his neck kisses feel like paradise right now. 
“You were being fucking awful with the shit you pulled”, Yoongi rasps, “telling me all this shit and then just leaving. You think I was able to actually be productive these past two hours?” 
You can feel his voice against your back. You press yourself closer because of it.
“I was just saying. It was just an idea.”
“Stop fucking around”, he warns, guiding his lips to the shell of your ear, “you knew what you were doing.”
You smile. Of course you knew what you were doing, that’s why you did it in the first place.
“And what is your answer?” you ask him.
“If we are gonna do this, I need you to promise me not to tell anyone.”
“Of course I won’t. It’s our secret.”
“Good girl”, he praises and turns you in his arms. He presses you against the countertop, staring you down with dark, enchanting eyes. You feel so drawn to him. You touch his chest.
“So how are we gonna do this?” you ask him.
“Not so fast. I’m not done yet”, he says and takes your hands to guide them behind your back. He steps closer this way, making you gulp as you look at him. He lowers his voice, caressing your wrists as he keeps you pinned, “I need you to promise me that if I won’t react as well to the spell, to not get disappointed.”
“What? You mean that you’re too strong for it? Like you are too strong for the rope spell?” you taunt, staring at his lips.
Yoongi tugs his brows together, making you snicker victoriously. 
“Don’t worry about it, my love. It’s okay to be nervous”, you tease him as you rub his chest.
His frown grows, but you know not to be intimidated. He is just embarrassed to be caught in a lie.
You run your hands to the nape of his neck and begin to play with the hair he didn’t put into the bun. 
“Anything else?” you ask him.
“You’re a brat”, he mumbles.
“I know”, you grin, “and you love it. Be honest.” 
His frown softens. He steps closer, sliding his big hands to your hips. He lowers himself, you do the same. You are resting against the desk in a way so that your legs are between his’ and he can look down at you. Your weight, you support with your elbows propped on the countertop.
The tension is unbearable. Your lips are only a tilt of the head away from feeling the other’s kiss.
“Kiss me right now”, he orders in a rasp, staring at your lips with half-lidded eyes.
“And if I won’t?”
“I’m gonna get my kiss regardless.”
“Is that a threat?”
“This is the truth.” 
You giggle, “oh Yoongs, you are so delightful.”
Yoongi gazes at your lips.
“Kiss me”, he whispers.
You lift yourself. Yoongi moans, parts his lips and closes his eyes. He is so eager to kiss. With a fluttering heart, you watched it happening. You giggle and lower yourself again. 
Yoongi opens his eyes.
“Please”, he begs, cupping your cheeks. He lets his words swirl over your lips, “give me permission to kiss you.”
“You’re so cute”, you whisper. 
Yoongi moves his lips as if he was already kissing you, letting out a pained sound. 
“I’m begging you, allow me. Please.”
“I don’t even have to enchant you to get you begging”, you taunt, inching closer.
Your lips ghost over his’. Yoongi moans softly, squeezing your cheeks. He doesn’t move in. Not until you initiate it. The denial aches.
“You’re a delight”, you whisper and push him away from you 
Yoongi stumbles back, looking so utterly hurt. You take his waist and switch your roles, pushing him against the counter. One surprise movement later, he sits on top of it, pressing his legs together in embarrassment.
“Why would you do that?” he complains.
“Because I can”, you are smiling up at him and kneading his hips, “now stop pressing those legs together and let me get a peek.”
Yoongi follows without hesitation, gawking at you with his eyes slowly getting softer in submission. He knew that he would be the submissive tonight and he loves it. He feels so excited about it. You are such a good Dom and you know him like no other. He trusts you, he can be naked with you, vulnerable and utterly himself and you wouldn’t judge him. Which is why he loves it when you’re bossy. Yoongi loves being a helpless slut just following your orders. 
You slide your hands to his inner thighs, sending electricity through his veins. You massage them gently, never going past the hem of his rope. He wants you to go past. He currently exists for nothing else than your touch.
“You’ve got the softest thighs, my love”, you gush and look into his eyes, “I want to exchange safewords with you.”
“Snowdrop.”
“That’s right and is it okay for me to control the scene?”
He nods his head, opening his legs further. You are caressing his skin mindlessly as you talk and it feels so good.
“Say it.”
“Yes, it’s okay.”
“Good boy. Is it okay for me to take off your clothes and to touch you?”
“Yes, it’s okay.”
“Both?”
“Why are you asking so many questions? You’ve been torturing me for two hours, please I wanna be touched and cum in your hands”, he whines, cracking you up. 
You bounce on the spot, blinding him with your smile. Your fingers knead his flesh. It tickles uncomfortably which forces Yoongi to whine and push them away. You change your grip, now caressing him again. This all happened within seconds as you smiled at him.
“You won’t cum for a long time, kitten. So get that outta your head.”
Yoongi gulps, opening his legs even more. He looks so, so needy this way. And like such easy prey. He even arches his back so his nipples would slip out of the rope accidentally. So perky and dainty. He’s got the prettiest nipples. You ogle them for a moment then look back at his face.
“And second of all, I fucking love you acting this way. My pretty slut, mhm?”
Yoongi rolls his hips against nothing. His skin is charged in sensitivity, his body feels fuzzy. With just your eye contact, your simple touch and your words, Yoongi already feels fucked. Shit, you are such a safe space for him. You make it so easy to switch from his normal – careful and wary – headspace to his sub headspace.
“One last question, promise”, you say, running the back of your nails up and down his inner thighs. Yoongi places his hands behind his back, putting his weight on them just so he can arch into your touch. 
“Please hurry up”, he stresses, hurting unbearably. He needs your touch on his cock. It hurts so bad to be denied.
“Is it okay for me to go with the flow or do you need me to ask for consent each time I do something new?”
“I wanna be touched”, Yoongi begs.
“Answer my question, kitten.”
“Don’t ask for consent, just touch me. I’ll say if I don’t want something.”
“There we go, that’s all I needed to know. Thank you for being such a good cooperator, kitten. Such obedience needs to be rewarded”, you say and slip your hands from his thighs. 
You twist the golden belt between your fingers and open the loose knot with one tug. The fabric still hides him, but you open it. You want to see him and marvel at his beauty. His ivory skin glows golden in the candlelight, his dark nipples are swollen and against his soft tummy, his hard cock stands impatiently and aches for your touch. His velvety cockhead is flushed, the thick veins on his cock pulsate as he gets harder under your greedy eyes. 
“Look at that. You’re already hard”, you gush, looking up at him, “kitten, you’re so hard.”
“I’m so needy.”
“Of course you are. My needy kitten.”
You run your fingertips to his tummy. Up, up, up until you can trace his pecs and down again. Teasing. You trace the outline of his cock on his tummy without touching him on his cock.
“Please touch me”, Yoongi begs. He’s such a good boy with you, always so eager to beg. 
“I am.”
“Touch my cock, please”, he tries, arching his back. 
“You’re such a fucking delight, my kitten”, you rasp and step closer. Your fingers slide to his waist, your lips connect themselves with his chest. Your teeth take his right nipple and play with it hungrily. Your lips suck him swollen, your tongue tastes his skin. 
Yoongi feels lightheaded while his nipple feels charged in pleasure. Every touch, kiss, lick and bite feels better than the last. He thought that he couldn’t get any needier, but he was wrong. 
“___”, Yoongi begins moaning your name. That means a lot with him. Your name doesn’t fall from his lips often. Only when he feels deeply and overwhelmingly emotional. Being pushed deeper and deeper into the safest, most pleasurable subspace is definitely one of the most intense emotions he can experience. Your name feels like relief during those moments, your syllables taste like candy on his tongue. 
You switch sides. You are a very fair Dom after all. His nipples need to be worshiped equally. He has such a pretty pair of them. Once his left nipple feels as swollen as his right, you lift your head. 
His cheeks are flushed. He is breathing heavily. Your thumbs stay on his nipples, rolling circles into them.
“Be my good kitty and take off your rope”, you order him. 
Yoongi obeys. The rope falls onto the countertop and stays there.
“There we go. Look at you.”
Yoongi is entirely naked while you are still dressed. If his past self could see him right now, he would actively make sure never to meet you just so he doesn’t have to get naked in such a demeaning way. But Yoongi isn’t his past anymore. Yoongi is in love and he is happy and he found his safe home with you, which means that being naked while you were dressed feels good to him. Maybe even empowering because of how incredibly smitten you look. 
“I want to worship you for hours, my love”, you tell him as you run your hands over his torso.
“Because I’m beautiful?” he asks shyly, earning himself your eye contact.
“Say that again.”
“Do you want to worship me because I’m beautiful?”
Your heart does somersaults in your chest.
“Do you think that you’re beautiful?” you can barely get the words out.
“Yes”, he whispers, lowering his head shyly. 
“Holy shit”, you press out. Your hands cradle his face, your eyes sparkle as you make him look at you, “holy shit, Yoongi my love. You, you never said that- you, oh god, are so beautiful, oh my love”, you choke out and squeeze his cheeks. 
Yoongi feels great. Nothing hurts. Except his cock. Oh god, he is thinking of it again.
“Can you touch my cock?” he begs, “please, I was a good boy”, and he bargains.
“I can, just not here. Follow me, my love”, you say and take his hands to tug him off the countertop. 
He hops off and follows you to the sofa. You twirl and fall, tugging him down with you by his hips. Yoongi stumbles and falls onto your lap, gawking at you with widened eyes.
“What the hell?” he says.
“You like it?”
“Why should I, I like it? You tugged me down and that’s it.”
“No, I meant do you like this?” you ask him and wrap your hand around his cock to jerk him off. 
Yoongi gasps, writhing desperately as his legs squeeze around your thighs. His eyes widen for just a second before his lids flutter and a breathy "ah" slips past his lips.
The first touch won’t ever lose its spark. Yoongi has to moan again because all the mental and physical teasing made him unbearably sensitive. 
You place your unoccupied hand on the small of his back and tilt his hips so his cock thrusts into your palm. Then you continue your rhythm, running your skilled hand up and down his entire length.
“Do you like this? Mhm?” you repeat your question.
“Yeah”, Yoongi gets out, writhing on your lap. This position is a first for him. To sit on your lap and have you touch his cock. He feels so vulnerable and small in this position and it’s messing with his already dizzy head. 
Yoongi lowers his head, looking down at where your hand makes him feel electric. His tip is glistening in his excitement. 
You run your fingers to it and give him a squeeze, forcing more droplets to leak out of him. The sensation combined with the visual makes Yoongi moan. 
It was soaked in surprise, shock, pleasure and submission with a hint of embarrassment in the end. 
“Look at you”, you have your sexy, powerful voice on. The kind of voice which makes Yoongi’s knees weak, “you’re leaking like crazy”, you say and massage his pink tip in strong squeezes. You have him between your thumb and pointer finger, using the grip to really make him leak. 
And he does. Oh, how he leaks. He gets so wet for you. He gets especially wet when you are helping him fall into his small subspace. And tonight. Oh tonight, you pushed him into it with one simple act. The act of sitting him down on your lap and playing with his cock.
“Look at all of this. You’re so wet for me, kitten.”
Yoongi falls even further, arching his back so the tip of his cock moves between your fingers. He closes his eyes and scrunches his nose. A breathy, ��fuck” follows. So quiet and shy only you can hear it. 
You watch him, feeling your tummy churn in excitement. His cheeks are rosy, his pretty button nose is scrunched up and his dark hair frames his delicate face messily. 
“You’re so pretty”, you praise him, “my pretty kitten.”
“Please”, he chokes out and lowers his head. His body writhes on your lap, his cock throbs between your fingers. 
“Yoongi, love”, you speak sickeningly sweet, placing your fingers under his chin to tilt his head up, “don’t hide your pretty face from me. Open your eyes.”
Yoongi obeys, looking at you with droopy, glassy eyes and his lips parting as he keens shyly. He can barely keep up eye contact. It makes him feel so shy that his tummy keeps fluttering. But he doesn’t want to disobey you. Not when you touch him so good and not when you look so pretty.
“That’s better. You have such beautiful eyes”, you say and smile, “keep looking at me, kitten.”
“___”, he whispers shakily, cupping your face as his hips roll back and forth on your lap. Like this, his balls and tender hole grind against you, sending bolts of warm pleasure through his middle. His palms are clammy. You know that it is because of a mixture of pleasure, coyness and the intense warmth his body produces because he is with his soulmate. His touch feels so alive on your skin, because this is how you make him feel.
“That’s it, don’t you dare look away”, you praise, rewarding him with the best touch Yoongi ever felt on his cock. Nobody feels like you do. Nobody makes him feel so good. 
Yoongi mewls and runs his clammy hands to your jaw. He cradles it for just a second then his hands slip to the sides of your neck.
“My handsome prince”, you whisper, “you’re my handsome, pretty love.”
“You’re making me cum”, Yoongi chokes out and pulls a face of devastated pleasure. 
“Thank you for telling me”, you say and retreat your touch, caressing his thigh instead.
“No”, Yoongi breathes and squirms, “please…”
“You’re such a good boy for telling me.”
“Don’t edge me, please”, he begs and tries to tug your hand back to his aching cock. 
“You’re cute. I take it that I can start with the spell now?”
“What spell?”
“The orgasm control spell. Yoongi love, that’s why we’re doing this tonight. Did you already forget?” you ask in a fond snicker and your loving hands caressing his waist.
“Oh”, Yoongi lets out.
He was so lost in pleasure that he forgot the true purpose of tonight. He is so deep in subspace that he forgot the only reason why you are touching him is because of the spell. He feels a little sad at that thought, lowering his eyes.
“Unless you don’t want it anymore. Then we can do something else”, you say.
He shakes his head, “I want it, but I’m, I don’t know, I need reassurance.”
“Of course, oh Yoongi you’re my most loved. Yeah?” you say and slide your hand to his cock, “and I’m gonna make you see stars”, you add in a rasp as you run your hand up and down the underside of his cock. 
Yoongi moans softly, closing his eyes and slipping his hands to your shoulders.
“Don’t stop”, he whispers and adds a breathy, “please, Mistress.”
“Okay. I won’t stop. Is it okay for me to do the spell when I notice you getting close again?”
Yoongi nods his head.
“I need to hear it.”
“Yes, surprise me with it. Please, holy fuck, don’t stop.”
“There we go, that’s what I like from you. You’re such a good boy voicing your consent like that”, you praise him as your thumb massages his most sensitive spot. 
He writhes and moans softly, “fuck. There.”
“Yeah, right there. You’re such a good boy, my love. Such a good boy.”
“Okay please”, Yoongi reaches down and laughs panickedly, “be quiet.”
You snicker, “close?”
“Yeah…“
“You’re so cute”, you say and cup his cheek, “come here, kitten.”
Yoongi leans down. Your lips brush his forehead. A hot, breathtaking sensation shoots through his body. A big, unbreakable knot forms deep in his tummy and his cock suddenly feels like exploding. Not literally but he swears, one wrong touch and he would shoot cum everywhere. Except that there are touches on his cock and no matter how good they feel, he can’t let go. 
You pull your head back, studying his face. 
“Shit, ah”, he gasps, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to make sense of his own state, “what did you do? Ah.”
“See? And you wanted to tell me that you’ll be too strong for the spell.”
He somehow manages to open his eyes. They are filled with devastation.
“It shouldn’t feel like this.”
“Does it hurt?”
He shakes his head.
“What else?”
“I can’t, I can’t cum. But I want to. Please don’t edge me, I don’t know what- ah-”, he stutters, ending his senseless rambling by rolling his eyes back and closing them. His nose scrunches up, his fingers dig into your shoulders as his body begins fighting the enchantment. He keeps grinding and humping and bouncing on your thigh, all while his cock throbs and pulsates between your fingers.
“Look at you. You’re such a needy kitten. Look at you trying to cum”, you say and giggle maniacally, “you’re so cute.”
“Fuck. Shit”, he gasps and tugs your hands away. “Oh”, he startles because of his own reaction, looking at you with big eyes. His hands grasp themselves and move up to hide his lower face behind them, “sorry”, he mumbles into his little fists.
“You’re okay”, you soothe him, “I can stop this again. It’s not your taste, is it?” 
“I don’t know”, he confesses and looks at his cock. It is swollen and pink. So pink it borders red. He drops his right hand and wraps it around his cock. He still covers his mouth with his left hand, changing the grip once his own touch meets his length. He squeezes his own cheeks, furrowing his brows as his eyelids flutter. A deep purr rumbles in his chest, his thighs squeeze your own. His own touch feels so different than yours. You have the softest palms while his’ are slightly calloused from fighting. He misses your softness whilst at the same time getting addicted to his rough touch.
“Fuck, please”, he begs as he tightens his fingers around his cock. He tugs on it, trying so very hard to make himself cum. He fails miserably at it, gripping your upper arm in desperation, “please princess, please.”
You watch him touch himself, caressing his twitching thighs as you do. His hand is so big around his cock. Yoongi isn’t small, he is actually the perfect length, but his huge hand makes his cock almost look tiny. He pumps it around his girth, squeezing out droplets of useless precum. 
“Ah god, shit”, he presses out and speeds up his hand. Wet squelching and the needy sounds of him fill the room. He is panting like crazy, mixing in deep purrs and desperate gasps every now and then.
“There we go, touch yourself. Isn’t it fascinating? Look at your wet, little cock. Such a wet kitten cock, mhm?” you talk to him in your sexiest voice, soothing the shakes in his legs with tender touches. 
Yoongi mewls loudly and drops his head against you. He humps you, fucking his cock between his naked tummy and your clothed stomach. His hands, once grasping his own body, slam down on the wall behind the sofa. He scratches his nails down as he somehow tries to make himself cum. 
“Fuck”, he presses out, letting the word swirl over your face. His hips chase you quickly, giving his cock a fruitless fuck, “f-fuck.”
“Does that help?” you ask him with a fond chuckle on your lips and your hands grasping his buttocks. They are tensing uncontrollably, mirroring the desperation he currently experiences.
“No”, he croaks, “what did you do to me? I can’t cum. I want to cum, please.”
“Just say the word and I’ll stop this.”
But Yoongi doesn’t say the word. Yoongi mewls and fucks himself against you with such vigour it knocks the air out of you. And again. Again. Again. Yoongi is desperately humping you even if it makes breathing oh so hard for you.
“Stop that”, you laugh and grip his ruthless hips, “hey, you’re gonna make me have a stomach ache if you continue humping me.”
Yoongi drops onto your lap, whimpering into the crook of your neck. His hands cradle the back of your head, his body shudders.
“I can’t do this”, he gets out in a fragile voice.
“I will stop this, yeah?”
“Don’t stop please. I can’t cum. Holy shit, what did you do to me?”
“Magic”, you say and slide your hands under his thighs, “now don’t startle.”
Yoongi startles. You stood up with him in your arms and he didn’t expect it. He presses himself closer, whining about being put down.
“I’m too heavy, don’t do that.”
“You’re not heavy. Hush.”
You turn and sit him down on the sofa. Yoongi looks up at you, looking so embarrassed. He’s adorable.
You give him a grin and fall to your knees before him, spreading his thighs for him. Yoongi reacts in a thrust of his hips and his hands placing themselves over yours. You caress his skin and look up. He is breathing heavily, looking so utterly nervous yet turned on.
“My pretty kitten”, you praise and take his cock between your lips. 
“Ah”, Yoongi gasps, furrowing his brows as his cock twitches into you. He is so messed up. His tummy clenches like crazy.
“Mhhhm”, you purr around him, sinking down on him until he tickles the back of your throat. You hum deliciously, swallowing around him to make it all so tight for him.
“Please”, Yoongi breathes and grips the edge of the sofa. He squirms, pressing out another “please” when you begin fucking your mouth with his cock. All while you are purring and humming and moaning around him, making him feel your voice in the most stimulating of ways. It makes him so sensitive.
Yoongi scrunches his face in desperate pleasure. He can’t cum. But he wants to cum. You feel so good. Hot, warm and soft. You keep sucking on his tip and licking the spots which are the most sensitive. Everything – every single fiber in his body – begs for him to let go, to fall into the sensations. But Yoongi can’t let go. The pressure in his tummy aches and makes breathing hard, his legs are so weak that they can’t even tremble anymore and his nails hurt from gripping the sofa. And yet he can’t cum. No matter how hard he tries.
You are at his tip again, sucking so harshly your cheeks fall in. All while your left hand is sliding to his balls and your right is jerking off his shaft. You are moaning as you feast on him, sending vibrations through his sensitive cock. 
“Please”, he begs. Pleads. Whimpers. His eyes tear up. He closes them and curls his lips back as another high-pitched whimper rolls off his tongue. 
“Mhhm, ah”, you slip off of him deliciously, slurping up the sweet mess he leaves just for you, “you’re so wet, kitten”, you taunt, massaging his thick vein and therefore forcing more useless precum out of his cock. It sits on his flushed tip as pretty, translucent pearls, “look at that mess. It’s so fucking useless, isn’t it?”
Yoongi takes your hand and squeezes it. You look up, meeting his glazed over eyes. 
“Need a break?” you ask him to which he shakes his head, “what else? Mhm?”
“I need to cum”, he presses out.
“But you can’t. I know, you told me before”, you say and smile, kissing his knuckles softly, “don’t worry kitten, you’re in safe hands. And mouth”, you say and snicker at your joke, lowering yourself back to his cock. 
Yoongi wanted to complain about your stupid joke, but couldn't because you stole his ability to speak. All he can muster are needy noises and desperate gasps for air.
You take him as deep as you can go, using the position to really push him past your throat’s limit. It’s not uncomfortable, it’s so incredibly hot to you. Especially because it makes Yoongi whimper above you and grip your head as his body slacks in utter defeat. His legs fall open further and his tummy softens as his muscles give up on him. He presses out a weak, “hngnmm” and lets his head all against the sofa and roll to the side as he is staring at you with heavy eyes.
He doesn’t use the leverage he has on your head. He truly wastes the opportunity, letting his hand lay limp on your head while you throat fuck his cock. Your left hand grips his pretty waist, your right cups his balls and tugs. 
“Ah!” he yelps, thrusting into you against his will. His back arches off the cushions, his eyes roll back involuntarily. The pain was intense, gaining in intensity because your spell turned his body into one overly sensitive mess.
You slide off with a slurp, keeping your attention on his flushed tip while your hand tugs again. Harshly. The pain sits deep, but feels like paradise. 
Yoongi drops his hand from your head for the sole purpose of rubbing his own face. With both hands. Desperately. Mostly to make sense of his state, but also to wipe some of the tears he spills. 
Another tug on his balls reminds him that he’s your fucking slut. He throbs between your lips and chokes out an agonised sound. It is filled with so much pain and torture that you feel the need to check up on him.
“Colour?” you ask, massaging his aching balls gently.
“Green”, the word leaves him breathlessly, a small whimper follows, “please let me cum, please.”
“Mhm, I don’t know. You’re so cute when you’re like this”, you coo and kiss his tip, “my cutie.”
Yoongi touches your head before cradling your cheek. His palm is sweaty, his touch weak yet loving. You tilt your head up to see him.
“Please", he whispers, staring at you through his lashes. His dark hair hangs into his face messily. He is practically glowing in pleasure. The view makes your heart race. He is so pretty.
“You’re cute when you beg”, you say and give his balls a tug. Once stretched to their limits, you incorporate a twist to really drive the pain deep.
Yoongi’s face scrunches in pleasure, he squeaks out a “please” while his enchanted cock throbs between your fingers. 
“Like this, so cute”, you squeal and giggle, “my cutie patootie”, you add in a squeak and tug on his balls, giving them a twist when it hurts the most.
Yoongi thinks that you are the cruellest person ever. Your voice and the words it produces build him up and makes him feel so loved, your eyes show him how much he is adored and yet your hands torture him as if you hated him. You are so loving and yet so cruel. Yoongi can’t function because of it. 
“Mistress, please”, he begs and squeezes your cheek gently.
“My cutie”, you say and kiss his palm. Just once because then you stand up. Your torturing, amazing touch ceases to exist. Yoongi feels cold because of it, aching in his chest.
He reaches for you instantly, “don’t leave, I need you”, he pleads.
“I’m not leaving”, you assure him and slide your hands to your own clothes to undress. 
“Oh”, Yoongi lets out, watching you with heavy eyes, “you’re beautiful, princess.”
“You’re beautiful too, love.”
You step out of your pants and get on his lap. Yoongi welcomes you with his hands touching your hips instantly. You slide your hands to his jaw, using a gentle grip to tilt his head up. Yoongi gazes up at you, looking so utterly ruined. Only you can get him this way. Ruined and flushed. So pretty. 
“You’re gonna cum inside me. Are we understood?”
“Yes, Mistress”, he whispers as he runs his hands up and down your lower back. 
A faint smile washes over you. You run your thumb to his lips to trace them. Yoongi chases you with a soft moan and his tongue darting out to lick you. You allow him, watching him lap at your thumb while his devoted eyes are gazing at you. 
“Who do you belong to, Yoongi?” you ask him.
“___”, he says your name without needing to be asked. 
“Yeah, that’s right”, you press out with a fluttering heart, “shit, you’re mine.” 
“Yours…”
You pick up his cock and sink down on him. Yoongi’s face scrunches up. He is so overtaken by pleasure and yet he still finds the strength to press out a desperate “yours.” As if it was instinct, but it’s not instinct. It’s the result of a well-trained, loved and utterly devoted sub finding his heaven in his Dom. And it’s his desperate attempt to show you that you and only you own him. He is yours and only yours and being reunited with you is the drug his body runs on.
“That’s right. Mine”, you praise and bottom out. You caress his neck and begin moving on him. Up and down with a skilful roll in your hips to make sure he hits every single inch of you.
Yoongi presses out a desperate moan and drops his head into your chest. He hugs you close, shaking in a tearless sob. It feels so good to be fucked by you.
“You’re doing so well”, you praise him, hugging him against you with your hands deep in his soft hair. 
Yoongi can’t talk right now. He is so ruined and it’s only been seconds. This is going to be the biggest torture you ever made him go through. Being touched and licked should have prepared him for your pussy, but it didn’t. When you played with him, Yoongi noticed the spell but it felt more like very intense edging to him. He is starting to realise that this is so much more. With every bounce on his sensitive cock, every clench of your soft walls, every swirl of your hips, Yoongi feels less and less in control of his own body. This is the true effect of the spell. Every second with you feels like ecstasy and yet Yoongi is denied its high. He is right at the source and yet can’t taste its sweetness on his tongue. 
He forces his head to tilt back just so he can look up at you. His hair is a mess on his forehead, his eyes are barely open and his chin is still in contact with your chest. 
He presses out your name until the first vowel then forgets how to talk as you slam down on his cock again and render him useless. 
“You’re so handsome, my love”, you coo as you cup his cheek with your left hand. You keep your right still buried deep inside his long hair, giving him a soft tug because you know he can take it. The bun he once wore has long being ruined. You fucking love him like that. Messed up and ruffled just by you.
Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut in the most devastating of ways, hiding his face in your chest again as his throat produces the most beautiful of sounds. 
“So handsome and you’re taking me so well”, you praise while you are ruining him. You bottom out, writing your name with your hips. He should remember who treats him like that. He shouldn’t forget.
Yoongi falls back because his body is weakened more and more the longer you ride him. 
You fall with him, laughing because you didn’t expect it. Your hands slam onto the wall to support yourself, your boobs smother him. 
“Careful baby”, you snicker. 
“Yours”, he croaks and gathers your tits just to suck and lick them. He is wet and sloppy with it, giving you glimpses of his fangs and you are loving it. 
“Yes baby, this feels so good”, you encourage him and use the new position to bounce on him. Your clit grinds against his lower tummy this way, while his cock hits all the right spots deep inside.
Yoongi mewls and whimpers into your tits while you feel yourself get lost as well. You are going to cum on his cock. That’s all you can think about right now. His touch, his lips, his warmth and throbbing cock paired with the feeling of having him at the tip of your fingers makes you feel so weakened.
Yoongi drops his lips from your nipple. He can’t breathe. If he doesn’t fight for air soon, he will pass out. His head is against the edge of the backrest, your tits are all in his face while you bounce him. You fuck him so hard that the impact your ass makes on his thighs is audible. You sound so wet. So goddamn wet. He feels it stick to his thighs and run down his balls. Your puffy walls keep clenching and sucking on him as you make yourself cum. Yoongi knows those motions by heart. You always start to get tighter when you are getting close. Yoongi finds it hard to control himself during such a ride on normal days, but today he is actually suffering. He wants to cum, but he can’t. He is so serious. He wants to cum, but he can’t. Why does nobody know how serious he is? He wants to cum, but can’t. He can’t. Every second feels like that one pivotal moment before he tips over the edge, but he can’t. 
“Please”, he begs, scratching his nails down your back. He doesn’t even realise that he is leaving marks on your skin. All he needs you to fucking understand is that he can’t fucking cum, but he wants to so, so bad.
“I’m so close, baby”, you moan above him, caring shit about him. You are just using him and his enchanted cock. Yoongi feels so ruined, spilling tears from his ruby eyes. Your tits keep slapping his face. It’s like mockery to him. He is so desperate to make you understand him and find pity in yourself and yet you are blind to it, “so close, kitten”, you press out, squeezing around his cock, “your pretty kitten cock is gonna make me cum so good.”
Yoongi tries to beg you, but can’t. He doesn’t know how to speak. Only animalistic sounds come easy to him. They’re not of feral nature, but that of a scared, little animal getting cornered by its biggest predator. You are talking about your impending orgasm while he suffers. Yoongi feels so fucking mocked by you and as a result, he wants to kiss the very ground you walk on. You own him.
You motherfucking own him.
“So close, kitten. So fucking close”, you moan as your tits remind him what heaven is and your pussy keeps his enchanted cock on edge.
Yoongi tries to help you, but he can’t. His body is useless. He can’t even get his legs to move or his hips to meet your bounces. He genuinely feels like a stupid, little sexdoll right now. A sexdoll meant to exist for your pleasure and to be useless otherwise. You could do anything to him and he couldn’t even fight back because you ruined his body to the point of paralyzing exhaustion. 
All which still works are his hands and they are currently dimpling your ass from gripping you so goddamn harshly. He’ll leave bruises in the deepest parts of your flesh, but you can’t care about this right now. Yoongi doesn’t even notice that he is bruising you. He feels numb to anything other than your hot pussy and your tits in his face. He snatches for them and manages to brush his tongue over your left nipple. It’s so weak and slow, his licks that is, and Yoongi can’t speed up even if he wants to.
“Yes Yoongi, yes. Fuck my prince, my beautiful, ah”, you moan, rutting against him. Your walls are so tight. Yoongi tries to breathe through it, but even that gets hard when you knock the air out of him each time you slam yourself down on him. 
Your hands come to cup his cheeks and tilt his head up. You want to meet his gaze, but can’t. Yoongi’s eyes are glued shut, his face is crinkled in pleasure. Or agony. You can’t decide. Maybe it’s both. 
“My love”, you moan and climax to the view of him, “a-ah Yoongi”, you whimper, dropping your forehead against his’ as your body shakes out of control. 
Yoongi’s hands lose strength as well. Your pulsating, clenching walls are too much. Not even spilling tears is enough to show the desperation he feels at this point. But he still does. It’s the only thing he can still do besides moan like crazy and fight for air.  
You come down soon, but don’t slow down as you fuck your tight walls through the overstimulation. 
Yoongi tries again to produce words, “p-please n-no more”, he chokes out and tries to grip your hips, “I can’t take much more.”
“I know kitten. Almost there”, you lull your words, sounding so ruined by your high. You speed up your hips, fucking him into insanity and no control.
“No more”, he squeaks and presses out a pained, “oh”, before a sob shakes him. 
“Who do you belong to?” you rasp the words against his temple.
“You”, he chokes out, spilling tears.
“Yes Yoongi, fuck”, you lull as you drag your lips to his forehead, “cum for me”, you order and kiss his forehead. 
The spell drops. Yoongi screams and arches his back off the sofa to its breaking point. His head he keeps thrown back, showing view to his throat and his agape mouth. His fangs are on full display as he screams over and over again as you finally fuck him to an orgasm. His cock, once perfectly human sized, grows into his supernatural length within a second. 
“Fuck, ah”, you gasp, convulsing around the sudden intense stretch. One second you need to get used to it and then you are already bouncing on him again, fucking masses and masses of hot cum out of him, “yes Yoongi, cum for me. Yes”, you growl, using the edge of the backrest as support. Shit, he is cumming so hard that it is squirting out of you and you fear that he might stuff you past your body’s limits. You can’t get enough of him, wishing for him to reach places no human should be creamed at.
“Keep cumming for me. So fucking good. You’re such a good fucking boy”, you moan while Yoongi is reduced to screaming and clawing at the couch. If he didn’t claw at it, he would hurt you. He has no control over himself right now. It scares him, but all the more it fills him with sensations he hasn’t experienced in millennia.
Yoongi thought that he knew pleasure with you. He was so sure that he couldn’t climax any harder with you. You break him and build him up just to break him again over and over each time your bodies connect in pleasure. You know his every spot and how to get him to his breaking point, you know how to keep him there until even breathing gets hard and you know how to draw it out until begging is the only thing he can do. His pleasure is on your literal fingertips and Yoongi thought that you already dragged out the deepest highs from his soul. And yet he was wrong. He was still fucking wrong. 
The last time he felt that kind of high, Yoongi lived a different life. He killed for pleasure, fucked for short relief and found his highest high in the taste of blood. He was twisted and wrong and loved nothing more than the sensation of blood coating his throat. He doesn’t like to think of this time in his life, but sometimes he thinks about the highs he can’t have anymore and begins missing them. And you are dragging such a high out of him right now. Safely. Without blood spill. Two millennia without it and Yoongi finds it again at the fingertips of his beloved woman. If he didn’t already exist solely for you, he would have started to do so right here and now. 
His screaming stops in sync with his back dropping against the sofa. He grows limp as paralysation sets in. Yoongi is there for it. Mentally he takes in every second of his vulnerable state and he can’t do anything against it. He should feel scared, but he doesn’t. He just feels so ruined and happy that he wants to smile but he can’t. Even that he can’t do because you fucked him into helpless paralysation.
“Good job”, you praise and slip off of him, “ah shit, I’m not peeing myself right now, it’s your cum”, you say and laugh which makes even more cum squirt out of you. It covers his thighs and drips to the ground. Truly you are leaking like a goddamn faucet. You snicker at the situation and look at Yoongi when he doesn’t respond. 
He is staring at the ceiling with ruby eyes and silent tears running down his cheeks. His lips are parted and his cheeks look so…fallen in as if his muscles stopped working.
“My love?” you ask, cupping his cheek, “what’s wrong?” you say, shaking his head gently. It flops from side to side without any kind of protest from him. Like his muscles forgot how to work.
You study him with furrowed brows. Unmoving and limp. Almost as if…you widen your eyes. This is the result of a Ripper High. 
“Holy shit, I gave you a Ripper high”, you gasp and press out a squeaky giggle, “oh my love, I did it!” you exclaim and begin kissing every inch of his face, “I, I did it. I knew I could do it. Oh my love, oh I love you. My love, you’re doing so well. It’s safe to come back to me, my love. Take as long as you need to, I’m right here.”
Yoongi is present for all of it. Physically he is gone, but his mind and heart are still with you. He doesn’t feel your kisses and loving touches at first. At least not on his skin, his heart still feels their effect. It swells in his chest and fills with the warmest of warmths. He knows that what you are speaking is the truth. It is safe to come back to you. There won’t be agony and guilt waiting for him, just love and the healing feeling of home.
“My beautiful, handsome love. Oh my Yoongi, I’m so happy and so proud and oh, I love you like crazy.”
Your words have an even stronger effect on his heart, affecting his mind as well and healing wounds so deep he thought they could never heal. When he lived a different life, being paralysed after his high meant that he slaughtered villages, left families ripped apart and caused nightmares to whoever was unlucky enough to survive. When he lied paralysed between the massacred bodies of his once pleasurable hunt, the guilt and pain of what he did made him cry and scream his lungs out until he stopped tensing up and he had to flee the scene with his limbs barely wanting to work. 
And now he knows that once he regains control of himself, there won’t be any bodies waiting for him. Just you. Perfectly fine and unharmed. 
The first kiss he feels on his skin is one at the tip of his nose. You trail them up the bridge of it and by the time, Yoongi feels your lips on his forehead the feeling in his skin returned completely. He can feel the wet mess on his lap, your warmth against his skin and your loving touch on his face. 
“___”, he croaks with his voice terribly ruined.
“Hey”, you speak gently, “welcome back. You did so well, I’m so proud”, you praise, tilting his head into a kiss. 
It focuses his attention on his lips and Yoongi does everything inside him to make them work first just so he can kiss you back. It happens soon. Yoongi regains control over his lips and finally kisses you back and it fills him with so much overwhelming happiness that his body regains control within the brink of a second. He loves you so much and he shows you that he does with his arms wrapping around you and his body melting with yours as he sits up and deepens the kiss. 
And he kisses you. Kisses you. Kisses you. And kisses you without wanting to stop. He kisses you with you on top of his lap, kisses you with his arms around you and his hands as deep in your hair as your texture allows it, kisses you with his chest flush against yours and his throat producing the most grateful, happy whimpers. 
He stands up with you in his arms, still kissing you. He keeps kissing you as his weakened knees drag him down and he falls onto the couch with you underneath him. And even then he keeps kissing you, needing you to understand what this meant to him. What you just healed. What you fucking mean to him. He swears that no kiss he shares with you is enough to show you what he feels for you. None of them is enough and so he has to keep kissing and kissing and kissing you until he finally finds the one worthy enough of his feelings. 
Quite frankly, he would have kissed you for countless more hours if you hadn’t broken it for him. You had to because he barely gave you time to breathe and you felt dizzy. 
“___”, his begs are instant, his lips search for your kiss but find your fingertips. The spot on your body which holds his heaven, paradise and dreams. Yoongi begins kissing them, doing so with his body trembling in emotion. 
“I can’t tell if you’re upset or not”, you whisper, watching him with overwhelming feelings in your chest. You always thought that he showed you every variation of kisses he had to offer, but the way he kissed you right now was unlike any kiss you ever shared. It left you feeling overwhelmed in the best ways possible.
He tries to answer you, but can’t. He is too overwhelmed by everything he feels.
“Take your time”, you encourage him, caressing his cheek with gentle fingers while his lips still kiss your other hand.
Yoongi tries again.
“The last time I felt this high, it was surrounded by dozens of massacred bodies”, he begins with his cheek seeking your palm. You help him find it, feeling your heart grow in love when he nuzzles into you, “I hated myself so much and wanted to die.”
“Yoongi my love”, you croak, cupping his other cheek as well.
“For hundreds of years I chased this high even if I hated it. For hundreds of years feeling it meant that I killed innocent people and left others traumatised and now you-” his voice breaks as his emotions overtake him.
He opens his eyes, giving view to the tears blurring his vision.
“I love you so much”, he chokes out shakily, “I-I want to know words more honest than love, but there are none. I love you so much more than love, I can’t f-find words. I feel so much for you”, he stutters and lets his head fall into the crook of your neck. He closes his arms around you, cradling you against him as best as the position allows him, “you’re the home I always longed for, ___”, he confesses, leaving you to spill tears because it felt so good to be loved by him.
“You’re my home too, Yoongi”, you say, hugging him against you as your nose nuzzles against his face, “god, you’re making me cry”, you confess in a chuckle, “I was planning for the evening to be fun and kinky and yet here we are sobbing again.”
“I feel so much, I can’t help it.”
“That’s okay, as long as we have each other we can be little crybabies after sex”, you say and making him laugh out a sob.
“Yeah”, he says, “ah fuck”, he gets out and laughs into the crook of your neck as much as he sobs.
You snicker and hug him closer, kissing his hair, “my Yoongi.”
Being with each other is the only thing that truly matters and if one was wondering, yes Yoongi will whine about everything which happened once he regained clarity again. It will come by morning after you and he shared cuddles in your bed and he wakes up to an empty bed and a magical note telling him that you were in your kitchen. He will find you kneeling by the couch as you attempt to fix the holes he ripped into the cushions and Yoongi will sit down next to said holes and give you the shiest glances you ever saw on him and mere seconds later, you and he will talk about last night. You will be terribly excited while Yoongi will whine at first about how reckless it was, but in the end he will giggle with you and tell you how nice you made him feel and that you healed wounds he never thought capable of healing. Then you will attempt to fix the couch together, stealing kisses and snuggles way too often as your giggles just didn’t seem to want to stop.
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