#Idk about smut I've only done it once | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoseoksluna · 16 days

Text

BLUR | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: smut

word count: 17k

summary: one encounter with both of the males heals you enough that you don't become anything but joy.

pinterest board: blur

warnings: dom/sub dynamics, marking, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, cuckold kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, daddy kink, punishment, nipple play, oc gets triggered, face riding, ass play, male masturbation, multiple orgasms, use of butt plug, raw sex, cum eating, clit rubbing

note: i want to thank oc. i've always wanted to pinch jungkook's nose and i got to do that through her. LMFAOFSJLDKFS ANYWAYS—this is the LAST part of the steam series, whoop whoop. finally. this took me so fucking long to write and idk if it even makes sense, which is why i need you guys to let me know everything that you're thinking, feeling, hating, loving. I NEED IT. so pls, send me asks. spam me. thank you. ENJOY READINGGGGG. ₊˚⊹♡

A thin layer of sweat coats your hairline. And inside your skull, momentarily, there aren’t any thoughts—none, whatsoever. They have been swept aside as the feverish evening wind carries your boyfriend’s words through the aroused energy pulsating around your naked form. Around Jungkook’s, too.

Yoongi is still the only one fully dressed. And, adamantly, he’s taken the role of a watcher, shifting the dynamic in such a frantic way that the sole impulse that you find opening within you like buds of tree flowers is to obey. To submit to the role, externalize one that will fit it. To play along like he did, when he caught onto your scheme.

Even though you don’t know how to particularly go about it.

And when Yoongi walks over to the armchair in his living room, plops down on it, angles his head slightly to look at you and waves a hand towards the couch across from him, inviting you to sit, your nescience claws at you. Brutally.

You don’t know if there are any shadows thickening in his headspace because you deem there must be a reason behind his sudden decision to turn things around. He’s been okay with every practice done so far in the playtime—he validated all of them, was in charge the whole time until he gave that control over to Jungkook. You can’t help but worry if there perhaps isn’t a catch.

And the lower your disquiet sinks inside your gut, the higher your distrust of yourself springs, lodging in your throat. You’re not sure anymore if you’re right about anything. What if there is something you’ve done that you completely overlooked in the middle of your pleasure? In the middle of Jungkook’s pleasure?

Once you exchange a heavily-charged look with the puppy, you hope to find a hint in the tenderness of his eyes that would help you figure it out. Though, the more you deepen the scrutiny, the more you’re met with absolute blankness.

He’s as clueless as you.

Bewildered, mostly, that Yoongi let him have the upper hand.

Your finger itches to hook around his, but you only angle your head in the direction of the living room, dubious to listen to your body, intentionally wary. You make the first move and you don’t sit down on the couch like Yoongi motioned you. No, you sink your knees into the space beside his on the armchair, the leather creaking beneath you. Wrap your arms around his shoulders. Study the depth of his gaze as he focuses it on your face, looking for the hint, for anything that would lead you to it. Bury your fingers into his night-tinged hair the way he likes it, the way you like to do it, too. Pull it a little to make known to him that you’re bubbling with uncertainty.

Yoongi merely watches you, borrowing his friend’s stoicism.

You click your tongue, disliking it. “Yoongi,” you drawl out, cupping the sides of his neck, willing his attention to be more of an intimate sort. Just you and him. You need to talk to him about this. Need a peace of mind in order for you to enjoy this. In order to please him in the process as well.

He turns his head behind him, though. To check the whereabouts of his friend. And when you follow the same direction, you discover that his dining space is empty.

You don’t detect any panic in you. Perhaps it’s due to the fact Jungkook never abandoned you before. Or perhaps you’ve healed to the point that it doesn’t bother you anymore, no matter who does it. And what’s more, you think he probably went to pee.

With two fingers on his jaw, you turn his attention back to you. Leave them there. His lips curl up as he tries to purse them, his stoicism fragmenting. Eyes gentle, moonbeams swimming. The sight is so endearing to you that your own mouth mirrors his, butterflies awoken, fluttering their wings in your tummy. This is the man you love. This is the man that’s yours. Yours, only. And you’re alone, intimately, cordially. Just like before.

“Is something the matter, honey?” He tips his chin, irises dilated and looking up at you. Latches his hands onto the fleshiness of your thighs, just below your hip bones.

With your inhale of breath, you muster as much courage as you can. “Have I done something wrong?”

Perplexity writes itself on his softened face. Could it be—

“No, why do you think that, hm?” He narrows his eyes at you playfully, tapping his fingers on the side of your hips. You exhale a breath that loosens your worry a little bit and your mouth rounds. He leans in to peck it. “You’ve been perfect.”

Have you? You’re not so sure—on the contrary, what you’re sure of is the fact you can better yourself. You have to, in order to make your worries dissipate all the way.

And you can fulfill that if you know what role to play.

“Tell me what to do.”

One corner of his mouth tugs ever so slightly to the side and one brow quirks in confusion. “You’re about to get eaten up. Enjoy it—that’s what you are to do.”

You sigh, realizing you should’ve worded it better. That’s precisely what you want to do—enjoy it, but you can’t risk getting lost again. Can’t risk getting submerged. You need him to tell you who you are to be in this new dynamic he established and you don’t want to hear that you should be yourself. If you relax your boundaries, you’ll step into a dangerous territory—and you’ve been there before.

So has he.

“Yoongi, no, I meant—”

He squeezes your muscles. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here, you hear me?” he murmurs, one hand coming up to your hair and curling it behind your ear. And it’s these words that unwittingly, little by little, drive you to drop your own hand, your guard and your worries. The fact that he doesn’t even want to hear your better wording, too, because he understood you the first time. It guides you to think it’s not worth speaking out, not when he evidently knows better.

And it feels nice. To have someone intelligent enough that they know. To have someone care enough that they don’t let you immerse yourself in doubts because they know the type of shit your thoughts consist of sometimes. He remembers everything you unraveled during the therapy sessions. And that feels nice. More than nice.

Your mouth rounds again and you repeat it after him. To acknowledge yourself with it. To swallow it so it streams down your body, where its meaning can unfurl. “You’re here.” Your voice is subdued, unsure, the words foreign on your tongue. You knit your brows while you taste them, unable to identify the flavor. That is until you realize it could offend him. You relax your features right away.

But Yoongi merely watches you with a sympathetic look, one that makes you feel terrible for reacting the way you did.

Not for long, though.

“I know I’ve made a mistake in the past, but that’s not happening again. I’m not leaving you on your own this time,” he says and you realize that is precisely what you needed to hear, what your body needed to consume first in order to recognize the flavor of his reassurance. You caress his face in deep emotion and you try again.

“You’re here.” It’s a mere silken sound for only the both of you to hear, but it matters—it’s enough, it’s perfect. In the distance, you hear a shuffling of feet in the kitchen, the song of the wind gaining momentum, inclining to listen to the expression of love between you—to be a witness of the right thing being done at last. And you can taste the sweetest wine of the ripest of grapes, spiced with the most vibrant of roses. You can taste home; his stability you can lean on.

Yoongi smiles in your grasp, noting the way the words sounded different—more secure. The moonbeams liquify in his waterline. “That’s right. And because I’m here, I’m not letting history repeat itself.” He pinches your cheek, knocking your head back and forth with the well-meaning, ferocious movement. Erases completely the lingering presence of the guard and fears you’ve dropped. You laugh, softly, relieved—so fucking relieved. Joy fills your empty body, energizing you, roses rising in you. Your roses, the ones you know, fraternizing with the unknown flowers that Jungkook planted in you. And you discern that it’s you who’s in your comfort zone, in your safety zone. The males have stepped inside theirs and now you have. You inhale fresh air in your new lungs, exhale your relief. “Say it. So I know you understand.”

“You’re here and you’re not letting history repeat itself.” Beautiful, beautiful words—beautiful consolation and kindness. A pillar of the most exceptional magnificence. Mentally, you rest against it, rest your enfeebled, exhausted body of all your needless worries and false thoughts.

You didn’t do anything wrong. Didn’t make a mistake. Though, if it weren’t for the weak moment, you wouldn’t be here. Wouldn’t have gotten the comfort you didn’t know you needed.

So peculiar, the newness. It dawns on you that it should’ve been like this in the beginning. Healthy conversations, reassurance. Why hadn’t you done this? Why did you jump headlong, bringing along such darkness of—

You close your eyes fleetingly to shut down those thoughts. Forgetting is taking place. Newness is here. Old is gone. Like the verity that he’s here, you repeat it to yourself again and again in your heart. You can’t change what’s happened. You can only move on with the eternal perception that you’ve changed, that you’ve learned. And that’s enough.

You brush your thumb upon the column of his neck. Back and forth, like he did with your cheek. Thankful for him. “You’re here and you’re not letting history repeat itself.”

Yoongi isn’t puzzled you whispered it to yourself again. In fact, he embraces it. Kisses you tenderly, deeply to seal those words. They spread roots in you. Rake through the earth so the roses, the flowers can grow healthily, happily, luminously. You feel them lean into the satin touch of the butterflies that elongate their dusty wings before they curl the membranes around their radiant petals, forming a protection circle. A dose of healing you didn’t expect to receive. Not from him, not now—not now when you’re about to be eaten out by his friend.

It’s so surreal to you. To feel protected like that. To feel safe. Safe to now roam freely in your undiscovered sexuality because you have someone to look out for you, to possibly guide you back if you lose your way. The stability that envelopes you—you can’t bear it; it’s too good to be true. And when you take a deep breath and those roses tremble with excitement in you, in the circle, there’s nothing left for you to do but to accept it because it’s so strong, because it’s unyielding. You couldn’t move it even if you tried. It won’t let you—it’s here to stay. Here to be alongside your boyfriend, protecting you as you venture out on your perverted adventure.

You’ve worked hard to get to this point. And now you get to reap what you’ve sown.

Yoongi grins after the long kiss, proudness emanating out of him and you feel like weeping. You’ve done the right thing, for the very first time. “That’s my good girl.”

The praise does something to you. Stirs you violently, magnifies the intensity of the flapping of the butterfly wings in you. Sends back feeling to the ache between your legs, propped against the linen of Yoongi’s pants. Throbbing, slapping, memories of what has been done to your pussy—you’re a meadow of wildflowers and you’re ready to be pleasured again, however you register a matter that pulls you away from this notion for a moment.

There’s no catch.

Because Yoongi created a new realm for both you and Jungkook with his sense of safety and comfort, there’s nothing for you to fret about. There’s no role for you to play. And, furthermore, who you are meant to be upon this ground is who you’ve been throughout the whole trajectory of your relationship.

A good girl.

Only this time it’s entirely different.

You didn’t want to be yourself because, if anything were to backfire, you thought you’d have the responsibility for it. In addition to that, you thought the normalcy of your sexual life was a no-gone zone for Jungkook, which is why you’ve been racking your brain, trying to come up with ways you could differ it, so Yoongi wouldn’t get jealous.

But things changed so drastically that because Yoongi took control, now you don’t have to be in charge of that. You’re not the artist, you’re not choosing colors for the palette. Yoongi is.

There’s still one more thing that doesn’t add up. And you voice it out. “If you’re not letting history repeat itself, though, why are you letting Jungkook be in control?”

Yoongi grabs your hands and holds them. “I’m letting him be in control of how he does what I tell him to do. I’m in control of the whole situation, honey.”

You suck in a breath. To protect himself, he won’t make the same mistake again; that’s just the person Yoongi is. He’s allowed Jungkook to have the freedom of a bird in the pleasure he wants you to receive from him, but he won’t hesitate to ensnare him if he runs up against something he doesn’t like.

You find that immensely, immensely attractive.

Hot.

The pillar of stability, the warmth of reassurance, the absolute fucking boss—that’s your man. You lid your eyes, swearing, leaning forward to suck onto his lip, kissing him with utter desperation and he lets you. Lets you kiss him. Lets you show him how much you liked that. Growls when your hand creeps to his neglected, clothed length and squeezes it. Hums when you feel him up until you find his tight balls. Responds to your touch—bucks his hips so you focus on them more and you go mad. Interminably, mad.

And when you swirl your tongue around his, you feel a cold, wet hand on your back.

The magnet to your madness. The healer stands by the side of the armchair with a dew-sprinkled face and there’s a feigned, playful jealousy that you feel when you regard him, for the only dew you want on his face is one that’s your own. He washed up in the bathroom—you reckon he did it to cool his desperation, to cool the sweat of arousal that lines his skin, much like yours. You note that it didn’t work, at least not fully, because when you roam your gaze down, you discover he’s still painfully hard. Much like your boyfriend.

You wrap your hand around him and the forbidden, exhilarating feeling of having two cocks in your grasp is too brief for your liking because Jungkook pulls your hand away again. Holds it and leads you towards the couch. You frown at him with a puckish smile, but while he tugs you away, you steal a kiss from Yoongi. A hard, quick kiss that makes him twitch—something that you get to feel before Jungkook grabs you by your pits and throws you on the couch.

You let out a string of giggles, loving the feeling of being manhandled; loving the feeling of Jungkook being in desperate need to eat you out. Your face heats up, your body following suit, the ache between your legs worsening. Yoongi smirks, validating your enjoyment and he adjusts in his seat, which you think is dismal. You don’t want him to be neglected. You want him to be pleasured, too.

The words tumble out of you before you can think them over. “Can you touch yourself for me, baby?”

Yoongi licks his lips. Pauses before he responds. Tortures you like he tortured Jungkook. You spread your legs to provoke him, giving him a show of the shine on your folds. It’s enough for him to palm himself briefly, as if he lost control for a split second. He takes his hand away and places it back on the armrest. “I’ll consider it.”

The boss at play. You swear, closing your legs to squeeze them, to give yourself some sort of relief from the ache you feel. Butterflies go rampant in your tummy, but despite the buzzing tension, you feel content, safe and utterly elated. Happy.

You expect Jungkook to say something, though he merely props a knee on the leather of the couch and spreads your legs how he wants them. He doesn’t lift them, only parts them as far as they can go. You go to grab his length again because you feel a certain magnetic pulling to it, but he catches your hand in time.

“Behave.” He presses your hand firmly to emphasize his scolding before he lets go. Such a stark contrast to the playtime of before. You remember how he wanted you to do the complete opposite. To misbehave. Your body heats up even more, the fire compulsing your hips to sway, asking for attention.

Another set of words tumble out of you unwittingly and you place your hands under your thighs. “I’m sorry.”

The surprise that floods Jungkook’s features is overwhelming to you and in response, you grin, coyly. He strokes the adorable fat of your cheek. “Good girl. That’s what I like to hear.”

You purse your lips and before the fire of that praise can lick your whole body, Yoongi speaks up, too. “Good job, honey. You learned your lesson so well.”

Shock comes first, then fire—vibrant blue fire that scorches you whole. You blush, deeply, squeezing the leather of the couch—the praise and the validation from both males so profuse, so profound that you can’t take it. You hide your widening grin beneath your palms. “Stop,” you drawl, the sound muffled and soft, even though you don’t want them to do anything of the sort.

Jungkook coos, pulls your wrist away, uncovering your rosy, glowy face. Then, he pets your head, fingers sinking into your hair. He forces you to look at him, to see the smile of endearment that bathes his face in light, but he does it so gently that you purr, his hold so stimulating, so titillating—his countenance so lovely, so darkly angelic. Eyes crinkled but still round, still so tender. “Who taught you to have such good manners, huh?”

You swipe your tongue along the top arc of your lip, his gaze flicks to it and and the answer thrums in your belly warmly like a sip of a good wine. It doesn’t unnerve you, doesn’t make you afraid. In fact, it’s so tranquil and so right that you relish every syllable. “Both of you did.”

The rays from the light side penetrate the dark one and healing takes place. Healing that you never thought you’d ever be a witness to. You know that the act of forgetting was supposed to fully sink in all three of you, but your words diverged its path. You swallow warmth and you swallow relief, watch as Yoongi gets up from his seat and mirrors Jungkook’s position, one knee on the leather, hand under your jaw. A soft set of tears rush in at the attention and the realization of what’s actually happening, and when the healer sees them, he lets go of your hair and brushes his thumb across your brow, hand spread across the side of your face. You lean into his palm, so terribly emotional, and when Yoongi plants a delicate kiss on your cheek, your chin begins to quiver. He felt it, too. Felt the gravity of those words that now dulcify his intention to make things right this time. And he kisses you again, prolongs the peck, as if to thank you for your goodness.

When Yoongi lifts his head and bores his mellow gaze into you, it is the same relief that you’ve swallowed that you see saturating his face in effulgence. At last, it has come for him, has come to live in him. At last, it’s here.

You’ve done it, all three of you. Healed from the pain.

Jungkook knits his brows at the sight of the first tear plopping down onto your skin as if it physically pained him to see you cry. And before you can register the movement, he swipes the liquid emotion away and kisses the residue of it, as if it were fate itself that wrote it was meant to pour down on the right side of your face—for Jungkook to collect, for it to seep into his fingerprint.

So much love. The air is thick with it. Your lungs tremble as you take a deep breath. The wind billows in and out, but doesn’t carry it off—intertwines its translucent body with it instead, bringing in a fresh gust of briskness into the atmosphere. No more tears stream down your cheeks; you smile at both of the males—the healer and the boss.

Yoongi remains standing beside you. Takes your hand in his. Says a myriad of silent words of great importance that you cannot decipher as he exchanges a look with Jungkook, who merely nods at them in plain understanding. You don’t have to wonder long what was behind it. Jungkook turns your jawline to him and kisses you softly. Doesn’t let go. Prolongs the kiss until he whimpers onto your mouth, softened, too, by the healing that occurred. No tongue, just the warmed silver of his lip ring, the smooth tenderness of his mouth and the most affectionate emotion exuded into the kiss.

The pop of the withdrawal is all you hear. You keep your eyes closed. Feel him take that kiss onto your neck, your collarbone, to your sternum. Feel the tightening of your boyfriend’s grip around your hand as Jungkook drags his lips down your tummy, where the healing vibrates and he says hello to it with his tongue, makes it feel safe. Feel the tightening compulsion to watch him as he does it and you obey your body.

Jungkook is kneeling before you. Brows furrowed, expression so terribly serious as he understands how significant this part of you is. Sinks his whimpers into your skin while he sucks it and it’s only when you run your fingers through his silky hair that he looks up at you. And the sight of his wet eyes breaks you.

He’s as emotional as you.

Your throat constricts. If it weren’t for him, none of this lively beauty would take place—and if it weren’t for Yoongi, too. It is their work of art and you’re the one doused in colors of most resplendence. And you tell them, your body urges you to, while you squeeze Yoongi’s hand and caress Jungkook’s hair. “I’m so grateful for you both.”

The healer whimpers again, letting go of your skin, leaving behind a purple memory of this heartfelt loveliness. His tears don’t escape the confinement of his waterline—he blinks them away. Blinks them even more rapidly when Yoongi places a hand on Jungkook’s bare shoulder and he gapes at him in disbelief—in disbelief that his closest friend is touching him with such gentleness after everything. You don’t allow yourself to think of the past, of the last violent touch that you saw, but you can’t help the emotion rushing in your eyes. You let go of Yoongi’s hand to clasp the one on Jungkook’s shoulder, deepening the love.

And you press a loud, exaggerated kiss on Jungkook’s forehead to make him laugh—like he did that one time by talking about his worm. To distract him, if there are perhaps any overbearing thoughts in his mind.

Now his disbelief is directed towards you. Mouth parted, wrinkles between his brows. You burst into laughter and it triggers his. Yoongi’s, too. It’s your breasts that bounce now and none of the pairs of eyes flick to it, fixed still on the glamorous gracefulness that blossoms out from your face. Jungkook shakes his head, cheeks awash with redness, irises glinting with a spark you’ve never seen before, and you consider your job done. He tells you to lay back down, but his grin lingers.

Yoongi takes your hand back in his and you perceive that he needs it, that he needs to hold you. You smile at him, fluttering your lashes, blowing him an air kiss, and he nudges his nose against yours to remind you to enjoy this. You begin to prepare yourself, taking a deep breath—

It hitches in your throat harshly. Jungkook kitten licks your clit with deep pressure, just once, lifting his head to watch your reaction. The reverberation of the pleasure causes you to moan and he smirks at you—what’s worse, he winks at you, so terribly smug that he coaxed such sound like that by one lick and it makes you tremble, needing more. He can see it, but he tortures you, keeping his hands on your thighs.

And when Yoongi reaches behind himself and sinks your headband with yellow kitty ears into Jungkook’s hair, you’re done for. You must’ve left it there when you were doing your makeup. Jungkook doesn’t acknowledge it, however. Too drunk by his first proper taste of you to do so, glossy eyes transfixed by that flesh of yours.

It suits him so well that you coo at him, grasping his neck to pull him back to your cunt, but he doesn’t let you. Your heart begins to thump with hard beats and you grow desperate, whining, looking at Yoongi to make him do something.

He merely smiles at you. “Be patient.”

At his words, Jungkook lifts your legs and begins to focus on the back of your thigh, marking it, groaning against your skin, inhaling your mango scent. He roams his tongue all over and you whine louder, finding it so unfair that you have to wait for it, that he reinforces your neediness by those hard kisses and sucks, by his sounds, breaths and control. You grind your hips, the ache between your legs made unbearable by your helplessness and Yoongi stops you by placing his hand on your lower belly.

“Did I not tell you to be patient? Be good,” Yoongi scolds, lowly, rubbing the place in slow circles. Your whine is bratty, but you nod your head, pouting, halting all your movements, becoming still like the wind that has come to stay and observe the unfolding of your daydream.

At your submission, Yoongi creeps a finger to your wet clit, testing you. Doesn’t do anything beyond that and once he sees you’re well-behaved, he plunges the same finger into your mouth, giving you a taste of Jungkook’s saliva. You mewl, sucking it. The healer watches the act in deep thought, your skin in his mouth, and you’re certain an idea flashes in his mind.

Jungkook straightens to his full height, proving you right and the feeling is utterly gratifying. Reaches behind him and grabs the tall glass filled with water that you never noticed he put on the coffee table. Yoongi withdraws his digit and inspects his friend’s doing with curiosity. Jungkook takes a small sip of it without taking his gaze off of you, tips it to your mouth right after and you realize he did it more so it wouldn’t overflow, as you take a well-needed sip of your own, rather than to refresh himself. That is until he does something that completely shocks you, ripping away your delightful proudness of being proven right.

It is something between a yelp and a moan when the coldness of the water drops onto the skin of your chest, scattering it with tiny, pellucid pearls that almost pool by your violent heart. The demo before the full game; your breathing gains as much speed as the throbbing in your clit. Jungkook inclines the glass again, holds it as a longer, thicker trail trickles down your body—from the middle of your breasts, across your tummy until it reaches your cunt. And the contact of the liquid with the hotness of your swollen seashell? You groan, rolling your body. So much that you slap your hands down on the leather, gripping it with all your might, needing something stable to hold onto, to release your pent-up desperation.

Amused, Jungkook sets the glass down and kneels back down. Licks a long, torturous stripe from your clit up to those pearls, following the path he mapped out while zeroing his stare into yours. You part your mouth, your madness closing around you again, puffing out short breaths and subdued, desperate moans and when Jungkook closes his lips over your neck and begins to suck, you turn your head towards Yoongi and roll your eyes back. Struggle to keep them open as you feel that muscle of his tracing patterns on the sensitive skin and Yoongi knows. He knows how good it is for you and he kisses you like he means it, mimicking what his friend is doing around your tongue.

Your sounds grow in volume. Your desperation, too, in intensity.

“Please.”

Jungkook emerges from your neck but wraps a hand around it, nonetheless. Is as close to you as your breath, his nose bumping into yours. He squeezes your column firmly before he curtly turns your jawline away from Yoongi. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat under his forearm, if he can feel how desperate she is for him, too—in a way you don’t understand. “Please what?”

He opens your mouth wider and spits.

Shock comes first like a thunderbolt, spreading across your veins, paralyzing your body. Then it blurs into a tumultuous arousal that seizes you whole, that makes you beg for more. No one has ever spat in your mouth, not even Yoongi. You’ve never liked it in porn, but experiencing it first-hand gives it another meaning. The dominance, the absolute film of lustfulness caking his face, the estimable seriousness that wafts off of him. He’s turned you into a boneless putty, his putty, and you want him to do it again.

“Spit in my mouth again, please—please.”

Jungkook grunts. Shadows surround your vision as you narrow your eyes in sheer pleasure at his sound, biting your lip to cage in your worsening desire for him—but he saves your lip, pulls it away from your teeth and opens your mouth wide. You ogle him as he sloshes his saliva in his mouth above you before he taps your tongue, signalizing you to stick it out for him. Once you listen, he spits hard onto the muscle that waited for it. You moan, satisfied, swallowing it right away and showing him.

He pokes his own tongue in his inner cheek, fire blazing in his as equally narrowed eyes, the act of spitting in your mouth making him beyond fucked out. You can sense it deep in your core and your obsession with it grows.

“You’re filthy, but so good. It’s making me lose my fucking mind,” he says, hazily, fingers squeezing your throat for a heartbeat. The momentary lack of oxygen gives you a perfect demonstration of his words and the moans you let out are so breathy, so choked out that he takes your madness and makes it his own—loosening his grip and kissing you nastily, licking into your mouth, both hands traveling south to your breasts and kneading them harshly, pressing your nipples between his fingers.

And when you utter the words rising vehemently in your throat, he takes the demonstration to otherworldly levels. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Jungkook cocks his head at you and drags his teeth painfully across his bottom lip, swearing. His eyes darken, at last. Thrill sizzles beneath your skin and you feel an upsurge of adrenaline, the aftertaste of the title so sweet, so delicious on your tongue. “As if you didn’t deserve it already, I’m gonna take you to heaven for that.”

You laugh softly, brushing your fingers through his hair, anticipation joining the adrenaline. “You like me calling you that?”

He hums his agreement and you don’t feel Yoongi, you don’t even feel his hand; your vision, surroundings, persona blurring so rapidly. “Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good. All you have to do is come for him as many times as you can. Thank him that way. Is that clear?”

You shiver at the use of third person. Never thought you’d find it as alluring as you do. Brush your thumb across his brow like he does it to you. He coos, kissing your hand, sinking his body lower. Touched by the gesture. “Yes, Daddy. That won’t be too difficult for me to do.”

Jungkook gives you a smile that envelops you in an aura, where it’s just you and him. You don’t have the brain cells, nor the will, the desire to stop it. “That’s a good girl. On her best behavior for us.”

It wakes you up and the feeling of Yoongi’s grip on your hand returns, the circle of the aura withering. Disappointment descends in your gut, one that is soon forgotten when Jungkook sucks your clit into his mouth.

The squeak you let out would be embarrassing if you weren’t so out of your mind, but the confidence it came out with, the seductiveness and beauty—Jungkook shows you how much he liked the sound by humming against your sensitivity, the appreciation smothering every fiber and nerve ending of your body, hoisting you up towards the canopy of clouds. He swirls his tongue around the flesh, sucking deeper before he opens his mouth wider and licks you all over, closing his eyes and moaning, reveling in the feeling of you, the scent of you and the warmth of you. He toys with your lips, chuckling in delight when he acknowledges himself with them, burying his mouth completely in them, kissing them, caressing them with the puffiness of his pillows.

He’s pussydrunk—and the sight of it intoxicates you just the same.

And then he pauses. Kisses your clit. The peck so ardently earnest that he sucks it in the process. Does it again and again until he tinges your femininity in the faintest, daintiest, most dreamiest tone of red, prettier than any flowers you’ve ever seen—so akin to the wash of color scattering along his cheekbones. Then, he rubs his face in you, vigorously, moaning against you so intensely that your sounds become one.

Raising his head, features drenched in your dew—just like you wanted it—his chain taps your cunt in long staccatos. The pleasure is so dizzying, along with his looks, that you feebly jump at every contact. It reminds you, vividly, of the spanks you like so much. “Pussy so fucking wet and pretty for me. I’m gonna destroy you.”

It’s only at this time that you hear Yoongi smug but quietly laugh. He draws close to your ear and his hardened breath steals your attention from his friend’s praise. “He makes me wanna taste you, too, and make you come repeatedly on my tongue. Fuck, honey. I want that so bad.”

You mewl, about to burst at the seams, unable to take the double relish given to you from both men. Yoongi latches his mouth onto your neck, causing your eyes to roll back, and it sparks up some kind of competition in Jungkook, for when he dives back in—you scream.

The flicks of his tongue are so brutal that your lungs heave. You take many breaths but you can’t catch them, the heat from Yoongi’s kisses and the rapidness of Jungkook’s movement numbing your body to the point that you’re rendered powerless.

Jungkook alternates between fast flicks and long swipes from your entrance to your bundle of nerves, parting your lips so he can have easy access. And being spread like that, attended to by two males that you have strong attachment to, the kitty ears bobbing up and down as Jungkook devours you—your orgasm chases you down, the knot in your lower belly pulled so taut that it takes a mere heartbeat for it to snap completely.

And when you come, Jungkook laps you up, grunting in insatiable need for more. Your body violently shudders, but he keeps going, widening his swirls of tongue around your clit before he rubs it with the tip of his nose and—

He begins to fuck you with his tongue.

You don’t feel anything. Not your heartbeat, not your struggling lungs—just the hard jabs of his tongue inside your hole, pushing you closer and closer to paradise. Not heaven, you’ve been there, but to something beyond. A paradise of the warmest color and sunlight, swaying trees and a pool of the most refreshing water.

And Yoongi’s noise of joy is the bird that flies past in that place, dipping to its reflection. “Daddy’s so good he’s giving it to you better than I ever did.”

It’s those words that make you come again.

He laughs, fondles your nipples, holds you steady as Jungkook prolongs your orgasm by strenuously sucking your clit and you sob hard, tingling all over, senses gone, everything gone. You feel so lightweight, so airy, dopamine and oxytocin making your head all fucked up. Happy, satisfied.

Jungkook withdraws, kissing your clit one last time, licking it slowly. “You came so hard for Daddy, well done,” he praises, mouth wet, face as colorful as the meadow of flowers in you, gleaming iridescently. “But I’m not done with you.”

You moan, wanting more, badly. Take him by the neck with both hands and draw him closer to you, the chain stimulating your breasts. You kiss him hungrily and the taste of your dew causes you to let out such obscene sound that Jungkook and Yoongi growl simultaneously. Dulciness, with a hint of piquancy that makes you even hornier—the slipperiness of his mouth making it worse. “I want to ride your face. Please, please, let me.”

Jungkook smiles at you, pecking your lips, faintly. Cocks his brow at Yoongi. “You’re gonna give the princess what she wants?”

Your eyes follow the sharp line of his jaw and you bite your lip. Don’t think twice about taking that skin into your mouth, licking it over, watching as Jungkook closes his eyes at the contact. Musk, the forest, wood—you carry your still lingering hunger and unravel it upon the spot beneath that strong jaw, devouring that scent of his, aware of how his breath lodges in his throat. You mimic what he did to your clit there, enjoying every second of it, enjoying his reaction as he hums and thumbs your clit, waiting for Yoongi’s approval.

And you quicken it by begging for it, squeaking little sounds, beckoned by that slow motion of his digit. “Please, Yoongi. I want it so bad.”

Badly enough that you force your head away and look at him. As much as you thought there would be puzzlement to his face, what you detect is far more sinister. His smirking mouth tells you that he is simply pleased with the way you’re begging, with the way he gets to torture you. And not just you, but Jungkook as well. Ego high—his control at full play. You don’t blame him, not at all. It must be delicious to him in the middle of all this healing.

“Ride him well, make me proud.”

The joy springs in you so fast, but you don’t have the time to take in it. Yoongi gets up from the couch and you apprehend that you were very, very wrong.

You haven’t healed to the point that it doesn’t bother you when Yoongi leaves.

Your panic is so enormous that you rise, your movement so rigid that Jungkook stumbles, his arm quick to wrap around your chest, pulling you back onto the leather beside him. And you don’t see the twist of his brows, the deep clefts of his dimples while he scowles. No, you watch your boyfriend’s back as he makes his way to the dining table, your heart expanding in your throat.

“Tell her at least where the fuck you’re going,” Jungkook grumbles, ever the healer who senses your emotions and the fact he stood up for you like this makes you mouth merely round, your otherwise triggered trauma unsettling the rest of your feelings.

Yoongi returns a moment later with the butt plug and lube in his hand and with a solemnly guilty face. Kisses the top of your head in apology, but it’s not enough. Not when you can’t hear your heartbeat. Not when you can’t swallow. Not when your mind is so numbed by the recurring panic that you cannot even hear your mind.

“Don’t do that to me,” you whisper, but the words are firm, piercingly sharp, important and gravely, so much that Jungkook, with sticky hands by his sides, stills next to you.

Yoongi cups your chin, a dominant gesture, but you glare at him—masculine strength being the last thing you need right now. You may have foolishly thought your healing was complete and as much as it knifes you to be proven wrong, it’s the fact you expected more from him that hurts the most, especially after he promised you he’d be here. But maybe it’s foolish altogether, to be in hidden demand of him to tell you of his whereabouts, notably when you never voiced it out for him, not once during the therapy sessions, not once during the course of this perverted adventure—the matter of the gravity of your abandonment issues.

You point your anger at yourself and fall to a dark, dark abyss.

And you pushed yourself there on your own because you were incapable of reminding yourself of Yoongi’s reassurance, mind too blurred, too fucked out to remember.

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m still here. I never left you.”

You nod because he’s right. “I know now. I didn’t remind myself. It’s my fault.” It’s as much of a surprise to your ears as it is to Yoongi’s. He widens his eyes at your honesty before tenderness swims past. “I’m really sensitive right now.”

Jungkook rubs circles on your back with his thumb and you welcome his touch, his warm energy.

Yoongi caresses your face. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. What we’re doing here is pretty overwhelming. But I’m here. I got you.” His words hold the same firmness that yours did and it’s difficult for you to grasp how they’re mending you, how they’re swooping that darkness in their arms and flinging it away from your reach. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not one thing. Let me make it better for you, hm? You want me to make you feel better?”

Emptiness plummets down your body, in place of the darkness and the anger, and the moonbeams in his eyes engulf it, filling it with its pale light. All you can do is nod, too weak to express any other form of affirmation.

Yoongi kisses the place on your cheek beside your ear, slipping inside his words. “Good girl. The best. I’ll make you feel better. I’ll make you happy again, my love.” You sob at the pet name, at the tenderness, at the comforting feeling of Jungkook’s hand on your arm, pulling you back so you lean against his chest, participating in your healing. The round valley of his tattooed bicep nudges you in your cheek as he cages you in and you nuzzle your face into it, hooking both of your hands on his forearm. Musk, forest and wood suffusing your senses, along with a strong dose of safety. “That’s it, lean against him like that. Daddy will help you forget, too. Spread your legs for us.”

You do as he says, needing what he’s promising you—needing it from them both. Maybe then, when it’s from such a vast source, will you get your full healing.

Yoongi squirts a good amount of lube on his fingers, smearing it on your pussy. The coldness of it enlivens you and you lean your head back against the hardness of Jungkook’s chest, pressing your lips against his bulging muscles. And when Yoongi begins to massage your clit in slow circles, the healer tightens his hold around you, hand gripping your shoulders, the other one gliding down your tummy and staying there. Nipples pebbled against his forearm, breasts full and squished, your form safe, tucked, pleasured in the whole enormity that he is—you relax, giving yourself over to the delight of your boyfriend’s fingers.

He sinks two of them inside you, stuffing you to the brim and pausing there. Jungkook sneaks his towards your bundle of nerves, resuming the circles, breaths hot against your scalp, gaining pleasure from pleasuring you, especially so when your healing is the primary goal behind it.

And when Yoongi begins to fuck you, his hand drops from your shoulder and settles over your tit, pinching your nipple between the knuckles of his thumb and forefinger. You cry out and it drives your boyfriend to pump his digits harder—to the point that you can’t see the in and out motion, the pace so fast it becomes a blur.

“Let go, honey, come on, let it go for us,” Yoongi murmurs, putting his whole body into his intention; you would move along with him, too, if Jungkook weren’t holding you so tightly. “You feel so good around my fingers. So tight, so wet. Such a good girl, getting what you deserve.”

Jungkook quickens his circles, gruff groans muffled against your scalp. “You can do it, sweetheart. I know it feels good when we touch you like this.”

Your body drips in sweat and only when Yoongi agrees, pistons his fingers faster into you do you fully let go. Your anger, your trauma, your darkness leaves you in the form of your dew and Yoongi collects it in his hand. Doesn’t stop fucking you, in fact encourages another one and you spill until your wetness overflows from his hand. Eyes rolling back, hips lifting, legs spreading even further apart. Both men praise you, but you can’t hear them—your senses silent.

They come back to you when Yoongi licks his digits clean, swallowing your pain. Doesn’t waste time and turns you around, your sore, sensitive body colliding into Jungkook’s. And like him, he dives into your pussy, licking you clean, not having enough of your darkened taste.

You’re so out of it that you can only focus on the brush of Jungkook’s hand down your hair and the overstimulation that seizes you, that you can’t do anything about other than take it. “Coming so well, so many times for us. You feel better?”

You can’t answer his question, not when Yoongi begins to trace your tiny, virgin hole with his tongue, giving you a new kind of pleasure that you’ve never felt before. Your eyes whisk to the back of your head and Jungkook cradles it, understanding whooshing past his eyes—understanding that you can’t speak, not when you’re experiencing something so extensive. He smiles down at you, squishing your cheeks. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Fuck, you look so pretty.”

Your choked out moans are enough of an affirmation for him. He coos. Then, a squirt of lube. A finger slowly going in. A gasp, a warm breath that Jungkook inhales, feeling it with you. The uncertainty in your eyes that he instantly smooths out. “You can take it. You’re such a good girl, why wouldn’t you be able to take it? Just relax. I got you.” He kisses your nose and you want to weep in joy, so overcome with it all.

Per his reassurance, your round muscle relaxes and sucks him in. And when he begins to fuck you, you can’t contain your sounds. So lewd, so dirty, and Jungkook emboldens you by scrunching up his features, groaning with you, taking breaths with you. You give in, entirely, feel another orgasm coming, but Yoongi rips it away. Wants you to come around the thicker toy.

The coldness of it makes you tremble, although the hunger both of the males awakened in you for it drives you to move your hips back, helping Yoongi insert it in. It takes a few tries, a few ins and outs before you welcome in it, before the fullness enthralls you so much that you become even needier, even more confident and seductive.

Yoongi presents you to his friend, but each movement you make causes you to be more desperate than you’ve been the entire sultry night. Everything is heightened—every touch, every enjoyment of praise, every sliver of attention and all you want is to be fucked. Brutally, ravagedly fucked.

To absorb the sight of you as you’re positioned on your hands and knees, Jungkook begins to make love on the skin of your behind with his tongue. You feel every word of apology compressed into it. For every bruise, for every red splodge, for every acute pain caused, no matter how much you enjoyed it in the moment. It’s just between you and him, shielded by the premise of desire stirred by your adorned tiny hole. And you keep it that way, whimpering for him sweetly, validating it for him. Tucking it safely into every chamber of your heart.

Then, he strokes the flesh, replacing the bad memories with good ones—replacing the past with the present time. Lies down between your legs and pushes your hips down onto your face.

And you ride him. His tongue, his nose. Fondle the kitty ears askew on his head. Let his moans envelop around those chambers of your heart, protecting them. Let his eyes seal your scorching, enchanting femininity with all its spirited confidence. And once he pacifies the grinding movement of your hips and takes control, palming your breasts, lips sucking your clit, tongue toying with it, you come in seconds that are not pathetic in nature, but outright exhilarating.

You lean back against Yoongi, out of breath. He wraps his hand around your throat. “What do you want now, honey? You want to get fucked?”

You hum, the idea clutching your body in tight excitement. “Yes. Badly. Please.”

At your words, Jungkook begins to tug at his length and the needy movement reverberates throughout your entire body. You coo at him, enjoying the view and you get on your knees in front of the couch to watch him, inhaling his sounds like he did yours.

“You want us to take turns? He stops, as if he was seconds away from coming, and you wrap your lips around him, letting him know how much you like the idea—at which he trembles, pulling you away. You grin at him in pure joy. “Like the sound of that?”

“Fuck yes. Please. Both holes.”

Jungkook hisses, round, dark eyes rolling back for a split moment, losing himself—thumb swiping across your mouth once he comes back. “Daddy’s so fucking needy for you. Come here.”

He manhandles you. Like a child he carries you to the dining space and bends you over the table. You turn your head to see where Yoongi is and he slowly swaggers towards you and Jungkook, popping his button open and pulling out his length. Tip red and painfully swollen, length long and hard—longer than you’ve ever seen it—balls tight. And when Jungkook begins to fuck you sluggishly with the butt plug, you grip the wood of the table with all your strength, fingertips white, and watch as it drives Yoongi to fuck his fist.

The same fist he cups under your chin when he reaches you. “Spit.”

And you do—at the same time that Jungkook forces out the silver toy, tongue immediately coming to whirl around the stretched muscle. Like before, as Jungkook fucks you there, Yoongi fucks his fist. The sounds that spill out of all three mouths are simultaneous, creating a harmony fitting just right for the paradise you find yourself in. It’s such a vigor that he eats your ass with—he does it much differently than Yoongi. Hungry and feral, he again buries his face in your ass, squeezing the flesh, before he drills the muscle with fast, strong jabs. You can’t see anything, the pleasure so intense, so darkly intense and heavily pressured that your vision remains perpetually in the back of your head. Your orgasm closes down upon you swiftly, at once, when he rubs your clit with all four fingers, not expecting it at all as no flashes danced across that night-doused canopy of nothingness before your eyes, no body heat nor pressure rose. Jungkook secures your release by slipping the butt plug back in, smacking his mouth in delight. You slump against the table, boneless.

Jungkook takes your arms and pins them behind your back, angling the hot tip of his cock at your entrance. “You ready for this?”

Your yes is but a tweet.

Jungkook hums, breaths hard. “You want this cock?”

This time, your yes is a louder screech, vibrating through the whole apartment.

“Hm, I’m gonna stretch you out for him. Make your hole nice and big for all the cum we’ll dump you with. You’re gonna take it all like the good girl you are, aren’t you?”

Both of your holes, your muscles, your organs clench at his words and you can’t halt the litany of vulgar words and agreement from pouring out. His grip around your intertwined forearms is deathly and when he fills you to the brim, tip kissing your cervix, walls stretching around his thick girth little by little and gives you a singular, hard stroke that shakes the table, you scream so loud that the sound echoes around the room, carrying it out into the feverish night.

Your words are jumbled, a perfect mess, and it takes more than a few tries for you to get them out coherently. “You’re—you’re giving me all of it?” you ask, because if there’s more inches for you to take, you’ll die.

Jungkook chuckles, darkly, lips at your ear, his body heat enveloping yours like a chunky blanket. Sneaks a hand to your hip bone. Sinks a little deeper until his pelvis touches yours, his heat spreading into all of your pores. You gasp. “I’m giving you every.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Inch.” Thrust. “And it’s all yours, sweetheart.”

You’re breathless, weak, and it’s a slow crescendo, the way he begins to roll his hips, the way he straightens and the fresh wind goes for the imprint of sweat of your and his origin on your back, cooling it, though he rips the briskness away almost instantaneously, repeating his hard stroke, the table banging against the wall. Doesn’t give you the time to prepare.

“Can you take it?” he asks, along with that dark chuckle again. Your hands begins to tingle due to the way he’s gripping your wrists, your blood at a standstill. “Can you take us both, huh?”

Brutal thrust. Just what you wanted. He takes you by the throat and presses you against his chest, kissing you with such vulgarity that you moan into his mouth, the fullness you feel only heightening it. He grinds in response, hands descending to your breasts, kneading them, pinching both of your nipples between his knuckles and thumbs. “Pretty fucking girl.”

You whine.

He withdraws, then. Motions over to Yoongi. The loss disappoints you.

A man of his word, Jungkook stretched you enough for Yoongi to easily slip inside you to the hilt. You expect him to give you a few strokes before giving you over to his friend, and you prop your hands on the table to ready yourself for it, for Yoongi’s hunger as he’s the only one who hasn’t felt any pleasure over the course of the adventure.

But Yoongi only grips himself and pulls out.

A thicker length. To the brim. A slender one. And they repeat it until all you can hear is the madness of their aroused laughter, their grunts and their pants. Hands all over you. The feeling is so overwhelming that everything becomes a blur. You don’t know whose hand is touching you, whose mouth is kissing you, whose cock is drilling you, senses ascending to a place beyond the paradise—

And then you feel both of their tips toying with your abused hole, acting, feignedly—drawing in and out, never fully penetrating.

A short-lived moment that causes you to forget who you are.

“Oh, god,” you drawl, slumping against the wood, helpless. They continue to take turns in fucking you fluidly, the symphony of your slick so loud, so filthy to your ears. You’re numb to the point that you don’t peep a sound, disoriented and so adrift in the place beyond paradise that they took you to.

Jungkook takes control once he hears your call for help. Begins to piston his length inside you rapidly until stars take shape across your vision, wrapping a forearm around your neck similarly to the way he did in the middle of your healing, digging crescent moons into your shoulder. Stops your head from knocking back and forth furiously. You feel his sweat drip down his pelvis—and with each hard thrust, its pearls jump over to your skin, trickling down your trembling legs. The pressure in your core is but a heartbeat away from bursting. You sense it—and you sense it vehemently.

“Are you gonna come around my cock or around his, hm? Whose is it gonna be, sweetheart?”

Your body answers him for you, your walls tightening around him so resolutely that Jungkook stills, whimpering onto your neck. You come so hard that there is absolutely nothing else that you hear but that whiny sound—and all you can see is the stars gaining vibrant colors to their pointed shapes, various, various colors that blind you. Colors that, like you, get dumped with hot, ivory, thick cum.

Your orgasm triggered his.

You mewl like a little kitty cat, so pleased that he came in you, so pleased that you felt it, that you felt the twitching of his cock. Pleased that when you gape at him, you can see how spent he is, content and illuminated like those stars.

You want to lick him up. You want to taste that glow on your tongue.

His cum drips out of you when you turn around. Jungkook collects it with two of his fingers and pumps it back inside you. The look you give him is almost predatory, so awfully fierce that he grows faintly timid, post-nut clarity cocooning him in a soft aura, bringing his puppy nature back to him.

You sit back down on the table and spread your legs for your boyfriend, but your gaze remains fixed on him. Blindly, you reach for Yoongi’s hand, drawing him closer, and he happily obliges your silent command. Lines himself up at your entrance and pumps Jungkook’s cum deeper into you.

You let the puppy see the exhilaration springing up your body, tugging the corners of your mouth to each side. The glint in your eyes. The pure joy that you feel. Then, the falling of that expression as it blends into a depiction of your pleasure—furrowed brows, pout, narrowed lids. You don’t take your eyes off of him. Not even for a second.

In fact, you curl your fingers in beckoning. And when he comes to you, you lick a stripe of the sweat coating his defined abdomen, tongue rolling around the valley of his hard muscle. Kiss the skin before you suck it into your mouth, moaning when Yoongi goes all in—fucking you with all of his energy. The taste of his glow only betters the experience, but you don’t think you can come again. You enjoy it, nonetheless.

And when you turn your attention to your boyfriend, deeming he deserves it—Jungkook steals it in typical fashion. “Feels good?” Light, much bigger than yours, covering his eyes. You nod, humming, girlishly so—the sound pitched. “You’re gonna come again? For him?”

You consider it an impossible task, but for him you’ll do anything. “I’ll try.”

Jungkook makes a sound of approval, leans in and kisses you gently. Yoongi turns your chin to him and as soon as your lips touch his, you feel his cock twitch. Unlike Jungkook, he fucks you through his orgasm, groaning loudly into your mouth and you reach to the place, where you’re connected and squeeze his balls, wanting his cum, needing it.

And when Yoongi emerges from his bliss, he smiles at you, breathing out a soft laugh. Features relaxed, drowsy. You give him a smile, too, the same tiredness engulfing you.

Slinking out of you, you discover he came so vastly that his male essence trickles out of you. You graze a finger across your slit and you gather so much of it that as you take your hand towards your mouth, it plops onto your stomach. You giggle, high on the hormones released through your body, high on the happy males watching you, high on life—high on rightness. The joy doesn’t even let you wrap your lips around your finger, adamant on showing them how well they gratified you by keeping them stretched in a dopey grin.

They’re so endeared by you that the same expression graces their faces. Exchanging a single glance, they start at once—picking you up like a child. Yoongi by your legs, Jungkook by your pits and it’s him, the healer, who leads the way to the bathroom, walking backwards hurriedly.

Though promptly, when putting you down, your legs are so sore, so weakened that if it weren’t for their arms, you’d fall onto the tiles. Giggles and obscenities are swallowed by the crooning sound of the streaming hot water in the shower and you sigh so deeply once it touches your skin. It alleviates the ache of your muscles, alleviates the throbbing memory of the last time you were under that burning cascade—especially when Yoongi twists your body, making you face Jungkook; especially when he says the words that quicken your heartbeat.

“Wash her clean.”

Making things right. Erasing that afternoon that ended in blood and bruises.

The wet, puppy eyes you give to Jungkook are enough for him to do as Yoongi says, mirroring your mien, greatly affected by the permission, by the act of something so forbidden untangling its inextricable knot. It happened so suddenly that he doesn’t truly believe he’s allowed to do it, hands shaking by his sides, clenched into fists. It is only when Yoongi begins to shampoo your hair that he’s spurred to do something.

And you help him. With a thudding heart and tight emotion lodged in your throat, you hand him your favorite almond-scented body wash. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you when he spreads the aroma on your sternum. Doesn’t blink once, doesn’t let his eyes wander south to your body—as if it was sacred, as if it was not meant to be looked at with lust in this intimate scenario.

And you don’t feel fire when the heat of his hands glides down your neck, your shoulders and your arms. You feel something else entirely, something you can’t really pinpoint. Something holy, something so immensely heavenly. Maybe it’s brought about by the fact that he doesn’t touch your intimate parts—not your breasts, not your vulva. The only time he comes near to it is when he leads you into his chest and carefully, while peeking down, tries to pull out the forgotten toy. You sense Yoongi’s hands on your backside, watching over, and the feeling of being rid of it is so uncomfortable that you cringe against his pec, squeezing him hard, hugging him with everything in you. Jungkook makes gentle sounds for you, encouraging you and it relaxes your body enough that it lets go of the toy.

Grabbing your shoulders, he studies your emotions. Sees only your same old tiredness and he pecks you, descending onto the tiled floor to cleanse you of your stickiness. Isn’t grossed out by the male essence that isn’t his. Kisses your trembling muscles on the apex of your thigh. Cradles your foot, massages it. The other one, too.

And when Yoongi rinses out your shampoo and the bubbles of your almond body wash, Jungkook tells him, gravely, “Wash her where she needs it.”

You’re so touched by the fact he doesn’t dare to lay a hand there in a non-sexual environment that it doesn’t leave any space for shock to come through. Your finger itches to hook around his, but you take one step further—you slide your hand into his. And like a child, you let yourself be washed in between your legs as Jungkook, like a father, watches over it.

Once you’re clean, the males take their turns. You observe the bubbles, the white foam, their veined hands gliding along their glistening bodies and, alternating, you touch them, helping them in a way. Touch the love bruise upon Jungkook’s abdomen; touch the indistinct happy trail on Yoongi’s. Rinse them off.

Needing to be held, you guide Jungkook’s hands to your waist and fold your arms around Yoongi’s shoulders, but both males think differently. Squishing you in the middle of them, they hug each other, each head buried in each crook of your neck. You feel their hearts beat as one and it nearly lulls you to sleep, its healing beauty soothing you to the point that your lids become heavier. And the three of you stand there, in a cozy, homely embrace, until coldness wraps around you, too.

They let you do your thing on your own.

Once you come out of the shower, Yoongi kisses you and asks you if he should bring you any clothes. You merely shake your head and he leaves it at that, following Jungkook out of the bathroom.

You lather your body in your mango butter in your aloneness. Blowdry your hair. Do your skincare. Note that there aren’t any thoughts in your brain, just deep, content silence swimming around with happy hormones. You’re so grateful for it that you could weep.

To bed, you wear your newest purchase. A pink lacy camisole with matching bodycon shorts. You slide your feet into your fluffy slippers and as you make your way into the living room, you hope with all your heart that Jungkook hasn’t left. You haven’t exchanged many words after the sex and because of that, you knife yourself with the expectation to find only Yoongi lounging around in the sitting area.

Midwalk, you bind it all into a loose braid. Don’t use a tie to seal it. Merely flip your hair back—with the futile wish it would untangle.

And it does when you find the males smoking on the balcony with the door wide open. Jungkook, fully dressed in the outfit he came in. Yoongi, wearing his pants. You let out a quiet breath of relief, stooping to the ground to pick up your robe and the cheese ball, a dreadful twinge in your lower body alarming you. And then, you notice that someone folded your little sheer outfit neatly on the chair.

“I wasn’t able to touch her after you,” you hear Yoongi say, the wholeness of the starry night plating his low pitch. You still your breathing, the perplexity from his words forcing you to whisk your head in his direction. “All I saw was my shortcomings… and—and I didn’t know how to please her anymore because you showed her new things. I felt less than. Unable to be the right person for her sexually.”

Your heart shrinks so much it pains you. Yoongi never told you these things during the therapy sessions. He mainly spoke about the sexual moments at the cabin, but never about the ones after, never about what truly bothered him on his healing journey. He bottled it up. Your throat fills with bile.

“Has what we did tonight changed that?” Jungkook asks, shoulders tense. “We practically did the same things and she was more than pleased.”

Your heart grows back to its full size at the positive mention of you. You rise to your full form, flinging the cheese ball into its empty bowl before folding your robe. Your ears perk in waiting for his answer.

“I think so.” The bile sinks back down, along with the pain coated with sadness. “I also think we should do this again.”

Your mind doesn’t allow your body to exult, knowing the reason why he said it.

He wants to either finish the hidden healing or… check if it has come to an end.

The tension doesn’t ease in Jungkook’s shoulders. “Only if you work hard and focus on her. I’m not consenting to this if you only touch her with me being present.”

Silence in your heart—a skipped beat. You don’t want to hear any more of that conversation. You put away your robe and grab the dishes, washing them in the sink.

No matter how much dish soap you use, you can’t scrub away the healer’s magic off of your hands. It pelts under your skin, to and fro, over and over as you repeat his words in your mind. Gives strength to your fingers as you hold the unusually heavy plates and bowls, the tiredness a hefty burden on your shoulders, weighing you down.

Such a good man. You’re so grateful to know such an extraordinary being like him. A good friend, the best you could wish for Yoongi. A good lover, too—

“I think it’s way bigger and deeper, this relationship and how I feel about it. I can’t help it—” Jungkook’s voice no longer a far-off murmuring, he halts his words at the sight of you. Calls your name. “I thought you were asleep already.”

You turn off the tap water, ignoring the question in your body about the incomplete sentence he uttered while being under the impression you were beyond hearing distance. Think you’ve learned and come about plenty enough of things tonight. You want to go to bed. With both of them.

You don’t say your reasoning behind why you’re here. Deem it’s pointless. “Let’s go to bed.”

You reach out your hand for him, but it is only the wind that encases your palm. You drop it.

A chaos of shoulds and desires swarms in him. You can see it, vividly. “I should go home.”

You’re having your way, you don’t care. “No. Stay.”

Jungkook calls your name again. Yoongi licks his lips, smiling, fondly. Walks towards you and grabs your hand, leading you towards the bedroom. The puppy stays fixed on his feet, not comprehending that you want him to sleep in Yoongi’s bed and not on the couch.

You raise your hand again for him. “Come, you’re sleeping with us.”

Jungkook has gone commando under his jeans. You eye the sliver of minimal hair on his pelvis and before you can ogle his worm, he cups himself.

Unabashedly, you click your tongue in disappointment, even though the recollection of your private decision to have his boxers as a keepsake, approved by him, suffuses your exhausted body in delight.

You get under the sheets, right in the middle, watching as Yoongi hands him his gray sweatpants to wear, holding your breath when Jungkook turns around and you gain a perfect view of his round, toned ass.

You’re certain that man will be the death of you.

Yoongi crawls into the bed, nuzzling into the crooks of your body that he knows well, cuddling to your arm. You hear him inhale the scent of your shampoo. “You smell so good.”

You stroke his forearm with your fingernails, transfixed by the way the waistband of the forbidden pants hangs low on Jungkook’s hips, by his slow, seductive walk that you don’t particularly think he’s doing on purpose. That’s just what makes him him, which worsens it all.

In similar fashion, he lays down beside you, but he doesn’t turn to his side as your boyfriend has done. No, like you, he rests on his back, hands by his body, touching you without meaning to. His warmth environs you, but you notice that a good half of his body isn’t covered by the sheets. You fix it right away, tucking him in—tucking the fabric right under his chin.

He gives you a strange look that makes you giggle. “You want me to burn?”

Oh, men and their body heat. You’ll never grow tired of it—it’ll forevermore fascinate you.

You shush him. “Sleep.” Pinch his nose, deepening his funny scowl. “Goodnight, sweet dreams.”

Yoongi begins to purr beside you and you know he’s halfway on his journey to dreamland. You lay back down, hip to hip with both males, hands on your tummy, your eyes languidly fluttering closed.

A hand on your thigh. You open them fleetingly, surprised at the contact, before they close on their own.

“I’ve missed his purring,” Jungkook whispers, thumb brushing across your smooth skin. Just once. “Haven’t heard it in a while. It’s better than brown noise.”

You laugh, softly, agreeing with him in your heart. Submit to the call of your own dreamland and you turn to your side, facing Yoongi, propping the back of your hand under your chin.

But then Jungkook folds into your form.

Mirrors your position. Arm around you, hand relaxed on the mattress an inch away from your tummy.

It makes you feel funny. It makes you wild, your body gaining the tiniest tendril of energy. You curse him, mentally, although you don’t mean a single word.

You feel his gentle breath fanning the nape of your neck. Along with it arrives the need for him to touch you. You purse your lips, burying your head deeper into the pillow in effort to shake that off and focus on relaxing your body—

“Hyung?”

He hums in response. You curse him, too.

“She didn’t come when you fucked her.”

Your eyes fly open. The audacity this man has—

Tense, tense nothingness. It thrums uncomfortably under your skin.

“Lemme make it right.”

Radio silence in your heart, its profound waves shaking through your entire body, tearing off its drowsiness.

“Okay, Jungkookie.”

Your gasp is so minimal, yet Jungkook feels it. He presses his palm against your stomach, pulling you closer to him. Yoongi turns to his other side, as if giving you the privacy for what Jungkook wants to do to you.

Reposing halfway on his back, halfway on his side, he maneuvers your form to mirror his position. And for the longest time, you both just lay there while Jungkook brushes his fingers along your clothed body. Back and forth, in circles, in peculiar patterns that soothe you. You thought you’d fall asleep this way, but the touches keep your body awake, promising it things in a silent language that it so evidently wants.

And it isn’t until Yoongi begins to snore that you perceive Jungkook waited until he entered his deep slumber. The breath you let out is loud, absorbed by your boyfriend’s much bigger ones, but it makes Jungkook hold your jaw steady as he draws his lips close to your ear.

“I didn’t like that he used you,” he whispers and his words fill your body with something foreign, something that drives your brows to knit, your muscles to clench, for butterflies to stir awake, although you disagree with him. Yoongi didn’t use you. You don’t really think he did. When you motioned him to take his turn, you expected to come again, but your body was so spent that it wasn’t able to do so, which is completely okay in your opinion. “If I fuck a girl and I come first before she does, I don’t stop until she creams all around me. Even if it hurts.”

You remember him pushing you away when you wanted to keep going after he orgasmed. “You don’t like to be overstimulated, though.”

He snickers again, softly and lowly. “And yet I don’t stop.” Both hands on your tummy, he glides them down, towards your hips, towards your thighs before he drags them back up. Lifts up your camisole this time around, getting a feel of your skin. Rubs circles. “I want to make you come like you deserved to. Can I?”

“I came a lot of times. I don’t know if I can.”

Jungkook caresses your bottom lip with his thumb, angling your jaw towards him. “We can try and see if you can.”

We. He kisses your cheek and you pout in his hand. Brain turned off, too numb by all the orgasms, the attention and the affection you’ve received, you take the other one and slide it beneath your shorts. Feel an onrush of freshness in your lungs when he whimpers at the contact of your lips with the pads of his fingers and you move your hips back against him, gaining another sound of similar nature that willingly tempts your madness to return to you.

He’s hard.

You grind your backside against his thick imprint, loving the feeling of it, loving the soft noises he makes as if he was trying to stifle them, but you were making it awfully difficult for him to do so.

“Don’t do that or I’ll cum in Yoongi’s pants.”

Your laugh is feral. Quiet, gentle. An oxymoron that could only belong to his name. To his art. The idea of him coming in your boyfriend’s pants drenches you and he gasps once he discovers it, teasing your entrance.

“You want me to come like this?” he asks and you hum your agreement, his fingers ascending to your clit, stroking it in slow, slow circles. His breath hardens in tandem with yours and he swears. “But I don’t and you will listen to me.”

He pulls out his hand and you whine, catching his wrist, bringing it back where it belongs. On your clothed, now swollen clit. You grind your hips with more fervor, just to work him up, just because you enjoy it and he fists the material of your shorts, stimulating you with the seam, dominating you through and through.

You merely beam at him, illuminating the room, fisting his cock. “Don’t stretch out my new shorts.”

“Don’t provoke me and we’ll reach an understanding,” he retorts, swirling his tongue around the bone of your jaw before he kisses it. Responding to it, you grind your pelvis back, angling your hips so his cock fits just right in between your cheeks. He tuts in disapproval, shifts a little bit more to his side nonetheless, pulling you flush to his body. “No, other way sweetheart. Grind your pussy against it.” You try it, placing your hand on top of his, unsure and he helps you, guiding your hips with his, grinding upwards, as if he was fucking you. You mewl at the pleasure permeating your veins and with his free hand, he clamps your mouth shut. “Yes, that’s it.” He tightens his hold on your shorts, hoisting it higher. “Feels so good like this, doesn’t it?” You nod, your noises loud, only slightly muffled by his clammy hand. He shushes you, breath hot against your ear. “You gotta be quiet. We don’t wanna wake Yoongi up, do we?” You shake your head ‘no’, squeezing your hold on his hand. Jungkook lets go of your shorts and slides beneath them again, fingers spreading your new arousal on your clit. You squeak again, terribly sensitive and turned on, bound in his arms. “I told you to be quiet. Do you know what happens to girls who don’t listen?”

You’re glad to hear he didn’t add “to me”, for some deranged reason and for that, you don’t peep a sound.

“They get punished,” he answers for you and you can’t stop the moan from escaping your throat, the idea of getting punished by him again making you utterly, utterly delirious.

He strains his fingers around your mouth until it hurts, but that’s not the reason why you draw it away. You do it so you can speak. “Teach me a lesson, please. I need it.”

You wish you could see his reaction, but the darkness keeps it to itself. You can only hear the sharp inhale of breath he takes—and you can feel the twitch of his cock against you that divulges to you that he’s gone mad just the same.

While silence takes place, he drags your shorts down to your thighs, the tight cotton preventing you from spreading your legs. He moves you so you lay on your back and from this position, you sense Yoongi’s body heat and the lift and fall of his chest, though he still remains facing you with his back. Jungkook lifts your camisole until your breasts are exposed. And then, he props the back of your head on his bicep, clamping your mouth back shut. He looks down at you and you can only slightly make out his features. The glint of his lip ring irradiates him. Mercifully.

You want to kiss him so bad.

“How does Yoongi punish you, hm?”

The question shocks you, coaxes out a string of your arousal to drop down your clenched thighs. Whilst he waits for your answer, he grazes his palm down your sternum, your stomach, your mound. Leaves it there.

It’s your body that responds out of its own will, not your brain. You can’t, for the life of you, think. He allows you to speak. “With his words. His cock. And… with pussy spanks.”

Jungkook hums. Puts the covers out, revealing you to himself. “Show me how he spanks you.” Your hand trembles as he lifts it. He brushes his thumb across your knuckles while he places it on your cunt, taking control of that expression of nerves. Wraps the other hand around your throat.

When your fingers collide with your clit, you hiss in sensitivity. Decide you will only show him this way. You can’t take any more. “Like this. Gently, but firmly. So it doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t like to cause me pain.”

He exchanges your hand with his and spanks you. With bigger firmness than Yoongi ever used. You arch your back, not expecting it with your dumb brain. He pinches your right nipple between his knuckle and thumb, making you moan softly, not having enough and enveloping it with his mouth, sucking briefly before he swirls his tongue around the nub. Your wetness rushes out, along with your noises that you’re just so incapable of stopping. You grip his hair on the back of his head and in response he flicks the muscle. Your hips buck, asking for attention.

Jungkook withdraws, stares you dead in the eye. “I’m punishing you for making a sound and yet you do as you please?”

You swear, eyes wide. “I’m sorry.”

He spanks your clit. “Sorry what?”

Remembrance flashes through your mind. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Hm, that’s right.” He rubs your clit rapidly. Spanks it again. Your moans come out in strained breaths. “That was for the curse word. Say you’re sorry.”

But then, you can’t help but mewl at his fatherliness. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

He pecks you, deeply. For the title, for your good manners or perhaps to silence you—you don’t know. “How sorry?”

His fingers find your clit again, strumming it, lips moving against you in a passionate kiss. Your brain malfunctions. “So sorry,” you whisper onto his mouth, gripping his hair.

He spanks you, softly, for pleasure, then continues. “You won’t say it again?”

“No.”

A sound of approval. “Good girl.” He sinks his middle finger inside you as far as your restrain allows him, fucking you slowly. The pressure of delight begins to build in you. “One more?”

“Yes, please, Daddy.”

Ring finger joins in, instantly. “Such a good girl. I love hearing you say that.” He jackhammers into you a few times before he stills, thumbing your clit. The fullness, the stimulation on your most needy part—it’s enough to make you come and you feel it chasing you again, nearing and nearing. “I want to fuck you like this with my fingers and have that toy on your clit. The one we used the last time. Keep the setting low, so it wouldn’t wake him up.”

A curse word rises on your tongue, but with the last brain cell you have—you swallow it down. You’re tiptoeing before the edge, knot tight in your tummy, pressure so enormous, and you tell him. “I’m gonna come.”

He lifts his thumb. “Hold it.”

You panic, faintly, standing still before the edge, face to face with your orgasm, close, terribly close. “I can’t.”

Jungkook shifts. “You will.” Bends you in half while keeping his fingers inside you, mouth latching onto your soaked cunt.

Takes control of your orgasm as he begins to toy with it, building it little by little with sluggish circles on your clit with the tip of his tongue. Then, he wraps his lips around it, nibbling on it and resumes the movement of his fingers, fucking you steadily.

The pleasure is so new, so different that you feel as though you’re levitating in heavenly places. You grind your hips against him, meeting him, but briefly. When he sucks your clit, he stills your motions and spreads shakes across your entire body. “Come for Daddy, sweetheart.”

He flicks his tongue—and you do. You come so violently for him that you grip his hair with all your might, surprised that he isn’t wincing in pain. And he doesn’t stop.

He keeps going until all that’s left of you is nothing but the cordiality of your high and those shudders, licking you up, devouring all that you’re giving him, wet fingers spread on the back of your thighs.

Then, he sets your legs down, straddles you and kisses you nastily. Makes you taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue and he enjoys the principle of it all. Enjoys giving back to you what you leaked for him. “I could have you come on my tongue all night.” He pecks you, swirls his tongue around yours. “You kept quiet through it all. Good girl. You learn so well.”

You’re speechless, satisfied, sensing something approaching you that you fail to understand. Something bigger than attachment, but smaller than feelings. Connected to his healing gift or perhaps invented from it. Something that’s smack dab in the middle, growing in you, and you submit to it, unafraid of it.

A certain desire fraternizes with it. You push at his shoulder, wanting him on his back. As if he senses what it is, he stays put. Solid as a rock. In both ways.

But you’ll have your own.

You tug the waistband of Yoongi’s sweats down his hips and grasp him in your hand, spreading his thick arousal down his length. Jungkook’s breath shakes, but his words don’t. “When did I tell you you could do that?”

You grab him with both hands, squeezing him. He hisses, muscles bulging along his arms on either side of you. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Can I?”

He coos. “Only because you’re so well-mannered.” Nods at you. “Keep going. Make your Daddy feel good.” Your Daddy. The fire it sparks in you, you put its wholeness into your movement—jerking him off, twisting your wrists, using all of your strength. “Hands off.” He spits on his head, the trail long and delicious to your eyes and you’re quick, you’re desperate, to resume and make him come, ache pressing down on your pussy all over again.

The slickness, his stifled noises, the snug warmth—you understand all of a sudden how he’s able to feel your pleasure because you’re experiencing it. You are pleasured because you’re pleasuring him. But still, you want more. You press him against your clit. “Fuck my hands like this, please.”

He repositions your hands. Slides them lower on his length, so his tip can stimulate your bundle of nerves. And when he begins to thrust, you’re transfixed.

By the roll of his hips, the clenching of his abdominal muscles, the evident delight overwhelming his body. You can’t take your eyes off of him. Especially not when he lets his guttural vocality loose.

You smile. “You should be quiet.”

He laughs down at you, softly. It vibrates in your core. He kisses you, humming into your mouth. “You’re right, but it feels so good like this. Doesn’t it feel good on your pussy?”

You nod, biting his lip, angling your head and devouring his mouth, plagued by his arousal, by his pleasure, by his response to your little slyness. He fucks your hands faster, gliding across your clit, not lasting for a moment longer. He shoots out his hot cum onto your tummy, cock twitching in your hands, his noises muffled by your mouth.

And he remains there. Even as he fingers you so fast that you come in seconds. Even as he takes those drenched digits, collects his male essence and plunges them into your mouth. “‘Atta girl. So good for me.”

He cleans your folds and thighs with his tongue. Dresses you, like a child. Fixes your camisole. Puts the covers back on you and spoons you.

Yoongi remains soundly asleep. You succumb to slumber faster than you came but before you do, it’s Jungkook’s words that lead you to that dreamland. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”

In the morning, you wake up first. And the sight you see is so profoundly beautiful that you take a moment to gape at it, folding it into your heart.

Jungkook drools in his sleep. Celestial countenance, tousled hair in all directions, broad chest lifting and falling in absolute tranquility. He twists his features for a split second, as if he was dreaming about something uncomfortable and you’re so affected by it that you look away.

Turn your gaze to your boyfriend instead.

Still snoring, mouth parted. Ebony hair brushed back, exposing his forehead. The corners of his lips tug up and stay and you think angels must be playing with him in his dreams. You kiss his arm, crawling back, painfully, until your feet hit the floor.

You take a long, long shower. Practice your gratitude, recollecting last night’s events and words spoken by Jungkook that weren’t as private as he thought. Hearing them, they were too fresh to be consumed, but now that you think about them—your own smile finds your lips and you agree with him in your heart. You can’t let him walk away after this. Can’t let him return to his normal life that exists without you, not when you’re something along the lines of attached to him. Hell, you can’t return to your own normal life without him. Without his touch, without his celestiality. Without his attentiveness and healing gift.

This has to be a continuous relationship.

Jungkook was the one who called it that way and it feels right. Even as you taste it on your tongue, it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever swallowed. It fills your body with verve, one that you deem is essential at this point. One that you will need every single day from now on.

You have to talk about this with Yoongi. The idea doesn’t scare you, despite the fact you can’t really picture his reaction. Can’t imagine which way it will gravitate towards—whether to light or to dark. You don’t mind at all, in fact you look forward to it and you wash your body with greater care than you ever handled it with before.

With a face mask on, you take your cosmetic bag and do your makeup in the living room. The sunlight spills in, kissing your ebullient mien, and you imprint its red marks with a touch of blush across your cheeks, its lovely color with glitter on your eyelids and you finish the job with a few brushes of mascara upon your lashes and a singular swipe of a glimmering lip gloss on your lips.

It is only then that Jungkook appears in front of you.

“He still sleeps like a bear.”

You’re so happy to see him that it manifests on your face.

“Don’t try to wake him up or you’ll get eaten.”

Placing your cosmetic bag on his lap, he sits beside you. “I wouldn’t dare.” Examines your face for a good moment. “Why are you putting this on? You don’t need it.”

“I enjoy it,” you say, watching fondly as he takes out each makeup product and scans them. Once he comes across your tiny tubes of glitter of various shades, light flickers in his eyes. Your heart does the same thing. And a somersault right after.

“You wear glitter?”

You nod, a precious, girlish smile stretching your glossy mouth. “I’m wearing it right now.” You close your eyes for him, letting him see the small sparkles, resplendent of the sun. He praises you, the word ‘pretty’ embracing you tightly in all its snug simplicity, forcing your eyes open. A brighter spark shines in his irises. You brim with the yearning to doll up his eyes to match it and, having your way as always, you steal the tubes from him. “Which one do you want?”

He doesn’t even fight you. As a matter of fact, he’s already decided. Doesn’t waste a second to reply. “The silver one.”

Excitedly, you quiver all over. Dab the applicator on the back of your hand and lift your sight to catch him smiling cutely at you like the puppy he is. Your hand itches to ruffle his hair. Grab his cheek and bite into it. Go for his nose next.

Whirling the pad of your finger on the splatter of glitter, you hover it above his lids. “Close your eyes.”

He listens, immediately. You pat the imitation of his glint across that soft skin, but you focus on that beautiful, pouty smile of his. Think you’ll save his lips for last and savor them as you eat them.

You swipe your finger for more and adorn his other eye. Take the rest and speckle it on the highest points of his cheekbones—this time with his attention all on you.

You lean back to observe your artwork and find that something is missing. You know right away what it is.

You dab the applicator on his cupid’s bow and drag it down his collarbones. Take care of that first before you move over to his lips. You blend it there with utmost care and he lets you, zeroining his gaze into yours. Deep, but gentle. Loving.

To finish it, you kiss him. And it’s not because you were driven by your emotions or by that stare of his. You do it because you want to. Kiss him again, so the highlight is perfectly blended.

He’s puzzled when you draw away, but you’re not unnerved by it. You’re firm and stable in your decisions, happy in the outcome, any hints of repercussions or doubts far, far away from you. In another world, in another galaxy. It has long forgotten your name and you’re glad for it.

“We shouldn’t do this.”

There he goes with ‘we’ again. It makes you weak.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” you say, soothingness coating your voice, penetrating his negative emotion to the point that he relaxes. Before he can say anything, you continue. “I heard what you said last night. To Yoongi. That this relationship is way bigger and deeper.” Surprise and timidity bleeds into the glitter on his face and he’s unable to look you in the eye. You grab his palm, holding it with both of your hands in your lap. “I agree with you. I feel it, too. This wasn’t just a one time thing. I don’t think it was ever meant to be just for one night.”

There’s rawness to your words that make him reciprocate your eye contact. He gnaws at his lips, as if to eat away his nerves. You squeeze his hand harder and are about to continue, but the creak on the hardwood floors stops you.

Yoongi. With his wrinkled face and puffy, but awake eyes. In a pair of boxers and nothing else. You stand up to your feet, dropping Jungkook’s hand, and you go to meet him halfway, but you don’t make it far. The soreness between your legs won’t let you.

He grins at you, wrapping his arms around you. “Can’t walk?” His taunt is loving and scrunch your face at him. “Good morning, honey.”

You kiss his bare chest. “Good morning.”

Yoongi moves over to Jungkook and places a hand on his shoulder. “Sleep well?”

Wet softness in his eyes. “The best sleep of my life.”

“So, I want two boyfriends.”

While Yoongi made coffee for all three of you, you were more than happy to make breakfast. Scrambled eggs on avocado toast—one that Jungkook chokes on upon hearing your words and one that flings out of Yoongi’s mouth because he bursts into a violent laughter.

You laugh along with him—so hard that tears well in your eyes, slapping your palm down repeatedly on the round wooden table. Yoongi mirrors your movement on Jungkook’s back as he fights for his life, red in the face, eyes wide.

“What did you say?” the puppy croaks out, bewildered, letting go of his bread and you feel terribly bad for him, for shocking him so enormously.

The decision came upon you suddenly while you cooked. Easy, smooth. Appeared on your heart that sprang it up to your mind. Gave it pros and cons—good friendship, good sex, good time; Yoongi might get jealous and/or possessive, nothing else. It made sense to you, grazed your attachment ever so sweetly. How else would you keep last night continuous? Even Yoongi went around the matter when he talked Jungkook’s head off, asking him if he’d been with other people after you.

Boyfriend simply means that. No other people—just you and Yoongi.

You weren’t going to keep it to yourself. Even if there was a risk of it going downhill.

It’s not relief that you feel upon hearing Yoongi laugh—it’s a river of liberation, concocted with absolute joy, coursing in your bloodstream. He woke up in a good mood. Woke up happy. And you fold that fact into your heart, hoping it stays for a long time.

“Eat your toast, silly,” you say, smiling, eyes crinkled. Take a bite of your own. Happy that Yoongi is happy, happy that you’re eating your favorite fruit, sitting again at the table with your two favorite people. “You heard me.”

“Oh, fuck,” is all Jungkook says, whisking his eyes to Yoongi, who’s chuckling, bending down to pick up the piece of toast he was in the middle of chewing.

You look at him, too, waiting for his response.

Yoongi brushes his hair back, a lazy smile on his mouth. “I think it’s a fantastic idea.”

You grin so hard that your cheeks hurt. The river in you speeds its stream. “Thank you,” you exclaim, rubbing his arm, quivering with excitement. “I say we mess around and have a good time. We can go on dates.”

Jungkook relaxes a little bit, furrowing his brows as he chews on his toast.

“She wanted two cocks, don’t tell me you didn’t expect this,” Yoongi says to his friend, patting your thigh. “I did.”

Perhaps that’s why he had such a hard time in all of this. He knew it was inevitable—and he worked his way through it until he ended here. Fine with it. Healed.

“When did that happen?” you ask, sliding your hand down to his.

“When I decided the first time I was gonna give it to you. Then, again when I promised you we were gonna make this work,” he says and you pout at him, so grateful, so touched. He squeezes your thigh, looking at Jungkook. “I can see your questions all over your face. Out with them.”

Jungkook has finished his toast, brows still furrowed as he swallows. He leans back in his chair, manspreading, hands intertwining behind his head. Pokes a tongue in his cheek, smirking. “Don’t kill me for this, but,” he starts, showing his teeth. “Do I get to have her to myself? Without you? And vice versa?”

Your heart beats ferociously in your chest. Yoongi pauses for a moment, thinking about it. He let him do it last night, he let him have you to himself, though under different circumstances. You figure what Jungkook meant is whether he can fuck you without asking for permission and the idea exhilarates you.

And the vice versa part. Jungkook is one sly—

“It won’t be instant, but we’ll work hard. Work our way through it until we’re all comfortable and happy,” Yoongi finally says and you kiss his hand.

You’re so overwhelmed with joy that your blood buzzes.

Jungkook nods. “Of course, I understand.”

“Is this something you want?” Yoongi directs the question at you and you nod.

“Yes, once you’re ready.”

Silence settles like fine dust. You finish your toast quietly and as soon as you’re done, you deem Yoongi should know about what happened in the late hours. “We didn’t fuck last night. While you slept. It didn’t even cross my mind and I wouldn’t do it unless I had your… blessing.”

Yoongi cackles at your choice of word. “Good girl,” he praises. “You’ll get your blessing soon. I promise.”

You look at him for a long time and you wonder if there’s anything he wouldn’t do for you.

“So, it’s settled, then,” Jungkook says and places a hand on the table, opens it for you. You grab it and he squeezes you. “Let’s celebrate.”

BACK to masterlist / READ part one, READ part two, READ part three

#jungkook x oc #yoongi smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot #yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine

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golbrocklovely · 6 months

Text

cultish love // colby brock

A/N: first off, so sorry for this being so late, i had a lot of things i had to edit about this fic. also this is my longest fic ever ! like the other fic before this, this is a AU version of colby… where he, you guessed it, is a cult leader. and he is also corrupt (but like aren't all cult leaders). again this deals with some possible heavy themes, so give a good read of the trigger warnings before reading ahead. i've always joked about colby being able to lead a cult, and that's basically where this idea came from. this fic also took a turn i wasn't expecting, but i like it anyway. also the first half is written as a journal entry (all italized) and then the rest is an actual fic (not italized). lmk what you think, and happy haunting !

prompt: you're a journalist, and your next big story is on the 'empathic love' cult, led by none other than colby brock. this cult is not known well, but you are getting a first hand look at them and what they do. and quickly, colby takes a liking to you. || fem!reader x AU!cult leader!colby brock

trigger warning: SMUT, no actual sex but you do get mentally fucked (it will make sense in the story), cult vibes all around, love bombing, cursing, supernatural powers, colby is very intense and kinda scary but also still his charming self, slight dubcon similar in vain to sam's story - you never say no outright, but you do have general feelings of 'wtf is this, idk if i like' so if that's too much for you, feel free to read something else :), colby's aura is crazy good at giving you visions, strangers-to-soulmates?? don't know if that's a tag lol, also…. colby's technically bisexual in this????? but like barely

word count: 8610

I've been a reporter for only five years, and this story.... it could make or break my career. Cults aren't as prevalent as they once were way back when. They still exist, just in the shadows. A lot quieter on most fronts. Usually disguised as a business or religion, for tax reasons of course. But this cult, Empathic Love, is unlike any cult I've heard of.

Of course, they don't call themselves a cult, but that's what they are. How else would you describe a bunch of randos following one man around wherever he goes?

They only started so many years ago, right before I graduated university. The main founder, Colby Brock, is a pragmatic individual, according to his followers. The cult began blowing up in my town a little over two years ago, and now people flock from all over the world to visit the Love Compound. You would think it's Disney World the way people grow excited about it.

But I am here to get to the truth of this cult. What is their motive? What are they planning to do? Will this be another Waco or Heaven's Gate? What sinister beliefs hide underneath the modern-day hippie aesthetic they show?

These notes will document everything I experience for the next couple of days. And in case I go missing, these are my proof of who's to blame.

I don't think it will go that far, but you can never be too sure.

~~~~

Day 1 - Investigation

I'm still incredibly surprised I was allowed to come onto the Love Compound. The leader himself apparently reached out to my boss and told them that they wanted someone to come down and interview the group. They allow visitors from time to time, "new recruits" as some of the townspeople call them, but reporters have never been allowed in. Not once. Until me.

Driving up to the compound was nerve-wracking. I never imagined I would be nervous; I've interviewed plenty of criminals in my years, have done full blown investigations into scary, horrifying crimes. But something about this place freaked me out. Partially because I didn't know what I was getting into. But another part of me, and I will never admit this out loud, felt... at home.

The only promise I made to myself was I wouldn’t drink any kool-aid while there. So, I plan to stick to that. Pretend my previous statement never existed.

I was greeted by a beautiful woman when I got there: Avery. No one went by last names. And some apparently changed their names altogether, which was not surprising. My guess is there were most likely criminals hanging out amongst the group. But I had no proof of that, just a hunch. It easily could be a safe haven for those wanting to escape whatever life they had before.

The compound was three Victorian style mansions connected to each other and had a decent size farm attached - about 222 acres. Avery told me about all of the vegetables and chickens they farmed. Everything was organic and used up as often as possible. Anything that couldn't be eaten or produced too much for the only 100ish people in the compound, was sold at the farmer's market or given away to the local food bank. Avery explained to me very clearly that everyone in the compound chipped in one way or another. Some still worked normal jobs, but just lived here with everyone. But she noted that Colby hoped in the near future no one would have to work at all and they would be self-sufficient in a couple years.

A cult with future plans? Almost unheard of.

I told Avery that I was given an all-access pass to ask anything I wanted to, and nothing I asked could be ignored or deflected. She agreed to an interview. I recorded all of it, but here are the highlights of what I gathered.

I asked her why Colby was such a secretive man. There were very few photos of him that did exist out there, but all that was rumored about him was his alluring eyes and generally attractive presence. She agreed that he was handsome, describing his as having "ocean blue eyes" and his voice was to die for. "Deep and arousing", as she explained.

I noted that she seemed almost lost in thought at the idea of him, like she was envisioning him directly in front of her. Strange behavior; but not for a cult follower. Many end up falling in love with their leader, believing they have a genuine relationship with said person.

I bought up the name of the group, Empathic Love, and said it felt a little too inviting. She laughed and told me that it was right on the money - the best way to describe why everyone was there. She expressed to me that so many of Colby's followers wanted peace and love and light, and that being in this group felt like that. It was rewarding to be surrounded by those that cared and wanted to see each other succeed. Life outside the walls of the compound was rough, scary, draining; but inside, it was all love.

Call me cynical, but I don't believe that for a second. It took all the strength I had to keep from rolling my eyes at her. But I could tell from her voice, her motions... she was telling the truth. Well, her truth.

I wanted to know what brought her here, so she spoke of her previous life. She was abused growing up, moved around a lot in foster care. She was almost homeless, and then one day she ran into Colby. He had just begun the Empathic Love group, and she just knew she had to stick with him. Her life immediately turned around the moment he was in her life. The adoration in her eyes told me a different story, so I pressed her - "are you and Colby... together?" She smiled and said no, but she knew that they were life partners before, just not currently.

Oh... so it's one of those types of cults.

She said that Colby doesn't have a second in command, wife, girlfriend, whatever. Everyone is equal and heard. He's just the face of the group, which is a bit ironic given even I have no clue what he looks like. I knew he was young, in his mid-20s. But other than that, no idea.

I needed to know, why stay? What keeps you here? A dreamy look came over her, like she had said this a million times before: "Colby. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Chills ran up my spine at the tone of her voice. It was dull, and her words sounded like a mantra, the way she said them so easily.

I wrapped up my interview with her, quiring if I was allowed to interview others. She said yes and began sending over random people one-by-one to me.

If I hadn't gotten chills from her first, I would have from everyone else. Something about seeing everyone saying similar things, smiling happily, like the ship isn't sinking around them was eerie. It made my stomach churn when I would ask questions I already asked Avery, and get almost the same speech back.

I interviewed about 15 people. All variety of ages and genders. I suddenly realized that there were no children around, and everyone was over the age of 21.

Consenting adults… minus the supposed brainwashing.

A couple of the interviewees stuck out to me:

Penelope, 25. Her upbringing was similar to Avery's, but she still kept in contact with her family. Apparently, she wasn't the only one like that either. Many still kept in touch and even visited their loved ones. I asked her to describe Colby, tell me anything about him. She giggled, almost like a schoolgirl, and began to weave such a story about him. He was kind and caring. His smile was contagious, just like his laugh. And his singing voice was fantastic. She talked about him like he was a boy band member, and she was his biggest fan. I asked her to give one word to describe him, and she said "Love. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Greg, 36. He had fallen into rough times, and desired a fresh start. He had heard about this group online, and figured checking them out while he was in town wouldn't hurt. And that was a couple years ago. I wondered why he didn't feel weird listening to someone that was younger than him, and he shrugged. It was nice not having eyes on him. He loved being in a wallflower, and he believed that Colby deserved all the love he got from everyone in the group. Every ounce he got was ten-folded back into the group. Greg had never felt so connected to a group of people and he knew it was all thanks to Colby. "He brought love into my life like I never have had it before. Because that's who he is: love."

Heather, 29. She mentioned how for most of her life she felt like shit. Her confidence was at an all-time low when she met Colby. He encouraged her to keep at it, to love herself and find happiness everywhere. And by spending more and more time with him, she did. She has never felt more confident about herself, her life, her direction, and Colby is the reason for that. The tone that took over her voice when she bought him up was odd. It was very similar to a partner describing the love of their life, almost like wedding vows. I asked her haphazardly about her love life, how that was going for her. And she told me she had been on many dates - something she never used to do back when she was younger or before Colby. But she did note that regardless of who she ends up with, she knows that a part of her heart will always belong to Colby. They were connected, forever. "Love and light and happiness is what I desired, and I got it - all because Colby exists in my life now."

It felt like I was getting nowhere with some of these interviews. Many said the same thing, Colby being love and light and blah blah blah. I wanted someone that wasn't gonna just quote to me whatever mantra he made them learn. And luck was on my side, because I was able to interview their newest member, Ash. They were 23, and very beautiful. There was an almost smugness about them, like they knew they were the shiny new toy on the block. The confidence only a young 20-something year old could have.

I asked them, point blank, about Colby. Be brutally honest. They told me he was hot, and that's what drew them to him. They liked the idea of living in a group setting, especially since they grew up with many brothers and sisters. They liked helping out, and they liked knowing that Colby was keeping an eye on them the most recently. I then followed up with how long it took for them to join the group. "Three days. That's how long it takes for everyone."

I questioned them about the "Colby is love" thing, and they agreed it was a bit strange, but they couldn't help but feel the same way as everyone else. They were like a moth to a flame when it came to him. Everything about him was hypnotizing, entrancing. It was like staring at the sun; even though you knew to look away, you just couldn't help it.

Then I had to know: were they sleeping with him? Most of these cults feed off of the leader fucking every person they wanted to and leaving other members high and dry. But for some reason, it felt as if Colby was sleeping with everyone with the way they all talked about him. Ash dissented, saying no one was sleeping with him. He didn't sleep with any of his followers. But they all shared a deep, sensual mental connection with him. They felt like, sometimes, he was in their soul. And that sensation alone was euphoric, bordering on orgasmic. They also knew that in another life, they would have been together, similar to what Avery said.

It was then I knew that this group was clinically insane, or just really infatuated by what Colby was selling. It had to have been some crazy brainwashing. But it was odd; people were allowed to leave, to see loved ones, to have lives outside of the compound walls. Hell, some had dating lives that included those not here! That's unheard of, and completely stupid on Colby's part if he wants to keep things going.

A cult leader that wanted to watch his world implode.... I had to meet him. I had to meet the myth that was Colby Brock. And tomorrow I get my chance to.

~~~~

Day 2 - Interview with Colby

I feel the need to explain that these are my notes, not really meant for anyone else to see. And really, the only reason anyone would be seeing this is if I disappear or got murdered.

So, I say all of that just so I know, for myself, that this is a safe space for me to express my truest emotions and thoughts after interviewing Colby.

And all I can say, honestly, is that... I get it. I understand it now.

I felt my nerves hit their break last night before going to sleep, unable to stop my mind reeling from what was to come. I ended up bringing along a bodyguard, or really a photographer. I had known Trey since I started working as a journalist, and I knew I could rely on him to get us out of the Empathic Love compound if anything went south. I wasn't sure what I was up against when I went to interview Colby, but God... I didn't think I was so underprepared.

I met him in his office, Avery walked me over to it. It was up in the attic of the third house. It overlooked the entire property with wide windows. For an attic, I expected it to feel dark and dusty, but surprisingly it was light and airy. Almost like being out in the woods and taking a deep breath.

Colby was sitting in his main office chair. He spun around to see us, a light smile on his face. I'll be honest - I was taken aback by his beauty. I understood Ash's whole spiel about him being attractive and looking at him was like looking at the sun. It was intense. He was intense. His blue eyes bore into me, almost like they could see through me. I felt chills, but they weren't of fear. It was out of... excitement, of awe.

He greeted me, giving me a warm handshake. I hate to admit that I almost blushed at the sound of him saying my name. I had to take a couple deep breaths before starting. Avery left the room, and Trey sat outside the door, in case of backup.

I recorded our interview, knowing that I couldn't keep track of everything he said. But listening back to it now, his voice.... it's like a song. A beautiful, spellbinding song. I could almost fall asleep to it....

I asked him about his life, and how he came to be a leader for a group like Empathic Love. He spoke of his upbringing lightly, barely scraping the surface. He talked about growing up pretty normally, having a loving family, a great friend group, and then one day realizing that he could make a change in the world. That many people loved him and loved being around him. And that's when he knew that if he could make their lives better, he would. So, he started Empathic Love. Originally, it was just gonna be a safehouse for those that needed it. But then more and more people joined and suddenly, it grew into what it was today.

I asked where his family was now. "In Kansas," he told me. He said nothing further than that.

He humbly spoke of all the love he received from his followers, or his "friends" as he put it. They all cared about him in a way that he only wished he could return tenfold. I questioned him about the whole "Colby is love" thing. "How come everyone says almost the exact same thing, like they've been brainwashed into saying it?" He didn't even trip over his words as he spoke matter-of-factly to me. "I didn't come up with that phrase, they did. You would have to ask them. I take it as the highest form of a compliment, truly. I'll be honest, it's a bit embarrassing at times when they call me that, but I can't help what they do. I appreciate their love, nonetheless."

I continued asking him about different topics, until finally reaching the one I was most intrigued about. "How many of your followers - excuse me - friends, have you slept with?" He smirked, smirked, at me and said "None. Did any of them tell you that we slept together?"

"No, but the way they talk about you like the sun shines out of your ass does seem a bit odd, don't you think?"

He looked unphased. God, he had an answer for everything. "I'll be honest with you, some of my friends might be in love with me. But I make it abundantly clear that while I love them, and love their love, I don't have feelings for them. I'm still looking for the one."

I remember holding back a glare, "So, you're celibate?"

"Now, I never said that." He let out a chuckle, then his eyes darkened. "Why do you care so much about my sex life? Unless of course, you want to join it."

I tried ignoring his gaze and his words but stuttered through my next question. “Then who exactly is the right one for you, if it's not one of your followers or friends?”

It took him a while to answer, he even closed his eyes for a bit. He sat up once he knew, sauntering over to his window that overlooked it all. "I imagine the one for me is someone that will bring peace to me and my life. Someone that for all my faults, can see who I am truly deep down. She will love me, and I will worship her. I will show her what true love feels like. Our souls will be one, because they always have been."

Something strange came over me. I don't know why I said it, but I uttered, "What about looks?"

Who cares about looks! Why did I ask about looks? I was a serious journalist, not a reporter for Star Magazine!

He looked over his shoulder at me, "Looks aren't that important to me. What matters is mind and soul. Who you are deep down. But if I had to pick… someone like you. I feel someone like you would be a perfect fit around here."

I wanted to give him the sassiest voice and rebuttal I could muster, but deep down I was shaking. Energy raced through my body, like I had been electrified.

He kept his back to me, staring out the window. “I'm not trying to be overly complimentary. I'm just being honest. But I can tell that you would do so well to have us around. To have... me, in your life. I bring a lot of love to people's lives, that's for sure. But I also bring a lot of drive, and passion, and intimacy.”

Intimacy?

“People open up when I'm around. They tell me everything, even things they never dreamt of telling another person. And I allow it, because clearly, they needed to express it. And once they do, it's like the floodgates open. Love and light just start pouring into them, into their life, and it's overwhelming - but so worth it. Doesn't that sound nice?”

I guess so...

“I bring happiness to so many. My friends have told me that they get jittery around me, I'm like a shot of adrenaline. And that energy, that power, courses through them. And when it gets expressed, it comes out in…” He took a long pause, turning back to me. The look in his eyes… I can remember it as if he was still in front of me. “Pleasurable ways.”

I hate admitting this, and it's embarrassing to say it even now, but I felt a jolt of... something, run through me. I won't even say what it was out loud, in fear of never being taken seriously again. But what happened after that, I don't know if words can even express it well.

Colby continued talking, but I couldn't pick up on any of it. He was talking up a storm, but I couldn't help the sensations I was feeling. Even in my wildest of fantasies, I've never felt anything in reality. It was all in my mind. But in that very moment, it felt like it was happening to me.

I felt lips tread up my neck, stopping just below my ear. A hot, low moan breathed into my ear. My spine tingled at the sound, my hands gripping the armrests of the chair. If I didn't know any better, I would think Colby was behind me, making those noises. My hands suddenly felt hands on top of them. My eyes widened, looking down, but nothing was there. I couldn't really move my arms once the invisible hands were there. My whole body felt numb and heavy, relaxed. My mind was the one on edge, worried as to why I was feeling all of this.

I hadn't eaten or drank anything at the compound. Maybe it was being poured into the room by the vents? I don't know, but something was making me feel this way.

The invisible hands drifted up my arms, massaging my shoulders for a moment. My head lulled back, almost hitting the back of the chair. My mind was on high alert, but my body was about ready to fall asleep. The hands relaxed me so much that my eyes began to flutter.

But then... they drifted down my torso. They traced along my neck gently, drawing small, insignificant patterns. The hands grew lower and lower until they finally were on my chest. I felt the hands cup my breasts softly, my breath hitching in my throat. They kneaded my tits gingerly, my nipples hardening in my bra. I bit my lip, praying that I wouldn't make a sound. It was hard not to, especially when the delicate fingers of these invisible hands found my nipples, gently pinching them.

I remember closing my eyes tight. Trying to clear my mind. This wasn't actually happening to me. There was no way. This was a psychosis or a drug hallucination that was happening to me and Colby was doing nothing about it.

One hand drifted down my body, stopping right above my sex. I suddenly became very aware at how wet I was, my eyes widening. I felt a rush of blood flow through my cheeks. I was about to get caught. These invisible hands made me wet, and I couldn't stop them.

And the terrible thing was, I didn't want them to. I wanted them to finish the job. To get me off... in front of Colby. One hand rose back up my body, grabbing my neck and turning my face to look up at him.

A deep voice whispered harshly, "You want him, don't you?"

I didn't say anything, afraid of what would come out. But deep down, I knew.

"Say it, and it's yours. Say you want him. And he'll have you... forever."

I opened my mouth. I felt the words almost leave my lips. I stuttered out something. I closed my eyes, my body feeling high.

And then in a split second, it was all gone. The room grew quiet, and Colby cleared his throat. "Y/N, are you okay? You look flush."

I jolted out of my seat, being able to move freely again. I looked around and realized Colby was sitting once more, staring at me concerned. I finished the interview abruptly, saying I had everything I needed - even though I definitely didn't. And then he uttered words I wish I didn't hear.

"If you want, come back tomorrow. We are having a celebration here. I would love if you came by, even if for an hour."

I nodded, not even really taking in what he said, and left. Trey was confused as to why I bum-rushed out of the room, but I never told him the truth. How could I?

I knew deep down I shouldn't have said yes to go to the party. But getting that footage would be killer for my article. Interviews are great, but a party at a cult compound? That's bound to end terribly (for Colby, but great for me).

But something in me can't shake this feeling that I basically signed myself up for the end. End of what? I'm not sure. But I'll find out tomorrow.

~~~~~~

Stepping back onto the compound made my heart race. I was nervous as all hell, and just wanted this day to be over with already. Today was my last day doing this story. I was counting the minutes to when I could go back to my office and write about how this place was insane, or whatever narrative I planned to write.

I had enough proof that something was up here. All I needed to do was a bit more digging. And during the party is when I planned to do it.

Avery walked up to me, smiling brightly. "Hey, Y/N! How are you doing today?"

"I'm okay. I know it's a bit early, but Colby never specified when the party was going to take place." I replied.

"No, you're totally fine. The party is gonna happen later. Right now, though, we have something going on that you'll definitely want to see." She clapped excitedly.

"Oh? And what is that?" I questioned.

"We are inducting a new member!" she exclaimed giddily. "There's a whole process that we do, and everyone is involved. I imagine that will bode well for your article if you see it firsthand. It's all taking place in that tent."

I stared over at the huge tent, its plastic cover doors strangely inviting.

I hummed, "Sure, I'll be there in a moment."

Avery nodded, turning on her heels and prancing over to the tent, following in other members.

"What's happening in there?" Trey asked.

"Apparently they are inducting someone new into their cult." I informed him.

He blinked. "Group, you mean."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, whatever. Make sure to capture as much as you can."

He shook his camera, giving me a wink, "On it."

We both walked in, many members still up and around, giving everyone hugs and chatting. Avery waved me down, patting the seat next to her. I walked over and sat. My body tingled in anticipation. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. My breathing picked up as everyone grew silent, the doors opening. Colby walked in, and people rushed to their seats.

Colby called out, "Hello everyone, good morning."

"Good morning, Colby." Everyone said in unison.

Jesus, that was creepy.

"A lot of things are going to be different today. First, we have guests watching our festivities. Y/N and Trey. Everyone, give them a hand." He gestured to the two of us.

The tent exploded in applause, Avery evening rubbing my back sweetly. It felt like I was being congratulated on something I didn't achieve, my cheeks flushing at the acknowledgement.

"And secondly, sadly, the new member we were going to have decided not to stay." He frowned, his face dropping.

Members gasped, some audible "oh no" echoed around the tent. Colby nodded his head sympathetically. “I know, but fret not. I think this will be a learning experiment for our new guests. We can still do our traditional motions of having someone join us. But, imagine it as if it's a mock ceremony instead. Ms. Y/N, would you please step up here?”

My heart stopped when he looked into my eyes, the first time since yesterday. I glanced at Avery, who grinned enthusiastically. She pushed me out of my seat, my body following her lead. I gazed around, finding Trey, who pulled away from his camera with a concerned look. I stumbled up the walkway, stepping on stage with Colby.

Colby lowered his voice so I could only hear him, moving away from the microphone. "I know you wanted to know about how we induct someone into our little home, so I figured why not use you as an example? We aren't actually inducting you, in case you’re worried. This is just what would happen if you were joining. Are you okay with that?"

I gazed around the huge, white tent, making eye contact with many people in the audience. They all looked so eager, waiting to hear my response. Some were even shaking with excitement.

I stuttered, feeling Colby squeeze my hands to bring my attention back to him, "I-I guess so."

"Fantastic." He turned, still holding one of my hands, "Alright everyone, you know the drill."

The crowd cheered, suddenly many lining up to a microphone at the side of the stage. Colby lightly pulled me to a cushioned throne, sitting me down. "So here's what's going to happen. People are going to come up to that microphone, and they are going to give you plenty of love. Genuine love. And then the next person will go, and so on until everyone has spoken."

"Everyone here? Like, all hundred plus of you?" I whispered.

"Yes. It's gonna be a while, so get cozy." He laughed, rubbing my shoulders.

Time felt frozen as slowly everyone came up and said something nice about me. Some were quick, mostly just commenting on how nicely I dressed or how the stories I had covered in the past were interesting and thoughtful. But others, it's like they could see into my soul and point out the exact thing I was insecure about. Everyone was complimentary and it was nice, but exhausting.

The line had dwindled down, and the next person to speak was Avery.

She stepped up the microphone, giving me a huge smile. "Hi, Y/N. I know we don't know each other that well, but I feel like I've known you my whole life. These couple days of getting to know you, being interviewed by you, have just been the highlight of my life. You are such a lovely presence to be around, and you deserve all the success you've gotten these last couple years."

Lots of people in the crowd nodded, agreeing with Avery. She continued, taking a deep breath, "I wanted to add - you are so deserving of love. You are easy to love too, and I hope that you are surrounded by people that make you feel that way. I know that this is just a mock ceremony, but I truly believe you would be such a great addition to us. I know you don't trust us, but I hope that soon you will find that you have a safe place here. Even if you never come back here again. This is your home now, and forever will be."

My chest heaved suddenly, tears welling up in my eyes. What the fuck is happening right now? Why was I crying at what she said? Sure, it was sweet and kind, but... how did she know I needed to hear that?

I turned my head, wiping the tears before anyone could see them fall. The crowd clapped as Avery left, going back to her seat.

The last couple people were a blur, my mind still hanging onto Avery's words. Suddenly, a hand was placed on my shoulder, jolting me out of my thoughts. I gazed up, seeing Colby's beautiful face staring down at me.

"The ceremony is done. Now, time to party."

~~~~~~

It had been a couple hours since the ceremony, my body feeling almost numb but jittery all at the same time. It was hard to shake all the love and words that were thrown my way today. Sure, some were probably just lying and saying random things because they had to, because they were conditioned to. But it freaked me out how some just... hit the right spots, knew my insecurities.

The party itself was fine. Two of the houses had parties happening in them, and since all three houses were connected, you could leave one and walk into another. There was a dancefloor full of people, and multiple fully stocked bars. Tons of food was at each table. It honestly looked like an adult prom. But I wasn't in a partying mood. Trey, on the other hand, was enjoying himself immensely. Girls and guys surrounded him, laughing at his jokes and bringing him plates of food and wine. One girl kept rubbing his thigh, staring at him longingly.

I wanted to leave. I had had enough of today, and I just wanted to be as far away from Empathic Love as I could be. I decided fresh air was what I needed, so I got up and slid out the back door of one of the houses, taking a deep breath. There were still too many people around, but I noticed the last house, the one with Colby's office in it, had no lights on and no one around it. I walked through the yards, stopping once I was by the back porch of the third house.

I sighed, leaning back against a railing. I could still hear the party going on, almost getting louder now that I wasn't there. I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed.

“Hey, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here." Colby's voice broke through my thoughts.

I exhaled. “Hi, Colby.”

He cocked his head, “Are you doing okay? You seem... upset.”

I felt this sudden rush of anger, knowing in reality he was to blame for all of this. “No, I'm not doing alright. I want to go home, I'm extremely overwhelmed by this party and all the people around here. That ceremony was too much for me to deal with, and the only way for me to get out of here is Trey and he's getting rubbed down by your followers!”

He took a step back, putting his hands up defensively. “Woah, that was a lot. You must have needed that release.”

I glared, “You think?”

“Look, I get it. It's a lot to take in. I myself don't love going to all these parties. It can be really overwhelming and if I'm honest, it gives me a lot of anxiety,” he admitted casually.

“You get anxiety?” I scoffed, “How? Everyone here loves you.”

“I know. That's the stressful part!” He sat on the railing, turning to me. “I'm the leader of this family. I have to make all the right decisions, and sometimes that means upsetting some of the people closest to me. Not to mention, so many eyes are on me, and it's just all too much sometimes. Even if you think this group is a cult, I still care for everyone here. I make sure they are fed, have a job, and have a life outside of here. And that's a lot to take on.”

“How do you deal with all of it, then?” I questioned.

“Patience. And a lot of alone time when I can get it - through meditation, specifically,” he laughed. “I was actually going to go meditate before I found you. Would you like to join me?”

I shook my head. “No, I'm good.”

“Are you sure? Look, at the very least, it will get you away from the party and all the noise. You don't even have to join me, you can just... sit in the room with me while I do it.” He argued, shrugging his shoulders.

I gazed at the party, everyone had grew rowdier while we were talking, and I didn't even notice. But my head felt like it was spinning from the noise alone. I sighed, nodding my head. Colby smiled, opening the door to the house, and I walked in first. I followed him up to his office, sitting down on his couch as he sat in the center of the room on the floor.

I raised an eyebrow. “That's where you meditate?”

“Yeah, I know it's a bit silly. But I feel so much more grounded... on the ground.” He replied cheekily.

I snickered, sitting back and watching him. He crossed his legs, resting his palms on his knees. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took multiple breaths until they were low and shallow. I furrowed my brow, my eyes never leaving his form.

It almost seemed like he was asleep, or in a hypnosis of some sort. He was completely still and silent. A dull glow appeared at the top of his head, growing brighter and larger. I leaned away from him, my eyes widening at the sight. What the fuck is that...?

An aura grew around him, surrounding him completely. He didn't move, unfazed by it. His eyes remained closed, and with each breath it grew.

"How... are you doing that?" I uttered, my mouth a gape.

"Doing what?" He spoke in a monotone voice.

"That... aura. How are you doing that?" I pressed.

“I've always been able to do it since I was young. You can get closer if you want to.” He suggested.

How did he know I was still far away?

I stepped off the couch, moving closer to him. I kept my distance, but the aura was almost pulling me in. It was beautiful, the light reflecting and growing bigger. I was almost engulfed by it, but it stopped right before getting to me. I could feel its warmth, its energy. It was calling to me, beckoning me to step towards it.

The aura wrapped around me, filling me with light and love. Or at least that's what it felt like. I gasped at the sensation, my legs shaking underneath me. I breathed in deeply, my lungs filling up with fresh air. I didn't feel like I was in the room anymore. I felt like I was flying, the world almost zooming around me.

“Let your body relax, Y/N. I know it's so much to take in.” Colby’s calming voice spoke.

I felt my body give out on me, falling onto the soft rug. I laid down on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Visions began to swirl in my mind and around me.

How is any of this happening?

He answered, reading my mind. “Because of me. Because of us. Because of the connection you and I share.”

My body felt very heavy, unable to move even if I wanted to. I could move my eyes, and out of the corner of them, I saw Colby stand up. The aura remained around us, almost engulfing the entire room.

“You know, I knew the moment you stepped foot on to the compound's grounds, you were going to like it here. You were going to stay.” He smiled sincerely, gazing down at my body.

I blinked, confused. “What? I-I don't plan to-“

He cut me off, “This is the final step, Y/N. Everyone gave you love, people celebrated you, and now... I'm allowing you in.”

I wanted to shake my head, but couldn’t. “But I don't want to join.”

He chuckled, “Yes you do. If you didn't want it, none of this would have worked on you. You wouldn't be seeing what is directly in front of your eyes.”

The visions morphed around me, suddenly showing Colby and I. But we weren't us, we were different people, at a different point in time. But I could feel it was us. We were in love, growing a family together. Our lives were beautiful.

What the fuck is this?

“That is our past, or present, or future,” he winked. “The thing is, Y/N, I never seek out anyone. They all seem to find me.”

“That's not true, you emailed my boss about being interviewed.” I remarked.

"Oh, you are so forgetful, Y/N. You emailed us, begging to interview me and anyone else that said yes. I only agreed because I knew you wanted to meet with me. You sounded very eager to join in your email." Colby pulled out a piece of paper, reading from it happily, "Dear whoever reads this, I'm hoping to score an interview with your group, Empathic Love, for an article I am writing. I would love to meet Colby, and really pick apart his brain on why he created said group. Maybe I could even join if you guys win me over. Please let me know if any of this sounds of interest to you. Sincerely, Y/N of Global Gazette."

He leaned down, staring into my eyes mischievously, "Now does that sound like someone that didn't want to be here?"

My heart raced, suddenly scared. “Why don't I remember writing that?”

“I couldn't tell you. All I know is you wanted to be here. And there's a reason for it.” He sat down on the ground next to me. I wanted to get up and run, but my body stayed still, heavy. “Growing up, I realized very early on that certain people just... gravitated to me. A lot of women, yes. But really it was anyone. And not only did they gravitate towards me, they became obsessed with me. At first, I was confused, uninterested in ever going through that. Who wants someone obsessed with them? But then I realized how much good I could do with so many people rallying behind me.”

He continued, “As I got older, my ability, or power, or whatever it is - grew twice as strong. Suddenly, all the people around me followed me, did anything and everything I could ask for. Then, I began getting visions, and I understood why this was the case. Everyone here: we had a past life together. Their souls and mine have always been connected. They find me and then continue to stay. And almost always, they fall in love with me. It's just so glorious.”

“You're insane.” I mumbled.

He hummed, “Interesting, especially since you’re seeing the same things I am.”

It was true. The whole time he spoke, I saw vision after vision of our past lives together. We were always destined to meet, destined to be with one another.

“But the thing is, I know you're different from all the rest. You and I, we are meant to be together forever. You are meant to love me forever, and I am meant to love you. That's why my abilities affect you so greatly.” Colby divulged.

“What if I say no? What if I want to leave?” I grunted, trying to shake free.

“You've had the ability to go all this time. You just don't want to. You know how much love I can give you. You know how much pleasure I can give you as well.” He bit his lip, his eyes snaking up and down my body, “You've known that since yesterday, haven't you?”

Blood rushed to my cheeks, memories of yesterday played in my head.

“And do you know what’s crazy about that? That's not even half the pleasure I can give you.” Colby kneeled next to me, a devilish smile on his lips. His hand lightly brushed my face, cupping my warm cheek sweetly.

A burst of arousal raced through me, my body spasming in ecstasy. “Oh my God!”

“I know, it's a lot to take in. But I just want to make you feel good, darling. You deserve it.” He leaned in slowly, “You are mine, after all.”

"This is what your followers meant by a deep and sensual mental connection," I groaned, feeling hands all over my body, touching me in the most lustful of ways. "You got inside their heads and mentally fucked them."

“...That's one way of wording it. But if they didn't trust me, if they didn't already want me, it wouldn't happen.” He winced playfully, “So in reality, it's your fault.”

“Fuck you.” I growled.

“But baby, that's what's happening,” Colby laughed darkly. “Those hands, those kisses and bites... that's all mine. I can tell you're losing it. You want me real bad, but you don't want to admit it. I get it, you’re overwhelmed.”

I felt like my body was getting electrocuted with pleasure. My hips grinded into the air, needing some form of relief. My nipples strained against my bra, wanting any form of touch. I closed my eyes tightly, embarrassment rolling through me as I felt my damp panties against my sex.

Fuck, he was right. I did want this, and him.

I didn't even need to say it out loud. Suddenly I felt a cock slid inside of me, too easily from how wet I had become. I ripped my eyes open, looking around. Colby was watching me from his chair, smirking.

He palmed his hardening dick through his jeans. “Imagine how much better it would be if I was actually inside of you, filling you up with every. fucking. inch.”

I thought about screaming Trey’s name. Maybe he could help me.

He grimaced, rolling his eyes. “He won’t do anything for you, sweetheart. He joined our group just a couple weeks ago. Right around the time you sent the email. So really, you have all the more reason to join us.”

“Even if I join this cult, I will never stay here. I will leave here and never come back.” I hissed.

“And that is your choice to make. But Y/N,” his gaze lowered at me, his eyes intense. “You will never be satisfied. You got barely a taste of what I can offer you, and you're gonna want it forever. Just like everyone else here.”

“You're a- fuuuuuucckk!” I moaned, the cock inside of me hitting my spot deeper. I caught my breath, glaring at him. “Y-You're a freak.”

“Says the girl almost coming to my invisible dick.” He spat, clenching his jaw.

I bit my lip, annoyed at how right he was. The hands exploring my body gripped my ass, slapping it lustfully.

“Okay, okay. I'll agree with you. I am a bit of a freak of nature. But let's not act like I'm some monster. I let people leave. But they always come back because they choose to. I can't force people that far. Pinky promise,” He stuck his pinky out, and I rolled my eyes defiantly. He huffed, “It's not like this place is Scientology, for Christ's sake. We are love. I am love.”

“You are the most tainted form of love that I've ever met.” I retorted, gripping the rug to hide my building arousal.

He deadpanned, “Ow. That hurt.”

Colby strutted over to me, laying down right beside me. The pleasure grew more intense, my hips bucking desperately. His one hand hovered over me, never touching me. It didn't matter, because having him this close felt like his whole body was on top of mine, fucking me hastily.

“If you allow yourself to enjoy this feeling, you might actually come. Because I won't force you to. I'll just keep you here, for hours, riving in pleasure until your brain melts into goo.” He smirked, “How's that sound?”

"I-I hate you." I gritted my teeth. Why did I feel like I was lying?

"No you don't. But soon you'll be able to admit the truth." He leaned his mouth in close, his voice low and sincere, "I know that this place might not be what you imagined your home to be like, but it is. You will always have a place here. You will always be loved here. And I know that's what you want deep down. To be loved unconditionally. To have every fiber of your being satisfied. And if you let me, I will do that. I will please you every night, however you want me to. But for me to do that, you have to let me in. You have to let love in."

The cock inside of me pounded faster and faster. I could barely think anymore. The only thing on my mind... was him. The lives we had together, the life we could be having. I knew I shouldn't want it, but I did. I wanted him in my life, forever. He was what was missing, and I couldn't live one more day without him.

I mewled loudly, my hips thrusting up erotically. Colby's hand cupped my face gently, turning my head to look him in the eyes.

His alluring eyes stared deep into mine, his jaw clenched. "You will always be mine. I am love, and that is all you could ask for."

"You are love, and that's all I could ask for." I repeated mindlessly, grabbing onto his arm desperately.

His face softened, “That's right baby. You're such a good girl for me. My good girl, forever. You want that, don't you?”

“Yessss, please Colby. I want to be yours forever.” I keened.

"You will be. I promise, you will always be mine." His eyes darkened, the pupils almost completely blown out. "You will never leave."

"I won't!" I trembled, my orgasm building closer and closer to the edge.

“You wanna come, Y/N? Get close for me. Don't I feel so good inside of you? You like when I do this?” Colby's hand snaked down my body, rubbing my clit sensually.

I begged wantonly, dying to come. "Pleaseeeeee! Please let me come! I need it! I need you."

"Of course you do, baby. You and I need each other. Our connection is unlike anyone else's. Tell me the truth and I'll let you come." He leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear, "Tell me, baby. Say it..."

"I love you," I cried out, right on the edge. I direly wanted him to say it back, knowing it was already the truth.

“I love you too, baby,” he smiled sweetly, kissing my cheek. “Now, come for me.”

Hot, white pleasure shot through my body. I had the strongest orgasm of my life, my mind shattering as I rode every wave of pleasure that went through me. Colby stayed by my side, shushing me as my high lowered down more and more. He kept whispering 'I love you' repeatedly, my mind unable to hear or think anything else after a while.

I blacked out at some point but awoke when my body was lifted off the floor and placed softly into a bed. “Wha... happenin?” I slurred.

“Relax, darling. I just brought you to my bed. Well, our bed now,” he chuckled. “I want you to get your rest because tomorrow is a big day for you.”

“What's tomorrow?” I murmured.

“Your introduction to everyone as my soulmate.” Colby informed happily, tucking me in. “Everyone will be so pleased that you changed your mind about joining us.”

I nodded my head, snuggling deep into his bed. He dimmed the lights, whispering softly, "Welcome home, Y/N."

#colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock x reader #colby brock smut #colby brock one shot #colby brock oneshot #golbrocklovely's 13 nights of halloween

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causeilikelix · 3 months

Note

hii im the anon who sent the hard dom lixie post ,, and i totally think ur right !! i also feel after that event..hes a lil bit more touchy with u !! just to help get the point across

also idk if u take anons but just would love to be 🐹 anon if you do !! if not thats totally ok , im literally just eating up everything u post

omg hi!!! Yes, you can totally be 🐹 anon! I've never had one before tbh so welcome!!! The support means so much to me! tbh I wish I posted more lol but writers block exists.

Except for right now cause WOW

Part 2 to this ask, but it doesn't necessarily have to be read to understand this

MINORS DNI!!!! Smut under the cut! I............................ got carried away. Warnings under the cut

YES totally. Lix is already a pretty touchy-feely person so like you showing interest in him being a little more dominant and, dare I saw, possessive would really turn on the Clingy.

(banner credit @cafekitsune)

(Warnings: established relationship, dom!Felix?, dirty talk, semi public sex, unprotected sex (it's only fun in fiction), creampie, afab!reader)

This man needs all of his friends (and your friends) to know that you're his. Unless you ask him not to for whatever reason, Felix would mark you up every. time. I mean, first of all it feels amazing to have his lips on you. So pillowy and soft and the way he sucks on your neck is just heavenly!

Any time you hang out with his friends this man has his hands on you in one way or another. He's constantly back hugging you, holding your hand, cuddling with on the couch, whatever. Sometimes, he'd lean over and whisper the filthiest shit into your ear just to make you blush.

"You look so hot in this dress, baby. Who'd you wear it for?"

"I bet you'd love for me to bend you over the couch and take you right here, huh? Want the guys to see how well you take me."

"Sweet girl, I bet your soaked right now. I can practically smell you."

It doesn't take him long to convince you to either leave the gathering or sneak off to the bathroom with him. All of his dirty talk is, in fact, soaking through your underwear. That deep voice of his gets you every fucking time.

The other boys roll their eyes and turn up the music when Felix drags you back to the bathroom. The bass helps drown out the yelp that falls from your mouth the second Felix flips up the skirt of your dress to run his fingertips along the gusset of your panties. He moans into your mouth when he feels how wet you are.

"Filthy girl, I knew you were wet." He growls.

"You always make me wet." You grin at him

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath as he slips his fingers into your panties to touch you properly. You moan instantly at the contact. "Babe, you've gotta let me fuck you. I'm so hard I don't think I'll make it home."

"But the guys-'

"Don't pretend like you didn't love them listening in last time. I remember how tight your cunt clamped on to me when you heard them turn the TV off. C'mon baby, please. I need you so bad." Felix rocks his hips into yours a little and sure enough you can feel his hardness poking at your stomach. It makes your mouth water and your pussy clench at the thought of fucking him here.

"One condition." You whisper as he starts to press hot kisses into your neck. His fingers slide into your heat with no resistance and you choke back a moan.

"Anything."

"Don't pull out this time."

At this, he pulls away from you to look you in the eye. At first, you worry that he's going to pull away completely. The motions of his fingers inside you slow to a stop but he doesn't take them out. His eyebrows furrow.

"Are you serious?"

You'd talked about the risks before, and it wasn't like he hadn't done it before but it wasn't something super common in your relationship.

"Deadly serious." You gripped the back of his neck and pulled him in, "Don't you want us to go back out there to your friends, your cum dripping down my legs to show them once and for all that you're not as soft as they think you are?"

Felix's eyes darkened immediately.

"Ask and you shall receive, baby." He growled.

He grabbed your waist and roughly spun you around and bent you over the bathroom sink. Your panties are discarded around one ankle before he's nudging your legs apart. Excitement sparks through your bloodstream when you hear Felix messing with the button and zipper on his jeans.

A few moments later, something hot swipes through your folds. You moan as the head of his dick nudges against your clit a few times. He teases you by nudging your clit then moving up to press against your hole before taking it away to nudge your clit again.

You swear you've never been so empty in your life.

"Felix, I swear, if you don't fuck me right no- ah!" You let out a sudden moan when Felix finally pressed his cock into you. He suck in slowly, letting you feel every single inch. When his hips meet your ass, you moan again.

"Good girl, let them hear you. I knew you wanted to act like a little slut. You wanted me to fuck you where they could hear you, huh? Let everyone know how well you take cock" Felix moans, the noise going straight to your clit.

He always feels so good inside of you. It's like his cock was made to stretch you open. His thrusts are slow at first, getting you used to him despite how many times you've taken him. He pants against your neck and you rock back onto him.

"Fuck you feel so good, baby, your little cunt always takes me so well." Felix compliments, his hands kneading your ass and thighs. One hand circles up to brush through your folds. Your cunt clenches the second he finds your clit. "You're so tight! How is any of my cum going to fit inside you?"

You open your mouth to answer him but all that comes out is a moan. He rocks into you steadily and he circles your clit with two fingers. It isn't long before your thighs begin to tremble and the knot in your stomach pulls taut.

"Aw," he chides, "Are you gonna cum on my cock, beautiful? Come on, baby, cream for me, yeah?"

It doesn't take much else. It never does. Felix plays your body like an instrument. He always knows just where to touch, just what to say, just where to angle the head of his cock to get you to fall apart for him. You cum, squeezing him tightly. He moans through your orgasm, holding onto his own so he can ride yours out.

"Good girl," he praises, "Make a mess on my cock. When we get home I'll have you clean me up. Fuck! Pussy gets so tight when she cums."

If there's one thing Felix loves, it's feeling every single moment of your orgasm. The way your legs shake, the way your pussy quivers and tightens, the way your wetness leaves a shimmering sheen on his cock. He swears he can never get enough of you.

As your orgasm wanes, his thrusts speed up. He moans into your ear and every sound makes you clench. You wonder if you could cum again. His thrusts are quick and deep. Your pussy aches and throbs but in the best way possible. Overstimulation sparks through your veins, but part of you wonders if it's just another orgasm creeping up on you.

"Fuck, baby, I'm not gonna last. Tell me where you want me to cum. Now!" He threads a hand into your hair so he can tilt your head to see your fucked-out face. The drool seeping from your lips and your hooded eyes make his orgasm threaten to spill without warning.

"In-" A particularly harsh thrust makes you moan, "Inside. Please! Please cum inside. "

"So tight! Fuck, fuck, cumming!"

And he does. He pushes himself into you as deep as he possibly can and releases his orgasm right against your cervix. The warmth makes your cunt pulse and you reach down to rub your clit. A circle or two later, you fall into another orgasm that squeezes him to coax more of him into you.

Felix rocks his hips into you a few more times to unload every generous spurt of cum inside you before finally pulling out.

He puts his hands on your ass cheeks and spreads you open. You blush when you feel his eyes on your spent hole. You wait for the telltale feeling of some of the warmth in your cunt to slip out, but nothing does. After a minute, Felix lands a soft smack on your ass before pulling your panties back up your legs.

"Come on, I've got you." Felix coaxes you to stand up and turn back around. Your legs quiver and you hold onto him. "You held it all in, baby. Nothing's leaking out."

"Guess you'll have to give me some more to make sure it slides down my legs." You quip, even though you know you probably couldn't take more right now.

"Maybe next time, angel. This time I want you to make sure you keep every drop in there. I'll check later and if you've let a single drop go to waste, I'll give you refill after refill until you can't hold it anymore. " Felix's voice sent a shiver down your spine, "Think you can handle that?"

You're nodding and clenching your thighs before he's even done talking.

"Good girl."

#🐹 anon #an ask!#felix smut #yongbok smut #lee felix smut #skz felix smut #stray kids smut #ellie writes #skz smut #kpop smut #got carried away #enjoy lol #lee yongbok smut

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sturnmad · 5 months

Text

“ keep looking, baby ” (nick x male!reader)

this is the first full-length smut i've ever posted publicly. i was nervous af so i decided to just go all-in & get it over with.

summary: reader’s been having some self-image issues lately. nick fixes that. [rq: “can u do a dom nick fic where he fucks reader in front of a mirror pls im begging 🙏 😔”]

word count: 2,426

contains: self-deprecation, body image issues, edging, dom!nick, oddly fluffy idk how that happened

It's no secret that you're a little shy and insecure.

It's not that you think you look bad, exactly, but you know you're no prize. Your boyfriend, Nick, openly disagrees. It’s probably why you get along so well. His confidence rubs off on you and makes you bolder.

Not quite as bold as Nick himself, though, so when he leans back and asks, “Do you trust me?”, you hesitate.

You both have busy schedules, so carving out time to spend together is difficult. What time you do have is usually spent like this: staying in, watching TV, and lazily making out.

It seems Nick has a bit more in mind today, though.

Nick frowns at your silence and your grip on his waist tightens reflexively. “Of course,” you say. “Why do you ask?”

Nick kisses you, brief and chaste. “Just wondering,” he mutters against your lips. His hands slide under your shirt. “You should take this off.”

You rush to comply. The air is cold but Nick's hands are colder, running over your stomach and chest. He nips along your jaw, pausing to suck at the spot under your ear that always makes you shudder, and tilts your head back to get more access to your neck.

Nick likes to leave marks. He’ll take his time, leaving a trail of hickeys from your throat to your thighs. Once you looked down after a particularly rough night and found finger-shaped bruises on your hips.

Nick settles his weight more fully on your lap, bites the base of your neck. It makes you squirm, and you can feel the smirk on Nick's lips when he kisses the bite apologetically. He shifts back a little to continue biting at your collarbone and down your chest.

Then he slides off the couch and drops to his knees between your legs.

He digs his fingers under your waistband, pulls it back and releases it so it snaps against your skin. You make a quite frankly embarrassing noise. “Off,” he orders, and you rush to comply.

But then, of course, you hesitate when you realize Nick hasn't so much as taken off his shirt.

You gesture at his clothes. “Aren't you going to—?”

Nick shakes his head. “Not yet.” Then he pushes back your shorts just enough to nip at your thigh and any protests you had die in your throat.

Nick sits back on his heels, runs his hand through his hair while you throw your remaining clothes into some forgotten corner of the room. He’s blushing, too, so you know he's not totally unaffected. It looks good on him, though—everything does.

Nick always looks good, though, and you have to look away when he leans forward. You rub a hand over your face and yelp when Nick bites your inner thigh again, this time higher up.

“You embarrassed?” Nick asks. He sounds amused. You nod, squirming a little. This isn't the first time you've done this, but it's a lot every time.

Nick pinches the underside of your knee, making you wince. “Look at me,” he says softly. You do, because you know Nick likes to see your face. His insistence on eye contact has always been overwhelming in a good way.

You weren't a virgin when you met Nick, but you'd never been in a relationship. It wasn't really an option for you, being the only openly gay man in the small town you grew up in. But one night stands and rushed fumbling at parties with boys who wouldn't look you in the eyes the next day could never compare to this—sex with someone you actually knew and trusted and loved.

It's way more embarrassing, for one. You preferred to leave the lights off. Nothing killed the mood faster than the sight of your own body.

“You don't have anything to be embarrassed about,” Nick says. He probably knows what you're thinking. You've voiced your insecurities before.

“That's debatable,” you mutter. Now you're even more embarrassed. You don't want to kill the mood or anything.

“It's not.” Nick squeezes your thighs and says bluntly, “You're fucking hot.” His breath ghosts over your balls and you nearly pass away on the spot.

Nick’s a talker both in and out of the bedroom. You, on the other hand, prefer actions over words and get easily flustered by compliments. You’re just not used to receiving them.

Nick loves to take advantage of that.

You don't really know how to respond, so Nick hums and grabs your hip with one hand and your dick with the other. His hands are big, strong, and the muscles in his arms flex as he moves. You never thought you had a thing for that until you met him.

He leans forward and your head falls back as he licks a long stripe from bottom to top. “Jesus Christ,” you spit, voice muffled by your own hand, eyes slammed shut. “What's gotten into you?” Nick wasn't usually so bold.

Nick squeezes the base of your dick just a bit too hard—again, not something you knew you liked until you met him—and waits until you look down to speak. “Look away and I'll stop,” he says as if that's not the hottest string of words ever uttered. There's spit on his bottom lip that you desperately want to lick off. “‘Kay?”

You nod. He squeezes again and you say in a rush, “Okay, yes, yeah.” ‘Use your words’, another favorite of his.

Apparently satisfied, Nick ducks his head and takes your dick into his mouth. You almost look away again, can't really help it—Nick's mouth is warm and wet and it's a lot all at once. His hold on your hip tightens as he lowers his head, ensuring you don't move an inch.

Nicl pulls back, breathing hard, a string of spit connecting his mouth to the head of your dick. He licks his lips as his hand moves over your dick, spreading the spit, making the slide easier. He looks you in the eyes as he reaches the head, thumb sweeping the underside, and the expression in his eyes alone makes you whimper.

Nick’s smirking when he lowers his head again. This time he doesn't hesitate, just hollows his cheeks and moves like he's trying to suck out your soul. All you can do is tangle a hand in his hair and hang on for dear life.

You feel your orgasm come on embarrassingly fast. You tug on his hair, words escaping your mind for a second—the entire English language, actually—before you finally stutter out, “Nick, I'm about to come.”

Nick sinks down and hums, nearly killing you on the spot. Then, to your complete surprise, he moves off of you with a wet pop and pats your thigh. “Bed,” he says shortly, voice all rough and fucked-out.

You've never moved so fast in your life.

You crawl across the bed to the nightstand and pull out lube and a condom. When you look back Nick's standing at the foot of the bed. Somewhere between the living room and bedroom he's pulled off his shirt, and he's now entirely naked save the boxers slung low over his hips. Your mouth practically waters as you eye his happy trail.

You look up and meet Nick's eyes. Of course he caught you staring. He only smirks and grabs you by the ankles, yanking you toward him in one smooth motion.

You smile up at him. “You should take these off,” you mutter, digging your fingers under his waistband.

Nick only hums and kisses you, slow and chaste at first, quickly deepening until you're all but sucking on his tongue. Maybe you're just imagining it but you swear you can taste yourself in his mouth.

You don't even realize he's taken the lube from your hands until he pops off the cap. He leans back, kissing you one last time, and pushes at your chest until you take the hint and lay down.

Nick drops to his knees and you spread your legs instinctively. Nick props your legs on his shoulders as he works. Even though you're anticipating it, the cold lube still makes you shudder when he pours it onto you. He squeezes your thigh in sympathy as he pushes the lube in with a finger, slowly but in one long motion.

You suck in a breath, nearly hissing, and bite at your knuckles. The stretch feels as strange as it always does. Nick kisses your thigh and rubs your side soothingly. “I know, I know,” he mutters.

He takes your dick into his mouth again, more shallowly this time. He runs his tongue under the head as he adds another finger.

You shudder as Nick works his way in, head tipped back, panting like a dog. You’re still close, and something about this—Nick being as close as physically possible, inside of you, the feel of his fingers as he pushes deeper—gets to you.

Then he curls his fingers and you moan, shuddering and attempting to squeeze your legs together. Nick puts a stop to that, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he mutters, “There you go.”

He continues to brush over that spot inside you as he works in a third finger. The first time you did this you protested, and Nick only shook his head and promised, You'll need it. He was right. Nick's big—not porn-star big, but certainly above average—and thick.

It's a stretch but you start pushing back into his thrusts, anyway, and he keeps sucking you and rubbing that spot and God. You want him inside you yesterday.

Nick releases your dick with another wet pop. “Want it bad, huh?” He punctuates with a rough thrust of his fingers, punching a cut-off moan out of you.

It's not really a question. You always ‘want it bad’ when it comes to Nick.

You shudder again when Nick pulls his fingers out, this time at the odd, empty sensation. Nick stands up and finally, finally kicks off his boxers. His dick, hard and flushed red at the tip, slaps his stomach. It takes everything in you not to pull him towards you and suck him off right then.

Nick crawls onto the bed behind you and pushes you onto your hands and knees. You wait while he rolls on the condom, then while he splays a hand over your back and pushes you down, down, until your chest is flat and your ass is arched high in the air. All thoughts leave your mind except yes.

He pushes in with one long, slow motion that punches all the air out of your lungs. Once he's bottomed out he leans over you, panting, until you're pressed chest-to-chest.

For a few moments it's just that, just the two of you breathing, then Nick rocks forward a bit—grinding deeper, hitting your prostate—and you let out a muffled moan into the bed. He does it again, and again, and again, until you start pushing back, until you're just panting, mouth open, probably drooling into the mattress.

You feel it when Nick sits up, when his hands smooth over your back before pushing down—pinning you to the bed—and then he pulls out and thrusts back in. Shallow at first and then deeper, harder, pushing you forward with every thrust.

Nick's grabs you by the back of your neck, his hold the only thing keeping you from getting fucked off the bed. He lowers his head, panting in your ear, “What are you hiding from, baby?”

You hear him but don't really understand, a bit distracted by his hand on your neck, his open mouth on your shoulder, his dick buried so fucking deep inside you. Then he grabs you by the hair and yanks your head up and—

Of-fucking-course. You should have realized.

There's a mirror on the door opposite the bed.

“Look at yourself, baby.” You watch the reflection: your fucked-out face, Nick pressing sloppy kisses along your jaw, returning to your ear to whisper, “Look how fucking hot you are.”

He grinds into you again, punching a borderline pornographic moan from your mouth. You're not usually that loud in bed. Nick takes it as a challenge.

“You're fucking perfect,” Nick hisses, sounding so awed and fucked-out and utterly gone that for a moment you almost believe him. He grabs you by the jaw to kiss you, open-mouthed and so wet you're connected by a bridge of saliva when he pulls away.

He rests your foreheads together and says, panting, “Look away and I'll stop.”

Fucking bastard, you think fondly as he pulls away. You wonder how long he's been planning this. Then he starts thrusting again and you lose the ability to think at all.

You try your best to follow his orders, to keep your head up and eyes open, and he keeps panting and groaning in your ear and telling you how beautiful and good and perfect you are. Your moans get more frantic until you're almost whining, scratching at his hands, his arms, slurring out, “Nick, Nick—”

Your awful, awful boyfriend has the audacity to laugh at you. “What is it?” He delivers a particularly hard thrust that makes you gasp and dig your nails in. “What do you want, baby?”

“You fucking—nh—know what I want, asshole.” You're drooling. God, this is embarrassing.

Nick—your awful, awful boyfriend—stops. He just stops.

“Not sure I do, sweetheart,” he says in that perfect condescending tone. He leans down and says lowly, “Why don't you tell me?”

You roll your eyes and grit out, “Nick, please touch me so I can fucking come already.”

His hand tightens on your neck for a fraction of a second. “Next time I could do without the attitude.”

Then, finally, he starts moving again. Your beautiful, gorgeous boyfriend winds a hand under you to tug on your dick. You might see heaven.

“Keep looking, baby,” Nick groans in your ear. “I want to see your face when you come.”

A few moments later you do, so hard your vision goes blurry for a split-second. You nearly go limp, Nick’s hands on your hip the only thing keeping you upright. He moans when he finishes, panting in silence for a moment before pulling out.

After, when you're laying in bed wrapped around each other, you flick him on the forehead and mutter, “Why do you always say that shit?”

Nick only laughs. “It's true.”

He says it so softly that for a moment, you almost believe it.

#nick sturniolo #dom!nick sturniolo #dom nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #rq

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hyyukas · 5 months

Text

bratty!Tae <3

smut mdni

warnings: sub! taehyun . . .duh, he's tied up, sex toys, degradation, face slapping, hair pulling, derogatory names, slight dacryphilia,mean reader, overstimulation, edging, spanking ?? implied cheating (he was out smooching other men 😞) , mentions of pillow humping, he's a good boy guys :( [lies] idk I feel weird about this one, don't really like it (cries) lmk if I missed anything!

"you still wanna fuck around and be a brat now ? hm ? answer me or that's one more time I'll edge you before you're allowed to come." you spoke with a rough tone, upping the pace of taehyun's fleshlight that you were currently pumping up and down his red cock.

"no, 'm not a brat ! I'm a good boy, I'm your good boy—fuck !" the surprisingly pleasurable new pace of your hand had him digging his feet into the mattress to try and get more of it, blabbing the words he thought you wanted to hear so you'd let up your torture. you scoffed.

"oh, you are definitely not a good boy."

taehyun had been acting like a brat all day, rubbing up against you whenever you were trying to get important things done. toying with you whenever he was around other people, flirting with them and not paying any mind to you or your clenched jaw. he constantly teased you in public by grabbing your waist, your chest, your ass and by pressing open mouthed kisses against your neck.

so no, you did not think he had been a good boy and therefore the reason why he was now tied to the headboard with drool and tears everywhere. at first you thought it might be a bit much, but then you noticed how his eyes sparkled when you pulled out a vibrating butt plug and just knew you had to take it up a notch.

he sniffled and pulled at his wrist restraints. "no ! I have been a good boy, I'm not a brat !" lies, he knew they were.

"yeah ? you think you deserve to come ?"

"yes ! yes, I deserve to come, I've been so fucking good !"

you pouted mockingly, mimicking his whines and sobs.

"I don't know, baby . . . do you think feeling beomgyu up was being good ? you were all over him not even an hour ago, practically jerking him off that's how close your hand was." at the mention of his best friend he began to wail, his head shaking in denial to your statement although he knew what you were saying was true. he only did it to rile you up though !

"t-that was an accident ! didn't mean to. . . 'm so fucking close please !" you laughed and pressed the button to up the vibrations while squeezing your hand around his dick. taehyun squealed, twisting his body to try and escape the overwhelming feeling but also yearning for more.

"you didn't mean to ? saw you giving him a hickey, Tae. was that an accident too? your mouth just happened to fall there ?"

"mhm ! was an accident I swear !" he could have sworn he was getting through to you with his pathetic lies, not really realising how stupid they sounded when he was so close to his eagerly awaited orgasm. but then he heard you chuckle lowly, and then he felt all the stimulation stop.

"you're full of shit, sweetheart." you ignored his mewls and cries of protest, instead groping his ass which was covered in red handprints you'd inflicted upon him earlier. "you were gonna come weren't you ? without telling me, hmm. such a spoiled brat"

"no ! wasn't gonna come !"

"don't lie to me, whore." you landed a slap to his face, grinning as you saw his eyes welling up and his body shiver in delight.

" 'm not a fucking whore . . ." taehyun growled, the tone in which you spoke had him clenching his thighs together in an attempt to get some friction. but when he realised he wasn't feeling anything apart from the sting of his face and the throb of his angry cock he began to mewl out once more.

"didn't I tell you not to lie ?," shit you were pissed, taehyun knew he was absolutely fucked.

"lay down and don't fucking move, if you want to come so badly I'll let you. you're gonna tell me how many times you've kissed Beomgyu, that's how many times you'll come." you spoke through gritted teeth, grabbing your boyfriend's black locks with force and tugging.

the motion had him moaning out. sucking in choked breaths through his teeth. he had to think for a moment, as embarrassing as it was to admit your harsh words and actions had left him a little dumbed down. "five!"

"ah, that's an odd number. why don't we round up to six ?"

taehyun gasped at your words, scrambling to argue, to protest, anything that might save his poor dick from falling off once you were finished with him.

"c-can't do that !"

"awe boohoo, little slut. you'll do it either way. c'mon, start humping your pillow like the pathetic bitch you are."

series mlist

tag list is open ! @cinnikoi @zzstar @mini-mews

#© hyyukas #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt x reader #txt hard thoughts #txt drabbles #kang taehyun smut #taehyun smut #kang taehyun hard thoughts #taehyun hard thoughts #kang taehyun hard hours #taehyun hard hours #kang taehyun drabble #taehyun drabble

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joels-shitty-puns · 6 months

Text

The Key To Your Heart - Track 7

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Fat shaming, name calling, kissing, angst. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 6.6K!!!

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi guys! I'm so sorry this took a little extra longer than usual. I've had a lot of ideas for this chapter for a long time and I struggled with putting it all on paper. I'm also on vacation 🤪 but I really wanted to get this one out there, especially before Halloween. Also I'm sorry if the spacing and stuff is crap, I did this from my phone/iPad while falling asleep at 3:30 AM. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

__________

You awoke with a start, your alarms blaring through the bedroom. Giving the snooze button a smack, you reach across your mattress, touching the sheets to find the other side of your bed empty.

It was still warm, but missing the actual body that you fell asleep cuddled next to. Blinking your eyes a few times, you called out into the bedroom. "Baby?"

You climbed out of bed, making your way down the hall to the living room, where you finally saw him on the couch. Sound asleep, eyes gently closed, a soft snore passed from his mouth. At the sound of your footsteps, he opened his eyes, giving a big stretch and wagging his tail.

"Good morning Skippy, my little sunshine! I missed your cuddles this morning. Why'd you move to the couch?"

He looked at you and yawned, his eyes closing once again. You giggled and headed for the shower to get ready for another day. Some of us have to actually work and get stuff done in this house!

_____

The day at work was busy, leaving little time to chat with Pedro. You couldn't help but smirk to yourself as your coworkers buzzed about your new album freshly released the day before. They still hadn't figured it out, but you decided you would continue to let it be your little secret a bit longer. They didn't need to know. Just you and Pedro could share this for now.

On your lunch break, you finally opened your phone to find a few text messages from him. "Good morning! I had fun video chatting with you last night. I'm so glad we listened to your album together, and it was nice to finally get to see you." His message made your heart skip.

Second text from Pedro: "Hey, I hope work is going well for you. I was thinking, maybe if you'd like, we could chat again later? If you don't want to video chat anymore, no pressure, but I enjoyed it and thought maybe if you wanted to, we could."

You replied. "Hey P! It's been a crazy day :) but a good one. Especially waking up happy after enjoying a lovely evening. I would really love to video chat with you again too."

Pedro breathed a sigh of relief at your answer. He couldn't help but feel nervous to ask you, despite having just video chatted last night, and he also didn't want to make you feel pressured; especially with someone as private as you are. But with your response, he smiled as he felt his stomach fill with butterflies at the thought of seeing you again.

_____

Later on, after work, the two of you were texting and deciding on the time to video chat again. However, before you called, Pedro texted you again. "Hey, I had a question for you, but I didn't want to ask it over the phone or video call and make you feel pressured. But, there's this Hollywood Halloween party coming up in a few days. I know you still want to keep your identity, but I thought if you'd like to, each guest is allowed to bring a date, and I thought you could mingle a little with some other musicians and actors. I can just tell people you're one of my friends from a set if you don't want to give your real name. You don't need to tell them anything you don't want out to the public. Plus I would love to spend some time together in person too, if you want to. I know it's a lot, so if you would rather not go, I understand. But I'd love to meet you."

The idea of going to a party filled with other celebrities, AND Pedro, had you filled with mixed emotions. Nervous. Excited. Terrified. Love-sick. Hesitant.

After a bit of thinking,you decided, and the answer seemed obvious from the start. The party sounded terrifying, and was completely unknown territory. But you also knew that if you didn't go, you'd surely kick yourself and regret this chance forever.

Finally you replied. "Okay! I'll go. I'd love to spend time with you, too, Pedro. Thank you for inviting me."

He replied again: "Really?! So, will boo be my date? 👻"

You: "That was a little too.. (candy) corny. I may have to ghost you. 🎃"

Pedro didn't miss a beat. "Okay, you're driving me batty. 🦇 Want to call and talk about our costumes?"

Oh shit, I forgot about costumes.

The two of you chatted, easily falling into the comfortable conversations you always do. Fitting together like two peas in a pod. Even though neither of you were dressed up fancy anymore, it didn't feel like you had to be someone else, or dress up. Things were comfortable. Easy.

Pedro suggested a matching costume, which made you want to scream and pace through your living room. Unfortunately, due to your camera situation, pacing and screaming would surely cause some alarm. After dancing around things like pirates, ketchup/mustard, and movie characters, you finally had an idea and suggested Cinderella and her prince.

"It just feels kinda fitting you know? Nobody knows who I am, but I go out for once, I meet this prince, and he lets me have this fun night. But then at the end of the night, everything goes back to normal, and I'm unknown again."

Until he eventually can't stay away and they both fall in love and live happily ever after… but that's neither here nor there. Totally not my intention.. pffft…

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. Should I send a carriage?" He joked with a wink, but you could tell he was a little bit serious. You couldn't help but feel like he would have reserved a carriage ride in a heartbeat had you said yes.

"Absolutely not. Way too big of a scene," you laughed. "In fact, I actually have work that day. Would it be possible for me to just meet you there after I get off work? I can just take an Uber across town. My work isn't too far from the party and I'm sure parking will be a mess."

Pedro agreed, although he felt bad you'd be taking a ride-share service alone and continued to offer a ride if you needed. He also felt a bit disappointed he wouldn't get to have any time alone with you beforehand, but he wasn't about to tell you that detail.

Either way, the two of you agreed on your plans, and as the days led up to the party, you grew more and more eager. You also felt more and more dread in the pit of your stomach.

But this will be good. It has to be. Right?

_____

The night of the party came quickly.

You got off work, took a quick shower, changed into your costume, did your hair, and added a little bit of makeup. The costume felt silly, but you kept telling yourself it was Halloween and everyone would be in costumes. Plus, you have a handsome prince waiting for you inside. As your mind and heart raced, the Uber driver pulled up to the curb, dropped you off, and you were met with a line to the entrance.

The line to the party was lengthy, filled mostly with eager fans, paparazzi, and journalists hoping to gain entry. Occasionally you'd see a celebrity pass by, but they were quickly ushered in once they were recognized.

You, however, were unknown by all. So you stood in line, surrounded by others who hoped desperately to meet their favorite celebrity. Not unlike yourself.

Having finally made it, you sent a quick text to Pedro. "Hey! I'm here :) sorry I'm late."

Your stomach twisted in knots. Sure, you were excited to meet Pedro. Especially with as much as the two of you have been talking over the past couple months now-

Geez, has it really been months?

But despite your connection, you still had that nagging self-conscious worry that he might not like you. Maybe he's just been talking with you to be nice, and the second you're together in person he won't give you the time of day. Maybe he will find you boring in real life. Maybe he will think you're ugly. Or weird. Or fat. Or -

"Next!" The bouncer at the door yelled after sending yet another hopeful fan away. Your stomach dropped and your mouth was dry.

"Hi, I-"

"NAME?" He barked, clearly done with this whole event.

"Well, actu-"

"Speak up princess, I can't hear ya when ya mumblin," the man said with a thick New York accent.

You cleared your throat. "Actually my name isn't on the list, I'm a guest of Pedro Pascal."

The man, towering over you, let out a bellowing laugh. "YEAH, I'm sure ya are, toots. You and every other woman in this joint."

"But I-"

"And trust me, I've turned away much prettier broads than the likes a' you at this doorway," he said while looking you up and down with an amused look as if he had just told the punchline at a comedy club.

Your heart sank. You always said things like that to yourself on the inside, but it wasn't often that people were that blunt to your face.

The man sneered while smacking his gum and arrogantly moving it to the other side of his mouth with his tongue. That gum. You wanted to punch him if you had to hear him smack it one more time.

"Back a' the line, kid. Y'ain't gettin' in here tonight, but I appreciate the self-confidence," he said, laughing at his own joke.

Disheartened, you didn't even care about meeting Pedro anymore. Your mood was dampened, your ego was hurt, and all you wanted to do was go home, get out of this stupid costume, and cry on your couch. With a short nod, you bit your lip to choke down the tears, turned, and headed towards the exit.

"Hey!!! There you are- wait where are you going?"

You'd recognize that voice anywhere. Pedro.

You turned around, swallowing down your emotions and putting on a fake smile, despite the wave of hurt and anxiety pooling in your stomach and chest. "Hey, Pedro! You found me."

Pedro smiled at the guard and snuck past, telling him "hey, she's with me." Fans in line squealed, which he greeted with a kind wave and charming smile. At last, he reached you and gestured for the two of you to head inside to the party. You gave a nod and a small, half-hearted smile.

You didn't want him to know how upset you were. Not only did you feel pathetic and slightly agree with the bouncer, but you also didn't want to ruin Pedro's night.

As the two of you entered the crowded party, you looked around at the decorations. Filled with purple and green lighting, the Halloween music blared and monsters danced the night away. A bowl of green punch sat on a table to the side, surrounded by bowls of candy and platters of snacks. An open bar was on the back wall, providing both normal booze, and Halloween themed drinks topped with gummy worms or syrup made to look like blood. To the right of the bar was a door to the large rooftop balcony which held tall, dark-green potted hedges, perfectly trimmed and shaped underneath rows of charming fairy lights. Beyond the shrubbery, the deck had several nice patio tables and chairs, a few people catching their breath outside or chatting, and a gorgeous view of the city below with the sparkling sky above.

Back inside and off to the right of the patio door, away from the dance floor, was a door which you assumed was the restroom, based on the long line of women.

"I'd like you to meet some people, if you feel up to it," Pedro yelled to be heard over the booming music from the dj.

"Okay!" You yelled back.

He led you over to a couple of people off to the side of the dance floor, one you recognized as his friend Sarah Paulson, who was dressed in a shimmery witch costume.

Pedro introduced the two of you. Sarah was very sweet, and while you talked music and acting, Pedro touched your shoulder and spoke into your ear to avoid yelling. "I'm going to grab a drink, can I get you anything?"

"I'll just take a soda, thanks!" Although some alcohol might help your nerves, you wanted to maintain a clear head and maybe not do or say something to Pedro that you might regret.

"You got it," he replied, turning on his heel towards the bar.

Once he had left, Sarah gave you a look.

"What?" you laughed.

"You know, he talks about you all the time. I know you already love some other guy based on that hit song of yours, but I gotta say I think he might be smitten with you."

"Oh please, no he isn't. We're just friends!" You smiled at the idea, but inside, you kept hearing the bouncer's words on repeat. There's no way Pedro could have feelings for you. Even if you wanted him to have those feelings more than anything, it couldn't be.

"Whatever you say," she said with a smirk.

A pause before she added "just… don't hurt him. I know you love someone else, but he's a good guy," she pleaded, letting her protective side show.

On his way back from the bar, Pedro ran into Oscar, whom he tagged up with and headed back to your small group. "This is my friend Oscar," said Pedro, introducing you to Oscar as his friend.

Friend. Remember that. Friend. That's all. All you'll ever be.

"Nice to meet you Oscar!" You gave him a cherry smile.

"Nice to finally meet the woman of the hour! Pedro here just won't shut up about you," he said with a smirk, looking at Pedro mischievously. Pedro blushed and looked into his drink cup, taking a sip while trying to hide himself.

"Yep! It's always 'she said this, she said that, can you believe she can do that? She's so smart, funny, sweet…' yada yada yada," he said, smirking again and taking a side glance at Pedro, who choked on his soda. "Shut. Up. Oscar." He quietly threatened through clenched teeth. But despite his quiet tone and a loud party, you heard him.

I mean, I say kind things about my friends that way sometimes. It's nice he's so appreciative of his friends. Because that's what I am. A friend.

Sarah chimes in. "That's what I was telling her! But she claims they're just friends," she air-quotes around the words 'just friends.'

Pedro's heart sank. He knew deep down that's all you were to him, but hearing it second-hand from you still hurt. Just friends… he thought.

"Yeah right," Oscar rolled his eyes, talking to Sarah as if the two of you weren't standing literally right next to them.

"Believe what you want Oscar, but it's true," Pedro answered with a shrug.

Now it was your turn to feel heartbroken. Just friends… you thought.

You cleared your throat, "anyway, I'm going to go get another soda. Can I get anyone anything?" They all answered no, and you headed for the bar.

Deep in your thoughts, you walked over to the bar when a woman slammed into you. She spilled her red, bloody Halloween cocktail drink all down the front of your costume. "Watch where you're going, fat bitch," said the woman, appropriately dressed in a devil costume, her skin-tight red dress barely covering her ass and breasts.

You sighed. At this point you decided to skip the refill and head toward the bathroom to clean up your now wet front. You looked back to see the devil herself headed right towards Pedro's direction. Typical, you thought with an eye roll. She wants him and is mad I was talking to him.

You turned away from that scene and reached the line to the bathroom. It was lengthy, but luckily it was moving fast. Once inside, you finally could let your emotions out a little bit. You wanted to put on a brave face for Pedro and not ruin his evening, but ever since the bouncer made his comments, you couldn't get them out of your head. And now with that woman spilling her drink on you, you had another reason to be upset. You felt undeserving to be here to begin with, and their comments really solidified the imposter syndrome.

Despite wanting so desperately to see Pedro in the flesh, you hadn't even been able to really make eye contact all evening. Your nerves about meeting him were still there, but now you were just upset about the whole night. Even though you wanted to look at him, really see him, you felt like you didn't deserve it; and your nerves warned you not to look or else he'd figure you out.

If he realizes I like him, it's game over. It'll be like that guy I liked before. He'll eventually say it's weird. Weird for me to have a crush on him, weird for me to touch him, weird for the two of us to talk about relationships or sex. It's 'weird' with you.

You really started to hate that word; weird.

Perhaps you were destined to be a single hermit forever. Or maybe just become a nun.

Cleaned up and having let enough tears out for a couple more hours, at least until you could go home and really cry, you walked out of the bathroom. Heading back toward Pedro, you saw a tall, thin, beautiful woman wearing a tight black dress with a slit down the thigh and skeleton makeup on her face.

The woman was standing close to Pedro when you saw her touch his bicep. Slowly running her hand down his forearm, she batted her eyelashes and twirled her hair with her other hand. She said something to him you couldn't hear, but the two of them began to smile, Pedro's eyes growing wide with his grin. He said something to her and they both laughed, him throwing his upper half forward in a classic Pedro laugh.

That's it. I can't do it. I can't be here and see this.

Turning on your heel, you made for the patio door. The crisp air hit your face, urging the tears to fall immediately.

_____

Pedro laughed as the woman, Tricia, held up both hands in defense. "I SWEAR, Pedro. That's what she did. She touched my arm like that, twirled her hair, batted her eyelashes, and said "hey baby. Come here often?"

Pedro laughed, "oh man, that's so cheesy."

"I know!" Tricia laughed, holding her stomach.

Pedro raised an eyebrow. "Okay, you agree it's cheesy, yet I feel like every time I've seen you two together tonight, you're the one that can't keep your hands off of her," he stated with a sassy smirk.

"Alright, you caught me," Tricia replied with a laugh, right as her girlfriend Sam walked up in a matching skeleton costume. Sam handed Tricia a cup of purple liquid and asked what they were laughing about.

"I asked how you two got together," Pedro replied with a chuckle.

"Oh, gosh, I can only imagine how she's spun the story this time!" Sam replied with an eye roll and a quick kiss to Tricia's lips. Seeing the two love-birds kiss made Pedro long to experience that with you.

Where did she go? There's no way she's still getting a drink.

He excused himself and headed towards the bar, but you weren't there. Then he walked towards the bathroom to check the line. Nope.

Finally he looked to the left and saw you, leaning against the balcony which overlooked the city.

He pulled the sliding door open, slipping outside into the cool October night. The patio was mostly empty, apart from a few stragglers on the far side of the rooftop, sitting at the patio furniture underneath a heat lamp. Most of the guests had gone inside when the temperature began to dip. He walked towards you, saying your name to gain your attention, but you didn't turn. Too deep in your thoughts.

"Are you okay? What are you doing out here all alone?" He touched your shoulder gently.

Startled, you tried to quietly sniffle and wipe your wet eyes without him noticing, careful to avoid smudging your mascara.

You turned to face him, planting another fake smile on your face. "Yeah I'm fine, just needed some air, that's all. You?"

"I can tell you're not okay. What's wrong?" He frowned, stepping closer to you and eyeing the red stain on your dress. Confusion laced across his face.

You stepped back a half-step away from his touch. "It's nothing, it just seems it isn't my night I guess… but you look like you're having fun. Get back in there and dance with Sarah and Oscar," you said with a gentle smile. "I think I might head out. Skipper is probably wondering where I am, anyway."

"I'm sorry you're not having a good time. Let me at least give you a ride home," he pleaded with his brown eyes. This was the first time all night you had actually made eye contact with him, finally seeing just how handsome he really was in person.

Yeah. There's no way he'd go for me. That's for sure.

"No, no please, you stay, I'll just get an Uber. It's fine! Thank you for inviting me tonight though, Pedro. That was really sweet of you."

"I'm not letting you take an Uber home when I'm right here."

"No, dont. I don't want you to miss the party…" you added.

"I've partied enough tonight. Come on, I'm taking you home. No arguments," he pressed, puppy dog eyes unwavering in his demand.

Seriously this man could get away with murder the way he looks with those eyes.

"Okay. Fine, if you really don't mind," you finally agreed, not that it was even an option.

He gave a quick explanation to his friends with a brief wave before the two of you headed out the front door. You scowled at the guard as you walked past.

Thanks for ruining my night, asshole.

After receiving his car from the valet, Pedro pulled open the passenger door for you, gesturing for you to climb inside.

Nobody has ever opened the car door for me before, other than my dad.

What a gentleman...

Just because you were upset didn't mean you weren't zapped with a feeling of adrenaline and love at his chivalrous action. Whoever ends up with him is a lucky person.

You climbed in the passenger seat and he went around the car, entering the driver's side.

Not only did you feel like you ruined the party, but you worry you may have ruined your shot altogether. Why would Pedro want you after you didn't even talk to him your first night out together?

_____

*Pedro's POV*

As he climbed into his seat, buckling up and starting the ignition, he couldn't help but wonder where the night went wrong.

Did I say something to offend her?

He began to replay all the conversations you'd had tonight, trying to figure out when your sadness began and what could have caused it.

The party conversations? The texts? The phone calls?

Nothing came to mind, which worried him even more that he could be so ignorant to have said something hurtful without realizing.

Pedro looked over at you in his passenger seat. You were curled toward the side, arms scrunched toward your body and looking out the window. Silent. Just the occasional sound of a sniffle, or a road direction for him to take toward your house.

He wanted so badly to reach over and touch you. Hold your hand and rub his thumb over your fingers to comfort you in any way possible while driving. Then, he'd pull you into his arms the second you two got out of the car.

But he knew he couldn't. You weren't his to hold.

Was her crush at the party too? Could he have hurt her somehow?

He felt anger flare into his system at whatever could have made you cry. You deserved the world and he wished he could spend every day trying to prove it to you.

_____

*Back to your perspective*

About 20 minutes later, you quietly said "this is me."

Pedro put the car in park, and told you to wait. Confused, you sat, but he ran around the car and opened the door for you.

What. The. Hell. Is he real?

You stood from the car, fluffing down your ruined princess dress. "Thank you Pedro. You really didn't have to give me a ride, I feel bad you went out of your way. I'm sorry if I ruined your night."

"Hey, whoa, don't apologize. There's no way you ruined my night, and don't worry about the ride. I feel better knowing you made it home safely from me than some taxi service," Pedro placed his hand on his heart.

"Well, thank you either way. It was nice getting to finally meet you in person…"

"It was nice meeting you too," he shifted his weight, awkwardly wondering how to proceed.

"You should go. Get back to your party before you miss anything else! I'm sure Oscar and Sarah miss you," you prompted.

"Oh, I'm not going back. I'll just call it a night and head home. It's not as fun without my date, anyway." He smirked, and you couldn't help but wonder if he was flirting with you. Probably just being nice.

"You aren't going back??"

"Nah, I'm good. But…" he rubbed the back of his neck with his palm.

"What?" You felt nervous.

"Can I ask why you're so upset? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. It's just… if I did something or said something to upset you… I'm so sorry," he said, and you could actually feel the genuine sadness in his voice.

"Oh, Pedro. No. You did nothing wrong. It's just," you sighed. "Do you want to come in?"

You worried about asking and seeming too forward, but now that it's out there it can't be taken back.

Friends go over to other friend's houses. It's totally fine and normal.

"I, uh, sure," Pedro stumbled over his words. "I'd love to. If you don't mind." He seemed nervous and a little surprised at your invitation.

You unlocked your door and the two of you entered. Instantly, you were greeted by your boy, who was all too happy to have a new friend. His tail wagged, smacking against nearby surfaces.

Pedro's face lit up instantly, and he crouched down to Skip's level. Letting Skipper get a good sniff, you heard Pedro gently coo to your dog. "Hi buddy!! I'm Pedro. I've heard so much about you." He scratched behind his ears.

Your heart swelled. Here they were, two of your favorite boys, bonding like old friends.

Pedro stood up again, giving a final scratch to Skipper's head before turning to you. "So, do you want to talk about it? What happened tonight?"

You ushered him to the kitchen table, asking him if he would like a drink. "Sure, thanks. Just water, please."

You poured two glasses of water and sat at the table near him, finally delving into the events of the evening. You told him about the bouncer and the woman with her drink. "I also saw that one girl talking to you and being really touchy and flirty and I felt like I was intruding."

I was also really fucking jealous…

"Wait, what girl?"

He repeated the evening's events through his mind. He wasn't flirting or being touchy? Who were you - Oh. Tricia, when she was describing Sam. Were you jealous of her? He allowed his mind to wonder, slightly hopeful that you might want more.

"I guess I just… I don't really feel like I fit in here. I don't look like I fit in here. I don't act like I fit in here. I honestly don't even know why you're as nice to me as you are. I wonder why you want to be my friend. Not that I'm not happy about it, because I am, but-"

He cut off your ramblings. "Whoa, whoa, hey. Sweetheart. You belong here. People just don't know you yet. That bouncer was totally out of line and a complete asshole. That woman, who spilled her drink on you, was rude, offensive, and nasty; and I don't tolerate that kind of behavior. Especially towards those I care about. The second she came over, I could tell she was a snake. I didn't give her the time of day. And lastly, the girl you saw being touchy was my friend Tricia. She was describing how her girlfriend picked her up in a bar," he laughed.

"Oh," you listened to his words, still not making eye contact, looking at your hands on the table.

"And as for you," he prompted, "I'm nice to you because you deserve it. You're sweet and funny, and I'm so thankful to have met you. I talk to you because I like talking to you. I enjoy spending time with you, whether it's on the phone, or, even better, when I get to see your face. Although I have to say I hate to see it crying." He brushed away a tear from your cheek, and you gave a small laugh, wiping the rest of your face.

"Thanks Pedro. I'm sorry if I brought down your night. I just really wanted tonight to be special, and it felt like my carriage turned back into a pumpkin before I even started." You gave another defeated laugh.

"You didn't ruin my night. If anything I'm just disappointed you didn't say anything, so I could help cheer you up or we could go do something else." He paused, brushing your hair from your eyes. "By the way, I never did get to tell you how beautiful you look in that dress, princesa."

Your cheeks heated under his gaze. "T-thanks Pedro. You look pretty handsome there, yourself," you answered nervously. It was the first time you had truly looked at him all night, and he was more beautiful than you ever could have imagined. Even pictures didn't do him justice. Dressed in a white suit with golden epaulets and golden buttons on the jacket, he was the most charming prince you'd ever seen.

Pedro rubbed his neck. "Thank you." He smiled. "But, hey, just because the night didn't go your way doesn't mean we can't turn it around."

You smirked. "That's true. Do you wanna watch a movie or something? Because if so, I think I might change out of this costume real quick," you began to stand.

"Whoa, not so fast princesa," he grabbed your arm.

You turned and gave him a confused look.

"Not before I share a dance with you in that dress. I've been waiting all night," he held out his hand.

"Really?" The grin on your face lit up, and you pulled him towards your music room where you stored your records.

"Wow. This is amazing. You have so many records and instruments in here! Is this where you write your music, too?"

"Yep! Here's where the magic happens," you answered with a laugh, pulling out an old record filled with slow love songs of the 50's and 60's. You placed the needle on the record, hearing a soft crackle as it began to play.

Pedro pulled you into his chest, grabbing your right hand with his left and gently placing his right hand on your waist. You slid your left hand up to his shoulder and smiled up at him as the two of you gently swayed to the music.

One song turned into two. Then three, and finally four; the two of you holding each other, silent except for the soft music turning from your record player on the desk. At some point you took the risk and decided to rest your face on his chest while the two of you swayed. His head rested on top of yours, both of you breathing softly, eyes closed, with you listening to the rhythmic drumming of his heart in his chest.

The record crackled with the end of the first side and the two of you looked at each other. You didn't miss the quick glance he stole from your eyes down to your lips, and you began to slowly lean closer.

Is this it?! Am I finally going to have my first kiss?!

You continued leaning closer, both his and your eyes gently closing. You could feel his breath fanning across your nose when-

Clunk clunk clunk. Pant pant. Whine.

You and Pedro opened your eyes, confusion painting your expressions as you turned your faces away from each other towards the sound. Still held in each other's arms, you peeled your eyes away from each other to see Skipper looking at you both with a big doggy grin on his face. His tail smacked the table with a thump thump, and he let out soft little whines and coos for attention.

The two of you laughed, the moment over, as you both kneeled down to give pets while Skip wedged between the two of you. Although you were disappointed the kiss was interrupted, you can't be mad at such a cute face. Still scratching your dog, you looked across to Pedro on the other side of Skipper. The two of you shared a soft look and smile, filled with so many unsaid words and feelings.

"So, uh.. how about that movie?" Pedro asked, still smiling.

______

You changed out of your princess costume into a comfier movie watching outfit and he changed out of his prince costume. He had some clothes in his car, which he changed into, looking handsome as ever. He wore a navy blue sweater with jeans, both fitting him perfectly. The two of you settled on your couch and turned on a movie. Although you sat next to each other, you kept a friendly distance, neither of you wanting to push the other too far.

As the movie rolled on, you had a hard time focusing on the plot with him so close. He looked so cozy and soft, you just wanted to climb in his lap. You wanted him to hold your hand. You wanted to finish that kiss. He smelled nice, he looked nice, and you wanted him more than anything else in this world.

Without realizing it, you gravitated closer. Your body inched toward him, and without him realizing it, he inched closer as well. It wasn't long until your leg was brushed against his. Just the slight touch of his leg on yours was enough to send an electric feeling pulsing through your body. The tension was as tight as an electrical cable, slowly fraying until it eventually snaps into sparks.

Pedro's fingers twitched at his side, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Your eyes kept sneakily darting over to him, his doing the same at opposite times. Your hearts were racing, breathing quick and shallow. The movie finally ended, neither of you able to tell someone the storyline if asked.

You nervously turned towards Pedro, rubbing the back of your neck. "So that was some movie…"

"Yeah, that ending… it was-" his eyes darted to your lips. "Something." He looked into your eyes, hand settling on your thigh as the two of you once again began to lean in closer. You had just shut your eyes, noses brushing together, when he pulled away.

What the heeeeeeeellllll??? Whyyyy!?

You couldn't help but let out a whimper as you opened your eyes after the second failed kiss of the evening.

Pedro sat with his elbows on his lap, holding his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry…"

"What? Pedro? Why are you sorry? What's wrong? Did I - did I do something wrong?"

Do I smell bad? Does he not like me? Was this some sick joke?

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm sorry. I let my feelings get in the way, and I shouldn't have done that. You're in love with someone else. I can't steal your first kiss. You deserve to have it with the man you really love."

"Pedro-" you tried to pry his hand from his face.

"No. I'm sorry if I ruined things. I should probably leave-" he began to stand up, but you grabbed his forearm and pulled him back down.

"Stop. Pedro," you begged.

He sat back down, looking into your eyes guiltily.

You continued. "Please don't apologize. I wanted you to kiss me…"

"But that guy in your song. You deserve to be with him. I've been letting my feelings take over and stealing all your time away on the phone and text, video chat, and now in person. I almost stole your first kiss from you twice tonight and-" he rambled on, once again throwing his hands over his face before you interrupted him again.

"Pedro.." you pulled his hand away from his face, leaving yours to hold his cheek instead, but he still avoided your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you figured it was time to take the plunge.

"It's you, Pedro."

His eyes glanced up to yours. "What?"

"It's you. It's always been you. You're the one I like."

"Wait, so you mean-"

"Yes. The songs, the interviews, our chats… I've been talking about you this whole time. I really, really, like you."

Pedro gave a gentle smile, leaning his face into your hand. "I like you too, baby," he whispered.

His hand moved from his cheek to yours and the two of you leaned in. Closing your eyes, you brushed your noses together before you whispered "please kiss me.

You could feel a soft smile as he pressed his lips to yours, first gentle and soft, then stronger and more desperate. Although the kiss was still very tame, you could both feel all the emotions you've been harboring for each other for so long.

Breathless, the two of you pulled back, falling into a gentle laughter. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for that kiss," you spoke softly, wanting to keep the words as quiet as possible, heard only within the tiny bubble you currently shared.

"Me too," he smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips.

"I think you were worth the wait," you pecked his lips.

"I think you were too," he rested his head on your forehead with his hand on your neck, lightly stroking over your hair.

"I like you." You giggled.

"I like you too." He grinned. "But, you know, if I remember correctly, 'like' wasn't the word you used in your song…" he teased.

Your stomach flipped. "I don't want to scare you off too soon, P."

"You won't, sweetheart. You couldn't if you tried. I feel the same way." He kissed your forehead.

You looked at him, and feeling slightly nervous, yet calmed by his deep brown eyes, you told him those important words that have been spilling from your chest in silence.

"I love you Pedro."

"I love you too," he grabbed your face, once again pressing a kiss to your lips, this one much deeper than the others, before pulling you into his arms. The two of you were finally together. Finally you had love. All the things you wanted were coming true.

Turns out you got your happily ever after tonight after all.

__________

To be continued...

That's all for now! I hope you liked this chapter. I've received a lot of kind messages and DMs saying how much you guys relate to the reader and I just want to say thank you. It really means a lot to me that people are finding something to relate to. I'm essentially just using this fic as my diary, because she is pretty much just me. So to see others feeling the same way, it makes my heart so full! I send hugs to all of you.

Next Chapter! Here!

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!) If I forget to add anyone, I'm sorry!

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal rpf #rpf #pedro pascal x y/n #key to your heart

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444rockstargf · 1 month

Note

Hey, "high with Clyde" anon here (and high again, funnily enough). Smut you say? I've had a thought circulating in my mind recently. Going shopping for new clothes with Jack Thurlow and trying stuff on for him to rate while he sits all pretty on that couch they have there (y'know, that one that they have specifically for guys doing the exact same thing?) while you model for him. And for whatever reason - maybe his responses have been rather lacklustre and you want his....ahem, "enthusiasm", or maybe just cuz you're devious like that - you decide you wanna rile him up a little bit. So! At the next store, you grab like, the sluttiest outfits available unbeknownst to him, and then model them all for him, feeling all smug that he's practically drooling at you

And when he finally reaches his breaking point, the next thing you know, you got your feet behind your ears and his hand over your mouth so you don't get caught. 🤤 Idk, do with that what you might. ^^

you've done it again, anon 🙌🏽

"i get dressed to ride for you, baby." | jack thurlow

burning desire. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @angelsanarchy @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @livingdead-materialgirl@romanroyapoligist @oliviah-25@si1nful-symph0ny @auggiethecreator @vanlisbon@livingdead-reilly @imoonkiss @lankysimp @nom-nommmm1 @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt @mommymilkers0526 @greenxgloss @wild-rose-35 @areuirish

female!reader x jack

word count: 1.8k

contents: public sex, unprotected p in v, missionary position, creampie

“you’ve got 5 minutes to try everything on, you hear me?” jack called out as he sat on the small leather couch outside of your dressing room, brows furrowed as he crossed his arms and slumped into the seat knowing full well you were going to take your precious time trying on every single outfit. so much for a "fun" shopping trip.

inside the small room, you had an assortment of clothes in front of you, ranging from long flowy gowns to dark blue baggy jeans and designer sweaters. a top-tier selection of clothes but none of which were to jack’s taste. but you decided to test your luck anyway.

minutes later, you stepped out and stood right in front of him, wearing your first dress. “how’s this one, jack?” his eyes were downcast, looking at something on his phone. you tapped him on the shoulder, only earning half of his attention. “hm? it looks nice, dolly.” you pouted, moving your hand to his chin to make him look at you. “but you didn’t even look at it.” he moved your hand away, looking you up and down with an unamused gaze. “i said it looks fine. now are you finally done so we can get out of here?”

you rolled your eyes, walking back into the dressing room and slipping off the dress. you picked up a skintight black dress that was so long it dragged on the floor. surely this one would grab his attention, you thought to yourself as you paired it with a white, button-up sweater. you put on a pair of light-brown heels that were hidden by the fabric, stepping out once again and patting his cheek.

“what about this? is this one better?” you gave him a little spin, giving him a full 360 degrees of your body in the tight dress. he gave a little smirk in response. “yeah if you wanna look like a nun, i guess. is this the last outfit? i don’t think i can listen to the music in here any longer.” you huffed, discouraged at how nonchalant he was. “yes, im done.” you muttered, walking back into the dressing room to get back into your normal clothes.

you walked out of the dressing room empty-handed, leaving everything behind since none seemed to give you the reaction you expected from him. he took your hand, dragging you out of the store and back into the main mall. “good riddance,” he muttered under his breath. “can we go home now, angel?” your eyes scanned the assortment of stores surrounding you until they landed on one that would surely sell clothes that would blow his socks off.

you shook your head. “not yet, i just wanna go to one more store. please, just one more place?” you begged, staring up at him as he groaned. “only one more. you head on inside, i’m going to grab a coffee. i’ll meet you in the dressing room.” with that, he released your hand and let you go your own way.

you dashed into the store, immediately pleased by the outfits in the display window. you wasted no time picking up everything you saw, picturing the look on his face when he’d see the clothes on you. you walked into the dressing room, starting to change into one of the outfits as you heard his voice.

“you in here, doll?” he said as he sipped on his hot drink, waiting for a response. “i’m here, jack. just gimme a sec, okay?” he nodded, immediately realizing that you couldn’t see his answer. he sat down on the seat in front of your dressing room, sighing as he scrolled on his phone. “this damn girl…” he whispered to himself. then he was interrupted by the noise of you walking out, standing right in front of him.

you didn’t have to tap him to get his attention this time. his eyes were caught by the shiny black thigh-high leather boots you had on. then his eyes traveled up, first landing on your dangerously short pleated skirt and low-cut tube top that showed just enough cleavage to make his breath hitch (this is the outfit). you placed your hand on your hips, looking down at him as he swallowed hard, immediately putting his phone down and gripping the seat.

“now i’ve got your attention.” you remarked smugly. “you like this one, jack?” you took the words out of his mouth, his cheeks covered in a bright pink stain as his mouth gaped open. he cleared his throat, nodding nervously as a stupid little smile tugged at his lips. “y-yeah, this one’s nice, baby. give me a little spin, will ya?” your face lit up and you twirled, making the skirt lift up just a little as your heels clicked on the ground.

jack squirmed, shifting his position so he was sitting with his legs crossed, suppressing a painfully obvious boner. you grinned triumphantly, happy that you could break his cold, hard exterior. you walked back into the room, making that sad that you were going away but excited to see that next set of clothes you’d have on.

minutes passed and jack found himself impatiently tapping his foot as his mind ran wild with thoughts of you wearing such intimate clothes just for him. his hard cock was straining against the rough denim of his jeans, making him groan quietly as he placed a hand on top of his bulge to calm the throbbing sensation.

his foot began to bounce on the ground with anticipation, and soon enough he couldn’t take it anymore. he sprung up from his seat, pushing the curtain of your dressing room to the side and popping his head in. “are you done in here?” you jumped slightly, startled. but jack’s eyes became as wide as saucers as drool began to drip down his lips.

you stood in front of the mirror, wearing a small tennis skirt with a plaid pattern on it, paired with a white silky shirt that was more revealing than your bra. and your cute little feet in those white knee-high socks didn’t help the matter either (the outfit). “jack! i’m not done in here yet!”

he walked into the room, approaching you with a lust-filled haze as you backed into the wall behind you. he closed the curtain of the room, pinning you to the wall and pressing his body into yours, his boner pressing into your stomach. you gasped, the heat of blood starting to pool in your core as he grabbed your face and pulled you into a very sloppy kiss.

“goddamnit, woman… you just know exactly how to drive me crazy, don’t you?” he grabbed your ass, lifting you off the ground and making you wrap your legs around his waist, your clothed, throbbing clit now in contact with his pulsating bulge. you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you again, this time using his tongue to tease yours with his gentle flicks.

your hips began to grind on his, desperate for even the smallest amount of pleasure to still your nerves. jack groaned deeply, whipping out his cock and pumping it quickly. you glanced down, seeing that his girth had nearly doubled in size because of how swollen it had gotten. he rubbed his leaky tip on your silky panties, feeling your wetness through the thin fabric.

you let out a shaky moan, grabbing onto his muscled biceps as he set you down on the wooden bench that was meant for clothing. he pushed everything else off, leaving room for only you as he pushed your legs behind your head, the wet spot on your panties much more conspicuous in this position.

jack bit his lip as he grinned from ear to ear. “that’s my little model…” he trailed a teasing finger down your cleavage until he got all the way down to your dripping wet cunt. he replaced his finger with his cock, getting off from the feeling of your wet folds hungrily attempting to swallow him.

“guess we should get these out of the way, huh?” he slipped his cock underneath the thin string that covered your pussy, breaking it away with a light tug. your breath became shaky as the cold air hit your grooling cunt. jack spat on his thumb, rubbing messy circles onto your clit as he lined himself up with your hole.

the tip slipped in effortlessly, along with the first few inches. you moaned quietly, making jack clamp his hand over your mouth. “it would be a shame if we got caught in here, wouldn’t it?” with a low groan, he pushed in the remaining inches of his rod, making your eyes well. with his jeans down to his ankles, his hips began slapping into yours.

your eyes rolled to your back on your head as the perfect curve of his dick made him reach nothing but your cervix. you felt your drool bubbling all over his hand as deep, heavy breaths escaped from his parted lips. his large cock abused and stretched out your tiny hole, much to his pleasure.

his fingernails dug into the back of your thighs as his balls slapped your asshole with every deep thrust. your hands found his wrist and forearm, gripping the skin tightly as a white-hot knot began to tie in your stomach. jack’s orderly thrusts quickly lost their composure as your muffled moans made his core boil.

strings on precum connected him to you each time he pulled out. he flipped his hair out of his face, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed back curses that threatened to break free. “s-shit… that’s it, baby… takin’ my cock so well…”

your back arched as you ground your hips against his, desperately chasing the orgasm that was just in your reach. your gushy folds hungrily ate up his cock, making him toss his head back. “use my dick, angel…just like that.” you brought your fingers to your clit, sobbing into his hand as you felt yourself cumming all over him. he grabbed your hips, fucking you at lightning speed as his balls sagged with cum. in a matter of seconds, he was filling up your tight, swollen pussy with loads upon loads of his hot seed.

he pulled out of you, watching as his cum cascaded out of your hole like a milky waterfall. you panted breathlessly, slowly regaining your composure as jack tucked his cock back into his pants before getting you all cleaned up as well.

you put on your clothes, looking at the mess you two had just made in a public residence. but before you knew it, jack was out of the dressing room, carrying all of the clothes you tried on. you walked behind him quickly. “where are you going?” jack smiled back at you. “to the cashier. i look forward to my little model putting on a show for me every night.” he dumped the pile of clothes onto the counter, the cum-stained skirt above everything else like a cherry on top.

author's note: thank you "high" anon for the request! istg I rlly didn't mean for it to get so long

#444rockstargf #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #lana del rey #smut #jack thurlow #jack goes home #born to die paradise edition #born to die #jack thurlow smut #jack thurlow x reader #burning desire

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figgrrr0 · 1 year

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oh my lord, thinking abt kaveh who comes home and sees his beloved s/o in his oversized shirt and he suddenly gets so possessive at the sight and just rails you all while youre wearing only his shirt 😩 idk im just head over heels over this pretty man and him being dominant is just muah 👌🏻 ndjwndkskks bonus: i imagine kaveh losing it if it’s alhaitham’s shirt you’re wearing one day instead of his and all hell loose

I will admit rn that I know absolutely nothing about this man, but omggg... he's so gorgeous I can't–

This is longer than I planned but that just shows how much I love this idea. Ty for sharing 🩷

I've never done angst so pls ignore if it's clumsy

Jealous Kaveh

Reader: Bottom!Gn // Genre: Smut, angst

Cw: angst (he thinks you're cheating), rough/emotional sex, slight choking, slight degradation, it gets resolved I promise

Due to your recent antics, Kaveh is wholly unsurprised by what he finds when walking through the door to his room. You, leaning against the wall in a clearly provocative manner, clad in only a shirt so huge on you that the sleeves almost reach your mid thigh.

Rolling his eyes, but unable to hide the affectionate smile that breaks through, Kaveh makes his way over to you. His hand takes its usual place on your hip, though when he pulls you nearer, he can't help but notice that something feels... off. Different.

The odd feeling settles low in his stomach, making him feel almost nauseous, but he pushes it to the back of his mind quickly. He wouldn't want to push you away, especially not when you're looking this good, and obviously trying to rile him up – again.

Kaveh draws you into a kiss, then. It's slower than usual, passing for overly loving, when in reality, his mind is filing through the new information that has so rudely made itself welcome in his mind.

You smell like Al Haitham; or, more so – he notices as he leans down to kiss your neck – the shirt you're wearing does.

Ah, it all makes sense now.

He'd registered that something was out of place as soon as he'd seen you: the shirt itself was of a similar fashion as his own, so while he didn't immediately recognise it, it was a common enough fit that he wouldn't be surprised to see it in his closet. But, even so, the mischievous smile you'd failed so miserably to hide certainly gave away that you were hiding something.

Kaveh wasn't sure he wanted to know what that was.

With a frustrated groan, Kaveh pushes you against the wall, taking care to cushion the back of your head with his hand. He breaks the kiss then, looking deep into your eyes, and the intensity that swirls in his own makes you almost nervous.

He was angry. But, what made you really realise your mistake with this little prank, was the watery glaze of tears that covered his eyes.

Just as you're about to apologise, reach out your hand to encase his cheek in your loving warmth before the situation gets out of hand, he beats you to it.

His hand shoots up to encase your neck, cutting off your words as he presses his lips to yours once again, messy and unco-ordinated – nothing like the kisses you usually share. The barest hint of pressure against the sides of your throat coax you to gasp against him, grabbing onto his shoulders at the threat. But it's not needed, really. Kaveh can make you light-headed with a single look; so how's it going to be this time, when his control has already unravelled, just barely hanging on by a thread that's ready to snap?

Minutes go by like this. You, pressed to the wall and squirming beneath Kaveh's rough handling; and Kaveh, one hand roaming your body in a hurry, the other pinning your tongue down so that you can't try to explain, collecting your drool before it spills.

Finally having enough, Kaveh grips onto the collar of the shirt that drapes over your body, his hand tensing before it jerks with a quick movement– the offensive fabric falling to the floor in two pieces soon after. As if seeing and feeling it weren't enough, the distinct "Riiipp" that sounded far louder than it should have in your ears was certainly enough to glue you in to what Kaveh had just done.

You'd both be in trouble once Al Haitham found out. But first, you'd have to hope you can get through the wrath of your jealous boyfriend before even starting to worry about that.

Now that you'd separated, you could finally see the full effect of the situation in Kaveh's face and erratic actions. He's keeping you as close to him as possible while also keeping you pressed flat against the wall, the fingers that are coated with your spit coming down to press directly into your exposed hole. As impatient as he's feeling, his movements are still sound and practical, making you feel good and forcing moans from your mouth at how different than usual it all feels.

Even though you feel bad for making him feel this way (you really should have thought this through more beforehand), you can't help but enjoy the roughness of his actions. His fingers move fast and hard, scraping deliciously against your walls as they curl inside of you, coaxing you to open up for him. It leaves you clinging onto him to support your balance, your legs growing shaky from the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

But then, it's over far too quickly. Kaveh pulls away before you can reach your peak, hoisting you up until your legs are locked together behind his back. And then, with no other warning, he's pushing into you.

It's instantly overwhelming, the pace he sets from the start a complete 180 from what you're used to with him.

On any other night, you'd describe the sex between you and Kaveh to be making love. Gentle touches and whispered praises, kisses full of passion and reciprocated "I love you"s.

Tonight, he's gripping you hard enough to form bruises, harsh breaths being hissed against your skin, bites of desperation and broken "I love you"s. Except this time, his hand covers your mouth, forcing you to listen as he pours his heart out. Tonight, he's well and truly fucking you.

And it's all because he thinks he's losing you.

As much as you want to take him into your arms and wrap him into a hug so tight that he can't move, so that he has to listen to you as you explain about how stupid you'd been... you know there'd be no getting through to him as he is now.

Of course, if you'd truly wanted him to stop, if he was hurting you rather than sending bursts of white-hot pleasure coursing through your entire being with every rough thrust that smacks against your ass – then he would. As far gone as he is in his own mind, taking out his confusion and anger on you – Kaveh would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. Even now, he's looking into your eyes every few moments, a silent check-in to make sure you still want this. To make sure you still want him.

He's high-strung on emotions, nerves running wild and caught up in the pleasure. The truth is, in this situation, the best thing to do is let him work through it however he needs.

...

A while passes like this, his hands glued to your hips, hard cock slamming as deep into you as possible. Eventually, Kaveh's mind finally starts to come back to him, as he takes in the utter mess he's made of you: eyes rolled back, mouth parted around the moans that are punched out of you with every push of his hips, and nails digging into his shoulders and slicing down to his chest when you're jostled too far.

He's slowing down his erratic thrusts then, worried it's too much for you, that he's overdone it. He's about to pull out, ready to take care of you so that you can have a proper conversation once you're both in the right headspace, when he's completely taken back by your response:

You slam yourself back down onto his cock, begging him not to stop and to be rougher.

And only then does Kaveh realise that this was your plan all along.

No longer is he worried about the security of your relationship or the validity of your feelings for him. You were just being a needy little whore, begging for attention and playing on his frustration with his room-mate.

Now, as he picks his thrusts back up to the blinding speed they'd been before, insults and degradation spills from his lips, mixed with the grounding kisses that you'd started to miss. Now, it was the perfect mix of gentle and rough, old and new.

And when the night is over, cum dripping from your hole, Kaveh will pick up the discarded shirt that got you into this mess in the first place, using it as a cloth to wipe up the sticky mess that drips down your thighs.

Want to send a request/brainrot with me? Check my rules!

Thank you for reading! 🩷

#genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin kaveh #kaveh x reader #kaveh smut #kaveh angst #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #Writing for an ask~🩷

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pandorasfavorite · 1 month

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Saw your post abt being idealess and I am trying to brainstorm for you lol

Okay so first thought, hear me out, a bratty sub dominik x reader (smut ofc) or one where he finds out how much the reader likes him speaking Spanish

Or a story where dom and reader are childhood friends and decide to 🍃 together and one of the confesses (fluff)

I've got a few more ideas but idk if you like these so far or not lol

Love you 💕💕💕

Resuscitate

AN: I love you. I hope you don't mind but I'm going to try and use this opportunity to explore Dominik's point of view. (Please don't kill me, I swear if it is not popular I will never do this again). I just whipped this up yo....kinda impressing myself

Dominik's expectations for tonight were much different than yours. He always felt so drawn to you, and that feeling only grew as you both grew up together. Of course, as children Dominik wasn't in love with you; he didn't even really know what that was. But when he started to understand the concept, it took a short time to find out that's exactly how he felt about you.

For the past few years, Dominik felt absolute calm with you, anytime you made a presence he felt contained, relaxed, and most of all trapped. Trapped by your essence, trapped by the look in your eyes, trapped by the wit in your voice, and his favorite trapped by the way you yelled his name each time you saw him.

"DOMINIK!", you screech and sprint into his arms; acting as if you hadn't seen him in years. Dominik would be taken aback by your excitement to see him, eachtime it happened. And his heart would regularly race, so much so that he once had to step away and remind himself that he was not dying. You gave him a grin and pulled him along with you everywhere you went. Dominik had no complaints when it came to following you, he'd go to the ends of the earth if it meant being by your side.

Now that you both are 25 with too much time on your hands, you took it as your personal responsibility to be the red devil on Dominik's shoulder. He sat with you on the dingy couch you had for years now in the center of your small living room. He felt so comfortable in the familiar area, but sitting next to you with his leg pressed to yours was all he could think about. The moment you both sat down, your mischievous grin rose up and you reached into a drawer and pulled out a tin.

Dominik looked at you with suspicion, but he felt settled being beside you, as you felt being beside him. "What you up to Hermosa?", Dominik asked and moved his head into your space to look at your moving hands. He had been calling you Hermosa from the ripe age of 13, he heard it from his dad at first, and it seemed to apply to you perfectly. You open the tin and pull out the preroll, "Dom it's time", you say like it has been a weight on your chest. "Corazón...", he seems unsure. Dominik has never done this before, and he is 100% positive you have never done it either. He was less worried about the action and more worried about how it would make him act around you.

However, you looked at Dominik with pleading eyes; and without any words, you scathed by and convinced Dominik to smoke with you. "Ok", he drops his protective act and reaches for the lighter also in the tin. If he was going to do this, he would be the first to try it, to warn you, also it seemed more polite to light it for you. If Dominik is anything it is polite. He puts the preroll in his mouth and spares you a quick glance, you smile so cute that he is less nervous to do it. He lights up and takes a deep inhale; a really deep inhale. The smoke hits the back of his throat and the mild burn makes him cough it up.

You smack a hand over your mouth, stifling your laughs as Dominik hacks up a lung. After the initial pain of a gut-wrenching cough, the weed hits instantly. Considering he hasn't done it before it was easy for him to get high. The preroll is dangling from his fingers and you look at him with expectation. He jumps in realization and brings the preroll to your lips for you. You inhale much gentler than Dominik, but the thick smoke hits you just the same. Luckily for you, the coughing fit wasn't nearly as bad as Dominiks.

After another few less apprehensive hits, the high really set in. Dominik's eyes went low and glossy with a light hue of red. His goofy smile instantly graced his features and he turned his head to look at you quickly, though in his point of view, it was like slow motion. When Dominik looked at you his breathing came to a stuttering halt, he felt good; but you looked good. Truly perfect and the low eyes and that pretty smile would've brought him to his knees (if he wasn't on the couch). "How do you feel?", you say and somehow manage to lean closer to him as you speak.

Your words knock Dominik out of a haze and he has to inhale a breath before being able to talk to you. He breathes; his eyes staring into yours without care, he looks you over and answers, "I feel as good as you look". His eyes widen as soon as the words slip from his lips, he is about to speak but your giggle cuts him off. Your cheeks are a light tiny of pink and you put a hand on him as you laugh. If you were to look up 'What does a man in love look like?', a picture of Dominik staring at you with his lips parted in astonishment would pop up.

You sit up and your eyes go comically wide, "I want to do something" you declare and you somehow peel yourself from the couch. Of course Dominik got up just as you had. You both stand and look at each other without a clue of what to do and then you mutter a intrusive thought. "Hm?", Dominik asks you to repeat yourself in a small hum. You look up with those big glossy eyes, and his heart rate seems to beat back to life, "Give me a piggyback ride". Didn't have to tell him twice. He crouches down, "Get on then Hermosa".

You climb on his back and you lay your cheek on his shoulder when he stands up completely. "I like when you call me that", you mumbled against his shoulder, your arms barely hanging onto him. Yet you trust Dominik enough to know he would never let you fall. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much and so largely. He swallows and his mouth has gone dry; sure it was probably from the weed; but in his hazy state Dominik was convinced you have begun to affect him more physically than he anticipated. He walked into the kitchen with you slung on his back and his hands under your thighs keep you on him completely. He whispers that he is going to sit you down on the counter. Afterward, he pours a glass of water for you both to share, handing you the cup to get the first drink.

You moan in contempt as the cool liquid slides down your throat and you feel much better now that your mouth also isn't dry. Dominik eyes shoot to your lips at the sound that came from them. But he shook the thoughts from his head; he will not be that guy. You pull Dominik to you by the collar of his shirt (he curses under his breath at the proximity). "I really want some fucking chocolate", you say with wide eyes that are utmost serious. Dominik's eyebrows pull together in seriousness and he raids the cabinets for you. He finds a candy bar in the bottom cabinets and he pops up when he finds it; he smacks his head "ow". He says under his breath.

You jump off the counter and move to crouch down beside of him, your lips plant on his head before he can anticipate it. "There. Feel better?", you ask and snatch the candy bar from him. Dominik's mouth went dry again; this time, he thought he'd fall from the tingles that shot through his body. He nodded and his glazed-over eyes blinked at you twice. He watches you break off pieces of chocolate, he has the intense urge to pull you into his arms and kiss the chocolate off your lips. He thought, "god I'm in love".

Your head whips to him but Dominik doesn't acknowledge it as he slips a piece of chocolate into his mouth, "This is really good". He talked around the chocolate and then he finally looked up to your surprised look. He looked at you, just nearly as confused.

"Wait what?", you put the chocolate down.

"This chocolate is really good", he says again; rubbing the back of his neck.

"No Dominik what did you say before that- you said that you were..you know". His eyes fly the fuck open and his heart has surely fallen to the pit of his stomach. "What did I say?!", this was his worst fear. You waste no time repeating the words that were now inked into your mind, "You said, god, I'm in love". If his heart was in the pit of his stomach, his lungs were probably in the same spot. His breathing stops and his mouth is opening and closing like a fish out of water. Now that you are looking at him, telling you the truth seems so much harder. The way you were staring at him, with a heartbroken look; he couldn't take it. "I'm sorry Corazón, I should've told you sooner", his glazed-over eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips without the intention. "Me?", you asked in utter surprise, he liked you back, after so many years, he was just in love with you as you were with him.

"Who else?", a breathless laugh escaped from my mouth. You gasp at the complete confession, you fall into him heavily; wrapping your arms around him and holding Dominik tight. "Me too", you say into his chest, Dominik heard it and he felt as if he was floating. He pushes you back to see your face but you stay close, "You too?", he asked just to confirm. You nod and tears begin to well in your eyes at the finality and long-awaited desire coming to life. He smiles and breaks into a quick laugh at his luck, he tilts your body down and gives you a long kiss, pulling back to attach to your lips again; over and over again until his lungs recicitate and until his heart gives out.

#dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio fanfiction #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x you #dom dom #dominik mysterio fluff #dominik my bbg #wwe #dominik #dominik mysterious #dominik is such a good husband

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jealusty--movedaccounts · 1 year

Text

Can I Be Him?

PAIRINGS : Lee Felix × fem!reader.

WORD COUNT : 7.9k.

GENRE : Angst, Smut, Fluff.

WARNINGS/CONTENT : multiple pov (reader+felix+author/narrator), reader has a toxic bf and felix wants her, strangers to friends to lovers, nightclub meet cute lmao, drinking, protective!felix, (un)requited love, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending.

A/N : This was supposed to be a quick smut drabble, but I can't live without adding some angst apparently. The more you know.

"Please, angel. You don't know how long I've been wanting this. I want to do this right. I want to worship you like you deserve."

If you could, you might melt into a puddle right then and there, but his dick is just a few centimeters away from your fingertips, and your mind is just a little unhinged.

You click your tongue impatiently, "You know damn well what happened the last time you tried to do this right. You wouldn't want history to repeat, would you?" His fly is undone in a flash.

"Tick tock, baby."

Main Masterlist

Smut warnings under the cut

SMUT WARNINGS : Lots of kissing, nicknames (baby, angel), switch!felix, switch!reader, Felix as a service top halfway through, begging (willingly, not forced lol), marking (once), voice kink(? Idk the reader gets horny over his deep voice), oral (m.+f. recieving), slight voyeurism (alleyway blowjob), deepthroating, body worship, nipple play, praise kink, spitting, dirty talk, unprotected intercourse (do better), squirting, creampie, fucking that turns to lovemaking, revelations about sexual preferences

"He left again?"

Wrapping your shivering arms around yourself in a failed attempt to bring some warmth, you smile "It's okay."

How the fuck could you smile at that?

"It's okay? Nothing is okay here. You're trembling on the street alone in the middle of the night, and it's okay?"

"It's really fine, Lixie, he had something important to take care of."

"And what could be more important than taking his girlfriend home? He couldn't offer you a ride on his way? Or at least get you in a fucking cab?"

You smile at how riled up Felix was getting, he always was the overprotective type, one of the kindest souls you'd met. That was the only reason he was so worried about you. That was why he looked about fit to burst right now. Yeah, he's just kind.

Who you were convincing, you weren't sure.

You had met him about ten months ago, in this very bar, when you'd come in for the first time. He'd been a regular and you'd clicked in an instant. You remember the night distinctly.

Stepping into 'Enigma', you repeated your plan in your head over and over,

I just need to get it out. I'm gonna find some cute guy, flirt with him, fuck him, and be on my merry way.

Only, you hadn't ever done this before. Only, it was your first time being alone in a nightclub. Only, you didn't know how to flirt- all your sexual experiences being with past lovers.

Oh god, this was such a bad idea.

If I just turn around a little bit, just a little, at a distance of like two steps, I can be out and into the confines of my home and wallow in-

No. Stop doing this. Calm the fuck down.

Making your way to the bar before your brain could talk you out of it, you order a Cosmo. You'd rather have your wits about you if you were going to fuck a stranger.

Fuck, am I actually doing this?

You swirl in your bar stool, looking around, and within seconds, lock eyes with a handsome stranger leaning against the wall right on the opposite side of the nightclub.

Oh, I'm doing this, alright.

You offer what you think is a flirtatious smile, and the man smiles so brightly at you, you get whiplash.

Heck yeah, I'm definitely doing this.

The bartender calls over to you to let you know that your drink is ready, promptly ending the little staring contest you'd unknowingly been participating in.

You turn back and accept your drink.

When you look over your shoulder again, the stranger is gone. Looking around, you don't see him again.

I'm not gonna get it today, am I?

Just as you were about to actually physically whine, you feel a light tap on your shoulder.

"Is this seat taken?"

Hah! I'm getting it.

You shake your head a little too eagerly, hoping it doesn't show. If he notices your enthusiasm, he doesn't say anything. Sliding into the stool next to you, he turns to face you,

"I'm Felix."

Now that you have gotten over your little mental victory dance, you hear him, like really hear him.

"What the-"

"That's an interesting name." He chuckles, not at all bothered by your bluntless.

"Sorry, it's just, your- your voice... " You fumble about, not really knowing what to say.

"Is..?" He cocks up an eyebrow.

Oh, he was enjoying this a little too much.

"Really-" You almost said 'turning me on.' It was. It really was. It was so thick, deep and velvety. Like the deepest of hot dark chocolates melting and trickling down the wine glass. Just a lick of your wine tinted lips, and you could get a heavenly mouthful.

Snapping out of the reverie of thirsty thoughts you'd found yourself in, you are suddenly aware that you never completed your earlier thought. He doesn't seem to mind, looking patiently at you with an amused expression, sipping on his whiskey he'd apparently ordered in the time you were thirsting over his voice.

"- uh, really deep." You settle. Your add your name at the last minute. God, he only just came here and your brain was already short circuiting.

"Nice to meet you." He flashes that million watt smile at you again and you fucking melt.

It doesn't make sense, how a criminally handsome man, with voice as deep as a void, had the cutest fucking toothy smile.

Are those freckles I'm seeing!? Lord have mercy, kill me while you're at it, why don't you.

You manage to crack out a smile, and he beams. The rest of the night goes on smoothly. The conversation is natural between you two. No forced topics, no awkward silence. It's almost perfect. Key word : almost.

The only problem being, he hasn't made a move on you once. Heck, he didn't even try to flirt with you, let alone touch you. You waited and waited, but nothing happened.

Does he have a girlfriend?

You carefully manage to slip it into coveration, but he denies it.

Oh, so you're just not interested in me, huh? That's nice to know.

As the night goes on, your hopes keep getting lower and reach an all time low when he guides you out of the club and helps you into the Uber.

"Aren't you getting in?" You ask in a last ditch attempt to get him to see that you very clearly want him.

"Nah, I live around the corner here. I'll be fine walking. Get home safe."

On the ride home, you realise he didn't even ask for your number.

Was I that off putting?

Over the course of the week, you get to know that he didn't need to ask for your number, because you see each other everyday at the same place, same time. You always get a Cosmo, he always gets a whiskey, you talk all night, he keeps his distance.

That last part frustrated you to no end, made you want to pull your hair out.

Does he really just want a friend? That can't be it, right? Who looks to make a friend of the opposite sex at a nightclub?

Felix did, apparently. It became plenty clear what he saw you as, on the sixth day of you both hanging out together.

He had called a cab for you yet again - much like almost every other day - when you drunkenly mumble, "Thanks for always doing this for me."

"Hey, don't mention it. That's what friends are for, right?"

That's enough to sober you up.

As the cab begins moving forward, you feel your heart sieze. You don't know when your need to fuck him turned into this stupid crush you're just coming to terms with. But as the cab ride continues, the pain seeps through and you come to the realisation that it isn't - wasn't - just a stupid crush. It was so much more.

Such a unique flavor of masochism, unrequited love.

You wash the tears away in your shower later that night, only to cry some more.

So really, he's just being kind when he's so worked up about your boyfriend ditching you.

"I'll call you a cab."

"Just like the old days." Your drunken mind muses.

Felix doesn't reply, but you think you see a flick of seriousness on his face. It's gone as soon as it came, leaving you to wonder if your drunk mind was playing games on you.

"Ugh! There are no cabs available."

"I'll just wait around for one to pass by, then."

"While you're drunk this late in the night? Like hell you will."

You just giggle in response and Felix almost coos at the sight. Bringing his attention back to the matter at hand, for a moment - just a moment - he thinks about taking you home with him. It's just a few minutes walk away. But he quickly shuts it down. As pathetic as it sounds, he doesn't really trust himself around you.

Finally deciding on the best game plan that doesn't involve him having to check himself and his little guy down there, he takes your hand and guides you away from the club.

You don't even question him, trailing behind, barely managing to walk straight.

The walk is silent, his hand in yours warm. You both stop in front of an apartment complex about ten minutes later.

"Is this your place?" You wonder out aloud.

"Yeah, just wait here. I'll be back."

You grasp at his sleeve just as he's about to take off "What do you mean wait here? Am I not coming in?"

"Uh, there's no need. I'll be two minutes. I just have to get my car keys and then I'll drop you off."

All the insecurities from months back return with an ugly thump.

"Am I really that unappealing to you?" You find your wobbly voice saying, the alcohol doing the talking for you.

"What?" He's taken aback by the sudden question. Moreso, by the sudden gloss that covers your eyes.

"Even back then, you approached me but never tried anything. Am I that unattractive to you?"

Was that what you had been thinking all this time?

How does he tell you, the reason he didn't make any moves was because he wanted to do it right? He didn't see you as just a fuck. Sure, he approached you with that intention, but as you began to talk, he felt that spark, that connection with you he had never experienced before. Being with you was easy. He wanted to be around you more. He didn't want to screw this up by propositioning you. You would fuck, then what? He wanted you in his life, so he had to play his cards right.

Alas, he had never been much of a card-sharp.

Two months after the cab incident, where he fucked up and called you a friend, you had started dating your now boyfriend.

It had shattered him. Seeing you laughing with someone else, kissing someone else. The chance went right past him.

If only he had known. If only he hadn't been such a coward.

Stepping towards you, he hesitantly holds you at arms length, looking into your eyes. He's not sure what he sees there. Why does it matter to you? Has it bothered you all this time? Why, though? You never gave any signs that you liked him back. That's ridiculous. You wouldn't be dating your current boyfriend if you felt anything at all for him.

He brushes the thought aside, blaming your strange behaviour on alcohol and hormones at having been ditched by your boyfriend.

"Hey, no. You're beautiful, okay? You're- you're.." He feels a lump forming in his throat. How does he go about explaining what he truly thinks of you? If he were to keep talking, he would end up confessing, he's sure.

"Just- just stay, here, okay? I won't take more than a minute." He rushes off.

A part of him feels bad at not reassuring you more, but he just has to get away from you, your warmth. The urge to take you in his arms too strong, he feels his restraint slipping away.

This is exactly why he didn't want to let you stay the night.

Sure enough, within a minute, he's out with a key dangling off his fingers.

You have considerably calmed down by then, despite it being only a minute since you were practically ready to cry.

Just alcohol and hormones. It's okay.

You walk off to his car without looking at him and yank the car door. It doesn't budge, "Are you gonna keep standing there?"

Felix is visibly taken aback at your harsh tone and choice of words, dumbly unlocking the car and getting in with you.

Hormones. Hormones. Alcohol. Hormones.

The entire car ride, you're silent. But it's just the calm before the storm, he can feel it.

When he stops in front of your place - having known your address after calling the cab for you on multiple occasions - you just sit there, unmoving. He can see you simmering away. Whatever's going on in your head, it can't be pleasant.

Contrary to what he'd thought, you reach out for him and rest your hand on his collarbone, half covered by his silk shirt.

"Did I tell you that you look good today? So pretty." Your voice is but a whisper and the drowsy expression on your face has him reeling.

When he doesn't say anything - but doesn't resist your touch either - you slide your hand futher up his clavicle, stopping at the base of his throat, then slowly traveling up and over his adam's apple, across his jawline, to the back of his head. Sinking your fingers into his mullet, you mumble "So soft," eyes glazed over, lips parted. Your thumb pokes out from under his ear and you quickly run it over his bottom lip, "so so soft." Your words feel distant to your own ears, as if they're echoing from somewhere underwater and not your mouth.

He looks into your eyes that are fixed at his lips. Your cheeks are a pretty shade of pink, your lips wet and pillowy. Your pupils are blown wide, and you look... turned on?

The sight of you has blood rushing straight to his cock before he can stop it.

Your eyes find his again, an electricity zings through his nerves and it's all he can do to not give in and sink his teeth into that godforsaken lower lip of yours.

You lean forward, his breath hitches. He can feel your breath right on his lips and honestly, it's turning his brain to mush.

Before things could go any more South, before his dick can get any harder, he latches onto the last bit of sanity he has left.

"Y-you have a boyfriend." Is all he says, finding himself physically incapable of outright denying you.

The simple statement seems to have knocked some sense into you, as you suddenly pull away, eyes wide, that drowsy look wiped clean off your face.

"Sor-rry, I should- I should go. Yeah." You fumble with the seatbelt and next thing he knows, you are out the door.

The air around him feels entirely too cold without your warmth, increasingly too harsh without your sweet scent filling it.

The wind is chilly, goosebumps braking across your skin. Not really surprising considering it's nearing the end of the year.

Not the best idea to wear a sheer bodycon dress, I guess.

Wrapping up on yourself you softly exhale, your breath condensing and curling, dancing away in the cool midnight breeze.

You feel a sudden warmth on your shoulders.. A jacket?

"What is up with you and the whole drunk-stranded-alone-at-midnight thing?"

That deep velvety voice.

You hadn't seen him in the two months since what you've decided to call your 'drunken fuck up'. He didn't show up at the club after, and it's then that you realised you didn't have each other's numbers, still.

"Your boyfriend leave you again?"

"No. I left him."

"What?" He isn't sure he understands.

"I broke up with him." You're not sure why you want him to understand.

It's then that he looks at you fully, his beautiful face iluminated even more beautifully by the full moon that looms over the two of you, silently watching. His raven locks are parted almost in the centre, forehead exposed, bangs reaching his eyes.

Fuck, he's gorgeous.

He watches you intently. You have no idea what's going on in his head, his expression unreadable.

You think back to what went down in his car all those days ago. You definitely picked up on the fact that he was aroused too, that he wanted what you wanted too.

You were sure. But another thing you also were, was drunk. Could you have misread the entire situation?

"How are you getting home?" he disregards your comment altogether.

But of course, rejection at its finest. Just my luck.

"Cab."

He chuckles, "You know how to hail a cab?"

"Had to learn to since you ghosted me." The remark comes off with more of a bite than you had intended.

He falls quite, face turning serious. His attempt at keeping the conversation lighthearted having failed miserably.

Guess it's now or never.

"Hey, the reason I backed off that da-"

"I know. You were right to do that. Thanks. But what I don't know is why you had to ghost me after."

He sighs. Truth be told, he doesn't know himself. He didn't think it through. You have a way of making his head go blank, of making him lose the ability to think rationally and make mature decisions.

"I know it was a dick move, and I-I honestly don't know what I was thinking."

You squint your eyes, waiting.

One look at your face and the word vomit begins, "I-I've wanted you since that day we met last year. I wanted you that day, but then we talked and then I actually began to like you. And I didn't want to mess it up, so- so I didn't do anything about it that day - or the next day - or the next week. God, that was my biggest mistake! I thought I was taking my time, when I was really just being a coward. I... I realised a little too late that I liked you a little too much and by then... By then- you.. " He swallows, looking away.

You take a step forward, reaching out for him much like you did that day, cupping his chin, turning his face towards you.

"Do you still want me?" You whisper, eyes transfixed on those darn pink lips of his that were looking a little too appetizing right about now.

"Ye-"

The word is barely out of his mouth and you're swallowing it, pushing your lips onto his with such force, you both stumble back and his hands fly to grip your waist tightly.

And you love it, you love finally having his hands on you, your lips on his, his breath in your mouth.

You move your lips against his, slowly nibbling, then suking on his bottom lip, biting softly. He yelps a little, but there's no way in heck you're stopping now.

You lick at his lower lip to sooth the ache, your way of saying you're sorry.

And then do it all over again.

You part his lips with yours, tongue slipping in, twirling around his own, exploring his mouth, taking in the taste of him. He groans, breathing hard and goes to pull away, probably to breath, but you don't let him.

Fisting both his collars in your hands, you yank him toward you, your entwined tongues now transferring into your mouth due to the momentum with which he falls forward. You gladly welcome it.

You let him set the pace this time. His hot wet tongue caresses your own, gliding and flicking. He withdraws it, and suddenly sucks borderline violently, and in the next moment, you find that your tongue is in his mouth again, and he's still sucking on it.

A loud honk jolts you apart, both of you panting, a string of saliva still connecting your lips.

It's him who still has the wits to turn around and come face to face with a very annoyed cab driver. How long had he been here?

The tips of his ears burning red, he steps away from your grasp whilst you catch your breath.

You don't register what he does or what he says. In your dazed state, you can only make out the low rumble of his deep voice and the sound of a car taking off.

His hand suddenly grasps your. He looks into your eyes with a questioning look and you know exactly what he's asking for. You quickly nod and he wastes no time tugging you along.

His apartment is only ten minutes away, but the buzzing between your legs is too strong and your willpower is too weak.

You feel desire overtake the rational part of your brain, arousal clouding your judgement.

He isn't faring any better, ducking into an alleyway to take a shortcut.

As if sensing your impatience, he goes "Just another two minutes." His voice is gruff, the octave even lower than what it usually is.

It was no secret that his voice was your weakness, and hearing it take on such a low note, something in you snaps.

Before you know it, you're pushing him against the wall in the alleyway, taking those pillowy lips between yours. There's no time for build up, no time to fool around. You want to inhale him.

He makes a sound at the back of his throat, the kind that lets you know you're doing it right.

Primal need consuming you, your hands hastily go down to his belt, fumbling and unbuckling.

That seems to catch his attention, "W-wait!"

Your reaction is immediate, dropping your hands and pulling back slightly, you pant "What's wrong? You don't want this?"

"No!" He flinches when he yells a little too loud, "I mean, no, I do, I do want it. God knows I want to. Just.. Not here."

You relax at that. Your hands find purchase on his belt again, slowly sliding along towards the buckle. You lean back into him and whisper against his lips, "Can't wait. I've waited enough."

With one clean move his buckle is undone, your hands hovering over his zipper, eyes carefully studying his face. If he's genuinely uncomfortable doing this here, you're not going to force him. But if there's a chance that he might be willing, you're jumping at it.

"Please, angel. You don't know how long I've been wanting this. I want to do this right. I want to worship you like you deserve."

If you could, you might melt into a puddle right then and there, but his dick is just a few centimeters away from your fingertips, and your mind is just a little unhinged.

You click your tongue impatiently, "You know damn well what happened the last time you tried to do this right. You wouldn't want history to repeat, would you?" His fly is undone in a flash. Honestly, you don't know how. You're not controlling your motions or your words right now. It's as if something has come over you, but you're not sure what, "Tick tock, baby."

He still looks uncertain, so you allow yourself to be serious for a moment, for one last moment before caution and all else is thrown out the window, "Just let me blow you, alright? Then we can go back to your place."

He grunts at your choice of dirty words, sounding pained, "Fuck, you want me dead, don't you?"

You're still looking at him and he gives you a nod. That's all the signal you need to deftly pull his entirely unnecessary pants and boxers down, letting his cock spring free.

To be tactful, he's well endowed. To be filthy, he has a fat cock.

You wrap your hand around him, finally finally feeling it in your palm.

You squeeze very slightly, he fucking twitches and you think you might die if he's not in your mouth within the next ten seconds.

Dropping to your knees, your spit on your palm, coating his length generously. Then, just for good measure and only partly to put on a show, you spit on his now wet cock.

"Didn't know you were so dirty", he breathes, sounding awed.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. I don't do clean." You smirk up at him and that's all the warning he gets before you are taking him in your mouth, all the way until he hits your uvula.

"ah, fuck-"

You smile, mouth still full of him and angle your head upwards, so that he can slip into your throat. He does so, and you're concentrating on taking him as deep as your throat will allow. That's when he starts begging,

"A-angel, please. Ah shi- just please."

Oh, how sweet he sounds, you absolutely have to tease him.

You release him with a loud, wet 'pop' "Please, what?"

He's breathless, looking down at you with so much vulnerability that you almost feel bad for teasing him. Almost.

"Please just, ugh, please keep going."

You would like to make him work more for his release, but to be quite frank, you already miss the heavy weight of his cock in your mouth.

Taking him this time is a little easier as your jaw has adjusted to the sheer size of him. Looking right into his eyes, you take him all the way to the back of your throat, and Felix promptly loses it. He's pulling at his own hair, grunting, and panting.

Your don't move or bob your head, instead stay there with him down your throat, and move your tongue along the underside of his shaft, not quite twirling - only because there's no space in your mouth that is stuffed so full - just caressing.

"Oh god, please, please. Angel, please."

You decide to take mercy on the poor guy, deciding not to play with him anymore.

Maybe next time.

Keeping him in your throat you swallow once, twice and then he's cumming, thick white spurts shooting directly down your air column, almost making you gag. But you're nothing if not stubborn. You swallow all of him and pull away when he starts to whine from the sensitivity.

You're panting, he's panting. Life's good.

"C'mere." his voice is hoarse even though it's your throat that has just been abused.

He pulls you into a kiss that's altogether too sweet given what just went down.

"Let's go."

You don't know how you get to his apartment. Hell, you don't even know how you get into the bedroom. All you know is that as soon as you're within the privacy of four walls, it's like a switch flips within him. He's practically tearing your clothes away, your shirt and jeans tossed aside into some corner of the room. His own clothes recieve the same treatment shortly after.

Left only in your bra and underwear, you take in your surroundings. His room is well organised. Minimalistic, yet homey and cozy. A soft yellow light is on in lieu of the tubelight, painting the room in a sombre glo-

Your train of thoughts is cut off by your own yelp.

"Eyes on me, angel." Gone is the sweet guy with doe eyes who was begging you in the dark alleyway. The person in front of you is the man with such deep and velvety a voice, he could pass for a siren.

As he approaches you, the look in his eyes so carnal, you're sure you're about to be thrown onto the bed. You've never been much for manhandling, but you'd be willing to give it a shot for him.

So consider your surprise when - as opposed to the utter hunger in his eyes - he tenderly places one hand on the the small of your back, the other holding your head, securing you in his hold. You are guided onto your back on the bed so gently that it hurts, him coming up to hover over you.

"You're so pretty. So so pretty. My pretty angel." His lips find your cheek, kissing softly and then trail down, across your jaw, to your throat where he leaves butterfly kisses. He moves to work at your collarbones, licking long stripes on each one and moving downwards between the valley of your breasts.

You squirm under him, wanting some sort of relief from the growing heat between your legs. "Felix," you breathe out, not sure where the sentence was going, but it only felt natural to say his name out loud like you've always been wanting too. Far too long than you care to admit.

"Shh, angel. Please let me take my time. I've been wanting to worship you forever." He pulls the cups of your bra down, mouth attaching to one of your nipples.

His tongue swirls around your bud, getting it all nice and wet before sucking the wetness right off it. He continues this game of his for a little while, till both your nipples are hardened and sensitive. Letting up with a lewd pop, he gazes down at them and seemingly satisfied, moves down your body.

He drags his tongue from the base of your sternum to your belly button in one long lick, stopping to suck a hickey just underneath it, on your lower belly.

You tried to indulge him, you really did. Even so, you are but a weak woman when it comes to the object of your desires, that happens to be present right here. So close, yet so far away.

"F-felix. Just..."

"Just what, angel?" He smirks.

Oh, this motherfucker.

You pout up at him, "Is this your way of taking revenge or something?"

The smirk on his face disappears. He crawls up to come to eye level with you, face suddenly earnest.

"No, angel. This is about you, only about you. Tell me what you want. I'll give it to you." His eyes flash with genuine care, "God, I'll give you everything. Just tell me. Please."

You could feel the sincerity coming off him. He wasn't just talking about sex. He really would give you anything, if only you gave him a chance.

In all the years of your sexual experience, you were rendered wordless for the first time. No one had been so thoughtful, so open, so vulnerable with you. Your ex never cared enough to ask what you wanted. He just did what he felt like.

It wasn't just him who did that. All the guys you'd slept with only ever cared about their release.

So, much like all the other worldly things, you'd come to realise that if you wanted something, you'd have to take it. You weren't going to sit around, waiting for someone to be nice enough to throw some empathy your way.

No, you knew what you wanted and took it. You came to terms with the fact, and that was when you built the whole dom persona around yourself. Being snarky and mouthy in bed, trying to overpower, fighting for dominance, setting your pace on your terms.

But now, with Felix looking at you with so much adoration, offering pleasure, your pleasure for nothing in return - requesting you to let him pleasure you, you couldn't help but question,

Why had I done all that?

Sex wasn't a fight. It wasn't about who was on top. It was about mutual gratification, two people satisfying each other.

He could sense the surprise on your face. "Why do you look so taken aback, angel?" He gently asks, brushing your hair off your forehead.

"It's just.. no one's ever.. said that."

"Said what?"

"No one's put my need above theirs. No one's asked me what I want."

His brows furrow at that, "Not even your ex?"

You shake your head no.

"I knew that bastard treated you like shit, but I had no idea he didn't even fuck you right." He looks angry now, "But know this, angel, as long as you'll let me, I'll give you anything you want. So tell me, tell me what you want. Nothing is off limits, okay?"

Nothing?

This sends your brain into overdrive. Here is a drop dead gorgeous man, ready to be at your service, telling you that you could ask anything of him, do anything to him, and he'll... let you?

Your mind is reeling at all the possibilities, yet you can't seem to say much.

He, yet again, perceives your hesitance, understanding that this might be new territory for you, and offers "Can I taste you?"

You can only nod.

Slowly, he descends down until he's face to face with your crotch. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, he removes them in one swift motion, and almost groans at the sight.

Index finger running up and down your slit, he hums, gathering your wetness, only to swirl it in and around your labia, smearing all over.

As he leans forward, you expect him to dive right in, but he does no such thing.

Landing his tongue flat, he licks up your outer lips, the reason for all the smearing abundantly clear now. He goes at it until there's nothing left to lick, and only then does he move onto the inside of your folds.

Using only the tip of his tongue, he slowly traces the inner outline of your inner lips, not sucking, just collecting your juice, pushing it upwards and letting it pool on your clit. Once he's made a nice little puddle there, he closes his lips around the bud and sucks. Hard.

"fuck-"

His enthusiasm escalates at the exclaimation, repeating the action over and over. Your hand flies to his head, gripping his hair and guiding it up and down, pushing him in. He takes a deep breath, as if suddenly breathless.

No shit, he is breathless. How's he supposed to breath down there?

Releasing him, you panic "Oh shit! I'm so so-"

"Shh, it's okay, take what you need. I told you it's about you," He takes your hand, guiding it back to the back of his head, curling his fingers around yours, until you're fisting those silky locks, "suffocate me in your essence. Fucking drown me."

That damn velvety voice saying those vile words does something to you. You feel your resolve crumble, and before you can question yourself, you're pulling his head back between your thighs, moving it around, seeing what feels best.

He doesn't resist. He sticks his tongue out and keeps it there, letting you move his head.

It's when his wet muscle passes your hole that you let out a loud moan. He thought you'd push him in there, but instead your movements turn frantic and you begin to wiggle your hips against his face, seemingly frustrated. It's then that he realises that you don't know what felt good and this is you trying to chase after that feeling that you lost.

"Have you never had your cunt eaten, angel?"

Damn him for sounding so cute while uttering such filth.

"Nobody cared enough to."

"Don't worry, I got you. Just relax for me, okay?"

You nod and let go of his hair, head falling back onto the mattress.

He buries his face back where it belongs, if he were to say so himself, and wastes no time putting his tongue into your hole, deeper than it went last time. And sure enough, he's rewarded with an ever louder moan from you.

Determined to give you the best orgasm of your life, he uses one of his thumb to lift the hood of your clit, the other rubbing up and down the bundle of nerves. That has your back arching. Lost in pleasure you wrap your legs around his neck, pulling him further in.

He grunts, happy to be smothered. Each flick of his thumb has that familiar feeling bubbling in your tummy. It builds and builds and builds.

It's when he starts pumping that damn tongue of his in and out of your hole, that you see white sploches in your vision, mind going blank. You don't realise what's going on. All you know is that you can't feel your legs. It's like you've been brainwashed, like you're fucking levitating.

Slowly, your vision returns, breathing evens out, and your brain reboots. When you come down from your high, you're distinctly aware of the wetness all over your thighs, soaking the sheets beneath you.

"Holy fuck, did I just-"

You look beside you where Felix is laying sideways, propped up on an elbow, looking at you with a smug look, clearly proud of himself.

"Yes, you did. I think you took the whole 'drown me' part quite seriously."

You let out an embarassed sound that was almost a squeal, and curl up into his chest.

He laughs at your cute shyness, as if you weren't grinding on his face a moment ago "Aw, it's okay, angel. That was hot."

You peer up at him through your lashes, "Hot?" You ask so cutely, he could take you then and there.

"So hot." He confirms

You give him a lopsided grin.

"But you look so fucked out right now. Was I that good?"

"So good." You reach up to kiss him, and the kiss has only just begun, when you feel his stiffness poking against your thigh.

He's so hard, it must hurt. You want to help him but know for a fact that your pussy is of no use right now, so you do the only other thing you can.

You wrap your hand around him, and start flicking your wrist.

"Ah fuck- angel, you don't h-have to. Take a breather."

"But you've been hard for so long. I want to help."

"It's- ah- it's okay. I came already, remember?"

That flips a switch in you. You swing your leg over both of his, lifting up to hover over him, straddling his hips. "Lee Felix, you're not getting out of this without fucking me."

He laughs at that, "Wouldn't dream of it, angel."

You smile and bend down to kiss him. His lips are still wet with your juices and you lick it off them before sliding your tongue in. The kiss turns frantic. There's nothing sweet about it. It's just a messy exchange of spit, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Condom?" You whisper into his mouth.

His eyes widen, "Shit! I-I don't have one." He looks about fit to cry, like a child whose favourite toy's been snatched right out his hand.

You almost laugh at his big, glassy eyes, "I'm on birth control. And clean. Are you?"

"I am!" He lets out a little too excitedly.

"Then we don't need a condom. Unless you'd rather not. It's okay. We don't have to if you're not comfortable."

He damn near chokes at that, "You- you mean I g-get to do this raw?" His eyes sparkle like the same toy's been returned to him, with an upgrade.

"Yes," you whisper in a low and sultry voice, "You get to do me raw."

His next groan is almost pained.

"You want to, baby?"

"Please."

You reach between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around him again, giving a few pumps for good measure - and maybe to hear him groan, but nobody needs to know that - and guide him to your entrance.

As you begin to sink down on him, he holds you still with his hands on your hips.

"W-wait. Wait, please."

"Everything okay?"

He laughs, "Yeah, yeah, good. Great. Just.. a little too great."

You don't get what he means and tilt your head.

He lets out another embarassed chuckle, "If you keep going, I might blow right now."

You smile, endeared "It's okay. I already finished earlier, just let go."

He suddenly sits up, and with him still sheathed in you, flips the two of you over, so that now you're on your back and he's hovering over you.

"No, I promised that this is about you. You are cumming at least twice."

Before you can protest, he pulls out just enough, and rams back in. The protest dies in your throat as it makes way for a loud moan to slip out.

"Fuck, so tight. You like that, angel?"

You clutch onto his shoulders as you nod, urging him to keep going.

Lucky for you, he's in no mood to stop.

He grinds and rolls his hips against yours, creating that delicious friction, but it's nowhere near enough for either of you. And that's exactly why he's doing it. He wants to draw this out, as much as he can.

"Angel, you're sucking me in. Won't even let me pull out. You want me that much?"

"So much." Your voice is distant now, lost somewhere in the lustful daze. He can feel it too.

Pulling out, he flips you flat on your stomach, and nudges your legs apart ever so slightly.

You're so far gone in the haze that you don't have it in you to try to take control, something you've always been doing.

But that's just the point, isn't it? To let go for once, to not fight and just give in to the moment.

And then, you feel it once again. That sinful stretch, his cock dragging against your walls. You never want him to stop.

"Oh god, I could spend forever between your thighs."

Funny you say that.

He bends over forward, until his chest and abdomen are flush against your back, legs tangled together. He takes both your hands in his, entwining your fingers together, and resting them on either side of your shoulders.

Locked together like this, he begins moving, slowly fucking into you, hips pushing back and forth.

You've never been with anyone like this. Sure, you've had a lot of sex in your life, there was even a time when you went through a 'bad girl' phase where you tried scoring a new guy every week.

Not my finest moment.

But this? This feels a whole new level of intimacy you've never tapped into.

"Feel good, angel?"

Oh, lord. Could he get any more more perfect?

"Yes, baby. You feel so good." You're not normally very vocal in bed. But, as you'd already established, nothing about this situation was normal.

"Me too, angel, me too. Your cunt is heaven."

You moan at that. You were never one for praise either, especially not the dirty kind.

Fuck, am I not rediscovering myself today.

His hips move rhythmically against your ass, grinding, moving in circles, pistoning, trying all sorts of things. But always at the same slow leisurely pace. You reach your hand back and squeeze his ass, nails digging into the flesh and push him further into you.

You don't know why you do that. Perhaps to get him to increase his pace or because you want to finish. Or.. maybe you just want him close. Close to a level you've never been with anyone.

His hips stutter, ass clenching under your palm, "fuck, d-don't- don't do that. I won't last."

"You don't have to. It's okay, we can do this again. We have all the time in the world. Don't hold back."

"We can?"

"Mhm." You say, noticing that this is the third time he's said something about wanting to make this last. Come to think of it, he was on the verge of cumming when he flipped you. Maybe this position helped him keep it together.

Wow, he must really want this. He must really want.. me.

Your thoughts are pulled from you when his hand reaches under you, rubbing you clit, his movements suddenly frantic, "Want you to come first."

You body begins to thrash as he continues his movements, hips not stopping once, pace increasing ever so slightly. You can feel your orgasm approaching, that familiar feeling rumbling in your stomach.

"So good, so beautiful, angel. My angel, aren't you?"

You don't have it in you to respond - a whimper will have to do - and Felix doesn't seem to want an answer either.

"Look so good like this, under me. Always wanna pleasure you, make you feel good."

God, that deep and rich voice whispering right in your ear was doing things to you.

Your body begins to tremble, thighs shaking.

"You close, angel? Gonna cum around my cock? Show me how good it makes you feel?"

You could feel your sanity chipping away, making room in your head not to be filled with anything. For the first time in what felt like forever, your head was empty. No overthinking, no thoughts, just Felix and his pretty cock and deep voice and angeli-

"Ah- Lix, I'm.. I'm-"

"Let go, angel."

With that, you're screaming, gushing all around his dick, body thrashing about, but you still manage to let out, "Inside, Lix, i-inside.. "

Felix lets out a loud grunt, the loudest he's been until now, "fuck, angel. I love you, fuck, fuck, fuck!" And then he's cumming, his arousal mixing with yours, the forbidden cocktail dripping out of you, over both of you, and onto the sheets. There's just that much of it.

He collapses on top of you, breathing heavy, chest heaving against your back.

Your mind tries to process what he just said, trying to make sense of it, understand the gravity of it. But you don't say anything, giving him the time to come down.

You lay there like that for a while, occasionally kissing, breathing, listening to each other's breathing, and kissing some more.

After a while, he pulls out, and chuckles.

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, to see him looking down at where your bodies were just connected.

"We made a mess. Think it might be a better idea to shower."

You nod, letting him pull you off the mattress. Your legs wobble a little, but he easily catches and steadies you. The trip to the bathroom is brief but your mind is restless. It's replaying the last words he said. Even as he carefully sets the temperature of the water just right, rubbing soap on your tired body with his small hands, kneading out the knots in your back, massaging you all over, his words are stuck in your head, swishing around.

He's massaging your shoulder when you suddenly hear the clearing of a throat, "So, about what I said.. "

Thank god he was willing to address it. You're not sure you could have survived the suspense any longer.

".. I, uh, want you to know that I'm sincere. I've been thinking about being with you ever since we met, and not in the way we were together just now. Uhm, I mean, together together."

You don't note the soft smile that takes over your face, "Me too." You turn around to face him, hands lodging on his shoulders, body naturally leaning into him.

That's the word. Natural. Being with him is so natural, as if you've done this a million times.

"You do?"

"I do. Maybe not love yet, but I'm sure if- when I get to know you, falling for you is going to be so natural."

He smiles at that, "Well, we better get to it then. How about a date tomorrow?"

"Excited, are we?"

"Please, if I could, I would take you out right now, but seeing as how I can barely stand, it will have to wait."

You laugh, feeling giddy and lean forward to peck him on the lips.

"So is that a.. yes?"

"Yes Felix, I'd love that."

He hums, moving forward, nuzzling his head in your shoulder, the voice reverberating from his chest to yours.

"God, your voice" slips out of your mouth without your own permission.

How rude.

"I know you have a thing for it."

"What?" Your cheeks heat up. You thought you weren't making it obvious.

"Why do think I was so talkitive towards the end?"

"I thought you just got mouthy when you were about to come."

"No," He laughs, "it's because I noticed how hot and bothered you got whenever I said something. I was just trying to help you finish."

Oh well, so much for being subtle.

"It's okay," He says picking up, yet again, on your embarrassment, "it can be your own exclusive kink."

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whispering-ways · 7 months

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Hello! I was wondering if you could make a Dom!Gyomei x Fem!Hashira!reader smut?

๑✧♡ heart to heart ♡✧๑

✧ summary: you are a recent hashira who's been assigned on a mission with gyomei

✧ pairing: gyomei himejima x f!reader

✧tags: cursing, fingering (f! receiving), nicknames like baby, sweetheart and daddy

✧ notes: i'm sorry for the delay in fics, but I'm working through all my tasks rn! i've been applying to grad school so i haven't had much time to write •́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀ but now that's done with, I can start pumping out some more fics ♡ i might write a part two to this with more smut if people like it but idk

You just finished training and were about to gather your things to relax when you felt a large hand on your shoulder. “Hey there! I couldn't help but notice your impressive training session! As a newcomer, you were quite remarkable! But next time, I feel you should improve your stance and work on....”

“Ugh, there he goes again,” you think, listening to Gyomei list out some improvements you could make to be a better Hashira. You tuned his words out and tried your best not to get irritated, but you couldn’t help it. He was always correcting your technique and giving you advice when you didn’t even ask for it.

You understood that it was probably because you had just recently become a Hashira, but his comments were unneeded in your book. You couldn’t place all the blame on him though; it was Kagaya after all that told his right-hand Hashira to take care of you and ‘help you feel welcome’. Nevertheless, it still pissed you off. It’s not like you didn’t know you needed improvement. It was just him saying it that annoyed you.

You knew you probably should keep an open mind before judging Gyomei. It’s not like he was a bad person; he was a kind and nice person, but something about his holier-than-thou attitude just made all his ‘observations’ come across as patronizing to you. I mean, you never asked for his opinion to begin with. If you needed someone’s opinion, you would just ask Kagaya. You rolled your eyes, wondering when Gyomei would just leave you alone.

“Ah, I regret that I failed to mention it earlier, but Kagaya-sama has entrusted us with a mission. I was initially supposed to undertake it solo, but he believes having both of us together would be advantageous. It seems he has faith in your abilities, but he also believes having me by your side for your first mission could aid in your personal growth,” he said with a hint of a smile. That was new; he never smiled.

“Weird, but you know what, good for him. It wouldn’t hurt to smile once in a fucking while. Crying all the time has got to be making his eyes hurt. But there he goes being patronizing again. You wouldn’t be surprised if Gyomei was the one who really suggested it to Kagaya rather than the other way around.

Regardless, you nodded your head and asked some more details about the mission. He let you know that you both had to set out on your journey at 6 a.m. sharp tomorrow. So you gave him another nod of understanding, hoping that’d indicate you wanted to be left alone. Thankfully he got the message and shortly after walked away, leaving you to spend the rest of the day getting the relaxation you knew you deserved.

You woke up early the next day to pack a bit for the 2 day trip ahead of you. After gathering a few things and putting them into a bag, you headed out to meet Gyomei. Luckily, it didn’t take you long to find him. As you opened your door to see him standing right outside your door. “Jesus, you scared me. Couldn’t you at least knock or something?,” you asked, already annoyed with him.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I’ll make sure to do that next time we go on a mission.”

It was almost cute that he thought you’d want to do another mission with him. You would rather eat a bag of nails for breakfast instead; the only reason you were going on this mission was because you didn’t want to be rude to Kagaya.

You close your door behind you and let out an exasperated sigh, readying yourself for the journey. “Okay, as long as you’re ready, let’s get going then.” Gyomei grabbed a small bag behind him, threw it above his shoulder and said, “That’s the spirit! Starting early is always the best!”

After about 30 minutes of walking, you’d both finally reached the grassy mountain you needed to trek to get to your final destination. You weren’t gonna lie, just the thought of trekking it made you tired, but you needed the mission experience, so you trudged forward.

It didn’t help that Gyomei was so far ahead; it was like he was rubbing in your face how much better he was than you. He stopped for a second to look around, which gave you just enough time to catch up with him. “Can’t you slow down? Your pace is like a giant’s, there’s no fucking way I can keep up,” you exclaim.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize, sweetheart. I’ll be sure to slow down a bit! Please forgive me!” he said, tears rolling down his face.

“It’s fine, just...let’s get going,” you replied, continuing to walk along the path. You regretted asking him to slow down a couple of minutes later when he tried making small talk by asking millions of questions. If walking way off from you was irritating, then this was just pure hell.

You’re sure he can tell how pissed you are; your tight-lipped smile showed nothing but disdain for all his questions. But he just kept on talking anyway. A few minutes later and after trying to ignore him, you give up and decide to succumb to some small talk. You talked to him for a little bit about the mission, but that didn’t last too long as you noticed a slight drizzle start to cover the mountain.

The two of you started closer to the trees near you, hoping that their large spanning branches would keep you both somewhat dry. All chances of that happening left once the light drizzle turned into a heavy pour. There was no way that you both could continue your journey without getting hurt since the earth beneath you had become absolutely slick with water.

You two decided to wait out the rain and find shelter to keep you both dry for the time being. After what seemed like forever, you finally spot a broken-down house in your periphery and quickly get Gyomei’s attention, dying to get out of the rain as soon as possible.

“Look, there’s a house or something over there,” you say pointing at the building. “Let’s head there and hope the family is hospitable enough to let us stay there for a bit till the sky clears up.” You start walking in the direction of the house without even waiting for a reply from Gyomei, who starts wordlessly walking behind you.

As you get closer to the house, you notice how delipidated it really is. It seemed that no one had lived there in years. Almost all the windows were either cracked or completely broken; dust and cobwebs were littered in each corner of the house.

“Well it’s not a palace but at least it’ll keep us out of the rain,” you said, wiping off some dirt so you could finally sit down. You stretched your legs, sighing in relief, glad to finally catch a break.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the peaceful sound of the rain. The peace didn’t last too long as you heard some rustling noises behind you. You turn around to see Gyomei pull out a sleeping bag from his backpack along with a lantern.

“I think that the rain isn’t going to let up anytime soon, so I’m setting up for the night. I think the best decision is to sleep here tonight and start on our journey tomorrow,” he explains, sitting on his bed. “If you’d like, I can set up your bed as well.”

“It's fine, I didn’t even bring a bed anyway. If we have to sleep here tonight, I’ll just sleep on the floor,” you say, turning around. “Besides, it’ll work out the kinks in my back.”

“Nonsense, I insist you take the sleeping bag then!” Gyomei retorted.

“No I’m fine, you use your bed; you’re the one that brought it. I’ll be fine.”

“If you insist,” he says, continuing to set up. He pulled out some supplies from his bag to light the lantern and in a few moments, the whole house was filled with golden light, making the space as comfy as it could be.

But unfortunately, not even the warmth the lantern brought helped to make the house any less cold. The rain kept pouring and with it came a frigid breeze that swept through all corners of the house.

You tried to keep it discreet but there was no hiding the chattering of your teeth. Gyomei soon picked up on it too. At first, he did his best not to comment; after all, it did seem like you wanted your own space. But his worry for you took over and he yet again asked “Hey, are you sure you don’t want the bed?”

“Ugh..I told you I’m fine. It’s your bed, use your bed,” you replied back, annoyed he kept pressing the issue.

“Are you really fine? I can hear your shivers from here. I know it’s cold and the bed is quite spacious anyway so it wouldn’t be too much trouble at all,” Gyomei said scooting over to offer a spot on the sleeping bag. You couldn’t lie, you were pretty cold so you gave in and agreed to share the bag. You stood up and sat down next to him, leaving ample space between you two.

A few moments pass by with nothing but the sound of rain to fill in the awkward silence between you two. This was soon broken though when Gyomei said “So...what do you think about being a Hashira?

“Jesus fucking Christ, why’d he have to say something,” you thought, internally cringing at the fact that you now had to make small talk. “Uhh..well I guess it's um... good I guess. I don’t really know what to say,” you reply as you look towards the ground and lantern, anywhere besides Gyomei’s face.

“Ah, that’s wonderful! I’m glad you’re having a good start! I hope you like the other Hashira, they are like family to me,” he says, a small smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, cool. That’s always...uhh...real nice I guess,” you say, trying to remain as cold as possible. Your plan was to get him off your back and to leave you alone, but as time passed on, it didn’t seem like you were ever going to shake him off as he told you many stories of the other Hashira.

“I know we must be together for our line of work, but I truly consider all the Hashira my close friends. Or well, at least most of them I think...” he said, trailing off. You couldn’t help but be intrigued at the end of his sentence.

Now you were never one to gossip, but you were definitely a sucker for a bit of tea, and his phrasing definitely showed signs of a bit of tea. I mean Gyomei? Having beef with someone? Unheard of.

“Oh come on, you can’t just drop a statement like that without spilling the tea...” You press,, not prepared to give up. “No details, no good tea.”

You could see Gyomei squirming around a bit, debating whether he should explain or not. After a little bit, he sighs and looks at you, as if preparing himself.

“Okay...it’s just, you, we don’t have that strong of a relationship. I feel like you just don’t like me for some reason and however I look at it, I can’t seem to figure out what I did.”

“Fuck, I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” you thought. You didn’t want to get into this conversation now, not ever really. But you couldn’t just leave him hanging like that. You buried your face in your hands, letting out a long sigh. “It’s not that I don’t like you. I don’t have problems with you.”

“Then what is it because there must’ve been something I did. Everything we talk you just seem tired and annoyed,” Gyomei said.

“Look, I don't hate you, but sometimes it feels like I'm just an inferior version of you. Like, when you're so good at what you do, it's hard to feel like we're on the same level. And sometimes, these little comments you throw at me, even if you don't mean them in a bad way, make me feel like I'm not good enough for us to be equals.

I mean, you're like a prodigy with so much experience. It's hard not to feel like I'm always lagging behind you, you know?" You were doing your best to explain how you felt, but just hearing yourself made it obvious to you that your disdain was immature.

“For me, you’ve always been my equal. You’ve got a solid foundation of abilities and experience that match up with my own. However, things felt pushed too fast for me; I never got the chance to properly settle into being a Hashira. I’m doing my best to get a hang of this new position, but sometimes it’s hard not to feel like I’m falling short of everyone. So I guess in that sense, I really am not your equal,” Gyomei says, looking down to the floor.

There's a quiet gap between you two before you say, "...Yeah, I guess I judged you pretty quickly. I should've been more open to what you had to say, but I wanted to be a perfect Hashira, you know? Taking criticism is just a little hard for me, but I'll work on that in the future." You feel somewhat foolish after talking about how you felt; none of this coldness was really necessary to begin with - your dislike towards Gyomei felt almost useless.

"I apologize if my criticisms appeared more judgmental than I intended. However, in my opinion, you're already perfect like a diamond; you're a Hashira for a reason. Still, all diamonds require a bit of polishing, and that's all I was aiming for - to help you shine with some advice and techniques," he said cheerfully.

You have to admit, that comparison of his got you a little flustered. Yet, its sweetness gave you a lot of comfort. "Let's put this aside and be friends, alright? Let's start all over, and I'm sorry for not giving you a chance earlier," you say with a smile, shocked that you're actually having a conversation with Gyomei like this.

“I’m glad to hear that. It’s nice to see such a beautiful smile on you for the first time.” You look up at him, eyes wider than saucers. “Not that you aren’t pretty all the time...I mean..but you know that.” Gyomei said, red from head to toe.

You chuckle at Gyomei's flustered state, finding it endearing to see the big strong man reduced to a blushing mess. He's truly a sight to behold. "If I said you were a sight for sore eyes, I'd be selling you short," you comment in turn.

Out of nowhere, a gust of cold air hits your body, sending tingles down your spine. "Would you...uhh...like to come a little closer?" Gyomei proposes. "I noticed you shiver and I run pretty warm. I wouldn't mind a platonic cuddle to stay warm, if you're alright with that."

You never thought making up with him would mean that you’d be flirting with him, but you couldn’t complain. I mean he was hot and you wouldn’t mind messing around with him a little bit.

So you scooch a bit closer to him, your arms barely grazing his. He was right, he definitely was warm; you could feel the heat radiating off of him. But that still wasn’t enough to warm you up.

You're somewhat confused when you hear Gyomei laugh. He adjusts his position and spreads his legs apart, as if offering you a spot to sit. "Come, sit a little closer, there's no way you're feeling warm there," he says, patting the area between his legs.

Taken by surprise by his forwardness, you nonetheless place yourself between him, your legs resting against his. It's a little awkward between you, but you aren't one to back down from a challenge, and he IS rather warm.

You’d never really noticed the size difference between you two, but you definitely did now. His muscled thighs surrounds you, practically pressing your own togtether. He stretches back behind you to give you some space. You sit for a little bit and you both kind of sink into the feeling of being so close to him.

Gyomei looks down to you and asks, "Can I help keep you a little warmer?" Hesitant, you nod in agreement - but deep down, you can feel your cheeks get hot just by looking at him. This sudden rush feels like it's moving far too fast for anything meaningful to come out of it, but something about it just feels right.

He suddenly lifts you up and sits down in a cross-legged position, placing you right into his lap. The ease with which he picks you up surprises you, but you're not thinking about warmth at all now.

“How are you feeling now? Warmer?” Gyomei says.

"Yes, this...it feels pretty nice," you answer, leaning your back against his chest. At first, the touch of his hand on your thigh is nice - but once you've settled, it becomes almost...teasing. The warmth is nice, yeah, but enough teasing already, so you decide to make your own move.

You get up from his lap, leaving Gyomei worried he pushed too far. But that feeling dissipated once you sat back on his lap, now facing him with your legs wrapped around him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes to see him absolutely flustered. He puts his hands on your back bringing you closer. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with me Gyomei.”

He pulls back, a little shocked, but it doesn’t take him long to reply “Hmm... perhaps I am.”

“Oh yeah?”

The sexual tension is practically tangible, but you neither speak nor move as you gaze at his lips. Only your eyes speak; he understands and moves in for a passionate kiss.

The unexpected roughness is a surprise, but a welcome one, as you melt into his embrace and grasp for a hold on his neck, drawing him closer to you, your body flush against his. One hand reaches for his chest, using his necklace to pull him as close as he can be - his hands on your waist, just barely touching your hips.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue running along his own bottom lip, requesting entrance into your mouth. Once you opened your mouth, his tongue enters once more, and the sensation sent a wave of chills down your spine.

You slip your arms around his neck to pull him in closer, your body pressed against his as your skin ignites with a flame of excitement. He pulls you back slightly, exposing your neck to him, before diving in once more to to suck on your neck. You whine out under his touch, squirming with delight beneath him.

He bites down hard, leaving a hickey in his wake. He takes a moment to proudly admire it, only to pull you into his arms, leaving you mildly confused. He suddenly lifted you and placed you against the wall, his arms slamming at either side of you as he began to kiss you again.

Gyomei's hand slides down your side, coming to rest on the back of your knee. He uses his other hand to grab you firmly by your back and pull you in closer. You instinctively wrap your leg around his back, holding on tight now.

His hand departs from its prior position, as he casually caresses your inner thigh, his fingers brushing against your slit. He was taken aback to find that there were panties instead of the anticipated pair of shorts, but hey he wasn’t complaining. His fingers began to play with the edges of your panties, twirling them between his digits.

He eventually pauses and asks, "Are you okay if I go further?" as he begins to tease your slit with his fingers.

You nod wordlessly and he continues to kiss you. Your body trembles in anticipation as Gyomei's tender lips lightly graze yours. He pulls you close, and with a swift gesture, he removes your panties and tosses them to the side. The touch of his fingers sends electric shocks throughout your body.

Your body quivers with anticipation, your heart beating erratically as his lips trail down toward yours. He removes your panties with a swift motion, discarding them carelessly to the side. His skilled fingers lightly tease your clit, eliciting a muffled moan.

His middle finger circles your entrance, before plunging in with no warning. His finger was bigger and thicker than anything you’d ever felt before, so when he added another finger, it nearly overwhelmed you with pleasure.

You feel like your knees are about to give out, but your body can't help but squirm. Gyomei looks at you with a passionate glare. In a frustrated tone, he asks, "Sweetheart, you're gonna have to stop squirming around like that, how am I gonna make you feel good if you do?"

“I’ll do my best...not to~,” you moan out as he continues to relentlessy pound his fingers into your pussy.

“If you want more pleasure, you gotta call me daddy princess.”

"I...I promise not to squirm then daddy," you whine as you try to maintain a firm grip on your promise. However, despite your desperate efforts, you end up squirming more as you near climax.

Gyomei suddenly stops and states, "You're still squirming baby. You can't disobey your promise to daddy. But don't you worry, I have the perfect solution for this."

Gyomei's arm effortlessly slides towards the back of your knees and he slings you over his shoulder, leaving you in a state of shock. You start smacking his back, in hopes that he’d put you down.

Yet, instead of providing an explanation, Gyomei simply laughs. "I love how feisty you are," he comments, smacking your ass and leaving a glowing red handprint in its wake.

"Just you wait, baby. I'm gonna make you feel so good," he states, a playful gleam in his eyes. You stare up at him with anticipation, excited for what he was going to do next. Little did you know what the night had in store for you.

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