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#The Age of Endless Night
pigeon-princess · 12 days ago
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A once prosperous empire has fallen into a time of chaos and eternal darkness. There are still those who pray that one day the sun will rise again.
The map for my DnD prequel campaign set centuries before, during 'The Age of Endless Night' with dark apocalypse themes! ⚔️
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ackerpotato · 3 months ago
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I know I’ve been super quiet but I’m alright I promise!!
I’m moving across provinces, have a bunch of moving stuff to deal with (insurance, packing, setting up wifi and electricity), have a make or break interview tomorrow, and LIFE IS INSANE.
I will be back as soon as I can and appreciate and love u all sm!
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Horrible [tumblr] Idea: [tumblr] Sitcom Where [tumblr] User From Pre-Dashcon Time Travels To Modern [tumblr]
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glassrunner · 2 years ago
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I feel so stuck! I've realized that my life having no meaning at all is a universal truth! I'm going to die alone and unloved because I don't care about finding a life partner! I can see exactly how the rest of my life will play out and I don't even want to be a part of it! I'm going to be mildly dissatisfied and vaguely bored for all eternity because nothing genuinely interests or brings me joy anymore! I'm not good enough to do the things I love and want to pursue, but I'm too stubborn to give in and kill the person I want to be! I don't know how to change any of this because I really don't think it can be changed!
And you know what the worst part is??? I don't even fucking care!!! I should be worried and yet I feel nothing but a mild and detached sense of contempt! I don't know how I'm supposed to live out the rest of my life because dying sometime soon honestly sounds preferable! My existence was a mistake and I find myself wishing someone would come fix it by removing me from this universe entirely!
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rosalie-starfall · 2 years ago
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(My life in a nutshell)
Middle Aged Actress out there in the world living her life…
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Middle Aged Actress out there walking her Dog…
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Middle Aged Actress out there petting her Cat…
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Middle Aged Actress out there working… 
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Middle Aged Actress out there taking a Shower…
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Middle Aged Actress out there hanging with friends…
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Middle Aged Actress out there washing her car…
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Middle Aged Actress out there eating…
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Middle Aged Actress out there drinking…
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Middle Aged Actress out there breathing…
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becca-e-barnes · 4 months ago
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#1 for imagine with dads!best friend 😉
So y/n has a crush on her dads best friend, because he’s this big beefy man with charm that makes all the ladies swoon. He’s all she can think about when she is laying there awake at night.
It’s her graduation (or some event) and her dad throws a celebration. Bucky is invited and she’s excited to see him until he shows up at their house with a random woman hanging off his arm. She’s jealous and realizes he’s never going to like her the way she would wants and sneaks off to her room to be alone, until Bucky finds her and they are alone
The Graduation Party
@littlecanadianlani was kind enough to send me over some (immaculate) Dad’s Best Friend! Bucky ideas and I’m so obsessed I think I’ll make them a series of one-shots so I can keep up with my requests at the same time!! Each piece will be a standalone fic rather than a chapter but I’m super excited about this!! 🥰 #2 is also out now! Read it here
I went for a graduation party since I didn’t really get one yet 😅
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Pairing: Dad’s Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 4.3K
Summary: Your parents throw you a graduation party but things take a turn when Bucky turns up with a new girlfriend
Warnings: Smut, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex, fingering, huge age gap (Bucky is maybe around 40, reader is 21), lil angst perhaps? Fluff, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (behave yourselves pls), dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, pet names, coercion (but in the sense that Bucky knows he shouldn’t want his best friend’s daughter. All parties are enthusiastically participating), humping, riding, dumbification
Minors, do not interact
You weren’t sure there was a man more intimidatingly handsome than your dad’s college best friend and he knew it. If tall, dark and handsome was a person, it would be Bucky Barnes with his piercing blue eyes and soft, flushed, pink lips.
He was the definition of a bachelor. Unmarried, no kids, seemingly endless disposable income and from what your dad had told you, a new woman every week. And why shouldn’t he? Married life just didn’t seem to be his thing, settling down might never happen for Bucky and there was nothing wrong with that.
Plus the fact he hadn’t settled had kept your little crush alive. You couldn’t help wondering what it was like to be with a man like Bucky. A man with experience, a man who knew how to actually make love to a woman, rather just offer five minutes of painfully inadequate sex before rolling over and falling asleep, leaving you frustrated and unsatisfied.
It was terrible to admit but countless nights had passed with your hands delving between your thighs, a shiver running over your flushed skin as you imagined how his gruff little groans would sound when you offered yourself up to him. How it would feel to have him slipping into your tight heat until you weren’t sure where his body ended and yours began.
But your little fantasy was all crumbling down around you now, at your own graduation party no less. Bucky had just arrived with a girlfriend. You couldn’t have seen it coming, a tall, beautiful woman hanging off his arm as his dad introduced himself to her.
You couldn’t believe how jealous you were. You were only carrying a school girl crush after all, plain and simple infatuation, it was nothing serious but God, your chest had tightened with discontent seeing how he smiled at her, introducing her to the other guests at your garden party until those charming eyes locked with yours.
“Oh sugar, congratulations on the results! You did amazing!” He beamed proudly, crossing the whole garden to wrap you up in the tightest hug. His body felt huge and comforting, smelling fresh and woodsy and God it would be so easy to get lost in it, lost in him.
“Thank you Bucky!” You couldn’t help the tinge of heat burning in your cheeks as you pulled away.
“Oh angel, you make me feel so old. Can’t believe you’ve graduated college now! You’re so beautiful too, you’re all grown up! But hey, this is Sarah, she’s been dying to meet you!” Bucky grinned, his words making you tingle with longing right up until Sarah was thrust in front of you, your arms wrapping around her before you had a chance to stop yourself.
“It’s so nice to meet you honey, Bucky’s been gushing about how proud he is of you!” Sarah was so lovely. That was even worse. Never mind the fact she was pretty, she was painfully sweet.
“It’s nice to meet you too! Bucky hadn’t mentioned you before. How long have you two been… um…” you questioned softly, not really knowing their situation
“Dating? A few weeks now. No needa be shy honey, I don’t mind answerin’ your questions.” Bucky’s confident smirk made your stomach churn. The whole time you’d known Bucky, he’d never been this open about being in a relationship. In fact, Sarah was the first actual girlfriend you knew of. You could feel your smile faltering, your little crush being dashed before your eyes.
“Oh shit, we should go say hi to your mom, talk to you later okay?” Bucky grinned, gently lifting Sarah’s hand in his own once more and heading off to find your mother.
You needed to get away. You needed to get out of the crowd before the angry, frustrated tears that were prickling your eyes spilled over. It was stupid, childish and you knew that but it didn’t make it any easier, knowing you’d never compare to this beautiful woman in Bucky’s eyes. No one stopped you as you made your way to your room, the wooden door slamming behind you while you flopped onto the bed, face buried in the pillow.
You had no idea how long had passed before you heard the door creak open again.
“Baby, you in here?” The familiar voice sent longing straight through you, the sickly feeling nestling in your chest. At the sound of Bucky, you pulled your head up out of the pillow, thankful you had managed not to cry.
Bucky looked so damn concerned.
“Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He questioned softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, face flooded with worry.
“Nothin’ Bucky, just didn’t feel great. Where’s Sarah?” You asked, running a hand through your hair, the hem of your little sundress ghosting the top of your knees.
“Oh she went home.” Bucky laughed, the low chuckle erupting from his throat.
“What’s so funny?” You quizzed gently, watching his expression as he turned to look at you.
“Say nothin’ okay? Your dad and I made a bet a few years ago. Bet me fifty bucks that I wouldn’t have a girlfriend by the time you were graduating. Sarah’s my neighbour, she volunteered to play along when I was tellin’ her bout you last week.” Bucky’s admission made your heart swell for so many reasons. He wasn’t settling down. Sarah wasn’t his, he wasn’t taken and fuck, he told his neighbour about you?
“Oh…. So you’re not… Dating?” Damn your curiosity, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you had considered how they would sound.
“Not dating anyone, sugar. Why? Ya getting jealous of Sarah?” He teased, working out that he was spot on when you couldn’t meet his gaze. You were jealous of Sarah. You did want to be her. You could feel how your cheeks were burning ferociously, the room suddenly far too hot despite the evening breeze drifting in the open window.
“Oh angel, don’t tell me a delicate, innocent little thing like you wants someone like me.” His words made you impossibly hotter, your skin only getting hotter under his intense gaze.
“If I didn’t know better honey, I’d think you were jealous of Sarah. You wanna be my girl, huh? I’d only ruin you princess. Don’t wanna do that, wouldn’t be right.” Bucky could hardly contain himself. Your attitude gave you away entirely. You did want him. You wanted to be ruined, pinned to the bed and fucked until you couldn’t cum anymore but he needed you to admit it. Needed to hear it out loud before he could give in.
“Tell me you want it angel. Tell me you wanna be treated right. Tell me how bad that little pussy needs a real man to take care of it.” Fuck, how had his voice dropped an entire octave? It was coming out as more of a low rumble, sexy and deep and delicious. The heat on your skin danced it’s way to your core, nestling in your tummy in a way that made your insides squirm.
“Fuck Bucky, I need it. Need you to t-treat me right.” You couldn’t even consider that he might be messing with you, so highly strung from need that it couldn’t even be a possibility. No, you needed this too badly now. Your fingers just wouldn’t compare to what you knew Bucky could offer.
“Fuck this is so wrong.” He hissed, hands fisting your bedsheets to hold himself back.
“Oh Buck, just once?” You suggested quietly, setting a hand on his clothed thigh. His eyes scrunched tightly shut at the contact, willing himself not to look. Not to feel you touching him. Your hand looked so tiny on his leg and you just wished he would open his eyes to see it.
“Careful angel, you don’t wanna do this.” He couldn’t bear to look at you. He couldn’t let himself. He knew that when the dam inside him broke, there would be no going back.
“Oh but I do Bucky. Wanted to do this for years.” His resolve was weakening, huge frame almost trembling at the thought of being buried so deep in your tight little body.
“Baby, it’s so wrong.” He was losing it as your fingertips trailed higher up his thigh. He could tell you had shifted closer without having to look at you, your breath tickling his neck from how close you were. He could smell your shampoo and your perfume but most of all, he could feel your confidence that was now seeping out of every pore, clearly emboldened by seeing the effect you were having on him and fuck, did he find it sexy.
“You know what’s ‘wrong’ Buck? How long it’s been since a man fucked me right. Bet you could change that though, couldn’t you? Bet you could make me feel so good. Two of my little fingers just don’t fill me the way I know you could. Such a tight squeeze, you have no idea. So warm and wet Buck, bet even you would struggle to last.” Where in the hell was all this confidence coming from? Half of you didn’t even care and after hearing the growl that came from Bucky, you knew he was loving it as much as you were.
“Oh fuck honey, you can’t say shit like that. Can’t fuckin’ handle it. Makes me wonder how filthy that little mouth can get.” His breathing was heavy and irregular, leaning into your lips on his neck, eyes still squeezed firmly shut.
“You wanna find out Buck? Wanna find out how good my mouth can make you feel?” Fuck he had lost it. The band inside him snapped, grabbing you by your thighs to pull you messily onto his lap, lips on yours in an instant. There was no finesse or practice to it, just two people, consumed by need, trying to relieve some tension but finding that making out had the exact opposite effect. You were both only becoming needier. Huge hands wandered over your body, the kiss becoming fiercer and more intense, fingers gripping hungrily at any exposed skin either of you could reach.
“Jesus, oh Bucky.” The little cry had slipped from your lips, muffled by Bucky’s own lips on yours.
“Oh god angel, we shouldn’t be doin’ this.” Bucky hissed quietly, removing his shirt nonetheless. He was so keen he could hardly keep up with himself but his head still told him he shouldn’t want this as much as he did.
“Do you wanna stop? Too old to keep up with me?” You teased him with a flirtatious roll of your hips over his crotch and you could’ve swore you heard an actual growl leave his throat.
“Was thinkin’ for your sake angel. Don’t think you’ll handle what I’m gonna make you feel. You won’t want anyone but me to touch you ever again. You ready for that honey? For your own fingers to not be able to give you the same relief I can?” God it all sounded so appealing falling from his mouth, his tone laced with nothing but sex.
The mewl that left your body was borderline embarrassing, Bucky gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it over your head in one swift motion. He hadn’t expected that one action to leave you bare in front of him. He could feel his mouth hanging open, drinking in the sight of you in his lap. The swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the endless expanse of soft skin, begging to be kissed and held and loved before you pressed your lips hungrily to his, ridding him of his jeans as quickly as possible.
“You’re fuckin’. Beautiful.” Bucky could only gasp the words out between kisses, both his hands charting a path up your naked body after you slotted comfortably onto his lap again. The skin on skin felt incredible, not to mention his cock lying between his legs, heavy and thick and begging for attention.
“Wanna be selfish for a second Buck.” You whispered, pushing him back flat on the bed. You couldn’t help yourself, reaching between your bodies, pressing his thick cock flush with his tummy before spreading your slick folds, setting yourself down on his bare dick. A strangled cry left the large man as you rocked yourself back and forth, spreading your wetness over him. Your clit dragged over his sensitive head, pulling a groan from both of you. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding your movements and fuck, you looked like a goddess above him, breathy sighs slipping from you, using his body for your own pleasure.
There was something about it, seeing you so bold and confident, taking what you needed from him that made him even harder.
“Oh God Bucky.” You whined, pressing yourself down harder ever so slightly.
“That’s it angel, keep goin’. Fuck you’re just gettin’ wetter. You look so pretty and dumb like this, ruttin’ on my cock. That smart little brain just turned to mush now you’ve got a nice big cock to play with? All that education but your pretty little head just stops workin’ when you needa cum, is that it?” You didn’t expect Bucky to be so vulgar in bed, especially not with you but you were loving it.
“Fuck you feel so good.” You gasped, taking in his lazy smirk as you worked yourself on him.
“Think you could cum like this honey? Or do you wanna come sit on my face for me?” His words pulled a gasp from you because yes, you really did want to sit on his face. How could you refuse an offer like that?
So you shuffled up the bed, settling on Bucky’s face.
“Put your weight on me honey, I won’t break.” Bucky laughed, noticing how you couldn’t possibly be comfortable just hovering above his face. Pressing down a little more, he chuckled at how you were still reluctant to put your whole weight on him.
“Like this angel.” He smiled before gripping your thighs to press you the whole way down on him, beginning to lap at your pussy with long, broad strokes of his tongue straight away.
Fuck his tongue worked miracles, slipping between your folds while his nose nuzzled your clit. You’d never been eaten so intensely before, whimpers escaping you while Bucky sucked and licked and bit at the most sensitive part of your body.
When his lips connected with your clit, you almost wanted to squirm away from the insane amount of stimulation. His lips wrapped around the swollen bud, tongue flicking over it while he moaned sinfully, holding you against his mouth with one arm wrapped around each of your thighs. There was no escaping his mouth, hot and wet and trained only on driving you into blinding pleasure. Your hands fisted in his hair, helping you to ride his face while Bucky devoured you.
The knot in your tummy was tightening, fuelled by Bucky’s moans at how good you tasted.
You were so close, curses and pants of Bucky’s name spilling from you like a prayer and when Bucky’s eyes opened, looking up at you, a content hum left his throat.
That hum shattered you, the vibration on your clit driving you over the edge and if Bucky thought you looked like a goddess before, you certainly did now. He completely admired you, taking in how your back arched, how your head flung back, hips grinding against his face while one hand left his hair to tease your own nipples and God, that cry of his name made his cock throb painfully.
“Oh oh, Bucky please.” You whimpered, struggling in his grip when your body told you he had given you too much.
“You sound so sexy when you beg, you know that?” Bucky smirked, letting you go so you could pull yourself from his face, tumbling on the bed.
“Not just as sexy as you sound when you cum, but close.” His dusting of stubble was shiny with your slick and you struggled to think of a more attractive sight than his beautiful man that had effortlessly dragged an orgasm from you, lazily stroking his own cock to the sight of you naked in front of him.
“I can do both for you if you want. I’ll gladly beg if you make me cum like that again.” One orgasm like that couldn’t satisfy you, not now that you’d had a taste of real pleasure. Besides, you hadn’t even had a chance to feel his cock inside you yet.
“Shit angel, I’d love that, havin’ such a sweet little girl on her knees beggin’ for me. Fuck, you might be the death of me, you know that?” Bucky fisted his cock a little faster at the thought up until you shuffled off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling at the edge of the bed. His eyes went wide as you looked up at him expectantly, perching himself on the edge of the bed to watch you.
“Is this what you want? Want this big cock angel?” He cooed softly, not taking his eyes off you. You couldn’t tear your attention away from his swollen tip, head slick with precum, begging to be lapped up.
“Please Bucky, please lemme take care of you.” You whispered, offering him huge wide eyes and plump lips, longing to be parted by his dick.
“You can do better than that honey. If you want this, you gotta earn it. Ask a bit nicer.” He had every right to be so cocky after eating you like that so you indulged him a little.
“Please Bucky, can’t think of anything else. Needa feel you.” You whined. “Just lemme taste you Bucky, please, thought about this for so long. Thought about gagging on your cock like a good little girl, thought about you fucking my face.”
“And did you touch yourself while you thought of me?” Bucky asked, leaning back on the arm that wasn’t stroking his cock, giving you a chance to take in his tight abs.
The shame almost make you feel light headed, admitting to your deepest secret.
“Good girl. This pussy belongs to me now, okay? You feel like touching yourself, you text me.” Want and need surged inside you at Bucky’s promise of this little arrangement continuing but you almost lost it when he leaned forward, pressing a hand to the back of your head, guiding you over and onto his cock. Your lips parted and wrapped around him of their own accord, letting him slip into your mouth. The slightly salty taste of his precum made your pussy throb, your tongue running over his slit, collecting every last drop.
“Oh Jesus.” Bucky managed to hiss, one of your hands wrapping around the base while you forced your head down further.
“Where did you learn this shit angel? Fuckin’ filthy, you know that? Thought you wanted to be a good girl but this mouth says otherwise. All mine now though, aren’t ya? This mouth only sucks my cock from now on.” You hummed in approval, dragging another hiss from Bucky, thrusting himself deeper into your throat.
You pressed your head down until he hit the back of your throat and God, the strangled cry that left him was pornographic, low and wanton and pained, like he was holding himself back, trying so hard not to fuck your face recklessly.
“Feel so good baby.” He whimpered, pressing you down until you gagged around him. The noise, coupled with the sudden tightening made him almost feral, a loud grunt from him inspiring you to work your hand faster on his base.
“Oh fuck, I can’t take much more angel, ‘m so close.” He whimpered, thighs trembling, ready to paint the back of your throat at any second. You sped up your movements, bobbing your head in time with your hand, tight and sloppy and noisy before Bucky pulled you off him, squeezing his hand tight around his own base.
“Can’t cum yet baby, fuck, needa feel that pussy first. Know you needa be taken care of.” You certainly weren’t going to argue with that. When he was sure he had held off his orgasm, he let go of his cock, arranging you on your hands and knees on the edge of the bed, stepping up behind you. His dick pressed to your entrance, gathering slick until he slowly began to press himself into you, inch by inch.
“God, you’re big.” You whimpered, fingers gripping the sheets, arching your back to allow him to push in with less resistance.
“Fuck, feels good. God, can’t believe I’m fuckin’ inside you. Can’t believe a sweet little thing like you is so cock obsessed. Gotta say, I’m lovin’ this side of you honey. Even lettin’ me fuck you raw? This little pussy jus’ wants to be filled. S’okay, I’ll fill you up nicely.” He had sank the whole way into you, allowing you a few seconds to adjust to the stretch before you took charge and began to move, inching forward, then back onto his cock, almost hoping he wouldn’t notice how needy you were.
“You that horny? Can’t even wait for me to fuck you so you gotta do it yourself?” His tone was condescending, almost dripping with pride that he had reduced you to such a mess so quickly.
“Bucky, so fuckin’ horny, please. Please give it to me. Just fuck me.” You couldn’t have possibly cared that you sounded like a whiney mess. It didn’t matter that you sounded obsessed, all that mattered was feeling Bucky finally start to move.
“Oh kitten, you’ve gone all cock drunk on me? Silly baby can’t think of anythin’ but cummin’ round me. Tha’s okay, guess I can forgive you this time. You were so worked up earlier after all, seein’ me with someone else. All yours now honey. Gotta make this pretty pussy feel special.” Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head when he gripped your hips and pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you again, beginning to set a decent pace.
You hadn’t expected his cock to pound your g-spot right away but you guessed it helped to be with a man who knew what he was looking for, unlike anyone you’d been with before.
“R-right there Bucky, oh fuck, I can’t.” You whined, keening against the bed so he could press painfully deep inside you with each thrust.
“You can’t what honey? Can’t handle it? Can’t get enough? Can’t hold back?” His suggestions all came in that confident tone because he knew you couldn’t answer. He was fucking you senseless, each thrust driving every thought from your head.
“Can’t hold back, fuck.” You whimpered, knowing your orgasm would be seconds away. But on the next thrust, everything stopped. Bucky didn’t push back in, sinking to his knees instead with a groan, level with your pussy. Two fingers slipped effortlessly inside you, curling in a way that you could hardly handle while his lips sucked your clit. You were done for, pussy clenching around his digits while the dragged you through your high, tongue lapping at your clit for all he was worth. You were gushing on his face, you knew it and you didn’t care, mumbling little ‘thank yous’ and praises as you rode out your high. You could hear the slick noises of Bucky fisting his cock in his other hand, tight and relentless, still wet from your pussy.
“Good girl honey, bet that felt good.” He whispered when your high had ebbed away, pressing his cock back inside you, fucking you fiercely once more. The wet sounds of his thrusts into you were horrendously loud but then again, so were his grunts as he chased his own release. You were on cloud nine, feeling fucked out and euphoric but delighted that Bucky still wanted to finish inside you.
“Cum for me Bucky, please please fill me up. Wanna be your good little fuck bunny. Wanna feel your cum leakin’ out of me.” You knew he would love it if you used a little pleading tone but you didn’t realise just how effective it would be. A few more hard thrusts had Bucky’s hips stuttering, cum spilling inside you. The groan that left Bucky was mesmerising, clinging to your body while he spilled his seed inside you.
“Jesus I don’t remember the last time I came that hard.” Bucky murmured in more of a relaxed chuckle, kissing down your spine before pulling out of you slowly, grabbing a washcloth from your dresser so you could clean yourself up.
“I’ve never cum that hard before.” You giggled gleefully, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, still faintly tasting yourself on them.
“We should get back to the party but we should do this again sometime. I meant what I said honey, you’re mine now.” It was such a change seeing Bucky so sheepish but it was quite pleasant at the same time. You didn’t even know this side of him existed up until now.
“And you’re… Mine?” You questioned softly after pulling your dress on again, straightening it out as much as possible.
“All yours angel. Maybe we shouldn’t be too open ‘bout it just yet though.” He laughed, admiring the little flush of your cheeks and the twinkle in your eye.
Taglist:
@babebr @sebsbrokentoe @justatirednightowl @harrysthiccthighss @stucky-my-ship @allydrabbles @white-wolves-and-grey-skies @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @littlecanadianlani @badgirlwolfy
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angelkhi · 3 months ago
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House Sitting - S.R
Pairing: neighbour!Stevex Reader
Summary: Your parents leave you in completely charge of the house for two weeks... under the watchful eye of your neighbour of course.
Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors dni) age gap, voyeurism, masturbation (f), edging, size kink, hair pulling??, oral (f+m), p in v, cumplay, bodily fluids?, dirty talk, spitting, choking, slight breath play, swearing (obvs), overstimulation, praise kink, let me know if I missed anything!
Word count: 4.5k
A little note: Hey, so this is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever written, it’s a fucking good job I’m a renounced catholic. This can be read as a stand-alone or a continuation of my other neighbour!steve piece, it’s completely up to you. I wrote it as a second part (though I use that phrase lightly) so just know that this relationship was previously established in my other Neighbour!Steve work. Sorry about any typos! I hope you enjoy!<3
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"Don't forget to turn the stove off." "Don't forget to lock the doors." "No parties." "Keep the house clean."
Listening to your mother drone on and on about the house rules for the fifth time that evening grows tedious, so much so you'll be sure not to use the stove or open any doors, and constantly walk around with a mop if it shuts her up. Your father rolls his eyes from behind her and continues hauling the luggage into the boot, a small smile threatening your lips.
"Steve will check in on you every couple of days, but if you need anything call him, numbers on the fridge oh and don't forget-" Her words fizzle out into a faint ringing, and that into the sound of your countertop shaking beneath you some weeks ago.
Fucking shit.
Steve Rogers, your next door neighbour, whom you haven't seen since he left you to walk around your parents housewarming party with his cum dripping out of your panties. Steve Rogers who you've imagined fucking you every night since, only to be left with the dissatisfaction of your own fingers.
Your head snaps to hers quickly, eyes surely as wide as saucers as you divulge the new information, the fact that Steve is now at your beck and call for two weeks. You'd mother starts going over the tumble dryer settings for a third time and so you shoo her into the car, unwilling to go through it yet again.
"Yes mum, I've got it all. Lock the doors, turn off the stove, don't trash the place." She raises her eyebrows for a moment and smiles as your father begins reversing out onto the street.
You wave until the car disappears out of sight and walk back up the drive, stealing a quick glance at the Rogers household before and going inside and locking the door.
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Three days, three, was all it took for something to go horribly wrong.
You wake up to a lukewarm fridge, gone off milk and a scolding from your mom if you don't get it sorted soon. The day drags on as you skirt around having to call Steve over to your empty house, the possibilities of what exactly could happen seemingly endless and very tiring, though that afternoon you have no choice but to cave as there's nowhere for the surprise delivery of fresh groceries (courtesy of your mom) to go without spoiling.
Dialling the number on the little post it note seems nothing short of illegal but it's there for emergencies and this surely counts as an emergency. You stare at digits on the screen, forcing yourself to click dial before you think too hard about it and chicken out for another few hours. It rings once, twice, three times before he picks up.
"Hello?" His voice is smooth, like butter melting on a hot day and your words are lodged in your throat for a heartbeat or two.
"Steve? Mr Rogers? My mom said to call if I had an emergency..." you pause and chew at your lip adding quickly, "It's your neighbour, by the way."
"Hey honey, what seems to be the problem?" You force yourself to talk, though your brain runs in circles at the little pet name, memories of the last time he used it heating up your cheeks. Forcing yourself to focus on anything but the sultry gravel in his voice, the broken fridge has suddenly never seemed more interesting, still not trusting your voice, hums are the only responses he gets to the various questions you struggle to answer.
"I'll be over about six, see you then."
"Thank you so much, goodbye Mr Rogers." With that the line clicks off and you're stood alone in your kitchen, unsure what to do with yourself until Steve makes an appearance in a few hours, so you do what any self respecting 20 something year old would do, and hide out in your room until he arrives. You try to focus your mind anywhere other than on your neighbour many years your senior, but he's like a parasite, one thought of how good his hands and mouth felt on you leaves you squirming. You contemplate doing something about it, but true to his word Steve is at the door at dead on 6:00pm, tool bag in hand and smile on his face.
You leave him to it, unsure of how to even look him in the eye, let alone string together sentence after sentence. The occasional bang and fuck or bastard shit, travel about the house, a small smile etched on your lips whenever he cursed but soon enough he shouts a halle-fucking-lujah. You're contemplating going down to him to see him out when he appears at your door, knocking twice and waiting for permission to enter.
"All fixed, should get cold within the hour."  He leans against your doorframe with such ease, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair slicked back.
"Thank you so much... please don't tell my mom. She already had so little faith in me and maybe she was right to-"
"Your secrets safe with me sweetheart, don't worry." He chuckles, folding his arms across his chest, "I've missed you."
The revelation shocks you into silence, your eyes locked on Steve as his are on you, unmoving, even as he pushes off the doorframe and stalks forward, even as he sits on the edge of your bed.
"You missed me?" You repeat his words, disbelief and shock evident in your tone and he huffs out a laugh once more, leaning even closer still.
"Mmh. Missed you a whole lot." Steve reaches out and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, his thumb swiping over your jaw. "I missed your pretty face. Missed the way you say my name, missed the taste of your pretty cunt."
You're unable to meet his eyes as he speaks, thighs clenching together even at the lightest touch from him.
"Missed you too, Mr Rogers. Steve." You admit, his smile widening a little.
"Show me."
"What?"
"Show me how much you missed me." His breath fans the shell of your ear, a kiss on the nape of your neck, "Show me how you play with that pretty pussy whilst you think of me."
This is filthy. It's filthy and nasty and dirty, but so was fucking your neighbour in your basement whilst a house full of people (including your parents) partied upstairs.
Without giving it another thought, you're shuffling backwards into the mountain of pillows behind you. Your eyes finally meet Steve's as you pull down your trousers, his hands pulling them from around your ankles, repeating the process with your panties but he snatches them up, bringing them to his nose and inhaling then shoving them in his shirt pocket.
Holy fuck.
"Spread your legs for me babydoll," he's leaning back against the foot of your bed, bulge in his loose fitting trousers at the sight of your glistening cunt, "Touch yourself for me, pretty girl."
Your movements are slow, cautionary under his gaze you slide your hands up your thighs, swallowing a small gasp when you finally feel just how wet you are. You circle your pussy lips for a moment, your breaths shallow with each passing stroke. Steve's mesmerised, his eyes wide and focused on you playing with yourself.
You're unable to quiet the moans when you begin to circle your clit, changing the pressure and speed every now and then, building yourself to an orgasm.
"Fuck, Steve, Mr Rogers." Your breath is erratic, chest heaving when you enter a single finger into your wetness, "Feels so good."
"That's it, my good girl," Steve's tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, his eyes flicking between your face and your squelching pussy, a hand over the bulge in his trousers.
"Gonna add another finger for me? Gonna fuck yourself til you cum on your pretty little fingers?" Fucking shit. The man has a filthy mouth and he knows it, the ghost of a smirk on his face when he sees how you react to his words. You obey, fucking two fingers into yourself, occasionally toying with your clit.
"M'close Steve," You're sure you sound pathetic but some part of yourself loves it, "Fuck, I'm gonna cum." 
Steve quietly eggs you on, calling you his pretty girl, telling you how pretty your pussy looks and you're falling over the edge in seconds. He leans forward quickly, pressing a slow kiss to your lips as you come down from your orgasm, hips bucking a few times, catching your clit on the rough material of his trousers.
He pulls back and just stares for a moment, his gaze so intense you're not sure what to do with yourself but then he's on the move, his lips pressed against your neck and shoulder and chest and stomach until his facing your pussy.
"Gonna let me have as many as I want? Let me eat your cunt till you're crying, please pretty girl." The sight of Steve practically on his knees, begging to taste you until you're in tears is an offer you can't refuse. Your hands lock in his hair pulling him forwards.
He's tentative at first, weary of the fact that you've just cum but it only takes minutes until he's pulling you apart, suckling and nipping at your clit repeatedly, two fingers fucking into you at a bruising pace, right into a brutal orgasm.
Your body relaxes wholly, legs shaking around his head, your hands tightening in his hair as he continues to lick your clit. Steve's tongue explores your pussy, nudging your weeping hole and sliding in, fucking you with his tongue repeatedly, his fingers applying pressure on your clit.
Steve is relentless, pulling orgasm after orgasm from your spent body until you're pushing him away, chest heaving, cheeks wet with tears, body completely blissed out. He's kissing you again, whispering small words of praise against your lips as he lets you catch your breath, bringing you down from whatever cloud you're currently floating on.
You can taste yourself on his lips when he kisses you again, but you're too sleepy to care, you just want sleep and Steve. He disappears for a few moments, some rustling coming from the bathroom and your closet and he's back, washcloth and clean pyjamas in tow. He's careful as he runs the washcloth over your sensitive folds, listening to each sound and movement of your body, equally so when he pulls on some pyjama trousers and pulls the covers up to your chest.
Steve kisses you once more, slow and soft and you're asleep in seconds, far too tired to keep your eyes open.
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When you wake the next morning Steve has already left, a text message from an hour prior explaining that he'd be at work for the rest of the day, and he wants to see you for lunch at his tomorrow afternoon.
Your legs ache the entirety of the time you're in the shower, but it's pleasant, welcomed, a reminder that Steve was there the night before. It's an effort to climb downstairs, the thought of the spoiled groceries almost enough to send you back up the stairs, but you had to eat regardless.
Though there's no foul smell of off kale and dodgy chicken when you enter the kitchen, only a second note next to your mother's on the fridge.
Put the groceries away, maybe this house sitting thing really isn't for you - Steve x
You chuckle and put it in your pocket, grabbing some granola bar and going back to bed, knowing that if you're going to Steve's tomorrow, a day of rest would be your best friend.
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3:00pm the next afternoon as promised you're at his front door, a bottle of wine under your arm. You're beyond well rested, having slept most of the day and all through the night after your run in with Steve.
He opens the door, stepping aside and closes the door behind you, his hand resting on the small of your back guiding you towards the kitchen, a tangy and sweet smell filling the house.
"I um- I bought this wine... I don't know if it's any good but I got it from the basement I uh." Your eyes meet quickly when you mention the godforsaken room, the air in the room stifling as the memories of that day and a couple of nights ago replay in your head.
"I'm sure it's perfect, angel." My god this man, "Come sit, lunch is nearly ready,"
He nods to one of the stools at the island and grabs two glasses, a bottle opener and sits next to you. Steve pours the wine with such grace, his ridiculously large hands enveloping the bottle, leaving you in a trance and clenching your thighs once more even as he slides the half full glass in front of you.
"How're you feeling today?" Steve's gaze is intense, caring, and once again you're frozen, scrambling over the right words unsure what to say.
"Good. I slept a lot yesterday, so I'm feeling good." You smile, redirecting your gaze to his hands once more, "Thanks for asking."
"It's my pleasure," he pauses, glancing down, "I know the other night must've been a lot, are you sure you're okay?"
His concern was sweet, being a worrier suits him, but you're too distracted by the memory of him destroying you with his tongue and fingers to fully appreciate it. His hand drifts from the countertop to your thigh, squeezing once and bringing you back down to earth.
"I'm good, promise," Steve grins at that, planting a kiss on your lips leaving you a little stunned momentarily before you kiss back, only to be pulled apart by the oven beeping.
The food Steve has prepared is nothing short of delicious, and the wine you'd picked out wasn't too horrid that lunch, overall was a giddy success. Of course the pair of you could barely keep you hands to yourself, even whilst eating the feast set out before you.
The two of you talked for hours, about everything and nothing, until the sun was beginning to send the clouds pink. You lean up off of Steve, the window seat in the corner of his kitchen diner having the perfect view of his well looked after garden, and gather your things together much to your dismay.
Steve walks you to the front door, his steps slow as he drags out the afternoon as much as possible, wishing that time would slow, if only a little. His thumb rubs over your wrist in a calming motion as the pair of you come to the end of your short walk and blissful afternoon.
"Stay over? We can watch a movie, do whatever you want, honey, just want you to stay." You've never heard Steve sound so needy, his usually somewhat stern eyes soft, almost begging and you cave, agreeing to come back later that evening and stay the night.
He cradles your jaw as you lean back into the cool stone wall, leaning into the hungry kiss wanting nothing more than to stay a little longer, but one day of not cleaning would quickly turn into two and two to three, something you were too lazy to think about, let alone actually sort out.
The few hours pass quickly, and you're once again on Steve's doorstep, a small wash bag and change of clothes over your shoulder. He pulls you in quickly, slamming the door shut behind you and kisses you tentatively, taking your bag from your shoulder and setting it at the bottom of the stairs.
"Wanna watch a movie?" He asks against your lips. You nod against him and he makes his way into the kitchen to retrieve the snacks he'd set out for the two of you, sending your heart lurching your chest at the small gesture. That afternoon, something changed between the two of you, something new and good, something you can't wait to explore.
It takes a moment to shrug off your jacket and untie your shoes before you're sat next to him on the couch, his arm slung across the back of it, fingertips brushing your shoulder.
The movie plays for some time, the pair of you readjusting a few times but ultimately settling on Steve pressed up behind you. Halfway through a fast paced scene he pauses the movie and you turn over your shoulder, throwing him a confused look.
"Can we try something?" Steve asks, chewing at his lip awaiting your answer.
"What do you wanna try Stevie?"
He shudders a little at the nickname, pressing a swift kiss to your cheek and continues on.
"Want you to keep me warm," he pauses, strumming the waistband of the jogging bottoms you'd dragged on when you went home, "Just 'til the end of the movie?"
You're barely finished nodding before Steve's yanking down his own sweats and boxers, being more careful when it comes to yours and working you open a little until you're ready to take his cock. He slides in, the stretch you'd missed so much making you sigh, his own breaths faltering as he feels you around him.
Once he's bottomed out he kisses your shoulder through the thin material of your T-shirt and plays the movie once more, leaving you struggling against the urge to squirm as you focus your attention on whatever ridiculously high payed actor is on the screen.
The movie drones on, though none of the plot is being retained, in fact nothing makes sense in your head beyond the feeling of being so full of Steve. It's been almost an hour and a half and he's adjusted the two of you twice, each time sliding deeper or nudging some sensitive part of you, tiny whimpers escaping your lips.
Though it's not all in vein, his constant mutterings of good girl, doing so good for me, and the occasional feel so fucking good into your ear creating a surging warmth in your chest. That and his fingers running soothing lines up and down your arms, he managed to turn any discomfort into the most comfortable you've been in a while.
You're almost asleep when the credits roll in, woken up by the rumble of Steve's chest as he chuckles quietly.
"Movie's over," He rasps, and you rest your chin on his chest to get a better look at him whilst he speaks, "D'you wanna go to sleep?"
"M'not sleepy Steve." You sit up, just to prove the point and you both groan at the friction of readjusting. His hands find your hips, holding you still before you move again.
"Babydoll..." It's sweet how caring he is, but that edge to his voice has you almost squirming. Almost.
"I promise, I'm not tired Steve, the movie was just boring."
"Hey, that's one of my favourites!" You giggle at the look of offence on his face, leaning down to kiss him and he pulls you in closer.
"Sorry Stevie," You mumble against his lips and he smiles, "But I promise I'm not tired."
"Can I try something?" You repeat his words from earlier, aiming to sound confident, but instead you remain timid as ever. Steve raises his eyebrows but smiles and agrees regardless, the pair of you hissing when you lift yourself off of him, his cock glistening with your wetness. He watches as you sink to the floor, onto your knees in front of him, waiting. Steve sits up slowly, a look of disbelief on his face though it's soon replaced when you grip his dick between your little hands.
You lower your mouth to his tip, suckling at the mixture of precum and your own slick. You take him a little deeper, your hands accommodating for what your mouth cannot.
"Fucking shit honey, oh god." He looks so pretty, head thrown back, "You're so good to me, fuck."
You continue gagging on his cock as it hits the back of your throat repeatedly, the sting in the corner of your eyes never felt so good. You release him from your mouth, his panting chest and chanting of your name egging you on, licking a stripe up the underside if his dick, watching him squirm when your fingers press against that small muscle between his hole and his balls.
Steve thrusts up suddenly into your hand, his tip angry, red and inviting. You slip him back into your mouth and he continues to buck up, hitting the back of your throat. Your whimpering around his cock is all too much for the whining man above you and he tangles his hands in your hair, pulling you up off of him. A of saliva hangs between your lips and his tip and you're quick to lick it up, Steve hissing in the process.
"Get up." His tone is sharp but strained, his grip on what little control he had over himself slipping. Steve guides you upstairs, into his room and onto his bed, muttering something about not wanting to cum yet and there's no way he's fucking you on a couch.
Steve's bed is spacious, though you don't get a chance to admire his interior design skills because he's on you in a second. His large shoulders caging you in, trapping you between him and the bed.
His lips are feverish on yours, claiming you as his as he grinds his cock into your naked pussy, reaching down between you to thumb your clit, groaning at just how wet you are from warming and sucking his cock.
"God you're fuckin perfect for me." Steve whispers, the words only for your ears, though no one else could possibly hear. He sucks along the base of your neck, leaving small bruises behind, letting everyone know that you're his. His kisses trail down to your chest and he's circling your stiff nipples with his tongue, alternating between nipping and biting.
You grind your hips up into his, desperate for any kind of friction, whimpering his name over and over like a prayer, but he still takes his time, giving equal attention to your tits and coming back up to your mouth.
Steve grips at his cock, drawing up and down your pussy, catching the sensitive head on your clit, the both of you moaning in unison. He continues to toy with your clit, dipping his head into your hole and back out again until you're writhing for it.
"Please Stevie," You whimper, his hand coming up and wrapping around your throat, "Fuck me."
He applies a little pressure to your throat, cutting off your air as he slides home and bottoms out, and releases your throat, the small head rush pushing you close to an orgasm before he's even started. Steve's hand stays on your throat as the other finds your hip and he steadies himself, pulling out to the tip and bottoming out once more before he's fucking into you at such a brutal pace you can't remember your name.
His hand works your throat and his cock works your pussy, the two in tandem pulling you apart from your foggy head to your curling toes, swallowing your moans in filthy kisses of clashing teeth.
"Fucking hell, you feel so good honey," Steve's voice is deeper than you've ever heard it, borderline feral as he claims your body, "Who's pussy is this?"
"Yours, yours Stevie." You're a blubbering mess, your face wet with sweat and saliva and tears you didn't even know you were shedding.
"That's my girl, god you're so tiny, so proud of you for taking me so well." You whimper once again, pleased to be pleasing him.
"Open," you have no choice but to comply, only knowing how to do what you're told as Steve continues to fuck you apart. He spits in your open mouth, once, twice tapping your chin with his thumb, a silent command to swallow what he's given you. And you do. You do it with ease, even going as far as to open your mouth once again, silently begging for more.
"Dirty fuckin thing, can feel your cunt clenching around me. You like it when I spit in your mouth, huh?" You nod frantically, only stilling your bobbing head to let him spit his saliva into your mouth once more.
"Play with your pussy for me," his grin is feral when you comply instantaneously, your fingers toying with your swollen, sensitive clit.
"Please sir, feels so good." Your voice is borderline pornographic, so much so you'd doubt you're the one making such sounds if it weren't for being on the brink of an orgasm.
"Cum around my cock, angel."
Your body convulses violently, the build up of the evening spent being warming Steve leaves your legs seizing beneath him, your breath wrecked when he squeezes your throat once more, choking and fucking you through an orgasm.
Steve continues fucking into you, using your spent body to get himself off. Your nails draw red lines along his back and his hips begin to slow in their movements. Strung out, deep thrusts sending your eyes rolling as you cum one last time, Steve's cum painting your walls as he finishes deep inside of you.
He lets you come down, pulling himself out of you admiring your beat up pussy, the sight of his cum spilling out of you enough to make him half hard. He's moving before you've even registered what he's doing, his face in your pussy as he cleans you up, drinking a mixture of your gushing wetness and his own seed, collecting it and travelling back up to your body.
Your obedience still shocks him, even when you open your mouth and gladly take what he has to offer to you, when you swallow it all down and when you plant a filthy kiss on his lips.
"You did so well for me, thank you," Steve speaks and you feel like jelly and all his touches are feather light, as though he's scared to break you any further. He pulls you into his warm embrace whispering in your ear bringing you down, soothing your aching body.
"C'mon, let's get you in the bath," Steve's thumb strokes at your cheek for a moment longer and he's up, into the en suite bathroom pouring god knows what into the water but you can't move, far too blissed out. Far too sore and sensitive, far too tired, even when Steve lifts you from the bed into the warm lavender scented water, when he runs the loofa across your body with the utmost care, when he dries you, dresses you in a loose t shirt and some boxers, and tucks you in to the freshly changed sheets.
He slides in next to you some moments later, pressing a kiss to your forehead, pulling you against him lulling you to sleep, and whilst you can just about feel you legs, and the ache in between his thighs, you're content. More than content. You're happy.
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xiaowhore · 10 months ago
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genshin boys in a fantasy otome game
diluc: the stuck-up duke you're engaged to. incredibly rich and you're basically sold to be his wife by your parents who claim “they only want the best for you.” which, apparently, equals to this seemingly perfect man with handsome features and an endless amount of mora. however, as flawless he may be on the surface, you find out he's just a very negligent fiance who thinks buying you all the dresses and jewels in the kingdom is enough to make you happy. he's stiff and cold, shutting you out of his life; telling you his problems didn't concern you. but maybe... maybe he did that because he didn't want to trouble you. maybe he cares about you to an extent. he makes an effort to join you for dinner, no matter how busy he is, and his gifts are sometimes thoughtful, not just expensive. he's clumsy at flattery, but you appreciate the sentiment. (and maybe — just maybe — you could find happiness with him.)
kaeya: the step-brother of your fiance. you've always thought he was strange. his gaze on you lingered, and he stares at you far too often to be considered appropriate for a mere (soon to be) brother-in-law. his smiles are suggestive, and quite unsettling. but you find out he's kind, just a bit mysterious. he keeps you company when diluc can't make it into dinner, and he accompanies you around town in his brother's stead if he was too busy to come with you himself. he's nothing but a gentleman, friendly and approachable, but you both know there's a distance he can't cross. (and yet he longs to.)
childe: a smug thief you caught stealing one of diluc's treasures. before you can scream or call for help, he shushes you, and he slips away from the manor without managing to steal anything. it's a victory on your part, but he's a sneaky rat — he begins to visit you occasionally, just to rile you up for fun. you don't know how he does it, but he climbs through the balcony in your room, hiding in the shadows of the night to not let any of the servants see him. you're unamused by the blatant trespassing, but you can't deny he's entertaining to talk to. for a scummy thief, he sure does seem to love his family a lot. you can tell that much, from the voice he uses when he speaks of his siblings. (he sounds like that when he talks about you too, you know. you just never notice.) he gives you a ring one day — something he didn't steal for once. it's from his mother, he says. she told him to give it to the person he wanted to marry. he confesses he doesn't care about any of the treasure lurking within diluc's home anymore. because out of everything, he only wants to steal you away.
zhongli: your first love. he's an unassuming baron with not a lot of influence, but there's something powerful residing in his eyes, glowing amber even in the dimmest of light. he's kingly, his elegant nature befitting of an emperor sitting on a golden throne, and yet he's as humble as a commoner, with no regards to his overflowing wealth. there's something special about the way he snakes his hand around your waist when you take the chance to dance with him at a ball, supposedly for obligatory purposes, but you lose yourself in his gaze, the color of honey staring deeply into you lighting your cheeks red. when he takes your hand in his, you feel his warmth through his glove (and idly, you wonder what it would be like if his gloves weren't in the way). he led you to the floor, twirling and spinning, and he's the perfect partner; he's as gentle as a passing wind, but his searing touch lingers, when the song comes to a close and he releases you. then your eyes travel to his left hand, an engagement ring adorning his finger, and your heart crumbles into a million pieces.
albedo: a renowned mage known for his genius in the entire continent. magical powers aren't very common, thus mages are normally held in high regard, but he's even idolized by fellow mages. he was adept with his powers from a young age, but he doesn't see himself as anyone special. you meet him as a child when you both attended a boring ball, and since you were both children seeking some entertainment in this formal arrangement mainly utilized by adults, you both ditched the ballroom and went off somewhere quiet so albedo could show you some “party tricks”. he became your usual playmate from there on, and he's essentially your childhood friend. he does the meanest pranks (since he's a mage, he can easily turn your hair color into a bright green or temporarily turn you into a frog), but he's very nice when it counts. he gives you healing potions when you fall ill, and he casts a protection charm in every accessory he gifts you on your birthday. he's particularly interested in the study of dragons, despite dragons basically being a myth in your continent's fairy tales, and everyone thinks he's delusional for believing in them but you support him in his studies. you're naturally curious in what he does as a mage, and he's happy about that, however he is unamused when you jokingly ask him to make you a love potion to give to zhongli. (in retaliation, the very next day, he shows up in your room as a frog, claiming he had an “accident” while he was making a potion, thus turning himself into an amphibian. apparently, the only cure for it was... a kiss? what? didn't he make you an actual remedy when you were the one turned into a frog five years ago?)
venti: a whimsical bard you happened to come across with when you snuck out of your home as a rebellious teenager. you were immature then, and a bit adventurous, and you wanted to see how commoners lived their life. you went out with simple clothes, with a cloak covering your facial features to hide your true identity, but some brute thieves noticed your expensive-looking wallet despite your efforts and immediately took the chance to rob you. then suddenly, a lithe boy jumps from a roof, distracts the men, and grabs your hand to lead you away from the chaos. he's light on his feet, full of bubbly energy, and although you were ready to compensate him for his help with whatever amount of money he could possibly ask for, he only requested for a single drink in a nearby tavern. he is... rather odd. he successfully identified your real title, but he didn't hand you off to palace guards right away to have you escorted back to your estate. no doubt having done so would earn him a great sum, because your parents had put a bounty over your head. instead, he offers to show you around town, plays you a song with his lyre, and introduces you to his friends. yes, he's certainly a strange fellow... but it's not just his behavior that's weird. his way of speaking is too eloquent for a commonner, and he knows too much about the officials governing the kingdom. his songs are always cryptic, insinuating a deeper meaning to his lyrics, and his eyes, though holding a childish twinkle, had a knowing gleam. and to top it all off, he introduced you to his “best friend” — the mythical dragon dvalin himself?! (it's somewhat underwhelming to find out he's the long lost prince of the kingdom right after you saw such a large creature hiding among the mountains.)
xiao: your ever so loyal knight. as a child, he lived in the slums; a part of the kingdom everyone tended to avoid from fear. your father took pity on xiao when he found him struggling to survive and brought him back home to take care of him, planning to assign him as your personal knight once he was given proper training. xiao was surely worth pitying when you first laid your eyes on him — downcast eyes, sooty face, torn clothing with muddy shoes, and lacking any personal belongings. however, after he'd taken a nice bath, you learned he was quite pretty, with youthful features certain to turn handsome as he grew up. his eyes were an enchanting gold, skin as soft as velvet, and his hair was shiny and silky, though it was unfortunate he shied away whenever you tried to take a closer look. he was surprisingly meek, but you knew better than that. (after all, if he survived in the slums all by himself, you didn't doubt his capability to murder a man with his bare hands.) he was incredibly distant with you, but you didn't give up your attempts to befriend him. you invite him to go to the library to read storybooks together, just to see a twinkle of innocence light up his lifeless eyes. you dismiss his panicked refusal when you set up garden picnics especially for him, because he may pretend like he doesn't want to eat anything, but you can clearly see him eyeing that plate of almond tofu. soon enough, he grows fond of you, and he protects you not only because of his job, but also because you're someone precious to him.
as your knight, and by extension, your dearest friend, he is tasked to watch over you.
so he watches from the sidelines as you befriend another young boy — a mage known as albedo — and gazes in envy as albedo converses with you casually, able to stand on even ground with you. how he wished he could do the same.
he watches as you sneak out from your window to wander around the kingdom without permission, panic settling his nerves when you nearly injured yourself in doing so, but he doesn't stop you from escaping home, because he wanted you to have a taste of freedom. he regrets his decision when you come back home telling about your newest friend, venti.
he watches the exact moment when you fall in love with zhongli, putty in the older man's hands as he twirls you around the ballroom, and xiao could only look at you from a distance, sourness rising from the back of his throat. your heart wasn't the only one that shattered that day.
he watches as you sit across from diluc in the dinner table every night, eyeing the engagement ring on your finger illuminated by the chandelier hanging overhead, and remains silent even when your chatter starts to fill the air. he longs to take it off of you.
he watches, with a sense of empathy, when kaeya glances at you with a gaze too fond, in times you can't notice. you overlook it, as always, because that's how you've always been, unaware of the effect you have on other people. he's glad you were oblivious, sometimes.
he watches as you interact with that good-for-nothing thief every late evening, standing guard by the door in case childe tried to do anything. if he ever did, xiao wouldn't hesitate to slit his throat, because anyone who'd ever dare to hurt you will die by his hand. but childe doesn't do anything, so he stays put, with gritted teeth while that rascal is shamelessly flirting with you again.
xiao watches. he only watches. because he has no right to interfere. he's only a lowly knight, at most, your friend, but it's okay. it's okay because you can smile, even if it's not because of him. that's all that matters.
right?
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part ii / part iii / secret route 01
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jungkxook · 8 months ago
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—sweeter than sugar. (m)
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⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 
⟶ genre: ceo!jungkook / sugar daddy au + fluff / smut 
⟶ words: 22,258 oops
⟶ rating: 18+ 
⟶ summary: when infamous playboy jeon jungkook comes to you with a proposition that you know you should say no to, you can’t. because all you really know is that being spoiled has never felt so sweet before
⟶ warnings: lot’s of brand name dropping bc jungkook stays spoiling you!!, sprinkle of angst, unprotected sex, dry humping, grinding, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, face riding, handjob, standing sex, window sex?, riding, creampie
⟶ note: this is a repost of a fic from my old blog, just in case it looks familiar to anyone!
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You have come to find that when rich men and women are drunk enough, they will talk.
Naturally, living in the metropolis that is New York City with its crowded population of millions, you are bound to come across certain interesting people. Yet none have seemingly compared to your experiences with the social elite and upper class businessmen and women of the city. For there, nestled perfectly in the hub of the mayhem and money that is the Financial District of Lower Manhattan in a bar lounge you work at, you learn much about the inner workings and the dramatic gossip of some of the wealthiest people in the city. Stripped down to nothing but self-indulgent humans enjoying their happy hours after a day of work and incredibly drunk off of Cabernet Sauvignon red wine and smooth Louis XIII cognac and martini cocktails, they will talk. They will talk about important business deals, murmur about the hushed world of embezzlers, boast about their latest luxurious purchase, whisper about affairs, and mock fellow friends or business partners.
Of course you listen. You always listen. To you, these people are a whole other species ━ so distant from yourself yet so fascinating. It’s not as if they care about your eavesdropping either, for they do not so much as grace you with a second glance, even when you present them with their drink. Perhaps that’s for the best. After all, you’re certain you’ll never be able to understand them. It’s not as if you like them either. But there is one person in particular who becomes quite the talk of the wealthy entrepreneurs and tycoons that occupy the lounge; the same one person who catches your attention over the many nights of your shifts and you think him to be, perhaps, even more fascinating than his fellow snobby folk.
Jungkook, made of diamonds and gold, is a person you find hard to avoid.
Tabloids and whispers of the eminent young man make him known to you far before you even lay eyes on him and all you know is that he is built upon old money and glory. He is infamous, it appears from the ostentatious words that pluck him from the ordinary and hangs him high above in the endless sky, born into a world where he is lucky enough to be graced with not only the wealth but the handsome features too. You still aren’t quite sure you understand what exactly he does for a living, though you learn over time he’s inherited his father’s company of investment banking at the ripe age of 23 after his father’s retirement. Really, all that seems to pique your interest is the simple fact that he wears clothes that cost the same amount as your college tuition, if not more, whilst you are drowning in obstinate debt. It is a life he will never know, much like his life is one you will never know.
Though many attempt to degrade him as being a spoiled rich kid with a pretty face who doesn’t deserve his father’s company, you can hardly find an inkling of hatred in your bones for the boy. Instead, you find blatant envy laced in every nerve, despite still struggling internally to be thankful for the dismal life you live from a day-to-day basis. It is only on days when the universe itself decides to take it’s annoyance out on you in mundane mishaps that makes you entirely jealous of men and women at the lounge. Of the eminent man that is Jungkook.
As a college student in your final year, the looming fact of paying your tuition debt, amongst other necessities and living expenses, dangles over your head in a foreboding dark cloud. It isn’t the idea that you struggle to barely make ends meet, or yet another heated conversation you have with your landlord only a week prior, begging him to wait until you get paid to give him your rent, or the fact that you work two part-time jobs aside from attending class in an attempt to make enough money to live that makes you break down on one particular Saturday morning. It is when you return from your first job of working an eight hour shift at the café around the corner from where you live, climb the five flights of stairs to your floor after you find that the elevator isn’t working, only to scan through your daily mail of bills and taxes to find an envelope containing a letter with big, bolded words screaming at you EVICTION NOTICE, akin to two middle fingers raised high in the air for you.
That is when the severity of your situation seems to hit you because you suddenly become aware in an entirely pessimistic shame that you have failed. Failed to make ends meet and failed to make your dull routine work of running from one job to the next and attending classes. You skim the contents of the notice rather quickly, your mind stuck somewhere between terror of living on the streets and rushing to get ready for your second shift of the night, but your nervous eyes are able to catch a glimpse of the three week deadline your landlord gives you in order to either return to him the lost rent you are owing to stay or to pack your belongings and leave. You hardly have time to read the rest or devise a plan in order to save your ass as you crumple the paper in anger and toss it on your bed before moving to prepare yourself for work.
The second job you work is at the lounge. It’s popularity amongst the urbanites makes sure that you find little to no time to rest as you are running back and forth from behind the counter to customers serving drinks and other appetizers. It’s a newer job you work, having only been there for six months, but at the four month mark is when he starts showing up, as if the universe further wanted to laugh in your face and taunt that there are people who never have to work hard to simply live.
In the short time span of two months that you see him at the lounge, you never once utter a word to him as your boss makes certain that he personally tends to Jungkook and his friends in an attempt to please the rich boy. However, you admire him from afar anyway, taking note in his appearances and manners. He is always well dressed from head to toe in perfectly tailored and fitting Giorgio Armani suits. His dress shirts are usually either pure cotton or some sort of silky lavish material and a watch and rings are accessories he always seems to wear. He is generous, however, and orders the most expensive drinks for he and his friends and is the one to make sure they find a ride home but you discover he must naturally be a bit of a lush because he is always stumbling out of the lounge well into the night and blissfully inebriated, usually with a girl wrapped around his finger and fawning over him drunkenly. He is, quite obviously, a sybarite, a playboy, but a kind one at that ━ or perhaps that is just a facade.
You do not see him at first when you begin your shift that night, but he seems to make an appearance at the most terrible of times. It is just as you’re finally clocking out for your break and take a step outside next to the building for a breath of air, further off from the other customers of the lounge who like to sit on the patio with a burning cigarette limply dangling from fingertips or the finest of cigars, when you find your boss, Namjoon, joining your side to tell you something you aren’t at all prepared to hear.
“Y/N, I actually wanted to talk to you,” he starts, his tone casual. The night is cool despite being mid-spring, and a breeze ruffles his dark hair and sends a chill down your spine.
“Am I in trouble?” You ask, and though it is supposed to be a joke, you can’t help but fear for a moment about whether you might actually be.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” he says with a lighthearted chuckle. “No, no. It’s just that━ Well, you see━ You’re most certainly one of our best employees here but, that being said, I think━ Ahem, simply put, with all the new hires we got recently and all their training, we unfortunately are going to have to start pulling your hours.”
His words don’t seem to register in your mind at first and you look at him curiously, dumbfounded. “You what?”
“From now on, we only need you to work ten hours a week here,” he says. “Just for the time being━”
“You’re cutting back on my hours?” You ask abruptly. “Why me?”
“If it makes you feel any better, you aren’t the only one this is happening to,” he replies. “It’s a really shitty thing to do, I know, but we have no other choice.”
Finally, what he says seems to sink in and your eyes widen in disbelief. You push yourself off the wall you are leaning against and round on him instantly. “No, no, you can’t! Please! I need those extra hours and the money━ Look, I just got the news today that I might be kicked out of my apartment in less than a month and I still need to pay back my school tuition. I can’t afford to━”
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Namjoon says, entirely in a dismissive manner that has you coming to a complete halt and making you feel absolutely foolish. “But there’s nothing I can do right now━ Ah! If it isn’t the man himself! Jungkook! Glad to see you could make it. Excuse me, doll━”
Your boss moves quickly, parting from you with a final pat on your shoulder as if to poorly console you before shifting his attention over to the newcomer, to Jungkook. You’re seething with absolute rage that boils in the pit of your stomach and the tips of your fingers, your mouth hanging opened in an appalled gap, as you whirl around only to have your eyes settle upon your boss devoting all his attention to Jungkook and the friend by his side who is digging through his pockets for a cigarette atop the patio just behind you. You are left entirely forgotten and bristling with anger that you find hard to keep under control as you gawk at your boss before realizing that Jungkook is staring at you.
His dark chocolate pupils peer at you under the shimmering moonlight, reflecting something soft and pensive, but what exactly he is thinking, you can’t surely make out. It catches you off guard and has you clamping your mouth shut as if to showcase some sort of proper etiquette around the prestige boy, a blush warming your cheeks, because why is he looking at you? He’s never taken the time to so much as glance your way with any sort of interest ━ or so you thought ━ and yet here he is, his intimidating eyes piercing yours and making you shift uncomfortably in your spot. You don’t bother to linger any longer after that.
As soon as his friend is calling for his attention, and Jungkook turns to avert his gaze to the conversation that is happening without him, you round on your heel and briskly walk back into the lounge, your mind in a haze of embarrassed confusion and anger.
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Your awkward encounter with Jungkook is quick to slip your mind as soon as you are hurled back into the persistent problems of your life.
The next few days elapse into one another in a useless blur as you try to beg your boss at your first job to allow you more shifts, while simultaneously trying to discover what you will do and who you can live with if you are evicted. Moving back in with your parents seems the most practical but least favourable when they live too far away from your jobs and school. You’re considering asking a close friend if you can live with them for a few weeks when the universe seems to present itself to you one more time, but in a way to redeem itself.
It happens on that Wednesday, only a few days after receiving the eviction notice. You return to your job at the lounge that night for a rather usually dull shift as not many people seem to come out on a night that is in the middle of the week. It’s slow, as you expect, and you try to spend the time by cleaning the bar counter, cleaning the shelves that the bottles of liquor stand on, cleaning glasses, and repeating the process again and again, but even that becomes tedious after a while. The lounge itself isn’t typically a place of gathering for just anybody with it’s all glass panes, dark interior, and lights of hues of purple and blue to help with the ambiance, modern furniture, and smooth jazz music to tie it all perfectly together. It’s nearing 7pm when the door swings open but you hardly pay much attention as you’re uselessly wiping the counter and fretting over the notice. When you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat from behind you, you spin around and come face-to-face with none other than Jungkook.
An involuntary gasp slips past your parted lips before you can swallow it back and your hands quickly abandon the rag you’re holding to nervously smooth down your hair and clothes.
“Hi there,” he smiles and, when he does, it is something daunting and mischievous.
He’s abandoned his usual Armani attire for something a little more casual though even your untrained eye can sense that the clothes he wears still costs much more than what you earn in a day. A Saint Laurent bomber jacket, a Rolex watch, Louis Vuitton dress shoes. His blonde locks are parted ever so slightly off to the side and, as he moves to certain angles under the dim lights of the lounge, you catch sight of the tattoos that cover his arm and are mostly always covered up. Up close, you can see features on his face that you would have otherwise misplaced, like the dainty point of his nose or the piercings on his ears or just how big his eyes truly are, giving him a more youthful appearance even though he is not much older than you as it is. You’re so mesmerized and too busy studying his dazzling attire to notice the fact that he speaks to you that it takes you a moment to respond.
“O━Oh, um, hi,” You force a smile on your face that is visibly so. You gulp back your nerves and straighten up, fighting for your voice. “What can I get you?”
“Just water is fine, actually,” he says and, goodness, why was his voice so smooth and luxurious?
You quirk a brow, the question tumbling from you before you can stop it. “You’re telling me that you came all the way down here for a glass of water that you can easily get at your home?”
Your mouth quickly snaps shut, as you’re suddenly fearful of having said something wrong, but the boy in front of you only chuckles and shrugs sheepishly.
“Ah, well, it’s a Wednesday night and I do have to work tomorrow,” he says.
He’s still smiling as he watches you and the sight has you nervous once more. To avoid his intense stare, you move to gather him a glass of water. It’s silent as you do so, the only sound coming from the other chatter of customers and the music that plays in the foreground. When you slide his drink over to him, his smile widens and he nods.
“Thanks.”
You nod timidly and try to distract yourself by cleaning once more. Not even before you can turn fully away from him, he’s speaking again.
“So, you know of me, huh?” he asks and then stops himself. “Sorry, that sounded very conceited of me. I’m just━ I don’t know. Surprised.”
“You’re quite the talk of the city,” You point out in a matter-of-fact tone and giggle. “It’s hard to not know who you are.”
Jungkook licks his lips and smiles almost bashfully. The sight seems so rare that it has you staring at him in wonder. His eyes flicked up to look at you past his long lashes and then he lifts his chin to properly face you. “Then who do I have the fortune of speaking to tonight?”
“Y/N,” You introduce, holding out a hand for him. “It’s most certainly a pleasure to meet you properly, sir.”
The boy takes your hand in his, his skin smooth and delicate, and then he does something you do not expect at all. He turns your palm over so that the back of your hand is facing him and he presses a small kiss to your knuckles that leaves tingles running down your spine.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says.
You must be entirely gawking at him again as he lets go of your hand because he laughs and straightens up in his seat, taking a sip of his water.
“I actually wanted to talk to you,” he says.
“M━Me?” You ask, still stunned. “Did you want to speak with Namjoon? He isn’t in right now but I can leave a note for you, if you want━”
“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary,” he replies, gently turning down your suggestion. “No, you were just the person I was hoping to find tonight.”
“Oh, really?” You question and Jungkook nods. “Then what can I do for you?”
The smile on his face shifts into a smirk and he pauses to take another sip of his water, leaving you in hanging anticipation. He sets his glass down and props his elbows up on the counter, leaning forward.
“I’ve come to offer you a proposition,” he says.
“A proposition?” You echo.
“Mhm, and it’s one I hope you don’t turn down,” he continues. “See, the other night on Saturday, I couldn’t help but overhear you talking to your boss about your shifts, or lack thereof, and━”
“You heard that?” You gasp, dismayed. “You were eavesdropping?”
“Not exactly,” Jungkook says. “I just so happened to stumble outside just as you were complaining.”
You eye him warily, folding your arms over your chest. “Okay, go on.”
“Well,” Jungkook begins, “I’m here to offer you a job but, I must warn you, it’s a very different kind of job.”
His words seem to intrigue you as you absentmindedly take a step closer to him, lowering your head to listen closely. You don’t reply back but, judging by the interested look on your face, Jungkook casually carries on. He locks gazes with you then, a hard unbreakable gaze that has you looking only at him as he utters his next few words.
“There’s no easy way to explain this that won’t make it seem indecent, but I can assure you that my intentions are pure,” he admits. “Have you ever heard of the term sugar baby?”
As soon as you hear the last of his words, you push yourself up and begin shaking your head furiously. “You want me to be your sugar baby?” You ask. The incredulous question has a blush pinching at your cheeks. “Are you nuts? I’m not that kind of girl. I’m not going to sleep with you even if you pay me━”
“Hear me out,” he says calmly and, for some odd reason, you pause. Your eyes narrow into a scrutinizing glare as you stare him down.
“Fine,” You say stiffly. “Keep talking.”
“It’s a crazy idea, I know,” he says. “And, sure, typically sugar babies are used for sex but I would never force myself on you or force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to. That’s a promise I’ll never break. I just figured that we can keep the companionship aspect of the whole thing and that’s it. Nothing more than having a person by my side.”
“I’m sure you can find plenty of girls to take that role,” You muse aloud.
“Sure,” he admits sheepishly, “but I’m asking you because I want you to be the one and because I know you need this money more than anyone else.”
You fall silent as you study him. He pulls out his phone then and begins to scroll through it almost too nonchalantly but you don’t necessarily mind. You are much too busy pondering his offer.
“But you don’t even know me,” You say at last.
“Also true,” he says, glancing up at you. “I guess you could say that’s another part of the reason why I’m asking you because I wouldn’t mind getting to know you. I mean, I see you all the time at this bar. I would have loved to come up and talk to you at any given moment but you always seemed so caught up in your work. Now I know why.”
Another silence ensues and he watches as you bite nervously on your lower lip. You rake a hand through your hair and sigh.
“How about this?” he asks, shifting in his seat to sit up straighter. “We try it out at least once to test the waters for an upcoming event where you’re my date. If you like it and want to keep going, great. If you absolutely hate it and hate me, then you can forget all about me and that I ever asked you this and I’ll leave you alone. Deal?”
“How do I know you’re not planning my murder?”
Jungkook smirks wolfishly. “That would be bad for business, love, and neither me nor my company needs that sort of attention in the press. So… What do you say?”
“I don’t know. It’s just… a lot. I have to think about it.”
Jungkook nods. “That’s understandable. Here━”
He shifts in his seat and pulls his wallet from his jeans. With a flourish, he procures a business card and slides it onto the table. Then, he gestures for a pen and, once you hand him the one you fish out from the apron tied around your waist, he scribbles his own personal number down on the back. He looks up at you with an ever so pretty smile, his eyes twinkling.
“Call me on this number whenever you decide.”
He doesn’t stay much longer after that. When he does leave, he makes sure to leave you a tip. A considerable sum of $500 in the form of a cheque. He’s long gone by the time you register the amount on the slip of paper and your name scribbled down. When the shock is gone, you tell yourself you can’t possibly take the cheque. But he knows that either way, whether you accept the cheque and his offer or try to return the money to him, you’ll call him one way or another. You realize this only on your way home from the lounge and shake your head at his conniving way. If there was one thing you have learnt during your time at the lounge, rich men always get what they want.
You aren’t entirely too sure what makes you cave. Maybe it’s the fact that, when you return home and are greeted to the looming notice papers, you are reminded that you so desperately need the money, or the fact that Jungkook is as charming and attractive as people say. Maybe it is the fact that he is quite obviously devoting his time and attention on solely you. Perhaps once won’t hurt after all. Then, if he stays true to his word and pays you handsomely, just enough for your rent, you never have to see him again. So the next morning, after a great deal of pensive pacing around your apartment, it is with one final hefty sigh that you call Jungkook. He answers on the third ring with a cordial, “Hello?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this but fine. You have yourself a deal.”
Even without seeing his face, you can hear the smile in his voice, can see the way it must be tugging at his pink lips. “Ah, Y/N! Great!”
“What do you need me to do exactly?”
“Well, first thing’s first,” he says. “We need to set up some ground rules. First, I won’t try anything on you that you won’t like. Second, since this is technically still a job ━ and I know it’s going to sound ridiculous but stay with me ━ we need to be cautious about gaining romantic feelings for one another. It’ll just get in the way of everything, okay?”
“Okay. Whatever you say.”
“Good,” he says. “Then let’s jump right to it: I need you to be my date at this business dinner party that’s coming up. The logistics of the dinner party bore me. I know as much about it as you do, if I’m honest, but everyone ━ mostly my father ━ thinks it’ll be a good idea to bring a proper date. As if that’ll leave a good impression on these people we’re trying to win over. We’ll see about that.”
“When is it?” You ask.
“Three days from now.”
“Where?”
“Paris.”
“As in Paris, France?”
Jungkook hums in agreement a little too calmly for your liking. Your jaw drops open in surprise and you begin to sputter for air, stammering over your words.
“Jungkook,” You say his name sternly, laughing at just how ridiculous this request is. “This whole thing started because I have no money. I’m getting kicked out of my apartment ━ or did you miss that? What makes you think I have the money for a ticket to Paris?”
Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to bursts out into boisterous laughter, and he continues to laugh and laugh as if this is the funniest thing he has heard yet. You are left staring blankly at your wall, completely frazzled and stunned.
“God, you’re cute,” he sighs at long last. “Baby girl, I don’t think you quite understand the concept of this but that’s okay. We can work on it. Here, look. Check your phone━”
As he says this, your phone chimes pleasantly to notify you of a new message. Pulling your phone away from your face, you see a new text from Jungkook’s number: a screenshot of an email of a bank purchase, one that he confirms out loud with his confident words even when you feel your hands shaking in overwhelming anticipation.
“I already bought you a ticket as we were speaking,” he says. “We leave Friday.”
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The concept is entirely too hard to wrap your mind around, even after you sleep on it.
It’s like a dream come true, a fairy tale that people can only ever hope for, and it had fallen so perfectly into your very lap in the form of Jungkook. You pack the next night for Paris (which will only be a two day trip, according to Jungkook), the excitement and nerves finally kicking in and making you jittery and grin from ear-to-ear as you rummage around your apartment. He picks you up early the next morning in a chauffeured BMW before you’re both driven to the airport to fly in two first class seats to Paris. The whole thing is ludicrous but you can’t seem to get enough ━ even with the way he seems to act like a total gentleman by holding the car door open for you and holding your hand as he helps you onto the plane. From what you gather, he is kind and gentle and spends the time talking to you on the long flight to Paris in an attempt to help soothe your nerves when he sees you toying anxiously with your hands. You learn about his father and his company and he learns about your family and school life.
When you arrive in Paris, the streets are suddenly dazzling with a magic you have never seen before. From the architecture to the gardens to the grand tower in the distance, everything seems like a whimsical dream and you, the poor undeserving spectator, can’t possibly contain your excitement. In the chauffeured drive to your hotel, Jungkook watches you with amused eyes and chuckles under his breath when you gawk out the window at the passing city. Your accommodations for the getaway have already been paid for and includes a stay at the Four Seasons Hotel. It is simply marvelous, a palace sculpted so divinely out of white stone and marble in the lobby. The people are friendly, both the employees and other occupants, greeting you with warm smiles and generous gestures, but the atmospheric prestige is slightly nerve-wrecking.
Jungkook pays for your room which is the luxurious Royal Suite, a room much larger than you truly need but, god, do you love it. There’s a spacious living room, a foyer, a marble fireplace and a dining table, the master bedroom accompanied by an all marble bathroom, and private terrace with a view of the surrounding city and the Eiffel tower in the near distance, so close it feels as if you can reach out and touch it. Everything is adorned in gold and ivory furnishing, white plush cushions and bedding with teal accents, white flowers and exceptional pieces of decorations. Jungkook is still with you when he guides you into the suite but he doesn’t speak and nor do you. Instead, he watches as you stare in awe at the overwhelmingly large room and the lavish paintings and furniture that are placed perfectly around, and the platter of macaroons and a bottle of Dom Perignon champagne in an ice bucket atop the glass coffee table. He watches even as you throw yourself to the terrace door, beaming outside at the beautiful view.
“Like it?” he asks, his lips curling upward faintly in an amused smile.
“Like it?” You repeat, astonished. You turn to face him and can’t contain the squeal that bubbles at your lips. You fling yourself down onto the plush sofa nearest you and sigh dreamily as you look up at the boy who is suppressing his chuckles. “I’m in love, Jungkook. I definitely don’t deserve this━”
“Don’t say that,” Jungkook frowns, interrupting you quickly. “Of course you deserve this. I’m glad you’re enjoying it so far. That’s what I want to hear.”
You push yourself up to sit on the couch and cross your legs beneath you. You gaze up at Jungkook, gnawing nervously on your lower lip. “I just feel like you could have found a better person to replace me. I mean, I don’t even know where to start with repaying you.”
“There’s no need to repay me,” Jungkook says. “That’s the whole point of this ordeal. All I want from you is to be my side when I need you. You owe no debt to me. Just keep enjoying yourself, yeah?”
You nod timidly and he smiles. He notices you shift in your seat to stand up once more and he swiftly holds out his hand for you in an ever gentleman-like way. You take it graciously and pull yourself up and then he does it again, lifting your twined hands to his lips to press a tender kiss to your knuckles. He keeps his lips pressed to your skin for a second too long and it has you blushing madly before he finally releases your hand once more.
“It’s late,” he says. “You should get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Set an early alarm, okay? I have something else for you that I want to show you before the dinner party.”
“Sounds like a plan,” You hum almost absentmindedly as your attention is suddenly averted back to the room that you can’t seem to get enough of.
“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he smiles.
He begins retreating back to the door of the room but stops when he hears you call his name, your voice so distant and faint, soft and gentle and loving, that it makes his heart skip a beat.
“Thank you for everything so far, Jungkook.”
Jungkook notices the irreplaceable smile on your face and it’s so genuine and heartwarming that it has the exact same smile mirroring on his face. He nods once more, understanding, before giving you a sly wink and walking out the door. You don’t stay awake much longer after that, the jitters and excitement eventually soothing into something soft that lulls you to sleep
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You aren’t entirely sure what Jungkook has planned for the next morning but you are most definitely not disappointed.
He comes by your room around 10:00 am, a light rap of his knuckles against the door signalling his arrival. He’s dressed casual today and it, for once during the duration of the time that you’ve been with him, doesn’t make you feel bad for wearing just as casual clothing. He takes you to a café just down the street from the hotel for breakfast and then he walks with you through the streets of Paris, past all the people and hectic life. When you finally arrive at your destination, your jaw drops open in complete unregistered shock because you realize he’s taking you shopping ━ and shopping not just anywhere but the Champs-Élysées and down Avenue Montaigne where all the leading couture designers are. He pulls you into a certain shop with designer and brand name formal wear, dresses and suits of all sorts of materials and lengths lining the walls, shelves, and dressing mannequins.
“I figured we could go shopping for something for you to wear tonight,” he says. “It’s your pick. See anything that catches your attention?”
You snort a bit ungracefully, your fingers running over the silky material of a scarlet red Valentino dress decorating a mannequin near you.
“Yeah, all of it,” You say, your fingers plucking the price tag of the dress and gawking at it. “But not for that price. I’d have to take out another loan from the bank if I’d want to buy this and I’m still paying off my tuition fees.”
Jungkook laughs lightly at your dry remarks and places his hand on the small of your back with such ease that it catches you by surprise.
“Baby girl,” he hums, and the small pet name is enough to make your heart flutter, “I’m buying it for you. Go ahead. Run wild in here. We can get a consultant to help you if you want.”
“I’m going to need more than a consultant to deal with all this,” You say. “It’s making my head spin. If I’m dreaming, please don’t pinch me.”
He smirks, giving you a shake of his head. “I can assure you that you aren’t dreaming. Go on. If you see anything you like, don’t be afraid to tell me. Today is all about you.”
And Jungkook doesn’t lie. Though it feels so wrong to be so spoiled and pampered, you find yourself basking in all of it ━ from the way Jungkook follows behind you as you study every piece of clothing and waits patiently as you try on dress after dress, to the way the employees that work there fawn over your body and the way you model the dress “just perfectly,” to the way they serve you bubbling champagne in crystal flute glasses. It’s all about you, and it’s never felt so good.
It doesn’t stop there. Jungkook takes you to shop after shop, boutique after boutique, until you find a dress that you take quite a liking to. It’s a floor length Alberta Ferretti velvet midnight blue, almost black, gown, the seams of which hugging your body and curves in all the right places. It’s a slightly off-the-shoulder dress, with a heart-shaped scoop neckline and a slit on one side of the dress that runs far up the smooth expanse of your leg to end mid-thigh. It’s the dress you pick because it’s the only dress that seems to garner such a unique reaction from Jungkook. It’s one where he forgets his words momentarily, gazing at you as if you were made of pure gold, because, holy shit, he’s never seen anything so beautiful before. He can’t speak whilst you model the dress for him and the consultant, twirling around and around in front of the mirrors to admire your own figure, because he doesn’t want to miss a single thing about just how gorgeous you look in it.
He doesn’t tell you but, when you decide on that dress, he couldn’t have been any happier.
Even after finding the dress, Jungkook still continues to take you shopping, promising to buy you any other article of clothing or piece of jewelry that catches your attention, though you try to tame your desires as you begin to feel a bit too spoiled. Jungkook doesn’t mind, of course. He never seems to mind. Eventually, after he takes you back to the hotel with all black Christian Louboutin ankle strap heels and a glittering Tiffany necklace and earrings for the dress, he leaves you alone to get ready for the dinner. When he meets you once more at your suite, it is later in the evening and the sun outside has just begun to set. He enters your room looking as if he has just walked out from a Renaissance painting or was sculpted by the Grecians himself in marble stone because of just how divine he looks. He’s adorned in yet another Armani suit, a dark charcoal that is almost ebony black, and his hair is combed and parted neatly to the side. There’s no need to even look at him to know he is already handsome, but something about that night makes his features more prominent.
You’re still in the bathroom when he does enter your room, calling out to you with a, “Y/N? You ready? We need to get going soon.”
He hears your voice carry from the bathroom, light and feathery, and though it is muffled, he can make it out to sound like, “Just a sec!”
So, Jungkook waits. He’s suddenly nervous as he does, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves and the hem of his suit jacket, when he hears the bathroom door click open. He hears the clinking of your heels as you walk towards him and then time seems to slow down in a sort of entirely cliche way because all he can focus on is you. And, god, you’re beautiful. If Jungkook is to you only a man-made beauty of Renaissance and Ancient Greek art, then you are to him made up of the stars and the moon and sun, carved divinely from the very hands of the universe itself and kissed all over by enchanting Mother Nature. You are radiant, you are natural, genuine, breathtaking, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. He is far too caught up with the way you look to even pay attention to your words, that only hit him in disoriented white noise.
“Jungkook?” You wave a hand in his face. “Can you zip me up?”
“What?” Jungkook seems to snap out of his daze and shakes his head suddenly. “Oh, right! Sorry, of course. Come here.”
You do, closing the distance between him and you with a wobbly flourish on your heels and turn your back to him. Jungkook gulps as he sees the zipper of the dress hanging low on your back. With cold hands, he begins to pull the zipper up, but he doesn’t seem to notice the way goosebumps run down your spine when you feel the ghost of his touch. When he’s done, you turn to face him once more and place your hands on your hips. Your hair and makeup are perfectly done and the glittering jewellery you wear all makes you look like such an elegant star.
“Well?” You ask. “What do you think? Is it too much? I don’t really know, to be honest. Or am I too underdressed? Oh god, I don’t know━”
“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook says abruptly.
Your cheeks are tinted pink at his compliment and you look down bashfully. He reaches out for your hand and you take it carefully only to have him raise your clasped palms above your head.
“Spin for me, love.”
You obediently follow his command, anxious under his watchful eyes. They drift down and up and then back down and up again to take in your full figure and he sighs under his breath. When you’re facing him again, there is a hint of a smile on his face and his pupils are glistening.
“Magnificent,” he breathes. “My goodness, baby girl, all eyes are going to be on you and only you tonight. I think I’m going to need to keep a watchful eye on you and make sure you don’t ditch me for another man before I can even get to know you better.”
You shake your head at him as he softly drops your hand from his. You inattentively reach out to grab at his already perfectly kempt tie, straightening it from beneath his collar.
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” You giggle. “I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon, Jungkook.”
And Jungkook smiles.
Another chauffeured ride picks the two of you up at the hotel (this time a sleek black Mercedes) and drives you all the way to the Hotel Plaza Athénée, in which one of Jungkook’s associates have rented out the entire restaurant attached to it simply for the cause of their business dinner. Jungkook is the one who gets out of the car first and holds your door open, taking your hand to help you out and hooking arms with you as he guides you inside to the restaurant that you can only describe as a winter wonderland, made upon white furnishing and a magnificent crystal chandelier that resembles falling stars or snowflakes frozen in time.
The party isn’t nearly as terrible as you had thought. It begins awkwardly and you feel uncomfortable, shifting your weight from one heel to the other, and clinging desperately onto Jungkook, but the partygoers are friendly. They talk to you without a problem, introducing themselves with big smiles and welcoming you into their small lavish circle. The party continues on rather pleasantly, though you thank the glasses of red wine you are constantly consuming to not only help pass the time and soothe your nerves, but to distract the rich men and women around you long enough so you can breathe without feeling scrutinized.
By the time the night is coming to a close, you and Jungkook are equally as drunk off of expensive wine and champagne, and say a reasonable farewell to the other guests before leaving back to the hotel. You don’t leave Jungkook’s side, and perhaps that is because your intoxicated mind is suddenly buzzing with thoughts and your bloodstream is pumping with adrenaline because you are wide awake. You end up back in his room, both of you lounging out on the perfectly made bed, sharing yet another bottle of wine (that Jungkook had ordered from room service) between the two of you, giggling and chatting well into the night.
There is a moment where the late hour of the night and the alcohol seems to finally get to you and Jungkook; where the two of you are simply sprawled out on the bed in a comfortable silence. Your eyes begin to itch with the heavy need for sleep and you find yourself slipping in and out of your stream of consciousness, the fact that you are still confined to the tight dress you wear completely vanishing from your mind. It’s then that it seems to hit you - the whole ordeal with Jungkook and the fact that you are in Paris, wearing clothes that most certainly cost as much as your tuition - and it comes in waves of overwhelming and bursting joy and gratefulness.
“Jungkook,” You hum sleepily, catching the boy’s attention. “I’m serious when I say thank you for everything. It’s just so- so amazing and I want you to know that.”
“I know,” Jungkook says. “I believe you.”
You shift in your spot to stare up at him. He’s reclining beside you, a hand propped behind his head, and he is gazing up at the ceiling before looking over at you. He smiles softly.
“I just don’t want you to think you’re making a mistake by spending all this money on someone like me ━ as if I’m some sort of basket case,” You say. “So if you want to be brutally honest with me and never want to speak to me again after this, please just tell me now so I don’t have to wait to be rejected.”
He quirks a brow, examining your features as if to decipher your words.
“Is that what you think this is all about?” he asks finally. “The rich boy trying to do his moral duty by giving away his money? I’m helping you because I like you and because I don’t want to see someone as sweet and gentle as you being kicked out on the streets. I like you, all of you, and that’s not going to change. I’m not going anywhere.”
He finds you smiling, bright and cheery, your eyes twinkling beautifully. You do not know what compels you to move next ━ possibly the alcohol clouding your mind or the fact that Jungkook is sitting before you, as handsome as ever even at three in the morning ━ but then you are pushing yourself forward, leaning toward him and pressing your mouth against his for a sudden kiss. All you can focus on is the soft plump of his lips, laced with the taste of bittersweet wine and his intoxicating cologne, and it makes you pur with delight.
The action has Jungkook completely shocked but he doesn’t push you away. If anything, he begins to get carried away, but so do you. Suddenly, neither of you seem to be able to get enough of the taste of each other’s lips. You feel his tongue poke against your mouth, grazing your lower lip sensually, practically begging for entrance, and you part your mouth with ease, welcoming all of him. He kisses you slowly, yearning for more, but then the intensity of the kiss heats up. Your tongues dance together in a sloppy wet kiss, teeth clashing together in a desperate and needy fashion, lips smacking roughly against each other’s and igniting flames in every joint of your body. You react without thinking, wiggling around on the bed until you’re lifting yourself up and straddling his hips, sitting back on his thighs.
You’re grasping eagerly at him, tugging at the strands of hair at the nape of his neck, as his own hands come to rest upon your hips, pulling you against him. He parts from your lips then to pepper kisses down to your jawline and neck, where he licks a clean stripe upward. His lips wrap around the delicate skin there and he sucks, something that earns him a moan from yourself. You keen on him in content and jut your hips forward, silently urging him on for more. His breath hitches in his throat but, when you roll your hips against his once more, he moans into your neck.
“Baby girl,” he grunts. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to hold myself back.”
You smirk as you nip at his neck, making him growl. “Don’t hold back. I don’t want you to.”
Tingles run down his spine at the way your lips brush against his skin and he tugs you closer to him. He is so absorbed in the wholeness that is you that he can hardly grasp onto a reasonable thought. Especially not when you’re moaning against his neck with a slight whine of, “Fuck, Jungkook, I need you so bad.”
It takes all that he can in him to not cave at your touch and he shifts beneath your weight, gnawing on his lower lip. You can feel the bulge in his pants begin to brush against your inner thigh and the sensation against your throbbing core suddenly excites you. You roll your hips once more against him as you smash your mouth against his for a passionate kiss. It’s messy and eager and hot and you don’t plan on stopping. You think Jungkook has the same intentions with the way he is stifling his moans into the form of grunts and groans, his fingers digging tightly into your skin enough to make you gasp, but then his hold becomes ironclad and he stops your movements with ease.
“No, baby girl, we can’t,” he whispers against your lips.
You lean back on his lap and look at him curiously, admiring the way his lips are bruised red and the way his neck is suddenly marked raw. “Why not?”
Jungkook finds it hard to focus as you run your hands up his chest and back down, your fingertips dancing on the top of his belt. He grabs your hand then, twining your fingers together as he usually does and shaking his head gently.
“Not now,” he says. “I said I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want.”
“But I do want this,” You insist. You lean forward to kiss him once more, moaning in pleasure. “God, I want this so much.”
Jungkook smiles weakly. His hand comes up to grasp gingerly at your cheek and he makes you look at him with delicate gestures.
“You’re drunk. I’m drunk,” he says. “Sometimes people make the wrong decisions when they’re drunk. I don’t want you to regret this when you wake up in the morning, even if you insist right now that you won’t. Okay?”
You sit back on his lap once more, dumbfounded and, albeit, slightly let down, but there’s a part of you that is thankful for Jungkook’s sudden decision. You relent at once, somehow letting a reasonable thought in your mind tell you that Jungkook is right, and you nod.
“Sorry,” You sigh and then yawn. “You’re right. I’m just━ just tired.”
Jungkook nods understandingly, and pecks your forehead gently, a gesture that is enough to leave your head spinning. You push yourself off of him and plop onto the bed with a heavy exhale of air as soon as your head hits the pillow. Once it does, you find it incredibly hard to keep your eyes open and Jungkook smiles lightly. It’s the candid genuinity that makes Jungkook’s heart swell.
“Why don’t you sleep here?” he suggests. “I’ll sleep in your room for the night if you want, or on the couch━”
He’s already standing to his feet when you stop him.
“Wait, Jungkook,” You mumble. When you speak next, your voice is an involuntary drunk whine, “This dress is so uncomfortable━ I just━”
He sees you struggling to reach the zipper of the dress and chuckles under his breath.
“Let me help you, baby,” he hums, his hands brushing against yours as he thwarts your attempts. “Just rest.”
You begin to argue, sounding very similar to a needy child, but Jungkook simply hushes you. In your drunken tired state, you don’t seem nearly as flustered as Jungkook is as he unzips your dress very slowly and the feeling is so foreign that it has Jungkook’s nerves mingling with fear. He’s undressed a girl plenty of times and never once has he been this timid. He finds it hard to focus his eyes elsewhere when he has you shimmying out of the dress because, Jesus, did you have to wear black lace panties with a matching strapless bra? You’re nearly stripped bare before him and he gulps as his eyes flicker down fleetingly over your body and your feminine curves. Before he can linger any longer, he is grabbing one of his plain t-shirts that is hanging off the back of a nearby armchair and slips it over your head and body with such soothing motions and all Jungkook can focus on now is just how cute you look in his shirt, your lips parted slightly, and your hair a hectic mess.
By the time your head hits the pillow once more, Jungkook can hear your tiny snores, and he can’t bring himself to shake you awake to help you into a pair of his sweatpants. Instead, he reaches for the blankets below you and tosses it over your figure and you shift, pushing yourself onto your side and nuzzling your head further into the pillow. As he is straightening up and exhaling a breath of air, he feels a small tug at his hand. He looks down then only to see your hand grasping at his fingertips and hears you mumble, through slurring words and a curtain of hair that crowds your mouth, “Stay.”
Jungkook knows it’s a terrible idea. He knows, deep down, just how badly this is affecting him with all these strange nerves coming to light and with just how easily he seems to give in to your demand. He smiles tenderly once more and nods, despite sighing under his breath.
“Of course, baby,” he whispers. “I’ll stay right here. Go back to sleep, okay?”
You don’t reply, but he doesn’t necessarily need you to. The serenity that is your slumbering face is enough for him and so he changes into a comfortable shirt and sweatpants before slipping under the sheets with you where he falls asleep without trouble. When he wakes in the morning, he finds that your limbs are tangled messily with his and you are pressed closed to his chest, his own arm slung over your waist, and he decides, in that moment, that he made the right choice after all.
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You return from Paris feeling refreshed, strangely, and your heart yearning for another magical getaway to a foreign city.
As if buying you the items he did in Paris wasn’t enough, Jungkook gives you yet another check of money for your time and it is surely enough to make your heart stop altogether. You aren’t quite sure how he knows, but he gives you just the right money to pay for your rent, and then some. It doesn’t just surprise you, but your landlord is at a loss for words when he sees you hand him a sealed envelope with the money you still owe him that very Tuesday, though he doesn’t question it.
Your encounters with Jungkook don’t stop there.
For some reason, you convince yourself to stay with the deal a little longer (perhaps a little selfishly, though you do admit you enjoy the company of Jungkook), but you have also convinced yourself that he’ll disappear, vanish without a trace, after returning from Paris. Fortunately, he doesn’t disappear, and he doesn’t act as if your relationship with him is simply just a job. You find him opening up to you, talking to you as a friend would, and you, in turn, find yourself falling more and more under his charm. Sometimes, he needs you for important business dinners or weddings or polo matches and other gatherings he’s invited to and, each time you go, he pays you fully in return. He always tells you such social events make these businessmen who they are, as if it were all one elaborate game. Other times, he invites you to do the simplest of tasks with him. When it first happens, only a week or two after Paris, you’re lounging in a relaxing bath late one Friday evening and you receive a text from the boy that simply says something along the lines of, “Are you busy? I could really use you right now. Come over if you can.”
Then, shortly after, he sends you another message that asks you, simply, to bring a swimsuit if you have one. The ambiguity and peculiarity of his message, as well as the fear of making sure you don’t disappoint him (but also, quite possibly, the chance to just see him), makes you scurry out of your bath and rush to get changed before chasing out the door. You hadn’t been to his home before then but he texts you his address after you reply that you are on your way and it doesn’t come as a surprise when you see he lives in one of the fancier parts of downtown. The address he gives you leads you straight to a high-rise complex in Midtown Manhattan. The subtly grand lobby is still overwhelming and the doorman and concierge greet you formally as you walk by. Jungkook’s abode, naturally, is the luxury penthouse located at the very top of the building and, walking past the other employees and residents to reach the elevator, makes you feel ashamed of the tight yoga pants and oversized shirt you wear (though no one is actually looking).
You wait anxiously in the elevator and walk the short distance to his entrance as soon as the elevator doors slide open to his floor. Earlier he had sent you a text that instructed you to just simply walk in and so you cautiously press open the front door of the penthouse. It swings wide open and your jaw drops at the stunning view before you. From what you can see, there are two floors to the penthouse, and the main floor has the very outer wall made of ceiling-to-floor glass window panes that look down onto the bustling city below. It is spacious and lavishly furnished and all you know is that your tiny apartment pales in comparison to this. You take a step inside and let the door shut behind you and, as soon as it clicks into place, a chirp of a bark makes you jump. Dashing straight out of a room and charging straight for you is a small white dog, yapping along the way at the newcomer that is you. Your face instantly lights up at the sight and, as the dog begins jumping and barking by your feet, you bend over to scoop him up in your arms, scratching just behind his ears.
“And who are you, cutie?” You coo. “How could Jungkook keep someone like you a secret from me?”
The dog twists in your hold and begins licking at your chin, earning an eruption of giggles from you as you try and gently push him away.
“I see you’ve met Gureum.”
Your head snaps up at the sound of Jungkook’s voice.  He’s standing near a corner he had just turned, leaning casually against the wall. The grin on his face is undeniably strong as he watches you cradle his dog in your arms. He pushes himself off the wall and takes leisurely strides towards you.
“He’s been by my side ever since I was a teen,” he says. “He’s a pretty loyal dog, y’know, and he and I have this special bond going on so I just needed to make sure you were worthy enough to be introduced to him, otherwise I would have told you sooner.”
You burst out into laughter and shake your head. “Well, I’m glad I passed the test and was worthy enough to meet him. Gureum, hm?” You pause and glance back down at the dog. “It means cloud, right? A cute name for a cute pup. I think we’ll get along just fine.”
You plant a kiss on Gureum’s face and then place him down on the ground where he immediately darts off to grab a toy before tottering back. You straighten up to look at Jungkook and gesture around his home.
“Nice place you got here,” You say. “Need a roommate?”
“You want to live together already?” he teases. “You have to at least let me take you out on a few more dates before we get that serious.”
You chuckle lightly and the sound is so silvery and sweet that it makes Jungkook’s heart sing. He is watching you with admiration as you kick off your shoes and begin walking further into his apartment.
“So, what did you want from me tonight?” You asked. “Your text seemed a little urgent.”
“Oh, right,” Jungkook says. He begins following after you and shrugs. “Well, I was going to ask you if you could be my date for an upcoming event. It’s a charity gala ball that my parents and the company will be endorsing in a few months time. It’s fairly a big deal and my father thinks it’ll be good for publicity, again, if I have a proper date by my side since I’ll be hosting the night of the gala and saying a speech.”
“Of course I’ll come with you,” You say. “But did you really have to tell me to come all the way here just to say that?”
Jungkook bursts out into laughter. “I know I could have done that over the phone but, truthfully, I really just wanted to spend a little more time with you. Now that our business talk is out of the way, how does a pizza and movie night sound to you?”
He flings himself down onto the couch nearby and lounges out on it, staring up at you with a look of anticipation. You can’t help but quirk a brow, biting your lower lip to hide the smile that threatens to paint your face.
“You just wanted to spend time with me?” You echo. “So you called me over for pizza and a movie?”
Jungkook nods, beaming up at you. “What do you say?”
“I’ll stay only if you let me have first pick of the movie.”
He pushes himself up to sit (at which point, Gureum takes the liberty of jumping up to sit in his owner’s lap and Jungkook casually threads his fingers through the dog’s fur) and grins, “You can pick every movie we watch.”
“Well, then, if that’s the case━” You plop down next to him on the couch and wiggle around until you’re comfortably positioned. “A pizza and movie night sounds absolutely divine.”
“Good,” he says. “Because I already ordered the pizza while you were on your way here.”
You throw your head back and moan a bit too excessively but it only makes Jungkook laugh. “You spoil me rotten, you know that?”
He shrugs sheepishly and shoots you a wink that has your heart leaping in your chest. He leans in close with a wicked smirk on his face and hums, “Only the best for my baby girl. And, of course while you’re here, we can take a dip in the pool.”
“So that’s what you meant by the cryptic swimsuit text,” You giggle. “I’d love to go for a swim. This apartment’s pool must be amazing.”
“Oh, yes, that one is quite spectacular but I was thinking we could stay within the comfort of my home.”
He says this so simply that you almost don’t register his words. Then it seems to dawn on you the meaning behind his words and you are gawking in pure amazement. “Are you telling me you have a pool in your penthouse?”
Jungkook smirks humorously. “Is it too much?”
You can’t help but shake your head at the cocky tone that twines with his words. A small, bemused thought pops into your head that begs the question just what have you gotten yourself into? A month ago, you would have never been able to imagine living such a life and yet here you are, as Jungkook so graciously had invited you into his own personal world.
Soon enough, you’re standing by the edge of the pool in Jungkook’s home ━ and, yes, he really does have his own personal pool. Tucked away on the second floor of his penthouse, high above the city of New York, like his own perfect little oasis. When you see it, when you’re dressed in nothing but a red bikini standing on the edge of the pool, it feels like a dream. The buildings of Manhattan tower around the penthouse, dazzling with lit windows that shine their soft glow onto the rippling surface of the pool. Somewhere far below you can hear the sound of the city breathing, living; of a distant wailing siren and the squeal of a tire and a blaring horn. And, when you look above, it feels as if you’re so close to the sky that you could reach out and touch the hiding stars.
Jungkook, who is behind you and watching the look of awe paint your face, will smile to himself and then he will give you one playful nudge that pushes you into the pool with a gratifying splash and a yelp of startle on your part that you know will fade into nothing to the people far down below when you’re up this high. He’ll join you in the pool and you’ll sit with him in the serene space, sipping on a bottle of wine and enjoying the pizza he had ordered.
Up there, so high above Manhattan, it feels as if you have the whole world in the palm of your hand and you tell yourself that if this really is a dream, you never want to wake up from it.
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After that night, it isn’t uncommon for Jungkook to text or call you with equally vague messages, asking you to come over to this apartment only to embark on the utmost mundane things. Once, he calls you asking for your help and, when you rush to his apartment, he is debating which flavour ice cream he should bring out for yet another movie night you spend together. Another time, he calls you to accompany him on his walk with Gureum, or to help him buy groceries, or be his extra food critic when he decides to order takeout from a new restaurant.
Each time he calls or texts you, each time he asks you to rush over only for something minor, he ends up paying you in cheques and still spoils you with “little” gifts every now and then, like a watch one night, a pair of diamond earrings another, a shirt you had been eyeing at the store one day when he and you had passed by a boutique while walking Gureum. Though the money and gifts are, by no means, any less valuable or less cherished than they already are by you, your sudden time alone with Jungkook becomes something much more than just material pleasure. When it’s just you and him, curled up next to one another on his couch as you watch the flickering images of the movie play out before you, whether basking in the silence or laughing together until you cry, those moments become precious and sacred and you find yourself enjoying his company much more than his money or gifts.
Your relationship with him carries on like this for weeks upon weeks, until three months seem to pass, though it certainly doesn’t feel like it at all (especially when you are consumed with finishing school). The money he gives you, as well as the money you earn from both jobs you still work, is enough for you to keep paying your rent and your loans off, long after you’ve graduated from school (another celebration that Jungkook so graciously attends and earns strange looks from your friends and family when they see just how close the two of you are). As a gift for your graduation, Jungkook calls you late one evening when you are relaxing in a warm bubble bath. When you answer the call, cradling your phone between your ear and shoulder, he greets you with, “How do you feel about Italy?”
You quirk a brow. “It’s beautiful. I’ve always wanted to go there. Why are you asking?”
“Well, yes, it is quite beautiful,” he says. “But how do you feel about going to Italy? Say, tomorrow morning?”
You nearly drop your phone into the bath when you register his question. You sit up rather quickly, as if that will help steady you against the tremendous question. “Is it for a business thing?”
“Just an us thing,” he says. “To celebrate your graduation.”
He already knows your answer, as do you. Yet you still sputter over your words and then, with a sheepishly large smile plastered on your face, exclaim your approval of the spontaneous trip.
In the morning, Jungkook will come to pick you up in yet another chauffeured drive, much like it had been for the trip to Paris. This time he decides to take you to the Amalfi Coast, a coastal town in southern Italy. You land in Naples and rent a car from the airport (a Lamborghini, to be exact) which Jungkook and you take turns driving with the roof down, the wind in your hair. The narrow winding roads on the sides of the coastal cliff seem to be no match for the exhilarating speed of the car and much of the drive is spent soaking up the rays of the warm sun. The quaint town of the Amalfi Coast is built upon the sides of the steep cliff with small alleyways, cobblestoned streets, blossoming lemon trees, and colourful buildings that spiral down, down, down, to the rocky shores of the beach and the sparkling cerulean waters of the sea. The villa Jungkook rents has a luxurious view of the sea. It’s all shimmering white and ivory and cobalt blue detailings, all culminating in one magnificently breathtaking oasis.
The first day in the town is spent on the beach, and the evening is spent wandering about the streets with you in a sheer white and floral Zimmermann sundress courtesy of Jungkook, sipping on limoncello and eating dinner at an outdoor restaurant as the bright sky fades to night. The streets are just as lively as ever with tourists and distant music, the town glowing softly with its burning lights and candles against the starry sky, and everything is simply perfect. Whimsical. The next day is spent with Jungkook’s friends. You’ve seen them before in passing at other social events you have accompanied with Jungkook and, unbeknownst to you at the time, at the lounge when Jungkook and his friend had stumbled upon your talk with your manager. You come to learn that this same friend is Park Jimin, a wealthy man not much older than Jungkook himself, who is built upon old money and whose family owns a chain of successful global hotels and resorts. Jimin invites the pair of you to a day on his yacht out at sea with a few of his other closest friends.
The yacht itself is quite a spectacle, with three floors to it and a personal pool located on the deck, as well as a bar and a lounge area. You spend most of your time sipping on piña coladas and sunbathing in the glittering sun atop the deck, adorned in a Proenza Schouler black swimsuit and a wide-brimmed sun hat. Jungkook’s friends, you come to find, aren’t as insouciant as Jungkook himself but also aren’t as arrogant as the customers you have encountered at your work at the lounge back in Manhattan. Whatever the case, they are nice enough to invite you into their group and make certain you feel as welcome as you can. When Jimin decides to take the cabin cruiser for a spin around the sea, you stand at the bow of the deck, your hands clasped tightly on the back of your hat so as to keep it from flying away, and laugh spritely as Jimin speeds around in wide circles with the sea’s mist dusting across your face.
At some point, the cabin cruiser comes to a halt, softly rocking against the gentle current of the sea. Jimin is the first one to jump into the water, followed by yourself, and a few other of their friends. When Jungkook joins you in the shimmering ethereal blue waters, the smile on your face is irreplaceable and one that makes a similar grin form on his face. The cool water is a relief against your skin which had, up until that point, been warm with the sticky heat of the day. Jungkook is by your side in an instant, just a short distance away from the cruiser and his other friends. By the time he joins you, you’re positively beaming, bursting with joy, and entirely overwhelmed with appreciation for the kindness of Jungkook and the beauty of Italy.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asks humorously. Of course he doesn’t need an answer ━ not when you are so clearly content and at peace.
“Jungkook,” You sigh his name dreamily. “I’ve never been happier.”
He smiles gingerly. “I believe you.”
“I still don’t want you to think you’re making a mistake by spending all this money on someone like me,” You say.
He quirks a brow, examining your features as if to decipher your words, and squints past the sun.
“That’s still what you think?” he asks finally. “That I regret all the time we’ve been spending together? Because you’d be wrong. When I first asked you about all of this, I did it because I wanted to help you, because I like you. And all our time spent together since then… It’s been incredible.”
“You really mean that?” You ask timidly.
“Of course I do,” he says. “Look, when I’m with you, things feel different.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Good. Definitely good.”
You catch his gaze on you and, despite all the money and glory he has to his name, he looks at you unlike he has looked to anything else before. As if you’re worth far more than all the gold jewelry and diamonds and pretty coastal towns and designer clothes he has ever seen. As if you’re the whole world and more, right in front of him, under the glittering Italian sun. His eyes then flicker from yours, down to your lips, and you certainly don’t miss it. There’s a tiny voice in the back of your mind that begs you desperately to kiss him. Maybe he’s feeling the same way because, slowly, your faces inch towards one another.
He comes so close, in fact, that you can feel his breath fanning against your neck, can smell the sea’s salt on his skin and the faded scent of his cologne. You come so close to one another that it, perhaps, becomes a little too dangerous. Before anything can happen, Jimin is calling out to the two of you and you both instantly freeze. Jungkook laughs almost sheepishly and you can’t help but join in. Still, even as the day unfolds and you become distracted with every other beautiful detail of the Amalfi Coast, you can’t help but wonder what would have happened had you and Jungkook not been interrupted by Jimin.
And, by the end of the night when you’ve both tucked in for the night in the villa, the realization dawns on you that you, quite possibly, are falling in love with Jungkook.
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Just when you believe things are going impeccably well, the bitterness of reality finally seems to settle in.
A few weeks after your stay in Italy, Jimin invites both Jungkook and you to a party he is hosting at his family hotel in Seoul. Most of the night unfurls smoothly, with you adorned magnificently in a cream-coloured Alexander Wang slip dress and Jungkook in a Saint Laurent dress shirt, lounging by the bar near the lobby of the hotel and sipping on martinis. Jimin’s hotel is full of a type of grandeur that resembles a palace with its elegant ornate decorations and ebony wood carvings. Seoul itself is as spectacular as ever, the metropolis towering around you and all illuminated by the city’s lights. Yet all of this and Jungkook still focuses only on you, his voice low and charming over the soft thump of music, and his eyes twinkling mischievously.
Some time during the night, Jimin begins chatting to you and Jungkook disappears. At first he is chatting to an old confidant but, when you turn to look at him the next time, you find him with another girl at the bar, seemingly flirting with her. Whatever the case, they appear to be rather cozy with one another, and though you know you have no warrant to be jealous, it still creeps upon you without warning and sabotages your night. You try to avert your attention, try to chat with Jungkook’s friends, and flirt with other rich entrepreneurs but nothing seems to distract you long enough ━ not until Jimin mentions something that grabs your attention.
“You know,” he muses pensively. He pauses to take a sip of his cognac and then says, “I’ll admit: I’m surprised you and Jungkook have lasted so long.”
“What do you mean?” You ask.
“Well, it’s not like you two are dating, right?” When you continue to stare up at Jimin with a dumbfounded expression, he continues. “The only reason Jungkook confronted you in the first place was because his parents were pissed at him. Something about him tarnishing their name by his ‘free’ lifestyle, if you will. They got mad at him and his rampaging bachelor ways, having flings with random strangers every other weekend in a foreign city. His parents are really stuck in their old-school mentality; they just don’t want Jungkook to drag the wrong kind of people into the family money and business. They would have even gone so far as to kick him from being CEO of their company.”
“They what?”
“Oh, yeah,” Jimin says. “Didn’t he tell you? That’s partly what the charity gala is for. His father doesn’t think Jungkook will be able to settle down anytime soon. He’s been under a lot of scrutiny. Jungkook was considerably worried there for a moment; I’ve never seen him like that before. I suggested he fall from the limelight for a bit but he thought he could fix all of this. I guess that’s where you came in. I didn’t think Jungkook would last long constantly being tied down but he’s certainly proved me wrong.”
He chuckles then, as if this whole thing was quite amusing to him. Though you aren’t quite sure how to react. You knew Jungkook wanted you to be his date at important social events for good publicity, but it never dawned on you that he could only be using you for his own sake. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe Jungkook had simply forgotten to tell you, but that just felt as if you are uselessly grasping at excuses. Either way, it slowly begins to dawn on you the whole ordeal of your relationship with Jungkook and, suddenly, you feel used.
You tell yourself Jimin’s words shouldn’t have meant anything anyway because it’s not as if you and Jungkook are dating but you can’t deny the fact that they leave a lasting impression on you. But that’s how it had all started, hadn’t it? Or maybe not. Jungkook had approached you on the basis of needing your company, but he had made it sound so simple ━ as if it was you who needed the help. And you can’t deny the hope you had felt building within you. Had everything Jungkook said to you been a lie? Every pretty word, telling you how great he had claimed it felt to be with you? Jimin’s words all culminate in one prominent thought which is that maybe Jungkook only really needed you long enough for the charity ball, simply so he could earn back his father’s trust and secure his spot in the company.
Whether it was one too many martinis or strawberry daiquiris or the lavish designer dress that suddenly feels too constricting on your body or the way Jungkook was so carelessly flirting with another girl, much like he had done before in Paris and even in Italy, you need to escape. Everything just seems so suffocating and ridiculous. But moreover, you are reminded by the sobering fact that this lifestyle you have suddenly surrounded yourself with is one you have mocked before. It’s one you have claimed you would never have the privilege of understanding, one that you never really yearned to be a part of if it was anything like the wealthy folk who inhabited the bar lounge you work at.
So, you decide to leave.
You aren’t quite certain your abrupt decision will do any good but suddenly all you crave is the comfort of your own home, however much it may pale in comparison to villas in Italy and luxurious hotels in Seoul. You don’t bother telling Jungkook. Instead, you send him a single text that warns him of your departure and inform Jimin who, in his drunken bliss, may or may not remember to tell Jungkook.
And somehow, after you are able to secure a flight back to New York within a few hours and are seated aboard the plane, you’re able to convince yourself that maybe Jungkook wouldn’t miss you anyway.
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Out of your own stubborn will, you begin to ignore Jungkook.
The day after you return to New York, you are greeted by a voicemail from Jungkook who asks curiously why you left. Then, when you don’t respond to that, he decides to send you various texts throughout the week that continue to ask if anything happened, if you’re doing okay, if you’re mad at him. At some point he sends you a text asking if you can come to his place and you decide to respond with a short and cold text simply saying you’re too busy. You don’t know exactly what you expect from pushing Jungkook away. Maybe you had imagined he would forget you altogether and you could casually slip back into the real world that you had lived before meeting Jungkook. Of course that isn’t the case. Jungkook knows something is wrong; he knows that you’re angry but he has no means of knowing why you’re mad at him. Yet he refuses to stop trying to contact you.
It starts with a grand bouquet of saffron crocuses surrounded by Casablanca lilies and gardenias. It first appears at the bar lounge, a massive and beautiful arrangement of flowers encased in a crystal clear vase taking up most of the space of the bar counter which doesn’t exactly please Namjoon. A single card is tucked amongst the petals of the flowers, your name printed in pretty script. It doesn’t say who it’s from but you don’t need to know the name to understand. You decide to leave it at the bar, much to Namjoon’s dismay. The next week, you answer a knock at your door and are greeted to a personal delivery of a small neatly wrapped package that is revealed to be a rose gold Cartier bracelet encrusted with diamonds. You tell the delivery man at the door to return it. The week after that, you answer the front door once more and come face to face with delivery men placing a dozen bouquets of red roses around your apartment. This time you are forced to keep them, and stare at them distantly as they overwhelm your small kitchen in a wild secret garden.
The same week of the gift of the plethora of roses is also the same week of Jungkook’s charity gala. You try to convince yourself to stay home but you can’t not go. Even if Jungkook was possibly using you to his own benefit, it would be a shame if your missing self was indirectly one of the factors that caused Jungkook’s father to change his mind. Besides, it is the least you can do for the man after he had showered you with attention and materialistic pleasure, even if none of it really mattered to him. Your invitation to the gala still stands, that much you know, and the dress Jungkook had bought for you weeks ago is still hanging on the back of your bedroom door. It is a long, A-line Zuhair Murad gown with a plunging neckline, and the tulle and fabric of which is made of a light blush colour. It’s encrusted with sparkling swarovskis where they cluster mostly at the bodice and then trail along the rest of the skirt like falling stars. It’s a breathtaking, elegant piece, and you tell yourself that it is the sole reason why you ultimately decide to go to the gala because it really would be a shame to never wear the dress out.
When you finally do arrive at the gala, it is at Pier 15 in Lower Manhattan. The party itself is on a grand luxury yacht and the duration of the gala is meant to take place sailing around the harbor once night has fallen. As it rests docked by the pier, the yacht is already crowded with various elites and socialites and certain celebrities as the stragglers still trickle in. The party is well on its way, with the guests mingling with one another, enjoying hor d’oeuvres and champagne out of crystal flute glasses, as a live band, somewhere, plays smooth jazz music. You spot Jungkook before he notices you, looking handsome in another Armani suit, standing at the front of the bow of the deck and greeting newcomers. Beside him stands an older woman and man dressed impeccably, both of whom share a striking resemblance to Jungkook. Though you have never met them before, you assume they are his parents. You approach them shyly, with your back straight and your head held high. Jungkook notices you first and his eyes widen in surprise, his jaw unhinging open (partly because it feels as if he hasn’t seen you in months, but mostly because of how divine you look).
“Y/N!” Your name slips past Jungkook’s mouth in an exclamation before he can bite it back. He moves forward as if preparing to walk up to you but he has to hold himself back. He doesn’t miss the way you desperately try to avoid his stare, or the way you stand rigidly beside him.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” You apologize, though you say it mostly for the act you are putting on for his parents. “I got caught up at work and the traffic was horrid.”
“Oh, that’s certainly alright,” The woman says brightly. “You must be Y/N.”
“We’ve heard plenty about you from our son,” The man chuckles to himself. “I was wondering when we would have the pleasure of meeting you.”
Jungkook, who is still in a state of shock, opens and clamps his mouth shut repeatedly, frantically trying to grasp onto a proper train of thought. Eventually, he snaps from his daze and nods towards you. For the sake of the act, he places his hand on your back between your shoulder blades rather than the small of your back he had grown quite acquainted with.
“Mom, dad, meet Y/N,” he introduces. “Y/N, meet my parents.”
You shake their hands in a firm grip and nod politely, tight-lipped, when they introduce their names to you. Soon after, when the sun has dipped below the horizon, the boat takes off on its slow journey around the harbor and the party begins. While Jungkook mingles with his guests, you saunter off to the bar where you concede you will be spending most of your night. A few of Jungkook’s friends are there whom you remember from Italy and so you chat with them if only to pass the time. Fortunately Jungkook is much too busy to find a moment to come up to you. In fact, the only time you are around Jungkook is when he begins his speech to the partygoers at the gala on the deck of the ship. A handful of hours later, the boat docks by the pier once more and, while the party continues to unfurl within the yacht, you decide to venture home.
You have only made it off the yacht and onto the pier when you are forced to come to an abrupt halt. Because there, rushing off the ramp connected to the deck, and hopping down onto the pier in a hurry to catch you with a call of your name, is Jungkook. Truthfully, you had been hoping to escape the party without him noticing; meanwhile, Jungkook, who had been subject to a dull conversation about stocks with an old business partner of his father’s, was hoping he would find you once he managed to break free from the party. Yet now that he has you within his grasps, his words fall short. He stares at you curiously, perhaps a little confused as his brows knit together at the sight of you. There’s a dozen things he wants to ask you, and a dozen more things he wants to tell you, but he can’t.
Instead, he asks, “Where are you going?”
“Home,” You reply. Behind Jungkook, the ensuing party can be heard ━ an amass of sound ranging from regal laughter to soft music. Behind you, and out towards the city, you can hear the sound of passing citizens and tourists, the whizzing of cars and the wailing of a siren. “You don’t need me anymore. Your parents are gone. They looked pleased. You can clearly go have fun now. Maybe go back to that girl who was eyeing you at the bar.”
Jungkook, staring at you with a dumbfounded expression, asks the first thing that pops into his mind that seems the most logical. “Have you been drinking?”
You simply shake your head, though Jungkook has an unnerving feeling that it is more of an act of scrutiny towards him and not an answer to his question. It’s Jungkook’s fault anyway; he wants to talk to you, but he can’t seem to formulate his thoughts into words.
“Just go back to the party, Jungkook,” You sigh.
“I don’t want to,” he says with a frown. He takes a step towards you and pauses. “I want to stay with you.”
When you don’t respond, he pushes himself forward once more. He doesn’t stop until he is standing right before you, where he so very carefully takes your right hand in his. It’s a small action but it’s enough to make your heart swoon. He glances up, makes sure he catches your wandering stare with his.
“Come home with me,” he says. “Whatever’s happening… We can talk it out. Don’t you want to?”
You do. You want to tell him the truth but your stubborn mind warns you to be wary and the small fact that you feel as if you can’t trust Jungkook anymore is enough to make you wince. Perhaps he can sense your hesitation, or notices the way you flinch because he squeezes your hand just enough. And maybe it’s the way his deep carob eyes pour deeply into yours, or the proximity between your two beating hearts, or the way he holds your hand that makes you cave. You tell yourself, much like you had at the start of all this, that just once more wouldn’t hurt. That maybe he’ll finally answer all your questions or that maybe you’ll learn to forget everything you had heard and let Jungkook spoil you with riches.
So, when you nod your confirmation to Jungkook, you not only startle him, but yourself too. He abandons his dwindling party on the fancy yacht for you. He calls for a chauffeur and drives with you in a tense silence back to his home. The perverse silence follows you even as you clamber out of the car, into the apartment’s lobby, and during the elevator ride to the penthouse. When you finally make it to his home, you are disappointed to feel nothing. You don’t know how long you’re in his apartment for, though it really isn’t for that long.
You’ve kicked off your heels and have wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room just as he’s shed his suit jacket and tossed it somewhere on one of the couches. He asks if you want something to drink ━ such a mundane question for your relationship with Jungkook, but what else could he ask you at a time like this? He just wants to know what has been plaguing your mind long enough to drive yourself away from him ━ but you only shake your head. Your arms are wound protectively over your chest and, as you eye the illuminated city down below, you are overcome with the feeling of shame and embarrassment. And all because of one sole thought that reminds you: you don’t belong here. Here in this luxurious dress, here in this luxurious penthouse, here with such a luxurious man.
As if that is the cataclystic thought you need, you turn around on one pointed heel and shake your head. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come here tonight. This was a mistake.”
You’re halfway to the door when Jungkook stops you by speaking up.
“Do you mean coming here tonight was a mistake?” he asks. “Or are you really trying to tell me that you think we’re a mistake?”
“There isn’t even a we,” You retort. When you turn to face him, his brows are pinched together in a scowl.
“What has been up with you lately?” he asks. Though his words may sound hostile, his voice is a gentle plea. “You’re mad, aren’t you? Well, what did I do?”
When you don’t respond, he decides to continue on.
“Didn’t you get my gifts?” he asks. “They were the only way I could reach you to apologize. Did you not like them? Because if that’s the case, just say the word, and I’ll buy you anything you want. Just━”
“That’s not it, Jungkook.”
“Then what is it?” His words are a little more vexed than usual. When he realizes this, he pauses and takes a deep breath. Then, running a hand through his perfectly parted hair, he continues on. “I can’t know what the problem is when you won’t tell me what’s bothering you ━ when you keep pushing me away. But I’m trying my hardest to please you. I just need you to talk to me.”
“So you thought the gifts would work?” You ask. When your eyes settle on him, they’re narrowed into a glare. “Did you━ what? Think you could just buy my attention back? Or buy my love? I’m sorry if it came across that way but I’m not another one of your cheap fucks. I’m not going to come crawling back to you just for your money. I just━ I’ve had enough of all of this! It’s so stupid! I feel so ridiculous.”
You raise your hands in the air in a sign of defeat, though really you are bitterly gesturing to the pretty dress adorning your curves and sigh. Cautiously, Jungkook takes another step towards you. “Y/N, please just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Did you even really care about me?”
The question is so abrupt that it catches him off guard. He takes a moment to respond, noting the way you wrap your arms protectively over your chest.
“What are you talking about?” he asks wearily.
“This whole deal between us,” You say. “You just needed a perfect cover so you could impress your parents, right? Secure your spot as CEO so you wouldn’t lose all your money? And might as well get some bonus points for deciding to ‘settle’ down with a poor girl while you’re at it, right? Was that all that I was to you? A cover and the charity case?”
You assume by the way his eyes widen with apprehension and the way his lips are pulled in a thin line that you must be right. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, his words stammering in his mind.
“How did you know?” he asks.
“So it’s true?” You ask sourly.
“No. I mean, yes. It’s half true,” he says. Then he shakes his head sullenly. “It was Jimin who told you, wasn’t it?”
“What does it matter?” You retort. “The point is, I’m right. You were just using me the whole time. I bet, on all these fancy excursions you took me on, you and your friends would laugh about it and me. You know, I knew you were rich but I didn’t take you for an asshole too.”
“No!” he exhales sharply, as if he has just felt a horrendous pang of pain in his chest. “I mean, you’re right about my parents and about the CEO position, but everything else is wrong.”
Clearly, you don’t look amused. Your patience is wearing thin, and the way you stare up at him as if he is some stranger altogether makes his chest and throat swell.
“I made a mistake. I’m sorry, okay? I should have told you from the beginning,” he sighs. “They were mad at me ━ my parents. They thought I wasn’t taking the position as CEO seriously enough and they would have taken it away from me. But it wasn’t the fear of losing the money that made me feel ashamed of it all. It was the fact that I had disappointed my parents, and I wanted to make things right. I wanted to show them I was responsible enough to take on the company. I wanted them to trust me.”
“So you had to use me?”
“No!” he shakes his head furiously. “Look… All the business dinners and social events I took you to over these past few months ━ I’d have gone to them all even if you weren’t by my side. The first dinner in Paris I took you to ━ I told you I needed a date to impress those associates and it worked. My parents heard about how well it went and they kept praising you, even though they hadn’t met you. For once they didn’t look so disappointed with me. Having you by my side was just a plus. I wasn’t really using you; you just came at the right time so we could both benefit from this deal between us. But when I first approached you at the lounge, it wasn’t about all of this. It was about you. Because I had seen you there before and because I overheard how you were scared you would get kicked out of your apartment. I wanted to help you because I like you, not because I thought you were a charity case or whatever you think it was. It was because I genuinely wanted to get closer to you. And what I said to you in Italy? I meant it. I meant everything.”
You’re gnawing on your lower lip anxiously, watching him carefully. You haven’t realized that he has slowly been inching closer to you until then. You ask quietly, maybe a little tiredly, “But what do I really mean to you, Jungkook? Pretty words mean one thing but… It’s just been months since this whole thing started and nothing’s ever happened between us and I always see you with pretty girls but I can’t be the only one feeling different. I mean, even in Italy ━ you can’t tell me we weren’t going to kiss but then you turned away and━”
You’re cut off abruptly with a kiss on your mouth, his mouth silencing your own mouth with an unbreakable seam of your lips. It catches you completely off guard but it reminds you so suddenly of all your harbored feelings towards him. The kiss is hard, fast, feverish and it happens all at once that you barely have time to register anything else before you’re parting from with him a loud pop! of your lips. You’re gawking up at him with wide eyes and an ajar mouth, lips swollen red, and breathing fast when a sudden realization dawns on you. All the magic you had felt in Paris and Italy, the dreamlike state of mind you had endured these past few months ━ most of it had been because of Jungkook. Because when you’re around Jungkook, no matter the lavish place or foreign city or pretty beach, everything feels, simply, like magic. Jungkook’s reaction is similar to yours but then it softens into something more cordial. His eyes sweep over your face softly and his hand comes up to rest gingerly upon your cheek.
“You mean the world to me,” he whispers. “And I mean that. I haven’t felt this different in such a long time. These past few months that we’ve spent together, whether it being at boring dinner parties or walking Gureum or having a movie night, it’s meant so much to me. You mean so much to me. No one else matters. No one else compares to you. Fancy cars and Italy and Paris can’t even compare to you. And I’ve never felt so━ so me and so comfortable than when I’m around you. I’m just so thankful you even gave me a chance in the first place━”
This time it is you who silences him again with another short kiss, his words exciting you all too suddenly that you think you aren’t possibly able to contain it. You part from him moments later only to mumble against his lips, “Keep kissing me, please.”
It earns a soft chuckle against your lips but Jungkook doesn’t relent. How can he ever deny such an idea when the taste of your lips is so heavenly? The soft flesh of your upper lip wedged so perfectly between his teeth, the way you sigh with delight against his mouth as the kiss progresses, the way the touch and feel of your lips ignites something so foreign, so lovely, in the very core of his heart, in his bones, exploding with each passing second behind his shut eyelids and at the tips of his fingers. He enjoys it too much to find any reason to stop and, instantaneously, his insatiable hunger for you is coming to light. His eager lips part from yours to nip and suck at your jawline and neck and it earns a beautiful gasp from you, your hands flying out to grasp onto his biceps.
“Let me take care of you tonight, baby girl,” he hums. “It’ll be all about you. I’ll show you just how much you mean to me.”
It’s the way he is whispering his words, deep and husky, that sends shivers down your spine. You curl into his chest instinctively and crane your neck, as if silently begging him for more. You can feel his lips ghost along your jugular as you try to speak next and it is enough to make you flustered and, thus, makes you give up on any attempt to communicate verbally without sounding like a fool. Instead, as if to show him your interest, you catch his lips with yours once more and kiss him eagerly. It makes Jungkook smile and suppress his chuckles as he sees just how desperate you are and, fuck, he finds it incredibly hot. In the next moment, you’re burrowing your face into his neck, your tongue laving circles at his jugular.
“Just as long as you get me out of this stupid dress,” You mumble against his throat.
“Gladly.”
He laughs lightly and you can’t help the giggle that bubbles at your lips. He grabs onto your waist then and pushes you around until he has your back pressed up against the nearest wall. He leans in against you and replaces your efforts by littering love bites along your neck and down to your collarbone. Your breath hitches in your throat and your hand immediately comes up to allow your fingers to thread in his hair and grasp at something, anything. You’re bristling with excitement as you hold your head higher, lips curling into a smirk. He hums into your neck and then he’s greedily reaching for the zipper of your dress, tugging it down.
As soon as he has the dress unzipped, he watches as you begin to shimmy your way out of the material, tugging it down your torso and then legs and Jungkook makes sure he doesn’t miss one single second of it or the white lace underwear you wear, the perfect perk of your breasts bare. It’s then that Jungkook realizes this isn’t all an elaborate dream in his head; that this is real life, and that you’re opening yourself up completely to him. As soon as you’re stepping out of the dress, Jungkook can’t help but reach out to grab onto your hips and yank you toward him, sighing into your hair, “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice the way your own hands snake up his chest to pop open the first few buttons of his dress shirt. Instead, he is much too busy on peppering kisses along your neck and shoulders, down to your collarbones, and back up again, marking you red and purple. It’s then that he starts pulling you with him as he takes quick yet careful strides backwards to the flight of stairs. It’s messy and frantic and results in a lot of time spent pressed up against walls and the railing of the stairs along the way to the second floor, greedy hands and lips unwilling to part from one another. By the time you’ve made it to his bedroom, you’ve somehow managed to unbutton his entire shirt which now hangs open against his chest and your hands selfishly run up and down his exposed skin. Once in his bedroom, he shoves you up against one of the ceiling-to-floor windows that line the wall facing his bed, his lips still attached to your neck, and one of your legs thrown haphazardly around his hips, pressing him into you.
You can feel the bulge in his pants and his restrained member poking against your inner thigh and it is what pushes you to give an experimental roll of your hips against his. A rather loud moan falls from your lips at the abrupt contact against your throbbing core and suddenly you need more. You catch his lips on yours and he decides to take the liberty of grinding against you in such agonizing slow circles that it has both of you going absolutely insane but you want to take the time to enjoy every single second of this. His hands grasp at your hips, pushing you further and further up against the window. When he parts from you in the next moment, it is with a fleeting sweep of his hungry gaze down the front of your body, his fingertips dancing faintly along your arms and sides.
He presses one last lingering kiss to your lips and then leaves a trail down your throat, between the valley of your breasts (which he gluttonously grasps at, his thumb swiping over one of your perked bugs), and to your navel. He’s on his knees by the time he’s hovering over your hips, and the leg that had been carelessly wound around his waist now rests upon his shoulder. He plants a kiss on the skin just between your hip bones, just above your panties, and surely he understands your need. His seemingly unencumbered expression is maddening. His fingers dig into your hips and hours seem to pass as you wait for him to touch the one place he neglects. A needy whimper falls from your parted lips that sounds akin to a desperate beg of, “Please, Jungkook. I need you.”
“Shh, baby girl, have patience,” he rasps. “I’m going to treat you just right.”
His promise rouses you and makes you stifle your childlike whines, though your patience is beginning to wear thin. His fingers hook around the lace material of your panties and he slowly drags them down your legs, enjoying the way you bite down on your lower lip in anticipation and watch him with hooded eyes. His eyes take in your soft glistening cunt and he sighs in admiration. Then his tongue makes contact with your clit and a small squeak rips from your throat, your hips immediately bucking forward. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, and if anything moans in delight at the taste of your cum on his tongue. He runs the wet muscle down your folds and back up, swirling slow circles against your bundle of nerves, feeling just how wet you are for him, tasting just how wet you are, and the new sensation hits you all at once, leaving your jaw hanging open. He smirks at your reaction, his tongue continuing its ministration as you’re certain he can feel your arousal grow.
“Jungkook,” You sigh, your hands twisting in his hair. “Ah, th━that feels so good━ Oh!”
The sudden gasp that tears from your throat is a result of his finger pressing against your folds. He runs his digit along your skin, coaxing it perfectly in your sticky succulence that sends a sudden shock of euphoria spiralling all over your body. As he busies himself with swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit, his lips suction perfectly around the skin and he sucks, hard, and his finger slides past your slick folds, earning a cry of delight from you. His finger curls within you and begins pumping in and out of you at a gradual pace but it, mixed with his tongue pressed against your clit, is enough to send you whirling out of control. Your legs are suddenly shaking and, had your leg not been supported by his shoulder, you fear that your knees may have buckled under the pressure
“Ah, Jungkook!” You gasp in a trembling breath. “F━Fuck, nghn━”
The sound is simply divine and Jungkook selfishly wants to hear more. He basks in the way you clench around him, the way you whimper and writhe. Soon he is picking up pace, pumping his finger in you with a reckless abandon and sucking hard at your clit, and it’s almost shameless how fast your sweet release hits you. You’re tumbling over the edge soon after, hips bucking back and forth into his mouth as you chase after your high. Jungkook joins his tongue with his fingers and starts lapping at your walls like he’s eating a full course meal and the new sensation suddenly has you howling.
“Jungkook!” You cry. “Jungkook, I’m━”
You hear him, feel him, hum against your core before it turns into a beautiful moan. He burrows deeper into you, his nose brushing against your clit, eager to carry you to your high, and he does so with ease. As soon as you feel your high rapidly approaching, you let go of all sense of control and welcome it with wide open arms. You’re hit with waves of intense pleasure as you release onto Jungkook’s tongue and finger and, fuck, the sight is even hotter than he could have imagined. He hurries to help you ride out your high, gasps and moans ripping from your throat in a messy cacophony, your hips writhing beneath him. He relents at once when you start to whimper at the oversensitivity and pulls apart, glancing up at you with a glistening mouth, his lips and chin coated with you. He licks at every inch of his face that is shimmering and moans in content.
“Fuck, you taste amazing,” he gasps, his eyes flickering up your dishevelled appearance.
You’re breathing hard, chest rising and falling, and your teeth have bitten down so hard on your lower lip that the flesh is almost swollen. He leans down once more to kiss the inside of your thigh gently and looks up at you through his long lashes. You’re still gasping for air when your hands start tugging at him, trying desperately to pull him back up to you, and he allows you to. When his face is hovering right above yours, you smash your lips hungrily against his for a messy and heated kiss. He grins against your mouth, seemingly enjoying the way you’re biting at his lips, tasting your own cum on the tip of his tongue.
“Tell me what you need from me,” he whispers between your kisses. “What do you want?”
“You,” You gasp. “All of you, fuck. I need you so bad. I’m so wet for you right now; I need you to fuck me.”
His grin shifts into a sly smirk as he hears your pleading whines and he kisses you harder. “Anything for you, baby girl.”
He lets you tackle his neck with harsh kisses and lets your digits trace down his torso to the belt on his pants. You’ve only so much as pushed his pants and boxers down his thighs when both of you grow impatient. His cock pulses, tip angry and red and leaking with milky pre-cum, and you lick your lips at the sight, unable to contain yourself. Your hands reach for his length instantly, fingers brushing against his tip before wrapping firmly around his base. His breath hitches in his throat as you start pumping him, gliding your hand slowly up and down his length, your eyes fixated only on him.
“Fuck,” he grunts abruptly. “Baby girl━”
He pauses and hisses through clenched teeth as you continue. He doesn’t at all expect you to start pleasuring him but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he is carried away as you continue to work your hands against him, jerking him off in just the right pace that he isn’t able to hold himself back. He would have been fine coming right in your perfect hands but he needs more first before he is able to let himself fully go. He struggles to find his words as you begin to quicken your pace, sputtering for air helplessly. He squeezes his eyes shut, gulping hard and trying to focus his attention away from the exaltation he’s receiving.
“Ah, s━slow down, angel,” he breathes. It nearly pains him to pry your hands off of him and when you look at him with those innocent puppy dog eyes, he has to refrain from letting go right then and there.
“What’s wrong?” You ask. “I thought you were enjoying that.”
“No━ I mean, fuck, yes, I was,” he stammers. “But I’m trying not to come undone before I’m filling you up. Fuck, I just need to be in you right now.”
“Then fuck me,” You say boldly. “I’m all yours.”
The words seem to spark a glint in his eyes that entices him to move next. One hand grips at your thigh and lifts it onto his waist, while his other hand pumps himself slowly. Your mewls of euphoria hit his ears in a ringing melody and he waits, patiently, watching as you quiver beneath him, moaning once more. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you’re held in suspense, waiting for the heavenly contact. When it happens, when you finally feel the tip of his cock push past your folds, your jaw drops open in a silent gap. He pauses then, grunting and hissing as he adjusts to your warmth, before he’s pushing himself into you once more, slowly. He’s perfectly thick, fitting snugly in your core, letting you feel him stretch you open inch by glorious inch. It’s too much for you to handle now, and you can’t help the moan that escapes you.
“Fuck,” You whimper, head lolling back against the windowpane. “Fuck━ I━ I━”
“You’re so wet,” Jungkook grunts. “Shit, you feel amazing.”
You whimper in response and he pushes himself into you the rest of the way until he’s finally buried hilt deep within you. He pauses again, letting you both adjust to the newfound sensation.  He almost collapses against you as he pushes himself deeper into you, grinding against you in slow motions that have your head spinning. He pulls back after a while in one languid stride until only his tip is left buried in your folds before thrusting back into you with enough force to send you tottering forward. He adapts a leisurely pace of thrusting in and out of you so that you can feel him stretch you open all the way until it feels like he’s in the very back of your throat before pulling out and it drives you mad. As your arms wrap around his neck, one of his hands digs into your hips, and the other dances up the front of your chest. It first grasps at one of your breasts, his warm palm wrapping so perfectly around it, before his fingers stretch out amongst your neck.
Favouring a more suitable position, Jungkook comes to one stimulating halt when he thrusts up into you one final time. Momentarily you’re taken from your reverie when he pulls his dripping cock from your folds. Instead, he turns you around and you so easily oblige. He yanks your hips towards him, your ass pressing up firmly against his hips, and then he pushes himself into you once more. Your hands brace yourself as you plant them firmly on the window before you. From this angle, you can see the dazzling lights of the city, and though you know it isn’t possible from this high up, you wonder if any passersby far down below on the streets can see you and Jungkook in such a lewd setting. This time, his pace is fast and precise, his hips angling just right to thrust his cock into you in just the right spot.
“Fuck, baby girl,” he rasps. “Moan for me. Let me hear you.”
There is an internal battle to find your voice, being condemned silent due to the ecstasy that clouds your mind and blocks you from thinking or saying anything reasonable. You swallow hard, all senses focused on the way he’s thrusting into you, picking up speed, the sound of skin against skin and vulgar wet slaps each time he sinks deeper into you. The only way you can describe it is akin to feeling your head being set ablaze and sending it’s flickering flames all over your body and make the dazzling lights of the city blur in with the stars. When he thrusts into you the next time, he is suddenly hitting an angle that has something erupting in you and has you plummeting forward, jaw ripping open. You cry out as you flail forward, your hands slipping from their hold against the window.
“A━Ah, f━fuck,” You hiss. “Jungkook! J━Jungkook━ I’m━”
Your voice is drowned out by another loud moan and the sound is so angelic, so clear, that Jungkook yearns to hear more. He pulls your waist closer to him because there is no way you can find the strength to prop yourself up any longer when it just feels so amazing. His movements become more erratic, messy as he fumbles for your high and his. His warm fingers continue to tug at your ass, your waist, anything to hold you closer to him. But soon even he can’t hold himself together. With the way you clench so tightly around him, he begins sputtering for air. Soon, he has you pressed shamelessly all the way against the window, your cheek laying flat against the cool glass, and his own chest lays taut against your back. His self-indulgent hands snake around your front and push apart your thighs so that he can rub the heel of his palm against your clit. That, mixed with his teeth sinking absentmindedly into your shoulder, and the feeling of his twitching cock buried deep within your core is enough to have you a moaning and whimpering mess.
When he pulls out of you this time, it is to pull you back towards the king-sized bed. In the process, you help him kick off the stubborn remaining material of his pants. He’s only managed to make it as far being seated at the edge of the bed, with you straddling his hips and sitting prettily in his lap, when you eagerly reach down to run his length along your folds. Jungkook is too caught up in the pleasure to even bother to stop you, watching as you grip his shoulders tightly, and ride him in his lap with a reckless abandon. Your actions are desperate, eager. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tightly against him, and all you can hear is the vulgar wet sound of his length slipping in and out. It’s disorganized, frantic, desperate, hot, as both of you chase your highs. It hits you first after already being spent from your first orgasm, as if you had just ran straight into a brick wall, and has you completely unprepared. It starts at your core and sparks outward, like electricity flowing through your veins and bones. Your stomach unravels at the feeling, your core tightening around his length and the tight confinement has Jungkook moaning and wheezing for air.
“Jungkook!” You cry. “Fuck!”
You reach your high moments later, coming around his length and coating every inch of him in your sweet release as it leaks out of you, chanting his name over and over again in a beautiful mantra that he finds himself indulging in. The way your high overwhelms your senses has you seeing stars, your head spinning, as your body writhes in his ironclad hold. Jungkook nearly collapses against you at the feeling of your kegel muscles flexing around him, his hands pawing at your back in an attempt to keep a hold on reality. It’s the way your orgasm seems to hit you that has your core pulsating around him, even as you try to come down from your high only to feel the pleasurable ache that is his hard cock buried deep within you. He pulls out then, far too quickly for your liking, but he fumbles to gingerly push you over and you follow suit until you’re laying on your back. He takes no time to position himself back over his entrance, kneeling between your legs, and pushes himself into you once more with a wet squelch. You’re met with a feeling of oversensitivity, but you buck your hips forward, probing him to his release.
“Ah, Jungkook,” You whimper. “Mmm, come for me, baby.”
Your indigent hands tug at his arms, his torso, anything in your reach to have him closer to you and he happily obliges, propping himself up with his elbows. He combs your hair away from your face and kisses your lips tenderly. He pulls his length out of you only to slam his hips back in and rattling you to the bone. You squeak involuntarily, your mouth peppering his jawline and neck with love bites. His thrusts are still quick, desperate almost, as he lusts for his release. The tenderness in your core met with his hard pumps have you sinking your teeth down into his shoulder and he hisses. His hand finds your chin then and he delicately pulls you apart from him before making you face him.
“Keep looking at me, baby girl, okay?” he rasps before cursing under his breath.
You nod meekly, finding solace in gnawing on your lower lip as your eyes make contact with his. The sight has Jungkook nearly coming then and there and how can he not when your hooded eyes are fixated on him, sleepy and innocent, completely fucked out, and you’re sucking hard on your lip. Jungkook has a similar look of exhaustion painted on his face, his eyebrows scrunched together in hard concentration and his lips parting ever so slightly for you to see his gritting teeth. Beads of sweat form on his forehead and yours and suddenly the room is stifling hot, warming your face and body completely. Soon, the oversensitivity you feel soothes into something softer, more pleasurable, and it doesn’t affect you nearly as much. You jut your hips forward then, urging him on and he moans.
“Y/N━ Oh, shit━”
A whimper falls from Jungkook’s lips and it’s so surprising, so hot, that you nearly come again. He’s picking up his pace, snapping his hips messily into yours. He comes only moments later, finally reaching his perfect bliss, and it has him plummeting his hips once more into yours before he’s releasing his hot sticky seed into you. The room is filled with both of your moans, mixed with his breathy groans of your name. His weight gives out beneath him and he falls on top of you though he rocks his hips into yours tiredly to ride out his high until he is finally at peace, boneless from within you. Once he has calmed down from his high, he slumps fully against your chest, his face buried in your collarbone, and the room finally goes silent.
All that fills the air is the sound of both of your wheezing pants and your shrilly beating heart that you are certain even Jungkook can hear. The room is warm, the smell of sex stale in the air, but there is a sheen of pure white elatedness that has you sighing in content. Your fingers rake through Jungkook’s sweaty hair and the silence, with the added warmth of his body laying over yours, almost lulls you to sleep. You’re drifting in and out of consciousness when Jungkook presses his lips to your collarbone and then lifts his head to kiss your own lips. Your eyes flicker open then and you find him smiling down at you and the sight is so radiating, so ardent, that you can’t help but mirror it tiredly. He pulls out of you then and you hiss at the sudden emptiness and the way his milky cum leaks out of you and down your thighs. He stands to his feet, tossing on his underwear, before leaning down to whisper, “I’ll be right back, baby girl, don’t worry.”
He disappears out the room but you don’t know where until he returns a minute later with a damp cloth in hand. He climbs the bed next to you and then he begins to gently wipe at your core with the cloth, making you hum in satisfaction. He finds you smiling at him when he finally looks back up at you and quirks a brow, tilting his head to the side.
“What?” he asks.
“Oh, nothing,” You chuckle lightly, though you’re certain he knows his gentle gestures have your heart bursting with joy. “Come here.”
He does as you say, reclining back on the bed and opening his arms to invite you in. You wiggle closer to his body until you’re pressed up against his side, your head nuzzling into his chest; his own arm wraps around your waist and his other hand lets his fingers run up and down your spine in comforting circles. That, and the sound of his gently thudding heart, is what carries you to sleep that night.
When you awake in the morning, it is to the coarse and wet tongue of Gureum lapping at your cheek. The shimmering sunlight drifts in through Jungkook’s shut blinds and dusts your body in a golden light and heat. It, and Gureum, rouses you back to reality and has you giggling sleepily as you see the small white dog perched up next to you on the bed. Your reach for him to scratch behind his ears as your eyes focus on Jungkook laying just beyond the dog. He’s already awake, gazing up at you with dreary eyes and a soft smile.
“Good morning,” You yawn.
“Morning,” he replies.
He kisses your forehead and you smile once more, folding into him as you hug Gureum close to you. It’s silent again after that and it feels so strange to have everything feel so normal. To be cuddling with Jungkook and his dog in his bed with him after a night of making love, and it is almost as if you were supposed to be there from the very beginning. It was comfortable, it was simple, it was easy ━ and you loved every single second of it. His hand finds yours and your fingers lace together flawlessly and you’re so content with falling back asleep that you nearly miss Jungkook when he speaks next.
“Do you remember what I said to you at the lounge when I first brought up this whole thing?” he asks.
It takes you a moment to think back to that day which seems so far away. His gaze is fixated on your clasped hands but you’re already staring at him.
“The rules?”
He nods slowly. “Do you remember how I said we shouldn’t fall in love?”
You can already sense where the conversation is going and it has your throat swelling, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes.”
Jungkook finally looks at you, his dark chocolate eyes locking with your own pupils. “Well,” he trails off. “I’m pretty sure I broke that rule because I’m falling in love with you.”
His confession startles you completely, hitting you all at once. You gasp in response, eyes widening in surprise, and you can only hope he isn’t able to hear the frantic beating of your heart.
“When did you break it?”
That is all you can muster, but it doesn’t seem to disappoint Jungkook. He smiles sheepishly, his eyes flickering up to the ceiling.
“Would you call me insane if I said that very night at the lounge?” he asks.
“No,” You reply, catching his attention once more. “Because I’m fairly certain that’s when I started falling for you, too.”
Jungkook’s face begins to light up and it is the first time you have seen him as happily genuine as he is there. His smile radiates the same warmth and glory of the sun and he watches you in a shimmering lovelight as you look away, face flushing, and fingers tracing patterns on his bare chest.
“Can we make another deal?” You ask faintly.
“Of course, anything,” he says.
“Can we━ Can we give us a try?” You inquire.
Jungkook laughs. “You didn’t have to ask. I thought it was already a given that we would give us a try after we said we both have feelings for each other.”
You smile again and look up at him. “But there’s more.”
“What is it, baby girl?”
“I just━” You pause and then push yourself over onto your stomach from beneath the soft sheets. Gureum skips over to the edge of the bed and sits at the very end of your feet. “I want to give us a try without your money getting in the way. I mean, I don’t need you ━ or want you ━ to pay for me to be by your side. I want this to be real and genuine.”
“Of course,” he complies. “This is just you and me now. But, that being said, I’m still obligated to spoil my baby girl rotten every now and then with gifts and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. You still deserve to be treated like a princess.”
You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at him. You kiss him once more, short and quick, and mumble against his lips a very faint, “Deal. But, on one condition.”
“Go on,” he hums.
“You let me take you out on a coffee date today and let me pay for the both of us this time with my own money,” You say.
Jungkook grins wide and nods enthusiastically. “That sounds perfect. Anything you want, I’ll do.”
You find it hard to look away from Jungkook after that, and you’re certain you find yourself falling even more in love with him then. His golden tan illuminates under the glittering sunlight and you want nothing more than to be in that moment forever where it is just you and Jungkook, Jungkook and you.
“First thing’s first, though,” Jungkook says at long last. “How about we start the morning off right with a round two from last night in the shower right now. What do you say?”
His proposition has you laughing so suddenly that it startles Gureum at the edge of the bed. You lean down again to kiss Jungkook’s irresistible lips. When you part, you catch his mischievous stare and his broad grin and mirror it.
“Well,” You say, “I have always said you like to spoil me rotten.”
“Well,” Jungkook echoes with a chuckle. He shrugs innocently as he speaks next, pressing a chilling kiss to your neck. “Only the best for my baby girl.”
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pigeon-princess · 3 days ago
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The Red Knight
An NPC from my homebrew campaign called The Age of Endless Night. In a world where the sun has not shone in centuries, a star falls from the sky, sending the party on a cross continent adventure to retrieve it. 
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jurassicbarnes · 5 months ago
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saltwater kisses
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pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (DILF AU)
summary: In which he whisks you away on a romantic getaway at his beach house.
warnings: sex (18+), fluff, body positivity, dry humping, one flashback, unidentified age gap, nicknames bc bucko can’t help it, typos probs
author’s note: this is written for my drabble challenge. as you can see, i’m incapable of writing shit under 1k words, which is why i have decided to turn any drabble into a one-shot if it exceeds the word count. anyway, this was requested by @bibbidibobbidibucky & @stcrrynightsinneverlcnd (both of you had sent the same prompt) divider credit @firefly-in-darkness [wc: ~1.9k]
MASTERLIST // LIBRARY
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He looks like someone you evoked from your dreams. Sun-kissed, tanned skin from a day well spent on the beach. Rosy cheeks and reddened neck, regardless of you slathering him up with SPF. Glittering eyes, that regard something akin to the way the ocean looks when the sun rays bounce on the waves.
Coarse sand in the crevices of your fingernails, and layered thinly on your bodies. To avoid getting any of that mess inside the house, there’s a shower placed in the backyard, adjacent to the beach.
An impromptu, romantic getaway at his property in Ocean Shores. The house provided a fabulous view of the coasts. The sunsets were breathtaking.
“Just ‘cause.” He’d said when you asked what the occasion is.
He’s a vision spread across the couch. Sweatpants lounge low on his hips. That big yellow star that pops up every morning in the east really does him justice whenever he’s under the beams. Highlights the thick mess of hair all over his chest, leading a dark path down to his navel. Unruly mop of brown hair and sleep-ridden, puffy eyes. He’d be well on his way to his second nap since waking up if you don’t hand him the coffee you’re stirring cream into, right now.
You settle the two cups on the coffee table. Steam mixes in the air. The aroma of the fresh brew is the kind of ecstasy you need after a 24 hour that wore you both out. Endless activities that you insisted on trying out the day before when you’d arrived.
You swing a leg across his waist, straddling him. His smile is half-sleepy, bliss lining his wrinkled forehead, eyes still closed.
“Coffee?”
“Hmm…”
A loud sigh before he sits up, sliding his body under you to rest his back on the armrest. Holds your hip, less you’d topple over. The conversation is easy with your morning cuppa coffee and tantalising touches.
Yesterday, his kisses tasted like bitter beer and salty water.
Today, his kisses taste like coffee and cream and you. The night before left heavy evidence of your taste that still lingered in his tongue. Your moans buzz against his lips, at the pleasant soreness between your thighs, the burn his scruff left behind.
Tracing the border of his lips with your tongue, you clean off the frothy milk settled on his whiskers. Warm hands on his warmed up pecs, feeling his heart pulse against you. His kisses are always sweet during the early hours. Melting you into his touch, heady with desire and so much love.
He moans softly when you drop your hips a little heavily on his crotch. Hand on your face pulling you for a deeper mingle. The other on your cotton covered ass to help you rut forward and back.
“What’s happening, bunny?” He quirks a brow along with the question, eyes on the wet spot forming on your white undies.
“I’m horny,” You mumbled against him, breathily, eyes closed, brows pushed together.
“You don’t say…” He chuckles into your mouth, biting your bottom lip before leaning back once again. Enervated, lethargic, he sits back comfortably. Biceps curled, elbows out, palms behind his head. Unabashedly showcasing his naked torso, the imperfections that his body detains. He’s a little fluffy around the edges, soft and warm in the middle. There’s a slight proof of abs that once were defined. The muscles in his arms are softer even though right now they flex next to his temples.
You run your digits down the chestnut brown hair on his sternum, settling at this stomach to get better leverage at rubbing yourself on his hardening cock. That glimmer on his face, that toothy smile of his when you move your hips on your own accord, it’s a sight to behold.
Insecurities had rooted themselves in his mind when you first started going out. It took him some time to get out of his head and stop caring too much about the questionable gap in your age. When people used to take a double-take whenever you two would go out in public. But seeing it never bothered you, it soon no longer concerned him. There were some insecurities he couldn’t get rid of, though.
He’s a dad, he’s got a body like one. Silver hair scattered and peaking out of his beard, and the fluff of his shaggy hair. The wrinkles at the end of his eyes are not just ‘cause of his smile anymore. No matter how light they are, it still used to bother him. Sometimes he has to use his reading glasses which he purposefully forgets because they make him look older. His back hurts most of the times and he longs to sleep a little earlier than you’re used to. Most of the times, he thinks your friends are downright immature and annoying, doesn’t say anything, but you can tell. He’s always respectful though. But is thankful when you don’t force him to hang out with them.
Bucky was keen on making an effort for you. He tried going to the gym at least three times a week out of his busy schedule at the University. He tried eating healthy, drink less beer during watching sports games—or any occasion that called for one. Not that you asked him to change anything about himself, by any means. These realisations came from within.
One fine Saturday morning you’d asked him to stay in bed a little longer, wrapping your limbs like noodles wrap around the condiments. His body was a furnace, and you craved the extra warmth. But Bucky insisted he should leave for the gym if he has to come back in time for making you breakfast in bed. The conversation that followed, changed the way he looked at you. Made him look at himself the way you looked at him. Full of lovin’ that comes without any terms or conditions.
“Your backache is getting worse as is, you don’t have to tire yourself at the gym every morning.” You’d said, “I can tell by the way you mutter complaints under your breath, you hate going.”
“I don’t complain.” His face goes pink under his beard.
“You do.” You pinned him with a look that says: Yes, I know better. “If you were doing this for yourself, you wouldn’t.”
You’re right. He’s not doing this for himself. But he doesn’t want you to know who he’s making these insane efforts for. The next second you’d said—
“You’re doing this for me.”
He stuttered, tried to pull away. But you latched on like an insect, daring him to move.
“Why?” You asked.
“Well, you wanted to know the Bucky in college.” He reasoned, reddened further. “He was a fucking quarterback, sweetheart.”
“Oh…” Your giggle sounded so precious, he had to squeeze your waist. Not that you were mocking him. “No, you dummy. I meant I wanted to know the Bucky who laughed at silly jokes. And flirted with girls at parties. Wore a baseball cap backwards because it’s cooler that way.” You mimic his voice, which makes him crack a grin.
You recalled that from one of the pictures from his college days, where he fashioned that look. He could have worn the cap as it’s meant to, but he preferred squinting at the camera with the sun beaming as brightly as his smile. In the pool, arms around his best friends.
“The Bucky who was easy and laid-back.” You went on, “Who you are right now, is just an older, better version of him. I wasn’t talking about your physical attributes. You’re perfect the way you are, baby.”
He left all his worries out the door of his house after that. Told them he won’t be needing them anymore.
Right now, when your love gushes out of every pore in your body, through your movements, through your kisses, he can’t help but return it. He’s way in deep.
Deeper considering the fact that he didn’t know he could fall in love after the divorce. After the heartache he went through or the trust issues he’d gained. But someone like you deserved a chance. And someone like him, deserved a second chance, even more.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Baby?” You ask him, fingers curling under the waistband of his sweatpants, shuffling them down his legs and off they go. This cock stands tall, thick and hard and pink and weeping at the tip. You have half a mind to finish him off in your mouth but your cunt is throbbing. Even though he’s given it to you in every fuckable surface of this beach house, she still begs to be filled.
“You.” He simply says, his own digits sticking under the v-cut of your panties to slip them aside. Head of his cock brushing over your folds, over the nub of nerves that pulses and pulses.
“But I’m right here…” You shake your head to push your hair away, rubbing yourself all over him, slick helping you glide easily.
“I know, I was jus’ thinkin’ how easy it was to fall in love with you. How grateful I am that you—holy fuck—” He groans when you let him slip inside, all the way in. His head bangs abruptly on the headrest. He curses again, the vibrations from the pain stimulating down his neck.
“Grateful for what?” You start moving, riding him slowly. He seems distracted with the way your stomach shows the very evidence of him inside you, a brush of his fingers on your tummy. You move like the waves outside, rolling your hips leisurely. And—wait, when did you lose the shirt? Glorious breasts moving every time you drop and grind on his cock. He’s a mess of moans and bitten, wet lips.
Warm hands travel up your hips, following the path that resembles thunderbolts striking up your thighs. A tone lighter than that of your skin. Marks that you’re not ashamed of showing him because you know he loves you despite them.
“Go ahead…” You insist, a hand curling to fondle his sac with a light grip.
“God, fuck. I was sayin’—” Whimpers, musters some breath in his lungs, “‘M so fuckin’ grateful that you love me the way you do—” The vein in his neck strains, head thrown back as pleasure wraps him like the currents of the ocean water. Warm from the sun and so powerful. and you feel heavenly around him, you squeeze him so tight. Following him soon with a moan of his name.
You lay on top of him, still keeping him inside you. Cheek squished into the space between his neck and collarbones, hand soothing at his chest.
You stare up at him, softly scratching at his beard with your fingernails. The action pulls a grumbled moan from him. You decide to break the silence after a few minutes of allowing both of you a breather.
“Bucky, I love you. So much that I want to count every one of your freckles with my lips. Trace them on every blemish that mar your skin. I love you, your imperfections and your ability to complain about anything, literally.” He playfully rolls his eyes but kisses the crown of your head anyway.
“I love you,” You once again tell him, “And in return you love me. That’s the transaction. It’s that simple. You have nothing to be grateful for.”
“Well, I’ll be damned if you make me cry, sweetheart.”
He lets out a nervous laugh and hugs you tightly in your little cocoon of happiness. Thinking about the diamond ring that he’s dying to put on your finger by midnight, tonight.
-fin
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feedback is always appreciated!
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zeeroweenies · 5 months ago
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promiscuous girl
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DESC ✿ you always get what you want.
MATCHUP ✿ megumi x f!reader
CW ✿ stepbro porn ahead ; somnophilia ; cheating ; raw sex ; breeding ; promiscuity ; dubcon ; coercion ; ‘just the tip’ ; light impact play ; choking ; light degrading ; drugs → weed.
WC ✿ 3.7K+
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Never once in your entire life were you denied anything. Expecting things out of habit has simply become… customary. And you had your natural charm and sex appeal to thank for that. Anything you’d set your sights on you’d receive; gifts, designer clothes and men included were never a problem for you— until you were introduced to your shiny new roomie, Megumi.
You remember the very first time your sights locked on him. His glossy black hair, long pretty lashes and slick sweat sticking to those shirtless abs made you swoon from the very beginning when you saw him carrying heavy boxes into the same apartment you lived in. There were practically stars in your pupils from how insanely handsome he was.
“Megumi, this is my daughter, (Name). (Name), this is Megumi. He’s gonna be staying with us from now on so be nice to him.” Oh yeah, you’ll be real nice to him.
The dark haired boy’s attention alternates from your father to you, eyebrows raising and breath labored as he removes his bulky headphones to rest around his neck while setting the heavy box down on the ground. “Oh, what’s up? You’re probably used to being an only child or whatever but uh, I hope we can get along.” He extends a welcoming hand out to you with an aloof expression, and you can’t help but appreciate how worn it looks.
Those fingers, fuck. So thick, you bet they’d fill you up so nicely just from how long they were, hit the deepest parts inside you until you’re sobbing with tears running down your hot cheeks and make you beg for more than just some silly little fingers. The entire fantasy can’t make you help but wonder if his cock was just as big as them.
Taking his stretched out hand into your perfectly manicured one, you offer your new big brother a firm shake along with that bright million dollar smile you give all your pawns. “Yeah, we’re gonna get along just fine.”
Ever since your mother remarried Megumi’s dad and had them move into your quaint little home, your newly included sibling had become one of the many men added to your hit list. It was a pink notebook specifically that looked like it could be in one of those coming of age chick flicks, the title in ransom lettered font in which you called your ‘sex bible.’
Yuuji Itadori. ♥︎
Noritoshi Kamo. ♥︎
Kento Nanami. ♥︎
Megumi Fushiguro. ♥︎
His name was there traced in pretty letters with a cute heart at the end, perfect and untouched without a scratch through it. Not for long though. A self-proclaimed ‘maneater’ was the title you used to best label yourself. Any guy you wanted you could get, how could they ever refuse you with that gorgeous smile or those pretty tits?
“You’re so funny!” Is something along the lines you’d say, laugh exaggerated over some corny joke that wasn’t even worth laughing for in attempt to get into some guy’s pants.
“You’re so strong.” You’d overemphasize, delicate hands running up and down the huge veiny muscles of some jerk-off’s bicep before your thick false eyelashes flutter up to them. “Bet you can’t pick me up?”
Men were so easy— so shallow. All it took was a flip of your hair or some pretty tears in those big doe eyes to get what you wanted, works like a charm every time. And it’s true, they all fold like laundry in the end. Megumi was a tough nut to crack though.
There were times where days grew endless that you thought he’d never spare you an ounce of attention. Each rejection only increased your ache for him tenfold, his cruel behavior began to consume your late night reveries with a vibrator stuffed deep in your cunt, desperate hands roaming your body lost in the fantasy of what it’d be like when Megumi finally sinks into you for the very first time.
You could wear the shortest of shorts, tightest of tops and the sluttiest of skirts without even a glance from the raven haired boy. “You’re cute, but you’re not all that.” He told you, shooting down every countless advance like it was nothing. Yeah right, in what world were you not all that? Guys practically line up at your feet in hopes of getting a chance to even sniff your cunt, Megumi should be on his knees kissing your fucking ring. But that’s okay, he won’t be saying that for too long, he is a man after all. You just had to up the ante a bit; and soon enough, he’d be another ken doll that you’d add to your toy box.
Megumi would be a goddamned liar if he said he didn’t find you attractive in the least. You were hot, smoking. Everything about you was completely versatile compared to other girls: the way you adorned yourself in the sluttiest pieces he’s ever seen, the way you talked with such a decadent tone that pushed him to the edge of his sanity— even the way you smelled was different. Your scent down to your perfume was sweet, and not any of that fruity shit that other girls wear either— you smelled like a woman.
He can’t help but feel that twinge of guilt eating away at him when he jacks off in the shower when he sees that tight little body dripping with sweat after your early morning run, filthy thoughts coursing through his brain of what should be his girlfriend replaced with ones of you as he fists his cock trying to imitate the exact grip of your pussy. You get wet, he fuckin’ knows you do. You’ve creamed on his tongue and fingers more times than he’d like to admit, the taste of your essence sweeter than any treat he’s ever had that he forgets how completely wrong it is.
He felt like a pussy, always chickening out when your eager hands went to yank down his boxer briefs; the opportunity of burying himself inside you flying out the window. “We can’t do this, it’s.. it’s wrong.” He can’t fight the regretful feeling that swirls around in his chest each time he catches an eye roll from you followed by a lip smack, watching you stomp your way out of his room mumbling curses under your breath.
Any guy would be lucky to have a girl like you, and without the company of Megumi in your room every night it appeared that you already found one, multiple actually. It seemed like you had a new dude for every day of the week, guys breezing through your apartment left and right with a new boy toy on your arm like a glitzy new designer bag. Exaggerated moans that were magnified from the thin walls of your room that stood right across the hall from his, obviously meant for Megumi with the intention of making him jealous— and it did.
Other than that, he made every effort to stay out of your way. It was hard though considering you practically tried to jump on his dick at any chance you could. Megumi’s lost count of the endless make out sessions that you two have landed yourselves in while your parents were away from the house, or the times he’s woken up to his cock in your mouth with you sucking him dry, peering up at him through those thick lashes and porn star eyes.
It didn’t make his efforts any less arduous with your sudden clingy behavior any time his girlfriend came around the house to hang with him, handsy thigh rubs that lingered too close to Megumi’s dick whenever a not-so-funny joke was featured in some shitty comedy blaring through the tv and sexual innuendos passed off as jokes or horseplay that was a little too suspicious for brother and sister.
But that’s just how siblings are, right? Though it came to raise a few eyebrows when you’d abruptly pull him into the next room under the guise that it was just ‘family talk’ before hastily pulling his already hard cock out of his joggers, mouth watering before flashing that look at him paired with the voice that always makes him weak in the knees. “Wanna make you cum, Megumi. Don’t you like my mouth better than hers?” making it clear that you two were far from just being ordinary ‘siblings.’ And he never says no; at first he fooled himself into believing that it was because of the power you held over him, but really— he doesn’t want to.
Which is the main cause he allowed you to lure him into your room with your sweet voice ringing through his ears as he swings the door open, beholding your body adorned in nothing but those pink lace panties you wore whenever you tried to seduce him, matched with a flimsy tank top with the straps falling to the side that nearly had your tits spilling out of them as you rest back on your elbows, a coy smile peeking through your lips. “What do you want?”
It was terrible to want to do this, sick even. But that’s what made it all the more exciting. “M’lonely, let’s do something fun.” A pout forms on your shiny lips before earning a nonchalant head shake from him.
“Nah I’m good, enjoy yourself though.” He pivots on his heels to exit your room before he hears your voice call out to him once again, stopping him dead in his tracks when he sees you pull out a fat sack of weed from under your pillow.
“I got some bud,” you teasingly wave the stuffed baggie around like a treat, tone honeyed in attempt to sway him. “Chill with me.”
The ravenette remains unmoved from his place on the threshold, weary about your intentions— not that he’s complaining. “Every time you ask to chill you try to fuck me.”
“You never talk to me, I just wanna spend time with you. Get to know my big brother better y’know?” You quirk with a head tilt. “No funny business, scout’s honor.” Your two forefingers fly to your forehead in fake salute, making Megumi expel a wry laugh before finally stepping past the threshold fully. Piece of fucking cake.
“Didn’t think you were the girl scout type.” He falls into place next to you on the springy bed, forcing a smirk from you. “Guess I’m full of surprises then.”
It isn’t until the small glass pipe is passed back and forth between you, the pungent smell of earthy marijuana stinking up and circulating the already thin air in your room that Megumi’s cock ends up in your mouth. The buzz from his high paired with the feeling of your wet tongue dragging up and down his thick length making the experience that much sweeter, making his hand fly into the strands of your hair to urge you on with occasional low grunts and praises despite the tabooness of the entire act. “Fuckkk just like that, feels so fuckin’ good.”
His length drops from your mouth, making sure you moan around the head before letting it go with a seductive pop. This was your chance, after all those previous months of him ducking and dodging your attempts that you’d finally get what you really wanted, what you’ve been begging for. “Yeah? I can make you feel even better, let’s just do it for real.” You kiss your way up his toned body, hot lips leaving as much of an effect on him as it does your core that’s aching, leaking through your panties with each step closer you get to feeling your big brother’s cock finally fill you.
“We can’t keep doing this.” His breathless groans are mumbled between your kisses, leaving him dizzied between the softness of your plush lips against his and your bare pussy sliding against his dick, wetness making a mess all over him as you come up for air. Manicured hands coming up to tug down that useless top with your tits spilling from it with a cute drop, that pathetic look on your face making it borderline impossible to fight his urges. “Why not? Don’t you think I’m sexy?” His breath catches in his throat as you take his hands in yours to drag them all the way to your tits, feeling the soft mounds between his fingers as you roll your hips down on him. God, why’d you have to be so slutty?
“Yeah but… you’re my sister. It’s weird.” His head reflexively tips back when he feels your lips on his neck, voice tempting and whiny in his ears. “We’re not related. It didn’t stop us any of the other times, and we’ve never even gone all the way.” Your teeth nip gently at the flesh, leaving it wet with saliva as your next words shoot all the way down to his cock.
“We could, though. Always imagined how your dick would feel in my pussy, stretching me out so good, hitting that spot you always touch with your fingers. You’re so fucking big too, know you can do it baby,” A needy whimper spouts from your chest, You’re so close, he just needs a little push. “Please Megumi, just want the tip.”
“We can’t. I want to, but— it’s just wrong.” His words cause slight irritancy to stir in you, lips falling into a pout and brows twisting up something wicked with your response being the thing to make the ravenette finally snap. “You’re such a fucking pussy, probably couldn’t make me cum anyway.” This is not the outcome you’d been hoping for. All your hard work, flushed down the drain.
Well, maybe not quite. With the way Megumi unexpectedly shifts your bodies by flipping you onto your back, you can tell you’ve flipped a switch inside him, and it’s not lookin’ pretty. “Fuckin’ bitch.” He spits, voice grating enough to make you whine. In the same breath he gives your panties a harsh yank, leaving your drooling cunt bare and vulnerable to him as the lace is torn to shreds before he lines himself up with your hole, leaving you no room to adjust or even complain just as he rams himself inside of you without remorse.
“Always flaunting your ass in those slut clothes, tryin’ to fuck me when my girl’s here.” You’re rendered helpless underneath him, each one of his powerful thrusts sending your skull back into the hard panel of your headboard when his hand snakes up to grip the sides of your neck harshly. “Fuck, Megumi wait—”
It makes your head spin, and you don’t know if it’s between the death grip he has on your neck, how good his dick feels inside you or the sudden shift in his demeanor— but it’s all too much. And the added buzz of your high only kicks up the pleasure ten times over with the lewd sounds of him slipping in and out of your wet cunt. “Stop running.” A rough palm comes down to smack your hand away before hooking themselves into the underside of your plush thighs, the shrill sounds of your sobs bouncing off the walls of your room as Megumi forces himself deeper into you.
“Slow— down!” Megumi’s voice grows cold— dark, forcing you to choke on your cries with his calloused fingers now taking hold of your hot cheeks, salty tears wetting the digits. “Try to push me out again and I’m really gonna make it hurt, you’re not gonna walk for the next fucking month. Try me.” He was so mean, totally the opposite of what you expected for when he finally caved. Most certainly not the kind boy you knew when you first met, and for sure not the guy who let you string him along like a pliant little puppet.
“But I can’t take it, you’re going too fast—”
He lets a slightly sadistic sneer fall past his lips, the side of his mouth upticking into a smile dangerous enough to make you recoil into your own skin. “Look at that, the slut can’t take dick. Stop fucking lying, more dicks have been in here than I can count on my own two hands, you can take another.”
“You’re too big for me— please slow down,” Your pitiful whimpers have no effect on the man above you whatsoever, ignoring your pleas and using all of his sheer strength to fuck into you harder, faster, deeper.
“This is what you wanted, though. Fuckin’ begged for it, you calling me a liar?” He takes notice of your drooly, fucked out appearance. Aware of just how close you are by how tight you’re clenching around him and unable to provide a response, drenching his entire abdomen in your cum proving to him you’re an even bigger whore than he originally thought.
“I know you heard me, I didn’t fuck you stupid yet.” His hard palm comes down onto your face once, twice as hard the second time leaving a sharp burn. “Now answer my fucking question, you wanted this? I’m not lying, am I?” The tops and bottom of his teeth grate against each other abrasively in your ears rendering you even more sensitive to his attacks, influencing you to shake your head mindlessly as the sheets nearly pierce under your sharp clutch.
“No, you’re not! I wanted it, I wanted you—” Your cries in obedience urge him on, a smirk taking over his features as your licentious persona dissipates with every hard snap of his hips, an indecipherable expression engrained deep into his cobalt irises while he splits you open on his cock.
Every movement inside you jogs his memory of all the slutty shit you’ve done; sending risky drunk texts and nudes to his phone because you knew he was with his girlfriend, usually videos showing off your naked body while pumping some kind of dildo in and out of your soaked pussy attached with a tempting message about how you wish it was him instead of some silly toy.
need you to come fuck me, baby. ;)
Or the many times you’ve put him in compromising situations by purposely leaving pairs of your panties in his room, intentionally left fresh with cum for his girlfriend to find inevitably spiraling into countless arguments and eventually leading to a breakup, all of it fueling the fire inside him as he reaches his own high. “Maybe I should just get you fuckin’ pregnant, maybe you’ll learn how to keep your goddamned legs closed then.”
A hot surge of pleasure shoots down his spine when you wildly bob your head yes, totally captivated by the transparent cream you leave around his length from his words, dangerous words low and almost threatening in your ears that you don’t even care due to how good he makes you feel. “Sick.” He mutters as you feel him fill you, pumping hot strings of cum into you with forceful snaps of his balls against your ass with the air being overcome with the scent of weed, high-pitched moans and pleas for the ravenette to keep going.
“I’m cumming, I’m cumming—” You tighten around him with a loud cry, gushing and forcing back moans as Megumi fucks his cum inside you, unconceivable pleasure you’ve never experienced before taking control of your entire body with your manicure leaving bloody scratches on his athletic back.
Your limp form wavers the second Megumi pulls out, your walls letting him go with an audible pop as you struggle to catch your breath, mind completely blank of all thoughts except the white ceiling above you and brutal fuck he just gave you. This was more than you originally bargained for, and you can’t say you were disappointed. Your hunger was satiated with another guy who’s unable to resist your appeal. And what makes it even more braggable? He’s your stepbrother.
“Are you happy now? Or do I need to fuck you again?” His voice is laced with annoyance as he slips back into his shorts as you shake your head, watching him hop off your bed before turning to leave, stopping abruptly when he hears your whiny little voice. “Wait— can you... come back later?”
He spins around, a blank look on his chiseled features. “No. If you wanna get fucked you’re coming to me, not the other way around.” The way he snaps at you makes you halfway shrink into your soaked sheets while also forming another knot in your core, eager for the next load he’s going to fuck into you later on with the previous one still dripping out of your needy pussy as you give a timid nod your head.
When Megumi shuts the door behind him you’re quick to find your journal and a pen, flipping through the pages until you land on the one with his name on it. Satisfied with the loud drag of the ink across the paper as you cross his name out. Scratchhh.
Megumi Fushiguro. ♥︎
You find Megumi in his room later that night like he told you to, tip toeing in the dark space as you crawl into bed over his sleeping form, littering wet kisses over his neck and letting your hand find its way to his semi-hard cock. “Wake up, want you now.” It takes you by surprise as he’s quick to flip you onto your back, making you yelp when your back suddenly meets the bedding underneath you.
“Back for more already?” He inspects your leaking core in front of him, lips puffy with cum as his big hands spread you out for him and observe the panties you failed to wear. “You still got fresh cum inside you, don’t tell me you’re getting greedy?”
“Mm-mm, missed you already.” Your rushed words are hushed by his sweet coos, body already hot for him as his dick smacks against his abdomen when he finally tugs his shorts down. “Shh, m’gonna take care of you.” You feel the pleasurable stretch of his tip pressing into your hole, mouth dropping open as he slowly inches himself all the way inside you, mind beginning to wander impulsively about who your next pawn would be.
Your English professor Suguru? That new kid that just moved in next door? Or maybe it’d be your handsome new stepdaddy, you have always kept a watchful eye out for the older men. Hm, though maybe you’d have to keep Megumi around for a while afterwards. It’d be a wasteful shame to throw a brand new toy away so quickly.
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🏷 @sunas-cumdump @icyoni @naoyailoveu @thouxanbanfaunii @sems-diarie @hybristophilaa @kageyamakock @uwubby-1 @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @strawbub @megumitodoroki @fiona782 @fiaficsxo @nanamislut @arieltheworldisamess @kloesklarity @imrisaluk
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javier-pena · a day ago
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plea
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Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
Word Count: 4.3k
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Frankie is your best friend. You wish you could be more. But you don't dare dream that he might want that too.
Warnings: friends to lovers | mention of divorce | mention of a family member’s death | feelings of guilt | swearing | sexual fantasies (about best friends) | sexual tension | mutual pining | masturbation (male and female) | mutual masturbation | hair pulling | dirty talk | fingering | slight exhibitionism | cum eating | a bit of feelings
Notes: It's here!! My first fic in seven months, the first installment in the "Hard Holidays" series. It was a very ... tight race, I was on the edge of my seat for the last day, but Frankie won in the end! I want to offer everyone who voted a kiss on the mouth - all your hard work is very much appreciated! Many, many thanks also to Dani @javierpcna​ for making all of this possible, for coaching me through this project with her endless enthusiasm! Dani, I literally owe you everything. The biggest hugs and kisses also to CiCi @astroboots​, Cris @highsviolets​, Kelli @frannyzooey​, and Claire @peonyprose​ - I love you all to the moon and back ❤️
***
The fire is warming your naked feet, creeping up your legs that are covered only in the thin fabric of your pajama bottoms. You wriggle your toes happily, listening to the raging storm outside, the wind howling through the trees, over the roof of the small cabin, making the windows rattle and the beams in the ceiling groan. But you’re warm and happy and safe inside the house, a glass of wine next to you, focusing on a good book.
Trying to focus.
When Frankie asked you if you wanted to join him and Isabella at a remote cabin for the Christmas holidays, you hesitated at first. You didn’t want to intrude on their family time, you didn’t want to be the third wheel. Frankie and you have been friends for ages – you’d been there for him after the divorce, slowly putting the pieces of an already broken man back together. And he’d been there for you through break-ups and promotions, through your mom’s death and your sister’s wedding. Frankie is your friend, your best friend.
And yet you hesitated. While you were still hesitating, Isabella cancelled the trip. Her mother had called, telling Frankie about some changed plans, asking him to send Isabella to her for Christmas. Frankie, sweetheart that he is, agreed. And you agreed to come with him to some remote cabin on top of a mountain, just the two of you, confined to such close quarters.
Whatever you had thought would happen has not happened yet.
You turn the page of your book, realizing you haven’t been paying attention for at least six paragraphs, so you flip back, an annoyed huff on your lips. You’re here so you can relax for a change, you’re here so you can switch off your brain. But it’s busier than ever, circling around one topic, one constant, like a moth around a flame. It doesn’t mean anything, does it? Frankie only invited you so you could help with Isabella, and when her mother cancelled that trip, he still wanted to go, but couldn’t stand the thought of an empty house. He sees you as a friend, nothing more.
And you? He’s your friend, too, of course he is, but you’ve been through so much together, you’ve grown so close. Of course you’ve been wondering if there might be room for more between you, if he might sometimes think of you the way you think of him, alone at night in your too big bed, one hand fisting the sheets, the other three fingers deep in your own pussy, wishing they were his fingers …
You angrily shake your head. No! No, Frankie is your friend, you can’t allow yourself to think like that, not when he’s so close. Not when he lets you sleep in the master bedroom while he makes do with the children’s room and the too short bed. You should have asked him to join you, but the thought of sleeping next to him for a whole week made your throat close up. You can’t trust your treacherous body; you can’t risk it wrapping around him in the middle of the night.
With an angry sigh, you run a hand over your eyes. You haven’t been paying attention to your book again. When you accepted Frankie’s invitation, you were excited to finally have time to read an actual book. But now that you’re here, now that you’re so close to him, so intimately close, you have less time than ever. And the worst part is that he’s not distracting you on purpose. He’s totally oblivious to the thoughts that rage through your mind, the feelings that rage through your heart. If he gave you one small sign, just one, that he was feeling the same, you wouldn’t hesitate. You’d fuck him right here in front of the fireplace, you’d hole up with him in this cabin until the end of winter just to have him to yourself.
But he can’t know, can he? He wouldn’t be doing all those things if he did. All those small things that mean absolutely nothing, those things your mind is desperately trying to find an explanation for, a different one than … mating ritual. Because this is not what this is … this isn’t what he was trying to do this morning.
You were outside, bundled up in a warm blanket, a cup of coffee warming your icy fingers. The wooden chair you were sitting on creaked with every movement, but you weren’t moving much anyway, as you watched the quiet forest around you, looking so much like a winter wonderland all those songs are always describing. Then he strode out, wearing his navy green winter coat, the one with the fur-lined hood, the one you had teased him about the previous evening. It wasn’t really that cold, was it? He was carrying an ax over his shoulder, making his way over to a tree stump to … You sat up straighter at the sight of him picking up a log, placing it on the stump, chopping right through it. And then he did it again, the fall of the ax accompanied by a small grunt. You watched his breath fogging up the air around him as he quickly got out of that coat, the physicality of the task warming him up. He carefully placed it on the ground in a neat bundle, away from the logs.
You averted your gaze then, at the sight of him in a tight, grey sweater. Whenever he raised his arms, you could see the muscles flex and jump, and you asked yourself what it would feel like to dig your nails into his back, to feel the sheer power of his body above you. The grunts were growing louder as he exerted himself, until you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to leave, right now, or you couldn’t be held accountable for your actions. But then he stopped, dropping the ax. With a relieved sigh, you sank back into your chair, its creaking making Frankie turn around to smile at you, his face red from the physical work. He looked so happy and beautiful it made your chest tighten.
And then he took off his sweater, revealing a white shirt beneath, drenched with sweat. He tightened the discarded piece of clothing around his waist carefully, methodically, and then he picked up the ax again. You could’ve screamed, but instead your nails dug into the armrests of your chair. Unable to look away, you stared with wide eyes as he chopped log after log, only pausing to wipe the sweat off his brow. With every flex of his arms, your core tightened, while you were desperately trying to find something else to focus on. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t, it was just him and that stupid ax and his stupidly beautiful body, his shirt riding up to expose his soft lower back, his soft belly, the winter sun putting a sparkle on his sweat-drenched arms.
When he stopped, you were a quivering mess, aching for release. Embarrassed by how much you wanted him, you tried to flee to your room, but it took you so long to gather up your blanket that you ran into him at the door. And then you smelled him, the husky, manly scent of his sweat drowning out the smells of the forest around you. He held the door open for you and you mumbled a weak, “Thank you,” drowning in his musk, in the testosterone radiating off him. It was pathetic, how your cave woman instincts kicked in, how your mind screamed, “Provider!”, how your body was ready to reward him for all the hard work he had done. You gulped down his scent greedily while making a dumb comment about the weather, then you fled to your room to take a second shower, passing a closet stuffed full of firewood.
No one picked up the logs outside.
Now it’s hours later, but you still can’t stop thinking about it. The crackling of the fire reminds you of the sounds his ax made chopping the wood. Its warmth is a shadow of the one you felt while watching him. And every other word in your boring book seems to be “arm” or “strength” or “longing”. You’re close to screaming in frustration, but you don’t dare to do the one thing that would bring you release – you don’t dare look for Frankie and ask him to fuck you.
It’s late anyway, and he’s probably asleep in his tiny bed. You promise yourself to offer him room in yours tomorrow, since you two should be way past this point in your friendship where you are too awkward to sleep next to each other. Consequences be damned! The offer is innocent enough and should you cuddle up to him in the middle of the night you can always blame your longing for closeness on a nightmare. At least the bedsheets will smell like him in the morning.
The thought of smelling him again makes your pussy tingle and you shove away the book once and for all. There’s no use, you’re unable to focus on it because you're focused on him entirely. You listen carefully, trying to catch the sound of him moving around the house, but all you can hear is the crackling fire and your own shallow breathing. One of your hands rests on the couch next to you, the other on your thigh – you move it closer to where heat and tension are begging to be released.
No!
You can’t. He could walk in any moment and find you with a hand down your pants, moaning his name. And what would he say? What would he do? You could never find a good excuse and he’d probably be too embarrassed to ever talk to you again. It’s just a few steps to the safety and privacy of your own room, just a few steps until you can give into the fantasy of him pinning you to the bed, taking what he needs, calling you all kinds of names before coming down your throat.
Your thumb brushes your clit, and your lungs draw in air as if this is their first breath.
No!
Get up, you tell yourself. Go to your room!
Spread ‘em. It’s Frankie’s voice, rough with arousal.
You do as you’re told, hooking one leg over the armrest of the couch, placing the other one firmly on the floor. Your hands stay put, not ready to cross that line, not ready to give in to your baser instincts. Every door around you is firmly closed, you’re all alone, no one would see you, but you still hesitate.
I want to know how wet you are. Frankie’s voice is rich and deep, laced with authority. You close your eyes and nod. Touch yourself and tell me how wet you are. How much it turns you on just to think about me.
With a shaky breath, you lift your hand and sneak your fingers into the waistband of your pajama bottoms. Your skin pricks at the contact, your leg twitches, but you move slowly, intent on drawing this out as long as possible.
Hurry up, girl, I haven’t got all night.
You push your hand down to find soaked fabric and hot wetness. You fight to keep in an obscene moan as you run your finger through your folds, gathering up the slick, both desperate for a finger inside of you and a finger on your clit.
“I’m so wet for you, Frankie,” you whisper into the dimming light of the room. “I wish you could feel what you do to me.”
Good. His deep voice makes you shiver.
You move to pull your hand back, intent on finishing this someplace else, but he objects.
No, he tells you. Keep going. I want to hear those soft whimpers you always make for me.
The tip of your index finger grazes your clit and you shudder, a soft sigh of relief on your lips. It’s already so hard and swollen, even though you’ve barely touched yourself. Your finger moves in small, lazy circles over the bundle of nerves, and you finally let your head fall back, giving in to your needs. This is not going to take long considering how wet you are. Your hips begin to move too, meeting your finger in tiny thrusts, and your sigh deepens as your mind wanders to this morning, conjuring up the image of Frankie in his tight, white shirt, the muscles in his arms strained with effort. How you wish you could see them straining as he cages you in, straining from the effort of keeping himself propped above you, of not spilling inside of you after a few thrusts.
You want a finger, don’t you? His voice is almost curious now, but still impossibly deep.
You nod, already moving further down, already hovering above where you’re leaking, the walls of your cunt quivering in anticipation.
Go ahead then, he allows. But don’t make a mess.
You push one finger into you and groan, your teeth digging into your bottom lip. The faint sound of your book hitting the floor isn’t even worth noticing. Your slick is coating your finger, your knuckles, as you glide in and out with ease. It’s not enough, but you don’t want this to be over too quickly. There are other ways to tease yourself.
Slowly, you push up your oversized shirt until your breasts are exposed, until your already hard nipples harden even more when cool air hits them. You squeeze one breast carefully, trying not to think about how Frankie’s hand is so much bigger and rougher. Then you pinch your nipple experimentally, the walls of your cunt responding with a tight squeeze.
“I wish you could suck on them,” you whisper into the quiet room, squeezing your breast again.
Your ears are ringing, you feel such pleasure imagining Frankie next to you, watching you, that it won’t take you long to come now. Half of your mind is already thinking about how you won’t be able to stop after your first orgasm, already thinking about bending over the armrest, pretending he is fucking you from behind.
“I wish I could, too.”
The voice is so clear now, it feels like he’s in the same room with you. That thought makes you feel empty despite your finger inside of you.
“Can I have another finger?” you whisper, your voice rough from keeping yourself from moaning his name.
“Do you want mine or yours?”
Your eyes fly open to find Frankie standing in the doorway to his room, one hand balled into a fist at his side, palming himself through his boxer shorts with the other. Your hands still, but your heart picks up speed while you’re trying to convince yourself to get up, mumble an apology, and flee to your room. But his gaze pins you to the couch with steely demand, his eyes dark with arousal. You don’t even close your legs.
“Don’t stop.” His voice is breathless, even deeper than it was in your fantasy.
“Frankie,” you start, your husky voice making it sound like a breathy moan.
“Don’t stop,” he repeats, and it sounds so much like a plea that your heart clenches.
You nod and begin to pump your finger in and out of yourself again, in time to his steps as he slowly walks toward the couch. For a brief moment, he towers over you, his presence filling up your entire field of vision before he lets himself fall down next to you, close enough that his thigh brushes yours as he spreads his legs slightly.
The contact makes your skin prick.
He watches you for a while, watches your heaving chest, still uncovered from earlier, watches the movement of your hand inside your pants while your brain fights desperately to catch up. This can’t be real, can it? He can’t be next to you, his guard finally down, all the things you’re feeling for him reflected back at you from his gaze on you. He didn’t shout at you, didn’t chase you away – he joined you.
“Do you still want that second finger?” he asks, fighting to keep his eyes on yours, as they flicker down to your breasts, bobbing up and down.
You nod, not trusting your own voice.
“I want to see.” Another demand that sounds like a desperate plea, like he’s going to starve if you refuse.
You nod again, pulling your finger out of your cunt, wincing from the sudden loss. But the short interruption is worth it when you see his eyes go wide as you pull down your pants slowly, glowing from having all his attention on you. His gaze is hungry, ravenous, as it lands between your legs where your own slick makes you glisten.
“Same position,” he demands once you’re naked from the waist down.
You hook your leg over the armrest again in response, stroking down your stomach, dipping the tip of your finger into your wetness.
“Don’t tease me.” He’s not pleading anymore, he’s not asking you, he’s giving orders now.
You push yourself onto two fingers, your legs quivering. They glide in without any resistance but are met with a vise-like grip when Frankie lets out a hoarse sigh and licks his lips, his eyes fixed on your digits disappearing inside of you. He raises his left hand and hovers it briefly above your left leg as if he means to touch you.
Touch me! Touch me! Touch me! you want to scream.
He balls his hand into a fist then, pulling his cock out of his boxer shorts with the other. You can’t help yourself – your mouth falls open. He is thick and full and throbbing, precum glistening on the tip. Your walls clench around your fingers one more time as you imagine what it would be like to have him inside of you, his strokes setting you on fire. And judging from the way Frankie eyes your fingers with envy, he’s thinking the same.
But then he runs his hand over himself and his deep moan – almost a growl, animalistic, predatory – fills the cabin, pushing out all the air. You watch his broad thumb circle the tip before he moves his hand down again, pushing himself up through his curled fingers – at exactly the same moment you push up into yourself.
You almost come at that sight, at its implication. But he pulls you back from the edge by breaking the silence.
“Are you always this wet when you think about me?” The flush on his cheeks is tinged with insecurity.
“No,” you tell him, unable to resist the urge to tease him. “I’m often even wetter.”
He goes from looking like you slapped him to licking his lip in unspoken thirst. “And how often is that?”
The “constantly” you give him as an answer is breathless as you watch him tighten his hold on himself, the muscles on his arm as strained as they were this morning. You can’t look away.
“And what do you think about?” He masks his eagerness well, but the tinge of it still makes you smile.
You decide to indulge him. “I was thinking about this, earlier. I was thinking about you watching me finger myself.”
“What else?”
You increase the pace of your fingers moving in and out of yourself and he matches it, not missing a single beat. You can almost feel him hit that spot inside of you that you can never quite reach on your own. “I was thinking about you bending me over the armrest, your fist in my hair, while you make me take it.”
He raises his left hand again until it hovers right next to your cheek, his fingers twitching eagerly. But he lowers it again, to your utter disappointment.
Instead, he flashes you a grin. “I think about fucking your throat. A lot.”
You whimper, pressing your thumb against your clit as your core tightens suddenly. The slick sounds of him fucking into his own fist only make it harder not to come right then and there.
“I … I had a one-night stand a few weeks ago,” he admits. “I fucked her against my bedroom wall, but I could only think about you in that tight, black dress you wore that day.”
The day of your office Christmas party.
It should make you feel jealous, green with envy, hearing him admit that. But all you can think about is that he fucked another woman while his thoughts were on you. He had seen you in that dress and had to fuck another woman to blow off steam.
The thought makes you snap.
You add a third finger.
“I still think about it,” he goes on, his eyes once again on the hand between your legs. “About what it would feel like to be nestled deep inside of you, to feel you flutter and clench around me …” He trails off, letting his head fall back to rest against the back of the couch, his eyes firmly shut now.
Just there for you to look at.
And you do – unashamed. You take it all in, starting with his beautiful face, relaxed yet strained at the same time, his mouth slightly open, his eyelids fluttering once in a while. The muscles on his neck are bulging whenever he pushes his head against the backrest in quiet bliss and you wonder what it would feel like to bite and lick at it, to taste his skin on your tongue. But what catches your attention most is how his shirt has ridden up to expose his soft stomach. You want to kiss him there over and over again until he can’t take it anymore and shoves his cock down your throat. And then you let yourself watch his curled fingers – finally watch them – as they are wrapped around his length, as they squeeze and tighten, as his movements become more frantic, and you suddenly feel such longing that goes beyond pure lust. You have to be closer to him.
The hardest thing you’ve ever done is to pull your fingers out of yourself, but the look on Frankie’s face as you straddle him is worth it. His eyes fly open, and he stops moving his hand, as if he’s waiting for you. But he lets his eyes roam over you, over your tits hanging out of your shirt, over your naked thighs, now spread wide, over the longing on your face. You place a hand on the cushion next to his head, your faces so close now that every breath is a shared one. And then you push your fingers inside of yourself again, a rough whimper accompanying the movement. You’re both done teasing.
“Fuck,” Frankie groans as he begins to move his hand again, its knuckles pressing against yours.
You almost scream.
And then he finally touches you, a hand on the back of your head, tangled in your hair. The hold he has on you is firm, it stings, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
“Frankie … I … fuck,” you moan as you begin to bounce up and down on your own fingers.
“Come on,” he breathes. “I want to know what sounds you make when you come.”
You press the heel of your hand against your clit and come undone above him with shuddering breaths. The last bit of strength leaves you and you fall forward, burying your face between his neck and shoulder, sobbing as your orgasm shakes your legs and hand and core. And it won’t stop, not when you still pump your fingers in and out, not while you fuck yourself through it, while his scent fills your mouth and nose, his manly scent of sweat and testosterone, of lust and sex.
When it finally stops, you aren’t strong enough to sit back up.
His mouth is right next to your ear when he says, “Let me taste you.”
His breath irritates your skin, his grip pulls your head back, and your hand trembles as you finally pull out of yourself. You’ve made a mess; you can feel yourself dripping onto his hand, onto his still hard cock. He can feel it, too.
“Please,” he says, a broken, rough sound.
You push the tip of two of your fingers past his lips and watch him close around them eagerly. He sucks you in, his tongue gliding along the digits, circling their tips, licking you clean with broad strokes, all the while holding your gaze, observing you. He pushes his tongue between them, around them, until you’re panting just as hard as he is.
You don’t realize he’s coming until the first rope of cum hits your exposed stomach. He coats his hand in it, your thighs, some of it landing on the couch. And still he doesn’t release your fingers, his moans around them sending vibrations and shivers down your spine. Until you press down on his tongue.
With a soft growl, he releases you.
You’re both panting, both unable to move. And neither of you wants to. You’ve waited too long for this moment to not enjoy it fully while you can, memorizing every detail of his beautiful face, his glowing skin. He looks so good fucked out that you can feel your body responding, tingling at the thought of doing all of this again.
You dip your finger into the release on his stomach and bring your hand up to your mouth. He closes his fingers around your wrist.
“No.”
You huff. “Don’t I get to taste you, too?”
He smirks, then dips the tip of his own finger into his release before roughly coating your lips in it. “We have all week.”
***
Hard Holidays Taglist: @300mirrors | @a-reader-and-a-writer | @amneris21 | @astroboots | @c4psicle | @charnelhouse | @chronic-nosebleed | @cowboy-turtle | @dobbyjen | @fastandfeminist | @frannyzooey​ | @highsviolets​ | @honestly-shite​ | @javierpcna​ | @javierpinme​ | @jettia​ | @krissology​ | @leaiorganas​ | @lowlights​ | @mandocrasis​ | @peonyprose​ | @phandoz​ | @pilothusband​ | @radiowallet​ | @redcrvette​ | @steeeeeeeviebb​ | @thirstworldproblemss​
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mineogi · a month ago
Text
Caught in Time. | P.S.H
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pairing: yan-vampire! seonghwa x f! reader
word count: 8.8k
genre: vampire au, non-idol, yandere au, smut/oneshot.
synopsis: You always feel those eyes watching you, the same ones that terrorizes your sleep and mind daily. They always follow you wherever you go. No matter how many times you told yourself you’re paranoid. You knew deep down that it was only a matter of time until you’re face to face with the person who has been tormenting you . You wonder though—How much time do you really have until then?
warning; smut (oral, penetration.) , oral (f), pussy slapping,, tit slapping, overstimulation, orgasm control, degradation, mind break, dumbification,  multiple orgasm, praise, stockholm syndrome, DUBCON, mind control ? , creampie,raw sex, blood & gore, blood play, seonghwa is obsessed and crazy, choking  housenapping (kidnapping?)minor character death, murder, headless scene in here, mentions of vomit, light talk on vampire, name calling, dirty talk/foul language, squirting , 18+ talk, angst, heavy stalking, messy, light dacryphilia moment, seonghwa is delusional, dom seonghwa, sub reader, nightmares, forced relationship, forced everything. This is filth. praising. Im going over this to proof read and i’ll reput new warning bc i feel there’s more T^T
A/N: a day late again >< but i hope you guys enjoy this one!! i feel very much dirty after this. somewhat proof read so BEWARE there may be a lot mistakes or misspells i’ll fix it tonight… i might do a pt of this of when you wear the red babydoll ;) after the series ofc..also san i’m so sorry v_v.
songs to listen to:
little dark age- MGMT
until i bleed out: The Weeknd.
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It’s freezing, and it was night.
The red babydoll you wore never felt so thin. It was always the same. Same skimpy lingerie, same trees, same abandoned road but it always seems new. You can never remember how you ended up here or that you've been here before and if you did remember your body never made you feel that way it always seems to send chills down your spine as it did right now, the cold seeped into your skin making it so much harder to give yourself warmth when all you felt was your own icy fingertips wrapping around you—still hoping to relieve the bitter freezing coldness you were forced to endure.
It felt so real.
Everything felt too real, the road surface stung your bare feet forcing the feeling of walking on piercingcold ice.
Teeth chattering from the coldness and fear you felt. Your eyes dart around frantically trying to figure out where you are and how you ended up here alone. Were you alone?
The road is so long, each end so far from your view you can’t even really tell if there was any end on any side. The road’s accompanied by multiple trees on the side, that look so much larger than what you think trees usually look like on a day to day basis. Trees that seem to go so much deeper into what looks to be an endless forest. This road was so deserted.
You didn’t want to panic additionally at the moment trying to put your worries at ease with rubbing your frozen hands over your arms, still desperately aching for that sense of warmth.
Breathe that you take in and release comes out in white puffs. The air itself is so cold, forcing a dull pain to course throughout your lungs. Your mind screamed at you to find any sort of shelter or warmth but there’s none—the cold is everywhere.
“You look so delicious, precious.”
Turning around your eyes dart everywhere trying to pinpoint the voice to the person—there’s no one.
“Hello? Who's there? Where am I?”It’s stupid to ask so much questions to a total stranger—one you can’t see. Yet what else is there to do in this current situation. You couldn’t think of anything, especially with your brain turning to ice.
“Soon.” He whispers softly, who you don’t know, you have never known.
Wind begins to pick up, forcing trees to sway in the direction and your hair to blow. The wind is blowing so strong you’re surprised you could even hold yourself up at the moment. Cool air freezes your chest and pricks into your delicate human skin. You want it to stop the pain and to finally feel warmth but you aren’t granted anything, only the echoes of your name being called by his familiar voice. Never seeming to remember anything besides his voice. You’re erased of any memory of the nightmares, the clothes, the cold, the area , however you always remember his voice.
“Y/N…Y/N…..”
Red eyes come full speed at you, the feeling one has before their inevitable doom sets into your body. You can’t move a muscle, forced to stand and accept your fate. Fate of what? You don't know, yet.
“Y/N!”  They scream once more when you see the flash of red hit your face.
Gasping loudly your body jumps up before you can react resulting in a loud noise to fill the silent classroom with everyone’s eyes on you. All your paper’s scattered, textbook on the ground alongside your pencil.
“Miss Y/N. Do you think it’s acceptable to sleep during a lecture?” The old professor’s cold eyes lock onto your’s, the heat that hits your cheeks due to the  embarrassment makes you want to jump into a hole and never come out of it.
“U-uh. No no, I’m so sorry. I won't let it happen next time.” Cursing yourself for stuttering you try to clear your voice of any grogginess it had while trying to wake yourself full up.
“Good, I'm glad to hear. Just a reminder Y/N…there might not always be a next time.” His voice run’s cold. You know that voice, the same voice from your nightmares—it’s not your professor's voice.
Before asking you witness your professor’s irise’s turn to a blood dark red, teeth beginning to form two long  fangs. The class stared at you with the same red eyes but each and every single student wore a huge smile displaying all their fangs to you. Some smiles were so wide they ripped through their own flesh causing blood to flow out their mouth then it’ll heal and repeat until pools of blood stood on the classroom floor.
Everything was filled with blood, the smell forcing your eyes to water and your stomach to turn into endless knots.
“This…Th-his isn’t real. What the hell are you guys?” You scream, finding the strength to start banging your hands on the table, tears making their way down your face, tears of fear. You’re reacting out of fear due to a nightmare you can’t distinguish reality anymore.
They don’t answer you, instead they begin to laugh and cheer. Loud claps echoing the classroom, blood splattering from their hands splattering everywhere causing more fear to run through you.
Shrill screams left your lips when you feel two cold hands grab your arms forcing you still. You still thrash in their hold trying to set yourself free from the unknown predator, your panic radar was going off. The feeling felt like a trap that you could not escape. Gasping when you see all your classmates with their red eyes standing above you, all holding pocket watches.
Through your tears and fight to free yourself you’re able to make out two letters forming on the chalkboard.
P.S
“It’s almost time.” Each student begins to chant through the howls of their laughter. Some laughed while others taunted you.
The mantra continues along with your screams, cries, and pleads for them to let you go. The watches dangling above you click with each second of your torture, you don’t know how you hear every single noise but each one sounds louder in your ears. Those strong hands never leave your arms, not when you kick your desk over, not when you fall off your chair instead they pick you up to your feet.
Grip stronger than any of the ones you ever encountered in years of living. Fingers gripping so tightly you wonder how your bone’s haven’t cracked like sticks yet. You fear only heightening when you feel them push you forward to the crowd of hungry crazed looking students. When they get to you, you don’t feel their touch, only coldness.
Screaming loudly you shoot up from your bed, hand over your heart, others gripping your sheets. Eye’s flickering all over your dark room—confused by nightmares and real life you don’t know if what you’re looking at is your mind or reality. It feels real. You don’t feel cold nor hurt besides the pulsing headache.
The air flows through your room letting the cool wind blow your curtains but the cold doesn’t help you one bit instead now you feel hot and sick, throat incredibly dry, sweat coats your skin, hair sticks to your forehead, and your heart begins beating wildly in you chest when you realize you didn’t leave your windows open before you went to sleep.
Nauseous hits you at the thought of someone in your house. You didn't want to check, giving yourself any excuse how this could have happened. Maybe the wind was strong and it blew it open—it had to be. There was no way you wouldn't hear someone in your room opening your windows.
A ring at your doorbell breaks you away from your thoughts. You wonder who’s ringing your doorbell in the middle of the night. Whoever’s at the door doesn’t stop only continuing their rapid ring’s on your bell .
Removing yourself from the bed you look down at yourself seeing your original pajamas letting out a small sigh in relief. The cold floor reminds you of your nightmare and you rush to close the open window, slamming it shut looking around outside to see if you would notice anything out of the ordinary.
Ring. Ring. Ring
Quickly making your way to the front door you wrap yourself in a flimsy cardigan to cover yourself before opening the door. “Hello??”
Peeking your head out you notice no one. No one was there standing there to greet you, only the front lawn of your house.
But, there’s a small package with your name on it when you look down, it’s red and gold with a bow—it’s more of a present than a package you would say . Picking it up you take it inside slamming your door more harder than you expected but the feeling of being outside was more than enough to freak you out internally and this weird package was given to you.
Who knows what it could be? A bomb? A tracker?
You already suspected having a stalker with the glimpse of shadows behind you, the feeling of being watched was with you 24/7. It felt tiring to always feel watched, you can’t do anything without the thought of them watching you, someone watching you and you have no clue who.
When you woke up you felt them watching you, you brushed your teeth, used the bathroom, showered in a rush to stop the chills always creeping up on you when you feel that stare on you when you’re naked. It feels so much more intense. At lunch you felt them watching you eat until you couldn’t stand it and left on an empty stomach to do your daily errands, you always made yourself do something to distract you.
Trying to shake the fear off of you, you open the lid of trying to see what kind of sick joke this was. When the sight of a red thin piece of clothing drains all color from your face. There was no way this could be possible, only you knew what it would be. This has to be another nightmare.
Yanking the red babydoll out you feel the texture and the cold. It’s exactly the same. You want this to be a nightmare so badly now, not wanting to face the reality of your nightmare coming true. Grabbing  the note placed on top you read the message left for you with a terrible pit in your stomach.
‘You would look marvelous in this, don’t you think? <3. P.S’
Tears fall from your eyes onto the note and babydoll in your hand. Terrified of who this person was and how they knew so much.
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The local arcade was the only place you could get any sort of relief. Loud noises, commotion everywhere to distract your thoughts. Yet, the days like this where it was empty only a few people scattered around barely playing games, most using their phone. You walked to every game examining it, you played here and there when you felt like it, sometimes you would come and just walk around for hours for the day to end. Anything was better than being stuck in one place to feel that intense glare on you. You felt stupid, there were days you went home because the feeling of being stared at became too unbareble. You couldn’t tell anyone about this they would say you were crazy—somedays you didn’t even know if they would be lying if they said you were.
Sleep never came easily to you, the days never went fast enough always dragging on into slow torture and when they did go fast you were demolished with the fact that you would face another one of your mentally destroying nightmares. Your will to live was really running short, every day was a day in hell it felt. Slowly losing friends over the time of being paranoid, contact with your family became limited as they were busy and couldn’t be there to console your every nerve and breakdown about someone coming to get you. You were left alone to suffer the days alone.
A cough comes from behind you breaking you away from your trance to see whoever was behind you.
“Oh u-uh may I help you.” You move towards the game machine that displays two animated characters previewing a fight. Your fearful gaze has him putting his hands up in defense.
“I..I just wanna know if you’re playing this game?” He gestured to the game, his tone nervous like he was scared of coming off rude. “I just really like this game. It's one of my favorites but if you're playing I can totally wait. No big deal.”
Tucking his hands into his overalls he gives you a bright smile and you notice his dimples. Giving him a smile in return you shake your head, “N-No uh actually I was just, um, just seeing how this thing works and stuff.” Cursing yourself for stuttering and acting awkward..
“I can show you, if you want.” Scratching the back of his neck you see he’s nervous and you’re happy you’re not the only one put on edge with human contact. “I’m San!”
“Hi San, I’m Y/N.” Shyly you move away from the gaming machine allowing San to step up it.
“The game strategy is really easy. If you were wondering how to play.” Entering his tokens he watches the game light up theme music blasting through it alerting the player it was booting up.
You watch San win all the matches he plays while he concentrates on winning. It was nice, something normal happening for you for a change.
Giggling when San gets defeated he shoots you a playful glare. “How about you try, let's see what you’re working with.” Now it’s his turn to giggle when you die quicker than him during your turn.
San and you play for a while you slowly learn the ways of the games becoming better and better as time goes on. Through all the fun the feeling of being watched never left you only becoming more noticeable you start to think San is feeling it when he begins looking around for his own answer on why he feels he’s being stared at. You want to believe you’re being paranoid but the hairs standing up on your skin is enough to tell you the truth. Realizing the time and already dreading the walk home you decided it’s time to bid goodbyes.
“I..I have to go now. I hope we can do this again, but it was fun. Goodbye.” Quickly waving and departing from respectfully, you run out the arcade before making a speed walk to your house, hands in pocket, head down, feet never stopping. Every step felt as if the eyes would be coming more quicker. You knew it was the man haunting you from your dreams, the thought of it alone enough to bring tears to your eyes.
Finally your house came into few and you want to make a run for it tired of the feeling of uncertainties. Sweat runs down your neck, you want to cry. But you don’t, you just pick up your pace whilst trying to focus on the goal of getting home rather than the pain that physically and emotionally drains you, your heart is drained of anything it had, life is no longer fun to you, only a mere thing you have to survive for. You wanted your old life back desperately, when you had fun, hung out, and were  full of life.
When you reach your street you pace your steps allowing yourself to catch your breath. The view of your house becoming clearer every step you make closer to your house you make out what looks to be another present left at your doorstep. One that wasn’t there when you left earlier to the arcade.
Approaching the box you read the letter left on top like the last time. You carefully begin to read the note left on top.
‘Take this as a fair warning to not step out of bounds again <3. P.S’
Confused by the note but fearful of the initials you lift the lid of the box only to wish you hadn’t. The head of the boy you just met at the arcade was there, lifeless. San’s face held a fearful expression that was stuck there permanently, those wide dead eyes boring into your head, a picture you’ll never be able to get out of your mind. The whole neighborhood could hear your piercing screams as you flung the lid of the box moving away from the dead person. When his neck was cut off it looked like it had been shredded, clumps of meat and strings of bloody skin hanging from his neck leading to his face. You couldn’t even see his jaw perfectly at how brutal his head was ripped off.
The smell of the blood, and smell of death had you close to vomiting on top of your porch with the dead head. It’s when your neighbors come out worried from your scream.
“Please someone call the cops.” You scream holding a hand over your mouth at the sight of the head to control your sob.
How could someone do something so inhumane and heartless? Who could have done this so quickly?
When your neighbor’s husband comes to your porch to see the commotion he’s met with the sight you were forced to see.
“You should get away from here, come I'll take you to my wife and I's house until the police come and check this out.” He tries to help your nerves by pointing to his wife who was at the front porch of their house with a robe wrapped around her. You follow him making sure to not look at the lifeless head again focusing on the goal of making it to the warmth of their house while you wait for the police.
“So you’re saying you got home and on your porch and saw this head of a kid you met in the arcade just waiting for you.” The policeman recites what you told him while his partner and backup take the lifeless head to their car to have it investigated more for the upcoming case this would bring.
“Yes. I know it sounds sketchy but you can check camera footage from buildings and you can see me walking home. I don’t know who could have done this so quickly, I just saw him no more than three hours ago.” You feel guilty even though you shouldn't but you know the reason for San’s death was because of you. You don’t know what you did that was so horrible wrong to upset this monster this terribly. Guilt coated your statement and you hope it doesn’t make you come off more sketchy than the story already sounds.
At first you thought if you really did want to notify the police but the more you thought about it and the more your neighbors talked to you inside. San would have come up missing and if they would have any trace to you and you had hid or threw the head out could have you falling in more trouble than confessing the truth and hoping they would believe you.
“Yes we have seen the footage of you running home but I assure you, you are not a suspect. We usually would have you come down to the station to view suspects but with your whole situation of having a stalker I think it’d be best if you stay home.” The cop tries to console your shaken state with a warm smile and tries to ease any worry you have but you still feel those eyes boring into the back of your skull.
“I know this must be very tough for you so I’ll dispatch a car to come patrol the area for a few days to make sure the coast is clear… Now go inside, make sure you lock the doors and warm up, kid. ” With that he finishes off waiting for you to get into the house before driving off calling for another car to come down and check the area more thoroughly.
You understand there’s not much you can do, they don’t have any leads yet, only initially and who knows how many people have the same one. You were given reassurance, yet you didn’t feel safe at all. Deep down you knew what was bound to happen. You didn’t know how far to an extent it could have gone and your left with the guilt of an innocent person’s murder.
The tears stream down your face when you realize San was no longer alive and met a brutal fate due to you. You felt so sick with yourself, it might as well have been you who had killed him. At least then you would have been able to sleep at night knowing the monster was you instead of someone roaming the dark streets.
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Days went on slowly and agonizing. You stood home never leaving your house not wanting anyone to suffer the same death San had faced. The dark circles under your eyes, chapped lips, untamed hair from your restless hair pulling and knots forming. Your life was crumbling in front of your eyes faster than you can understand and take hold of it. Deep feelings of hatred and pain ran through you, grieving a boy you met at an arcade for a few hours wasn’t deep as people knew. You felt stupid feeling so work up over this but the picture of his lifeless face never left your mind. His dead face and red eyes are the only images your brain gives you, you wake up, when you sleep, when you eat. Anything you do you’re reminded of everything you wish to forget.
The police never got any suspect from San’s death as he just disappeared mysteriously with only his head being left behind. All suspect’s would point to you but the evidence of you making your way home was your saving grace from jail. They decided to keep trying but you knew your short lived friend would never get the justice he deserved.
When things started to look up and you began to actually think of things beginning to become more bearable, until the night when you finally slept with no nightmare, no eyes, and San wasn’t heavy on your mind. You had hoped maybe things were getting better for you.
Then the sudden crash of glass breaking sets your body into flight or fight. All the time you felt the stare on you, the dreams, the presents, it was in due time you met your designated fate as well. At first you thought it would happen the same night San had died but it was getting better so you hoped for the best—you hoped, and you were given nothing but worse fate.
You didn’t want to face the intruder everyone knew those dumb people in movies who would try to be a superhero to die. This was real life. You needed to leave this house as soon as you could. Doing your best to tip for through the house phone in hand looking to find any sort of safety.
“I can hear your heart racing Y/N.” It’s a soft whisper.
That voice. You know the voice, the one that always taunts your dreams and you understand this person can’t be human, any sense having a person can see this or unless they were a high top stalker that could get into your brain and play with you the way this guy does. That voice that has your blood running cold and brain panicking.
To your worst fear you see the front door blocked off by your own fridge. You don’t know when your house became your own trap or how it got this way, you almost believe this was another one of your deep nightmares. Your mind wasn’t working to its full capacity, just your brain still trying to work fully despite the fuzzy feeling of sleep that warped around it. This felt like a true horror game you didn’t want to be in.
Quickly thinking of anything you make your way to the basement to find a hiding spot and hope they can leave while you contact the police but to your horror your phone is dead and you feel your heart break not understanding how this could have happened if you had it charging.
Finding an old storage closet filled with your old clothes surrounded by other old furniture and belongings. You decided it’s the only best place to go if you were gonna need to be in a hiding spot you didn’t want to crouch and risk your legs giving up on you. This closet was big enough for you to snuggle through to the corner and stay hidden enough when opened up.
“Precious don’t try to hide, We both know I can smell your sweet scent. I don’t like to play game’s little one.”
Hiding between the clothes in your hiding spot you prayed he was just lying about his words but deep down you knew it was all true. Coming out wasn’t an option, your fear was much greater than your will to comply with him. His voice was so sweet only pushing you to the brink of being petrified, he wasn’t upset, he enjoyed this. Tears never stopped, only gathering up behind your eyelids every time they fell down your cheek. You curse yourself for being so dumb enough to forget a weapon, a knife, a bat anything could have helped but you were weaponless and weak. How could you have not thought this through after watching movies on situations like this.
Seonghwa takes in the silence for a good minute giving you the decision of what you wanted to do until you made it clear with your silence—or what you thought to be silence. He could still hear your ragged breathing and your terrified heart beating against your chest rapidly.
“I see. I’m done playing nice my sweet Y/N so I’m giving you one more try, to the count of three before I go in that closet and drag you out. So choose between which option you want. It can be easy or hard.”
Your blood runs cold when he mentions your hiding spot as if it was obvious where you were. You felt stupid and terrified now. Who were you to try and outsmart something like him? Nothing but a useless human. Train of thoughts being interrupted when you begin hearing his footsteps coming closer to the closet, stopping suddenly.
“One.” He takes a step.
“Two.” Another.
You can’t move afraid of what is behind the closet. Tears cloud your vision and you can’t prevent the tiny whimper that leaves your mouth, quickly putting your hand over your mouth to silence any other noise that dare escape. Hoping if you made yourself small enough you could disappear from him.
“Thre—”
Forcing yourself to snap out of your fearful hold only fearing what would happen if you hadn’t pushed the door open ending the small game of hide and seek.
“Please” You sob hoping for him to take pity on you, you don’t want to die not at the hands of him, you know it'll be a long painful death. Hands clasped together you cry in front of him, eyesight blurred with tears you can’t make out the person in front of you only frantic on trying to be released from him as quickly as you can.
But little did you know he had over plans. Opposite of everything you wanted, he was sure he would never let you go again. Fingers reach to caress your cheek, smudging your tears all over your cheek. “You know you were really close to being punished, baby. Don’t test my word again…Okay?”
Ignoring everything you said, it dawns on you that he doesn’t hear anything you say, or chooses not to pay you any mind letting your words fall deaf to his ears while he touches you in such a loving way making tears fall more rapidly down your face. It’s like talking to a wall. You had no other choice but to accept this but you can't bring yourself to yet. Before you can even move he speaks while removing his hand from your face.
“Don’t even think of running, I’ll catch you the first step you take and break both of your legs.” Seonghwa threatens you by taking another step in front of you to which you take one back. Your movements don’t go unnoticed though and he can’t help but roll his eyes at you in irritation.
“You’re being so fucking difficult, my patience is running real thin with you baby so you might want to think your next few moves with a little more sense, but I know that can be hard for a small brain someone like you have.” He grabs your arm in a vice-like grip quicker than you can comprehend. But, his eyes tell you to try his word, wanting a reason to hurt you a little.
After all you did this, pretending you didn’t take his signs, didn’t accept his loving gifts. The dreams he gave you showing his love was never enough for you and he was getting fed up with waiting to take what was already his from the day he laid his eyes on you.
Seonghwa watches you cry harder in his grip and he chuckles. It’s so cute, you cry from the fear you feel, it’s so strong it shakes your body in his grip. A very pleasant sight he would like to take in more but he needed you out of the basement.
“You’re gonna follow me, if you try anything I won’t hesitate to break your arm in half and leave you to stay in pain down here to freeze.” Leaning down he whispers in your ear as his grip becomes stronger on you causing pain to shoot throughout your arm. Moving away with a small peck to the side of your head he pulls you towards the stairs leading back to your house, you flinch quickly realizing your fate lies entirely in the hands of a blood thirsty being.
Midway up the stairs he looks behind him, eyeing you with a crazy look. “My name's Seonghwa—.” He lets it sink in.
“—Park Seonghwa.” Smiles grow wider when he watches the facts hit you.
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The weeks held captive in your own home by a stranger who was a vampire was probably the worst thing to ever happen to one or maybe to some it was their dream but now it felt like a nightmare with Seonghwa.
He was everywhere. He watched you like a hawk and never let you out of his sight. Not when you needed to shower, when you slept, ate, sat on your bed did nothing—he was there. Only giving you the privacy of using the bathroom alone but he insisted he stay on the outside but even with that it felt suffocating.
You remember when you begged him to not watch you undress and shower but he told you he watched you plenty of times before, that he saw way more than what you thought he had, that day it hit you that you’ll never be alone again, not if Seonghwa was awake and alive but he would always be alive so that meant eternity for you. Through all the weeks, your discomfort and pain never ceased to end, only becoming stronger. One of the most painful feelings ever, more worse when you couldn’t even pinpoint what part of you was even aching or hurting.
Everything was hurting, all the time.
Everyday that passes seems to only be filled with need and pain. The need you felt came from somewhere unknown. You didn’t understand where this feeling came from but you tried to brush it off by doing simple things such as reading books with Seonghwa, watching movies with Seonghwa, eating with Seonghwa.
All through it Seonghwa never said much, never showed you his angry side anymore, he never pushed himself on you but that never meant he was the savior he made himself out to be. It took you around a week to realize your body ache, the wanting and needing was all Seonghwa’s doing. He was making you feel weak and as the time went on it would only grow worse until you gave into him.
Escaping crossed your mind numerous times, it was the only sane part you had inside you at this moment but you were trapped in your own house by a vampire who has been watching you for months. If you went to anyone you were sure they would be killed in a second. Remembering the time Seonghwa told you about him being a vampire so casually and going on to say how vampires had been perceived wrong by humans, they were not ones to interfere with society only when needed, if they ever had to feed on a human they wouldn’t leave two bite marks but chose chunks of the human instead to quench their thirst. He told you this over what he called a dinner date one evening
You never knew if he was lying about the chunks of flesh vampires like but you were way too scared to ask but you knew one thing—you never wanted to find out.
Before you knew about Seonghwa,  you felt you had an undisclosed timer ticking away on you. You thought maybe knowing that he got what he wanted, to be your life, that maybe that feeling would go away but it only felt worse as the days went on. That feeling of need only grew stronger and the ache became more unbearable. Your body has grown more scientifically weaker, barely being able to concentrate, only thinking of him.
Now you were here, a weak mess on your bed with a terrible headache and what felt like a terrible fever.
“Give it up baby, you know i’m the only one who can take away the pain, the ache, the discomfort it can all be gone…just let me help my baby out.” His words soothe your brain, melting the aching headache you felt for the past two weeks. The feeling of the release on your head had you wanting more relief from all the pain he put you in, now he was the only one who can take it away. You couldn’t ignore how your heart sped up when he called you his baby, you tried your hardest to ignore it though.
You don’t know when he entered your room or when he stood in front of the bed, all you knew was he was the key to your ill feeling. It made sense, you needed him.
“Please.” A small plea leaves your lips looking at the man you grew so used to. He was the one you needed. After so many days of pain and nonstop headaches growing worse each passing day never giving you a break was enough to have you equivalent to putty in his hands.
“Please what?”
Seonghwa is playing slow, of course he is. He knew it would only take a little more until you would break, he would admit you did put up a greater fight than he thought you would. But they always say the sweetest victory always comes after the hardest battles. The time with you, bonding with you, making you weaker for him. He was having the time of his life watching you beg for him, pleading for him to help you. After messing with your little weak human brain it was a battle you were destined to be defeated in. The look in your eyes showed defeat—Seonghwa couldn’t be more proud, he has waited so long, been so patient, slowly breaking you into what he truly needed you to be.
“Please make it feel better, please help.” The feeling inside began to grow harder to deal with by the moment you were close to tears. He was torturing you for so long you can’t help but break, any relief you could feel was slipping through your fingertips.
You wanted to hate him for making you suffer, for all the torture and unnatural pain he made you feel but you needed him to make it better. Your mind screamed at you to take him in with no questions asked to rid yourself of this feeling.
Figuring your words worked for him by the way he walked closer to your bed and sat leaning on the headboard aside from you. Beckoning you with his finger you scrambled to get up desperate to do anything.
“Where does it hurt baby?”
“Everywhere.” It really does.
“It wouldn’t have been this bad if you would’ve just given in, I wouldn’t have had to break you this way.”
With no other choice you believe him, nodding, “I’m sorry.” You apologize hoping it’ll be enough for him to stop prolonging making you feel better. You didn’t think how he’ll make you feel better but you knew he could, he had to be the only one.
Something had to give, you weren't sure how long you could take it. The waves of heat that rolled through your body burned from your head to your toes only to shoot back up and settle itself in the pit of your stomach. You felt so feverish you couldn’t tell if it was sweat or your arousal pooling around your inner thighs. Hoping it was sweat and not your body betraying you yet that's where all the heat and need pooled at most.
“I’ll make it feel better, my love.” He murmurs into your hair pressing soft kisses to your scalp.
Each kiss blew away every tension floating around your head and body, you didn’t notice yourself leaning into his touch wanting more of him and his comfort. You were deprived of so much comfort from him by pushing him away it was coming back like a bunch of tumbling bricks. All of it was so overwhelming.
“Can I take a guess where it hurts?”
Nodding, you don’t trust your voice anymore to help you. You just needed him to do it.
“Is it here?”  He touches your neck.
You shake your head and his hand moves lower.
“Here?” He asks to stop above your pajama shorts, practically playing the worst prank on you. “No?”
His fingers finally met your clit that was hidden by the layers of clothes you swore. Each layer hides away your most intimate parts. “Here?”
Fingers pressing into your pearl rolling it slowly. The feeling of his fingers on you had the pressure rolling off your body, his touch was making everything feel better, you found yourself struggling to not get addicted to the feeling of his fingers playing with you.
“Y-Yes.” Shamefully admitting to where most of your discomfort and pain was coming from.
Seonghwa removes his fingers from your body despite the cry leaving your mouth when he moves away from you. “Shh, Let me make you feel good.” Large hands rubbing your thighs apart he begins pulling your panties and pajamas off your body, doing everything slowly just for the fun of teasing you. There was nothing you could do but to take what he would give you.
Kissing every part of your body, Seonghwa plays with your body like it’s his toy, and it is. He nips at your skin leaving marks along the way to your soaking core. He never bites too hard, only giving you a second of sharp pain when his fangs would graze against your skin, sometimes leaving beads of blood to show on your skin but he always soothed it with a soft kiss. Never did you think pain would go so well with pleasure but Seonghwa was showing a whole other world that was getting you hooked on the feeling he gives you.
When he’s face to face with your leaking cunt he dives in not giving you a moment to accept the pleasure but forcing your body to allow the pleasure be forced upon you. All you could do was moan and grind your pussy against his face for any type of more friction you can get. You want this feeling to last forever although tirs overwhelms you so much, the way you’re letting him take control of you like this, you can’t help but let your ignorance turn your life into bliss for the moment only accepting the pleasure he was giving you.
Sucking and licking your clit, Seonghwa undresses himself quickly, never once letting his mouth depart  from your soaking wet pussy, doing everything in his power to continue his feast on you. “I’m gonna fuck you, I know my baby can’t take any more pain. Such a strong girl but let me take care of you.”
He looks so good, better than he usually does, you don’t know if the pleasure is wrapping around your mind but the way his mouth glist in the moonlight of your room from your juices, or when it opens when he finally rubs his cock while easing his sensitive tip into your sopping hole pulling back to enter the tip again teasing you with only a little piece of his cock.
Eye snapping open when you feel the stinging sensation on your tits, before you can acknowledge how Seonghwa raises his hand up only to bring it back down to strike your sore breast harder this time.
“Look at me when I’m fucking you. You should be thankful I actually chose to help a slut like you out and give you relief your pussy desperately needs” Finally he thrust into you slowly letting you feel all of him only to have his thrust become harder. The will to keep your eyes open is slipping with each shot of pleasure given to you.
“After so many weeks of being fucking hard headed I finally got you where I wanted you, don’t you like it? you don’t have to do anything but let me fuck you for as long as I live, Yeah?”
“I-I’m not a s-slut.” Ignoring his question you defend yourself, pathetic due to the obscene noises your pussy was making every time he thrusted back into you. The feeling was something otherworldly, no pain, just pure bliss.
Seonghwa watched your fucked out expression, taking it all in. The way your pussy lips wrapped around his cock so perfectly. In all his years of living you were the most defining thing he ever fucked, he knew he couldn’t let you go. If he had to make you addicted to his dick then he would gladly do so.
“You’re not a slut? But you look like one right now, taking my cock like you own it?” He asked while he reduced his quick pace to a more slow brutus thrust letting the tip of his cock kiss your cervix with every thrust, nudging your g-stop with every slow grind.
“Wanna be a good girl? Hm?”
“Y-Yes, please…feel good.” Moaning out every word you hold onto every pleasurable feeling you feel.
Sweat glistening over his bare body, sliding down his chiseled chest down to his happy trail as he held back on giving you the most roughest fuck of your life. He could already see yourself falling into the pleasure, it wouldn’t be long until you exploded. Leaning down to take your lips into his, he kisses you with desperation, yearning to feel all of you on him. It’s everything he ever wanted, frozen heart swelling with love, cock swollen hard from desire—you were perfect for him.
“Come on my cock then maybe I’ll see if you’re not a slut who only thinks of getting fucked.” Chuckling he lies through his teeth, he lives off seeing you break down to nothing but a hot mess from his degrading words. Fingers flicking at your swollen clit was the tiny push you needed sending you into another session of immense overwhelming pleasure.
Your pussy walls flutters around his cock in an orgasm that shoots you off to the skies to have you on the soft clouds. For a few seconds, everything around you turns to while behind your eyelids. The painful ache, the arousal being caused by your captor, even the heat coursing through your body feels like fireworks exploding inside your body radiating heat. Seonghwa gave you the relief you desperately needed.
“Mm, only whore’s come with a face like that…It looks like you are unfixable. Maybe you were meant to be this way, you do a fantastic job at laying here like a cocksleeve.” Seonghwa spits out watching you intently, your mouth letting out silent screams, and gasping for air while your eyes roll back. Taking pride in the fact he can get this out of you, even if it took him this long to get, this was all he needed in this world to be content.
Deep down you know there’s no logical answer to Seonghwa’s request. But you still tried with everything to deny anything he said about you, but every degrading word he threw at you only had you squeezing and fucking yourself up into him like the cocksleeve he claimed you to be trying to hold onto every second of him fucking through your orgasm, you couldn’t bring yourself to care for your actions that were showing your words to be a lie.
Too wrapped in your orgasm to notice anything, it’s when he removes his cock from your heat letting your juice fall onto the sheets, the whine you want to release doesn’t get a chance to escape when you're brought back to reality by Seonghwa’s palms striking down directly on your sensitive cunt resulting in you letting out a broken so. Instead a wail of pleasure and pain leave your mouth, hands quickly go to make their way to protect your sensitive abused cunt.
“Move your hands.” It’s a short command, one in a tone that has your hands jerking back in submission.
Continuing his torture on your sensitive cunt. Each slap to your swollen pussy was torturous but always left with some pleasure when his palm would hit your sensitive clit leaving you aching for more, close to another orgasm. Your wails are heard when he delivers another hard slap to your clit followed by his fingertips tapping to your swollen nub rapidly, enough to send you into another mind-numbing orgasm.
Seonghwa watches your thighs tremble, your pussy clenching around nothing while your thighs tried to close around his hand, but his other hand prevents it forcing your legs apart now continuously rubbing your overstimulated clit, loving when your cunt finally squirted all over the bed leaving a puddle below you.
“There you go baby, let it all out. Such a good slut making such a mess everywhere.”
Shaky hands back trying to block your pussy from the ongoing pleasure you could not escape but the growl let out by Seonghwa forces them back onto the sheet giving him free access to thrust three fingers into your soaking pussy, fingers set at a brutal pace bound to make you make a mess of yourself again.
“S-stop too much.” You plead out with a sob, it’s short lived when a much louder moan breaks through your mouth, legs tensing while Seonghwa fingers never let up on their relentlessly pace watching you lose it again on his finger again, squirting on his fingers and the already soaked bed sheets you cry out tears of overstimulation. Tons of pleasure hitting you all over.
Removing His soaked hand he began pumping his cock releasing more pre-cum, slipping back into you with one fluid thrust he felt your warm tight walls flutter around his cock squeezing him tight when your body got used to the feeling of him nestled deep inside you.
“One more baby, one more and you’ll be a good girl.” Seonghwa nips at your neck while speaking thrust, never stopping or missing a beat to have every thrust leaving you breathless all the time.
“I can't, I can’t.” You cry hands grabbing onto his shoulder pulling him close to you despite your word.
“Yes you can baby, I know you can.” His thrust never stop, not when you beg, not when he speaks.
Moving down to nip and suck on your tits, his hand grasps the sides of your throat giving gentle pressure to the sides, the other hand finds itself rubbing messily on your clit, bringing you to that painful euphoric state you felt so many times tonight.
“Coming so easily on my cock, like you were made for it. You’re such a good slut for me.” He continues his degrading words smirking when you clench around his cock when he talks to you in such a manner.
Falling into the cloud of haze you make out his deep ruby red eyes glowing at you, he’s finally got you. All the pain was gone. Leaving you to bask in your feeling of relief and pleasure. Removing his hand from your neck he watches you gasp for air and shake under him uncontrollably.
Hips stuttering messily, “Fuck, squeezing me so tight baby, fucking shit ah.” Moaning loudly he adds another bite mark this time close to your jugular vein letting the blood sleep into his mouth while releasing all he had inside you. Painting your insides white with his seed fucking you thoroughly with him. Sucking slowly letting the blood pool around your wound only to lick it right up sucking more in the system to let it pool back and fall—always licking his mess up.  “So good.”
No longer thrusting into you, setting himself still in you. Keeping himself deep within you, your flesh with his fangs while nestled deep in your heat with his cock. He wanted to be wrapped around you all time everyday. Your sweet blood supply to him only tossed his obsession with you deeper.
Letting him take all of you, you wait for him to pull out and release his fangs from you with a loud moan. You could only feel the ache in your pussy and body. This time an ache you could get used to. It felt so refreshing than the full painful ache you had before that only irritated you and made you weak. This one made you weak in all the right senses, it could send you off to peaceful slumber at any moment.
Moving away from you he leaned back on his feet watching his come and your juices escape your spread hole sliding down between your asscheecks to the bed, dirtying the room even more than they were before. “So fucking messy.” His thumbs spread the juices over your swollen lips brushing your clit causing you to jerk in his grasp and close your legs. He couldn’t help but laugh.
“So reactive.” Was all you hear before letting the darkness consume you for the night.
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Many questions you found the courage to ask Seonghwa as time went on with him keeping you in your house but there was one you never dared ask. Deep down you knew the answer but feared by it most you chose to forget it and instead always focusing on the pleasure Seonghwa would give you wherever your thoughts overcrowded your head again.
He always knew how to make you feel better.
But, he also knew how to get you on edge real
quick, fearful of anything he could do to you. It was why you never opened your mouth too much, you learned to become submissive and allow the way of life he wanted for you. Was it crazy? Yes, but you allowed yourself to think lightly of it, passing it as he loves you so much he decided to lock you away to protect you. You and Seonghwa’s home became your new world literally.
Seonghwa knows you best, when your little brain thinks, or when you fake a smile, when you cry to yourself because you know the long talk of being grateful and proud of how he takes care of you will begin if he catches you crying. Some days he pities you leaving you to cry to yourself, he knows everyone has their days.
So when you guys lay in bed cuddling letting the tv hum lowly. Seonghwa caresses your face, cold fingertips brushing against the apples of your cheeks dragging them to your jaw and up again in a soothing rhythm. Eye’s fluttering shut you almost doze off into sleep, the soothing feeling he did was enough to lull you into a peaceful sleep.
“I know the question you’ve been so curious about, and it’s yes when the time is right again you will become one of me so we can be in this beautiful love for eternity.”
A small kiss is pecked in your nose, you don’t feel it though only feeling terror at what your future now holds. Blood running cold, throat closing up you try to contain your heartbreak of knowing the truth of your up to come eternal sufferings with him. You will forever be trapped with him.
Seonghwa would always be grateful to have caught you just in time.
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COMING SOON.
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imagining-in-the-margins · 7 months ago
Text
My Boss’s Daughter (S.R.)
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Request: Reader is Hotch's daughter & younger than Spencer but understood him better than others. And he meets her at Haley's funeral & helps her recover. She goes to "visit her dad" but really she's just there to see him and then they're hanging out and they are like making out or something and almost get caught by Hotch.
A/N: This has been a long time coming. I hope you all think it’s worth it! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Adults with age difference (21/30), penetrative sex, fingering, unprotected sex, degradation, reference to “daddy issues,” references to oral sex, physical fight, choking (hand on neck - no pressure), breathplay (hand over mouth/nose)
NOTE: Reader is Hotch and Haley’s daughter, but there is absolutely nothing in the fic that stops you from believing that she’s adopted! Imagine away if needed!
Word Count: 11.3k
MASTERLIST
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Being Aaron Hotchner’s daughter meant there were a few unfortunate and unavoidable truths about my life.
For example, having all of my family under one roof was a rare, special occurrence. Attendance at school ceremonies and holidays was never promised, and I had to enjoy every second with my father, because there was no telling when he would have to leave.
But more than anything, being his daughter meant that I would never, ever be able to find someone willing to date me.
Trust me. I’ve tried.
If the thousand-yard stare wasn’t enough to scare them off, my dad’s not-at-all-subtle flashes of his two different holsters certainly would be. Not to mention his history as a prosecutor, reminding you that he didn’t even need a gun to end your life.
And god, did he let every potential suitor know it. It didn’t matter if you were a girl, boy, or non-binary person, my father did not discriminate in scaring the absolute shit out of anyone who showed an interest in me. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume it wasn’t on purpose, but I wasn’t dumb enough to believe that.
But that night, the first time I’d come home in almost a year, it wasn’t my father I was hoping to see when I walked through the doors of my childhood home.
I was there to see Spencer.
It had been three years since I last saw him, and the circumstances were... uncomfortable. After months of helping me deal with my mom’s death, I’d made the terrible decision to tell him the truth of how I felt. At least, I tried to. I only got about halfway through the confession before he realized what was happening and all but took off running.
It wasn’t even because of my dad, although I wished I could have blamed him. The truth was that despite being a legal adult at eighteen, I was still just a kid to Spencer. Part of me was convinced that was all I’d ever be in his eyes. But another part of me, the louder, stupider part, told me to give it another shot.
That was how it started.
“Hello! It’s just me! Anyone home?” I called as I opened the door, stepping into the familiar space that almost felt foreign from my time away. When no one answered, I followed the faint sound of video games coming from upstairs.
Sure enough, once I reached his room, I spotted Jack through the crack in the door. Beside him sat Spencer, his identity clearly indicated by the worn out Converse that bounced on the floor.
“Knock knock,” I announced, causing the two boys to nearly jump from their seats. While Jack recovered and quickly returned to his game, the same couldn’t be said for Spencer.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come…” his voice died before the sentence finished, his mouth hanging open and the book in his hands falling a few inches under his slackened grip. “... in,” he mumbled when he finally tore his eyes off my body and brought them back to my face.
There was no comfort for him there either, because all he found was a devilish grin. He took his defeat in grace though, clearing his throat before he finally succeeded in his third attempt, “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Hey, Dr. Reid. It’s been awhile,” I answered as calmly as I could. I really should have prepared better, but it didn’t seem like he was any better off.
“… Yeah. It has,” he absently responded. It was blatantly obvious that he was checking me out, to the point that it was almost embarrassing. But he was simply too cute for me to mind. I even gave him a new angle, entering the room and going straight to Jack.
“Hey little dude. Excited to see me?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered under his breath.
“What a charmer,” I said with a roll of my eyes and a ruffle of his hair. Once he’d smacked my hand away, I turned back to Spencer... who was still staring at me with his jaw dropped and eyes stuck to my cleavage.
“Does my outfit look weird?”
“What?” he squeaked as he jumped back to the real world, “No!”
“Are you sure? I just got it and it feels weird.”
It was a lie. It wasn’t a new outfit, but he wouldn’t know any better. He might’ve if he paid closer attention to the clothes instead of the person beneath them, but there was no way that was going to happen. Especially not when I started tugging at the already too-tight fabric.
“No, it’s not weird. It’s not weird at all,” he stammered, his voice getting higher with every word, “W-Why do you think it’s weird?”
“I don’t know. You’re kind of… staring.”
I didn’t miss the way his legs crossed in a subtle attempt to hide any sign of his very obvious attraction to me. If all the fidgeting and squeaking didn’t give him away, the bright red blush on his face certainly did.
“Am I? Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that I-I like it. It looks nice.”
My smile that followed was genuine, brought about by the realization that within a minute, we’d already made it farther than we ever had before.
“Thanks,” I chuckled, “You look nice, too.”
The nice moment swiftly ended with Jack’s equally clear disgust.
“Stop being gross,” he scoffed, still not looking up from his game.
“What if I told you that you look handsome, Jack?” I teased, reaching down to wrap my arms around him from behind. I never made it though, as he slid down in his seat until he hit the floor.
“Whatever. I’m leaving if you guys are gonna be weird.”
He was already out the door, and I was pleasantly surprised that while Spencer watched the boy leave, he hadn’t tried to stop him. Honestly, I’m not sure he realized what it would mean for Jack to leave until he was already alone with me.
“He didn’t give you too much trouble, right?”
Spencer looked up at me, and I watched as his eyes flickered all over the area surrounding me, trying to find something else to focus on. If the purpose was subtlety, he was doing a terrible job. I might not be a profiler, but I’ve lived with one long enough to know what people do when they’re nervous.
“No, he was great. Normal. You know,” he chuckled.
The nerves would only get worse as I continued to approach him, waiting until I was only a few inches from him when I said, “Great? You must know a different Jack. He’s always a little devil for me.”
From that distance, it was easier to track his line of sight— not that it ever strayed that far. The most interesting pattern, however, was the one darting between my hands, lips, and eyes. I waited for it to repeat until our gazes locked before I asked, “So… do you have any other plans tonight?”
“Hm? No,” he answered quickly before pausing, “Just… Just going home.”
“That’s too bad. It’s Friday night. Even my dad is on a date.” I laughed, less awkwardly and more lightheartedly than he had. The sound strangely seemed to shift the mood in the room more than my actual presence had. Spencer’s body almost relaxed, a breath of relief leaving him at the same time as he stood up. Despite having grown, he was still taller than me.
“Yeah, I guess that’s why I’m the babysitter of the group,” he said with a shrug.
Was he trying to be taller than me to reassert his dominance in the encounter, or was I just being insane? Was I projecting what I wanted him to be doing? The questions in my head were endless, which was odd considering how much energy it took to formulate coherent sentences.  
“Is it weird, thinking about how you used to babysit me?” I asked with a sheepish smile.
“Well, I never really babysat you,” he started, his confidence dwindling with each word spoken, “You weren’t… you know… a baby.”
It was an interesting statement. Interesting because it distanced me from the fact that for the vast majority of our relationship, I was either a minor or only barely an adult, but also because it was the exact opposite of what he’d told me the last time I spoke to him. Granted, he had been caught off guard by the teenager he was helping cope with the death of her mother suddenly confessing her love for him.
“Hmm. I seem to recall you very avidly insisting that I was ‘still a young kid who had lots to learn,’” I said, with air quotes and all.
Spencer continued to surprise, with his voice jumping an octave and his eyes narrowing when he replied, “Did I?”
“Did you forget? I thought you didn’t do that.”
His mouth hung open, a small squeak leaving it before he took a sharp inhale.
“W-Well, I mean, I have an eidetic memory, so I remember things better than most people, particularly my short-term memory, but after three years, I’m bound to forget some detail,” he explained, becoming more and more defensive while he simultaneously backed up.
The only problem was he was backing up into several pieces of furniture, followed by a wall. Even worse for him, I stalked forward at the same rate until his back was against the wall of my little brother’s room. The same little brother who was definitely old enough to know what was happening and was not going to save him.
“Is something wrong, Dr. Reid? You look flushed.” I pouted to hide the amusement from my tone, but the way he audibly swallowed told me that he was aware of my intentions.
So, there was nothing to stop me from taking it another step further. Reaching up, I pressed the back of my hand against his forehead. He was warm, just as I’d expected. I could only imagine how much warmer his cheeks were as they took on a dark red shade.  
But just before I could say anything else, Spencer slipped from between me and the wall, leaving me almost falling forward into the plaster.
“I-I should probably go,” he urged, sidestepping to the door like he was too afraid to put his back to me.
“So soon? I was hoping we could catch up.”
The sadness in my voice was genuine, and I think that was the reason it succeeded in stopping him dead in his tracks. His body froze, his eyes stuck on mine even as they fell to the ground.
“About what?” he mumbled, too scared to ask more, and too intrigued to leave.
“Our lives, I guess,” I shrugged. When he just continued to stare at me, waiting for a better answer, I sighed. I guess it was time to get real, since I figured out that worked. “I know it probably didn’t mean much to you, but you’re a very important person to me. The way you helped me through everything when I was younger…”
We both shifted in place, letting the inevitable tension of the topic wash over us and start to recede. It’d been three years since my mom died, and three years since I’d seen Spencer. But that time apart didn’t stop me from constantly reliving those days in my head. In doing so, I was just as often reminded of the one person who always managed to make it better. To make it bearable.
With a crackling voice and tears just starting to line my eyes, I admitted the truth that was hidden beneath the flirting, “I just wanted to thank you. For being there for me.”
“(Y/n), you don’t have to thank me for that,” Spencer answered before I even had time to take a breath. It was just like him to say that. The ever so humble, oblivious genius.
“I know. But I want to.”
As I approached him, his arms fell to his sides, his mouth curved in a solemn half-smile that remained even when I wrapped my arms around him. I knew that hugs weren’t really his thing, but we’d had our fair share of them, and he’d never complained before. Judging by the way he eventually reciprocated, I don’t think he minded.
In a way, he held me the same as he had before. He was careful, applying only enough pressure to prove his presence, but never enough to hurt. But this time was also different. His hands that had once stayed at my shoulder blades moved, roaming further down my back until they rested just above my hips.
And in a shocking turn of events, I was the one who pushed away. I was the one who felt the spark from his fingers spread through my body like a wildfire in a drought-ridden prairie. Right before my hands withdrew entirely, I used them to give him a slight push towards the door. I could’ve sworn I heard him laugh at the motion, but he still turned to start his inevitable departure. The same one he’d been rushing towards.
But when we did finally make it to the front door, Spencer stopped. He spun around on his feet and found me there, just as uncomfortably close as I had been when I trapped him against the wall. At least this time it was an exit I had him cornered against.
“How about I buy you a drink?” I asked before he had the chance.
“You can drink?”
It wasn’t so much what he’d said, but the perplexed look of shock that took over his entire face. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yes, Dr. Reid. I’m not a baby, remember?” I kindly reminded, using a hand to gesture to myself. His eyes locked onto it, following it all the way down until it rested on my hip. The surprise laced through his knitted brow and parted lips shifted to another emotion I was familiar with.
Desire.
“So, what do you say? A drink?” I repeated, drawing his attention back up to my face and hoping he would see his own expression reflected in mine.
“R-Right now?” he stuttered before grabbing his satchel and moving it to the little space between us. Hiding himself from me for the second time in a matter of minutes.
That self-preservation instinct only heightened when I started to laugh.
“While I’m of legal age, I think Jack is still a few years off.”
“Right! Sorry. I forgot.”
“Doing that a lot tonight, huh? You should get that checked out,” I teased. It was less enjoyable when he seemed so uncomfortable. I wondered what else he was hiding behind the satchel, but I was kind enough not to ask.  
“You can stay longer, if you want,” I suggested, knowing it would be shot down but wanting to see his choice in doing so, “You could stay until my dad gets back.”
“N-no! That’s fine,” he answered without any hesitation. Somehow, the lack of pause made his response even more suspicious. He realized, too, because he quickly followed up with, “I uh, I don’t know how he’d feel about... us... hanging out together.”
“Why would he care?”
I knew why.
“Uh, I don’t know.”
So did he.
“Does that mean no to the drinks?” I said between a pout, and I watched the guilt manifest in every inch of his expression.
“U-Um…”
I could’ve let the stuttered lack of a response offend me. I could have taken it as a rejection. But the thing was, it patently was not a rejection. He could have said no — he was very capable of the word. He’d said it to me before, and it sounded nothing like this.
When I closed the gap between us, my thigh pressing hard against his hand still splayed over his only protective barrier, I dropped my voice to an almost whisper. Quiet enough that I wouldn’t miss the way his breath caught in his throat.
“How about this…” I offered, “You go entertain yourself for a few hours and then I’ll meet you at Spirits.”
His finger twitched against my leg, but I moved away before he got the courage to do anything more. The energy I’d stirred up in him came out of his mouth, instead.
“S-Sure,” he said, and it sounded like heaven.
“Great!” I squeaked as I turned to open the door for him. He took a cautious step out but kept his eyes on me. I said nothing, forcing him to stare at me with narrowed eyes and rigid posture.
I waited until he stumbled over the threshold and onto the porch before I finished, a bit too happily, “It’s a date!”
“Wait, what?” he asked, but the door was already half closed.
“See you soon!”
——————————————————
My dad wasn’t exactly the type of guy to make me change before I go on a date. However, that night, I didn’t ask for his permission or clearance. Even the most understanding of fathers probably wouldn’t have approved of the way my intentions were stitched in the fabric.
But I didn’t need my father’s approval.
The only man I wanted approval from was sat at a table in the back corner of the bar. But before my heart even had the opportunity to skip a beat, Spencer spotted me.
The poor soul looked even more flustered than he had back at my house, with those quick, flawless eyes capturing every inch of me in the shifting, pale yellow light. His jaw stayed hung open all the way until I took my seat.
He didn’t greet me with a hello. Instead, he squeaked, “Oh. You… changed.”
“Don’t tell me this outfit is weird, too?” I laughed.
But there no sign of humor in his tone. If there had been, I might not have looked like a smitten schoolgirl when he said, “No, you look… Very beautiful.”
“I don’t remember you being quite this flattering,” I said to hopefully shake off some of the nerves that had spontaneously appeared, “Don’t tell me three years has changed you too much.”
“I don’t think so?” he squeaked, glancing down at the same clothing he’d been wearing before allowing his eyes to find me again in the darkness. I watched the hunger form just to be blown away by another, stronger feeling. The one that took all control when he stuttered, “B-But you seem to have changed… uh… q-quite a bit.”
I knew he wasn’t talking about my clothes.
“I can drink now. It changes you.”
“Right,” he laughed.
The quiet between us returned so quickly that it almost broke my heart. There was only so much my hoping and longing stares could do for two parallel lines. But just as it so often happened, the second I broke my focus was the same moment he spoke.
“How’s college?”
I tried to think of any satisfying answer that sounded more interesting than the truth. When I failed spectacularly at that, I turned it back to him with a shrug.
“I don’t imagine it’s much different from your most recent degree.”
“Something tells me we have very different experiences, actually,” he thoughtfully returned.
It was my turn to laugh, then.
“Yeah, probably,” I sighed. I hesitated to say that things would have been better for him, because I’d seen so many times when that wasn’t the case. Which brought me to another line of thinking that was too exciting to pass up on.
“So... how’s your personal life going?”
“Personal life?” he balked, “We don’t... really have those.”
“Don’t most people on the team have a significant other?”
“I mean— yeah, I...” His pause told me everything that I needed to know, but he clarified it for my sake, anyway. “I guess it’s just me who doesn’t have one, then.”
“A significant other, or a personal life?” I pressed, leaning my whole body forward with the question.
Spencer might have been dense, but he wasn’t a fool. His eyes dropped to my neckline almost immediately. If I’d blinked, I would have missed the movement entirely.
“And here I thought I wasn’t subtle,” he muttered, almost like he could read my mocking thoughts.
“You got me,” I freely admitted, “Now answer the question.”
I really thought that my candor would catch him off guard. I had a whole collection of thoughts and scripts in my arsenal. I was prepared to fight him all night, to try to provide the kind of challenge I knew he loved.
But Spencer wasn’t playing a game.
“Neither,” he confessed without jest, “I don’t have either.”
So, I wouldn’t play one, either.
“Is that why you didn’t want my dad to know you were coming to drinks with me?”
I’d expected the silence that came. It was inevitable, really. I didn’t regret it… yet. Because similar to how the man across from me functioned, I’d imagined the several possibilities.
Spencer could finally man up and admit to the way he felt when he saw me again, and the way he hadn’t stopped looking at me since. He could acknowledge that time had passed, and we’d grown older and more mature, and thus should be able to make our own decisions.
He didn’t pick that one.
“(Y/n), you might not be a kid anymore but you’re still...”
I’d already started rolling my eyes before his voice started to falter. By the time he got to the last word and trailed off, I had lost about any patience I had.
“Still what?”
“You’re still my boss’s daughter.”
My heart sunk into my stomach, which turned with a vengeance from the unwanted visitor. Exposed skin burned with the rage that had started to build the second I realized that this was going nowhere, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The problem wasn’t even with me or him. It was the same thing it always was.
My father was Aaron Hotchner, so clearly, I wasn’t allowed to be happy.
I could see he was about to explain it away, to tell me that I was a sweet girl and that I deserved to be happy -- and I didn’t want to fucking hear it.
“Who cares who my dad is?!” I blurted out, my hands forming a death grip on the edge of the table.
Spencer, surprisingly, met my energy and my volume, equally frantic as he shouted back, “I do! I-I’ve known you since you were 13!”
“Well, I’m not 13 anymore!”
“I know!”
The sound of his voice, low, rough, and raised, brought my tongue to a standstill. My entire body froze with it, almost like he could command me with such simple sounds.
He saw the way I reacted, and on instinct, his voice started again.
“God, I know. I see you and...”
But it cut off just as swiftly. That beautiful, marvelous mind of his must have blared every siren possible inside his thoughts. I watched the panic blossom and break through every muscle until he was practically running out the door.
“I-I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I… I have to go. I’m sorry.”
Abandoning the drinks and any remaining inhibitions or insecurities behind, I chased after him as fast as my feet would allow.
“Wait! Dr. Reid!”
Thankfully, Spencer wasn’t really known for his athletic prowess. Although, a part of me liked to think that he let me catch him on purpose. After all, I did feel goosebumps when my hand closed around his wrist.
“Please don’t leave! I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. It’s just that–“
My throat closed around the words I wanted to say, but knew I shouldn’t. The ones that I’d tried to say three years ago. I almost abandoned them as fruitless once again… until he looked at me.
He looked at me, and something in those honey gold eyes told me to continue. To give him any excuse to take my hand and never look back.
“I really like you,” I laughed, both at the sound of the words finally being spoken and the way his smile shifted to a pout in return, “I’ve always liked you. And I know that it’s weird because you work for my dad but… I would’ve hated myself if I didn’t at least try.”
Spencer didn’t talk. His lips and tongue tried to change into position, but they failed him for probably the first time in his life. Still, those damn eyes stayed on me with so many emotions that I felt like I’d been caught in a hurricane made of molasses and caramel.
I was just… stuck and scared.  
“You don’t have to say yes,” I tagged on to numb the pain of the inevitable rejection, “and I get it if you’re not interested in me but–“
There were many ways Spencer could have chosen to stop me from repeating myself. He could have cut me off, as he was all too comfortable doing to… just about everyone. He could have covered his ears or took off running like he had just moments before.
But he kissed me, instead.
With both hands desperately clutching my face, Spencer’s entire body was pressed against mine in a matter of seconds. I couldn’t even put together what was happening in the whirlwind of breath and my back hitting the brick wall of the building.
As soon as I was able to comprehend what he’d done, I quickly returned his efforts with my own. My hands grabbed hold of any fabric I could find, trying to keep him as close as possible for as long as he would allow.
I gasped as I felt his erection through his pants, and he took full advantage of my parted lips. His tongue met mine with enough dominance that I actually almost moaned in the far too public place to be doing what we were.
When he did pull away, he didn’t go far. His teeth sunk down on my bottom lip until he was finally able to elicit a tiny yelp from me. Spurred on by the sound of submission he’d clearly been seeking, he let out a heavy breath.
“Fuck, I want you so bad,” he growled against my lips.
The feeling was very much mutual.  
“Take me home with you,” I begged breathlessly, raking my fingers down his neck and watching the way the pink skin blanched before it turned an angrier red.
Spencer didn’t answer. He just watched me with an even heavier stare than he had all night, his chest heaving with deep breaths and his lips gravitating towards mine like magnets.
“Please,” I continued with even more desperation, “I promise my dad won’t know.”
He paused again, one final calculation and consideration of the potential futures.
And then, he picked me.
“Let’s go,” he said as he took hold of my hand — not my wrist — and practically dragged me down the street.
For the umpteenth time that night, no words were shared. Except this time was different; we weren’t avoiding our feelings or intentions. We were simply too busy giggling like absolute maniacs, like teenagers finally free of the scrutiny of overbearing parents.
I might not be a teenager, but that last bit certainly remained true.
By the time we were in the car and safely on our way to his place, my father was the last thing on my mind. Any and all energy was being spent on securing my safety for the night.
But… that also included my dad.
“What are you smiling about?” Spencer asked, likely unsettled by the shit-eating grin I wore.
“I just texted my dad that I was spending the night at a friend’s house,” I explained, much to his horror. To ensure the night didn’t end before it ever really began, I tagged on a slight annoyed, “Don’t worry, I left your name out of it.”
I wanted that to be the end of any discussion of my parentage, but my pathetic reassurance clearly hadn’t done its job.
“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” I droned.
Bored as I might have been, Spencer was certainly animated in his response.
“... Yes! Dammit. Of course I am, I just—!”
He raised one hand from the steering wheel to try and sort out the hair I’d only just mussed up for him. I didn’t fail to notice the way his legs started to bounce, or how it affected the motion of the vehicle.
With a loud groan of what I could only imagine was an overwhelming amount of guilt, Spencer cried, “You’re my boss’s daughter — You’re Hotch’s daughter!”
If I hadn’t grown up surrounded by profilers, I might have missed the truth behind the crackling in his voice. The undercurrent of his desire. One of what I’d hoped were many reasons that Spencer Reid was interested in me.
“Oh my god,” I gasped, “You like it, don’t you?!”
“What?! No!”
“You do!”
Spencer regained that stern, low voice he’d displayed at the bar, raising an accusatory finger as he warned, “Don’t. I will turn around and take you home.”
He really should’ve known better than to challenge me. He’d known me and my father long enough to know that I never shy away from a chance to show my wits.
Not that it really took a lot of intelligence to fluster Spencer. It just required a few… womanly wiles.
“To my home? Or to my dad’s?”
“Stop that,” he tried to caution, but his voice cracked in the middle of it. The authority bled between the gaps and landed squarely in my hands. One of those very hands then slid over his thigh, grabbing hold to help balance myself as I leaned over the center console.
I heard his breath hitch as my lips came close enough to his ears that he could almost feel them as they moved.
“Tell me, Spencer… would you fuck me in my old bedroom and hold your hand over my mouth so he doesn’t hear what you’re doing to his baby girl?”
It really wasn’t fair, how easy it was. The poor thing’s face turned a deep shade of red with what I assumed to be the only blood left in his body that wasn’t already delegated to the tent he was pitching in his pants.
With a soft, clumsy swat, Spencer tried to make me back up.
“I’m serious! Stop it!”
I listened that time. I had already won; I didn’t need to rub it in.
“Oh, calm down, Spencer. It doesn’t make you a bad person. I get it. I know what it’s like working for my dad. Always bossing you around, cutting you off...”
“I respect your father very much,” he said, cutting me off and proving that I did, in fact, fall for a man just like my father.
But unlike my dad’s instructions, I was more than happy to follow along with whatever Spencer wanted me to do.
“Well... you don’t have to respect me,” I offered with a quick squeeze of his thigh, “In fact, I think I’d rather you didn’t.”
I saw the familiar landscape of his apartment from less than stellar memories in my peripherals, but I kept my eyes set on him. I wanted to see the way his jaw muscles tensed and twitched under the pressure of words he wanted to say. I relished the way it felt to have his thighs shift farther apart to follow my hand when I finally took it back.
When the car was finally parked, Spencer turned to me slowly but with hands that were quick and practiced. He grabbed hold of my jaw so that my mouth was covered.
He really didn’t want me to talk back when he muttered, “You really don’t listen.”
I didn’t talk back, but I definitely giggled. The smirk he flashed in response told me everything I needed to know about what would happen when he finally got me somewhere private.
The two of us, together, hand-in-hand, took off again. It really was apt to consider us like teenagers, and I got the feeling that Spencer had long sought something like this. The chance to be giddy and carefree about something he wanted.
Someone who really, really wanted him back.
Within seconds of his front door shutting, Spencer had me pinned against a wall once again. Before I could call out this developing habit, I was cut off by his lips catching mine and holding me down even harder.
I wondered if this was really how it would be, with him carelessly taking and commanding without a care in the world. I hoped so. I’d had so many fantasies of the shy, austere man breaking down and sinking his teeth into my neck.
But it was my turn. The next time he’d parted his lips, I bit down on the bottom, sucking gently before letting him go. I was rewarded with a short, dark chuckle quickly followed by a hand cupping my throat just below my chin.
“You’re a spoiled brat,” he spat.
His grip was loose, but enough to steal my focus from anything else. I was practically hyperventilating already from the excitement, and if it weren’t for his thigh wedged between my legs, I would have clenched them shut from the anticipation.
“You’re welcome to bend me over and spank me as you fuck me,” I teased.
It was meant to be an invitation for a segue into the bedroom, but as I would soon learn, Spencer did not intend to take this into the bedroom.
“We’ll save that for another time,” he whispered in a downright cruel tone, “Right now, I want to see the look on your face while I fuck you.”
His other hand made its way to my hip where it grabbed a handful of stretchy fabric and tugged it up to my stomach. I gasped at the feeling of cold air hitting heated skin, but he didn’t stop there. With the same rough imprecision, he yanked my underwear down my thighs until I was able to step out from them with shaky legs.
I was going to make a joke, to tease him for being so eager when he’d given me such a hard time already. Spencer, again, had other plans. Before a single word could leave my mouth, he buried two fingers into my waiting heat. He must have been amused by how prepared I already was, the obvious desperation in my bucking hips, because he just gave that same little laugh.
“Tell me what you want,” he cooed, taunting my wildest dreams in front of me with his erection pressed against my leg.
“Please,” was all I could answer, “Please, Spencer. Please.”
He didn’t hesitate. While I missed his fingers wrapped around my neck, I much preferred the sound of his belt buckle coming undone. And when he pulled his fingers out of me and dragged the slickness over his cock, I thought I might actually lose the little bit of control keeping me upright.
Thankfully, I wouldn’t need coordination. Spencer’s arms and chest locked me against the wall almost immediately. He took his time easing into me, staying true to his word and watching me with rapt attention. Memorizing each twitch of my jaw and roll of my eyes as he filled me inch by inch.
“Shit,” I cursed, closing my eyes to get some reprieve from the violent way his eyes tore into my soul. I should’ve known I couldn’t hide from him for long.
His breath felt unbelievably hot against my ear as he whispered, “Tell me how it feels.”
My first answer came through a strangled moan and nails dug into his shoulders. Spencer pulled out and slammed into me again, harder and without reservation. When my body started to slide up the wall, he pressed his elbows hard against my shoulders to force me back down onto him.
“So good,” I slurred.
Apparently deciding that I didn’t enunciate my words clearly enough, Spencer’s hand returned to my face just as I opened my eyes. With a slight flick of the wrist, he lightly smacked my cheek.
“Speak up, young lady.”
I tried, I really did, but he punctuated the command with another thrust, and my mind melted. All of my back was burning against the friction of the wall, and my chest could barely expand enough to take in enough air to maintain my current level of consciousness.
When I was able to speak, I had another request.
“Harder,” I purred, joining his hand against my cheek to cradle my face.
He refused, tearing his hand away from me now that I’d made it clear how badly I wanted it there. I tried to follow it, but in doing so I granted him access to my neck, which he gladly took advantage of. His tongue was even more intoxicating there, and I could feel him trying to leave some kind of mark in his wake.
The harder he tried, the louder I became. They were not the powerful, broken moans from before. They were tiny, delicate whimpers that he’d probably thought me incapable of at this point. A display of softness and need much like the way he’d acted before he had me at his mercy.
My hands tangled in his hair, trying to keep him there, encouraging him to make me his in a way that would last longer than that night.
“Just like a proper slut,” he growled against my neck, “you just want to be taken care of.”
I couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled through the throat he continued to kiss.
“Am I worth the daddy issues, Dr. Reid?” I teased.
The reference to my father just about broke the already crumbling man in front of me. Spencer’s hands were so fast that I didn’t even see them until one was clamped over my mouth and nose, depriving me of any chance of air I might have had.
“I’m the only man I want to hear about from you,” he warned, “Since your father apparently didn’t teach you any fucking manners.”
That time when his hips snapped forward, he didn’t have a strong enough hold to stop my body from pulling away. He forced my head back so I would have to feel just how hard he fucked me. Each thrust felt just like the years’ worth of frustration he’d endured being ordered around by my father.
When I whimpered again, the noise stifled by his hand, he laughed.
“Fucking brat. Making me do this to you,” he forced through teeth clenched shut, “I had already graduated high school by the time you learned to spell your own name.”
I honestly couldn’t tell if the world was going blurry because I had finally run out of oxygen or because of the tears that had started to pool in my eyes. The same catharsis he’d felt was inexplicably shared by me, and I was racing towards the finish line without ever having lifted my feet to run.
He must have seen the euphoria building in my half-lidded eyes, because Spencer removed his hand from my mouth in favor of gently cradling my cheek.
“Please, Spencer,” I slurred through my heavy panting, “I’m gonna—“
“What? You want to finish?” he mocked through the smirk I’d seen for the first time that night, and hoped to never forget. The one that I’d already fallen hopelessly in love with.
“Yes. Yes, please.”
“Fine. Look at me.”
I forced my eyes to open as wide as they could, and Spencer helped me by forcing my hips forward so he could bury his entire length inside of me with each thrust. They were becoming sloppier by the second, and I saw the hunger swallowing kind eyes as he warned, “There’s only one place I want to finish.”
“Oh, fuck,” was my very intelligent reply.
Spencer chuckled again, his tongue sweeping over his lips that stopped just short of kissing me.
“Speak now or forever hold your peace, young lady,” he offered, but I got the feeling he already knew my answer the first time he succeeded in holding me down.  
“Don’t stop!” I cried, “Please!”
I couldn’t feel anything else beyond him. His arms that caged me in felt like the most comforting embrace. Each brutal snap of his hips elicited sounds from the both of us that felt so familiar. I tried to scream his name, but it came out as unintelligible pleas for him to let go. To release all of the tension and frustration of years we could have spent tangled up in one another if not for the circumstances of my birth.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered, “I’m not stopping until I’m done with you.”
And he didn’t. Even after my muscles all tensed around him, Spencer continued with his same, unsteady pace. My walls closed around him, but he found a way to force himself deeper until he bottomed out inside of me.
His lips found mine as the both of us collapsed in on ourselves and one another. Our tongues tied together with desperate, broken cries and trembling whimpers as our bodies rushed us to relax. Spencer still held me up, breaking our mouths apart with a groan as he felt the evidence of what he’d just done dripping from where we were still joined.
Between heavy, deep breaths, our eyes met again, seeing each other clearly for what felt like the first time.
And I think we both liked what we saw.
——————————————————
Little had changed since I first slept with Spencer. It had only been a month, but his appetite continued to be voracious in the best possible way. I had lost track of time somewhere between the second and third orgasm, but Spencer seemed hellbent on continuing his ministrations regardless. I didn’t mind. I liked raking my hands through his hair just as much as he loved keeping my legs wrapped around his shoulders.
Just when I thought he was finally satisfied, he began to lay kisses over my stomach on his ascent.
“Shit, Spencer,” I mumbled to the man whose lips quickly moved to my neck despite my complete and total exhaustion. I could barely even find the will to move away from him.
He caught my flimsy, limp wrist with ease and pinned it back to the bed. The new position allowed him to continue his ministrations down my chest.
“I’m not done with you,” he growled against heated skin he hadn’t yet had the chance to mark, “I missed you too much to let you off this easy.”
“How are you still functioning?” I groaned, only to earn a quick, chipper reply of, “Easy. I know you deserve it.”
The answer was charming enough that I was willing to let it slide. Spencer returned to his previous position, his face hung over my mine with an insatiable desire hidden behind coffee colored irises.
“Oh, do I?” I hummed happily.
“Yes.”
He punctuated the thought with a chaste kiss that felt more like a tease than a genuine expression of his interest. So, naturally, I returned it with my own version of a proper kiss. Spencer’s laughter almost broke it, but our dedication to consuming as much of one another as we could in the little free time he had won in the end.
Until it happened. The same thing that always signaled the end of every wonderful day spent tangled in the sheets together.
Someone’s phone was ringing.
Spencer’s instincts meant his phone was already in his hand before he’d even moved from his place on top of me. But as he went to answer the call, he noticed something peculiar.
Holding the touch-screen display out for me to read he nervously muttered, “It’s… not my phone.”
“Fuck. Get my phone,” I muttered, throwing an exasperated arm over my face. The only worse news than Spencer having to leave was the fact I’d have to speak to another human being.
But before that came to be, Spencer dropped my phone on the bed with a high-pitched yelp that sounded far too feminine for his lips. It was… adorable. I almost teased him for it, too, but then he said the very last thing I ever wanted to hear while in bed with my boyfriend.
“Shit! It’s Hotch!”
“What?! Why the fuck is my dad calling?”
“I don’t know!” he answered in a panic, “Answer it and find out!”
Resigned, I held out my hand to accept my fate.
“Fine. Give me the phone, then.”
“Uhh…”
Unfortunately for the both of us, Spencer’s killer instincts also meant the phone was now stuck in an endless labyrinth of fabric. It really didn’t seem possible for it to have gotten lost so quickly when we’d barely moved, but it had.
It didn’t matter all that much to me — I rarely answered my dad’s calls on a normal occasion. Although, arguably, this was becoming my new normal. It was rare for my dad to call me when he was working, so my Spencer and Dad visitor ratio had become very oddly competitive.
Which is a roundabout way of explaining that I really should have foreseen what happened next.
From my seat at the edge of the bed, through the tiniest little slits of the blinds, I saw something truly horrifying.
“Oh my god, he’s outside.”
“What?!” Spencer shrieked as I began to get dressed with a speed that I could tell he found both suspicious and relieving.
“Shut up! Stay here!” I called as I almost tripped on my leggings on the way out of my door. With at least a little bit of foresight, I turned back at the last second to yell, “And put some fucking pants on!”
The knock on the door came at the worst possible time. I wasn’t sure how Spencer clearly managed to fall over while trying to put on pants, but I heard the thud from the other room at the same time. I held my breath, waiting to hear some sign of life before realizing it was probably better if the poor guy was unconscious.
Plastering a horribly fake smile on my face, I opened the door to find my (im)patiently waiting father.
“Hey Dad, what are you doing here?” I said through my teeth.
“Can I not check in on my daughter?” he answered, ignoring all signs of discomfort and welcoming himself into the entryway without providing a real answer.
“Not when you’re snooping.”
“Can you blame me?” he asked, inspecting the shoes by the door and the coats hung nearby, “I haven’t had a chance to see you in over a month, despite my very serious efforts.”
I avoided the guilt-trip because I was too smart to notice it was nothing but a distraction. He was profiling every inch of my place that he could see, and I really, really didn’t want him to find anything of value.
“Remember that conversation we had about boundaries?”
My dad also ignored the question in favor of another.
“He’s here, isn’t he? The boy you’ve been seeing?”
“Seriously, it was a whole talk about privacy and boundaries and profiling...” I mumbled under my breath, only to be spoken over for yet another astute observation from Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner.
“Concerning that his car isn’t in the driveway.”
“You were there for the conversation,” I said while crossing my arms, body language clues be damned, “I remember you being there.”
He noticed. I wasn’t exactly trying to hide it. In fact, a lot of me wanted him to realize just how uncomfortable I was. It wasn’t that I was angry, or that I didn’t appreciate how involved with my life he was trying to be. Lord knew he had a lot to catch up on.
But this wasn’t how I wanted him to find out, and I knew it sure as fuck wasn’t how Spencer wanted it to happen.
With eyes wide from both panic and pleading, I let my arms fall back to my sides in defeat as I grumbled, “Please, Dad?”
I actually heard the fight leave my father with a deep breath. He shook his head, almost like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth as he begrudgingly replied, “Fine. I’ll leave it and you two alone. For now.”
Even he couldn’t help but smile when my spirits immediately spiked. Enough so, even, that I threw my arms around him in a hug so quick he barely had a chance to return it. After all… I didn’t want him to notice any familiar cologne that might have transferred in the past 24 hours.
If he did, he stayed true to his word and said nothing about it. Instead, he made one more protective sweep of the immediate surroundings and gave his own plea.
“Promise me that you’ll let me meet him eventually.”
“Sure!” I chirped, using my entire body to help push him towards the door that I still held open for him.
He paused in response to my haste, grabbing hold of the doorjamb to prevent me from closing it before he warned, “That was not a promise.”
“Promise,” I shouted, finally managing to get him on the other side and shouting, “bye, Dad! Love you!”
It took me a moment longer to remember the troubling sound that had come from the general direction of my room, but when I burst back through the door, Spencer was nowhere to be found.
I didn’t have to guess where he was. I already knew.
Slowly opening the door to my closet that was really way too small for him to be standing in, I found my FBI agent boyfriend cowering between my clothes.
“Is he gone?” he squeaked.
“Yeah, for now.”
“Thank god,” he said, letting out a breath that he must have been holding the whole time. At least that would explain why his face was so fucking red.
After he’d managed to gain back at least two of his brain cells, Spencer turned to me with a pitiful little pout as he muttered, “How does he know you’re seeing someone?”
“How do you think?”
“Right,” he immediately answered for himself. But he didn’t dwell on his own apparent idiocy when it came to me and my father. Instead, Spencer stepped out of my clothes and wrapped his arms around me once more.
“I guess you have been happier and more relaxed lately...” he whispered, already in the process of leading me back to the bed.
“Don’t get a swelled head now,” I warned.
But I knew that Spencer was a betting man. A man who didn’t like to be told that he was overly confident in his abilities. So when he pushed me back onto the bed, I already knew where we were headed.
“Here,” he said with a smile, “I’ll show you what I mean…”
——————————————————
While things were carefree within the house, the same couldn’t be said for the disgruntled father already making his way back from the two minute visit with his daughter.
It wasn’t that Hotch was disappointed that his daughter had finally found someone — she certainly had waited long enough. All of the jokes he’d made when she was little, that she would have to wait until she was a proper adult to date, were really coming back to bite him in the ass.
Because there was no denying that’s what she was. She was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions, including the one not to tell her father about the boy she was dating. That was okay, though, because he trusted her. She had proven to him many times over that she was smart enough to take care of herself. Lord knew he’d put that one to the test enough times. More than she deserved.
But something still felt off about it all. It simply wasn’t like her to hide this much from him. Even if she was worried that he would disapprove, that’d certainly never stopped her from introducing a partner before.
The boy would have to be a felon or worse for her to be as scared as she seemed for him to find out.
Just as his mind had started to race with the potential partners she could have chosen, the worst kind of men that might have found their way into her heart, Hotch saw something familiar in the corner of his eye.
Nearly 5 blocks and three streets away from his daughter’s apartment was a very, very familiar car.
And Hotch realized in that moment that his fears were correct. His daughter had fallen for someone much, much worse than a felon.
His daughter was dating one of his friends.
——————————————————
The next time that the incessant ringing filled the room, I was already over it. It was bad enough to be interrupted while being showered with kisses and praise — it was another thing entirely to be disrupted when my boyfriend’s dick was fully inside of me.
While that alone was enough to dissuade me from picking it up, it apparently did not stop Spencer.
I could see it on his face before he’d even said a word.
“Is my dad calling again?” I sighed, and he wasted no time in jutting the phone in my face.
“Yeah. Answer it.”
“No, I’m mad at him,” I tried to protest, but he shoved the device so close to my face that I almost answered it on accident.
“Spencer!” I blubbered, smacking his arm away and trying to remind myself which one of us was the one licensed to carry a concealed weapon.  
The next time my phone rang, I did pick it up… and promptly tossed it across the room.
“If you don’t answer he’s going to come back!” Spencer whined, collapsing his body on mine like that would actually make me answer the phone faster.
“He’s probably already on his way,” I grumbled before pointing out the conclusion I’d already reached (and he’d somehow missed). “Besides, do you really want me to talk to him while your dick is inside me?”
I’d waited as long as I did to point it out because I knew what he would do. Sure enough, with a soft, strangled, “… Fair point,” Spencer pulled out and fled the scene of the crime within seconds.
Still, it was long enough for my phone to stop ringing.
We waited with bated breath and eyes stuck on the little rectangle of doom resting a few feet away on the floor. When it didn’t ring again, we both felt a strange combination of anxiety and relief.
“Do you think he figured it out?” Spencer whispered as if my dad would actually be able to hear.
And perhaps I was wrong. Maybe my dad really was capable of hearing my thoughts or surroundings despite being absent. Because as soon as Spencer asked the question, his phone was the one that started to ring.
Across the display was a familiar name: Aaron Hotchner.
“Okay,” Spencer squeaked, “He figured it out.”
While he was already prepared to meet his maker and face the music, I was dedicated to my denial.
“Whatever. It’s probably a coincidence,” I said through a yawn, “Don’t answer it. It’s a trick.”
“It’s way more suspicious if I don’t answer.”
“It’s a trick, Spencer!” I sang over his protests.  
But always the logical one, Spencer used his hands to emphasize his point, holding them out and wildly swinging in a way that I was surprised he managed to keep the phone in them.
“If neither of us answers and he knows, he’s going to think we’re having sex,” he explained.
“Spencer… We are having sex.”
“Well, I don’t want him to know that!”
That was the last appeal fate allowed him. Before his fingers had a chance to do what he’d wanted them to all along, the phone returned to its previous screen, and the room fell silent.
“Look,” I laughed, “There you go. Problem solved.”
Unfortunately, my point was punctuated poorly, with the now incredibly irritating chiming of his phone. At least that time, it was just a few beeps to indicate a message had been received, rather than a live call that would require actual speaking.
“Come outside,” is all the text said.
“Just ignore him,” I said with a dismissive shrug. I’d been through a similar situation enough times to know that putting off the inevitable was the more enjoyable of the two experiences. Especially considering my dad might actually kill my boyfriend this time.
But as usual, Spencer spoke the voice of unwelcome reason.
“Listen, (y/n), I hate to be the bearer of what should be obvious news but there is no conceivable reality where I can maintain an erection while my boss, your father, is outside preparing my slow and torturous death.”
He was right. We both knew that. But I wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t take the words the worst possible way.
With a cheeky little giggle, I asked, “Is that a challenge?”
“No!” he sternly replied like the spoilsport he was, “It is definitely, decidedly, not.”
Despite his obvious anxiety and frustration, Spencer allowed me to wrap my arms around him. In fact, he leaned into my embrace like I could offer him the strength to do what he needed to.
He really should’ve known better by now, than to expect any comfort in my arms.
“Fine. If you really won’t ignore him, then do you want me to just save you the torture and shoot you now?”
Spencer paused for a second, his eyebrows furrowed and lips puckered in a pout.
“You don’t think he’d kill me in broad daylight in public, do you?” he asked.
“It’s like... 40/60,” I answered.
“Wait, in favor of which?”
But then, finally learning not to ask questions he didn’t want the honest answer to, he raised a hand to stop me before I replied.
“Never mind. I don’t want to know. I have to go out there.”
My only response was a groan that never really stopped until I heard the front door lock click open. Then all I could hear was my heart pounding in the silence. It really felt like it always looked in the movies — like time had slowed down before the dramatic moment.
Just as I stepped into the doorway enough that I could spot my father on the lawn, I heard it. The distinct sound of bone on bone, the forceful meeting of two difficult forces just before Spencer’s body hit the ground with a thud.
“My daughter, Reid?!” he yelled, and I realized that it was the first time I’d ever heard such a thing.
I couldn’t move at first, stuck on the image and echo of my father’s voice still booming through the otherwise calm suburb. I wasn’t even worried about being embarrassed yet; I was too busy worrying about the fact my dad had crouched over my boyfriend, grabbing him by the collar while he just sort of… floundered in response.
“God, Dad! Leave him alone!” I shouted once I was able to move again, sprinting over to the two and grabbing onto firm, unmoving shoulders. “Get off of him!”
“It’s fine,” Spencer slurred while holding onto a nose that would probably be a little less straight tomorrow, “He’s right.”
“Ugh! Men are so stupid!”
I knew it wasn’t the mature or fair thing to do, but when I reared my leg back and kicked my dad square in the thigh, it at least made him move. He turned to me with this incredulous look, like I had been the one to just assault a guy on my lawn.
Well, I guess, technically, I had. But he had started it.
He dropped Spencer’s shirt in favor of addressing the more pressing threat: my wrath. I think he was sort of processing what had just happened, because he didn’t really react when I stepped to the side to help Spencer to his feet.
Although, my boyfriend definitely remembered he wouldn’t find comfort with me that time.
“Spencer, get the hell out of here. I want to talk to my dad.”
“My keys are inside,” he so helpfully pointed out.
“Then go inside,” I sternly commanded. After he’d run off like the kicked puppy that he was, tail between his legs and chin dripping with a little bit of blood, I muttered, “Jesus, I thought he was supposed to be smart.”
My dad didn’t think it was funny.
“(Y/n), what do you think you’re doing?”
Opting for the literal route instead of the more painful one, I answered, “Standing in my yard and being yelled at by my father.”
“I’m not yelling at you.”
“You might as well be.”
An awkward silence stretched between us, and for a brief second, I actually thought that I might cry. It felt silly, but also reasonable under the circumstances. I’d seen this whole situation coming from a mile away. I knew my father well.
But some part of me, the naive, hopeful part, wanted things to have been different.
“What are you doing?” my dad asked again, quieter and with more patience.
I couldn’t accept the white flag.
“About what?” I shrugged.
My father sighed, running a hand over his face before settling two fingers at the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, but his voice came out just as harsh and unforgiving.
“He’s nearly ten years your senior and a member of my team—“
“I don’t care about your job, dad!” I shrieked, hating the way my voice broke but knowing the words wouldn’t have been able to come out any less hostile.
“Well, you should!” he tried, but I shouted over him at the same time, “I’m not a fucking child!”
With a sharp inhale of breath, he lowly cautioned in something similar to a plea, “Don’t talk to me like that.”
The reprimand lit a fire in my veins.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about!” I vaguely stated with a similar gesture to the man in front of me, “Dad, I didn’t just pursue him to screw you over. I like him!”
“All that matters to me is what is best for you. Don’t you understand that?” he quickly followed, his words more stuttered and imperfect than the usual monotone, “He lives an entirely different life than you.”
“What, a life like yours?” I scoffed.
He didn’t find it funny.
“Yes,” he said like an end to the argument that I wasn’t willing to concede.
My mouth was moving so quickly that I couldn’t predict what was going to come out of it until I heard it. The poison laced through every word didn’t seem to do any lasting damage yet, but that streak would soon end.
“It didn’t stop you and mom!”
There was no utterance or reference of her that would be easily ignored.
That time when it fell silent, it wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t even particularly charged. It was just… sad. Dark, and horrifying, and painful. It was exactly the kind of silence that made you want to turn to your father for comfort.
But I couldn’t find any with him in that moment, either.
In the most defeated voice I’d ever heard from him, my dad looked me in the eyes as he asked, “Is that the life you want?”
It could have been a threat. If I was more angry and less heartbroken, I might have taken it as one. But there was simply no room left in me for anger. It was just a dullness that felt a little bit better when I thought of a universe where Spencer and I could be like my mom and dad were before… everything.
“Maybe,” I mumbled, “If it’s with Spencer then... yeah, maybe.”
He took a step forward and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. While I moved away from it at first, I eventually gave in. I leaned into his touch until he felt comfortable wrapping an arm around me and pulled me in close.
“He’s not like me,” he said, but I couldn’t decide if he meant it to be a good or bad thing.  
Either way, he did find some joy in my humor that time.
“I know. Believe it or not, Freud was wrong about that one...”
Deciding to save the psychological discussion for another time, my dad chose to keep the conversation on topic for a little while longer.
“The life he leads is one where you’ll never come first,” he explained. As if I needed to hear it.  
“I’m familiar with it.”
But he wasn’t being facetious. When I turned my face to hide my sprouting tears from his eyes, I heard his voice almost break when he finally confessed the true cause of his frustration.
“I want a better life for you than that.”
The admission got the better of me. It was just enough of the rare, humble honesty that I always knew my father capable of, but rarely got to see. My lip started to tremble, and my words became messy as I tried to respond with a similar vulnerability now that neither of the men I loved would be able to mock me for it.
“I just want to be happy,” I whispered, “He makes me happy, Dad.”
I wasn’t sure how long we had been standing there, but I wasn’t ready to move yet. I would find the time and energy to be anxious and embarrassed later. At that moment, I just wanted to let myself feel the full weight of my emotions (so I wouldn’t feel as guilty bottling them up again later).
Somewhat surprisingly, I wasn’t the one to break the silence — and with humor, no less.
No, it was my dad who murmured through pouted lips, “… Was he ever going to tell me?”
“He was scared you were going to shoot him,” I said with a very graceful snort.  
“I can’t say I didn’t think about it,” he joked again. But despite the fun new dynamic he’d created to push me through the brunt of my breakdown, my dad returned to his previous sentimental side for just a second. Just long enough to assure me that I hadn’t made a mistake.
“I know... that he’s a good man. If he makes you happy, then that’s what matters to me.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I softly replied, choosing to let it slide for now that he didn’t seem to be able to utter Spencer’s name in my presence. I got the feeling it would be that way for a while.
Wasn’t my problem, though. I didn’t have to work with them.
As if on cue, my dad spoke again through a sigh, “I can’t promise I won’t hit him again, though.”
“Can you promise to only do it if he deserves it?”
He paused for a minute to consider the request before answering with a smile, “I’ll try.”
——————————————————
(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)
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kouomi · a month ago
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Mha Aizawa x female wife reader
Reader has a quirk that is literally her just being a cat magnet. Reader finds out she’s pregnant and decide to tell Aizawa in the cutest way possible with cats.
Fluff plz
Could you add me to your HXH , mha , aot and BSD tag list plz
The Cat’s Out of the Bag
Warnings: none!
Word count: 3,104
A/N: this has got to be my favorite request I’ve gotten so far! I kind of went a little above and beyond the request but I think it turned out rly cute :)
Blog Directory
Posted: October 23rd 2021, 1:30 PM EST
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Since you’re quirk had first developed when you were a child, it had been drawing things closer to you; cats, specifically. It had started as the stray you passed daily on your way to school following you home, everyday being shooed away by your parents and everyday returning. Eventually one cat turned to two, and two to two dozen. It got to the point where they would be littered outside your house simply waiting for you to step outside, some even working their way inside and happily curling up next to you.
After some time of this continuing and the number of cats growing, your parents had taken you to a quirk doctor who confirmed that it was in fact your quirk attracting all of them. Despite the slight frustration it caused you all had no other choice but to accept it and learn to live with it.
The cats, especially the ones that consistently appeared, became your best friends. Because they refused to separate from you, you spent most of your time with them and thus went through your everyday life with a feline friend by your side. They were a constant company and ensured that you were never alone, even as you went to sleep at night as they took the available spots on your bed and lulled you to sleep with gentle purring.
By then nearly everybody who knew you knew of your quirk. It was well known that wherever you went at least one cat would follow and if there was a random sighting of a cat - or more frequently multiple - in a place they didn’t belong, you were somewhere nearby. Despite how the cats provided you endless company, they isolated you as well. The other kids at school found them as a sort of annoyance and began avoiding you, even your best friends eventually fading away as your quirk persisted. You were alone, ostracized from everyone else; that is, until you met him.
With a book in hand you sat with your back against a tree, your hand every so often leaving the pages to stroke the head of one of the dozen or so cats around you. Many of them bathed in the late summer sun with faces of contentment, an occasional breeze rustling their fur as well as your hair. It’s relatively silent as you lose yourself in the imaginary world of your book - or it was silent until the gentle sound of footsteps caught your attention. You look up to find a cat rounding the corner of a nearby building and walking towards you, shortly followed by a boy. Upon further inspection as he neared closer you were able to make our his appearance. Long black hair obscured his face and despite his taller frame he hunched over, you assumed to look at the cat he tailed behind. He appeared about your age and is adorned in a uniform; not one from your school but one you oddly recognized.
Eventually he worked his way up the hill you sat atop, his eyes widening upon seeing the crowd of cats the other had led him towards. You can’t help the small laugh that passes your lips, the boy finally seeming to realize you’re there as his eyes meet yours.
“Sorry about all the cats.” You say, watching as he takes in the sheer number of them.
“I was just trying to get the one I was following…” He says, “Why are they all right here?”
He kneels in front of the cat he had followed, a tortoiseshell kitten with a half missing ear, and scoops it into his arms with a small smile. You smile as well as an older gray cat nudges your hand, forcing you to put down your book to pet it.
“They just like me.” You reply, “You could say I’m a cat magnet.”
He hums as he moves to sit on the grass a few feet away from you, the kitten in his arms now playing with the loose strands of black hair that fell past his shoulders.
“Do you like cats?” You ask, though the answer already seemed obvious.
“Yes. It looks like you do, too.”
You breathe a small laugh, the boy giving one as well.
“I’m Y/n, and you?”
“Aizawa. Shouta.”
“Nice to meet you, Aizawa.”
After a few minutes you expected him to walk away, to return to where ever he had come from and that would be the first and last time you met, but as more time passed he stayed. You looked at him curiously and noticed he had taken out a laptop from his school bag and begun silently working. After staring for a few moments you returned to your book, both of you silently sitting in each other’s presence.
It became a daily occurrence for Aizawa to show up after following a cat to you, the two of you sitting under the same tree and either working or simply sitting together with the plethora of cats around you. Overtime the distance between you closed, going from Aizawa sitting a few feet away to a foot to a few inches until you eventually sat shoulder to shoulder. The closer he sat the closer the two of you became, small, short conversations turning to long and animated ones filled with laughter and light banter. Despite how your quirk had once isolated you, it had led you to, or more specifically led to you, the person who became your best friend.
“You know, your uniform looks really familiar.” You start, looking at Aizawa out of the corner of your eye before returning your gaze to the sky.
The two of you lay beside each other under the tree, peering through the bare branches at the pure blue sky above. Despite the cold chill of midwinter and the snow that blanketed the ground you lay on you both remained outside and so did the cats that cuddled close to your sides for warmth; much like you did with each other.
“I think all of Japan would know it.” Aizawa replies, moving his arm under his head as the tortoiseshell kitten curls up on his stomach.
“Oh really?” You laugh sarcastically, “What school do you go to then that’s so famous?”
“U.A.”
You pause for a moment before propping yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him with a look of disbelief.
“Are you joking?” You ask to which he shakes his head.
“I just started my second year.” He says nonchalantly, “You seriously didn’t know until now?”
“How would I know if you didn’t tell me? But seriously, you? In U.A.?”
“Is it that hard to believe?”
“I’m not saying it like that.” You say while gently shoving his arm. “It’s just surprising that you’re training to be a hero; it’s cool. What’s your quirk?”
He explains his quirk and how it works all while you stare at him in amazement, Aizawa occasionally making eye contact though quickly looking back away.
“That’s so cool!” You exclaim when he’s done, “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
He shrugs. “It’s never been brought up. I like your quirk better, anyway.”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t want my quirk.” You sigh while lying back down, “Everyone else thinks it’s annoying.”
“I don’t.” He replies, “I like it, all the cats.”
“You only hang out with me for the cats, huh?” You joke to which he rolls his eyes.
“I like the cats, but I like your quirk because it’s what brought me to you.” He says, voice quieter this time though tone softer and more serious.
“Aizawa…”
“Sorry.”
You blink in surprise for a moment before turning your head to face him.
“Don’t be.” You say quietly. Aizawa turns to face you as well, your faces a mere inches apart from each other’s. A rosy color tinted both of your cheeks that you hoped you could play off as the cold weather, your eyes meeting and refusing to look away despite the part of you that urged you to for the sake of your own embarrassment.
“I like you.” You whisper, catching yourself by surprise as the words pass your lips. Aizawas eyes widen in seemingly shock before he smiles, a small puff of air emitting from him made visible by the cold.
“I-“ He starts, though is cut off by the kitten letting out a loud mewl and plopping itself down in the space between you. Both of your laughter breaks through the silent air as some of the previous tension is lifted, the fluttering of your heart the only notion of what had taken place before.
-
After Aizawas hero debut, despite how quiet it had been in order to keep himself more hidden from villains knowledge and his despise of the press, you had made it your job to congratulate him. He had worked as a sidekick at a smaller agency for a few years before this debut which, in your opinion at least, made it only that much more exciting.
A smile tugs at your lips as you hear the door to your shared apartment open and close shortly followed by heavy footsteps that made their way towards you. As Aizawa rounded the corner into the kitchen you stepped out from behind the wall you hid behind and pulled the string to the confetti popper in your hand, laughing slightly at the slight shock on his face.
“Congrats!” You exclaim as confetti fell to litter both of your hair.
Aizawa looked to you before looking around the room, a banner reading “Congratulations Eraserhead!” Strung across the middle of the ceiling the first he sees before the small cake on the counter and floor now coated in colorful confetti. The cat you had taken in as your own, the tortoiseshell with the half missing ear, adorned a small white scarf and makeshift yellow eye covers like the ones Aizawa used and it meowed at him as if to say it’s own congratulations. Aizawa smiles while taking off his own scarf and eye covers before setting them on the counter.
“Thank you.” He says with a small, genuine smile.
You return it with a wide, adoration filled grin. “Of course! You deserve it, I know you’ll make a great hero, Shouta.”
He doesn’t reply, only steps closer and pulls you into a hug and rests his chin atop your head. You happily accept it and wrap your arms around his torso, giving him a small squeeze as you let your eyes slip shut. To you, this was the most comforting place you could be; wrapped up in each other’s arms and letting the rest of the world slip away until it was just you and him left. This is where you belong. This is all you needed.
After a few minutes Aizawa pulls away slightly to face you, his expression softer than usual as it settles on your face. You keep your smile but draw your brow together, one of your hands coming up to rest against his face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask with a slight tilt of your head.
“Because.” Is all he answers.
“Well come on, we have to eat the cake before it dries up.” You say, pulling away and walking towards the counter. You’re stopped, however, by Aizawa reaching out to hold your hand, preventing you from walking away. You turn back around and look between your hands and him, giving him a confused look as his grip persists.
“Shouta? What’s-“
“Do you want to get married?” He asks, cutting you short and effectively making you fall silent. Your mind runs blank as you try to process what he said, part of you not believing it as your mouth opens and closes trying to find something to say.
“Are you- did you mean- I…” You stutter, trying and failing to somehow reply to the sudden question. Your eyes met his, kind and waiting laced with nervousness and anticipation as he waits for your answer. His thumb brushes over the top of your hand where they still joined in the space between you, drawing your attention there before your eyes trail up his arm and back to his face. In that moment it all seemed to click and you smiled, fully turning so you now stood in front of him.
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
He flashes you one of his rare toothy smiles before pulling you back in by the hand, a laugh escaping you before it’s cut short by him placing his lips on yours. You melt into the kiss and smile slightly as the stubble on his face scratches yours, Aizawas hand gently cupping the side of your face as yours rests on his shoulder.
“I don’t have a ring.” He says as he pulls away, “That was a spur of the moment thing.”
You laugh softly, “It’s okay, it’s perfect the way it is.”
-
A nervous breath escapes you as you twist the golden band on your finger, your cat happily tucked against your body as you carried it through the halls of U.A. Highschool. As you made it to the hallway holding classroom 1-A you set down the feline in front of you, crouching so you were now about level. You let out a small sigh as you stroke its head, a small smile crossing your face as it purrs.
“Remember, all you have to do is walk up to him, okay?” You say quietly, making sure you couldn’t be heard through any of the open doors. You rolled up a piece of paper and tied it together with a small ribbon before looping it through the cats collar, tying it in a small bow before double checking it’s secure.
“Are you excited, too?” You ask, breathing a laugh as the cat meows. “I hope he is.”
After taking a moment to collect yourself you stand up again, looking down at the tortoiseshell cat and gently nudging it with the side of your leg. It seems to get the hint and happily strolls down the hall with you following behind up until you make it to the classroom door. You stay out of sight though the cat continues, letting out a meow as it spots Aizawa at his desk.
“Hm? How did you get here?” Aizawa asks, swiveling his chair around as the familiar cat approaches him.
As soon as it’s close enough he picks it up and sets it in his lap, smiling slightly as it nudges his hand for a pet.
“Did you come to visit me at work?” He asks, “Why would you leave Y/n… what’s this?”
He reaches out to the small scroll on the cats collar, his brow drawing together as he pulls the end of the ribbon and releases it from the collar. Though confused he proceeds with untying the ribbon and unrolling the paper it held.
“This new baby doesn’t have fur…?” He reads aloud, “Did Y/n find a hairless cat?”
You laugh silently to yourself as you wait for him to unravel the rest of your message, anticipation making you antsy as you peak around the door.
The note was now fully visible as Aizawa holds the top and bottom apart, his expression still displaying confusion as he scans over the black and white picture.
“An ultrasound…?” He says, pausing as he realizes what he said. His eyes widen in surprise as he reevaluates the picture that held the undeniable shape of a baby. “An ultrasound.”
You step into the doorway and smile as Aizawas eyes meet yours, glancing between you and the ultrasound in his hands.
“Surprise.” You say, trying to hide your nervousness behind a smile.
You walk closer until you’re standing a foot away from his chair, fingers still twirling your wedding ring as you wait for him to say something.
“This is yours?” He asks and you nod. “You’re pregnant?” Another nod. “This is our baby?”
“Mhm.” You hum, still trying to figure out how he felt as his tone, as well as his expression, had been next to emotionless.
After a few seconds of staring at the ultrasound he sets it on his desk before lifting the cat in his lap and gently placing it on the floor, wordlessly rising to his feet. He blinked a few seconds before pulling you into an abrupt hug, his grip tighter than usual as he buries his face in your shoulder. You lace your fingers through his hair while your other arm goes around his back, slightly reluctantly as you try to decipher his reaction.
“Are you mad?” You ask nervously, feeling as if a weight is lifted off your shoulders when you feel him shake his head.
“It’s just…” He starts, his sentence trailing off as he seems at a loss for words. “A baby. Our baby.”
You laugh slightly, your fingers combing through his hair as you feel a wave of joy wash over you.
“Yes, it is.” You reply, “So I take it you’re happy about this?”
“Of course I am.” He says as he pulls back just enough to be able to face you. “I love you.”
He leans in for a short-lived kiss that’s broken apart by both of your wide smiles, the two of you opting for letting your foreheads rest against each other’s instead. One of Aizawas hands leaves it’s spot where it rested on the small of your back and trailed towards the front of your body before cautiously resting on your lower stomach.
Aizawa looks up temporarily to look over your shoulder, breathing a laugh through his nose at what he sees.
“Looks like they’re excited, too.” He comments, directing your attention to the cats that trot into the room before looping around your feet.
A laugh escapes your lips as you turn to look down at them, your head resting on Aizawas chest as well as your hand as his hand lays on your shoulder. A warm feeling blossoms in your chest and settles in your stomach where your baby was growing, a strong sense of family surrounding you and enveloping the room in comfort. This, you believed, was the perfect moment which you owed all to your quirk and the cat you silently thanked as it pawed at Aizawas arm from its spot on the desk.
“You know, between all the cats, the students, and now this, I’m starting to think I have too many kids.” Aizawa says.
You laugh, “I think there’s room for one more. And maybe one more cat.”
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My masterlist
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hawksrut · a year ago
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Synopsis: If you have received this invitation, then we cordially invite you into The Red Room Society, 
An honorable social gathering for pro heroes made by a pro hero. No cameras to follow your every move, no citizens to gather your secrets and critique you as a person. Only fellow heroes whom share in the privacy and desires to unleash their most inner wants and needs. From the moment your feet enter the doorway and mask comes on, you are but a stranger in the midst, happily kept company by our most trained and delectable sweetheart who will provide for whatever it is you most hunger for.
May you enjoy the night of ecstasy and put up the hero name you oh-so worked for to be the beast/beastress that has slumbered within yourself.
Pairings: Various x Reader
Genre: Smut
Warnings: high-class smut, everyone is a pro-hero, sex club, no true plot whatsoever literally just smut (cannot stress this enough), the reader is a champ, same reader through each oneshot, more warnings depending on which pro-hero, aged up characters (for some)
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The garden was beautiful when night reached its peak.
Your eyes scattered across the lot. Darkness suited well against the fairy lights decorated against the various emerald green bushes and watermelon pink cherry blossoms. Petals would fall as the winds took them and swirled around in a dance. In the center of it all, rested the old yet detailed fountain sprouted a rush of water before falling down into a stream where the pond resided koi fish. All clustered together and swimming among one another.
With your extended hours to yourself in the estate, you found a haven in the beautiful nature. Of course, when it wasn’t taken over by the moans and groans of parties enjoying each other’s company. A habit of being the personalized assistant meant you were at everyone’s beck and call. Subordinate to everyone’s whims and needs whether that be another glass of white wine and chocolates to another box of condoms. Present and judgment-free is what you were. The mere helper to suppressed desires of society’s heroes. Be the curtain that keeps them and media from being known apart from their daily personas.
Never in a million years did you think becoming the X-rated hero: Midnight’s assistant would grow to hoarding a group of heroes to live out their sexcapades but when two roads diverge into a yellow wood, then possibilities become endless. Cleavage. Sexual innuendos and sex toys were your expectations (all of which you received) but to have your boss start-up a heroes’ only sexual club hidden from wandering eyes was a different kind of shock. You couldn’t deny the curiosity of how heroes or any celebrity for the matter got it on without having it blasted to the papers but you didn’t think it would be something as wild as a sex only kind of exchange.
Then again you couldn’t be shocked could you? Not as being the right-hand woman to your boss’ exploitations. From narrowing down the estates Nemuri had selected, to interviewing, screening, and documenting the severely long contracts for all the sweethearts you and Nemuri admitted. Sweethearts: a term you yourself picked out simply for linking the term of endearment. A name to represent the many people exceptional in handling sexual service without question. The ones who donned an amassing of masks each to fit their sexual persona and in turn be easily identifiable for heroes and their acquired tastes.
As to help comfort the heroes and their identities, you too wore a mask to conceal your identity. Even if it was a pointless thing considering you were always right by your hero’s side, thus others could make a quick assumption as to who you were. Regardless, it was best to see only a mask rather than a face and see that same face in normal time.
Many times could you visualize the number of times you had been confused for a sweetheart. They usually attacked when you were away from Nemuri’s presence. Running an errand for a certain hero, one would usually stop you in your tracks and request a sweetheart’s service, or they would be the hero whom you were assisting. Though flattered, you would politely remind them of your status as the auxiliary and nothing more than that. They begged, oh how they begged. Some offered money, lots of it. Other’s offered power and some offered themselves. The chance to be in the same bed as an honorary hero was something many civilians dreamed of, touched themselves to. And while your boss didn’t forbid you from scoring a potential lay, it was a personal preference to keep yourself from being seen as one of their sex toys. It was an intimating thing to pleasure a hero. While you’ve had your fair share of sexual escapades, these were heroes you were talking about. The thought of fucking up sent daunting shivers to rake your spine.
However, you weren’t blind. You could feel the gaping stares sunken into your body. You could feel predatory eyes shape your form, follow you from one end of the room to another. They would stare at you as if they wanted to rip the barely covering cloth you called a dress and take you right then and there. Produce a show that would send fingers down their nether regions and absorb the pleasure you were outputting. Some would follow you, never talking or touching but like a shadow, they would be by your side with their gazes of lust trailing your form.
Was it the salacious gazes continuously following you, was it the want to be stuffed and filled to the brink or a particular man’s offering of a hefty amount of cash that sealed the deal? Made you switch from a simpleton subordinate to newly and temporary sweetheart. To be frank the whole thing was a blur. Nemuri’s squalls of glee and assurance that she would handle everything so that you could get the “most pleasurable night in human existence” had you free of any mingling with heroes.
Day and night you lived as Midnight’s assistant. She gave no details to her wicked plans and you made no move to question her. It wasn’t until the next scheduled “club meeting” was coming close that your boss greeted you first thing in the morning with a list of names. Each name holding a large set of numbers beside it.
A one-time event is what you were. One night of sexual gratification with the forbidden fruit. Not all good things came for free, and neither did you. Only those whose bank account could talk for them could have a piece of your time, and through Midnight’s harsh fist only a few selected were deemed worthy for you to spend your night with. Given by the seven names written beautifully for you to read.
‘That’s a lot of money.’ You fretted. Hands going back to the now crumpled paper once again. Within the span of a week were you given to mentally, physically, and emotionally prepare you for the night you were going to have. Day after day you would read the names, and yet it could still not properly sink into you that your night with them was going to happen. Not as Nemuri donned in a cloud feeling cerulean blue dress meant to accentuate your prominent features, a scorching red masquerade mask opposing the color fitted for your eyes. Not as your limousine ride to the estate with nothing more than the crumpled paper to keep you company. And not as you awaited in an empty room, on pins and needles until the heroine herself would greet you to the hungry heroes.
‘You are hot, you are a badass!’ You reminded yourself. The noir pumps seemingly clacking louder against the marble with each step. Nemuri besides you whispering sweet nothings to you, assuring of your night of euphoria. There was no need for worries. Not when at the end of the day, this was for you. You decided this for your own sake. The heroes you were set to meet were nothing more than mere pawns for your sexual release. The cards were held in your hands, you held the power. The reason this was all occurring was because you wanted it.
And you did want to go through with this, right?
“Now may I present to you all, the honorary feast for the night, my adorable little assistant and hero favorite: name!” From the lineup of sweethearts opposing the crowd of heroes, you were placed front and center. Much like yourself and the sweethearts, they garnered masks of their own. To uphold their forbidden agendas despite variables easily pointed out who was who.
Your chest rose and fell when all eyes dropped to you. Lust. Want. Desire. A combination of all laced into dark eyes. Several attempted to get closer but as the forbidden fruit Nemuri was good at keeping others at bay. No matter the urge to want to lace their fingers into your hair or let the straps of your dress fall from your shoulders.
Not one inch of uncertainty, only hunger, and the need to sink themselves onto you. And as your gaze fell on the seven men on your list, each with their own hidden carnivorous yearnings, you came to one conclusion-
This was exactly what you wanted.
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Synopsis: You couldn't deny that once or twice you've imagined what it would feel like to spend a night underneath a pro hero. The thought of them using their quirk or mutation against you sent quivers down your body. If the thoughts only sent you feel warm, you could only imagine what the real thing would feel like. And as your body went still, mind washed over, legs slipping down falling to your calves as a finger prodded you to look up at the hero in front of you. Thoughts could never come close to the real thing.
Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi (Mindjack) x Reader - 15 MILLION
Release date: October 25, 2020
Read here: link
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Synopsis: He was always nice to you. Offering warm smiles, asking how your day had been. Never once stepping out of bounds and overall a ray of sunshine. The thought of him craving a night with you never stepped into your head. Not until he had you alone. His mouth moving lower and lower, lips pressing on every inch of skin he could get across. 
Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro (Red Riot) x Reader - 20 MILLION
Read her: link
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Synopsis: He was a gentle man. He was never one for flash when it came to being a hero. An ironic thing considering his fusion of fire and ice. Sweethearts blushed thinking over their night with the ice and fire prince. He treated them with care and comfort, as if the day would be their last and added as much passion and emotion into his actions and reciprocation. Now you could understand why he was sweethearts favorite. Why he was so fought over. As his lips pressed against yours with ardor and his dual quirked hands gave you the heat and cold to run down your body. 
Pairing: Todoroki Shouto (Ice flames) x Reader - 39 MILLION
Release date: TBD 
Preview: here
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Synopsis: All the sweethearts knew of the explosive man and his reputation. Sweethearts swooned at the thought of a night with him. From rumors, he left them legs shaking, out of breath and tears coating their cheeks as they babbled nonsense to others. It  never occurred to you that he would be one to fancy you. Never did you see his eyes on you nor did you see any signs of him holding any sexual want for you. But, as your legs quivered, your inside thoroughly rearranged. Eyes streams tears blurring your vision of the sadistic man in front of your body. Again, you were proven wrong. 
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki (Dynamight) x Reader - 40 MILLION
Release date: TBD 
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Synopsis: Everyone knew of the number one pro hero Deku. The new symbol of peace, the great All Might’s progeny. A man of wide smiles and tinted redden cheeks hearing children praise him and look at him in awe. Women would toss their number his way and thank him for his service with hugs and kisses to his red cheeks. The beloved man who seemed to be goddess personified. That is what you thought overall. The man who hovered above you, emerald hues darkened to look almost black, gleam of mischief. The smirk on his lips, taunting you, encasing his power. The hand wrapped around your throat, sparks of green around his hand and all his form as he pounded in you without mercy. This was not the good man you see on your screen.  
Pairing: Midoriya Izuku (Deku) x Reader - 50 MILLION
Release date: TBD 
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Synopsis: There are just some heroes easily recognizable. Whether it be the color or style of one’s hair that can easily be picked out among the crowd. Or maybe a mutation of sorts has the spotlight shining on them a bit too soon. All you know is that it’s easy to spot Hawks even if he stood on the opposite end of the room. Those bright crimson wings of him gave it away over the man’s appearance. It’s why you recognize who it is standing behind you as two wings enclose you as he stands behind you. Lips breathing on your neck before they lean and give a bite.
Pairing: Hawks (Takami Keigo) x Reader - 69 MILLION
Release date: TBD 
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Synopsis: You could feel his eyes on you wherever you went. Guiding some to their respective rooms, handling the alcoholic drinks for some to calm their nerves. Always on the move and yet, with a sweetheart by his side, his eyes never deterred from your form. Were you surprised to hear from Nemuri that he had asked for you repeatedly? Fuck yes. Were you surprised to hear that he had asked for you several times. Going as far as to pull out a wad of cash for a night with you. Fuck yes. Were you surprised when you finally opened yourself up to the heroes that his name was neatly found on the list of heroes interested in you? The largest sum of money beside his name. Fuck yes.
Pairing: Aizawa Shota (Eraserhead) x Reader - 84 MILLION
Release date: TBD
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