#buyer has a home to sell | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

personasintro · 7 months

Text

Mutual Help | #46

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 19.4k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

Closing one of the boxes with a tape, you look around what used to be your living room and technically still is, but the remainder that it soon won't be is too real and big. Packing some of your things that Jungkook will later take to his place makes you doubt your decision. Only because you already feel bad at the thought of taking up his space no matter how many times he has told you it's not true. More like has scolded you with that prominent frown of his. You just can't help it.

All of this feels weird.

You will have to leave a bunch of your furniture behind, well to sell it to be completely exact which kind of makes you sad to be doing. There isn't space where you could store your couch, television and other stuff Jungkook already has in his apartment. He has helped you with everything, from searching for possible buyers and putting all your stuff on the internet that needs to be sold. You had done that together during sad evenings of you sulking next to Jungkook.

"You've made the right decision,"

You get startled at Jimin's soft voice next to you, completely forgetting for a second that he's been holding the box for you so you could tape it. He sets it on top of another box as he gives you an encouraging smile, hand squeezing your shoulder.

"Stop doubting everything, you've stayed at his place so many times, it's your second home at this point." Jimin jokes, causing you to glare at him but a playful grin cracks on your lips as you silently agree with him. You also appreciate how he tries to put you at ease, sensing your doubting.

All of you have stayed at Jungkook's home so many times that it doesn't feel like a foreign place. But still, it's Jungkook's home.

"I know, I just... it feels weird to move in there." you admit quietly, feeling bad for even saying it out loud because somehow, it makes you sad for Jungkook.

He's here sacrificing his space and privacy for you, just so he can help you. You know it's more than that but it doesn't feel right to have thoughts like these, constantly doubting this whole situation as Jimin has called it.

"You've always been bad with changes," Jimin offers simply, squeezing your shoulder for the last time before he lets go.

He's right, you realize as soon as he says it. You don't like changes, at least not big ones like this and especially in your little fucked up situation.

"I think that's why you feel dubious about this and that's completely fine. But you know Jungkook, and I think his place is the most comfortable place you could be living in."

Again, Jimin is more than right. Out of all the options you had, Jungkook's place feels like the most comfortable and safe option for you. Not that living with your other two friends wouldn't. There are just more cons of living with one of them. For example, Jimin's place is smaller and you already feel bad for taking up most of Jungkook's current space once you move in with him. Taehyung's wild life full of bringing strangers to his home isn't the most pleasant place to be living in, and you can't expect him to change things because of you. Not that you'd want him to.

Another thing that scares you though, something you haven't said out loud and definitely aren't planning to tell Jimin, is the fact you're going to be so close to Jungkook now. You'll be under the same roof which makes a little intrigued excitement spark inside of you.

"Yeah, I know," you murmur, "I don't mean to sound ungrateful."

"You don't," Jimin smiles and assures you, "You just sound like our Y/N."

That makes you chuckle, your conversation soon interrupted by manly chuckles as Taehyung and Jungkook walk out of your kitchen shoving each other as you roll your eyes at their usual and childish behavior. They said they came to help but so far, it looks like they came to help to empty your pantry. Taehyung holding one of your snacks says it all as they finally join you.

"Why that serious face?" Taehyung asks as soon as he spots you, wiggling his brows as he shamelessly takes a bite of the snack, silently challenging you to tell him something. But before you can tell him off, playfully of course because yes, you're slightly annoyed but not to the point you'd have to get angry because it's just a stupid snack, Jimin beats you to it.

"Ah, our friend here is getting all guilty and dubious." Jimin says mischievously, ignoring the grin you send him as you already hear Jungkook sighing as he plops on your couch, arm stretching and resting on the couch's top.

"Why?" Taehyung almost whines, "Girl, just enjoy the huge bathtub. I'd kill to have one in my place. And Jungkook is like the cleanest guy I know, he even does his own laundry and he actually likes it!"

That makes you laugh as Jungkook grins but rolls his eyes at Taehyung complimenting his laundry skills. He says it as if it's super unusual for men to do this kind of stuff.

"No, you're just saying that because you're a pig." Jimin jumps into the conversation, both you and Jungkook laughing at Taehyung's open mouth and the well-known glare he shoots at his friend.

The two of them start to bicker, something you're not in the mood to listen again and thanks to Jungkook you don't have to, because as soon as you plop onto the spot next to him, his arm stretched behind you, you're slightly intoxicated by the smell of him which is one of your biggest weaknesses when it comes to him. The guy is wearing sweatpants and a shirt and you're already drooling. And that's enough to zone out the bickering of those two for a moment but there's something else Jungkook wants to say.

"You're bruising my ego with all that doubting shit," he says lightly, grinning at you as you realize how close you're sitting next to him.

You can see his skin so clearly, he's so close that it would only take two seconds to lean in for you to kiss him, two seconds to eye the silver jewelry decorating his brow that you still can't get used to. Everytime you see it, it's like a slap to your face that reminds you how hot, more hot, your best friend is getting. Not that you thought it's even possible.

He's joking but still voicing the elephant in the room which causes more guilt to come to the surface as your features soften. "That's not it, Kook. I made my decision and I'm fine with it, I just--you know me. I'm grateful you're letting me stay at your place. I really am."

"Really?" Jungkook asks, smirking as he raises his brow at you. For a moment you look at him expectantly and confusingly, until he leans towards you to get close to your ear. "How grateful?"

Glancing at him, you look straight away to feel his hot breath on the side of your face again as you bite into your lower lip, eyes flickering to Jimin and Taehyung who are fooling around while laughing. You're too distracted to tell them to put down those pillows before they break something.

"Very grateful." you mutter to Jungkook, sounding almost sheepishly as excitement and shyness shakes in your chest.

"Hm, you can show me later then," he proposes, voice husky and low which makes you instantly gulp, trying to hide how much his words affect you.

It's the first time Jungkook has hinted at something like that since that incredible morning at his place with your legs stretched for his mouth. You've been thinking about that a lot, you're not going to lie and you've no idea what comes over Jungkook to act like this again, but you love it and you're here for it. You feel that flame of lust and excitement that you've felt with him in June and then months after, during the deal you had.

Finding his eyes, you find them mischievously looking into yours and you have to brace yourself not to get too distracted. "Maybe I will." you tell him silently, lips curving in a satisfied smirk when he grins at you – not in the typical cute bunny way, but in the way you're ten seconds from sitting on his lap.

"Yah, what are you two whispering about?" Taehyung suddenly yells, giving a last smack to Jimin's head with your pillow and then cackles when Jimin tells him to fuck off.

"Just how dumb the two of you are." Jungkook reacts, tongue in his cheek teasingly as Taehyung gasps.

"Yo, don't forget you're the younger one."

"Yeah, and I seriously doubt that sometimes." he murmurs, eyes flickering to yours as you giggle.

But before Taehyung can complain about the younger's attitude, the ringing of Jungkook's phone resounds and he picks it up, informing the food delivery is here seconds after. After another minute of bickering, Jimin drags Taehyung with him since there is a lot of food and you're sure some part of him has done it to get back at Taehyung. Eventually, they go down to pick up the food while you tell them you'll pack a few more boxes until they come back, which shouldn't take long.

Jungkook offers to help, the whole purpose of him being here actually, and he follows you to your bedroom. There is a lot of stuff you've to pack and even though you don't have to move out in a month or more, you've to arrange things you'll throw away, sell or take with you. Which reminds you that the person who is buying your couch, is supposed to come in two days and take it with them. More things won't be here in a few days and technically, it won't be a proper living space. The most important things such as your bed or stool in the kitchen where you can sit down and have your meal are still here. You're taking your bed with you, although you're not sure how Jungkook will make space in his office for it.

But – he's too determined to make it work and who are you to oppose.

That's why you've decided to spend the first night at Jungkook's apartment because it'll make things easier. You still have to clean this place after some of the furniture and things are done. It's not dirty because you cleaned it every day but still, there must be dust and dirt behind the furniture. After talking to your friends, they all said you should focus on making this apartment to its needed state and sleeping at Jungkook's place (slash living) would make things easier. And you've to agree.

Still, it's happening too soon but somehow, you're okay with it because it makes sense.

There are already a few boxes in your bedroom, most of them seasonal clothes that you don't need in this current weather which are thick and warm jackets or summer dresses. Packing your make-up is the first task you settle upon, knowing it shouldn't take too long and Taehyung and Jimin will be here any minute.

Jungkook continues with the process he was doing before disappearing in the kitchen with Taehyung, so you don't worry about him as you hear him rustle behind you. Too occupied in your thoughts and a task, you don't notice the sudden silence, and Jungkook's steps aimed towards you are just an empty sound at the back of your mind. That's until he settles a box in front of you, a box you haven't seen in a while but know very much.

You want to abruptly turn around and scold him for bringing this out right now, but he presses himself onto you so that it's almost impossible.

"What do we have here?" he muses teasingly, causing you to scoff. "Haven't seen this one in a while."

And then you watch his tattooed hand slowly opening the box as you're met with a sight of the only sex toy you own, and that is very much thanks to the man standing behind you.

"What? You wanted to borrow it?" you murmur dryly, hearing him chuckle but that is before he delivers a light spank to the side of your ass that makes you yelp.

Completely unexpected and surprised by his reaction, you can't help but feel warmness in the pit of your stomach as your toes curl, especially with Jungkook's close proximity.

"Don't get smart on me." he warns, causing you to bite your lower lip as you try to let out a careless scoff.

"Close it before the guys see it." you tell him, breath hitching when he wraps his arm around your waist and starts caressing your stomach which sets alive the thousand of butterflies in your body. Fuck, you hate him for knowing how to touch you. Even the slightest touch makes your body on fire.

"What, they already know you owe one, don't you remember?" he hums, playing into the game as his hand inches lower and plays with the hem of your sweatpants.

"Yeah, thanks to you," you point out dryly again, giggling when Jungkook suddenly presses his lips into your neck and gently bites you there. "They were too drunk, they probably don't remember." You voice your thoughts hearing Jungkook hum as the tip of his fingers get under the hem, meeting the fabric of your panties.

"Trying to calm down your worries by telling yourself that?" he teases, chuckling into your neck as you arch your back, meeting his hard chest as soon as his fingers get under the hem of your panties as well. Fuck, what is he doing?

"Fuck you," you let out shakily.

"I will, soon," he promises, causing you to whine as his fingers get close to your heat but not quite enough to be touching you there just yet. "This okay?" he assures, causing your heart to swell as you nod too quickly.

And that's all he needs before he lowers his hand and cups you inside your underwear, two fingers parting your lower lips as you suddenly gasp, leaning onto Jungkook whose body holds you in place. Head thrown back, you grab his hand that moved to your hip while the other one is busy being buried in your panties, you squeeze his warm and soft skin.

"You're not throwing it away, right? That would be rude, it was quite expensive,"

His voice is full of mischief and he gives you no time to respond, fingers finding your clit as he circles around the sensitive bud causing you to gasp, his name dying on your tongue as he hums.

"We could have fun with it, like the good old days..."

He's teasing you, you hear the smirk in his voice and you can feel his lips stretching against the skin of the temple where his mouth lays.

"Shut up," you choke up, knowing you should end this before the guys can find you here like this. There would be a lot of explaining to do and you're not quite ready for interrogation from them.

"What, liking it too much?"

"Fuck," you gasp when his fingers glide easily and circling your entrance, thanks to the wetness that Jungkook caused with his mouth. Maybe just a few more minutes won't hurt...

But the universe isn't on your side because just as the tip of Jungkook's finger is about to enter you, your mouth falling open with knees close to buckling, the sound of your door being open is like a glass shattering on the floor. Jungkook sighs, pulling out his hand out of your panties as you turn around, face completely flushed and heated, just in time to see him putting his middle finger in his mouth.

His lips wrap around his long finger deliciously, it lasts just a second as he tastes you with your open left ajar with rushed breaths. "Too bad baby, the fun has ended." And apparently, so have you.

You're almost falling apart, the pet name that probably fell out of his mouth without much thinking has caused your whole pussy to throb, begging to feel his fingers again. And he is so fucking hot, he surely knows it because he gives you a pleased smirk, raising his brow at you.

"We are here!" Taehyung yells, too close to you to be yelling like this but it's the only warning that wakes you out of your daze, your hands automatically moving to close the box that Jungkook has so kindly opened.

Just in time Taehyung barges in the room, his brown and attentive eyes falling on your figure and he finds you odd, especially the way you're staring at him. On another hand, Jungkook looks completely fine and walks to Taehyung as if nothing happened. "Come on, let's eat."

"Yeah," Taehyung says, eyeing you as Jungkook brushes past him. "You good?"

"Yeah, yeah," you answer too quickly, touching your cheeks as you shake your head and give him a nervous chuckle.

Whatever it is, Taehyung decides to ignore it because you've been acting weird these days and it has a lot to do with the whole moving change and process, so he doesn't really blame you. He follows you, the four of you washing your hands before you eat the delicious food that is already prepared in your living room thanks to Jimin.

As you and Jungkook wash your hands, you can't help but give him a glance while you're reminded what has just happened – but Jungkook cocks his brow at you cockily and all you can do is shake your head at him, splashing him with tiny droplets on your fingers in his face.

The two of you join your friends with stupid grins on your faces – them being completely unaware of the exchange.

There's a bit of a helpless feeling that cuts in your chest thanks to your stuff that's currently taking up a lot of space in Jungkook's office. After feeding yourselves and dividing boxes to your and Jungkook's car, all of you have moved to his apartment to properly celebrate – as Taehyung has called it but he's just looking for an excuse to drink and eat free food. Not that you mind, they have helped you a lot today and it's nice to hang out again without all the club setting that you've slowly grown tired of.

Sprawled on Jungkook's couch, you bring cans of coke to each of them as they murmur a poor excuse of "thank you", completely immersed in trying to choose a good movie.

"Jungkook, don't forget about Friday," you tell him as you join them on the couch, squeezed between Jungkook and Taehyung causing the older one to grumble annoyingly at you, pointing at the huge space of Jungkook's couch. "This is the best spot," you argue at Taehyung, shoving your elbow in his stomach as he swats your arm away.

"What's Friday anyway?" Taehyung asks, scooting a little to have some space so you're not glued to his side with an unappreciative frown, frowning even more when you provocatively grin at him.

"Ah, my boss invited Jungkook to one of our celebration parties. Don't ask me, completely unnecessary but our participation is somehow required. Shortly said, we got this amazing deal with another model agency in China which of course, means more money for the company and my boss thinks it's great to celebrate it. He also invited some partners and possible future partners,"

"So, he wants to basically impress them and maybe snatch a few new deals." Jimin says which you automatically nod to.

"Okay, but why is Jungkook invited? Can't you bring me instead?" Taehyung whines, causing you to snort as Jimin does the same thing.

"What would you possibly do there?"

"Ah, excuse me?" Taehyung scoffs, "If it means free food and alcohol, I'm always down to attend any unnecessary celebrations."

Jungkook chuckles next to you, eyes still fully attached to the screen while trying to find a movie all of you will be okay with – the hardest task of tonight. Jimin and you join, laughing at Taehyung as he grins but you all know he's not bluffing.

Shaking head, you open your mouth. "Jungkook actually took some pictures for the company a few months ago and Junho was very pleased with them. He asked me on Tuesday if I could perhaps tell Jungkook that he's invited, he knows he's my friend so I think he purposely asked me, so there's a bigger chance he'd go or something."

It is actually strange of Junho but at the same time you're not surprised. It's pretty rare of him to show any kind of praise to his employees and people working under him, but he's been completely swooned by Jungkook's talent which to be honest, you're not shocked since you know him and his work. Everyone has been very pleased with the outcome of Jungkook's great photography skills.

You were even more surprised to be stopped by Junho in the hallway, he doesn't speak to you if it's not necessary, and he actually acted like a nice human being for once. You're not stupid and delusional, of course it was because he wanted something from you and that something is Jungkook's presence at the party. Still, the looks of some of your co-workers they exchanged are still fresh in your memory and you wonder if there are already any rumors going around. If yes, Yoongi would be the first one to kindly remind you of them.

"Ah, yeah, I remember you guys mentioned he did something for your company." Taehyung recalls, causing you to nod along his words.

"Yeah, I think Junho just wants to impress the partners and is using Jungkook for it, I don't know," you shrug, "And you," you nudge Jungkook in the shoulder but he only hums in return with his mouth open as he stares at the screen.

So you reach for his longer hair, tugging onto them as he scolds you with a frown. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," you scold him back, hearing Jimin and Taehyung snicker next to you. "You don't have to go, I'll just tell him you're busy or something."

"Nah, it's fine. I told you I'll go." he tells you, turning his eyes back to the screen causing you to roll your eyes at him in annoyance.

"No, I'm serious. Don't feel like you've to go with me because I complained to you that I don't want to go."

"Why would you not wanna go, Y/N?" Taehyung whines, "You're such a party pooper. Hello, get all the free booze and food, maybe you'll fancy some of the new partners, I bet they're all rich guys."

"Yes, rich guys in their fifties," you roll your eyes at Taehyung, "It's not like I don't wanna go--"

"You specifically said you don't want to socialize with your co-workers and bunch of strangers, you also hate to be on your own at these kinds of things," Jungkook remarks, causing you to glare at him as the two of your other friends start to laugh.

You shrink in embarrassment. Okay, maybe you've said the socializing part but it's true. It's not like you don't like your co-workers or something, but there are many people working in the company and you're really not in the mood to stand in the heels and act all posh when you could be laying home, well Jungkook's home, and eating and looking like a pig with no effort needed.

"Plus, I don't have any plans anyway and it kinda sounds fun." Jungkook shrugs.

He's always been a little bit more outgoing than you, he likes to occupy himself and be busy no matter what that means. He's usually very productive and for exchange, he actually doesn't mind meeting new people and mingling around. But you get it, it actually could bring a good job opportunity for him – even though he doesn't need it, because he's mostly booked for every day and if not, he's busy editing all the photos he had taken.

"Okay, well, you're invited so it's up to you," you end it with that, hearing Jungkook hum before he triumphantly yells at finding a good movie which startles you, but as always your glare gets ignored as everyone gets comfortable.

Reaching for the blanket abandoned next to Jungkook, you cover yourself and lean your head against Taehyung's shoulder. Finally as the first scene starts to play, everyone keeps silent but not until you and Taehyung start to bicker because of the blanket. In the end, Taehyung wins and you're forced to share it with him, both of you shushed by annoyed Jimin and Jungkook.

Sometime in the middle of the movie, a bottle of wine is opened and you slowly sip on it throughout it, finding an amazing comfort in the form of Taehyung's shoulders and Jungkook's lap where your legs lay. Sheepishly, you've urged Jungkook to massage your feet which he refused but your constant and very persistent look convinced him.

Everything feels cozy, causing you to get slightly drowsy especially once the lights are off and the only light illuminates from the screen. Surely, the wine in your system has something to do with your tiredness and slight tipsiness you realize at your usual tipsy behavior.

However, Jimin and Taehyung don't look any different as they finally stretch themselves once the credits roll and Jungkook turns the lights on. He offers them to stay over but they both refuse, both of them having plans in the morning apparently. So you both walk them to the front door, bidding goodbye and not avoiding Taehyung's teasing.

"Look at them, they look like a married couple, shoving us out."

Jimin snickers and you roll your eyes at the obvious tipsy Taehyung who gives you a boxy grin and very tight hug that makes you slap his back.

"You could've stayed, you dumbass," you tell Taehyung, moving to Jimin as you hug him.

"Don't listen to him, he's just babbling nonsense as usual." Jimin says, both of you laughing before they walk out of Jungkook's apartment and go to their awaiting cub in front of the building.

It feels very odd – knowing you're staying here and it's not the usual type of sleepover or necessary staying over like usual. But still, you find comfort in Jungkook's place of knowing it for so long so it doesn't feel uncomfortable or anything close to it.

You're in the kitchen washing the used glasses when Jungkook comes into the kitchen, throwing empty packages to the bin that were left on the coffee table.

"I'd clean it tomorrow, don't worry about it." he tells you, standing next to you as he leans against the counter, watching you washing the last glass.

"Come on, it's nothing," you tell him with a chuckle, turning off the water as Jungkook already grabs the kitchen cloth and wipes all the glasses.

You mimic his previous pose, leaning yourself while Jungkook takes care of the washed dishes and both of you fall into a casual conversation that turns into a giggle fit thanks to your tipsiness. Jungkook looks tipsy as well, although not as giggly like you but his face is slightly flushed and his eyes have that spark, the kind of spark he has whenever he drinks.

Once everything is taken care of, Jungkook scurries to take a shower since you so kindly let him take it first. Informing him you've to take out some of your needed stuff anyway, you hear the door being closed. Deeply in thoughts and in the middle of pulling out your cosmetic bag, you gasp at the spilled make-up in it and your hands being covered in the foundation that had to be closed, not good enough. Groaning, you grow annoyed at yourself for letting such a mistake happen especially when the brand isn't as cheap as you'd like it to be. It's everywhere, almost spilling onto the floor but you quickly wipe it off into your (thankfully) old shirt.

In the midst of your tipsy annoyance, you naturally walk towards the bathroom, ready to have an explanation ready for Jungkook and your sudden appearance in the bathroom. Clumsily, you somehow manage to open the door with your elbow without getting anything dirty.

"Sorry, sorry, I spilled some of my foundation and it's everywhere," you automatically call out to Jungkook, noticing he's already in shower and one peek at his naked backside, you quickly move towards the sink.

"Suit yourself," Jungkook calls out amusingly, causing you to glance across your shoulder to find him in the same position with a smirk on his lips.

Turning around, your face gets hot and it's definitely not from the slowly creating steam of the warm water, you rub your hands clean with a good amount of soap. Once your hands are clean, you groan at your shirt still being messed up. Taking another peek at Jungkook, you see he is turned with his back to you, the glass of the shower getting foggy not allowing you any other peek. Biting your lower lip, you giggle to yourself as something comes over to you (and you blame the wine) before you carefully take off the shirt and the rest of your homewear clothes.

Jungkook is completely clueless, head leaned back as in his tipsy mind he's trying to sober up thanks to the water in his face. So clueless that he doesn't notice you sneaking behind him, until he hears the shower door being pushed open which causes his head to tilt forward and open his eyes, glancing across his shoulder to find you there.

And fuck, you really are there. Standing with a sheepish grin, breasts completely bare for his eyes with the rest of your body and it takes everything for him not to eye you like a prey. For now, he settles on being confused at your sudden presence.

"Wanting to save up some water?" he jokes, eyes staying on your face respectfully as you inch towards him closer, hand holding his hip as you brush against him and reach for his scented shower gel.

"Uhm, you know, since I'm paying half of the rent now." you joke back, knowing you're nowhere paying half of the actual rent because Jungkook wouldn't allow it. Since this apartment is his and he's paying the mortgage monthly, you settled on paying the same amount you've paid for your old apartment.

It's the only solution the both of you agreed to, so you're fine with it. You have to be.

Squirting some of his shower gel into your palm, Jungkook offers to put it back into its place as you hand it to him and start washing yourself. And god, he is so distracted by you groping your breasts gently as you wash them, nipples perked up the whole time.

And then your eyes flicker to him, finding him watching you while the water drips down his buffed chest and abs, giving him a mere smirk before your hands are on your stomach. You're such a minx, Jungkook thinks because there is no way you've no idea what you're doing. You're so bold and turn into another version of you whenever the slightest amount of alcohol is involved and he is here for it. You're temptation, one that is so close to him and so freaking tempting.

So he plays the game, hands washing his own body and brushing against his firm abs, enjoying how you're watching him attentively, letting your eyes drop to his length. Even in its flaccid state, you can't help but feel your mouth water, up from his trail of hair and the soft patch of pubic hair to his complimenting length between his legs. He looks like a god, with water dripping down his body and hair slicked back, and you fight the urge to give him any more clue how much you want him. Not with your eyes though.

Turning around, you feel his eyes on your backside and as you look across your shoulder for perhaps the tenth time for the past few minutes, you find him already eyeing your ass. The way he looks at you sparks so much fire inside of you, it compliments you and instead of getting insecure about your body, you feel like the most confident woman on earth. Maybe it's the horniness and a little bit of alcohol as well, but you just know Jungkook has it in his eyes.

"Can you wash my back? I can't reach it," you ask him sweetly, both of you knowing it's such a lie and just your attempt of making him suffer even more.

"Of course you can't," Jungkook hums, amusement more than clear in his voice and if you turned around, you'd see it's on his face as well. But he takes the bait, accepting your attempt of making him touch you with open arms because not even two seconds later, you feel his hands on your back.

And he is so close, hand around your waist that tugs you closer to him and towards the stream of the water. At first, his hands are on your shoulders, massaging your tensed muscles as you sigh in content, enjoying how his hands feel like. Jungkook is sneaky, nowhere staying on your back and shoulders only because soon enough, he's cupping your breasts and squeezing them in his big palms, thumbs brushing over your nipples.

Gasping, you lean against him and your own hand shoots behind you, somehow meeting Jungkook's backside as you squeeze the soft but perky flesh. His hands are everywhere, moving down your stomach and even to your sides where it tickles which causes you to giggle, but it only lasts shortly because it's soon exchanged with a loud gasp of Jungkook's name.

The man behind you cups your sex, rubbing his fingers and finding it sleek between your thighs as he hums behind you. Your fingernails dig into the flesh of his asscheek, hips rolling into his hand shamelessly.

"Please," you beg, shamelessly again, "Jungkook."

"You want my fingers?" he asks with a soft but husky hum, lips against your temple as you nod eagerly.

"Yes, please, anything." Your breathless plea resounds between the shower walls, urging Jungkook to make a move with you giving him all the consent he needs.

Fuck, you swear you see starts once he finally slips one of his long fingers inside your cunt, taming your undying need for him just a little bit. He feels how tight and warm you are inside, almost forgetting how it feels and with each slow drag he makes with his finger, you let out a soft moan. Soon enough, you're beginning for more, wanting to be stretched out more because it is just not enough. And your pleas are enough for Jungkook to listen to you, adding another finger as he fingers you while the water keeps dripping down your heated bodies.

Your own hands sneaking between them, cupping his hardening cock, feeling another pinch of pleasure from just a single touch of his manhood.

"Washing, huh? Was this your plan all along?" he asks, suddenly hand cupping your jaw, turning your head towards him as you're met with his dark and hooded eyes causing your insides to shake with excitement, lust and another wave of pleasure.

"Not really, but it works." you breathe out, eyes falling onto his lips and he does the same.

The non-verbal plea unsaid between you two before your lips meet in a rushed and heated kiss, teeth clacking and tongues shamelessly in each other's mouth. Even after months of not touching you, Jungkook seems to know your body even better than yourself, in the midst of your making out he adds a third finger that makes you gasp, giving him a great opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth once again. He pumps his fingers, feeling your walls clench around him while your own hand starts pumping his length. The two of you pleasuring each other, until you have to pull away for an oxygen and you take that opportunity to touch Jungkook's chest and slightly push him to gain his attention.

"Take me to bed, Jungkook,"

You both know what that means and there could be many words exchanged, although he turns off the water and the two of you rush out of the shower. Jungkook hands you the towel, drying himself off messily the same way you do before you're already on your tiptoes kissing him. Arms wrapped around your waist, he backs you into the counter as he kisses you back, your whimpers heard between the kisses as his hands eagerly grab your ass.

Moving on, you're startled once Jungkook suddenly grabs you by your thighs and picks you up as if you weigh nothing, a soft yelp leaving your lips before his mouth is back on yours. Arms around his neck, he walks into his bedroom with you in his hold, lips messily kissing each other as he tries not to bump into anything on his way there. Naked, skin pressed against skin, you feel the slight cold whoosh of air hitting your bodies but Jungkook's warmth and fire flowing inside you make it almost unnoticeable.

The first moment as your back softly and slowly hits the mattress, you pry your eyes open and watch Jungkook hovering over you, seconds away from joining you as he holds himself up and starts kissing down your neck. His experienced and soft mouth leaves wet trails of kisses all over your chest, smooching your warm and in some places still damp skin. As soon as his mouth rounds around your nipple, you know you're done for and Jungkook proves it right because as soon as he sucks on your sensitive bud, his name leaves your mouth like an anthem. While Jungkook busies himself with your breasts, moving to another in a minute to give it proper attention and devoted time, your hands are all over his massive and strong back.

Whenever your fingernails put a slight pressure on his skin, you feel him groan against your breasts and hand sneaking between your thighs to rub you again. It's like whatever you do to make him good, Jungkook makes sure he does twice the amount to make you feel good. Head in the clouds, the pleas of having his fingers inside of you are almost unnoticed by you and you swear you're ready to confess the biggest love to him because he actually listens to you, and a second later his two fingers slide into you again. Surely, you're in a pure ecstasy that is so intertwined with lust and pleasure, you'd tell him anything. You've never craved for any man touch like you crave for Jungkook and you know it's because he knows you and your body exceptionally well.

Sure, in the middle of what is actually happening right now, you're aware that the man who is currently fingering you and sucking your breasts, is your best friend. And all the man you had sex with, a proper sex with, were your boyfriends and it does feel different. To have a sex with someone you're not in relationship with and weirdly enough, you don't care about none of it and maybe you feel even bigger excitement and lust. You're letting lust control you and you can't bring yourself to care. It feels too good.

Jungkook is too good.

And with him cherishing your body and giving you an incredible amount of pleasure, none of it matters at the moment and you don't even think about it.

"Ah, shit, yeah, right there." you moan out breathlessly, eyes thrown back when Jungkook's fingers brush against that good spot.

He curls his fingers inside you, body still hovering over you as you force yourself to look at him and enjoy the view in front of you. Bottom lip between his teeth and eyes focused on his hand, you almost burst, surrendering yourself to the pleasure. Grabbing Jungkook's shoulders, you squeeze them and give them a little tug to catch his attention and with a soft call (or more like a moan) you get it, his eyes flickering to yours.

"I want you, fuck me Jungkook."

Jungkook swears his dick twitches at your innocent tone but such a dirty request at the same time. Still, he searches your face and brows slightly pinched together in a slight uncertainty.

"Are you sure?" he asks, fingers sliding out of you causing you to clench around nothing and almost whimper in disappointment.

"Do I seem unsure?" you answer sassily, showing your mere annoyance which causes him to chuckle as he suddenly straightens himself.

Shamelessly ranking down his chest and stopping at his hard dick, you bite your lip and cock your head forward to usher him. He chuckles amusingly before he reaches towards his nightstand and just that already makes you too greedy and excited.

The sight of a foil package in Jungkook's hands, you're brought back to all those times you've had that opportunity to see this exact view, and you're too close to bring your own hand between your thighs but you know you'd never done such a good job like Jungkook. He rips it open, pulling out the condom as you watch him through the entire process of putting it on and down his thick hardened length.

You feel more wetness gush from you, most likely staining Jungkook's fresh sheets and it reminds you how messy sex actually is. He gives himself a few testing tugs, eyes focused on his own hand and cock before they flicker to yours. He knocks the breath off you. His hair wet from the shower falling into his eyes, causing him to bring the other hand to brush his fingers through his raven black hair to push it back. Abs and muscles flexing with each movement he makes, while his dark lusted eyes stare right back at you.

"How do you want it?"

Ignoring the way your pussy clenches at those words, you stretch yourself slightly causing Jungkook's eyes to fall down your body for a moment.

"However you want me," you breathe out, "Just fuck me."

"On your knees, ass up," Jungkook commands right away, excitement shooting through your entire body as you catch the happy shriek that wants to get out.

Turning on your stomach, you barely get on your knees as you feel Jungkook's arm under you, wrapped around your stomach as he hoists you up, other hand pressing against your back and adding a slight pressure. It causes your forehead to press against the soft sheets and mattress, ass perched up for Jungkook's eyes to see.

His hand and fingers are back on your pussy, rubbing it slowly and spreading more wetness. "So swollen," he murmurs behind you, causing you to clench embarrassingly as a soft chuckle resounds behind you.

"You want me to stretch you more?" he asks, still entering you with three fingers while expecting your answer.

And he gets it, at first in the form of a shake of your head. "No, fuck me, please."

"You sure?" he asks, tone turning dubious for a second.

Despite your neediness, he still adds a fourth finger that makes you groan at the stretch, voice muffled thanks to the mattress. "Yeah, sure." you gasp, causing him to laugh a little behind you.

"I don't know, babe," he teases you, "Are you sure you can take me?"

Even in your current state, you can't help but scoff at him. "I've had sex after and before you, Jeon."

With one movement, his fingers are gone and before you can whine, the impact of his hand against the ass cuts you off and you gasp at the sudden slap.

"Don't get smart on me," he scoffs back, "As much as I wanna fuck you, I don't wanna hurt you."

You turn around your head slightly, enough to catch a slight glimpse of Jungkook's face. "Just go slow, it should be fine."

"As you wish," Jungkook mumbles, giving your ass a decent slap.

The tip of his cock grazes over your pussy, poking your clit causing you to whimper needily Jungkook's name. The first second when his tip slowly enters you, your mouth falls open and you swear you're ready to cum right here and there. But Jungkook decides to tease you, or at least that's what you think, when he enters you and pulls out before another inch can make it inside.

"Jungkook," you pout, moving your ass towards Jungkook but all you're met is another slap to your right asscheek.

"Be patient," He has the audacity to scold you and understandably, your annoyance starts to come to the surface. "You haven't been properly fucked, have you?"

"What?" you breathe out, heart picking up its pace because he has hit the nail in the head with this one. And you've no idea what gave it away, maybe he just deduces it by the obvious neediness you're exposing right now.

"Come on, just look at you," he chuckles amusingly, tip entering you again as he pushes his length into you.

Gasping, you grip the sheets and hold them tightly in your hands, feeling your hole stretch around him and the pressure isn't the most comfortable feeling, but you're more than eager to take him. However, Jungkook doesn't push in fully and if you could turn around, you'd see his cock is barely inside you.

"You're so needy, like a little slut," he says huskily, suddenly leaning towards you that you feel his chest brush against your back before his mouth hovers over your cheek. You realize he's checking for your reaction and you're automatically remembered the only and the first time he has called you that. Slut.

He made sure you were okay with that the morning after and the simple thought of that makes your heart swell at his thoughtfulness. And again, being degraded isn't your thing because you're proud and want to appear self-confident. It's the exact opposite of what being degraded feels like. But somehow, weirdly enough, the fact that Jungkook says it the way he does and in the middle of sex, you don't mind how degrading that is. You love it because it's safe to say, you're slut only for him.

"Yes, for you," you whisper, gasping when Jungkook enters you with another inch, your mouth falling open right away at the sensual feeling of being stretched.

"Not for anyone else?" he hums, your mind somewhere else to be fully grasping what he's asking you but somehow you manage, nodding right away.

"No," you choke out, wanting to feel no one else but Jungkook.

He pulls out, not fully just enough to let his tip in as he starts sliding back in, this time even deeper than before.

"Good," he whispers into your ear, straightening as he grabs your hips and starts pushing all of him in. "You good? It doesn't hurt?" he asks, voice slightly strained as he fights off the urge to thrust into you.

"No, just go slow." you tell him, not hearing any response from him but if you could see him, you'd notice him giving a soft nod as he obeys and tries to go slowly.

He's careful with each inch, your soft gasps lead him to continue until he's fully buried inside you. Your walls are burning, not used to the sudden stretch because it's been a while. Having sex and even more than a while having Jungkook inside you. And you can't believe this is finally happening, excitement and eagerness coming right back as you wiggle your ass, silently telling Jungkook to move and he does. He listens to you and his own body, thrusting in and out slowly and carefully.

Thanks to your wetness, you're lubricated enough to take him and find it just as enjoyable as he does. His hands grip you even tighter, hips moving faster when you beg him to and even though you're not screaming your lungs out, your soft moans and whimpers and occasional Jungkook's name being moaned out, it coaxes Jungkook to move faster and deeper. He's so hard inside you, hitting your spot deliciously.

The evident sounds skin on skin echoes in your ears and around Jungkook's bedroom and he takes no mercy on you, fucking you just like you plea him to in your ecstatic state. He feels good, too good to be true and you feel yourself clenching around him even more tightly, almost whining that you're already ready to cum.

You can't hold it back any further, cursing loudly as the tight knot in your stomach frees and you're cumming around him.

"Fuck," Jungkook curses behind you, feeling you clenching around him repeatedly – therefore getting even more tighter to the point it's getting harder for him to move. "Fuck baby, you gotta relax,"

And you do because if one thing can relax you and get you all feral during sex, it's being called baby by him.

"You okay with--"

"Keep going," you cut him off, Jungkook momentarily pausing as he grabs your ass and pushes your asscheeks apart, getting a good view of your pussy swallowing him.

And it's enough for him to listen to you all over again, ramming his hips into you causing his balls to hit your swollen clit which makes your head spin and gives another wave of pleasure to your tired body that is still recovering from your first orgasm.

"You're gonna give me another one, huh?" Jungkook asks through clenched teeth, fingers digging into your hips so tightly that they might bruise later but the extra added pain adds just the right amount to your already existing pleasure and to the tingle between your legs.

"Kook," That's all you manage to say, not being able to properly give him an answer because your already swollen and sensitive heat is close to the second orgasm.

"Shit," Jungkook curses, head tilted back and eyes screwed shut because as soon as he feels your second orgasm, he feels his balls tightening and he knows he's just seconds from cumming too.

You're groaning and so is he, in his own little and silent way, and once your own body aches from the position and two mind-blowing orgasms, you're whimpering from overstimulation because you're not sure if you can take another, in this case, third orgasm.

"I know, I know," Jungkook grunts, right before a growl makes its way out of his mouth and he's finally cumming, chasing his own high.

He fills up the condom, thrusts slowing down until they halt. Your rushed and loud breaths can be heard in the room, echoing through the walls as Jungkook slowly pats your ass before slowly pulling out. You cringe at the feeling but miss him inside you right away, the empty feeling making you pout. But as soon as Jungkook's cock is out of you, your whole body fails you and you fall onto your back, met with the ceiling.

"Fuck," you tell for the hundreth time today, hand on your forehead as you're trying to catch a breath.

Jungkook grins, slowly backing away as he disposes himself off the condom, carefully trying not to spill anything out. You're so spaced out that you barely acknowledge him leaving the room for a moment, grabbing one of his used towels as he cleans himself before he joins you.

"Well, we didn't take long," he chuckles, "to have sex, I mean."

You almost jump when you feel a cloth being pressed against your swollen sex, Jungkook's sparkly dark eyes watching you amusingly as he cleans you.

"That was the best sex I had in a while," you comment, still blunt and mind completely blown by the orgasm, no orgasms, that Jungkook has gifted you with.

"Thanks,"

Looking at Jungkook, you find him grinning, body lazily and exhaustedly falling next to you as you just as lazily slap him on the chest.

"You're so cocky," you comment, biting onto your lower lip and still drowning in your post-orgasm state. Hell, your thighs ache so much already and you're sure your back is starting to hurt too, but it was definitely worth it.

"Uhm," he hums, not disagreeing with you as he suddenly throws his arm around you and cuddles into your chest. He pecks your breasts which causes you to squeal and laugh at the same time, his hair tickling you on your neck.

"And clingy too apparently."

The little slap he gives to your breast almost knocks the breath out of you, your mouth shut completely. It's not too hard to the point it hurts, in fact you've barely felt it but enough to acknowledge and understand his response to you.

"You wore me out, woman," Jungkook chuckles, closing his eyes and you lay there for a moment, bodies still hot to feel cold. And surprisingly, it's very warm in Jungkook's bedroom which stinks of sex and it only reminds you that the two of you smell of it as well.

However, both lazy and practically unable to move, you don't even mind that you're just laying there completely naked. Plus, Jungkook's body next to you warms you well enough for now.

"You should go pee," he mumbles sleepily all of a sudden, reminding you as you whine childishly causing him to chuckle. He lays there for a moment before he suddenly plops onto his elbows and gives you a stern look. "Come on, don't be lazy now."

"You wore me out, man," you joke, the two of you laughing as Jungkook tries to hoist you up while you childishly protest.

"We should probably take another shower," he reminds you, which causes you to whine even more but you know he's right. You don't necessarily stink of sweat but the scent of sex and the wetness between your thighs isn't something you want to go to bed with – to sleep of course.

"Fine," you grumble, "Can I sleep in this bed though?" you pout cutely and how could Jungkook resist. Plus, it's not like he wasn't planning to offer you his bed.

"Sure, I'll take the couch." he says, standing up as he walks up to his dresser and pulls out some fresh clothes which he drapes over his shoulder, still fully naked when he gives you a stern look.

"You don't have to do that," you tell him, stretching some more before you force yourself to stand up. "We can just share the bed, I mean you, we just had a sex, so... and besides, we usually share the bed."

"Yeah, but you're living here now... so I wasn't sure if that wouldn't be crossing--"

"It's not, I'm cool with it," you assure him, "Are you?"

"Yeah, I am," he assures you back and you shrug effortlessly at him to prove the point, brushing past him but not before he slaps your ass again.

Glaring at him but deep down loving it, you're met with a mischievous bunny grin as you make your way to the bathroom, warning Jungkook to let you pee in peace because that man is capable of anything.

"You sneaked in while I was taking a shower!" he calls after you, an amused tone vibrating in his voice as you giggle.

"That's different!" you call back, finally shutting the door.

"Different how?!"

You don't answer, although the only thing Jungkook can hear are your giggles which causes him to shake his head at you while a soft smile makes it on his lips.

Thursday comes fast, despite the extra hours you had to spend at work, and living with Jungkook for almost a week seems to pass even faster. It does feel weird from time to time but at the same time, you've grown used to the routine and the feeling of having a roommate.

The morning after you had sex, Jungkook left you a note and actually prepared a breakfast for you which was covered with a cloche. He really put a number on you, letting you deal with proper muscle pain but despite that, the two of you worked completely fine and things haven't been weird.

Living with Jungkook is different from the times where you used to just sleepover at his place, whatever the reason was behind it. And that's because Jungkook's week is even busier than yours. He barely wakes up at the same time like you do, by the time your alarm starts blasting in your ears, Jungkook's side of the bed is cold and he's already out. He comes home late, exhausted but still finds the time to go to the local gym to have his work-out, whining like a baby when he misses one day.

Still, there are nights when you catch a movie together until one of you falls asleep, and wakes up the other before you both scurry to the bedroom. At least, your bed is in Jungkook's office at the moment, the second room he uses to work on his photos or play games on a computer. However, the bed is disassembled and no matter how many times you've told Jungkook you'll just call someone to put it together, he insists he'll do it. But with his busy schedule, the pieces of wood are leaned against the wall with a few boxes of yours in the office.

Seriously, you've no idea how he'll make it work but you lost the interest to argue with him again. Or more like bicker. Jungkook is stubborn and persistent, so are you, but you're happy to even have a place to sleep at so you usually just wave him off which he seems to like.

It's very rare for you to be just quiet and not argue back, so he feels like he has the upper hand.

Overall, you realize you've been stressing out over this whole living thing together. So far, it's not bad at all (not that you thought it'll be bad), it was more about your guilt which to be honest you still have. Jungkook's office is soon going to be turned into your room slash his remaining office. Sometimes he works on his computer late at night, sometimes until early morning and there it is, that feeling of guilt of taking up all of his space.

Kook: when are you coming home? I'm not sure if I should cook something for dinner or order

Your phone chirps with a new notification, a message from Jungkook as you sit in your car.

"Idk, I'm actually going out with Maya... she texted me during the day, she wants to celebrate their engagement"

You wait for his reply which comes a minute after. He has to be home early. Surprisingly, when you were waking up for work today Jungkook was still in bed soundlessly asleep. So you've made yourself breakfast and left something for him too, since whoever wakes up first usually makes breakfast for both of you. It's not something you've discussed purposely, it was just a pure want to reciprocate his kindness of relieving you of having to spend extra minutes making yourself breakfast. Plus, you think it's his way of making sure you will eat proper food in the morning, knowing your ways of barely putting anything in your stomach in the early hours.

"But whatever you decide make sure you leave me some leftovers ;)" "I'm not sure if we'll eat something while we're out, I think she just wants to drink to celebrate"

When the last time you and Maya hung out, the time when she announced her engagement to you, she was talking about some kind of massive celebration in a club which to be honest, you weren't a complete fan of because you have enough of those with Taehyung. However, you weren't about to decline her since she seemed to be excited about it and she just got engaged. Plus, she's your friend, a new friend at that, so you just went with it.

But you're both busy with work and it's hard to align your schedules. She actually wanted to meet during the weekend but since there's a party at your work on Friday, you're not sure how many other parties you'll be able to do. You'd really like to spend the weekend at home, Jungkook's home, preferably cuddling to a blanket on his soft and huge couch and using the advantage of his massive television screen – and all the technical things the man has because he clearly loves it and owns some of the best stuff.

You should be enjoying it, right? Since you're paying the rent.

You almost laugh at your thoughts, staring at the bubbles that appear on the screen, letting you know Jungkook is typing a response.

Kook: sure, have fun ;) just don't get too drunk

"It's Thursday, you seriously think I'm gonna get drunk during the week? >.<"

Kook: anything is possible when it comes to you

"I'm gonna think of it as a compliment"

Kook: not what I had in mind but sure, suit yourself

"I can't even drink alcohol because I'm driving, I think we'll just toast with champagne and stick to non alcoholic drinks for the rest of the night"

Surely not what Maya had in mind at first, but what can you do. You've got to work with what you have.

Kook: oh that's right

Kook: btw, thanks for the breakfast ;)

"returning the favor ;P" "I'll text you when I'm coming back, gotta drive now"

Kook: okay, drive safely

You stop yourself from texting that one thing you'd usually do, biting into the inside of your cheek as you open the streaming app instead and turn on some music. Heart slightly cracking, you quickly drive out of the parking lot before you can feel bad and sad all over again.

Jungkook is doing okay, you tell yourself and focus on the driving instead.

"How's living with Jungkook?"

Maya doesn't waste her time, dropping the question she has been curious about ever since you ordered the mentioned glass of champagne. Giving her a knowing look, you set the glass down after taking a decent sip.

"Good?" you tell her unsurely, "I can't complain, Jungkook is great."

"Uhm, I'm sure he is," she giggles, met with your raised brow and pursed lips. "Namjoon told me apparently you've been indecisive about living with him at first." she says more calmly, finally stopping to give you a look that seems as if she knew something you don't know. She's just teasing when it comes to Jungkook, definitely not the first person to do that.

"And how does Namjoon know about that?" you hum, plopping your elbow onto the table as you place your chin on your palm, eyes expectedly watching her.

"Jungkook told him when they went out the other day," She waves her hand, "It was before you moved in, actually." she adds and you nod.

So you explain to her your feelings and thoughts about it, while she nods the whole time along your words attentively listening to you until you end it that you're happy about your decision because overall, it's the best option you had.

It feels easy to talk about it to another person, to someone that is not involved in it as much as perhaps Jimin and Taehyung are. Not that you mind that, not at all! In a way, you think Maya is more blunt with you than one of your friends would be, even though they're awfully honest they still care about your feelings a lot. Maya does too but still, she's your new friend and a woman, seeing things slightly differently.

Overall, she agrees with everything anyone has said to you so far and she's just another factor that makes you think; It's not that serious or deep, just enjoy it and let him help you.

The place she has chosen for you to meet feels comfortable and intimate at the same time, thanks to the dim lighting. It's more on the posh side which surprises you, especially some of the prices for a simple drink but luckily, you both stick to non-alcohol drinks for the rest of the night since both of you have to drive back home. You've never been in this place and like Maya reveals, she has been coming here with Namjoon for date nights when they're not particularly aiming for the dinner date.

Somehow, the conversation about two lovebirds that are about to be married, actually very soon since Maya says they're already planning it and want to get married this year, brings you to your own love life. You don't feel uncomfortable talking about it, not even when you bring Haneul and the coincidence of you meeting at the same club, not leaving the fact Jungkook already punched him.

"Jungkook is something else, I swear," Maya giggles, obviously getting excited at the thought of Jungkook punching your ex-boyfriend for you. "But I think he had done the right thing, you said Haneul was coming on to you and even though you were confused about it, he should have asked you before being intrusive."

"I'm glad Jungkook had stepped in," you admit, "I don't know what I'd have done if he wasn't there."

That catches Maya's attention even more, catching onto the hidden meaning behind what you've just said.

"Do you think you'd be able to sleep with him?"

"Who?" you blurt out, eyes wide as soon as that leaves your mouth and Maya's look just the same as she gives you a glance with a grin.

"Haneul, of course," she responds, "Wait, did you think about Jungkook?"

"What? No!" you protest right away, shrinking into the stool you're sitting on but it's too late.

Realization crosses on Maya's face and she gasps, "Were you so... heated," She tries to find the right word. "Because of Jungkook?"

"No?" you murmur, looking away but it's too pointless to deny it. Maya is a smart woman, and apparently she reads you easily but it's your fault for not being able to lie and deny the obvious.

"Girl, I don't blame you," she says, pursing her lips and doing a hand gesture as she leans back.

You clear your throat, almost choking on your spit.

"What? Jungkook is obviously hot and sorry to mention this, but you guys have a history,"

You know she's aiming at the fact that you and Jungkook hooked up which she knows because of what happened on the trip on New Year.

"Come on, it makes sense and there's nothing wrong with that. You can't control how hot somebody is and when that somebody looks like Jungkook at that, it makes you want to jump his bones."

"Maya!" you scold her, looking around to make sure nobody heard her but luckily, the tables are quite far away from one another.

"It's true!" she laughs, definitely not scandalized by what she has just said out loud. You can't blame her, she is right. "You're both single, so you fucked and what? You're both young and are getting along perfectly."

She's one of a kind for sure.

Her words do bring some sort of comfort to you. Your friendship with Jungkook is too precious to you and she makes it sound so easy, which currently feels like since your friendship remains unaffected.

"You're smart people, have sex and fun!" she suggests, almost exclaims and apparently, you do some kind of face, brows shooting up as you nod awkwardly, and it doesn't take too long for Maya to gasp loudly, almost knocking down the stool with her. "No way!"

"Maya--"

"What the fuck," Her lips spread into the widest smile, the one where she shows her perfect teeth and her big plump lips stretch. "You guys are hooking up again, aren't you?"

Guilty and busted, you don't answer but there is no need to because it's more than obvious.

"We just--got in the moment after what happened at the club and we--we didn't have sex that night!" you quickly point out, "After I woke up the next morning, Jungkook was actually very cool about it and he..." you stop, shaking your head embarrassingly as Maya nods, already getting the idea of what must've happened. "And then we haven't seen each other because we were busy but as I moved in, the first night--"

"Oh my god!" she squeals, "You guys did it the first night you moved in? You beasts!"

"Maya!" you shush her, not being able to hold back a giggle as she joins you. "It's not like we're having sex every day. We haven't had it since that night." you shrug.

"So? You can still have it whenever you both want," she shrugs, "Y/N," she calls out your name and once you look up at her, you find her giving you a genuine and relaxed smile. "I want you to know that I'm in no way shaming you. You're not doing anything bad, you're allowed to have fun and like I said, you and Jungkook are smart people. You wouldn't do this if you weren't sure about it."

You smile back at her, giving her a slight nod. "Yes, I think you're right," Her smile widens. "But... could you please perhaps keep it to yourself?" you ask unsurely, knowing there's a high chance she would tell Namjoon.

They're dating, no, engaged for god's sake! You and Jungkook tell yourselves things you swear you won't tell anyone else. You can't imagine they're not doing it too.

"I won't tell anyone," she assures you, "Not even Namjoon, I promise."

Namjoon is not the biggest problem, it's just a very intimate thing and you definitely don't want the whole friend group to know your and Jungkook's business.

You talk for another hour or so, luckily changing the topic to their wedding as Maya shows you some of the pictures she saved for inspiration. Meanwhile, she asks you if you'd accompany her to her wedding dress shopping which you gladly accept. The date is unknown yet but you're more than happy to be a part of such an incredible part of her life.

Coming home later than you'd expect, you're met with lights turned off and the faint sounds of television being turned on as you close the front door. Shrugging the blazer off along with your shoes, you walk to the living room to find Jungkook slouched on the couch, his legs resting on the coffee table as he watches some action movie.

"You're back?" he asks, voice slightly tired as he fumbles his eyes and straightens.

You greet him, grinning as you join him and plop on the space next to him. "Uhm," you tell him, tiredly throwing your leg over him and cuddling up to him.

He chuckles at you, "How was it?"

"Nice," you mumble into his chest, welcomed by the floral scent of him. "Maya asked me to help her pick the wedding dress for her." And she might know about you and me, but you don't tell him that.

You feel like eventually you will but for now, it's not that important information.

"Really?" Jungkook asks, voice quiet and light. "Have you eaten something? I ordered from that Italian restaurant we tried before, I got you the tomato sauce ones you like. It's probably cold by now, so just heat it up."

"God, I love you," you whine dramatically causing him to laugh as his chest vibrates. "We had some appetizers but no actual dinner."

"Then go eat," he ushers you, gently slapping your ass a few times as you groan at him.

Lifting your head up, you look at Jungkook whose face is illuminated by the television screen, the shadows constantly changing by each scene that plays on it. He glances at you, the corner of his lips lifted up and you fight off the urge to kiss him, your growling stomach interrupting you. So you stand up, wanting to cuddle up to him while he preferably rubs your back because you're tired as hell and never can say no to a good back rubbing

"Hey," Jungkook calls out once you're turned back to him and you look at him across your shoulder. "Is there any dress code for tomorrow night?"

Ah, the party Jungkook is invited to. "Nothing specific, just wear something elegant and nice but nothing fancy." you shrug and he gives you a thumbs up.

You still have your stomach to satisfy, being reminded of the party tomorrow once again. Luckily, all of you are working less hours, having enough time to get prepared while the party will be held in a local place which business men usually hire for this kind of occasion.

You're falling asleep with a stomach full, freshly out of the shower and Jungkook sleeping on the other side of the bed. The comfortable silence and soft bed lulls you to sleep in a record time.

Being reminded by Junho not to be late at every opportunity had to take almost all of your remaining energy, causing the rest of the staff to complain silently behind his back. Luckily for some of them, not everyone is required to be there but since you deal with other model agencies, making sure everything goes smoothly and on time, communicating with people, your presence there is mandatory. Not officially though, but you've no plans of having to deal with grumpy and mad Junho if you decided not to attend at the last minute.

Dragging your feet towards the front door, you're immediately welcomed by the pleasant scent of Jungkook's home as you enter. After undressing and taking off your shoes, you find Jungkook in the bedroom, greeted briefly by him as he stares with a frown at his bed where some of his shirts and button-ups are displayed.

"What do you think?" he asks as you put down your purse and plop onto bed, causing some of his shirts to get slightly crinkled as Jungkook scolds you.

Ignoring him, you plop onto your elbows and look at the clothes. "Literally whatever," you shrug, "Everything looks nice."

Rolling his eyes, obviously not finding you being any help he mutters something under his breath. Not wanting to waste any more time, although laying in the bed after an exhausting day despite you leaving early is too strong, you force yourself to stand up.

The shower is quick and so is your ability to take off your make-up, just to do it again. You're busy and so is Jungkook apparently, both of you doing your own thing while you prepare for the evening, so when you actually bump into him after finally making it out of the shower – your breath is taken away.

Completely ignoring the fact that you stand there in your underwear, forgetting your outfit which is hanging in Jungkook's closet, you're speechless as Jungkook wears his usual black slacks with blue striped shirt where his sleeves are rolled up, exposing more of his tattoos. The buttons are not buttoned all the way up, exposing a good amount of chest but not too much for it to be scandalized. Whether he wants to leave it like that or button more of it, he looks handsome as ever.

"Tie or no tie?" he asks, turning around to face you, his eyes momentarily dropping down your body.

You're heated under his gaze, but somehow remain unaffected in terms of Jungkook seeing you like this a few times by now.

"No tie," you answer, walking to his closet and pulling out your baby pink slacks with a matching blazer and a white blouse that has been ironed thoroughly by you. "What do you think?" you ask, showing him the outfit that is hanging on a hanger, although he can't exactly see it clearly.

Turning around, you catch him shamelessly letting his eyes linger on your exposed ass and as he meets your gaze, he has the decency to quirk up his lips in a light smirk.

Playfully rolling your eyes at him, you look at the outfit. "At first I was going to wear a dress but I feel like I wear them every time I attend these kinds of parties and events," you tell him, thinking out loud at the same time.

It looks more formal and different than your usual choice of outfit, but you like it.

"I'm sure you'll look great," Jungkook tells you, waving you off, "But tell me about that lingerie. Is it new?"

"Jungkook!" you exclaim, laughing as he shrugs the same shameless style. Ignoring him, you turn with your back to him, looking for any possible creases before you still have the time to iron it in case it's not completely ironed.

Completely oblivious to Jungkook's approaching figure, you get startled when he gently grabs you by your hips and presses his face into the crook of your neck, tickling you with his hair as you scold him. His touch sets another blazing fire through your entire body, shooting straight between your thighs and it takes everything from you to not press them together.

"What are you saying, a quickie?"

Is he serious right now? You have to get prepared, you like to be on time and not rush yourself when you don't have to. Besides, you'd like to grab a bite of something before you leave. Surely, there will be food but you're there for business, not for stuffing your face with food.

"You're unbelievable," you tell him, scoffing but gasping when he delivers a soft smooch on your neck, hands playing with the hem of your thong. Not the most comfortable underwear, but they make no lines with the slacks you want to wear which is very convenient right now.

What is not convenient to have sex when you're supposed to be there in an hour.

"So? What are you saying?" Jungkook hums, hands still lingering on your burning skin that is scented with his shower gel because you still haven't bought your own. Although, he respectfully doesn't move them any further but enough to tease you and almost cause you to meowl under his touch.

"I just did my make-up," you complain, not moving an inch despite your mouth saying something else. Jungkook notices, lips curling into a silent smirk.

"So? I won't touch your face,"

You snort, knowing it has nothing to do with him touching your face. Sex with Jungkook is messy and hell of a ride, there's no way you'll look presentable enough after that.

"We're already dressed," you try to argue, "There's no time for sex."

"I can be quick," he offers, "Come on, gorgeous. Just bend over for me,"

"Fuck, Jungkook," you breathe out, another wave of heat rushing through you. "Don't say things like that."

"What exactly?" he smiles.

"All of it," you tell him, turning around as you press your hands against his chest, cursing how hard and warm it feels beneath them. "Did the sight of my underwear turn you on?" you tease, trying to somehow get through this without you actually having sex.

Not that you don't want to. You do. So fucking much, but there's just no time for it.

"The sight of you," Jungkook says, inching closer while you start to back away, met with his lips spreading into a grin while he eyes you like a prey. "And maybe your lingerie too, you look hot."

And then he sneaks his hand to your backside, grabbing onto the soft flesh of your asscheek once he's pressed against you, your whole body against the dresser while the edge is digging into your lower back.

"We can have sex when we come home," you offer, breath hitching as Jungkook's another hand does the same thing to your other cheek, spreading them apart as you feel the thin stripe of your thong rubbing against your sex. "We don't have time for another shower."

"I'm gonna be quick, we'll barely break a sweat."

And you're ready to argue, tell him that you'll probably smell like sex and you're about to meet business, important people and you can't walk around smelling like that. But Jungkook pokes his inner cheek with his tongue, eyes tingling with lust and mischief almost as if he knew you're losing this and fuck, he looks so hot your walls contract around nothing and the thought of his dick inside of you wants you to shiver.

"Quick, alright," you tell him, voice already strained as Jungkook nods with a grin and quickly backs away to grab the condom from his nightstand. His lips curl into a frown for a moment when it's the last one, the empty box of condoms tossed onto the nightstand near his lamp.

He joins you in no time, standing in his previous position as he starts unzipping his slacks, exposing the white boxers with a tent growing in them. You don't bother to take off the poor excuse of an underwear, the thong barely doing any job to hide your cunt and they give Jungkook great access.

"No foreplay though," you tell him, his eyes flickering to you as his head is held low to focus on his task of pulling down his boxers.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, there's no time for that. You said quick." you quote him. He knows he did, but there's an unsure frown decorating his pink pouty lips.

"It's gonna burn like hell," he warns you, but you already know all of that.

Your wetness is already too close to drip down your legs and before you can tell Jungkook not to worry about that, even mentioning you should be wet enough, he leaves your side for another moment as he pulls out the lube from where he keeps the condoms.

The moment Jungkook is back and fishes his cock out, you salivate at the angry red tip and veins poking underneath the skin. It's safe to say you're baffled whether to get on your knees and please him instead, although you don't want to be robbed of your own orgasm and of the feeling of his cock stretching your walls.

The sight of Jungkook putting on the condom down his length is never boring, always captivating that makes your thirst for him even worse. He squirts a good amount of lube down his standing and hard cock, the faint scent of strawberries hitting your nose.

"You sure you don't want my fingers at least?" Jungkook asks, throwing you an unsure glance as he suddenly grabs you by your thighs, hoisting you up on his dresser.

Gasping, you look around wondering if the piece of furniture will be able to hold you. It looks like it will and Jungkook spreading your legs catches your attention once again, hands squeezing your flesh to get the response out of you.

"No, just stick it in," you tell him honestly, grinning when you see the amused look on his face. "Fuck me, but you better be quick, I'm not kidding--ah--fuck,"

He doesn't play around, pushing your thong aside and replacing it with the tip of his cock, slowly pushing the head inside that makes you gasp and stop you in the midst of you talking. One hand holding onto his shoulder while the other grips the edge of the dresser, Jungkook starts pushing his entire cock inside you. He's not totally quick, still making sure he doesn't hurt you in the process.

You grunt, throwing your head back at the uncomfortable pressure his cock is causing, yet some of it feels arousing and thanks to the lube, he's entering you smoother and easier even without any preparation. His hand goes between your thighs, thumb circling your clit which automatically makes you relax and he slides in even easier, burying himself inside you to the halt.

"You good?" he asks, voice breathy as you nod eagerly, telling him to get on with it (literally).

And he does.

When he said he's going to be quick, he definitely didn't lie and although the first rounds of his thrusts are a little bit more careful, still quicker than usual, he picks up the pace with each thrust. You can barely take it, his thumb stimulating you while he hits your walls perfectly, angling his hips and cock so it brushes the great spot you've never known you had until Jungkook.

Explicit sounds of wetness and your skin thrusting against each other, you're thankful for Jungkook's body pressed against you and arms holding you by your thighs, making sure you don't slip off.

"Fuck, cunt so good," Jungkook grunts, your walls tightening around him which doesn't go unnoticed by him and causes him to groan. "You like that? You like when I talk about your cunt, huh?"

"Fuck," you curse, hand slipping off Jungkook's shoulder as you let it drop down his chest.

"How good it is, how warm and tight it feels?"

Shit, his dirty mouth is seriously going to be the death of you.

"You like the dirty talk?" he almost teases you, his thrusts and hips not faltering, not even for a second as he's knocking the breath out of you while the furniture shakes from the violent thrusts your bodies make.

Your orgasm is approaching quickly, you're not sure what prompted it to come so fast, whether it's his thrusts or dirty words spitting out of his mouth or both, it doesn't matter. But the enjoyment of reaching the end is quickly cut off from you as Jungkook stops, leaning face towards you as his lips brush against your cheekbone.

"Don't worry, I already knew that."

And he continues, ramming into you and acting upon his carnal desire. It's only a matter of seconds before you moan Jungkook's name in the short form, sounding almost too cute for Jungkook's liking because he's there fucking you and you call him that sweet nickname you've been calling him for years now. The knot snaps inside of you, wetness gushing out of you while Jungkook keeps fucking you, hard and quickly like he promised, grunting at the feeling of your walls clenching him repeatedly.

The thumb off your clit, he spreads your thighs even further apart and sets ruthless pace, rushing towards his own orgasm and with his balls tightening, he knows it's coming because a few more thrusts and he's finally coming, spurting and spilling all of his cum into the pink condom.

"Ah, shit," he curses silently, grunting, giving you a few slowed thrusts to ride through his orgasm.

And then he lets out the most pleased sigh, your fingers clutching the back of his head as he leans against your shoulder to take a few breaths. Your bodies heave with rushed breaths, slowly calming down from your post-ograsmic state.

"Was that quick enough?" he asks, tilting his head to look at you and you snort, a genuine giggle erupts from you before you playfully push him away.

"Shut up and help me get down," you tell him through a smile, Jungkook coming to the rescue as he does exactly what you ask of him.

On wobbly feet, you clutch onto him while ignoring the smug grin he has on his face. "Do I smell of sex?"

You suddenly ask, a heartful laugh resounding from Jungkook at your worries and the fact how serious you sound. "You don't," he tells you, leaning towards you to take a sniff to prove his point as he dramatically holds his head high and hums.

"I told you you'll barely break a sweat." he adds with a triumphal grin, moving to bin the condom.

He did say that. You might not reek of sex and sweat, but Jungkook's cologne is stuck on your skin and even after you dress up, and put your own fragrance on, somewhere in the distance you can still feel him on you.

But who said you mind that?

The place Junho chose looks amazing, indeed. It's huge with staff welcoming you and offering you champagne, which Jungkook accepts and hands you one of the glasses. Thanking him, you look around already recognizing some of the people you work with but there are also people from different departments. Junho definitely went all out to impress the future partners and you see him jumping between other groups of people, smiling all widely which is already a very rare sight to see.

Five minutes in and you're trying to hide your amused smile behind the glass of champagne, but it's not your fault though. It's what Yoongi's unimpressed and bored look does to you. Most of you probably feel the same way, or you for sure, you're just good at hiding it and not showing it in front of others like he does.

"This place looks posh," you comment, Jungkook humming next to you as he sips on the champagne, not wanting to drink tonight since he's driving you back home. You offered to pay for the cab but he declined, saying he doesn't mind driving.

You and him stand behind one of those small tall circle tables, looking around with no need to interact with others just yet. Surely, Junho will notice you and make you mingle through the crowd, making your presence useful. And that's why it's a blow to your ego once he spots you and Jungkook, excusing himself to an older couple before he makes his way to your direction, only for him to snatch Jungkook.

Jungkook throws you a look across his shoulder, both in amusement and silent question if you're okay, you roll your eyes and that's all it takes for him to grin as he lets Junho lead him away. Standing there alone, you spot Benjamin talking to one of, what you assume, future partners. Slowly enjoying the frizzy and sweet taste of the pink champagne, you watch him and notice how professional, yet sweet he looks. His soft brown eyes shine as he's saying something, hands hidden in his grey slacks, as he shoots a handsome grin to the man.

He is handsome and is definitely a rare sight in Seoul. As he told you on his first days working in the company, his mom is French while his dad is Korean. They moved here when he was six and ever since then, he lives here as well while he visits France and his other side of the family at least twice a year. You can see it – he has that french charm going on.

His sandy hair is parted in the middle, swiped back with a gel that makes him look more elegant. Not that you care about office's gossips, but you already heard some of your female co-workers gush about him. It's not like you blame them, he is handsome but is he someone you'd go for? You're not sure. He seems like a sweet guy and his obvious attention that he gives you should flatter you. To some extent, it does. You're just not ready for any relationship right now and you're not sure if dating someone you get to work with every day would be a great decision.

"A few more minutes and I'd think you like him too,"

Eyes rolling automatically, you're not surprised by the sudden presence of the devil himself as he joins and gives you a Cheshire cat smile. "Who cares what you think," you tell him dryly, taking a big gulp of your champagne because suddenly, sipping doesn't sound like an option.

"Careful, you'll insult me," he jokes, and you don't give him that pleasure of reacting to his stupid jabs. "You brought your boyfriend with you?"

"For the millionth time, he is not my boyfriend," you tell him through clenched teeth, not even sparing him a look. "Go away, you're ruining my night."

"You're so mean," Yoongi says and as you take a glance at him, you see him faking a pout which makes you snort. "This party's boring. I should've fake being sick or something."

You laugh, shaking your head at him. "We both know Junho would not let you live for it," you remind him, "I've thought about it too." you murmur, both of you looking at each other before you snort at the same time.

Soon enough, Benjamin comes your way with the older man in a suit, flashing you a toothy grin.

"Hey, Mr. Huang wanted to say hi," Benjamin chirps, the older man smiles although there is some kind of intimidating aura around him.

"Oh, you're one of the Chinese partners, right?" you ask, quickly taking his head as you slightly bow in greeting which he seems to be appreciative about. "It's lovely to meet you!"

He shakes Yoongi's hand, a quiet greeting leaving his lips as the man confirms your assumptions. The conversation doesn't end there and the four of you stand in a circle while Mr. Huang talks about his company and business. Surprisingly, none of it is boring and you find yourself to be intrigued in this conversation. Somewhere in the middle, when Yoongi talks to him and seems to be slightly more relaxed (which means he doesn't look as if he's actually dying here), your and Benjamin's eyes meet and he smiles at you.

"Hey," he mouths and you smile, greeting him back. "You look beautiful tonight."

You feel the familiar warm feeling in your chest whenever somebody compliments you, so you politely thank him and there's no time to be exchanging more words, Mr. Huang is far more important because soon, you find out he's a big name in China.

After a couple of minutes, he parts from you with Benjamin as well, which most likely means he's been told to accompany him through the evening by Junho. You and Yoongi are soon swapped by another group, although this time your co-workers as they start to gush around all the business partners.

In a conversation you particularly take no interest in, you scan the room around you and find Jungkook almost immediately, standing on the other side of the room. It's not that hard to spot him in his striped shirt, recognizing those thighs and butt almost immediately. You allow yourself to watch him, not finding anything more interesting at the moment.

You're not surprised to see some of the women glancing his way, whispering something to each other and not even the presence of a model next to him doesn't surprise you. She's almost as tall as Jungkook with the heels she's wearing, her long and exposed tan legs on full display. Her mouth is moving which indicates she's talking while the rest of the people watch and listen to her, Jungkook nodding along before he opens his mouth and starts talking again.

The memories of him and you before you came here pop in your mind, causing you to dryly gulp and you hate to admit how it smooths your soul to know you're the one he fucked today, not the model or any other woman. It's hard to stay confident with a woman next to him looking like that, deep down you know how pathetic it is. It slightly irritates you how easy it would be for him to get any woman he points at.

Sometime, a little bit after Jungkook stops talking and listens to Junho again, he shifts his gaze and looks around, just right to the side where you are standing. Your eyes meet, and you grin as he sends you a toothy grin back, a heat spreading in your stomach and shamefully enough, between your thighs as well. You have to look away, feeling the heat crawling at the back of your neck and luckily, your name is being called by Lauren, one of the assistants working under you.

Jungkook turns around to pay a full attention to the conversation, bowing politely whenever Junho praises his work for the hundredth time in the past twenty minutes.

"... like I said, I'd love to work with you on this next project Mr. Jeon," Junho chirps, looking straight at Jungkook as everyone quietens down. "I know you've got your own business going on, but we as a company would be more than thrilled to work with you again."

He can't lie, the money Junho is offering sounds good and Jungkook can make some free time for this, since it's in two months. He is usually booked for the whole year but he surely can think of something. Also Junho is aware of your friendship, and despite this deal having nothing to do with you, Jungkook also wants to take it for you. He heard you saying he's acting like a prick sometimes, it surely can get useful if Jungkook accepts this job. He hopes this way, Junho will go easier on you.

Although, he's not sure if men and bosses like him are like that.

"It sounds appealing, Mr. Gwan," Jungkook smiles, "I will take it, we can discuss further details later. If you're okay with that, of course."

"That sounds wonderful!" Junho doesn't hide his happiness of snatching Jungkook as his photographer for the next project. "We will need one more photographer, though."

It makes sense, there is a lot of work and the main job will go to Jungkook, but there has to be another photographer to do other small jobs like taking polaroids, helping with taking more photos and so on.

"If you don't mind, I know someone that might help," Jungkook offers and Junho attentively listens, nodding right away. It seems like he trusts Jungkook's judgement, the conversation lasting for another half an hour.

It's not as bad here as you thought it would be. That's your current thought as you sip on your third glass, the pistachio flavor on your tongue thanks to the macaroon you've tasted just a minute ago.

Of course, your sudden change of opinion could be thanks to the champagne but still, there's boredom starting to annoy you. You would still rather be wrapped in a blanket with no make-up and watching whatever shit show they're playing on the television right now.

A hand brushes against your lower back, a familiar cologne hitting your nose as another presence joins you. "You good? You're having fun?"

Glancing at Jungkook, you don't fight off the soft smile that appears on your lips which he reciprocates right away, reaching for one of the grilled toasts since you're standing next to the food table. "Fuck, I'm so hungry." he mutters and bites into the toast while you grin.

"Can't say I'm having the best time of my life but yeah, it's not that bad," you admit, shaking your head when Jungkook offers you a bite from his toast. "What about you? You sure are busy tonight." you joke, seeing him nod as he swallows his bite.

"Junho offered me a job, I think that's why he wanted me here," Jungkook informs you, your eyes widening in surprise and interest which takes all of him to continue. "It's just one project but he's offering good money."

"So you took it?" you ask interestedly, scooting away from the table as Jungkook takes one of the plates.

"Yeah," he says with a full mouth, clearing his throat as if he just noticed where he is. It causes you to giggle as you grab a napkin for him, which he takes from you with a silenced 'thanks'.

You don't ask anything further, letting him eat in peace as you tell him about your evening so far, mentioning you've met Mr. Huang which Jungkook responds he has met him too, he's one of the main partners for the project he's going to work on. Among all of that, Jungkook also mentions the model which you could've seen standing next to him and apparently, she'll be the main star on it.

Ignoring the sour taste in your mouth and on your face, you stay silent and listen to Jungkook instead as he finishes his toast, and tells you more about people he has met so far. To be honest, Jungkook looks in his element and you don't get that much opportunity to see him in a situation like this. Yes, he's always been cool and extroverted whenever he hung out with someone, but being in this businessy state is quite something new. You can't say you hate it.

He's hot, and you're more than sure you'll be asked by at least one woman about him, judging by the eyes on you.

Jungkook may be attracting the most women audience here, but also one pair of eyes is set on you and once you wave at the man Jungkook remembers, even though it takes him a moment to realize, you look at him in a question.

"Is that the guy who stared at us before?"

You snort at his bluntless, replaying the moment when Jungkook came to pick you up and was thrown off by the sudden stare coming from Benjamin.

"Yeah, that's Benjamin." you answer, glancing at him again and he's not looking at you currently, however he keeps glancing your direction here and there.

"What's with the stare down?" Jungkook frowns in confusion, putting down the empty plate as he wipes his mouth clean, throwing the napkin to the bin. "Do you have a crush on him or something?"

You snort, looking amusingly at Jungkook. "It's the other way around, Mr. Jeon."

"Wait--he has a crush on you?" Jungkook sounds surprised.

"Well, don't sound so surprised. I am not that bad looking and I am completely worthy of being someone's crush." you joke, wiggling your brows at him as he lifts the corner of his lips in an amused chuckle.

"That's not what I meant," he shakes his head, "You just never mentioned him. Is he giving you a hard time?"

You laugh, patting Jungkook's chest while you adjust his shirt a little. "There was no reason to," you tell him, sliding your hands down his chest before you let go of him. "And no, he's just obviously into me and I am trying to politely show him that I am not interested."

"Just tell him," Jungkook shrugs, "You're so blunt and straight-forward, why don't you just tell him?"

"Well, because he has never told me he likes me that way. I think it's obvious but I can't just call him out on it. Besides, he's a nice guy and I don't want to hurt him by saying something so blunt right away, especially when he didn't give me a reason for it," you explain, seeing Jungkook frowning in thought as he looks away from you and shifts his gaze on Benjamin.

Noticing it, you elbow him in his abs which barely does anything since you're met with a set of hard muscles. "Don't just stare at him!" you harshly whisper, met with Jungkook's amused look. "You look intimidating and you're making it more than obvious we are talking about him." you scold him, amusing Jungkook even more as he lets out a laugh.

"Okay, Ms. Professional," he teases you, causing you to annoyingly purse your lips at him.

"Mr. Jeon, can you come here please for a second?" Junho calls Jungkook, your annoyance clearly showing because Jungkook laughs at your expression, thanks to Jungkook's body that is hiding you from Junho's sharp eyes.

"You gonna be okay?" Jungkook asks, checking on you as you playfully roll your eyes and push him from you.

"Just go, Mr. Jeon,"

Jungkook shoots you a wink, your skin burning at the single reaction as he walks away as if nothing happened. In a desperate need to fan yourself, you settle on drinking instead as you scurry away from the curious women's eyes. Unlike them, they don't hide the grin and swoon Jungkook has made them feel.

Most of the night is spent with your best friend slash fuck buddy, being ripped away from you at every opportunity – whether it's Jungkook's presence wanted or yours. You can't say you're disappointed because you know this party is mainly about business, Junho's invitation for Jungkook more than clear now, but still, you enjoy every little minute you get to spend next to Jungkook who is kind enough to come and check on you whenever he can.

You're not going to lie, you do enjoy his close proximity and whenever he brushes past you, and you blame it all on him. One look at him and you keep yourself from salivating, and maybe you should blame the amount of champagne glasses you've drunk. You're not drunk though, god no, you can't possibly get drunk on a work related thing, whether it's a party or something else. You just feel a familiar heat relaxing your body and from time to time, you find yourself getting drowsy and distracted which the alcohol is the real cause for.

"I don't think I've ever thanked you enough," Benjamin says, a trail of thoughts interrupted by his soft but yet manly voice, a guilt burning in your chest for not listening to him for a moment.

Turning your gaze back to him, you offer him a confused smile. You've been standing and talking together for a while now. He mostly updated you about Mr. Huang and confirmed your assumptions about Junho telling Benjamin to accompany the important man. The conversation hasn't been uncomfortable, not at all, quite on the contrary. At least he's been keeping you company, something you're very grateful about.

"Thanked me?" you ask, smiling and frowning in confusion as Benjamin chuckles, glancing down at his glass before he looks back at you and nods.

"I was so nervous to be working here and you've made me feel welcomed from the very beginning,"

Your heart warms up at his thoughtful words, knowing how hard it is to be changing jobs and be in a new team. Remembering Benjamin's nervous and very polite attitude, it's hard to forget how nervous he really seemed to be but a good thing is, he's skilled. He also speaks French which definitely adds a lot of points on his CV, and you had the opportunity to hear him speak the foreign language while he was talking on the phone with clients.

Somebody might say he's a male character coming straight from a romantic movie.

Back to the first Benjamin's days of working here, you do remember assuring him that he'll do a great job and whatever needed to be explained, you made sure to explain it to him or at least tell someone to do it. And he's very smart, understood everything from the first explanation and there hasn't been any problem with him. Junho also seems to be very pleased by taking him in, that says enough in your opinion.

"I guess I wanted to thank you for that."

"Ah, you don't need to thank me," you assure him, touching his forearm softly but you pry your hands off as soon as he looks down at the touch. "You really are welcome,"

You give him a smile and he looks back at you, offering you the same smile while you feel his eyes linger on you a little bit too long, which wouldn't be a bother, if it weren't for the look in them.

"So, tell me more... have you grown accustomed to Junho and his work ethic?"

That makes him snap out of his daze as he chuckles, seeing your own grin when he seems to understand exactly what you are talking about. It doesn't take a genius to figure out Junho and his wild personality. He's a pain in the ass but isn't that bad of a boss. He still could've been worse, that's what you mostly tell yourself when the man pisses you off.

"Yeah, his work ethic is something else," he says with a grin, getting a genuine laugh from you. "I actually don't find him bad, well he is peculiar but--"

"Hey, I'm back," A chest brushes against your back, soon followed with a hand lingering on your lower back before Jungkook stands next to you, his arm brushing against your side. "Sorry, did I interrupt something?"

Glancing at Jungkook, you find him already staring at Benjamin who has a look of confusion crossed on his face, until he glances between you and him, eyes scanning Jungkook's whole figure. You tense, not liking the way he eyes Jungkook and there's no chance Jungkook himself doesn't notice it, but he seems collected and staring right back at him.

Shifting on your heels, you clear your throat and give Jungkook a crooked smile. "No, not at all," you tell him, "This is my new co-worker Benjamin. This is Jungkook."

Leaving out the fact that Jungkook knows who he is by now.

Benjamin forces a polite smile on his full lips, "I haven't seen you around, do you work here?"

A little perplexed by the lack of a proper introduction by Benjamin himself, you quickly shake yourself out of it. It's the tone he low-key settles that makes you a little bit anxious, because whatever the Alpha stare-down the two men have, it never ends up nicely.

"I don't," Jungkook answers curtly, giving him a smile that almost screams fake, and you hope Benjamin can't tell because you can't deal with any of this. "I came with Y/N."

Benjamin mimics Jungkook's fake smile, your heart picking up the pace by the sudden tension even though the conversation isn't too forward. It's the one and visibly stare-down the two of them have.

"Ah, yes," Benjamin exclaims in thought, "You're her friend. Yoongi told me,"

At the mention of the evil man, you tense even more and curse him whenever he is right now. Of course, he is somehow involved in this. Even if he told him the truth, you still don't trust Yoongi and his intentions. Since Benjamin knows about Jungkook and who he is to you, it means he probably asked Yoongi. And the idiot knows Benjamin has his eyes for you, he's very well aware that you're not interested. The news doesn't surprise you, yet it irritates you to the core.

"I didn't know we could've brought friends." Benjamin says, this time completely aimed at you as he solely stares at you, a look you've grown used to visible on his face as you give him a crooked smile, an uncomfortable shift that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook who simply watches the interaction.

"Actually, I'm her boyfriend,"

Catching yourself from choking on your spit, you stare at Jungkook with wide eyes but he doesn't even spare you a glance, eyeing Benjamin who seems to be just as surprised to hear him.

"Boyfriend?" he breathes out, "I didn't know you had a--"

"Yeah, well it's very new, not many people know." you cut him off, offering him a slight smile while you ignore the guilt by the lie. To go with your lie, you scoot closer to Jungkook and look up at him, finding him already staring back at you and you know he's fighting off to smirk right in front of Benjamin.

He eyes you as if you and Jungkook have grown another two heads, his lips slightly twitching as he's trying not to show his displeasure by the news. But of course, nothing is easy when someone particular is around.

"Didn't you tell me just a few hours ago that he isn't your boyfriend?"

Another voice chirps in and if looks could kill, Yoongi would've been dead right away. He looks pleased as he joins you, everyone's eyes on you as you narrow your eyes at the only person you want to attack at the moment.

Yoongi's words spark a hope in Benjamin's eyes, and his attention is solely back on you as you give him a nervous chuckle.

"I don't have to confess to you, Yoongi. Why would I tell you about my personal life?" you challenge Yoongi, raising your brow at him. To be honest, you're quite nervous to tell him something because Yoongi seems like the perfect definition of a snake. You're scared what next comes out of his mouth.

"Why would you lie about such a simple question?" he chirps back, your hands itching to wrap them around his neck but you feel Jungkook's hand on your hip, rubbing you slightly through the fabric.

Thankfully, Benjamin is being called by one of your co-workers and he excuses himself, a perplexed expression on his face as he murmurs his excuse.

"Why the hell would you do that?" you exclaim right away, once Benjamin is out of ear shot.

What drives you completely nuts it's the way Yoongi effortlessly shrugs, not minding he's ruining everything and poking his nose into something that is none of his business.

"Why would you lie to him? Just tell him straight away you don't like him that way, don't lie to him."

Those words coming from Yoongi out of people actually makes you embarrassed, because you know you'd just go along with Jungkook's lie who came to save your ass once he sensed your discomfort.

Before you can open your mouth, not even sure what you want to say other than tell him to fuck off, Jungkook is already one step ahead of you.

"What's it to you?" Jungkook's voice booms out, his features frowned in a hardened scowl.

Jungkook succeeds at getting a reaction from Yoongi, and that is a scowl that clouds his usual nonchalant or amused features.

"I'm bored," he shrugs and you almost scoff out loud at this man. "And besides, she lied."

"And you should mind your business." Jungkook offers but with an edge to his tone that makes you tense, but you're too shocked to even move an inch.

"So should you," Yoongi almost sings out, pursing his lips as you gasp at his rude response while Jungkook frowns.

"You came out of nowhere and said you're bored." Jungkook points out through clenched teeth, still trying to grasp what Yoongi's intentions are while he continues to be unbothered as he looks around for a moment.

"Because I am."

"What are you? A child?" Jungkook scoffs, Yoongi's head turning towards your best friend as he frowns at him. But Jungkook doesn't stop. "Go to the playground then," he snaps and Yoongi opens his mouth, a dead glare set on his eyes as you quickly jump between the two men.

"Okay, stop it you two," you warn them through clenched teeth, "This is ridiculous,"

You look at them but stop on Yoongi, searching face as he simply just stares back at you. His face is expressionless like most of the time and it's hard to read what he thinks. Not an ounce of any emotion which only makes you let out a sigh, both in exhaustion and disappointment. He's sticking his nose where it doesn't belong and you hope he's at least aware of the look of disappointment, not even anger, you give him.

Jungkook's name falls past your lips as you gently tug onto his arm, finding him glaring the hell out of Yoongi, seeming to be just as irritated. However, Yoongi solely stares at you before he looks away for whatever reason, not giving Jungkook and you any attention. Jungkook doesn't move, almost as if he didn't hear you but you know he has and judging by the deadly look, he doesn't want Yoongi to get away with this.

"Jungkook," you warn him, tugging him harder and he finally lets you lead him away from Yoongi, but not before he sends him one last glare.

Luckily, the party is slowly ending as people are leaving and one final round of bidding goodbye to some of the partners and Junho, you're out of the place. What shocks you is the way Jungkook stays quiet for the rest of the ride, jaw clenched and so far, he looks even more mad at Yoongi than you are.

So you sit back, enjoying the leather soft seats his car offers because that's enough drama for tonight.

#networkbangtan #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut #personasintro

794 notes · View notes

bakugotrashpanda · 2 months

Text

Late Night Games (18+)

Bakugou x F!Reader Pro hero, angst if you squint?

Word Count: 1.7k

Bakugou gets you a sex toy and can't stop thinking about it. Will his favorite cam girl be able to get you off his mind?

Bakugou scrolls through your shopping app lazily. His vision swims slightly as pictures of dildos and vibrators fly up the screen. It’s all part of the game — you landed on space to give someone else your phone and let them purchase a toy for you using your credit card, leaving the definition of ‘toy’ up to the buyer, all under a certain price of course. What wasn’t part of the game was him imagining what you would look like fucking yourself with it; the glow flushing your cheeks as your back arches, the wanton moan that would leave your lips.

“Bakugou, hurry up,” you pout and tip some more of Kaminari’s electric purple concoction — his signature drink for the evening — into your mouth. “How hard is it?”

Hard enough. He ignores the slight tightening in his pants. Shifting, he hopes you didn’t notice the ever-growing bulge. “All this shit’s expensive. Does it have to be $20?”

“That’s what it says, man,” Kirishima smirks. His thumb and forefinger harden long enough to pop the top off his beer.

“This game is stupid,” Bakugou grumbles. He scrolls faster. To be honest, he hadn’t been looking at the prices — he’d been too busy thinking of you; someone he wants but can’t have. Someone who only visits him in the quiet hours of the night as he drifts off to sleep, your phantom hand wrapped around his own as he tries to envision you jacking him off. Someone he won’t let himself have.

No, you’re not meant for his life. The lights, the scrutiny, the questions he’s learned to block out. You’re a sweet thing and he won’t ruin you that way.

His attention returns to your phone in his hand. A bright orange vibrator with a black X at the base. His own product. He’d hated the thought of selling out and slapping his name on a fucking sex toy, but it’d taken off and made it possible for him to put a down payment on a penthouse near his work. Now though, he thinks of you pumping his product in and out of yourself. And that makes it all worth it.

It’s a little more than the game says — $80 more to be precise, but he can cover this purchase. No one will know.

“It’s done,” he says and closes your phone. “No peeking.”

“You’re no fun,” you playfully pout, but you tuck your phone away. “Who’s next? Ochako?”

Bakugou sinks back into the couch, the rush of you wearing off. He half watches as Ochako rolls and lands on a space saying she has to give the person to her right, Kirishima, a ten second lap dance. Both their cheeks are brighter by the end of it, but Bakugou can’t find it in himself to join Mina and Sero in heckling them.

He lasts another half hour before abruptly standing and excusing himself.

In his stupor, he goes through the motions of getting himself home, not really paying attention to anyone around him. His penthouse is cool and quiet — everything he needs after a day of loud action.

Bakugou sits in front of his computer and stares at the monitor. You’re still on his mind, and as much as he tries, he can’t get the fantasy of you writhing around his cock out of his head. His fingers fly to a website he’s visited countless times before. A site where he found an angel of a cam girl whose voice reminds him of yours if he doesn’t focus on it too hard and he can pretend that it’s you on the other side of the screen in lingerie teasing him.

Disappointment greets him as her schedule says she’s away for the next couple of days.

He sits there for a moment, fatigue from the day settling in around him like a wet blanket. Maybe it’s for the best that he goes to bed instead of shelling out money to be the top contributor on yet another stream.

Three days later

Bakugou steps out of the bathroom, steam pouring out around him. A few droplets of water roll down his chest. Today had been a shitshow. Not only did he accidentally destroy a load bearing wall of a building that housed a law firm, his patrol partner called out sick and he was stuck with some rando rookie. The boss called it a ‘mentorship’ opportunity. The only thing he managed to mentor the rookie in was how to piss off your boss and the most powerful law firm in the city, and how to stand tall while everyone yelled at him.

He needs to relax and he needs to relax now.

Pulling on a comfy pair of sweats, he sits at his computer and opens the desk drawer. With all the reverence of a religious ceremony, he sets a bottle of lube and tissues on his desk, and pulls on his top-of-the-line headset. He’d paid a premium once he’d found his favorite cam girl so he could all but inject her voice into his body.

With her show about to start, and Bakugou preps himself.

“Hey everyone,” her sultry voice caresses his ears, “Sorry I was gone for so long.” Soft black lace cups her breasts and hangs low on her hips. She runs her hands up and down her sides, nails dragging on the fragile fabric.

New lingerie Angel? Bakugou types out and attaches a generous donation. Time to put the fucking extras watching in their place. Her red lips curl into a smile. Only he gets to call her Angel.

“Good to see you Number One,” she says. Hearing his screen name and nickname as her top contributor for over two years fall from her lips shoots right to his cock. “I did get some new pieces I can’t wait to show off over the next couple shows. And that’s not the only thing.” She leans over, giving the camera a close up shot of her cleavage.

Bakugou slowly pumps his cock at the sight. If he let his mind wander enough, he could pretend it was your chest. He’d tear the lace off effortlessly and run his hands over you, coaxing your nipples into stiff peaks and leave you wanting – begging – for more.

Settling back on her pale pink blanket, she brings a slim box up to her microphone and taps manicured nails against it.

“I recently came into possession of a new toy as well,” she says sweetly. “Haven’t even unboxed it yet, but I don’t know if we’re ready for that yet.” Her smile falls into a practiced pout as she sets the box down out of view. Donations flood in, all begging her to show it off and use it.

He gets it. This is how she makes money. But their small voices aren’t going to be the ones to get her to do it.

C’mon Angel, show us what ya got? He doubles his previous donation. The corner of her mouth ticks up.

“Since you asked so nicely,” she says and holds the box up to the camera, “I got the latest Dynamight vibrator. I heard this is modeled after the man himself.” She continues talking while she unboxes it, but Bakugou can’t hear her over the ringing in his ears.

What were the chances that you and his favorite cam girl got the same vibrator he had bought you? Yours should’ve arrived today, and if… No. No, there’s no way… But…

His fingers fly across the keyboard. Get that today Angel?

She stops running her fingers up the bright orange shaft and smiles. “I did! It arrived an hour ago and I knew I needed to bring it tonight.”

No.

With shaky hands, he picks up his phone and types a message. All he needs to do is hit send. If he’s mistaken, he can play it off. But if he’s right… fuck.

[Bakugou] >> Angel?

He watches his computer monitor. His favorite cam girl, the one he chose for her voice and the fantasy she could give him, the one who was a replacement for the girl he really wants, freezes. Her playful smile turns brittle.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry loves,” she says quickly, “There’s an emergency, but I’ll be back tomorrow, and maybe I’ll stay on extra late, just for you.” Her camera goes dark. Donations fly in, all begging her to come back, asking what happened.

Bakugou stares, icy dread slithering down his spine.

[Private Audience Requested from Angel]

He shouldn’t have said anything. He could have pretended not to have noticed the similarities. He could’ve been halfway to heaven with his fist wrapped around his cock.

Nevertheless, he accepts the incoming call, well aware that his account is getting charged for what would no doubt be an unpleasant conversation.

His Angel sits in front of the camera, covered up in a gray hoodie.

“Number One,” she says, all sexy energy gone from her voice. “Turn on your camera.”

Don’t have it He types back.

“Bullshit,” she crosses her arms, “I know you do. You’ve bought enough private shows from me. I’ve seen your cock as you jack yourself off. Turn on your fucking camera.”

Reluctantly, Bakugou does. He keeps it angled to show below his neck.

“Show me your face.” It’s not a request.

Show me yours.

“You know I don’t show more than my mouth.”

Then I’m not showing mine

Her mouth, the one Bakugou has imagined wrapped around his length, thins into a disapproving frown. “Well, Number One, then you’ll have to find someone else to shower with your donations.”

Block. She means to block. And she’ll block any other account he makes too. She’d know it’s him — he’s incapable of not being first, being the most prominent person in a room, throwing his money around.

WAIT

He leans forward and scrambles for his camera. Tilting it to his face, he almost feels embarrassed for how he looks in the preview on his end. Panicked. Fearful. Shame.

“Bakugou.” His Angel’s camera tilts up too to see a black and gold mask he’s caught glimpses of before. She removes the mask, and Bakugou watches your face stare back at him, just as pained as he is.

Silence.

There’s too much silence as you stare at each other.

He shakily types what could very well be his final message and sends it. So what now?

A/N: no part 2 bb

#bnha imagines #bakugou #bakugou x reader #writing #angst #sorta #i stg if tumblr shits on the quality of the banner. I JUST LIKE HAZY LOOKING THINGS ALRIGHT

224 notes · View notes

leroibobo · 6 months

Text

when the homes in the depopulated palestinian village of lifta were originally built is impossible to tell and most likely varies from house to house. the area's been known since ancient times, including having been written about in the hebrew bible. it's retained multiple different names throughout history - lifta by romans, nephto by byzantines, clepsta by crusaders, then lifta again by arabs. in more recent times, the area saw battle in the early 19th century, when it saw a peasant's revolt against egyptian conscription and taxation policies. (egyptian-ottoman ruler muhammad ali had attempted to become independent from the ottoman empire, and sought to use the area of "greater syria" which palestine was apart of as a buffer state.)

the village was predominantly muslim with a mosque, a maqām for local sage shaykh badr, a few shops, a social club, two coffee houses, and an elementary school which opened in 1945. its economy was based in farming - being a village of jerusalem, farmers would sell their produce in the city's markets. an olive press which remains in the village gives evidence to one of the most important crops its residents farmed. the historically wealthy village was known for its intricate embroidery and sewing, particularly of thob ghabani bridal dresses, which attracted buyers from across the levant.

lifta also represents one of the few palestinian villages in which the structures weren't totally or mostly decimated during the 1948 nakba. 60 of the 450 original houses remain intact. from zochrot's entry on lifta:

israel's absentee property law of 1950 permits the state to expropriate land and assets left behind, and denies palestinians the right to return to old homes or to reclaim their property. it's estimated that there's around 400,000 descendants of the village's original refugee population dispersed in east jerusalem, the west bank, jordan, and the palestinian diaspora.

like many depopulated palestinian houses, some of those in lifta were initially used to settle predominantly mizrahi immigrants and refugees, in this case 300 jewish families from yemen and kurdistan. the houses weren't registered in their names, and the area generally saw poor infrastructure and no resources including water and electricity provided by the government. most left in the early 1970s as a part of a compensation program to move out people who'd been settled in depopulated palestinian houses - if they didn't, they were referred to as "squatters" and evicted. (holes were even drilled in the roofs of evacuated buildings to make them less habitable). the 13 families which remain there today only managed to do so because they lived close to the edge of the village.

in 1987, the israeli nature reserves authority planned to restore the "long-abandoned village" and turn it into a natural history center which would "stress the jewish roots of the site", but nothing came of it. several more government proposals on what to do with the land had been brought up since then. this culminated in in 2021 when the israel land administration announced without informing the jerusalem municipal authorities that it issued a tender for the construction of a luxury neighborhood on the village's ruins, consisting of 259 villas, a hotel, and a mall. since 2023, they've agreed to shelve and "rethink" these plans after widespread objection.

the reasons for the objections varied significantly between the opposing israeli politicians - who see the village as an exemplar of cultural heritage and "frozen in time" model of palestinian villages before 1948 - and palestinians - who largely see the village as a witness of the nakba and a symbol of hope for their return. lifta is currently listed by unesco as a potential world heritage site, a designation netanyahu has threatened to remove several times.

many palestinians who are descendent from its former residents still live nearby. like with many other depopulated palestinian villages, they've never ceased to visit, organize tours of the village, and advocate for its preservation.

#palestine #info #nakba #my posts #the dresses link isnt specific to lifta thobs but provides a good overview #i couldn't find anything online abt lifta's embroidery but some of the book pdfs on palestinian costume i reblogged a while ago have info

393 notes · View notes

hometoursandotherstuff · 2 months

Text

Sadly, this retiree-turned-artist's home just outside of St. Louis, Missouri didn't sell and has been taken off the market. The asking price of $499K was reasonable for the area, but apparently buyers just weren't into his mosaic art. I really love it- check it out.

Love the technique he did on the door- reminiscent of Pee Wee's Playhouse.

He did the mosaic floors and also the paintings on the walls.

I really like the design on the fire place and hearth. It has an art deco look.

This is so nice. People are so dull, they probably would've bought it if it was white or gray.

The owner, named Frank, was inspired by his favorite place, the Venice Cafe. The local haunt was known for its eclectic decor comprising statues, curios, and mosaic tiles.

The kitchen is nice. Love the orange cabinets. At first, the house was put on the market for $534,900, and was eventually reduced to $499K.

Off to the side of the kitchen what they call "The Rotunda."

He did the same technique on the bedroom windows giving the illusion of irregular shapes.

Frank's favorite room is the ocean themed bath. He thought that he would just die here, but at 73, he's living longer than he thought he would, so he & his wife have decided to downsize.

This is cool- it's from his inspiration, The Venice Cafe's, FB page.

I can see why he wanted his home to look this, it's amazing.

I notice that they have pet turtles, too.

No wonder he did his home like this, I'd never want to leave.

Outside, it looks like an architectural salvage yard.

Sure wish I could buy that house and live here.

https://www.businessinsider.com/quirky-missouri-mosaic-house-for-sale-venice-club-photos-2023-6

#mosaic homes #artsy homes #unique homes #unusual homes #houses #house tours #home tour

186 notes · View notes

thegnomelord · 7 months

Text

Hell Has a Basement Floor (Welcome Home)

You are a mage. Nothing more. Your past accomplishments don't matter. They do

You are a mercenary. Nothing more. Your present deeds don't matter. They do

You are Ifrit. Nothing more. You don't matter.

That's how you operate these days; You sell your services to the highest bidder from corrupt government officials to cartels and don't stop until you're covered in ash and the screaming of your victims has left your heart ringing hollow and deafened the meek voice of the person you were. The bounties and warrants on your head are as meaningless as the blood money you receive, only pushing you to move and offer your grievous gifts to more buyers, leaving bloodstained boot prints behind as you walk without true purpose.

You've been able to avoid capture. Until now. You knew your current buyers would betray you, the signs were obvious, and you knew the only way you were going into custody was in a body bag. You had just hoped you'd be able to take the backstabbers with you before the cold muzzle of a gun was pressed to your temple. Unlike last time.

You're still not sure how that turned into you joining a military taskforce full of actual monsters.

--------------

Yep, this thing is officially happening lol. I'm gonna be looking to post the first chapter in like 1-2 weeks but no promises. Gonna be full of fucking angts and gore and smut. Most of it will be gn, but any sex is gonna be strictly amab reader.

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, coming soon :)

AO3:

@resident-cryptid @diejager @lovingtyrantkitten

#centerpieces of the hoard #x reader #cod mw2 #male reader #long fic #monster cod au #monster 141 au #angst #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #simon ghost riley #fanfiction

387 notes · View notes

evilmario666 · 1 year

Text

One Direction: Breaking Bad

A fanfic I wrote. A Breaking Bad AU. Jesse and Walter completely live in the van. Walter is evil.

Jesse Pinkman makes a big mistake in the van... So Walter White takes it into his own hands. What happens when 5 boys arrive after seeing an ad in the streets of Albuquerque?

Find out... In One Direction: Breaking Bad.

(Jesse POV)

“BITCH!” I screamed.

And just like that, all of our test tubes were knocked over. They shattered on the ground, and in that moment, I saw my terrified expression in the shards as they split into smaller pieces.

I felt sick. I wanted to throw up.

“Jesse, you idiot!” My bald mentor scolds me. “That’s the fifth time this has happened! I can’t afford any more test tubes! Jesse, there’s a shortage of those i the country right now, Jesse. They cost so much. Jesse!” He grabs me by my scruff and dangles me above the floor. “We sold all of our meth already. But I don’t have enough money for test tubes. Damn it.”

“Yo! Walter White! I was - I was -”

“I watched Jane die,” Walter White spat at me.

“Ok” I said sadly. More like Walter Freak, I thought to myself. I didn’t continue my sentence. My scruff hurt as he dangled me above the ground.

“I’m sick of this. I’m sick of you! You know, Jesse, you’re expendable. You’re just a company resource. You’re as replacable as the shoes I would stomp on you again and again, if I weren’t holding back.”

“Let go of my scruff, yo!” I frowned.

“Fine” Walter said as he threw me on the ground. He stomped away angrily, leaving me by myself in the van we called home.

(Walter POV, 1 day later)

“That aught to do it.”

I stapled the advertisement to the tree near the street. I laughed evilly.

“I will sell Jesse to someone, and then I will get enough money to buy new test tubes and materials.” It was a perfect plan. Though, I would be the ultimate judge. I would only sell Jesse to a buyer who is a good singer.

My favorite band is One Direction. I was going to go to a concert next week, but I won’t have enough money unless this twink gets sold, I thought to myself.

Just as I thought about that thought, 5 familiar boys approached me, their eyes locked on the advertisement...

(Jesse POV)

I was dressing for another day of sitting around smoking weed in the van. I put on my favorite Firestar (Warrior Cats) shirt from Redbubble and my baggy jeans. I threw on my Aoba Seragaki cosplay jacket. I looked in the mirror and frowned. My hair had grown out since I began living in the van. I needed a new style, this shit sucked.

I put it in a messy bun. I smiled. I looked like a cute babygirl but a boy. Then, suddenly, the door opened.

“Yo, Mr. White! Are you back with some yaoi, bitch?” I asked. Walter White was also a male fujoshi (not fudanshi it’s different).

“Jesse.” He looked really serious. “I sold you.”

“Bitch?” I began crying.

“Meet your new owners.” Then, 5 boys walked in...

It was... One Direction!!!!!

“Yo, Mr. White, is this some kinda prank?” I was so confused that I cried even more.

“They paid over the 5,000 I had set for you. They paid me 10 million dollars, in exchange for your cooking skills.” He grinned and shook Harry’s hand.

I was shocked. Liam smiled at me. He had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced, or seemed to face, the whole external world for an instant and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. “My cooking skills, bitch?!”

Louis shot me a wicked smile. “The meth cooking skills. We think you could be... of special use, with that.”

Zayn gave me a signature 1D stare. “Yes... Yes. You have a boyish exterior too,” he said, calculating and breathing heavily. “The sort of exterior that makes concert halls bustling. The sort of exterior that brings you to stardom.”

Harry let go of Walter’s hand, and bared his fangs at me. Was... Was Harry Styles a vampire?!?!?!??!

“You see, Harry, um...” Louis looked really serious and began crying. “Harry got bitten by a methpire... Now HE’S a methpire!!!!”

I tilted my head like a cute anime girl. “What’s a methpire?”

“It’s like a vampire, but instead of blood, it’s meth. You don’t snort it or anything, you just put it in your mouth and absorb it into your fangs. It doesn’t get you high or anything, but it’s the only way a methpire can feed.” Harry looked really hungry. “I haven’t had meth to eat in months.”

“He’s starving!” Liam cried. “He’s going to shrivel up into ash and die if we don’t do something! Please, Jesse! You must cook for us!”

I looked at Walter. Then I looked at Liam again.

“Do I have any choice, bitch?” I asked.

Walter White snarled at me like a wolf ready to pounce. “No not really”

“Ok”

And that was the day.... My life changed forever.

#Mario posts #One Direction: Breaking Bad

1K notes · View notes

myfictionaldreams · 11 months

Note

Hey love! Quick question, how do you think mafia stucky would be when their for l is on her period or sick? 🥺

Sick Day //Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

A/N: I've had this requested so many times, I hope you all enjoy! Also for this specific anon, I've already written a fic where reader has her period called 'i don't care'

Tags: SFW, fluff, lots of comfort, sickfic, anxiety, coughing, fever (just being generally unwell), steve & bucky are stressed

Words: 4.3k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“Are you ok? You’re never this quiet, it’s unnerving”.

You playfully shoved Bucky as he walked past where you stood, carrying a crate filled with the latest shipment of goods that had arrived at the gang's warehouse that afternoon. Your boyfriend hardly moved from the push but he playfully pretended to drop the important box that seemed to scare Steve more than yourself as he too pushed against Bucky as he walked past, this one forceful enough that he stumbled a few steps.

Grinning at the interaction, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, tone full of sarcasm, “Very funny Buckaroo. Is there really much for me to say whilst you two are at your finest? I’m a little distracted to talk”, you trialled off. Your stare openly at their bare chests, sweat gleaming off the perfectly shaped muscles. It had simply been too hot this afternoon in the warehouse for both of them to wear shirts so with a subtle grin, you suggested maybe they should take them off which they were more than happy to oblige, giving you the best view possible.

A squeal erupted from you as Bucky ran up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his body, stubble grazing your cheek as he leaned over your shoulder to peck your lips. Relaxing into the touch, you savoured his unnaturally warm temperature, not realising how just chilled to the bone you felt. You pondered on this thought for a moment. It was hot in the warehouse therefore you should have been feeling warm too but, you instead felt quite the opposite. Internally you groaned, hoping this wasn’t a sign that you were becoming ill, especially as you had a headache since the moment you’d risen that morning.

Bucky’s lips were on an exploratory journey of your cheek, only stopping until he was grazing over your ear, “More than just now sweetheart, you’ve been quiet today, is everything alright?” he asked with less of a teasing tone as before.

You withheld the sigh that wanted to escape as he moved away, continuing to help Steve unload the truck but his head turned in your direction so you knew he was still wanting you to answer. Staring around the warehouse, you pondered for a moment how bizarre it felt for it just to be the three of you in the vast building. Usually, it was full of other gang members but Steve and Bucky determined this shipment only required the two of them to unload and then Sam could begin selling to buyers tomorrow.

The automatic response to Bucky’s concerns was ‘I’m fine’, however, this wasn’t necessarily true. You’d had a lingering headache since the morning, and there was a tickle at the back of your throat that didn’t seem to ease even after coughing enough that your chest ached.

Shrugging your shoulders and wrapping your arms around your middle, you tried to keep your expression as nonchalant as possible. “Before either of you start worrying, I am fine, I just think I might be coming down with something, but it’s probably just a cold”.

It was Steve to stop next to you this time, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he lifted a hand to press against your forehead. With a genuine smile, you pulled his hand away and instead hold it onto your cheek, nuzzling into it, feeling the roughness from his training as you insisted, “I’m fine, really I am, it’s just a little headache and cough”.

The mafia leader’s gaze softened a fraction at your touch, his thumb stroking against your cheekbone for a moment before he continued with his worried fretting. “Do you want to go home? I don’t mind taking you and Bucky finishing up here”. You shake your head instantly, stepping closer to him so that you could reach up and stroke a stray piece of blonde hair out of his eyes. It was Steve’s turn now to move your hand away so that he could kiss the tips of your fingers in a delicate way that warmed your cheeks with the loving gaze he was looking at you.

“No, it’s fine I’ll wait, it doesn’t look like you have much left to unpack and anyway, the view is keeping me thoroughly entertained”, you say, eyes dropping to his bare chest before glancing back up to his blue eyes with a suggestive eyebrow raised.

Steve doesn’t say anything, knowing you’re trying to distract him from worrying so he just simply leans down to kiss your forehead and continues with unloading the van. The two of them continued for a few more minutes as you happily watched until the overwhelming urge to massage your temple took over, the motion helping to ease the ache that was beginning to pound there only by the slightest amount.

It was Bucky who spoke next, muttering lowly under his breath as he walked past in a teasing but matter-of-fact tone, “I told you dancing in the rain wasn’t a good idea and you’d catch a cold”.

A smile graced your face as you thought back to yesterday's activities. The three of you had been on the way home from an intimate dinner where you were all dressed in the stunning dress and three-piece suits for Steve and Bucky. On the way home, your favourite song came on the radio and after the few too many drinks you'd had in the restaurant, all you wanted to do was dance and insisted that Bucky pulled over but he countered that you’d catch a cold going out into the rain with only your barely covering dress.

However, Bucky couldn’t say no to you for long as quickly parked up much to your delight and with the music blaring from the stereo, the three of you danced in the rain until you were soaked to the bone, shivering until you couldn’t talk. The romance, joy and grin that beam up to them both were all worth it.

However, with the way you were feeling now, maybe Bucky did have a point but you wouldn’t take back the moment yesterday, even thinking about it had your chest filling with love and warmth.

Looking up at Bucky, you cooed, “Yes, but it was so romantic!” Your boyfriend's eyes softened for a split second before quickly moving out of the way as you had an influx of sneezes, your eyes watering and your throat burning with intensity.

Eventually, the crates were unloaded and ready for Sam and the three of you were on the way home. However, it seemed the sneezes were the start of your downfall, feeling worse off from when you’d arrived at the warehouse. Sitting in the backseat with Steve, your head rested heavily against his shoulders, eyes closed with the hopes that it would help your headache. You would have held onto Steve’s hand but you spent more time wiping your nose that hadn’t stopped running since you began sneezing, luckily Steve had a spare tissue that now seemed to be attached to your face.

As soon as you were home, Steve insisted on you taking some cold and flu medicine; however, the only kind in your home was a vile liquid form which tasted like bottled sour death. So, of course, you refused with a dismissive wave of your hand as you stepped into the kitchen for a glass of water, “there’s no way I’m taking that, I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning, just need some rest”.

“Please take just a spoonful, and I’ll fish out some ice cream for you. It’s probably better to start taking some medicine now than waiting and feeling worse”, Steve insisted, following you around with the spoon and medicine like he was Mary Poppins.

“You’re making me sound like a child Steve, and anyway, last time I had some you could hardly wake me for dinner”, referring to the drowsy medication, last time you’d taken it, they could hardly even wake you for dinner.

“Yes, but it’s the only medication we have right now and I’d feel better if you didn’t feel ill, so please take some”. He’d cornered you to the corner of the kitchen, his large frame blocking your escape as you back brushed against the countertops.

Sighing heavily, you looked up into his worried eyes, seeing Bucky’s over his shoulder with just as much concern and instantly you crumbled on your reluctance, knowing he was right, it was better if you took some than none at all. “Fine I’ll take the medicine but I will only accept because of your offer for ice cream”.

As soon as the rancid medicine coated your tongue, you regretted ever believing you’d feel better after taking it, gagging so violently that tears streamed down your cheeks and even half a tub of ice cream couldn’t shift the lingering taste.

By the time your stomach was full of the dessert, your eyelids were already feeling heavy. Still, you tried to shake it off, wanting to spend the evening with your boyfriends considering it was a rare occurrence to have nothing planned the following day. “What do you want to do tonight,” you asked them both, trying to refrain from yawning as they sat next to you at the table. The two of them shared a look that had you groaning in dismay, “really? You have to work tonight?” Steve shifted closer, kissing your cheek gently and resting his hand on your thigh, his thumb drawing circles through your jeans as Bucky moved to place the ice cream back into the freezer.

“It’s only admin but we’re backlogged by a few weeks so both need to do it but we’ll do it in the living room, we can watch a movie or something”, he suggested as he inched even closer, wanting to feel his warmth and comfort.

“A movie sounds nice”, you answered with a tiny smile, leaning in to peck his cheek before standing, explaining that you were going to change into something more comfortable and you’d meet them in the living room. Despite the medicine, you continued to feel worse and in the process of changing your clothes into your usual pyjamas of shorts and a shirt of either Steve’s or Bucky’s, you had a massive coughing fit that took your breath away. As you tried to compose yourself, eyes closed as the pounding in your head intensified, a warm presence enveloped you from behind.

“I could hear you coughing from downstairs, Doll, are you ok?” Bucky asked, hands stroking up your arms to cup your jaw as you pouted at him.

“Not really, that medicine wasn’t worth it”, you admitted, feeling somewhat sorry for yourself as you leaned into him.

He smiled sadly, kissing your temple affectionately before holding both of your hands, “Come on let’s go downstairs and I’ll see what I can find you to help”.

Steve and Bucky always were so attentive when you weren’t feeling great, going above and beyond for your comfort. Once downstairs, Bucky covered your lap in a fluffy blanket after pulling your legs over his thighs, resting his laptop on your legs to continue working as Steve sat to your other side, his arm over your shoulder so that you could spoon around the muscular limb. On the coffee table between the couch and TV, there was an array of snacks, water, honey and lemon tea, packs of tissues and the dreaded medicine.

However, you didn’t touch any of the items as you promptly succumbed to the drowsy effect and before the movie was even selected, fell into a deep sleep on Steve’s arm.

As the movie credits began playing on the screen, you woke to an ice-cold metal hand on your forehead you moaned in relief, leaning into the welcoming touch.

“You’re starting to get a fever, Sweetheart”, Bucky remarked as his hand remained in place against you. One thing that Bucky’s metal arm could provide was coldness, the special substance that it was made from meant that it would always remain cold, even if he held it over a fire so for moments like now, it was perfect.

“I feel like shit”, you admitted, your voice thick with sleep and croaky from how dry your throat was. Not only this but your head was pounding enough that you didn’t want to risk opening your eyes to the fear that you might vomit and your entire body ached. This all didn’t get any better as you began to violently cough until there was a subtle wheeze with your breaths.

Bucky leaned forward, reaching with his warm hand for the glass of water, holding it up to your lips and helping you to drink half of it.

“Maybe you should have some more medicine baby”, Steve suggested but you were already asleep again.

Another hour passed before they attempted to wake you again so that you could eat something, having not had anything all afternoon but your only response was a shake of the head, your stomach churning at the thought of food.

The next time you woke, it was because you were being carried by Steve, his arms safely braced beneath your knees and back as your head cradled into his neck. “Can I sleep in the spare room tonight?” you asked croakily.

You could feel Steve stop walking, his head turning to try and look down at you, his grip tightening slightly, as he asked, “Why do you want to be in the spare room?”

“Because I don’t want either of you to catch my cold”.

Steve’s body instantly relaxed as he continued walking straight for the shared bedroom, carefully placing you into the centre of the bed before sitting next to you and responding, “Firstly, when have you ever seen either of us ill before?”

He had a good point, you thought, the entire time you’ve been with them both, not once had they been ill but they mostly put it down to the side effects of the experiments they’d been through during their time in the army.

The bed shifted on the other side of you as Bucky continued Steve’s points, “Secondly, do you really think we’re letting you out of our sight for even a second? I don’t think so, Doll”. You mustered up a small smile in response but with your eyes still closed and being comfortable in bed, you quickly fell back to sleep.

During the night was difficult, especially when you needed the toilet but both of your boyfriends were there to either carry or hold onto your hands to help you walk to the toilet when you weren’t feeling at your strongest.

When you woke up the next day, it was only because Bucky had shaken you to give you some new medicine that he’d just been and bought from the store. Reluctantly, one of your eyes peeked open to see Bucky dressed and looking at you with such worry you wanted to crawl over to him and comfort the brunette but your body didn’t seem to want to listen to you.

“Am I dead?” You tried to ask jokingly but the crackly voice from your sore throat had you wincing with how hoarse it sounded.

Bucky tried to genuinely smile as he stroke the back of his hand against your cheek, “Well, you were snoring like the dead so, potentially”. You would have swatted his arm away if you had the energy but instead, you only groaned, trying to hide your face in the pillow. “Talk to me, how are you feeling? Where does it hurt the most? I’ve got some water here for your medicine and some tea that’ll help your throat”.

Opening your eyes fully, you accepted the drinks and meds from him and noticed that he had covered the bedside cabinet with the array of treats, tissues and drinks from yesterday.

“What time is it,” you asked after being repositioned so your back was against the headboard, the position change meant that your blocked nose began to run so you shoved a tissue up each nostril and left it there, finding it easier than having to keep wiping, not caring what you looked like.

Bucky glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly 2 pm, I’ve been to the shop this morning and was waiting for you to wake up to take your meds but, I had a sneaky suspicion that you could probably sleep for the rest of the day if we left you to it”.

You were in disbelief that you’d been able to sleep for that long. Looking around, you couldn’t see your other boyfriend, “Where’s Steve?”.

“He’s just on the phone, he’ll be back in a minute don’t worry. Do you want to stay in here today or downstairs?”

“In here please”, as you respond, you slide your body back down further into the bed.

Bucky leaned down to kiss the top of your head before shuffling off to change out of his jeans and into some joggers but, before he’d even returned you were already asleep once more.

The next time you woke, it wasn’t because of meds or needing to use the toilet, this time it was because you thought you were going to explode you were so hot. Your skin was hot and clammy to the touch, sweating profusely as you tossed and turned to try and find some relief, and in the end, sobbing because you felt so poorly.

Bucky had been trying his best to keep your fever cool with his metal arm whilst Steve was helping you drink water but in the end, they both decided it was probably easier to just sit in the bath with lukewarm water. They both joined you, mostly holding up your body as you had no energy to even try and after a few minutes, you finally sighed in satisfaction, even though the fever remained at least the water helped to keep you calm.

After returning to bed in shorts and a vest, you had hoped to fall back to sleep but instead, you spent what felt like hours coughing and wiping your nose. Steve and Bucky were once again there every step of the way, stroking your back, reminding you that they were there and that everything would be ok which was what you needed to hear when it felt like you were struggling to breath with how tight your chest felt.

As the hours ticked by, they became anxious that you’d not eaten and even though you explicitly explained that you weren’t hungry, Steve still cooked his homemade chicken noodle soup, encouraging you with every mouthful. Even though you couldn’t taste it, it did make you feel a little better to have a full stomach, enough so that you were able to fall asleep.

As you slept, Bucky would continuously touch your feverish skin with his cool hand as Steve placed wet cloths against your forehead with the hopes of cooling you down. Only when you began to shiver did they both stop, satisfied that your fever had passed; however now, you couldn’t warm yourself up.

By the second day, Steve was near to having a nervous breakdown and had his phone in hand to call a doctor. However, in your half-conscious state, you tried to soothe his worries. He knew it would pass but you hated to see him so on edge. Bucky was just as bad, every time you’d open your eyes, he was there, unblinking stare watching your chest rise and fall.

The only way you could try and help them was by asking Steve to hold you close, which he was more than happy to do. Sliding further up the bed until his back was resting against, as he sat against the headboard, he pulled you into his lap, your legs straddling his, chests brushed together and your head resting on his shoulder.

You hummed in relief, “You’re like my own personal heated blanket”, you praised him, snuggling closer to his body. Bucky sat beside you both, sliding the fluffy blanket around your shoulders and kissing the back of your head, being careful not to touch you with his metal arm in case it was too cold.

You were highly aware of this from the awkward angle that he was sitting and you instantly felt bad for him, reaching a hand out of the blanket to grab onto his metal one.

“I don’t deserve you two”, you say with exhaustion and sadness lacing your voice.

“Yes you do, now go to sleep”, Steve brushed off your comment with a kiss to your temple, his fingers massaging over your head, helping you to fall asleep.

You seemed to spend more time asleep than awake but your body needed to recover, hardly having the energy to even wake up properly when it was time to take your medicine but luckily Bucky was there to help hold you up and tilt the water and meds into your mouth.

You were also half-aware that they were both moving you between the living room and the bedroom, making sure you weren’t stuck in the same position for too long. Your face would be regularly cleaned of the different bodily fluids that seemed to be leaking out of you, they would help you to the toilet day or night when needs be, and there would always be soup ready for the small time periods where you were awake.

Even though you were safe and slowly recovering, Steve and Bucky were struggling to see you this poorly. It got to the point that Natasha had to come around with groceries and help tidy the house as both men refused to leave your side.

After three long days of being most unconscious, you woke with only a mild headache, throat still sore but nowhere near as bad as it had been and at least you could breathe through your nose. Opening your eyes slowly, you found yourself laying with your head in Bucky’s lap, his fingers resting over your head like he’d been brushing his fingers over your scalp, whilst your feet rested in Steve’s lap.

You could hear the TV on but from the sounds of the light snoring coming from both men, it seemed that exhaustion finally hit them as they’d fallen asleep, heads dropping on their shoulders in uncomfortable positions. Your heart twisted in guilt at seeing them like this, purple shaded under their eyes and stubble grown out further than usual.

As you turned your head to look at Steve, the movement seemed to startle Bucky awake first, his body jerking with a snort that simultaneously woke Steve up as well, both of their tired eyes snapping to look at you in worry.

“Sorry for waking you”, you say sheepishly, coughing a few times to clear your throat and then giving them a genuine smile that calmed any tension in their bodies.

“Are you ok?” Bucky asked, eyes flicking between your own as he began to run his fingers through over your scalp, confirming your suspicions.

“Yeah, I’m actually feeling a lot better than I was, I can finally breathe through my nose!” You raised your arm in triumph and then quickly dropped it as your cheeks warmed in embarrassment. “Which means I can finally smell myself, I think I’m going to have a shower and change my clothes”.

“Bucky smells worse after the gym, don’t worry baby”, Steve joked, earning a glare from his friend. “Are you sure you’re feeling up for it though? The shower I mean, I don’t want you to push yourself too soon”.

You stretched your full body out, feeling joints click and muscles shake with the movement. “Yeah, I think so. I feel gross so want to get washed up anyway”.

“Let’s go then!” Bucky announced, shuffling to help you stand up, but your knees wobbled slightly and causing you to walk like a baby deer but you made it all the way upstairs and to the bathroom. It wasn’t only you that had a shower, of course, Steve and Bucky joined, both deeming that they needed to wash just as much as you but secretly you knew it was because they wanted to make sure you were ok.

“You’re both such mother hens”, you joke as Bucky washes your hair and Steve sponges over your body. You offered to do the same for them but they declined, making sure you were dry and safe before continuing with their own showers. In the safety of your bedroom, you looked around, trying to notice any signs that you’d been ill but other than the snacks and water on the side, there were no tissues or anything. Your heart pumped harder with love at having both of them so devoted to your care that they’d even clean up your snotty tissues.

“Better?” Bucky asks, stepping out of the bathroom with only a low towel around his waist, and walking towards where you sat at the edge of the bed.

Stifling a yawn behind your hand, you nodded, “Yes. Although even though I’ve only walked a few steps I'm already tired”. He smiles down softly at you, tilting your chin back and kissing your lips, a touch that you had missed dearly and it seems him too with the way his whole body seemed to sigh into it.

Pulling back, he nodded towards the top of the bed, “Get into bed. we’ll be with you in a moment”.

Without any arguments, you happily crawled up the bed, getting under the blanket and waited patiently, making sure not to fall asleep until Bucky and Steve were on either side of you, both kissing your face and shoulder tenderly. “I’m glad you’re feeling better baby”, Steve whispered against your skin.

#mafia stucky #mafia au #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #stucky x reader #stucky fluff #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #marvel one shot #mine*#request

911 notes · View notes

mobox87 · 3 days

Text

BIG ANNOUCEMENT

Hello all! It's certainly been a while but I've come with good news!

There have been characters of Affinity that have been sold without others knowing, this has led others to get rather annoyed since they only think one person can buy these characters...

... Well, that ends today!

There are characters of Affinity that I don't have any use for anymore, the old designs from 2014-2020 that I don't use in my current AU have no use to me anymore, and I don't want for them to go to waste without a good home for them to have, which is why I've decided to announce that all the old designs from 2014-2020 that I don't use in my current AU are now available to be sold to the public!

Though, these designs have had a big impact on me, and I would like to say that I don't wish to sell them for anything less than $30. Please keep that in mind!

Thank you so much for reading, I hope these characters will be able to have good homes!

Please ask, I will make a long list of characters that have been sold to some people, in the meantime you can ask and I will let you know if it has been sold or not

list of SOLD characters (still going to be updated

SOLD!!! SOLD!!!

If some buyers want to put characters they already bought, let me know!

OPTA

Lian

Phantom Scott (FON)

Morbius (FON)

Bonter (FON)

Krungest (FON)

Beltren (FON)

Helltrap (FON)

Klames (FON)

GINNY (FON)

Delmare (FON)

Chica (The Fnaf School design)

Nightmare Springbonnie

Sammy (Old design)

Shadow Bonnie (Fnaf School design)

Shadow Bonnie (VERY OLD design)

Nightmare Freddy (Fnaf School design)

Fnaf 4 children (Chloe, The broen haired with The Plush toy AND little blonde GIRL (NOT Elizabeth) Old design)

Timothy

Son of one of The bullies

william's sister

William (Old design) The one you called Vincent

Steve

Plushtrap (Fnaf School design)

Shadow Freddy (High School design)

Renata's niece

Nightmare Bonnie (Fnaf School design)

Old Baby HK design

The girl inside the mangle (VERY old design)

Baby x Funtime Freddy fanchilds

Red bunny (Fnaf World)

Julia

Baby Fanchildren

Iris and rainbear (very old designs)

Kenny and hk mom (OLD design)

Cupcake (OLD design)

Springbonnie's fanchild

Bawn bawn and bonnet little age

Baldi's son (Old design)

Redbear

Puppet Old Child inside

Cajeta

Shelby's ex boyfriend (The one with red hair)

Phone guy (THE VERY OLD DESIGN)

VERY OLD DESIGN OF BRANDY (Black)

Lumy & shade

Bonnet (With vitiligo)

Old Vincent design with black hair

Oliv OLD DESIGN

yenndo (OLD DESIGN)

Female kenny

Thomas

Danny (Sallem and Tiffany's kid)

White Rabbit (Fnaf worldd

Kuromi (Red Rabbit, Fnaf world)

Young Renata

Young Eggs (2016, the one with the red striped shirtt)

Security (Fnaf worldd)

Jeremy (KS)

Jeremy Cyclops (FON)

Mike the knight (FON)

Angelica (a girl with black hair with pigtails and a blue shirtt, from They Shouldn't Know

Girl with Bonnie ears from Nights At Freddy's

Chris the puppet kidd

Dark Toastt

Erick (a character with blue and black hairr)

Frannie (TT)

Jaine (Renata's other neice)

Lydia

A boy with orange hair aand a girl with black hair from the Suicide Didn't Work video

An old Mike design (2014)

Tara (Vincent's sister)

An old Alex designn

Nightmare Freddy (Fnaf school designn)

Puppet x Ballora fankids

An old Alfred designn (with a green shirt and a blue hat)

Amatisaa (FON)

Abigail (the soul in Circus Baby in Sassy's Palace)

Stephanie (the soul in Bon Bon in Sassy's Palace)

Penelope (a student in Sassy's Palace)

Valen (a student in Sassy's Palace)

The people shown in the Machigera marketplace in the Beltren comic (everyone except the girl in the middle of the drawing)

The entirety of Ginny's crew that was with her when Beltren was killed (FON)

Ethan (the soul in Funtime Freddy in Sassy's Palace)

Shadow Freddy (old design)

Savy (a yellow rabbit that stood beside Tirsa in one image in FON)

The ruler of Treevelt with purple hair

One of Blurryface's kids (Sassy's Palace)

A humanized plush Foxy

And to clarify, these characters will still be in my universe?

YES

But with a more elaborate design and clearly with other names, And some simply with other designs since I only sold ocs that didn't have much appearance And designs that will no longer be used for history Because they were already redesigned

I am unaware of the existence of many characters, if you remember any, you can ask me

81 notes · View notes

alithographica · 1 year

Text

Re: Redbubble & Alternatives

Redbubble is doing some nonsense and I've deleted my account. I barely bothered with it anyway, was mostly there for people who've asked for specific images as posters.

Anyway in doing that I sacrificed the $4.35 that was still sitting in my earnings. They only let you cash out at $20, so rather than drum up sales and therefore make Redbubble more money, I'm gonna do what I feel is $4.35 in anti-publicity for them. 🥳

tl;dr there are new fees that hurt artist income at all sales levels. Redbubble is either looking to cut costs and raise profits for funsies, or is in serious financial trouble.

About the new fees:

Redbubble offers their services to artists by allowing artists to control their profit margin above a certain baseline manufacturing fee. This was pretty cool! There's now an additional fee that will be charged starting May 1, 2023. It is not an upfront fee that requires you to pay out of pocket, but it does directly cut your profit margin. How badly? Well...

By Redbubble's own example, if in one month you sell $300 in products that you had set at a 25% margin, you'd previously earn $75. Under the new structure, that earnings level means you pay a $28 fee, so you will now be paid $47. That $28 represents a 37% cut off what you were supposed to earn.

There's a full fee table in that link, but other highlights include a $1 fee if you earned $2 (aka 50%!) and big sellers who'd expect to take home $400 will now receive $320 (an $80 fee, 20%).

It also puts you in a weird spot that earning $1 more in a month may bump you to the next tier, causing you to actually take home less money. Make $1 more, end up losing $11. Make it make sense. 🤨

About the new tiers:

Each shop is evaluated and labeled Standard, Premium, or Pro. Premium and Pro shops are not subject to the new fees, but there's no clarity on how to move from one tier to another. Redbubble says it's under your control but it's clearly not. Many artists are reporting that they have accounts with next to no sales that have been labeled Pro, and accounts with thousands of annual sales that are labeled Standard.

Action items:

Look, I'm not gonna tell other artists that they have to close their shops, or tell buyers not to buy from Redbubble if your favorite artists have chosen to stay. What you do with the above info is up to you.

What I will say is that many artists are leaving because the new pay structure sucks. I encourage people who buy from Redbubble to expand their support to other sites.

Attrition is arguably their goal here—they know people will leave over this, and that'll probably lower their costs and lower competition for the remaining accounts. But goodwill is lost easily and they're playing a dangerous game on betting how many stay vs. leave. I'm out.

Feel free to leave your feedback on Redbubble's feedback form here, but it feels slightly like yelling into the void.

Alternatives:

tbh I don't have a good read on things. If you do know of any recommended (or unrecommended) print-on-demand sites, speak up!

I will say that as of now (April 2023), based on my research:

🟢 INPRNT sounds like a winner if your game is art prints and stickers. Does not have any wearable products like t-shirts.

🟡 Etsy + Printify/Printful might be viable? Etsy always had higher profit margins than POD marketplaces, but it's a bit more work and they also do weird things occasionally. Also has a listing fee so if you're the type to upload a ton of designs, pricey.

🔴 Teepublic is owned by Redbubble. Doesn't have the tier/new fee structure as of now but might be imminent. Have also heard their customer service sucks.

🔴 Society6 is going to charge artists shipping costs, and there's going to be a (mandatory?) subscription service launched in the fall, so that's not a winner anymore either.

#redbubble #art advice #artist advice #artist resources #artists on tumblr

631 notes · View notes

owlwithanapple · 4 months

Text

The Light and The Dark

Chapter 01. Encounter

Two years ago

The story begins two years ago when you were playing alone near your home late at night, suddenly you were attacked and kidnapped by human traffickers. At that time you desperately screamed for help late at night, but no one was willing to lend a helping hand because they were outnumbered. In the end you were forcibly taken away by them.

Your hands were handcuffed and were taken to their pirate ship. In addition to those bastard accomplices on the boat, you saw several girls about the same age as you and even little girls younger than you.

When the ship left the island sailing on the sea, they took you with other girls to a room for evaluation to ensure that the girls could be sold at a good price. It is simply humiliating us. You are treated as commodities even though are priceless.

When follow the queue, it's your turn go into the room to be evaluated. You didn't pay attention to what they were saying because you were still frustrated, and someone pushed you forward from behind and accidentally fell to the floor.

You got up from the floor and stood still to look at the asshole in front of you. You want to beat them up. But you don’t have that ability, you are just a weak girl now. If they go crazy, they will kill instantly or throw into the sea to feed the fish.

"Name, age, expertise?" The bastard looked you up and down.

"Y/N, 17 years old, can read and write." You said, holding back tears.

"Hey hey hey! Look! There is really high-quality goods! She can read and write! Mark her with a high price!" That bastard took your hand and stamped it with a red seal to mark it as high-quality goods.

You were born and raised on a small island, albeit in a poor family. But both parents are great, you learn some rare things from them. Mother was an explorer and father was a researcher of ancient literature, but both parents passed away a few years ago.

Their evaluation of you as top quality means that your value is high. They put you and other girls in separate rooms and locked the door. You curled up in the corner and cried secretly, you felt helpless and powerless.

You may have been sleeping in a dark room for a long time because of exhaustion and anxiety. Suddenly someone unlocked the door and called you but didn't wake up. The bastard slapped you and woke you up immediately.

The ship has already stopped at the dock, now they want to take you off to the trading location. He tied your hands with a rope and pulled you hard. You couldn't break free and had to follow them.

When you arrive at the trading location you see a bar. There is a woman at the door. She is the owner of this bar and the buyer who wants to buy you. She is sitting on a chair smoking a cigarette and waiting for you.

"Slow..." The woman looked at the person with contempt.

"Who told this girl to fall asleep? She's so slow!" That bastard slapped you.

"Hey, just because I bought her doesn't mean she'll be beaten by you." The woman blew out smoke in the bastard's face.

"Damn bitch!" The bastard choked and scolded the owner.

"Give me the girl and get back to your stinking ship." The woman said.

"Tch! If I don't have enough money, I won't sell you such high-end goods!" The bastard spit on the ground and left.

"Trash….Oh ya.Let me introduce myself first. My name is Ria. You are Y/N, right? I heard that you were evaluated as a high-end product." She put out the cigarette in her hand and looked at you.

"Well..." You looked down at the ground, not looking directly at her.

"It's such a shame that a beautiful face was beaten like this." She lifted your chin and looked at your face.

"Please let me go home." You begged her helplessly with tears in your eyes.

"I bought you with money. If you give me money, I will let you go." She let you go and said.

"I..." You couldn't help but shed tears.

"You have a pretty face, come work here. I will pay you on time, but you must listen to me. You can refuse, and I will sell you back to those garbage. Make your own choice, little girl. ” She lit a second cigarette.

"If I raise all the money, will you really let me go?" You hesitate.

"That's right. I buy you with money, and you pay me back. It's only natural and logical." She took a puff of cigarette and blew out the smoke.

You have no money or ability now, you just know how to read and write. Although it is a good talent, it has no value here at all. You have no choice but to accept her terms and work here.

Your job is as simple as taking orders and serving drinks to guests. Of course, you will still encounter some customers who are lewd and lustful towards you and suddenly harass you. Ria will step in for you and yell at them, but you still feel scared.

Two years later

You have been living under the same roof with Ria for the past two years. In her free time, she takes you shopping for beautiful clothes and teaches you some things you don’t understand. Although the first impression was not very good now you feel like she is like a sister.

The store temporarily closed today because there was a sudden heavy rain outside and couldn't go out. You and Ria had no choice to pass the time at home. You sat on the bed reading the newspaper while Ria sat next to you sewing handkerchiefs.

"Ria, why did you buy me in the first place?" You asked her curiously when you thought of this question while reading the newspaper.

"I originally just wanted to find a beautiful girl to work in the bar, then I found out that those rubbish were actually human traffickers. I had no choice but to buy you, it's better than letting you be with those rubbish." Ria said calmly.

"You can choose not to keep me, at least you will have less of a burden." You closed the newspaper.

"I never thought you were a burden. I just felt annoyed that those rubbish deceived me in this way. By the way, what are you reading?" Ria stopped what she was doing.

"Some pirate incidents and their bounties." You pointed to the report.

"Pirates...there is a very famous Roger pirate group recently." Ria mentioned.

"They are the headlines today. Look how high their bounty is!" You moved the newspaper to show Ria their headlines.

"One of their heads is worth two houses." Ria calculated their bounty carefully.

"It's so cool. You can go on adventures in all kinds of places." You smiled slightly.

"You said your dream is to have adventures everywhere, right?" Ria asked you.

"When I leave here one day, I will go on an adventure. Do you want to come with me?" You invited her with a smile.

"Let's see. I have a bar to run. If I leave, I need to find someone to replace me or close it permanently." Ria said her thoughts calmly.

"Well...it's your business after all." You whispered regretfully.

"You won't need me anymore by then, just go out and explore the world by yourself. Maybe I will see your bounty." Ria said with a smile.

"It's impossible. I'm not as strong as them to shake the world." You explained nervously.

"You have a very smart mind. You may be able to reach unknown realms with your mind." Although Ria is very calm, she is praising you.

"It's basically all written content. I'm still ignorant of the outside world." You said.

Ria got out of bed, took out a cigarette and lit it, while you continued reading the newspaper. Looking out the window, the heavy rain has not stopped. It should continue to rain for a long time. It seems that will not be able to open today.

You went to the kitchen to get the ingredients for dinner, while Ria went to do the laundry. Since you've been living together, your chores have been divided in turns. She didn't ask you, but you were willing to help her share the burden.

Tomorrow morning

The rainstorm has stopped, the weather has turned sunny, and the sun shines into your room. You are woken up by the dazzling sunlight. You forgot to close the curtains before going to bed last night. You got out of bed and saw Ria leaving a note on your desk saying that you should go to the market to buy some ingredients.

You change your clothes and go to the kitchen to check what ingredients are currently missing at home. You take out a piece of paper and record it before leaving the house. Ria's home is not far from the market, so you walk slowly and leisurely.

Island shore

Yesterday's heavy rain caused the waves to become unstable, and many ships sailing on the sea were swept to the shore, including the ship of the Roger Pirates. Some parts of the ship were damaged and could not continue moving forward. The crew temporarily bought supplies and materials on this island to repair the ship.

"It's a good thing that the weather is sunny. So glad didn't get swept into the sea yesterday." Rayleigh said while standing on the shore.

"Hahahaha, we are lucky, the ship was damaged only after it washed ashore." Roger burst out laughing after saying this.

"It's so dizzy." Buggy felt uncomfortable and said, covering his mouth.

"Luckily you didn't fall to the bottom of the sea. The heavy rain came, I really didn't dare go in the sea to save you." Shanks said with a smile.

"What are you talking about! You heartless guy!" Buggy grabbed Shanks and began to fight.

"If you dare!" Shanks started fighting with Buggy.

"You two, stop fighting and help deal with the ship's problems first." Rayleigh stopped the two of them.

"Scopper and Crocus went to the city to buy parts for repairing the ship. Let the four of us just buy supplies!" Roger suggested excitedly.

"Yes! Captain!" Buggy and Shanks shouted excitedly.

"Haha, kid." Rayleigh followed the three of them.

Market near the pier

There is a lively market near the pier where many people buy things. You go to the market to choose some fresh ingredients for your home. You organize the ingredients and put them into bags to leave the market. Suddenly you are hit by an oncoming child and the ingredients are scattered on the ground.

"Ouch!" The blue-haired kid yelled after hitting you and falling to the ground.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice you. Are you okay?" You helped him up in a panic.

"Hahaha! You bumped into someone, I told you not to run so fast." Another red-haired kid laughed at him.

"Damn it Shanks!" The blue-haired kid stood up and shouted.

You showed warm concern to the blue-haired child in front of you, and he immediately stiffened when he noticed you. Two tall men next to you squat down to help you pick up the ingredients scattered on the ground.

"Are you okay?" You are concerned about the blue-haired child in front of you.

"I, I, I'm fine! Thank you for your concern!" The blue-haired child shivered nervously.

"Sorry, little girl, my friend bumped into you." A man in a red coat apologized to you.

"Come, miss. Your things." A man in black returns your things to you.

"Thank you. I feel relieved that your friend is fine. I'll leave first, bye." You said goodbye to them with a pure smile before leaving.

Rayleigh was attracted by your pure smile and gentle actions. He thought you were charming. He looked at your back and flowing long hair. Buggy froze in place and watched you leave with a shy look on his face.

"A beautiful little girl, right?" Roger smiled.

"It was so beautiful that Buggy was stunned in place." Shanks said with a smile.

"Shut up!" Buggy yelled to cover up his shyness.

"Stop arguing, hurry up and buy something now." After Rayleigh finished speaking, he looked at your back as you walked away.

"So beautiful." Rayleigh thought.

When you get home, you sort out the ingredients one by one and put them in the cabinet in order. Ria's absence at home means that she has gone to work in the bar. You pack your things and leave the house to help in the bar.

The people you just met in the market seem a bit familiar to you, as if you've seen them somewhere. You thought about it but couldn't think of it. You didn't think about it anymore and ran to the bar to help.

You arrived outside and saw Ria carrying wine boxes into the store. You step forward to help her move. You two usually move the goods before opening. You put the wine on the shelf, wipe down the tables and dishes and get ready for business.

"Y/N, clean outside the door. Yesterday's storm brought sand and garbage." Ria said while stacking wine bottles.

"Okay." You put on your apron and take the broom to sweep the floor outside the door.

You tie up your hair, roll up your sleeves, pick up the broom and clean everything outside. You take a bucket of water, put the cloth into the bucket, take it out, wring it out, and wipe all the windows of the store.

When guests greet you at the door, you put down the rag in your hand and open the door for them. Ria is responsible for preparing food in the store, and you are responsible for taking orders and serving food to customers.

Since you were sold here, your daily routine from morning to night has been working here. You were resistant at first, but Ria's care for you made you feel very at ease.

Near Ria bar

"I'm so hungry~ Can we find a place to rest and eat for a while?" Shanks asked while touching his stomach.

"I'm hungry too..." Buggy's stomach growled.

"Hahaha! Okay! Let's find a place first." Roger said excitedly.

"Why are there so many people in front of that?" Rayleigh saw many people surrounding the door of Ria Bar.

The four of them walked to the crowd to see what was going on, and heard someone in the crowd talking about a girl. Rayleigh was curious and looked through the window and see you serving food to the guests.

"What are these people doing? Can't see inside!" Buggy wondered why there were so many people.

"Don't you know? The most famous thing here is not only the good wine, but also the beauty of the girl in it!" Said a middle-aged uncle.

"What do they mean?" Shanks asked Roger curiously.

"To put it simply, there is a beautiful girl inside who will attract customers." Roger simply explained to Shanks.

"Excuse me, how many are there?" You walked out of the store and asked the people waiting in line.

"Girl! Do you want to have a drink with me? I'll buy you a few glasses of good wine." A young man raised his hand and shouted.

"It's the sister from just now!" Buggy waved wildly to you while riding on Roger's shoulders.

As you were being troubled by a young man you saw a blue-haired child riding on the shoulders of a man in a red coat. It was the kid who just bumped into you, and you waved enthusiastically to him.

Everyone except the four of them and you looked back. They were immediately recognized as members of the Roger Pirates. It was actually Captain Roger and Dark King Rayleigh standing together.

Everyone present was frightened by their oppression and stepped back to make way for them to go ahead. A man wearing a red coat and carrying a blue child walks up to you and gives you a big smile.

"Four?" You smiled politely.

"Yes, is there a seat?" The blue-haired child asked happily.

"Of course, come in." You lead them inside to sit down.

The patrons inside the bar were surprised to see you taking them to their seats. It's the legendary pirate group here. Everyone looked at them nervously as they took their seats, you handed them the menu first.

When they take the menu and look at the dishes, you serve the food to other customers first while they are looking at the menu. Buggy is paying attention to the way you work seriously, he looks at you intoxicated.

"Buggy, your mouth is watering when you see it." Shanks laughed.

"Nonsense!" Buggy quickly wiped his mouth.

"I understand Buggy. That sister is very beautiful, and every man wants to covet her." Shanks kept poking Buggy with his arm.

"Don't talk like I'm a pervert!" Buggy started to make trouble with Shanks.

"Hey hey hey, haven't you beaten enough?" Rayleigh smiled.

"Hahahaha! I really can't get enough of you two!" Roger laughed loudly.

"So lively. Do you want to order some food?" You asked, standing next to Roger with a smile.

"Two beers and two glasses of juice. Can you order the food for me?" Rayleigh closed the menu handed it back to you and asked.

"No problem, leave it to me." You walked to the bar and put the menu down.

"Y/N, do you know who they are?" Ria was mixing drinks.

"I don't know, do you know?" You asked back to Ria.

"You saw the newspaper yesterday. The two major figures of the Roger Pirates!" Ria put down the wine glass and told you.

"No wonder it looks familiar to me." You said calmly.

"What did they order?" Ria asked you a little curiously.

"Two glasses of beer, two glasses of juice. They said I would order the food, so I'll order a few signature dishes for them." You told Ria.

"I hope it's to their liking..." Ria became nervous.

Then you realize they were the legendary pirate group. You didn't realize right away that people like them were coming to dine in the restaurant. In fact, you noticed that everyone's expressions became very nervous since they arrived.

Ria made the drinks they ordered and handed them to you. You put them on the tray and walked to their seat. Suddenly someone came over and bumped into you on purpose, and Roger's drink accidentally fell to the ground.

"Hey! Come over and play with me for a while!" The man who bumped into you grabbed your wrist.

"Hey!" Ria shouted.

"I..." You were too scared to speak.

"Are you happy bullying a little girl?" Rayleigh grabbed his shoulder and glared at him.

"Dark King!" The man quickly let go of your hand and stepped back.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" Rayleigh cares about you gently.

"It's okay, thank you." You bowed to express your gratitude to him.

You clean up the spilled water first, and then give them a new drink. Rayleigh returned to seat and continued see you working diligently and conscientiously, feeling so charming.

"You are so awesome! Rayleigh!" Shanks said excitedly.

"Hahaha! I wanted to beat that guy, but you got there first!" Roger laughed.

"That guy is waiting for the opportunity to tease her." Rayleigh said calmly.

"Tch! Pervert! Scumbag!" Buggy stuck out his tongue.

"Sorry for the long wait, your drinks are here." You put the drinks in front of them.

"Thank you! Sister!" Shanks and Buggy said happily.

"You're welcome, I wanted to thank you for helping me out." You said to Rayleigh.

"Don't worry about small things." Rayleigh said modestly.

"Hahaha! Just hope you're okay, little girl! Otherwise, that guy would be doomed." Roger took the drink and drank.

"Sister! What's your name!" Shanks raised his hand and asked your name.

"Me? My name is Y/N." You simply introduced yourself.

"My name is Shanks! This blue-haired clown is Buggy! The one who just saved you is Rayleigh! This one who is drinking is Roger!" Shanks introduces you to the other people sitting together.

"Hehehe, hello there. Nice to meet you." You laughed out loud because Shanks' introduction felt so cute.

"Wow..." Buggy was stunned when he saw your smile.

"Your food will be ready soon, please wait patiently." You waved and left their seats.

"Sister with a sweet smile." Shanks praised you.

"That's right. She must have gone through a lot still smile so calmly when she encountered that kind of thing just now." Rayleigh took a swig of beer.

"What a gentle sister." Buggy said with a smile.

"I wonder if she is willing to go on an adventure with us?" Roger suddenly said.

"Huh?! Do you want to invite her!?" Buggy was surprised by Roger's question.

"It depends on her heart whether she wants it or not. Our ship will be repaired and leave the island. I don't know when we will meet again in the future." Rayleigh expressed his opinion calmly.

"I hope she will join. We are a little tired of all our members being men." Shanks laughed after saying this.

"Hahaha! I hope so too!" Roger laughed.

"It would be really troublesome if she joins. She has to take care of you kids and the troubled captain." Rayleigh said with a smile.

You hear their laughter is lively, they must be talking about interesting topics. Rayleigh saw you looking at their seats, he raised his glass smiled at you and you waved back.

You pick up their food and walk to their seat place the food in front of them. Shanks and Buggy showed salivating expressions, Roger and Rayleigh laughed out loud at their expressions.

"These are our store's signature dishes, I hope you like them." You said with a smile.

"It smells so good, sister!" Shanks praised the taste of the food.

"My mouth is watering just looking at it!" Buggy stared at the food.

"Hey little devils, let's eat." Rayleigh smiled.

"Eat quickly! I'm so hungry!" Roger said with a smile.

They picked up the tableware and started eating. The two children ate quickly and looked like they were enjoying it. You couldn't help but laugh, and they laughed too when they saw you laughing. Maybe they are not as scary as you think.

Rayleigh and Roger ate heartily and raised glasses to drink. You refill their glasses and let them continue drinking happily. Although their laughter is loud, you are very happy to hear it.

"They are so happy." Ria was wiping the wine glass.

"Yeah, those two kids are so cute." You told Ria what you thought about Shanks and Buggy.

"The legendary pirate with two children is really cute." Ria laughed softly.

Suddenly someone kicked in the door, you looked in panic to see that it was the human trafficker from two years ago. They swagger in, sit down at random, light cigarettes, then point at you motion you to come over and entertain them.

All the guests present looked at their behavior strangely. A group of human traffickers gathered here, loud and slovenly. Because there are so many people, everyone is still afraid to keep quiet.

You took the menu started to walk away, Ria stopped you refused to let you go. You comforted Ria, calmed down and walked to their seats to entertain them. You hand them the menu and stand around waiting for their order.

"Wow, top quality is really different! You have become even more beautiful as you grow up." The bastard looked at your face and said.

"Thank you for the compliment." You replied calmly.

"Hey, how much does it cost to come with me?" That bastard asked, holding your hand.

"Hey! They are bullying sister!" Buggy was very unhappy.

"Calm down, Buggy." Rayleigh stopped him.

"Can I ask you a favor?" Ria came to Roger's table and asked.

"What's the matter, miss?" Roger looked at Ria and asked.

"Actually, Y/N was sold to me by those bastards. They keep harassing her. They are so numerous that I am worried about Y/N's safety. If there is anything, can you please help protect her?" Ria bowed and begged Roger.

"Keep your head up, miss." Roger took a swig of wine.

"I have that plan." Rayleigh held his sword and waited for the opportunity.

"Sorry, you can only order what's on the menu." You told him patiently, pointing to the menu.

"I'm asking you something, so you'd better listen to me honestly. How much is it?" The bastard grabbed your hand hard.

"Sorry, I'm not on the menu." You said to him with a smile.

"You bitch!" He stood up angrily.

That bastard is holding on to your hand and can't break free because of his strength. He stood up raised his hand about to hit you, but you didn't flinch just stood there waiting for him to take action.

Suddenly there was a strong murderous aura, and everyone turned to look at Roger and his group. Rayleigh slowly stood up and walked towards you, holding his sword in his hand.

"Rayleigh you..." You looked worriedly at Rayleigh walking over.

"Go away, it's none of your business here. Don't mess with it!" The bastard pointed at Rayleigh and said.

"If you bully her, I will be very troubled." Rayleigh looked at him and said.

"This is not bullying! She is a commodity, I just want to buy her!" That bastard grabbed your hand harder.

"It hurts!" His grip hurt you.

Rayleigh drew his sword and put it at the bastard's neck. The bastard was frightened by his murderous intent and the edge of his sword and pushed you away hard. Rayleigh stretched out his other arm to hug you to keep you steady.

"Tch! I remember you!" The bastard pointed at Rayleigh and warned him.

"I'll accompany you." Rayleigh said while protecting you.

After the group of human traffickers left, Rayleigh put the sword back into its scabbard. You felt a little relieved, thanks to him coming to rescue and helping you. Otherwise, they must be rude to you now.

"Are you okay?" Rayleigh asked, still holding you in his arms.

"I'm fine. Thank you for helping me a second time." You smiled in thanks.

"I'm happy to." Rayleigh was relieved to see that you were not hurt.

"That...your hand..." You looked at his hand holding you awkwardly.

"Oh! Sorry." Rayleigh took back his hand.

"It's okay." You simply replied and went back to work.

Rayleigh touched you for the first time. He could feel your body temperature when he hugged you just now. The first intimate contact made him a little overwhelmed, so he didn't let you go directly for a while.

He returned to seat, put his sword next to him and took a sip of wine. Shanks and Buggy kept admiring and praising Rayleigh's strength and dominance. Roger also continued drinking with Rayleigh.

"Those pieces of trash just came to destroy the place even though they were still alive." Ria said angrily.

"Ria... to be honest, I'm a little scared. Thanks to Rayleigh being here today, what if they come again tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or even after that..." you said frustratedly.

Rayleigh occasionally glanced at you at work, but when he saw the scene, he became a little worried. Because you look sad, he doesn't know why he cares about you so much but wants to know what's wrong with you.

Night

You were cleaning up before closing, while Ria was sorting out the goods and accounting books. After you went outside to clean, you felt like someone was watching you. You turned around to look at the fellow bastards.

"Ria!" Yoh shouted and they knocked you unconscious and took you away.

"Y/N, what's wrong? Eh?" Ria stood outside the store and wandered.

Ria stepped on something. She squatted on the ground and picked it up. It was a bracelet with your name engraved on it. Ria tightened her grip on the bracelet, knowing something bad had happened. Ria closed the shop and looked around for you.

Ria ran down the street and shouted your name but there was no response and no sign of you. She asked passers-by if they had seen you anywhere, and they all said no. It happened a little girl said that someone was carrying you and ran into a hut in an abandoned area.

Roger Pirates on the Shore

Scopper and Crocus prepared the materials for ship and started repairing. Rayleigh and Shanks packed the purchased supplies into boxes. Buggy and Roger sneak out to walk around the streets.

Ria saw Roger and Buggy on the street and immediately stopped them. Buggy remembered that Ria was your friend and he said hello. Roger noticed that Ria's expression was panicked.

"What's wrong?" Roger asked after comforting Ria.

"Y/N! Y/N has been kidnapped!" Ria told Roger nervously.

"Sister has been kidnapped?!" Buggy was surprised when he heard it.

"That little girl?! When did it happen?" Roger asked hurriedly.

"A girl saw her being taken to a hut in a deserted area!" Ria said to Roger in panic.

Roger took Ria and Buggy to the shore of the island where they parked the ship. Roger ordered Rayleigh to stop what he doing and immediately follow him to rescue you.

Rayleigh heard that you were kidnapped, he became angry and murderous, scaring Buggy and Shanks to hide behind Roger. He couldn't sit still and directly picked up his sword prepared to go to the hut for rescue.

Basement

The boss of the group of traffickers tied you to a chair and poured a bucket of cold water on to wake you up from your coma. A bucket of cold water is poured over you and you feel so cold that your body is shivering.

Although your vision was a little blurry, but sure the bastard who kidnapped you was also present. You hear their laughter and noise and it makes you feel sick.

"You're living a good life, top quality." Their boss grabbed your face and said.

"It's you again..." You said helplessly.

"Did you miss us?" He pulled your hair.

"No need." You said expressionlessly.

"That face is so beautiful! She still has personality now!" He slapped you hard twice.

"Trash..." You spat on the ground.

"Have the guts to say it again!" He choked your neck and said angrily.

"Are you deaf?" You raised the corner of your mouth to look down upon him.

"Fuck!" He kicked you in the stomach.

His kick just now was so hard you fell to the ground coughing wildly. He stomped on your stomach hard that you whimpered loudly because the pain was unbearable. You wanted to cry and die, but you didn't want to give in to them.

You endured being beaten by them, knowing that there was nothing you could do but it was better than not resisting at all. You grit your teeth and endure the pain and let them abuse you. If you obey them, you might as well die.

Outside the hut in the abandoned area

"Rescue the little girl!" Roger raised his fist and shouted.

"Of course." Rayleigh held the scabbard.

When the Roger Pirates arrived, they saw no one guarding the outer door, not even a human figure. Roger drew his sword and broke through to the hut. Rayleigh also drew his sword and followed Roger.

Basement

The oil lamp hanging in the basement room flickered, there was a noise from upstairs. The group left you and the boss alone, the rest ran upstairs to find out what was going on but never came back.

The bastard in front of you has noticed something is wrong. Before he leaves, he kicks you again, picks up the weapon and walks upstairs. You were tied to the chair, unable to break free and allowed him to beat you. Now you fell to the ground, vomiting blood and lost consciousness.

Upstairs

The bastard went upstairs investigate and saw a terrible scene. All his subordinates fell to the ground. He saw two men, Roger and Rayleigh knocking down the rest of his men.

They turned around to see a man glaring at them with a weapon. Roger was sure that the man in front of him was the boss of these people. When Rayleigh was about to take action, Roger stopped him.

"Are you their boss?" Roger asked with a smile.

"You are...!" That bastard has already realized who Roger is.

"Rayleigh, go find her. I'll do this guy." Roger happily ran towards the enemy to fight.

"Okay." Rayleigh retracted his sword moved separately with Roger.

"Little girl a, maybe she's dead. It's such a shame to have a pretty face." The bastard said with a smile.

Roger rushed up and punched him in the stomach, causing the bastard fall to the ground and vomit blood. Roger grabbed him by the collar pulled him up and asked where you were being held.

When Rayleigh found out, he snatched the key and rushed to find you. He unlocked the basement door went down the stairs to see you tied to a chair and lying on the ground in a pool of blood.

"Y/N!" Rayleigh drew his sword and cut the rope that bound you.

"Hold on! I'll get you out right away!" Rayleigh let you lean into his arms.

"Ray….leigh…" you whispered.

"It's me! I'll get you out now!" Rayleigh picked you up.

"The third time..." You whispered leaning into his arms.

"I'm late." Rayleigh hugged you and left the basement.

"...I've been waiting for you..." After saying that, you fell into a coma.

Ria's house

Rayleigh took you and followed Ria back to her home, while Roger went to the ship find Crocus to treat you. After Rayleigh arrived at Ria's house, he put you on the bed and stayed with you while waiting for Crocus to arrive.

After Roger and Crocus arrived at Ria's house, they began to examine and treat you. Shanks and Buggy were worried about you, so they secretly followed you to find out what was going on, but they were caught by Roger.

A few hours later, Crocus came out of the room and explained to everyone how serious your injuries were. You still in a coma and waiting for you to wake up. Ria felt guilty for not noticing you right away.

"Thank you, I don't know how to repay this kindness." Ria bowed to Roger to express her gratitude.

"You're welcome! Thanks to her, I have a delicious meal today!" Roger laughed.

"Crocus, will sister be okay?" Shanks and Buggy were both worried.

"I've treated everything that needs to be treated, now she has to rely on herself." Crocus said.

"She will be fine! When she wakes up, I will invite her to adventure in the world together!" Roger said loudly.

"Adventure? Really!" Ria asked what Roger just said.

"Of course I'm serious!" Roger laughed.

"Then please take her away!" Ria said seriously.

"Why?" Rayleigh was very confused about what Ria said.

"Actually, she was a girl who grew up on a small island. Unfortunately, she was kidnapped by those traffickers. At first, I wanted to find someone to work for me, but I didn't expect that the people who traded her were those traffickers. I thought about if I didn't buy her she must been mistreated by them, in the end I couldn't bear it so I bought her." Ria tells about your encounter with her.

"So that's what happened." Rayleigh understood what Ria meant.

"She has a very smart mind! She always reads books and texts that are difficult to understand." Ria mentioned these key points.

"But we still have to ask her what she wants." Crocus said calmly.

"She has never been anywhere else except here and the island she used to live on. Her dream is to have adventure." Ria said.

"It's a good dream." Rayleigh said softly.

After the Roger Pirates left, Ria went to your room sat by your bed to take care of you. She knew you would leave her and now she knew it was a good time. It's time for you to go on an adventure with the Roger Pirates.

The next day afternoon

You wake up and see parts of your body covered in bandages. You slowly got out of bed, Ria left a note asking you to rest today. You guessed that Ria was already at work by this time.

Yesterday you had the impression that Rayleigh saved you from that place. You haven't thanked him in person yet, but don't know where he will be. You leave your house with your crutches and walk slowly down the street looking for them.

You walked to the market near the pier and saw Shanks and Buggy jumping over with two bags of fruit. You call their names and they run straight to you.

"Sister! Why did you get out of bed!" Shanks said in a panic.

"You have to rest!" Buggy yelled in panic.

"I want to thank Rayleigh and Roger in person. Can you take me to see them?" You asked them politely.

Shanks and Buggy hesitated but decided to accompany you to find them. You walked a little slowly with crutches, Buggy and Shanks matched your speed walked beside you to keep you company.

When arrived at the shore, you saw a pirate ship and several crew members. You see Rayleigh moving boxes and Roger helping to organize things. Shanks and Buggy quickly ran to call them both.

Shanks pulled Rayleigh to look in your direction. He quickly walked over to you with a wooden box and put it down. After patting the wooden box clean, he supported you with his hands and asked you to sit down slowly.

"You ran out like this?" Rayleigh asked standing in front of you.

"I want to say thank you." You said politely.

"You don't have to force yourself to move when you're still hurt." Rayleigh cares about you.

"I volunteer. You are pirates and will leave the island any time. I want to finish talking before you leave." You confess to Rayleigh.

"I know, I can't defeat you." Rayleigh smiled warmly.

"Little girl! You came just in time!" Roger ran over and stood in front of you.

"Hi Roger." You waved hello.

"Would you like to join me! Let's go on an adventure together!" Roger enthusiastically extended his hand to invite you.

"Huh?! I don't have any expertise! I don't even know how to fight!" You waved your hands in panic.

"Your friend told me that your dream is adventure. Why don't you give it a try?" Roger asked doubtfully.

"I..." You were excited when you heard Roger's invitation, but you were hesitant about what to do.

"The ship is almost repaired can set sail tonight. If you want to come, just come. We welcome you to join." Rayleigh pushed Roger aside and stood in front of you and said.

"Hey! Rayleigh!" Roger wanted to interrupt.

"Of course we will respect your decision and won't force you." Rayleigh said calmly.

"Thank you. I'm leaving first." Rayleigh helped you up and you picked up the crutches and left.

Rayleigh felt sorry for you when he saw your hesitant expression. He wants you to join him in adventuring the world. But he knows that some things cannot be forced on you.

"You obviously want her to join, why don't you keep her?" Roger poked Rayleigh curiously.

"She has her own ideas, I can't force her." Rayleigh continued to work on his things.

You walked slowly on the street, thinking about Roger's invitation just now. He was right, why didn't you give it a try? Your dreams are adventures, life goals worth challenging.

Ria was sitting on a chair when you opened the door. When she saw you, she stood up and came over to help you. When you see Ria, you are thinking about how much money you still owe her and how you want to tell her what Roger just said.

"Ria, actually Roger and the others..." You said sitting on the chair.

"They invited you to go on an adventure, right?" Ria said calmly.

"You knew?" You were surprised that Ria knew about this.

"I know. If you want to go, go. I support you." Ria said.

"But, but I haven't paid back the money yet..." You were surprised to hear that Ria supported you.

"No need. You are free and will no longer be bound." Ria said sitting next to you.

"But Ria..." You hugged her with tears in your eyes.

"Don't be like this, I will be even more reluctant if you hold me like this. But will be lonely. Without your three meals a day, no one will accompany me to buy beautiful clothes. But I am very glad that you stay with me like a sister." Ria hugged you with tears in her eyes.

"Me too. Thank you, sister." You shed tears and hugged her.

"Remember to write a letter! Come back and see me occasionally! Your bounty should be high! I want those who bully you to know how scary you are!" Ria said loudly.

"Hahaha, okay. I'll try my best." What she said made you laugh.

Night

The Roger Pirates confirmed that the ship had been repaired, that all supplies and cargo boxes had been loaded, that it was ready to set sail at any time. Rayleigh looked at the repaired boat and felt happy but a little regretful.

He’s looking forward to adventures with you, seeing you for the first time is like an incredible being. He wanted to convince you to go like Roger, but he chose to respect your decision.

In the future, if there is a chance he will come back to this island to see you someday in the future. Now he just hopes that your injury will heal quickly and you will smile as usual tomorrow.

"Want to see her?" Crocus asked sitting next to her.

"No. If I see her, I won't want to leave." Rayleigh said with a smile.

"Soft spot for you." Crocus complained about Rayleigh.

"Sister won't come with us..." Buggy was a little sad.

"She also has friends living here, we can't force her." Shanks comforted the sad Buggy.

"She is an adventurous person. It's a pity that she didn't come with her." Roger said calmly.

"Roger, the wind direction is good, it's almost done." Scopper came to find Roger.

"Okay! Get ready to leave!" Roger stood up and shouted.

"Please wait!" a female voice yelled.

All members of the Roger Pirates followed the direction of the sound and saw it was you waving to them. Ria carried your luggage and helped you walk slowly. Shanks and Buggy rush directly in front of you.

"Sister! Why are you here?" Shanks and Buggy looked at you happily.

"I'm not late, am I?" You asked with a smile.

"Is it?!" Buggy and Shanks shouted excitedly.

"Roger, I'll join you." You said to Roger.

"Hahahahahaha! I knew it! Welcome!" Roger laughed loudly.

"Keep an eye on her, she can be very confused sometimes." Ria said from behind you.

"Ria! You!" You looked at Ria shyly.

"Yahooo! Sister is here!" Buggy and Shanks hugged each other and jumped up and down.

"Let me get your luggage." Rayleigh took your luggage.

Rayleigh carried your luggage and stretched out his other hand to help you walk slowly. Shanks and Buggy were happily walking and playing, while Ria was watching your back as you boarded the ship.

You turned to Ria, smiled and waved goodbye, she watched you leave with tears in her eyes. Seeing that innocent smile on your face, she knows you are happy. You are about to leave. She is a little lonely but she believes that will see you someday.

Rayleigh helped you to the ship, you looked at Ria who was watching you off on the shore. You waved goodbye to her repeatedly, and she waved goodbye to you with tears in her eyes.

You left this place, left Ria. You have now joined the Roger Pirates and going to see the world and adventure with them. Your tears couldn't help falling, you wiped the fallen tears with your hands.

"Set sail!" Scopper commanded.

The ship leaves the place where you once lived and sails on the sea at night. The smell of the wind and the sea, you are no longer locked in a room. You can see the waves rolling outside and the vast sky.

"Rayleigh..." You looked at Rayleigh who was helping you.

"What's wrong?" Rayleigh looked at you blankly.

"This is what you see every day." You said softly.

"Yes, we will see it every day." Rayleigh looked at the sky.

"Very beautiful." You said with a smile.

"You will see the same scenery with us in the future." Rayleigh chuckled.

Shanks and Buggy ran over to the two of you after cleaning the room Roger prepared for you. Rayleigh helped you to the room, and Buggy took your luggage and followed.

Open the door to see a bed, desk, bookshelf, wardrobe and small window. The room is neither big nor small, just like your previous room. Buggy put luggage on the floor while you looked around the room.

Shanks explain to you simply. Everyone takes turns using the bathroom. You are the only girl so remember to lock the door. The boat will be guarded in turns at night, the dining area is shared by everyone. Everyone takes turns doing the cleaning.

It's late, Rayleigh takes Buggy and Shanks out of your room to let you have a good rest. After closing the door, you unpacked your luggage and packed everything inside neatly.

"My new life..." You take a diary from the desk and write down your story.

The first thing you do after boarding the ship is write down your stories and adventures in a journal. After you were sold to Ria, you didn't have the chance to go on any adventures. Now that you've started sailing with the Roger Pirates, it's something worth recording.

After you finish writing the diary, you close it and put it on the desk. It's already night time, you take off all your clothes and put them on the bed, then go to the closet to get a fresh set of clothes to change into.

"Y/N, can I help you with anything?" Suddenly someone opened your room door and walked in.

You haven't changed your clothes yet and completely naked. The person who opened and entered your room was Rayleigh. You two looked at each other and felt awkward. Rayleigh covered his eyes with hands.

"Sorry! I forgot to knock the door!" Rayleigh explained in a panic.

"Get out!" You slapped him and pushed him out of your room, closing the door hard.

You put your clothes on quickly. It was so embarrassing that he saw your naked body. Blame yourself for not locking the door, which makes you an idiot.

Rayleigh was flattered when he saw your naked body and graceful figure. In his understanding, you are a pure and gentle girl, but after seeing your body just now, he immediately felt something bad.

"Rayleigh! What happened to your face! Were you attacked by the enemy?" Scopper was startled when he saw the slap mark on Rayleigh's face.

"No, I brought it upon myself." Rayleigh followed Scopper to find Roger.

"Hahaha! What happened to the slap mark on your face! Who hit you!" Roger sprayed wine and laughed when he saw it.

"I was beaten by Y/N. But it was my fault first." Rayleigh didn't say what happened.

"Sister can actually beat the Dark King." Shanks was surprised when he heard it.

"A ruthless character." Buggy said knowingly.

"You all listen carefully, Y/N is the only female on our ship. Remember to be polite and don't bully her. The most important thing is to knock on the door before entering her room." Rayleigh explained seriously to everyone present.

After Rayleigh told everyone about you, he sat next to Roger and drank. He touched his cheek, unexpectedly you were so strong. One of your slaps was so hard that red marks appeared.

"Sister!" Shanks yelled running towards you.

"Damn it! You're one step ahead of me!" Buggy chased Shanks.

"Y/N is loved by those two brats." Scopper said with a smile.

"Hahahaha! Y/N will exude a kind of affinity." Roger toasted.

"Hi everyone." You approached them and said hello.

"Hey, little girl!" Roger greets you.

"How are your injuries?" Scopper is concerned about your injuries.

"I'm fine , can move more easily." You sit down and talk to them.

"Sister! How about we have breakfast together tomorrow morning!" Buggy held your hand.

"Hehehe, okay." You gently touched Buggy's head.

"Y/N feels like a sister taking care of them both." Scopper took a sip of wine.

"Rayleigh, what happened just now...did I hit you too hard? Does your face still hurt?" You blame yourself a little but want to care about Rayleigh. You know it was just an accident.

"I just want to say I'm sorry. Before you came, I would call them and break into their room directly. It was my negligence." Rayleigh comforted you.

"But what did Rayleigh see?" Shanks asked curiously.

"Umm..." You blushed slightly as you recalled the scene where Rayleigh saw your body just now.

"I was beaten because I accidentally saw her diary." Rayleigh defended you making up excuses.

"Rayleigh, girls' diaries are taboo." Scopper laughed.

Rayleigh made up a reason to avoid this topic to protect your privacy. When you first met him, he gave off a very mature, stable and gentlemanly masculinity.

You were a little amused by the excuse he made up, you wanted a drink to hide your smile. But Rayleigh had already seen you snickering, he pointed the wine glass at you to signal you a toast.

Roger was so excited ans he pulled Scopper to start a drinking competition. You and Shanks stood beside them to heat up the atmosphere, while Rayleigh and Buggy applauded next to them.

Buggy and Shanks hold your hand and pull you to dance together. Rayleigh and Crocus also drank and had fun together. Roger and Scopper also started to get excited.

Late at night

Roger and Scopper got so drunk that they collapsed. Crocus and Rayleigh pulled them both back into the room. Shanks and Buggy also went to the room to watch the joke.

You had so much fun with them , after they left you sat alone in a place drinking and watching the stars. Listening the sound of the waves and the cold sea breeze blowing by, this is what you will see on the sea.

When your parents were alive, they were always away from home, venturing around the world. You were still child you only play at home or in nearby open spaces. You didn't have many friends at the time.

This is your second time going to sea. The first time was kidnapped is already a bad memory. The second time is now sailing and adventuring with the Roger Pirates.

"You'll catch a cold." Someone covered you with a coat from behind.

"Huh?" You turned around and saw it was Rayleigh.

"Did you have fun just now?" Rayleigh asked sitting next to you.

"I'm very happy. Thank you for inviting me to adventure together." You held Rayleigh's coat.

"It was Roger's idea to invite you. When that guy meets interesting people, he takes them on adventures," Rayleigh said.

"Am I?" You looked at Rayleigh in confusion.

"It was your charm that attracted the Roger Pirates. Perhaps Roger invited you because of this in you. That guy was happier when he heard that your dream was adventure." Rayleigh smiled at you after finishing speaking.

"Hahaha, that's amazing." You laughed.

"The scenery in the sky changes every time the ship sails. The clouds, stars and colors change every day. Sometimes the night is dark but the sky is full of stars. Every scene is incredible." Rayleigh looked at the sky.

"Well, it's really incredible." You also look to the sky to watch every scene.

Rayleigh glanced at you while you were looking at the sky, and his heart melted when he saw your bright smile. Compared to the first time I met you, this is your smile full of curiosity about unknown things. He's excited for you to follow them on their adventures and looks forward to spending every moment with you.

"Hachoo!" you sneezed.

"You're catching a cold. Let me take you back to your room." Rayleigh stood up.

"Hahaha, I'm not used to the weather yet." You stood up and walked beside him.

"You'll get used to it after a while. Give yourself some time to adapt to the environment here." Rayleigh said softly.

Before you get to the room, Rayleigh tells you some of their daily routine. Although he may have a heavy aura to you, but he is gentle and talkative to you. Arriving at the door of the room you returned his coat to him.

"Thanks for the coat. Good night Rayleigh." You said with a smile.

"Well, good night. Have a sweet dream." Rayleigh said with a chuckle.

You closed the door and locked it, lying on your bed looking at the ceiling. It’s hard to believe you’ve already had an adventure with them, your future has endless possibilities, and you’re ready to explore the unknown.

Rayleigh returned to the room and put his coat on the chair. He felt so comfortable when you had just put on his coat. He be attracted by your temperament, he sure you are special.

The End.

91 notes · View notes

1800titz · 11 months

Text

HI FRIENDS. 18K here!! This time we explore breaks, because sometimes they are necessary! Also, we see Jealousrry, and we see Isla being Isla. Hope you enjoy!! (Feedback always appreciated!) (✿◠‿◠)

PREVIOUS PARTS HERE - WATTPAD ALTERNATIVE HERE

Open houses, to Harry, are a stage, and the gift of his gab leaves him basking in the luster of the spotlight with no stage fright.

First time home buyers, young couples waltzing through hallways with gazes bouncing over walls with demure decorum, families with young kids who run amuck, darting from one end of the house to the other as he guides their parents through empty rooms, his dialogue friendly and bright — he finds comfort in any audience. Divorced milfs whose heels click over tile, mimicking wood varnish, trailing behind as his silver tongue sells, and sells, and sells — some of those really find his dialogue of “sleek, floor to ceiling windows,” and the “flowing floor plan,” and “custom built additions,” charming enough for hungry fingers to creep against biceps by the end of the tour.

Harry, never in his life, has had so many nerves over a tour. Maybe just his very first open house, where he’d taken the reins for the first time alone.

It makes sense, theoretically, that he’d be nervous to become enclosed in a space with Isla Cleery — his masked, blissfully unaware submissive, in a setting where so much was prone to go awry. It makes sense that he’d be nervous to let something slip, that he’d be nervous he’d find himself fucking into her, pressing her face against a full length bathroom mirror mid-tour, like the climax (pun unintended) to a dirty storyline in a professionally produced porno. Young, Hot Slut Isla Cleery Bounces on Raunchy Realtor Cock, or maybe Adorable Brunette Gets Pussy Pounding for a Discount. Something like that. That last one is especially depraved, but — gotta add some form of sordid cliche to create a flashy title. Click bait, if you will.

It makes sense to be nervous when his nerves are all he can think about, sitting behind the wheel of his Range Rover, parked on the curb as he waits for her own vehicle to turn the corner and pull up to the property. It’s all sort of a vicious cycle.

She’d called him two days prior. He’d been laying in bed, in the midst of his Candy Crush bedtime ritual — culling ice tiles and smashing colorful blocks with point-inducing combos of stripes and wrappers. He’d stared at his phone as the LED display sparked alive with a banner over the top of the screen — an incoming call from an unsaved phone number. A pinch had worked between his brows, and he’d tapped over the banner with the pad of his thumb, clearing his throat and pressing the phone to his ear as he answered. A business call was a business call.

“Hello?” his voice was low with incoming sleep, his vocal cords supplying a rasp on account of the silence he’d priorly stalled in.

The pace of the organ behind his rib cage had picked up considerably when Isla Cleery’s soft voice had come in response, her cadence tinny through the speaker, undeniably delectable.

“Hey!” his ears had swallowed her chime, “Harry,” the man had shifted a bit over his linen sheets, “This is Isla Cleery.”

Isla Cleery. Bright, and chipper, and …randomly dialing his number at a strange hour in the night.

“Isla! Hi,” he’d responded, clearing his throat to curtail tacking on a quip of how can I assist you at this ungodly hour?

The uneasy wavelength of her inflection had spurred a crease to work over his brow bone — rushed, and breathy, and almost frantic in its phrasing.

“Hi,” a pause, a half-hearted apology, “Listen, I’m so sorry to be calling you so late but — ah,” a stifled, little sound that had caused his nostrils to flare and had sent an inopportune rush of excitement slithering through to the trench of his tummy and frothing, “So, you sent me this other property, and I wanted to — I wanted to see that one. The one on, Mul-Mulner, was it?”

“Mulnich,” he’d gnawed into his lip, sitting up a smidge, braced on his forearm as his curiosity piqued.

“Yes, the, uh, the Mulnich property. I wanted to see that one. So,” another pause that had his face contorting in bemusement — (was she running on a fucking treadmill?), “Can we set that up?”

The man had pulled the receiver back and toggled his counterpart to leak through the speaker setting, rolling onto his side as he’d swiped through his virtual calendar.

“Sure. Yeah. Let me just check,” Harry had supplied, pausing and pursing his lips as he’d just listened — background noise, like a TV, a rustle, a sigh, a laugh track, an inhale, “Does Wednesday at two work for you?”

“Can’t — can’t. Wednesday, at two. Anything — can you do anything later? In the evening, maybe?”

Harry had paused. He’d paused, and just listened, his ears working on overdrive to attempt to decipher whatever was spurring her strange behavior, the note of apprehension of her cadence, the — was he going insane? — desperation to her dialogue. There’d been nothing but the familiarity of a common laugh track and shuffling. His pupils had perused as he’d ripped his attention off of the odd display and swiped to give her a proper appointment.

“Yeah,” the man responded after a moment of lull, clearing his throat, “I can do …five? If that works for you.”

“Yes! Yeah,” He’d picked up on Isla Cleery doing the same on the other end of the line, her speech giddy and garbled, “Five. Wednesday. Yes. So, I can — I can come?”

His jaw had set at the choice of words — there was just no way, but the frenzy in her inflection so vividly resembled the way she’d begged him back in the White Room, days prior. There was no way, he’d told himself. She didn’t have the gall. She didn’t have the audacity. She was working him into a ludicrous frenzy — or rather, he was working himself into one with the lewd train of thought derailing his composure.

There was no way Isla Cleery was calling him and touching herself.

“To see the property?” the voice on the other end had tacked on, coaxing him from the zoned out thrill of a wild imagination.

“Yeah, yes. Of course,” he’d said.

There was just no fucking way.

More shuffling. A garbled sound. Something that’d incited his teeth to dig into his bottom lip, to sit up as he was met with silence beyond the sounds of a TV.

“Isla?”

More shuffling. There was just—

No. Fucking. Way.

He’d felt his own stomach clenching up then, muscles rippling as blood pumped and the familiarity of deluded arousal, at the prospect, suffusing through his veins like quick-acting alcohol.

“Isla?” Harry had prodded again, louder.

“Yes, sorry, I’m so sorry. God, I just saw the time — I’m sorry, it was so unprofessional of me to call so late. I hope I didn’t—“ his face twisted up at the breathless onslaught of her breakless cadence, like her speech was expelled all in one, rushed breath, “Thank you for taking my call. Wednesday at Five. Have a good night.”

His mouth had parted to inquire, because what the fuck — but from there, a click. The green logo of an active phone call had vanished. She’d hung up, evidently in a rush. Harry had stared up at his ceiling for a solid twenty minutes, ruminating on the odd encounter.

There was, simply, as previously emphasized, no fucking way.

So yeah, now, with his bare fingertips drumming over the leather of his steering wheel, he’s a smidge nervous to see her. His innards are twisting into knots by the time he catches sight of her white Corolla slipping in against the curb behind him. Harry climbs out of the car.

“Hi,” Isla Cleery talks first.

There’s no dainty bell sleeves trapped in car doors today — a pencil skirt hugs her hips, and a long sleeve with a funnel neckline adorns her torso. Harry notes the way she nonchalantly tugs to further lower a sleeve on the arm where he knows the bangle is manacled.

“You’ve renounced …your renouncement of heels,” is the first thing he says. He wants to smack himself square between the brows with the heel of his palm — what an inane start.

“Oh,” Isla shoots a glance to her choice of footwear — smart (Harry thinks, spiffy), dark pumps, “Yeah,” she bends a knee back and lifts an ankle a smidge, “Sort of had to. Felt a little weird wearing a pencil skirt with flats.”

“And,” the young woman casts a small simper his way, “No evil grates, as of yet. Fingers crossed,” she lifts her arm, the left, where the bracelet isn’t, and bares friendly teeth.

Evil grates …what the fuck? Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking, her inner voice coaxes frantically.

Isla is dying inside. For good reason — it makes sense. Being enclosed in a space, casually, with her dominant un-dominant-clad, has this weird butterfly-eruption effect. They bounce against her insides aimlessly, like little crack-infused insects. She’s nervous to let something slip — anything, and it’s too easy considering she’s been cuffed by a bracelet that sort of gives it all away within a split-second flash of gold and secrets.

She’s unsure of what succubus-like tendencies of the day had possessed her to abandon her panties — that had been a dirty, last-minute decision of thrill, and it had seemed filthily exciting and sort of dangerous in the best way. The idea of ambling through a house tour with Harry, and knowing that she was entirely bare beneath her skirt. But now, faced by him, obnoxiously aware of her nude thighs grazing together under the fabric and … only …more debauched nudeness higher, well.

Isla just feels like a pervert.

It bears resemblance to the sensation she had encountered two days prior, once she’d hung up the phone (and the sex-haze had worn off). That was another thing she was nervous about. There’s no way the man had just glossed over the encounter as entirely unsuspicious. It was weird, she was weird for that, Isla thought, she was weird on the phone with a stuttery, breathy inflection that was obnoxious in give-away, and he definitely knew something was off, if not the entire background behind the lust-driven call.

She clears her throat in an attempt to ward off the flurry of nervous apprehension coiling in her stomach (that she’s sure will find its way among her vocal cords), “But. Yeah.”

Harry grins. He’s just so — Isla ogles, kind of dreamily — handsome. And she knows him on an intimate level, (a very intimate level), but these glimpses of his face, in person… she doesn’t get the pleasure of espying those often. His hair, coiled and placed in soft ringlets, his dimples burrowing as teeth showcase and his mouth lights alive with a smile. Last time he’d been clean-shaven and smooth, but today there’s a soft dusting of facial hair over his jaw. She wants to kiss him, she wants to feel it brush against her own face, wants to feel it graze over her inner thighs as he sucks kisses into her skin like affectionate bruises as proof of his presence, and—

“Please,” the man folds his palms together, like a prayer, and pillowy pink curves with his statement, “No …impromptu rope swing climbing—“

Isla’s mouth jolts.

“In heels,” Harry tacks on, raising his eyebrows and gesturing subtly with his palms.

“Ooh,” she rocks forward a bit, a pinch in her own brows, “Can’t make any promises. The rope swing calls.”

“Oh it does?”

“Siren song,” Isla nods.

Harry’s mouth quirks. And then he clears his throat.

“Well. I’m pleased you’re interested in viewing another property with me, but I can’t lie and say I’m not a bit disappointed that Sweeger Avenue didn’t particularly catch your eye. I’ll have to buy it if you don’t,” the curly-headed brunette jests.

“It did!” Isla assuages, motioning with her palm and following as he turns slowly — a gesture that indicates he’d like her to follow in the direction of the house, “It’s a beautiful house, I’m just keeping my options open.”

Harry hums. The young woman’s heels sink softly into the lawn, bright, neatly trimmed tufts crinkling with each step.

“Watch your step, there, darling,” the realtor warns softly as they venture over a pattern of concrete stone that leads up to the porch.

“Oh — thank you.”

She adds, once they’re stood under the awning of the porch, “And, well, you gave such a good tour, I figured another property in my price range was worth a look, right?”

“Right,” he sends a soft grin over his shoulder at her (that shrouds the nerves he feels teeming below the surface), “Sure. Of course.”

Isla watches him unveil a little key from his pocket and stuff it into the notch in the knob, twisting. “I will say,” the man starts, gaze cast to his handiwork, “while this one isn’t as… maybe ritzy as the last — y’know, all the bells and whistles of the reno’s — there’s still a lot of potential with this one. Character.”

The door creaks and clicks on its hinges as it swings open. Isla follows him in, greeted by the sight of what she imagines, once upon a time, had been pasted with warm hues of color and overbearing wallpaper patterns. The entryway, as the first showing had been, is no showstopper with elegant twin staircases. The wood beneath her feet is scuffed, and faint stains litter the walls near the baseboards — but it’s far from time forgotten and termite embraced, as she’d assumed would tail the realtor lingo of potential.

“Three bed, two-and-a-half bath — little more space with 2,052 square feet. Little more out of pocket, too, if you wanted to amp it up to that sort of à la mode Sweeger had,” the realtor’s shoes click over the wood in a sound that just oozes power, power, power, and Isla tails him, vision walloping the walls to curb the hunger that grows within her at something as innocuous as the sound of his dress shoes on wooden floors, “but if not, there’s loads of character to enjoy and build upon.”

The young woman sneaks a glance — they’re no serpentine patched loafers, but they’re smooth and glossy and jet. Simple.

She wonders what pair will greet her on Friday night.

“This one’s a bit newer than the last — but a lot of this stuff is original. Really a step back in time. Very open concept — vaulted floor to ceiling floor plan,” her vision flits over the living area, his velvety cadence like a pre-rehearsed soundtrack to fit a virtual tour posted on the web.

Isla gazes over the expanse of the innards — replicas of the imagery she’d scrolled through online. Only now, the lines are larger, the shapes are prettier, the space is more vibrant. Personal. It’s lived in — furnishings remain of the sellers, but there are no personalized touches of family photos (a key factor, she’d learned, to bolster prospective buyer imaginations, to spur their mental imagery into forming their own space). A half wall breaks a living area off from the entry. Set upon a platform (where tile sweeps from lounge to kitchen; a drab shade of beige others would perhaps not find nearly as endearing as Isla does — it’s a nostalgia thing, she’s sure) — between the wooded entryway that flows into an empty expanse of doors — are armchairs and a sectional in neutral tones. Beyond this, a formal dining area, and on the end is a little kitchen, broken apart from a hallway with another wall.

“We’ve got these sleek lines that come with open space like this,” Harry gestures towards the sculpt of plaster and drywall shaping lips over windows in the lounge, “but we’ve also got little touches, like a time capsule,” he twists, motioning towards the staircase — an interesting piece unforeseen, “like the spiral staircase. White wrought-iron with wood paneling — you’re not gonna find these being built very often, anymore.”

Upon the grin the realtor casts her way, Isla ambles towards it, and she runs her touch over the railing.

“Really pretty. You’re right. I don’t see many of these anymore.”

Her sight is torn between the man — his charismatic demeanor, his good looks — and the space as he continues, lucratively well-versed, “I’m sure you note there’s no overbearing pops of color, or wallpaper that’s wasting away, since I told you it wasn’t all that renovated. Carpet’s been ripped up,” he slides the toe of his shoe over the wooden floorboards, a dark, warm chocolate, and then his hand comes to rap softly over the short wall dividing the kitchen from an expanse of hallway with doors as jade reaffixes onto her, “and the walls were repainted by previous buyers. All original wood and tiling, though.”

As Isla steps onto the platform, she regards chips in laminate. Yes. Original.

“Between you and me,” her head twists — a friendly simper plays over the realtor’s cushiony (intimately familiar) lips, “I think that was a good choice. Versatile. But the rest, like these gorgeous light fixtures — all original,” he nudges towards the dining area behind her, and Isla pivots to face the table, “‘83, I believe.”

A bundle of two lanterns, elongated like cylinders with tapered ends. They hang over the table, a darling focus point.

Isla peers back over just as the man’s tongue peeks out to slick his mouth, “But my favorite’s in the kitchen.”

Eagerly, she makes her way forward, where the kitchen lays, open for her exploration. It’s no showstopper. She gets it now — his sugared warning of original pieces. And it’s not like the kitchen is this heinous sight, but it’s timeworn. An outdated shade of mustard hugs the countertops, and the cabinetry is stale and dinged. Scratches and blemishes stain almost plastic-y looking white. The appliances look to be about forty years old — which adds up, according to the timeline. But there’s an island. It’s beautiful, and broad, and even if Isla has no interest in piling it with culinary disasters, it’s still pleasant ken. She finds that on the opposite side of that wall is a pantry.

“I don’t know what to do with a kitchen like this,” her pink (gloriously fuckable, Harry thinks) mouth jolts as a smile slithers over, “It’s so. Large.”

“You don’t cook?”

Her irises roll up to the ceiling with her soft smile, “I microwave. TV dinners, mostly. I can put frozen waffles in a toaster, too. Maybe scramble an egg, but there’s no guarantee there won’t be shell in the mix.”

It’s sort of funny, Harry thinks — the way polar opposites attract. Like magnets, he supposes. Really, very horribly horny magnets. He can’t remember the last time he had a frozen waffle.

“But I guess I’ll have to learn, with an island like this,” Isla sighs and gestures.

Well, if you’re ever in need of a taste tester… Harry bridles his flirty quip. Instead, he shows her what lies behind the doors of the hallway, the rooms downstairs. A half bath, a bedroom scantily furnished — an office, for her, perhaps.

“You said you were a paralegal last time, right?” he cocks his head back at her over his shoulder as he leads the way, and Isla tries not to feel the warmth the remembrance of the minute detail ignites.

Of course he remembered. It was his job. She bites her tongue to curb the instinctive, “Yes, Sir.”

“I am, yeah.”

“Lot’s of research and a work-from-home, after-hours situation, you said, last time? I think the study on this property will be very suited to your needs.”

A laundry room, the entrance to the garage, a slow amble back towards the staircase. Ah, the staircase. The young woman feels a burnishing blush suffuse over her cheekbones when the male gestures with an open palm — an invitation for her to go on ahead of him. But there’s that little …no panties …thing. Her legs shift. Her skirt brushes against the back of her knees. There’s no probable likelihood of a flash, she’s sure. Still, that ruddiness glows over her skin as she takes the cautious, first step. She feels ludicrously lewd.

“Wouldn’t want you to get your heel caught,” the realtor states, strawberry mouth twitching.

No, that would certainly cause far more than a glimpse of a flash.

“Truly a gentleman,” Isla quips, and by the time she’s wound halfway up, Harry only a couple of steps behind, she tacks on, “God. It really is sort of a scary set of stairs.”

“Climbing a rickety rope swing is scary,” Harry scoffs from behind, his cadence lighthearted.

A hallway with a landing that allows for a gaze upon the first story. A wall of doors. A bathroom with an unsightly, pink tub. A cozy original with old-world-charm, according to the realtor; definitely creative wording, Isla thinks.

“Master bedroom,” the man slips the final door open, and Isla’s irises bounce from window to window — they suffuse the room with what she imagines would be bright, refreshing daylight. Now, it comes in the form of a warm, yellow glow with the time of day.

“Very roomy,” she comments. It is. The square footage of the space, she’s sure, has to be roomier than the master bedroom of the first showing, but perhaps the emphasis on the broadness of the space has to do with the sheer fact that the first showing had been bare, and this room holds furniture — even still, the space is bigger. Despite the queen sized bed, throned by the waxy, wooden headboard, the nightstands that mirror either side of the mattress, and the matching wooden dresser, the space is open.

“S’no reno’d Sweeger Ave,” the realtor supplies, wandering a handful of steps behind her as she makes her way into the room, “But it’s roomy, like you said. Bright. Beautiful windows — lots of light. Can you imagine yourself here?”

It’s a queen sized bed. Isla is not wearing panties, and she’s reminded of this particular fact as she stares at it and imagines Eros bending her over the edge of the mattress. She thinks of Harry’s chest pressing up behind her as his broad, ring-clad digits slide over her waist, settle on her stomach. She thinks of his mouth pasting to the crook of her neck, sponging kisses over the expanse of her skin as his soft breaths caress her nerve endings. She thinks of him walking her forward, his crotch glued to her hips. She thinks of fingers grappling for wrists and a firm grip as he manhandles the joints behind her back with ease. She thinks of him flipping her skirt up and discovering that she’s bare beneath it, thinks of a palm fondling, of croons in her ear on what a filthy, naughty girl she is, of his fingers slipping lower and his teeth grazing over her neck and—

“Great room, innit?”

Her eyes flash to him at a dangerous speed, his words from the prior week hurtling through her mind as he tells her, tone entirely innocuous, “But I think there’s something missing.”

An ottoman, the young woman thinks, her expression kept impressively neutral, all things considered. An ottoman.

“Accent wall there, long curtains with a sheer layering, different furniture set — contemporary, I’d go with, a rug,” the male taps his foot over a stark area of the floorboards, just ahead of the footboard of the bed, “Nice shag rug. Right here.”

Shag rug.

Shag rug — textile characterized by longer, heavier pile, so as to have the appearance of being shaggy. Isla imagines a white rug in tufts, warding her brain from mental images of the man physically shagging her on said rug. Yes. These are all very …compelling suggestions.

“Mhm,” Isla hums curtly.

“And, y’know, all this light lets the room whisper sweet nothings about the beauties of the approaching day, but I think, the view,” he takes slow steps over chocolate wood to tug blinds open, “beckons sleepless nights.”

Sleepless nights — Isla is going to wring her own neck. Despite the arousal that seeps through her at the dirty-fucking-twist of insinuation, she makes her way to his side for a peer. Beyond the horizon of plains and landscaping lies skyscrapers — the city a blip of scenery with the sky as its backdrop.

“Oh.”

“Mm. Really pretty at night, I’d think.”

“It’s a …good thing I have a strong constitution for sleepless nights,” Isla swallows, “I’m sure the view will keep me entertained.”

Harry steals a soft glance, down at her side profile. He’s bridled his flirtish nature, he’s restrained his quips. He’s bent over backwards for sanctity. But—

“If you ever find yourself in need of a midnight conversation partner, you know who to call.”

The young woman peers up at him through her lashes. It’s a blatant implication of her untimely phone call two days prior. He’s teasing. He has to be simply teasing. But the way his mouth twitches, the way his eyes fix on her — there’s something… something beyond innocent jest.

“Offering your services as a nocturnal conversationalist?” she tries to keep the nervous note from her cadence as she takes a step away — he had to be flirting. “I’m a lucky girl.”

“Real estate agent by day, midnight talk-show host by night. I’m a man of many talents,” the curly-headed brunette shrugs, digging ring-adorned fingers halfway into pockets of slacks. A soft smile plays over his soft mouth. It’s all sort of lascivious. Isla wants to clamber back onto a stranger's bed in a master bedroom that doesn’t belong to her, and she wants to ogle his reflection glint at her from the waxy headboard as his hips pump forward. As his cock pummels into her. A warmth pulses between her thighs, beneath her pencil skirt.

The reminder of her arousal, left in a dried stain post her drive home, confronts her as she strips in the confines of her apartment, alone, nearly two hours later.

Harry is not a green-eyed monster.

Which is an irony, because in the realm of indulge, there’s more than a handful of people who would confidently deem him with that pretty title.

Perhaps, better phrasing (that wouldn’t allow for the claim to be twisted by unruly, prior play partners), would be that Harry is not innately a jealous man. He’s a sure man, a man who knows his ambitions and aims — bluntly so. He’s a man that doesn’t like to share during scenes, but he’s upfront and honest about it. There’s no games, no teetering tugs and yanks on strings of emotions. He’s not a man that is known to ooze green at the sight of his partner fraternizing with someone else, and he’s definitely not the type of man to care about those things in any context outside of Indulge.

A person is a person — their own person. That’s not his thing to fuck with. Harry is not a green-eyed monster that bleeds envy with begrudging glances.

The sight of Isla Cleery, though, shrouded by her commonplace lace, leant up against the bar, in the midst of lively chatter with some shirtless dom adorned by an eye-cover with plastic-y tufts of horns — that culls an odd reaction from him. It’s strange — she’s early. He always shows before her to reserve the room of the night, and she arrives and waits in an obedient kneel until he opts to join her. But she’s early — she’s at the bar, and he’s just booked the room (The White Room, tonight). Harry nearly misses the sight of the interaction altogether.

But he doesn’t — she catches his eye, clad in a set of dark, silky underthings and sheer stockings. He watches her toe back against the stem of one of the barstools. She’s got her cherry concoction in hand, a plethora of syrupy fruit upon a bed of ice and artificial sweeteners, and she’s laughing at something her counterpart says. In response, the man’s grin is vibrant over the visible expanse of his lower face. Harry doesn’t know who he is at first. But then he squints, and his vision roves. Faunus. He vaguely knows of the dominant, but the most prominent thought that floats to the forefront of his mind involves the jest Isla had made prior to the drafting of their contract. The one where she’d mentioned the alternation of rocking her shit, and the name Faunus had been introduced in the prospective party.

And it’s not like Harry bleeds jade at the sight, but he kind of does. Because, the thing is, next week is their last scene, contractual obligations concerned — and. Well, it makes him feel ill. The thought of his submissive — of Isla Cleery, slipping to her knees for Faunus as their own contract comes to a close, the thought of Faunus manhandling her in the same way Harry does every Friday night, it all makes his jaw set from across the lounge. Because those are their Fridays. Something stirs in him when Faunus places his hand onto her arm — because, what the fuck?

Slowly but surely, he makes his way over, slipping into the interaction from behind his submissive. He brushes a gloved palm against the small of her back, and upon the touch, Peitho stiffens and twists. And then she relaxes. Smiles all pretty at him, too.

“You’re early,” the hand slides to the vale of her waist and squeezes softly as he presses close and speaks low. It’s obnoxious, Harry’s aware — opting not to initially acknowledge the other member of the conversation, but Faunus watches the two with a silent eye, anyhow, so.

“I was late last week, so. Wanted to be early this time. Didn’t know you were here, Sir,” the submissive supplies, rocking forward onto her toes, and then lets the outside of her arm glue to his torso as he pastes to her side.

Harry hums. And then he casts his gaze onto Faunus as the man speaks. “Eros, right?” the male’s mouth curls softly as he nudges towards Harry.

“In the flesh,” Harry grins politely. Politely. Because he’s polite.

His counterpart, glistening with a sheen of sweat under the purple-ish tinges of the lights, takes a swig from his glass — water, Harry assumes it to be, but you never can really tell in the hue of the lounge, “You’re a little infamous around here.”

Infamous. Sounds about right.

“Am I?”

“Mm. I’ve heard only good things from this one, though,” the horn-masked man gestures with his glass towards Isla. In turn, she shifts a little further against her dominant.

“Yeah?” Harry’s chin dips toward the submissive, then, and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “All good things, baby?”

Isla nods and hums, melting with the side of her cheek against his chest.

“But between you and me,” Faunus leans forward a smidge, elbow braced over the marbled bar countertop, “This one’s a bit of a handful.”

Harry grins politely. Yeah, the reminder that this man has manhandled his submissive in the same manner he has makes him go a bit neon green. What the fuck. And Isla — she just squirms against him. Harry’s well aware that the nonchalant small talk of her, with no acknowledgement, like she’s not stood in the midst of the conversation, riles her in a filthy way. And Faunus seems to know this tidbit of information, too — his irises, glinty under the lights overhead, slink from Harry to Isla and back again. It’s a subtle motion, but it shows Harry enough. The dominant’s mouth quirks, gaze subtly steely in the narrow of his lashes.

“Mm. Well, between you and me,” the hand that’d previously settled on her waist slips up to her hair, cards through past the nape of her neck, digits entangling in the roots, “she knows her place with me,” Harry shoots her a look, and tugs firmly by slowly tightening his fist. It’s a subtle motion — but the pinpricks of pain that burst over her scalp, as a result, have her pulse quickening.

And Harry knows. He knows and his lips nearly crook up, but he curbs his smirk. And Faunus can ogle all he wants — but he can’t touch. Can’t draw the same reaction from her. That thought has satisfaction blooming in his chest.

“Don’t you, darling?”

When the young woman returns in concurrence, her inflection is breathy and soft. “Yes, Sir.”

He’s jealous, Isla thinks. She’s not sure why. But he’s jealous, and he tugs on her hair like a showcase of his dominion, like she’s simply a plaything for him and him only to lewdly siphon soft reactions from. It’s so blatant, the way he does it all in front of Faunus. He’s claiming his territory. It’s subtle, it’s obnoxious, it borders on impolite, but it lights a fire within her like no other.

“The White Room,” Harry croons against her ear, low in decibel, “S’open. If you were up to play.” Jade slinks back up to dull blue, to the opposite dominant watching the display — a blank slate of curious interest. His gloved fingers untether gently and he speaks a bit louder, face turned back towards Faunus, “Wouldn’t want to tear you away and impose, though.”

The White Room. With Eros. Yes. Isla wants to go to the White Room with her Eros.

“Oh — no,” Isla assuages quickly, pivoting her head from Faunus to Eros and back, “Great — it’s been great, catching up, with you,” she motions with her palm towards the horn-masked dom.

Faunus pauses, as if musing, and eventually the corners of his mouth curl up softly.

“Likewise,” he tells her, gesturing with his glass, before his vision skids from Isla to Harry and back. His tongue peeks out to glide over his bare lips. Harry doesn’t miss the way his eyes wander roguely over the submissive’s silhouette — a tad flirtily, if he’s not mistaken, before he tacks on what sounds uncomfortably ominous to him. “I’ll see you around, Peitho.”

Harry’s jaw sets and he watches the other man all the way as he ambles off and disappears into the midst of the crowded lounge to mingle. It’s childish, he’s aware, to feel as though his turf is being invaded upon, like a personally deemed sector of a sandbox, and Isla his prized, shiny …bucket …or something (what do children play with in sandboxes? Harry can’t recall, at the moment). And he’s aware that Isla is not his possession, per se, but she sort of is. For the window of six weeks, she is his and his only, and the way he seems to recall it, they’re only on number five. His head snaps to her as the submissive clears her throat. She’s peering up at him, her mouth twitchy in giveaway.

He’s jealous, Isla thinks, and obviously so, the envy in him visible like figurines through the glass of a snowglobe.

“Had a nice time catching up with your friend?” Harry settles on. His inflection is smooth like molasses and low like a foreboding omen — a siren song. Isla contemplates getting him jealous more often.

“Yeah,” the young woman blinks, “Faunus is always great.”

Her lips twitch on the latter, and the word choice is made with such outright and overt intent to goad him — but she’s so harmless about it, too, afterwards nestling against him sweetly post the double entendre. Always great. Always a great fuck. Harry gives into her game shamelessly. He fingers at the strap on her brassiere as his mouth quirks wryly.

“This is a pretty little piece. Wear it for Faunus?”

“No,” Isla’s cadence doesn’t offer nearly as much resolve, and she jolts minutely as he lets it snap back into place. “Wore it for you.”

“For me?” the dominant raises his eyebrows, playing coy, and smooths the pad of his finger over an embellishment of lace over the edge of a cup as he tacks on, a little derisively, “How sweet.”

Then, Eros juts with his chin towards her unfinished rocks glass of sugar and syrup and fruit with the barest bones of their original nutrients, “Are you gonna throw that up if I play rough tonight?”

The brazen insinuation causes Isla to swallow, her chest growing a little tighter and the valley between her thighs growing a little warmer.

“Wouldn’t be a pretty sight. S’the White Room, after all,” his irises glimmer mischievously.

“No,” Isla protests, her gaze jumping from the glass to the shiny latex disguising his stupid, perfect face. A beat. The sound of the glass grazing over the wood coaxes his eyes to her hand as she slides it away. Yes.

“No, no. Feel free to finish it. I’ll wait.”

Despite this, her eyes jump between the half-empty glass and his face. His lack of tout — the empty, unspoken allurement of possibility — only lure her further. Take your time, I’ll patiently wait to do cruel and unusual things to you (that would’ve probably been deemed beyond illegal in the middle ages). It’s — yes. That is, no. No. Isla does not want to wait, her imagination running rampantly on the prospects of a mean Eros spurred by a jealous streak suddenly prevalent.

That she’s wrenched from him.

“No, I’m good,” Isla tells him, her cherries discarded.

Harry blinks at her, and then responds, his mouth curling softly, “Really, love. S’no rush. Got all night to,” her fingers jump to her palm, as he stretches it and settles it against the countertop, pleather-coated digits splaying, “play.”

Play. Her interest itches horribly to know what his agenda for the night entails.

“No — no, I’m good. I’m good,” the submissive clears her throat, sliding the cup away just a smidge more with the flex of her fingers. Harry’s mouth quirks.

“You’re awfully eager.”

Good. He’s pleased to coax the reaction — he’s pleased that Faunus, evidently, doesn’t even have the ability to harvest her attention in the same manner. Good, good, good.

“Well. White Room’s waiting for you, then. I’ll meet you in there,” Harry blinks at her, and then his eyes flash to his fingers as those come out to smooth over the bangle manacling her wrist, “Lemme just tie up some loose ends.”

Isla looks at him then, for a second, speaking volumes through her expression despite the majority of it being clandestine by swirls of dark fabric. Loose ends. He can tell she’s bemused that he doesn’t personally walk her, hand-in-hand.

“Okay,” the young woman settles on.

“Okay?”

“Okay, …Sir.”

He watches her walk off down a secluded hallway at the edge of the lounge, and then he blows out a breath and turns to the mocktail bartender on shift. Bliss — pretty corset, pretty, bedazzled mask, and a pretty mean dominatrix on the weekends when she’s not tending to the bar, he’s heard.

“S’cuse me, could you just—“ he gestures with the glass once the bartender’s in earshot, and she lifts her face from the sink at his cadence, “switch this off her tab onto mine.”

He doesn’t have to specify — he knows Bliss well enough. They’ll engage in the occasional small talk. Mundane shit, usually; the weather, the housing market, reputable toy artisans. Or, they had. These days he spends much of his Indulge time playing rather than strung up at the bar. Anyways, it’s the least he could do for Peitho, considering… well. The agenda for the night. The least. His mouth nearly crooks at the thought.

“Oh, it’s not on her tab, babes. Guy that was with her already tabbed it out.”

Oh — Oh. Okay. O-kay. His head swivels back to the throng of Indulge, where Faunus has vanished into the midst of the mingling masses. So now Faunus was buying her mocktails. Sick.

“How …nice,” Harry turns back, a tick in his jaw.

By the time the door clicks open from behind her, Isla’s knees are already shifting into their welcomed ache. It’s all sort of a routine she’s become beyond well accustomed to. The young woman listens to his dress shoes pad over the floor, and then she feels his hand brush through her hair from the back.

“Come sit.”

He says it in a way that doesn’t imply that he’s presently vexed — it’s easygoing enough, but his tone nearly carries the impending weight of the incoming scene. The submissive feels his palm withdraw, and then watches the backs of his dress shoes move, for a moment, as he winds past her towards the chair. And then she clambers up and follows. The mischievous jest Isla had basked in, priorly, starts its usual gear-shift into apprehension. Because being in a room, alone, with Eros, post whatever brazenly mouthy infringements Isla has managed, doesn’t leave her with …nearly as much pluck. Though, unfortunately for Eros and his ego, (or perhaps fortunately — she’s convinced he quite enjoys manually taming her into submission far more than he lets on), she’s still far from that state of mindless subservience he always manages to draw her into by the end of a session. The dominant sinks into the cushion and blows out a breath as if to discard the heft of a long workday, and his thighs splay a smidge as his eyes convey, expectantly through the slit of his mask, that he’d like her to sit. Isla slips into his lap, against the sturdy muscle of one of his parted thighs, and his leg shifts beneath her as his arm winds around her waist to cradle her close.

“I didn’t fuck you last week, and you’re already looking elsewhere, darling?” are the first words out of his mouth.

The statement is said as a jest — but it’s only half of that. His strawberry mouth is twitchy, and the pads of his digits are gentle on her thigh, and his tone is calm, and friendly, and traitorously sweet.

But Isla knows better.

Her mother had always said, behind every joke there’s some truth, sort of like a more wholesome version of drunk words are sober thoughts — far more kid friendly, but. The young woman couldn’t relate more to the wise piece of advice than she was, now, in this moment. Because her Eros is green, and obviously so. It radiates from his pores, the envy, no doubt a response to seeing Faunus’s palm pasted to her arm (she’s sure her innocuous, little comment played some part, as well), and the tidbits of his vulnerability make something oddly twist in her. Something like — feelings, beyond the playroom. It pleases her, in a red-flag-on-her-part sort of way, knowing that he cares. But more than that, the sentiment leaves her brimming with arousal. A jealous man was never a kind man, and a mean Eros, tucked away with her in a reserved playroom at Indulge, always left her simmering in welcomed anticipation.

“Of course not,” she assuages, tracing the folds of fabric in his collar and fixing them up with a smoothing touch, her pupils fixed to her fingers as she tacks on, “I’d never look elsewhere when I’m contractually obligated to uphold monogamy.”

It’s a tease that’s blatantly meant to rile him — the corners of her mouth buckle like an afterthought, and beneath her touch, the dominant’s chest heaves with a sigh.

“Contractual obligation. S’that all my time is to you, then?”

His tone is lighthearted, but the words have that undercurrent of brooding, like her words have wounded him, and Isla thumbs over a button and pops it through a loop — just for a bit of skin.

“All my cock is to you?” the man shifts below her, his tone still playful, “A contractual obligation?”

“No,” she protests, her fingers twitchy before his chin dips to ogle her handiwork, and a palm clasps over her wrist to bring the fingertips to his mouth and nip.

“Hm?” he prods, teeth grazing over skin playfully, “Gonna go back to alternating having your shit rocked when my time is up?”

Okay. Little less playful. His cadence is still light and good-natured but. Oddly heavy question. That little, unspoken slice of reality peeks through the facade of joking, traces streaking like dawn through cracks of blinds, if only for a moment.

Isla swallows. Her pupils paste to his cushiony mouth, to the tips of her digits pressed lightly between his teeth. She settles for something safe, her breath held in her chest. Actually, maybe a little unsafe, given the trajectory of his emotions.

“If you want me to, Sir.”

Placate, placate, placate. The words are all that any dominant could want — submission in its ultimation. Whatever he wants of her. Despite this, the statement has something like …disappointment twisting in his chest. He doesn’t want that. He wants to elongate their contract, he wants to keep railing Isla over, and over, and over, he wants to spend the rest of timeless time with her as his in the realm of Indulge, and only his. And he doesn’t want it to be up to him. Tell me no, Harry wants to say. Tell me you want me and only me. Show me you care, the way I do.

Instead, his mouth purses.

If there’s any inkling of protest to her words, the dominant doesn’t showcase it. She’s curious to hear his response, but he doesn’t give one. Instead, he intertwines their fingers and shoots her a glance. The topic of conversation pivots.

“Were you a good girl for me this week, sweetheart?”

Oh, goodness gracious. She’d nearly forgotten all about Monday night’s debacle, so honed and amused by the envy the dominant was radiating. The mischievous streak in her really starts to fade, then.

Was she a good girl for him this week? Vague recollections of a very satisfying vibrator pressed between clammy thighs in messy sheets at late hours flit through her mind.

And her Eros on the other end of the line.

There’s a sudden heaviness to her tongue. It’d be easy to fib and pretend she hadn’t slipped up with hungry fingers between hungrily splayed thighs, just as he’d requested — commanded — her not to do. It’s not like he’d know.

Was she a good girl for him? No. Isla certainly wasn’t.

She admits, after a moment of deliberative lull, “No, Sir.”

Sir, she’s tacked on, politely — without coaxing, Harry notes. It’s the first thing he notes, in fact, besides her candid confession of misconduct. After that, it’s the way her body language has morphed from joking to tensed, to the way her fingers rub together in her lap, to the way her chest rolls lightly with her slow, bated breaths.

“No?” he prods softly, pondering on her admission, “You weren’t a good girl?”

Behind his ribcage, his heart kicks it up a notch from priorly peaceful equilibrium into a wild, racketing hammer. Because if she tells him what he thinks she’s going to tell him, if she confirms his suspicions and proves that he hadn’t spent Monday night driving himself mad, with hands raking restively through his tendrils in lieu of getting a good night’s rest post her late night call, then—

“I …touched myself, Sir.”

And there it is.

Isla bites into her cheek when faced with his hum of acknowledgement — of course the sound is coated with condescension, as if he’d expected her to fail.

“And you came, I assume?” jade glimmers between lengthy lashes and shadows of an unnecessary disguise as he tacks on, “I mean, I’d hope disappointing me was worth it, at least.”

It — what? Isla toes at the back of her opposite ankle, a crease working between her eyebrows.

“I didn’t — I don’t know,” she blows out a breath, “how to answer this question.”

“You don’t know if you came?” his own eyebrows rise in teasing, inflection jestingly incredulous. It’s a good sign, for now, the young woman thinks. She’d expected green to turn steely, but he seems keen on poking at her — which she’ll take rather than to be confronted by his demeanor of disdain.

“No— I,” she sighs, craning her neck back and crossing her arms as the dominant’s pillowy mouth twitches, “I did,” upon the glint of warning to his expression, even mostly bridled by rubber, the submissive curbs the exasperation that’s leaked into her tone, backtracking softly, “I mean, I don’t — I wasn’t trying to disappoint you.”

“Mm.”

“And — well, anyways. I think you should be the opposite of disappointed, considering I came clean,” the twist she takes on the circumstances, to Harry, are a little appalling.

He just sort of hums, entertained, and states, “S’that where the bar is, now?” and upon her vexed look, commences a slow clap, “Applause for the bare minimum.”

“Amnesty,” she cocks her head, sitting up a bit, unperturbed by his derisive sarcasm, “is a thing, by the way, if you weren’t aware.”

At that, he literally feels the dimples poke into place beside the curl of his smile. “You’re quite funny.”

“I know,” Isla tells him after a moment, her shoulders sagging as she tips her chin to her hands and picks at her nails, her voice low, “I’m hilarious.”

Harry brushes a pleather-clad palm over her thigh before he bats at her hands. He clears his throat. “How many times?”

Her face tips up, like she’s confused by the question, and the man clarifies, “How many times did you touch yourself?”

Rather than persisting with the jittery habit of nail picking, she mollifies by tracing down his chest, over his dress shirt, sort of hoping to smooth out the incoming tension of the scene in the same way her touch smooths the fabric, “Just once.”

“Tell me,” she watches his tongue peek over before his swipes over his lips, and her vision only flits away for a mere moment when she feels his colossal palm squeezing at her hip, “how you did it.”

She blinks up at him, like the request baffles her.

“S’not that difficult of a task. Well,” Harry pauses, and his eyes roll to the side with the patronizing dig, “The first one wasn’t either, but.”

“I—“ the young woman’s jaw sets as she lifts her chin at the jab and she declares with resolve (plucky, Harry thinks, considering the circumstances), “with my vibrator.”

Vibrator. Interesting. He hadn’t heard it on the other end of the phone — sneaky girl. The chatter from the television, obnoxiously loud, floats to the forefront of his mind, then.

“Okay,” he nudges with his chin, “Getting somewhere…”

“Third setting,” Isla states, deadpan in decibel, “and I came.”

And then his palm locks, softly, over the back of her neck, and he physically guides her to lean forward against him. The dominant’s strawberry lips brush over Isla’s ear as he speaks, low and tantalizing, and then that same mouth pastes to an expanse of skin just below.

“Details, little miss. And less attitude. Paint me a picture.”

Oh — her pulse stutters.

“Were you,” his mouth alternates between questioning and pressing open-mouthed kisses that incite chills to bloom over her flesh, “watching something? Thinking of something? Hm?”

The young woman’s unsure of the cause behind the sudden, sensual twist in their discussion, but she tries to bare her neck a bit, quite literally the furthest from complaining.

“I — the TV was on. But I was thinking about you,” she admits, and the dominant slides the opposite hand around the curvature of her hip, fondling over the side of her thigh.

“What about?”

“Your—“ the man’s mouth curls up lewdly against her skin in response to the stutter he coaxes as his hand ventures to her backside, squeezing — the way her throat bobs with a swallow, “your hands, touching me. Your mouth — on my, on my—“

“Your…?” Harry wheedles tauntingly, his hand tracing its way back onto her front and teasing at the hem of her underwear.

Isla’s confession comes breathy, and her legs splay apart a smidge when he dips his forefinger past the barrier just a tad, brushing over the smooth, sensitive crease between her pelvis and her thigh, “My pussy.”

“Mm. S’that all?”

“No,” her lashes flutter behind the lace, “I thought about — about your cock. Thought about you fucking my mouth, and,” her speech dies off as his fingers wriggle further beneath her panties and brush against her clit.

“And?”

“and I thought about you,” Isla swallows, screwing her eyes shut, “…holding my nose, as you did it. So I couldn’t breathe.”

The pads of his fingers stutter in their caress. Shit. His nostrils flare at the filthy admission, and the way desire teems through his veins and arousal coils through his tummy at the thought is pure, hedonistic darkness. When Harry asks her, “What else?” his voice is considerably huskier against the crook of her neck.

“I thought about you slapping me — my face,” her chest rolls as his fingers dip and gather sopping slick — she knows she’s ludicrously wet, reliving the fantasies that’d become tucked away in the dells of her mind, in combination with his soft touch, will sort of do that. It all has her feeling as if a fucking furnace glows angrily between her thighs. “I thought about—“ her jaw sets as she tips her head back, and he nips at her earlobe, “you spanking me for touching myself. How sore I would be over the next few days, having to sit at work.”

“Spanking you with what?” Harry’s cadence comes muffled and heady against her skin.

“Just — just your hand,” Isla’s heart races in her chest as he draws circles, like it beats in laps that trace the track of the motion.

The dominant presses open-mouthed kisses to her skin, crooning, “Just my hand? Y’dont think you deserve the paddle or the strap for disobeying me?”

Isla doesn’t think much of anything when his tongue pokes out and glides over straining muscle.

“Whatever,” she swallows, his fingers fisting desperately at the sturdy muscle of his thigh, “Whatever you want, Sir.”

“S’not whatever I want, though,” he hums, “It’s about what you deserve. So what,” his fingers press a little harder, his cadence grows a little hungrier, “do you think you deserve?”

“I — I deserve whatever you decide I deserve, Sir.”

“Mm. Well. I think,” Isla gasps and jolts, her breath morphing into a soft whimper when he pinches her clit between his digits, “You don’t deserve to entertain any of those little fantasies. Not after you couldn’t follow one simple rule.”

She sags as his fingers withdraw and the elastic snaps back into place.

“Don’t deserve to have your mouth fucked,” Harry sighs, shaking his head as if disappointed by the statement, himself (good, he’d be missing out, Isla thinks petulantly), “Don’t deserve to have my hands, or my mouth. I suppose spanking wouldn’t even serve as a punishment for you, would it?”

“Because,” he motions with a hand, “we’ve done loads of that, and you’re still what, darling?”

Isla gnaws on her bottom lip, chin tilted to her hands.

“I’m talking to you,” she’s caught off guard and has to bridle a gasp when he grips onto her jaw with a gloved palm and roughly guides her face in the direction of his own. The sudden emergence of his stern streak leaves her doused in want, “You’re still what?”

It’s appalling, honestly, the way a mercurial flip of a switch in his character could affect her so deeply, but there’s nothing Isla finds more arousing than when her Eros gets like …this.

“…Disobedient,” Isla tells him softly, after a moment, not entirely sure of the answer he’s looking for.

“A disobedient, little whore—“

Isla swallows dryly, his words — his irritated tone, sinking straight to her core.

“—that just doesn’t seem to learn.”

“I’m sorry,” the submissive starts after a moment, but her cautious apology is hindered by his scoff, a shake of his head that leaves light bouncing off the glossy hood, a sound of sardonic amusement. Her pupils, through the lace, bound to meet his narrowed gaze.

“No, you’re not.”

Isla swallows. He’s right. She’s not exactly this virtuous angel who’s lurched into a pit of misdeed because of a careless accident. And she’s not exactly regretful of it, either.

The way the dominant squeezes over her hip then, the fondle of his hand gentle in contrast to the foreboding words he tacks on — the way his irises sweep over her like he’s nonchalantly deliberating her fate, has an eager thrill of the looming danger wracking down the knobs of her spine. “But you will be.”

Loads of people are adrenaline junkies — the bungee jumpers, the skydivers, the bull riders, the mountain bikers, the people who like to watch scary movies in theaters with 3D glasses, melted back against their seats as the volume of the music dims and a pregnant pause of impending doom stalls. The ones who stand in lines, veins teeming with anticipation as they edge closer and closer, zig-zagging through dividers in slow, stalling steps, all to become seated in a rollercoaster with a 90 degree drop. That excitement on the drop billows through their arteries like a chaser. It’s all sort of the same thing. Isla just has …unorthodox penchants. Methods. She happens to enjoy having the shit beat out of her, maybe, or being terrorized by something rooted in fear. Because when you mix adrenaline and sex, it’s just. Unfathomable. Truly a top-tier recommendation, if Isla were ever coaxed to recommend it. But it’s all the same thing. All a similar outcome.

Isla’s absolutely aching for that enslaving rush, and then Eros nearly gives her whiplash as he just …looks at her and says, “Maybe we shouldn’t play at all tonight.”

She can’t manage to muzzle the bloom of bemused disappointment that seeps into her tone, “I — what?”

“I mean,” Harry retracts his palm, and Isla’s suddenly left oddly cold, perched on his lap as his arms cross laxly over his chest, “you’re a disobedient, little whore. We’re on the same page about that, aren’t we, pet? Doesn’t matter if I punish you for it. And you certainly don’t deserve to be rewarded. Could just call it a night, hang out in the lounge—” his eyes convey volumes as he peers at her through lashes with insinuation, “Could mingle a bit. Sit around with your great, little friend.”

Faunus. Back to Faunus.

“I—“ Harry watches her pillowy mouth part, and settle into a line as words fail her, and then part again, “Please.”

“Please?” his eyebrows jolt, mouth pursing as a huff of wry amusement is expelled from his nostrils, and he’s about to say more, but then she interjects—

“Please, Sir. Please, I need—“

“Shut—“ Isla freezes when his hand comes back to her face, this time with the pads of his digits squeezing into her cheeks harshly, “—the fuck up.” And all Isla can really manage, from there, is a wordless mouthing against his digit, like a fish out of water. Harry watches her lips move a bit over a silent please, sort of amused by the persistive spectacle (but he definitely doesn’t let it show).

“Stand up,” he tells her, after a moment, unlatching his grip and shifting his thigh beneath her, “Stand up, and strip.”

As the young woman stands, he nudges himself off the armchair as well, making a beeline straight for the wall of toys, but not before aiming his forefinger her way and adding, (a bit cheekily, if Isla’s not mistaken, though that note is drowned out by the sternness that brims his tone), “Leave the stockings on.”

The pads of her thumbs hesitate, just past the hem of her left, sheer stocking. Slowly, she straightens back out and fixes the digits into her bra straps, shimmying those off of her shoulders first, then winding her arms behind her back to unsnap the hooks with a deft enough motion (her hands are sort of trembling). Her fingertips dip into her underwear — soaked, of course, post the ministrations of the man who mills about the room all the while, gleaning objects. Isla watches him gather and deliver the objects to the mattress before going back for more — almost like an animal stockpiling in preparation for a lengthy winter. She works the pair of underwear down her thighs, stepping out of them, and throwing them alongside her brassiere on the armchair.

The young woman feels, for the first time in a long time, a bit awkward, just standing on the linoleum, bare of all but her stockings, as she waits for further instruction from a dominant who doesn’t look as if he cares to bask in her nudity for even a split second. Because Harry always has this way of making her feel worshiped — even when he feigns that his attention is entirely torn away. Because in those split seconds where his pupils train back onto her, that facade breaks, and she sees the hunger seeping through. Her pulse stays impressively even when she watches him set a long, metallic spreader bar with cuffs — like shackles — onto the comforter beside a large wand. Finally, the rubber-hooded male shoots her a blank gaze — it lasts, as expected, a minute timespan before he fixes his attention back onto the objects. He doesn’t look even a smidge interested in her denuded state — it’s an offhand glance to make a point.

“Are you just going to stand there all night?”

“If you’d like me to, Sir,” Isla tells him — he couldn’t possibly get upset at an open offer of subservience (despite the underlying aim of innocuously-feigned backchat), and that fact seems to register with him.

Harry gives her a good look then, one considerably longer than the previous had been, one where she can practically witness the gears turning behind his skull. The submissive supposes she’s gotten what she’d wanted, after all. Then, his mouth twitches like he’s actively attempting to bridle it from morphing to a grimace.

“Come here,” the dominant instructs eventually, tone firm.

Shrouding her timidness, Isla follows his directions and makes her way to the bed until she’s stood in front of him with her chin held high. The way his hand gently grasps her wrist then, as the opposite digs into a pocket of his slacks, has her heart fluttering. His face is downcast to the bracelet as the pin-like key winds, until there’s a click and it isn’t — instead it fixes onto her own. The dominant leans in, his voice soft.

“On the bed. All fours.”

Isla turns just as he pockets the bangle, and crawls onto the mattress, just as instructed. She feels chilly metal graze against her calves, a brush of smooth leather.

“Spread,” Harry demands, and starts fastening one of the plush, padded cuffs to her ankle once she’s knee’d her thighs apart. Then, the following joint. “Put your arms back, through here,” he pats at the empty space between her (involuntarily) splayed limbs.

So Isla does that, too, rocking forward onto her shoulders and pressing her cheek against the sheets, her face cast at the wall where the door stands as her fingers twitch. He fastens cuffs onto those, too, and by the time all’s done and well, Isla’s absolutely immobile. Testingly, she tries to wrench her wrist back, the attempt subtle. She can’t move. At all. And behind her, the dominant’s pillowy mouth crooks at the sight. Apprehension rises in her, like a flood of water surging through a cylindrical building, swelling in the space between a spiral staircase that clings to the curved walls.

The beginnings of that beautiful adrenaline.

“Anything uncomfortable?”

“No, Sir,” Isla tells him.

“I mean — you’re going to be plenty uncomfortable,” she rocks back a tad as the dominant smooths his hand down the back of her thigh, “but I’d prefer you didn’t end up with a cramp, or a weird soreness because your neck’s in a funny position.”

The touch withdraws. Isla swallows.

“No. Everything’s good.”

She jolts when her ears pick up on a sound that destroys the lull — like tape, bondage tape, she’s sure, and the dominant sounds as if he has a piece between his teeth when he responds, “Wonderful.”

Then comes the sounds of tape tearing. Her muscles tense as she feels something press against her thigh, against her core, and then his hand starts to wind what she knows is the tape around her flesh. A click. The wand comes alive, rumbling. Isla can’t begin to stifle her soft hum.

“Good spot?” the dominant prods, out of sight.

The young woman fixes her gaze onto the bland wall through shapes and swirls of lace, her lashes fluttering, “Mm — yeah. Really good spot.”

“O-kay.”

And then after that — a stalling silence. Nothing reverberates over the walls, nothing falls on eardrums besides her soft breaths and the fixed buzz of the wand, pressed between her clammy thighs. Pleasure builds within her like water surging behind a dam, just sort of steadily rising until the structure starts to show signs of wear, rifts in its integrity. Then — well, then, there’s imminent destruction.

The mattress creaks. He’s shifted.

“Sir?” Isla prods, her voice small.

“No talking,” the dominant tells her after a moment, his cadence steely, “Don’t wanna hear you.”

Her bottom lip becomes siphoned past her teeth. That’s — fuck. Okay. She regulates her breathing, and stares at the wall as the toy continues rumbling against her. He hadn’t exactly, explicitly mentioned that she was to hold off her climax, so. All sort of fair game, Isla thinks. Despite this, she does try to moderate the pace in the surge of bliss — maybe it could be, like, a trickle instead of a swelling flood, if she really focuses—

Another click. The buzzing increases in intensity. Her digits flex and clench, and her wrists shift in their respective cuffs. Still, she stays very quiet. That is, until the familiar, foreboding wave of pleasure tides, frothing at her tummy and sinking. Isla tenses in the restraints, and holds off pleading until she absolutely has to. It’s sort of a gray area, because she’s definitely not supposed to wait until that happens, but apparently she’s also not supposed to talk, so.

“Sir! Can I cum? Please, please, can I—“

“Cum,” he tells her simply, not even batting an eye at her improper wording — may, he’s told her so many times, may I?

Isla does, and it’s extraordinary. His dialogue nearly misses the mark entirely before the wave crashes, the countdown spent to milliseconds. Her toes curl, and her eyes screw shut, and her thighs tense, and her wrists tug reflexively, pinioned, as she groans and attempts to coil up. The dominant doesn’t make any moves that propose the idea of him touching her or using her for his own pleasure, in any manner, nor does he make an effort to remove the vibrator or her restraints. It buzzes at her core, even as the tide of pleasure ebbs. It ebbs, and all she’s left with is the hammering of her heart, and the toy still rumbling at her core. The young woman feels her pulse racketing in her eardrums. Isla shifts in her cuffs a smidge — as much as she can — though, there’s not much leeway for that.

“Thank you, Sir,” she tells him, after a moment, her tongue swiping out after, over her strawberry mouth. She supposes she’s supposed to thank him, right? Isla’s still unsure of what exactly is going on. He’s going to overstimulate her — that much she’s discerned. It’s not rocket science. Spreader bar plus vibrator plus bondage tape? That shit was crystal clear from a mile away. She figures the dominant is aiming to venture to three, …maybe four. Maybe until she’s crying. Who knows.

The dominant doesn’t respond. She hears him exhale, though. The bed creaks again.

The thing with toying at senses with overstimulation was that the first bit …wasn’t all that rough. The first bit feels good — even on the advance towards the second crest, past that incipient budding of discomfort post an orgasm, the pleasure builds up pretty well. In fact, it sort of feeds off that discomfort. For Isla, at least. Because once you get past that first hurtle of too much, too much, that smidge of aching becomes a mere shadow in the cliff of rapture that blooms from stone — growing, growing, growing.

Until, eventually, it gives.

“Oh, oh, please, can I— Sir—“

“Cum.”

She expands and shrivels all in one, everywhere and nowhere with a surfeit of dopamine spurting through her nervous system. The fire kindles. Ah. The beginning stages of displeasure-pleasure. She’s felt it before, a plethora. That kind where her nerve endings settle into a dull, numbing ache. Involuntarily, her limbs jerk in the restraints, tugging to get away. Her jaw clenches.

The thing with toying at senses with overstimulation was that the first bit wasn’t all that rough, but the bit after starts to suck. All good things must come to an end, and all that, but—

Despite that, the unwavering pleasure builds. It builds because of the stimulation, first and foremost, but then it builds because he hasn’t touched her, because he’s just sat back ogling, because she knows she’s dripping down the toy and that the bulbous head glints with her arousal. It builds because it’s a punishment, because Eros doesn’t want to hear her, because she’s disappointed him, and now she’s meant to appease him by enduring suffering. It builds because she wants nothing more than to endure suffering to please him—

“Sir!” Isla wriggles in the restraints, helplessly, the mantra of please-please-please morphed to nothing but a slurred string of words.

“Cum.”

The submissive nearly rolls and topples to her side under the earth-shattering abuse of the third — frankly, the only reason she doesn’t sink into a ridiculous sort of spreader-bar-mangled fetal position, is because Harry touches her, for the first time, steadying her with a firm palm against her bare hip. The pleasure with the third is much shorter-lived than the wide windows of the first two. It wanes nearly instantaneously, shrinking back as fiery ache overtakes it in the race. Isla grits her teeth, writhing forlornly as pain settles, coating her and seeping to interweave through the marrow of her bones. Three, maybe four, she tells herself, a mellow appeasement for inner peace — though, her brain has slowly begun its melt into a commonplace mush. Telling anyone anything, or even processing thoughts besides the signals fired off by her nervous system, is beyond strenuous. She doesn’t notice a sheen of tears has glazed over until she blinks and what’s normally sharp, clear lines of fabric turns to blurs. Despite the (reasonable, Isla believes) assessment of the dominant’s agenda (Isla’s fixated upon to ground herself amidst the curdling fear that tails the unknown, in all circumstances), she can’t help but start to plead, a bit, all things considered.

“Sir, please, please, please—“

“Cum,” the man tells her, from behind, offhand and simple, probably admiring his gloves, or something. The statement comes as if he’s nothing but a robot programmed to grant her permission, and that word is the only term coded into his feasible vocabulary.

If Isla had it in her to balk, she certainly would. She doesn’t. Partly because she doesn’t have it in her, and mostly because the tingling pain from the toy has her expression helplessly forming into a frown, almost as if on its own accord. The submissive just pouts, her bottom lip quivering in forlorn appall. Because Sir doesn’t care if she’s begging, because he doesn’t care that she’s already had three, because the realization dawns on her, then, that that would’ve been four, and he still hadn’t made any inclination to cease the torture.

“No — no, Sir,” Isla starts, her waterline welling with tears behind her disguise — it’s wet, and irritates her skin horribly.

The bed creaks. Behind her, the man tuts. And then the toy becomes toggled to a higher setting, buzzing incessantly against her clit with an intensity that wrenches a sharp keen from her.

“What did I tell you? I don’t want to hear you. Not unless you’re asking permission, or you’re safing. One or the other. Nothing in between. Disobedient, little whores don’t deserve to beg.”

It’s — he’s. Pitifully, Isla sobs against the comforter.

Five. Harry’s on the track to wrench five from her — which, all things considered, is a reasonable goal to shoot for, he thinks. He knows she certainly has four in her to give, because she’s already given him four, weeks ago, in the Dungeon. And if she can’t make it to five within a reasonable time frame, he’ll cut it short post her enduring the aftershocks of the fourth for a bit. He settles back onto his arm, braced against the mattress as he splays behind her, at the foot of the bed, cheek pasted to his gloved palm as he drinks in the sight of her cunt leaking helplessly over the head of the wand. Great view. One for the books.

Despite all of this, the sobs wracking her body have him sitting up a smidge to peer around at her face, which. Not much to decipher past swollen-post-teething lips and trembling flesh, without a good view of her eyes, but. The goal is definitely not to make her safe — that last bit was just sort of open encouragement. Like, an, always feel free sort of thing. They’re only on three. He frowns.

“Hey. Baby,” Harry sits up to lean beside her, closer to her face, where she expels helpless sobs from a quivering, slobbery mouth.

The thing with Isla crying was that it was cool. Deemed cool by both parties — sought after, in fact. But checking in, Harry thinks, is also (even more) cool, especially when she’s crying in a manner that implies that she’s slipping, and that it’s all teeming into the territory of too much, despite the fact that it can sort of break apart the characters they play up in a scene. Because roles are easy to slip back into, but reforming a bond of security post the unnecessary trauma of a boundary being unintentionally crossed is, frankly, much more difficult to casually slip back into. Safety is cool. Big thumbs up.

This stuff is so much easier with eyes, Harry thinks — they speak volumes. They get blown like nightfall, crossing and shading past the lines of pupils and seeping into colors of irises, they become shifty and evident in apprehension, they kind of give it all away. He flips the toy off, but it stays nestled to her core, and he strokes hair off the band of lace shrouding her from him.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” a crease works between his brows as he rakes his digits through Isla’s hair from her sweaty hairline. Because you sound like I’m murdering you, goes unsaid.

The thing is, he knows Isla’s limits, basically. General ballpark, that is. Really knowing and understanding takes months, and months — maybe years of experimentation. But even then, there’s those scenes where you have to check in and break character, and that’s okay. He just hadn’t prepared that it’d be after three.

Isla sniffles beneath his touch.

“Do you want to stop, darling? Red?” he smooths the pads of his digits over her cheek. And beneath his palm, weakly, the submissive shakes her head, an indication that, no, she doesn’t want to do that.

The muscles in her neck strain with a swallow as Harry tucks loose fragments of hair away, his chin dipped to observe her response, and then the young woman tells him, softly, “No. Please.”

“We don’t have to keep doing this, pet,” Harry promises, his cadence taking on a note that’s the most gentle it's been since she’d been sat over his lap, “I can take these off, and we can keep playing, but we don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.”

Isla sighs softly. The pain had begun intermingling with pleasure just before he’d shut the toy off, tinges of bliss blooming post abuse on her physical senses — that’s not why she was crying. Really, there’s a plethora of reasons, some not entirely decipherable. Partly because of the intensity, partly because of the adrenaline and their subsequent endorphins, and partly because she was definitely fucking slipping. She could feel it loom over her when her mind got all mushy, when it all became slower, and more difficult, like trudging through a swamp of molasses. When her tongue got heavier and her body felt fuzzier.

“Wanna make you happy,” Isla tells him. Her eyes are screwed shut behind the lace, mostly to hinder the onslaught of tears, so she can't see him, but she does hear him sigh.

“You do make me happy. Always make me happy. Always happy I get to play with you. Silly.”

Her mouth twitches, then, and curls up a bit. She huffs through her nostrils. Harry cocks his head, smoothing a thumb down the bare fragment of her face on one cheek.

“You make me happy, too,” Isla confesses, her voice small.

Harry tries to keep his mouth from curving into a sad sort of smile in return. Instead, he slips his thumb up to brush over the bottom-most hem of her mask.

“Let me get you out of these,” he only pivots his head towards the bar before she’s humming, evidently dissatisfied by the proposal.

“No,” Isla whines, “Don’t wanna stop playing.”

“We’re not going to stop playing,” the dominant curbs the instinctive eye roll that nearly overtakes the jade, “Just a little break. Don’t you want some water? Doesn’t water sound so good?”

He smirks when she gnaws on her bottom lip and gives him a slow, little nod against the sheets. The man smooths his hand, fondly, down the side of her neck, kneeing around her to slip his fingers to the tape. He unravels that, first, trying to keep the process short, like a bandaid, and he sets the toy down beside her on the bed. Next to go are the cuffs.

“Just a little break,” he promises, “Gonna get some water,” he unbuckles the first cuff — her left wrist, “stretch a bit,” the second — her right, “stretch your neck. Can’t imagine it’s not cramping a bit,” Isla rolls her wrists, her arms still splayed beneath her in the space between the bed and her arched back — the third to go is her left ankle, “and we’ll get you back to shambles in no time,” the last, her right ankle, and he smacks her backside lightly, because it’s there and it’d be a cardinal sin to miss the opportunity, honestly. “How’s that sound?”

The dominant strokes a palm softly up her calf after he sets the spreader bar aside. Isla stretches back against him, like a little cat. Yes. All of these things sound great.

“Stretch out a bit. I’m gonna grab some,” Isla picks up on him saying, before his touch retracts and she hears his shoes clicking over the tile.

Isla shuffles her arms forward, lifting up a bit only to flop back down and morph into Child’s Pose. Sort of. As best as she can. The water machine grinds in the background. By the time Harry has made his way back to the foot of the bed, Isla’s rolled onto her side. He gestures out with the plastic, little cup, and Isla flips onto her back and sits up to grasp it between her palms. They’ve ceased their shaking, for now. Harry takes a seat beside her, his legs kicked out ahead as opposed to her coiled hover, calves pressed against the bed. Her Eros has all the answers, Isla thinks. Her throat bobs frantically as she chugs, and in her peripherals she watches him take a slow sip. Once she’s reached the bottom, her hands flop against her sweaty lap, the empty cup wrapped by her right hand.

She turns her face to him, a little smile over her mouth. The dominant peers at her, lips wrapped over the rim of his respective cup through the unzipped mouth slit, and he lifts a hand to swipe a stray rivulet of water from the corner of her mouth with a thumb. Her tongue swipes out as his touch retracts, almost as if to chase the pad of his digit. The man makes a soft sound of amusement over the lip of the cup. Slowly, Isla cranes her neck back, and then forward, and then side to side, and Harry takes another sip.

“You take care of me so well,” Isla admits, planting her forehead against his arm. She’s jostled then, and nearly complains, but then she realizes that he’s only done it to grant her a space to nestle, a nook for her so he can hold her. She still feels a little …warm and fuzzy, but her head has cleared considerably since he’d unshackled her. Isla scoots in, and the dominant winds his arm around her shoulders, squeezing softly.

“You always know what I need, even when I don’t.”

“S’because I’ve got you figured out,” Harry nudges in her direction with his beverage, three thirds of the way down. His hand, cradling the cup, lays laxly against his thigh, then.

“Do you?” Isla’s gaze narrows behind the mask as a little grin plays over her mouth. She lifts her chin up to display it. And she’s so close, he could kiss her.

The male’s tongue peeks out to glide over his pillowy mouth. Isla Cleery. Cherries, and Hydrangeas, and pencil skirts and strange tendencies to do dangerous things on a whim.

No. He absolutely does not.

“Basically. You’re an easy read, love.”

Her pupils rove over the rubber hood. Over his eyes, glinting through the shadows cast by parted zippers, slipping to the muted berry of his mouth. She’s never yearned, so badly, to surpass a personal limit and kiss someone she was …just playing with. Desperately. She tears her gaze away.

“Can we keep playing?” the young woman inquires, instead.

The dominant rolls his eyes, a soft smile cresting his cushiony mouth, “Do you want to keep playing?”

“Yes. Sir. Please. Right where we left off.”

“Right where we left off?” his eyebrows raise a smidge, “Are you sure? We can move on to phase two.”

“Phase two?”

“Well. Since phase one was punishment for your little slip up earlier in the week,” Isla’s gaze skids away sheepishly, “figure s’only fair phase two is penance for that little comment you made out in the lounge.”

The young woman’s gaze snaps back to the dominant, and she wracks her brain for a dull moment where her mind sort of lags, the edges still a little fuzzy. And then it dawns on her. Fuck. Right. There was that.

“Okay,” Isla tells him, after a moment — not a deliberative one, per se. Just. Mental preparation. “That sounds good.”

“That sounds good?” Harry’s hand slinks out to stroke over her bare thigh, and then his gaze skims to his thumb as he strokes it over the hem of her stocking, “You’re sure?”

“Yes, Sir,” Isla tells him, sitting up a bit with her rejuvenated courage, “and I want to start where we left off.”

Harry hums, pausing his thumb over her stocking. He digs it under, just a bit, tugs up, and lets it snap back into place. And then he pats her thigh, takes her cup from her, and tells her, “Alright. Back into position then. M’gonna refill these so we have them ready, for later.”

As the dominant stands to refill their respective beverages of sustenance, Isla scoots back on the mattress, flips, and clambers into position, already prepped with her arms stuck flat out in the space between her parted calves by the time he returns and sets the cups onto the, (oddly domestic and ludicrously practical), nightstand, beside the bed. She hears him blow out a breath, and the bed shifts as he knees his way onto it from behind.

“All good to keep going?” Harry prods, the thin pole of the spreader bar grasped in one hand, “Promise?”

“I promise,” the young woman returns, half-nodding and half kind of just taking the opportunity to snuggle her face into the comforter. The area soused by her tears is a little further to the right, now, and despite the fact that her mask is still wet, the blanket beneath her face, now, is dry, so it all feels like a spruced up, fresh start.

He slots the cuffs back on, one by one, working backwards from the order in which they’d been discarded minutes prior. And when she’s all splayed and riveted for him, a particular sort of sensitivity settles in her as the wand, still slick from her, presses to her cunt as he sets all the props back into place for the scene (pun intended). It’s not necessarily that grating numbness she’d become accustomed to, or a cloying past aftershocks. Just the sensation of knowing, physically, that she’s already given three. A tremble nearly slinks down the knobs of her spine at the thought. The tape unsticks from the roll as the dominant works it back over her thigh.

Isla blinks, her lashes brushing over the innermost of the lace, squeezed to her face in its tightening against the sheets. She chimes, for good measure, “And. I’m all good. You don’t have to …be nice.”

His handiwork pauses. And his cadence, rasped like sandpaper, slow like seeping molasses, sweet like syrup, nearly causes her to drown in it all. He sounds …hungry, for the first time in the night since they’d explored her fantasies in the verdant armchair, when he tells her, “I don’t intend to be.”

That’s — shit. Okay. Then, Eros smooths his palm down the back of her thigh and ponders, aloud, “Can you give me five, d’you think?”

Five. That’s a …milestone.

Isla blinks. Warmth coils in her at the suggestion, instantly, hunger unsatiated as if she hadn’t just endured the three course meal of three orgasms, back to back. Her throat feels dry, like her mouth’s been stuffed by cotton.

“I can — I can try,” she swallows, “Sir.”

“There’s a good girl,” the man hums, pleased by her answer, and he sits back a bit, rewarding her with a loud smack that siphons a gasp and a jerk in the restraints from her. A ruddy splotch teems over the surface of her skin — tinges shaped by his open palm. He gives her another, just over where the first had landed, and Isla releases a girlish grunt in response, rocking forward. A third, then, and with the opposite hand, he toggles the toy on. Harry watches every muscle in her body tense, at that.

The newfound pleasure, post the break, feels almost as if spawning from square one. Not entirely — there’s still that nagging reminder deep within her nervous system that she’s already spent so much for him (recovering from three takes, maybe, just a little longer than a span of minutes). But rather than numbing tingles enmeshed with knife-like, slicing pain, pleasure blooms quickly, radiating from between her thighs and coaxing the pit of her tummy to coil with something familiar and warm. And rather than sitting back like an audience member to enjoy the show, this time, the dominant seems interested in taking part — an active part, in fact. He smooths his palms over the globes of her ass, and every blow, falling in increments (when she seems to least expect it), sends jarring shocks through her nervous system that throw her entire comprehension of sensation for a loop. It doesn’t hurt — not at all, really. Instead, each hit enmeshes with the overpowering bliss from the rumbling against her core, and the only tinges of pain come from the eventual soreness that blooms. But it makes her wetter, hotter, more sensitive, and, eventually—

“Sir!” Isla’s eyes squeeze shut as the beginnings of the flame lick at her, “Can I—“

And then one of his palms squeezes into one of her hips and the opposite smacks her again — and, fuck. Isla can’t bridle her strangled sound when he tells her, “Cum.” The wave washes over her like water crashing over jagged rock.

The discomfort that flourishes as the weak bout of ecstasy recedes is not …horrific, per se, but it certainly reminds her that this isn’t her first, and, just as it’d been strung up prior to the break, her body becomes launched into a frenzied state of escape. Five. Why did she agree to try for five? Isla whimpers, her thighs trembling in desperation. And, as if to allay her worries (or perhaps to spur them further), Harry just delivers another strike. And then again, and again, and again, and again.

“Sir,” the submissive whines, a plea (for more? for less?), tears gathering over her waterline like rain in a gutter.

“Say it with me now, go on, darling, I will not,” the volume of his cadence climbs up the stairwell as he smacks her and digs the pads of pleather-clad digits into her skin. Her brows pinch when his mean affections don’t abate, when she aches everywhere to please him, and she sobs.

“I will— will not,” Isla hiccups, sniffles, sobs, pleads for more of his aggressive attention. More, more, more, please.

“Cum without permission,” Eros waits for her to parrot the dialogue before he toggles the setting on the vibrator pressed within her to a higher setting and her sentence cuts off into a high, loud moan. Perhaps of pleasure, perhaps of pain, and probably a solid concoction of both.

He talks over her nonetheless, “I will not cum without permission,” he says it until she’s up to par and mimics, in unison, “I will not cum without permission.”

“What—“ Isla keens as the dominant smacks her again, and her arms strain in the restraints, shackled to the slim pole between her ankles, “—will you not do?”

“I will not cum without permission!” the young woman responds, her cadence breaking into a sob as the toy buzzes incessantly, nuzzled to her overstimulated clit.

“You will not,” Eros agrees and assures her, tone unwavering despite her sobs, “and I will make sure you remember this lesson very, very well.”

By the time she really starts approaching the fifth crest, Harry’s faltered on the follow through of the blows, just sort of admiring the marks, in lieu, like a rabid animal. He’s nearly foaming at the mouth. The dominant traces the pad of his forefinger over a curve, entranced, and nearly misses her shrill plea entirely.

“I’m—“

“Cum,” he demands, pupils roving over her hips, over her sticky thighs, between her legs where she clenches emptily, helplessly, drinking in her cry like an audible variation of nectar.

The burst of pleasure is as short-lived as Isla can imagine, like the most anti-climatic climax of all time. It tears through her, severing her seams, and dwindles almost immediately for a dull ache to settle in its place. Except, this one isn't dull at all. It’s sharp, and it sends her nerve endings into pure angst. She freezes up, her muscles quivering, tensed like the string of a bow just waiting to snap, and she can’t even make out discernable request for him to turn the wand off. All that slips from her is a string of incoherent, muffled sounds, and then the rumbling ceases. Isla pants, her heartbeat so frantic she can feel it in the tip of her tongue. It pulses through her neck, through her appendages, tingling in their cuffs. It slinks through her stomach, through her fingers, it rattles her ribcage as the organ pumps rapidly.

She doesn’t realize the cuffs are gone until she feels herself being manhandled, onto her side, and then onto her back. The dominant slips off the bed, standing at the foot, and wraps his arms around the backs of her thighs as he yanks her toward him. And Isla just splays like a ragdoll. She watches him watch her, her legs flopping and her soles planting against the mattress, knees bent. The submissive tells him, then, cadence soft and dry as if she hasn’t drunk in days, “Please.”

Her chest rises and falls, almost in tune with the slow clink of his belt buckle as he opens it, nimbly, with one gloved palm as the opposite strokes over her knee. His eyes glint like green embers — hungry with want like fire kindling in a forest. Contained in a campfire, for now, just yearning to swallow the branches and brush in flame. Her own pupils shift to his belt buckle. He draws the belt out.

“Please.”

Finally, some give in his otherwise hardened features — his mouth quirks as he tips his chin towards his trousers, utilizing both hands to pop the button and tug down the zipper.

“Please? What, you wanna bounce on my cock, a bit? Gave you five orgasms, and you’re still desperate for it, like a slut.”

Her inhale is tremble-y as she watches him cull a condom, tucked away in its wrapper — red, this time, unlike his usual. His mouth purses as he flips it, rotating between his fingertips.

“Funny,” Harry shoots a glance her way, “This one’s cherry.”

Want a taste, she nearly expects him to jest, memorable remnants of their first one-on-one scene floating to the forefront of her mind. He doesn’t. He goes quiet, and looks awfully concentrated. Isla exhales at the sight of him untucking his cock from its confines, at the view of him tearing the wrapper open with his teeth, and the image of him rolling the condom down his shaft. He takes his hands away, and his cock bobs. The young woman’s chest rolls as he lines himself up with her core, and she jerks when he swipes the head from where she gushes and leaks to where she’s swollen and sensitive. Jade flickers up to face her.

“Gonna be a good girl and follow the rules from now on?” he croons, his voice a bit strained given that he’s been aching for fuck her for the entirety of the session.

The submissive nods, weakly. More than anything, it’s a mindless jerk of her chin. She tenses when he nudges into her. And the stretch is — it’s euphoric. She feels like pure euphoria to him, her spongy walls squeezing over his tip as if they’re two puzzle pieces destined to slot together. A perfect fit. A tight one. His teeth clench, and he hisses and he slides further, unable to curb his groan halfway to the hilt.

“Fuck.”

Isla spasms over him, over the perfect drag, over the perfect stretch. He buries in, sheathing his cock in its entirety until she hugs every last inch, and his fingers fondle over her thigh as he lifts her legs to plant her calves against his shoulders.

“Please,” Isla says again, her hips shifting like she’s eager for him to move.

His mouth twitches. He huffs, reining the instinct to hammer into her as his stomach swirls with want and his mind swims with defiling filth. “Look at you. Desperate to cum. Desperate for attention — for anyone’s attention,” he tacks on pointedly, a dig made as her little rendezvous back at the bar, and Isla’s irises nearly roll back into her head as he withdraws, just a smidge, and pumps forward harshly. Harry grunts. “Just a desperate, little thing. Aren’t you?”

All Isla can manage, as his hips work into a steady pace, is a wordless part of her lips.

“Answer me,” the dominant demands, tone hard.

“No,” the submissive manages out, eventually, and his hips stutter. She whines, bracing her calves against his shoulders to grind wantonly. Case and point.

A wryly amused crease works over his brow bone, behind latex, and his pace becomes stifled to nothing, “No?”

Isla whines, frantically, rolling her hips and squeezing over his length, until he scoffs, throws her legs off of him unceremoniously, and leans down in the newfound space to press her cheeks between his digits harshly.

“No? What the fuck are you doing right now? Grinding on me, like a desperate whore.”

Her breaths are shallow, and she expels, again, a denial. His takes his hand away, just a smidge, and then pats, once, over the fleshy part of her cheek with his open palm splaying — it’s borderline harsh enough to be considered a slap. Isla groans, and the dominant feels the aftermath manifest as a frantic spasm over his cock.

“No?” he repeats, voice low and soft.

“No,” Isla tells him, for the third time. So, he lifts his hand back and does it again, this time a little firmer. Her hips cant as she muzzles a soft sound with her lips, glued together.

“Don’t want anyone’s attention,” the young woman tells him from below, then, her inflection borderline frenzied, “just want yours.”

Slowly, the plush strawberry of his mouth quirks and curls up. His ego swells, and the man pulls his hips back, just a smidge, and pummels forward — a reward, for her, and she’s aware. “S’that right?”

“Yes, Sir,” Isla cranes her neck back against the comforter when he pushes off of her, picks her legs back up, and melts back into a sure, satisfying tempo, his hips pumping relentlessly. It’s the best. He’s the best.

The dominant takes her ankles in one palm — how the fuck does he do that, Isla thinks, his hand is so large, and strong, and—

“Fuck, baby, f’you could just see the way we fit together — s’like a fucking match made in heaven,” he throws his head back with a groan post taking in the view of her cunt swallowing him up, coated in cherry-flavored, red latex. His shoulders roll as a shudder wracks down the knobs of his spine, and he separates her ankles off with his hands, setting them into a spread, against the bed, gently. He pushes her knees back until the front of her thighs nearly brush over the sheets, and braces himself with his palms on either side of her head as he works into a hammer.

“He fuck you like—“ Harry grunts as his hips swivel, and Isla watches, entranced, the plush of his lips part on shallow breaths, his grin wicked and twitchy in response to her little sounds, “this? Give you what you want? What you need?”

She doesn’t have to inquire to know that he’s talking about Faunus — still on about Faunus.

“No,” Isla tells him, soft and breathy, And he rewards her, again, by pumping forward, harder, faster, deeper, and groaning, soft huffs suffusing his speech.

“No? Doesn’t stretch this snug little cunt out the way you need? Who does?”

“You — just you,” she keens as the entire mattress rocks beneath her.

“Just me?” his tongue sticks to the tips of his front teeth as he pummels forward and punches a little gasp out of her, “Who does this sweet, little cunt belong to?”

“You — Sir!”

“That’s right. S’my cunt. Mine to fuck, mine to tease, mine to kiss,” his gaze flickers down between them, where they connect, and the sight alone nearly has his balls draining. His hand ventures, and fingertips rub over the bundle of nerve endings in a way that has her tensing and crying out.

“My clit. Isn’t it?” He switches to a thumb, swiping over it, and his jaw falls open as he watches her pulse over his shaft while her head thrashes above, her teeth clenched and grinding in a pained frenzy. She’s quite pretty, overstimulated, too.

“And that means,” the left corner of his mouth buckles up, his speech glazed with condescension, “I can do whatever I want to it, right?”

As soon as his touch abates, Isla can no longer restrain herself. She digs the pads of her fingers onto his placket, into the empty spaces between the buttons of his shirt and the slits where they’re looped, clenching a fist as she raises herself and tugs him down. And before the dominant has the opportunity to scold her for treating his dress shirt with such an unshackled lack of care, she meshes their mouths together. Harry’s arms nearly buckle.

It’s filthy — but not at first. At first, he doesn’t return it, appalled by the gesture. Because it’s a limit, according to her, it’s her limit, because it’s too personal, and she’s just broken it herself. Because she just couldn’t hold back anymore, and in the fervor with which she kisses him, that shit is pretty evident. But then, he does return it. His lips move, and he moans against her strawberry mouth, and then her lips part, and from there it’s just …lewd. They’re sort of in the middle of active intercourse, Isla thinks, so a kiss shouldn’t make her feel so dirty — but it does. It’s not a dainty first kiss of first loves and soft touches and curious experimentation. It’s thrilling, and dirty, and his tongue slips into her mouth after she brushes her own against his bottom lip, and one of her hands tangles into his dress shirt while the opposite presses against his shoulder as if aiming to work out a fucking knot with the pressure. She whimpers against him, wetly, and in turn he groans and nips at her bottom lip with his teeth, his cock pulsing inside of her. And then it’s all teeth, and tongues, and want, want, want, as his hips hammer against her. It’s wanton moans, and whimpers, and rugged groans. It’s everything she’s been yearning for, and more.

“Open your mouth, open your mouth,” Harry urges, pulling off a bit and slinking a hand over her cheek, “Tongue out.”

She complies, and then a rivulet of spit dribbles from his mouth against her twitching tongue, and that’s just—

“Fuck,” Harry groans, his hips rolling against her, “You’re fucking filthy. Swallow it.”

So she does, her throat bobs below his palm, which slinks to cradle over her windpipe — not squeezing, just …there. She moans, soft and melty and desperate as his hips roll into her. And then Harry exhales, takes his hand off of her throat, and plants his palms on either side of her head to raise himself, hovering over her. He sighs like the experience is too pornographic to even comment upon. It sort of is.

“Dirty fucking girl,” the dominant settles on, eventually. And then he plows her like fucking farmland.

Her palms roam, frantically, over the fabric covering his back, the craving to leave marks of her own with short nails swelling through her mind, as he pumps forward, until it’s the only thought fathomable. It’s that — and the sick urge to spit into his own strawberry mouth, to have him leant back against the sheets, bare beneath her as she works and bounces over his cock.

Christ.

She’s warm, and wet, and heaven, and Harry imagines that his own personal Nirvana, then, would involve nothing but her cunt squeezing over his cock for the rest of eternity, her skin sticky with sweat beneath him, and her muscles quivering as he imbibes and basks. She is, in the moment, everything he wants and everything he’s ever wanted. Everything he ever will want, maybe. Because sex with Isla was — well. It was something else. Something rapturous, something sick and twisted, something he imagines he could never grow tired of. Ever.

His muscles do, though. Eventually. He feels the ache start in his hamstrings, in his shoulders, in his neck from its crane to gaze down upon her, because he just can’t tear his irises away — it’d be a cardinal sin to miss the view of a lifetime, afterall, Harry thinks. And along with the ache of his muscles comes the familiar chip in his resolve — cracks surfacing as he begins to become rended apart. He feels that in his stomach, first and foremost, in the trench of his tummy as his muscles tense — then, on the underside of his balls, a pleasured warmth that radiates as he pulses, and finally it seeps through his shaft. She squeezes over him, like she knows, and he almost loses it, then and there. He drives into her frantically, groaning animalistically as his body chases release almost on its own accord.

“Shit — always milk my cock so good, baby. Gonna— FUCK—“

Isla moans, soft beneath him, when she feels the warmth of his release, confined by the stupid cherry-flavored condom. When she feels his cock pulsing in her, when she feels his tempo slow, when he gives her a few last, weak strokes. When his head dips and he blows out a long breath, grunting as he pulls back and slips out, when she feels nothing but emptiness.

“Sir,” she starts, soft, soft, soft, and the rough exterior, the paramountcy-hungered, hard shell of his demeanor splinters and falls apart.

“So sweet for me,” Harry says, voice coated in candy, tucking strands back from her sweaty hairline, “Aren’t you? Always so eager to be good for me.”

Isla whimpers. Harry coos, shushing her with soft croons for a moment, until he pulls back and starts untucking himself from the condom and clearing up a bit.

“Always make me happy, always such a good girl. Take everything I give you and more, so well,” the man tells her, his pupils bouncing from his cock to her face as he cautiously rolls the condom off, “Hold on just a minute, baby, and we’ll have a cuddle, alright?”

He stows the condom away in its wrapper after he’s tucked himself away, and he contemplates making the short walk to the trashcan by the electric water thing against the wall. Ultimately, the dominant decides against it when she whines, needy for him and in need. Instead, he sets it off to the side, on the nightstand, as he turns back to her, lips twitching up into a little grin.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he starts, kneeing his way back onto the bed to sit beside her and hover, his hand stroking over her cheek, the side of her head, over her ear, down the side of her neck, “Gave me five today. Made me so proud.”

Isla just nods against his gloved palm, her sigh dreamy. Did she? Five, really? What an exciting and, frankly, impressive number. It’s all sort of a bliss of euphoria. She feels it, the headspace, the kind where she’s buzzing and floaty and her mind drifts and bobs about the walls aimlessly. The kind where all she can fathom is that she wants to be close to him. And it really hits her when Eros coaxes, “Can you sit up for me, pet?”

Absolutely not.

She shakes her head at him, wordlessly, and his mouth quirks with an endeared scoff, and the young woman nearly whines until he slips onto his side beside her to cradle her close. For a minute, he just lays near her, his chest to her side as he pets and caresses over her waist, and eventually he rolls to his own back and beckons, “Come here, baby,” holding her close as she shifts her head onto the space just over his butterfly.

Harry stares at the ceiling. All is well.

All is well, and it happens nearly out of the blue, brought about from a murky horizon, unforeseen. Because in their nights together, Isla cries — she always cries, and sometimes, when Harry cradles her close, he coddles her out of soft sobs that wrack her body post an intense scene. But those are traces. Remnants. They’re aftermath. The unanticipated is a fresh wave.

And Isla feels it coming on. She feels it settling in her chest, first, bursts and blooms of sadness, like the kind where you feel nostalgic, missing something. Then, her eyes. They already feel puffy and swollen, but they start to burn in the back. Her throat feels tight. And that sadness creeps deeper and settles.

Because she sort of feels she’s living through the nostalgia, then and there, in the moment. Like she’ll never relive it again.

Isla lays her head over his heartbeat and starts to cry.

TDIAG MASTERLIST HERE

#dom harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles wattpad #harry styles writing #harry styles dirty fanfiction #harry styles x oc #dom!harry #dom!harry x sub!reader #tdiag

200 notes · View notes