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gretavangroupie · 3 months

Text

Errant

Word count: 16.0k

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Fighting, Name Calling, Toxic Themes and Behavior, Allusions to Cheating, Jealousy, Anger, Gaslighting. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Degradation, Slight Masochism, Slight Humiliation Kink, Spanking, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex. Fluff.

A/N: Hey! Welcome back for the third installment of the four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We've had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Josh's story! This may not be everyones cup of tea, so make sure you read the warnings! There's only one left now, and we can't wait to share Jake's story with you! See you real soon!

JOSH POV

You sit on the exam table, gently swinging your feet as the doctor scribbles on his prescription pad. The paper underneath you crinkles, your clammy hands getting stuck to it.

“It’s looking like the perforation is healing, but I’m going to give you some antibiotics and ear drops. You’ll take the antibiotics for 10 days and the drops for 5.” He tears off the prescription and hands it to you. “Just be sure you aren’t drinking and you avoid getting any water in or around your ears.”

You scrunch up your nose when you hear the pointed reminder not to drink.

“Thank you, doc. I’ll be on my best behavior.” You joke, hopping down from the table. Your sneakers squeak as you stick the landing.

Navigating through the back halls of the ENT practice, you follow the signs that direct you to the check-out. It’s eerily quiet as you walk through the waiting room and out of the front doors. The sun nearly blinds you when you get outside, so you lift your hand to block it out while you search for your girlfriend’s car.

Spotting her a few rows into the parking lot, you walk in her direction, knocking softly on the window once you’re close enough. She unlocks the door and you slip inside, the car next to her parked a little too close. She sighs, shifting from park to drive while you buckle your seatbelt.

“How was it?” she asks, her enthusiasm lacking. You look over at her as she cranes her neck to check that the way is clear before she pulls out of her parking spot.

“Well, it was fine.” You take a deep breath before continuing. “I have to take antibiotics and put in ear drops for a few days, so you might have to help me with that. I can keep taking the pain meds that the doctor I originally saw prescribed, but the pain should subside as I heal.”

She nods, keeping the radio volume low. The only time she doesn’t sing in the car is when she’s upset, and you know the song currently playing is one of her favorites. So, you seal your fate and ask the dreaded question in every relationship.

“What’s wrong?”

She huffs and thinks for a moment before she answers.

“You know it’s Valentine’s day, right?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess it is.” You’ve never put much stock in the holiday and you didn’t think she did either. The last two years, you hadn’t ever done more than get her some flowers or chocolates delivered, mostly because you weren’t around.

“I just… I don’t know, it’s the first one we’ve been able to spend together and we’re spending the day going to the doctor and the pharmacy…”

“Oh, so you’re mad that you had to bring me to the doctor?” you ask, a little defensive now.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Josh. I’m just saying I wish we were doing more than running errands.” She speaks curtly to you, and honestly, it’s a little condescending.

“It’s a made up holiday anyway. I’ve never bought into all the hearts and candy and bullshit. I didn’t think you did either.” You rest your head on your hand, looking out the window as she drives a little too fast down the freeway.

“It’s not about that. You’re not getting it.” she snaps, her tone whiny and frustrated.

“Listen. I had my assistant send you chocolate covered strawberries to your office. I don’t really know what else you want from me.” you bite back. You’ve had enough of this argument and want to be home already so you can take something for your pain and try to get some rest.

“I didn’t even know that, seeing as I had to call out and use a sick day to take you to the doctor.” she says, and you feel your scalp get hot, your temper flaring.

“So you are mad you had to bring me to the doctor.”

“I just don’t understand what a ruptured eardrum has to do with driving!” she says, her voice raising a bit. “You didn’t take your pain meds this morning so you technically would have been fine to drive… I just don’t appreciate that I had to use my PTO on Valentine’s day and all I’m doing is driving Miss Daisy.”

“I don’t know if you realize this, but I’m in a lot of fucking pain.” you grit out, and she scoffs a laugh.

“Yeah. I’ve heard.”

You know you’re about to lose it, so you close your eyes for a moment, gathering your composure. Unfortunately, she just keeps going.

“I thought I was going to spend my Valentine’s day getting bitten and scratched by your brother’s awful fucking cat, but now that you’re all home, I get to spend my evening dealing with you while you’re miserable and in pain, and I’m not sure which is worse.”

“You act like I’m home on some vacation… I have a work function tomorrow even if I’m not out at the shows, so–”

“Are you kidding me?! You somehow have MORE obligations now that you’re home? I guess I’m the fool for thinking we would have more than a few hours to spend together.” She cuts the wheel and turns sharply into your driveway. You grab the handle of the door and grumble under your breath at the way she’s driving like a maniac.

“Look, it’s not like I asked to go. Jake and Danny did the last one, so now Sam and I are stuck going tomorrow. It’s supposed to be nice. It’s a fancy thing, dinner and drinks. I figured you would be my date.”

You watch her turn off the car and think for a moment, the word “date” appealing to her a little bit, which is exactly what you had hoped.

“Come on. I missed you and I feel like shit and you’re… you’re all prickly. Can’t we just have a nice night in? I’ll make it up to you. I just want to take a nap.”

She seems to be thinking about it as she gets out of the car. You unbuckle your seatbelt and follow suit, walking around to her side and reaching for her hand. Tugging her closer, you wrap your other arm around her shoulders and kiss her on the side of her head with some force.

“Okay, okay…” she relents, leaning in to you.

“I love you. You’re still my Valentine, right?” you ask, nuzzling your nose into her hair and squeezing her tighter. It works up a little giggle out of her, which means you’re in the clear.

“I guess so. You didn’t even ask me.”

You squeeze her again, this time digging your fingertips into her sides to tickle another laugh out of her.

“It was on the card that came with the strawberries, obviously.” you quip, peppering her cheek and neck in kisses while she continues to soften up.

“Oh, get out of here. Go take your damn nap.” she says with a smile, turning you by the shoulders towards the house and pushing gently.

—

HER POV

You hear the soft padding of feet upstairs and the whip of the flat sheet as your bed is remade, pulling your attention away from your computer screen as you send off emails. The sun is set now, the room cast in darkness, and you figure Josh has slept off the fatigue that was a result of his medications. You gently close your computer, setting it next to you on the couch as you hear his feet walking slowly down the stairs. You turn to lay eyes on him, looking a little worse for wear in his low slung joggers, but still glowing as usual.

“Hey baby, you feel any better?” you ask, resting your chin on the back of the fluffy leather couch cushion.

“No. Not really, but it’s fine.” he pauses, reaching the landing and walking up to the back of the couch. He pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time, “You want to get ready, we can go grab dinner?” he asks, running a hand over his messy curls.

“I would love to, but are you sure you want to?” you ask, a little surprised that he actually wants to go out.

“Yeah, I have to eat with these antibiotics.” he says, pushing off the couch, and heading into the kitchen. “How long do you need to get ready?”

“Um, I don’t know, twenty minutes or so?” you answer, standing quickly and grabbing your phone from the coffee table.

“Alright, I’ll be up there to change in a minute.”

You take the stairs two at a time, rounding the corner into your bedroom, and dashing into the closet. You finger through your hangers searching for the perfect outfit, the idea not occurring to you that you’d need one since he wasn’t even supposed to be home for Valentine’s day this year.

You pull a dark burgundy top from the hanger, the thick sweater material perfect for the cold snap that has swept over Nashville this week. You pull your t-shirt over your head and put it on while reaching for a pair of dark wash jeans. After shimmying into the denim pants, you find a pair of heels, kicking off your socks and securing the buckle at your ankle.

You make a mad dash into the bathroom, doing a quick version of your normal make up and running a curling iron through your hair. You’re spraying your wrist with his favorite perfume just as you see him walk past the bathroom door and into the closet. You can hear him changing clothes, grabbing his coat and pulling it over his arms as he steps into the bathroom and meets your gaze in the mirror.

“Wow, uh, you know it’s freezing out, right? Actually, colder than freezing.” he says, adjusting his sleeves.

“Yeah, I’ll grab my coat from the closet down stairs, no big deal.” you answer, walking towards him and shutting off the bathroom light.

“You sure you want to wear heels?” he asks, as he ushers you downstairs, a lilt in his voice.

You open the coat closet, grabbing your jacket and pulling it over your arms. “Yeah, why not?”

He throws his hands up, “Just asking…”

You grab your purse from the kitchen counter, following his lead out to the car. He makes a point to open your car door, shutting it behind you before skittering across the front of the car to join you.

With the turn of his keys, his Jeep roars to life, his fingers quickly pressing the buttons to turn on the heat. He puts the car in reverse, backing up enough to turn around in the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath his tires. He lays his hand over top of yours on your thigh, clasping your hand in his. He licks over his lips and turns to look at you.

“Hey,” he pauses, waiting until he has your attention. You let your eyes meet his, before he refocuses on the road. “I’m sorry about earlier… I just have a short fuse when I’m in pain. Thank you for taking me today, and thanks for taking care of me.”

“Oh, it’s– it’s okay, I know you don’t feel good. Don’t worry about it, baby. We’re here now, right?” you say, offering him a lopsided smile.

He pats your thigh as he drives down the road, leading you into town as he mouths the words to the songs playing through the speakers. Your heart flutters as you look at him, your head tilting back to rest on the headrest, just happy to be with him, and happy that he changed his mind about doing something tonight.

You’re quickly pulled from your daydreams as he whips the car into the parking lot of Phil’s Tavern, a local spot that is not exactly known for its phenomenal cuisine, sitting a whopping 5 minutes away from your home. You sit up a little straighter, making sure you’re seeing this right, and that he really is parking the car.

“Phil’s…” you question, turning to look at him.

“...Yeah? Did you want something else…?” he asks, as if annoyed you’d question his decision.

“You said– You– I thought we were going to dinner, not picking up sandwiches from the fucking neighborhood bar?!” you shout.

“I’m not getting a sandwich. I’m getting soup. You can get whatever you want.” he says, pulling his keys from the ignition, and opening his door.

A huff leaves your mouth as your jaw hangs slack, watching in shock as he shuts the door behind himself and makes his way to yours. He opens yours and offers you a hand to step down, but you’re still sitting in shock that this is his idea of a romantic Valentine’s day date.

“Josh…” you admonish, looking down at your heels and sweater.

“What? I asked you if you wanted to wear that and you said yes!” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah! I didn’t think we were going to fucking Phil’s, Josh! It’s Valentine’s Day! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there aren’t a lot of cars in the parking lot?!”

He clicks his tongue, and looks around. “Perfect, then we have the place to ourselves.”

Your eyes close on their own and you take a deep breath to keep yourself from having a meltdown. You grab your purse from the floorboard and grab his hand, stepping out of the car and snatching it away from him as soon as your feet hit the gravel.

He shuts the door behind you and locks the car, the two of you walking quickly into the dimly lit bar and grill. You walk up to the counter to order, watching as the bartender throws back a shot with the guys at the end of the bar. You catch his attention and he rushes over to the order counter pulling a pen out of his pocket. “What can I get ‘cha?”

“Hey man, can we uh– I’ll take the soup of the day, whatever it is is fine.”

“It’s ahh, it’s Chicken Tortilla.” he answers.

“Yeah, that’s great, thanks.” he answers, pulling his wallet from his pocket. “Babe?” he murmurs, wanting you to order.

“Okay, I’ll do a Cuban, extra pickles.” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

He nods, “Outta Cuban bread, sorry sweets.”

“Okay I’ll do the Italian then.” you concede, watching him scribble it down on the notepad.

“You want that hot or cold?” he asks.

“Hot.”

“Think our press is down, but I can check.” he says, turning to shout towards the kitchen.

“It’s down, is cold fine?” he asks, him and Josh both staring at you.

“Fuck.” you mutter under your breath. “Yes, fine.”

“$17.97.” he says, ringing the service bell for the staff. Josh swipes his card through the card reader and puts it back into his wallet, placing it back in his pocket before thanking the man at the counter.

“Oh shit, I didn’t tell him it’s to go. You don’t care if we take it home, right? It’s a little loud in here.” he doesn't give you a chance to answer before stepping back up to the window.

You pull your phone from your purse, opening Instagram to mindlessly scroll while you wait for your food, seeing story after story of the dates your friends are on, fueling your rage all the more. You didn’t care that you weren’t at a fancy restaurant. You didn’t care that you were having a sandwich. You cared that he seemingly didn’t care about how you were feeling. That it was just any other old day to him, simply because he didn’t subscribe to the holiday. But that didn’t mean you didn’t. You tried to see the bright side, that he was home, and that you were at least together, even if he was in a sour mood.

He steps back over to you, pulling his own phone from his pocket and sending a few texts. You can’t help but notice how carefree he is, completely unbothered and oblivious to how you’re feeling as you stand right next to him.

“You wanna watch a movie or something when we get back?” he asks, putting his phone in his jacket pocket.

“What movie?” you ask, raising a brow.

“I don’t know, a documentary? We can find something, I’ll probably fall asleep watching it anyways.”

You huff out a laugh, “Of course. Yeah, whatever you want Josh.”

“What’s your deal tonight, Y/N, Jesus…”

You feel your blood boiling beneath your skin and just as you are about to unleash, the order bell rings and a brown paper bag is placed on the counter. Josh steps up and grabs it, pulling his car keys from his pocket and heading for the door, leaving you to follow behind him.

—

He pulls into the driveway rapidly, rocks flying as he throws the car into park. Shutting off the engine he pulls his keys from the ignition and grabs the brown paper bag from the center console. “Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll start the fireplace.”

You huff as you step out of the car, making your way up the walkway, pulling the sleeves of your coat over your hands. He unlocks the front door and places the to-go bag on the kitchen counter on his way to the living room.

You take off your coat and hang it in the closet, pulling your foot up to release the buckles of your heels, letting you drop back down to your normal height. You can hear him mumbling in the living room, clearly having a hard time getting the fire lit. You walk into the kitchen grabbing a bottle of red wine off the top of the fridge, and searching around the junk drawer for the corkscrew. It’s no time at all before you’re popping the cork out of the bottle and pouring the Merlot into a bulbous green colored wine glass.

He joins you in the kitchen, washing his hands in the sink before looking over at you, starting to take the first sip of your wine. “Really? You’re serious…”

“Serious, what? About this glass of wine? Yeah, I am.” you quip, swallowing down the first sip.

“You’re really gonna drink my favorite wine, right in front of me when you know I can’t have any? What are you playing at tonight, Y/N?” he seethes, pulling his plastic container of soup from the bag.

“What am I playing at? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that just because you can’t drink, meant that I had to follow suit! My mistake!” you shout, setting the glass down on the marble countertop maybe a little more forcefully than you should have.

He shakes his head trying to rid the nasty thoughts you know are swirling around up there as he pulls a spoon from the utensil drawer. “Whatever, I’m gonna take this to the couch.”

You grab a plate from the cabinet in front of you, unwrapping your sandwich and placing it on the plate. You look over and see him tinkering with the TV remote, no doubt queueing up something the two of you have watched, studied, and rewatched a hundred times. You grab your wine glass and your plate and join him in the living room, setting your items on the coffee table before sitting at the opposite end of the couch.

The tension in the air is thick, neither of you wanting to say anything for fear of it turning into yet another argument. So instead, he presses play on the remote, and as suspected, ‘Kubrick by Kubrick’ begins to play for the 77th time in this household.

“Josh, really…” you whine, your shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I don’t want to get too invested in anything, I’m gonna pass out as soon as I finish this soup.” he answers, turning up the volume to effectively silence you.

“Can’t we watch something, I don’t know… With a plot? With a shred of romance? That we haven’t seen a hundred times?” you barter, talking over the intro music.

“Can’t you just let me enjoy being home for once?” he snaps, pressing pause on the remote.

Your eyes dial in on his, and almost poetically, you’re positive he can see the reflection of the flames in the fireplace dancing across your infuriated eyes.

“For once…” you breathe, biting your tongue. “Sure, sure. You uh– you just enjoy yourself, okay? I would hate to ruin your time at home with my presence.” you say, standing up from the couch with your wine glass in hand, leaving your sandwich laying there as you bound up the stairs.

Before you even reach the top you hear the music blare back to life, and the slurping of the soup from his spoon. If you had a bedroom door you would slam it but fucking of course, you don’t.

You place your wine glass on your nightstand before walking into your closet ridding yourself of the wasted outfit. You pull a slinky black satin slip from your pajama drawer, dropping it over your bare body before padding back out to the bedroom to close the curtains.

You draw back the fluffy flax colored duvet, thinking of nothing but positively melting into your olive green linen sheets; a Christmas splurge the two of you decided you couldn’t live without. Sinking down into the feather pillows you let out a sigh, finding yourself exactly where you expected to be tonight, before you ever knew Josh was coming home for a few days.

You settle in with your glass of wine and your kindle, reading love stories of men, who at this point, you were sure didn’t really exist. An hour or so later, when the wine was long gone, and the house had grown quiet you heard the front door lock, and the flick of the light switches downstairs. You switched off your lamp, hoping to avoid any further conversation for the night, placing your tablet on the nightstand and pulling the sheets up over your shoulders.

His footfall is light as he pads up the wooden stairs, rounding the corner hesitantly as he catches sight of you in the bed. He slides his hand down the wall as he enters the room, walking quietly into the bathroom and shutting the door. You can hear the sink running and the sound of him tossing his clothes into the hamper as you close your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep.

It’s not long until you hear the door open and feel the dip in the bed as he slides in behind you, a gentle sigh leaving his lips as he sinks into the sheets. You feel the brush of his knuckles as they glide up your spine. “I know you’re not asleep, my love…”

Knowing you’re caught, you turn softly to your back, “No, you don’t know. I could have been.”

A soft smile forms on his lips, a few misplaced curls falling over his forehead, “Not true. I know you fall asleep with your arms over your head every single night. And in the middle of the bed. You never sleep on your side of the bed.”

“Well maybe I want to tonight.” you quip, rolling back to your side and repositioning the sheets.

“Come on baby, don’t be like that.” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist. He pulls you towards him, his obviously nude body conforming to yours. You can feel him, hard against your back and you push away from him.

“Josh…” you scold.

“What, baby…” he asks, running his hand along the curve of your waist. “I miss you…”

“You didn’t an hour ago!” you sneer.

“Yes I did! I miss you all the time! Every single day I’m away from you. That’s why you moved in, remember? So I could spend every day with you when I’m home?” he pauses, “Every night like this?”

“Josh, I just– Tonight was… Well the entire day, really, was rough. I’m not exactly in a romantic mood at the moment.” you answer.

“Well that’s okay, you can just blow me instead.” he says, more of a demand than a question, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

“Oh can I?! How generous of you to offer that to me! What a privilege!” you mock. “You really have earned it, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this myself!” you scorn, reaching for his hand and shoving it towards his dick. “Try that instead!”

“Goddamn you’re being such a bitch!” he seethes, throwing the duvet off of himself and snatching his phone from the nightstand.

“Yeah! Happy Valentine’s day to you too, Josh!” you spit one last time as you watch him pull on a pair of boxers. He smooths his hand over his face and runs his tongue under his lips, looking at you one more time before stomping his way down the stairs.

—

JOSH POV

It took you approximately fourteen seconds after you said it to know you fucked up. It took you two more seconds to realize there was no coming back from it, at least that’s what you deduced as you tossed and turned on the living room couch all night. You spent those sleepless hours racking your brain for ways you could fix this. You were a dick, admittedly, in pain or not, and she in no way deserved the way you treated her.

You pulled your sore body up from the couch, tossing the throw blanket over the arm as you made your way up the stairs. She was still sleeping, sprawled across the middle of the bed with your pillow hugged to her face. You wished you could take back what you said. You wished you had taken her somewhere nicer than Phil’s. You should have known that when you saw her in heels and smelled your favorite perfume. She dressed up for you. But you couldn’t see past your own selfish needs. You only cared about yourself and what you wanted.

You kicked yourself the entire time you spent under the spray of the shower, knowing that of the three sporadic days you would spend at home with her, you’d let one go completely to shit. Then tonight, you’d spend the whole night schmoozing with label executives, where she would willingly stand in your shadow until it was time to go home.

Unless…

A smile spread across your face as you formulated your plan, and as you shut off the water and wrapped a towel around your waist you hoped and prayed it would work.

—

You rap your knuckles against the old wooden front door, peeking through the glass to see if there is any movement inside. It’s nearly noon and you know he’s in there, but whether or not he’s awake is the question. You shove your hands into your pockets, the cold air whipping through the porch a little too harshly for your liking.

You hear his footsteps bounding down the stairs and you see him appear through the glass, a strange look on his face as he opens the door.

“If you’re on my doorstep, you want something that a text wouldn’t cover.” he says, raising a brow.

“Can I not come visit my twin?” you ask, pushing past him into his warm house.

“No, I think your last words to me when we left the airport were ‘Fuck off, don’t call me, I’ll see you in three days’, but I could be mistaken.” he says, shutting the front door.

“Listen…” you counter, flopping yourself down onto his couch with a huff.

He stands across the living room with his hands on his hips and a small smile on his lips. There’s something different about him, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Almost like a little bit of life has been breathed into him.

“Why do you look different…” you ask, the intrusive thought pushing through.

“I don’t.” he says, putting his hands on his hips. His eyes flick up to the window behind you, before looking back at you.

You cut your eyes at him, you can tell he’s not telling the truth but you let it go because you have more important issues to deal with.

“I need a favor.” you say, cutting right to the chase.

He raises his eyebrows signaling for you to continue.

“I need you to go to this event tonight in my place, I–”

“No.” he shouts, cutting you off.

“Jake, please. Y/N and I got in a huge fight and I have to make it up to her and I can’t if I have to go to this fucking thing tonight.” you explain, giving him the shortened version.

“No. Actually, my answer is not only no, but fuck no.” Jake stood with his arms crossed across his chest. You let your head flop back onto his couch, a groan leaving your chest.

“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t fucking dire.” You plead. “I fucked up, and I have to make it right. Please Jake…”

“Jesus Christ, it’s Thanksgiving all over again. You know Josh, if you and Y/N didn’t fight like this every other day, I might be more willing to consider it. One day you’re gonna fuck around and lose her for good.” he says, shaking his head and rubbing his hand over his chin. “Hold on, you two fought on Valentine’s day? Fuckin’ poetic. What did you do, buy the wrong flowers? The wrong chocolates?”

“No, I… Didn’t get her flowers.” you mumble, hoping he didn’t hear you.

“Okay, so no flowers. Did you take her out to dinner or something?” he asks, tilting his head.

“No, I mean, well, kind of.” you mumble again. “Didn’t really think about it.”

“Where did you take her Josh.” he demands, crossing his arms again.

“We went to Phil’s…And got…To-go…” you answer, realizing again as you say it out loud how bad it sounds.

“The fucking sandwich place Josh, you’re kidding me…” he spits, starting to pace around the room.

“Don’t act all high and mighty Jacob, you sat home alone...” you retort, knowing this isn’t helping your case.

He lifts his finger to you, pointing at you with a scowl, “Fuck you. Also, it sounds like she was justified. Didn’t she take you to the doctor yesterday? Hasn’t she been catering to your ass since we’ve been back?”

“Yeah.” you answer.

“And you didn’t plan a single thing at all…” he confirms.

“Correct.” you say, over enunciating the ‘T’.

“Asshole.”

“Okay, so you agree, I fucked up and need to fix this.” you say, gesturing with your hands. “So go to the event tonight in my place and let me smooth things over with Y/N tonight.”

“Sorry, but I can’t. I have plans.” he answers, shrugging his shoulders.

“Plans?! With who? You don’t leave your house!” you shout, seeing a blur of black fur and claws tear across the living room. “Jesus, I always forget you have that thing.”

“Yeah, I’m not keeping it.” he says, shaking his head. “And it’s none of your business. You’re going to that event. The label doesn’t care if you’re in a fight with your girlfriend. They are expecting you, and you are who they’re gonna get. Plus, Sam will be there so you don’t have to do all the talking. Take her with you, lay it on thick, and take her home. Things will blow over like they always do and you’ll be back to your 2AM facetime gushy bullshit in no time.”

“Fuck…” you sigh, laying down across his couch. “I just don’t think it’s gonna go that way. This was a bigger fight than usual.” you say, feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket. You pull it out to see your timer flashing, indicating it is time for your next dose of antibiotics.

You reach into your other pocket, pulling out the loose pill, and grabbing the glass of water you assume to be Jake’s from the coffee table. You swallow down the pill as he watches in contempt, checking the time on his phone.

“Do you need anything else?” he asks, pacing around his living room.

“No. Guess fuckin’ not. What are you getting into today?” you ask, relaxing back into the cushions.

“I have… some errands to run. And a few other things.” he says, dismissively.

“Errands and a few other things? Who the fuck are you…” you ask, stretching your legs out on to the coffee table.

“I was about to take a shower, are you staying or going?” he asks, and as you lay your head back on the couch your eyes start to feel heavy.

“Just gonna rest my eyes for a minute.” you answer, getting more comfortable.

“Goddamnit, Josh… Okay, but you’re leaving when I do.”

—

The sound of the front door closing is what wakes you, and as you come to you see Jake standing in front of you with grocery bags, clearly back from his errands.

“Well, good morning.” he says, his tone a little snipped.

“Shit, what time is it?” you ask, pulling your phone from your pocket and checking the time. Fuck.

“Yeah, time for you to go the fuck home and get ready.” he says, making his way into the kitchen.

“Alright, I’m outta here, good luck with your… plans…” you smirk, making your way to the door.

“Don’t need luck, but sounds like you do. Fix it, Josh.” he says, pushing you out the front door and slamming it behind you.

—

HER POV

As you leave the house, you think back on how many hours it’s been since you spoke to Josh. He popped into the bedroom when he got home and let you know that you had to leave by 6 to get to the event on time, but you don’t really count that as a conversation. You hadn’t actually exchanged words since your argument before bed.

The two of you sit in complete silence as he drives, the radio turned down so low it’s barely audible. You hold your jacket close around you, unable to shake the chill from the awful cold snap plaguing Nashville.

As you arrive, Josh quickly gets out of his Jeep, jogging around to your door to open it and offer you a hand to step out. You accept it, begrudgingly, and steady yourself on the asphalt. You opted for smaller heels tonight, a little scorned from the night before. You look at him and see his slightly forced smile under the streetlight. He’s in his favorite brown suit, his hair in perfect curls, three tiny, metallic dots painted on the apples of his cheeks. He looks sinfully good, and if you weren’t so upset with him, you’d kiss him square on the lips.

“I know you don’t want to be here. Just… at least try to smile in the pictures, okay?” He says, a hopeful lilt to his voice.

You give him a little side-eye before starting to walk towards the front doors of the venue. He catches up with you after locking the car, his hand landing on your upper back as he ushers you into the front door he’s holding open for you.

The two of you wait in line for the coat check, your eyes scanning the lobby for anyone you may know. You don’t recognize anyone, so you shuffle ahead in line and keep your coat pulled tight around you. Once you’re a bit further up in line, almost to the front, you hear a familiar voice.

“Heeeeey guys!”

Sam’s arms wrap around both of you from behind, pulling you into a forced group hug. He unintentionally cuts the entire coat check line to stand with you and Josh.

“Hi Sammy,” you mumble, giving him a halfhearted smile. He looks to Josh, who forces a grin, his nose scrunching up in a way that makes it clear to Sam that the two of you aren’t getting along. It’s nothing new to Sam, so he shrugs it off.

The line moves again and you’re finally at the front. A friendly young girl is standing behind the podium at the entry to the closet, a few guys running back and forth to take coats and put them in their assigned spots. She offers the three of you a smile as she looks down and tears a tab in half.

“Can I take your coat, sir?” she asks Josh as you start to shrug your own off your shoulders.

“Ohoho, trying to get me out of my clothes, young lady? I just walked in the door!” he says, like he’s some sort of comedian. You roll your eyes so hard you think they may fall out of your head and fold your coat over your arm. She laughs, her cheeks turning pink as she accepts your coat instead. She dutifully hands the coat to the boy behind her, then offers the other half of the ticket up, between you and Josh for either to grab it.

“And now you’re trying to give me your number?” he jokes with a charismatic grin, seeing the number 107 on your ticket. She lets out a shameless giggle at that one and you can’t help but shake your head and walk away, uninterested in hearing any more of his god awful jokes. You arrived in a terrible mood and he’s already managed to make your night worse.

Passing through the entrance to the cocktail hour, you grab a glass of champagne and thank the server. Taking a big sip, you look behind you and see Sam and Josh approaching, Josh talking animatedly with his hands to Sam, but Sam is looking straight ahead. At you.

His eyes scan over your figure- you’re in a champagne satin mini-dress. The cowl neckline is loose, but the waist pulls in due to the lace-up back. The shimmery color is brought to life under the light right above where you’re standing. Sam isn’t listening to a single word Josh is saying, just nodding and staring at you from a distance as his steps slow.

It’s then that you cook up a terrible idea, if not the worst you’ve ever had. If Josh wants to treat you like he doesn’t care about you and put more romantic energy into the coat check girl than he’s shown you in days, you may as well give him a taste of his own medicine. Right?

Sam eventually pulls his eyes away from your body, nodding cluelessly at Josh. He can’t help it and looks back at you again, but this time, Josh’s gaze follows his. You sip your champagne, ignoring the way Josh’s eyebrows raise in surprise as his neck cranes forward slightly. You can read his lips as he says, “Jesus Christ.” and look away without giving him a reaction.

The two of them make their way over to the high top cocktail table you’ve claimed as your own. Josh clears his throat and musters up the courage to speak to you. His voice sounds like it might crack.

“I’ve never seen that dress. Where’d you get it?” he asks, giving you another once-over now that he’s closer.

“You sent it to me while you were in Paris for my birthday.” you answer dryly. “Or was that your assistant too?”

He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, realizing he’s just dug himself a little bit deeper.

“Come to think of it, Josh, have you ever bought me a gift yourself? Or do you just send the people that work for you on errands to ship me fancy baubles to keep me quiet and occupied while you’re away?”

He steps a little closer to you, lowering his voice.

“Do we have to do this here?” he pleads. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember. You look beautiful. Okay? Let me go get you a drink. What do you want?”

You cut your eyes to Sam, who seems to be trying to occupy himself by staring up at the ceiling. Letting out a big sigh, you mumble back a tired, “Champagne,” to Josh.

He nods and walks off, heading for the bar. In the meantime, you look at Sam, who’s giving you a nervous smile.

“Sorry. It’s been… a rough few days.” You confess. “This ear thing has turned him into a jackass.”

“Oh, yeah. He complained the whole way home.” Sam says, commiserating.

“So it’s not just me?!” You laugh, Sam joining you.

“No no. Not just you.”

You notice Josh is on his way back and decide to test the waters. Reaching forward, you step closer to Sam and adjust the collar of his shirt under his suit jacket, your touch lingering as you let your hand brush down the front of his chest before tugging his jacket into place and pulling your hands back to yourself. You’re in close proximity, so you look up at him with a little bat of your eyelashes.

“Oh. Thank you!” He says, a little caught off guard, but he’s Sam, and he’s friendly, and you know he’s going to let you get away with it.

Josh appears and somehow squeezes his arm between you and Sam, placing your champagne on the table. He’s noticed the mischievous glint in your eye and it’s game on.

The event starts to pick up, more and more people roping Josh into conversations. It’s obvious that he’s the more recognizable of the two brothers there tonight, so you find yourself left standing with Sam on more than a few occasions.

“Did you trim your hair?” You ask him, reaching out to twirl the end of his shiny brown locks around your finger. He chuckles softly, feeling a little bashful. Josh is at your side but deep in conversation with a man you’ve never seen in your life.

“Yeeaaaaah, I did, it was getting a little unruly. Just trying to keep it healthy. I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Of course I noticed, Sammy. Some people may not notice you. But I always do.” Your voice is syrupy sweet. You feel a nudge from the other side of you and Josh is clearly eavesdropping, his brain working overtime as he nods at the gentleman talking his ear off while also listening to you and Sam. Sam doesn’t notice and gives you a soft laugh, shrugging. His cheeks are tinted a little pink. He’s too easy.

“Why don’t we go find our table for dinner, hm?” Josh suggests, cutting his conversation short, which is just not in his character. You finish your last sip of champagne and leave your glass on the table.

“You heard him. C’mon, Sammy boy.”

You reach for his arm, linking it with yours. Josh gives you a look, but you usher him forward with a dismissive gesture. He glowers at you before walking toward the seating chart to see that the three of you are at table six. Sam follows along, his hand in his pocket as you hold on to his forearm.

You settle into the chair between Sam and Josh. You opt for the chicken when the caterers come around, and both Sam and Josh go for the fish. There are a few speeches that go on before your plates arrive, so you sit politely and listen, Josh’s back to you as the speakers present. Since Sam is behind you, there are a few points where you turn around to laugh with him about something the presenter says. Josh stays facing forward, effectively blocking the two of you out.

As your plates are delivered, everyone starts to eat, the table occasionally chattering, but it’s mostly quiet as some music plays.

“How’s the chicken?” Josh asks, trying to make small talk. You take a bite, nodding.

“Really good. And the fish?” You ask politely, but you don’t really care.

“Delicious. Do you want a bite?” He asks, gesturing to his plate with his utensils.

“Oh, no. No thanks.” You reply, turning away. He shrugs and goes back to eating his dinner, sipping his water.

“Do you wanna try a bite of the chicken, Sammy?” You ask, raising your eyebrows. You give him a soft smile as he nods, swallowing his bite.

Cutting a piece, you lift your fork towards Sam and he instinctively opens his mouth. Your other hand comes up under his chin to make sure he doesn’t get any sauce on his jacket. He accepts the bite from your fork and chews, nodding.

“Oh, that’s really good. I should have gotten that.” He says, talking with his mouth full. It’s then that the stranger next to Sam interjects.

“How long have you two been together?” She says, a nosey but well meaning woman. Josh nearly chokes on his dinner, pulling his cloth napkin up to his mouth as he coughs. It’s such a distraction that you don’t hear what Sam says to her.

Once Josh stops coughing, he looks at you with a subtle anger behind his eyes.

“Can you stop? I get it. You made your point.” Josh grumbles through gritted teeth. You feign innocence, blinking at him with bullshit doe eyes.

“What point, Josh?”

“You’re flirting with my brother so blatantly that strangers think you’re dating. What the fuck am I supposed to do, just sit here and let it happen?”

Sam, realizing tensions are high, starts to stand up.

“I’m gonna go get some air…” he says, departing from the table like it’s on fire.

“I’m not flirting with him. I’m just being nice to him. You remember what that is, right? Being nice?” You say with an attitude, tilting your head as you wait for an answer.

“Cut it out.” He tenses his jaw and his mouth barely moves as he scolds you like you’re some kind of dog.

“Fuck you, Josh.” You’re not putting up with it for another second, so you push away from the table, grab your drink, and head in the direction Sam went.

As you sneak through the crowds and the bar lines, you check to see if Josh is following you, but he’s still seated at the table. You see Sam through the glass doors, standing under a tent that’s doing little to nothing to stop the wind, smoking a cigarette. Gently pressing against the push bar, you slip outside and approach him tentatively.

It’s quiet between the two of you as he gives you a smile that’s more of a grimace, though you know him and know that it’s not his intention.

“Two wrongs don’t make a right, you know that, right?” He says, giving you a knowing smirk as he exhales some smoke. You sigh, kicking at a pebble beneath your feet. You hold your glass of champagne with both hands, your thumb nervously running along the side of it.

“I feel like I do. But sometimes I can’t help myself.” You peer up at him, a coy smile spreading across your face. He lets out a laugh, shaking his head.

“You two are a match made in hell,” he starts, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. “But I can’t imagine him with anyone else.”

You roll your eyes. Lately you’ve been feeling like Josh doesn’t even want to be with you anymore, but it’s not like you would have time to even discuss splitting up in person, since he’s hardly around long enough. Instead of divulging any of that to Sam, you lift your head and step closer.

“Can I have a drag of that?” You ask, giving him a mischievous smirk.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You know how he is.” Sam says, well aware that the only thing Josh thinks it’s okay to smoke is not cigarettes.

“Just one.” You bargain, looking out at the parking lot for a moment, then up at him with doe eyes. He can’t help but smile at you in return.

“Don’t even touch it. He’ll smell it on your hands.” He jokes, turning it around in his fingers and holding it towards you. You tilt up your chin, smiling sweetly before he moves it closer to your pouty, glossy lips. Your eyes close gently and you start to inhale.

Within seconds, it’s pulled from your lips, and all you hear is Sam’s thick Michigan accent as he whines, “OWWWW!” your eyes shooting open.

“I will break every bone in your fuckin’ hand if you don’t get the fuck out of here right now, Samuel.” Josh threatens, suddenly outside with the two of you on the patio. Sam grabs the cigarette from his restrained hand with his free one, dropping it to the ground and stepping on it with wide eyes.

Josh pushes his arm towards him as he lets it go and Sam nearly trips over himself, mumbling a startled, “Jesus Christ.” before adjusting his suit jacket and heading for the door.

“And you.” Josh is positively seething, as he steps up to you. “What am I going to do with you, hm?”

You nervously step backwards, leaning onto the railing behind you as he cages you in. “Josh, I’m–”

“Oh, it’s a little late for that, don't you think? I fucking warned you, Y/N.” His hand grips into your elbow, yanking your forward and dragging you behind him as you make your way back inside the building. “Get your fucking coat and meet me at the front door.” he says, releasing you as you enter back into the large crowd.

You walk back over to your table, collecting your bag and your champagne before rushing over towards the coat check. You hand the same girl your ticket stub, and you anxiously sip your champagne as you wait. You may have pushed him too far this time. Seconds later she returns with your coat, and you take it with a smile, pulling it over your arms and making your way to the front door.

Josh is waiting, chewing a piece of gum a little harsher than necessary. His jaw is hard set and his cheeks are pink and you know this does not bode well for you. As you approach him he offers a small wave and a smile to someone behind you, before letting his eyes drift back to yours, full of fury, the tension returning to his body.

“Oh, so you can listen.” he says, yanking the large glass door open, both of you being hit with the cold outside air. You step out the door and begin the walk to the car, clutching your jacket close to your body. Your teeth chatter as the wind hits you, your whole body shivering.

“What, are you cold in that slutty little dress?” he asks, walking a little too quickly for you to keep up with him. “Seemed just fine on the patio with Sam. Suck it up and keep walking.”

He turns his head looking back at you as you try to drink down the rest of your champagne. He reaches for the glass, ripping it from your hand and tossing it into the bushes. You hear the glass shatter and you’re a little taken aback. You’ve never seen him this mad before, and you hate that you kinda like it.

“Josh!” you shout, you cheeks heating at his aggressiveness, and you think the alcohol in your system is to blame for that.

“What has gotten into you, Y/N?! You think– You think you can just go around acting like a little slut at my work events? With my fucking brother? Do you know how that looks!?” he shouts, as you round the corner, steadily approaching the car. He is still chewing the gum too hard, hoping it will relieve some of the tension pulsing through his body.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Josh, I think the pain meds are making you crazy.” you scoff, completely brushing off his accusations, even though he is completely right.

“Oh, fuck offff…It’s not the pain meds, it’s you! You’re making me fucking crazy! Running around like a little trollop just to make me irate for sport!” he yells, his midwestern accent peeking out in his anger.

He reaches for the door handle, yanking it open to let you step in, regardless of how angry he currently is. As you position yourself in the seat you turn to look at him, ready to deliver another snarky comment but as you open your mouth he cuts his eyes and slams the car door closed. You huff and fasten your seatbelt as he joins you on the other side.

He starts the car and peels out of the parking spot, spinning the tires as he pulls out onto the main road. Your hands grasp at the door handle for stability, his expression unwavering as he continues to blow down the backstreets of downtown Nashville.

“Josh, I–”

“No. Silence. Don’t say another fucking word until I speak to you first. Got it?” he snaps, the fury is thick in his voice.

You cross your arms over your chest, debating whether or not to taunt him further. As if he can hear your thoughts he turns to you, speaking through clenched teeth.

“Not. A. Fucking. Word.”

The rest of the drive home was spent in silence, and you could tell he was compiling his list of your transgressions. You knew that the second the front door shut behind you he was going to unleash every bit of it on you, and to be quite honest, you couldn’t wait.

Once he tears recklessly up the driveway, he kills the engine and the headlights. Throwing open the door, he slams it behind him and makes his way around to the passenger side. Despite his burning anger, he’s still insistent on opening your door for you. He offers you a hand and when you take it, you feel how warm he is to the touch. Hopping down to the ground, he lets you steady yourself, then tugs your hand so you’re forced to walk in front of him. He lets go once he knows you’ve gotten the hint and start off wobbling through the gravel in your heels like a baby deer as he locks the car.

You wait next to the front door, knowing Josh has his keys and you opted to leave yours at home to save space in your clutch. He ignores you, his jaw still working overtime on the probably stale gum in his mouth, turning the key in the lock and pushing into the house. He leaves the door open for you to follow him in, so you do, shutting it gently as you slip off your heels.

He tosses his keys onto the dining table and you watch as they slide to a halt as he rids himself of his suit coat, tossing it over the back of a chair. You make a move towards the closet, ready to hang your own coat but as you walk he steps in front of you, snatching the thick black fabric from your hands to throw it over the same chair. He stares at you with a hardened jaw, his face and ears red as he prepares for his onslaught, and as a small grin turns up the corner of your lips you see his anger tip the scales to catastrophic.

“I don’t know why you’re so worked up, Josh. If I didn’t know any better I would say you’re acting a bit jealous. Or threatened, maybe?” you pause, tapping your finger to your chin. “Yeah, I think threatened is the right word. Are you nervous little Sammy is gonna steal your spotlight and your girl?”

“Steal my spotlight?” he responds, scoffing. It’s clear you hit a nerve there. “You need to learn when to keep your mouth shut. Especially when it comes to things you know nothing about.”

“I know how many people were bumping elbows with him tonight, talking about his upcoming projects, barely even asking about the album. He’s got his own career now.” you double down, narrowing your eyes at him, twisting the knife. He steps closer to you, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath. You know he’s about to lay into you for that.

“You should be grateful I even let you tag along to these fucking things.” he snaps, his voice raising. “You know, there’s a hell of a lot you should be grateful for, now that I think of it. Do you know how easy it would be for me to find a nice, quiet girl who waits patiently for me to come home and doesn’t spend every waking moment reminding me of my shortcomings?”

You don’t like the direction he’s taking this, and you’re realizing you may have pushed him a little too far.

“I could go down the line and pick any one I wanted, but I still come home to you. And this is what I have to put up with?”

“So do it then! Go ahead and take your pick!” you shout, throwing your hands in the air. His cheeks grow red, and his eyes narrow.

“But you won’t, will you Josh... Because you know that not a single one of them will stick around once they find out how you really are. When they find themselves home alone night after night. When you don’t speak to them for days at a time when you’re writing or on the road. When you miss their birthday… and every major holiday for that matter. When they find out that your idea of love and romance is having your assistant buy hush gifts you can’t be bothered to choose yourself. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the one texting me from your phone, too!”

He slams his fist down on the dining table, his keys rattling against the wood. “That is not true, and you know it!”

“But it is, and you know who puts up with it? Me, because I love you. And I can promise that you’ll be hard pressed to find someone else who is willing to deal with all of that.”

“Dare me?” he challenges, wincing slightly as the pressure builds in his ear.

“I don’t know Josh, is that what you want? Wouldn’t say I’d be surprised with how you’ve been acting lately.” you say, pushing away from the kitchen table and walking further into the house.

“How I’ve been acting lately?” he scoffs, following after you, hot on your heels.

“Yeah! Like I’m such a burden to bear. Like you’d rather I wasn’t here. I’m practically your glorified assistant, or arm candy when you feel like dragging me along.”

You start to climb the stairs toward your bedroom, needing to get out of your dress and away from him. Unfortunately, Josh isn’t one to ever let you have the last word, and he starts bounding up the staircase after you.

“Is that what this is about? You’re still mad you had to bring me to the doctor? God forbid I ask you to do something besides complain and spend my money. I needed your help, because if you haven’t noticed, something pretty serious happened to me, but for some reason you won’t stop giving me a hard fucking time about it!” That comment about the money stops you in your tracks, leaving you glaring down at him on the step below you.

“It’s not about your money and it’s not about me having to help you. It’s about you not giving a shit about how I feel and blowing me off when I try to tell you. All I want is for you to care! Have we grown so far apart that seeing me upset doesn’t even phase you anymore?”

Josh runs his tongue over his teeth as he tries to conjure up a response. He steps up so he’s on the landing with you, a little bit of silence settling over you both.

“And you thought…” he starts, looking out the window behind you for a moment, then back to your eyes. “You thought the way to get me to care… was to behave like a little slut?”

The energy suddenly shifts between you. You know that in the silence, he must have had a realization that he’s not meeting your needs. You feel your mouth go a little dry and you take a step backwards, reaching to hold on to the railing.

“I–”

“You know what I think…” he says, moving closer, caging you in with his arms. “I think that I’ve been gone too long…” his breath is hot on your cheeks. “I think you’re due for an attitude adjustment.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you grip into the bannister. You swallow nervously, as his hand moves to meet your satin covered waist. “Yeah, I think I need to remind you just how good you have it, don’t I sweetheart?”

The words are there, swirling through your head but as his eyes peer into yours, nothing seems to come out.

“S’matter, baby? Nothin’ to say suddenly? No smart ass remarks? I’m right, aren’t I? You need me to fuck some sense into you?” he growls, his fingers gripping into the curve of your waist. He nods his head in the direction of your bedroom, a crooked smirk on his face.

“Go ahead and take off your earrings, baby. Get out of that unbecoming little dress and wait for me on the bed.” he says softly, rubbing a thumb over the apple of your cheek before walking off and locking himself in the bathroom.

The cocktail of emotions your brain is floating in has you dizzy. You want to be angry at him, but you’re starting to feel a little embarrassed as you think back on how you acted at dinner. Part of you wants to cry, his harsh words hitting you where he knew it would hurt, but another is so turned on by the way he just flipped the switch on the entire emotionally charged exchange.

You shuffle into your shared bedroom, sitting gingerly at your vanity and taking off all of your jewelry. As you take off your rings, you stare at the earrings and necklace in your porcelain dish, remembering when he had gifted each piece to you. Maybe it’s not that he doesn’t care how long or how often he’s away…he just doesn’t know how to make it better. So he sends you trinkets from wherever he visits, reminding you that you’re on his mind. Your heart lurches as you realize that maybe all he wanted while he was away from home was a quiet dinner with you, his love, at Phil’s, and that’s why he didn’t take you out to an expensive steakhouse where you would undoubtedly sit awkwardly across from each other and make conversation. He wanted comfort. He wanted what he knows no other woman can give him.

You hear the water start to run, which zaps you back into the moment. Standing from the velvet upholstered stool, you head for the walk-in closet and try to reach for the zipper on your dress. You can’t exactly get to it, stretching to try and pinch the zipper between your fingers. The bathroom door opens and you whip your head around, knowing he’s going to come looking for you.

It’s only seconds before you feel his warm hands gliding across your hips, no doubt knowing you need his help with the zipper. Perhaps that’s why he purchased the dress to begin with. Knowing he would be the one to help you take it off. He moves your hair, laying it all to one side of your neck before pressing his lips to your skin. His fingers pinch the small zipper as he slides it down, letting the silk dress flutter down around your ankles.

“Tell me you know that I love you.” he breathes, his lips brushing against your neck.

“I know you love me.” you answer, breathless as your chest heaves.

His hands slide around to your bare stomach, pulling your body back until you’re flush with his own. “Now, tell me you’ll remember that.”

“I’ll remember.” you whisper, feeling him long and hard as he rests against your back.

He grabs your hips and spins you around to face him, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “Good, because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

A gasp leaves your chest as your eyes meet his, dark and blown out. He drags his thumb over your lips, smearing the remnants of your pink lipstick across your chin. “Now get on the bed like I told you the first time.”

Reluctantly pulling away from him, you make your way back into the bedroom, kneeling on the bed, sitting on your heels. You nervously cover your chest with your hands, the room feeling a little cold all of the sudden. He steps into the room, his hand lingering on the doorframe.

“Move your hands,” he says, his voice quiet but stern. “You wanted the entire dinner table to see them. Why can’t I?”

Your cheeks burn red as you lower your hands to your lap. He approaches, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he’s appraising you.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?” he asks, pushing your hair behind your ear. “My brother?”

You quickly start to shake your head. Maybe a little too quickly. You watch him with careful eyes as he lets his hand gently graze your throat, then move further down, the gears in his head turning.

“I bet you wanted him to, though…” he adds, pinching at your nipple teasingly, wanting a reaction. You take in a sharp breath between your teeth.

“No.” you say defensively.

“You like Sam because he’s so sweet. He cares. That’s what you want, right? Someone to wipe away your tears when you cry about meaningless shit? You know that’s his specialty.”

“I don’t like Sam. I just wanted–”

“Save it.” Josh snaps, grabbing harshly at your cheeks to shut you up. He stares at you for a moment before placing a gentle kiss to your squished lips. He pulls away quickly, but doesn’t release his grip on your cheeks.

“If you want to act like a little whore, I’m going to treat you like one. If I want to hear you speak, I’ll tell you.”

He pushes you backwards as he releases his hand, landing you in the pile of soft feather pillows behind you. He stands up from the bed, shimmying off his boxers before crawling back onto the bed in front of you. His eyes meet yours and for a second there is a softness there, almost as if he is asking if you’re okay with this. You offer him a subtle nod before he lowers his head and begins to drag his nose up the length of your leg.

“Did you have fun tonight, flitting around the place, drink in hand, practically begging to be fucked in the bathroom? Hm? Is that what you wanted?” he asks, pressing a hot kiss to the inside of your thigh.

You squirm beneath him as the filthy words leave his angelic lips. “Did you want him to take you away and fuck your stupid little brains out? Answer me.”

“No.” you reply, desperate to feel his lips on your body. “I… I wanted…” you stammer, your bravery leaving you with every shaky breath. He places an open mouthed kiss to your mound, but freezes once your words trail off.

“You never stop talking, but now you’re at a loss for words? Fucking say it, Y/N.”

“I wanted you!” you cry out, your head falling back onto your pillow, a heavy sigh leaving your chest. He squeezes the softness of your thigh before he speaks.

“And you really thought that would work?” he asks, nipping at your soft skin, chuckling quietly. “You’re dumber than I thought.”

You feel your skin grow hot at his words, your hips jerking upwards on their own accord.

“You like that, don’t you? You like it when I call you my stupid little girl?” he asks, sucking a mark into your thigh. “My dumb little brat?”

A whine leaves your chest as you feel his tongue slowly start to slide through your folds.

He pulls away from you, “Ah, ah… Be quiet, remember? I know it’s hard for you to do as you’re told, but if I have to remind you again you aren’t going to like what happens.”

You stifle your moan and move your hips as his hands hold you in place, his tongue reconnecting with your core as he makes slow, languid laps against you. “Did I leave this pretty pussy too long? Does she miss me and need my attention?”

He moves his hands to let his thumbs spread you further, swirling his tongue over your clit. “I think she misses me so bad that it’s got you acting crazy, my love.” His lips suction against you, sucking you into his mouth with a lewd slurp. His hands slide up to your hips, pulling you closer to his face. His tongue grazes your entrance, dipping in just long enough to tease you. He presses a kiss to your clit before pulling away again.

“You must be crazy if you think my brother could do even half of what I do to you. No one, no one, treats this pussy like I do. Worships this pussy like I do.”

“Josh…” you whine, the word leaving your lips before you could stop it.

You feel a sharp flick to your clit and you cry out, your body jumping in response.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like it.” he says, pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit, as if to soothe the pain he inflicted. You feel a rush of warmth at your core, your body responding positively to his actions.

“Oh, baby, fuck…” he groans, sliding his fingers thorough the wetness. “But you do like it. You love it.” He pauses, locking eyes with you. “Answer me.”

“I–Yes…” you breathe, feeling his smile against your core.

“My dirty, sweet, baby likes a little pain with her pleasure.” he growls, sliding a finger inside of you. You clench around it, desperate for more. “Yeah? More? You want two or three?” he asks, his eyes flicking to yours.

“T-Three.” you beg, breathless as you feel him slide in two more.

His lips find your clit again, suckling the sensitive nub into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it again and again as his fingers work you from the inside. The pressure is growing and you know you’re close. He must feel you fluttering around him, so he pulls his fingers and mouth away from you quicker than you can blink.

“Nu-uh. Not until I say so, and I do believe I’d like to get mine first tonight... You know, for my troubles.”

A huff leaves your chest as you look at him, sitting back up to rest on his heels.

“You know baby, I think I’m feelin’ a little reckless tonight...I’m thinkin’ maybe we skip the condom, what do you say?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, Josh always having been completely adamant that you use protection. Always. Despite being on birth control. You can count the number of times you’ve gone without a condom on one hand over the three years you’ve been together.

“Are–Are you sure?” you ask.

“Yeah, I think you need the full effect… need to really feel me so you can remember your place. Remember why you count down the days until I come home.” he says, fisting his base.

“Although,” he says thoughtfully before pausing. “… if I’m going to fuck you like a whore, I’m gonna have to wear one. Standard procedure, you understand…” he mumbles, reaching over to his nightstand and pulling a silver foil package from the drawer. You feel your heart drop as he rips it out of the package and effectively rips the opportunity away from you. A quiet, disappointed whine leaves your throat.

He clicks his tongue as he watches your face drop, “Aw, what is it? Did you want my cock?” he asks, a smug grin on his face. “If you behaved yourself I probably would have given you what you wanted. It’s a shame, really.”

“Please…” you whine, hoping he doesn’t notice the tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Oh she’s begging for it. God, you really are so sweet when you want to be.” he says, rolling the condom over his cock.

“Josh come on, please!” it’s a pathetic whine as it leaves your mouth, but you don’t care.

His hand collides with the side of your hip, a loud smack ringing through the room. “Don’t be a little brat. You’ll take what you’re given.”

A whimper leaves your lips as the sting sets in. “That hu—”

“What? Hurt? That’s typically the point, love.” Your hips jerk up towards him, his abs peeking through as he leans towards you. “Now, do you understand?”

You nod your head as he lowers his, pressing his lips to yours. His perfect heart shaped lips capture yours, his tongue pressing into your mouth with fervor. Your hands come up to wrap around his waist, his skin soft and smooth beneath your hands. You feel his muscles tense under your touch as he ruts his hips, dragging himself against you, the sound of the latex audible as you try to angle yourself so he’ll slip inside you.

“So impatient…” he chides, sucking his teeth as he hovers his lips just above yours. He decides to take mercy on you, letting himself start to slide inside with ease. You cup his cheek, kissing him tenderly, a silent thank you. You feel the heat building in your abdomen again, half the battle won after the way he edged you previously.

“Does that feel good, sweet thing?” he asks, pushing in to the hilt before slowly pulling out again. “You gonna settle down now that you’re feeling nice and full?” he asks, and you respond with a shake of your head. “No?” he questions, surprised. He fucks into you slowly, deeply. You feel every inch of him that you’ve missed… but it’s not the same.

“No…I wanted you to take it off…” you whine. He shakes his head, a little chuckle leaving him.

“You’re in no place to make demands. I’m gonna get mine, toss it in the trash, and leave you wishing it was dripping down your thigh. And if you’re smart, you’ll say thank you.”

You feel yourself clench around him at his cruel words, making him smirk. So he carries on, picking up his pace as he grips into the softness of your thighs.

“But you’re not, are you?” he taunts, lowering his head to kiss and suck at your collarbone. “Can’t be if you pretended to be interested in my idiot brother. You’re mine. What do I have to do to get it to stick in that little brain of yours?”

You whisper his name, closing your eyes as your cheeks turn pink, his insults both embarrassing you and bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“I told you I’m getting mine first. Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns, his palm landing on the pillow next to your head as he rests his weight and increases his range of motion. As he moves faster, his thrusts become more brutal as he starts to knock the wind out of you. It’s getting harder to keep yourself from losing it, your thighs starting to quiver.

He feels it, because he always does, but you can tell by the look on his face he doesn’t want to stop. He curses breathlessly and pulls out, his hand leaving your hip and moving down to stroke himself, but he lets out a grunt and pushes up to sit on his heels, looking down at himself.

“...Fuck.”

He wraps his arm under your thigh and tugs you closer, urgently, and sheathes himself inside so quickly you cry out.

“Oh, baby. You feel like fucking velvet.” he moans, his head falling back, his moans bouncing off the ceiling. When he pulls back, something feels… different. “Looks like you got what you wanted after all…”

He sits back again and pulls out of you, resting his hands on his thighs as he takes a deep breath like he needs to get himself under control. Sitting up on your elbows, you look down at him between your thighs to see the condom has not just broken, but torn. It’s more than halfway down his shaft, which explains why he felt so slick and warm inside you.

“Oh…” you say softly, your lips parting. You stare at him above you, his chest rising and falling, his eyes heavy as they lock onto yours. He lifts one hand, motioning you forward with two fingers, and you know exactly what he wants.

“On your knees.”

You don’t hesitate to roll onto your side and stand from the bed, dropping to your knees with your hands in your lap. He watches as you go, waiting until you’re in position to stand himself and approach, raking his hand through your hair almost affectionately. You keep your eyes on him, the way he’s hard and straining against the useless condom.

“Does being on your knees hurt, little slut? Or is that right where you belong?” he asks, resting the tip of his cock against your lips. “Open.”

You stick out your tongue, dragging it against the bottom of his tip.

“More.” he demands, pushing his hips forward. You open your mouth wider as you move to reach up and touch him, but he immediately tells you, “No.”

Your eyes look up at him, brows furrowing in curiosity as you question silently whether or not he’s going to take the condom off.

It’s sudden and shocking when he answers your question, grabbing the back of your head and shoving himself in deep. You feel him against your tongue, tasting the lube and feeling the latex on the front end of your tongue.

He starts to thrust so quickly, you reach for his thighs to try and push him back. He doesn’t seem to care, almost relishing in your struggle, his fist tightening in your hair. As a gag works its way up your throat, he pulls you off of him, gasping for air, saliva dripping down your chin and neck.

“How’s it taste, baby?” he asks, tugging your hair, making you look up at him through bleary eyes, trying to catch your breath. As you open your mouth to answer, he fists himself, shoving himself back into your mouth. You gag immediately and he pulls out, your mouth open as you try to breathe. He doesn’t let you, though, grabbing your jaw and spitting directly into your open mouth.

“You better think twice before you complain.”

You snap your jaw shut, swallowing thickly, your eyes popping back open to look up at him in shock. He gives you a crooked smile, pleased with the way he’s managed to throw you off. It only encourages him as you look up at him with wide eyes and try to catch your breath. He quirks a single brow, then runs his tongue over his teeth.

“Nothing to say?” he asks, challenging you. You shake your head once.

He pushes the head of himself back inside your mouth, then spits again, making you flinch as it lands on your cheek. You squeeze your eyes closed, intending to hollow out your cheeks and suck, but he pulls himself out with a pop and drags his cock through the spit on your face, chuckling.

“You’re starting to smarten up.” he mumbles. “Little brat.”

He taps the tip of his cock harshly against your lips and you can see the wheels spinning in his head as he plans his next move. “Back on the bed, all fours.” he says, snapping his fingers and pointing to the center of the bed.

You immediately pull yourself from your aching knees and scramble onto the bed, positioning yourself on all fours, just as instructed. You feel the bed dip behind you and you turn your head, seeing the remnants of the condom still intact around him. He makes no effort to remove it, wearing it like a trophy as his hands find your hips. His left hand slides up the curve of your back before pressing a palm to your spine, a silent order to arch a little further.

“You’re trembling. You want it so bad don’t you…” he growls, his tip brushing against your entrance. “Want to feel my nice warm cock inside you…Nothing but me and you…You’d like that wouldn’t you, baby…”

“Yes.” you breathe, almost a whisper.

“I shouldn’t…I should put a new one on right now.” he says, the clench of his jaw audible.

He thrusts himself inside of you, the barrier of latex gone between the two of you, letting you feel every ripple and vein of his perfect cock inside of you. It nearly takes your breath away as his hips slam into you. A groan leaves his chest as his hands grip into your hips, and you can feel his hot breath on your back.

His hips crash violently into yours, his pillow soft tip grazing your cervix with every stroke. He’s struggling to keep his composure, it's evident with his erratic breathing and the stuttering of his hips.

You clench around him, a whimper falling from his lips in response, briefly breaking the facade he’s chosen for the evening. “Fuck, Y/N… I– I fucking hate you. You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

A pang shoots through your chest, you feel the tension in your stomach start to build as you flutter around him. “I hate that I can’t live without you. I hate how much I love you. You–I can’t deny you anything…Not ever…” he pauses, his chest heaving. “Can’t you see that?”

“Josh…” you beg through panting breaths.

“Not yet, you’re gonna wait. Wait until I say, yeah? Can you wait like my good girl?” he says, struggling to stave off his own release.

“I– I can’t…” you whine.

“You will.” he demands, punctuating his sentence with his hips. “Fuck, you feel so good, swear to god I’m gonna– fuck…”

“Josh please, please!” you beg, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“My little slut begging to cum, oh you’re a fucking vision… My angel…” he pauses, sliding his hand around your waist and pinching your nipple between his fingers. You tighten around him and you hear him hiss in response. “Oh goddamn, you’re not a fucking angel though, are you… You’re straight from hell.”

His hips start to falter, and you can tell he’s close. You turn your head to look at him, his hair wild and sweaty against his temples, his jaw hanging slack as he watches himself fuck you. His eyes flick up to meet yours, they are dark and his pupils are wide as a slight smile turns his lips.

“I know I said I was going to get mine first, but you’ve been such a good girl for me. Go on, cum baby. Cum right on my cock, wanna feel you give yourself to me.” he says, nodding his head.

His permission throws you right up into the sky, your release washing over you so forcefully that your arms give out below you, sending you tumbling into the sheets. His hands hold you up as he continues to fuck you through it, curses and praise falling from his swollen pink lips.

As if your bliss fueled his own, you feel him pull your hips back firmly against him, a groan exploding from his chest once he can’t hold on any longer. You feel his cock twitching, his release beginning to spill inside of you as your name falls from his lips. You clench around him and he rapidly pulls out of you, fisting his cock as his cum continues to spill, painting hot white streams across your back.

The room is quiet, just the sounds of the two of you attempting to catch your breath. His hand slides up over the curve of your ass, his fingertips catching a drip of his cum before it falls to the sheets below you. His hand reaches around smearing his fingers across your lips, and you can hear him snickering as he leaves his release behind. “A much better shade on you, darling.”

With a smack of your ass you feel him step off of the bed, padding towards the bathroom. “Stay there, don’t move. I don’t want a mess on the sheets.”

You stay put, frozen as you lean down on your elbows and rest your chin in your palm. He comes back out of the bathroom a moment later in his robe and saunters to the stairs. You hear his footsteps slowly descending the steps, the occasional squeak indicating how far away he is.

You figure he’s heading to get you a towel from the dryer, so you just sigh and bide your time, feeling the wetness on your back start to get a little cold as the air moves through the room. In the silence, you hear a cabinet opening… then a cup being placed on the counter. Your lips part in shock as you realize he’s downstairs making a drink while he leaves you here, messy and exposed. The cherry on top of the punishment he’s dealt you this evening.

It’s a good, long while before he comes back up the stairs, again, at a leisurely pace. He softly pads across the room, then steps into your line of sight, putting a mug down on the nightstand. He made himself a cup of tea?

You sigh, looking at him flatly, a little tired of the game at this point. He steps into the bathroom again, this time reemerging with a warm, wet towel. He approaches the bed and kneels over you, gently wiping you clean as silence settles over you both.

“I made you some tea. In case I was a little rough on your throat.” he says quietly. “I figured I owe you a drink after throwing yours into the bushes.” His tone conveys that he’s remorseful, his voice back to its unique, charming timbre. “Listen, I didn’t mean to get so… worked up. You were right when you said I was threatened by Sam, and I just kind of lost control.”

You hum softly, resting your head on the pillow and looking at him over your shoulder, your eyes soft and tired.

“I’m sorry I pushed you that far…” you say quietly, your voice hoarse. He tosses the towel towards the hamper, standing from the bed. He leans down and places a kiss to your temple as you lay all the way down, just as your back starts to hurt.

You hear him opening your dresser drawer and soon enough he’s back at your side, placing a set of silky, cream colored pajamas and a pair of underwear near your head. He kneels at your bedside, resting his head on the bed to look at you where you lay.

“I picked these out for you when we were in Glasgow. There was this little boutique near the hotel that caught my eye. It was after dinner one night and I tried to call you but the time difference was making a mess of things…I couldn’t get ahold of you and I was just feeling lonely… so I took a walk and decided to pop in. I saw them and thought of you immediately. Thought of how they’d feel when I got back home and in bed with you.” he confesses, petting your hair the whole time he speaks. There’s almost a sadness to this story that makes guilt bubble up in your chest. You accused him of never calling, rarely thinking of you, and sending his assistant off to buy you meaningless gifts. The thought of him hand picking it for you while he was feeling lonely thousands of miles away breaks your heart.

“I’m sorry I said all that stuff. About the gifts. That was admittedly pretty awful of me.” you squeak out, feeling ashamed of the way you acted and who you painted him to be. “I’ve been really hard on you.”

“Hard on me?” he asks, a breathy laugh rumbling through him.

“I just… I haven’t been really considerate about your ear and the stress you’re under and I think I’ve been feeling neglected in a way, so instead of trying to fix it, it was just easier to put all of the blame on you and lose sight of the sacrifices you make for me every day. For us.”

He shakes his head, unwilling to let you accept all the blame. “I haven’t exactly made things easy on you…” he says, his voice a little small. “I think–no, I know I can do more. I will do more. I fucked up yesterday baby, and I’m sorry. I should have planned something nice. You deserve that. And I’m sorry about tonight, fuck, I’m just sorry for all of it. I love you and I need you and I’m just really, really sorry.”

He stands from his place on the side of the bed, watching you as you slide into your silky pajamas. He tosses his robe to your vanity chair and joins you on the other side of the bed, pulling back the linen sheets and sliding in next to you.

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I was a brat, and I’m sorry I used Sam to get under your skin. I just– I wanted your attention…and I know it was stupid and immature… I just needed to know you still cared, even just a little bit. I wanted to see it.” you pause, looking into his dark brown eyes.

“And last night, you just wanted a night in and I was…less than agreeable. I wish we could do it over. You just wanted your comfort food and your favorite movie, home alone with me…but I couldn’t see that. I know you’re hurting. I know you’re doing your best and I’m sorry I was ungrateful. I’m happy that you were even home. I’m happy I can take care of you while you’re here.” you say, moving closer to him in the middle of the bed. “I missed you last night…”

He props himself up on his elbow, his cheeks still a little pink from earlier, and in the dim light of the lamp he is glowing. “I missed you too baby, I knew I fucked up before I even got out of the room. I should have never said that to you. Not ever. Can you forgive me?” he asks, letting his free hand slide across the sheets and grab yours.

“Can you forgive me?” you ask, letting your glassy eyes meet his.

“Baby…” the word is a breath from his lips. You reach for him as he wraps his arms around you. You cradle his head in the crook of your neck as he breathes you in and you know all is forgiven between the two of you. You scratch his scalp and pet his velvety shaved sides, holding him close enough that you can feel his heart beating.

“Can I make you that soup you like tomorrow? With the kale and the carrots…” you ask, a whisper against his temple. You feel him nod, a small hum leaving his chest.

“And I still have that sourdough starter that Jake gave us… I can make some bread with it? Does that sound good?” you ask, feeling his grip on you tighten.

“Oh my god, that starter. Have you been feeding it like he said!? I completely forgot!” he gasps.

You laugh hard enough that it shakes your chest, “Of course I have. He would be so sad if I let it die.”

You feel his body relax against you again, “Do you know how much I love you?” he asks, turning his head to face you.

You feel your skin blush as he looks at you, his eyes full of adoration. “A lot?”

“More than that.” he smiles, his cheek dimple peeking out just a touch. You can hardly stop yourself from pressing your lips to it, your favorite thing.

“I love you, alot.” you reply, peppering his face with kisses.

“But there is something that I want to talk to you about…” he says, his voice growing a little more serious.

“W-what?” you ask nervously, pulling away just a little.

“I know you’ve been so excited about coming to Spain in a few weeks…And I’ve really been looking forward to it too…” he starts, and you feel your heart drop. Is it canceled? Does he not want you to come?

“Yeah…” you breathe, anxious to hear what he’s about to say.

“So, you know it’s been a long time since we’ve toured over there, and our normal coordinator isn’t able to make it, so we are using a secondary coordinator…It really throws a wrench into everything. Things are going to be really shaky those first few days with the jet lag and all of that. I just– I know that it’s gonna be super crazy, and I feel like we probably won’t be able to spend much time together while we get the tour stuff sorted out.” he pauses, and you feel your eyes well with tears. “I just don’t want you to come and feel ignored...”

“So I’m not–”

His face softens as he brings his hand up to cup your cheek, “So, I went ahead and booked us flights to go a whole week early, just me and you. Found us a quiet little place on the water right outside of Barcelona. It has a big open porch and a giant bed. It’s so beautiful and I know you’re going to love it. We can do whatever you want, just you and I.” He kisses your forehead before he continues.

“And before you ask, yes, your boss already knows. I wanted to surprise you when we left, but I figured you would be suspicious that the rest of the guys wouldn’t be with us in the airport. I was planning to tell you tonight when we got home, but we saw what happened…” he smiles, his eyes positively sparkling. “So, how does that sound, my love? Will you come with me?”

Tears rush to your eyes. You were so prepared to be disappointed again that they were already on their way and this sealed the deal.

“That sounds so perfect,” you manage to squeak out as he wipes away an errant tear sliding down towards your pillow. When he pulls you in for a tender kiss, you can feel him smiling against your lips. “My coworkers are going to kill me for going on a two week vacation during tax season…”

“I’m sure they’ll be okay.” he says, brushing it off with a soft laugh. “They probably ate your strawberries yesterday, so you can call it even.” You suck your teeth at that, lips parting in shock.

“They better not have! I’m out for one day and the wolves descend?”

“I’m sure they’ll be there waiting for you Monday.” He soothes, pulling the sheets and comforter up higher over the both of you, pulling you in close as his little spoon. “But just in case… Maybe we can get some melting chocolate at the store tomorrow and make our own for dessert?” he mumbles softly.

“Oh, I’d love that…” you say, pleasantly surprised at his effort already. He holds you tight, nuzzling into your hair. His hands are soft and warm as they sneak up under the silky pajamas, a comforting touch after so many nights spent in this bed alone.

“It’s a date, my love.”

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tigertales9 · 2 years

Text

Calling Audibles

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: Going back in time several weeks here. The Bengals have started the 2022 season 0-2. This fic happens in the lead up to week 3.

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You raise your eyebrows as Joe pushes his dinner plate back without finishing every last bite like he usually does. "Not what you wanted?" you ask, giving him a worried look as he heaves a sigh. "It was delicious, babe," he says, his tired smile breaking your heart a little. "I just don't have much of an appetite tonight."

"You need to eat, Joe. You're still underweight." You stand up to take your dinner plates to the sink while he watches you with a bemused look. "You gave me a huge serving of food and I ate like 90% of it. Stop acting like I ate a slice of bread and a sip of water."

"Yes, sir," you chuckle, raising your eyes just in time to catch Joe giving you a heated look that sends a pulse of arousal to all the right places; you hold his gaze for several seconds before he breaks eye contact. "I, uhhh, need to watch a little more film tonight," he mumbles, dropping his gaze and picking at a thumbnail while bouncing one leg in agitation. You're glad he's not looking at you because disappointment is written all over your face; you try to keep your tone bland as you answer. "You've moved on to film for next week, right?"

"Not yet," he mutters, his nail picking and leg bouncing approaching supersonic levels. You shake your head as you finish loading the dishwasher. "You've got the film from the last two games memorized by now. You need to give yourself a break."

"I feel like I'm on the cusp of something," he argues. "On the cusp of full-blown masochism," you retort. "I hear you rewinding and watching the interceptions and sacks over and over. You know exactly why those things happened, no need to keep picking those scabs." He shakes his head in disagreement as you continue. "Those two games were basically your preseason; you were nowhere near 100% physically …"

"Those are just excuses," he interrupts, his jawline flexing as he grits his teeth.

Well shit, you think to yourself. Guess it's gonna be another lonely night; you spin around and grab a bottle of blush wine out of the fridge and pour a hearty goblet full. You'd been trying to save most of your alcohol calories for game days but fuck it. Desperate times called for desperate measures. You take a gulp of wine while trying to think of the right thing to say. "Facts are not excuses, Joe. Facts are facts."

He gives a dismissive shrug that tips your mood from sympathetic to aggravated. "Tell me how I'm wrong?" you challenge. He rolls his eyes before slouching farther down in his chair and dropping his gaze to his feet. You take another swig of wine then bite the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you might regret. Losing had always been hard for Joe; he had a whole process he had to go through and there was no rushing it.

You take in his defeated body language for a bit before closing the distance between you. "You're being too hard on yourself," you soothe, tipping his chin up to brush your lips over his; you cup his face in your hands and give him a lingering kiss before looking into his eyes. "It's a long season. You can't dwell on these early losses."

"I'm already over the losses," he argues. You give him a 'boy please' look and he chuckles. "Okay, I'm mostly over the losses. I just feel like I'm on the brink of a breakthrough."

"Okay," you sigh, running your hands over the soft scruff that will definitely be gone before the upcoming Jets game on Sunday. No way is this man keeping 0-2 scruff! You give him another kiss before nodding toward the kitchen. "I made pumpkin pie bars for dessert."

"You did?" he grins. "I thought I smelled pumpkin pie earlier, but I was too distracted to really notice."

"You want one?"

He chews on his full bottom lip for a bit while pondering your question. "I'm kind of full right now. Maybe later?"

"Sure." You try to hide the fact that you're more than a little worried he just turned down his favorite dessert.

"Thanks for making my fav dessert, babe. You're so good to me," he says, standing up to wrap you in a warm hug. "I'm sorry I'm being difficult."

"You're not being difficult. Go handle your business." You give him a playful swat on the ass as he turns to jog up the stairs to his office.

You shake your head as he disappears from view. He'd slowly but surely been gaining back the 20+ pounds he lost during his ruptured appendix situation, but the last couple weeks seemed to send him right back into 'too distracted to eat' mode; that did not bode well for a man who was already underweight by his standards.

You take another gulp of wine and roll your shoulders to relieve some tension. Unfortunately, the 'too distracted' mode had carried over into other areas as well. It had been several days since y'all had had sex and, even though you were understanding, you were more than a little frustrated. You knew he felt like shit, both mentally and physically; starting the season 0-2 and being sacked 13 times while not completely healthy was a recipe for disaster, but you weren't used to going this long without him being all over you. You knew if you initiated he'd be down, but you were feeling weirdly self-conscious about it. Even when his knee was completely mangled, he'd tried to get in your panties anytime you were within arm's reach. "Something's different," you whisper to yourself, not really letting your mind go there before shaking off the negative feelings. "Don't overthink it."

You finish up some chores then scroll your phone for a bit before going upstairs. You walk down the hallway toward his office, stopping just outside the half-open door to gauge his mood. You notice he's moved on to watching film of next week's opponent; you smile to yourself before knocking lightly. "Come in," he calls, throwing you a grin over his shoulder as you walk in the room. "I talked to Coach earlier. He sent some extra film of ways we can try to beat Cover 2. I'm almost done though."

You watch his long, limber fingers manipulate the touchpad as he rewinds a play and a sizzle of heat rushes through you. You walk up behind his desk chair and place your hands on his shoulders, giving him a massage while he continues watching film. "That feels good," he groans, leaning his head to the side to give you better access to his throwing shoulder. "Oh yeah, right there," he breathes, hissing as you grind your fingers deep into his sore muscles. The film continues to play but his attention is definitely elsewhere. He fists both hands in his slinky black shorts and slides them up, exposing a delicious amount of muscular thighs. Your mouth literally waters at the sight.

Just before you have a chance to spin his desk chair around and get on your knees for him, his phone rings startling both of you. "Oh shit, that's probably Coach," he grumbles, reaching a long arm out to grab the phone; he sighs as he squints at the display. "Yep." He sits more upright before taking the call. "Hey Coach," he croaks, giving you an adorable grimace as he clears his throat and listens intently. "No problem, I was just watching film … yeah … for sure … I agree we should try that." He nods his head as he continues. "Yeah, quick slants to move the chains, but we gotta get the run going too." He makes a sheepish face at you before turning his attention back to the phone call. "If they're ever dumb enough to play Chase straight up, I'm going to him deep. Doesn't matter what the actual call is, I'll audible the shit out of it. If pass pro holds up that's always a money shot."

"I'm gonna go take a shower," you whisper, smiling when Joe gives you a thumbs up; you walk out of his office leaving him to talk X's and O's with Coach Taylor.

You turn the shower on to heat up and strip naked before twisting your long hair into a high bun to keep it dry. You step into the shower and reach for your body wash, lathering up while thinking of Joe; he was truly a franchise quarterback for the Bengals and they wanted his input on almost every aspect of the team: draft picks, free agents, indoor practice facilities, off-season work-out regimens, offensive schemes, etc. They'd given him the key to the city but that came with a lot of responsibilities. The good news was he was definitely up to the challenge; the bad news was it ate up a lot of physical and mental bandwidth and sometimes you were left wanting a little more of his attention.

You rinse off and step out of the shower, drying off quickly then stepping into a pair of tiny panties and a slinky tank top. Joe walks into the bathroom just as you finish brushing your teeth. "Did y'all figure some stuff out?" you ask. "Yeah." He yawns as he walks up behind you, pressing a kiss on your neck before meeting your eyes in the mirror. "We're gonna brainstorm a bit more in our morning meeting, then hopefully install a new scheme in afternoon practice."

"That sounds promising," you say, giving him a smile. "Fingers crossed," he mumbles, yawning again before dropping another kiss on your neck. He walks to the shower, turns it on then shucks his clothes off, dropping them in the hamper before stepping into the steaming shower; he groans low in his throat as the hot water hits his aching muscles and you feel a jolt of arousal shoot through you. You lean toward the mirror and pretend to inspect your face, but you're really covertly eyeballing his reflection in the mirror, musing to yourself that the clear glass shower enclosure had been a solid choice when y'all had renovated the house. Joe pivots toward you to rinse off and you quickly avert your eyes; you know he's way too tired for sex and you don't want him to feel obligated if he catches you leering. You dab on some eye cream then head into the bedroom, heaving a sigh of frustration as you slide between the cool, clean sheets.

You close your eyes and think back over the past several months. -- The entire off-season had been intense for Joe. The first few weeks were just a blur of disappointment and angst after the Super Bowl loss. It didn't help that he had to rehab the knee he sprained in the Super Bowl and finally get the pinky finger fixed that he dislocated in week 13. Once things settled down though he really seemed to get in a groove.

You smile to yourself as you think about his excitement at the team signing four new offensive linemen -- three veteran free agents and one promising rookie. Y'all had hosted a few dinner parties to get to know the new guys, and you had to admit, the chemistry was there right from the start. Dinner conversations were centered on how the improved o-line was going to open up a whole new level of play calling, and all the guys seemed like they were ready to run through a brick wall to ensure success.

It was Joe's first normal off-season in the NFL, and he really tried to wring every last bit of energy out of his body in the lead up to training camp. All the extra work had him looking like sex on legs even more than usual, and you'd spent an obscene amount of time running your fingers and tongue over the bulging muscles in his arms, chest and thighs, leaving love bites in the most sensitive places. The last couple weeks before training camp he was literally vibrating with anticipation for the upcoming season. Everything was going great until it wasn't.

The ruptured appendix caught everybody by surprise. What seemed like a routine surgery became super scary due to the threat of sepsis. Joe was pumped full of high-powered antibiotics for about a week after surgery to try and stave off infection. The fact that he had an open appendectomy instead of laparoscopic meant the healing time was much longer.

You shake your head when you think about how hard he'd pushed himself to be ready for week 1 - just 6.5 weeks after surgery. He'd put a decent amount of weight back on by then, but he was still down a good 10-15 pounds from where he wanted to be, and his stamina and core strength were not up to his usual standards. He was getting better every day though, and you were determined to keep stuffing food in him to give him a little more cushion against those damn sacks and punishing hits he took in every game.

The sound of the shower turning off pulls you back into the moment; even though he was down a few pounds he was still the most gorgeous man you'd ever seen so you let your mind wander, imagining him glistening wet as he steps out and grabs his towel. "Damn," you whisper to yourself, squeezing your legs together to try and stop the gush of wetness that always happens when you think naughty thoughts about your man.

You turn off the bedside lamp just as Joe walks into the bedroom so he doesn't notice your flushed face; he slides into bed and reaches over to give you a goodnight kiss. "Night, babe," he whispers, kissing you one more time before rolling over. "Night," you whisper back, biting the inside of your cheek to try and distract yourself from the throbbing ache between your thighs. Just go to sleep, you think. You know he's gonna bang you harder than a screen door in a hurricane once he gets past this. Have a little self control!

Fifteen minutes later you admit defeat. Fuck it, you think. I'll handle it myself. You lay still listening for Joe's breathing to even out; after what seems like ages, he gives a barely audible snore and you breathe a sigh of relief. You slide a hand into your panties and rub your clit with slow, deliberate circles, trying hard to suppress any heavy breathing or movement as you get into a steady rhythm. You're about 2/3 of the way to bliss when you hear Joe say your name; you immediately go completely still hoping you imagined it.

"Babe?" Joe whispers, scooting closer to you as you stealthily ease your hand out of your panties and try to even out your breathing.

"Yeah?" you whisper back.

"Are you playing with yourself?"

"Maybe."

Joe chuckles low in his throat and closes the distance between you, rolling onto his side to look down at you in the faint glow of the hallway light. "Any reason I wasn't invited to the party?" You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing your pulse rate to return to normal before you answer. "Because I know you're dead tired." You squirm a bit as Joe's hand inches up your thigh toward your aching core. "I didn't mean to wake you up," you say breathlessly. "Just go back to sleep. I can handle this." You bite your lower lip as Joe slides a hand inside your panties. "I'm calling an audible, baby girl," he purrs, circling a finger over your clit a few times before skimming down a little farther. "So wet," he groans."

"You don't have to. I know you're tired," you protest, moaning as he continues to tease you. "I'm never too tired for this. Besides, you'll cum much harder if I do it," he says matter-of-factly, knowing it's the absolute truth. "Let me make you feel good." He nips your earlobe with his teeth while sliding one long finger inside your slick heat. All thoughts of protesting vanish when he adds a second finger deep inside you while grinding his thumb against your clit, lightly at first then adding pressure as you get closer to the edge. He leans down and kisses a trail up your neck, his soft scruff tickling you in all the right places.

Just before your climax hits, he slows down and withdraws his fingers just enough to pull you back from the edge. "I was so close," you whine. "I know," he teases, his hot breath in your ear sending a shiver of desire down your spine. "But I'm not done playing with you yet."

He takes his sweet time working you back up, whispering filthy encouragement in your ear while you writhe beneath him. You're literally light-headed with desire as the tension builds inside you again; you reach down and grab his forearm to hold him steady. "Just like that," you breathe. "Don't stop!" The feel of his forearm muscles flexing as he curls his fingers inside you is the catalyst that sets you off. You gasp his name as your climax hits, holding onto his arm like an anchor as your head spins and your walls clench hard around his fingers; he continues to caress your G-spot, catching your whimpers in his mouth as you ride out the intense orgasm.

Once you finally catch your breath, you realize his very prominent erection is grinding against your hip. You reach down and give him a gentle squeeze. "You too tired for me to handle this?"

"Hell no," he groans, quickly stripping his underwear off. He watches you, eyes heavy-lidded with arousal, as you settle between his legs. You press wet kisses up the long length of his thighs as you crawl upward, maintaining eye contact with him as you worship his body with your lips and tongue. When you reach the juncture of his thighs you lightly suck his balls, smiling when your actions draw a low purr of approval from him.

"You like that?" you ask, continuing to tease him. "You know I love it," he growls, "but if you don't stop I'm gonna shoot before you get my cock in your mouth."

"Wouldn't want that," you breathe. You think about teasing him -- edging him until he begs for release -- but you know he's too tired for that tonight. Instead, you lock eyes with him and run your tongue up and down his hard length, flicking your tongue over the sweet spot on the underside just the way he likes until his eyes slide closed and his head drops back on his pillow. He fists a hand in your long hair and lets out a throaty groan when you take him deep. "I'm not gonna last long," he whispers, his hips grinding up into each thrust. You slide both hands up his chest and tease his nipples as you continue to deep-throat him, humming low in your throat to add extra sensation as his thrusts get more erratic. "Jesus," he hisses, giving one final thrust before gracing your throat with a rapid-fire climax.

For several minutes, the only sound in the room is heavy breathing coming from both of you. Once you catch your breath, you run your gaze over Joe's body, smiling at how thoroughly spent he looks. He opens his eyes and sees you smiling.

"What are you smiling about?" he rasps.

"Just admiring you. You're ridiculously beautiful."

"Except for this," he says, running his fingers over his appendectomy scar. "Guess I can't pose naked now," he teases.

"Honey, if you posed naked nobody would even notice that small scar. There are waaay more interesting things to ogle on your gorgeous body."

"You always know just what to say to make me feel better."

Y'all are quiet for a minute before he sits up and gives you an enigmatic look; he clears his throat before speaking. "I thought you already knew this but let me say it again -- 99% of the time I'm not too tired for sex. I wish you would've told me you wanted it. I thought you weren't attracted to me anymore."

You cackle at the absurdity before realizing his face is dead serious. "You better be kidding, Joseph Lee. It's taken all of my willpower not to jump you on a daily basis once you healed up from surgery. Not to mention, the only time we've had sex these last couple weeks was when I initiated it. If you wanted it more why didn't you do something?"

"I wanted to." He shrugs. "I wanted to just lose myself in you, but …"

"But what?"

"I played horrible, especially against Pittsburgh; I didn't want a pity fuck," he mumbles.

Your mouth drops open for a second at the sheer ridiculousness. "Pity fuck? Are you for real? 'Cause if so that's the dumbest shit you've ever said."

"Sorry."

"Sorry my ass! Look at me!" You wait for him to meet your eyes before continuing. "We've known each other way too long for you to truly think that. You could lose every game for the rest of your career, and I'd still want you more than I want air in my lungs, you know that right?"

He makes a face. "But I was so bad. Embarrassingly bad."

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know winning is the only thing you'll accept for yourself, but don't project that on me. I want you to win because it makes you happy, but I don't think any less of you when you lose."

"The stakes seem so much higher this year though. The Super Bowl appearance raised expectations in a huge way."

"Not for me," you argue.

He holds your gaze for several seconds, taking in the stubborn look on your face before dropping his eyes. "You're right," he mutters. "I was stupid to think that."

"You're not stupid. You're just human. I definitely need to communicate better though so you won't have these doubts."

"No!" his head snaps up. "This is not your fault. I was feeling sorry for myself and let it spiral too much." You open your mouth to argue but he forges ahead. "You wanted me when I was just a no-name, chubby-cheeked, transfer quarterback who came to LSU because OSU wouldn't play me and Nebraska didn't want me." He shrugs. "It was stupid of me to think a couple of shitty games would change your mind."

"Yeah, that was pretty stupid," you agree, giggling when he gives you a told-you-so look. "Speaking of stupid," you continue. "Those schools were dumb as shit for not wanting you, but LSU was your destiny. You made history there; you and that whole team will always be legends."

"LSU was my destiny because it's where I met you. Can't imagine my life without you."

"You trying to make me cry?" you whisper, swallowing hard as a couple of tears spill out of your eyes.

He leans forward, kissing the hot, salty tears off of your cheeks. "Are they happy tears?" he asks. "Yes," you sigh, collapsing against him as he lays down and pulls you down with him, gently cradling your head against his chest.

"I think we're both pretty tired right now," he soothes. "Let's just get some rest."

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

You come awake slowly, lulled by the heat radiating off of Joe as you lie wrapped in his arms. You turn your head and look at the clock on the bedside table -- 3:33 a.m.

"Hey," Joe mumbles, his deep voice making you jump.

"Oh! You startled me!" you laugh. "How long have you been awake?"

"About 30 minutes. Can't sleep 'cause my mind is racing."

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, pushing up into a sitting position so you can see his face.

"All sorts of shit."

"Like what?"

"Like … you … football … that supermassive black hole at the center of our galaxy."

"You're such a goober," you giggle.

"Love you too, babe."

You lean down and plant a kiss on his pretty lips. "Tell me more about your football musings."

"I think I'm gonna take the o-line to Jeff Ruby's this Friday for a nice steak dinner. The media and fans are shitting all over them; they deserve a little treat."

"That's a great idea. Just don't sneak in like you normally do. Make sure y'all come in the front door together so everyone can see you."

He raises an eyebrow. "You calling an audible?" he asks.

"Yep! Seems to be the theme tonight." You laugh as he narrows his eyes at you. "Hear me out; a public display of confidence is just what they need right now. Lets everyone know you've got their back."

"That's … actually a great idea," he concedes.

After talking for a few more minutes, Joe's stomach growls loudly and you both laugh.

"Sounds like you need a snack," you chuckle, rubbing a hand over Joe's flat stomach.

"Are you trying to fatten me up?"

"Hell yeah. You need to gain at least 10 more pounds. You don't even have an inch to pinch," you tease, playfully grabbing at his waist.

"I've got way more than an inch to pinch," he gives you a cocky smirk. "You're just grabbing in the wrong place."

"Easy there, hot stuff. Pretty sure you're too tired for round two."

"I'm actually feeling good. I think if I have a pumpkin pie bar I'll be ready to go." He gives you a dirty wink. "You better get you a snack, too. You're def gonna need the energy."

"Oh really? What do you have in mind?"

"Something rough and raunchy. You okay with that?"

You hop off the bed and match his dirty wink with one of your own. "I'm always okay with that. Hang tight while I go get our snacks."

You're halfway to the door when his voice stops you. "Babe?"

You spin around and raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Make it 2 pumpkin pie bars for me." He pats his belly. "I suddenly have a huge appetite."

"You got it," you say, flashing him a grin before heading for the door.

"He's gonna be just fine," you whisper to yourself, humming "Juicy" by Doja under your breath as you jog down the stairs to the kitchen.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow oneshot

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doumadono · 7 months

Text

Warnings: post-timeskip Kōtarō, fem!Reader, spanking, light masochism?

Summary: Your deep trust in Kōtarō led you to desire trying something new and exciting with him

A/N: This marks my fourth standalone fic for this delightful Kinktober. Brace yourself for a tantalizing read! Today's prompt: spanking

You loved your boyfriend, Kōtarō, with all your heart, but your paths took you in different directions. While you were eager to explore and try new things, he seemed more conservative and reluctant to venture beyond his comfort zone.

After days of persistent requests and almost pleading, he finally agreed to try out some enticing new experience, at least in your opinion.

Smack!

"Like that?" he asked, his eyebrow cocked.

"Harder." You lay sprawled on your stomach across Kōtarō's lap, a thrilling mixture of need and excitement coursing through you as he agreed to explore new realms of passion with you.

His hand descended once more upon your ass, but it still felt disappointingly gentle, prompting a needy whine to escape your lips. "What? Too gentle for your taste?" Kōtarō inquired, his voice tinged with a hint of concern.

With a scoff and a playful smirk, you responded, "Babe, I want it to sting. This feels more like a friendly high-five."

Smack! Smack! Smack! Each of the smacks was incredibly gentle, almost as if he was lightly patting instead of smacking.

Kōtarō's voice retained its honeyed sweetness, despite the unusual context, as he expressed his reluctance, "I don't want to hurt you, babe."

You appreciated his caring nature, but you shifted your body slightly in his lap, allowing you to meet his soft, golden eyes. Speaking in a hushed tone, you traced a teasing finger up and down his arm, your desire unmistakable in your words, "Darling, don't sweat it, you couldn't possibly hurt me. You see, what you're doing is a real turn-on for me, and I feel incredible when you're in the driver's seat. Rest assured, if anything felt even slightly amiss, I'd have you know right away, alright?"

Kōtarō's complexion took on a deeper, nervous, rosy hue, and the telltale signs of his racing heart were evident in his expression and the subtle cadence of his breath. "Just so you know, I would never hurt you, right? For any reason? Other than this, I guess," he confessed, his voice tinged with a touch of uncertainty.

A tender smile graced your lips, touched by the sweetness of his sincerity. "Yes, baby. I know," you assured him, your trust in his intentions unwavering.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

His gentle hand caressed your cheek, tracing delicate patterns for a few moments. Then, in a fluid and harmonious motion, he raised his hand and brought it crashing back down with a resonant smack. Smack! It stung, the sensation of pain intertwining with the underlying currents of pleasure. Another repetition of these actions elicited a similar response — a sharp pang of pain, followed by a thrilling surge of pleasure, and a sultry moan from your lips. Your back arched further, subtly pressing your tempting derrière upward, an invitation for more. ��Harder, tiger. Please, spank me again.”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Bokuto was typically the sweetest lover, offering you the purest vanilla experiences most of the time. But every now and then, something would set him off, whether it was your kinkiness or his own intense desire, and his flavor would change. It was utterly delicious, the way he began to take silent pleasure in your gasps with each slap against your skin. "Getting a little red back here," he commented as he tenderly caressed your heated skin on your asscheek, "Need a break?"

"Yeah," you replied, flipping your body over to sit in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, savoring the pleasant soreness that had settled into your backside.

"Come here," Kōtarō urged. With a kiss to your cheek and a contented sigh, he held you close.

You lay in his arms for a moment, basking in the afterglow. Then, you felt his fingers trace a tantalizing path downward, reaching the sweet, damp spot between your legs. A delightful gasp escaped your lips as two of his fingers began to stroke your slit. "Kōtarō!" You giggled, your laughter merging with moans as his fingers plunged inside.

"Well, given my impeccable performance in the spanking department, I do believe it's high time I receive a well-deserved reward."

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dialoguestetatet · 3 months

Text

Hwangyeon Choi x fem!reader

Fluff, OOC, I got carried away a little in the end, oops. I realized that I was starting to like him a little bit too much

The idiot in love pt.2 (pt.1 is here)

masterlist

For anyone who forgot, Hwangyeon Choi was a very confident person. Therefore, he sat absolutely calmly at a cafe table and waited for your arrival, his leg didn't even twitch from tension, and he didn't tap his fingers on the countertop to the rhythm of the Baby Shark melody. Where did he even hear that tune?

Hwangyeon was cool. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool. He wasn't nervous at all. He was serene as the Buddha. There were definitely no butterflies tap dancing in his stomach. What could have gone wrong? Well, anything, because as it turned out, the universe had some personal scores with him and tried to make him look like an absolute fool. Hwan sat and mentally went over the worst-case scenarios for a date: from the fact that he would turn a cup of coffee over on you, to the fact that an escaped lion from a passing traveling circus would attack the cafe on that day and at that time, and you would have to run to the roof of the tallest building. Oh, wait, no, it wasn't like a lion, but a gorilla. Or an orangutan? There's no difference, but didn't the lion escape and make friends with a wild boar and a jerboa? Or was it a meerkat and a warthog? And what did a lion and monkeys have to do with it? Why was he sitting here at all and shaking his leg so that the table wobbled like in an earthquake? Where was he? Who was he? Baby Shark?

"Hey, Hwangyeon! Have you been waiting long? Sorry I'm late", you walked up to the table and waved at him.

He jumped up so abruptly that his knee hit the table. It was painful, but definitely worth it to see you in all your glory. Your face seemed to glow under the rays of the sun, your eyes sparkled with joy, and your lips broke into the most tender smile that has ever been addressed to him. But suddenly your face was filled with concern. "Are you okay? Does it hurt much?"

"What?" What are you talking about? Did you really feel how much his heart fluttered? Was it pounding that loud?

"Your knee", you put your hand on his shoulder and squeezed a little.

Which knee? He didn't have knees, if you keep touching him, he'll have a heart attack, you'll have to call an ambulance, then the date will definitely be ruined. He needed to pull himself together urgently. Oh God, your hand was still on his shoulder, did you want to take him to his grave before he's thirty?

"No, no, it's alright!" He jerked to the side and you took your hand away. Oh no, bring it back, why did he need shoulders at all if your hand wasn't going to be on them? "By the way, you look really pretty".

"Oh, thank you, Hwan, you look great yourself". No, he didn't blush, he was as tough as a tin soldier. Didn't he burn down in the end of the story? What did it matter? You called him Hwan, he'll need to come up with beautiful names for your future daughter.

"Th- thank you", DID HE STUTTER? This shame can only be washed away with his blood. While you were sitting down at the table, Hwangyeon was thinking about how painful it is to commit seppuku and why masochism has always been in fashion.

"I hope you don't mind that I've already ordered?" It wasn't for nothing that he's been scouring your entire Instagram in search of what you liked.

You smiled at him, "Not at all, you guessed my favorite. And I really like this cafe, it's amazing that you suggested going here". God, stop smiling, or he'll have to lean across the table and kiss you. It's a well-known fact that if a person you're madly in love with was sitting in front of you and smiling at you, then you have to kiss them, even if you're on a first date. He didn't make up the rules.

So far, the dialogue has progressed quite productively, Hwan has already learned more about what you do, a little about your hobby (he'll have to google more to be able to support you in this), and about your favorite book (he'll also need to read it, so it'll take some time before he can insert any phrase from it into your conversation).

"You do cycling, don't you?", your question caught him off guard, because he was thinking about whether it was possible to gently take your hand. Wasn't your hand just lying next to the cup? Most likely, your hand was very lonely and cold, so he'll be happy to warm you. Now, what was the question again?

"Oh, yeah, I've been doing this since I was a kid. I love this feeling when you ride a bike, and there's only wind around, the world seems to freeze. I'm pretty good at it and quite popular among cyclists", surely he couldn't miss the chance to brag in front of you.

"I really want to see it sometime", you ran your fingers over the cup.

"Of course, come to the competition, and witness my victory," Hwangyeon gently ran the pads of his fingers over your knuckles. You laughed and moved your hand a little closer to him. "Huh, you're a confident man, I like that." He carefully wrapped his much larger hand around yours, and your palm fitted his perfectly. He stroked your knuckles with his thumb. Suddenly, you intertwined your fingers with his and looked shyly from under your eyelashes. Hwan smiled and continued to massage the point between your thumb and forefinger.

You walked out of the cafe holding hands. While you were ranting about your favorite show, Hwangyeon was considering the possibility of getting slapped in the face and being known as the guy who can't keep his hands to himself if he kissed you. There were two options, the first one was to kiss you, get slapped in the face and watch you run away with the words "you're acting too fast, did you think I was a girl of easy virtue?", and the second one was not to kiss you and regret it until the next date. What if you don't want another date? It was going pretty well, wasn't it? You were smiling, laughing, chatting, holding hands. Your hand is so small, so thin, your skin is so delicate compared to his. He was wondering what ring size you have. This was a first date, calm down, people usually waited a few years after they officially became a couple. What if you don't want to date him? Maybe he should dig a grave right in that vacant lot that he often drove past as a child? He'll simply wait in a hole to die like a giraffe. Why did he have only animals on his mind all day?

"Hwan," you said his name softly. You've already stopped by your house, facing each other. He looked into your eyes and realized that he shouldn't have overthought it. You were standing there beaming with joy, and your lips were so kissable, so it was impossible not to do it. Gently running his hand over your cheek, he touched your lip with his thumb. "May I?" Hwan whispered, leaning closer to your face. "Yes," you breathed into his lips. Fireworks exploded in front of his eyelids from the first touch of your lips. As soft as he thought. As gentle as he imagined. As sweet as he dreamed. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he pulled you even closer, hugging you around the waist. At first, a timid and tender kiss quickly turned into a passionate one. You ran your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck while he greedily stole your breath. A shiver ran down his spine as you moaned softly against his lips. Hwangyeon bit your lower lip and pulled it with his teeth. You whimpered and trembled in his arms as he parted your lips and slipped his tongue into your mouth. He was crazy about the way you clung to him, scratched his neck with your nails, sucked on his tongue. He stroked your waist, put his hands on your hips, but quickly returned his hands back, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to deny himself the pleasure of thrusting his thigh between your legs and, clasping your hips, pressing you against him. With great difficulty, he pulled away from your lips. You mewled in protest and reached back. Seeing the blush on your face, half-closed eyes and bitten lips, Hwan began to erratically leave kisses on your nose, cheeks, chin, moving to your neck, unable to resist running his tongue over the beating vein and biting the thin skin with his teeth. "Hwan, please", his legs almost buckled from your pleading moan, he couldn't stop himself and led a trail of kisses to the place between your neck and ear, sucking the skin there in the mark of possession. Breathing heavily, you looked into each other's eyes.

"You're alright, princess?" Hwangyeon chuckled, seeing how disheveled you are.

"More than that, actually," you lovingly stroked his goatee.

"So you don't mind repeating it again?" Please say yes, otherwise he'll cry right here. He won't even be embarrassed by it.

"A kiss?" You're holding your breath.

"A date," Hwan rubbed his nose against your cheek, "and a kiss, a lot of kissing, actually."

"So, just dates and kisses then?" You pouted a little.

"To tell you the truth, I would die happy if you let me be your boyfriend." God, give him the strength to hold on a little longer and not to start making out with you right then and there.

"Oh no, I need my boyfriend alive, so try to survive." Was that a yes? It wasn't a hallucination, right? Hwan's not going to wake up from a coma right now, there's a zombie apocalypse around, and his best friend took his wife away?

"Then I need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation at regular intervals". You giggled and pulled him by the neck, kissing his lips again.

#hwangyeon choi x reader #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker #windbreaker hwangyeon #hwangyeon choi #hwangyeon x reader #choi hwangyeon #windbreaker webtoon #choi hwangyeon x reader #windbreaker hwangyeon x reader

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greenflavoredcyanide · 3 months

Text

I Guess Blood is kind of Hot

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories:

Gen, Other

Fandom:

Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)

Relationships:

Strade (BTD/TNR)/Reader

Additional Tags:

Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Canon-Typical Violence, Nosebleed, Gore, only a little tho, Blood Kink, Sadism, Light Masochism, Kissing, Rough Kissing, Rough Body Play, No Sex, womp womp, Light Bondage

First time posting a fic here! Let me know how I can improve :3

It was a normal afternoon. As normal as an afternoon in this goddamn house could be. You don’t know how long you’ve been here, been kept here, but you’ve gotten used to the “norm” here. On Saturday afternoons, Strade usually had the living room reserved for his shows. He would sit on the couch with a few beers and watch whatever he wanted, it was his tv time. You were allowed to sit with him if you wanted to, but to be quite honest; you didn’t really want to. Not only were the shows he watched boring, but you didn’t really want to be seated next to… him… Even though you got as comfortable as you could get with Strade, he was still your captor. He was still dangerous, mean, and sadistic. He’s still the same man that has shoved blades deep into your skin, slashed you open, used power tools on you, etc… sure, right now he’s not doing any of that, he actually is behaving really normal right now, but you can’t just forget all of that.

You had your own room at this point anyway; it was small but comfortable. You spent most of your free time there. Either that, or in Ren’s room. You really liked Ren’s room, it’s colourful and comfy. He didn’t mind you being in there as long as you didn’t disturb him while he was watching stuff. You didn’t really care for any of the animes he watched, but you would occasionally watch with him when you were really bored. One thing that Ren had that you didn’t was a laptop. Strade doesn’t trust you enough yet to give you your own, you still had to earn that privilege. However, a privilege you did earn was having books and art supplies. You expressed to Strade some of your interests one day after he was done with work. You didn’t really expect him to do anything with that information, but to your surprise he came home with a sketchbook, a notebook, pencils, pens, and some graphic novels. These were your only other sources of entertainment.

You were sitting on your bed, sketchbook open. Doodling some random characters onto the pages, when a feeling of unease washed over you. You felt like something bad was about to happen, you usually do. Maybe it was intuition, maybe it was gut feeling, but you were usually right. You paused your doodling and listened for the TV. It still seemed to be running a program, which means Strade was still occupied. You tried to brush off the feeling, getting back to drawing a character’s hair. With the free time you had, you often spent it making up fictional characters. Some were antagonists, some were protagonists, and some were in between. You had a lot of fun with them, making up silly stories to distract you from the hell you were living in at the moment. You were lost in thought about what personality to give this new one, when your door slams open.

You jumped in your spot, yelping and spinning around on your bed to face the door. Your heart dropped as you examined the intruder; it was Strade. You gulped as you stared at him, looking over his body language. He was tense, hand still resting on the door handle as he stood in the frame. His chest was heaving, eyebrows furrowed, as if he just ran up all the stairs as fast as he could. To anyone else, he would look just plain ol’ frustrated, but you knew what that look in his eye meant; he was sexually frustrated. You felt worry build up in the pit of your stomach, worry for your safety. He came into your room, which means he wants you to help him, which usually does not go well for you. At all.

“Get up, we’re going to the basement.” he announced, staring you down with hungry eyes. You paused your movements for a moment, evaluating your options. You really didn’t want to go down there. You know he hasn’t had any new play things in a while, so he’ll probably go really hard with whatever fucked up plan he had. Your injuries had just started to heal up, you didn’t want them to get replaced so fast… after you failed to move to the door, he spoke up again. “Don’t make me drag you.” you squeeked in response, immediately getting up from your spot. You didn’t want him to get the remote out, or pull you down by your hair again. You hovered close behind him as he led the way down, glancing over at Ren with begging eyes as you walked past him. You both knew what was going to happen, and Ren would rather it be you than him; which is fair, since you’d rather it be him than yourself.

After finally making it to the basement, you hesitantly stood in behind Strade. Usually you’d already be tied down or restricted in some way, but right now you weren’t restrained by anything besides the collar. He stood at the workstation, hovering over a few tools, probably trying to pick which one to use today. You gulped as he finally turned around with rope in his hand. You felt an urge to run hit you, realisation smacking you across the face. You knew this was going to happen, yet you walked right on down here! What were you thinking! You could feel your knees buckle as he approached you. “N-no- wait!” you pleaded as he grabbed you by the hair and shoved you to the ground. “It’ll be quick~” he coos as he ties your hands together behind your back.

You attempted to struggle just a little bit, but he tied them really tight. The friction around your wrists reminded you of the first day you arrived here. You shake the memories out of your head, you’d rather not think about it right now. Before you could even really start to think of something new, Strade threw you down onto your back, your head colliding with the pavement. You groan out in pain at the contact, a ringing starting up in your ears as he pulled your legs and hips towards himself. Swiftly, he pulled out his favourite hunting knife from his back pocket and held it up to your thigh. You couldn’t stop yourself from shrieking in pain as he pushed the blade down into your skin, leaving a deep gnash on your upper thigh. You were surprised at how quickly he got into it. Usually he took it slow, he liked the build up of fear in your eyes as he taunts you; he must be really desperate right now.

Before you could register it, he sliced again, this time lower. He continued to slash at your soft flesh three more times, huffing and getting off to your whimpers and pained noises. You expected him to do more, maybe cut your stomach or chest while he’s at it, but instead he tosses your legs to the sides and stands up. You look up at him through teary eyes, confused. I mean, sure, you were grateful he stopped so early but why? Why was he done? There’s no way that’s all- you were pulled out of thought as he yanked you up by your hair, earning a raw cry of pain from you. You just barely managed to get onto your knees when you felt a blow to your stomach. Falling backward again, you heaved, gasping for air. You didn’t even catch your breath before Strade sent his booted foot into the side of your abdomen, sending you barreling across the floor. Wheezing at the impact, you coughed harshly, a copper taste filling your mouth. Your vision was blurry with tears as you rolled over pathetically, trying to stabilise yourself.

Over the ringing in your ears you could hear Strade laughing. Though, it wasn’t his usual sadistic laugh, it was more breathy; more desperate. You gasped for air as he tugged up your face by your hair once again. “You’d look so lovely with a beaten face, don’t you think?” he chuckled into your ear from behind. His breath was hot against your neck as he moved over your body, positioning himself to straddle your back. He pushed down on it as he held your head tight, causing you to arche in an incredibly uncomfortable way. Desperately, you tried to move your arms only to be greeted with the harsh friction of rope. You wanted to start begging, but before you could he shoved your face down into the cement. Really hard. You heard a crack as pain engulfed the entirety of your face, blood streaming down from your forehead and nose down to your mouth and chin.

He lifted your head back up before quickly slamming it back down again. You couldn’t stop the noises from leaving your mouth, noises of agony. Your voice cracked as you let out a hoarse, loud cry. It gurgled in your throat as you heaved, trying to catch your breath. Strade was laughing again, this time it was his usual demeaning laugh, full of sadism and enjoyment. You could feel him get off of you, letting go of your head briefly so he could move around to your front. Once again grabbing your face, he examined his work. Your face was covered in blood; the skin in between your eyebrows was torn and broken, letting a generous amount of blood drip down. But that wasn’t what caught his attention, no, it was your nose.

It was obviously broken in multiple places, mangled and crushed. Blood streamed out of it like a waterfall, coating your lips and chin, dripping down your neck. Strade couldn’t help the tent growing in his pants at the sight, it was beautiful. The mixture of tears, blood, and spit gathering and your face alone was enough to get his blood own pumping; his face burning red. You stared at him with pleading, glossy eyes, you hoped this is what he wanted. You didn’t want anymore, you were out of energy. Your breathing was heavy as you were recovering from being winded, but his was heavy because he was excited. He couldn’t contain himself, this was so hot to him. He bunched up your shirt in his fist and pulled you in, slamming his lips into yours.

You were caught off guard, a muffled moan escaping you as he smashed his face into yours, he grinded against your leg as he moved his mouth with yours. You wanted to push him away, but your hands were bound together, rope burn making the skin raw and ache in pain. A combination of both your salivas along with your blood mixing in his mouth really got him going. To him, it was a complete bliss; this is exactly what he wanted; what he needed. But to you, it was too much. There were so many sensations happening at once, you were getting over stimulated. You wanted to focus on the kiss, but your attention kept getting grabbed by both the pain of your open cuts and by the throbbing agony on your face. You could feel Strade through his pants as he grinded into you, he loved this; thrived off of this.

He pulled away, the both of you gasping for air. Still holding your head in his hands, he licked his lips, getting your blood off of them. He huffed, staring down at your still bleeding face with lust. Your eyelids fluttered, giving him unintentional bedroom eyes. Strade laughed again before pulling your face closer to his. You were expecting another rough kiss, but instead you were met with his tongue running along your lips. He then licked up your blood, smacking his lips as he lapped it up from your chin down to your neck. He moaned into the base of your neck, his face now covered in your blood. You couldn’t think, your mind clouded with too many thoughts and feelings.

With the combination of Strade licking and sucking at your neck and his rough grinding, you could feel yourself get increasingly more aroused. Even though you were in extreme pain and discomfort, a part of you liked it. You liked the attention he gave you, how you made him feel so much just by simply bleeding. A fucked up part of you wanted to keep bleeding for him, to keep him on you like this. You were pulled back into your senses as the warmth of his mouth lifted from your skin. You let out a soft whine at the loss of contact, to which he chuckled. “Enjoying yourself too?” he mocked. You couldn’t stop yourself from nodding, pleading for him to continue. He hummed in amusement, running his tongue over his lips to collect any remaining blood.

“I’ll humour you, since you were so good for me~”

#btd #strade btd #strade #btd strade #ren hana #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #boyfriend to death #ao3 stuff #fanfiction #archive of our own

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phillippadgettwrites · 8 months

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The First Time, Every Time: Fire

Rated X / 3377 Words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Scully’s suggestion that he take her to lunch wasn’t a serious one, but he takes her anyway. He’s too distracted in the wake of Phoebe’s surprise visit to get any work done at this point, and he figures he owes her one after she single handedly solved the case while he was busy being mindfucked by Scotland Yard’s finest. He takes her somewhere just a little bit dingy with a full bar, the kind of place they aren’t likely to run into any of their cohorts from the Bureau. While they’ve never directly discussed it, he’s sure she’s aware there’s some gossip circulating about them, and though it’s entirely baseless, it’s best not to feed the beast in his experience.

He’s a little embarrassed that Scully bore witness to the power Phoebe clearly still has over him. He’s a little embarrassed to learn that, even ten years later, when she says jump he still asks how high, and then tries to double it. The moment she kissed him he felt like that naive college boy again, so starved for affection that he’d take it from the teeth of a snarling dog and then thank it for biting him.

He suspects that Scully only orders a drink so he’ll feel comfortable doing the same, though she reasons that she doesn’t really have anything else that needs finishing today, so it’s not an issue if her afternoon is a total loss. She’s actually a really good friend, now that he’s thinking about it. He’s only ever thought of her as his partner, but she shows up for him outside of work, too. And while he might have expected her to bristle at his moderately unprofessional behavior during the investigation, she’d only rolled her eyes and gently teased him, much like a friend would.

“So,” she says halfway through their second round of drinks. He can tell by the wry smile on her mouth that she’s wading into uncharted territory. “Would I be correct if I guessed that Phoebe ripped your heart to pieces and then told you to clean up the mess?”

Mulder cringes a little, but he’s smiling too. Not because it’s funny, but because she’s right.

“Something like that,” he says, then takes a sip of his drink. “Though I wish I could say it only happened once.”

“Ah,” Scully says knowingly, sitting back in her seat and resting the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other.

They both removed their suit jackets the moment they sat down, and Mulder has since loosened his tie and cuffed his shirtsleeves. Scully is wearing one of those ruffled blouses she seems to have in every color, the ones that have a rather deep V in the neck that’s made modest by all the excess material surrounding it. Sometimes he looks at her in her boxy suits and shoulder pads and thinks about what she looked like in nothing but her bra and panties under candlelight, but he’s careful never to let her see him looking at her that way. The fact that she’s beautiful is filed away in his mind behind more pertinent traits like intelligent, brave, determined, funny, and loyal.

“Pathetic, I know,” he says, looking down at his glass to hide the chagrin on his face. “And she just about looped me in for another round, if I’m being honest.”

“The sex was that good, huh?” she says, and he snaps his head up to be sure that it’s still his consummately professional partner sitting across the table from him.

She’s still there, the skin on her chest flushed pink with booze. She smirks behind her glass, perhaps a bit proud of her locker room talk.

“Depends on your definition of good, I guess,” he answers honestly. “It was pretty wild, and at the tender age of twenty-one, wild was as good as it got.”

Scully’s eyebrows raise curiously and he feels his groin grow just a bit heavy. He’s not sure how explicit of a discussion she’d be open to, but he’s interested in finding out.

“Are we talking ‘group sex’ wild, or ‘masochism’ wild?” she asks, just as casually as if she were asking him what classes he and Phoebe had together at Oxford. Mulder clears his throat.

“I think there was undeniably some masochism involved on my part, but more like high-risk or transgressive.”

“Transgressive,” Scully repeats with interest, her head tilting thoughtfully to the side. She doesn’t ask, but he tells her anyway.

“She, uh…she gave me a blow job on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s grave once, as an example,” he says, hiding his pride behind sheepishness.

A slow grin breaks out over Scully’s face, and Mulder feels a warm flush all over his body.

“Agent Mulder,” she admonishes him lightly, picking up her nearly empty glass and sucking the last bits of liquid off the bottom. “How disrespectful.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking between her smiling face and the table top. “I think that was kind of the point. It was hardly worth it, though. She broke up with me the next day with no explanation and she was sleeping with one of my friends by the end of the week.”

Scully’s smile fades and she holds her glass up, making eye contact with their waiter and gesturing that they’d like another round.

“Mulder, I’ve known plenty of women like her,” she says, her tone shifting as she uncrosses her legs and leans in. “She hates herself so much that the only thing that brings her any pleasure is to be pursued. She showers men with affection and attention, and then withdraws it as soon as she knows they’re hooked.” She pauses while the waiter drops off fresh drinks and takes away their empty glasses, as well as the remains of their lunch. “Men chasing after her, asking what they did wrong and how they can win her back, is the entire objective. Let me guess, if you ever call her out on it she acts offended that you’d define her character based on a couple little mistakes?”

Now Mulder sits back in his chair, disturbed by such an accurate description of his tumultuous relationship with Phoebe.

“Were you secretly attending Oxford in 1983, Scully?” he asks uncomfortably, then takes a gulp of his drink that burns all the way down his throat.

She smiles, pleased with herself.

“Phoebe isn’t nearly as unique as she’d like you to think, Mulder,” she says, resting her elbows on the table and then her chin on her joined hands.

“Well, she sure pulled one over on me,” he says, feeling embarrassed again. “More times than I care to admit.”

He drags his middle finger through the ring of water left by his glass, drawing slow, contemplative circles on the table top. Scully’s hand appears from his periphery and settles over his own, and she waits until he looks up at her.

“It’s not your fault, Mulder,” she says tenderly. “She saw a vulnerability in you and she took advantage of it. Having been on the receiving end of that myself, I can empathize with the fact that it’s difficult to see it for what it is when you’re in the middle of it.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he says lightly, trying to reclaim the playful banter he’d been enjoying a few minutes ago.

Scully withdraws her hand and picks up her glass.

“I wish that I were,” she says wistfully. “Though I can’t say that my own youthful hijinks included oral sex on the gravesites of famed authors. I’m disturbed to learn the origin of your private joke, by the way.”

Mulder laughs, but he also entertains a mental image of Scully spread-eagle on the trampled grass in front of Doyle’s cement headstone, a dark-haired man’s head between her legs.

“Glad to hear you don’t think I’m a total schmuck,” he says.

“No, not a schmuck,” she assures him with a shake of her head. “I will admit to being a bit surprised by how submissive you were towards her, though.”

The comment was clearly offhand, based on her demeanor, but it hits him like an insult.

“Submissive?” he repeats, sitting up a little taller. “What makes you say that?”

She considers him for a moment before answering.

“You deferred to her in every respect,” she explains. “It was quite clear that she was in charge.”

“It was her case,” he shoots back. “Of course she was in charge.”

Scully holds up both her hands, palms facing him, in surrender.

“Forget I said anything,” she says. “We should probably get back to work soon.”

“I’m not submissive, Scully,” he says emphatically, ignoring her previous statement.

“I didn’t mean it pejoratively, Mulder; it’s not a bad thing to be. I was simply saying that I was surprised by it.”

“Well whatever you think you saw, you’re wrong,” he says sternly, trying to catch her eye.

Reluctantly, she makes eye contact and holds it for a beat.

“Whatever you say,” she says, acquiescent but characteristically skeptical.

Mulder clenches his jaw, holding back a tawdry remark. He waves their waiter over and asks for the check, as well as a cab, and then drains his glass. Fifteen minutes later they pile into the back seat of a taxi, buzzed to the point of uselessness as far as work is concerned.

“Where to?” the cabbie asks, meeting Mulder’s eye in the rear-view mirror.

“Alexandria,” he says, and Scully looks over at him.

“No, the J. Edgar Hoover building,” she corrects, and Mulder levels her with a steely stare.

“No, Alexandria,” he says again, and her eyebrows furrow.

“What are you doing?” she asks quietly.

“Where to, folks? Meter’s running,” the cabbie says, annoyed.

“Alexandria,” Mulder repeats, turning to look out the window as the cab pulls away from the curb.

He feels Scully’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t look at her right away. He makes her wait nearly two full blocks before he slowly turns his head and takes in the thoroughly confused expression on her face. Even then, he doesn’t proactively justify his actions like he typically would. He just looks at her, letting his eyes fall to the exposed skin on her chest and then dragging them slowly back up to her face. She opens her mouth and closes it, swallows, then finally turns to look out the window, and he finds himself fighting off a smile. He’s already rendered her speechless and he’s just barely getting started.

The cab deposits them in the parking lot of his apartment building, and after paying the driver he wordlessly heads inside, relying on his reflection in the glass doors to confirm that Scully is following behind him. In the elevator, he again feels her staring him down but does not reward her with eye contact. He behaves as though she isn’t there until the doors open on the fourth floor, at which point he gives her another once-over glance and then says, “After you,” in a tone that tells her it’s a directive, not an offer.

He follows her too-closely down the hall. Not so close that she could rightfully question it, but closer than is socially acceptable. When she arrives in front of apartment forty-two he reaches past her, key in hand, to unlock it, effectively trapping her between his body and the door. She stiffens but doesn’t speak, and when the door swings open he has to touch her back to encourage her inside. She stands in his foyer while he deposits his wallet, keys, and cellphone in their designated places, seemingly waiting to find out what will happen next.

He slips her suit jacket off her shoulders and she lifts her arms out of it, watching him curiously as he hangs it on the billiard ball coat rack near the door. He can feel that her tolerance to continue waiting for the punchline is waning, so he nods toward the dining room table behind her and says, “Have a seat.”

Scully turns to look at each of the three chairs set around the table. One is hosting a stack of books, one a pile of unfolded laundry, and the other a banker’s box full of junk he was planning to donate.

“Where?” she asks flatly, one eyebrow raised.

Mulder steps forward and grabs her by the waist, hoisting her up onto the tabletop. She makes a startled little gasping sound and wraps her hands around his forearms, regarding him with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asks, alarmed.

He pushes even closer, so close that he’s occupying the space between her open legs, his hands still on her waist, and leans down as though he’s going to kiss her. She stays stock still, her eyes open, and at the last second he shifts his head to the side and brushes his lips lightly across her ear.

“Who’s submissive now?” he whispers, and he feels her shiver at the tickle of his breath.

He leans away from her, grinning victoriously and expecting to see something along the lines of embarrassment or irritation on her face, but she looks awestruck. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes unfocused, and she’s breathing heavily.

“Scully?” he asks hesitantly. Did he take it too far? Did he scare her?

Her hazy eyes take a meandering path up his chest to his face, then narrow a little. Her jaw sets, the corner of her mouth quirks, and she reaches up with one hand to grab hold of the loosened tie still hanging from his neck. He opens his mouth in preparation to apologize, but she tugs hard and his mouth crashes into hers. Suddenly he’s tasting whisky and lipstick, and the heels of her shoes are digging into his ass.

Something he should have guessed about Dana Scully is that she takes no prisoners. The one time he attempts to come up for air with the intention of making sure she’s thought this through, she silences him with her hot little hand down the front of his dockers, and he decides that they’ll just have to learn to lie in the bed they’re making. She pops half the buttons off his shirt when she artlessly tears it open, then rips his undershirt off over his head so violently she just about takes one of his ears with it. She gets him down to his boxers while she’s still perched on the edge of his dining room table, fully dressed, and he realizes that he’s completely ceded control to her.

Her hands are just slipping under the waist of his boxers, preparing to divest him of the last scrap of clothing on his body, when he grabs them and pins them to the table beside her hips on either side. She looks up at him, panting, and smiles.

“Point taken, agent,” he says, his face inches from hers.

“You do realize that brute force isn’t dominance, right?” she playfully chides him, looking at one of her restrained hands and then the other.

She’s so sassy, a trait she normally doles out in bite size pieces, and he’d be a damn liar if he tried to claim he didn’t like it.

“What was your plan here?” he asks, grateful that the bend in his waist necessary to hold her hands against the table is obscuring the fact that he’s half-hard.

“I might ask you the same question,” she retorts haughtily.

A beat passes, and she runs her tongue across her bottom lip nervously. It occurs to him that maybe this isn’t just a prank that’s gone too far.

“Are you drunk, Scully?”

She sighs, her head lolling to the side thoughtfully.

“Maybe a little bit,” she confesses. “Are you?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he agrees. “Am I taking advantage of you?”

She shakes her head slowly. “Not yet,” she says, and something in the tenor of her voice sends blood rushing to his lap.

“Would you like me to?” The words leave his mouth before he’s given them even a split second of consideration, and the resulting flash of adrenaline makes him dizzy.

“Maybe a little bit,” she answers, her chest heaving.

The second he lets go of her hands so he can simultaneously kiss her and get to work unbuttoning her blouse, she pushes his boxers off his hips, leaving him nude. She doesn’t touch him right away, though she makes no attempt to hide her appreciative leering, and the combined pride and desperation bolster his confidence to the point that they quiet the little voice in his head that’s telling him this is a bad idea.

In short order, he fills in the details of her body that were previously hidden beneath white cotton. Her breasts are small but perfectly proportioned, and when she lifts her hips and allows him to divest her of her slacks and panties, he finds a full patch of ginger curls between her legs.

For a moment they just look at each other, her hands on his waist and his resting on the tops of her thighs. When he looks at her face and she meets his eye, he at once realizes the gravity of what’s happening and also that it’s already too late to avoid whatever the consequences will be. Nonetheless, he’s afraid.

Scully smiles demurely and tosses her head to get her hair out of her face.

“You’re not getting submissive on me, are you?” she asks playfully, though he senses that she’s a little afraid too.

He allows himself to get lost in living up to her expectations, almost like he’s playing a role. He’s the man who carries her to his couch and tells her to watch while he tastes the slickness between her legs. He’s the man who holds her hands above her head while he makes her come with his fingers. He’s the man who hands her a—miraculously—unexpired condom and instructs her to put it on him, and then he is the man who bends her over the arm of his couch and tries not to seem too proud when she gasps at the size of him and comes again within a minute.

She moves to sit on the couch, her legs wobbling, and looks skeptically at the condom still snuggly covering his erection, which isn’t waning in the least.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t finished,” she says breathlessly as she pulls a blanket off the back of his couch to cover her nudity.

He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice. Diana never did. Or she didn’t care enough to say anything about it, anyway.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, tugging the condom off and retrieving his boxers from the floor near the table.

“Are you that drunk?” she asks, mildly alarmed.

“No,” he answers quickly. “It just…doesn’t always happen for me.”

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully, and he wishes she’d stop looking at him like that. Like she might actually listen if he told her about the other ways Phoebe took advantage of his vulnerability. About how difficult it is for him to let go in front of someone else now. About how lonely it makes him feel.

He sits beside her and they talk for a long time. About nothing. About everything. About what they just did and what it means for them. Eventually, he does tell her about Phoebe. She doesn’t make him feel weak or silly, or express surprise that a man could experience that kind of issue. She’s empathetic, and angry on his behalf, and she doesn’t take it personally or claim to know how to fix him like most women do. The booze wears away and a new kind of trust is forged, and he gets the feeling that she might turn out to be the best friend he’s ever had.

When she kisses his cheek and slips her hand under the waist of his boxers, he knows that it’s not out of pity. She doesn’t touch him like he’s broken or treat him like a project, and he doesn’t feel any pressure to perform. She coaxes him to the edge and he trusts that she’ll be there to catch him when he falls.

He lets go.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic

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its-crazy-its-vii · 2 months

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I made a Radiostatic/silence Playlist for those who care. These are songs that fit to my personal headcanons for those two idiots so bare with me. I will put more songs on there as time progresses but for now here's a list of the songs and what PoVs I interpreted it with. (mostly vox pov cuz we like him to suffer I guess)

Vox | Alastor | mixed POV

Your Stupid Face - Kaden MacKay

The Thrill of First Love - Falsettos musical

Somebody that I used to know - Scott Bradlees postmodern Jukebox

The masochism Tango - Tom Lehrer

Schon okay - VINTA

Careless whisper - Boyce Avenue

Temporary Love - CG5, Living Tombstone

XOXO - Blind Channel

Play with fire - Nico Santos

i love you - Billie eilish

RED TAIL LIGHTS - Blind Channel

Bad Idea - Blind Channel

Feel Nothing - Blind Channel

Psychopath - Nathan Wagner

I was never there - The Weeknd

Drown In You - Cjbeards

H8 MY SELF - Escape the Fate

Ghost - Jim Yosef, Scarlett

... Baby one more time - Melodicka Bros, Violet Orlandi

Fade to Black - Nadir Rustamli

DRIVING ME PSYCHO - Vinny Marchi

Nothing And Everything - Red

Already Over - Red

Ordinary world - Red

Forever - Red

Break my heart again - Jacob lee

Who's in control - set it off

What About The Day - Sun Never Sets

DISAPPEARE - STARSET

Arcade - Duncan Laurence

Black Dahlia - Hollywood Undead

Tainted Love - Chase Holfelder

Throwback - Michael Patrick Kelly

Love Of Mine - Blind Channel

The fall - half alive

Something stupid - frank sinatra

Don't you dare - Kaden mackay

Hopelessly devoted - glee cast

A little party never killed nobody - Fergie, Q-Tip, GoonRock

Died enough for you - Blind Channel

#Many hot takes here but eh it's literally just my casual music in a Playlist #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin alastor #Vox #Radiostatic #Radiosilence #Static Radio #Music

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

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Parasitic Angel

Yandere Incubus (Oc) x G.N Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings/tags: Reader is implied to have depression, themes of masochism and gaslighting

It’s too loud. Music surrounds you; swarming every thought as it thumps loudly in your ears. You sit at the bar, nursing a watered down drink in your hands as the time passes. You don’t remember what you ordered, nor do you feel like trying it out. The remaining ice clinks against the glass as you stir it around, reflecting your distant gaze on its surface. All you wanted was a little fresh air, but it was starting to feel stuffier than back at your apartment. Maybe it was time to just head back.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

A voice cuts through to your left; a curious smile stretched across its soft features. You’re not sure how you failed to notice the chair pulling out next to you, nor the click of his heels on the mirrored floor; but one thing was clear. With his arm propped up on the counter, and his leg wrapped around the foot of the chair; he made it obvious he wasn’t going anywhere soon. His backpack hung on the chair's back; two wings sewn into its pink spine.

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” His smile edges into a friendly grin. He turns towards the bartender and starts chatting with him. You try to think nothing of it, but he soon returns his attention back to you; straw nursed on bright red lips as he speaks. “So, what are you doing here all by yourself?”

You look around, unsure as to whether he was talking to you or not. The awaiting stare he gives when you look back leads you to believe so. “Nothing. I was just out getting fresh air, and thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to sit in here for a while.”

“That sounds nice.” He muses, voice shrinking as he carries on. I was here with a couple friends, but it looks like they ditched me.``

“Oh, uh, that’s unfortunate. I guess.”

He perks up almost immediately. “It’s okay. There’s lots of people to keep me company. Would you mind doing that for a few minutes?”

“I’m not sure if I’d be the best person for that.”

“It’s just a little conversing. I’m sure you won’t bite. You can start off by telling me your name.”

“…Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/n. Everyone just calls me C.C.” The stranger scoots closer to you; staring so deeply in your eyes it made you a little uneasy. “So, tell me a little more about yourself.”

Despite better judgment; you tell him a few things. That’s what places like this were for after all – to let loose a little. Nothing damming, just a couple facts to get the conversation rolling. He seems invested, but after a while you begin to hear the click of his manicured nails on the countertop.

When it’s his turn; C.C opens up like a book. He likes sweets, hates things that are spicy. A lightweight when it comes to alcohol. He apparently has an occupation in music, and enjoys hanging out in various bars on nights out. Despite all that, he claims at the end of his rambling that he feels – lonely.

You check the time on your phone after what feels like hours had gone by. “It’s getting pretty late. I should probably leave soon.”

“Aw, but I thought we were having fun. Could we.. continue the conversation somewhere else?.” He leans in closer; the shine of the disco lights above reflecting in his large eyes. Swirling around in his green irises; lips quirked in an enticing snare – it's almost hypnotic. He continues to tap his nails against the bar; its rhythm in tune with the beat of your heart.

“Nah.. I have work in the morning, so I need to get some sleep.”

He bites back a frown: shoulders slumping. “Oh… that makes sense. Will I see you around though?”

“I’m not sure, but talking with you was kinda.. nice. Do you want my number or something?”

“Sure.” C.C grins. You exchange numbers and leave him alone at the bar shortly after. He clicks his tongue as you leave; disappointed an easy catch got away. It wasn’t like there hadn’t been someone who could resist his charms in the past, but it was always a pain when it happened. Oh well. At the very least, he got your number and that meant you weren’t completely out of reach yet.

Life went on, and you with it. The encounter had honestly begun to slip from your mind; till the weekend you received a call around noon. You forgot to actually save his number by name, but as you picked up you knew exactly who it was.

“Heyyy, Y/n. Miss me?”

“Oh, hey. C.C, right? What’s up?”

“Nothing much, just wanted to see how my new acquaintance was doing. You haven’t called me so I was worried! Aaaanyway, I have reservations to this cute little café that just opened up, but the friend I was going with bailed on me. Are you free today?”

“I’m not doing anything specific, but-“

“Great! I’ll send you the location. See you soon.”

He hangs up before you could reply and sends you the information. You really had nothing better to do, so you decided it couldn’t hurt to go.

The café was a quaint little place. Styled similarly to a cottage in a way, and walls painted red. An outdoor section was gated off by a small fence; tables lined up with matching umbrellas overhead. You spot C.C at one of the vacant tables; excitedly waving to you as you cross the street. He gets up and meets you halfway, leading you back to the table.

“Thank you so much for coming, Y/n. It would’ve been too lonely to sit at a place like this by myself.” He laughs; wing shaped earrings hanging from his lobes bouncing from the motion. A few things about him were different from the last time you saw him. His once strawberry blonde curls were now a faded lavender color; his eyes hazel. He had a few piercings through his left eyebrow that were easier to see due to his hair being pinned back by a hair clip with a bow and arrow drawn through it.

“No problem.. I. like your new look.”

“Really?” He brushes a strand behind his ear. “I change it often, but just had this done before my roots came out. Life needs variety, y'know? How has it been treating you lately, by the way? I’ve been thinking about you a lot since our last meeting.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I dunno, it just seems like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders or something.”

“I wouldn’t say that… Just going through like most people I do I guess.”

“I see. Well I don’t mind lending an ear sometimes.” C.C beams. Even if he couldn’t get the direct source; there were other ways to extract energy from humankind. Humans are so full of emotion; practically spilling from their hearts at any given moment. Not his preferred taste, but one he could manage. And to him, you were like a buffet.

After that little get together, C.C found himself calling you again – and again. It was slightly refreshing to do things differently, and talking with you actually relieved some of his frustrations during rougher patches. If someone were to ask, he'd almost warm up to the idea of calling you a friend. You open up more as well over the following weeks. Obviously you didn’t dump any issues or stuff similar on him, but it was nice to have someone.

You find yourselves in his bedroom on the top floor in some fancy apartment building one summer eve; the world at your feet from the full view window by his bed. Rain beat against the thick glass; skies clouded by a blanket of darkness. You lay on his bed; an earbud fit in one ear and his song of choice blasting.

“This is nice…” You mutter.

“I know right? This is one of my favorite songs from this artist.”

“Well, that too, but it’s nice to be able to just lay back and relax every once and a while. Things can get really stressful sometimes.”

C.C looks down at you; your body sprawled on his silky sheets. He couldn’t hide the curiosity he had in seeing you in another light. He wasn’t one to take much notice in the differences between one human to the next, but you were a cute little thing. He lays down beside you; far enough so there’s no tension in the air, but where you were still in arms reach. He walks his fingers towards your side, laying his hand flat on the mattress as they brush against your arm.

“There’s always other ways I can help you out, Y/n.. All you need to do is ask.”

You turn your head so that you can face him completely, a faint smile on your face. “I.. like things the way they are now.”

C.C freezes at the softness in your gaze. He pulls his hand back to his side of the bed like yours was suddenly made of fire. Have.. Have your eyes always been so bewitching? He found himself lost in them, like he had tried to get you to see in his. He takes note of the curve of your lips, wondering how they’d feel against his. He sits up; almost crashing back to the mattress from the dull headache that shoots through his skull.

“Aha.. Fuck..”

“C.C? Are you ok?” You sit up as well, lightly grabbing his arm as you check on him. The skin to skin contact sends a jolt up his spine; burning in a symphony of pleasure and an excruciating sting. He rips his arm free; your worry turning to confusion as you look at him.

“Do… do the contacts you’re wearing change color?”

“What?..”

You point at his eyes. “Your eyes. They're pink.”

C.C bolts to the bathroom, ripping his bangs from his face. Just as you claimed; his eyes were a soft pink; their true color. They had bled through the yellow contacts he had put in that morning; glowing fainting in the bathroom light. He shoves a finger in his socket, but the contact is completely gone. He breathes heavily; letting out a shaky laugh with each exhale. It was just his eyes acting funny. There was nothing more behind it. Nothing at all.

C.C grew distant after that point. You still talked from time to time, but he wasn’t always his cheerful self; letting a darker, anxious version of himself slip through the cracks. His stomach twisted into knots when he saw you; his throat dry no matter how many bottles of water he downed. What the hell were you doing to him? It had to stop.

For the first time ever, you’re the one that picks up the phone to call. He doesn’t answer when the line connects; hesitant to answer at all. Your voice is quiet when you finally speak; quivering. It makes his knees weak.

“C.C?”

“…Yea?”

“Can you, can you come over?”

“Why?”

“I’d really just like to see you.”

C.C's heart beats so fast it doesn’t feel like it’s moving at all. His face is hot; blistering from the heat. He collects himself eventually and gives you his response. “Sure.”

As your front door clicks open, he feels like running away. Turning tail and never seeing your adorable face again. Your eyes were as dull as when he first met you. It makes him want to hold you.

“Hey….”He doesn’t reply to your greeting, silently following you inside. He had been over a couple times, but never paid as much attention to the layout of your apartment till now. It was small, fit for one unlike his that could fit a small family. You sit down on the couch; neither of you finding words to say. As time clicks on; you finally wrap your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Y/n?!” He squeals, your breath hot on his neck as you place your face in its crook. “I’m sorry. I just… need to be close to someone right now, and you’re the only one that’s been around for a while.”

“Ah…”He slowly brings his arms around you, resting against the arm of the couch for support. He can feel your heartbeat thumping against his chest, and wonders if you can hear his. It’s so loud he can barely form a thought. That tingling feeling has returned; spreading over every area where your flesh meets. As if to seal the final nail in his coffin, you stare up at him with a look of gratitude.

“Thank you, C.C.”

He still couldn’t understand what you had done to him. Why that one expression had him feeling like no crowd had ever before – the center of the entire world. He finally had your body against his, but not in the way he originally wanted – yet it was so much better. He liked the fact that you needed him. He wanted to feel that rush through him forever. He wanted you to need him more. In whatever way you wanted. No matter how sick or twisted.

Hurt him.

Break him.

Ruin him. Whatever you desired. Just don't leave.

He would never come to learn what these feelings were until weeks later. In the time he had distanced himself from you, you had made a few new friends through the fleeting confidence you had given him. It was just some folks at work and close to it, but they were nice. One in particular, however, was just a little nicer than the rest.

“I think I’m in love with someone, C.C.”

The thought came from nowhere. You were one his bed again, some movie playing in the background as you spoke your mind. You could consider him your best friend at his point, and you something else entirely to him. He rolls over onto his stomach; bile risen in the back of his throat.

Love.

Even though you’re already past it, he can see the way you look at just the mention of this maybe crush. It disgusts him. What did this person do to win your heart? What did this maggot have that would make you fall for them like this? What did it have, that he didn’t?

“Are you sure, Y/n?”

“I said I think.. Why do you ask though?”

“I just want the best for my bestie.. I don’t want anyone to hurt you.”

“I don’t think he’d do anything like that. He’s.. nice.”

C.C's eye twitches. “Really? Well tell me all about him then.”

Peter whistles to himself as he walks down the dimly lit road away from the busy club he had been in moments prior. His face was flush with the buzz that ran through him, and his steps were staggered. He felt good. The kind of good that he would regret tomorrow. Hopefully there would be someone who could cover his shift in the morning. As he passes the alley by the club's back entrance there’s a small click. Like metal bubble wrap. He pays no mind and carries on, but the shadows had other plans for him.

So this is the piece of shit that was trying to steal you away? He stunk worse than the garbage right at his side. C.C wouldn’t let this filth rub his stench over you. He was grateful that the pest came to him, but he still had to pay. The thought of him near you made C.C reach. They all needed to be gotten rid of. They need to stay away.

Stay away.

Stay the fuck away from his Y/n!”

C.C stabs the blade of his box cutter into the lid of a letter in hand, skimming over its contents before chucking them onto a pile on the floor.

“Fuck, this is so tedious. I’m almost done, so we can head out soon, Y/n.”

You sit on the edge of the bed beside him, your eyes still red and puff. Quietly, you mumble. “Do.. Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

C.C drops his cutter on the bed as he pulls you into a hug. “Of course not, babe. Why would you ever think that?”

“I don’t know why he said all those things to me..”

“He didn’t deserve you, Y/n. There’s no need to get worked up over someone like him, because you have me and I’m gonna take you out on the best night of your life!”

His voice drops down to a whisper, body shuddering as he eyes the box cutter on the bed. “But you know… if you need another way to get that frustration out, I’m always here.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere story #yandere male #yandere demon #tw yandere #yandere oneshot #yandere writing #yandere scenario #*throws him at the wall like a wet papertowel* c.c my beloved

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fatalitysficbakery · 6 months

Text

𓆰♥︎𓆪 Confessions Of Sin. —

Selina Kyle x Black Fem!Y/n

genre: (sprinkle of) angst/fluff/SMUT.

warnings: vampire!selina, hybrid!y/n (wolf/witch), g!p (selina), degradation, stalking, slight dub-con, mating, sadism, masochism, mommy kink, slight!puppy play, intercourse, slight fingering.

synopsis: she’s been watching you.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery navigation menu 𓆪.

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery multifandomed &&’ oc menu 𓆪.

⌫

I'd been running from fate my entire life, I didn't believe in it, thought I was destined to trek through life alone, I thrived better in the solitude, that is, until I saw her face.

Been here over a thousand years and nothing quite captivated me like she did, she was the embodiment of everything I was opposite to, she was sweeter than the sour I was accustomed to, that I so admired because within my life, I could never be described as...sweet.

But her? She gave me a damn toothache, and it was worth the cavities. I admit, it turned into a bit of an obsession, an understatement I'm sure the readers will realize soon enough.

—

I liked crimson. Red. Blood. I've never been one for sweets, I enjoyed the finer delicacies the humans found disgust in as they continued eating their rare bloody raw steaks without thinking twice, a nice glass of blood could do a body good, but I get it, I do.

I liked my blood like I liked my wine, dry, bitter, it was true but again, you'll find that I changed my tune.

Y/n Y/ln is sweet, made of sugar, spice, and all things nice so to say, with her body wrapped in visions of pink and hues of deep purple, jet black curls framing a deep brown complexion. When she spoke, I swore I could hear birds singing to her pretty little tune, but love is blind, and I was too.

I saw innocence in her eyes, she couldn't have been more out of place in a city like Gotham, with evil lurking throughout every corner, maybe I felt it my responsibility to protect her. That's a nice excuse, right?

The truth was far more sinister, though I guess it's somewhat true, her blood while enticing belongs solely to me and I needed the filth in this dreaded town to know it, so maybe I told a few more lies but you would too to protect what's yours.

And she...was mine.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

She worked in downtown Gotham in this slumlord-owned bar, as a barista and despite her sweet exterior I could tell she held her own rather well in a place with gross older gentlemen going from wall to wall, their younger dates passing disgusted glances hoping those pockets went deep and that the discomfort proved worth it.

It was only right that I keep a close eye on her, no? Besides, I needed a job, and Blue Silk had a spot open for a new dancer, it wasn't like I had no experience on the stage; It wasn't all about the pretty-eyed soft-spoken bartender, was it?

↳

Selina had just gotten off the stage, she was Catwoman to the crowd and Sel to her colleagues, slipping some shorts over her lingerie, she made her way to the floor, eyes searching until she found Y/n standing behind the bar, a smile spread across her face, her lively kind demeanor inviting to the locals that came in regularly as if their lives depended on it. She could see instantly why Y/n was a good fit for the nightclub, that smile could charm a polar bear.

It wasn't until that smile fell that Selina became worried, she sees the woman stiffen when a regular named Lenny walks in, she cocks her head, zoning in on the scene before moving in.

"Hey, Barbara's looking for ya. Said she needs your help".

Selina steps behind the bar, her eyes on the man hard in contrast to the gentleness she displayed when wrapping her arm around her shoulder and pulling her in a little closer, Y/n is more than thankful for the interruption, her smile when she sees Selina is one of utter relief.

"Bet". Is all she says, putting her dish towel down, her gaze never breaking the man's until they leave him and head into the back, her heart thunders through her chest, adrenaline on a 10, Selina hadn't heard everything that was said but she could see the anger and anxiety on her face.

"You okay"? She asked when out of earshot of the floor, letting the other barista know you were taking a moment.

"I'm good, Sel. Got a light"?

"Always".

The air was cold against your skin, light snow was falling over Gotham and neither you nor Selina, in your haste to escape the scene had remembered a coat, grabbing nothing more than a pack of cigarettes.

Y/n was still rattled, but Selina, Selina was thinking about their proximity, watching her blow her smoke out into the air, her eyes remained fixed on the woman's every move, she'd been doing it for so long now it was like muscle memory observing her from head to toe.

"Sel"?

"Yeah, Hun"?

Passing her the cigarette, she lets out a sigh the chill from the air turns her breath into its own cloud of smoke as she turns to face her friend, leaning against the pillars that were just outside the double doors of Blue Silk, "We need to look out for each other. Okay"?

"We will, Honeybun".

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

And just like that, Selina was walking her out nightly, sometimes walking her home when she needed to, and within that time she decided, she wanted more than her blood, she'd started this after a whiff of something so tantalizingly sweet, so delectable smelling that it invaded her mind for days on end. God, she needed the poor doe more than anything, and now...She was seeking all of her.

She'd learned so much about the woman she felt she'd known her for years, from something as surface level as her favorite color to the more personal like how she'd ended up in Gotham in the first place — Through an orphanage.

There was more than met the eye to Y/n Y/ln but Selina hadn't found out just how deep the mystery went until the night it all came out in throes.

↳

Y/n hadn't asked Selina to follow her out in a week due to being out sick, the night she came back the world had become a vibrant place for the vampire again and she wasn't going to waste it, not when she was so close to her end goal, so close she could practically feel the pulse of the woman's veins against her tongue.

She was absolutely drooling for it, as desperate as it sounded to admit it. She was hungry, and the only craving to satiate her appetite rested in the manicured hands of a 5'3 bartender with bright shining e/c eyes that lit up any room she damn walked into.

Selina was at the mercy of Y/n, but in due time she hoped to welcome the opposite.

"Missed ya, Kitty cat".

She was quick to wrap Sel up in her arms, that smile shone brightly up at the Cat, so sickly sweet it made her weak in the knees, why wouldn't she hug her back? Her arms wrapped tightly around her in return and she wasn't shy about nuzzling her cheek up against hers.

"Missed you too, honeybun. Walking homes been so lonely without you, sweetheart".

"We'll fix that. You're gonna kick ass out there, Kit. I missed seeing you in your element".

A smirk threatened to tug at Sel's lips thinking about the younger woman watching her on stage and possibly enjoying it, if that in any way hinted at reciprocation, she'd hold onto hope.

"You're gonna watch me? Be my good luck charm"?

"I don't know what luck I'd bring but I'm for sure gonna watch you, I always do".

When they pull away, Y/n leaves her with the lightest feathering of a kiss on her cheek. Selina feels her fangs threaten to pull, and Jesus is it so dangerous to be so close to her like this. "You always do..."

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

It was around time for Y/n and Selina to leave but the bartender hadn't seen a hint of Selina after her last performance that night, even as she looked around for her; It wasn't until she'd gone out for a smoke that she appeared almost out of thin air behind the girl as silent as a mouse, she swiped the cigarette from her hand and slipped it between her own lips that curved into a grin after she exhaled and let the smoke flow freely. "You didn't think I'd forgotten, did you"?

She flinches, the hand that had been on the knife only loosening when she hears the familiarity of Selina's voice, shaking her head, biting back a matching grin at the sudden appearance.

"Maybe. You disappeared, Kit. Where'd ya go? Didn't see ya round after that last performance, you killed it by the way. As I knew you would".

Playfully she punches her shoulder, but the Cat has one thing on her mind and it's pumping through her veins like lava, she licks her lips and throws down the cigarette, stomping on it with her boot, "Fancy a ride home? I had a few loose ends to tie up".

"Mm, a ride"?

Selina holds out her hand, grin broadening when Y/n easily takes her hand; leading her over to her new wheels, a smooth black motorcycle, she holds up a backup helmet and hands it over to her.

"You ever been on one of these, love"? She asked, watching her struggle with the helmet before coming over to help her out.

"Once or twice, one of the kids I was placed in the orphanage with got his own when he was adopted, he was like a little brother to me so when I was trusted to go out on my own, we'd go out riding".

"Oh yeah? So you know I need you to hold on tight, right? Real tight, don't let go".

She was a breath away now, her breath tickling Y/n's skin as she fastened the helmet to her head, eyes locked to hers while she did it.

"I won't, I promise". Y/n mumbles, slightly blushing and happy the helmet could help hide it, but Selina had always had that allure that took her in and refused to let go, anyone could fall victim to it, man or woman, and Y/n was no exception.

Holding onto her hand gently, Selina aids her on the bike and then situates herself as well, Y/n's arms firmly wrapped around her waist. They set off just as it begins to fade into a starless night, few to no bodies on the streets.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

Mystique. She threw wrenches into the lives of many but never did I expect myself to be playing her game, I thought I had everything figured out, she was one of many necks, I'm an expert in my selections, but I missed so much, far too much.

When we got to her house she invited me in under the guise of a drink, but I had planned in advance to talk my way in, the fact that she was so willing to gaze at me all sweetly, so trusting, so naive, it was a rush. Something like a drug.

Her hand tugged at mine, and she smiled all brightly, eyes staring up at me so...enticingly. If I could've kissed her then, I would've but that would've ruined the surprise and we didn't need that, no. For this to work I needed her to trust me...fully.

"Coffee...Or wine"? Her neck craned to the side and my eyes capped it immediately, her throat like a lure and I was the fish that had taken the bait, my mouth went dry; It was then that I realized how close I really was.

We were alone. She was mine.

"Dry"?

"You're in luck, I don't enjoy dry, myself but I do keep it for guests that do".

"Social butterfly".

"You aren't the first to call me". Sending a wink my way, I was in hook line, and sinker, and her every movement sent my body into overdrive, I could feel myself pulsing beneath my jeans.

"It is how you got the necklace, no"? I asked referring to the butterfly pendant around her neck, she'd been wearing since the day we met, I could tell by the way she frequently fiddled with it that it meant a lot to her.

"Keen eye. When I finally got adopted, I was a teen, freshly 13, and a teacher from my school became my own real-life Ms. Honey from Matilda, adopted me after fostering me when I was at my worst; Nickname is from her, necklace is from her. I've been Butterfly to anyone I've ever known".

I chuckled, hanging onto every fucking word she said. Her accent was distinct, Nola dipped heat spoken like honey, I wanted to hear it moaning my name, and it would. In due time.

"Now you are Butterfly to me". I got closer, fingers grasping onto the glass she held, our fingers brushing against one another briefly.

"I've never heard it better".

She would be the death of me, I swore.

Even after our hands stopped touching, I could feel her fingers running down my arm, traveling the length while my lips wrapped around the glass, something out of my wildest fantasies if you asked me; I sat the glass down and within a moment my lips were against hers.

⌫

It was finally time, after the first kiss Selina found herself craving much more than a sample taste, she'd waited so long for this moment and she was prepared to savor it, tugging Y/n to her and pressing her lips to the woman's chest, kissing what revealed skin she could reach, and Y/n didn't resist, not with the way a soft whimper fell from her lips, parted to allow her noises to freely drip shamelessly but a whimper was just the tip of the iceberg, Selina wanted to hear far more.

"This, this is what I've wanted since I met you, at the club".

It had always been entertaining to hear prey speaking of their own crushes on her, how they fantasized, and manifested...With Y/n, however, it meant something different, something special. The woman threw her off of her game, she was so used to being in control but it all came crashing down the moment she'd gotten her hands on the one she was convinced fate wanted her to have.

"You're filled with sugar, ain't ya, Sweet thing? C'mere. On my lap".

Moving to sit on the couch, Selina has Y/n sat in her lap, her back to Sel's front, and her lips quickly find her neck just as they'd found her chest, she's damn near quivering with anticipation when she has the sweet girl in her lap at her very mercy, it all feels like it's fallen into place.

"Let's play a game, yeah? I wanna play a quick game, it's simple".

Y/n trembled underneath Sel's touch, her hands roamed her body eagerly, and her body reacted like it was made solely for the vampire and her alone, her core throbbing with a sick need for Selina to touch her. She gulps. "What's the game"?

Selina laughs, her grin akin to the Cheshire cat when she's met with curiosity instead of reluctance. Her claws gently run over the girl's stomach, goosebumps left in her wake. "It's called two truths and a lie, it's as simple as it sounds, I'm going to tell two truths and one lie. You tell me which one the lie is, okay? ...Little pup"?

Y/n's voice is timid, her eyes following Sel's every touch on her skin trying to keep her composure though it seemed for naught the moment she felt Selina's boner poking into her backside, the thought of it inside of her instead sent unwavering unadulterated arousal washing over her.

"I can".

"Good girl. You're too damned sweet, angel. You know that? Listen carefully, love. 1. I hate sweets. Disdain them even...2. Bloodthirsty creatures? They're not...as mythical as you'd believe they are And 3. I...know you better than you'd like to think, sweet girl".

All of this is said while her hands play with the hem of her shirt, allowing her time to think over all of Sel's questions thoroughly, and immediately her eyebrows furrow in confusion, trying to think through a lust filled lense was already hard enough but Y/n could swear she spotted two lies, one truth.

"I'd say...2 maybe, but 3. Are you sure? I think there's more to me than that, no"?

A chuckle leaves the Cat's lips, she leans her head back and squeezes her just a bit tighter than before. "You might be right, but you are incorrect and misguided in so many ways, may I count them as I undress you"?

Letting out her own laugh, Y/n moves Selina's hands from her waist back to the hem of her shirt, and Selina so happily counts the ways.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

Her hands worked your shirt over your head, lace pink bra underneath taking her eyesight happily, smirk on her face she speaks up but her eyes don't leave your chest. "I don't know which will scare you off first but know that this is all I've ever needed, and hear me out before you scream".

Most would've ran from those words alone, but the woman on her lap stayed firmly placed allowing Selina to undress her even while her words became ominous and vague. "We live in a world where superheroes fight villains. Go on then, frighten me".

That was exactly what she meant when she called you trouble, she groans, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, voice raspy when she speaks, "Bloodthirst is all too real, and it's...how we got here today, you see? It ties into my other, pretty little truth, and funnily enough? Also my lie. See...I thought I hated sweets".

"I thought you did too, I don't think I've seen you eat a dessert ever in my time knowing ya".

"You haven't. But you're the reason, the reason I started...craving them. I've been on this earth for over a thousand plus years and nothing has quite lured me in like the scent of your blood, my dear".

It took a minute for her words to register but when they did you almost thought you were hallucinating, it was shocking for all the most insane of reasons, her news.

"I can see you look...disturbed and for all good reasons, I'm sure. I won't confuse you with my vagueness so let's cut it straight, I'm what you humans call...a vampire. I have a bloodlust that I just found cannot be satiated by any other, any other but..."

She pauses to let you answer, humming when you do, "Me"?

"Smart girl. Gotham is filled with monstrosities, I'm sure you're aware, and I, unfortunately, am one of many of the freaks this town has to offer. I've always had a rather strict appetite, but you? You have ruined me".

There was a heat in her voice now, a darkness and danger that settled in the pit of your stomach listening to what no longer sounded like the Selina you knew, and even though you knew you should run, get out. It was like she had you pinned to her lap, under her spellbound with the hypnosis that was her voice; You weren't sure if you could move or if you'd stay compliant even if you wanted to.

"I-I ruined you? How could I eve-" Your words are cut short when her fingers hooked onto your leggings, taking them down with ease whilst whispering sinful truths into her ear.

"I'm hungry and it's all your fault, I haven't looked at another neck in 10 months, sugar and let me tell you...living off blood packs isn't sustainable for a woman like me, and that, I will have to fix and soon. And how, tell me, do you think I should fix it, Y/n"?

Your mind ran, it ran with many things but the first that falls from your lips is fueled by shock, "What do you mean 10 months, Selina"?

From your point-of-view it had only been 3 months since you'd known one another, she'd only been working there for that long so it couldn't have been ten months but the more you ran through it, the more you realized what she'd meant by two truths and a lie, and if she'd been watching you that long, truly...Was all of it true?

"Do you wanna run"?

You'd sat up by now, running over everything in your head repeatedly trying to come to terms with the fact that what seemed to be Satan, herself was in your living room, her fingers running the length of your neck and collarbone watching you put it all together.

Did you wanna run? A normal person would wanna run hell anyone in their right mind would be calling the cops, right now yet you were still there sitting in her lap, watching her hands run over your skin, her fingers now playing with the fabric of your lace pink thong.

"Do you wanna play two truths and a lie, Selina"?

If Sel had a heart it would probably be beating out of its chest right now, how could this innocent, pure little thing be so close to death itself and not completely freak out? "Lay it on me".

Y/n stands up, Selina's eyes following after you when you do, slight surprise on her face as you, instead, take down the pink thong on your own, your eyes dancing with mischief, you speak too calmly for a woman standing in front of the undead who'd apparently been stalking her for longer than they'd even known each other.

"1. I knew that you weren't human...2. I hate all things bitter, sour. And 3. I, myself, ... am not human".

You reveled in the way Selina's eyes widened, how her shock turned into intrigue thinking over your words and making her final decisions before she pulled you in closer by the thighs, her chin resting on your legs, sage green eyes staring up into your e/c ones.

"Tell me a story, mama. I wanna hear it all from those gorgeous lips of yours, and don't leave a thing out, ight"?

Your breath hitches at her words, lips parted but not a peep comes out. 'Adorable', Selina thinks, pulling you back onto her lap and spreading your legs effortlessly, her head dipping down to whisper into your ear. "Ready, set..."

Her fingers move to toy with your clit, a dangerous, sadistic smile spread ear to ear, finally getting what she wanted, and God was it worth the wait. Her cock twitches in her pants, and she's glad she has a semblance of self-control, she just really needs to hear every little thing Y/n says, she finds your words...fascinating. And maybe, maybe she wanted to see your squirming and moaning in her lap, dripping from her fingers dipped into your sweetness all by themselves.

Struggling to get your words out.

"Witches blood. My family's one of the oldes- Selina... I-I'm also half-wolf, I could smell it on you from the moment we met".

"Wolf's blood... and witch? It must be why you smell so damned sweet, a hybrid. I don't know how I didn't peg it sooner". Selina grunts into your ear, her hips involuntarily bucking up against the wolf, now that she knows, she's aware she has something more special than originally thought. she takes a moment to think before dipping her fingers inside your cunt, she knew she couldn't wait too long, she had too much desire building within her own stomach.

"If I were a stronger woman, I'd have you trembling and squirting on my lap before I even thought about fucking you but when it's you..."

Pulling her fingers from your pussy, she puts the fingers in her mouth, fangs popping out when she gets even the slightest taste of your essence on her tongue. "My control— It's evaporated into nothingness so here's what I'm gonna do".

She stands you back up, but this time she follows after you, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway to your own room as well as you yourself could find it.

"I don't want to compel you but I could make it easier on you when I feed. Now is that what you want, Darlin"? When you turn back around, she's lowering her pants, and underwear revealing 7 inches, circumcised and a caramel brown, it's something that leaves Y/n's mouth-watering. She shouldn't want this but she does, and it's intense.

"No".

That was exactly what Selina wanted to hear, she needed to know in her heart of hearts that you wanted this just as much as she did, and even if she had the power to bring you to your knees, herself? She wanted it to be real, fuck this wasn't like her at all but her cock wouldn't let her hold back any longer.

"And you know what that means, princess"? Sitting on the bed, she brings you over to her, stood between her legs, she turns you to face the door, groaning quietly at how beautiful you looked up close and personal, better than any invention of you her fantasies could create. "Spread your legs and talk to me".

You're snapped from autopilot, spreading your legs only to be grabbed swiftly into her lap, and this time she keeps your legs open and breathes into your ear, "I said...talk to me".

Taking her length in her hand, she guides her cock between your slit, collecting your slick and pulling an audible shudder from you as you finally begin to talk, "I-it'll hurt. I know, but I don't...I want it to".

Selina grunts. She grunts, and suddenly her cock is bottomed out and sunk deeply into your cunt, the only things heard are the sounds of the effect she has on you, from the squelching between your thighs when she sinks as deeply as she can to the way you let out the cutest little yelp she'd ever heard, tugging your hair back, she exposes your neck to her.

"It will hurt, but you don't care. You don't even care. Fucking masochist, look at yourself".

Scooting to the end of the bed, a hand firmly around your waist and the other forcing your eyes to the full-length mirror in the corner of your room not allowing you to look away, and the sight is as erotic as Selina made it out to be; You can see her slowly pumping into you, your lips parting to allow soft moans to escape, eyes struggling not to roll back. And when you look up to her, she's already staring back at you, lips curved into a shit-eating grin still leaning down so she could whisper into your ear. "You see that, hun? You're so pretty, baby but my god...You're a damned whore".

Her words though degrading are said with the care you'd provide a wounded animal with, they are meant to lull, to tame, and you were so sick with arousal that you didn't even notice you'd fallen right into her trap; She wasn't about to let you leave.

"You're gonna look at yourself and bounce on my cock, got it"?

Without needing anything more said, you'd been broken out of your stupor and ready to obey her every whim, your hands are braced on the bed in front of you, eyes to the mirror, and back arched; Selina, pressed against the headboard sitting with eyes low and a hand resting on your hips, she watches the first roll with an entranced intrigue, your hair still wove around her fingers, she lets her fangs graze your neck, reveling in the way you slightly flinch but never stop moving.

"Count down from 3..."

Her claw digs into the hip she holds, pricking the skin beneath and drawing your blood with a scent so dizzying she forgets her own words, and with a hiss, she sinks her fangs into your neck.

"T-THREE"! Y/n screams out, pain melding with pleasure, your cunt clenches tightly around her, ensnaring her into a chokehold, the light behind your eyes bright and blinding you feel yourself growing ravenous as the room fills with your collective pleasure and Selina helps you along with the thrusting when she realizes how distracted and clouded you are with her feeding from you.

She doesn't let up, she speeds up her pumps, pulling herself back from your neck, your ass pressed to her pubic bone, she savors the way the blood looks against your complexion, licking you clean, her hands move from your hair and underneath your chin, tilting it up slightly. Raising your leg for better access, she angles her hips deeper inside you, drinking in the way you moan her name. "I knew it, shit, I knew it...so. damn. sweet".

"S-sel, I need a little more, I need—" Your head is on fire, you didn't even notice that it wasn't only the lack of blood clouding your judgment, but something more, Selina's pheromones carried a floral scent to it that sent you into a world of your own, enhanced the already natural chemistry the two of you already had.

"Ah, say please, pretty thing. Mommy can make it all better".

Her voice is like a siren's song, a snake charmer. All you can do is succumb to her efforts, your cunt soaking the bed and in kind, Selina's stomach and thighs, as well as your own; You feel her throb inside of you, swelling at your words. "Please...please mommy".

She couldn't deny that, now could she?

This time, her eyes lock in on her target, the space between your shoulder and the nape of your neck, the final nail in the coffin of your lovestory, then it would all be set in stone. "Mm, since you asked so nicely".

"Cum. for. Mommy".

Selina growls into your ear, pushing herself to the hilt and sinking her fangs into your neck again, this time harder than she had before, on a mission to make you hers for good. Your body quivers in response to her power, moans loud yet strained, she can feel the moment you let go; Your legs wrap around her torso, and your cunt turns into solitary confinement, keeping her in an inescapable hold, hole twitching around her.

She could cum at that alone but it takes a few more rough pumps, her body leaned over yours, she holds her wrist up to your lips and compels you to bite. "It won't hurt me, I promise".

And so you listen, not as though you had much of a choice; It's when the black de-oxygenated liquid spills onto your tongue that she finally climaxes, rope after rope flooding your womb whilst you feed from each other shamelessly, heads filled with only thoughts of sin.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

She watches over her sleeping figure, a crimson-splattered soft grin spread across her face, she watches Y/n's mate mark swell and glow as it all settles down, and leans down to whisper in her ear.

"The midnight won't be so bad, not with you here, sweet deer".

All she gets in response is all she needs, Y/n turns in her arms and wraps herself up in Selina's grasp, mumbling incoherently; she presses a kiss to Selina's shoulder.

She falls into a dreamless sleep.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

A/N: let's call this your birthday fic, love you more than the moon loves the sun, happy 21st grandpa bear~ <33 @u4iuh

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lady-october · 1 month

Text

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only) Previous Chapters : 1-14 on Archive of Our Own

Content : 18+, Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Dom/Sub, Sadism/Masochism, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Breath play, Dirty talk.

Summary :

“Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

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Chapter 15: My head wasn't wired for this world

Chapter title is lyrics from "Avalanche"

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Oli was slouched over at the front of the stage, legs dangling over the edge near the barricades, looking out over the vast, dark and empty space, only dimly lit by a handful of spotlights throughout the arena.

When I slowly ascended the steps to the stage I pushed away the fear I felt about these types of spaces. While avoiding the stage completely was impossible when working on the touring team, I had always made my time on them as short as humanly possible, never actually taking in the view.

There was just something about how you could be seen so clearly from the entire arena when you were up here that made me anxious, but the fact that only Oli and I were here made the whole experience a lot more palatable, so I crouched down and took a seat next to him and let myself look out over the empty floor and seats, still covered in the majority of tonight's confetti and debris.

“I’ve never really seen an arena like this before.” I said with wonder.

“You’ve worked with us for like a month now, how is that possible?” He didn’t look my way as he spoke flatly, clearly upset.

My response came a lot quieter than my previous statement, “I try to avoid the stage as much as I can.”

Silence fell between us as I wasn’t sure how to approach the topics that were haunting us both, not even sure what I felt up for talking about.

“Thank you for last night. I was a bit of a mess.” Was the best I could come up with.

“Don’t worry about it.” Some of the bitterness emitting off of him dissipated, so I decided to take the plunge into the harder topic.

“I’m sorry about all this stuff with Mat.”

He huffed out a frustrated laugh, his eyes darting everywhere except in my direction.

“I feel like I’m going insane. Listening to you flirt with someone else…” His demeanour changed rapidly along with his tone of voice, now laced with anger, “Guess I had it coming after what I did to you at the party the other night.”

My heart sank. Did he really think I was doing this to hurt him?

“I’m not a vengeful person, Oli.” My own words came angrier than I’d intended.

He dropped his head, shaking it, appearing utterly defeated, “Then what the fuck are you doing, Alice…” He muttered.

“I don’t know.” I said, more to myself than him.

As I watched him not being able to face me, my heart ached so much that I couldn’t take it anymore. I got to my feet and started to make my way towards the steps. But I could hear him moving behind me, and right before I could exit the stage he pushed in front of me, shooting me daggers.

He appeared furious, yet all I could feel was a huge sense of relief over the fact that he was finally looking at me.

“Mat’s a good man, charming too – a lot less troubled than I am.” As he spoke he stalked me backwards, clearly intent on not letting me leave yet.

But I didn’t mind, I wanted his attention.

I almost immediately hit the wall of the second stage level that had yet to be disassembled, and I was left with a view of the arena, swimming behind the man that had cornered me, staring down at me with such intensity that I wouldn’t have been able to tell whether he was about to fuck me or argue with me if it wasn’t for the context of the situation.

“Who said I want someone less troubled?” I asked, feeling an involuntary shiver of lust snake its way up my spine from his threatening approach.

“It’s not a stretch to assume, is it?” He took one last step towards me, not quite close enough to touch me, but close enough that I could feel the heat emitting off of him, “We’ve fought over women in the past – he tends to win.”

“I find that hard to believe.” I gingerly placed my hand on his warm chest, both because I couldn’t resist touching his bare, art covered skin over the buttons of his revealing jacket, but also because I wanted to show him where my attraction lay between the two men.

His gaze dropped to my hand before he shot me a bitter smile, “Women want to fuck me, not date me.” I swallowed and removed my hand, realising how my gesture had come across considering what he just told me, “At least not once they get to know me… I think the problem is we’re drawn to similar women, and that type of women tend to favour men like Mat in the end.”

While my feelings had obviously chosen Oli already, what he was saying made a surprising amount of sense, especially if you were the type of person who craved stability over passion. Yet I couldn’t help but feel like a complete imposter, clearly not worthy of either man's attention.

“Men generally don’t want much to do with me in either department.” I felt pathetic admitting it to him, and saying the words out loud somehow solidified how I didn’t belong here.

He watched me for a while, as if trying to make sense of what I was saying.

“Thought we agreed on no more lies, love.” While his words could have been construed as accusive, his tone was sweet, turning his sentence more flirty. But I didn’t feel flirty, I felt like the shy loser I’d been trying to run away from; I felt like the girl trapped living with a man she didn’t love, because she was too scared of the world.

The familiar burn of unshed tears began to sting at the back of my eyes, “It’s not a lie. I’m fucking broken.”

I tried to push past him but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder, and placed the other under my chin, guiding me to look at him as a lone tear ran down my cheek.

“Alice, that’s madness.” All the intensity on him had melted away, replaced with a soft and caring voice that matched the expression of his beautiful eyes.

“I can’t do this. I’m not made for this life.” I said quietly as I tried to keep the dam from bursting inside me, entirely too fed up with crying.

Frowning, he let go of my chin to dry my wet cheek, “Of course you are, life can be whatever you want it to be.”

“I have social anxiety.” I blurted out, trying to make him understand why I’m not right for him, for either of them.

“I know.” His response came immediately, completely unsurprised and unbothered.

Of course he already knew, it couldn’t be more obvious from the way I behave on a daily basis.

My head dropped out of embarrassment, “How am I supposed to be with a celebrity when I can barely keep from stuttering when talking in front of more than two people at a time.”

“Your stutter’s adorable, anyone with half a brain cell can see that.”

When I dared to look back up at him, I was met by eyes swimming with adoration. But I decided that it was misplaced, that his perception of me was skewed and incorrect, so I kept pushing.

“Whenever I’m not distracted enough, I get so depressed I can barely leave my bed for weeks.”

He placed a hand on the wall next to my head and leaned in closer with a smirk, “Lots of things we can do in bed.”

I felt my cheeks flush at his words, but the pain remained, “Oli, please… I’m broken.”

His smirk fell away as he looked at me with sympathy, followed by a sigh, “I’ve got addiction issues, chronic nightmares, ADHD, and I also slip into depression at times. We’re all broken, love.”

His eyes lit up suddenly and the faintest hints of a smile reappeared on his lips.

“What’s your favourite colour?” He asked out of nowhere.

I couldn’t help but frown in confusion, “What?”

“Favourite colour.” He repeated, more demanding this time.

“I-I mean, blue I guess–”

“Favourite food?”

“Sushi. Why are you–”

He looked utterly appalled as he cut me off with judgement in his voice, “Fucking disgusting, you should reconsider that.”

I gasped, eyebrows knotting into a deep frown, “Oh please, you’ve probably never tried any good sushi– and before you argue that you don’t eat fish, there’s plenty of good options without it– also, rich coming from Mister I basically only eat things that are so processed I can’t even tell what’s in it!”

As I was ranting his whole face bloomed into an absolutely delighted smile, causing my annoyance to spread further.

“I love when you’re like this.”

My jaw dropped, “You like when I'm annoyed!?”

He chuckled, “Relaxed.”

“Trust me, I’m not relaxed.”

“Your guard’s down. You’re just yourself – wild opinions and all. I don’t get to see it too often. It’s mostly been when you’ve cussed me out, or when we…” His gaze dropped out of what seemed akin to embarrassment, and his smile turned significantly more suggestive, “You know.”

All the annoyance left me immediately at the sight of him struggling to talk about sex, causing me to adopt a more cheerful expression.

“I thought I was the shy one, you can’t even say it?” I teased.

A low and absolutely filthy laugh left him, “Honestly love, if I start talking about it I’ll just get hard, and I’d rather focus on getting to know you better right now.” Without skipping a beat he moved on to his next question, “Favourite animal?”

“And why is right now the time to get to know me?”

“Why not? Favourite animal.”

My smile grew as I looked at him. I couldn’t tell if this was an attempt to cheer me up by moving away from the dreary topic, or if this was his way of showing that he’s still interested in me, despite all my flaws – or maybe it was because Mat had gotten a chance to learn more about me and he felt left out. Regardless of the reasons, I wasn’t going to deny him this.

“Cats.”

Disbelief painted his features, “Fuck off, dogs are so much better.”

“They slobber everywhere.” I retorted, scrunching up my face.

“Not all dogs, and cats are mischievous little bastards.”

“You should be able to relate then.” I don’t know how he did it, but he’d somehow managed to completely turn my mood around, and get me right back to feeling flirty.

The fight faded from him instantly at my remark, and he lowered his head with a grin. When his eyes returned to mine they were dark and playful.

“Favourite artist?”

I paused, considering my response, “Is that a trick question?”

“Of course.” He responded, studying my face.

Suddenly his lighthearted demeanour began to shift, turning more serious. When his next question came it was asked with a distinctly more thoughtful tone, clearly punctuating that we’re venturing into significantly deeper waters.

“What’s a dealbreaker to you?”

As his eyes pierced mine I felt the moment turn heavy from the loaded question. I knew that these types of conversations were incredibly important to determine whether we were compatible at all. But there were always great risks to learning the answers, with the looming potential of completely derailing any thoughts of what could have been.

I felt my heart rate speed up as I decided to join him in the depth, addressing the thing that should have put an end to my last relationship years ago if it wasn’t for my fears.

“I.. don’t think I want children.”

He visibly relaxed at my response, “Good, cause I’ve had a vasectomy.”

A sense of relief washed over me, knowing I’d never have to worry about that pressure with him if we decided to take things further – and suddenly his willingness to cum inside me made so much more sense. For me it had always been an easy decision, having had an IUD for years.

The part where we both made ourselves vulnerable to disease however, that can’t be chalked up to anything besides the stupidity that so easily surfaces when you’re beyond a certain level of turned on, and common sense flies right out the window.

While I wanted to return the question to him, to learn what would rule me out as a potential future partner, I also found myself curious as to why he’d done something so permanent to prevent having children when there’s less invasive ways.

“How come? I mean, I understand not wanting children, but why something so… final?”

“I just don’t want to risk it. I’ve been sure I don’t want kids for a long time. It’s not that I dislike them or anything, but with all my issues I’ve really just wanted to focus on myself and what’s important to me,” Before he continued, a softness emerged in his tone of voice, ”...such as finding love, and making that person a priority in my life.”

Understanding that the last bit had been aimed at me, I felt the familiar discomfort bubble under the surface, so I decided to steer the conversation back on track.

“What about you, what’s your deal breakers?”

He answered immediately, his response dripping with bitterness, “Cheating.”

“That’s a given. What else?”

There was a pause this time.

“Being shut out emotionally.” He answered, hints of sadness emitting from him.

His reply stirred up some confusion in me, an uncertainty whether he was referring to some of my behaviour, spoken as a pleading to let him into my heart. Or whether it had been in reference to something that happened in his past.

“Anything else?” He added.

It was my turn to think, but it didn’t take long.

“Someone trying to control me.”

He huffed out an amused laugh, “You sure about that? You seem to enjoy it a fair bit.”

I smiled back at him, “Not like that… Someone trying to make me something I’m not, which sounds daft cause I barely even know who I am anymore, but I just, I want space to figure that out.”

His hazel eyes swam with emotion as his hand reached for my cheek, the back of his fingers caressing my skin with the same tenderness as last night. While the gesture tugged at my heart, I couldn't for the life of me understand why he had any interest in someone like me.

“How can you be sure you have feelings for me, if I’m just a shell of a person?” I asked under my breath.

“I’m not sure that’s true, love.” He responded, speaking softly, “I know you’re kind, witty – incredibly sexy, and you’re working really hard to get to know and explore yourself, which I don’t just really admire, but it’s a journey I’ve been on myself for a while now.”

“What if I become something… undesirable?” As I asked my question that so clearly highlighted my insecurities, I was struck with the realisation that I wasn’t sure I’ve ever been this emotionally vulnerable with anyone before.

“I find that very hard to believe.” He scanned my face, “Is that what this is about, you’re scared I won’t like who you become?”

The truth is that I wasn’t sure I’d survive that intense degree of rejection. While mind numbing and soul destroying, it had been infinitely simpler to stay so void of personality for so long. At least then if someone disliked me it didn’t mean much at all. But if I grew into myself, accepted who I was as a person with opinions and interests, only for someone to decide that I wasn’t good enough? The thought of that alone was hard enough, I couldn’t even imagine the heartbreak if that level of rejection came from someone I actually loved.

“Part of it, but not all of it.” An honest answer without going into the specifics, or delving into the other reasons I’m full of uncertainty.

Some of the previous intensity made a reappearance on him, “It would be an honour to help you find yourself, love – no matter who you become.”

I looked away awkwardly, knowing how much he’d already kickstarted my self discovery, “In some ways you already have.” I opened and shut my mouth a couple of times before I found the words to continue, “I didn’t know I liked some things before… sexually.”

Suddenly his eyelids lowered, and so did his tone of voice, “Like being called a whore?”

The way he emphasised the word immediately made my knees weak, and I had to lean more of my weight onto the wall behind me.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I simply nodded.

A quick grin flashed over his lips as he gently placed his hand over my throat, causing my breath to hitch.

“Being choked…”

His words sounded distant as his dark gaze was transfixed on his hand on me,

“...Humiliated,”

His thumb leisurely ran up my throat to graze my jaw.

I nodded again, a bit more shaky this time, which seemed to have snapped him out of the lustful state he’d clearly lost himself in for a moment, as his eyes shot back to mine, appearing more sober now.

He swallowed and let his hand fall away from me before stepping aside to lean against the wall next to me, leaving me unpleasantly cold after having relished the heat radiating off of him for so long.

We stared out into the dark space together for a beat before he continued speaking, allowing me some much needed time to collect myself, and slow my breathing that had apparently become quite laboured.

“I’ve done some similar things before, but it’s different with you, in a way that makes my past experiences seem shallow and meaningless.” His words still sounded distant, “I see it in your eyes, you know. It doesn’t just turn you on, does it? It's like you come alive from it.” He huffed out a small laugh then threw me a side glance, “Or am I just talking out my ass here?”

I tried to meet his eyes, but he instantly looked away when I turned my head towards him, as if fighting himself to not slip back into his previous carnal state, not ready to stop talking to me just yet.

“No, I think you explained it pretty well actually.” I answered, sounding just as flustered as I felt, made obvious by the way he shifted his body in discomfort as I spoke, letting his head rest against the wall as he shut his eyes for a second, appearing tense from the invisible restraints he’d put himself in.

After taking a deep breath he pressed on, “Thing is, you’re so desperate for me to push you further and further that I’m constantly torn between holding back too much, or taking things too far. It makes me not trust myself,” He allowed himself to look at me as he spoke the next words, sounding apologetic, “...or you for that matter.”

My brows furrowed, “But, I promised I’d let you know if things go too far.”

He gave me a sombre smile, “Doesn’t matter if you don’t want to be safe, love.”

While his concerns made sense, my subconscious didn’t agree with him.

“I think that maybe you’re mistaking my trust in you for carelessness.”

It was his turn to frown. He studied my face for a long time with a contemplative expression, clearly deep in thought from my statement. After a while he looked away with a sigh. When his gaze travelled back to mine, it seemed he’d allowed himself to feel some of the lust he’d so valiantly attempted to push away, as if my counter argument had won during his internal battle. Because his eyes were suddenly dark and hungry – and his voice matched them perfectly.

“You like it when I scare you, don’t you?”

My whole body reacted to the question, heating up, yearning – wanting to finally be touched, to be played with. Our conversation had gone on for so long, repeatedly slipping into desire, yet we’ve been continuously ripped away from it. The more times it happened the more desperate the both of us clearly grew.

As I slowly nodded in response to his question, his gaze fell to my dark lips, and a pained expression flashed over his features, “To be honest love, drives me wild to see some fear on you.” His eyes travelled back up to mine and his next words were spoken under his breath, “...How fucking wet you get from it.”

My pulse descended between my legs, soaking me further, adding to the wetness already lingering there from each time he’d turned me on tonight.

He held out his hand, indicating for me to take it. As I slipped my fingers into his open palm, he led me to stand before him.

“Take this off.” He murmured, giving my sweater a gentle tug.

I was suddenly acutely aware of our location. Knowing Oli repeatedly had me do compromising things in precarious places, I should have expected somewhere like this to be on the table. But since I was still relatively clothed underneath my sweater, I decided to go along with his request without overthinking it.

I slipped the sweater over my head to reveal the vulgar, silk dress, with a deep, plunging neckline underneath, along with the marks on my body that I hadn’t bothered using concealer on due to how well the fabric had hid them all. He immediately took the sweater off me, flinging the offending garment to the side of the stage where it disappeared into the darkness.

As he took in the sight of me, he released a long, ragged sigh, “Fucking travesty to cover this up.”

He slipped a hand to the small of my back and crushed my body against his, and I could immediately feel the outline of his hard cock pressed against my stomach.

At no point had I dared sneak a peek between his legs during our conversation, knowing I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else considering his attire.

Heat spread rapidly throughout my whole being at the sudden full body contact, causing my heart rate to speed up along with my breathing. I reached for his chest to steady myself against him, to feel him, digging my fingers into the bright red fabric of his cropped jacket, forcing it to shift under my hands and reveal more of the inkwork hidden there.

When my vision eventually ripped itself away from his chest in order to travel upwards, I was met with parted lips, and tufts of hair framing a delightfully lust-riddled face, so close to my own that our heavy breaths mingled.

A thumb appeared at my mouth, placing itself gently on my lower lip adorned by the dark, velvety lipstick.

“This is new for you.” He whispered with a flash of a grin, mesmerised by the sight of his thumb as it grazed along the lip, smudging the colour there, my mouth opening further from the intoxicating sensation, “...I love it.”

I was so lost in what he was doing to me that I’d completely forgotten where we were, which Oli decided it was time to correct, as he grabbed me by the hips to turn me around. The reminder of the view caused my eyes to widen, shyness creeping back in from every angle. But the man behind me pulled me flush against his warm and solid body again, causing me to effortlessly, eagerly melt back into him – back to the same intoxicated state he had me locked in mere moments ago, now with his cock nestled perfectly against my ass.

With his lips against my ear, dark hair falling into my peripheral vision, warm breaths fanning my cheek, all I could do was close my eyes and drown in him as his hands started roaming my body.

“No, open your eyes.” He whispered against my ear, one of his hands slowly caressing my inner thigh, with the other holding me firmly against him, splayed on my stomach.

I fulfilled his request, prying my eyes open, feeling the discomfort wash over me as I stared out into the massive, open space.

“Wouldn’t want you to forget where you are, now would we?” I could feel his lips twist into a smile against my ear as he spoke softly, clearly deriving great pleasure from my distress, further adding to my unease and arousal in equal parts.

The hand on my stomach began trailing upwards, caressing the bare skin between my breasts, so flimsily covered by the black silk.

“Do you have any idea how much I love to make you uncomfortable, my dear, sweet Alice?” His words came low as his lips moved along my ear, “...To watch you squirm, trying your very best to keep it together for me like a good whore.”

His hand disappeared under the fabric, shifting it slowly to reveal one of my breasts to the empty arena. My heart rate sped up further, making me feel slightly lightheaded.

I felt his dick tense against me before he whispered, “Too much?”

Knowing that I’d probably be having a panic attack right now if I wasn’t in such a lust induced trance didn’t matter one bit – I knew I didn’t want to stop.

“No.” I breathed, nearly a moan.

My response made him cup my breast, playing with it, feeling the weight of it in his hand, causing his breathing to come heavier against my cheek before the hand on my thigh finally began travelling upwards, finally reaching my core, causing my own breath to catch, grabbing for his arms that snaked around me to further steady myself.

“Do you wanna be fucked right here, on stage?” He whispered, nestling his head closer to mine, causing more of his hair to fall into my vision.

I nodded against him, my open mouth panting as his fingers circled my clit.

He breathed out another whisper, “You’re that fucking desperate for me?”

Gooseflesh began spreading over my skin from his teasing, demeaning questions.

“Yes.” I breathed, causing him to release a low, devilish laugh that vibrated against my back.

“Of course you are.”

To my disappointment, the fingers between my legs disappeared, only to immediately reappear beneath my mouth.

“I’d love to fuck this pretty, painted, little mouth of yours.” The warm and slick fingers followed the shape of my lower lip as he spoke, leaving wet skin behind – at no point actually touching the lip itself, as if to preserve the colour there.

Suddenly his hands fell away before he grabbed me by the hips again, pushing me off of him.

“Down on your knees.” He demanded as I struggled to stay upright without the solid body to lean against.

When I turned around he was already reaching for his belt, where his hard cock was pulling the already tight fabric awkwardly taut, his intoxicated expression confirming that he was every bit as desperate for this as I was.

I eagerly fell to my knees before him, watching in anticipation as he took his time unbuckling his belt.

“Now, we’re gonna test you a bit, love.”

I ripped my eyes away from his bulge as he spoke, in order to look up at him, instantly consumed with excitement from the promise of the mysterious trial to come.

“You’re gonna be good for me and tap my leg if I take it too far.”

He finished with his belt and unbuttoned the trousers, only leaving the zipper left to undo, but he stopped to lean forward, taking hold of my chin with a more sober expression, hair falling over his pleading eyes as he looked down at me, “I’m trusting you here, yeah?”

I swallowed, understanding the personal significance of his statement. So I tried my best to fight through the cloud of desire I was so hopelessly lost in to deliver my words with as much sincerity as I possibly could.

“I’ll tap, I promise...”

There was a punctuated sense of intimacy as we stared into each other's eyes, something infinitely deeper at play than carnal needs. While I’d managed to place my trust in his hands, expecting him to keep me safe as we explored, up until now I haven’t returned the favour. He was asking me to meet him halfway, allowing him to relax and not overextend himself as he looked after me, handing me his rarest commodity – trust, begging me not to break it.

“...You can trust me.” I whispered, to further clarify that I understood the gravity of his request.

An unreadable emotion flickered over his features before he let go of my chin and leaned back, undoing the zipper that had already started to slip from the pressure of his length pushing on it. It sprung free with a bounce, the head glistening from the precum collecting there, his trousers sliding down to reveal his art covered thighs.

I felt my mouth begin to water at the sight, overcome with an intense need to taste it right now, but as I leaned in his fingers laced into my hair and held me in place.

“Only use your tongue, love.” He breathed, and while keeping his fingers in my hair, his hand relaxed, allowing me to move freely again.

I instantly took advantage of my freedom, darting my tongue out to taste the precum, licking it off of him, relishing the taste as I watched the veins of his length grow more defined from my actions.

When I was satisfied with my work, having gotten most of the delectable liquid in my mouth, I moved to the base of his cock, looking up at his glazed over eyes barely visible though his unruly locks, the unwavering gaze locked on me as I let my tongue travel along his length eagerly. The sensation caused a ragged breath to leave him, along with his dick to tense and bob upwards, touching my lips on the way down, leaving an imprint of my mouth behind in the dark, contrasting colour of my lipstick.

As soon as my tongue had flicked off the tip, his fingers in my hair grabbed me again.

“Let’s see how much you can take.” His words came deep and rough, then he guided my open mouth over his head, pushing me further and further down his shaft until it threatened to cause my gag reflex to kick in, but he kept pushing me down on his cock until it hit the back of my throat. Right before I felt myself begin to gag, he released a sound so incredible I felt my pussy throb between my legs, then pulled me off of him.

“Not bad, love.” He breathed, sounding even more inebriated with lust than before. When my eyes managed to focus again, I took in the vision of his slick cock before me; a clear imprint of my lips around it, showcasing exactly how much I’d been able to fit in my mouth, which had been more than I’d expected.

I looked up at him with a proud smile, a quick smile flashed back at me before returning to his previous intoxicated state.

“Open up.” He murmured, before quickly pushing me back down on him as soon as my lips parted enough to let him in. I placed my hands on the warm and art covered skin of his thighs to steady myself as he guided me to suck him in long strokes. His hand fell away from me entirely, allowing me the ability to pleasure him on my own terms.

More ragged breaths and small moans started to slip from his lips, so I looked up to enjoy the sight of him as I worked his cock; his chest was heaving, head leaned against the wall with his eyes shut, his expression flickering to a pained desperation every so often.

“Fuck, you’re doing incredible things.” He breathed, nearly whimpered out, through his other delicious noises, right before his eyes snapped to meet mine, the familiar aggression so prominently on display there.

His fingers shoved their way back into my hair, to hold me firmly in place about halfway down his shaft. But then his other hand appeared in front of my eyes, suddenly pinching my nose shut. My eyes widened in surprise, causing his eyelids to grow heavy as he watched me realise what was going on.

An exhilarating rush of mixed emotions washed over me, intensified by the fact that I didn’t have a full lungs worth of air in me. I felt my nails dig into his thighs as I was entirely too quickly running out of air. Seconds passed and I could feel more precum spill into my mouth, making it obvious how much he was enjoying the sight of my struggle. But his eyes were watching me intensely, expecting – hoping I would put an end to this when I was ready.

Another beat passed and I felt myself grow increasingly desperate for air, so I did as I’d promised; I tapped his leg.

He instantly pulled me away from his cock, letting go of my nose in the same motion.

I slumped forward before him, inhaling sharply several times to catch my breath.

When I’d recovered enough to sit back up, my vision was swimming with his hand working his length as he waited for me, causing the lipstick left there to smudge and fade.

“You’re doing so good, love.” He said with adoration in his voice.

I felt a depraved smile grow on my lips before I parted them for him, indicating that I wanted more.

He huffed out a breath, a smile tugging at his own lips from my eagerness, before his hand slipped back into my hair to guide me into the same position as moments ago.

“Take a deep breath this time, love. Let’s see how long you hold it for me.” He said under his breath. As soon as I inhaled he placed his hand over my nose again, restricting my breathing completely.

Immediately I tasted more precum entering my mouth, followed by the sensation of my own juices running down my thigh. I was in heaven, completely and utterly blessed as I felt the steady pulse of his heartbeat through his cock on my lips, on my tongue, as he was getting off on withholding something so vital from me as air.

Without realising it, my eyes had fallen shut as I was enjoying the sensations and trying to focus on preserving my air supply so I could stay like this for longer.

“Look at me.” His voice came so low and desperate, when my eyes met his again they were glowing with hunger.

I felt his hand in my hair grip me tighter, pushing me further down his shaft with a shaky exhale, his cock tensing in my mouth as my tongue moved along it.

“You’re incredible.” He said so quietly it was barely audible before he gently started moving his hips against me, slowly fucking my mouth, instantly increasing the difficulty of my already challenging task.

Once again I felt my nails involuntarily dig into his thighs as I struggled, which seemed to only spur him on as a particularly delectable moan left him followed by several ragged breaths, his fingers venturing deeper into my hair, pushing me down on him further, almost as deep as when he was testing me. Suddenly I was fighting against my gag reflex as well as my need for air, and in my overwhelmed state I’d apparently shut my eyes again.

“Keep your fucking eyes on me.” He demanded, a lot louder than anything else we’ve said on the stage tonight, causing a small echo to travel throughout the vast space of the arena.

I could taste more precum as I pried my eyes back open, the man above me emitting a restrained, desperate energy, his dark eyes completely glazed over. My need for air was reaching a breaking point, I began pushing at his thighs out of reflex, not actually wanting to come up for air just yet, but he held me firmly in place – knowing that’s not what we agreed on. When I didn’t tap he pushed me down on him harder, this time pressing himself against the back of my throat with a moan, sending a shiver of lust throughout my body despite my obvious discomfort. But that was the last thing I got to enjoy before the moment had to come to an end, as it was time to tap.

The millisecond my hand hit his thigh he was already pulling out, knowing how far I’d pushed myself. After I’d collapsed against him, I clung to his leg as I recovered, coughing from the sensation of fullness still lingering in my throat where he’d pushed down on me.

This time he didn’t leave me enough time to recover though, his hand slipping right back into my hair, guiding my breathless face back into his view.

“You look perfect like this.” He whispered, working his soaking dick in long strokes over me, shaking the hair out of his eyes as he panted heavily. His words and the sight of him caused a tired smile to blossom on my lips, feeling high as a kite from arousal after having been played with in new, wonderful ways.

“All messy and breathless…” The grip on my hair tightened as his strokes came faster, “Do you have any idea how tempting it is to cum all over you right now? Have you walk to the dressing room fucking covered in it.” His expression shifted into a sadistic smile, sending more shivers throughout my whole body. He exhaled sharply, “Giving me that look doesn’t help, love. It’s only making me want to do it more.”

He’d made a similar statement at the afterparty, in the end he’d cum in my mouth instead. But I knew this time was different; I was already a mess, and the dressing rooms weren’t that far away. I couldn’t tell if I was negotiating with myself or not, but somehow the reward outweighed the risk massively, as I couldn’t imagine anything I wanted more in this moment either. Just the thought of him coming all over me on the stage he mere hours earlier performed in front of thousands of people, elicited a type of thrill that I wasn’t sure I’d experienced before. When I opened my mouth to speak I could feel my heart pounding between my legs, feeling dizzy from arousal and breathlessness.

“Please, just cover me.” I breathed – a flustered whisper, causing his expression to turn even more desperate, his breathing coming rough and quick as his gaze travelled along my body. I looked down to see clear liquid pooling on his tip, obviously close to the edge, confirmed by his strokes slowing down significantly. My eyes snapped back to him, his head rolled back for a moment before looking back down on me with extremely heavy eyelids. His strokes turning jerky as the warm liquid fired over me, the first shot landing on my lips, I instantly darted my tongue out to taste it before I felt it dripping down my chin, dripping into my lap, joined by the second shot that hit my throat, running down between my breasts as he groaned and sighed.

“Fuck.” He breathed in delight as the third shot covered my face, but thankfully missed my eyes.

He was barely done coming when his hand fell away from my hair.

“On all fours, now!” He demanded as he shoved me to face the empty seats. As soon as I fell forward in the right direction, he pushed into me with ease as my skirt had already hiked up on its own accord from kneeling. I felt myself instantly lose control of my body as he moved inside me; I moaned entirely too loud, trying to stop myself, knowing someone might hear me, but the sounds just kept coming as his fingers dug deep into the flesh of my hips, pounding me hard and fast, my whimpers and moans mingling with the slapping sounds that echoed all around us. His exhales and moans joined mine, as he suddenly fell forward on top of me, my arms giving out from the impact. I was delightfully crushed by his weight, heaving breaths and moans being exhaled next to my ear, with more warm liquid filling me up with each pump.

When he was done, the only sound that remained was our laboured breathing.

“Fucking hell, love…” He started, his voice rough and unsteady, “It’s been a while since I came twice in a row.”

Without giving either of us any time to recover, he pushed himself up, pulling out in the same motion, eliciting one last moan from me. I heard the clanging of his belt as he was already putting himself back together. I don’t know how he’d sobered up so quickly as I was completely out of it; freshly pounded, breathless, and dripping of cum.

“I’ve made a right mess of you,” He muttered, still sounding shaky and short of breath, but he was clearly in a rush, “let’s get you sorted.”

A hand appeared on my shoulder before I got rolled onto my back, feeling like a ragdoll. I looked up at his flushed face as he slipped his hands under my body, collecting me in his arms with ease before stalking off with me.

All I could do was cling to him as he swept me away from the stage, my mind entirely too blank – entirely too happy, to feel any anxiety about my state, or who might see me like this.

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#oli sykes #oli sykes fic #oli sykes smut #oli sykes fan fiction #bring me the horizon #smut #You got a taste now #Yay - posted today as planned ♥#It's LONG but I couldn't bring myself to split it #oli sykes x reader

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