#please be kind I don't make moodboards | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

celestie0 · 1 month

Text

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach.

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her.

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?”

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.”

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long.

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore.

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you.

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights.

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.”

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you.

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give.

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes.

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong.

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.”

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth.

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck.

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field.

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed.

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead.

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too.

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!”

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before.

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck.

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.”

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.”

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?”

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess.

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that.

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair.

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.”

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.”

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.”

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand. “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry.

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—”

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does.

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.”

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done.

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you.

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look.

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing.

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness.

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing.

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused.

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging.

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist.

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along.

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ you're all caught up!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

1K notes · View notes

kiwisbell · 5 months

Text

Candy Girl [joel miller]

The before and after. Or, Joel fucks his friend's daughter for the first time.

my masterlist!

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ [mdni]

tags/warnings: daddy kink, baker!reader, age gap (20s/40s), (sort of) dbf!joel, daddy dom!joel, soft!joel, angst, self-loathing, waxing poetic about eating pussy, unprotected piv (wrap that shit up like a pastry), creampie, cream pies, dirty talk, pet names, forbidden romance, tw for occasional stylistic omission of quotation marks, moodboard for aesthetics only

word count: ~ 6k

read on ao3!

a/n: hi, all!! please, as always, mind the tags for this fic - it's quite a departure from what i typically write, but daddy joel has set up shop in my brain and he won't leave. if this isn't for you, that's cool - you don't have to read it. i hope you'll be kind, and as always, i hope you enjoy!! xoxo

thank you HUGELY to my dear mya @cavillscurls for the absolutely stunning moodboard!!! i love you and i'm obsessed with you and you're crazy talented 🫶 and thank you endlessly to my parents sam and el @tieronecrush and @northernbluess for being AMAZING betas and always supporting me and my silly fics!!

CANDY GIRL

What have I done, he thinks, parting your dewy folds with two fingers and sliding his tongue through the glistening mess between your thighs, to deserve this?

He certainly can’t think of some good-enough deed to warrant him being here, tucked warmly in this apex, kindling a fire, rubbing his hands over the red of the flame, breathing sighs and gasps and groans into the sweet-smelling flesh of your thighs as if he were destined to arrive here. As if it were a mere quirk of fate, and now everything is gently settling into motion.

Your fingers are curled in his hair and your chest—bare, smattered with a faint sheen of sweat and reflecting moonlight, illicit—is heaving. You have no instinct to steer him. Your hand knows no guiding push or pull. Your back is bowing off the mattress and your mouth is emitting needy little whines and whimpers and pleas for mercy, more, please, Daddy.

And he’s acquiescing, toppling slowly into that heady pull of sticky wet warmth between your thighs, and all he can think is that you smell like cherries.

And you are messy. Fuck, you’re dripping onto his chin as he licks through you, languishing in the prickling taste as if he's guiding his tongue along the salt rim of a glass. His fingers absently dimple your thighs, bruising, forcing them to fall open, part wider, for him.

Let me in, baby girl.

Thaaat’s it. My sweet girl. My pretty girl.

So goddamn beautiful like this.

You just relax, baby, and let me in. C’mon, now.

You obey every muffled order like it’s law, letting him shoulder his way between your legs, his hand pressing firm on your belly, pinning you. The answering mewl he hears from your parted lips is the sweet slide of your strawberry icing along his taste buds. He buries his tongue between your wet folds and holds you tighter, dizzied with the smell and the taste and the feel of finally taking what he wants. What you've given him.

Joel licks self-indulgently through your slit until your pretty cunt is slathered in his spit and glistens with your own juices. When he sees your clit, puffy and fucking needy and shining at him like a goddamn pearl, he licks his lips.

Look at her. She’s fuckin’ cryin’ for me, baby girl. You need your Daddy to kiss it better?

You whine, grasping his locks, still never quite urging or pushing, but begging: Daddy, I’ll do anything. Please, I’ll do anything.

Shh, sweetheart. Don’t have to do anything. Just keep ‘em open for me. I’ll make it good. Hear me?

A frantic nod. A reflexive squeeze of the hand on your belly. Eyes, watery and butter-soft in the darkness—wrong, risk—meet his own.

Yes, Daddy.

It didn't begin this way.

Some of the edges are blurred with time. He vaguely recalls the time before you—mornings alone at the breakfast table, intermittent calls to Sarah all the way in College Station, long days on the job site because he had nothing else to come home to—and he’s bitter. It tastes nothing like the after: strawberry icing, vanilla perfume, cherries.

It must have begun when Chris slapped him on the back after the scaffolding on the Queen Street job was taken down and said, “Couple of us are grabbing coffees at the Morning Star. You should come along, man. Get outta the house.”

The Morning Star. A slightly weathered pink awning and a varnished oak interior, a couple small tables (occupied), a flurry of activity in front of and behind the counter. A glass display case brimming with cakes and croissants and macarons. Glass vases filled with pink roses whose stems have been neatly trimmed. A pretty girl working behind the counter, tending to customers with an irradiating smile, a tender hand, the blinding glint of a bracelet, a pair of earrings, glowing.

“What can I get for you this morning?” you asked him, like it was some secret spilling from the torso, a heart lurching from its cage, spread out on the ground.

Petal-pink flowers painted on your fingernails. The aching attentiveness of your stare. Ekphrastic turns of phrases pasted to the wall behind the counter, in the form of a mural, crowd-sourced poems and letters and works of art. Lived-in, loved. The smell of cherries as you approached.

And then it was Chris, clapping Joel on the shoulder, a jolt of good-natured violence turning to torrent as he said, “The usual for me, honey.”

It's been wrong since that moment. Maybe it's been wrong all along. That doesn't stop him from ending up here. And it doesn't stop you from following.

On your back, in Joel’s bed, your legs spread wide to accommodate his broad shoulders, welcoming the face-warming intrusion of his mouth between your slick folds. Bold in the way you curl your pretty polished fingers in his greying locks—he’s too old, much too old for you—and receptive in your soft moans and your uttered hexes of yesyesyes.

Bewitched, he flattens his tongue against your pulsing clit and latches his lips around it, his eyes fixed on the way your head falls back, the length of your throat exposed, the evidence of your beating heart laid bare for him in the tremble of your pulse.

He sucks on your clit until your legs begin to shake, and it’s the telltale squeeze of your thighs around his shoulders, the way you reflexively kick his back with your heel. But he’s pulling away, crushing his nose in the flesh of your thigh, nipping your soft skin, and the cry that leaves your mouth carves a tremor down his spine.

Your tight little hole flutters with the need to be filled, to take him inside you, to make him wholly yours, the way he already is, the way you can never know.

So he slides his tongue over your clit and lathers you in his spit and digs his fingertips into your thighs as if he owns you—because he never can.

The flickering burn of regret and shame soothes when he's between your thighs, sucking your clit into his mouth and making you come so hard that you weep—leg kicking out, shackled by a firm hand around your ankle, back arching, fingers grasping, flexing, at whatever you can touch. You pour into him, molten gold, recast in his likeness, and he doesn't deserve this but he will take it.

Instinctively, he pushes deeper, lapping your release from your messy hole, his nose pressed against your oversensitive clit—and he can’t resist, has never been able to, gently coaxing you through it, Poor baby, so goddamn needy for Daddy, sweetheart. Taste so fuckin’ sweet.

You’re whining, finally pushing at his head as the pleasure notches too high, and he presses a soft kiss to your clit before dragging his lips up your belly, between your tits, pulling you upright to sit you in his lap. You grin lazily and drop your forehead against his.

Fuck, he's so proud. He smooths his hand down the crown of your head and skates his fingers down your sweat-slick spine.

You tired, baby?

You nod, and he nips at your pouting bottom lip.

Hmm, but you ain't a quitter. You can give me another, can't you? You wanna be good for me.

He whispers it all against the curve of your throat, into your collarbones, fitting his rough palm against your lower back and pulling your body flush to his. He sweats through all his layers and bleeds his warmth into you, but you don't care, grinding down on his lap, sliding your wet pussy along the hard length in his jeans.

Your hand is slippery at the back of his neck and your eyes are lidded, sleepy, near-black, as you take what you need because you're a greedy girl when it comes down to it, and he's holding your bloody beating heart in his palms.

I’ll be so good, Daddy.

He knows. God, he knows—his lips find your temple, hair matted with sweat, and he can feel your tits pressing up against his chest, the erratic melody your heart sings to him, for him, through him. And he doesn’t deserve this.

Gonna need to take me out, baby girl. Go on, now.

You scramble, reaching between your bodies and unbuttoning his jeans, your hand teasing down the waistband of his boxers. Joel groans when you squeeze him, his teeth catching on your earlobe, nibbling from your jaw to your chin. He watches your manicured hand with its pretty pink polish wrap snugly around the base of his cock—you give him a firm, slow stroke, and he curses at the sight of your oh-so eager gaze.

Shit, baby. You're grinding your hips, smearing your wetness along his length, and he kneads your hip like dough while you grasp his shoulder, your head lolling. He bares his teeth, growling and snapping like a dog at the hot, slick slide of your cunt, his eyes a pendulum between the joining of your bodies and the heavy gaze you give him. That’s it, that’s fuckin’ it, take what you need.

Your legs are trembling, too weak to hold yourself upright, and he knows, as always, exactly what it is you want.

You’ve always been spoiled, because he’s let it happen.

“Just a coffee,” he said, his third consecutive day in the Morning Star. “Please.”

He felt the twist of your lips in his ribcage. “I promise we have more than just coffee.”

“‘s good coffee,” he said. “Why spoil a good thing?”

He liked your pale pink hat and apron and the colour of your nails. He liked the way you feathered your fingertips over the till while you waited patiently for orders, the way you dealt so kindly with indecisiveness, the way your heart-shaped pendant glimmered when the sun dipped low in the western sky.

He only knows it glows like that because you let him stay one night, long after close, to fix the hinge on the front door.

He’d known the Morning Star for a month. He knew it better than he knew you.

“You don’t have to do this, Joel.”

An anxious shifting of your weight from one foot to the other, an intermittent four-fingered tap of your nails on the countertop, a soft weariness blurring the edges of your irises, as you tried to tell him you were fine, you could call your dad in the morning, please don’t worry about me.

The gentle in-and-out of your chest as you breathed, the golden near-evening light trickling the sun into the whites of your eyes, where it belonged. When you inhaled, he exhaled, the rhythmic pulse of life dancing between you, twirling carelessly on the edge of something neither of you could explain.

“I wanna help,” he said. “And you should let me.”

You sighed, little of the charging bull and more of the huffing kitten, and his stomach lurched painfully. He wanted to touch you. He wanted to rest his hand at the crown of your head, soothe the tension in your shoulders with a measured press of his fingertips, unearth the blood-flecked bones that heralded emotions he could not yet name. Later, he would know them intimately; later, he would set his teeth in the white marrow and lick the blood from his chops.

He wanted to ask all of his questions with his fingers, not his mouth, let you answer them the way you saw fit, giving that silent, haptic space the power it needed to pry open the parts of your life he could only guess at.

But he did not touch you.

Then, a time firmly lodged in the hazy somewhere of before-and-after, he could only pretend. And he could fix the door.

Now, he’s gazing in disbelief at the way your tight little hole wrenches open around the weeping tip of his heavy cock, his sweaty body sliding along yours as you hastily shove the buttons of his flannel out of their slits and shuck off his shirt. Skin-to-skin, he feels your pulse ever stronger, licking and sucking at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His palm is flat between your shoulder blades as he eases you open, helping you take his big cock.

Daddy…

I know, baby girl, I know. Just a little more. That’s it—keep holdin’ onto me, baby.

Petting you like a domesticated cat, fitting his fingers in the grooves between your ribs, feeling his own heartbeat settle into the rhythm of yours. You grasp his shoulder, the nape of his neck, your lips parting against his forehead, pressing feverish kisses to the space where his greying curls stick to his skin.

You can take me, sweet girl. My baby. So good for me—

—the way you always have been.

“When my mom left, she gave the bakery to me.” Guiding the pink icing onto the small fluffy cakes, you moved seamlessly. Second nature, like laying mortar and brick. Your hands were speckled with flour and frosting.

The vanilla cupcakes, robed in white paper, were a commission for a young girl’s sixth birthday. “Pink was Sarah’s favourite, too,” he’d said when he walked in that morning—perhaps too needy for a reason to connect. Blindly tossing a fishing line into a murky lake.

But you still glowed when you had beamed up at him: “And now? She still a pink lover?”

“Haven't asked in a while,” he’d said, “but I’d reckon so.”

“She’s smart.” You had slid the black coffee across the counter and placed a cupcake next to it. Joel frowned.

“What's this?”

You had lifted your brows, your eyes telegraphing a challenge. He had sunk neck-deep into your emboldened gaze. “This is a cupcake.”

“Smartass,” he’d huffed. “You got a reason for givin’ me a cupcake?”

You’d gently pushed them closer to him and given him that blinding, tempting grin, and how could he ever hope to decline you when you looked at him like that?

“I value your opinion, Joel,” you’d told him, “and if you don’t eat it, you’ll hurt my feelings.”

He'd taken the cupcake and sunk his teeth into its pillowy flesh right there in front of you.

“And your dad?” asked Joel, on his knees under the counter, replacing the latch on the display door’s hinge. “He help you out a lot?”

An intrusive figure, playing unwitting God in the budding flower bed, picking petals before they were dead. He would always inflate the distance between you, assert his right to decide who you wanted, dated, fucked—he would always be Joel’s judge and jury.

The executioner’s axe he’d take up himself.

You topped off a row of cupcakes with little candied cherries. “He couldn't afford to quit, so I’m running the place. So much for school.”

Joel didn't like that. He didn’t like the way you let it all slide gently down your spine. There was a quiet defiance in the way you spoke—some simmering anger you buried deep in the earth where the colours weren't bright and your heart wasn't so naked. He could feel its veins as if holding it in his palm, the gentle ba-dum, ba-dum of a vulnerable organ so acquainted with disappointment.

“What do you want to study?” he asked.

“Don’t know. Never got the chance to think about it.”

Never got the chance to find yourself. To learn. To grow. You had simply stepped into another’s body, a ghost, occupied endlessly with the next task and the next and then one more. You should've been spending your early twenties partying and studying and crying your eyes out over idiot boys who didn’t know how good they had it. You shouldn't have to be here, decorating cupcakes for a six-year-old while some old man fixed yet another broken hinge, latch, bulb.

“I became a dad pretty young,” said Joel. “Thought I was gonna lose my whole life, all my opportunities, not that I had any.”

He did not deserve the empathetic shimmer in your waterline. “Joel, that's not true—”

“But,” he said with a faint groan as he rose, “I got to make a life of my own, with my kid, and I was happy.”

“You were happy?” you said wearily. “You aren't anymore?”

“I’m…”

He caught your eye and felt the plates far beneath his feet dislodge. Quantum shift. You held his gaze as if you were waiting for some truth to crawl from his sockets—like he was your answer. And Joel did not know what to do with that, but if you would keep looking at him this way, he would tell you any false truths you wanted to hear.

“I’m lonely,” he said at last. Joel reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. A shiver coursed through your heart which lay in his palm, warm crimson blood trickling down his wrists. “And you shouldn't have to be. You’ve got so much life ahead of you, sweetheart.”

Some glacial melt keeled the weight of your head toward him, and your cheek was resting in the pool of his palm. Joel did not care for the hand of God whose fingers would inevitably squeeze the life from whatever this was. The jigsaw fit of your bodies felt so right in this incomprehensible sliver between before and after.

“You're not old, Joel,” you said softly.

“Too old for you.”

He didn't know why he said it, but it made you smile.

“You keep lying to me, Mr. Miller, and I’m not going to trust you anymore.” A wry twist of your lips. “You don’t want that, do you?”

Is this flirting? he thought to himself, so fucking out of practice that the concept felt altogether foreign. But you were giving him that foxlike look and his hand was still cupping your cheek and he could feel the flutter of your pulse, and he didn’t want to stop.

“No, baby. I don’t want that.”

Flesh meets flesh. Your hips drop, and you’re sitting so prettily on his cock, the whole of him buried inside you, stretching your capacities, shifting the dichotomy of right and wrong. He stares up at you—lips parted, eyes lidded, heart beating JoelJoelJoel—and pleasure pinballs down each knob of his spine. He’s locked in the tidal push-and-pull with your body, gravity sucking him into you, or sucking you down onto him. It doesn't matter.

This is the after, and you're drunkenly nudging his nose with yours, trying to kiss him, and he's taking you. Running with the diamond. Sliding his tongue into your mouth, tasting cherries and frosting and giving you a piece of what he's already taken from you. You're sighing and moaning and greedily opening your mouth into him to swallow down your own taste.

His hand slides up your spine to the sticky nape of your neck as he presses you to him, joined by every joint, every pound of flesh.

And when he begins to move, to grind up into you and draw gooey, cloying gasps from your mouth, Joel thinks he briefly sees white.

Jesus. Been waitin’ so goddamn long for this. You're so fuckin’ soft, baby girl. So fuckin’ beautiful.

His teeth in your throat, around your earlobe, scraping your jaw, pleasure pinching, recapitulating, recovering only to start again. Your name on his tongue, passing from his mouth to yours, the anchor of your hand around his neck, the other on his shoulder, reciprocal re-stabilising.

He needs you just as much as you need him, and he shows you in the way he pulls you firmly to him, because he cannot bring himself to whisper it into the barely-there space between your bodies.

“Joel, I’m sorry to call you so early, but I’m out of options, and the party starts in two hours, and my delivery guy flaked, and—”

“Honey, slow down. Lemme wake up, okay? I’m comin’ to you.”

“Oh, God, just forget I said anything. Go back to sleep. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

He still remembers the break in your voice, the fragile warble of your resolve cleaving down the middle. He remembers the sting in his own chest like it was his wound, not yours. He was awake before the sun began to climb.

You had to personally drive the cake you’d made for a ten-year-old’s birthday party all the way across town now that your delivery service had fallen through. You didn’t even have a car; you took the bus everywhere, which Joel had chewed his tongue to pieces over for months. Things could happen in the dark. Public transport was no different. But your own father didn’t seem to take issue with it, so how could Joel?

“Don’t say a word,” he told you when you hopped up into his truck and opened your mouth to apologise. “I don’t mind. You know damn well I don’t mind.”

“You should mind,” you said, instinctively picking a piece of lint from his flannel with that miserable little pout on your face. “All I’ve ever done is ask you for things.”

“And if I like doin’ things for you?”

“Then I’ll put you on my payroll,” you countered.

Joel shook his head fondly. You cleaned when you were anxious; grooming and picking at him like a monkey should not have surprised him. “Well, I got a birthday comin’ up, if you wanna thank me.”

“Yeah?” You bit your lip and some of the heaviness sitting on your shoulders lifted, the promise of getting to repay him for his altruism at last eliciting the smile he wanted. “What would you like?”

You take me so well, baby girl. Goddamn meant for me.

The hot, wet slide of your cunt up and down the length of his steel-hard cock has him doubling over, mouthing sloppily at your tits, sucking and nibbling on your stiff nipples as you cry and whimper: Oh, Daddy, please… fuck, that feels… I can’t—

He’s blinking hard to squeeze the bleeding edges of fantasy away—because this is real, and he cannot know if he will ever have this again. I know you can. You can take me.

A nod, frantic and sick with desire, slips against his temple. I can take it. Please—let me be your good girl. I’m good, good for you.

I know you are, baby girl. So good for Daddy.

“Joel!”

He had never heard his own name infused with such thrill. It settled in the pool of his gut and oozed out past his ribs.

You beckoned him to the counter and placed a steaming mug between the pair of you. The umber liquid sloshed gently in the cup. “It’s a macchiato. And don’t worry”—you caught him before the gash between his brows could deepen worriedly—“it’s nothing like that sugar heap you'll get at a Starbucks. Two shots of espresso, balanced with the milk foam.”

Joel tried to smile, but he was sure it looked more like a grimace. “Milk… foam.”

“I know you're a coffee purist, Joel, but hear me out.” You scurried to the large black boards on the back wall and flipped one over to reveal the bright white writing—stark, vibrant, a proclamation you should’ve had no business making, not when it was so bold as this.

NEW, it read in a pretty, looping font. THE MILLER.

His heart leapt to his throat. And there you were, gesturing to the board with his name—Joel’s name—on it, and he was lifting the confounding liquid to his lips.

Some of the foam accumulated in his moustache as he tentatively sipped and rolled the flavour over his tongue. It wasn't… bad. Not at all. A little too sweet where he preferred the bitter drag of a dark roast. A few too many frills. But—

“It’s good,” he said. Your answering smile decided it for him. He would never go back to black coffee.

Fuck, baby, that's it. Keep on ridin’ me just like that. Oh, Jesus—

The slow, rhythmic slap of your thighs against his as you lock your arms around his neck and lift yourself up and down on his dick. Your head lolling around your shoulders, your brows drawn up in the middle. The squelch of your creamy cunt as you take him to the hilt and bring your hips down in measured, grinding motions.

You’re getting yourself off, too, your clit rubbing against the hairs at the base of his cock, and Joel groans, Fuckin’ hell. Christ, that’s good. That’s it, that’s—

“Think I’m gettin’ fat on all these sweets, baby.”

He’d begun to come into the bakery on Saturday mornings, too, even though he didn’t work. With Sarah no longer in Austin and a dreadfully empty house whose groans and creaks only kept him up all hours, he had little to do but work, maintain the lawns, and, well…

Sat together at the table by the window, you shared a leftover slice of rich cherry pie. The awning outside fluttered gently in the breeze, cutlery and ceramic softly colliding as folks indulged in your treats. You beamed at Joel and reached out to swipe some foamed milk from his moustache.

“I like you this way,” you said, your thumb coasting along his jawline, your eyes like jewels. The pendant on your throat dipped as you swallowed, settling in the hollow like a perching bird.

Joel, white-knuckling his fork, felt his cock grow hard in his boxers, a heavy weight against his leg. The rapid shuttering of your eyes left him feeling inexplicably panicked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep—”

“No,” said Joel, his hand covering your knee beneath the table. You were wearing a little skirt that day. The silky fabric shifted under the coarse texture of the pads of his fingers and he wondered if the softness would be akin to the flesh of your thighs, your belly, your tits (sitting so pretty in that plain T-shirt: pink, of course). “No, you didn’t… You know I…”

And what could he say?

You know I’ve wanted to slip my hand down each one of those pretty skirts you wear since the first day I saw you. You know I take my cock in my hand and jerk off in the shower and I picture your lips around it. You know you’ve fucking infected me. You know I’m poisoned. You know I ain’t good enough. Youknowyouknowyouknow I can never have you.

“Joel, man, I’ve been calling your cell.”

His hand smacked the underside of the table in its hasty retreat as Chris rounded the corner and clapped Joel on the shoulder. “Hey, kiddo. You mind if I have a bite?”

And because you were so goddamn sweet, because you were a smart girl and knew how to play it cool, you gave your father your fork with a big smile and said, “All yours. I should get back. Thanks for the taste test, Joel.”

Chris easily occupied your seat at the table and Joel, adjusting his pants discreetly, was struck by how wrong this had been. To sit with you, sharing a pie, touching, wanting—

He was fucked. And he didn’t care. He only wanted more.

“Cowboys kick off next Sunday,” said Chris through a mouthful of baked cherries. The warm, cloying scent reminded Joel of your perfume. “You want to come over for dinner? We’ll order takeout, grab some beers.”

Joel swallowed, rubbing his fingers over his mouth. He felt the phantom touch of your thumb lingering just above his Cupid’s bow. “Yeah, man. Be fun.”

Chris grinned over the pie—now his, no lingers yours and Joel’s. “Hope you don’t mind that I invited my kid, too. She needs the break.”

You’re close, baby. Can fuckin’ feel it. Feel you squeezin’ me.

Thighs trembling, muscles gooey, you struggle to lift yourself up, and it's Joel who scoops you up with a hand on your ass and lies you on your back, never once pulling out. He doesn't think he can. How did the first man to discover fire ever snuff it out?

He bends over you and thrusts deep, punching a sob out of your throat. Joel groans, nipping your chin as you toss your head back, his mouth trailing down the hollow of your throat, latching around one of your sore nipples, already abused by his attention. You rake your fingers through his tousled greying locks and lift your legs up around his hips as he fucks you slow, hard, deep enough that your heart begins to bruise.

Joel hisses when he feels your fingernails scratching down his spine, between his shoulder blades, pulling him close to you. He dulls his pain in your flesh, open-mouthed kisses soothing the biting bruises he's left on your throat.

Your cunt rhythmically pulses around his cock and Joel grunts, driving deeper, hand fisting your hair, and Daddy, I’m so close—!

Friday night. Joel’s birthday.

He’d spent it on the job site, laying brick, then at home, cracking open a cold beer and calling Sarah, whose gift hadn't arrived yet. She sang him “Happy Birthday” from her dorm room and Joel smiled. All things considered, it wasn't a shitty day. Just…

Lonely.

And you—

You were at his door at ten o’clock, shrouded in night in a way he'd never seen you. Not dressed in pink but black: sweatpants and a tight little tank top that made him swallow his tongue. You were holding a goddamn cake.

You'd had a stressful day. He could tell. Eyes a little sunken, shoulders a little rounded, but you were still smiling, still holding up that cake—chocolate, circled with candied cherries, of course—and singing a weary “Surprise!”

Joel laughed—in shock, maybe—and rubbed his hand over his beard. “Jesus, baby,” he said. “C’mon in; it’s cold out.”

He helped you secure the cake in the refrigerator and offered you dinner: leftover pad thai and a beer. You accepted the former with a grumbling stomach and politely declined the latter. Of course, you were a wine girl.

“I’m sorry it’s so late,” you told him, sitting across the couch while reruns of Happy Days idly played on the television. “Shit goes down at the Morning Star when you're not there.”

Joel shook his head. “I run a tight ship. You doin’ okay?”

“I’m strung-out, Joel, as ever. But fine.” Your conciliatory smile was so fucking cheeky he had half a mind to put you over his knee. “I hope your birthday wasn't a disappointment.”

“Couldn't have been,” he said. “You brought me a cake.”

You beamed. And the cord wrapped around both of your bodies jerked tighter. Joel was hiding his erection with the takeout container, too humiliated to let you see the hard band of his cock in his jeans. You'd run. You'd think he was a freak, a perv, a sleaze.

He was all three, of course. Didn't stop him from wanting—

His cock driving deep inside you, achingly slow, back screaming for relief. Daddy, please, I’m… nnngh, please let me come! Daddy, I’ll do anything, please!

Shhh, baby girl. He rises to his haunches and dips his hand between your joined bodies, rubbing your slick little pearl in fast circles. Your eyes roll back and your head collided with the pillow once more. Thaaat’s it, baby. You gonna come for Daddy? Be a good girl for me?

“Joel,” you said softly, your food forgotten on the table, your body inching closer to his, now two feet apart at best. Your eyes buttery in the darkness, lips dewy with some pinkish gloss you always wore, gloss he knew tasted like cherries. He licked his lips.

His hands flexed. “Yeah.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” you said, bridging the gap, placing your hand on his knee, pink nails and soft skin and vanilla perfume. Joel sets his container aside, swallowing hard.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You were tentative at first, scooting closer, your hand gingerly exploring the length of his strong thigh, against the grain of the denim.

“Baby,” said Joel, more a long-bated exhale than a word at all. Gritting his teeth, hands at his sides, he watched in disbelief as you explored him, your manicured hand gently palming the hard length in his jeans. The moan he let out surprised himself.

“Tell me to stop,” you whispered, pulling yourself onto his lap, straddling his hips, your arms winding around his neck, perfumecherrieslipgloss—

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Joel’s hands, no longer balled into fists, flattened against your arms and travelled their length, exploring your contours, dipping his palms into the curves of your shoulder blades, lodging himself firmly in the after with you.

You shivered, and he liked it.

“You need someone to touch you, too, baby girl.”

Not a question. You nodded anyway.

“Words,” he demanded.

Your lips parted and suddenly your noses were brushing, the pupils of your heavy eyes expanding, taking all of him in.

“I need you to touch me, Joel.”

“I know,” he said, one hand smoothing down the crown of your head, the other trailing featherlight up your spine. “I’m gonna kiss you, baby.”

You nodded again, a little feverish, pulling yourself closer to him, your thighs squeezing his. “Please.”

The after began with you, the way it will end with you. And he's kissing you now, too, swallowing the sounds of your orgasm as you hold him so tightly to you there's no escape. Not that he wants to leave. Not that he finally has this.

He's breathing life into your climax and burning it bright, hot, endless—that’s my good girl, coming so much for me, I know it's a lot, baby girl, just keep holdin’ me, that’s it, sweetheart.

And he's coming, too, grasping your hips so hard they'll bruise, nipping your earlobe and your jaw and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck, spiralling out of control, squeezed so tight by your hot, wet pussy. He comes with a pinch of pain in his lower back, groaning your name into you, pitching up into a near-whine as you milk him, guide him, coax him.

Fuck, fuck… goddamn—

Daddy, I need your cum. Please come inside me.

I will, baby girl, I will… Jesus—

It's so warm and slick where his cock begins to pulse inside you that he couldn't pull out if he wanted to. He empties himself, absolves himself, no longer a sinning man but one cleansed. Your body begs for it, your cunt pulling every drop from him, letting him make a mess of your used hole. Joel grinds absently until it's too much, until he’s sensitive and softening and trying not to collapse on top of you.

Your lip gloss is smudged. He licks his lips and tastes cherries.

“You okay, baby?”

You wince as he pulls out of you, globs of cum pooling at your hole and dripping onto the bed sheets. “Mhm.” You pull him closer, asking for a kiss he happily gives you.

“I feel good. I feel happy.”

He grins into your throat, littering meagre kisses in the junction there. “Did so well for me,” he mumbles.

“Tell me something,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair.

He purrs at the satiating scratch of your nails, his head resting on your chest. “Mmm.”

“Do you really like the Miller Macchiato, or are you just ordering it to make me happy?”

Joel chuckles, playfully taking your nipple between his teeth. “It's grown on me.”

From here, where he can feel the thrum of your settling heart reverberate through his skull, Joel gently tucks the beating organ back between your ribs for safekeeping. Here, in the clear-blue space of after, he doesn't need to hold it to know he's got it. He only needs to lower his ear to your chest and hear it sing his name.

tagging some friends who showed interest in the wip!!: @casa-boiardi @swiftispunk @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @cool-iguana @morning-star-joy @party-hearses @5oh5 (i love you all 🫶)

#tw: daddy kink #kiwisbell's fics #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #daddy!joel

2K notes · View notes

peachypinkygloss · 7 months

Text

dior girl ✰ park jimin

Park Jimin is one of a kind. When he wants something, he gets it, no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands. But this man has absolutely no morals.

୨୧ pairing: designer!jimin x model/fem!reader

୨୧ genre: strangers to lovers, age gap (21 & 38), smut, slight angst

୨୧ word count: 8.1k

୨୧ warnings: unrealistic depiction of the fashion industry, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, manipulation & corruption, jimin isn't a good person (especially not to oc lol <3), violent sexual thoughts, jimin's a sadist (my fav headcannon :D), heavy dom/sub dynamics, hard dom!jimin, unprotected vaginal & anal sex, anal play (use of a buttplug), my new headcannon: jimin likes giving anal, dacryphilia, praising & degradation, oral sex (m), face fucking, aftercare ig because yes jimin's a sadist but he still has a heart.

a.n.: yup so idk if you guys were expecting that... but i did say none of the characters were ethical lmfao so 🤷🏻‍♀️ i really, really hope you like the first part, i've worked hard on it even though it's not super long. so please, reblog and tell me what you thought about it! <3 as always, don't like, don't read.

[dior girl moodboard] ["older" masterlist]

His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place in the world he can spend hours in without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio it feels like the time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.

When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, and the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's designing.

He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and also of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.

He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of the dress. At some point it was consuming his entire mind, this dress the only design he could draw and think of.

Now that he's finally creating it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever made. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Jimin is. It's going to be the design of the year — of the century.

He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of the design. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.

It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and who radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.

Jimin still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.

All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Jimin when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.

Until today.

He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking. "Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims, Jimin immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Sungwoon. "I have someone to introduce you."

Jimin raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Sungwoon who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he doesn't really care about the many girls Sungwoon brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.

When Jimin turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Sungwoon's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs — the one he wants and has to ruin.

Sungwoon introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.

You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Sungwoon raises his eyebrows in Jimin's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.

"Thanks," you smile back at Sungwoon before glancing back at Jimin who still hasn't looked away from you. "I've been a big fan of your work since I was a little kid, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."

The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt while you cry his name invading his mind.

He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, to break but also repair them.

He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.

"I'm glad to hear that," Jimin says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile — stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it useless. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him because you're so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex.

"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Sungwoon begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you." You giggle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Jimin as if waiting for some praises.

Jimin faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you first. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, to kiss, to fuck, to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.

๑♡՞

T H E N

"Careful," Jimin softly says as he catches you up from falling on the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.

"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost fall a second time. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.

Jimin looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.

You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Jimin knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol since you're on a very strict diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just one glass tonight.

It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the glasses of wine, but you had a little help.

A little help from Jimin himself.

When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you've noticed nothing and gulped everything. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.

But Jimin assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank... Until you were more than tipsy.

You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.

Years and years of training, countless sleepless nights, meals that are as nutritious as birds seed... All of the efforts in the world to have your biggest dream stolen by a model who is in the industry for less than six months.

Their rage is understandable, but Jimin couldn't care less. In fact, everything is going as planned and he can't fuck things up now. No, because if he does, all of the things he has done until now will be completely irrelevant.

"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Jimin announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.

"Will she be okay?" A stylist asks.

"Of course. I'll take care of her."

He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.

You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them at the entry.

When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.

"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Jimin sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper — a secret, a confession only you can hear. "Right?"

You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Jimin will fix your mistakes. Your foolish mistakes, done by the carefree of a twenty-one year old.

"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter and tighter til suffocation.

He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.

Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks — he hopes.

You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Jimin as if his simple presence will make all of your problems fly away.

You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Jimin everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.

You bring him closer, crumpling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.

Jimin breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.

"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days when you came to his studio to try on his dress.

You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly. He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.

And maybe it was made for you, after all.

Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.

Jimin will make you walk the runway wearing his dress — the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.

His forever.

"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Tell me what you did," Jimin softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.

You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.

"I prepared myself for you..." You begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Jimin wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.

"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him. And all while thinking of him.

You swallow, "On my ass, Jimin," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.

"Good girl," Jimin purrs. "Let me see it then."

You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor.

You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Jimin stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.

His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you.

You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours.

He sees that your ass is a bit looser than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock — though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not.

He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side?

He's choked you before — smacked your ass hard til you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements.

So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Jimin wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?

But you trust him so much — with all your pathetic being — and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiple lines, and being the poor, sad girl that you are, you said nothing.

You truly are extraordinary.

He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice that has you mewling, sounding so smooth and sweet. "How about we play with it a little?"

He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."

"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase.

"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.

Jimin brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well.

He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you out, sinking in gradually as Jimin holds your cheeks apart.

"Mmh, feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Jimin.

When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, making it jiggle from the harsh hit.

"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his big bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?"

"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug.

Jimin genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way — though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.

It's not like you seem to mind, anyway.

After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever.

He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.

He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping against his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt.

"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy.

His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out.

"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Jimin holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock.

He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin stinging after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head of his penis between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip.

"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Jimin. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex.

"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his plump lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before.

When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls deliciously enveloping his hard cock tightly.

You moan in unison as he bottoms out in you, his balls touching your wet and warm pussy. He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your head and shoves it against the mattress.

You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body — as well as on your mind and your soul.

He already sets a hard and rapid pace — fucking is never soft or loving with Jimin, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public and releases when he gets intimate with you.

You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. And you've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Jimin whenever he feels like it.

"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, ravished and delighted to have his girthy cock sliding against your velvety walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head against the bed covers with more strength.

You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Jimin's hand still pushing down on your head.

His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and on the covers. Your pussy swallows all of his girth, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.

It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You crumple the bed sheets between your little fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Jimin and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you.

He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock.

His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers, the coldness of his silver rings contrasting with the hotness of your sweaty skin. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Jimin controls you — that he controls your life and thoughts.

With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, coated in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy rapidly, as he holds you by the throat, lewdly licking a long stripe along the side of your face.

You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your delicate arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers dirty things to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so bad like the slut that you are," he mouths the words against your hair, cock pulsing hard in your cunt.

His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy.

You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud, circling it sensually and slowly, the complete opposite of his hip thrusts.

"Yes, want to please you, Jimin," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on your pussy. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid.

He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you.

It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features.

He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you are of him, how impossible it is for you to live without him to guide you.

He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet his in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your now soppy and messy pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room.

He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around his girth once again. Your little hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest.

"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Jimin lets go of your face and hips.

You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Jimin slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress.

You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and defined abs. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only things remaining on him being his rings and the watch crowning his right wrist.

His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes.

He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction — more pain.

He doesn't mind being naked too because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Jimin is imposing, his cock thick and girthy enough to split you in half.

He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator had caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, thick and veiny, your hole pathetically quivering — missing his size stretching out your pussy.

He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath sweetheart," Jimin instructs and you inhale deeply.

He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after.

He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaks from your pussy. His erect cock is just so close to it and Jimin could slide right in with one movement of his hips.

He lets go of one of your legs to grip his engorged erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in.

"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, that he's staring so obsessively at your rim.

Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush to his penis at the mere thought of hurting you.

Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it — he needs it. Accuse him for having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him for everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame.

"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more pressure to your ass hole. "Can you, baby?" Jimin asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you.

"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you.

"Yes, what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain.

His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut, your instinct thinking it'll protect you.

"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails in the flesh of his biceps — only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass..."

You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Jimin groans at that, stuffing more of himself in your hole. "Good girl," he praises, voice raspy, ending with a deep grunt.

He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used to prepare yourself. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink.

The tears roll down the side of your face and Jimin can't help but be turned on, leaning in to kiss your face and collect some of your tears, tasting the saltiness of them on his tongue.

"Jimin...!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful gaze, tears rolling down your face. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin.

"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks air through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough.

He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, descending to your collarbones and groping your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you.

He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first.

He wouldn't go too far to hurt you. The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation.

It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependant on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Jimin because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically.

His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. The cool sensation of his rings on your stomach makes you shiver, his finger gently circling your clit to make the pain more bearable.

His cock slides in your hole back and forth, your ass slowly but surely taking the size of girth. Many curses leave Jimin's mouth, your ass probably the best he's ever fucked. You feel so good around him, you're tight, but you loosen easily, making it so, so pleasurable for him.

His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..."

A choked moan is all you can respond, eyes rolling back in your skull as Jimin splits your ass open, fucking his thick cock into you. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his skin.

He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place — always letting you know that he is always in control.

Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Jimin bottoms out. It starts feeling good for you — really good — and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning.

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fist and sinking your nails into the flesh of his back.

He backs away from you a little, his plump lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms.

He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lowly groans, holding eye-contact with you.

You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You enjoy the sensations of his pulsing veins under your small fingers as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, staring into Jimin's dark eyes.

"Jimin..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Jimin takes the opportunity to smooch your neck again as you expose it to him, his full lips delicately pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly.

He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure.

And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.

"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby," he groans in your ear, gritting his teeth as he feels his balls tightening.

He slowly halts his hips movements, letting out heavy breaths as he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass.

You're both trying to catch your breaths, Jimin raising himself up from you and getting out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed.

You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Jimin commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees after.

He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head.

"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Jimin's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the hotel room.

He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair.

You relax your jaw for Jimin, allowing him to stuff your mouth full of his cock. He looks down at you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water. He still holds the back of your head with one hand, guiding you over his stiff erection and you moan obscenely around Jimin, drool dripping down on your chin.

He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take the whole thing each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases.

"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, making it more pleasurable for him. "You're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again.

You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said. It sends deliciously vibrations through his entire body, the sounds of your moans and hearing you gag around him is so arousing to him. He wants to hear more so he literally uses your mouth like a toy, snapping his hips against you, his balls slapping your chin.

He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks now damp and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes stinging as Jimin fucks your throat like a mad man.

"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet.

You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Jimin's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself.

Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Jimin's moans and the feeling of his stiff cock weighing down on your tongue.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger flickering over your sensitive bud smoothly because of your arousal.

The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Jimin can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him.

"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. He stops thrusting in you. "Go on the bed, baby."

You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Jimin penetrates your pussy a second time, bending your legs over your stomach.

"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed by him right away, tits moving up and down on your chest.

His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly you feel your skin stinging. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high.

You let out a high-pitched moan when Jimin suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your pussy.

"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your clitoral orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips.

Your hole clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep into you. He empties himself in your wet cunt, cumming just after you.

When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering it in his creamy cum. You moan at the warm sensation, always loving how it feels both in and on you. Some of his seeds dribble out of you, dripping down to your ass.

He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made on you. He stares up at your face, seeing how fucked up you look, hair in a nest and eyes reddened.

Later, Jimin is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall.

He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his design, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes.

He thinks about all of that that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Jimin.

You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five.

Jimin knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you.

But that's why he's here, to take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his — solely and completely his.

"Jimin?"

Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest.

"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?"

You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."

๑♡՞

A F T E R

The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them.

But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best.

Jimin was satisfied to see that his name stood out among everyone else's, being called more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about.

He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you had contributed to the fame a lot.

Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Jimin needed.

But everything has an end, doesn't it?

When Jimin comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, watching the city living at night while it's raining. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes.

You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that has happened the past weeks in your small head.

It was going to happen soon enough anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all.

Jimin was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one for dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen.

He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with Jimin's sabotage or not. He did you a favour, you should be thankful.

You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Jimin was feeding you. The bottle of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea.

Some people can, others can't and you're one of them. You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to.

"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, already knowing he's walking up to you without looking. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..."

He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Jimin comes home.

"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says.

You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts.

"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you."

Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed til the end of it.

He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away.

How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you — close all of your past wounds and create other ones.

He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you — he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.

๑♡՞

taglist: @mcsalterego @blueberryarchive @gyukookswhore @bloopkook @ot72025 @mrsminho @ownthesunshine @dahliadaenerys

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jimin imagines #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin fic

2K notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 9 months

Text

Sundresses and Leather

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: Your first date with Bucky doesn't go as planned, but that makes it all the more special. Word Count: Over 4.7k Warnings: First date, tension, flirting, brief moments of insecurity, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. Previous Part of AU: Sweet and Strong A/N: More Hottie and Sugar from our Sin on Skin AU. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you for spitballing), but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Tonight was the night. You were going out with Bucky Barnes. Excited for the date was a bit of an understatement. You may have told a few customers you had a date when they wished you a good day.

Thank God they were mostly regulars and seemed happy on my behalf.

"Maybe a sundress isn't nice enough," you told Tess, regretting the words the moment they left your mouth. She didn’t need to deal with you and your overthinking. Again.

"It's plenty nice. You’re going to look amazing,” she argued, going to check on the next batch of cookies. “And he can lift the skirt and bury his-"

"I thought you said I didn't have to get laid on my first date with him," you cut her off.

"You don't have to, but the visual alone will give him something for his spank bank later."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," you smiled, but it quickly faltered.

You weren’t sure why a cloud drifted over your sunny disposition. Bucky was a good guy, a far cry from Richard. Gorgeous, kind, hardworking, the whole package. There was chemistry between the two of you that went beyond mere attraction. Maybe it was the fact that you were falling hard and fast for him that suddenly made you so nervous. You didn’t want to scare him away.

But he said he couldn’t stop thinking about me and he wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it.

Tess gave you a pointed look. “Stop overthinking. I’m begging you.”

“I’m not trying to,” you sighed, your nerves almost tempting you to grab a treat from the case. “What if I fall on my face?”

“Like Bucky would let you hit the ground. Even if you do stumble, that’s life. It isn’t going to change the fact that he likes you,” she said as you helped her with the cookies. You still had work to do. “The guy said he can’t get you off his mind and to text him whenever you want. He does not strike me as the type to just say those things and I know he doesn’t strike you as that type either.”

It took a moment, but your smile came back. She was right. Life wasn’t perfect and you were far from it, but Bucky liked you just as you are. Tonight would be unforgettable no matter what.

“I appreciate the pep talk,” you said, thankful that she told you what you needed to hear. “I’ll even tell you the dirty details if anything happens.”

“Hell yeah, you will. Remember, at this point, I’m living vicariously through you until I find my own hunk,” she winked. “But I mean it. Have fun tonight and get your man.”

I will.

After your shift, you rushed to change for your date. You somehow managed to arrive a few minutes early outside of Bucky's shop and took a deep breath to get yourself under control. Catching your reflection in the window, you smiled before you turned away. Since Bucky hadn’t given you any hint for what you were doing, you chose your nicest sundress and kept your makeup minimal. You looked and felt beautiful, though you wished you would’ve brought a jacket with you.

Maybe Bucky will let me borrow his if he has one.

“Holy shit.”

You spun around when you heard Bucky’s voice behind you, your heart fluttering as he met you on the sidewalk. Instead of the jeans you usually saw him in, he wore khakis, a button up shirt, and a blue blazer that matched his eyes. He had his hair down, perfectly parted on the right side. You were so busy staring at the broad, handsome man that it took you a moment to realize he was trying to hand you something.

Flowers.

“Sorry. You just… wow,” he said as you took the small bouquet, sweeping his gaze over you as your cheeks grew warm. “You look so beautiful.”

You giggled and quickly covered your mouth with your hand, butterflies in your stomach when he gently smiled. “Don’t apologize,” you smiled back, taking a moment to smell the flowers. “You look pretty ‘holy shit’ yourself.”

His nose scrunched as he laughed and offered you his hand. “So, you’re telling me I clean up well. Steve insisted on the blazer when I said I wanted to bring my leather jacket.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Though I wouldn’t have minded the leather jacket,” you said. He would’ve looked gorgeous, as always. “And thank you for suggesting we meet here. We had a last minute order and I was scrambling."

"It's no problem. One of my clients was running a few minutes late and I almost had to take you out in jeans."

"I wouldn't have minded," you said. You both worked hard and understood that things would come up from time to time. "So, where are we headed?"

He cleared his throat as he led you to his car. “Well, do you want the good news or the bad news?”

Your stomach dropped a little. “Mmm. Bad news first,” you said after a moment. “Always better to end on a high note.”

“Bad news was I had planned to take you out on my motorcycle so we could have a picnic in the park. There was going to be live music and I would’ve asked you to dance,” he explained, looking up at the sky. “But…”

“The weather called for a storm tonight, didn’t it?” you mused, a wistful smile on your face when he nodded. The image of being in his arms under the stars as music drifted through the air made your heart skip a beat. It sounded like the perfect evening.

“Yeah. The band is rescheduling,” he said, tucking his hair behind his ear as he looked at the ground. “Then I thought I could take you to this art gallery nearby. They normally have these stunning paintings of landscapes and various statues, but the current exhibit is on human sexuality and reproduction. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but maybe it was too much for a first date.”

“Oh, come on. It couldn’t have been that bad,” you argued as he stopped and took out his phone.

“No?” he asked, tapping his screen before he showed you what you assumed was the page for the gallery.

“…That’s a giant dick,” you said before you could stop yourself, tilting your head as you stared at the phone. “And does that say BALLS?”

An older woman crossing in the opposite direction gave you an amused stare before you and Bucky burst into a fit of laughter. You had to hold on his arm to keep from collapsing on the ground. It was the funniest thing you had seen since you could remember and to think you almost saw it in person.

This date is off to a great start.

“Maybe I wanted to see a giant dick and balls,” you said once you caught your breath, pointing at him when he opened his mouth. “And don’t say ‘all I have to do is pull down my pants’ or something like that.”

But I know he has a big dick. I know.

He smirked as he started walking again. “Only if you ask me nicely, Sugar.”

He’s going to kill my ovaries.

“I’ll ask you very nicely, Hottie,” you teased, wondering exactly where you were going then. “If that was the bad news, what’s the good news?”

“I managed to get us a reservation at one of the nicest restaurants in town,” he said, standing a bit taller.

He’s trying to impress me.

“That's really nice. And I’m sure dinner will be amazing,” you assured him, hoping he didn’t beat himself up over having to change his plans. It wasn’t his fault it was going to rain. He could’ve taken you to a fast food place and it would’ve been fine because you were with him.

“Speaking of, I better get us there so we aren’t late,” he said, opening the door for you to get in. “Maybe if you agree to a second date, I can take you out on my bike and have that picnic.”

“I’d love that,” you smiled, carefully putting the flowers in your lap and trying not to appear too eager that he was already thinking of a second date. You glanced around the car when he got in and drove off, noticing it was cleaner than when he took you home days prior.

Did he clean it for me?

You grinned as he hummed along to the radio, watching as he drummed his fingers along the steering wheel. “You could’ve made it as a musician if you weren’t a tattoo artist.”

“Now you’re just flattering me, Sugar,” he said. “Believe it or not, if I wasn’t a tattoo artist, I would’ve liked to be a science teacher. I loved science and everything space related growing up.”

“Really?” you asked. He would’ve been a wonderful teacher, no matter what age group he taught. “Okay. That’s another date night.”

“What? Playing teacher?” he joked, taking his eyes off the road for a second to wink at you.

“No,” you giggled, carefully shoving his arm since he was driving. “We’re going to a science museum. That's our third date. I’m going to watch you happily geek out over everything.”

“Yeah?” he asked, glancing at you after he parked the car. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah, I would. I think it would be a blast.”

I just want to spend time with you.

A soft expression took over his features when he took your hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips lightly brushed your skin, heat pooling in your gut as he made eye contact with you. The look alone made you want to skip dinner and go right to dessert. Why not throw caution to the wind?

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promised before he got out.

You exhaled slowly and mentally told your libido to calm down. At the very least, you had to get through dinner. He went through the trouble of getting a reservation at a nice place and you weren’t about to take that away from him.

“Oh, wow. I haven’t been here before,” you said once you got a look at the name. Richard used to brag about the place, but never actually took you. From what you remember, he said the food was supposed to be expensive. You didn’t want Bucky to splurge on you.

“I haven’t either,” Bucky admitted. A fancy place didn’t seem like his style. “But it looked romantic.”

You bit your lip as he opened the door, the flickering candlelight in the entryway alone providing an intimate ambience. The date may not have been what he planned, but he clearly did his research and put thought into doing something nice for you. When was the last time someone tried to do something nice for you? When did anyone go out of their way to make you feel special?

“Hello,” Bucky said as the hostess greeted you. “Reservation for two under James.”

James?

The hostess scanned her screen before she looked up. “I’m sorry. That name isn’t coming up.”

Bucky’s cheeks turned pink when you glanced at him. “It should be under James, miss. James Barnes. Reservation for two for 7pm. I spoke with Charles. He confirmed it.”

You moved closer to Bucky when the hostess searched through her screen again. As calm as he sounded, you sensed he was anything but inside. You hoped he wasn’t embarrassed. Maybe she skipped over his name. A simple mistake.

“Charles did make a reservation for you, but he entered it for 7pm next Friday,” she said as she looked between the two of you. “We’re fully booked tonight. I'm sorry, James.”

Oh, no.

There was a tick in Bucky’s jaw before he shook his head and you wanted nothing more than to hug him. “No, that’s… It’s for tonight.”

“I’m so sorry. I can see if we can squeeze a table in for you, but it’ll be at least an hour,” she said, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. She probably expected one or both of you to make a scene. "I can get my manager?"

Bucky swallowed when he looked at you, his cheeks still pink. The candlelight danced in his eyes, but all you saw was sadness. No. You wouldn't allow that. This was your first date and it was going to be amazing.

You put a hand on his arm, his muscles relaxing under your touch. "It's okay. I know this amazing place that’s right around the corner."

"Are you sure?" he asked, the hostess visibly relaxing when you nodded.

"You have a good evening," you said to the hostess and tugged Bucky back toward the door. "I'm sure. Trust me. We may even beat the rain if we walk now."

“Okay,” he said, avoiding your gaze as you left. “Fuck. This is the worst first date, isn’t it?”

Your heart broke for him. All he wanted was to give you a nice evening and everything he tried fell through. “Not even close. And you have nothing to apologize for. Charles messed up the reservation, Hottie, not you.”

“Yeah, he did,” he said, his lip tugging like he wanted to smile. “I just really wanted tonight to be special and since I couldn’t give you the date I planned, I wanted to at least give you something nice. I couldn't even do that.”

Hearing that made you stop, even when you felt the first raindrop. "Tonight is special because you're spending time with me. That's all I wanted," you promised, squeezing his hand for good measure.

"That's really all?" he asked as he squeezed your hand in return.

"Well, not completely," you teased as another raindrop landed on your shoulder. "Maybe a kiss at the end of our date."

A wide smile formed on his face as he leaned in, not quite kissing you. "Whatever you want, Sugar."

As romantic as it was to stand on the sidewalk with him, the rain began to come down harder and had you rushing with him around the corner. “If you're still disappointed, you’ll feel much better when we eat. Antonia’s has the best food,” you said, holding out your hand in a grand gesture as you arrived. “Tada!”

Antonia's was a bit of a hole-in-the-wall kind of place. Not extraordinary on the outside, but lively and bright on the inside. The food and service were top notch. It was one of your favorite places.

“Wait, Antonia's?” he asked, a twinkle in his eyes. “This is where you’re taking me?”

“Yeah,” you replied, suddenly nervous as you faced him. Did he not like it? “Is this okay?”

“This is one of my new favorite restaurants,” he said.

No way.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I designed one of Antonia's tattoos. And I decided to check out the place."

He's full of surprises.

"Then you know you're in for a treat," you winked.

The hearty aroma of the restaurant filled the air as you went inside and wiped some of the rain off your dress. Antonia was speaking with the hostess as you went up to the stand. The owner was involved in virtually every part of her restaurant.

"Welcome to…" Antonia began as she looked at you, then at Bucky, then back at you. "Oh! You two… it's a date!"

Antonia looks so happy.

"Hi. And yes. We're on a date," you giggled when Bucky sheepishly smiled. It was sweet. "You wouldn't happen to have a table for two available, would you?"

Antonia put her hand over her heart and flagged down a waiter with the other. "Lover's special for these two. Go."

You exchanged a look with Bucky, who appeared just as confused as you were. "Lover's special?"

"Yes, yes. Come with me," she said, patting Bucky's cheek before she took you through the restaurant. You expected her to seat you at one of the few empty tables, but she passed them to take you to a door in the back. "Tonight is special and that means a special dinner."

Your eyes widened at the sight before you once she opened the door. There was a lone table in the middle of the room, flowers similar to the bouquet Bucky gave you sat in the center. Unlike the bright main room, the dimmed lights gave the room a romantic glow.

Perfect.

"Peter will serve you. And if you need anything, just ask, okay?" Antonia asked, putting her hand over her heart again. Were there tears in her eyes? "Two of my favorite customers. Together! Enjoy!"

You had to pause and swallow the lump in your throat once she left you alone. A restaurant owner showed more enthusiasm for your date than your mom did for anything that involved you. She likely never would.

"You okay?" Bucky asked, pulling out your chair.

"I'm fine," you replied, refusing to let the thought of your mom damper the evening. "A little chilly. I should've brought a sweater with me."

Bucky removed his blazer and put it around you, tenderness in his blue eyes as he rubbed your arms. "I can't wait to see you in my leather jacket," he said, helping you take your seat before he took his.

Oh, he's going to give me his jacket? Am I going to only wear his jacket? Fuck.

"Thank you," you said, inhaling as he rolled up one of his sleeves beneath the elbow and then the other. You reached across the table to lightly trace one of the tattoos on his right arm. "It was nice of Antonia to put us back here."

"Then why did you look so sad when she left?"

He caught that?

"She just looked so happy to see us together and I didn't expect that. It's nice that someone is rooting for us," you said, tracing your finger along his wrist before you stopped. "I'm sorry. I should've asked before I started touching."

"Don't apologize. I like your touch," he said in a low voice.

You lifted your gaze, seeing fire in his eyes that had nothing to do with the dim lighting. When he turned his hand over to hold yours, you made no move to pull away. You wished you could put your hands all over him.

"Hi! I'm Peter!" The waiter greeted as he brought water to the table. Bucky didn't let go of your hand. "I'll be taking care of you tonight."

"Only one taking care of my girl tonight is me," Bucky said. As much as you loved hearing that, you were glad he gave poor Peter a tiny smile so he could relax. "I'm kidding. It's good to see you, Peter."

"Y-You, too, Mr. Barnes. And you, Miss. You have the best cupcakes in town."

"Thanks," you smiled, quickly putting in your order before you gazed at Bucky. "So, James. Tell me more about you. How long have you been friends with Steve?"

"James is my first name. Everyone calls me Bucky," he chuckled before he shook his head. "And that punk."

You smiled softly as you listened to Bucky, not at all surprised by how easily the conversation went. Steve was his best friend since childhood and they served together before they went into business together. It was evident that he took pride in his shop and respected everyone who worked there. He carried the same affection in his tone when he spoke about his sister, Rebecca. He liked to frequent art galleries with Steve, but also enjoyed riding his bike, reading, and everything science in his spare time.

I could listen to him talk for hours.

"You know, you haven't said much about yourself," he pointed out as he set his napkin on his empty plate.

"I haven't?" You asked.

"No, you haven't and I don't want to monopolize the conversation," he said, leaning forward to give you his full attention. "I want to know more about you."

You tightened the blazer around you, unsure of what to say. "My life isn't exactly exciting," you said, wishing you could think of something clever or fun to discuss.

"Doesn't have to be exciting. I just want to know you," he said before Peter showed back up.

"Would you like to look at the desert menu?" he asked as he took your plates away.

"I think you can bring the check. We're going to skip dessert," you answered, giving Bucky an assuring smile when he frowned. "Let's go to my shop instead."

If Bucky wanted to really know you, you had to tell him more of your story. Your bakery was the only place to do it. And it would be the perfect way to end the evening.

After you left the restaurant, with Antonia asking you to come back again, Bucky drove as safely as he could to the bakery. The rain didn't let up at all. You shrieked as you struggled to get the keys out of your purse, Bucky's blazer now soaked the longer you stood there. "Why didn't I get these out when I was still in your car?!" You shouted over the downpour.

"Why didn't I bring an umbrella?!" He yelled back, putting his hands over your head as if they would protect you.

The two of you practically fell through the door once you unlocked it and shut off the alarm. "We made it," you laughed, careful not to slip on the floor. He had his arm around you just in case. Tess was right, He wouldn't let you fall. "I'll get us some towels and you have your pick of any dessert I have in the fridge."

"You have any cupcakes?" He asked.

Your breath caught in your throat when you stepped back and caught the outline of multiple tattoos through his soaked shirt. "Yeah."

"See something you like?" he smirked, running a hand through his wet hair.

Fuck me.

"I do," you said, glancing down at yourself. "But I'm freezing and I owe you dessert."

Tess might also have words if I let Bucky ravage me by the front door.

You took Bucky to the kitchen and grabbed a few towels. It wouldn't dry you off completely, but it would help. You also put on some soft music. Not to set the mood necessarily, but just in case.

"So, this is where the magic happens," Bucky said, running the towel along his exposed skin.

"It is," you said, placing your hand on the counter. "You said you wanted to know me. It starts here."

"In the kitchen?"

"In the kitchen," you repeated, going to the fridge to take a container of cupcakes out. "I used to visit my grandparents every weekend when I was growing up. My dad wasn't around and my mom said it was for family quality time, but she never stuck around. The reality was that I cramped her style and she passed me off to them because she knew they wouldn't say no."

Bucky's jaw clenched as you let him take a cupcake. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," you said, gripping the lid tightly before you closed the container. "I remember crying because I wanted to take dance classes and try and make friends. My mom said I would be a terrible dancer and that it would be a waste of time and money. A great thing for a kid to hear, right?"

"Jesus," he whispered.

It wasn't exactly the happiest conversation to have, but you wanted to show Bucky a part of you that you didn't show to most people. "My grandma wiped my tears away and brought me into her kitchen. Said she had the perfect cure for the blues. Baking. And that's what we did every weekend until I got old enough to look after myself."

"Your grandma sounds amazing," he said, carefully examining the cupcake in his hand. "And baking became your passion."

"It did. She taught me to pour love into every creation I make. And that's what Tess and I do for others. If someone is having a bad day, at least they can have a treat and feel a little better," you said, pride in your eyes as you looked around. "My grandma supported my dream, but my mom almost disowned me for wanting to run this place. It isn't good enough in her eyes."

I'm not good enough.

Bucky's nostrils flared as he set the dessert down. "Your business isn't good enough for her? What the hell? It's flourishing. I can barely find a lull to come in to get some undivided attention. And your customers love you. She should be proud of you."

His defense of you was heartwarming. "Doesn't matter how successful my business is. She wanted me to marry rich, probably so she could get money from me, but I didn't. She berated me when I broke up with Richard. No matter what I do, I'm never going to be good enough in her eyes," you told him, patting the counter with your hand. "But this makes me happy and that's enough."

"That's why you were sad that Antonia was so happy about our date, wasn't it? Because your mom either doesn't or wouldn't support it," he guessed, reaching for you and pulling you into his arms. "She'll probably hate me. I'm not rich. Covered in tattoos."

"I don't care what she thinks of you. I don't need a rich guy or fancy dates. I just want someone who can provide companionship and support. Someone who respects and cares for me," you said, wrapping your arms around him. "A good, hard-working guy like you deserves the same."

It was too soon to voice it, but Bucky was the kind of man you needed in your life. Someone you could share parts of yourself with and know he wouldn't judge. A man who made your heart race beyond lust.

A partnership.

He stared deeply into your eyes and you had no idea what was going through his head, but his gaze told you so much. How could a pair of eyes be so expressive? "You're perfect, Sugar, and more than enough. You hear me?"

Tears welled up in your eyes before you blinked them away. He sounded sincere and unashamed at his declaration. You hadn't done anything to deserve such praise. "No, I'm not," you whispered.

"You are to me. You took a chance and asked me out. Soothed me when tonight didn't go the way I thought it would," he said, gripping your chin to recapture your gaze. "And you trusted me enough to share something vulnerable with me when you didn't have to. It means everything."

"I feel like I can open up to you," you said as the two of you slowly swayed to the beat. You couldn't remember why you were nervous about your date to begin with.

"And I'll take care of you. I mean it."

I hope he knows I'll take care of him, too.

"You know," you began with a soft smile. "Our first kiss was in your shop."

"It was," he smiled.

"So I think it's only fair that we have our second kiss in my shop," you said.

"You did say you wanted a kiss to end our date," he said, bringing a hand to the back of your neck, but giving you a chance to stop him.

You didn't.

Even though you expected it, you still gasped when he molded his mouth against yours. Your heart pounded furiously in your chest, making you both eager and pliant as he licked his way across your lips. When he brushed his tongue against yours and took possession of your mouth, you mewled. Desire nearly blinded you from the taste of him.

I want more.

"I don't want our date to end," you breathed, clutching his arms to steady yourself.

"It doesn't have to," he said, resting a hand on your hip. His eyes were dark and full of want. To have him look at you that way, how could you possibly end the evening with one kiss? Why deny yourself what you both wanted?

"No, it doesn't," you agreed with a coy smile. "So. My place or yours?"

So. How do we think the evening will go? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

2K notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 1 month

Text

The Taste of Desire (AU)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex with soft domination, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, remorse, doubts related to sex work ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients − however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. One of his clients surprises him with her behaviour, making him experience something he has never felt before, with his own actions and emotions slipping out of his control. Sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

This oneshot is an alternative universe for my series The Taste of Shame in which Aemond meets the main character as his client. It shows how their lives would have turned out and what their first time would have been like if Aemond had done it for money. Created to celebrate my anniversary on 22 March.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other series: Masterlist

_____

He was never picky when it came to his female clients. They had to meet basic standards like hygiene, no venereal diseases and they couldn't go beyond a certain time, but once they signed a confidentiality clause, what he was going to do with them was no longer important to him.

He kept repeating to himself that he was there for them, not them for him, so he focused on giving them what they wanted in a way that didn't disturb his comfort zone.

He did not allow them to kiss or touch him with their hands − in fact, he preferred that any involvement they had in what was happening was minimal. What he found most pleasing in the whole act was his violence towards them, and the more they consented to, the more he was satisfied.

Their pleas and cries of pain combined with some subconscious pleasure that such sadomasochism gave them made him struggle to hold back the mocking smile that pressed against his lips.

They wanted to be treated like worthless objects, and that's what he was giving them, because that's exactly how he thought of them.

He didn't try to delve into considering what he thought of himself, because he decided that would end up with a visit to a psychiatrist. He was studying quantum physics, lived far away from his family and needed a steady, high source of income − since silly girls could make money from sex cams, he could make money that way, at least until he had no other prospects.

The only way to contact him was through an online form on his website, where they would write why they wanted to meet, indicate what suited them or not, and if he felt he could meet their whims, he would arrange to meet them to discuss the details and sign the documents.

Scrolling through dozens of similar messages about tying, gagging, beating and humiliation he stopped on one where only a few things were marked. He thought surprised that he wouldn't even link them to aggressive domination per se, and certainly not the kind he usually used.

Good morning. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'd like to try, but I'm also a bit embarrassed about it. I don't know if this can be subsumed under your interests − I'm completely inexperienced, so maybe that's why I'm looking for a professional who knows what he's doing and would be able to show me what I actually need and want. I apologise for the rather chaotic explanation and send my regards. Selected practices: spanking, verbal domination, fingering

He blinked and scratched his chin, both intrigued and uncertain at the same time − he glanced quickly at her age and saw that she was younger than him. He bit his lower lip feeling that something in the idea that she was still inexperienced and only willing to explore her needs attracted him, the thought that this would be some sort of challenge for him.

He decided that why not.

She was an adult.

He looked forward to meeting her with the utmost curiosity. Her requirements were basic enough that he didn't need to prepare any extra kinks, and since she didn't want sex with penetration, it also gave him a greater sense of confidence and peace of mind − he knew he wouldn't have to chase his orgasm, imagining some woman from porn, and would be able to concentrate only on what he was doing to her.

When he heard a quiet knock on the door of the flat he rented only to meet his female clients, he got up immediately from behind his desk and opened it for her, swallowing hard as his gaze involuntarily swept over her figure and stopped on her face.

God.

This was not what he had expected.

She looked even younger than she had written; her eyes were big and bright, looking at him with fear and dread, though usually the women who came to him, learned by experience, kept their gaze meekly on the floor, waiting for him to command them to look at himself.

She was dressed in a plain white Tshirt and high-waisted jeans, a fabric coloured backpack on her back, her hair loose, shiny, dark, slightly wavy − he could smell the fruity scent of her perfume or shower gel.

He grunted quietly, trying to keep a stony face, feeling that involuntarily his gaze expressed shock. He took a few steps back and invited her in − she stepped inside uncertainly, turning away quickly as he closed the door behind her.

"Come in. Do not be afraid." He said lowly, pointing to his desk which stood in the deeper part of the flat − she walked in that direction, looking in horror at the bed standing on the other side of the room.

He heard her swallow hard, tense and red, pulling her backpack off her back − she placed it in her lap immediately after she sat down in the chair opposite him, as if trying to ward off and protect herself from him in this way.

He took his seat on the other side and tapped his index finger on the top of his wooden oak desk, thinking that he had never had a client like her before.

She was completely distracted, her gaze sweeping across the room as if she were a curious child, her fingers tightening on the material of her rucksack.

"As I mentioned, first the contract and confidentiality clause." He said calmly, handing her copies of the contract and clause he had sent her earlier.

She took them from him and looked into his eyes again, making him swallow hard; it wasn't a defiant look and it wasn't meant to seduce him. It seemed to him just the opposite − she wanted to show him that some part of her was genuinely afraid of him.

She nodded, her hands trembling all over as she took the sheets of paper in her hands − she looked around quickly and clumsily grabbed a pen.

He wondered, seeing what was happening to her, if what she wanted was really good for her and although he never meddled in his clients' decisions, he decided to intervene, for her sake and his own.

"You can still resign. I won't burden you with the cost." He said lowly, watching her closely, and saw that she flinched all over. She lifted the gaze of her bright eyes to him, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to get something out of herself.

"I…I think I want to try. This one time. Do you think it's a bad idea, sir?" She asked him in a trembling, soft, girlish voice. The note of innocence that lurked in this after all defiant question made him twist in his seat, feeling surprised that his manhood swelled a little − he felt like he was literally burning her with his gaze.

He thought it was because she was so vulnerable − it turned him on that he was more experienced than her and had real control over what could happen next if she wanted it.

He chuckled involuntarily at her words, shaking his head, sighing quietly, looking at her indulgently.

"What I think about it doesn't matter." He murmured lowly, leaning comfortably against the back of his chair with a loud creak of wood.

He felt heat in his lower abdomen at the thought of her not dropping her gaze, boldly staring him in the face as if they had known each other for a long time, despite the fact that most women knew their buttocks would be red and swollen like tomatoes for such insolence.

"I would, however, like to hear your views on the matter, sir." She replied quickly, as if she recognised him as some sort of authority on the matter, a sexologist or anyone else who could give her a diagnosis.

"I am not a doctor. However, I don't think there is anything wrong with trying under controlled conditions. You also have a safe word that you can use at any time to stop whatever I'm doing. You have to decide." He said finally, and saw her nod her head, drawing in air loudly as if gathering her courage, and leaned over, signing the documents in the spaces indicated.

For some reason he involuntarily licked his lips, dried from some kind of excitement, his cock twitching hard in his trousers at the thought that she was really going to do this.

When she finished he took the papers from her, signed them and gave her one copy, reminding her of all the rules they had agreed and what she could not do.

"You can't touch me or kiss me. When we start, you are to call me sir and follow all my instructions. You are to answer all my questions by shaking or nodding your head unless I order you otherwise. I will not stop even if you beg me or cry until I hear your safe word which, please remind us, sounds how?" He asked softly, stapling the papers she had signed with a stapler, tucking them into his drawer, watching her out of the corner of his eye, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the very thought of what he was going to do to her.

Why was he so aroused when he hadn't even touched her yet?

"Peach." She muttered embarrassedly, looking down at her hands.

For a moment he wondered if he should add the rule he usually made where a woman couldn't look him in the eye, but something in her eyes captured him − her gaze wasn't seductive or filled with feelings he didn't want to see. He also guessed that forbidding it might overwhelm her even more, and he didn't want that.

He nodded at her words, rising, and she rose with him, holding her backpack in front of her, her shoulders raised slightly in a defensive gesture, as if she was afraid of him and the fact that she had somehow given him control over her.

He approached her slowly, looking at her vigilantly − her eyes fixed on his face as his hand took the rucksack from her arms in a gentle motion, dropping it next to her on the floor. His fingers rose to her cheeks, trailing over them, her jaw and her chin − he felt her tremble all over, surprised, her swollen, plump lips red with emotion.

Although he had never done this, he wanted to get a good look at her first − he knew that going straight to putting his hand in her panties would only frighten her and in this situation his tactics had to be a tad different.

First and foremost, he wanted to reassure her.

He saw that she had closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly through her mouth as his hands slid down to her neck and her soft hair. He thought, smelling her fruity scent, that he would have given anything to have her kneel before him and take his achingly hard manhood into her mouth.

He decided that perhaps he would use his thoughts to embolden her a little more and let him do what he wanted.

"Such a sweet girl. You have no idea what I'd like to do with those lips." He hummed, feeling a shiver pass through her as one of his hands rose higher again, to her face, parting her lips with his thumb. "How hard I am now."

He saw the shock in her gaze, which quickly escaped down to the bulge in his trousers, her cheeks flushed as she looked up into his face again, her breathing quickened and ragged.

He sighed involuntarily at the sight.

"You can say a lot of things about me, but not that I'm a liar. Open." He commanded in a slightly cooler, stricter tone, her lips immediately parted slightly, allowing his thumb to slide deep between her fleshy, wet lips.

"Suck." He instructed, a quiet moan caught in her throat, her body suddenly quivering as the fingers of his free hand slid lower to her breast, teasing her nipple in calm, circular motions, her lips tightening around his thumb, obeying his command.

"Do you always walk around without a bra? Hm? Do you like it when men look at them?" He muttered warningly, pulling lightly on her nipple, looking at her curiously − she squirmed helplessly, closing her eyes, not knowing what to do with her hands. He could see how, in some subconscious reflex, she wanted to lift them up and embrace him, but reminded herself that she couldn't do that and lowered them again, moving him in some way and arousing him at the same time.

He couldn't remember if his client had ever made him completely hard by her behaviour itself.

"Quiet. We haven't even started properly yet, and already you want me to slap your arse?" He growled mockingly, and she shook her head quickly, drawing in air loudly, looking at him with a pleading look of her big, bright eyes, which he felt between his thighs as his cock swelled unbearably, demanding attention.

"This is my last warning. Lie on your stomach." He said coldly, although inside he felt like his body was on fire.

She obediently pulled off her shoes and lay down on the bed, watching, embarrassed, as he slipped his thumb, moist with her saliva, between his lips and licked it. He quickly pulled off his sweatshirt and shoes, leaving in his black short-sleeved T-shirt and trousers, fixing his hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Leave only your panties on." He added, hearing her quiet squeal as his large hand gave her one, light, sharp smack on her buttock, just as an encouragement to keep her going.

"Just like that. So pretty." He hummed, watching her undress, climbing onto the bed behind her. He involuntarily licked his lips and grinned in amusement when he saw that underneath her trousers she was wearing pretty lace panties in powder pink.

He thought she was like a lollipop or candy, a sweet little gift bought just for pure pleasure.

As she pulled off her t-shirt she clung with her breasts to the bedclothes, looking somewhere sideways towards the window as if she was afraid of how exposed she was, that she was lying half-naked in front of a strange man who, on top of that, she was going to have to pay for it.

Although he cursed himself for it in the back of his head, the sincerity and naturalness of her behaviour endeared her to him − he thought in disbelief that he wasn't sure that even if she had asked him to punish her more harshly or to cause her intense pain he would have been able to do it.

Would it give him pleasure.

He took her hair aside, exposing her long neck and back, felt her shudder all over as his fingers ran along her spine.

"Are you going to be good, or should I tie you up?" He murmured and she nodded quickly − he hummed under his breath, stroking her bare skin. "Use your words."

"I'll be good. Sir." She added quickly, hearing him shift suddenly in irritation. He let out a loud breath through his nose, leaning down, grasping her wrists in his hands, placing them on either side of her head, showing her the position he expected her to hold them in.

"Your hands are supposed to be here at all times. On the pillow. If I see you take them away from here, I'll tie you up and on top of that, I'll give you ten slaps on the bottom to make sure you remember this lesson well. Do you understand? Use your words." He hissed, driving his fingers into the skin of her wrists, heard her swallow hard and nod her head quickly.

"− y-yes, sir −"

He gasped softly, pleased with her answer and the way it was going − he saw her hands tighten on the material of the pillow as he settled his knees on either side of her buttocks, lowering himself onto them so that she could feel his cock throbbing all under the material of his trousers. She stifled the cry that wanted to escape her lips by pressing her face against his bedding.

"− do you fucking feel it? − do you feel what you're doing to me? −" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, not knowing why instead of pulling himself together and concentrating on his task he was teasing her, making his manhood painfully hard − he clamped his eyelids shut when he felt her hips begin to buck uncertainly to the rhythm of his movements.

He decided that fuck it, he would do it the way he felt like it, breaking his own rules, knowing that unlike the other women, she really needed this.

His closeness.

She sighed loudly and her whole body trembled as he pressed his face against her soft, fragrant hair, crushing her with his own weight, his hands roamed over the skin of her bare shoulders and the sides of her waist as his nose slowly slid lower, down to her neck, his fingers slipped underneath her and tightened on her soft, plump breasts as his lips pressed against her bare skin.

He heard her start to pant loudly through her mouth, surprised as he was, surely imagining it differently, writhing beneath him, his fingers digging warningly into the soft skin of her breasts, his hot breath enveloping her ear.

"− lie still or we'll do it rough − spread your thighs −" He growled, his thumbs pressing and playing with her nipples. He spread her legs with his knees, making her breath catch in her throat − he could feel her heart pounding fast under his hands, his tongue ran over the bare skin of her neck, smelling the salty taste of her sweat and the sweet taste of her perfume.

"− you're already wet, hm? − shall we check? −" He sneered, sliding the palms of his one hand down her belly − he saw out of the corner of his eye that her fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of the pillow, her whole body stiffened, her head tilted slightly as his fingertips pushed the soft, soaked material of her underwear aside, sinking into her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

"− good God − look at you − all sticky and warm −" He gasped as his fingers began to tease and squeeze her clit lightly, giving her a few encouraging strokes from which helpless, muffled sounds tried to escape her throat − his hand let go of her breasts for a moment and slapped her buttock with all his might, reminding her that she was supposed to be quiet.

He didn't even notice when he started rubbing against her faster from the top, chasing his own fulfilment, completely aroused by what was happening to her, how she was responding to him.

He felt like his cock was about to explode.

"− moan for me − let me hear these sweet sounds −" He whispered in her ear, driving his fingers harder into the soft, leaking structure of her folds.

Moan for me?

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He sighed when she cried out loudly, clenching her eyes, writhing all under him, again and again rubbing his sore cock with her buttocks. He felt ashamed that even though he was the master of the situation, it seemed to him that somehow it was she who was dictating how it looked, or rather his inability to treat her as he did his other clients.

There was something innocent about her, that her goal was not for him to humiliate her, beat her or hurt her, but for him to guide her, to show her what she really desired and what he could do with her body.

He thought, running his fingertips over her moist, hot slit, that perhaps this was what he had been craving deep inside himself all this time.

"− ah − please, sir −" She mewled helplessly, and he felt her words between his thighs. He licked his lips, trailing his fingers over her throbbing, weeping cunt, teasing her hard nipple with his other hand, each of his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

"− what are you asking me to do? − use your words −" He exhaled, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to climax himself, and wondered if he was going to cum in his own trousers for the first time in his life.

"− please − please, put it inside me −" She mumbled out and he swallowed hard feeling her buttocks rubbing against his cock.

He froze for a moment, running his fingers over her hot, leaking folds, fighting with himself, on the one hand wanting only this, on the other the contract was different and he never broke the terms he himself had agreed to and signed.

What if, afterwards, she found that she didn't want it and decided that he had raped her, go to the police with it?

This thought sobered his mind a little, though his whole body shuddered with disappointment, his two fingers suddenly forced their way inside her with her moan of pleasure.

"− I can't − you know I can't, don't you? −" He breathed out, pressing the tips of his fingertips into the fleshy structure of her muscles, searching for the spot hidden between them.

She shuddered all over when he felt it a moment later, his thumb trailing over her clit as his two fingers dug in between her slick folds with a loud click of her wetness − he felt her whole body tense in anticipation, again and again his fingers squeezed her the way she needed it.

"− I'll be good, sir − please − please − please − I'll be good −" She cried out, her sticky walls began to clench around his fingers, sucking them inside and he closed his eyes, imagining he felt it on his hard, aching cock.

How tight she was.

He'd never done this before and he knew he shouldn't, but for some reason he was desperate, his mind clouded by what he'd seen and what he needed.

He watched her face in disbelief, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her lips parted sweetly in a loud, accelerated breath.

"We can do this, but on my terms. I'll just fuck you, nothing more. No money. Do you understand?" He asked her in a trembling voice, as if he wanted to make sure she understood, that it meant nothing to him, that she just turned him on too much and he wanted to take it out on her.

He saw her eyes open suddenly, fear and relief filling her gaze as she whispered just a few words without looking at him.

"Let me look at your face, sir."

He himself didn't know when he suddenly flipped her onto her back as his lips clung with a loud purr to her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it − he heard her moan loudly, startled, making him lose his temper. His hands in a helpless reflex slid down to the button of his trousers and his zipper, releasing his erection quickly, he wasn't sure he had ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time.

He knew things had gotten out of hand and that he would regret it, but he couldn't deny himself, knowing that he would probably never see her again.

"Don't touch me. Do you understand? If you touch me, I'll stop and I'll slap your arse so hard you won't be able to sit for the next few weeks." He hissed, looking her straight in the face, reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out the condom −she merely nodded, her hands clenched on either side of her face, her swollen lips parted in a quick, uneven breath.

He looked at her pretty figure, her sweet, plump breasts, her flushed face, her hair in disarray, and thought helplessly that she was beautiful and that he would go mad if he didn't do this to her.

Never before had he put a condom over his length as quickly as he did then − with a quick, sure, impatient movement he slid her panties off her, already all wet with her moisture, grabbed her by her hips and pushed her closer, momentarily forcing her tight, leaking folds to let him inside her.

He didn't speak, because he didn't know what he was supposed to say either, ashamed of his own desperation as he pushed deeper into her with a sure, sharp thrust.

He began to pound into her as if he had completely lost his mind, fast and out of control − she threw her head to the side, writhing beneath him, moaning loudly, her walls wonderfully moist and hot, clenching on him so tightly that he struggled to restrain himself from cumming just yet, not wanting to humiliate himself.

"− oh God −" He muttered, looking at her as if through a fog, leaning over her, his hands found hers, her fingers clenched on them, seeking proximity − she looked up at him pleadingly, panting and quivering.

He suspected that never before had anyone fucked her at such a brutal, fast pace from which she couldn't catch her breath, her thighs spread wide before him in a gesture of trust, their bodies slapping against each other with the loud clicks of her wetness.

"− these idiots couldn't even fuck you properly, hm? −" He panted low and she only nodded, his fingers intertwining with hers in some subconscious reflex, as if he wanted to show her that he understood her, that she had a right to be disappointed, that he had no idea how any man could fail to give her what she needed.

"− my poor little baby − am I right? −" He breathed out and she cried loudly and nodded her head, something in her gaze, in her eyes flooded with tears, filled with despair, tenderness and relief made him lean lower and cling to her lips.

She moaned loudly into his throat and he felt her walls squeeze him tightly with a sudden, intense orgasm, sucking him inside as his tongue invaded between her lips. She reciprocated his kiss with such devotion that a few of his helpless, sloppy thrusts were enough to make him cum into the condon.

"− fuck − fuck, baby −" He breathed out into her mouth as if she was his, as if they were in his bed in his flat, as if he loved her and was about to have dinner with her or go to sleep lying next to her, as if she wasn't a stranger to him, her sweet scent, her innocent sounds and the taste of her mouth were all that filled his mind as he continued to rock his hips deep inside her.

Even though they had both came, they didn't stop kissing, their lips joining and pulling away from each other lazily with a loud click of their saliva, his hands roaming up and down her fingers, alternately stroking them and entwining them with his own again.

Something about what was happening between them, about this sudden, unexpected closeness calmed him and made him completely drift off.

He knew that she had wanted to touch and kiss him from the very beginning, but she still respected his decision and his rules.

And he, for some reason incomprehensible to himself, broke them for her.

He pressed his face to her cheek, panting along with her, unsure of what he should do now, distracted and ashamed that he couldn't help himself, that for the first time in his life he had overstepped the time and competence he should have given her.

And that wasn't good.

What if she thinks now that they are in love with each other, that maybe one day they will be together? If she starts writing to him and stalking him like so many women before her?

"I'm sorry." He heard her whisper and shuddered, snapped out of his reverie.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze, her hands still on either side of her head. He grunted quietly, horrified at how close she was, that he could smell her pleasant scent so intensely, her breath, the warmth of her body.

"I'm the one who should apologise. I behaved unprofessionally. I won't take money from you." He replied after a moment, and she shook her head, shocked.

"− n-no, why − I mean − after all, you did what we agreed to do − you gave me your time, I −"

"− you're not the kind of person who would enjoy a strong dominant-submissive interaction − you'd be terrified − you're worrying too much − probably those guys before me didn't ask you what you needed, hm? − that's what I thought − there's nothing wrong with you − that's my diagnosis −" He hummed, sighing heavily, lifting himself up on his elbows, placing a lingering, tender kiss on her forehead.

He slipped out of her gently with her quiet hiss of discomfort − he saw her press her lips together when he slided the shed condom off his manhood and tie it off, tossing it into the small bin standing next to his bed, zipping his trousers back up. He saw her reach with a trembling hand for her underwear and sighed under his breath, shaking his head.

"Wipe yourself well first, the tissues are lying on the table next to you. Don't you have underwear to change into?" He asked uncertainly, realising that this was usually obvious to the women who visited him, as it was to him, so he didn't warn her, thinking she would figure it out for herself.

She shook her head quickly and he sighed heavily, taking a bottle of water standing on the table, unscrewing it and handing it to her, seeing that she completely didn't know what she should do with herself now.

"− drink − you'd better just wipe yourself off and put your trousers on −" He replied and she nodded, red with embarrassment, taking a few deep sips of water without looking at him.

He turned away as she started to get dressed, running his hand over his face, recognising that he was an idiot and had completely lost his fucking mind, unable to forgive himself for fucking her even though their terms were different.

He shuddered as she approached him quietly − he thought terrified that she was going to try to touch him, maybe even thinking they were going to become lovers now, but she just held a bundle of banknotes in front of him, looking at him pleadingly.

"− I already told you I won't take it − keep it −"

"− I can't, after all −"

"− don't piss me off −" He growled, and she pressed her lips together, lowering her hand, swallowing loudly.

They stared at each other for a long moment in awkward silence to say the least − he grunted, combing his fingers through his hair, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding like crazy.

What was happening to him?

"− consider it a gift − we both made each other feel good − right? −" He asked, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't hurt her. She nodded and smiled softly, shyly, for some reason making him feel a squeeze in his throat.

He regretted that she had ever written to him.

He regretted that he had said yes.

He regretted that it had been so pleasant.

"− thank you − and I apologise again − I won't take up your time anymore − I wish you all the best − please take care of yourself and be happy −" She said finally, and he flinched, looking at her in disbelief − he felt that his lips were parted in shock as he looked at her dully.

He didn't know what to answer.

Only after a while did he get anything out of himself, feeling that she was due at least some perfunctory response.

"− it's me who's sorry − I also wish you all the best −"

She nodded and smiled warmly at him, before her trembling hand reached for her backpack and headed towards the door, opening it and disappearing behind it a moment later.

He looked at the bed, at the sheets where the mark of her body was clearly visible, the fact that she had just been lying there, that he had been deep inside her and had fucked her like he had never put his cock inside any woman before.

He went over there and just lay on his stomach, sinking his face into the pillow that was drenched in her scent.

For the next few days, his head was in a state of chaos − one part of him was afraid that she would reach out to him, that she would seek contact or a relationship with him, like so many women before her wanting to be special to him, to be the only one.

The other part of him was even begging for her to do it, for him to be able to free himself at last from the memories of what he had done to her, that she had broken something in him, that he couldn't look at the women who came after her.

He couldn't focus, he felt remorse, he couldn't even get aroused and he was so frustrated that, to the despair of his regular clients, he decided to take a break for a few weeks to cool down.

His friend from university, Robert, had already invited him to his birthday party a month earlier and although he didn't have the energy to go anywhere, he knew that afterwards he would be listening to him and Criston moan in class about how completely unsocial he was.

He figured that since it was only going to be a private party at his house, he might as well go there at least for a while so no one would accuse him of lack of effort.

When he stopped outside his house he got out of the car and decided to have a quick cigarette, tired and discouraged, knowing that sooner or later his savings would run out and he would have to go back to it, whether he wanted to or not.

Or find another, lower-paid job.

He sighed heavily, clamping his fingers over the base of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. He heard movement beside him and the screech of brakes, lifted his gaze and froze when it became apparent that she had just sat down beside him from her bike, a wide smile on her lips as if she thought he was a stranger, only recognising him after a moment, her lips parted then in horror, panic in her gaze.

He stared at her, feeling his body freeze.

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Oh God. Do you know Robert?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, feeling a tightening in his throat at the thought that she could have been his friend's girlfriend.

"Yes. Fuck. And you?" He asked her quickly with some sort of accusation, from which she swallowed hard.

"I-I, I'm his younger sister. I went to get some candles, I didn't know…"

"It's okay. I'll just go home." He replied, taking a few quick puffs of his cigarette, crushing it with his foot, turning back towards his car.

"N-no, please. Are you Aemond? Did I guess right? Robert was telling me about you. How he's glad you're coming. That you rarely talk or go out somewhere as a threesome with Criston. It's good that we met here, we'll avoid an awkward greeting. Please, don't be embarrassed." She muttered, and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, heartbroken. They both shuddered when they heard a knock on the glass, Robert looked at them through the window and started waving at them, gleeful.

Jesus Christ.

They both headed towards her house, knowing that since he'd seen him, he couldn't run away anymore anyway. He was terrified that since she was Robert's sister, she was someone familiar, not a stranger, that this changed everything and nothing, his heart pounding like mad.

"Do you have a lighter?" She asked as they stopped in front of the front door and he shook his head, snapped out of his reverie, frowning his brow.

"What?"

"Do you have a lighter? Can you help me? I need to light the candles on his birthday cake." She muttered in a whisper as if someone might overhear them, and she was telling him an important secret. He sighed heavily and nodded, recognising that he must have been dreaming all this.

Robert greeted him with joy, all around them Criston, their family and a few of his high school friends, a whole group of people he didn't know and with whom he knew he wouldn't find common ground, and among them her.

He wished him well and gave him his present, but he was unable to focus − he met her terrified gaze, she was pointing her finger at him that she needed his help in the kitchen.

He followed her as if into the lion's mouth, watching from the side as she opened the fridge in the darkness, taking out a blueberry meringue. She sighed heavily, placing it on the table in front of him, only the lights of the street lamps around them.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I did my best." She mumbled, as if she wanted to say anything that would lighten the atmosphere between them.

He felt like an idiot when their trembling hands touched as he handed her the lighter and swallowed loudly, watching as one by one the candles began to glow with the warm, bright light of the flame.

He wanted to ask her if something in her life had changed, if she now knew what she wanted and needed, if she thought about what had happened.

Was she thinking about him.

She picked up the cake when it was all ready and let the air out loud through her mouth, looking him straight in the eye.

"Let's go."

After singing a short 'Happy Birthday', Robert blew out all the candles, happy to announce that his little sister had remembered what cake he loved best, assuring everyone that it was certainly delicious.

They spent the whole party throwing surreptitious, embarrassed glances at each other − he had to empty a few glasses of strong Whisky to calm himself down, the alcohol relaxing him a little, though only seemingly, suppressing his fear, but making him start thinking about something else again.

He looked at her figure dressed in a modest mid-thigh summer dress, her hair, her face − saw the way she laughed, the way she talked to others and felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that then, being with him, she wasn't pretending.

She really was like that.

Affectionate, open, sweet, kind.

Everything he wasn't.

He swallowed heavily at the thought, sad and embittered, taking another deep sip from his glass.

"How are you going to get home? Criston is staying the night at our house, why don't you stay too? It's late." Said Robert sitting down next to him on the couch, patting him on the back in a friendly manner, already himself relaxed by the considerable amount of alcohol his body had assimilated.

He swallowed hard, looking at his sister from afar, feeling that this was a very bad idea.

"Why not." He muttered, thinking that he was a moron for looking for trouble himself, and that if Robert found out what he'd done to his sister, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Criston and a few others occupied the upstairs rooms, and he suggested he could sleep in the living room on the couch, to which Robert agreed.

He hoped this would embolden her to come to him, as he himself would never have dared to knock on her door despite how desperate he was.

At the thought that he might feel her again, his manhood reacted with an enthusiastic, intense pulsing in his trousers.

He felt that he was drunk as he began to pull off his black tight turtleneck, managing it with difficulty, pulling off his shoes, laying down dressed only in Tshirt and trousers with a quiet sigh and covered himself carelessly with the blanket, listening.

Is she going to do it or not?

And even if she comes to him, should he agree?

He felt disappointment when an hour passed and nothing happened, silence all around him and the loud snoring of someone coming from the upstairs rooms, perhaps her and Robert's father. He sighed heavily, recognising that he had made it all up, that she was surely now ashamed of him and what she had done, trying to forget it.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling discomfort in his stomach, and closed his eyes, figuring he would try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He shuddered and opened them again when he heard a quiet creak, as if someone was walking down the corridor above him, but he wasn't sure himself if it wasn't just his imagination. A shiver ran down his spine and his manhood swelled all over when he heard someone quietly walk down the steps.

Whoever this person was, however, she didn't approach him but walked through the living room to the kitchen.

He felt his heart start pounding like crazy when he caught sight of her silhouette in the darkness, dressed only in an oversized white Tshirt and light shorts − she walked over to the tap, took a glass from the drawer and poured herself some water.

Should he approach her or not?

What if she gets scared?

Fuck.

He didn't even know when he just picked himself up on the couch, for some reason doing it very slowly so that his movements couldn't be heard − he felt like a predator who wanted to get closer to his prey even though he didn't really intend to harm her.

As soon as he stood up he immediately felt the room around him spin, the pleasant, intoxicating warmth of the alcohol melting through his lower abdomen making him seem less terrified of what he wanted to do than if he had been completely sober.

When she caught sight of his silhouette out of the corner of her eye she almost choked on the water − she spat some of it into the sink coughing loudly, making him freeze motionless, afraid to approach her. She quickly wiped her mouth with her hand, looking at him with big eyes.

"My God, you scared me." She muttered pale, her pretty, smooth face illuminated by the warm light of the street lamps standing in front of her house.

He stared at her for a moment, thinking that perhaps it must all have been a dream after all, that the fact that she was standing in front of him was unreal, invented by his distraught, drunken mind.

"I'm sorry." He stammered, swallowing hard, standing a good distance away from her, fighting with himself not to look shamelessly at her bare legs and her nipples peeking through from under her T-shirt.

Again.

They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, both of them breathing embarrassingly loudly, as if each of them was reliving deep inside themselves the fact that they were seeing each other again.

And on top of that, in her brother's house.

"I didn't know you were his sister. I swear. I would never do that to you." He finally started to speak, to explain, although he didn't know why − he had the feeling that he was trying to get anything out of himself so she didn't go back upstairs to her room.

He heard her sigh quietly, stroking her bare shoulder with her trembling hand. She shifted from foot to foot in a nervous gesture, looking somewhere to the side, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

"I know." She whispered, and he felt a heat in his lower abdomen and a pleasant shudder at the thought that perhaps she wasn't misjudging him, that perhaps she wasn't disgusted by him at all.

"How do you feel? I mean − are you okay?" She asked in a trembling voice, as if she wasn't sure if she should be asking this kind of question. She glanced at him uncertainly, clearly wanting to check his reaction, he stared at her stunned, completely surprised by her question.

"− I… yeah, I guess − I mean, I'm on a break from − you know − from this − right now −" He muttered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, looking at the floor, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for some reason.

It's because of you, he wanted to say.

I did it for you.

"Something happened?" She asked after a moment, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex, as if she was afraid of what she would hear.

"− yes − I mean − I have doubts − I always had, but now… they've intensified − you know −" He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, feeling the tightness in his throat and stomach growing stronger, his heart pounding like mad, cold sweat running down his back.

I'm just a whore, he thought.

I sell myself for money.

She nodded her head quickly so he knew she understood.

"− I'm sorry −" She said quietly, and he looked at her dully, not knowing why for some reason his lower lip trembled, why he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids.

He was ashamed that he desired her so much, that he wanted her words but also her body, wanted to fuck her first and then embrace her and fall asleep.

Was he treating her objectively? Was he only able to think about one thing?

Sex, sex, sex, sex.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

He shuddered, drawing in air loudly as she came closer to him, in her gaze genuine fear and worry at his condition, questioning whether she could do anything for him, help him in any way.

He knew she longed to touch him − he saw out of the corner of his eye her hand rising to touch his shoulder but falling back after a moment, reminding himself that he never allowed anyone to invade his space.

He felt like screaming.

"− do you want to talk about it? −"

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to anyone about it, but after a while he was sitting next to her on the terrace anyway, covered in a thick, soft blanket, sitting next to her on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench hanging by chains, which he rocked back and forth with involuntary movements of his knees, lighting a cigarette from his lighter with a quiet hiss of fire.

He took a drag and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, sighing quietly, just thinking about the fact that their hips and shoulders were touching.

"What did you think of me? After all this." He asked suddenly, swallowing loudly as he heard her twist in her place, throwing him a surprised, even horrified look. She sighed quietly, covering herself more tightly with the fluffy material.

"That you are a good man."

He felt his hand with the cigarette freeze in mid-motion as he was about to take another drag and for some reason he laughed in disbelief at her words, feeling a piercing pain in his chest, his eyebrows arching in amusement.

"That I'm a good man. Good God." He hummed, taking another drag − he could see she was looking down at her fingers, ashamed of her words and his cruel reaction. He licked his lower lip with his tongue and closed his eyes, feeling that he was completely hard.

He could smell her, she was still using that fruity, pleasant, fresh perfume.

"You're a romantic, innocent soul, aren't you?" He sneered, letting the smoke out again through his nose with a loud sigh − he heard her cough quietly as the smell of tobacco rose into her lungs. She grunted quietly, her lips tightened in displeasure.

"Innocent souls come to a strange man to spank them for money?"

"You didn't want me to spank you. You haven't experienced even a hint of real, hard domination, sweet girl." He snarled, spreading himself out comfortably on the back of the bench with a loud creak of wood, the metal chains squeaking quietly each time he made another movement with his foot, putting the structure in motion.

"So why did you agree to this?" She asked finally, and he fell silent, staring blankly ahead, taking one last drag on what was left of his cigarette.

"Good question."

They both fell silent again, feeling that their conversation was starting to get out of hand, and after all, someone could have woken up, opened the window, overheard their words.

"Did you tell Robert?" He asked suddenly, and she shook her head, horrified.

"N-no, of course not. And I won't. This is between you two. He respects you very much." She muttered, lowering her gaze to her bent knees, which she held under her chin. He hummed at her statement, accepting her words with some sort of relief.

"Did that help you? Now you know what you need?" He asked impassively, letting the smoke out loudly through his mouth, dropping the remnants of his cigarette into the glass with the unfinished drink, feeling her gaze on him, her body tense, he knew she had hesitated.

"In a way." She replied, and he dared to look her straight in the eye.

She didn't lower her gaze even though he knew some part of her wanted to do so, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his hands had slipped under the blanket, into his trousers. She swallowed loudly when she heard the sound of his zipper being undone and the fabric being unfastened.

"Come here. Sit on my lap." He ordered softly, and she did so without hesitation, as if she had only been waiting for those words, something in her confidence, in her assurance, in her desire, in her hot gaze made his breath stand in his throat.

They said nothing as he slipped her shorts off her, as he lowered his trousers, finally releasing his aching, swollen erection, already leaking from his precum. He didn't protest when her hands tentatively embraced his neck, barely touching him, merely catching her balance, his free hand covering their hips with a blanket.

"I'm clean. I had myself tested a few weeks ago, after I'd already taken a break." He whispered, feeling his cock throb aggressively in his hand at the thought that he could come deep inside her if she would just let him. She nodded her head in understanding, one movement of his hand between her thighs reassuring him that no further treatment would be necessary.

"Have you been this wet all evening? Hm? Have you suffered as much as I have?" He gasped, directing the pink, fat head of his manhood at her swollen slit. She nodded again, her lips parted in disbelief and delight, her eyes closed as she felt him begin to push inside her,his thumbs spreading her folds to the sides, watching with a rapidly beating heart as he slowly opened her wide on his cock.

"− fuck − fuck, tell me you're taking your pills −" He breathed out, tilting his head back, with one sure thrust of his hips filling her tight, leaking cunt to the brim. She squirmed quietly as he began to move inside her immediately, pounding into her with deep, sure stabs, rubbing each time the spot inside her from where she could see stars.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled out, rising and falling on his thick, aching manhood, giving him a wonderful squeeze each time, from which he sank his fingers deeper into her soft buttocks, forcing her into a fast, sharp rhythm in which he hardly slid out of her, panting and grunting louder than usual, thinking only of how wonderfully warm she was, that he could feel her moist, fleshy walls with his whole being with each sure thrust.

"− kiss me −" He exhaled and groaned loudly into her mouth as her lips instantly clung to his in a sloppy, sticky dance, his tongue invading deep into her throat, a shudder went through him as one of her hands combed through his hair.

"− m sorry −" She mumbled, immediately lowering her hand, but he put his one arm around her waist and pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss with a loud purr of satisfaction, feeling wonderful, the alcohol had given him courage, and her touch was sweet and tender, not making him feel cornered.

"− it's okay − touch my face −" He sighed out between loud, wet licks of their swollen lips, quickening his pace as her hands gripped his cheeks, as her forehead pressed against his. Her walls began to clench on him with increasing intensity, making him lose his temper, not letting her escape the brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− oh, God − fuck, where −" He only mumbled, feeling that it was about to be too late.

"− please, inside me − ah −" She mewled so sweetly that he sighed loudly, surprised to feel his muscles relax, his semen spilling deep inside her without his willpower as her walls began to suck him and squeeze him in orgasm.

They both panted loudly, rocking their hips for a while longer, pulsing and shuddering, stroking each other's faces, looking at each other with their lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

"− shall we go out somewhere tomorrow? − you know − to the pub or something? −" He muttered embarrassed that he had wanted something more, that he broke his own rule.

He was relieved when she giggled and smiled, nodding, only to lean in a moment later and kiss him in a drawn-out manner with her soft, puffy lips. He murmured contentedly, stroking her warm, bare buttocks with lazy movements, reciprocating her caress with a loud click of their saliva.

She pulled away from him at last, her hand combing slowly through his short hair making a pleasant shiver run along his spine.

"− why not −"

371 notes · View notes

morallyinept · 4 months

Text

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Frankie is in his early 40's, around 42/43, Jude is in her late 30's, around 37/38. Jude has mid-length hair - other than that, I've tried to keep Jude as a blank canvas in terms of ethnicity/eye & hair colour. This is so you can imagine yourself as Jude, if you'd like to. If I miss anything, please kindly let me know. Images are for aesthetic purposes only, no direct reference to Jude.

Word Count: 120K - give or take... it's novel length. 👀

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

WARNINGS/TRIGGERS: Survival/mentions & descriptions of a plane crash/death/drowning/starvation/dehydration/malnourishment/injury/sickness & illness/depression/PTSD/drug use/drug addiction/mentions of loss/sorrow/angst/brief mention of miscarriage/bleeding/blood loss/cheating spouse - I promise it's not all doom & gloom.

EXPLICIT: Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/oral both M & F receiving/hand job/masturbation - all the good stuff.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: This is a story I wrote a long time ago, and have re-edited for Frankie. It's a story I have poured a lot of love into, and probably one of my favourite things I've ever written. I really hope you enjoy Frankie & Jude's story. 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapters including smut - 🌶️ Trigger Warnings will be highlighted red, if any.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11 🌶️

CHAPTER 12 (Trigger Warning) 🌶️

CHAPTER 13 🌶️

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

EXTRAS:

Playlist

Moodboard by the amazing @sawymredfox 🖤

TAGGING ISSUE <- Read if you want to be tagged.

Frankie & Jude as SIM's characters by the wonderful @fckyeapedrothots99 🖤

Adrift Clip by the awesome @survivingandenduring 🖤

This will probably be around 30-40 chapters or so, maybe less depending how much I bulk them out. I'll add chapters as I upload. New chapters will be added on a Sunday starting mid January 2024 - Please ensure you're following me and switch on notifications so you don't miss out on this story.

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales triple frontier #frankie morales smut #frankie morales angst #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier fic #triple frontier #adrift with you series #jett's writing

455 notes · View notes

ladamedusoif · 2 months

Text

able

(Joel Miller x disabled F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Content/warnings: Reader is disabled (she has rheumatoid disease/arthritis in addition to panic attacks, she uses a walking stick as necessary); Reader had a sister; Reader is an art teacher; strong violence; blood; description of panic attack; references to impact of chronic illness and disability; references to medication; references to disease and death; non-canon compliant; Jackson!Joel; strong language; ableist language and abusive language

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI

Word Count: ~3.7k

A/N: After making a plea earlier in the week for people to actually write disabled Reader fic, as opposed to forcing writers to feel they have to tag literally everything in an able-bodied Reader story, I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was as a disabled, neurodivergent writer with various mental health things going on here and there. And this one-shot is the result.

This one is a little personal. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid disease about ten years ago, and Reader’s experiences are informed by my own (though, thankfully, I haven’t had to contend with an apocalypse that meant I couldn’t access the medication that has kept me going). She’s also inspired by @agentjackdaniels, who acted as consultant extraordinaire on walking sticks and panic attacks, and suggested the Joel picture for the moodboard. Thank you, Luce, for this, for fighting the good fight for representation in fic - and for beta-ing the story.

(A note on terminology: rheumatoid disease/arthritis are sometimes used interchangeably. ‘Arthritis’ often sounds like it’s ‘just’ osteoarthritis to people who don’t know the difference. Rheumatoid, unlike osteoarthritis (which is shitty in its own ways), is a systemic, lifelong, chronic illness and an auto-immune disorder that affects the entire body, not just bones and/or joints. So personally I use ‘rheumatoid disease’ as it conveys more of the impact of the condition. It's also often seen as an 'old person' disease but this simply isn't true - not that this stops mobility aids being modelled by people in their 80s all the time...)

Please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to stay up to date with my work.

Dividers by @saradika - moodboard by me

You weren’t supposed to make it.

Twenty-odd years in the apocalypse with your fucked-up joints and no steady supply of the meds that kept you going, pushing through the cycles of fatigue, and fighting off your own goddamned immune system as much as you were fighting clickers and raiders.

You really weren’t supposed to make it. But you had Annie.

You were sharing an apartment when the outbreak happened, a quirk of shitty personal circumstances - she’d just broken up with her long-term boyfriend - that probably helped save your life. Annie was the all-action sister - the kind of person who thinks there’s nothing weird about spending your weekends doing triathlons and “Tough Mudder” challenges, who had a perfect bill of health your entire lives, who bounced out of bed in the mornings while you cracked and creaked and stiffly manoeuvered yourself into being.

The good days generally outweighed the bad in the years between your diagnosis with rheumatoid disease and the initial outbreak - or maybe you had just gotten used to the aches and pains and the occasional flare-ups of fatigue. You invested in a walking stick to help on those days when mobility was particularly bad: solid, heavy, and carved in a pale yellow wood. It felt like a comfort in your hand, more a sign of strength, to you, than of weakness.

Annie helped you through the panic attack that consumed you on outbreak day, working with you to regulate your breathing and relax your tense muscles until you could finally say what was on your mind.

“My meds. What am I going to do without my meds?”

Nothing a quick smash and grab at the local pharmacy couldn’t fix. It was the first of many, stockpiling the little yellow tablets you relied on and taking as many packs of over-the-counter painkillers as you could carry. Useful currency in the apocalypse, as it turned out.

All-Action Annie was never going to cope with life in a QZ. She got the two of you out after months of planning, nights of whispered talk about a town out west that was normal - or something close to it, anyway. She hadn’t entertained your protestations about you slowing her down, holding her back.

“You think I’m leaving behind a girl who’s so handy with a weapon?” she’d teased, pointing to your walking stick. “Be real. We’re busting out together.”

The infection took hold in her about three days from Jackson. Fuckin’ barbed wire, tearing a jagged line through Annie’s hand and leaving behind an old-fashioned kind of threat to life, the kind penicillin had mostly dealt with. But that was then. This was now.

She died in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, you holding her hand until the end, talking to her about your childhoods and trying to keep smiling until she closed her beautiful eyes.

It took all your strength to dig her grave. And then, somehow, you found more.

You weren’t supposed to make it. But you did.

Jackson stands before you.

He sees you for the first time in the community dining hall, talking animatedly to Maria as you hungrily devour the food set in front of you. Eyes wide, face grubby, clothes ragged. Half-wild, he thinks, like most of the new arrivals. Like him and Ellie, once upon a time. He returns to his bowl of soup and his own thoughts - at least, until he’s interrupted by Maria.

“Joel? Want to introduce a new member of the community, just arrived.”

He doesn’t quite know why he’s surprised when he realises you’re leaning on a sturdy hand-carved walking stick in a solid, light yellow wood. Maybe it’s because he knows how physically hard it is to get here. Maybe he just assumed folks who needed a stick wouldn’t have been able to manage the journey.

For a second he can hear Sarah’s voice in his head, chiding him for focusing on what a disabled person can’t do instead of what they can.

“Joel?”

He snaps out of his reverie and looks from Maria to you. “Uh, hi. Sorry, just…sorry. Forgot my manners.”

“I was just saying how glad we are to have someone who can offer some art education in the town, isn’t that right, Joel?”

Your eyes are warm and mischievous as you meet his gaze, silently conveying your amusement at Maria’s rather brusque manner. It’s all Joel can do not to laugh.

“Sure is. You’re an artist, then?”

You shake your head. “Not a real one. I was an art teacher, before. Long time since I created anything, though, so I hope I remember how.”

He smiles softly, his gruff exterior receding a little. “Bet it’s just like riding a bike,” he says, before his face falls as he looks at your walking stick. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… Shit. Hope I didn’t offend.”

“As it happens, I can ride a bike, Joel. The apocalypse just doesn’t give me much cause to.”

You leave him with a smile and a wink as Maria ushers you to meet other townsfolk. He watches you as you walk away, the tap-tap-tapping of your stick beating out a new rhythm in the heart of Jackson.

You think of Annie every morning when you wake up in the little house you’d been assigned. Sometimes, as you potter around the kitchen, still revelling in the novelty of making yourself morning coffee for the first time in two decades, you even talk to her. You tell her about the town, the townsfolk, your work in the community vegetable garden, your art classes.

“Honestly, An, you wouldn’t believe how popular they are,” you tell the Annie who, in an alternate universe, is sitting at the kitchen table with her own mug of coffee. “I’m setting up extra sessions to cater for demand.”

There’s something uplifting in how hungry the people of Jackson are to make art, no matter their experience or existing skill level. They’ll draw stuff from memory, they’ll dutifully work on a still life, they’ll even traipse outside with you, wooden sketching boards in hand, and make rapid-fire sketches of the goings-on on Main Street.

Joel doesn’t join a class - but the teenage girl Maria refers to as “Joel’s kid” does, all potty-mouthed and enthusiastic and pretty damned talented, to boot. Ellie tells you how she’s pinned up the drawings she’s proudest of in their home, “like our own fuckin’ art gallery or some shit.”

You pull up a tall stool and sit beside her, resting your stick over your thighs. “Joel’s got his guitar and those dumbass model figures he paints,” she continues, leaning around her easel and squinting at the woman who’d volunteered to act as a life model for this week’s classes. “But this shit? This is real art.” She adds a little highlight to the woman’s sweater and leans back to assess the work.

“You probably got exempt from patrols, I’m guessing. On account of the stick, an’ all.”

“Maria asked, and I signed up happily. I got all the way here, didn’t I? I’m sure I can manage patrols. And it’s the least I can do - they’ve even found me some of the medications I need.”

Ellie nods, somewhat convinced, and returns to sketching out the contours around the model’s jaw.

The day of your first patrol arrives. You bundle up and set out early for the stables, allowing extra time to get there on account of the flare-up you’d been experiencing the day before.

You arrive early - just in time, in fact, to overhear a heated conversation between Joel and Maria.

“She’s doing enough, ain’t she? I just don’t think she’ll be able for patrol.”

“You’ve seen her out and about, Joel. She’s mobile. She’s competent. She’s good with the horses. She got all the way here, the last stretch on her own. What more proof do you need?”

“You’re seriously gonna send a woman with a walking stick out on patrol?”

“I seriously am. Sent you and your bad back out, didn’t we?”

“That ain’t the same and you know it.”

“Just saddle the horses, Joel. And, in case you’re wondering - yes, I paired you together deliberately, just until she gets settled.” You hear her footsteps recede as she leaves him.

You had misjudged how much your already-limited grip would be further impeded by the gloves you’re wearing. The stick clatters to the ground.

“Who’s there?”

You emerge from the shadows. “Me. Sorry.”

Joel rolls his eyes and gruffly points out the tack and supplies.

The first patrol passes in silence. You wonder what happened to the softer man you’d caught a glimpse of the first day you arrived.

On the second patrol, you ask him questions about himself. On the third patrol, he asks (fewer) questions about you. By the fourth, you’re having something approximating normal conversation.

“Sarah loved to make all kinds of stuff,” he ventures, leading the way on his chestnut horse. “Those beaded bracelets, that girly Lego in the pink and purple, all of that. My girl had enough Magic Markers to supply a whole elementary school. Maybe two.”

You can hear him smile, even without seeing his face. His shoulders relax a little as he recalls the memory.

“So she was a creative kid?”

“Creative, sporty… she could do anything. Made the school soccer team, she was so proud. Just a…” He pauses. “A great kid.”

There’s a few beats of silence, punctuated only by the sound of the horses snickering and the steady rhythm of their hooves on the ground.

“What about your sister, was she arty like you?”

You’d told him about Annie on the last patrol. This was the first time he’d asked about her explicitly.

“She was the sporty one. I think that’s why I survived so long, truth be told. She was so strong and fast and tough as fuck.”

He chuckles, the burr of his voice resonating in the cold air. “Sounds like a good balance, though.”

“It is - it was. Was.” Your voice grows quieter as you repeat the word to yourself, chest starting to tighten. The horse slows, responding to the tension of your body, as Joel continues to trot on, not realising you’ve come to a halt behind him.

And then the tell-tale snapping of a twig, the sound of footsteps, and the realisation there’s someone else there, emerging out of the woods. Two someones.

Raiders.

The panic attack that has been building inside you gives way. An innate fight or flight response kicks in as you roar his name.

Joel turns and charges back towards you, just in time to see you take out one raider with a crack shot from your pistol. He slows the horse and readies his rifle, staring at the other man who is now trying to haul you off your mount.

“Get the fuck off me, motherfucker!” You flail against him, desperately shifting your weight to the other side of the saddle to try to shake him off.

Joel takes aim.

You think you’ve kicked the raider off. And that’s when you hit the ground.

He can’t take the shot now, not with her half-hidden from his view and audibly fighting off the man who’s dragged her to the ground. Joel is still a little distance away, slightly too far to see exactly what’s happening.

Why didn’t he hear her slowing? Why didn’t he realise she was further behind than she ought to be? Why did she slow in the fuckin’ first place?

Joel quickly dismounts, rifle in hand, moving closer so he can get a clearer shot at the guy who’s now standing over her. The horse’s elegant neck obscures the raider’s hands from Joel’s vision - he has no idea if he’s pointing a gun at her or not.

He thinks he has a clear sight on the guy’s head, provided he stays in the same position. He readies the rifle.

Suddenly, the raider disappears, letting out a primal roar before he hits the ground.

“You fucking cunt!”

Joel can see she’s standing now, the man prone before her. As he rounds the horse he sees her lift her cane, hands securely gripping the pointed end of the stick.

She brings the solid, weighty handle down on the raider’s leg with a sickening crunch. Even Joel recoils a little at the sight and the sound.

“F-f-fucking…c-c-cunt!”

Thwack. The other leg.

Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

”Keep calling me that, and I’ll keep the blows coming.”

Holy fuck. Who is she?

”C-c-c-cripple.”

”Excuse me?”

The raider props himself up on his arms. “I said, cripple. Fucking crippled cunt.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Joel cocks his rifle.

The stranger sneers at Joel. “Awww, he’s actin’ the big man now. Weren’t too quick gettin’ back down here to save your cripple woman, were ya?”

Before Joel can react, she swings her stick over her head and brings it down on the man’s skull with a furious scream that seems to come from the very depths of her being.

She screams and screams as she hits him, over and over, eyes wild in her blood-spattered face. Joel recognises this: in himself; hell, in Ellie. It’s the moment when the floodgates open and all those years of pain blend together and zone in on this convenient target, an avatar for everyone and everything who had forced loss and trauma upon you.

He roars at her to stop, but knows she can’t hear him. It’s just her and the raider, now: her rage and fear and grief finding their expression through a walking stick turned cudgel.

A single shot ends it. She turns sharply, as if snapped out of a trance, and sees the smoke leaving Joel’s pistol.

“Hey. Hey. You alright?” His broad hands grip your biceps as he looks into your eyes.

Yes, you tell him, yes. You’re fine. But Joel keeps asking.

“Talk to me. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Please, just talk to me.”

You are moving your mouth, but no sound is coming out. The familiar vice is tightening around your chest. You look down at your blood-stained hands and you struggle to breathe.

“‘M dying, Joel. Can’t breathe. All the blood. So much. Why can’t I breathe?”

Oh, he realises with a pang. She gets these things too. And I know how to help.

“You’re okay, you hear?” He’s rubbing your arms gently, keeping his gaze on you. “You’re alright. Breathe along with me, okay?”

It’s difficult to find the rhythm, at first. Joel’s hands find yours and squeeze them in time with his breath.

”In through your nose, that’s it. Slow and steady. Now out through your mouth.”

He can see your muscles starting to visibly relax. A wave of relief courses over him.

”Yeah, that’s it - you got this. You got this, good girl, you’re just fine. Gonna be alright.”

When he’s confident your breathing has settled and the panic attack receded somewhat, he gently guides you away from the body of the dead raider, one hand holding your horse’s bridle and the other holding yours.

“Why don’t you have a seat for a minute, huh?” Joel gestures to a long, low tree trunk lying near the forest’s edge and opens his saddlebags, rummaging until he finds a cloth, a battered hip flask and a bag of dried apple slices.

”Here.” He wipes the blood as best he can from your hands and proffers the flask, settling his substantial frame beside you on the log. “Have a sip or two, just to relax you a little bit more. Got a snack, here, too.”

You flinch at the taste of the liquor, but take a second sip regardless. The apple slices barely taste of anything in the afterburn of the moonshine. Joel nibbles on some jerky and stares into the middle distance.

You take a break from patrol, agreed with Maria, and a few days off your art classes. It was tempting to keep going, to return to the light and airy studio and to your students. But you feared a relapse.

And your body needed to recover physically, too. You ached from head to toe, fingers and toes puffy and swollen and movement seriously restricted. You ration out the supply of medication you’ve secured since getting here, and use hot water bottles and plenty of rest to try to ride out the flare in your arthritis.

Three days after the incident, there’s a knock on the door. You hobble to answer it, leaning on your trusty stick for support.

”Came by to see how you were doing. Got you some things if you needed ‘em.”

Joel is standing on your front porch, holding a jute grocery bag. He pauses, as if waiting for you to give him permission to say more.

”That’s so very kind of you, Joel. Come in, won’t you? I was able to set a fire so it’s nice and cosy.”

He watches as you lead the way into the living room, noting how much slower you were today. Guilt laps at his conscience. He said she shouldn’t go on patrol. He knew.

”You want me to bring these into the kitchen for you?”

“That would be a great help. Thank you.” He’s glad to see you smile, after the trauma of the patrol. “If you want a drink, I’ve got some tea and coffee in the cupboard just to the left of the sink.”

He pops his head back into the living room. “What would you like?”

“A tea would be perfect. Mugs are in the cupboard to the right.”

You wrap yourself back up in your blankets on the couch, making room for Joel when he returns with the drinks and a couple of cookies, sent over by Ellie as part of his care package for you. The mug feels like a comfort in your aching hands, its heat assuaging the inflammation ravaging your joints.

He sips his coffee and you sit in silence for a little bit, watching the flames dance over the firewood.

“Have you, uh - you been okay, doing okay, since…”

Joel stares into his coffee cup and then looks at you, a little awkward. You smile, hoping to reassure him.

”I’ve been okay. Just the physical pain and exhaustion, mostly. And - well, you saw it. The panic. It can leave you drained.”

He nods and takes another swig of his drink. “I know. I - I’ve had times like that, too. Real fuckin’ scary, when you’ve never gone through it before.”

You study his face for a moment or two, noting the little scar on his temple, the lines on his face, the stern expression completely undermined by the warmth of his deep brown eyes. For an instant, he seems so vulnerable, this strong, tough man sitting on your little couch.

“I haven’t had an attack like that in a while. But then, I hadn’t done anything like that in a while.”

This time Joel turns to look at you properly. “Not your first rodeo, huh?”

You giggle at the turn of phrase. “Not quite. Let’s just say my stick did a lot of work over the last twenty years. He wasn’t the first to feel the brunt of it.”

Joel nods, and you feel strangely relieved that he doesn’t seem surprised. “Doesn’t get easier, though, does it?”

“It does not. Which is why it’s better to avoid having to do it.”

”I agree. Gotta say, though, I - I was worried you wouldn’t be able for patrol, y’know?”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “I know. I overheard you, remember?”

He blushes. “Aw, shit. Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want anything happening to you, what with your - condition, and all.”

You sigh softly, not really noticing the affection in his voice. “Most of the time, I’m fine. Y’know? I’m slower, but I do okay. I get tired more easily, but I manage. I didn’t come here to be a drain on the community.”

”You aren’t.”

”I know, but I want to keep it that way. I want to pull my weight. I’m able, Joel.”

He huffs in agreement. “Not like I’m a perfect specimen these days, either. Knees, fuckin’ back, deaf in one ear…”

You chuckle. “And you thought I wouldn’t manage patrol? Anyway, you’re not doing so bad, are you?”

He gives you a little smile, but that constant sadness still haunts his eyes. He stares at his coffee for a moment.

“You knew what you were doing, though.”

”I did. But I didn’t feel like I could stop.” You sip your tea, swallowing hard. “And I’m scared that makes me some kinda monster. You know?”

Oh, he knows. He knows it too well.

”You aren’t a monster.” Joel resists the urge to put an arm around you. “You just… something snapped, I guess. All that - well, all that hell you’ve gone through. It… it changes you. But it doesn’t make you a monster.”

He realises you’re crying before you do, spotting the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. He finds a clean handkerchief in his jeans and offers it to you.

Fuck it.

“Can I - can I put an arm round you? Just for some support?”

Your eyes light up, tears or no tears, and you nod enthusiastically. Joel is warm and comforting, his broad chest and strong arms a kind of anchor in the emotional storm. You nuzzle against him, and he gives you a little squeeze on the arm.

”You’re a really brave woman, you know that?”

His voice is quieter, more intentional. You look at him quizzically from under your lashes, unused to praise of this kind. For an instant you think about asking him what he means. But the safety you’ve found in the broad arm draped around you is all you need right now.

You nuzzle a little against his chest, and watch the fire dancing for the rest of the night.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x disabled f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #soft joel miller #disabled f!reader #disabled reader fic #hbo the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedrostories

252 notes · View notes

princessmaybank · 1 month

Text

Good Girl

Pairings: Boyf!Rafe x Gf!Fem!Reader x JJ

Warnings: Cheating, nudes, spanking, degradation, spanking, 3some, p in v, oral (both), fingering, voyeurism, creampie, etc.

Summary: Reader accidentally sends a nude to the wrong guy.

Authors Note: This is my first time writing something like this! Please be kind! I hope you enjoy!

Moodboard

Fuck. Rafe had me so fucking horny all day. It's not even his fault..I have been thinking about him dicking me down since lunchtime. The ache between my legs was almost too much at this point. My core was begging to be touched, but unfortunately Rafe isn't home. He went on a business trip with Ward, leaving it to me to pleasure myself. He did tell me to message him any time I feel horny and he would try his best to help, so I might just have to do that.

I was home alone because my parents were making some deals over dinner with some new clients.

But before I do anything, I really want to take a shower, I feel disgusting after work every time. I work at a little restaurant called The Wreck with my friend Kie. She got me the job when I told her I didn't want to work for my parents, at least not yet. Since I started working with her, I've met her friends and they seem to like me, well for the most part. JJ is still warming up to me, and he hates Rafe for some reason. All of them do. I understand he can be an asshole sometimes, but I wouldn't go as far as to say I hate him.

After I took my shower I didn't bother putting clothes on. I wanted to send Rafe a little surprise while he was gone.

Y/N: I took this for you baby

Y/N: Photo

I quickly hit send because I was nervous about his reaction but deep down I know he'll love it. I heard a ding from my phone, letting me know I got a message.

???: All for me? Damn Y/L/N...maybe I was wrong about you

My eyes nearly popped out of my head as my heart was beating against my chest. Then I heard another ding come from my phone.

???: Photo

Only a second later and another message came through.

???: That one's all for you.

I sent my fucking nude pic to JJ?? And he sent me one back? How the hell did that happen??? I started freaking out, knowing that Rafe would fucking kill him..and me, but mainly him.

JJ: What made ya come to your senses?

I had no idea how to respond to him. This has never happened before. Maybe I should just be honest.

Y/N: oh hey..can you just delete that and pretend you never saw it...? that wasn't meant for you JJ...

JJ: if it was sent to me, I was meant to see it, the universe just works that way ;)

He saw that I opened the text and that I wasn't responding. Those three dots popped up as he was typing.

JJ: okay, hey I'm sorry. where u at rn? I'll come meet ya n we can talk bout this

My heart nearly bursts out of my chest when I read that message. I'm nervous and I don't know what to do. Fuck. I should clear the air with him.

Y/N: my house..

JJ: drop your pin

I hesitate before sending this man my address. This could go horribly wrong, and I don't have Rafe here to protect me. Whatever, I'm already in this deep and it's just JJ what's the worst he could do?

Y/N: ��

JJ: omw

I stood from my bed and started looking for an outfit to wear. I don't know why I cared what I looked like for JJ..I shouldn't, but I did. I ended up choosing a little white skirt with a cute blue crop top to go with it.

It took maybe 10 minutes before I heard a knock at my door. I still wasn't entirely sure if I should answer it, knowing who was on the other side, and knowing what he just saw...

I decided that I should just open the door and hopefully he'll understand the mistake.

My heart started pounding again as my hand reached for the knob. Suddenly I was greeted by a familiar face...but it wasn't JJ...

"Rafe?? " I question sounding more shocked than happy. "What are you doing here?" My anxiety was through the roof at this point, knowing JJ is probably just around the corner. Rafe let himself into my house by grabbing my face and pulling me into a heated kiss. He used his foot to kick the door closed, then pinned me against the wall next to it.

"Wanted to surprise my princess. The job got done early. I landed 30 mins ago, rushed over to see you." He says all while rubbing me up and down. "Look at this fuckin outfit, almost like you knew I was coming over princess.." He reached hand up my skirt and soon realized I wasn't wearing any panties. "Naughty girl.." Rafe smirked before attacking my neck.

About a minute later there was a knock on the door. He waved it off and said to just ignore them and they'll go away. Another knock pounded from the other side of the door. "Y/N?? Are you home?" You recognized his voice. Rafe pulled away looking slightly confused before looking through the peephole.

"What the fuck is JJ doing here?" He said gritting his teeth. I toyed with my fingers and bit my lip not knowing how to tell him the truth. Next thing I know he swings the door open.

"Hey ba- Rafe?? ...Was this a fuckin set up?" JJ questioned. I shook my head no as both men stared at me.

JJ came inside and closed the door behind him before joining Rafe and I in the living room. I was told to sit on the couch so I obeyed. The guys stood in front of me towering over me with their arms crossed, trying not to kill me or each other.

"What is he doing here?!" They both asked angrily at the same time. "Can you two sit down before I continue?" I ask shyly. The guys responded with a harsh 'No' timed almost as perfectly as before.

"Okay so here's what happened..." I trail off and explained the entire situation before Rafe turns to face JJ, looking like he is about to murder him.

At some point Rafe lunged at JJ and I had to get in the middle. Rafe grabbed my shoulders trying to move me out of the way. JJ had his hands on my hips trying to keep me in between them. It felt like they were going to split me in half.

It took a while but I eventually got them to go talk it out in my room. I can't speak guy, so maybe they would have an easier time hearing it from each other.

After a while I didn't hear them talking anymore, which was concerning, Rafe may have actually killed JJ..

I went to my room and knocked before entering. I was greeted with a naked Rafe picking me up before laying me on my bed. He placed his lips on mine, giving me one of the most intense kisses I've ever had. "Rafe- whe-wheres J-" I tried to question. "Don't worry about it. He's fine. Enjoy this." He kissed down my jaw and to my sweet spot, sucking on it for as long as he could, in order to mark me.

Rafe doesn't usually give me hickies unless he is angry-fucking me. He must have sent JJ home after their talk so we could have this moment. At least he's not mad at me anymore.

"So you wore this slutty outfit for Maybank huh?" He asked and flipped me onto my stomach, hiking my skirt up above my ass. "And no fuckin panties. You really are a fuckin slut." Rafe huffed before giving me a hard slap across my ass, causing me to yelp as a tear prickled in my eye.

"I'm gonna make you choke on my fuckin cock.." He smirks before flipping me back over. He comes over and hovers my face, his knees on either side of my head. Rafe dipped his cock into my mouth slowly before full on fucking my mouth. "Mmm yeah, suck that fucking cock you whore!" He somewhat gently slaps my face, still pushing in and out of my throat.

As I was gagging on Rafe's dick I felt something down between my legs. A cold, wet, tongue met the heat between my legs and I couldn't see it. "Wait till you see her face Maybank, she makes a pretty face when you fuck her." Rafe announced which resulted in a hum from the mouth attached to my clit.

JJ was eating me out...while Rafe was fucking my face...

Fuck.

I moaned onto Rafe's dick as he continued to fuck my throat. In turn, my moans made Rafe moan. "How'd you say she liked it Rafe..." JJ questioned before shoving his cock inside of me. A loud moan escaped the best it could when he filled me up. "...by surprise, right?" He chuckled as Rafe nodded.

JJ's thrusts caused Rafe's thrusts to go faster and harder. But they both stopped suddenly. Pulling out of both of my holes and they stood next to the bed, hovering me. "What was that??" I questioned, now blushing from seeing JJ's dick for the first time.

Of course he noticed and had to be an ass. JJ smirked at me while stroking himself. "Don't pretend you didn't like it princess.." He slows his motions down before he eventually stops. "Not saying I didn't like it- just confused. You two were literally just about to kill each other, and now you're fucking me." I say confused.

"We came to a conclusion baby. You lead JJ on..and you cheated on me. But we are ready to forgive you, if you let us have some fun with you babydoll.." Rafe simply stated, making me feel like shit because that was not my intention. I tried to counter what he said, but he just shushed me.

"Whaddya say princess?" JJ asked with a smirk. "Yea I mean...it's the least I could do.." I smile sheepishly to them. Rafe stepped between my legs and gave me a long kiss. "I love you, but I want you to understand that this is a one time thing so JJ doesn't have to keep pining after you. So whatever you want from him, make sure you get it from him now, you're still mine." Rafe explained. I'm surprised he's acting this way. He never lets anyone touch his things, especially me.

"What's first?" I asked the guys. "Just let us make you feel good baby, you won't have to do any work, unless you wanna." JJ said settling on the bed next to me. "You said anything I want?" I looked up to Rafe with glossy eyes. He nods with his arms crossed.

"JJ can I suck your dick while Rafe fucks me?" I started to blush because never in a million years did I think this would be happening. "I'd love that princess." He smiled at me.

I got off the bed and got to my knees in front of JJ. My hands sat on his thighs as my mouth lowered onto his cock. "Hmmm fuck.." He moaned out, placing his hand on my head. I felt Rafe come over and line himself up with me. "I love this fuckin skirt baby.." He says before slipping into my wet pussy, which caused me to moan on JJ's dick, which caused JJ to let out a moan of his own.

The guys were trying to set a steady pace between the both of them. JJ was bobbing my head up and down in time with Rafe's thrusts, and boy did it feel, so fucking good.

At one point they made me feel so good and I let out a long moan.

"Good Girl "

I heard them both say at the same time. A string of moans were escaping us all as they continued. Rafe was pounding into me as fast as he could. JJ was now standing with a fistful of my hair, fucking my face. I popped my mouth off of JJ and replaced it with my hand. "If you two don't stop going full force- I'm gonna cum right now.." I whine out.

They both groaned as they pulled away. I got back on the bed and sat in between them, one hand each, shooting to their hair, and massaging. They both started feeling me up, placing kisses wherever they could reach. The moment was over as fast as it came. JJ sat with his back against my headboard and pulled me to sit between his legs.

Rafe crawled onto the bed after JJ put his legs between mine to keep them spread open. I couldn't close them even if I wanted to. Rafe laid between my legs and started lightly sprinkling kisses on my lower lips.

JJ attached his lips to my neck, giving me a hickey, opposite to the one Rafe had made earlier.

Rafe moved to my clit with his mouth and inserted a few fingers into my hole. I gasped and JJ put his hands under my shirt in response.

"Why ya still wearin' this baby? Shoulda been gone a long time ago.." He says before taking my crop top off. Leaving me in my bra and my skirt. He groped my tits as Rafe sucked and fingered me. I was a moaning mess. Everything felt too good. "Guys- l-like I said before..." I say but it's too late and I cum all over Rafe's fingers.

Rafe sat up before placing his fingers in his mouth, sucking off every little drop that was left of me. "Good girl.." He smirked at me. "But, you gotta cum for JJ too princess.." Rafe stated.

I was still coming down from my high. "Cum again..?" He only nodded before sitting in the chair in front of my vanity. He turned it so he could see us sitting on the bed.

"Go ahead Maybank..." He smirked. Just as he was given the green light, JJ flipped us over so he was hovering me. "Hey there princess..." He smirked before planting a kiss on my lips. This felt so wrong to do so I looked to Rafe for some guidance.

He just sat there slowly rubbing his dick, watching us. He nodded for me to continue.

Suddenly this felt so right. I was supposed to have fun with JJ, for Rafe. JJ leaned down to my ear to whisper. "You looked so fucking good in that picture you sent me." He started kissing my neck. "I know you sent it on purpose, don't worry I won't tell him." He whispered.

His hands lifted me off the bed to take my bra off. JJ threw the garment to the side, landing in front of Rafe. He kissed me so hungrily and so passionately it almost hurt. "Jayj..." I whimpered into the kiss. He started grinding his hips against me, his dick touching my clit every time. "I know princess.." He whispered. "C'mere, I wanna make you cum in doggy." He says then plants another kiss to my lips.

I got up on my hands and knees before JJ could move me. "Wrong way baby...I wanna see your face when he fucks you..." I heard Rafe say from the chair. I turned around just like he asked. JJ got behind me when I was settled. I heard a spitting sound and a second later I felt his hand lathering my hole. "Mmmm" I moaned while I grinded back onto his fingers.

"Patience baby.." JJ said before slapping my hole which resulted in me letting out another moan. He grabbed his cock and started teasing my slut with his tip. I moved to lay on my forearms with my ass in the air. My eyes wandered over to Rafe, he was still stroking himself slowly while watching us. His lips curled up into a smirk when he saw the face I made when JJ pushed his length into pussy.

I let out a loud moan and looked Rafe in the eyes as JJ slowly rocked his hips. As JJ quickened his pace, Rafe did too. Almost like he wasn't to cum with us, but didn't want...involved..?

The room was filled with the sounds of moans and skin slapping against each other as JJ fucked me senseless. Rafe had rolled his head back but his eyes stayed on us.

I felt JJ reach for my hair and pull it back, making me arch. The slightly new angle was enough to push me over the edge. "You're such a a good fucking girl for me..." JJ says as I moan out. "JJ harder.." I couldn't say anything else. It was odd moaning another mans name but they both loved it, which made me feel dirty.

JJ gladly fucked me harder. I was going between watching Rafe fuck his hand and watching JJ in the mirror. "Fuck you're so tight princess..." He dragged out. "I'm so close Jayj..." I announce with a whine. Rafe caught my attention with a low groan. I looked over and saw his cum shooting up onto his stomach.

He was still yanking himself, riding out his high, when he said "JJ I want you to cum in her fucking pussy". I couldn't help but moan, feeling JJ's thick cock in my pussy, watching Rafe cum, and him saying THAT.

JJ let go of my hair and held my hips, bringing them backwards to meet his. We were both a moaning mess and Rafe was just watching, sitting there in his mess. He looked afraid to blink, like he was going to miss something. I pushed back onto JJ's dick, wanting more, he was making me feel so good and I didn't want it to end.

"Fuck Jayj- i-im gon-gonnaaa cum" I squeal out. "Me too princess. Are you ready?" I nod after he asked. He counted us down before with both released together, screaming each other's names. I fucked myself with his dick, riding out my high.

"Good girl.." He said biting his lip, helping guide my ass. He slipped out when we were done and gave me a long sloppy kiss, trying to savor the moment, knowing it would never happen again.

Rafe walked away at some point to clean himself up, JJ and I just continued to make out to fill the silence and need. When Rafe returned we all sat on the bed talking about what just happened. "How did it feel?" Rafe asked me. "He's really good.." I say panting, getting butterflies from the recent memory. He smiled at me and JJ before speaking.

"Y/N, I loved the way your face looked when JJ was taking you from behind..." He said while rubbing my back. "I suggest we make this a regular thing." I nearly choked when I heard him say that.

Rafe Cameron...never...shares.

"I 1000% agree" JJ said almost too enthusiastically which made me giggle. "That was both the craziest and sexiest shit I've ever been a part of. Of course I'd love to." I say smiling.

He smiled and I could tell he had a mischievous thought. "Next time I wanna try something new." He smirked to me and JJ.

"I will do whatever you two want if it feels that good.." I blush, looking between both of them.

"Good girl " They are so creepy with that shit...but it's so sexyyyy.

#outer banks #jj maybank #rudy pankow smut #rudy pankow x reader #obx fic #obx x reader #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #smut prompts #rafe x you #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader

150 notes · View notes

s-heon · 3 months

Text

Love is in the Air

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・. ✫・゜・。.

valentines is a time to celebrate and cherish our loved ones, even if it isn't romantic. it is a month for all kinds of love, romantic or platonic and i wanted to created this event to appreciate every single of my followers and supporters who have been there for me throughout my whole tumblr journey. words cannot describe just how grateful i am and now i want to do my best to give back what you guys have done for me.

᭄　how the event works: 💭 　◦ ♡

・create a valentines themed moodboard of any idol (western or kpop) and tag someone you appreciate; a message for them is encouraged too but not compulsory!

・make sure to use the tag #s-heon : valentines event

・this events ends on the 1st of march to give plenty of time for submissions, but can be extended if anyone asks

᭄ how to join: 💌 　◦ ♡

・comment joining below and your ult bias

・reblog this post tagging 3 people or more

・everyone is welcome to join, the more the merrier!

᭄　prizes: 🐇 　◦ ♡

・1st place: boost nitro or 400 robux, 150 reblogs of your moodboard, a follow and a post telling people to follow your account, 3 moodboards of your choice, 3 gifs of your chosen idol and a locs pack

・2nd place: classic nitro or 80 robux, 100 reblogs of your moodboard, a follow and a post telling people to follow your account, 2 moodboards of your choice, 2 gifs of your chosen idol and a locs pack

・3rd place: 50 reblogs of your moodboard, a follow and a post telling people to follow your account, 1 moodboard of your choice, 1 gif of your chosen idol and a locs pack

᭄　extra notes: 🩰 　◦ ♡

・dm me if you win to claim prizes

・please be patient if you win and are waiting for your prizes since i also am busy with work and uni so it might take a while, but don't worry i haven't forgotten!

・users who are found to have copied will be disqualifies

・ most of all, just have fun! it is just a silly little event :3

・if this flops… then cancelled smh LMFAOO 😛

᭄　tags: 🎀 　◦ ♡

@baesol @yeritos @p-oisn @gigittamic @jenfaery @iluvrei @fyidor @alfaire @agsthv @bambicito @eliatopia @ojiito @hy4k @hyeism @fuckici @wiotas @ultrar @jazzitos @florietas @koosuvi @dollienini @tookio @joyszn @jeonzio @japnz @umiena @menhpy @jkghost @vg-k @froopis @misdior @jangism @yenagorls @wonflirtz @v6mpcat @i04rei @y-vna @i-kyujin @7hyein @jaes1lvr @yoonitos @poeticore @rkivefr @tyunlouv @y-unjins @deaimachi @fairymiese @h-ao @h-aewo @sugarino

227 notes · View notes

melodygatesauthor · 11 months

Text

The Fractured Moon - Part 2

Yandere! Marc Spector - Jake Lockley - Steven Grant X f!Reader

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Moodboard - Series Masterlist - AO3 Link

Part 2 Summary:

You spend the next week adjusting to your new life with these men. The longer it takes for them to break you in, the more it's going to hurt.

Disclaimer:

I created this fic for the sole purpose of exploring the yandere thing as a fanfiction "kink" in a safe way and in a safe space. I in no way would want this to happen to myself or someone else. This fic is not a reflection of my moral beliefs. - Further, this fic is not an accurate representation of people with DID (dissociative identity disorder). These men happen to have DID and I'm putting them in a situation where they would have an unhealthy obsession with the reader character.

Tags/Warnings:

NSFW, Stalking, non-con, somnophilia, rape, mentions of murder, drugged sex, kidnapping, manipulation, dacryphilia, voyeurism, threats of physical harm, copious amounts of sex, copious amounts of unprotected sex, blood, unrealistic refractory period, biting, slapping, hitting, reader is smol, choking, non-consensual drug use (kinda), cock-warming. This is a Dead Dove Do Not Eat situation.

Word Count: 15k (Don't look at me)

Así = Like that

Buena niña = Good girl

Vamos = Come on

Comprende = Understand

At some point in the night you slept. Your captors seemed to leave you at peace long enough for you to doze on and off throughout the night. You felt weak, hungry, and thirsty as your eyes fluttered open the following morning. You didn’t even remember actually falling asleep, all you remembered was Steven kissing you on the cheek, and then leaving the room to let you rest. He said he’d come back to wake you with something special. Now you had that aching feeling between your legs while you stirred, something was inside of you that wasn’t there when you’d slumbered off. You recognized that feeling. One of them was stuffing you with their cock again.

Steven had been away from you all night. They’d neglected their duties as Moon Knight for so long that they finally had to put in some work for Khonshu. When they returned home, he wasted no time going straight to your room. He felt a sense of relief when he could see that you were right where they’d left you, sleeping soundly in your bed, and naked.

He was so excited, seeing you laying there so soundly. He’d stripped himself down and crawled in behind you, much like he had the first time he’d taken you. It was Jake’s idea to keep you naked all the time for moments like this. They needed to be able to have you whenever the need arose, and Steven had been kind enough to let you rest overnight. His need was heavy now, and he’d been so good and patient.

“G’morning love, I needed to feel you again.” The one with the British accent was squeezing you against himself again, rutting into you roughly.

“N-no, please.” You croaked, which was promptly followed by a large hand covering your mouth.

“Now don’t start that. You can’t expect me to believe you’re that upset when you’re soaking the sheets like this, yeah?” He groaned in your ear, “I don’t want to hear another word unless you’ve got something nice to say.”

You whimpered into his strong hand. Steven was huffing into your ear while he kept fucking you. He was right, you were drenched, slick dripping over your thighs and onto the sheets. He had himself wrapped firmly around your arms so you couldn’t move. You wished he would stop.

“If you’ll be good and quiet f’me, I can use this hand for something better. Something you might like, yeah?”

You didn’t respond. Admitting that you wanted him to touch you would further his growing delusion that you liked what was happening to you.

“You’re going to be a brat, hm?” He kissed your neck, right behind your earlobe, “s’alright love. When I’m all finished, Jake says he’s gonna make you behave a little better.”

You let out a muffled and half-hearted scream in response.

“Oh hell.”

The sound of your little shriek made his cock twitch inside of you. He liked the sound. Steven gave up on trying to silence you, wanting to hear you even clearer. It didn’t matter anyway, they lived so far removed from others that no one would hear you no matter how hard you screamed. He brought his hand down from your mouth and wrapped his fingers around your neck. He felt your throat vibrate when you gulped against his thick digits.

“Don’t worry darling, not gonna really choke you, just like havin’ my hands on you,” his voice was low. “You know I don’t want to hurt you right? None of us do. We love you. We just can’t risk losing you. That’s why you’re here.”

“It hurts.” You whined, feeling pain searing through your aching hole.

“Sh, I know love, it will feel good soon. I know you’ll be happy here, gonna take real good care of you now.”

Despite your defiance, Steven wanted to give you what you needed, and so he did. He loosened the hand that was holding your waist and brought it down to the apex of your thighs. You squeezed your legs together tightly, forcing a frustrated grunt from Steven as he thrust into you again.

“Darling please, s’not hard to just let me give you what I know you want yeah? Why are you acting like this?” He sounded like he was getting angry with you, forcing a chill down your spine.

Something about the way his cock slid against your walls the next time made you feel an overwhelming sense of pleasure, despite your mind telling you that you should be fighting to get away. Almost involuntarily you parted your thighs just enough for him to slide his middle finger in over your swollen and slippery clit. He let out a shaky moan against your ear.

“Ooh love, that feels good doesn’t it? Can feel you gripping around me so tight.” Steven started rolling his hips into you faster.

He was still in awe of how you felt, so warm and soft while he dragged his length over your walls repeatedly. A soft moan escaped your lips, and Steven thought he might faint after hearing the sound. Did you even know how beautiful your voice was to them, especially when you were enjoying yourself?

“Knew you’d like that, you sound so pretty it’s unreal.”

He swirled his finger around your nub and heard you sniffle while you continued crying. No matter how good it felt, you were still terrified. There was nothing you could do other than lay there. His fingers around your throat would get tighter if you tried to move, and surely your punishment with the mean one, Jake, would be even worse if you didn’t behave.

“You ready for me to fill you up again? Want to feel you gushin’ over me first love, come on.” Steven urged, sliding his fingers over your clit faster.

You didn’t answer verbally, but you arched back into his chest, getting as close to him as you could when you felt his fingers moving at an increased pace. Steven felt relieved to see you becoming more compliant to their needs after only one day. Marc had mocked him when Steven said you liked them, but this was proof. Why else would you be so good for him? Why else would you be reaching up to grab on to his forearm, holding his hand in place over your mound.

A love-struck smile spread over Steven’s face. You were holding onto him, squeezing tightly as he fucked into you harder. Your sobbing got louder, mixed with the soft hiccups of you trying to catch your breath. Regardless, those sweet little moans could be heard between each whimpering cry.

“You sound so good love, so-so good ah. Not gonna last, need you to come for me, hurry please.” He begged, continuing to rub the pad of his finger over your clit.

He didn’t even need to ask, you were already there. You pressed your lips together tightly, not wanting to make a sound. You didn’t want him to hear how good he’d made you feel. You still huffed through your nose though, and a muffled groan rumbled through your throat regardless of your attempt to stay quiet.

“Oh there you go love, there you are. Knew you would come for me, so good-so good-so fucking good-“

Steven squeezed you so tight you thought your bones might break. You made a choking sound that resulted in a flurry of apologies from his lips. His thrusting ceased while you felt his cock start pulsating inside of you, filling your cunt full of his hot spend.

You belonged to him.

He held onto you while he grew soft and kept repeating those words to himself. He had you there, and you weren’t going anywhere. You were theirs for the taking, any time they wanted; any time they needed. Steven muttered various words of affection in your ear while you felt yourself still crying with shame. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction of your orgasm. You’d tried so hard to hold back.

“You did so well love. You feel so good I can’t wait until later when you’ll get to have me again.”

His words stuck with you even after he left. I can’t wait until later when you’ll get to have me again.

He said it as though it were a prize you’d won, like he was going to be doing you a favor; As though you weren’t there completely against your will and trapped in a room with no way out. You weren’t sure you could take more, you were so tender from all the torture they’d already forced you to endure. You just wanted to be let free, or left alone. Either way was fine by you.

Jake planned to give your aching hole a break, knowing that Steven was sure to have difficulty restraining himself in the coming days, and perhaps even weeks. When Jake came back to you later, you seemed to have stopped crying. You looked so small, sitting on the bed with the blanket pulled up to cover yourself. As soon as you saw him, you flinched back, putting yourself against the wall as far from him as you could, bringing the blanket closer to your face as though it would protect you. Jake had on his leather gloves, white button down with the sleeves rolled up, and his black slacks. He loosened his tie and undid two of the top buttons on his shirt as he approached you with a smug grin spread over his face.

“Hola bebita.” He stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

You remembered that this was the one who held the gun to your head…the one who had you the most frightened of the three. Jake. Steven had warned that Jake was going to ‘make you behave a little better’, whatever that was supposed to mean. You felt the tears threatening to fall already. You were so sick of crying, but you couldn’t help it, you were so afraid, and in so much pain. Didn’t they see that? Didn’t any of them have some empathy or compassion?

“P-please J-Jake I’m sorry.” You looked to see if he had a weapon that he meant to hurt you with, but it didn’t appear so…not yet anyway.

“Oh sweetheart you were very good for Steven.” He beckoned you over with his finger, “come here, sit at the end of the bed.”

You gulped and shook your head slowly, silently pleading with him to be merciful. You didn’t want to go anywhere near him. There was no telling what he intended to do to you. At least Steven was predictable, albeit painful, but you knew what to expect. Jake brought you a different kind of fear. The fear of the unknown.

“Listen, there are two ways we can do this sweetheart, and one will be much better for you if you just do what I tell you to do, comprende?” Your eyes were glistening wet while you looked at him pleadingly. He loved to see the way your bottom lip quivered.

“Are you going to k-kill me?” You pulled the blankets up over your mouth to hide your quivering chin.

“Of course not, that wouldn’t do me any good at all, would it?”

Faster than you could react, Jake grabbed the blankets and yanked them from you. You were left naked on the bed with nothing but your pillows and the fitted sheet beneath you. You covered yourself with your arms, like it mattered. The man in front of you sighed and started removing his tie.

“One last time, are you gonna come over here on your own or am I going to have to make you?”

You didn’t say anything. Jake noticed that you didn’t seem to talk much. He wondered if you were just afraid, or if you were naturally a quieter person. Either way, it didn't matter. Something about the way you cowered in fear in his presence made him feel painfully aroused, and filled with an insurmountable excitement. After making no attempt to move toward him on your own, he knew he was going to have to make you comply.

“Don’t hurt her, she’s scared.” Marc said in a guilt ridden tone.

Jake wasn’t going to do any actual harm to you, but he was going to make sure that when you looked in the mirror, you were reminded of who owned you now. He wanted you to feel a phantom pain on the marks he left behind every time you thought about screaming or running away. He wanted you to see the reminders on your body and think about what you’d done so you may never think of doing it again. It was the only way they could reasonably keep you there and find a way to make you happy too. His lessons were for your benefit, despite what you might be thinking. If you could learn to obey well enough, they could let you roam the house from time to time, rather than keep you confined to the one room for the rest of your days.

Jake removed a glove and walked to one of the doors in your room. He used his thumb on an electronic lock pad by the door to unlock it. It wasn’t out of the norm for Jake to have handcuffs and torture devices on hand. Sometimes when they were doing their work for Khonshu they had to get answers out of people the hard way. Before this room was yours, they used it to interrogate the criminals Jake would bring back there. When they decided they were taking you, they made it a little more comforting, adding a bed to the otherwise empty room. Steven had suggested adding more to make it warmer, but Jake reminded him they didn’t have time to hire a damn interior designer before bringing you home. Your comfort could be managed later.

He pulled out some cuffs before closing the door and turning to face you once again. He swung the restraints around his finger while looking right at you. You gulped harshly. Defying him was a mistake, and you were wondering now if it was too late to show your willingness to comply with his demands. You crawled to the end of the bed quickly and sat back on your knees, covering your breasts with your arm and placing your hand over your mound in your lap, as if modesty was something you could achieve in your current position.

“Aw bebita, you should’ve done this sooner.”

He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned your face from one side to the other. You were so fucking pretty he felt his stomach doing flips from just looking at you, and you were all his. He stepped back and gestured for you to turn.

“Turn around, hands behind your back, vamos.” He urged, never letting that snide grin fade from his face.

“I-I’m sorry Jake.” You said, remembering how much he liked it when you apologized before.

“Oh, princesa, I know. Come on now, turn around,” he said, tone unwavering and stern.

You looked at him a little longer, hoping he would change his mind and be kind to you, but his expression remained firm. You finally obeyed, turning and putting your hands behind your back. Just when you thought you were incapable of crying any more, more tears started falling down your cheeks. You let out a dry sob. If only you could get some water.

Jake knew you needed something to eat and drink, it was obvious in your voice. Marc was already chattering in the headspace with Steven about what they were going to do about that once Jake was finished. He handcuffed your delicate wrists together, smiling at himself when he saw your beautiful body from behind. They hadn’t had a chance to appreciate the full view until now. You were breathtaking from every angle, and he kept remembering that you were going to be there forever now. He could look at you whenever he wanted to.

“Buena niña,” he cooed.

You hiccuped as you cried harder. Jake loved the sound of your cries. He rested his bare hand on your shoulder, caressing your soft skin with his thumb. You pressed your lips together tightly to keep yourself from whimpering too loudly. He shushed you softly, running his palm over your arm.

“Next time, maybe you’ll listen a little better, si?”

You took a sharp breath, nodding slowly.

“Say, yes Jake.” He demanded.

“Y-yes Ja-Jake.”

“You’re a quick learner. I’m proud of you.” His voice was gravely with arousal. “When I praise you, I want you to say thank you, Jake.”

You whined, feeling your chest heave with emotional turmoil. You didn’t want to give him what he asked for, but you were afraid of what he might do if you were defiant. Jake put a large hand over your spine before pushing you forward. You bent in half, feeling your cunt exposed to the cool air of the room. You turned your head to the left so you could breathe. Jake let out a snicker behind you. The cold metal of the cuffs touching your lower back made you shudder.

“Thank you, Jake,” you choked out between sobs.

Jake noticed that you had your eyes closed tightly. You were so fucking afraid it was delicious. He grew excited knowing that he was about to ravage your body, inciting even more terror inside you. He could see how swollen your pussy lips were from their assault on you. Despite the aching of his cock pressing against his zipper, he wasn’t going to give it to you. Marc could later if he felt inclined, but Jake was there to teach you a lesson, not give you something he knew would ultimately pleasure you.

“The rules are simple sweetheart. If you can follow them, then you will be rewarded.” You felt the leather gloved hand press against your left cheek. “When I give you something, like a compliment, or when I let you come, you say thank you. Do you understand?”

You nodded slowly, keeping your eyes closed tight.

“When I ask a question, you will say, yes, Jake, or, no, Jake.” He squeezed your cheek so tight you winced in pain. “Tell me you understand.”

“Yes, Jake.” You opened your eyes, looking up at the man who was tormenting you.

“I need to hear you really say it, say it like you fucking mean it!” He pulled his hand back and smacked your rear, resulting in a harsh scream from your mouth.

“Yes, Jake!”

He hummed in approval, “good, you sound so pretty princesa.”

Jake grabbed onto the cuffs to hold you in place with his bare hand. He started beating against each cheek until you were screaming and begging him to stop. A small puddle of drool collected next to your lips. You sobbed deeply, making noises you’d never heard come from your own mouth before. He didn’t stop though, he just kept hammering his gloved palm against you until you were certain your ass cheeks were going to fall off your body.

“Please, it hurts!” Your throat was sore from your desperate wails.

The burning on your skin didn’t end with his assault, which he fortunately ceased for the time being. Your cheeks continued to ache even when he was done. Through the blur of your tears you could see him reaching down to grab your waist. He was strong, tossing you like a ragdoll onto your back. You groaned at the feeling of the cuffs jabbing into your spine. The sheets, despite how soft they were, stung against your backside.

“Jake, I think she’s had enough, look at her.” Marc said.

“Hmm,” he mused, looking over your trembling form.

Jake didn’t quite agree with Marc, but it was only their first day having you there. He was impressed that you’d obeyed so well, and that you’d been able to withstand the beating he’d given you. Considering that you’d begged so beautifully, he decided to spare you any more torment for now.

“Bebita, I’m going to give you a final gift for today. You handled me so well, I think you can take just a little more, don’t you?”

You sniffled and nodded, “y-yes, Jake.”

A shaking breath left his lips at the words as you uttered them. Did you even realize how preciously innocent you looked? You had your knees up and pressed together tightly, clearly an attempt at modesty, but that wasn’t going to stop Jake. He placed a large hand on either knee and pried your legs apart with a grunt.

“Please, it hurts so much, please.” You begged, closing your eyes tightly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to fuck you sweetheart. Not right now.” Jake’s gloved finger dragged between your folds and rested on your clit.

You arched slightly into his touch. The fact that you were so desperate for stimulation whenever their hands were kind to you made you wonder if there was something wrong with your mind. You found yourself craving it, wanting more. He crawled onto the bed next to you, never removing his gloved fingers from your swollen nub. You bit your lip and moaned despite yourself.

“See, I can take care of you, just as much as I can hurt you, but you have to behave bebita. Gonna mark you up just a little more, okay?” Jake swooped into the side of your neck hungrily.

“Y-yes!” You said obediently.

He started sucking on the skin so hard that you let out a cry in pain. You tried to shy away and spare your bruised skin, still hurting from the way he’d choked you the night before, but Jake reached out, grabbing the other side of your head to keep you in place. You wondered if there would be an end to the torture they were putting you through, or if this was going to go on forever.

“You’ve been so good today sweetheart. Thought for sure you were going to give me a harder time than that. Maybe Steven’s right. Maybe you do like us,” he whispered softly in your ear.

“No, no, you’re monsters.” You bit your bottom lip to stop it from shaking.

“Oh, princesa, I was going to give you a little break from the pain, but now you’re starting to really piss me off.”

You gasped when you felt his teeth latch down over the meat of your shoulder. You shrieked, trying to pull away, but between the hand on your head and the one between your legs, you were trapped. Your body shook violently, trying to get yourself away from the searing pain until finally he stopped biting you. You breathed heavily, and realized he was still rubbing your clit. As the agony subsided, you started to feel that sweet tingling sensation you desired so much.

Jake looked over at you now, and when you met his eye you saw blood glistening on his lips. He smirked, leaning in to kiss you. You kept your mouth closed tightly, not wanting to give him that intimacy he seemed to be demanding from you.

“Do you want another one?” He looked at you with a dark, furrowed brow.

Another bite? No, you wouldn’t be able to handle that, the other one was tormenting you still. You leaned up, slotting your lips against his. He breathed out a feral moan as he entangled his tongue with yours. The taste of iron filled your mouth while your saliva mixed with the blood he’d taken from you. The smooth leather fingers changed direction, forcing a gasp from you.

“See, when you’re a good little girl, you get what you need from us.”

“You really hurt her, Jake,” Marc scolded.

What Jake couldn’t say out loud, not right then anyway, was that he was doing all of this to make sure you would be more pliant for them going forward. He knew that when Marc went to you later, when it was his time, that you would behave so perfectly for him, and that he would be grateful for Jake’s hard work. Marc always felt guilty, it was infuriatingly annoying to Jake, but he hoped when you showed your willingness to comply, Marc would change his tune.

He wondered if you knew how good a kisser you were. The way you kept melting your mouth into his over and over while you whimpered in your ecstasy made Jake’s brain go numb with pleasure. Your spine was arching, and Jake felt you start rocking your hips against his fingers. You started kissing him deeper, relaxing more into the motions. You were enjoying yourself, and that made him soften ever so slightly.

“Así,” he breathed gently against your lips, “mm, vamos princesa.”

You hated yourself for your words, but you were so close, and he was moving his fingers so slow.

“Faster…please,” your voice was almost inaudible.

“Hm? Gonna have to speak up for me sweetheart.”

“Faster!” You tucked your face into his neck in shame.

Jake sniffed out a laugh in response, moving his fingers a little quicker for you. You were there again, for the second time that day, moaning through your orgasm, muffled into his neck while he continued to slide his leather covered digits all over your clit. He muttered some sweet, coaxing words in your ear, no louder than a whisper. You felt fresh tears run down over your cheeks and onto his throat where your face was still buried. When you were finished, you fell back, fatigue washing over you in a heavy wave.

He stood up before turning you over. He undid your cuffs and walked over to the closet to put them back. When he turned around, you were still lying chest down on the bed. He knew you were probably hungry, thirsty, and tired.

“Get your blankets back on your bed and sit there. One of us will be in with some food and something to drink soon.” Jake ordered.

He watched as you sat upright slowly. You looked up at him with big glossy eyes. You looked tired and emotionally worn. Oh but you were still so breathtaking. He watched with nothing but adoration in his heart as you stood up and grabbed your bedding off the floor where he’d pulled it from you, and you proceeded to go tuck yourself back under the sheets, just as he’d told you to. You were learning so quickly. It was more than he could’ve hoped for.

“Very good bebita. Sit tight, we’ll be back later.”

----

They knew everything about you. At least, that’s what they’d thought when they took you. Marc was standing with the fridge door open, staring at the food in front of him. He looked from top to bottom at least a dozen times. Someone would’ve thought he was deciding on a house to buy, not something simple like what food he was going to bring to a girl who hadn’t eaten or had water all day.

“Just pick something hermano.” Jake murmured coldly, “she’s gotta be starving, and with all that cryin’ I’m sure she’s thirsty as hell.”

Marc ignored Jake, but the fact remained…he wasn’t sure what you liked to eat. They’d seen your fridge back at your old apartment, it seemed like you were into most anything. Marc thought that something small would probably suffice, so he started putting together a plate. Steven was chattering on about the things he thought you might like, versus the things he thought you wouldn’t like. Every time Marc brought his hand out to grab something off a shelf, one of his alters had something to say about it.

“Steven, I’m sure she’s going to be fine with this. Jake’s right, she hasn’t eaten since yesterday and she hasn’t had anything to drink.” Marc groaned and decided to put a few different options on a tray before walking back to your room.

“Yeah, sure, but what if she doesn’t like something on your little tray there? Hm?”

“Then I’ll make her something else,” Marc was talking softer as he approached your room, “you need to give her a break, you hear me? I know you’re going to want to spend the night with her, and you can, but for now, give it a rest.”

Steven muttered a few choice words in protest, but eventually conceded, knowing that Marc was right. You were spent. When Marc entered the room, he saw you just sitting there, staring at him. Except, as he got closer to you, he realized that you weren’t looking at him at all, you were looking wide-eyed at the tray in his hands. He felt his heart stop in his chest at the sight of you. You had the blanket covering yourself and you hurriedly pulled it to the side, leaving him a flat spot on the mattress to put the tray.

“Here you go honey,” Marc said, putting your meal down in front of you.

“T-thank you, Jake,” you muttered, rushing forward to your plate.

Marc’s stomach sunk. He supposed that to the untrained eye, he and Jake looked identical. They shared a body after all, and you weren’t accustomed to their minor differences in appearance yet. He sat down on the bed while you guzzled your water quickly, gulping it all down within seconds. He assumed that you probably didn’t care who out of the three he was, you were probably just afraid of the consequences if you didn’t say thank you.

“Woah,” he chuckled, taking the cup from you when you were finished. He held it in his hands and looked at you, “I’m actually Marc.”

“I’m sorry, I t-thought…oh no please don’t-”

“You’re okay,” he said, recognizing the look of panic boiling up inside of you, “just eat, please.”

Marc exhaled a small sigh of relief when you took a small bite of a cracker on your plate. He walked to the other side of the room and opened the only door without a thumbprint reader, the bathroom. Inside the bathroom he filled up the glass with more water from the tap. When he looked in the mirror he saw Steven staring back.

“We have a deal, Steven. We don’t interfere with each other’s time,” Marc spoke in a harsh whisper so you wouldn’t hear.

“Alright, yeah, sorry mate, just wanted to get a look s’all,” he said.

Marc knew that Steven might become a problem. While Marc and Jake shared the same unhealthy obsession as the other, Steven’s infatuation felt a little deeper, a little more…unhinged than the other two. Marc walked back and forth to the bathroom three times to get you more water before you were satisfied. He watched you carefully while you nibbled on your food, but you only ate enough to feed a small child.

“Baby, come on. I need you to eat more than that,” he urged, picking up a grape in his fingers, “please.”

“I don’t want to. I want to go home,” you turned away from him, “it’s probably poisoned anyway right?”

“Oh…no!” Marc spoke in a gentle but very concerned tone. He pushed the tray aside and touched your shoulder softly, “no we would never-”

You winced when his fingers brushed over the bite that Jake had left behind. Marc felt a pang of guilt. Fuck, he thought. They were destroying you. Your spirit, your body, your soul. He thought about opening the doors right then and there and letting you go, but that thought alone made him feel like his heart might stop beating in his chest if he did. No. You leaving wasn’t an option…so he was just going to have to make you learn to love them, and love living there.

“I’m sorry he hurt you, but hey, when we tell you to do something, it’s for your own good, okay?” Marc felt relief when you turned back to face him, “there you go. Can you please eat something for me?”

He picked up the grape in his fingers again and brought it to your lips. Marc felt the weight fall off his shoulders when you opened your pretty, plump lips and let him drop the grape inside. You chewed, and he watched. You felt uncomfortable with him feeding you, but you also didn’t think you’d have the mental strength to continue feeding yourself. In some twisted way, you were grateful.

Marc immediately felt good inside. As if each grape he gave you chipped away at the guilt he’d harbored after they took you. It helped that there were a few times when your lips sucked his finger as he pulled it back. He felt his pants get tight around his groin while he fed you more. He’d told Steven you needed a break, but he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stick to that himself. He hadn’t even had you yet. Jake and Steven were getting to have all the fun. He reminded himself of his goal though. With time, he’d win you over, and you’d eventually grow excited just from the sight of him. That day would be a dream come true.

“Thank you,” you said softly, once the grapes were all gone.

Marc brushed a thumb over your cheek, “I think Steven will be back again later. He has a hard time with…portion control.”

“I don’t think I can take more, really I-”

“Take this when he comes in,” Marc held out a small pill, “it will help you feel more relaxed.”

“You’re drugging me?” You asked, furrowing your brow at the small tablet in between his fingers.

“No, I’m handing you a drug. You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but it might help,” he said, holding it out in his palm.

You eyed the small pill before you took it and put it on the end table next to our bed. Marc gave you a forced smirk in an attempt to reassure you that everything would be alright before he grabbed the tray of half-eaten food and left you alone. From the way he felt Steven buzzing with excitement earlier when he was in the bathroom, he only hoped that you would heed his advice, or you were in for a night of pain.

----

When the time came, you were grateful for the little pill Marc had given you. Steven walked in later that night and you hardly stirred. He wanted to look at your face this time while he fucked you, since the last two times he’d taken you was from behind. While he climbed over you, he couldn’t help noticing that you were more limp than usual, less responsive to his presence. Marc knew he wasn’t supposed to interfere with Steven’s time, but he could feel the panic coursing through him.

“Steven, just relax alright? She’s fine, I just gave her a little something to help with the pain.”

“Pain…are you hurtin’, love?” Steven’s eyebrows were stitched together with concern.

“Mm,” you murmured, “yes.”

You weren’t sleepy, not yet, but you were simply feeling a sense of comfort over your entire body, like you were laying in a cloud. Your head felt a little foggy, but the pain that Jake had caused earlier over your whole body, and the throbbing that you’d felt between your legs, subsided.

“I’m going to help you give her what she needs okay? Just do exactly what I say.” Marc said gently.

“Yeah, alright,” Steven licked his lips and nodded, “gonna give you a treat tonight darling.”

Steven lined his fat tip up with your hole, sliding it between your folds and collecting the juices there. He couldn’t believe you were so wet and ready for him. Even through the sedative, you felt a sharp pain at your swollen and tender entrance. You winced, grabbing the sheets to brace yourself. You were so weak, your grip was meaningless, but you did it anyway out of instinct.

“There’s no way around it, it’s gonna hurt, but at least spit on it a little, get yourself nice and slick all over for her.”

Steven obeyed Marc’s orders, drawing a glob of spit together and dropping it down over his thick cock. He stroked it over himself, coating his length until it was slippery and glossy. Steven moaned, already desperate to feel your cunt again. Of all the things Steven enjoyed in life, nothing made him feel the way your body did. There was simply no comparison.

“That’s good, just like that, okay.”

You were glad you couldn’t feel the full force of the pain when Steven stretched you out over his girth once again. He shuddered forward, dropping both hands on either side of your head. Your eyes were half open, and in your drugged state you were able to convince yourself that he was a little handsome. He snapped his hips forward, filling you full to the hilt.

“Don’t like how little she’s movin’, looks like she might fall asleep,” he muttered quietly in between his grunts.

You wondered why he was talking as if you weren’t there. Maybe he was crazy. A person had to be crazy to kidnap and rape someone, right? It didn’t matter, the drug you took made everything feel a little better, a little more numb, and you didn’t have the mental capacity to think about it. He could talk to all the voices he wanted to, you could hardly feel a thing, and you felt your eyelids desperately wanting to close.

“Steven, if you’re going to keep fucking her a hundred times a day, she needs a break,” Marc scolded.

Steven grumbled and sat back, looking down to see the way you split over his cock. He could see what Marc was talking about. Your poor cunt was swollen around him. Your pussy lips were puffy, clearly aching, and Steven felt a little guilty. You were so wet though, so you must’ve liked it at least a little. Marc didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about.

“Y’know I don’t mean to hurt you, right love? S’not my fault you feel so good. Can’t help myself.”

His voice sounded wrecked while he continued fucking into your near lifeless body. He was glad that at least your cunt was reacting to his movements. He could feel you soft walls clenching down around him every time he rolled his hips forward, hitting the furthest point of your channel.

“Alright buddy, need you to listen to me. Take your thumb and start rubbing her clit. I know you’ve done this before, but let me tell you what to say. She seems to like when you say certain things.”

Steven globbed another ball of spit onto your clit and then started rubbing the pad of his thumb over it. He trembled when your walls fluttered over his girth. He saw your weak body arch into his touch, and that made him feel relieved. You were still right there, still warm and responsive, regardless of the drugged state you were in. Marc started coaching Steven, and the words coming out of his mouth fell like honey washing over you. It was amazing that some simple verbiage could make your body yearn the way it did.

“Look how pretty you are, love. I know it hurts, but you’re doing so good for us.” Steven started moving faster, the words were as encouraging for him as they were for you.

You groaned, a little from the pain, and a little from the pleasure. Steven, felt your cunt flutter around him with every rough and intentional thrust. Regardless of how sore you might be, it was clear that you were enjoying yourself, at least a little. He let out a shaky breath while Marc continued to urge him on from the headspace.

“You’re doing good Steven. Look how pretty she is. Fuck, she takes us so well doesn’t she?” He was watching, marveling in the way your beautiful and tired eyes stayed trained on Steven’s.

“Yeah, you’re stunning darling, f-fuck.” Steven could hardly contain himself, “that feeling good, love? Tell me, please say somethin’.”

You pressed your lips together as best as you could, and tried to hum out a positive response. Hardly a noise came out, and you felt your eyelids close heavily.

Steven noticed immediately when you weren’t awake anymore. He was pissed, to put it lightly. This wasn’t how he liked you. He liked your whines and cries filling the room. He liked to know that he was the one making you feel good, and now he was stuck fucking your sleeping body. It wasn’t like he didn’t love the way you felt even when you slept, his cock still twitched inside of you regardless and he certainly wasn’t going to stop, but he preferred it when you were awake. He reached out and grabbed your jaw, trying to shake you awake.

“C’mon love, wake up. Not done with you yet.” Steven thrust forward faster. You still felt so fucking good. How could someone be so perfect they felt that good even while they slept?

“Didn’t think she’d actually fall asleep. Sorry Steven I-”

“Shut the fuck up Marc,” Steven growled, “you leave her alone understand?”

Steven picked you up with ease before swapping positions, putting himself on his back and you on top of him, never letting his cock slide out of your slick cunt. You didn’t stir in the slightest, you were just a limp carcass splayed over his chest. He grabbed the other side of your head and brought your cheek to his lips. You’d never hear the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear gently while he bucked his hips upward roughly.

“Sorry darling, so sorry you can’t feel me like you should right now. Oh but you-you feel so-you still feel so good.” Steven knew that you wanted him, that Marc had taken this feeling away from you by drugging you. “Not gonna let him do that to you again.”

You couldn’t hear him huffing sharply in your ear while his orgasm approached. Marc had fallen silent, which Steven appreciated. He didn’t want Marc interfering during his time with you anyway. This was his time. Not to mention, what did he need Marc’s advice for anyway? Steven knew how to pleasure you just fine. He’d succeeded to make you come every time he fucked you. Marc didn’t know. Marc still hadn’t felt you yet.

He hadn’t felt how soft your cunt was when it squeezed down on their cock when you were coming; He hadn’t heard the way you whimpered while being fucked relentlessly, and he hadn’t felt what it was like to shoot their hot spent into your channel, overflowing you and feeling it spill out the sides. Steven felt that now while he nearly cried from the way his body shook as he emptied himself inside of you once again.

----

It went on like that for a little while. You weren’t sure how much time had gone by after a few days in that house. Steven and Jake had voted to keep you off drugs, to which Marc reluctantly agreed, being outvoted by the rest of the system. Despite not being drugged, you were incredibly tired, and in addition, sore, and mentally unstimulated, staring at the same four walls every day. There was nothing to do other than sleep, eat, and be a real life sex toy for the three brothers who all insisted on making your life a living hell.

You still wanted to go home.

While Steven agreed that you were probably sore, and in need of a break, he still struggled to keep himself off of you. Most nights, when he was certain the other two weren’t present, he would sneak into your room and fuck you from behind. You’d stopped fighting, and instead tried your best to enjoy it. It was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not, so you figured it was best to try and get something out of it.

This only served to feed Steven’s delusion that you were happy to be there with them. Every moan from your lips was a solid reassurance that he was giving you something you enjoyed, and every time you grabbed onto him or arched your back against his chest, he thought that was your attempt at intimacy. He fucking loved you so much. You could probably slap him and he’d think you were just playing around.

They all loved you, but Marc was the only one who showed you love in a way that you understood, or that at least seemed, dare you say, somewhat normal. He hadn’t fronted in a while, letting Steven and Jake have their fun, but it was his turn. You were beaten up, and he felt that sharp stab of guilt in his gut over it. Your face was still beautiful as ever, but your body was banged up and bitten. Your poor cunt was puffy and raw. You were dirty, tired, and clearly aching all over.

He had something for you hidden from your view behind his back as he drew closer to the bed. You thought it might be something he would use to hurt you like the others, despite not having hurt you thus far. You didn’t know what else these men were capable of, and maybe he was going to join in and start throwing you around too. You shifted further away as he approached, sitting on the other side of the bed with the blanket pulled up to your chin.

“How are you feeling baby?” Marc said, sitting down at the edge of the bed, keeping a healthy distance from you.

You were clutching your blanket to yourself tightly. You didn’t say a word, you only stared. Marc had noticed that you’d become less talkative as the week went on. Jake’s methods seemed to be working to tame you, making you more meek and obedient. It wasn’t their intention to change who you were, not at all. They loved you for you, but they needed you to stop fighting, and start behaving, and you were already getting so much better. Marc thought you should be rewarded.

“Here,” he pulled the gift out from behind his back.

It was a stuffed lamb, like someone might give to a child. You frowned at it, confused as to why he would be giving you something so juvenile. It was soft and plush, and something about it made you feel a huge wave of comfort the longer you looked it over.

“You don’t like it.” He looked disappointed. “I was hoping that you might be able to hold onto it when Steven isn’t giving you breaks or when–”

You snatched the lamb from Marc’s hands and pulled it in close. It was just as comforting as you thought it would be when you brought it to your chest. The soft fabric of the wool against your breasts was soothing. You felt silly finding so much solace in something as childish as a stuffed animal, but given your situation, you stopped caring how it might look to anyone else. You needed any little bit of mental reprieve you could get right now..

“Thank you, Marc,” you said, just as Jake had trained you to.

Marc felt a sense of pride swell through his chest when you took the stuffed animal from him. He wasn’t sure you would like it, but there you were, clutching it against yourself like it was a lifeline. It was at that point he noticed the dried and crusted blood on your collarbone, chest, and various other places where Jake had bitten your precious body. He reached out, but you flinched back.

“I’m not going to hurt you honey, I just need you to come with me. Come on, let’s get you all cleaned up.” He held his hand out to you.

You hesitated, but ultimately you conceded, putting your new stuffed toy down and taking his hand, letting him walk you to the bathroom. His mind was buzzing watching you walk, stepping light as a feather while he guided you. When he looked at you, he felt like you were like a perfect little doll.

“Go ahead and sit there on the toilet, let me get this started for you.”

You wondered if they’d stocked up on bath products while you were sleeping, or if you maybe weren’t the first woman they’d taken. You thought about asking him, but decided you didn’t really want to know. You also didn’t want your words getting twisted against you, as they often did. Knowing them, they’d start thinking you were jealous of past women who had walked in your shoes. He filled the bath with suds, salts, and oils. It smelled lovely, if you were being honest.

He thought he might bathe with you, work on soothing some of your wounds and making you feel more comfortable. He also hadn’t spent any time with you, not really, since you’d arrived. Marc let the water run over his hand, making sure it wasn’t too hot for your tender and beaten skin. Once the tub was full, he pulled off his shirt.

“Go ahead, get in the tub,” Marc gestured to the bath.

When you realized that he was getting undressed, you froze. You couldn’t take anymore, in fact, you wouldn’t take anymore. Your cunt was aching just looking at his bare torso. Against your better judgment, you bolted for the door, knowing that you needed to get away from the impending pain. You ran to the only exit, slamming your hand against the door and tugging on the handle wildly. Although you knew your thumbprint wouldn’t work on the lock-pad, having tried it several times before, you tried it again anyway, slamming the pad of your thumb against the reader. You felt the panic rising in your chest while you kept wiggling the handle.

Why did you do this? You thought. If you weren’t in trouble before…

“Honey,” you heard from behind you, “come on.” He sounded so calm.

Marc felt grateful that Jake and Steven weren’t watching when you made your foolish attempt at escape. He wasn’t going to hold it against you, he understood you were in pain and you were afraid, but he couldn’t speak for the other two. He knew that Steven had intense jealousy, and Jake was…Jake. You turned around, eyes wide with terror. Marc put his arms out, exposing his bare chest to you, an attempt to show that he meant you no harm.

Your eyes scoured his body, stopping at the clear bulge under his jeans. You pressed your lips together tightly, doing your best to keep yourself from crying again. For someone trying to act defiant and brave, you were failing miserably. Your knees were shaking while you stood there, staring at the broad chested man. You gulped and then collapsed to the floor in a heap of sobs. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, so you just kept your eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me-please!” Your entire body was trembling. “It just hurts so much. It hurts,” you sobbed.

Marc walked over and stood over your tiny frame, curled onto the floor like you were waiting for him to hurt you. He knelt down and put a gentle hand on your back. When it became clear that you weren’t going to get back up he groaned and scooped you up into his arms. Clearly you’d conceded to your fate, burying your face into his neck and wetting the skin there with your tears.

You didn’t open your eyes again until you felt him lowering you into the tub slowly. The water was hot but soothing. It felt nice against the wounds you’d received, and it felt as if your entire body exhaled in relief. Despite the fear still coursing through you, you felt a small moment of reprieve from the horror. You saw him, even through the blur of your tears, as he unbuttoned his jeans. He pulled both his pants and boxer-briefs down and toed them off.

He watched you gulp and shy away to the furthest point of the tub that you could. You had your arms covering your chest, but that didn’t matter to him. He had no intention of sleeping with you, he just wanted to make you feel good, and make you feel better about being there with them. Making you love them, genuinely and truly, might be the single most difficult thing he would ever do, but he would do it. He slowly got into the tub and watched you turn your head to the wall, avoiding his gaze entirely.

“Come here baby, let me at least wash you.” He put a hand on your shoulder.

You pulled your shoulder away, splashing some water up in the process.

“I can wash myself,” you muttered.

“Let me clean you up, and I’ll make you feel good too honey, please, you deserve it after how good you’ve been.” He urged.

You finally looked at him, sniffling and wiping away a tear, “but I wasn’t good, I just tried to run-”

“I didn’t see anything,” he said abruptly, cutting off your confession.

You furrowed your brow in confusion, until you realized that he was going to keep your little, and unsuccessful, attempt between the two of you. It gave you a small sense of comfort that he was going to protect you, if only a little, from the other’s wrath should they ever find out about your misbehavior. With that understanding, and considering the gift he’d brought you just a little while ago, you felt, in some twisted way, indebted to him. You finally gave in, sliding over to him in the tub.

“There you go,” he pulled you into his lap.

His stomach electrified with excitement while he pulled you over to sit with him. You were straddling him with a knee on either side of his thighs, arms still covering your chest. He couldn’t help the way his cock prodded underneath you, looking for a place to bury itself. When he’d drawn the bath for you, he hadn’t intended to fuck you, not at all, but he was quickly realizing how foolish it was for him to think he could resist you. Your knees clenched on either side of his legs when he grabbed your hips tightly, lining you up with his bulbous tip.

“P-please.” You looked at him, eyes big with desperation for mercy, “it hurts so much.”

“I know, but if you just sit on it, you’ll get more used to the size, okay? The more you let us loosen you up, the less it will hurt. I promise.” He cupped your cheek in his other hand, “I won’t move, just lower yourself down on me. Take your time.”

As Marc had hoped, giving you the freedom to set the pace encouraged you to do it on your own. He didn’t want to have to force you, so he was grateful when you showed your willingness to comply. You were slow, and he willed his hips to remain stationary while you rose up a little on your knees, getting it lined up perfectly. His breath was shaky while he felt you start to settle over it, lowering yourself painstakingly slowly.

“That’s it baby, just like that. Oh my-fuh-you’re so damn tight-shit.”

His hand was squeezing roughly on your hip, and somehow you managed not to pull away. Marc wondered if that meant you were getting more adjusted to the pain. Now he could see why Steven was so obsessed with keeping his dick buried deep inside of you as much as possible. Nothing in Marc’s entire life felt so fucking good. He let out a choked sound while burying his face into your sternum, resting both hands on your hips.

“There-there you go-fuck.” He sucked back the saliva that threatened to fall from his lips.

You lowered yourself completely so you were sitting on him, and he was keeping his promise to remain still. That didn’t stop his cock from pulsating inside of you while you rested there. He looked up at you, mouth slackjaw and eyes hooded with arousal. Under different circumstances you might find yourself attracted to him. Instead you were frightened by the sight of him, quickly tucking your face into his neck so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Let me look at you honey. Gotta clean up the marks that Jake left,” he was trying to keep himself level headed, but his voice was rough and wrecked.

You sat back and looked at him. You heard a low roll in his chest accompanied by a twitch of his cock inside of you at the sensation. He looked at your skin with concern stitched in his furrowed brow. He touched one of the bite marks just above your collarbone. You winced and hissed back, reaching a hand up to cover it. Marc let out a breathy rasp at the feeling of you shifting on his member, but he brushed it aside and concentrated on your ailments once more. Marc’s brow turned up. If “I’m sorry,” had a face, it was etched on his expression in that moment.

“I’ll take care of you, okay? You know they only hurt you because they care, right?” He grabbed a soft cloth from the side of the tub and started to wet it in the warm bath water.

You shook your head, “you’re all horrible,” another tear slipped down your face.

“I know it feels that way right now, but if you just relax, and let us take care of you, then you’ll see…everything we do is because we love you.” He touched the towel to your wound, forcing another pained gasp from you, “I’ll always take care of you honey.”

“This isn’t love, it’s insanity,” you corrected him.

You weren’t wrong, it was insane, and Marc knew that, but wasn’t love itself a little crazy? The idea that this unseen thing could bind people so deeply…at least it sounded insane when Marc considered it. You had your eyes closed tightly while he continued to clean you. His arm brushed over your nipple accidentally and he felt your cunt flutter softly in response. He looked up at you, and you finally opened your eyes.

Beautiful.

Without words, he covered your right nipple in his mouth. He was still managing to keep himself from thrusting, despite wanting to so, so desperately. If he could get your sweet cunt to do that again though…oh it felt so fucking good. You let out a quiet and breathy moan. Marc cupped your breast up so he could flick over the peak while looking into your eyes. You still looked like you were in so much pain.

“Relax honey, just enjoy yourself, that’s the only thing you need to do.”

His voice was soothing against your ears. You hated it. You hated that you enjoyed listening to him say nice things to you, you hated that his cock felt good filling you up the way it did, and you hated that you wanted him to put his mouth back over your tit and suck harder. You hated all of it.

“I know you’re still trying to deny your feelings, I understand.” He said as though he’d read your mind. He brushed the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. “The second you give yourself over to us, is when it will all start to feel better. I promise.”

You shook your head, “never gonna give in to you…fucking pigs.”

Marc loved you. He really loved you, but you struck a nerve calling them pigs. He was trying so hard to be patient and kind to you. Didn’t you see that he was the only chance you had at any sort of peace from the otherwise brutal nature the other two harbored? Jake was going to continue to bite and spank you until you were more obedient, and Steven was going to fuck you until their cock fell off, but Marc…Marc was going to be a paradise from all that, and you were being so fucking rude.

He grabbed your jaw in his strong hand, “I’m not the bad guy here honey.” His voice was gruff and raspy while he spoke through clenched teeth, “I’ve been nothing but fucking nice to you, but I can start to be real mean if you want me to be.”

You looked at him with nothing but fear in your eyes. You tried to wriggle away, but his hand on your hip was firm, and the grip on your jaw tightened. Marc breathed out a heavy moan, feeling the way your cunt slid over him in your attempt to get away from. It was intoxicating, the feeling of your walls clenching over his girth. He didn’t thrust, he didn’t, he just slowly pushed your hip down while rolling his own hips upward. It was so slow it could hardly be considered moving, but he felt it.

So did you, and you were ashamed to admit that it felt good. You weren’t going to fuck him, you weren’t, but if you tried to get away from him, surely he’d have to pull you back down…right? You struggled again, trying to get away from him, sliding up to the tip of his length, but he pulled you in tighter, shoving his cock deep into you again. You whined in response, trying to keep yourself from rocking your hips against him. Was there any harm in giving in like he’d suggested? If you were stuck there anyway…

“Fuck honey, can’t hold it in anymore,” he said in a low growl.

Any promise he’d made was tossed out the window as his orgasm took over. He was grunting loud, thrusting harshly upward into your cunt, splitting you open wider one snap of his hips at a time. You held onto him tight, nails digging into his shoulders roughly. A gasp fell from your lips. It hurt being fucked like that again. This time you didn’t even come, and it was clear he was going to make sure you didn’t get that privilege.

“Only good girls get to come,” he said as he came down from his orgasm.

When he was finished using you like the other two often did, he lifted you off his cock and put you down in the tub. It was for the best that you didn’t get to come, at least, that’s what you told yourself while he finished washing you. The ache between your legs was screaming for attention, but you were still determined to keep your composure, not wanting to give in to it. When you were done being washed, you got out of the tub, dried off and walked back to your bed.

Marc didn’t say anything else to you. He was trying to decide how he wanted to approach the situation. He was angry with you and your continued defiance. Maybe he was being too easy on you. Maybe Jake was right in his approach. Marc tried not to be so angry with you, but didn’t you see that he was just trying to love you? It would be so easy for you if you’d just stop fighting and let them treat you like the princess they thought you to be. He’d hoped you would be further along by then, it being a week in already, but it would seem he was mistaken.

You could tell he was upset, and fear coursed through your veins. What if he decided to punish you like Jake did? What if he told Jake about your disobedience? This didn’t look good for you, so you did the only thing you could think of to make him happy. Regardless of whether or not you wanted to avoid him wrongly thinking you were content with your life there, this was about survival.

Marc was about to press his thumb to the thumb print reader by the door when he heard you get off the bed. You grabbed his arm, your fingertips sent an electric current through him where they touched his skin. You looked at him with those big, beautiful eyes he loved so much. They looked like they were twinkling.

“I’m sorry, Marc,” you tried to appear as sincere as possible while looking longingly into his deep brown eyes. “Please don’t let them hurt me, please. I shouldn’t have said that.”

His face slowly lit up, changing from his angry furrowed brow to a softer expression. You felt stiff as you stepped back, eyes darting between his in the hopes that your plea worked. You felt disgusted with yourself, not wanting to make him think you favored him in the slightest, but you didn’t see another option. Your bites and bruises ached just at the thought of Jake’s ‘lessons’.

Marc cupped your cheek, sighing and looking at you affectionately “there’s my good girl. I left you a little something in the stuffed lamb I got you. Just don’t tell the other two, okay?”

You nodded slowly, “thank you,” you gulped, “t-thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome baby.”

----

Inside the lamb, behind the velcro opening, you’d found a small vibrator tucked away in the stuffing. No, you’d thought immediately, refusing at first to let yourself fall into any sort of comfort from the pleasure you knew it would bring you. Marc would be so happy if he thought you were using your vibrator that he got you. He’d think you were becoming more content with your life. You couldn’t let any of them think anything like that.

You kept up that way of thinking, that you were above using such a thing, until Steven was on top of you again, mouthing hungrily at your neck, leaving marks of his own on you. It hurt still, the ache of your hole getting stretched multiple times a day and being filled with copious amounts of his and Jake’s cum. It was getting easier, but the pain was there nonetheless. Marc seemed to keep himself from partaking in what the other two had no qualms in having as much as they could.

It had been two days since your bath, since you'd received the vibrator, and you knew they’d be back soon. They seemed to be out of the house most nights. It had been hours that you were alone and it was getting late. An idea struck you suddenly, a thought that you might be able to dull the ache in some way, assuming they’d want to take you when they got back. The vibrator stuck out when you opened the back of the lamb. It was bright pink against the white stuffing. You pulled it out, and turned it on. It was loud and the vibration was strong. If you could make yourself wet enough, it might hurt less when they had their way with you later.

That was the logic behind you laying back on your bed, legs spread out wide with the strong vibration resting on your clit. It was hard to feel grateful for Marc’s kindness, considering he was part of the reason you were there, one of three parts to be exact, but while you pleasured yourself you couldn’t help thinking of him a little.

You thought about how gentle he was with you in the tub, letting you lower yourself over his cock. He wasn’t like Steven, taking you no matter how hard you cried. Marc was different, but you wondered if that was what made him the most dangerous. He could be the one to make you start getting comfortable, so you vowed to yourself that you’d stay strong, no matter how soft he was with you, or how good he could make you feel.

While you were enjoying your moment of self love, Steven was fighting. They usually fought at night, but at this point Steven was normally home. It seemed to him like there was an influx of crime recently, or maybe he only felt that way because now he had something waiting for him at home and the losers on the streets were keeping him away from you. Either way, doing things the “humane” way was taking too long.

If the fact that he was dependent on Marc, Steven and Jake wasn’t enough, the second reason that Khonshu didn’t care that they were doing something so immoral, was that Steven turned to killing to speed things up. He found that ending the villains who terrorized the streets gave him the ability to finish their work faster, so they could get back to you sooner. Jake liked it too, it meant he and Marc could start killing again without hearing the constant nag of Steven’s good conscience judging him relentlessly.

Your vibe was so loud you didn’t even hear the door unlock. Steven walked in, love-dumb smile plastered on his face until he realized what you were doing. You gasped when you saw him, quickly switching off the toy, sitting up and staring at him wide-eyed. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks immediately while the two of you looked at each other unmoving.

“What a’you doin’ love?”

His white suit was covered all over in blood spatter. You tried to hide the vibrator quickly, as though you weren’t just seconds from mind numbing ecstasy, but he wasn’t dumb. The look on his face turned to one of utter betrayal as he charged forward. You flinched, covering your face in your hands and making yourself as small as possible. He grabbed the pink, plastic thing in his hand.

“Oh no. No, no, no, what is this?” He held up the toy in his hand, turning it around and inspecting it. “Who gave you this? Hm?”

“Steven, calm down, I just gave it to her as an act of goodwill, it’s not a big-“

“Marc…” an annoyed laugh escaped him, sending a chill through your body, “I should’ve known.”

Steven was pissed, to put it lightly. He felt the blood rushing to his cheeks while he tried to keep his composure. He looked down at it, and then back at you. This was unacceptable. How could you do something like that to him? He was right there ready to please you any time you needed. He was a warm body, he knew what you liked, and you would choose this thing over him?

“Look at me…” he spoke coldly.

Knowing the punishment would be worse if you didn’t, you removed your hands from your face and looked at him. You wiped the tears from your eyes, seeing him now standing over you with an abnormally enraged expression. His usual soft and loving gaze was filled with fury, forcing terror to pool in your gut.

“Love, why would you ever use something like this? Huh? What do you need this for when you’ve got me?” His expression shifted, he looked hurt.

“I’m sorry, please I’m so sorry I thought it was okay because-“

“It’s not!” He shouted, forcing you to flinch. “S’not ok. I’m better than any piece of fuckin’ plastic aren’t I? Don’t I make you feel good?”

Now you were starting to understand why Marc told you to keep your little toy a secret. You’d never seen Steven so upset, so angry. This was an anger born from deep betrayal, he was hurt. Knowing that he was probably going to bring Jake in to punish you, you decided to be proactive to show your willingness to behave. You could only hope that he would spare you.

Steven, despite his frustration with you, felt the nagging of arousal in his pants as your gaze fell on his groin. Your little hand reached up and brushed over the fabric covering his bulge, involuntarily Steven’s hips moved forward, chasing your touch. You looked up at him with those big eyes, desperation etched in every pore of your face.

“Darling,” Steven’s face softened a little. He cupped your chin roughly in his gloved, bloody hand. “I love you with all my heart, but you’ve really disappointed me today. I need you to know that.”

You felt the panic rushing through your body in a wave. With trembling hands you reached for the button of his pants, but he stepped back. Was he not going to let you please him? Was he not going to let you apologize in the way you knew he’d like? He must’ve been furious with you, more angry than you’d originally anticipated.

“No, no, no…if you think this thing is so wonderful, maybe I ought to give it a go, yeah?” Steven’s lips were curled into a frown, “you just sit there, and watch, and if I see you look elsewhere, we’re going to have an even bigger problem, love.”

He kept the vibrator in his hand while he undid his pants and pushed them down to his mid-thigh. His fat cock bounced as it was freed from the confines of his boxer-briefs. You gulped, watching him intently. You were determined to behave, not wanting to incite more anger from him than you already had. He turned on the toy, and the loud hum filled the room once more.

“There, let’s see what’s so special about this bloody thing.” He pressed it to the underside of his cock and immediately you saw his body tense. “Oh shit.”

“Steven, what's the plan?” Marc asked, tone riddled with nervousness, knowing that Steven could be unpredictable if provoked, “I’m not gonna let you hurt her, you need to just calm down.”

“Well love, this does feel rather good, I wouldn’t lie to you.” He kept his darkened eyes on you. “Doesn’t feel as good as your warm little cunt though.”

Steven was getting hot so he removed his coat quickly and brought the vibe back to his cock. He slid it back and forth from his balls to his leaking head. The slit in his tip was dripping so much there was a small wet spot on the floor below. You were watching like he’d demanded, and he could see you pressing your legs together tightly.

There was a burning in your groin. The sound of the vibrator mixed with the sight of Steven’s weeping erection was forcing your own arousal to build. You…you wanted him. There was no way you’d admit it, but you could feel it like an itch demanding to be scratched. You needed to feel his cock filling you again. Out of everything you’d been through, that feeling alone was what scared you the most. The moment you became content in your situation was the moment that you signed yourself over to this place being your future. You couldn’t let that happen.

“It’s my fault she has that thing in the first place, just let her apologize and move on.”

Steven was tuning him out and instead put all his focus on the delicious feeling of the vibe rolling over his length. Nothing would replace the way your warm, wet walls made him feel, but this did feel good. He saw you shifting uncomfortably, and he recognized that look in your eye.

“Oh, look at…ah-damn…look at you. I can see how worked up you’re getting darling.” He wiped away some spit that dribbled onto his chin. “Bet you’d like to feel me now, yeah?”

The feeling of the vibrator was causing his cock to twitch.

“You better teach her well amigo, teach her like I do.” Jake murmured.

Against your better judgment, you couldn’t hold back any longer. You needed some friction between your legs. You tried to be inconspicuous, bringing both of your hands to your tightly clenched thighs, making it look like you were just cold and trying to warm your hands.

Steven wasn’t stupid.

He snickered, “oh, you look rather pathetic right now don’t you?” He groaned, hips still churning over the noisy toy. “So needy, but you don’t get to have your way. You don’t get to hurt me like you did and still get to feel good.”

He stepped forward on shaking legs and wrapped his fingers around your throat. Steven felt you gulp underneath his palm. You brought both hands to his forearm, holding tightly. You had a beautiful look of terror in your eyes that brought him right to the edge. He squeezed tighter.

“I’m going to come love. I’m gonna-and then-I’m-you’re gonna-mm-so pretty-so pretty-ahh!”

You watched as Steven’s head fell back and thick white ropes spilled from the slit of his head. He was holding the vibrator in a way that most of his spend landed on the plastic casing. His body twitched when the feeling became oversensitive. He pulled the vibe off his length. Steven looked back down at you, face softer than before now that he was satisfied. He looked at the toy in his hand and then at you once more.

“Open your mouth, love.”

Steven watched as you slowly parted your precious lips. He put the vibe in your mouth, rolling it over your tongue.

“Clean it all up darling, be good f’me now. Maybe if you do well I’ll be less harsh when I give you your lesson…maybe.”

You closed your mouth over the toy, bobbing your head to collect every bit of cum that he coated it with. You parted your lips again, showing him that you were willing to drag your tongue over every bit to do a good job. You even leaned forward, taking the stray bits that had landed on his bloody glove into your mouth and swallowing. When you looked up at him, he seemed more than pleased.

“Wow, you’re absolutely perfect, love. I know this was an honest mistake right? You didn’t mean to upset me.”

“Of course not, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, Steven.” You hoped the pleading look was enough to help him understand how apologetic you truly were.

“Oh my sweet darling.” He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “I love you more than anything, and I truly wish that I could just let it go, but…” you watched, dumbfounded, as Steven took the toy between his two hands and snapped as though it were a thin little twig, “…I still have to teach you a lesson, are you going to be good f’me now?”

Your bottom lip quivered when you thought about how upset Marc would be when he saw you’d failed to keep your little secret from the other two. You wondered if he would want to punish you too. Of course you hadn’t meant to get caught with it, and you didn’t realize that Steven would’ve been so upset if he saw you using it. Running wasn’t an option now, it never was, so you saw no other choice than to nod and obey Steven’s commands.

“Yes,” you nodded, “I’ll…I’ll be good.”

A sadistic grin spread over his face. You watched him roll his sleeves up just above his elbows on either side. He walked over to the foot of the bed, you rotated to keep your front facing him at all times. One of his hands rested on his hips and he beckoned you forward.

“Come.”

You didn’t like being called like a dog, but you obeyed anyway, crawling to the edge of the mattress and then sitting back on your heels. Steven looked satisfied with your willingness to follow his instructions so far, though he’d only asked for so little. You were trying to stop your body from shaking but you couldn’t.

“Turn around and get on all fours.” He demanded.

No good could come from turning your back on him. At least when you faced him you could see the blows coming. Steven had never hurt you, nor had he ever treated you this way, so you weren’t sure what to expect. You turned slowly, propping yourself up on your hands and knees. You then felt something cold and metal touch your right side. You flinched away, but Steven had a firm grip on your left hip, holding you in place.

“Now, I won’t lie to you my love, this is gonna hurt…probably a lot…but it’s the only way you’ll learn.” You felt a soft tap on your rear from the metal, “move forward a bit, make room f’me.”

You complied, and then felt the bed shift behind you. It felt like he was playing with a steel pole on your back, rolling it from your shoulders all the way back to your rear like a massage tool. It felt nice, but you knew it was only temporary. The next time you felt the pole it was painful, striking against your left asscheek harshly. You wailed, falling forward onto the bed, feeling sobs start to overwhelm you immediately.

“Come back up here, come on!” Steven was yelling loudly, “not done yet love, don’t make me ask you again, keep yourself up. S’not that bad. I’ve seen Jake do worse.”

You gathered yourself, going back on all fours like he wanted. You saw the stuffed lamb Marc had given you just an arms length in front of you. You reached for it, hoping Steven wouldn’t protest. The plush toy felt comforting as you leaned down and held it close, making sure to still keep your ass in the air. Steven slid his hand over your sore cheek forcing a wince and a hiss from your lips.

“Yes love, hold on tight to that little thing Marc gave you. He’s so nice to you isn’t he? Maybe that’s why you thought you’d get away with somethin’ like this. He’s too soft on you.”

“Someone’s gotta be nice to her. You two don’t give her a chance to fuckin’ breathe,” Marc spoke up in his defense.

Another whack from the metal pole had you screaming and holding onto the stuffed lamb for dear life. You never thought that Steven, out of the three, would be the one to do this to you. Jake made perfect sense, he was dark, cold, and threatening. Marc could be harsh and clearly had a knack for discipline in his own right, but Steven…Steven had always been affectionate, in his own way…until now.

“Wanna hear you say you’re sorry love, tell me how sorry you are for hurtin’ me like that.” He used the baton to hit your side now, right along your ribcage. “Say it,” he spoke in a threatening tone.

“I’m sorry!” You screamed through your sobs, “I’m so sorry!”

“Can see why Jake likes this so much, all those pretty sounds you make…” he forced his cock into you so suddenly that you pushed yourself up on your arms in surprise, “fuckin’ hell. Keep cryin’ darling, keep begging me to-oh my God-keep beggin’ me to stop. Can’t get enough of how it sounds.”

He hit you again. Steven knew he should feel bad, but he couldn’t help the way your pained noises seemed to permeate his ears and peak his arousal. Even more, he was still angry about the vibrator, and wanted to make sure you never thought about betraying him like that again. Your cunt clenched over him the next time he gave you a swift crack against your side. You fell forward again.

“I’m sorry Steven, I mean it. I’ll never touch myself again without your permission, I’ll never do anything like that-ah!” You were interrupted by a blow to the left side.

You felt something warm drop on your lesser used hole. Spit, you thought. He didn’t have to tell you, you knew what he was going to do. The cold pole pressed against your tight ring of muscle. You relaxed, trying to make it less painful, but it didn’t matter how prepared you were, he was going in. You expected to feel nothing but agony when he stuffed the baton into your hole, but to your surprise it felt…good.

Steven noticed the change in you immediately. He felt the way you started to rock your hips back on your own over his cock and the pole he’d pushed deep into your ass. You stopped crying, and your cries were replaced by deep, guttural moans that filled the room. He’d never heard you like this and the sounds excited him more than he could fathom.

“Gonna have to try something like that myself, listen to her…” Jake sounded needy, which Steven didn’t like. It meant his time was running out.

You clutched the bedding in one hand and still held the stuffed toy in the other. His cock filled you up, and the pole made your brain stop functioning almost completely. You’d become so mentally numb that your mouth was stuck gaping and drooling into the lamb.

“Oh darling, that feels good dunnit?”

He didn’t need to hear you say, yes. Your screaming, moaning cry was more than enough to satisfy his question. He looked down, seeing the way your holes were stretched out in their dual penetration made his cock twitch inside of you. He watched your tight rim as it clenched around the pole at the same time your cunt throbbed over his girth. You fell forward again, and when Steven nearly felt himself slip out he’d had enough.

“Alright, open.” He demanded, pulling the pole from your rear.

You whined at the sudden empty feeling. You knew when he said open, he could only be talking about your mouth. You did as you were told, parting your lips. He brought the pole down to your open jaw.

“Cover your pretty little teeth love, or they’re gonna break,” he warned in a dark tone.

He gave you hardly any time to comply before he put the baton in your mouth horizontally and pulled back. He gripped the pole tightly with both hands like handlebars, holding you in place. It gave him the perfect leverage to fuck into you relentlessly without slipping out. This was the most brilliant idea Steven thought he ever had.

“There you go love, made myself a little toy out of you.” His voice was rough while he continued his unforgiving pace. “How do you like that, yeah? You like bein’ my little toy?”

You sobbed, feeling pain in your jaw from the pressure the pole put on you.

“If you choose a stupid-shit-oh-God-stupid toy over me again, I’ll make this pussy into my personal f-fuck toy.” He grunted, pounding harder. “Would you like that? Hm? Treat you like an object instead of the love of my life? Wouldn’t that hurt your feelings darling?”

Despite the agonizing way the pole stretched your lips out, you were close to climax. He was fucking you so hard, and something about the possessive way he called you his toy made your body feel hot. You relaxed into it, finally taking a moment to experience the pleasure of his ownership, and all at once the wave melted over you. Your deep moans filled the room while you came around his thick cock, arching your back as much as you could to feel him deeper.

Steven felt you clenching around him tightly. Your poor body was so weak, he could tell by the way you fell limp so soon after you came. Even with the pole holding you up, you dropped. He tossed it aside with a clank on the floor. Now he was there, sitting back and grabbing your hips tightly, continuing to fuck you roughly. He wondered if you fainted, your body wasn’t moving. It didn’t matter to him, he was going to fill you like you were made to take every last drop of him…and to Steven you were.

His hips came to a stop against your rear, hot white spurts of his seed shot into you. Seeing it fill you up so much it started leaking out the sides was Steven’s greatest pleasure. Your swollen and puffy hole was so beautiful with it split over him he could stare at it for hours. He pulled out of you and watched his spend trickle out onto the bedding. You started to fall over, onto your side, so he let you, now feeling a little concerned with the clarity washing over him.

“Love.” Steven shook you, but you weren’t moving and your eyes remained closed.

“Steven what the hell did you do?” Marc sounded furious.

“Everyone just stay calm, I’m sure she’s f-fine just takin’ a little rest is all…right Jake?” Steven’s body was trembling.

Jake took over, immediately feeling for your pulse. He slumped over, satisfied when the thump of your heart was there. He ran a hand over his face and huffed out a weary sigh. You were just resting, something you clearly needed after everything they continued to put you through. Jake retracted the suit completely, grabbed the broken pieces of the vibrator off the floor and left you in peace.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t really mean to hurt her, I was just…she was just…I mean she made me do it! How could she use that-”

“Enough!” Jake shouted when he got to the living room. He looked in the mirror, a three paneled piece they used so they could all “see” each other while they talked. “She’s been fairly well behaved, despite recent events.” He looked at the panel Steven was occupying. “I think it’s time we discuss giving her some more…freedom…what do you two think?”

Series Masterlist - Moodboard

Moon Knight Masterlist

663 notes · View notes

gyuswhore · 1 month

Text

.ᐟ Gyuswhore's 1st Anniversary Celebration .ᐟ

It's nearly been a year since I started posting my writing on this blog (!!!) and I cannot thank all of you enough for being part of this adventure and giving me so much love for my craft. Here's to many many more years of writing and interacting with all of you 🫶!

To celebrate I've planned a little event, I hope lots of you will participate bc I will cry if this flops lol. Please read below for more info!

.ᐟ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 .ᐟ

(limited slots)

╰➤ Pick a prompt from this sfw prompt list or this nsfw prompt list + a member (see below for what groups I will write for). Feel free to mix and match the prompts!

╰➤ One piece of writing per ask (since slots are limited please do not double request!)

╰➤ Writing's will be at least 500 words, but I may go further if I'm inspired enough

╰➤ Groups that I will write for include: Seventeen and NCT (I am partial to Jaehyun and Jeno lol)

.ᐟ 𝑮𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 .ᐟ

(unlimited)

╰➤Ask me questions about myself (my favourite colour, my opinions on something, literally anything go ham)

╰➤Ask me questions about posted (or unposted) fics

╰➤ Describe your personality (in detail pls if you aren't a moot!) and I'll match you with a member! (pls specify which group)

╰➤ Give me a colour/aesthetic + a member and I'll make you a moodboard!

╰➤ Describe your personality/aesthetic and I'll assign you a painting (or another piece of art)!

╰➤ Feel free to send multiple! But pls send them in separate asks!

.ᐟ 𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔 .ᐟ

╰➤ PLEASE refer to this post for my general blog rules (I know it says I don't take requests, pls ignore that I'm only taking requests for this event)

╰➤ Please give some kind of reference towards the event in your ask so I don't end up deleting it on accident.

╰➤ The event will run for almost a month, the last date to send your entry is the 20th of April. Any asks sent in relation to the event after this date will be deleted immediately.

╰➤ I will not start replying to asks until after the 20th! Please don't think I'm ignoring you, I'm just knee deep in uni work and will not have time until then.

╰➤ All posts in relation to the event will be tagged #🎁gyuswhoreturns1!

83 notes · View notes

sailor-aviator · 3 months

Text

Hanging By a Moment: Chapter Two

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Taking place directly after the events of "Don't Hang'em Til Noon," this series follows more of Jake and Scout as they traverse life in the New Mexico territories. Isaac Cassidy's posse is still hanging about, stirring up trouble in the name of their fallen leader. Additionally, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and your brother, Benjamin, have established rights to a gold mine that's now drawing in more and more unsavory characters. Will you have what it takes to survive the growing danger?

Trigger Warnings: Talk of mining, Talk of gold, Mentions of blood, Mentions of Isaac Cassidy, Feelings of being watched, Fluff, Romance, like a disgusting amount of flirting and pining, idiots in love. I think that's everything, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 3.0k

Masterlist || DPU Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist 1 || Playlist 2 || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

The air inside the assembly hall was heavy with rapt attention as the townsfolk fixed their gazes upon the three men on stage. You noticed Maverick shifting ever so slightly on his feet, a show of nerves that seemed so out of character for the man. Pete “Maverick” Mitchell may be the mayor, but he was a quiet man - a characteristic you had been told was earned with age and years of responsibility thrust upon him. His lips twitched in a nervous smile that didn’t go unnoticed by you as his eyes flickered across the crowd, meeting your own before flitting away to look at someone else.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why we’ve asked you to gather here today,” he said finally, tone clear and even, showing no hint of the nerves he was feeling in the moment. He took a half step back, angling his body to face the unknown man at his side. Your eyes shifted to the right to study him.

He was a tall man with a slim build that hinted at a muscular physique in his youth. Wrinkles littered his face much like Maverick and Iceman’s, though his hair was a stark white in comparison to Maverick’s graying black. His face was stern but not unkind, the look of a man who meant business but who might also have fun at your expense. His demeanor was relaxed as his eyes flickered to Maverick’s before facing back forward.

“Allow me to introduce a long-time friend of mine that’s been helping us Benjamin and myself out with our little project,” Maverick began again, hand raised towards the stranger. “This here is Ron Kerner. Some of you might recognize him from way back in the day before he set up shop in San Francisco. He’s been kind enough to make his way here to help us set up shop.”

“Set up shop for what, Maverick?” Someone hollered out, causing a wave of murmured agreement to ripple through the crowd.

“Right,” he sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck, a frown pulling on his lips. “You know everything I do is to try and do right by the good people of this town. I wouldn’t have pursued this if I didn’t think it was something worth doing, you all know that.”

“Get on with it!”

Several murmurs of agreement floated around the crowd, and Maverick grimaced, eyes shifting towards Benjamin for assistance. Benjamin stood up a little taller, walking to stand next to the older man and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he addressed the crowd.

“What Maverick is trying to say,” he began, “is that there is an investment opportunity. An opportunity for jobs and a boost to our fine town’s economy. It’s hit several towns and areas in the west, drawing more and more people with each passing day. It is the thing which all men seek. Ladies and gentlemen, I mean to say that there is gold here in Maverick.”

The entire assembly hall broke into excited chattering, and your eyebrows shot up onto your forehead. Birdie drew in an excited breath as she clutched at your arm, her other clutching Bunny’s.

“Gold?” She murmured, eyes darting excitedly to you as she squirmed in her seat. “That’s good news right?”

You weren’t so sure. Gold was a risky business at the best of times, and from the mutterings you had managed to overhear at Hondo’s store the past couple of weeks, the local farmers were worried that it was shaping up to be another exceptionally dry summer. The last few summers had been mild, from the sounds of it, but the older men in town were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Jake and the other Daggers had told you stories about growing up with the last major drought that had occurred, eyes looking towards a distant past that spoke of hunger and loss.

“Everyone, please!” Benjamin called out, voice barely being heard above the crowd. He raised his hands high to try and draw attention to himself, but let them drop in defeat when the noise only grew louder. A shrill whistle echoed through the room, several people wincing at the intrusive noise as all eyes turned to the far corner where Sheriff Kazansky leaned against the wall. He let his fingers drop from his lips as he crossed his arms, settling back with an unamused scowl towards the people gathered.

“The sooner you let the man talk,” he groused, “the sooner your questions can be answered. It’s like you folks ain’t never heard of gold before for pete’s sake.”

The crowd slowly turned back around, looking much like a giant group of reprimanded children. A smile tugged on your lips as you caught Ice’s gaze from across the room. His scowl shifted into a warm smile as he looked at you, shooting you a quick wink before nodding back towards the stage. You bowed your head before adhering to his silent request, catching Benjamin’s thankful smile towards the older man.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” he murmured. “As I was saying, yes. Gold has been found in the area, and with Mr. Kerner’s help, we’ve been able to set up mining operations outside of town and establish rights to the gold in the area. Those of you who wish to try your luck at panning or mining will need to first apply for a permit. You can do so by seeing me or Maverick here, and we can help you with the paperwork.”

You tuned out the rest, allowing your thoughts to wander as your brother droned on and answered questions from the crowd. You had heard talk about the shady characters that a gold rush tended to attract, the types of crimes they committed. The town of Maverick wasn’t crime free, you knew that better than anyone, but there was an unspoken rule amongst the people you called neighbors: protect your own.

You had gained the trust of the locals only a month prior when you had saved Jake from swinging from the gallows - something that was more for your benefit than for theirs, but it had won you their respect and gratitude nonetheless.

So lost in thought, you hadn’t noticed when you had twisted around to look at the outlaw in question, your brow furrowed into a faraway glare that had him raising an eyebrow at you. You snapped out of it when he made his way past the few people standing in the aisle of the packed assembly hall, crouching down beside you. The smell of clean linen and faint tobacco permeated the surrounding air, and you let out a quiet hum at the familiar smell.

“Normally I know what you’re glaring at me for, honey girl,” he whispered, a hand coming up to rest on the back of your chair as he shot you a curious look, smirk barely contained. “But I’m afraid you’re going to have to clue me in on this one.”

You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from him to look back up at the stage.

“I wasn’t meaning to,” you confessed, lips pulling back into a grimace.

“What’s eatin’ away at you?”

“Perhaps you just have that effect on me,” you challenged with a smirk, sparing him a glance. A lascivious grin spread across his face as he leaned in closer.

“I think I have a lot of effects on you, pretty girl,” he teased, running his eyes up and down your figure, causing your cheeks to heat with anticipation. Birdie cleared her throat, drawing both of your attentions to her. She raised an eyebrow at the two of you before turning her gaze pointedly to the surrounding crowd. Your cheeks were heated for a different reason this time, and you noticed Jake’s cheeks dusted a light pink as well when you peered at him.

“Sorry, miss,” Jake murmured, shooting her an apologetic smile before looking back at you with a shameless wink. You rolled your eyes, staring back at the stage pointedly. Jake stood, shifting his weight onto the foot closest to you, but making no move to leave his new spot. You could feel the eyes on you two, most of them coming from the direction of a certain group of girls. You paid them no mind, allowing your thoughts to wander back to the dangers of allowing gold mining within the town of Maverick.

Would it boost the local economy? Most assuredly. Was that worth the shady characters that would come crawling in from whichever city they left behind? That remained to be seen. The violence and crime was already something you had learned to live with, to deal with on your own even, but that familiarity had come at a price, and your fingers itched with the phantom blood you could still feel dripping from the tips, Isaac Cassidy’s pitch black eyes still boring into you from beyond the grave.

It startled you when people began to move around you, voices ringing out as the townfolk made to leave. A hand appeared in your line of sight, and you looked up to see Jake giving you a soft smile as he waited for you to collect yourself. Shoving aside the sick feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, you took his hand, feeling an instant sense of release to know that he was still safe, still with you.

“I have to talk to your brother about some things,” he told you, pulling you to your feet gently. “Wait for me by the door? It shouldn’t take but a minute.”

“I’ll be counting,” you told him, a teasing lilt to your tone as you squeezed his hand. He chuckled, eyes sparkling with what you could only describe as adoration. His hand lingered in yours for a moment longer before finally letting go, eyes never leaving you as he backed up towards the stage. You chuckled, shaking your head, only turning when Birdie brushed up against you.

“You’ve got that man wrapped around your little finger,” she giggled. You raised an eyebrow at her, eyes darting to Bunny who gave you a knowing look.

“Don’t even try to argue,” the saloon girl said with a roll of her eyes. “Everyone here knows it. Even those girls who haven’t stopped glaring at you since Seresin came sauntering down the aisle.”

She gestured behind her, and sure enough, the group of girls were shooting you daggers as they whispered amongst each other. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead turning back to your friends.

“I don’t know what you two are talking about,” you retorted, clasping your hands in front of you as the three of you began up the aisle. Birdie let out a rather indignant and unladylike squawk at your words, eyes growing wide in protest.

“You can’t be serious!” She exclaimed. You pursed your lips, eyes darting to the back wall.

“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of,” you began, a smile tugging on your lips, “but if I’m guilty, then so are the two of you.”

“Can we walk you two home?”

Bob stopped in front of your little group, Bradley not far behind him, and you took a step back to gesture at your two friends.

“By all means, gentlemen,” you smiled, earning a pair of matching glares from your friends.

“This isn’t over!” Birdie hissed as Bradley laid a gentle hand on the small of her back just as Bob offered his arm to Bunny. Both girls gave you pointed looks before allowing themselves to be led out of the building, the last of the chatter in the entrance hall leaving with them.

It had been fifteen minutes, and you were beginning to grow impatient. Shooting a glare at one of the doors leading into the assembly hall, you could hear the group of men erupting into laughter. You huffed, pacing back and forth in front of the entryway. What on earth could they possibly be talking about?

“I need some air,” you muttered to yourself, the leftover heat from so many bodies gathered in one space causing your head to feel light. You pushed the door open, sighing in relief as the cool, night air engulfed you. The sweat clinging to your skin added another layer of relief as you stood in the middle of the street, head leaned back and eyes closed.

Soon, the summertime would be here again, and you grimaced at the thought of the sticky heat that would cling to you with little to no relief available. You truly hated the heat.

You allowed yourself to relax in your moment of solitude, arms stretched wide as you twirled in the dirt road, a smile once again gracing your face. Life out in the west had started rough for you, no one could argue that, but you had managed to survive and even find a place for yourself here with the help of your newfound loved ones. Of course, there had been a rough patch in the middle there, but you had overcome it, coming out stronger in the end and even earning yourself a little nickname from the locals: Priest.

“I don’t get it,” you had frowned, staring at the barmaid in front of you. Bunny let out a sigh as she placed the mug down, placing both hands on the bar as she stared at you.

“It’s because of the way you made Isaac confess to everything,” she explained, cocking her head to the side. “And the way you brought him to his knees, begging for mercy.”

“He didn’t beg for mercy,” you scowled. “Who’s saying that? That’s not true at all!”

“It doesn’t matter,” the other girl had sighed. “That’s what story is making the rounds, and that’s the one that’s gonna stick, Scout. Just let it happen because it’s going to whether you approve of it or not.”

You still thought it was silly, quite frankly, but you had let it go. You had even gotten better at holding back your eye rolls every time you heard someone refer to you with that nickname.

An odd feeling overcame you, pulling you back into the current moment. Your arms dropped down to your sides as you opened your eyes, gaze flickering around the empty streets before landing on a figure hiding in the shadows just two streets down. Your heart stopped at the unexpected sight, eyes narrowing to try and make out who it was. He was a man of average height, and you could just barely make out the few features on his bearded face. You were sure you recognized the man who stood there watching you. His face was unreadable, intensely so as he stared at you, hands in his pockets. Before you could call out to him, the door to city hall opened behind you and you turned with a jump.

Jake trotted down the few stairs, a scowl on his face as he took in the sight of you alone.

“I thought I told you to wait for me by the entrance?” He asked, stopping in front of you with his hands on his hips.

“I did,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a matching scowl. “That was twenty minutes ago.”

A sheepish look crossed over his face, and he hunched his shoulders as he looked at you.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered. “We lost track of the time.”

You hummed, turning your gaze back down the street towards where the man had been standing, only now he was gone. You frowned, brow pinching as you tried to think of where you knew him from.

“What is it?” Jake asked, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. You shook your head.

“It’s nothing,” you sighed, placing your arms around his shoulders as he swayed the two of you in place. “Just thought I saw something.”

“Your eyes must be playing tricks on you,” he murmured, leaning forward to rest his head against yours. He gave you a suggestive smirk. “You must be tired. We should get you back home and in bed.”

“I feel that it’s in my best interest to inform you that I will be going to bed alone tonight,” you told him, earning a pout from the blond.

“Haven’t you ever heard that doing things together is much more fun than doing things by yourself?” He retorted.

“And haven’t you ever heard of not taking advantage of a lady?” You shot back, an eyebrow raised at him. He tossed his head back into a cackle, leaning back forward with a grin.

“Honey girl, you and I both know that you take advantage of me plenty,” he chuckled, rubbing his nose against yours.

“I do no such thing!” You argued, pouting up at him. He huffed a laugh before placing a brief kiss against your lips.

“Sure you don’t,” he responded, the grin never leaving his face. “So what would you call the other day when I was working hard on your brother’s ranch and you practically tackled me in the barn to-”

“Jacob Seresin, don’t you dare finish that sentence,” you scowled. His grin grew impossibly larger as he squeezed you tighter against him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, green eyes growing soft as they took you in. One of his hands ran up your side and stopped to cup your cheek, thumb running gently over the skin there. You basked in the attention he showed you, eyes fluttering shut as you took the time to absorb the moment.

“Jake?”

“Yes, honey girl?”

“Hurry up and propose to me,” you stated, eyes opening to find his soft expression mix with one of utter amusement.

“Can’t rush these things, darlin’,” he said, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Want it to be perfect for you.”

You let out a sigh, pursing your lips in impatience. Jake chuckled at your put out expression, pulling away just enough to direct you towards the way home.

“All in good time, honey girl,” he rasped, squeezing your hip. “All in good time.”

A/N: And we're back with the DPU! Friendly reminder that I am doing away with my tag list and using my side blog: @sailoraviator-library for update notifications! Just follow that blog and turn on post notifications if you'd like to be notified of all updates! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I also post updates on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator if you'd like to check me out there as well. Until next time!

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun hangman

115 notes · View notes

dbnightingale24 · 1 month

Text

My Little Decoy

A StevexReaderxBucky Messy Triangle

Another story for Patreon! So, for this one, I'm a bit anxious (when am I not?), because this definitely took off in the complete opposite direction of what I initially planned. That being said, I hope you all enjoy it!

Thank you as always to @fuckingbye for the amazing moodboard, I love you to bits for literally everything you do! I was in the middle of updating three other stories when this idea came to me, so please just work with me! (I'm so sorry I'm like this.)

Anywho, here we go!

Word Count: 34,776 (I'm not even gonna apologize anymore)

Warnings: Honestly, this entire fucking story. SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY), Threesome, Lying, Infidelity, Emotional Cheating, Swearing, Drinking, Infertility, Family Drama, Angst, Lusting, Daddy Kink, Running Away, Tie Play, Cuff Play, Crying, Fluff, Best friends to lovers...that's all I can think of? They're honestly so many.

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: Don't Look So Blue, You Should've Seen Right Thru, I'm Using You, My Little Decoy

Summary: You truly do have the best intentions when you try to move on and suppress your feelings for your best friend Steve, and try to move on with Bucky. Unfortunately, life doesn't give a damn about intentions. Neither does love.

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to get posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

You wonder how the hell it got to this point in the first place as you lay in Steve’s soft bed sheets. What feels like it should be a quiet moment of peace is juxtaposed with your current reality; Bucky pounding on the front door and you and Steve conspiring to think of some kind- any kind- of excuse.

You truly don’t understand how it got to this.

It all feels like it started so long ago. You didn’t even know 6 years could feel so fast, much less pass so quickly. You look around at where you are now, at Steve, as you listen to the shaking of the front door against Bucky’s fist as he continues thumping away. Fuck. What if memories lie? Maybe it is that long ago.

6 Years Earlier...

“Babe, you ever had a night out in the city?” Bucky asked as you took off your gear.

Training was brutal and everyone was looking for a way to relieve stress. You knew The Avengers were all planning to meet up at some club downtown, but you had other plans.

“I have, and as much fun as it can be, I have other plans,” you laugh as you take your hair out of the tightest ponytail you’d ever had it in.

“Oh? What are you getting into?” Natasha laughs, making her way over with Bruce holding onto her as if he’d lose her.

“My friend’s band is playing tonight. I promised her I’d go if we finished up early enough.”

“Oh, this I gotta see!” Bruce chimes in as you laugh and shake your head. “You never let us have a peak into your personal life!”

“God, I haven’t been to a show in forever,” Natasha chimes in with raised eyebrows.

He wasn’t wrong. You played everything so close to the chest; wanting to keep those you love and care for the most safe...wanting to keep yourself safe. Since none of them were relenting (not to mention they’re the damn Avengers), you finally agreed and told them to meet you outside of your room at the compound in about two hours.

“Is it too late for me to get in on this?” Steve asks just as the group was about to disperse.

“There you are!” Bucky interjects before anyone has a chance to say anything. “Y/N is giving us a peak into her personal life! We’re all meeting at her place in two hours and going from there,” he laughs patting his best friend on the back.

Steve looked at you with a cocked eyebrow and you just laugh and nod, giving him the ‘OK’ to tag along. Unbeknownst to the others, you and Steve hung out the most. No, he’d never been privy to your personal life, but you two spent a lot of time watching movies and listening to music together on the weekends. Occasionally, Bucky would get in on the action, but it was mainly you and Steve. You and Steve had a certain level of comfort that you didn’t have with the rest of them. It was more of an unspoken, private thing and that’s how the both of you preferred it. You both understood each other, and neither of you ever made the other feel sad or out of place for things that had gone wrong in each other’s past. You both had wounds you were still healing from, and you gave each other the space needed for that to happen.

You’d always had a thing for Steve. He kept himself at a distance, so it was difficult for you to tell if he ever felt the same. After a while, you’d stopped trying and just accepted him as a friend. He told you that he’d wanted to go back and stay with Peggy, but he was too afraid to leave Bucky on his own again, so he’d come back instead. He wasn’t even sure if Bucky would ever be okay with being alone; Steve just stayed without asking him. It seemed like the right thing to do, and he didn’t hate the current timeline too much.

Soon enough, everyone is in your small little complex, drinking and laughing as you put together the last bit of your outfit. The thought of Steve joining all of you had you more anxious than you cared to admit, so you chalked it up to the normal anxiety of inviting your work colleagues into your personal life.

Which was more than fair.

“I’m sure you look amazing, lets go! I’m too excited for this!” Natasha hollers as she makes her way into your bedroom.

“Nat!”

“Oh, they’re all in there drinking away! You’re fine,” she laughs, closing the door behind her. “Well shit!”

“I swear to God, I’ll change right now!”

“No! You look amazing!” she promised as her hands covered her mouth. “None of us have ever seen you out of work clothes, and babe...you look amazing,” she laughs in shock.

“Should I change? I don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea-”

“If you’re comfortable, who cares. No one wants to interfere with your personal life. I think we’re all more afraid of pushing you away,” she laughs.

“You really think it’s okay?”

“I mean, I think you’re hot as fuck,” she laughed as you rolled your eyes, “but I think you look amazing.”

“You sure?”

“Get enough alcohol in them , they won’t even notice when you leave for the bathroom,” she laughed.

Even though you laughed along with her, you knew better. James Buchanan Barnes kept his attention on you almost as well as Steve, but you never thought anything of it. It always had a more platonic feeling than with Steve, almost more familial.

When you came out, Steve was the first to look at you. His mouth slightly agape was enough to make you wanna go back, but Bucky was quick to chime in-

“Someone is ready for a night out,” he laughed.

That’s all it took.

Soon enough, you were taking shots and laughing with everyone else. Even Pepper and Tony were excited and joined you all. Your life was something so foreign to them, and you could tell that they all felt extremely excited that you trusted them enough.

In all honesty, you felt more comfortable because Steve was there. You knew he’d never let anything happen to you, and you’d never let anything happen to him. If you were being completely honest, you’d only wanted to invite him out. How it spiraled, you’re still not sure but it did. It The only thing that felt off was letting him see you dressed as you were. It was weird for all of them to see you dressed as you were, but Steve couldn’t take his eyes off you.

You were in red plaid crop top, with tight fighting black jeans that hugged your hips in just the right way, and black low top heels. You put your hair in loose curls, and finished it off with eyeliner and mascara. After a brutal day of training, you really didn’t wanna spend forever doing your makeup, because you knew you’d wanna come home after everything was over and go right back to sleep. Yeah, everything was hugging your body in just the right way, but you weren’t about to change.

You were introducing them to your life.

Before you all left, Thor filled three flasks with his mead from Asgard for himself, Steve, and Bucky and you laughed pretty damn hard.

“We wanna enjoy this night too,” he winked at you as you rolled your eyes.

The walk was easy enough, but it felt like it took forever. People kept asking for pictures with the OG Avengers, they had a million questions, and of course they were all happy to be as kind as possible. It’s not that you minded all that much, but you really missed your best friend. Work had been kicking your ass, she had been extremely busy, and was in the middle of planning her wedding. Nights off were extremely rare, but actually getting to see her and her friends perform? It had been forever.

“You made it!” she squealed once you were finally inside the club with everyone, almost knocking you over with how hard she hugged you.

“I told you I’d show! Even if I would’ve only caught the last song,” you laughed as you hugged her back just as tight. “We still on for drinks after?”

“Fuck yes! Your tits look amazing in this top, we’re definitely getting free drinks out of it,” she beamed with a wink and you burst out laughing. “Okay, I’ve seen all of you on TV, but I still wanna officially meet everyone,” she smiled at everyone. “I’m Meg.”

As everyone went around introduced themselves, you made your way to the bar, to grab your signature Jack and Coke.

“Hell yes! You made it!” Meg’s finance, Paul, beamed as he made your drink.

“Why is everyone so shocked that I’m here?!”

“You haven’t been to a show in years!”

“Blah, blah, blah,” you muttered as you reached behind the bar and grabbed his pack of cigarettes.

“You bring the Avengers with you and you dare to steal from me?” he sneered sarcastically as he handed you your drink.

You laughed as you reached across the bar and kissed his cheek, “I’m sure our friendship will survive it.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Dude, I had no idea the place would be so packed tonight.”

“I have a feeling everyone here had a long ass Friday.” “Yeah, well they better treat my baby right.” “You two!”

He rolled his eyes as he flipped you off, “enjoy the show!”

“Thank you, Paaauuullll,” you sang out as everyone joined you.

You looked up to see Steve staring at you intently, and he quickly turned towards the stage when he realized he was caught. Before you could allow yourself to think on it or feel flattered, you heard your best friend yell from the stage as she started to make her guitar scream.

“We’re ‘Flowers of Cinnamon’, and thanks for spending your Friday night with us!”

From that moment on, you were barely paying attention to your surroundings. With the exception of your drink, you didn’t focus on anything other than your best friend rocking the fuck out. It had always just been a hobby for her, but she had always been so damn good at it. You envied how effortlessly performing came to her. The band was a cross between Paramore, The Bangles, and All Time Low, and they were just as amazing as you remembered. You wouldn’t have been able to stay still even if you’d wanted to. You sang and danced along to every song, bouncing around, and screaming your head off. You had no clue that Steve had been watching you with the biggest grin on his face, Bucky had been watching your chest bounce up and down, or that Tony had been recording your reaction to your best friend’s music, smiling so hard at your happiness.

Every other song, your best friend made eye contact with you and laughed, and nothing else seemed to matter. Thinking back on it, you wished it had, because maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so fucked up, but you were just so damn happy. The more drinks got, the more you danced and sang around, finally feeling comfortable and happy, even with your new set of friends watching you.

“Okay, this is gonna be our last song for the night,” Meg smiled into the microphone and she laughed at amount of “boos” they received. “Listen, I wanna get fucked up too!” she joked, gaining laughs from the crowd. “Okay, so tonight is extremely special because my best friend on the entire planet is here and brought her friends with her! Thanks babe! So, our last song is gonna be a cover of one of her favorite songs ever,” she winked at you as you cocked an eyebrow.

As soon as you heard the first cord of ‘Decoy’ by Paramore hum out of the speakers, you screamed so loud that everyone in your group (and Paul) started laughing.

‘Close your eyes and make believe that this is where you wanna be

Forgetting all the memories, try to forget love cause love’s forgotten me

Well hey, hey baby, it’s never too late

Pretty soon you won’t remember a thing

All I’ll be distant, the stars reminiscing

Your heart’s been wasted on me’

You sang along so effortlessly as you started to jump up and down.

‘You’ve never been so used as I’m using you, abusing you

My little decoy

Don’t look so blue, you should’ve seen right through

I’m using you, my little decoy

My little decoy’

You linked arms with Nat, who clearly didn’t know the song, but was more than happy to sing and dance along with you. You glanced around and it made you so happy to see everyone else happy and having a good time. It’s not like you were a stick in the mud at work but, you never let loose. Even when it came to holiday and birthday parties, you were pretty damn reserved. The only person who can claim that they’ve seen you fucked up is Steve, and even then it was just you being wine drunk on the sofa while you two listened to albums and discussed work.

No, this was you letting lose and everyone accepting it. Accepting you. You looked over at Steve and he a look of pure love and adoration in his eyes, and it made your heart swell.

God, you wished you would’ve paid more attention to the way both he and Bucky looked at you that night, but you were just so damn happy and having so much fun.

If you could turn back time...

“Am I still okay at singing?” Meg asked once she finally made her way over to all of you.

“Dude, you’re still fucking amazing!” you beamed as you wrapped her in a tight hug and she laughed. “That was so good! Thank you for playing ‘Decoy’, almost making me cry!”

“Aha!” she teased before she looked at everyone else. “What about Earth’s mightiest heroes? Were you all able to tolerate it?”

“That was amazing,” Tony laughed, Pepper nodding in agreement.

“Why don’t you do this full time?” Nat asked as you waived Paul down and got another drink for both you and Meg.

“If I did this full time, I’d be so stressed all the damn time,” Meg laughed, “I’m much happier painting.”

“What do you paint? Do you have a studio?” Clint inquired and a smile came to your face.

Things were going better than you could have ever imagined.

As everyone got acquainted, you snuck to have a smoke. A few moments later, a smile came to your face when you saw Steve come out after you.

“You said you’re quitting those,” he nodded towards the cigarette in your hand.

“I stole Paul’s,” you laughed, standing a little further from him so as to not get the smoke in his face.

“I can handle it,” he laughed as he placed his black leather jacket on you. “You’re pretty...exposed and I don’t want you getting cold.”

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest man?” you teased before you inhaled your cancer stick. “Who else knows about this? I’ll call the ‘New York Times’” He snickered as he shook his head, “quiet you.”

“Are you having fun tonight?”

“I am, I like you seeing like this.”

You scoffed, “crazy?” “Happy...content. Secure.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, and the look he gave you along with it, had butterflies appearing in your stomach.

“We should get back inside,” you smiled at up at him as you ashed the last of your cigarette and threw it in the nearby trash bin.

And maybe that’s when it started.

You just missed all the signs that night, because you were convinced Steve didn’t want you.

He convinced you he didn’t want you.

When the two of you got back inside, Paul had just finished up his shift and the guys had finished helping Meg back up her equipment which she had decided to lock up in the manager’s office for the night.

“Dancing! We need dancing!” she whined once her eyes landed on you.

“Hell yeah we do,” you laughed as you linked arms with both her and Nat.

Once again, you didn’t notice the way Bucky ogled you or the way Steve kept a close eye on you. When you all reached the next bar, you instantly ordered more drinks and pulled Nat and Meg onto the dance floor with you, still wearing Steve’s coat. He leaned against the bar, talking with Tony and Pepper, but still kept an eye on you. As Janet Jackson’s voiced filled the giant building, you danced around with the biggest smile on your face (at some point Meg had put her sunglasses on your face), smiling and waiving at Bucky when you saw his eyes glued to you.

Well, glues to your ass.

By the time everyone was ready to call it a night, you were drunk as shit.

“You’re not coming back to the compound?” Nat asked as she stumbled out after you.

“Nah, I wanna sleep in my own space tonight. It’s closer,” you giggled as you started giving out hugs.

“I can take you,” Bucky offered with a slick grin.

“I can take her, she’s on the way to my house,” Steve countered, and Meg cocked an eyebrow at you.

You just started dancing and walking.

“Goodnight everyone! Get home safe! I love you all!”

You were drunk, tired, and in no mood to figure out whatever that was about. You just wanted to go home and get in your bed. You honestly don’t know why you didn’t go back to the compound that night, but it just felt right to go to your own home. You already spent so little time there to begin with. A few moments later, you heard the hurried footsteps of someone behind you, but you kept looking ahead.

“You’re impatient when you’re drunk,” Steve laughed as he came up beside you.

A small smile came to your face at the fact that Steve was the one to walk you home.

You giggled as you leaned into him, “my feet hurt.”

No sooner than you said it, he scooped you up.

“Steve!”

“You weigh nothing, don’t worry about it, darlin.” “It’s a 30 minute walk!”

“I’m very well aware of where your apartment is.” “Steve-”

“Hush.”

You pouted but did as you were told, leaned into him, and took in the scent that was all his own. Something between woodsy and fresh cut grass. In your drunken state, he felt like home.

“Why didn’t you want Bucky to take me home?” you asked after a few moments, not missing the way he stiffened a bit.

“He’s a little buzzed and he gets a little handsy and flirty at times. I didn’t want him to bother you.” You giggled as you took in more of his scent, “you’re literally carrying me, Steve.” “You said your feet hurt.” “Are you a little buzzed?”

“I definitely don’t feel sober,” he chuckled softly and you softly sighed at the comfort of rumble in his chest.

“Do you wanna sleepover?”

“I’ll order a car service once I drop you off.”

“Why not order one now?”

“It was weird...everyone hanging out tonight. I feel like we haven’t hung out alone together in a while.” “Then why not sleepover?”

“Cause I should go home. I don’t wanna accidentally wake you up or something. You worked hard today and you need rest.” “So did you.” “Y/N.” “You’re so weird sometimes, Steve,” you huffed as you laced your hand with his.

“What are you doing?”

“Holding your hand like I’ve done a million times before. What’s wrong?” “Nothing.”

You rolled your eyes and mumbled, “alright weirdo.” “I’m not being weird.”

“You’re not being normal.”

He let out a frustrated huff, “did you have fun tonight?”

“So much fun, I’m so happy you came out.”

“I’ve missed you, darlin.” “I’ve missed you too. Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Sleepover.”

“Y/N-” “See? You are being weird. You’ve slept over my place a ton before, in my bed, and it wasn’t weird. What’s so different about tonight?”

He muttered, “so many things.” “Like what?”

“It’s just been a long night.”

“Fine, whatever. Go home, see if I give a fuck.” “Hey!”

“You’re being weird and you won’t tell me why. You know I hate when you do that shit.”

“I just think I should sleep in my own bed, darlin’. I’m not trying to be weird or make you upset.”

He sounded so strained and you couldn’t read his facial expression, so you couldn’t see how torn up he was. You couldn’t tell how much he was at war with himself.

You couldn’t tell how much he wanted you.

He chuckled when you didn’t say anything, “don’t get quiet on me now.”

“Can you at least stay until I fall asleep? It won’t take long.” “Everything okay, darlin’?”

“Yeah Steve, I just miss you,” you confessed softly.

“We’ll do a sleepover tomorrow, alright? We’ll have it at my house.” “Fine.” “Don’t be upset.” “I don’t care.” “You’re also a giant brat when you’re drunk.” “You’re saying that you miss me, but won’t spend time with me!”

God, you sounded like a brat to your own ears. That was a huge part as to why you’d never let him see you so inebriated. It’s why you never wanted anyone from The Avengers (or S.H.I.E.L.D for that matter) to see you so drunk. It became harder for you to suppress your feelings for Steve, and he’s all you wanted when you were drunk. For reasons unknown to you (at the time), Steve wanted to go home. That should’ve been enough, but your drunk wanted to hold him all night.

You were going out of your way to start an argument.

He let out a heavy sigh as he reached your complex, “I’ll stay-”

“Don’t do me any fucking favors-” “Will stop arguing with me? And stop with swearing, you know I hate it.” “Well maybe I hate you.”

He scoffed hard at that, “no you don’t.”

“You don’t know that-”

“Yes I do, so stop saying it. I’ll stay, okay?”

“And you’ll sleep next to me?”

“Yes darlin’, I will sleep next to you.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his neck and you felt his grip on you get tighter, “thank you, Steve!”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

That night, he was good to his word and slept next to you, letting use his chest as a pillow and you were asleep almost instantly. The next day, he was back to normal and you didn’t think anything of his behavior from the previous night. You had no reason to. However, from that day on, things did slowly start to change more.

It started with Bucky coming around more, especially when Steve was with you. You couldn’t sense it, because has always been entirely too good at hiding his emotions, but he slowly became frustrated. So much that he basically stopped coming around all together.

“Hey, are you busy?” you asked timidly as you approached his office one day.

“Yeah, unfortunately.” “Oh...okay then-”

“What’s wrong?”

“No, you’re busy and I don’t wanna take up your time...”

You could feel your eyes welling up and didn’t know why. Steve always had a way of making you so damn soft and vulnerable, and you truly hated it.

You still hate it.

“Darlin’-” “Please stop calling me that. The guy who started calling me that doesn’t seem to exist anymore. If he does, he’s making sure to stay away from me.”

“He still exists-” “Then what’s going on? Why are you staying away from me?”

He sighed as he threw down his pen, “nothing-”

“Alright, if you’re just gonna lie to me-” “I’m not lying!”

“Steve, you saw me walking with Bucky yesterday and literally turned in the other direction and walked away.” “You guys are just hanging out a lot now and I don’t wanna third wheel-” “You wouldn’t third wheeling! We’re just friends!”

“Y/N...” “Steve, why are you just abandoning me? You’re the one I’m closest to and you know that. You’ve always known that,” you sobbed as you closed the door behind you.

“Please don’t cry-” “Then why are you abandoning me?! What did I do wrong?!”

“Nothing-”

“Then what the fuck?! You’ve been acting so strange, but you’re saying I haven’t done anything! If I didn’t do anything, what the fuck is going on with you?!”

He let out another frustrated sigh and just stared at you, clearly at war with himself.

“Fuck this and fuck you, I give up,” you sobbed as you dried your eyes.

“Darlin’”

“Stop calling me that! I’m just Y/N and you’re just Steve. I can’t do this with you anymore!”

After you stormed out, things only got worse, because you’d never felt so low and alone in your life. Unless it had to do with a mission or training, you barely even looked his way. The farther you got away from Steve, the more Bucky swooped in. In fact, the more you look at how everything happened, you realize that things wouldn’t have gotten so bad if you’d just shut things down with the both of them.

However, it’s not as if thinking with a broken heart ever lead to a good thing.

You cried a lot and Bucky was just there for you. He was sweet, he listened, and let you keep your secrets. Sure, he asked what happened between you and Steve (everyone was), but he dropped it when you told him you wouldn’t be talking about it.

You can’t explain what you don’t know.

“Hey doll, we’re goin’ out tonight. You wanna come? Invite Meg!” Bucky asked one night after you let him in your apartment on the compound.

“Nah, I’ve got a hot date with a black and white French film and a few glasses of wine,” you smiled weakly.

“You can’t stay in here forever.”

“I don’t. Sometimes I go home.” “Babe-”

“I just wanna stay in, Buck,” you sighed as someone else knocked on your door. “I guess I’m just the most popular girl in the world.”

When you opened it the second time, Steve stood there looking just as upset as you felt. Instead of even trying to attempt to hear him out, a rage flared up inside you and you had to force yourself to not shove him. As far as you were concerned, he had a lot of fucking nerve to show up at your place after all the shit that happened in his office.

“What?”

“I wanted to know if you’re coming out tonight-”

“No.”

“Well, can I come in and we can talk? I know I owe you an explanation-”

“I don’t want an explanation anymore, Steve,” you lied harshly, “I just want you to leave me alone. I stood in your office and cried like a fucking dumbass...that was a month ago. Now you wanna talk? Just leave things as they are.”

You truly wish you hadn’t spoken out of anger because none of it was true. You cried over him whenever you were alone, you missed hanging out with him, you missed falling asleep next to him...you missed Steve. Your Steve.

You’ve always been a hot head.

“Darlin-” “What have I told you about that?” “Y/N, just give me a few minutes-”

“No, go away. Unless it has to do with work, we don’t have anything to talk about.” “You don’t mean that,” he more pleaded than told you.

“I’ve never meant it more!”

“Y/N-”

Bucky sighed as he came up behind you, “she just needs to cool off, Pal.”

If you hadn’t been so upset and hurt you would’ve laughed at how wide Steve’s eyes got.

“We’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“I thought you were coming out. It was your idea in the first damn place,” Steve snapped.

“I don’t wanna leave Y/N while she’s this upset. She shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but all that happened was he clenched his jaw and looked away before he stormed off, punching the wall on his way out.

You should’ve spoken to him. You should’ve gone after him. Instead you pushed past Bucky and made yourself your first glass of wine of the night.

“Babe-”

“Buck, if you’re gonna stay here tonight, please no lectures. I just wanna be upset, okay?”

He just nodded solemnly, “I get it. No lectures, just drinks and weird French movies,” he smirked and you quietly laughed.

Here’s the thing: it’s not that you never found Bucky attractive, you just never thought about him. You were always thinking about Steve. However, at that time, thinking about Steve brought you too much pain and you didn’t want to feel anymore pain for a while. You just wanted to feel numb. You’d rather have nothing, the void, than hold onto the pain Steve’s brought on.

You rested your legs on him when he sat next to you, not thinking anything of it. When he started stroking your leg after the third glass of wine, you still didn’t think anything of it. You only started to pick up on his actions when he squeezed your thigh a little.

“Buck?”

“Yeah doll?” “What are you doing?”

“Trying to help you relax and feel better.”

“Buck-”

“I’ve never seen you this upset, babe. I just wanna help.”

The thought and the offer were tempting. You couldn’t remember the last time you had gotten off to something other than your vibrator. Of course you’d made subtle advances towards Steve, but he’d clearly turned you down. Plus, the women around the compound did talk. While Bucky had a reputation for being a skirt chaser, he also had a reputation for wearing women out in the best way.

It’s not like you were looking for anything. You just wanted to forget for awhile.

He tested the waters a bit more by sliding his hand further up your leg, waiting to see how you’d respond.

You placed your wine glass on the ground and opened your legs for him a bit, “you just wanna make me feel better?”

“So fuckin’ good, doll,” he husked, as he reached between your legs and easily ripped your panties off, “just lay back and enjoy, baby.”

His movements were slow, but his kisses were desperate. It felt good, but off. Not to mention you felt more guilty with every kiss he gave you, like you were betraying Steve.

‘Fuck Steve,’ you told yourself mentally, ‘he had his chance and he clearly didn’t want it.’

You closed your eyes in a vain attempt to shut out any thoughts of Steve, but that only made his face come to mind. You let out a sound between a moan and a frustrated grunt as you pulled Bucky’s hair.

“Please!”

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he smirked, his hot breath lapped at your pussy.

“So fucking bad, please! Need it!”

“Love seeing you like this,” he cooed, before he dipped down and dove in and his lewd moans filled the room.

This was the moment Bucky became your “decoy”. You didn’t want him in the same way he wanted you, but part of you felt like he didn’t actually give a shit. Since he’d lost Nat to Bruce, Bucky wasn’t ever really looking for a relationship. He liked to play around, entertain a woman (or two) for a few months, then he’d move on. As far as you were concerned, that night was only supposed to be a one time thing.

“F-fuck!” you moaned, doing your best to be in the moment as you lulled your head back while he fucked you with his tongue and massaged your clit with his thumb. “Feels so good, Buck!”

You weren’t lying completely. It’s not as if Bucky was bad at eating you out, he just wasn’t the one you wanted doing it.

You felt him smirk against your folds, and started to grind your pussy against his face, forcing yourself to focus on all the pleasure you felt instead of everything else.

‘Steve doesn’t want you. Steve doesn’t want you. Stop thinking about Steve!’ you told yourself mentally.

When he switched up and started sucking on your clit, he easily pressed two fingers into your soaked folds. You felt the knot in your core tighten and snap.

“FUCK!” you cried out as you came hard and a few tears escaped your eyes.

You hated how the tears weren’t from pleasure, but you masked it well enough as he fucked you through your high.

“Take off that fuckin’ shirt, baby. Let me fuckin’ see you,” he husked as he took off his own shirt and started to undo his jeans.

You were quick to do as he said, taking all of him as you ignored how uncomfortable you felt being so bare beneath him as his mouth glistened with your juices.

You were doing this to feel better, so why weren’t you feeling any better?

“Waited so fuckin’ long, baby,” he groaned as he dipped down and worshiped each of your breasts while his thumb made little circles on your clit.

“Bucky!”

“I know baby, I’m gonna take care of you, gonna take such good care of you,” he moaned before you felt his tongue on the side of your neck, licking up little beads of sweat.

You took a deep breath and told yourself you wanted it as you felt him at your entrance. You wanted Bucky. You just needed to let yourself relax.

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ tight!” he grunted as he pushed into you.

“Oh fuck!”

“I know you can take me, baby! Your wet little pussy is squeezing me so tight, baby!” “Please don’t stop,” you whimpered as you wrapped a leg around his waist, trying to hang on to him as he fucked into you hard and fast.

You wanted this. You agreed to this.

He pushed himself up with his metal arm and looked down at you adoringly, “wanted you for so long, doll. Waited for...ah fuck!”

To avoid feeling anymore guilt, you wrapped an arm around him to pull him close and kissed him passionately, moaning into his mouth when you felt him fill you to the brim. He rode out both your highs before he rested his forehead against yours.

“So good, baby. You tired?” he asked, breath still coming heavy.

You just closed your eyes and shook your head no.

“Good girl.”

Bucky kept at it for a while, not feeling any real pleasure until he brought you off (which you had to fake half the time). There was nothing wrong with him. You found him attractive, and you knew that he wanted you, but it just wasn’t what you wanted. All of it felt so hollow and emotionless on your end. You felt like you were acting and Bucky was working his ass off to please you; to make matters worse, your phone kept going off and you knew who it was.

Steve would’ve hated you if he knew what you were doing and who with, but a part of you felt like he already did. When you both were done, Bucky was a gentleman. He pulled your shirt over your head, carried you to bed, and held you close until you both fell asleep.

You didn’t cry until the next day when you woke up alone in an empty apartment. You ignored calls from both Bucky and Steve, and eventually Bucky was the only one texting you.

Something in you knew that Bucky had confirmed his suspicions, and you just knew he was furious. You and Steve both knew Bucky wasn’t a bad guy, he was just a player and Steve never wanted that for you.

Eventually you cracked and called Meg, and cried while you told her everything.

“Well...fuck,” she muttered once you finally got everything out. “Are you sure Steve knows?”

“His calls and texts were incessant until they weren’t. He hasn’t done either in the last 3 hours.”

“Oh yeah no, he definitely fucking knows. Bucky?”

“Bucky went from every 30 minutes to every other hour.”

“Well, what’s wrong with him?” “Nothing...”

“Except?”

“He’s not Steve.”

“Yeah, but Steve passed up on you, and he was kind of a dick about it. He waited a month until after the office situation? You’ve been showing him your available for how many years? I know you love him, but-”

“I don’t love him.”

“Yeah, cause that’s you’re crying to me about him instead of the skirt chaser that fucked your brains out?”

“Meg.”

“I’m not being insensitive, I’m being honest. Bucky was there last night, clearly wanted you, was with you all night, and all you could think about was Steve. Today, even though Bucky is still texting you, you’re more upset that Steve isn’t because you know he knows. If I were you, I’d be more worried about the guy that’s used to fucking around breaking my heart, than the guy who isn’t,” she sighed.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Steve had his chance, I need to let him go. I’ve been in my room crying all day...I have to stop.”

“Can you?”

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?”

“Babe, if you could end up with Steve, I’d prefer that, but that’s not really an option. Even if he came back, he gave you the run around for a bit. Just focus on you for now and what you want. You always want to make others happy, and you need to focus on you.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right.”

“Do you need me to come over?”

“No, being alone is good for me right now.”

“Alright, I love you, Y/N. It’s gonna be okay.”

You let out a heavy sigh as you sobbed, “I love you,” and hung up.

You ignored Bucky for the rest of the day, feeling guilty about it, but knowing it was for the best. You’d done enough wrong and you truly did need to focus on you and what you wanted.

However, before you fell asleep, you broke down and checked all your texts from Steve.

O Captain, My Captain: Darlin, please just talk to me. I’m so sorry.

O Captain, My Captain: I’m not going out tonight, please just answer me.

O Captain, My Captain: Don’t do anything with Bucky. He’s my best friend, but he’s not worthy of you. He won’t treat you right and you know that.

O Captain, My Captain: Please just answer me.

O Captain, My Captain: If I could take back my actions, I would. I’m so sorry. If you’d just talk to me, I’d be able to make you understand.

O Captain, My Captain: Please talk to me. I miss you so much.

O Captain, My Captain: I’m going to sleep, but give me a call whenever.

O Captain, My Captain: Seriously? All night and you’re still not talking to me?

O Captain, My Captain: Baby, please just talk to me. We’ve never gone this long without talking, and I fucking hate it.

O Captain, My Captain: Y/N...please.

O Captain, My Captain: Bucky just left. You’ve made yourself loud and clear, and fine. I got it.

O Captain, My Captain: Do whatever the fuck you want.

When you woke up the following day, you had the biggest headache from crying, and the last thing you felt like doing was facing either of them. You had a job to do though, and criminals didn’t stop being criminals just because you had a broken heart. Even though you were slower to dress than usual, you were still on time for training, and God, it was brutal.

Bucky kept looking at you, Steve wouldn’t even look your way, and you couldn’t focus. You’d never had a day so bad, and all you wanted was to crawl back into bed. During the meeting after, you just leaned against the wall, barely listening to anything Nick had to say. The one time you bothered to look up, you looked over at Steve and was glaring at you.

God, you really fucking hated yourself.

“Doll, wait up!” Bucky called after you once the meeting was over.

You’d practically run out of the room.

“Bucky, I really just want-”

“What did I do wrong?” he breathed once he caught up to you. “Everything seemed fine on Saturday, I thought we both enjoyed it.”

You didn’t miss the way Steve quietly scoffed as he walked past the both of you.

“Bucky, I just-”

“Did I hurt you? What...I really like you, Y/N. I have for a while and I just...was I too eager?”

You honestly hadn’t expected that.

“Wait...what?”

“I never said anything, because I thought you and Steve had a thing going, but that’s clearly not happening. You were just so upset on Saturday and I wanted to make you happy, and I’ve wanted you for so long...what did I do?”

Trash. You felt like absolute trash.

“I need to get to my room.” “Y/N-”

“Just...I’ll talk to you later, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. I just have a lot going on in my head. I just need to be by myself for a while.”

“Please just-”

“I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’m sorry.”

You can read the rest here.

92 notes · View notes