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peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 2 years

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Whitewater

Wipeout - Chapter 4

Pairing: Surfer!Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: Hey, here’s chapter four, I hope you guys enjoy! I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback you have whether that be in reblogs or comments! It def helps keep me motivated and makes this all more fun. As always my inbox is open if you have anything to say. Thanks for reading, love you guys xx

Warnings: Fighting, angst, smut

Summary: It’s time for you and Tom to talk about what happened

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Series Masterlist

❀ ゜.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．゜❀

Three days, you didn’t talk to Tom for three days. He’d texted you the morning after the party but you didn’t respond, and he left you alone after that. It was strange to go from talking everyday to not speaking at all. You were tempted to reach out a few times but you always ended up backing out. Part of you was embarrassed about how you’d blown up at him, and part of you was still angry. Talking to him just didn’t seem that appealing yet, you wanted to figure out what to say first.

“Knock knock,” Grace knocked on your bedroom door, cutting your morning sulk short as she peeked into your room, “Come on, this is your third day of sulking, I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t force you to do anything, or at least talk.”

“I’m just thinking,” you blushed.

“Thinking about Tom, which isn’t doing you any good. Get up, you’re gonna shower and then we’re gonna get coffee and go shopping,” she smiled as she fell down onto your bed beside you.

“I don’t wanna go shopping,” you scoffed.

“Not even at the home store?” she smiled as you suddenly became interested, “I think I’m ready to admit I need a little help decorating my room.”

“Really?” you sat up excitedly.

You’d been begging her to let you help her decorate her room since you two moved in together, but she was insistent on doing it herself. It was the one room that was all hers to decorate, but she was far too indecisive to ever finish the project. She’d already gone through two lamps, bought a new dresser, and rearranged the furniture a million times, but she still had no idea how she wanted the room to look. You’d tried giving her suggestions but she never listened, insisting that eventually she’d be able to figure out what she wanted.

She nodded, “Yes, I had my fun playing designer, but I’m ready to have a finished room now.”

“I told you Grace, interior design is serious business,” you laughed, “Alright, give me a few minutes to get ready.”

“Yay,” she hugged you before bouncing out of your bed, “Get out your paint swatches too, I think I want an accent wall.”

“You can’t paint your room, we’re renting.”

“Better to ask for forgiveness,” she sang as she went skipping back to the living room.

You dragged yourself out of bed and went padding into the bathroom. After a quick shower you threw on an old t-shirt and some shorts and let Grace drag you away to a local coffee shop to pick up a couple of drinks before you hit the home stores.

You suggested sticking to a boho, beachy theme to match with her usual aesthetic and Grace seemed happy with that. She also liked your suggestion of peel and stick wallpaper instead of paint. That way she could get her accent wall and you could get your safety deposit back. As soon as you arrived you dragged her past the paint and to the wallpapers, where she began digging through racks for something she liked.

“I’m not super into these geometric ones, and the florals seem kind of old lady-ish,” she knit her brows, “I think I want something green, or tan, maybe blue.”

“I’d go with tan or green,” you hummed.

“Good call,” she moved further down the aisle and glanced back at you for a moment, “We’ll pry have to ask the boys to help us put this up huh?”

You frowned, “Yeah, Haz could help.”

“Okay, does that mean you and Tom just aren’t going to talk anymore?” she pressed.

“I don’t know yet Grace, I mean that’s not really what I want but I’m still angry and everything,” you crossed your arms, “Can we please stick to wallpaper?”

She nodded, “Yeah, I think I like this one,” she pulled out a roll of white paper decorated with deep tan palm trees, waves, suns, and other small, beachy doodles that seemed almost hand drawn.

“That’s really cute Grace, I think it’d look good on the wall you have your bed against,” you squinted at the label on the roll as you tried to find the size, “California dreamin’,” you chuckled at the name, “I think one roll should cover it, but maybe we should get a second just in case?”

“Better safe than sorry,” she chimed, tossing two rolls into your shopping cart, “Come on, I wanna find a night stand too.”

“Alright,” you followed behind her with a frown. Walking through the store was reminding you of Tom, there wasn’t any particular reason really, you just had Tom on the brain, “Why do you think he does stuff like this?”

“Tom?”

You nodded.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “You’d have to talk to him about that.”

“Yeah, I still don’t really want to do that right now.”

“Well you could try telling me about it. It might feel good just to vent.”

“Okay,” you took a deep breath before you continued, “It just really sucked. He ditched me for someone else and it made me feel really insecure.”

“Because he was with someone else?”

“Because he picked her over me. It made me feel like he’s just into me because I’m there, and I’d like him to be sleeping with me because he’s attracted to me, not just because I’m willing.”

“Of course he’s attracted to you (y/n), he’s the one who came on to you in the first place. Plus before he used to just call you my really pretty friend before he got your name down,” she laughed, “I don’t think attraction is an issue at all, and I don’t think he sleeps with you just because you're there either. Don’t get me wrong, it was super douchey, and I’m not trying to defend him, but I don’t want you to get down on yourself because of it. You’re gorgeous, Tom, and me, and everyone else who’s ever seen you knows it. If Tom, or any other guy, does some shitty thing like he did, it’s because of him, not you.”

“Thank you Grace,” you flushed at her kind words and leaned forward on the handlebars of the cart, “You’re right, it’s on him if he’s gonna be a dick.”

“Exactly, and no more pouting. We’re home shopping, that’s like one of your five favorite things to do,” Grace smiled and squeezed your shoulder. You knew she was trying her best to cheer you up, but it wasn’t helping much, “Just come look at all these shelves, you love shelves.”

“I do like shelves,” you agreed, tracing over the edge of a simple wooden floating shelf, “Last time I was here with Tom he tried to buy the ugliest shelf I’ve ever seen. I don’t even think he liked it honestly, I think he just liked that it was making me mad.”

“I don’t want to push you on this again because it seems like it’s kind of a touchy subject, but are you totally sure you aren’t catching feelings for Tom?”

You groaned, “Of course I’m not catching feelings Grace, and you said it yourself. He was being super douchey, and I’m upset about it. Can’t I be upset about that without it meaning anything more?”

“Yeah, but I want you to be sure. I don’t want you to get your heart broken.”

“I won’t, I already told you before I don’t have feelings for him, and I still don’t. I’m just mad because he was being a dick and he made me feel like shit. If I thought I was catching feelings or something then I would call things off. I might still call things off, I don’t know, I just need to talk to him,” you huffed.

“I think you need to sleep with someone else,” Grace hummed, “Get over by getting under. Is there anyone else in town you’d want to sleep with?”

You frowned, “The only guys I really hang out with are Tom and Haz, and sometimes Tom’s brothers. I mean Haz is hot b-”

“Ew!” she snapped, “Harrison isn’t hot!”

You rolled your eyes, “Well of course you don’t think he’s hot, he’s your cousin.”

“Yeah, and that makes him off limits to you,” she glared, “Pick someone else.”

“I don’t know… If we’re going purely on looks, maybe Leo?”

“Leo Black?” she gaped, “You have the worst taste ever.”

“What? He’s cute.”

“He’s a fucky boy, you need someone more mellow,” she hummed, “Like Adrien or something.”

You crinkled your nose, “Adrien? I mean he’s cute and nice and everything, but I like guys who are a little more… Outgoing.”

“No babe, trust me, shy guys are the best,” she smirked, “At least in bed.”

You started to laugh, “Maybe you’re right but I’m sticking with Leo.”

“I can’t believe I’m letting you decorate my room with taste like that,” she cringed.

তততততততততততত

Four days after the party and one day after talking with Grace you decided you were ready to talk to Tom again, though you weren’t exactly sure how to go about it. You wanted to text him and ask him to talk, but you were worried that he wouldn’t want to, or worse, he wouldn’t respond at all. Things were made even worse when you got to work and remembered that it was Tuesday, which meant Tom would be outside all day teaching his surf class.

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring when you stepped outside to clean the patio, he just looked cute out there helping the kids. Every stolen glance made your heartache a little more, reminding you of just how much you missed hanging out with him. A few times you caught him looking your way too, he’d crack a small smile but you would just turn away. The smile at least assured you that he probably would want to talk, but you knew you’d have to wait until your shift ended. Tom however, had never been very patient, and he had no interest in waiting until you were off work.

While you were busy scrubbing tables clean Tom sent Paddy running up to the patio to talk to you for him. He was the only kid in class Tom could trust with such an important task, and also the only one he could boss around to that degree. Paddy jumped onto the railing of the patio, leaning over it so he could wave and get your attention.

“(y/n)?” he blushed as he spoke.

“Hi Paddy,” you smiled over at him, “You know there’s no minors allowed.”

“I-I know, Tom asked me to come give this to you,” he held out a small seashell to you, “He thought you would like it.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek to fight your smile as you took the shell from him. It was a simple white shell with a hole in it that looked like a jagged heart, “That’s really sweet, thank you,” you sighed, “Could you do me a favor Paddy?”

He nodded, “Totally.”

“Could you tell Tom to text me when you get back over there?”

“Got it,” he nodded again and went scrambling back down the beach.

You smiled down at the shell before placing it in your pocket. The simple, sweet gesture was enough to assure you that everything would be okay. Tom still valued your friendship, and you were hopeful that you two could talk things out and go back to normal. You’d probably stop sleeping together, but you cared a lot more about keeping him as a friend anyway.

Tom glanced your way again as Paddy returned to the group, though this time you didn’t look away from him. His lips curled upwards as Paddy whispered to him. He waved at you, happy to see you were finally smiling back. You waved back at him before walking back into the restaurant. Soon Tom’s class wrapped up and you watched him and his students leave the beach. As soon as he stepped back into Aqua Life you had your eyes on your phone, waiting for him to text you. Sure enough it came through just moments after he entered the building.

T: Hey flower, I hope you liked the shell. If you want to talk or something we could get together after work

You smiled down at your phone before replying.

Y: The shell was sweet, I’m off at 4, I can get together anytime after that

T: I’m off at 3, you wanna swing by my place after work?

Y: I’ll be there

T: Looking forward to it 😚

You rolled your eyes and shoved your phone back into your pocket. The last hours of your shift flew by, and you found you were much more focused on what you were going to say to Tom than your actual job. You wanted to go in prepared so you could tell him exactly why you were upset without getting worked up again, but all you could come up with was calling him a dick. Which certainly didn’t cover the range of emotions you had been feeling.

After clocking out you went straight for your car, your heart hammered with every step you took, a wave of anxiety washed over you as you pulled out of the parking lot. You found yourself wishing he lived further away. You had hardly prepared what you wanted to say, and you had no idea what Tom was going to say either. Sure he was being sweet, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have an earful prepared for you too. You’d made a scene at his roommate's birthday party, embarrassing both of you in front of everyone there. Granted it wasn’t your normal crowd, but it was still rude, and very unlike you.

Tom’s house came into view far too quickly, both his and Harrison’s car were sitting in the driveway. You parked on the side of the road and pulled on a sweater before you paced up to their door. You knocked softly and crossed your arms while you waited for him to answer.

Instead of Tom you were met with Harrison, with a big smile on his face, “Hi (y/n), it’s good to see you.”

“Hi,” you blushed awkwardly, “I-I just came by to talk to Tom.”

“Right but before you do that I-”

He was cut off by Tom, who wiggled in between him and the door to get to you, “Don’t mind Haz love, come on in.”

“Yes mind Haz,” Harrison snapped as Tom pulled you inside, “Look Tom doesn’t seem to think that this is an important matter, but I need to talk to you much more urgently than he does.”

You frowned and knit your brows, “Why?”

Tom rolled his eyes a Harrison started talking, “So that lemonade you make us-”

“He’s fucking obsessed with it,” Tom interrupted again.

“Stop interrupting,” Harrison glared at him, “Anyways I’ve put a lot of thought into this alright? And I’ve been trying to narrow it down so I just really need to know, does it have blue raspberry in it?”

You laughed at how serious he was and shook your head, “No, no blue raspberry.”

“Seriously?” he groaned, “I thought I was onto something. What about vanilla?”

“No vanilla either,” you smirked, “You’re never gonna guess it Haz, and I’m never gonna tell you either.”

“Oh I will guess it,” he said it almost like it was a threat, “Mark my words I will figure this out.”

“Well you can keep guessing some other time, (y/n)’s here to talk to me,” Tom set his hand on your back, “We’ll be out back if you need us.”

The small gesture helped relax you a bit, you found yourself leaning into his touch while you walked. On his back patio they had two white wooden chairs and a small table where you could sit and overlook the beach. You’d always been jealous of Tom and Harrison’s home, they rented a two story house on the beach for remarkably cheap from Tom’s parents. It had a gorgeous view, and of course the boys got to run out on the beach anytime they pleased.

“You’re really lucky you’ve got such a nice view,” you commented as you two sat down.

“I know,” he smiled at you, “I know we’ve got serious stuff to talk about, but I wanted to start by telling you I’ve really missed you.”

“I missed you too Tom,” you blushed, “I, uh, I don’t really know where to start.”

“Me either,” he admitted, “I guess I still don’t really know what happened...”

That made a bit of anger bubble up inside of you. It seemed so obvious to you. How could he not get what the issue was?

“You invited me to go out with you and you spent the night hitting on someone else, it pissed me off, and rightfully so,” you scoffed.

“But you’ve never got mad about me hitting on someone before. I mean we aren’t together, that sort of thing shouldn’t piss you off,” he frowned.

“It’s not the hitting on someone part that bugged me!” you snapped, your cheeks suddenly flushing red, “It’s the fact that you invited me out, we made plans, and then you wanted to run off with someone else. How do you not see how that would hurt me?”

“I,” his mouth hung open for just a moment and his tongue darted out over his bottom lip, “It was just a little harmless flirting.”

“But you invited me out!” you snapped, “You invited me to go out of town and then we made all these plans and then you ran off to flirt with her instead.”

“Well I can’t help it if you get jealous (y/n),” he snapped back, “That’s on you.”

All the same anger you’d felt that night was coming rushing back to you. How dare he accuse you of being jealous? Of course you weren’t jealous.

“I am not jealous Tom,” you seethed, “I’m angry because I didn’t know anyone there and you just ditched me. That’s not how you treat your friends when you invite them places, don’t try to pin this on me just because you don’t want to apologize.”

“I am perfectly fine with apologizing,” he glared at you, “I’m the one that’s been trying to actually talk about this. You just wanted to call things off.”

“Yeah because I don’t want to sleep with someone who only cares about sleeping with me when no one else is around!” you could feel your throat getting tight and your eyes starting to blur, you still didn’t want to cry but you weren’t sure how long you could keep it together, “Our friendship isn’t just a regular friendship Tom. There’s a certain degree of vulnerability that comes with sex and it makes me feel like shit when you ask me to spend the night with you then you try to run off with someone else. Me not wanting you to rub the fact that you found someone prettier in my face does not make me jealous. It just makes me insecure, and it is perfectly reasonable for me to get insecure sometimes! I’m a person, not a fucking blow up doll!” you had lost it, breaking down into violent sobs as you finished your rant.

Tom had never seen you cry and he didn’t really know how to handle it. It made him feel awful, especially knowing he was the cause of it. He wanted to comfort you but he wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it.

He moved his chair closer to yours and reached over to touch you. He went slow, making sure you had plenty of time to push him away before he set his hand on your cheek, “I didn’t think she was prettier than you,” he wiped your teary eyes with a frown, “I never do. You’re really gorgeous (y/n), and you’ve got nothing to be insecure about. I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise,” he pursed his lips before he continued, “I don’t know if telling you this is gonna make this worse or better but I wasn’t flirting with her because I was into her or something. It’s just that sometimes when I flirt with other girls you get a little annoyed and you know…” he trailed off for a second, “Well you just get a little rougher in bed when you’re annoyed. I was just trying to have a bit of fun, I’m sorry I hurt you in doing that.”

“You’re such a dick,” you mumbled through your tears, “Why couldn’t you just tell me you liked it rough or something?”

“I’m sorry,” he wiped your tears again, “Look I know I can be really self centered but I try not to act like that with the people I care about. I promise I wouldn’t have done it if I knew it was hurting you.”

You found yourself leaning into him again. There was comfort in his words, and it was nice to be reassured that he found you as attractive as you found him. His explanation seemed genuine, even if his reasoning was still dickish, you appreciated his honesty. That didn’t mean he had hurt you any less though.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t just tell me that though, or why you didn’t realize that would hurt me. I mean you’d be pissed if I invited you out of town and then left you all alone once we got there.”

“Yeah…” he was quiet for a minute as he imagined the scenario, “Yeah, it would really piss me off. I wasn’t thinking about how it would make you feel, and I should have been. I mean Harrison told me it was shitty too, but I did it anyway, I was just being selfish, I’m sorry I don’t have a better explanation than that.”

“You should listen to Harrison more often,” you advised.

He chuckled, “I know, he really is the brains of the operation.”

You let out a light laugh and your lips curled to a smile, “You just realized?”

“Of course not, I just don’t like to admit it,” he winked, “You know what might make you feel better?”

“What?”

“Giving me a taste of my own medicine.”

You frowned and knit your brows, “What do you mean?”

“You know, we go out of town again, you ditch me to go flirt with some other guy,” he cracked a small smile, “Sometimes a little revenge is all you need.”

You laughed lightly, “That’s really petty Tom.”

“I know,” he nodded, “That’s why it will make you feel better.”

“I don’t think it will be the same if you know that I’m doing it.”

“I’m sure it’ll have the same effect,” he hummed and leaned forward, setting his hands over your thighs, “If you don’t want to it’s fine, I just thought it might help. Sometimes it feels good to be petty.”

“Yeah, it does,” you agreed, “I don’t wanna go out of town again though. Maybe just out with some of my friends from school, and you can go sit somewhere while I flirt.”

“Whatever you want love,” he squeezed your legs, “If you want to go party with the dickhead college boys then so be it.”

“You’ll fit right in,” you bit back.

“Ouch,” he chuckled, “That hurts love.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault, you’ve got a lot in common,” you hummed.

“You know that’s not true Flower, I mean for one, I can actually make you cum,” his lips drew into that all too familiar cocky smile, “And I give great head.”

You pursed your lips, “Most of the time.”

His jaw fell open, “Most of the time? Come on, you’re just trying to hurt my feelings now,” he sank back into his chair with a dramatic sigh, “You know if you tell me you’ve been faking it I’m going to be totally crushed.”

“I was talking about the oral, I’ve never faked it,” you clarified, “I don’t like it when you bite my thighs.”

“Oh my god I haven’t done that since like the first time we got together,” he scoffed, “I stopped the second you said you didn’t like it. You can’t hold that against me forever.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know, I just think you’ve got a little room for improvement there.”

“Is that a challenge?” he sat back up, leaning in towards you while he narrowed his eyes, “Because we can go to my room and settle that right now.”

“I don’t know, it’s not really that sexy if you’re only doing it to prove a point,” you hummed.

“It’s not just to prove a point, it also happens to be something I rather enjoy doing,” he leaned in even close to you with a smirk, “And it’d be a chance to make up for this weekend,” his lips barely brushed along your jawline, leaving feint kisses there that made you shiver, “We could do it right here if you wanted. I’ve never done anything in public, it might be sort of fun.”

“This is a patio, it’s not public,” you bit your lip as he moved down your neck.

He pulled back slightly so he could meet your eyes, “But we’re right in front of a public beach, and Haz is just inside, it’s still pretty risky.”

“It’s no more risky than doing it in a car, or when there’s other people in the house,” you retorted.

His lips curled into a smile before returning to your skin, “Shh, it’s more fun if there’s a little risk Flower.”

“Getting caught wouldn’t be fun Tom.”

“Hey,” he pressed his lips to your ear before whispering, “I said shh.”

You bit your lip again and held your tongue, deciding it was probably in your best interest not to interrupt him again. He kissed a trail down your neck, stopping at the collar of your sweater, making you wish you’d left it off. Strong hands sank into your waist, one of them slipping forward to unbutton your shorts. Your whole body buzzed with anticipation while he dragged the zipper down, anxiously waiting for his next move. Without breaking contact he moved to his knees in front of you and lifted your hips off the chair. He tugged your shorts off and carefully sat them beside your chair.

“Getting all wet for me huh?” he stopped sucking at your skin just long enough to tease you, dragging his index finger over the front of your underwear.

You nodded, craning your neck back to give him better access to your skin, “You’re gonna get uncomfortable on your knees, maybe we should la-”

“Don’t worry about me,” he interrupted as he placed a hand on the back of your head, forcing your head back down so you could meet his eyes, “This is about you, okay?”

You only nodded, your eyes dropped down to his lips for just a moment before he pressed them against yours. You smiled at the familiar taste of his piña colada chapstick and laced one of your hands through his hair. Both of his hands returned to your waist, they wandered up your torso and under your sweater, taking a brief feel of your soft skin before they returned to your underwear. He hooked his fingers on the edge and gently tugged them off your hips, carefully setting them on top of your shorts. You licked his bottom lip to show him that you were ready for more, but Tom intended to take his time. He kissed you slow and steady and kept his hands at your waist.

Finally he nipped at your bottom lip and you thought he might give you something more, but instead he pulled away. He smiled when he noticed the small pout on your lips and bent down to kiss your thigh. He trailed quick, playful kisses all the way up your leg, stopping just before he reached your core. He then repeated the process on the other leg before he moved his hands down to your thighs.

“Are you ready angel?” he purred, looking up at you with the most sultry smile you’d ever seen.

You licked your lips and nodded, Tom let out a low chuckle before he spread your legs. You shivered at the newfound exposure and he started kissing the inside of your thighs. They were slow, open mouthed kisses that made it hard for you to breathe. Part of you wanted to yell and demand that he hurry it up, but really you loved the build up. It always made it so much better when he finally did touch you. You watched his lips move closer and closer to your core until finally he was right there, but instead of giving you what you needed most, he started kissing your stomach.

“Tom,” you groaned in frustration.

He glanced up at you and winked before he pressed his lips to your clit. It began as a soft, gentle kiss, but in seconds he was running his tongue over you. You gasped happily and once again your hand found its way to his hair. Tom groaned in approval as he started sucking at your clit. His right hand left your thigh and reached around to press against your lower back, pushing you even closer to him. You whimpered above him as you watched him work between your legs. Suddenly he licked a long stripe up you, causing you to moan and throw your head back.

You could feel his lips curl to a smile as they worked against you. You tried to spread your legs further but the arms of the chair were preventing you from doing so. Noticing your struggle Tom pulled you forward and lifted your left leg over his shoulder. Now you were seated right on the edge of the chair, your hips angled upwards while he teased your entrance. The new angle allowed you to rock your hips against him, which made him moan against you.

Tom flicked his tongue over you a few times before dipping inside of you. You expected him to add a finger but it never came, instead he used his tongue to push you closer and closer to the edge. Your stomach was tied in knots, everything he did was edging you towards your finish.

“Tom,” you gasped as he returned to your clit very suddenly.

Tom picked up his speed, there was nothing he loved more than to hear you moaning his name. He could tell you were close, and he was eager to have you fall apart for him. He couldn’t see your face, although he would have liked to, but the way you were moaning and rocking your hips already had him hard enough. If he had a free hand he would have reached down to touch himself, but he was much more focused on making you feel good at the moment.

“Tom,” his name came out like a plea, like you were begging him to bring you to your climax, “Tom.”

He dipped his tongue into you again, teasing you for a moment before he took your clit between his lips. Your whole body was burning, your breath came out in short pants while you tugged at his hair. He pressed you even closer to him, humming contently against your sensitive skin. The vibrations were what finally did it for you, an intense wave of pleasure overtook you and you came undone against his mouth. He continued to lap at you while you fell apart, helping to work through your high. When your grip on his hair loosened he took it as his signal to stop and slowly pulled back from between your legs.

Tom kissed the top of your thigh before he glanced up at you, your cheeks were flushed and your eyes were heavy. It was totally erotic, and Tom couldn’t stop himself from pulling you into a kiss. He kissed you hard, feverishly working his lips against yours.

“Gorgeous,” he purred as he pulled away.

Your cheeks flushed a shade darker as you noticed the tent that had formed in his pants, “Do you want me too..?”

“Not unless you want to,” he smiled at you as he reached for your underwear, “I was thinking we could head back to my room though and thrown on a movie, maybe order dinner,” he bit his cheek as he tugged your underwear back up your legs, “You know, try and make up for the other night. But I understand if you’re still upset and you’d rather just go home or something. I just, uh,” he cleared his throat and reached for your shorts, “I wanna make sure we’re okay you know?” he peaked up at you hopefully.

You could tell he was worried about what you would say, and truthfully you were unsure how you felt. On one hand you were still hurt, but on the other hand it was Tom. He had already shown you he was willing to do whatever he had to to make you feel better and make things up to you. That effort meant a lot, and you knew Tom well enough to know he would never hurt you intentionally, he was just nearsighted.

“I think a movie would be nice, dinner too,” you agreed, “But I’m still kind of hurt Tom, and I’m feeling okay right now, but we might need to talk about it again, I’m just not sure right now.”

“That’s okay love, we can talk about it anytime you need,” he kissed your forehead as he tugged your shorts back on, “I’m sure you’ll feel better after you get to shove it in my face this weekend.”

You chuckled and nodded, “Yeah, I’m sure that will help. Thanks for helping me get dressed.”

“Well it was only fair since I was the one that undressed you,” he stood up and offered you his hand, “Come on, dinner’s on me.”

“Wow,” you grinned, “I feel spoiled.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta do it,” he winked and tossed his arm over your shoulder as he walked you back towards his house.

next chapter

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diner-drama · 1 year

Text

Disguise (1/1)

To save Merlin the trouble of having to maintain the costly ageing spell while he wrests Gwen from Morgana's control at the Cauldron of Arianrhod, Gaius tells Arthur that the sorcerer he has found is a woman.

He doesn't warn Arthur that the sorcerer in question is a raven-haired beauty with a pair of blue eyes that a man could drown in, nor that the spell to free Gwen requires more than just some magic words.

Merlin/Gwen/Arthur gender-swap one-shot. An alternate version of 5x09, "With All My Heart". The BBC are cowards for not making this episode incredibly sexy. Also on AO3.

"I just don't think this will do anything for my figure," said Merlin as he held the frumpy black dress against his body.

"It's not a beauty competition," laughed Gaius. "As long as the prince doesn't recognise you, you can wear what you like."

"Usually I'd get Gwen to help me with something like this," Merlin grumbled. "Why did Morgana have to ensorcel my only seamstress friend?"

"How often do you find yourself dressing up in women's clothing?"

"What I do with my weekends is nobody's business but mine, Gaius," replied Merlin with a twinkle in his eye. He disappeared up to his room in search of a belt, before popping his head back through the doorway. "You don't have any makeup, do you?"

The journey to the Cauldron of Arianrhod was horribly perilous, even with Mordred's help, and by the time they arrived at the waters, Merlin was vibrating with tension, going over the words to the spell in his head.

"We have to find her," said Arthur grimly, scanning the rocky landscape for the sorceress.

"I'll search her out," replied Merlin, hurrying to pick up his bag and accidentally dropping the dress on the dusty ground.

Arthur put his hands on his hips, looking over at Merlin expectantly.

"She... likes to be paid in clothes," explained Merlin, sprinting away.

"Why-" started Arthur, giving up when Merlin was concealed from his view behind a big rock.

With haste, Merlin stripped off his tunic, breeches, and boots, and folded his neckerchief into a neat little square on top. Shivering in the cool air, he whispered a spell that he may or may not have tried a few times before on long winter evenings when he didn't have anything better to do. In an instant, his body began to change - his skin softened, his hips and chest grew plump, and his hair lengthened, curls bouncing around his bare shoulders.

Some other things changed, too, but they weren't relevant to the disguise, so we will not discuss them here.

He slipped the black dress over his head, forgoing the petticoats and shroud. The wide shoulders of his dress slipped down his arms over his newly narrow shoulders, creating a plunge neckline that he actually quite liked. He tied the belt at his true waist, accentuating the hourglass shape of his delicate ribcage. Kneeling at the edge of the lake and watching his reflection in the still water, he carefully daubed some rouge onto his full lips.

Merlin's transformation into the Dolma complete, he took a deep, fortifying breath and emerged from behind the rock.

The woman who stepped out on bare feet from behind the craggy stone where Merlin had disappeared moments before was not at all what Arthur had expected. His eyes tracked upwards from the ground, taking in the way the black dress skated over the curves of her body, the delicate prominence of her collar bones, the captivating blue of her eyes, and the raven black of her hair, which fell in soft ringlets over her pale shoulders.

She pursed her lips - full, soft, and stained a deep red. "Who are you?" she called, stalking toward them. "What business have you in this sacred place?"

Arthur swallowed hard and tried to gather his wits. "Are you the Dolma, ancient sorceress of the Cauldron of Arianrhod?"

She smiled, and her voice dropped to a low purr. "Who else would I be?"

"I don't know," said Arthur, his mouth dropping open as he gazed at her. She continued to walk towards them, her graceful hips swinging with each step.

"Sire," said Mordred quietly. "Does she look familiar to you?"

"There is something," admitted the king. Tearing his eyes away from the beautiful woman in front of him, he looked around the valley. "Where's Merlin?"

"Your servant is resting," she told him, stepping closer and putting a hand on his chest. She smelled like that rough soap which Merlin liked to use, and it was turning his head. "You work him too hard," she breathed, sliding her hand around to rest on the back of his neck. "Won't you let him take a break until we've concluded our business?"

"You know why we're here."

"You can't hide anything from me, Arthur Pendragon," she replied, fixing him with her piercing blue gaze. Her cool, thin fingers stroked through the hair at the bottom of his skull, as though she had known the feeling of him for years.

"Are you sure we haven't met before?"

"You've never been so lucky," she murmured. "Come, bring the queen and set her beside the pool before she awakes."

Once Arthur had done as he was told, the sorceress kneeled at Gwen's head, carefully stroking the queen's hair back from her brow.

"The magic which has ensnared her is very strong," said the Dolma gently, looking down at the queen with an expression of great tenderness. "If we fail, she may be lost to us."

"Can the enchantment be broken?"

"Yes, but it will not be easy. We may not succeed, and we may lose her. Do you understand this?"

Arthur took a deep breath and set his jaw, nodding grimly. "I understand."

The Dolma searched his face for a moment, then nodded in return. "I'm going to wake her up, and then she must walk into the waters of her own will."

"She will not do such a thing," Arthur warned her.

"You must tempt her in. You must reach the part of her that Morgana could never touch."

"Is there such a part?"

"I believe there is, and so must you," she said firmly, pinning him with her direct gaze.

"If she walks into the waters, will she be cured?"

"I must summon the White Goddess to lift the dark magic that ensnares her soul. It will take all of my powers, and..." She hesitated.

"And?" prompted Arthur.

"The goddess will require... a tribute."

Arthur looked down and nodded in resignation. "I am prepared to sacrifice my life for the soul of my queen," he said solemnly.

"You're prepared to sacrifice your life for any idiot who crosses your path," snapped the Dolma, unaccountably angry. She calmed herself with a breath and then continued. "Your life will not be forfeit. The goddess will possess my mortal form while she works her magic. For centuries, her only form has been as an ethereal spirit. She has not felt the earthly touch of another since long before you or I were born."

"So I need to... touch her?" asked Arthur slowly.

"The legends say that the goddess' power stirs the blood and quickens the heart. She must be rewarded... with a kiss."

"Oh, if that's all. Mordred can do that."

The sorceress screwed up her face, looking at Mordred with skepticism. "How old is he?"

"I don't know... twelve, maybe? Twenty?"

"I'm not kissing a child."

"Well, you're certainly not kissing my wife."

"I knew you'd be weird about this," she muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Look, I'll kiss you, or Guinevere, or you can go and find that dragon, but I'm not kissing that kid. He's going to murder you, you know."

"Have you been talking to Merlin?"

"I'm a sorceress. I can tell when someone's going to murder you."

"If Guinevere wakes up and sees me kissing some sorceress, she'll murder me herself."

The Dolma sighed and shook her head. "We can cross that bridge when we come to it, I suppose," she muttered. "Once I wake her, we will have only a few moments to tempt her into the water. Take your chain mail off, it'll get rusty."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, you should have put on the white tunic this morning."

"You have been talking to Merlin."

"Prepare yourself. You must reach her," she said, placing one hand on Gwen's forehead. The sorceress chanted an incantation in a low, sonorous voice, and Gwen's whole body jerked as she startled awake. She scrambled away from both of them and stood.

"Where am I?" she spat, the peace on her face disappearing, replaced with a look of utter hatred and suspicion. "What have you done to me?"

"You've been asleep for a long time," said Arthur gently, holding up his hands in supplication as he approached her, trying to ignore the way his heart was breaking in his chest.

"Get away from me!" she yelled, backing away.

"Guinevere. My Guinevere," he said in a soft voice, taking her by the shoulders.

She screwed up her face, the usual kindness in her eyes replaced with sheer disgust. "Your Guinevere?" she hissed. "You stupid, foolish man. I was never yours and never will be."

"You must reach her, Arthur," the Dolma reminded him. Her words soothed and irritated him in equal measure.

"Who are you?" asked Gwen, her face softening as she looked the sorceress up and down. "I know you."

"I'm here to help you. You must hear our voices, please," she replied gently, her voice breaking a little as she pleaded with the queen.

"Do you remember when I asked you to marry me?" asked Arthur, struck with a sudden thought, ducking his head to look his wife in the eyes. "Do you remember what you said?" Gwen jerked away, refusing to look at him, and he looked towards the sorceress for reassurance.

"You said, 'with all my heart'," she supplied, walking backwards into the water until it was around her ankles.

"With all my heart," repeated Arthur, doing the same. It didn't occur to him to wonder how the sorceress knew this.

Gwen hesitated, looking between them, something between confusion and affection dawning in her eyes.

"With all my heart," he said again, reaching out a hand.

Finally, hesitantly, Gwen took a step forwards. "With all my heart," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"Walk into the water, Gwen," said the Dolma, treading slowly backwards until she was waist-deep, her dress floating around her in the still lake. "Walk towards us."

Slowly, cautiously, Gwen made her way into the water as though in a dream, guided by some unknown impulse towards their voices and outstretched hands. Finally, the three of them stood together in the cool water, submerged up to their chests.

Arthur and the Dolma offered their hands to Gwen and she took them, confusion still written all over her face.

"Yfel gaest, ga thu fram thisselichaman," intoned the sorceress, her beauty becoming sharper and brighter as the light of the goddess suffused her body. Gwen's eyes grew clearer as she watched, her breath coming in great, heaving gasps. "Bith hire mod eft freo."

The queen gulped in one more huge breath, and her body glowed with the same light as the spell began to take hold. She gazed into the Dolma's eyes as though she were witnessing a miracle and, in one movement, threw herself forwards to kiss the other woman on the lips. The sorceress closed her eyes and kissed Gwen hungrily, as though it had been an aeon since she had last felt human touch. They parted, and finally, a smile graced the queen's face. She turned to her husband, taking her hand from his to tangle in his hair and pull his head to hers, kissing him. A tear slipped down his cheek as he pressed his lips against those of the woman he loved, finally hoping that she may not be lost to him forever.

"Arthur," she said quietly, pressing a shaking thumb to his lips, familiarity dawning in her eyes.

In the background, he could hear the Dolma saying the final words of the incantation, and he felt the glowing light begin to recede. As she stepped away, Gwen grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. Drawing her close again, she guided Arthur's head to the other woman's and he met the Dolma's lips in a grateful kiss as Gwen applied herself to her neck, peppering kisses up and down. The sorceress' skin was soft against his hands, and she let out a small noise of satisfaction, cradling the back of Gwen's head to pull her closer. Their three bodies pressed together, hands smoothing over skin, the lingering energy of the spell leaving them giddy, intoxicated with relief.

Gwen kissed the Dolma again and rested their foreheads together while Arthur nosed behind the sorceress' ear, pressing little kisses and nips into her smooth, pale skin.

"I can never thank you enough," whispered the queen. "You have returned my mind to me. A thousand kisses would not be too much of a price to pay."

"I agree," said Arthur, holding the Dolma's body against his as he licked and sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder. "We will forever be in your debt."

"To have triumphed over evil is reward enough," she breathed, nonetheless turning her head to press a kiss to the king's lips.

"Kissing you is no hardship," laughed Gwen. The sight of the dimples in her cheeks and the musical sound of her laughter took Arthur's breath away, and he kissed her, revelling in the feeling of her.

"My queen," he murmured. "It is good that we are a team again."

"A team indeed," she replied, beaming, "but I think our saviour here will find that we can be very competitive."

As one, they turned to the sorceress with predatory intent, and fell to caressing and kissing her, each trying to outdo the other in winning her favour. She responded just as enthusiastically, sliding her thigh between Gwen's and sliding a hand up the back of Arthur's tunic.

Eventually, the sorceress shivered, her slender frame no match for the cold water.

"We'll catch our deaths out here. Come with us back to Camelot," Gwen entreated her, cupping her jaw.

"We can be very welcoming," added Arthur.

"I regret that I cannot," said the sorceress reluctantly.

"It's fine," Gwen reassured her, giving her a final chaste kiss on the forehead. "The offer stands."

The sorceress gave a half-smile as she disentangled herself from their embrace, pausing only to give them both lingering kisses on the cheek.

"Perhaps one day," she said softly. She stepped lightly out of the water in bare feet, leaving damp footprints behind her, and disappeared behind the rock from whence she came.

"We should get out of these wet clothes," murmured Arthur, holding his beloved wife to his chest. "Mordred has some spares."

Gwen's head whipped around and she stared at Mordred, who was standing at the shore and looking incredibly uncomfortable, gaze fixed determinedly away from them.

"You brought Mordred?" she hissed. "He's far too young to see this kind of thing."

"I didn't know the sorceress was going to be so... beguiling."

"She certainly was that," laughed Gwen as they made their way back to the shore. Mordred held out two towels and stared firmly at the floor.

"I'm glad that you are restored to yourself, my lady," he said, bowing low and still not meeting their eyes.

"Thank you for your help, Mordred. I hope this wasn't too unsettling for you."

"As long as we never discuss this again, I think I will be perfectly fine, your highness," he replied with a closed-lipped smile.

"Agreed."

"Agreed," added Arthur, taking the towel and stripping off his sodden tunic. "Turn around, there's a good lad."

The after-effects of their intensely sensual encounter with the Dolma were still crackling between them, and every inch of golden skin revealed as Gwen dried off and changed into dry clothes was tempting him.

"I have a pressing urge to take you back home and welcome you properly," he said in an undertone.

"I will admit to feeling similarly... inspired," she said coquettishly, biting her lip as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. "I have to say, if we were going to invite a third person into our bed, I would have assumed it would be Merlin."

"You never told me that," said Arthur. He took her by the shoulders and pressed a warm, loving kiss into her forehead. "I suppose it is logical. Where is Merlin, anyway?"

As if on cue, Merlin came stumbling out from behind the rocks. His clothes were askew, as though he'd put them on in a hurry, and there were deep red smears across his lips. He waved when he saw them and gave them a double thumbs up, looking slightly out of breath.

"Merlin, you've got lipstick on," laughed Gwen.

"Did the Dolma kiss you?" asked Arthur, putting his hands on his hips.

"Why would you ask that?" said Merlin evasively, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"It seems as though she kissed all of us," said the queen, looping her arm through Arthur's as they set off back down the path.

"Except for Mordred," the king pointed out.

"I'm happy for that to be the case, sire," said Mordred, looking at Merlin with wide eyes.

"Yes," agreed Merlin, clapping the young knight on the shoulder. "That's probably for the best."

#merlin #merthur #mergwenthur #my fics #disguise

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littlebittyrugrat · 2 years

Text

CG!Glamrock Freddy with clingy Little!Reader

Content up ahead includes: Little gear [pacifiers, clothes, ect.], crying + comfort, fluff.

The sound of the cartoon you had been watching was drowned out with tired fuzz filling your head. It was late, you wanted to stay up and keep playing but you were getting so exhausted. "Alright Cub, bedtime." Freddy smiled at your fatigue expression and cooed. You could feel a pair of large hands lifting you up from where you sat, but so gently it felt like you were floating in the air. You mumbled when his soft fur came into contact with you, brushing against your cheek. You whined loudly and buried your face into his chest when he entered a room and flicked on the light. "Awe, I know it's bright little one but it's only for a minute I promise." Shushing your cries and hugging you close to his body and shielding you from the light. "Do you want to pick?" He smiled softly and urged you to look at something and move your head a bit. You lazily turned your head to look at the closet full of clothes he was showing you. "Uhmm…" You mumbled in deep thought whilst squinting your eyes to get a better look, blinking the tiredness from your eyes. "Dis one." You pointed to a pair of footie pajamas that were teddy bear themed and had a hood. "Good job! You picked all by yourself and used your words, Papa is very proud." The bear cooed and pressed his nose against yours and nuzzled you. You squealed giddily and playfully tried to push him away, not trying very hard. He chuckled before taking the said clothing from the closet and shutting it and putting you down. "You want Papa to help or do it by yourself Sweetheart?" You nibbled on your knuckle and looked at the ground shyly. "You want me to help you Honey?" He smiled and got down on his knee, tilting his head understandingly. You nodded and ran into his arms, hugging him tightly. "That's alright, Papa will help you Cub." The singer hummed before planting a gentle kiss on top of your forehead, petting your head gently.

After helping you get dressed and giving you your favorite pacifier to clip onto your pajamas he took you to the kitchen. "Alright, is there anything you want to drink Little One?" "Juice!" You lit up with excitement and kicked happily at the thought. "Oh Superstar." He chuckled before ruffling your hair gently and opening the fridge. "Why not some chocolate milk instead, hm?" You nodded and flapped your hands, stimming excitedly. "Do you want your big kid cup or sippy cup Honey?" "Sippy." You replied while playing with one of his hands aimlessly, comparing how much smaller yours was than his. "Alright little one, just gonna sit you down for one minute." He chirped as he sat you on your feet and began preparing a sippy with chocolate milk. For some reason, you didn't like being put down, usually you didn't mind but not now. It was only for a second and you knew that but you wanted to be held. Freddy jumped at the sudden cry that escaped you, frantically making grabby hands at him. He quickly stopped what he was doing with concern before scooping you up gently. "Oh shhh shhh.. Superstar what's the matter Baby?" "No down." You hiccupped with tears leaking from your eyes still. "Awe c'mere cub.." He hushed before tenderly rubbing your back. He gently swayed until your tears stopped and your whines quieted to soft sniffles. "Can Papa put you down just for a minute baby? I gotta make your drink." He cooed softly and bounced you in his arms. You hesitantly nodded and hugged his leg once you were put on the ground. You started to close your eyes after hugging his leg for a but opened them hearing Freddy's voice. "All done! There you go Sweetheart." Handing off the item to you he picked you up and layed you over his shoulder whilst making soothing rumbling sounds.

"Alright, let's put you down for bed Cub." You huffed out your nose before rubbing your eye. A smile gracing your lips when the bear kissed your cheek and rocked you back and forth.

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techtainia-makes-things · 2 years

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Some people seem to be liking my MTMTE Megatron x reader fic, so here is what is technically part two. I have more of these on my Wattpad (the only book site I could find that allows both original stories and fic), and I’m planning to move most of them here eventually.

—

Every time you did it, you told yourself it would be the last time. The last time that you scuttled out of your habsuite after hours of writing just to leave a little datapad of poetry at Megatron’s door. The last time that you would watch his face change from exhausted to pleasantly shocked from the vent before heading back to your habsuite.

Every time, you were wrong, but you couldn't help but write every time someone left a datapad of poetry outside of your door. At this point, the flutter of your heart was worth the extra hours of mental labor. The love of this stranger fueling your love for Megatron.

And you were doing it again. You were shuffling down the baren hallways of the Lost Light to Megatron’s habsuite with instructions that you had memorized like the back of your hand. When you had first boarded, you would never have expected to be able to navigate this place so well, but here you were.

You had delivered the datapad and left just as Megatron had opened his door to deliver one to you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As hard as you tried to stop yourself, you were back to writing a week later. You sat in your habsuite wearing your coziest sweater and sweatpants, laying all of your feelings out on the page. You had confessed about your writing to Rung, and he said that it was good for you to let out your emotions. You couldn’t help but agree with him as you ended the last line.

You bounced up from your seat with a giddy warmth in your heart. This was your best one yet.

What you expected was an empty hallway. You didn’t expect Megatron to be standing right there behind a datapad that he had just set on the ground. You picked it up and surely enough, it was another one of the love poems that you loved so much. Your eyes widened. “You?”

Megatron had the nerve to look away in shame. Anything so you couldn't see the fear in his optics. “…Yes.” He exvented. “It appears that it will be the last one.” It was at that moment that the lines on his face became apparent.

You glanced down to the datapad in your hands. ‘Stop standing here like an idiot and do something!’ You thrust the datapad forward with as much grace as Rodimus messing up a stunt.

You took a deep breath. “Well I was going to deliver this to your habsuite, but I guess that it would be better to just give it to you here and now.” Good, you weren't talking a hundred miles a minute, more like seventy five, but at this point you would take what you could get.

He took the data pad from you, and when he opened it, his shock mirrored yours. His was just far more subtle. “And you as well?” His optics leaked ever so slightly with tears of relief, and you told yourself that it was a job well done.

You rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah. It’s funny, actually. I started writing because of your writing.” “Did you now?”

You nodded, not trusting your words in the moment, and cleared your throat. “Are you still up to that private poetry reading?”

He looked down at you with the same restrained fondness that he always did. Half lovely, half intensely terrifying in the best way possible. He hesitated. “Of course.”

And with that, he joined you in your habsuite for a night of sappy poetry and flustered stares.

#mtmte megatron #megatron x reader #mtmte #Tech writes

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eristic-kaleidoscope · 1 year

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The Worth of a Point - Ch4 Motive 2/2

“Oh, but if That’s not enough of an incentive for YOU~”

An snickered softly, pressing her hand to her mouth as if she was coy and stealthy, despite how blatant the follow-up might have been compared to the previous motives leading up until this one.

“We’ll be taking MORE! Every other day, we’ll snag more and more of your memories from you until it’s JUST enough to rob you of your identity and sense of self. What makes up a person if not the things they’ve experienced, after all? Eehheheheh! But there’s no boundary where it ends. We’ll take memories from your childhood, memories from your adulthood, memories since you’ve arrived here into this building in the flesh. All of it! Snap! It’s all gone. Until you decide to kill.”

“Once blood’s been spilled and after your investigation, we’ll return what you lost, but… The longer this motive takes the longer it’ll take to give those back to you, so you better let some blood sooner rather than later. K thanks.”

Though you could frankly use a break from An’s nonsense, she didn’t seem to be done with her speech. She flipped through her tablet, scrolling down a page of some kind, for whatever that was worth.

“RIGHT, so… Points. As per the usual, you can spend some points for a little bitty benefit to help you during the motive, riiiiight? So for THIS one, it’s less about making the motive easier and more about information. Because isn’t it nice to have information? I know at least ONE person who’s bloodthirsty over that shit, soo….. You can spend 100 points to first-person POV the memories that we took that belong to someone else! But, ah, ah! We’re lenient and we’ll let you PICK who’s memory you want to view, instead of some random one we arbitrarily pick.”

“So… Who do you want the beef on? Who’s pissing you off? Just let us know and fork it up and we’ll get that shit to you stat!!”

An beamed, a gremlin-like grin gracing their features. It was almost intimidating, given the stakes at hand, what you could gain AND what you could lose. Yet, her confidence was near back to unwavering after the last trial. It seemed that she’d bounced back as best as she could in the moment, even if her air of fun had slightly drained from her performance.

“You’ll have no need to gather yourselves for future memory extractions, so please don’t worry about that~ Do keep in mind that the memory machine in the tech room will now only be able to be operated by us for the duration of motive as well. With all of that in mind, however, I suppose you’re all dismissed~”

And thus, you were left by yourself, with your altered mindsets and altered behaviors. Oh how a singular influential memory could affect a person. Oh how… How much it changed about how you would cope with the upcoming days. Though perhaps it would be easier to spot a change in someone else as opposed to yourself.

How long would it take for someone to kill? Or… How long would it take until you were continuously reintroducing yourselves to the same people day by day, in an endless loop of amnesia? Only time would tell.

#chapter4 #analalava #calluna

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write-ur-wrongs · 3 years

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The Death of Me

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Word count: almost 4K - big whoops!

A/N: This was totally meant to be a drabble / blurb, but the story got away from me! A huge thanks to the sweet anon who submitted this prompt - I was beyond inspired and chuckled warmly throughout the entire writing process. This baby isn’t proofread so thread lightly!! I sincerely hope y’all enjoy this one :’)

Prompt: Heya! I saw your post about wanting to practice writing short stories so I have a small prompt for Geralt! What about: the reader and Geralt have always had a difficult relationship, always running into each other at the most inconvenient moments and hence disliking each other. However, while Geralt is passing through a village the reader comes barging into his room bloody and near death, only getting a chance to say “I didn’t know where else to go” before collapsing. I would be honoured if the idea inspired you :3

____________________________________________________

You’d never considered yourself unlucky but lately life had a funny way of throwing you for a loop, or rather, throwing you to the wolves. One wolf, actually. A damn, irritating, and arrogant white wolf.

At first, it was all business. You’d arrive in a village itching for a contract, only to find that a “legendary witcher” had already come through and taken care of every monster within a two-days ride. Furious, hungry, and broke, you set out determined to get as far as you could and as quickly as possible. Your determination got you far enough that you’d managed a full three months of contract work, but not far enough it seemed.

You’d been on your way to collect payment from your latest contractor when you’d heard the buzz on the street; a witcher had come through asking about work, and had been told to wait and see as someone else (a woman! A human woman!) had already committed to the case. Apparently, he was either incensed or bemused at the idea – the brute was very hard to read, so say the town gossips – but it didn’t matter to you. You beat him to it and now you get to eat. When you finally met with the contractor to collect your coin, you couldn’t help but swell with pride as they thanked you, eyes wide, for taking care of a monster no human ought to be able to handle. You could have sworn your pride had given you wings as you floated out of the inn.

That is, until you heard them mumble under their breath, “Thank Gods that lass was able to handle it! Had it been the witcher, I would have had to pay triple!”

“Thank heavens for cheap labour!” whispered their partner, raising their glass to cheers their big victory.

Suddenly whatever weightlessness you felt transferred onto your coin purse. Biting hard on your cheek you pushed up your chin, determined to remain dignified. But then you saw him.

Impossibly broad chested, rippling muscles evident beneath his leather armour, with golden eyes that reflected back to you with a cruel playful nature that made bile rise in the back of your throat. He held your gaze and raised his own tankard to you as you walked past him. His deep voice rumbled through you as you pushed the door open.

“Cheers to cheap labour,” you heard him say, and swore you could hear the smirk on his full lips.

Groaning furiously, you pushed the door so hard it swung back and slammed shut behind you with such force a flock of birds took off somewhere in town. Undeterred, you stomped off towards your horse and set off at a gallop.

I’m going to make sure I never cross his fucking path ever again, you thought searingly.

You were wrong it turned out, but how were you supposed to know that?

You’d gone years without actually seeing him again, but that didn’t mean you were free of him. You’d alternated winning and losing contracts to each other, and the pressure of beating him to the next one stressed you so fiercely you developed ulcers. That alone would have been enough to push you to murder had you not heard from another witcher that their brother, the great white wolf, was losing sleep trying to keep up with you. Knowledge of this fact spurred you on; after all, if you couldn’t beat him, it’s best to be even, no?

The next time fate brought you two together, though, you could not have been farther from on top. What made matters worse, is that you weren’t even in battle when your paths crossed. Your literal paths just simply… crossed.

You’d been riding east for many days and just as many nights. You were tired, sore, and somehow still soaked to the bone despite the fact that the rain had stopped at least a day ago. You were so tired, your muscles seemed heavy in your limbs, and you had to keep blinking hard to bring the spinning world around you back to its axis. As you rode through an intersection on the trail, the sun peaked out from behind the thick curtain of clouds just long enough to pull you fully into sleep, and right off your still-moving-horse’s saddle.

You honestly didn’t remember falling asleep, or off the saddle. You also had no memory of the moment another traveler, who was riding towards the intersection on the other trail, leapt off his mare just as you started your descent and caught you before you could split your skull open on one of the many rocks sprinkled throughout the street. You had no memory of the way he’d pulled you off the path, leading both horses behind him as he’d carried you over his shoulder. Zero recollection of him laying you down on a bed grass, tying your horse to a nearby tree, lighting you a campfire, or filling your pack with some bread and meat.

What you did remember, was the arrogant look on his face when you finally woke up. The condescending tone he took as he reminded you that you were ‘only human’ and had to take care of yourself accordingly was also seared into the annals of your memory.

You hated that he’d saved you almost as much as you hated the fact that you’d been asleep around him. Completely vulnerable for God knows how long and he’d been there to witness it all. Whenever the memory of the look on his face or the way he’d crossed his arms and tilted his stupid head as he condescended your humanity came to you, you couldn’t help but cringe even months after the fact.

***

Your saving grace came a full six months after your damned damsel in distress moment on the trail.

Well fed, well worked, and well travelled, you were taking your time enjoying the market in your town of the week. The work you did wasn’t glamourous, but it did allow you the means to afford a few luxuries every now and then. This time, it just so happened that your coin could buy you the sweetest gift of all: revenge.

The market was busy as ever, you could barely hear yourself think over the cacophony of voices and animal bleats bouncing around the square. Had it been anyone else, the conversation would have been lost among the noise around you, but when that voice came rumbling through the mess of shrieks and shouts, you couldn’t help but seek out the source. You didn’t know why you cared or why you were so surprised to find that the voice’s owner was none other than the White Wolf himself.

“You good?” you asked, making sure to tilt your head, hands on your hips, the same way he’d done the last time you’d met.

“Fine.” He practically barked, not even turning his head fully to address you directly.

The merchant, none-too-concerned with your arrival on the scene, continued as if uninterrupted. “I’m sorry Mr. Witcher, sir, but I can’t go any lower. This is the best I can offer.”

“I can’t pay that much,” he grumbled, hands closed into tight fists.

“I’m sorry-”

“Is this enough?” you interjected, knowingly offering forward far too many ducats.

“Y-yes!” breathed the merchant, looking quizzically at Geralt before picking three coins from your open palm, “thank you, madam...”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself with a warm smile and a nod.

“Y/N!” Geralt hissed, at the same time, reaching out to push away your hand a fraction too late; the vendor was paid, and you’d won this round.

“What is it, Witcher?” you teased, as the vendor took his sword back for repairs, “been on vacation? Why so skint?”

“Been low on work lately,” he replied coolly, cat-like eyes boring into yours, “not as many contracts as there use to be.”

“Well, I’ll be,” you said, cocking your head to the side and pursing your lips in mock contemplation, “I can’t imagine why that’d be the case! Seems I keep running into monsters to kill.”

“Mmhm.” He hummed, narrowing his eyes at you.

Refusing to let him have the last word, you quickly turned on your heels and high-tailed it out of the market, shouting over your shoulder to the blacksmith to give any change back to Geralt before disappearing back into the crowd.

***

Being even should have brought peace between the two of you but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Your last interaction only fanned the flames of your rivalry. As the months turned to years without coming upon each other again, you still found yourself filled with unreasonable anger whenever you saw a mop of white hair cross you on your travels.

And not that you’d know it, but it turned out that Geralt wasn’t faring any better; finding himself frustrated and acting recklessly whenever he’d come upon anything that reminded him of you.

You were both completely obsessed with one another. Thoughts of the other constantly on the mind. Whether in waking or in dreams, you were both equally afflicted by an intense need to outperform, out run, and also, inexplicably, to impress the other.

It was that need to impress each other that led you to accept a contract you should have never even considered taking. You honestly wouldn’t have even considered it had the circumstances been any different but you’d been hearing about this monster for weeks on your travels. Tales of the mighty griffin tearing people to shreds had been circulating far and wide on this side of the Yaruga, and honestly, with every retelling you’d expected to hear that a witcher had handled it, but that never happened. You’d somehow managed to arrive at the village at the source of these stories before him and had an opportunity to literally rob him of this victory.

Granted, you were the only one who’d been attributing him with this win, but that didn’t matter, not to you. The only thing you cared about when accepting this particular contract was the knowledge that by taking it, you were preventing him from having it, and that was more than enough.

The shock on the villagers faces when they saw you accept the contract only added to your already inflated confidence. The sheer size of the griffin’s wingspan humbled you a little, though, and whatever grand illusions of an easy victory you’d carried into the forest were squashed along with a couple rib bones only moments after engaging the beast. In short, you were fucked.

Some might say that coming out of it alive was enough of a win. Those people would be morons, you thought as you stumbled clumsily back towards the lights of the village, clutching your split abdomen with both hands and blinking back blood dripping from your forehead. Every step you took came with the stabbing pain of additional tearing around your wound. You could barely think, your ears were blocked and caked with dried blood and dirt, your tears stung as they fell across the gashes on your cheeks, and every breath in felt like it could be your last. You’d never admit this out loud, but a part of you wished the creature had finished the job.

Perhaps the only saving grace here was that in your condition, you couldn’t hear the villagers as they pointed and gossiped. You didn’t hear the “told you so’s” or the lewd shouts coming from the drunk men as you stumbled into the tavern. You could barely hear the disappointment in the inn owner’s voice as they reprimanded you for accepting a contract, they knew you couldn’t complete. Rolling your eyes, you pushed your way towards the stairs as quickly as possible – which, as it turned out, was not so quick, praying that someone would call you a healer.

“… and to think a witcher arrived only hours after she went off to kill herself! Tsk-tsk!”

You stopped dead in your tracks, drops of blood falling across your brow as you interrupted the momentum you’d been building. “W-what?” you croaked, turning towards them as much as possible to make sure you’d hear them correctly.

“Yeah! And not just any witcher, lass, the Butcher of Blaviken no less! Checked in with us just as you head out. Had you waited half a day you could have saved yourself a world of – ‘ey! Now where’s she off to?”

As you registered this news, something inside you snapped. Before you knew what was happening, you’d made your way upstairs and started pushing your full weight onto every door you passed. The great White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, was certainly arrogant enough to leave his door unlocked. You might have been wrong about the griffin, but you’d be damned if you were wrong about this.

Fortunate or not, you weren’t wrong about this. As you pushed your shoulder against the last door with whatever strength you had left, the door swung open with very little resistance. The heavy wooden door slammed loudly against the wall at the exact moment that your limp body crashed onto the floor.

“WHAT the fuck!” Geralt howled, leaping off the bed and onto his feet. His wild eyes assessed the situation in an instant, and he bound to you in barely two strides. “What the fuck did you do? What happened?” he asked as he flipped you over, so gently you were sure you’d already passed out and were now dreaming. Or maybe the blood loss was finally catching up to you and you were full-on hallucinating.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you breathed, barely above a whisper, before losing consciousness in his arms.

Regaining consciousness was a slow, painful process. You’d come in and out of it a handful of times throughout the night, and flashes of what you’d seen before you lost it were coming to you in an almost dreamlike haze; terrifying images of the furious griffin, its blood-soaked talon shining in the setting sun as it reared back to strike you again, and warmer visions of Geralt, shirtless, running towards you with – could it be? – genuine concern in his eyes.

Now as the rising sun cast its glow across the room, you squinted painfully against the light. Your head felt as though it was full of cotton; heavy, and scratchy, and unnatural on top of your shoulders. Hesitantly, you ran your tongue over your teeth and were equal parts relieved to find them all there and disgusted at the acrid, mineral taste the blood left behind. Blinking slowly, you tried to bring up your hand to rub at your eyes, but stopped short as you felt the large bandage draped across your forehead.

Slowly, you started to register the other bandages, on your arms, your cheek, across your abdomen. Your eyes grew wide as you finally registered the man facing away from you in the far corner of the room. Geralt’s broad strong back was hunched away from you as he rifled through herbs and small glass vials looking for something. Inexplicably, you found yourself disappointed to see he’d put his thick black tunic back on. Horrified by that realization, you literally gagged, startling Geralt and pulling his attention squarely onto you.

His big dumb beautiful face was all hard lines as he looked you over, stern eyes flashing to meet yours before dropping back down to the vial in his hands. You couldn’t help be notice the way the muscles in in jaw rippled and tensed as he sighed. He was oozing disappointment and anger, and that infuriated you.

“Am I dead?” you ask, squinting at him a little theatrically as you squirmed and winced in your bed.

“No.” he practically growled, his body tense as he made his way towards you slowly.

“Oh,” you breathed, bringing your eyes up to his before adding, “this isn’t hell?”

To your immense satisfaction, his stern eyes widened into shock, but then something unrecognizable flashed across his features – wait, was he hurt?

“Why, because I’m here?” he shouted, as if in confirmation of your hunch, and slammed the damp cloth he’d been holding back into the basin.

“No, jackass,” you retorted, pleased that despite the position you were in, you still had some semblance of an upper-hand, “because a griffin fucking fileted me like a fish and some poor drunk is probably downstairs slipping in a pool of my blood right now.”

You’d kind of hoped that he’d laugh, or at least have a comeback geared up for you, but Geralt just stood there staring at you, his mouth in a tight line, nostrils flaring.

Uncomfortable by the intensity of his stare and the silence accompanying it, you decide to continue to poke the bear.

“Come on, what’s with the face, Geralt? Pissed I’m still alive? You know you could have just closed the door over my body, let nature finish the bloody job.”

“Fuck, no! Y/n!” he screamed, startling you out of the attitude you’d put on, “I’m pissed because you’re an impossibly difficult woman hellbent on killing herself! I’m pissed because you don’t seem to fucking care about what happens to you! You can’t keep doing this Y/N! Because one of these days you’re going to get hurt and you’ll be too far away from me and I won’t be able to fucking save you, again! I am pissed because I am losing my mind spending every god-awful day wondering if you’ve gone and gotten yourself killed! Fucking hell, woman! If you didn’t find me – I-if I wasn’t here, with these herbs – Damnit Y/N!”

You just sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say. This man, your nemesis, was in front of you pacing back and forth, breathing heavily, looking like a maniac. His nostrils were flaring more than the monster that almost killed you just yesterday. Part of you wanted to correct him and demand he never address you as ‘woman’ again, but his wild earnest eyes kept you quiet. My god… was he crying?

Before you could say anything, Geralt sighed gruffly, ran his large hand over his face and stormed out, mumbling something about needing to get you more water.

Left alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop yourself from spiralling. You’d expected him to be angry – hell, you wanted him to be angry! You’d humiliated yourself twice over, enraging him would ease the blow – but this was… different. He seemed genuinely concerned about you. And what was with his whole speech? He spent every day thinking about you? Worrying about you? There’s no way.

Sure, you thought about him daily, but that was out of spite! You hated the man! Why else would your heart race whenever you thought you spotted him in a crowd? Why else would you actively seek out the most dangerous contracts? What, like you were hoping these contracts would draw him out, and therefore, closer to you? As if!

Your ridiculous inner monologue was interrupted by Geralt’s return. The horrible brute knocked gently on the door before stepping inside, and your heart had the audacity to skip a beat.

Oh, you thought, fuck.

“I need to change the dressing on your wounds,” he grumbled, not meeting your eyes. You nodded wordlessly as he settled onto the chair next to you. You watched him work in silence, praying he would attribute your insane heartrate and flushed skin to a pain response from his work.

“Geralt?” you tried, chewing nervously on your cheek, as was just finished up with the last of your dressing.

“Hm?” he hummed, keeping his eyes cast down as he fussed with the bandage on the gash across your abdomen.

“Thank you… for saving me.”

He finally brought his gaze up to meet yours, but said nothing in return. He merely grunted in acknowledgment. You didn’t know why, but his silence in combination with his inscrutable gaze encouraged you to keep talking.

“I honestly only took this contract because I didn’t want you to have it,” you admitted bashfully.

“What the fuck? No one was taking it because they weren’t paying nearly enough! Hell, and you’re just a human,” he fumed, throwing up air-quotes as he said it, “so what – they offered you a third of nothing?”

Laughing lightly, you shoved him with your elbow, “they offered me three whole ducats!”

“Oh, wow,” he laughed, low and rumbling, “so a big pay day for you, eh?”

“Shut up,” you gasped as pain rippled through you with each peal of laughter, “knowing I could screw you over was payment enough!”

“Well congratulations are in order, you did manage to screw someone over,” he chided.

“Me,” you stated dryly, gesturing widely at your busted up body.

“You,” he echoed with a sigh that seemed to deflate him.

He suddenly looked so small, sitting there next to you. You watched him as clenched and unclenched his jaw, rubbing his large hands up and down his thighs – was he anxious? You mind raced as you felt his eyes travel slowly up your body. You held your breath as he worked up the nerve to finally bring his eyes up to yours.

The moment his eyes landed on yours, something shifted. Whatever had been lodged uncomfortably between the two of you all these years had finally clicked into place. This change, albeit small, was palpable. His eyes dropped to your lips and lingered there. He was looking at you like he’d never seen you before. Like he was afraid he might never see you again.

Without speaking, Geralt inched himself closer to you and reached a tender hand to tuck your hair behind your ears before cradling your face.

“You’re not allowed to die, do you hear me?” he whispered, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You gave him a quick nod and brought your hand up to his, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm before giving his hand a quick kiss.

“I need to hear you say it,” he begged, bringing himself even closer to you.

“I do,” you breathed, trying to sit up to bring your face closer to his. “I’m not going to die, not on your watch, but I’m also not quitting.”

“Y/N –”

“No! If I quit, you’d get lazy. Who’d push you? What would be your driving force?”

“Wow,” he scoffed, looking at you incredulously but fondly, “you’re so fucking arrogant.”

“And yet…” you said, quirking a brow flirtatiously as you pulled him closer by the collar.

“… and yet?” he murmured, letting himself be pulled closer to you. His eyes half-closed and his lips slightly parted.

“You love me.”

“I love you.”

And then he kissed you. His mouth claimed yours urgently but his hands were ever gentle, ghosting over your bandages and caressing your skin with a feather-light tenderness that would have brought you to your knees had you not already been bedridden. Any hesitation or doubt melted away under the heat of his touch as all those years of tension sprung apart catastrophically. The knot you had carried in your stomach unfurled into flittering fireflies, their heat traveling up your stomach to your chest as his hands worked their way into your hair.

You didn’t know when they’d fallen, but you let out a shaky laugh as Geralt kissed away the tears on your cheeks, his thumb swiping at the tears his soft lips failed to catch. Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against yours; his hands cupping your face as yours captured his.

Gods – this man was going to be the death of you.

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notanotherreidgirl · 3 years

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ok so imagine that u and virgin!baby boy Reid are roommates (you share an apartment and ur rooms are right next to eachother) and he can always hear u moan every night that you play with yourself, but he feels to guilty to do anything about his little ‘problem’. and suddenly one night he’s like super horny and jerks off, not knowing that you’re awake and can hear everything. you try to drown him out until you hear him moan your name, so you go to his room and slowly open the door so he doesn’t hear you and when he feels you on the bed he’s super apologetic but you’re like “it’s okay baby boy😏” and he’s like “please mommy let me make you feel good🥺” and even though its his first time hes so good and when you let him fuck you hes so whiny and needy 😩😩😩😩

We Shouldn't

Warnings: loss of virginity, masturbating, handjob, oral sex (male receiving), perv!spence, sub!spence, mommy kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 1444

A/N: I embellished a bit - apologies

Spencer made life or death decisions nearly every day. He had to carefully craft his words when talking down unsubs and be able to assess dangerous situations in seconds to decide whether or not to shoot someone but now, when faced with a relatively simple choice, he was completely stumped. He had been rooted to the spot for nearly 20 minutes, unable to process the sight before him.

In his defense, Spencer had very little experience with women’s underwear and certainly no experience with something like the lacy little number you had left in the dryer. At this point, he had spent so much time staring at you that he knew without a doubt that they were yours. He also knew that he most definitely should not be picking them up right now or putting them in his pocket or running out of the laundry room and back to his apartment without putting his clothes to dry. And he most definitely should not be stashing your panties in his bedside table. But, alas, should not is not the same as did not.

For example, he should not watch you from his window when you went off on your morning run clad in running shorts and a tank top. He also should not linger behind you in the stairwell, eyes glued to your ass as you bounded up the stairs. And he certainly should not listen to you get yourself off at night but he did, even going as far as to take down his framed map and press his ear up against the wall. Spencer’s only saving grace was that thus far he had managed not to touch himself thinking of you, the overwhelming guilt forcing him to take a cold shower instead. But tonight was different. Tonight the panties in his bedside table were beckoning him as he ate leftover takeout, calling his name as leafed through books he’d already memorized, burning a hole through the wooden drawer as he slipped under the covers and listened for you on the other side of the wall.

There’s no harm in just holding them, he reasoned. The next thing he knew the panties were out of the drawer and in his hand and his pants had somehow slipped to mid-thigh in the process. This could be fine. I’ll find a way to give them back tomorrow and no one will know.

And maybe, just maybe, if Spencer was a man of more restraint he would’ve gotten away with it but he was not. He could hear you getting ready for bed, singing quietly to yourself. It was oddly intoxicating to know that you were going about your business, completely unaware of him and convinced that you were operating within the privacy of your own home.

Except you weren’t ignorant of your next door neighbor. Thin walls worked both ways and you could hear his soft moans reverberating into your own bedroom. You sang a little louder to drown him out, guilt eclipsing your excitement. You had often wondered about the young doctor next door - always coming and going at odd hours, never meeting your eyes or bringing anyone back to his for the night. He was so nervous around you, it made you wonder if he’d ever been with a woman but you shook the thought from your head. I should not be thinking about my neighbor’s sex life or lack thereof.

Just as you resolved to go in the kitchen and leave him in peace you heard it. It was unmistakable. You stilled listening intently, half-convinced your imagination was playing tricks on you as it often did. But there it was again clear as day. “Fuck, Y/N”

You were an overthinker, always going over your options rationally and hardly ever comfortable with making spur of the moment decisions. But you were out of your apartment in seconds, using the spare key he had nervously entrusted you with weeks ago to slip into his place. A little voice in your head tried in vain to talk sense into you. You should not be breaking into an FBI agent’s apartment.

If only should not was the same as did not.

He had his back to you and you took the opportunity to perch yourself on the edge of his bed, the shift in the mattress finally alerting him to your presence. He whirled around in alarm and instinctively tried to hide himself and the stolen underwear, already soaked in precum and wrapped around his erection. You tilted your head slightly, trying your best to hide a smirk. “I thought I heard you calling for me”

“I-no-I can explain,” he flushed a deep scarlet, his futile attempts to conceal his predicament were only making it worse and there was no way he could come up with a plausible explanation with your eyes on him. The panic rising in his chest swelled - the feeling that he had ruined everything starting to trigger an overwhelming urge to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”

You softened your gaze, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his thigh. “It’s ok, baby boy”

Just then, something changed. A switch flipped, a light came on, a natural dynamic fell into place. Very gently you took his hand, forcing him to uncover himself.

“Wouldn’t you rather the real thing?” With that you trailed his hand up your thigh and to your soaked core, letting him skim his fingers over the wetness between your legs and take in the notable lack of panties.

“I-uh-yes, but-” he stopped for a moment, searching deep within himself for a shred of courage before blurting out the rest. “I’m a virgin”

Much to his surprise, you didn’t even bat an eye, instead, you sunk down on your knees and ran your hands up his thighs. “Well then, we’d better make this extra special”

You replaced his hands, taking hold of his cock over the panties and setting in with a deliberate pace before running your tongue over his balls. You toyed with the soft flesh until you felt his thighs tremble and the whimpers he had been trying to suppress spilled from his lips. Once you were certain he had abandoned any sense of restraint you started to suck on his balls, relentlessly pulling him into your mouth and teasing him with your tongue. At this point he was incomprehensible, any words he might have said being carried away by the sobs working their way up his throat and the tears streaming down his face. Just when you were sure he’d come you retreated, pressing sloppy kisses down his thighs and removing your hands from his cock.

He whined. “Please, Mommy. Let me make you feel good.”

You pushed yourself up and into his lap, taking your shirt off in the process and cradling his face in your hands. “You think you can make Mommy come?”

He nodded into your chest, capturing a nipple into his mouth and instinctively sucking on it. You guided his hands to your waist and you lined yourself up with his tip, slowly sinking down and adjusting to his size. He gripped your waist tightly, willing himself not to come as he watched himself disappear into you. “All right then, let’s see if you can be a good boy.”

Spencer sprang into action, taking hold and bouncing you on his cock as he rutted into you. Simultaneously he continued to latch onto your breasts, littering your chest with marks. You dug your nails into his shoulders, feeling the tide of your release start to sweep you away. “Yes, just like that, baby. You’re being so good for me. So fucking good. My good boy.”

Just before you reached your peak, you threaded a hand in Spencer's hair and pulled him up to look at you. Those big brown eyes stared up at you, pupils dilated and vision hazy with lust. “I want you to come with me, baby. Right now.”

It was like nothing you had ever felt before, pure euphoria coursing through your veins and only amplifying when Spencer flooded you with his warm release. He gave a few more shallow thrusts, whimpering from the overstimulation before the two of you collapsed back onto the bed. You shifted slightly so you could hold him in your arms without separating, brushing his hair back behind his ear as he buried his face into your neck, now overcome with embarrassment over his actions. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I shouldn’t have taken your panties”

You tightened your embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s ok, darling. I’m glad you did.”

---

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elleaftermidnight · 2 years

Note

okok but car sex with artem >>>> NO BECAUSE THE FIRST TIME YOU DO IT HES ALL LIKE SHY AND EMBARRASSED BUT AS YOU DO IT MORE HE REALISES THAT HE FINDS IT REALLY HOT AND ATTRACTIVE 😩😩 and fuuuck riding him while he’s sitting on the driver’s seat

elle’s feeling thirsty. mdni. or else you’ll never get a s/sr again ever again.

cw. oral (m receiving), car sex, afab!reader

“yn.”

artem’s voice is low, commanding, his eyes desperately trying to stay focused on the road ahead. he grips the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles nearly turning white as your hands graze over his thigh. your touch is featherlight, dragging slowly up and down, inching closer and closer to his crotch.

“what?” you bat your eyes innocently, the corners of your mouth quirking upwards.

artem gulps, a thin layer of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. “don’t.”

“have i mentioned that i really like this suit on you?” your voice is sickeningly sweet, leaning closer to the driver’s seat to whisper in his ear.

the warmth of your breath tickles the skin beneath his ear, sending shivers down his spine. artem tries to keep his composure, but his voice cracks as soon as he begins speaking, “then- then let’s keep it on me, yeah? if you like it so much.”

“hmm.” you pause, pretending to think, “i have a better idea.”

without another word, you unbuckle his belt, pulling out his aching length from the confines of his underwear. artem no longer bothers to protest, only biting his bottom lip. his eyes flicker back and forth from the road to your hand on his cock.

you smear the precum that leaked out around his tip with your thumb, giving his shaft a couple of slow pumps. a smirk graces your lips, “eyes on the road, darling.”

artem shakes his head, hissing through his teeth, feeling himself getting more worked up. he begins to slow down, grateful for the dark and rather empty road. “what am i gonna do with you?”

your mouth is already on him by the time he finishes asking the question, hollowing out your cheeks to take more and more of him in. the uncomfortable position is made all the more worth it with each quiet moan that moves past his lips, the knot in your stomach growing tighter with each sound that escaped him. you release his dick with a quiet pop, looking up at him with wide eyes to answer, “you could fuck me.”

artem pulls over, putting the car in park. it doesn’t take long for him to have your underwear off and guiding you to the driver’s seat, sinking down on his cock.

his hands are on your hips, yours are on his shoulders to stabilise yourself. the two of you throw your heads back in pleasure as soon as he was balls deep in you, letting yourselves stay in that position for just a few moments.

the entirety of his face is red, feeling your walls enveloping him. artem bucks his hips as soon as you move yours, “shit- you’re so hot, too good to me”

his words come choked out, but it sends spark straight through your veins and your cunt. your nails dig into the skin of his shoulder as you pick up the pace, bouncing on his cock, clenching around him to get the two of you to your peak.

it’s a mixture of pleasure and pain, artem leans his forehead on your shoulder, heavily panting as he gripped your hips as tightly as he could.

your hand pushes him to his seat as you leaned back, creating a new angle for him to reach the deepest parts of your insides; the two of you let out the lewdest sounds, a symphony of moans, skin against skin, the wetness of your cunt practically sucking him in. it doesn’t take long for artem to feel his dick twitch inside you.

“gonna cum- yn, you feel so good, taking me so well.”

“yeah?” you ask, slamming down on him even harder, your skin now slick with sweat. “cum with me, okay?”

one of your hands cup his cheek and artem mirrors your action, the two of you meeting the other’s gaze as the coils in your stomach finally come undone.

the two of you catch your breaths, chests heaving. your laughter echoes around the small space, brushing away the hair that had stuck to his forehead, “can’t believe there was a time that you didn’t like me riding you in the car.”

“never said i didn’t like it.” artem coughs out, his cheeks still tinted pink, “...but i'm not done with you yet. let’s head home, hmm?”

artem wing pspspsp lemme fuck you in the backseat of your car <3

— tot masterlist ; inbox is always open for thirsts / anons / char anons <3

#💧 — glass of water.tot #why is yn not me? >:(#tears of themis smut #artem wing smut #tot smut #tears of themis x reader #artem wing x reader #tot x reader #tears of themis thirsts #artem wing thirsts #tot thirsts #tears of themis imagines #artem wing imagines #tears of themis artem

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

twelve hours, m | jjk | ... and now

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You have twelve hours to make Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you. He's about to get married. You're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. Long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. Nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

this is part ii | click here for part i | total wc: 23k

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; this story contains parental child abuse and graphic violence, including the reader becoming physically scarred and having panic attacks; rich, this bachelor party is on a fuckin' YACHT, the best man is LOADED; JK and reader interacted in high school; angst and fluff and feels; cheating; this is mostly smut XD; (in part i) high school smut + intense adult smut (fem reader, striptease, semi-public sex at school, nipple play (he's a bit obsessed with them), dry humping, m-masturbation, handjob, cumming on tits (and diamonds), cum-eating, mirror kink, spitting, tit fucking, m-receiving oral, scratching / biting / marking, penetrative sex, doggy); shifts back and forth between Jungkook’s POV and your POV

non-idol!AU; film director!Jungkook x wealthy, burlesque dancer!reader — ft best man, art trader!Kim Taehyung; dancer's bodyguard!Kim Namjoon and bodyguard!Kim Seokjin

> eyebrow pierced, tattooed, and long black-haired JK (with undercut) in a black suit because that's what we need in this life > look for TXT's 'you and me and the sky at 5:53' :)

time left: 06:49

No.

Don’t leave me.

It was the same then as it was now.

Jungkook reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him. Her eyes widened, pivoting quickly on her toe, snapping her heel down and cutting the turn short, black skirt flaring out. The swift glimpse of her legs in the high slit, the gentle bounce of her breasts in the slinky fabric. Her manicured hair bounced, dyed blue-black and giving her skin a surreal quality.

He held on.

Please don’t disappear.

“What?”

Her brows knitted together. She didn’t pull her arm away, but she was steadfast in her posture, not letting him push her around. Not that he ever could.

“He asked me to escort you back,” Jungkook found himself saying. “If not for your sake, then for his peace of mind. I don’t want to be a liar.”

Her features softened.

His fingers around her arm, touching that soft skin once more.

I care. I care a lot.

Jungkook realized that, in a way, he had never moved past those classrooms, those touches, those kisses, those moments.

“You can let go now.”

She said it patiently. Always patient with him despite his overzealous and sometimes clumsy antics, putting up with it even when she didn’t have to. He looked into those eyes and found those walls were falling away, little by little. Winged liner, red lipstick, it didn’t matter, it was the same expression, defiant eyes and hint of a scowl on those lips. Ready to fight, but not him.

She was always a fighter and the opponent was always life itself.

“I don’t want to let go.”

He didn’t expect himself to say the truth, but he did.

She smirked, reaching up, her fingers covering his tattoos for a moment, placing them on the back of his hand. This warmth. This feeling. It was not the same as the rest, and he knew that now.

“Hm, well, you must realize this looks a bit awkward. You wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression, would you?”

Wouldn't want someone to see you talking to me, right?

“You will let me escort you?” he insisted.

She pried his hand from her arm and lowered it, turning the other way.

“You are welcome to do as you like. I won’t stop you, golden boy.”

time left: 06:41

He followed you, surrounded by moonlight reflecting off water.

It streamed through the windows, lighting the red carpeted hall along with the dim sconces. You found yourself stepping in each lighted square, avoiding the thin dark beams of the windows, a little game for yourself, like how children avoided the cracks in the concrete sidewalks, except you were on a lavish yacht wearing Louboutins with a handsome man in step behind you.

It was quiet and yet it wasn’t. Small sounds, footsteps, distant muffles of talking through the walls, the faint sound of bass as you walked away from the party, the sound of the ocean ever present, your own breathing.

Jungkook’s breathing.

Familiar.

Once yours.

You looked to your right, to the window, seeing his reflection. His profile, hands in his pockets, tattooed arm standing out against the black background of his clothes, dressed formally but always a bit sheepish about it, as if he wasn’t sure if it looked good on him, but it always did, even the school uniform. He still had the youthfulness about him, even as a man.

Your eyes found his and he was watching your face in the glass of the window.

You stopped abruptly, pivoting on one heel to face him.

Impulse.

Your younger self would have bristled, glaring, accusing the eyes and snapping, what are you looking at?

Jungkook started, realizing you had noticed, and tripped, his black hair suddenly disturbed and tumbling over his eyes as he struggled to catch himself, hands flying out of his pockets.

You caught one, lacing your fingers with his, and gripped tightly, yanking up.

He righted himself, gasping. Looking up, bent over and long legs awkward, somewhat like a fawn trying to get on its legs for the first time. Those big brown eyes, parted pink lips. Familiar.

Your joined hands fell exactly where the window beam was, shrouded in shadow.

“Something on your mind?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

He straightened. You loosened your grip on his hand, but he held on. You frowned slightly, raising your brows.

He swallowed hard.

“Can I hold your hand? Please.”

Back then, you would hold his hand, hiding behind corners and dashing past, holding your breath, light steps, leaping from shadow to shadow, bodies close, breath mixing. Showing him all the secrets of the school that you had found while wandering, a fun little game with a reward at the end, school uniform being shed, skin to skin, his body against yours, his heartbeat in time with yours, his lips on yours.

You shrugged and turned back around, his hand tightly around yours.

time left: 06:35

Jungkook held her hand.

In an instant, he looked down, staring at their joined hands.

This was different.

And then he saw them.

Scars, all over the back of her hand. He could feel the scar tissue on her palms too, lines on her fingers even though she was holding him loosely. He had memorized every centimeter of her beautiful hands from back then, and these lines were not here before. These were not scars from living life. These had been cuts, healed now, unseen from far away and even up close. Perhaps they had been filled in with tattoo ink in a color to match her skin tone so they were less noticeable.

No one would know unless they were holding her hand or looking for it.

Without knowing it, Jungkook clutched her hand tighter, a sudden ache in his chest.

He had found bruises on her sometimes.

I fell down the stairs. It's nothing.

He had found welts.

Stupid fight with some dumbass.

He had found a criss-cross pattern of cuts on her leg.

I tried to jump over a fence and fucked up.

He glanced at her other hand loosely by her side. The same. He could even see her palm and there were many, many lines, all over her palm, healed cuts. Drugs? But he knew it wasn’t. Not because he had a romanticized idea of who she would be in his head, but because that was the nice answer.

That was the reasonable answer.

“Oh!”

“Excuse me, miss.”

His eyes flickered upward to see a young woman in a short midnight blue dress pausing, looking from her to him, cheeks flushed, not being subtle about it. The glittery fabric picked up the moonlight, accenting her curves and long legs. Pretty.

But not sensual.

Not immaculate.

Not teasing and sculptural.

The grip on his hand tightened so much that he inhaled sharply, fingers nearly crushed by her hold.

“Have a nice evening,” the woman in black purred, edge of ice indicating the stranger to move along, or, more accurately, fuck right off.

Jungkook knew he shouldn’t, and yet.

His heart skipped two beats as she dragged him along.

He had no problem looking away from the other woman and fixate on the back of that neatly pinned, blue-black hair, graceful shoulders, corseted waist, swaying hips.

And her hand in his, not letting go.

time left: 06:22

“This is it.”

You turned to see Jungkook looking around, mouth open, gawking at the entrance of the intricately carved wooden door. It was one of the grander, first-class rooms. The red doors were much farther apart and the sconces here were glided with glass-blown lampshades, casting swirls of orange across the white walls, dimmed now from the late night.

“It was nice to see you again.”

It was, even with the bitter taste in your mouth that seemed to linger.

His eyes came back to you, dark brown and clear, focused on only your face, long black strands framing his cheeks, the small mole underneath his lower lip trembling.

“I hope you have your happiness now, Jungkook.”

You did.

You felt a strange, unmovable pressure on your chest. The time wasn’t up yet. You could still try. You could keep your hold on his hand and drag him into the room and hold him close to you, skin to skin, lips on his, and show him all you’ve learned. You could. You could see it in those eyes. He would follow you now, maybe because of the alcohol, maybe for old times sake, maybe out of impulse and bad choices.

You let go.

You let go, because you didn’t want to be a bad choice.

Not to him, Jeon Jungkook.

“You were my small happiness, back then,” you said softly, feeling yourself smile.

It was better not to have regrets. At the time, even you didn’t know how important he had been. The thought of being withdrawn from that school and not being able to see him again made you fight back for once, and it ended in the very thing you didn’t want. It fucked up your hands, it fucked up your life, but somehow you found yourself here now, in expensive clothes on an expensive boat with expensive tastes, able to make a choice between selfishness or selflessness.

Maybe you hadn’t changed much after all, since you found yourself choosing the latter.

You turned away and pulled your hand out of his.

Or would have, if Jungkook hadn’t grasped your hand tighter, yanking you back and shoving you against the door of your suite. Your hand automatically raised to push him back, but he put his whole weight on your body, sandwiching you between the door and himself, making you gasp, trapped between dead timber and muscular hardness.

Now his face was in your face, breathing hard, dark brown orbs shaking and shining with wetness.

You froze, lips parting.

“You were my happiness too.”

He was panting, warm exhale on your lips.

“Not a small happiness. The happiness.”

He squeezed your hand like you were going to disappear.

“I didn’t know then, but I do now,” Jungkook shuddered, towering over you even in your heels. He stared into your eyes. “Your smile.”

You blinked slowly, confused.

“Your smile. I’ve never seen it reach your eyes.”

Heart racing, suddenly breathless.

“Except when you thought I couldn’t see, like when my back was turned or my face was turned away from you,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, long black hair curtaining your faces, sending you back to the shadows. “I saw it though, in reflections. In windows. In mirrors. In those beakers in the science room.”

Was that so? Had that been you? You made it a point not to smile back then, because there had been nothing to smile about. But maybe… maybe when eyes weren’t on you, maybe when you yourself didn’t notice, but, somehow, Jungkook had noticed.

You realized that your introspection had diverted your attention from him, so you made eye contact again, airless at his closeness. Your eyes and his, lost in sweet dreams.

“I want to kiss you.”

He tilted his head and hesitated.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he said to your lips.

His expression was clouded with shame. It was ugly. It made his handsome features ugly and you didn’t like that. You wanted to make it go away. You closed more distance, fingers pressing down on the back of his hand, your other hand raising and resting on his hip, lashes lowering.

“Then kiss me,” you said to his lips.

time left: 06:13

Jungkook kissed her.

From then and now, it was the same.

Euphoria.

But this time, it wasn’t clumsy with colliding teeth and too much tongue that did nothing, sloppy with no purpose. This time, his lips were soft at first and so were hers, breathing in each other’s scent. She smelled warm and musky, like blackberry and evergreens, expensive and lush, but somehow still her, still that girl from back then, comforting and intense, sometimes with the hint of metallic blood, but that never bothered him. Her hand on his hip, stroking it under the layers of fabric, making him shiver, caressing the back of his hand with her fingertips, delicate sigh in his mouth.

The faintest flicker of tongue on the edge of her upper lip, swiping down into his open mouth.

He moaned, feeling the strong wet muscle thrust into his lips, coaxing his tongue, teasing, pressing her body to his, breasts against his chest, their deep open necklines exchanging heat in the air between their skin but not quite touching, and he found himself letting go of her hand, reaching up to grab her breasts.

Her fingers closed around his wrists, forcing him to stop.

He gasped in her mouth, eyes opening.

“They’re not stress balls, Jungkook,” she snickered.

He was breathing hard, ribcage shuddering, heartbeat thundering in his ears, getting louder as he realized her red lipstick was a little messed up, feeling the stickiness on his own lips.

“You need to slow down. You can’t just grope me out in the open.”

His impatience spoke for him.

“Why not?”

His voice was low, octave deepened from lust.

Her lips curved into an amused smirk. “Oh? You have changed. You used to be so worried about someone seeing us. If anything, you should be more worried now, considering your beloved.”

“She’s not my beloved.”

She was still holding his wrists, but her head tilted, watching his eyes carefully. He sucked in a shuddering breath, feeling the guilt.

“We… we thought it would be a good idea. Because our friends told us we look nice together. It would help her career. I wouldn’t have to invest too much into it.”

He felt ashamed, but he didn’t look away because he didn’t want her to think he was lying.

“I never found a smile like yours. I accepted that I never would.”

Her eyes darkened.

“It’s dangerous, Jungkook. Ill-advised.”

He smiled and he didn’t know if it reached his eyes because his vision was blurry.

But he knew it wasn’t a lie.

“You always were. I should have chased you to the ends of the earth, even if you were only a ghost.”

He lifted his hands, hers with his, and cupped her face, running his fingertips over her cheeks, smooth and soft skin, transported back to that moment in the abandoned literature club room, her face cast in an orange glow, actually swirls from glass-blown sconces, but the past and present connected, turning it into rays from the setting sun that lit up her features, and he said what he had said then, because it was the truth.

“You’re really pretty.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You are.”

He leaned forward and kissed the side of her lips gently.

She chuckled.

“You really are something, Jeon Jungkook.”

Her hands let go and she reached into the deep neckline of her dress, plucking something from the corset. His eyes widened as she pulled out the key card from between her breasts, smirk dancing on her lips. She winked at him.

“A lady has many hiding places.”

She flicked her wrist and inserted it into the door, unlocking it without looking.

The door opened and they stepped into her room.

time left: 06:02

“Hnnnnnnngh…”

“Dude can snore.”

“Help me turn him to his side. Don’t want him to vomit in his mouth and asphyxiate,” Kim Namjoon grunted, helped by Kim Seokjin, jerking Kim Taehyung’s body to the side. They backed up and Taehyung immediately flopped to his back, snoring away.

Seokjin thinned his mouth into a line. “Seriously?”

“Ah, here, let’s roll up the towels and use them to prop him up.”

“He’s not as cute as she is.”

“Well, she also doesn’t get piss drunk... ever.”

“Still a better cuddle buddy. Comes with built-in pillows.”

Namjoon blinked at Seokjin and shook his head, letting the odd comment slide. They managed to jam the bath towels next to Taehyung and force him to lay on his side, placing a pillow in his arms that he immediately hugged, squeezing it tightly. The snoring lessened as well.

“Guess we should go back,” Namjoon sighed, rubbing the back of his short hair.

Seokjin scoffed. “No, we shouldn’t. They’re probably all over each other as we speak.”

Namjoon frowned, raised an eyebrow at the other man. “Really? I don’t know. She seemed very hesitant about it. She said she didn’t love him.”

Seokjin snorted, somehow still elegant with his handsome face. “You really believe that?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes. “That’s what everybody says when they don’t want to admit they’re in love with someone.”

“That’s also what people say when they are, factually, not in love with someone.”

The black-haired man raised his hands and held up his index fingers, wriggling them in the air and bending them ninety-degrees, squiggling them around each other and poking the tips together repeatedly. Namjoon blinked at him.

“What are you doing?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes as if it was despairingly obvious what he was doing. “A visual representation of what they’re doing right now.”

Namjoon contorted his face in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

“… Becoming worms…?”

Seokjin groaned. “Having sex, Namjoon.”

“… How is that…?”

time left: 05:53

The door to his dreams unsealed and they tumbled inside.

The orange glow of the hallway lights spilled into the room, bleeding into the cool glow that came from the open windows, curtains pulled back to reveal the shimmering sea and bright moon, a contrast of artificial dusk and true nightfall. She pulled him in by his belt, hooking two fingers under the leather, step by sweeping step, grace that made him breathless, orange and silver and shadow, all mixing together, and then the door closed and then the sea and the moon replaced the sunset dreams.

It was a heavy thunk, closing with finality.

The room had many ornate mirrors in it to make the room seem bigger. The had gold vintage frames of different shapes and sizes, reflecting the contents of the room, the large bed and red silk sheets, the black leather chairs and black marble table bolted down to the floor, the matching marble vanity laid out with several black leather cosmetic bags, all zipped up neatly. The had small details on them – red zippers, silver locks, the designer logo engraved into the leather. The suitcases leaning against the wall matched the cosmetic bags, three of them, one larger than the first two.

Jungkook breathed her name, raising his hand, fingers spread.

Her fingertips touched his, halting him.

“Let me do it.”

He spied his expression in one of the mirrors.

The silver moonlight lit up his face and his eyes, reflecting the lust and trust in them.

He looked back to her and nodded.

“Okay.”

Glamour. Fantasy. Descent.

That was the only way he could describe the way she moved, glamour in the way her hand slowly retreated from his, a steady wave and sweep, clearly deliberate. Even in smeared lipstick, the small smirk was present on those lips, stepping around him with a swing of her hips and gentle clicks of her black patent leather heels, the slinky fabric flowing with her actions and also clinging to her body at the same time, using the arc of her stride to spread open the high slit. Letting him watch. He almost turned to follow but she placed a few fingers on his arm, purring softly.

“Don’t move.”

Fantasy, the way she slipped behind him like a shadow, and then Jungkook had to look up into the mirrors, catching glimpses of her behind him. There was no music, but she moved as if there was. If anything, the sound of the waves seemed to form its own music, and he was suddenly more aware of it, the splashes against the hull of the boat mixing with the bass of his heartbeat and the wispiness of her breath, stepping up behind him, body heat making him gasp, looking into a mirror to his left, a window illuminating his right, her hands slipping between the space of his ribs and upper arms, fingers spread like wings, warm exhale on his neck.

No words.

Just a simple kiss to the base of his head and her lips murmuring his name on his skin.

Descent.

One by one, teasing the buttons apart, her fingers ghosting the exposed skin, his heart racing as he watched those hands, peeling apart the button placket, unwrapping him like a decadent sweet. He watched his own expression framed by long curls of black, his teeth sinking into his lower lip, small mole below quivering, seeing more and more of his chest being exposed, somewhat self-conscious, but there was something spellbinding about only being able to see her hands and forearms, pointed black nails decorated with crystals that caught the light, undoing all the buttons until she reached his pants.

“I can–”

“Shh. Don’t let your impatience prevent you from enjoying your own striptease.”

His cheeks heated a little and he lowered his hands, breath hiking as she firmly gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it out. Jungkook took a step back, his back hitting her chest, and gasped again, feeling the softness, but she adjusted her position so her body wasn’t touching his anymore, chiding him playfully.

“Never had someone take off your clothes, Jungkook?” she chuckled against his neck, making his hairs stand on end.

“Ah, well…”

He watched those deft fingers undo the last two buttons. Then they spread apart his black shirt, reaching in, fingertips spreading out over his abs and pecs, tracing the contours of his muscles, switching between her nails and the pads of her fingertips, prickling and dainty. He couldn’t sure her face, but he saw his, and only now registered his own moans, so absorbed by her sensual movement and her touch that he didn’t even realize the embarrassing sounds falling from his lips.

“Not… since you…”

She snickered. “Seriously? What fool wouldn’t want to tear the clothes off this lovely body?”

He could feel and see his flush in the mirror. He looked away quickly, down to her hands exploring his body. “Well, I just… figured it’s easier if I do it. No one has ever been like you.”

“Hmm.”

His hands raised. He traced her knuckles, causing her to pause, caressing small circles on his sternum.

“You want to tear the clothes off my body?” he breathed, not daring to see his own reflection and know his reaction to whatever her answer was.

“I do.”

He placed his left hand on hers, heart beating faster and faster.

“Not tonight though.”

He pulled her palm away from his racing heart, not wanting her to know her effect on him, letting it linger beside his ribcage.

“Tonight, I will show you all I’ve learned, because I was always a better student than you, class representative.”

He found himself laughing a little, suddenly sheepish. “Yeah. Your name was always in the top five percent. I was pretty bad at school. I don’t know why everyone voted for–oooh…”

Her fingers touched his nipples, rubbing delicately, sending strange shivers all over him, shallowing his breath, making him look up and see his dark nipples being teased by expert hands. Her nails nicked them lightly and he whined in his throat, feeling them harden against her fingertips, surprised at the arousal from the simple touch, something he never paid attention to or cared about. His hair was covering part of his face.

Jungkook reached up and pushed his hair back, pressing his chest into those hands.

Saw one of her eyes behind his head, sharp and sultry with winged liner, twinkling as she watched him.

“I voted for you because I thought it would be funny since you weren’t even trying.”

He didn’t really have a response for that, too busy looking at his own face and body, shivering as she tweaked his nipples and pushed them in slow circles, his arms descending to lower the shadows, letting them suspend by his sides.

She shifted beside him and half of her lips appeared, on the toes of her heels, whispering close to his ear, seductive and dark.

“You were good-looking then, and you’re even more handsome now, Jungkook.”

The sound of the ocean, the silver moonlight shining off her blue-black hair giving her skin a surreal quality, almost doll-like, the mirror reflecting his expression, desire and anticipation.

She removed her hands and grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking it down.

He inhaled sharply and her face disappeared.

Dress shirt stripped from his body and flung away, the crisp black fabric flaring out, a shadow cast aside.

Jungkook spun around.

Does this man know the meaning of calm the fuck down?

You rolled your eyes inwardly as you witnessed Jungkook turn around, facing you again even though you told him not to the move. He had always been like this, overzealous, but he didn’t seem as clumsy as before, although…

He grabbed your tits.

Hah.

He blinked rapidly, surprised. “Huh?”

You shook your head and knocked his hands away, sighing. “Pasties, Jungkook. To cover my nipples.”

You reached into your dress and scooped your breasts out, trapping them between the v-neckline. His eyes bulged slightly when he saw the smooth black satin circles flush to the apex of your breasts. They fit perfectly, seamless so they were unseen even under the slinky fabric of the black gown.

“W-Whoa…”

“What? I’m a burlesque dancer. Of course, I have fancy nipple covers. This is basic wardrobe.”

He tilted his head. “I’ve never seen any like these. They look like they’re part of your body.”

You tutted. “Obviously, they aren’t. You know I have nipples.”

And you reached up and peeled them off, flinging them aside carelessly.

Jungkook gasped, staring at your nipples with wide eyes.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen nipples,” you scowled. “You better not be a virgin with how hot you’ve become.”

His hands shot up and you grabbed his wrists again, forcing them back down.

Jungkook whined, eyes shifting back up to you, begging to touch them.

You stiffened slightly. What kind of reaction was that?

“They’re so big,” he whispered huskily, visibly shuddering, shaking with the craving to touch them. “I remember they were soft. And…” His breathing hitched, trembling in your hands. “I remember they tasted so good. Amazing. No one has ever tasted as good as you.”

His eyes flickered back down, biting his lip. He tried to break free, but you held. A single glance exchanged and you let go, realizing he was going to do something other than attack them. Instead, he collected the straps of your dress and pulled them back up, slowly, moaning as the slinky black fabric skimmed over your breasts, your prominent nipples sticking out, hardening from the light friction.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking sexy.”

Well, maybe he did have some appreciation for the visual after all.

“You see why I need the pasties.”

He pulled the straps up, whimpering as he watched your nipples strain against your dress, lifting your breasts in the confines of the fabric and lowering them, lifting, lowering, repeating the gesture.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Jungkook… are you bouncing my tits on purpose?”

His dark brown orbs darted to you. Guilty.

“Um… y-you won’t let me touch them…”

You weren’t sure whether to sigh or to laugh. You just shook your head, backing up out of his grasp. His hands were still outstretched, lips forming a small pout. You almost regretted it, but his expression quickly changed as you casually flicked down the straps, freeing your breasts again, dropping his hands and linking them together under his waist, waiting, now invested in what you had in store.

Oh.

He chewed on his lip and gave you an expectant look.

A flutter in your chest.

The side of your lips curved upward, tongue sliding out to graze the edge of your upper lip before disappearing.

You reached back, leisurely undoing the fastenings of the corset, sweeping your legs so the high slit flared apart, turning around, letting him witness the slow undress. Every action was deliberate, the wide arc of your leg moving the skirt aside to prevent you from tripping as you turned without using your hands, the wide stance of your feet to relieve pressure on your heels and to prevent the dress from sliding down too soon, and even the position of your fingers, poised so you could run a nail down your spine as two of them pinched the hook-and-eye and separated them, traveling down to the top of your ass. Every movement was thought out, details that made up the bigger picture, constructing your ultimate goal.

A sensual striptease.

You caught his reaction in a mirror to your right.

His sparkling brown eyes were wide, jaw dropped.

A lot of people had seen you take off your clothes, but no one made you feel as satisfied as Jeon Jungkook, then in his school uniform and now shirtless in his slacks, hands twisting in front of his crotch.

Then you saw your face.

You were smiling.

You really did smile when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Another glimpse at his face and you found him staring at you, silver moonlight glinting off his eyebrow piercing and flooding into his eyes, bringing out the stars within.

You released your hand and your dress tumbled to the ground.

He sucked in a shuddering breath, your name drifting from his lips.

“H… Holy shit…”

You did have an amazing waist-to-ass ratio.

Proper corset training and specific hit workouts to perfect your craft contributed. You couldn’t simply be pretty. You had to be strong and flexible to do the stunts and to walk in your red bottoms for the entire performance. Christian Louboutin didn’t make his shoes to be comfy. He made heels to make feet look enticing and sexy.

The price to pay for glamour and vanity.

It did give you some powerful calves though.

You lifted one shoe, flashing that blazingly red sole of your heel, balancing on one leg for a second.

This was to prevent you from getting tangled on your now fallen dress. You tightened your core, shifting your weight, knowing it would give Jungkook an irresistible view of your plump derriere in your high French-cut black satin panties, the particular style adding illusion to the already stark proportion.

In short, your ass looked fucking fabulous.

You stepped out of your dress, one leg, then the other, taking care not to step on it, adding a little flourish of your hands to create those body lines, ever the performer. You glanced at the mirror and was pleased to find Jungkook hadn’t moved, although his hands were now firmly open, palms down on his crotch, whimpering in his throat.

“Soon,” you promised, and you would keep it.

He nodded, swallowing hard.

You turned your fingers inward, hooking each index finger on the sides of your panties, rocking your hips slowly, lowering your lashes, following the beat of the sea, tugging down the right side a few centimeters and then the left, listening to his breathing and controlling yours. You bent over slowly at the hips, sticking your ass out, listening to his low moan as your glistening slit was revealed, sliding your undergarments down your thighs and calves, placing them carefully onto the floor.

You gradually straightened, breathing out, keeping it as one smooth motion.

You stepped out of your panties.

Now you were clad in only your black patent Louboutins and black diamond choker.

This time, you found your reflection in the mirror to delicately correct your smeared red lipstick with your fingertips. Good enough. You nodded at your reflection. The corners of your mouth curved upwards.

You turned to face him, showing Jungkook your smile.

This smile was real.

The smile she only showed when she was with him. He didn’t know if that was a valid thought or not, but he liked to think so. Besides, no smile meant as much as this one. That he was sure of, because he had been chasing this smile for all these years before finally accepting that he would never find another one like it. It was too precious to belong to anyone else.

His smile.

If his dick wasn’t trying to rip open his pants, Jungkook might have cried seeing it for the first time.

He couldn’t speak, too afraid he was going to lose it right then and there.

She walked towards him.

No, walk wasn’t the correct word. Strode, strut, glided, fuck, he didn’t know, she just moved as fluidly as a shadow and water combined, silver moonlight glistening off her skin and her diamonds, and he knew he would never love the mere act of walking more than when he watched her move.

She stilled.

He stopped breathing.

Her foot raised, toes tracing the inside of the heel, raising the pointed toe, balancing it on the stiletto, and she flicked it backward, causing it to tumble and somersault backward, falling to its side.

Fuck.

She thought of everything.

She balanced on tiptoe and did the same to the other shoe, discarding it with a swift tick.

He made a less-than-elegant noise of her name mixed with a needy whine.

“P… Please…”

Jungkook was quite sure he was a hair’s breath away from ripping off his pants to get some relief.

She finally made her way to stand in front of him. Smile so close now, emphasized by painted lips.

Her hands closed over his, peeling them away from his crotch, holding them loosely. She leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on his lips. Deep, meaningful, nothing flashy. Drew back, still smiling.

This smile.

He wanted to protect it forever.

“I should have told you that I love you, but I didn’t know it then,” he whispered.

She chuckled.

“I know now.”

She was lowering herself as he spoke, tilting her head at him, inviting him to continue. Getting to her knees, positioning her feet right under her ass, neat and orderly. His hands dropped, leaving hers on his belt, undoing the buckle, her gaze still on him. Looking up at him with amusement, diamonds glittering on her throat, perky tits and nipples, thighs on display, kneeling in front of his crotch.

“I love you.”

Jungkook meant it, every syllable.

He never meant it more in her life.

“I know.”

What?

She casually undid his belt and slid the closure open, unzipping his slacks.

“Wait… what?” he sputtered, blinking rapidly.

“I know you love me,” she repeated calmly.

Jungkook had time for a single blink before his pants were yanked down to his knees. He started, almost falling over, but her hands came up behind his legs and gripped them, keeping him upright.

“Careful,” she purred, stroking the backs of his thighs.

He jerked his head down, hardly able to breathe, shock blossoming as she leaned forward, hot breath warming his black boxer briefs. Eyes on his face, pink tongue extending.

“O-Oh, fuuuck…”

She planted her tongue over his hardness and soaked it with saliva, wetting the fabric and tracing the outline, molding his underwear to his length, sending him into gasping shivers, heat from her tongue and then her lips closing, blowing a cool stream over it, hot and cold, sensation and deprivation, too much and not enough, placing kisses all over and he flinched with every one, savoring the feeling, the touch that was familiar and unfamiliar, everything he wanted.

“W-Wait… that’s dirty…”

“Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.”

Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.

Pants racking his torso, looking down, and it was the same but different, her lips kissing up his abs, his chest, back to his face, holding him to her, lipstick smeared and now on his skin. Open mouth to elegantly parted lips, gasping as she collected her breasts and pressed her nipples to his chest, squashing the softness to his pecs.

“Spit on my cleavage,” she breathed.

“W-What?”

She raised an eyebrow, knowing that he heard her perfectly well, squeezing her breasts together and rubbing them on his chest, sending the electric sensation of her large nipples dragging across his heartbeat, rolling her shoulders to the beat of the sea, bathed in silver moonlight.

“Spit on my tits, Jungkook.”

“I… c-couldn’t… do that to you…” he moaned, pitch hiking with pleasure.

She didn’t chide him to cover his mouth this time, instead smirking wider, licking her teeth. “Sure, you can. Do it, golden boy. Spit on me.”

She hooked a leg over his hip and grinded her crotch to his wet one, causing him to whine, knowing his cock was so close to her pussy but not yet skin to skin, the soaked fabric barrier driving him insane, his hands coming up to grip her waist and press her down on him, staring into her eyes, inhale shaky and erratic.

She smiled, teasing, sculptural, his.

“You trust me?”

Jungkook was drunk on something he didn’t understand and it was love.

“Yeah…”

He leaned forward, capturing her lips, an intense, burning kiss. She smiled into his kiss, and he knew she was aware of his nervousness, but she remained patient as she always was, pressing back daintily, taking his breath away. He broke apart, trembling.

She nodded, telling him it was okay.

He collected saliva at the tip of his tongue and looked down, spitting into her cleavage.

It shot out of his mouth, splattering over the swell of her breasts and onto his own chest. His ears burned, self-conscious at the dirty act, but she moaned deliciously, backing up, his saliva dripping down and stuck to the inside curve of her breasts. He had a moment to appreciate the image, the most beautiful woman in the world with her diamond choker and his spit on her tits glistening in the moonlight reflected by the sea.

“Wow.”

That was all he could say as the image burned into his memory.

She smirked, falling to her knees, tugging his black boxer briefs down his thighs, his stiff cock popping out, bobbing in the air at the suddenness of its release, and then trapped once more, except this time not in drenched fabric but in her soft, saliva-covered breasts – or his saliva, depending on how he thought about it – but he couldn’t think about it, abrupt pleasure shooting up his spine, throwing his head back in a moan, eyes darting everywhere, surrounded by mirrors, reflections of his face, his long black hair a wild mess, his facial features consumed by wanton lust, his throbbing cock jammed between her breasts and her body sliding up and down, her large nipples rubbing against his crotch and thighs, oh, fuck, the sensation insane, soft and rough and wet, her perfectly pinned hair leaving only the curls at the ends bouncing from her effort.

She spit down his length, adding to the lubrication and her name burst out of his mouth in an erratic groan.

“F-Fuck…!”

She pushed his cock up, almost uncomfortable, but then her mouth closed around the tip, tongue swirling, and he was lost again, ecstasy as she switched to blowing him, pressing her breasts to his thighs, smearing the saliva on them too, covering his cock in red lipstick, soaking every centimeter with saliva, running her tongue over the veins and the head, his hands clenching into fists, close, so close, and then she popped her mouth off, leaving him near tears and in whines.

“P-Please, let me cum, please…”

“I want you to cum on my necklace,” she panted, planting his cock in her cleavage again, lacing her fingers over it, pressing the head down into the slick skin, shock of her words and the escalating pleasure, his chin lowering and staring down at glittering black diamonds and the engorged tip of his length popping in and out of her breasts.

“You want me to… cum on your necklace…?” he echoed hollowly, in utter disbelief.

“Fuck yes, I do,” she grinned, tip of her tongue flickering at the edge of her lips. “Cum on my diamonds, Jungkook.”

Well, fuck.

This was the worst surreal and hottest moment of his life.

He clenched his jaw and thrust his hips into her chest, adding to the stimulation, chasing it, seeing her grin grow, devilish and devious, squeezing him tighter, faster, faster, faster, his hands and his body shaking, gripped by pleasure and her hold, panting her name over and over, his prayer, his drug, his lifeline, trying to hold out, the line inside him pulled taut, thinner and thinner, snapping.

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

His hips jolted and he forced them upward, her head tipping back as the thick red tip popped out, twitching and splattering thick streams of white, painting the black diamonds with his white orgasm, clinging to the jewels and her collarbones, dripping down, covering her with his strong and masculine scent. She lifted her body, trapping his jolting cock in her breasts, and he moaned helplessly, rutting against her skin, sparks of pleasure shooting through his veins, uncontrollable flinching and shuddering as more dribbled out, milked out by the tightness.

“Oooooooh, f-fuck… fuck, I’m s-so sorry…” he gasped out, wincing at the mess he made.

“Ah, shut up, Jungkook.”

In awe, he watched her back up slightly, strings of his orgasm all over her breasts, chest, and diamonds.

She smiled and dipped her fingers in it, coating them with his cum and bringing them to her smeared red lips, licking them off one by one, pink tongue slipping between her elegant digits, moaning as she drank up his taste.

Eyes on his, drunk on him.

time left: --:--

Kim Namjoon leaned against Kim Seokjin’s shoulder, listening to the other man’s deep breathing.

They were sitting on the plush green couch in Kim Taehyung’s room.

The night was quiet, nothing but the sound of the waves coming through the open window, a light breeze as Namjoon watched the moon reflect off the ocean. Seokjin had already fallen asleep, head resting against the back of the sofa, tired from the day’s events and needing the rest. Namjoon felt the drowsiness beginning to weigh on him too, using Seokjin’s wide shoulder as his headrest. He had opened the window to prevent the room from getting too stuffy.

It would have been more comfortable to be in that giant bed with the one he was paid to protect, but he hoped she was in good hands now.

He smiled to himself, watching the silver moonlight dance off the choppy waters.

His mind went back to those moments, moments when he had to hold her shoulders and remind her of who and where she was, moments when he sat and waited as she clenched her teeth and a skilled medical tattoo artist filled in those white scars all over her hands, moments of when she finally sat him and Seokjin down and told them why she sometimes woke up at night, screaming and crying, yelling the names of past demons.

She had told them she was sorry, sorry for being weak, sorry for not taking responsibility.

Seokjin had scoffed, smacking her lightly on the head. “Are you an idiot? You have been through enough. Stop it with that nonsense. It’s part of our job, so let us do our job.”

After that, Namjoon would make it a point to check up on her at night, reaching over to soothe her brow as she slept, relaxing her face with gentle touches. He wanted to be there in case she woke up from a nightmare, and it became a habit, until Seokjin too elbowed himself in the bed, muttering that she always got the best digs anyway, so why shouldn’t he? He was handsome enough, after all.

They only accompanied her to events or appearances.

It bothered Namjoon to think that sometimes she was alone in her own home, waking up screaming and crying, and that he couldn’t be there.

He wondered what would come of this.

Jeon Jungkook.

Did he know that if he broke her heart that two ‘big-scary-dudes-with-massive-shoulders’ were going to find his ass and rearrange it?

Hm.

Namjoon closed his eyes, letting the night take him under its wing.

time left: error

The black diamond choker was on the vanity, covered in Jungkook’s cum.

Both of your clothes were on the floor, shoes, pants, dress, undergarments, strewn all over, a mess, along with a now cold, wet, white bath towel that smelled like semen and saliva. It had what was left of your red lipstick on it.

One of the designer cosmetic bags was open.

There were condoms scattered on the bed now, thrown over the red silk sheets.

Jungkook was holding your hands, palms up, tenderly kissing them.

It felt strange, his soft lips on your scars.

Most people didn’t realize it. It wasn’t something they looked for or thought to think twice about, because to them, your hands had always been like that. It would be rude to comment or mention it even if they had noticed.

But Jungkook had known your hands before they became like this.

“It’s why I stopped going to school.”

He kissed the pads of your fingertips, looking at you with those dark brown orbs.

“Did something bad happen?”

You smiled, somewhere between sad and apologetic.

“I wanted to make sure that I could still see you, but unfortunately I ended up doing the exact opposite.”

He squeezed your hands tightly, giving you his own smile. “Still, you came back to me.”

You chuckled ruefully. “Not with the best intentions.”

The silver moonlight highlighted all your favorite features, the cupid’s bow of his lips, the tiny mole underneath, the wrinkle of his nose with his smile, the stars in his eyes.

“You’ve always been dangerous and ill-advised for me, but I always liked that about you.”

You arched a brow. “Hm, you were a shitty class representative, huh?”

Jungkook shrugged. “You weren’t really a class delinquent either.”

You shook your head, pulling your hands out of his. “Look at you. What kind of class presentative gets all these tattoos?” you teased, dancing your fingers up his right forearm and elbow, tracing the outlines of the script and graphics, following the swirls of the clouds and flower petals with your nails, listening to his shallow breath at your touch. “And an eyebrow piercing? Are you trying to tell everyone you’re one of the cool kids now?”

His lips twisted into a small frown. “Am I cool?”

You shrugged. “Every time I hear about the cool kids in our grade, it’s just about how they got knocked up too early or how they dropped out of university, so you tell me.”

“I haven’t gotten knocked up.”

You gave him a look, bordering on impatience.

“Wait, I mean–”

You raised a hand and planted it on his chest, pushing him down on the bed.

“Enough. Stop talking, please.”

You crawled over his body, placing your hands by his head, looking down at him. Jungkook stared up at you, long black hair splayed over the pillows. He was definitely a man now, sharp jawline, manicured brows, slight dark circles from long nights, and, as you leaned down, expensive cologne now, still light and clean but with a twist of sharpness and sweet fruit, still with the same warmth. Your lips pressed against his jaw, leaving kisses, sinking your weight onto him, skin to skin, his gasps under you, and now it seemed like you were back in that time, his teenage self and your teenage self, the same eagerness as his arms surrounded you, running his hands down your back, but now he added his nails, making you hum in approval. He did it more, scratching his nails over your spine as you kissed his jaw, his throat, his ear, jingling his earrings with your tongue, whispering against his skin.

“No one has ever been what you are to me.”

You didn’t bother using past tense, because it wasn’t.

You sat down on his thigh, his semi-hard cock twitching against your skin, turned on by your kisses and your tongue toying with his ear.

“You weren’t even very good, you know. You were kinda shit. Too impatient.”

He shuddered, tensing his forearms against your sides.

“I’m b-better now…” he whimpered, turning into a moan as you bit his ear and rubbed your wetness on his thigh, painting it with your juices. You kept it slow, leisurely, with even pressure.

“Still…”

You lifted your head, bringing your fingers inward, slipping them into his hair, pushing it back, caressing his temple with your thumbs.

“I have loved you all this time, Jungkook, even back then when I didn’t know what love was, when I was only chasing a feeling that was different from all the others.”

His eyes widened, stunned by your words.

“Ah, nevertheless, I came back too late.”

“No.”

His hands on your back, holding you tightly to him.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he whispered, words from long ago, bringing them back. “And I will.”

He raised his forehead and touched yours.

“I know it’s not fair, I know it’s bad, I know it’s terrible, but I’ll be fucked up if you can’t be right here, with me.”

His lips to yours, small kisses and closed eyes, hiding his tears behind his lashes.

“You are the happiness, and if you continue to love me, I will never let you go.”

That’s what Jungkook said, but the sentiment was slightly interrupted by his cock being so hard that it was actually raising your thigh up into the air.

You smiled against his lips, chuckling.

“I guess I’ll bring a towel when you get her cocktail splashed into your face.”

“Maybe two. She has a lot of internet friends.”

“Hm.”

You lifted your head, smirking.

“Well, I can’t say it would be the first relationship I’ve ruined, although those were far more indirect.”

Jungkook tried to make the moment romantic, but her naked body was on top of him with her wet pussy rubbing on his thigh and his dick was coming back to life right in the middle of his speech.

Still, he couldn’t really complain, because at the moment he was ripping open a condom, on his knees between her legs, rolling it down, eyes roaming over her body lines, poised and elegant and sexy, her hair flared out on the pillows, still neatly pinned up, some kind of sorcery, but that didn’t surprise Jungkook, for she had always had her spell on him and he was better for it.

“You want missionary?” she teased.

He bit his lip, nodding.

“I want to watch your face.”

Her tongue flickered out on the edge of her upper lip, accenting the high point of her smirk.

“Good, then I can watch yours.”

He positioned himself in front of her, pausing for a second, unsure now, but she simply grinned and reached between her legs, one hand on his length and the other on his hip, digging her nails into his ass and shoving him inside her.

“Oh, fuck!”

She seemed highly amused, but he was gone, sudden tightness and wetness enveloping him, pitching forward and catching himself on his palms, sinking into red silk, the intensity bursting from his core and washing over him, shuddering and gasping as she gripped his ass with both hands and sank him down into her pussy, down, down, drowning in the feeling, diving into the depths of pleasure, fuck, he felt it everywhere, her walls clenching and wrapped around his length, the sensitive head rubbing against the ridges, and the emotions that rushed through him as he looked into her eyes, a little humiliated that it affected him so much, a little shocked at how good it felt even with the condom, and a lot of lust and trust and love, all rolling into one, and she purred his name, smooth and silky and gentle, and he couldn’t help himself, slowly rolling his hips and smacking down hard, burying himself to the base, eyelids fluttering, feeling it radiate over his body.

“Too... hard?” he choked out, trying to be considerate, desperate not to fuck up.

She shook her head, snickering.

“Not even close.”

“How can I–?”

But she didn’t let him finish, tapping the mandala flower tattoo on his right elbow and he raised his arms, at loss for words and breath when she raised her legs to his shoulders and tugged his forearms back down, his hands landing on the bed once more.

Oh no.

This was tighter.

“Fuck me, Jungkook, and make it rough.”

I can’t talk or I will blow my load in two seconds.

He nodded, tensing his jaw, and smacked his crotch down, her thighs smacking against his chest.

Oh, fuck me.

He wished he could sound less desperate and less ruined, but he simply didn’t have the capacity for that any longer, tumbling into a series of wild moans as he built up the pace, wave after wave of pleasure crashing into him, too much sensation, soft thighs, wet tightness squeezing his throbbing length, her hands on his upper arms, holding on tightly, his name falling from her mouth along with her erotic exhale. He loved every sound she made, every single one, her moan, her hiss, her growl, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, that’s it, give it to me, Jungkook, loved the way she looked at him, a mixture of bliss and slyness, loved the sound their bodies made, a harsh rhythmic smack, louder and louder, messing up the sheets, her head tipping back, eyes closing, fuck, yes, gonna cum if you keep going like that, so he did, hard, firm, powerful slaps of skin-to-skin, feeling so good but holding himself back, biting his lip hard and moaning in his throat, not willing to orgasm until he made her do so, at least twice.

Jungkook was being ridiculous, he knew, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he lost it too soon during his first time inside her.

“Mmm, fuck, Jungkook, fuck!”

A sharp throb and then a cascading effect, brutal massages of his length, and he didn’t even realize it, pausing for a second from the strength of her orgasm, his cock clenched all over and squeezed, shocking pleasure that made his eyes roll back, struggling with every fiber of his being to not explode, edging himself by ceasing his thrust, and then he drew back and rammed back into her, clawing up the sheets to press her further down into the bed, nearly bending her in half, but she didn’t seem to mind, gripping his arms and raising her hips to meet him, deeper now, the head being constricted even tighter by this changed angle, him sucking in a deep inhale, smelling blackberry, evergreen, and sex, the sweet smell of her pussy, reminding him of sitting on the bus on his way home and catching that scent on his hands and clothes, not regretting it, loving her mark on him.

It was better now.

Better because he was actually in her pussy.

And better because her teeth caught the side of her lower lip, a second of lost control, lashes lowering, moan in her mouth, his name, his name, his name leaking from her lips.

“Oh, Jungkook…”

He would never tire of it.

Never.

It burst again, a lewd squelch, and the insides of his thighs were soaked with viscous honey, clinging to his balls, violent throbs around his jerking length and Jungkook was gone, gone, everything accumulating at the peak and shattering down, his deep moan flooding the room, shooting his orgasm into the condom as his quivering cock was clenched all around, unbearable euphoria that he welcomed, letting it consume every nerve and vibrate through him, a feeling he never wanted to end.

He let it swallow him, her ocean, her moonlight, her night, and he promised himself that he would never leave.

All in all, Jeon Jungkook hadn’t changed much. That was alright. It was clear that you both had unfinished business in the past that was being hashed out right now.

Through sex, because how else?

He was behind you, both of you kneeling on the bed, his breath on your skin, murmuring your name, wonderment and desire, leaving a trail of kisses on your shoulders and neck.

“You can bite me, you know.”

He nipped at your skin experimentally. You pinched his finger on your upper arm, the little sheepish emoji on his middle right. He squeaked and bit harder. You hummed approvingly, lowering your hand.

“You’re turning me into a crazy person,” Jungkook mumbled to the curve of your neck.

“You were already a crazy person. You just pretend you’re not.”

“That’s not true…”

You gently peeled his right hand from your arm and yanked him forward. He inhaled sharply, hard chest hitting your back as you tugged his arm forward, curving it around you.

“What non-crazy person blacks out the inner part of their elbow and tattoos the bone on the outer part as well?” you accused, rubbing his muscular forearm against your nipples, smirking at his moan, his shiver traveling through your back and to the sparks of pleasure radiating from your breasts at the lovely friction.

“Um…”

That was as far as he gave you as an answer because he had no good answers.

“Mhm.”

His hand curved around your left breast and he ran his fingers over it, tugging at your nipple. You leaned into his touch, sighing softly. Well, maybe you had been a bit harsh. He had changed. Less clumsy now, attaining his own irresistible sensuality that he probably wasn’t even aware of, considering the wavering in his tone.

“You’ve probably had better than me, huh…”

“You would be surprised at the complete inadequacy of the human race when it comes to sex, Jungkook. Most people don’t give two shits about listening to their partner’s wants.”

He pinched your nipple and you moaned, rubbing your ass against his crotch.

“You always do everything I want and even things I didn’t even know I wanted,” he mumbled.

His cock was getting the hint with every rock of your hips, rousing at the soft friction. You listened to his rapid breathing, amused, the amusement turning into fond irritation as you felt his free hand slide between your bodies, tucking his hardening length between your ass cheeks, now slowly and non-discreetly humping you.

Well.

Can’t say you were surprised.

“You’re not that hard to read, Jungkook.”

He was leaking all over the top of your ass, ramming the head into your tailbone, now both hands on your chest, forgetting to answer, too absorbed in touching you, tugging at your nipples in time with his rocking hips, lips back to your neck, biting down and sucking hard, leaving marks. There was power in his hold, passion and desperation, a needy whine vibrating in his throat, faster, harder, pinching your nipples and rubbing the tips, pulling slightly, pleasure from his lips and his hands, your own reaching back and clawing at the small of his back, leaving scratches, yes, please, harder, mark me, make me yours, and you chuckled at his declaration, you were always mine, Jungkook, and he moaned your name in affirmation, licking up your neck, hot shaking breath ghosting your ear.

“Wanna fuck you from behind.”

You sunk your nails into his skin and brought your fingers outward, flicking your wrists to leave sharp lines of lust, his moan in your wake.

“Do it,” you drawled, voice saturated with need.

He pushed you down and your caught yourself with your hands, clutching fistfuls of red silk. You heard the rip of another condom and his groan as he encased his aching length, one hand on your ass, and you spread your legs, his knees fitting between them, the head grazing your wet opening and he slid in with a shudder, filling you up and stretching you out, a little pain that dissipated as he squeezed your ass with two hands, sighing with satisfaction with you.

“I know I said I want to kiss you all the time, and I do,” he panted, stalling.

You smiled, turning your head to look over your shoulder. Jungkook looked back at you and he reached forward, driving deeper into you, making you mewl for him. He plucked the pins from your hair, one by one, undoing the perfection, tossing them aside as he spoke, shrouding your shoulders and face with cool-toned black, surreal and glamorous.

“But I think I’ve decided I also want to fuck you all the time.”

You smirked. “You don’t take much convincing, I must say.”

He eased the last pin from your hair and flicked it aside.

You heard it fall to the floor.

That one wouldn’t be found in the morning.

He grinned. “Maybe I already knew you would be amazing.”

Instead of replying, you leaned forward and then smacked your ass back into his crotch.

Jungkook reeled, hand flying back to your hip, grabbing it tightly as you roughly pushed back into him, his natural response being to thrust forward, compounding the pleasure for you and for him, looking forward again and tipping your head back, letting go, moaning for him, his hardness twitching with your sound, loud and getting louder, bodies tangled, bed creaking, clutching your ass for dear life. You lifted one hand and brought beside your hip and Jungkook gripped your forearm, your body naturally dropping lower, deepening each thrust, and that was it, the uncontrollable need resonating in his deep voice, forcefully pounding you into the mattress, thighs, crotch, balls slapping into your lower half, carnal and wild and visceral, his name and your name mixing together, filling the room with the sight, sound, and smell of sex, so strong, fuck, he was so fucking strong, and so were you, a shock every time your bodies connected, until you were wailing with the ferocity of orgasm, squirming and clutching his forearm as he held yours, clenching around his length, but this time he didn’t stop, fucking you through it, gasping for air.

“Oh fuck, yes, fuck, do it again, cum for me again, fuck, feels so fucking good, feels like you’re choking my cock…”

And he brought it out of you again, your right hand punched into the sheets, your left in his hold, moaning for him, Jungkook, fuck, Jungkook, for him then, him now, him forever, ecstasy and elation, hitting a high you thought didn’t even exist, lust and trust and love, raising your torso and slamming your palm onto the headboard, rattling the whole damn bed.

“Fuck!”

Slamming back onto his cock and squeezing hard, Jungkook gasping at the suddenness of the harsh throbs around his length, jolting inside you and spilling another into the condom, your head whipping to the side, spotting a mirror and there he was, head thrown back, long black hair touching his shoulders, open mouth, eyes rolled back, chest shuddering, your name a shaky moan, holding you tight, his right arm travelling, wrapping around you and lifting you up, and then it was you in the mirror, your body against his, skin to skin, his dark brown orbs shifting down, feeling your eyes on him, and then he was watching your reflections, seeing your joined bodies, panting in unison, both sweaty and spent.

You smiled at him, lit up by moonlight and mirrors.

He smiled back.

And then his hand was on your chin and he turned your head to face him, tilting his head and kissing your smile, seeing it not its reflection but the real thing, no longer only when you thought he wasn’t looking.

time left: 00:00

“Oi.”

Jungkook didn’t recognize that voice at all. He concluded must still be dreaming.

A finger podded his temple.

“Oi!”

He started, but the arms encircling him pinned him in place, not letting him and his naked body leave the bed. Softness pressed against his back, bare nipples rubbing against his skin. He froze.

His dick was rock-hard.

A black-haired man in a black suit with a disturbingly handsome face was glaring at him.

“You animals made a fucking mess.”

“Go away, Seokjin.”

Jungkook squeaked, unable to talk because one of the hands holding him was dancing downwards under the covers, wrapping around his impossibly stiff length. He prayed it wouldn’t start moving up and down, but it did. Slowly. Not enough, but still too much, because he didn’t really want to get jacked off first thing in the morning while someone was very clearly assessing whether or not to cause extreme bodily harm to him.

Well, he did want to get jacked off first thing in the morning.

It was the bodily harm he was less enthused about.

The man named Seokjin squinted at him and it took every fiber of Jungkook’s being to not make a goddamn peep as her fingers ghosted the head, smearing slick pre-cum over the slit.

“I want to take a shower.”

“Then go take a shower. I left towels for you,” she mumbled behind Jungkook’s back.

“Namjoon’s in the shower right now.”

“Then order us some breakfast.”

“I sent Taehyung to do that. Also, it’s noon.”

“Couldn’t you order room service?”

Seokjin shrugged and Jungkook realized his shoulders were huge. “He said he had a friend who worked in the kitchen and was going to reserve us a table.”

She raised her head, resting her chin on Jungkook’s right shoulder and pulsing his cock with her right hand under the sheets. “Taehyung has a lot of friends, doesn’t he?”

Seokjin looked at Jungkook pointedly.

“Er… yeah. T-Tons…”

Those brown eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Jungkook suspiciously. “He seems like a dork.”

“I like dorks. That’s why I keep you around.”

Seokjin stuck his tongue out childishly and yelled at the top of his lungs. “Namjoon!”

“I’m done!”

“Finally,” Seokjin grumbled, walking off and yanking the bathroom door open, barging in unceremoniously.

“Gah!”

“Gah!!!”

“Oh, fuck, please, d-don’t…”

“It’ll only take me a second.”

You dove under the covers and Jungkook clapped his hands over his mouth, your grip on his twitching length moving fast and tight, rubbing your tongue on the hot head, and you were right, it only took a few seconds, and then Jungkook was hissing through his fingers, now, fuck, now, and your mouth swallowed his cock, not a moment too soon as thick spurts of his orgasm shot into your throat, coating the back of your tongue, savoring his smell and his thighs under your breasts, rubbing your nipples on the muscle.

“N-No, stop, stop,” Jungkook whimpered desperately, grabbing you by the shoulders and yanking you up, your head popping out, smirk on your lips.

You opened your mouth and showed him your tongue covered in his cum.

“Shit, you’re going to be the death of me…”

He hurriedly nudged your chin and you closed it, grinning.

Dangerous.

Ill-advised.

Jungkook grinned back at you helplessly, holding your smiling face in his hands.

---

some time later

“I have two towels.”

“She didn’t throw her drink at me.”

“Damn. I even seduced the bartender a little bit to get those plush cotton ones.”

“She asked if she could keep the ring so she could sell it and give the money to her secret, less good-looking boyfriend so he could buy her a new ring.”

“Oh. Wait, what?”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. “I said sure, because it wasn’t like the love of my life couldn’t afford her own diamonds.”

“Ah, true, true.”

“I might be slandered for a little while on the internet.”

“Nah, you won’t. Maybe for like, six hours. Then everyone’s attention span will be somewhere else. Also, your taste upgraded in their eyes, from social media influencer to burlesque dancer.”

You grinned, raising your hands to create a finger frame of your index fingers and thumbs, enclosing the handsome face of Jeon Jungkook, long black hair, silver brow piercing, dark sculpted eyebrows, big brown eyes, defined jawline, shapely pink lips, mole of his nose and cheek, and finally that perfect mole underneath his lower lip, appearing as he smiled at you, confused at what you were doing.

“Even though we all know you’re just a hopeless sucker for the class delinquent. Tsk tsk.”

His grin grew mischievous, walking over to you as you lowered your hands.

“Well, I was a shit class representative anyway.”

He leaned down to kiss you, smile to smile.

Twelve hours.

Sunset to night.

fin.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

718 notes · View notes

punemy-spotted · 3 years

Text

The Price You Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, mentions of murder, unclear timeline, blackmail, unprotected sex, fingering (F!receiving), smut, esoteric references to past abuse, manipulation, Dark!Fic

Words: 5.2k (holy fuck?)

Summary: You need his help. He names his price.

Notes: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 and her incredible 5K Soft!Dark Challenge and I can't believe I wrote over 5k words for a oneshot, making this the longest piece I've ever written. I took a blend of prompts: Mob!AU; “When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this;” and “That’s a big favor you’re asking for, I think you need to make it worth my while.”

And this was intended to be a oneshot but now I can't stop thinking about it so thanks Siri, I think this is now a part of my WIPs too! Your work is amazing and I had a blast being able to take part in this!

As usual, my work is 18+ ONLY, Minors DO NOT INTERACT

You went to him first.

You went to him, handed them your business card and I want to speak to Steve Rogers.

Honestly they almost threw you out with an extra hole in your head but then the man of the hour walked right in.

So now you’re here. Now you’re here, sitting across a gorgeous dining table with a ten-course meal laid out and honestly you’re surprised they didn’t tie your wrists to the arms of the chair while you watch him eat and take in the look of those baby blue eyes scanning you over.

He even brought you non-alcoholic rosé, when you said you didn’t drink.

So.

You wanted to talk to me?

Yeah, I do. Thought you’d just sit me in your office, have a consultation.

I like breaking bread with new friends. Have a nice dinner, get the wine flowing — of course, that’s not gonna loosen your tongue, but we’ll forgive it.

Oh. Cool, I like being forgiven.

He laughs at that one and the room, strumming with tension, snaps into amusement. So do you, cracking a half smile on dark red lips, before swallowing down the lump of anxiety threatening to break through and destroy everything. You need this. You need this and you can’t let anything — not your nervousness, not your morals, not him — stop you. You need this and it needs to be done and if this is what justice is in this fucking city then so be it.

Well, sweetness, you’ve got my attention. You want to talk business or pleasure?

That one makes you laugh, a little sharp and a little cruel, and the curling smirk on his face gets a little furrowed because he hears it too — pain.

It could be both, you say finally, picking up the glass of rosé-that-wasn’t, if your reputation is as real as they say it is.

He lifts a bite of cheesecake into his mouth and lets it melt on his tongue while he watches you, somewhere between impressed and incensed. You know the look — you saw it the last time he met you in court, but you weren’t there as allies then. Never thought you’d come to me, he admits finally, sounding halfway bemused at the idea, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Counsel?

You wince, or maybe smirk, eyes on the man before you.

It’s a game, a dance, a ruse, and the woman you thought you were thirteen months ago when you put four of Steve Rogers’s best men in jail for fifteen years — fifteen years longer than any District Attorney had ever managed to do before you, and you were just the rookie they handed a shit case to — is leagues different from the woman you are now, seated prim and proper in the lion’s den.

You’re not innocent. That’s not been your game for years — this life doesn’t leave room for innocence, it tears at you, leaves you tired and broken and ill.

Your colleagues learned to fear him a long time ago, the man before you. Captain America, leading the city, the country, the world into a new era of high tech crime all under his thumb. It’s a pretty shiny shield, the one that sits behind him, but mirrors are black on the other side and his soul is dark as coal.

You’re not an angel yourself, and this deal with the Devil isn’t for anyone but you.

I need someone taken care of.

So you come to me? I thought you were a lady of morals, Counsel.

Certain kinds of morals.

You can see him smile, see the way he raises his glass, the glimmer of malice and amusement in his eyes. So tell me. What’s the name?

You give it.

He’s not in the city, your target, but he will be. A Judge, an activist, real tough-on-crime-sweet-on-justice type of shit. You don’t tell him the reasons why, because those are yours, but you tell him the name. You tell him he’s a problem, you tell him he’s dangerous, you tell him you’ll pay to have him taken care of, you tell him you don’t want to practice in front of that black, black robe.

And he smiles like the Devil he is, watches you with a grin and drinks his whiskey in one last shot before slamming it down, Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

You said that when we met the first time.

He’s a hunter, you can see it in his eyes. That lion’s mane might be tamed right now but it won’t be for long and you’re playing with wild animals. The eyes on you are ice and daggers, daring you to do the one thing everyone in the office has been begging you not to do.

(Drop the charges, Rookie, the case is just to get your face in front of the judge.)

You upped the charges.

(Rookie, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, there’s other cases.)

You subpoenaed his phone records.

(Rookie, don’t make me drag you off this case!)

You won.

You had no witnesses and a jury you had to drag in from god-knows-where after you proved, over and over again, that he’d paid off the cohort in the courtroom. Finding people with nothing to lose and a desire to do their civic duty wasn’t harder than you thought — it was exactly as impossible as you expected.

But you did it.

That’s what you do, isn’t it? Push and push and fight, claw your fingers at the ledge and pull yourself up, you pay for your crimes in your blood, sweat and tears you pay for the things you could have done then and didn’tdo.

You pay.

And sometimes, that payment bounces back.

And when it was all said and done, when the closing statements were delivered, when the Jury came back out and the Judge — hands shaking, mouth agape, eyes wide — read out the verdict no one expected, you… didn’t feel any better, did you? There was no justice for you in that room, just the searing glare of ice-blue eyes and the burning of your steel spine.

Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

First words he said to you, while the courtroom emptied out and you stood there, facing the man you’d just made an enemy of with your briefcase in your hand and your eyes aflame.

I did my job.

Did you? Is that what you think your job is?

My job is justice, unflinching and blind, Mr. Rogers. I don’t care how much power you have or how afraid you leave this city, I’m going to do my job.

You could always let justice turn a blind eye.

Yeah. I could, but that wouldn’t make this any fun, would it? Thank you for the win, Mr. Rogers — I’m sure I won’t get many more.

You leave him with a smile on his face and the scent of your perfume in his memories.

He leaves you with the pride of victory in your bones and a reminder that your strife could be worth it.

One day.

How do you plan to fill that pit, the one you tossed the corpses of your old self into? The one you let them claw up out of, to haunt you? Remind you?

You’re digging your own grave and you know it, but you won’t let Steven Grant Rogers be the first one to toss a handful of dirt over your corpse.

But now here you are.

In his dining room, enjoying dessert and some sort of after-meal coffee. In need of him…

This might almost have been a date, if not for the topic of conversation.

So. You want a Judge taken out. What if he’s already on my payroll?

Why would you keep a dead man in your pocket?

You like the sound of his laugh, and you don’t even have the excuse of wine to fall back on when it warms your core. Don’t admit it though, don’t say it aloud, don’t let him get an in. Be smart, cross your legs tighter, keep your eyes on the prize.

You’re so close to the finish line.

That’s a big favor you’re asking for, Counsel, I think you need to make it worth my while.

Worth your while?

I’m not a charity. And since you put the guy I usually use to handle these things behind bars for a few years—

You know I can get him out too.

That’s not payment, that’s putting things right.

You take a drink. Steady on, girl.

I’m leaving the DA’s office.

That stops him.

Oh that stops him good, and he looks fascinated. Interested. You’ve said something he can use as leverage and it’s not just about a job. That smirk on his face is smug and his eyes are darker and he has to know the impact that look has.

Can’t falter, don’t falter, don’t give in.

Am I allowed to ask why?

No.

You’ve done your research. You just don’t know why you’re thinking about it now. Steven Grant Rogers, “Captain America,” leader of a crime family that had too many names to stamp out, bolstered by a mad scientist, a military man through-and-through who turned New York into his own private base against whatever stood against his way.

Get in his good graces and you’re set for life. Get in his good graces and you’re safe, you’re protected, you’re good.

Get on his bad side and you only make that mistake once.

There are no second chances in this game, and here you are, asking for one.

So what? You leave the DA’s office, you leave yourself open to me — you think leaving New York is going to be the thing that stops me, Counsel?

No.

Then what?

Breathe. Steady.

I know you gave me that win on purpose — you could have taken out my last jury cohort. This isn’t about the four men… and you know I’ll get them out. This is something else, but I’m not here to ask about what or why.

He falters just briefly, like he’s surprised you knew, but the crack in his mask smooths itself over as soon as it forms and he’s back to watching you, nodding along in silence while you breathe and watch him and keep talking.

But even then. I got four of your guys in prison. And I know how your organization works — I subpoenaed the documents, remember? Your lawyers are good, but they’re not used to people asking the right questions. You want someone to seal up the cracks you need someone who actually knows what to look for.

You have more than his attention, you have his interest, and now he’s leaning in a little. Imperceptibly, but enough. Scanning over you from across the table, like he’s thinking how you managed to get so impertinent in the face of the likes of him but that’s the thing — when the only thing you have left to lose is your life, you’ll risk everything.

So what are you offering?

Breathe. Don’t. Stammer.

Myself.

The chair scrapes and suddenly there’s the clicking of guns, aimed and ready until his hand rises up and he stops them and he’s stalking towards you.

This is the lion’s den, sweetness.

The stakes are higher and you ought to be braver and he’s got your chin in his hand before you have a chance to react, dragging you to your feet. Do you know what you’re offering me, Counsel? Low and hissed and hungry, like those perfect teeth might be sinking into your throat in the next moment.

Oh, you have no idea.

You get me. On your payroll — you know. The offer you sent me a year ago.

You think it’s still open?

If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have met with me.

The chuckle in your face makes your cheeks warm and you’re looking more flushed than you would like, the open shoulders of your dress suddenly feeling a lot more like a mistake the more you realize just what kind of meal he might make out of you tonight.

We might need to have a discussion about your workplace duties, Counsel.

You don’t notice the hand near your thigh until it’s too late, sliding up the soft fabric of your skirt until it’s squeezing your ass, until it’s jerking you towards him, until you’re pressed against his chest and the hand on your chin is now hooked around the back of your neck, thumb pushing your jaw until you’re forced to look at him. Won’t lie, when I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this, having your pretty little body in my arms,and you can look as indignant as you want but he’s got the upper hand and you only thought you were two steps ahead of him.

You think I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to put you in your place, Counsel? You’ve got a smart mouth — I wanna know what else it can do.

He doesn’t give you a chance to use that mouth to lash at him, lips sliding over yours, swallowing that indignant yelp with a punishing kiss. Nipping at the plushness of your lower lip until you open your mouth and yield to him with a sigh of reluctant surrender, let his tongue slide past that barrier for him to explore. He’s got his fingers wound through your hair, just a little too tight and whether the whimper in your chest is because of the pain or because of the want, he doesn’t care.

Knew you’d be sweet, Counsel… softly, when he pulls back to look at you, take a look at those love-swollen lips and your ruined lipstick, the pretty way you pant at him already, the heat burning your cheeks. Pay no attention to the slick warmth between your thighs, pay no attention to the way he makes you burn already, pay no attention to how your fingers have curled into the lapel of his coat to hold yourself steady, pay no attention to how you suddenly miss the pressure of his lips.

All that smart-talk and now you’re quiet, Counsel? F’I knew it just took a kiss to get you to shut up, I would’ve done that at trial, he’s purring in your ear, soft and sweet and you should push at his chest, so uncurl your fingers girl and push.

I didn’t say I was selling my body, there’s your harshness, and there he is, laughing at you again, the grip on your hair jerking your head back until you’re looking into those dagger-cold eyes again.

You don’t make the rules here, Counsel, I do, and you need me more than I need you. So if you want to make sure your Judge can’t start wreaking havoc on your career… you might want to get used to readjusting it for me. I promise I’ll make you feel nice, if you let me…

And if I don’t?

Then I take what I want and I don’t feel bad for not holding up my end of the bargain. Your choice, Counsel, you cum willingly and I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t, and it’ll hurt you more than it hurts me.

That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, and suddenly you’re more scared than you ever thought you’d be, wondering if you’ll need to sell another part of your soul to take him down after. How much of yourself will you put up as collateral to get justice for the wrongs you were never able to correct?

You’re afraid.

Oh sweetness, you’re afraid.

Here? Now?

No, Counsel, we’re gonna do this right, aren’t we? You wanna be in bed with me, I’ll take you to bed with me. Come on, say it. Say the word.

Say no. Say no, rail and fight, stamp your heels into the expensive leather of his shoes, jam your knee into the sensitive between his legs, scream and yell and tell him you will never let another man take advantage of you again to help you reach your goals. Do it. Do the thing you swore you would do the next time a man like him — men who think they can take anything from anyone, men who think they own the world and the women in it, men who think you aren’t strong enough to fight back — propositioned you just like this.

You’re selling your soul to get rid of a man just like this.

But that’s coiling heat in your core that wasn’t there the last time, was it? That’s want. That’s the realization that you like the way this predatory smile feels, that you like the way this one wants you. You’re not her, not scared and alone and helpless. You could fight back and run and maybe escape if you were lucky.

You could choose.

He’s let go of your hair to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers, soft and sweet, You gonna give me an answer, Counsel, or am I gonna have to take it?

Say something. Say no. Scream. Say no say no say no say— Yes.

It’s a whisper. A desperate, soft whisper. A helpless, lonely whisper. It’s enough.

He sweeps you around until you’re pressed with your back against his unyielding chest, feeling him flex with every movement, broad arm wrapped around your shoulders from the front. All of you are dismissed, and that’s when you remember there were others in the room with you. Others who just watched you concede to becoming Captain America’s newest plaything and the burn on your cheeks is more shame than lust. You pull at his arm briefly, futilely, earning a tighter hold for your efforts and a whispered don’t make me choke you, before you are half-walked, half-dragged out of the dining room.

The walk to his room is slow and agonizing as you’re pulled along, barely struggling but barely helping at the same time, tears sliding down your cheeks as you come to terms with what’s going to happen next — no one is going to save you tonight, no one’s going to interrupt and drag you out, this is your job and this is your place and here you are.

No one speaks. There’s no sound but the steady tap of your heels and his shoes on fine marble. Even your sobs are silent, even your breathing is muffled, until the stairs are traversed and the faintest click of a lock turning opens the door to the rest of your life.

You made a deal.

Time to pay.

Sit on the bed.

You move as if in a trance, and he watches your face, the hint of waterproof mascara failing to do its job, the smudged ruby red of your lipstick. Don’t give me that look, you knew what you were signing up for when you walked into this house, Counsel.

His hands are gentler than you’d expect, when he wipes away the streaks your tears leave down your pretty cheeks, coaxing you to look up at him, We’ll set ground rules later. Tonight? I wanna see if I can get that mouth of yours to beg for me.

It won’t, you snap without thinking, knifeblade sharp and cruel, ready for a fight again. He promised you that once, in a hiss you thought you’d misheard but no, you heard him just fine and now if he thinks he can quench your fire and have you pleading just because you sold your body for the prospect of revenge then he’s wrong.

Thing is, he laughs like that’s a challenge, and the hand holding your chin so gently is wrapped around your throat before you know it, silencing your voice with just the right application of pressure. I can do this all night, Counsel. Do you think you can last that long?

Fear. Anger. Indignation. You are fury made flesh and he is manipulating you with just the barest press of his palm and sliding over you, until you’re laid out there on soft sheets and he’s looming over you, splaying that big hand out and sliding it down your throat, over your chest, feeling the ruching of the fabric under his palm. You wrapped yourself up like a present for me, didn’t you sweetness?

The change in nickname isn’t lost on you but here you are, glaring up at him while he smiles so beatifically it leaves your blood boiling and your skin steadily warming. The rise and fall of your chest is hypnotic, every angry breath a swear you don’t utter, every inhale your protests dying in your throat. What can you say, what would you say, right now? There’s nothing that can change the way he looks at you, or the way his eyes flicker from ice to blue fire the more he takes stock of the pretty little thing he’s about to start sharing his bed with.

Fuck, you’re beautiful, that one shocks you, but not as much as the sudden rush of cold air when he tears the emerald green fabric of your dress down and reveals the soft swells of your breasts, nipples peaked from the sudden cold.

You don’t get much time to gasp, just something soft and strangled before he turns your voice to whimpers, wrapping lips around that pebbled tip and laving his tongue over sensitive flesh. Where are your words now, Counsel, while he threatens the softness of your chest with the scrape of his teeth, when he slides his hands over the round curve of your thighs and parts your legs so he can press himself between them, so he can press himselfagainst you? Where is the knife-dagger of your wit to protest each soft, suckling kiss to your skin, each press of his fingers like he could just squeeze his ownership of you into the plushness of your hips, into the sweet swell of your ass? What do you say to the dirty little thrust of his hips as he bucks with his own burning need, reminding you just how much this is for hispleasure as he will make it for yours.

You would, could, should push him off and instead what are you doing? Curling your fingers into the silk-smooth of his comforter, desperate to writhe out of your own skin away from the burning pressure between your thighs, the foreign, unfamiliar heat you suddenly feel like you might be craving.

Anyone ever touch you like this before me, Counsel?Warm breath splays across your skin when he questions you, eyes fixed on yours and he waits. Answer him, answer him, tell him he’s nothing, tell him you’ve had better, lie and destroy that ego, lie lie lie lie—

Nnnh—no.

He looks like you’ve just told him the best news of his life, eyes wide and blown with lust, Oh is that right? You’re saying no one’s ever touched you this good? Or just no one’s ever touched you at all?

You don’t have to answer. The furious blush on your cheeks? The way your eyes slide away from his? The way you writhe, trying to press your thighs together to relieve the pressure and finding the effort futile? If the man’s grin could get any wider, it would, right now. Oh sweetness, we’re going to have so much fun exploring your body together…

He pulls back just enough to take a look at you, already flushed and writhing and overwhelmed and if he could take a picture of this right now he would. He’ll save that for later though. Tonight? Tonight is just the two of you, and his hands are back to your skirt, pushing the tight fabric up over your round hips and revealing the lace of your panties… just before he rips them off, to the sound of your indignant yelp Steve!

You’re going to call me Captain, sweetness, we’re not close enough to use my name just yet.

No. No you’re not, and he’s not sure you’ll ever be — he rather likes the idea of hearing you whimper out his title when he gets you desperate and wanting.

He touches, slow and steady, watching you try to jerk away and tutting at you when you do, fingers at your delicate nerves like an assault on your pleasure. Bite your lip, bite back the moans, whine at him like he’s wounded you, You’re so wet, sweetness, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you, as he palms his cock to relieve the pressure on himself. You’re going to beg before he does and he’s patient, he’ll last the night.

St-stop it, it’s too— he shushes you ahtahtaht and rests his free hand on your mound, holding you down so his probing, inspecting fingers can take stock of the velveteen plushness of your delicate cunt. It’s too much, too much and you want to scream the moment he presses one finger into you, already overwhelmed, already so tightly wound the barest touches are unraveling you steadily.

You’re such a pretty thing, all desperate and needy, sweetness. You wanna cum already, don’t you? So busy, never gave anyone the chance to fuck that stuck-up bitch right out of you, did they? It’s almost pitying, isn’t it, the way he talks, hums at you while you’re reduced to a whining, whimpering mess so soon, so desperate for the release he’s on the edge of denying you, feeling you flexing around his finger and then the second leaping jolt of your body when another joins the inspection. Taking careful stock of the pretty cunt he owns now, and he’s careful to curl his fingers just right as he seeks the spot to hammer just to get you to scream.

You don’t, not yet, but that’s okay too, because he sees the way you take desperate hold of the sheets, the way your eyes roll backwards just slightly, the way you strain against his heavy hand to arch your back. Gotta tell you, sweetness, I imagined you under me a thousand and one ways but this one, right now? Tops the list. You ready to beg for me?

Do it. Do it and end your pleasurable torment. Do it and be released from the pressure, the coiling want. Surrender to him. Let him have you.

The white hot rush of your orgasm is not unexpected to him, his curling, cruel fingers having found the sweetness of your g-spot, but — you, too busy climbing the ranks to think of your own pleasure, too busy demanding your due from an unjust world explore your own warmth beyond that of a memory of a college hookup you would rather forget — you left breathless and wanton in the heat of the explosion he draws out of you, mewling something desperate and pleading against your own will and the song of it fills his ears like it’s all he’s ever wanted. There it is, and I thought we’d be here all night. A thumb flickers over the nerves at your entrance and you practically jump, something between a yelp and a moan escaping your lips.

First one’s just a treat, sweetness. Now on, you cum when I say you do, understand?

You nod.

Oh you nod, and you are lost, here and now. Sensitive and broken and there is so little of that steel spine here, writhing in his sheets and ohyou don’t know the things you do to him.

Think you can go again, sweetness? He’s purring, smug, twisting fingers stretching you slowly, muttering under his breath about how fucking tight you are around his fingers, how good you’re going to feel for him, and the smugness on his face is slowly fading into a dark consternation, brows furrowed like he’s somehow angry at you for being plush and delicate and fuckable.

You’re almost begging him to stop, and yet the pressure is building again, the twisting, coiling heat that leaves you breathless and mewling and he looks like he might be trying to immortalize this moment forever. Say it, sweetness. Say you need me. Beg me for my cock.

That’s it.

That’s what you need to, you need to beg, you need to give in. No more fighting, no more arguing no more —

Please…

Please what, sweetness, come on now. You got a way with words. The snarl is so barely contained.

Please, Captain, please just…

What do you need, sweetness? The fingers are relentless, the buzz in your nerves is overwhelming, you can barely even hear yourself talk, much less him.

Please just fuck me, Captain, I need your cock! It’s hurried and it’s crude and it’s desperate and it’s exactly what he wants as just another wall crumbles and you fall off your pedestal right into his arms.

He’s barely able to resist the buck of his hips, the need to be inside you, the knowledge that you are soft and velvet and you could be all over his senses just like this.

When did he free his cock? You don’t know, you just know it’s practically salvation when he sinks into you, when he fills you like you’ve been desperate for and Oh sweetness…pours from his lips just as you hiss out something like praise right back at him.

You’re so full and he’s so gentle, at first, like you’re made of crystal in his arms, like the slow shifting of his hips might have you shattering underneath him if he’s not careful. Cradling you, even, sliding your legs around his narrow hips as he leans in and takes a hungry kiss from your wanting, whimpering mouth.

Love this look on you, all wrapped around me, whispered low and slow into your ear, sweetness you have no idea how good you look…

Melt into those compliments, melt into him, because the way he’s holding you is divine and you can feel him so deep in you it’s making your head spin. When did your arms end up around him? When did you start clinging to him like an anchor, start winding your fingers through his hair, start leaving the marks of your nails on his back to the sound of his own needy groaning?

He noses your cheek and leaves a mark of ownership on your neck with hungry lips, knowing you’ll bruise a beautiful flower right over your pulsebeat and continuing the steady assault on your nerves, cunt-first.

Harder. Faster. More.

And oh, sweetness, you do shatter.

You shatter all around him, you shatter into something divine and rapturous, full of him and filled with him and he cums so deep inside you as you do, still fucking you through your joined climax, hips rutting and breath hitching and nearly furious at you for the way his vision whites out too, the way he feels like he can Never get enough and so he hisses that at you like an accusation while his thoughts reorient back to reality, back to smugness, back to the control you took from him while he tried to strip you of yours.

In the end, as he pulls away from you and sinks to the side of you, watching your sweet expression as you return to the reality of your new situation, he is satisfied… thoroughly.

Oh yeah, I think we can make this a working relationship, Counsel.

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #steve rogers x reader #mob!au #mob!steve #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #dark!fic #dark captain america #captain america #writing challenge

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minniepetals · 3 years

Text

Rose & Thorns: 09

— summary: a lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other. and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

— pairing: dragon!bts x reader

— genre: fluff / slight angst / poly!au / fantasy!au / dragon!au

— word count: 8.3k

— warnings: none

╰ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

"Hi there."

Just two single words are uttered from your lips and Jungkook is reminded of everything that has happened from the very first moment you spoke those exact first words to him.

He remembered those eyes of yours, so lost, so lonely, yet still having that kindness within to try and reach out a hand in order to ease his pain even if it meant just a small dose. Little did you know you'd end up as a true keeper of the dragons, lover to the seven princes of the East Sky and Mountains. But knowing the rewards, in the end, had never been anything you were seeking for at the time, and his heart warmed at the single reminder of how truly kind your heart is. After all, before you could even come to that moment of happiness with them all, you had to face serious consequences all because of that kind heart of yours.

Looking back on it, Jungkook only wished he could have dealt with it all in a better sense. If he were there for you like you were always for him, if he had gotten to his lovers a little sooner to make them see that nothing about you had been false, if he had been there through your pains and tears, maybe you could have reached that dream of freedom and happiness so much quicker.

"Jungkook?" Yet no matter what he thought, you were always there gracing him a sweet smile with such precious eyes that he knew he would forever hold dearly to.

"Back from taking care of the little whelps?" He asked, driving his thoughts away from the memories in order to look at what was in front of him instead. Jungkook knew he couldn't keep dwelling on the past no matter how much it had hurt him. Because here you were, lips curled into a brighter smile and he knew then that no matter what he thought, you'd never blame him for anything.

But perhaps that was what was hurting him even more.

You walked into the castle, feet having light bounces to them with a basket full of laundry. "I'm fairly certain Namjoon will hold an apprentice ceremony for Haeun soon. Who do you suppose her mentor will be?"

He grabbed you by the arm to pull you back in front of him before you could walk right past him without a second thought, surprising you just a bit.

"I'm sure Namjoon will make a wise decision on that but," the young dragon drew both his hands to hold you firmly by the shoulders as he expressed a disappointed face, "don't you think you're forgetting about someone else first?"

You giggled under his adorable pout. "Don't you have to get ready for the afternoon hunting patrol soon?" You reminded him, causing him to let out a grunt.

"Why is it that Taehyung and Seokjin are the ones to have you by their sides every day? Why can't it be me?"

"Kook," you laugh, "you know your hyungs would never let me go out there to support the patrols. For one, it can be dangerous especially for a simple human like me, and two, I don't have a clue on what to do during a patrol."

He sighed, allowing his hands to drop by his side again. "It's unfair. Sometimes I wish I wasn't a warrior."

"Don't say that. The clan has both you and Hoseok to keep us protected and that is something I would never want to take away from you."

"I know. I just want to spend more time with you" He looked up to meet your gaze again. "But for now this will do." Without any warning, he leaned in to give you a quick kiss to your lips, causing your cheeks to brighten in an instant as he strolled away with a giggle, knowing exactly what your expression would show without even looking.

You were too adorable for your own good.

"Have you ever had scented candles before?"

On one of the rarer days when you were free from your duties and didn't have the little whelps demanding for your attention almost every second you turned your head and Seokjin was well on his own, you accompanied Jimin in the lonely dungeons as he made his rounds as head of the guards, making small talks ever so often.

There weren't many prisoners locked up for their bad deeds just as the time you spent there a prisoner yourself so you knew Jimin often got lonely making his rounds all alone each time. Taking that into consideration, you weren't going to let the opportunity of your free time be spent doing nothing.

"Scented candles?" You tilted your head slightly to the side with innocent eyes that always got him every time and Jimin chuckled lightly after dropping his clipboard on a table from finishing his rounds with you by his side and turning to elsewhere. "I've heard of them before but they don't necessarily exist around here do they?"

"They don't but there are tales of the scented candles being of great help to be of comfort for anyone in need." Your eyes widened at his words, feeling quite intrigued, and when Jimin turned back around with a few things in hand, your breath hitches. "The first person that came into mind was you when I heard about them," he told you with bright eyes smiling as he brought them on over towards the table at the center of the room. You followed him curiously, rounding yourself to stand beside him as he displayed the candles for you. "So I had one of our traveler dragons to bring them back when they had the time."

"Jimin..." You felt so touched by his kind thoughts for you you almost didn't know what to say towards the sweet gesture. But when he graced you with a tender smile upon your gaze on him, you were sure he understood your thankfulness towards him.

"If only we had these at the time when you were our prisoner." His face fell with slight dejection but you were quick to shake your head lightly.

"Having you to help me then was more than enough, Jimin, I promise. Then again," thinking back to that time, you giggled upon the memories, "would you guys have really wasted such precious things on me at the time?"

He sighed. "I'm glad we can joke about it now but looking back at it, we were so horribly rude to you I can't believe I let my emotions get the best of me."

"You were just worried for the little one."

He chuckled upon your words with a tousle to your hair. "I don't think Jungkook would appreciate someone smaller than him calling him the little one."

You gave him a pout. "And why not? You do it to him all the time."

"Because I'm his hyung. Though he does often tease me about it from time to time." You giggled knowingly, already picturing their small bickering when it came to the two of them and their banters. Having seen that, Jimin smiled from where he stood beside you and brought his hand behind your head in order to pull you close and place a sweet kiss on your forehead, surprising you and making your cheeks flare up at the sudden gesture without warning. He found it cute how you had yet to get used to their kisses whether unexpected or not but returned his eyes to the candles despite the shocking state you were still in.

"Shall we try one of them?"

With his question, you blinked in a daze before shaking your head to return to the subject, and with your cheeks still slightly flushed, your eyes darted back to the candles laying on the table. "There are so many different kinds," you observed with a slightly opened mouth of astonishment to which Jimin found adorable.

"I didn't know what kind of scent you'd prefer so I got the dragon to get a couple different kinds."

"Lots of them are flowery scents," you beamed under the lowlights of the dungeon as you went on to pick up the candles in order to observe them up close. Pulling them up close to your nose, you waft at them in order to get a sense of how each of them smelt, your expressions clearly pleased each time you got a new scent to try as Jimin simply stood there watching you, happiness blooming in his chest at just the sight of you so content. "They all smell so great even without it lit up."

Your face fell with furrowed brows as you stared at each of the candles, having a hard time choosing which one to try first and Jimin let out a laugh. "You're so cute," he said. "We can try every one of them now if you still have time to spare."

"I have all the time to spare!" You exclaimed almost a little too happy for someone who had come in the dungeons declaring the desire to help. But he knew that was just the way you were and for that alone, Jimin wasn't at all dissatisfied by it.

"Well then, since you're having a hard time choosing which one to try first, just close your eyes and choose."

"Good idea!"

Upon Jimin's suggestion, you quickly closed your eyes and hovered your hand over the candles, blindly searching over each one before you finally settled with the one to the far right. With that, you opened your eyes again and held that one up.

"Lavender," the dragon beside you stated.

"Lavender's wonderful!" You were quick to say with your eyes lighting up at the chosen one. "It helps relieve stress and anxiety," you let him know and his brows furrowed a little at your words.

"Are you having trouble, little one?" He asked, concerned.

"Oh no, not me," you quickly said with a shake of your head. "I want to share this with Namjoon because I know being a leader to a clan isn't always the easiest. He comes home later than every one of us after all and most times I'm already asleep by then. I haven't seen him around lately so I'm a little worried."

His eyes softened at your innocent kindness that never seemed to ever leave your heart no matter what and for that alone, Jimin almost believed that he was falling in love all over again. "We're so lucky to have you by our side."

You looked up at him and gave him a humble shake of your head. "It's the other way around," you smiled. "Do you think he'll appreciate it? Oh, but you got these for me as gifts."

"Don't worry, it's always best to share gifts like these with each other," he said while gently stroking your head. "I know Namjoon will be more than happy to receive this."

"Then shall we also choose candles for the others as well? I think it would be really incredible to build a storage room for scented candles so that whenever one of us needs it, we can always—"

"Before that."

"Hm?"

Innocently, you looked up from the candles to meet Jimin's gaze only to have your lips captured in a sweet kiss, leaving your breath to hitch and your eyes to widen as you froze right there at the unexpected kiss.

Jimin leaned away just enough to give you some space with a chuckle. "Your reactions will always please me."

"J-Jimin!"

"But," his brows furrowing slightly, he brought his hand over to slowly swipe his thumb along his lip as you simply stood there, staring at those plump lips of his, not knowing what to do, "I want more, little one."

"J.." Your cheeks brightened even more as your eyes were quick to avert to the ground upon meeting his eyes, causing him to let out another throaty chuckle.

"I love you."

He found it amusing in the way your face only seemed to flush even more each time he did and said something. Your eyes were shaking, not knowing where to look, and he was sure your head was swarming with thoughts of how to respond to him. Surely you were panicking upon whether to return those sweet three words or not and it brought a tug at the corner of his lips.

"Well?" He raised a brow, waiting for your permission.

You bit your lip, still contemplating, but Jimin went on to take the lavender-scented candle away from your grasp to place it back onto the table as he inched towards you in a sly manner.

"I..." You opened your mouth shyly.

"Yes?" He urged you on.

"I-I..." You stepped back out of panic but he followed right away. "Well..um..."

"Hm?"

Bravely, you looked up to meet his eyes head-on and Jimin smirked, satisfied with that. But still, he waited to hear your words and despite how slow you were with it, hearing it made him happy nonetheless.

"I love you too." You told him and he smiled, letting his hand trail down your face in a gentle possessive manner before leaning in and pressing his sweet lips to your own.

It's a gentle kiss like the gentleman he is and not long after your thoughts are filled with him and him alone.

"I can't wait to become an apprentice! I just know prince Namjoon will choose the perfect one for me!"

You giggled fondly at the little dragoness who sat beside you helping you with your duties as the two of you fold the blankets for the whelps together. "But before that, you will have to let him know what you want to be first, right?"

"Ah," she said, almost as if she had forgotten about the beginning steps first.

"Well?" You urged her on. "What would you like to be as part of the clan?"

She looked away thinking, her hands coming down to a stop on top of the white blanket that laid on her lap, her thoughts going on to stray away to the different duties every dragon has as a member of the clan.

"Unnie how did you choose what you wanted to do?" She asked you instead of answering, her decisions still unclear.

"Well," you started, ready to help her to try and decide, "I chose to be both Seokjin's underling and helping out with the whelps because I love helping. I guess it was easy to decide because, for one, I enjoy taking care of the whelps' needs, and two, I'm used to the herbs and remedies as I've often had to learn them myself without relying on others to help me heal when I needed it. Plus it comes in handy when the princes need to be tended to."

"You don't like just watching on the sideline and would rather be of help, huh?"

You nodded with a smile. "Tending to them makes me feel useful. I can protect them in that sense while they help to protect the clan as warriors themselves. I'd hate to just stand back and watch them in pain, not knowing how to help them. It'd feel worse than anything"

Haeun broke into a beaming smile at your answer. "Unnie, that sounds just like you."

You chuckled at her words and went on to tousle her hair. "You'll find your purpose one day soon. Take your time, no one is rushing you."

"Oh!" She let out a cute little gasp. "What if I worked as a caretaker as well? That way I can be of more help here in the roosts!"

"That sounds—"

"No."

The two of you turned at the voice to find Taehyung walking up with a slightly displeased expression as he handed little Kihyun to Haeun before shamelessly pulling you against his chest right in front of the kids.

"T-Taehyung!" You quickly gasped and were ready to push him away at the unexpected gesture. Only he wasn't going to let you go.

"You already spend too much time with my princess, you can't keep taking her away from me. I'm supposed to be the one who spends more time with her than anyone else, Haeun!"

You couldn't believe this was the reason for his refusal of Haeun's help but rather than taking him seriously, the dragoness let out an exasperated sigh as she stood from her spot with Kihyun in hand before purposely sticking her tongue out at the prince. "Sucks to be you then, my prince, because unnie likes me more than you anyways!"

He let out a dramatic gasp with the grip around you only tightening. "How dare you say such lies."

Yet she made no comebacks and simply ran away before Taehyung could scold her anymore.

You giggled at their little banter and turned around to face your lover with a sigh. "I would appreciate it if you kept the affections to a minimum in front of the little ones."

"Why should I? Those little dragons are already trying to steal you away. I'm just marking my territory so they know not to steal someone else's mate, especially one that belongs to a prince."

"You know they're just playing around."

"That's what they'd like you to think, those mischievous little brats."

You burst out laughing at how ridiculous he was, jealous of the little dragons and even having quite the serious pout plastered upon his face. You didn't know what to expect walking into the relationship but even so, everything had been so well you were glad to be able to laugh and smile along their sides no matter how many times you'd get flustered by the things they did.

Frowning at you for not taking him seriously, Taehyung grabbed a hold of your face in both his large palms and brought himself right in front of you, making your laughter cease almost instantly.

"Is it fun making me jealous?" The prince asked with a raised brow, suddenly giving you a deadpanned look you weren't sure what to think. "Hm, princess?"

Your eyes panned away from his out of panic, already afraid to be caught by the poor little dragons in case they stumbled upon the two of you. "Tae—"

"I'm right in front of you yet you're focusing on something else?"

"If the whelps catch us like this, I—" He brought your face forcibly back to face him again with a displeased expression that is quick to bring your voice quiet all over again. "Tae..." Seeing him like that was a little surprising to you. After all, despite the many months spent in the dragon clan, there was still so much you had yet to know of including how the princes would act as your lovers, and now that you were with them, it still felt a little unbelievable they would feel such love and possessiveness over you.

Maybe that was just the nature of dragons. Just as you've heard stories of them being quite possessive with their treasures, perhaps mating was just as if not more important.

Your faces were so close you were sure Taehyung could feel the heat of your cheeks against his palm. It made you even shyer so you looked away, not brave enough to keep eye contact for much longer, and just for that, he let out a knowing chuckle.

"You're so cute." His voice was low, quiet. "I don't want anyone else to see this side to you, princess. You're ours after all, aren't you?"

You ignored his words in an attempt to hide your embarrassment. "Don't you think, um...you're being a little too brave doing this right here?"

"I'm sure Haeun's got us covered."

"That's not—!" You grunted. "We can't let her watch the whelps all alone, you know that."

"Eh," he shrugged, not caring one bit, "she's a good kid. She'll take care of it. In the meantime—"

"Noona!!"

You were quick to gasp and pushed Taehyung away as soon as you heard the young voice calling your name. "Do you need something, Minho?" You asked, turning around as the little one ran up to you while you both ignored the cry of agony and frustration falling out of Taehyung's lips as he leaned back into one of the beds of the whelps, holding his face against his palm at the missed opportunity that was now ripped away from him.

"Noona I wanna play with you!" The little dragon exclaimed with a bright innocent grin plastered on his face but Taehyung knew it was anything but. As if to provoke the prince further, he grabbed ahold of your hands and dragged you off, not even sparing Taehyung a single glance, knowing fully well what he had just done.

"Y/N."

"Namjoon!" He saw you quick on your little feet as you ran up to him with a beaming smile that was just enough to slowly ease the weights resting on his shoulders. But he knew it wouldn't last forever despite wanting to keep seeing that precious smile of yours even if it meant for just one whole night, dreading for the time that was coming. "I was just looking around for you!"

He gave you a tender smile as he drew his hand along your face, stroking it gently. "Did you need me for something, dear one?"

"Mhm!" You took his hand, ready to run off. "Come here, I—"

But Namjoon pulled you back to stand right before him again, he himself not having moved one inch despite you just about to drag him away. "Can it wait?" He said, causing your smile to fall with a slight concern.

"Oh. Are you busy?"

He hated doing that to you. "I was just about to have Yoongi call for a clan meeting."

"Ah," you said, nodding. "Then I will wait for you in—"

"Actually."

"Hm?"

"I want you to attend the meeting."

That took you by surprise as your eyes widened a little, totally unaware that Namjoon would ask you to attend a clan meeting. Usually, he would have all the princes and his most trusted dragons together for a meeting first before letting the rest know of any news that would be important to announce. You've never attended any meetings before and there hadn't been one for a while so surely the things he had to discuss had to be important, right? So why would he ask you to attend?

Seeing the confusion written on your face, Namjoon began to explain. "You're our Keeper now, remember?" He said, reminding you of the ceremony that had taken place just a few weeks ago. "Must I keep reminding you that you are now very important to the dragon clans?"

"Well..." They've mentioned that but you have yet to know what exactly that title meant for you. "I haven't exactly done much, have I?"

"I know," he nodded, understanding. "Truthfully none of us truly understands how a human would prepare for this role but I need you to begin seeing this title as your new duty. I know you have the whelps to take care of and also work alongside Seokjin but being a Keeper will begin to take up the majority of your time now. I need you to be prepared for anything, Y/N."

"I..." The serious gaze he held for you made you understand how crucial it was but still, you couldn't find the answer as to why. "I don't understand."

Namjoon nodded again. "It is best to let everyone know first before you ask your questions." He took your hand and began leading you towards the one room you hadn't exactly been to before; the meeting hall. "But just know that from now on, the Keeper will be attending every meeting that is to be held."

Knowing your questions would be answered soon, you gave him a nod. "Okay."

The meeting hall was a grand hall that laid a large table right in the middle with twelve chairs surrounding it all together. Seeing it up close and personal itself, you could understand just how serious the meeting was going to be. Even Taehyung himself who had already taken his place towards one of the ends held a grim expression.

But upon seeing you walk in with Namjoon at your side, his face lit up just the slightest bit.

"You look tense," he joked as if trying to ease your nerves with his little jokes. "It's alright, princess," the dragon assured you with a soft smile as he held his hand out to offer you a seat beside him. You easily took his hand, allowing him to guide you to the chair beside him as the others began to file in.

Hoseok took his place on your other side with a grin. "First time here?" He asked almost flirtatiously and made you let out a giggle.

Not long after the meeting began.

"The three clans have gotten news of me declaring Y/N as Keeper of the Dragons." You could feel all eyes turning to you at the report that left Namjoon's lips and just for that, you felt a weird feeling drop within your stomach but you weren't sure exactly what you were supposed to feel.

Was it a good thing? Or not?

Weren't the Clans all connected in one way or another despite them ruling their own skies and mountains? Questions swarmed in your head and you were suddenly realizing just how much you didn't know about lots of things that were important to the clan.

Sensing your confusion, Namjoon began to explain. "There are four main clans. The East, the West, the North, and the South. The other clans that exist are the smaller clans that protect other areas that are not covered by the four major clans. The warriors live protecting our territories in order to maintain the lands that were given to us from the first beginning wars many years ago. We are allowed to go to war with any smaller clan to gain land if we wish to do so, but none of us are allowed to attack any of the major clans so that no one clan becomes one over the other and dictates the rest."

"Hence that's where gaining a Keeper poses a problem, doesn't it, my prince?"

You turned your head at the warrior that had spoken. "It..does?"

He sent you a conflicted expression. "Us major clans may not be allowed to attack the others to maintain order but there are other ways to gain power and look slightly better than the rest."

"And one way by doing that is having our ancestor warriors accept a Keeper into one of the clans," another warrior added.

You were posing a problem as a Keeper already? Just by existing? Did that mean you'd have to leave in order to not cause more problems and potentially be the reason the clans may go to war?

Seeing those worried brows furrowing, Seokjin turned back to Namjoon. "The clans have given you their answers, I am sure. What did they say?"

With Seokjin's question, the attention returned to the high prince once again.

"They will accept the Keeper as long as we grant them the permission to use her in the case of any major wars."

Jungkook abruptly stood up in protest. "No!" He said in a thunderous tone with a face filled with rage at the thought of even bringing you to the wars. "I will not allow anyone to use Y/N in any way shape or form even if it comes to our own wars."

"But the Keeper has her powers to protect herself and the ones beside her."

"Y/N doesn't know how to use her powers yet," he was quick to dismiss the thought.

Meanwhile, you look at Hoseok and Taehyung beside you with confusion at this so-called power of yours. You really possessed powers now? And as if reading your thoughts, the two of them gave you a silent nod both firmly to let you know that all of this was real.

"She can learn."

"And she will."

"Whether she learns it well or not does not mean I will let anyone take advantage of her and put her life at risk. Y/N's already gone through so much, you can't just expect her to suddenly be thrown into the middle of our clan's problems."

But you were the root of the problem so it only made sense. And you were sure you weren't the only one thinking that as you looked around the room, noticing the hesitation in the warrior's expressions as some of them felt conflicted on whether to voice their true opinion on the matter or not since they all knew you were the lover of the princes.

Sighing silently with worry, you spared a glance towards Namjoon who seemed to be the one in the most conflicted position. After all, as leader of the East Clan, he had to consider both sides to the problem while also needing to take in the other clan's words without dismissing it so easily.

As you sat there while the debate continued on, you realized that the only way the clan could have accepted you at all was to become a Keeper. That was the only position available to you as a human in order to be someone not only the East Clan could trust but the rest of the clans as well. Which also meant that this was Namjoon's way of protecting you. Because as Keeper, you were given the power to protect not just the people around you but yourself as well.

"Hyung." Jungkook turned back to Namjoon, wanting the leader to declare the words of declining the other clan's orders but you knew it wasn't going to be that easy of a decision.

The room fell silent again as the youngest of the prince addressed the leader who sat tall in his seat at the end of the table. His gaze remained grim with both his hands clasped together in front of him with silent thoughts swarming in his head.

It remained that way for a while, the room waiting for Namjoon to speak.

He closed his eyes for a second before sitting back tall against his seat and looking up to rest his gaze right on you. Your heart skipped a beat, not knowing what he was going to ask of you or if he had come up with a decision, and whatever it was, you knew you had to be prepared.

"Y/N," he called, voice uttered in a low octave.

"Yes?" You were almost too afraid of what his next words were going to be but this was Namjoon you were talking about. You knew you could trust him with your whole life. The two of you went through danger together, helped each other up, carried one another, and made it out alive in the end. You knew more than anyone that he wouldn't purposely lead you to danger. After all, even though he had hated you then, he still protected you from that great fall because he knew you were special to Jungkook.

If there was anyone you could trust, it would be Namjoon.

"The wars that the dragon clans may involve themselves in can be quite brutal," he told you. "There will be enemy dragons far more dangerous than the ones that had attacked both you and Seokjin. You have to, however, be rest assured that our own warriors are far stronger than you can ever imagine. I will do all that I can to negotiate with the other three clans but be prepared to know that you may be needed in one of the wars in the future."

"Namjoon—"

He held a hand up to silence Jungkook without ever diverting his gaze from you. "No dragon that belongs to the clans, whether that of the major clans or the smaller ones, will ever dare to harm you. Every dragon knows not to try and harm a Keeper who lives to protect them. So if and when the wars ever come, will you give your complete trust to us in due time just as the clans will do the same with you?"

Seeing that complete resolve in Namjoon's eyes which hides no lies upon his vow to keep you from harm's way, you knew your answer.

"More than anything, I will entrust my life to the clans."

Proud with your reply, Namjoon let himself give you a faint smile in return.

"This will mean the clans will want to meet her, won't they?" Jimin spoke up upon the possibility and returning to his serious expression once again, Namjoon gave a nod.

"The Keeper has much to learn then."

"That's right."

Customs and courtesies along with the history of the Clans and their origins. Adding along with your training as a Keeper, the need to protect the dragon clans. You had much to do but you knew running away from it wasn't going to happen so you sat there with a resolved look in your eyes, letting the dragons know that you were going to do it all if it meant protecting them.

They smiled knowingly, proud to have you as their Keeper.

"Can't sleep?"

Namjoon's eyes turned tender upon the sight of you joining him out on the balcony later that night. He held out a hand for you to take and you gladly accepted it with no protest, allowing him to bring you forward and wrap his arms around you to keep you warm from the night breeze.

It remained silent for a while with the two of you just basking in each other's warmth, comfortable with just the sound of the crickets chirping under the night sky filled with the light of the twinkling stars.

"I'm sorry," he whispered a moment later and you turned to look up at him with confusion.

"For what?"

"When I gave you the title as Keeper of the Dragons, I should have asked you about it all first instead of just deciding it all on my own," he told you with a grim expression resting on his face. "Now you're going to have to face some challenges that you weren't prepared for."

His voice was soft against the wind, but you could hear the guilt and heavy stress weighing against him, letting you know that he had been worrying about you with all of this now going on. The other three clans weren't going to give in to his negotiations that easily but Namjoon would be working hard just for the sake of you and for that you knew all you wanted to do at that moment was to ease his burdens.

"It's okay," you told him softly as you leaned against his chest to let him understand that you weren't blaming him for any of it. "You gave me a place in your clan and that is more than enough."

"Being a Keeper is not going to be easy on you. Whether it was the only title I could give you as a human or not, this will only make things harder on you."

You chuckled a little at those words. "You know more than anyone nothing has been easy for me in the first place."

"Exactly." He let out a sigh as his arms around you tightened with worry. "This isn't exactly helping."

"As a Keeper, no one can hurt me, right?"

"You're going to have to learn to defend and use your powers first."

"Mhm," you nodded. "And I will."

"I know you will Y/N, and I trust you with all that I have," he acknowledged without any doubt. "I know that despite the situation you're suddenly placed in, the burdens you will have to face as a Keeper, you won't let any of that get to you and will do all that you can do for the clan. But," he gave you a squeeze, holding you tighter as if to silently tell you how afraid he was knowing he had no choice but to send you away as a leader who had to make the best decisions for everyone, "truthfully I wanted to agree with Jungkook and straight-up refuse the thought of even involving you in any future wars. The little one knows you best. He's seen through it all, feels the most guilty out of any of us for not being able to protect you as well as we should have. And I know you don't blame him, none of us does, he was after all the one who fought so hard for your life. But because he had to go through that, Jungkook will be the one to suffer the most when we have to send you off to fight."

You understood that. You understood the fact that Jungkook's heart was so big he wanted to protect everyone he could with his power. He was there beside you, always feeling helpless he couldn't do much to help you in your situation knowing he had been less powerful than the rest of his hyungs, but even then, you would never blame him because none of it was his fault.

He was a kind, gentle, and loving dragon who refused to let any of his lovers get hurt. But you understood where Namjoon was coming from and knew this wasn't going to be easy at all.

"I will tell you this though," you looked up at the leader whose eyes were already on yours with a firm resolve in his eyes. "As the leader of the Eastern Clan and as your lover, I will not let anything happen to you no matter what we will face in the future. So can you place your faith in me and do your part knowing I will be standing right beside you in all of this?"

"Namjoon..." Dealing with the Clans and potentially needing to be used in some of the future wars would not be easy, you knew, but you also knew that you weren't going to be alone. So you gave him a firm nod, knowing more than anyone that you could trust him. "Of course."

He leaned in to place a kiss on your head. "That's all I need to hear."

The days grew longer and longer as you took your duties off as Seokjin's assistance and the caretaker of the whelps in order to begin your training as the true Keeper of the Dragons.

You were given a teacher who taught you the history of the Clans and common customs and courtesies to prepare you for the meeting of the other three clans and had to face a challenge in trying to understand how the previous Keeper had lived.

None of it was easy, knowing you would be alone throughout most of it because the dragons themselves had no idea of how to train someone with a position they've never had to face. So you spent most of your time in the large library mostly to yourself with lessons after lessons on the history of the Clans and the first Keeper of the Dragons.

Given the ability to wield the power to physically protect someone while having no idea how to use or control it was hard for a beginner like you, but you knew you couldn't give up so easily because this was now your duty. You couldn't let your clan down nor disappoint anyone.

Everyone believed in you, it was your duty to show them that you were capable of this position without any doubt.

If the other three clans blindly trusted in you to the point of potentially asking you for aid in future wars then you could not let them see you as a weak and vulnerable human who would make excuses on how hard it was. You had to prove yourself to everyone.

Not just your princes, not just your clan nor the other three clans, but to yourself as well.

You were going to face this head-on, knowing it was your duty to protect the dragons now as Keeper of the Dragons.

"Tired?"

You quickly shook your head as you headed back to the private chambers after another long day of studying. With a big smile plastered on your face, you knew you couldn't let them worry over you so much.

"I'm perfect!" You said to Yoongi who held on to a skeptical expression.

"Well that's true but," he held his hand up to stroke your hair with eyes that didn't blindly believe you so easily, "you know it's okay to say when you're tired, right? You have it very rough right now, after all. We can all see it."

"Well I'm a little tired," you admitted sheepishly, knowing you couldn't hide anything from them as he brought you in to hold you in his arms soon after. "But it's been going well, I promise."

"I don't doubt that." Seokjin came up from behind you to place a kiss on your head. When you looked up at him, his eyes were just as concerned as Yoongi's. "I know you're a smart girl who is stronger than anyone I've ever met, however, you must remember to not push yourself too hard."

"You often go to the extremes for others, that's why we're so worried, princess," Taehyung said.

"If it becomes too difficult to face this all on your own, you have to tell us," Jimin chimed in. "Preparing for battles is not easy but doing this as a Keeper is something beyond our own imaginations. We may not understand some things but we're right here for you, okay?"

"Once you're done with the first steps of knowing how to defend and use your powers as a Keeper, the next step is learning how we fight our wars."

"I'm sorry," Namjoon said after Hoseok, looking the most worried out of them all since he was the one to have given you the title. "This is a lot more than I thought it'd be."

"I promise I'm alright," you said with sincerity at their concern for you. You hated seeing them like that but you knew it was coming from a good place. "Learning to protect the Clans is a privilege. I'm honored to be a Keeper. I won't let you down."

"Y/N."

You turned to the sound of the last prince to speak and saw the way he stood a bit further from the rest of you, an unsettling uneasiness clear on his face as his brows furrowed while he refused to look at you at first. It was silent for a moment as you waited for Jungkook to speak.

When he finally managed to look up and meet your face, you could see how much this was affecting him and felt your heart drop at just the sight alone. Jungkook was so worried about you.

He held his hand out, eyes averting from yours again but still, you took it without hesitation, letting the youngest prince have his way with pulling you into his strong arms. You couldn't see it from where you stood just seconds ago but now that you were in his arms, you could feel the way he was trembling slightly as he held you.

"'Please," he whispered as he let his cheek rest against your head, "if it's too hard you have to let us know. You can't lie to us no matter what. If you don't want to do this anymore then just say the word and we'll take care of it. But I know that is not something you'd ever do because you are much too noble for that so please...please don't push yourself too hard for any of our sakes. If you go too far you'll hurt yourself. So this time, this time I won't let you get too far. I promise I'll uphold my words and protect you. So please rely on me. Okay?"

You knew to some extent that Jungkook worried the most out of everyone but hearing those words coming out of his mouth, feeling the slight trembling of his body, you knew how scared he was right now. So worried, so afraid.

He loved you so much so you knew you couldn't do something that would make him think you were only going to make things harder for yourself.

You stepped back just enough to face him again where you reached up to hold his face in your hand. His eyes were filled with so much grief you wished you could just take all those worries away in a blink of an eye. But it wasn't going to be that easy. Despite that, however, you knew you had to do something to ease the pain even if it meant a small dose.

"I promise, Jungkook. I won't go too far this time."

"Good." He said and buried his face against the crook of your neck, his breath shaky as he let out a sigh. "Good."

"How about this?" Witnessing that moment between the two of you, Namjoon spoke up. "You should take a break tomorrow. You've been working non-stop these past few weeks after all."

"Hm?" You turned to Namjoon with a slight confusion while Jungkook remained in your arms, refusing to let you go anytime soon. "But—"

"The clan haven't seen you in a while since you've been buried in the library almost every day since your training started. I'm sure they've missed you."

"That's right," Taehyung let out a sigh at just the reminder of the little whelps demanding him questions after questions on when they were ever going to see you again. "You know more than anyone how much those little whelps love you. They've been asking for you since the day you started your training and Haeun isn't making things any easier. She's gotten so grumpy I can't keep handling all of them on my own."

You laughed lightly upon the mention of the little ones, already picturing them complaining to Taehyung and bouncing around him for answers about you.

"Everyone knows you're working so hard right now," Yoongi stated with a firm nod. "You should take tomorrow to catch up on things and take things easy. They've all missed you."

"I suppose a day wouldn't hurt."

"Then it's settled." With that, Namjoon gave you a faint smile as he walked up to both you and Jungkook, giving you a kiss to your head before gently patting Jungkook's head. He looked up, still slightly upset about this whole thing. "Y/N's going to be okay," the leader vowed firmly. "Everyone's looking out for her."

"Mhm," you nodded with a smile. "So don't worry too much, okay?"

He took a moment to stare at the kind smile you gave him and seeing how sincere you both were, Jungkook began to look relieved as his face relaxed for the first time in a while. "Okay," he sighed with a small smile of his own. "I'm proud of you."

Your heart blossomed with love.

Two weeks later, you were to leave to meet the three clans of the North, South, and West.

Dressed in formal wear, you took a deep breath as you stared out at the view of the horizon from the mountain top, knowing this would be the first time you would be leaving the mountain and being gone for a while.

"Are you ready?" You turned at the voice of Hoseok who stood tall beside Namjoon as the two of them would be the ones to accompany you on the journey. Behind them stood the rest of the princes and the clan to bid their farewells and wait for your return. Scanning the crowd, you could see some faces of worry and decided to give them all your usual kind smile.

"I have Namjoon and Hoseok with me, you can all stop looking at me like I'm already going out for war," you said with a small laugh to lighten the dampened mood. "I will be alright," you give them the vow with confidence in order to ensure that they did not have to worry too much.

It seemed to have worked since many of their faces began to lighten up again.

"We will be waiting for your return."

"Please stay safe."

"Send word if anything goes wrong. We'll be ready for anything."

You laughed again. "You all worry too much."

"For good reason." Seokjin walked up looking slightly grumpy. "We're sending our Keeper away after all."

"They won't do anything to me, I'm just going to be meeting them so that they will know who the Keeper is," you reminded him.

"I'm surprised you can be so calm." Truthfully despite Jimin's words, you were quite worried but you knew you couldn't show that now. It wouldn't be the best thing to do knowing the clan themselves were already concerned. "You're so brave, little one."

"Mhm," you nodded at his words with a confident grin. "So trust me a little more, hm?"

"Stay safe, princess," Taehyung told you as he gently tousled your hair.

"I will."

Meeting both Namjoon and Hoseok's gaze, there seemed to be some sort of a silent conversation going on as Yoongi met their gazes before he turned to you with a small smile. "We'll be waiting for you."

"Mhm," you smiled.

"I love you," Jungkook whispered before turning to Namjoon and Hoseok. "You too," he said. "Be careful out there."

"Of course," Hoseok nodded.

"Shall we go? We must reach the Southern Clan before the sun sets." Upon those words of Namjoon's the clan tensed up again along with an odd feeling dropping along your stomach. But you knew you had to do this whether it was scary or not. It was important to the future of the clans after all.

Once both Namjoon and Hoseok transformed into their respective dragon forms, you gave the clan a formal bow of respect. "I shall return in time."

With that, you climbed onto Hoseok's back and the two of them took off riding into the sky, leaving the Eastern Dragon Clan behind.

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havin-a-wee · 3 years

Text

If Only She Knew

pairing: dad!harry x cheerleader!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: smut (fingering + unprotected sex), cheerleading position implies readers weight, 20 year age gap

hi! ive been having some really bad writers block but i wrote this and even though its def not my best work i like it enough to post it :) also, i totally didn't mean to imply the readers weight, i only realized afterwards, so im really sorry about that. also the age gap is kinda big, so if ur uncomfy with that you shouldn't read this <3

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

“Geez watch where you’re going!”

You don’t even look up at the girl, recognizing her nasally voice easily from how annoying it is. You were nose deep in a book while walking down the school hallway, and of course your worst enemy had to be walking down the same hallway, at the same time, in the opposite direction. You are both at fault for the collision, considering Ella had her eyes locked on her instagram feed. But knowing the girl, there is no way in hell that she will take any responsibility, even though you are the one who has coffee dripping down the front of your white blouse.

Since middle school, Ella Styles has always hated you. You have never known why, but she seems to have a vendetta against you, and tries her best to make your life miserable. You never let her, always refraining from giving her the explosive reaction that she was looking for. And that makes her hate you even more.

High school is over in 2 months, and although you are going to miss the freedom of being a child, you most definitely won’t miss the people from the tiny town you’ve lived in since you were young. You’ve always been the type of person to have a small friend group, only 4 people in your circle. But that’s how you like it, because crippling social anxiety makes it difficult for you to meet new people.

“I- sorry.” You still don’t look at her, instead peeling the soaking wet top off of your stomach.

“You better be sorry.” She flips her blonde hair, ensuring that the fluffy locks hit you right in the face. You are lucky this time seeing as she didn’t take it further, because sometimes she would purposely embarrass you after small incidents such as this one.

Tears well at your waterline and you run into the nearest bathroom, pushing open the blue door and locking yourself in a stall.

After all these years of torment, Ella rarely was able to get to you. But sometimes, she does something that pushes you off the edge, leaving you with red, tear-stained cheeks. The final straw this time was her ruining your brand new shirt, the one you were anxiously waiting to debut at school.

But now there was coffee dripping down your chest and staining the bright white fabric. Your only saving grace is the cheerleading uniform in your backpack. In fact, you were walking to the locker room to change for practice, and then for the game at 6 tonight.

You had been excited for the game, knowing that Friday night games always led to parties and fun afterwards. You rarely go to parties of course, but the buzzing energy never fails to rub off on you. But now that stupid Ella had to go and mess up your day, you’re dreading seeing her smug face while she asserts her dominance as cheer captain.

You untie your top and rip it off in a haste, frustrated tears running down your face periodically. You could’ve put a jacket on and gone to the locker room, but Ella would be going there soon, and the last thing you want to do is run into her with teary eyes. She can’t know that you let her get to you.

You brush your hands down your uniform, pulling down the skimpy costume and stuffing your old clothes in your backpack. Once out of the stall, you pull your hair up into a high ponytail, reapply your lip gloss and walk back into the hallway, having already done your makeup that morning. You’re happy that it’s a home game today, because the home game uniforms are two pieces and the skirts are smaller than the ones on the away game uniforms. There is a certain someone you are looking to impress, and the way your tits spill out from the top of the outfit will most certainly help you in your mission.

It’s not like you need to impress him, because he’s shown time and time again that he finds you sexy no matter what you wear. And when he doesn’t tell you, he shows you, by pressing his hard on up against your ass after you just woke up, despite your messy hair and bare face.

However, he also loves when you tease him. And that’s exactly what you’re planning to do.

You sling your heavy backpack over one shoulder and trudge down the hallway, the old fluorescent lights practically blinding you on your journey. The locker room is dingy, smelling of cheap soap and Victoria’s Secret perfume. At least it doesn’t smell like the boys locker room, which smells like sweat and more sweat.

It's already bustling with people, your teammates scrambling to get ready in time as to not get yelled at by the coach.

“Y/N!” The familiar shout of your best friend Rose is like a breath of fresh air, and you bound over to her. She’s standing in front of your lockers, the two of you obviously picking ones next to each other. “Wait, why are you already changed?”

“The bitch spilled her coffee all over me,” you grumbled, your eyes shifting over to where Ella and her little goons are giggling.

“I keep telling you, anytime you want me to beat her up I will gladly do it.”

“Not that I doubt your abilities Rose, because I know you would have her on the ground in a heartbeat, but I can’t let you do that. She can’t know that she upsets me.” You lower your voice for the second sentence, irrationally fearing that she can hear you over the loud chatter echoing through the room.

“I still think you should let me beat her up, but you do you I guess.” Rose shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her locker, bursting out into laughter with you after a beat of silence.

The rest of the getting ready process goes smoothly, Rose distracting you from the girl side-eyeing you in the corner. Soon enough, the whole squad was in formation outside, and you have your hands on the shoulders of Rose and another girl named Bethany. You are a flyer, meaning that you’re the one who the bases support while you pose and flip in the air. Its a hard job, but you are one of only three girls on the team who is advanced enough at flying to be safe doing it in routines. One of the other three girls is Ella.

Ella is the flyer for the middle group, seeing as she is the captain. You are on the right and the other group is on the left. Luckily, Rose is a base in your group, so you feel a lot better putting your safety in the hands of someone you already trust with your life.

“ELLA! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!” Coach Habbiths voice is piercing, her angry shrieks bouncing off your ear drums. Ella audibly huffs, displaying her frustration with the critiques she has been receiving since we learned the routine weeks ago. That’s one of the biggest problems with Ella, she believes that she's always right.

Every single practice she has done a needle instead of a scale at the end of the routine. It's aggravating for everyone, and that frustration is amplified everytime she makes the same mistake over and over. “Alright, everyone down. group 1 and group 3 take five, Ella and group 2 stay on the field.

The team obliged to her instructions, and you are brought down from the air.

“Okay Ella, I want you to watch how Y/N does the last move, because she’s actually doing it correctly.” Coach is standing in front of you now, and she emphasized the word ‘correctly’. This is much to Ella’s dismay, and much to your excitement.

Nothing brings you more joy than seeing Ella’s face when you one up her, and this time is no exception.

Aside from a few eye rolls and nasty looks, Ella corrects the move without much fuss. By now there's 15 minutes until the game, and the players have been warming up on the field for about half an hour.

“Did you see her face!” Rose tugs on your arm while you walk back to the locker room, water bottles in hand.

“I know! I should’ve taken a picture!”

“We can only hope that it knocked her ego down a peg.”

“I doubt it” Rose nodded in agreement and you continued your chatter, talking about the random things that best friends talk about.

“It’s go time ladies!” You jumped in surprise when Coach Habbiths yelling booms through the locker room, the hefty amount of metal in the room enhancing the echo.

In a blur, your entire team rushed out onto the field, the crisp air cooling your warmed skin. There was a huge crowd. probably the biggest the teams ever had. But that makes sense, because this game was against your school's biggest rival. Luckily, despite the huge crowd you were able to lock eyes with those piercing green irises you have gotten to know so well over the past couple months. Everytime you see him he gets more and more attractive, and this time is no exception.

At this point, the teams routine is muscle memory and you’re done with it before you can blink. Most people would think that being thrown in the air is memorable, but your main concern is the growing wet patch on your panties that spreads each time you squeeze your thighs together. Just the thought of the man is enough to turn you on, and now that you’re sitting on the cold metal bench your imagination has time to go wild.

The only thing that snapped you out of your daze was the eruption of appaulause from the audience, and the realization that the other cheerleaders were standing up and running towards the players. You breath out a sigh of relief, recognizing the cheering as a signal that the game has ended.

“Hey, you coming?” Rose tugs on your arm, looking down at you still on the bench.

“Um, actually I don’t feel so well, I think I’m going to go home.”

“I should’ve known. You know, one day you’re going to have to go to a party.” Rose places her hands on her hips, giving you a sarcastically annoyed stare.

“And today is not that day.” You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, turning back to Rose for a second. “Have fun and be safe.”

“I always do.” Rose places a chaste kiss on your cheek before turning back to the gathering crowd on the turf.

Instead of heading to the sidewalk and walking home, you duck under the bleachers and walk down the gravel path, pushing open the fence that separates the field and the school. The contents of your backpack slosh around while you sway your hips as you walk. Finally, you make it to the back wall of the school, leaning your back against it and plopping your heavy backpack down by your feet.

And now you wait.

Much to your convenience, the wait this time isn’t long, only five minutes passing before you see the familiar man following the same path you did earlier.

He has a pair of brown slacks on, pressing against his waist courtesy of his black belt. A button up white shirt hides the tattoos on his stomach, but he's rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to you. He's walking with intention, hungry eyes zeroed in on you.

When he’s only steps away, you cheekily bite your lip and use your finger to push up your skirt a little bit more.

Your actions have the intended effect, his eyes blowing wide and hands grasping at your waist.

“Y’can’t do that.”

Before you have a chance to ask what he means, his lips collide with yours, his tongue slipping in only moments after the initial kiss. But as soon as he started, he pulls away.

“Y’can’t be teasing me on the field like tha’, had me hard next t’my friends.” His hand is on the wall above your head, and his other arm is wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. He’s panting, and you are too.

“Sorry Mr. Styles,” you push your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the most innocent look possible. “Just wanted to wear it cause I know how much you like it.”

“Aw, my babygirl wore this f’me? Well I guess y’can be forgiven. Now let’s get t’my house before I fuck yeh right on this wall.” He places a soft kiss to your lips picking up your backpack from the floor and turning to the direction of his car.

“But it hurts!” He turns around again, giving you a sympathetic look and caressing your cheek. The rings on his fingers are cold, but you’re used to the feeling.

“I know sweet girl, but I can’t take care of yeh here, s’too risky.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of a solution to your not so little problem. “How bout I give y’my fingers in the car? Hows that sound hm?” You nod eagerly, pulling his hand down from your cheek and holding it. He takes the signal and begins walking to his car while you follow him.

You never planned to sleep with your bullies dad. But a few months ago your parents dragged you to a family friends housewarming party, and that friend happened to be a friend of Harry’s too. There were no other teenagers there, so your focus was on the attractive older man who had been checking you out since you first locked eyes, and after ending up in the upstairs bathroom together the two of you have been fucking at least twice a week. You only learned that he’s a dad when you saw him for the first time outside the party. He didn’t look the part, and you actually thought he was in his 20s until he corrected you. He’s 38, having become a parent at only 20 years old. Your relationship is a bit taboo, but you’re a mature 18 year old and you and Harry get along well. So well that your time together has developed from casual sex to a mutually exclusive relationship. (Neither of you like labels, but you’re basically boyfriend and girlfriend).

He makes you really happy, and when you have to face off against Ella, it helps knowing that you have power over her, even though she doesn’t know it.

“Did she do anything today?” Harry is walking beside you, hands still intertwined.

“Besides spilling coffee on my shirt, nothing much.” Harry sighs in frustration and squeezes your hand as a show of affection.

“M’so sorry, I wish y’didn’t ‘ave to deal with her.”

The thing about Harry and Ella is they can barely be considered family. Ella’s mom is, for lack of a better word, a bitch. She’s snobby, conceited, and rude, and those behaviors have rubbed off on Ella. Another thing that rubbed off on her was her mom’s hatred for Harry. Being young parents put strain on their already struggling relationship, and they split before Ella’s first birthday. Harry said he tried his best to make it work for Ella’s sake, but her mom was looking for someone to pay for her life, and Harry had just started working his way up as a businessman.

Now, he’s a CEO, but luckily Ella’s mom already found a new beau with plenty of money, so she didn’t come crawling back to him. However, the success Harry achieved only a few years after their breakup made her jealous, and so she instilled that anger in their daughter. So currently Ella spends most of her time with her mother, and when she is with Harry she doesn’t treat him kindly.

“It’s not your fault Harry, you don’t have to apologize for her actions.”

“I know, I jus’ hate tha’ she treats yeh like that.” He sighs again, reaching into his pocket to grab his keys. In a few more steps you’re standing outside the sleek black suv, walking around to the passenger seat and sliding in once you hear the click of the door unlocking.

You both take a few seconds to breathe, an unspoken gesture to prepare for the night's events. Harry turns to you, a sexy smirk plastered on his face. “What d’ya think about fixin’ that ache darlin?” You nod eagerly, sliding down a bit in your seat to give your legs room to spread. “Think yeh can take off y’skirt fo’me?” Your head bobs once again as you nod, hooking your fingers under the elastic waistband and shimmying out of the skirt. While you’re doing that, Harry turns the car into the deserted street, using only one hand to steer.

You toss the tiny skirt into his lap, giving him a signal without distracting his eyes from the road. He reacts immediately, his free hand coming down to squeeze your thigh. You mewl at the contact and bite down on your lip, trying to stop your hips from bucking up in search of relief. His squeezes move up your thigh, and finally his fingers press against your weeping cunt. Swiftly, he pushes your soiled panties to the side, swiping his fingers up your folds collecting your juices. You shriek and buck your hips up into his hand, but much to your dismay he removes it from between your thighs. The car comes to a stop at a red light, and Harry takes the moment to look at you, his eyes wandering your squirming body. He’s practically drooling when he places his fingers in his mouth, tasting your sweet wetness.

“Sorry pup, jus’ needed t’taste yeh.” He chuckles again, and you whine softly in desperation. In one quick motion, he dives his hand back to your pussy, pressing his thumb on your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” The pleasure shoots up your spine, goosebumps raising across your body as he rubs circles on the puffy button. “Harry- please,”

“What d’ya want puppy? Want m’fingers?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe out, words barely comprehensible through your panting.

“Alright, alright, I gotcha.” And with that his two fingers press into you, filling your tight hole perfectly. There is no hesitation before he begins pumping the digits in and out of you and his thumb never lets up on your bundle of nerves. “Such a needy puppy, got yeh soaking f’me from out in the stands hm?” His eyes are still on the road, but you can picture the lust filled eyes that are undoubtedly on his face.

“Get so wet jus- just thinkin’ about you,” you gasp, writhing as his fingers slam in and out of you.

“Yeah? This is my cunt, m’the only one who can make yeh this wet, isn’t tha’ right?”

“Only Harry.” At your confirmation he speeds his hand up, your vision clouding with white spots as the knot building in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

All of a sudden, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. “Wha-” You begin to question him but you realize that he’s pulling into his driveway. Instead of complaining, you sit up quickly and unbuckle your seatbelt, pulling your skirt back up your legs to avoid being nude on his front lawn.

As soon as you feel the little jolt your hand yanks on the handle and you hop out of the car. Your brain is fuzzy with need and all you are focused on is alleviating the aching between your thighs. You hear Harry lock the car while you're on the steps, and you turn back to ensure that he’s behind you. And sure enough, he’s hot on your trail, just as eager as you to get inside and onto his bed. Your foot is tapping on the ground anxiously, waiting for Harry to unlock the front door. After what seems like an hour, he is next to you again, fumbling with the silver keychain in his hand, eventually unlocking and pushing open the door. You both practically run inside, hands roaming each other's bodies and lips locking as you shuffle through the hall.

You disconnect breathlessly when you reach the stairs, subconsciously wrapping your hands around Harry’s neck so he can pick you up bridal style. He does so hastily, barely a second passing before he’s plopping you onto the fluffy mattress. “Finally,” he pants, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. There’s a prominent bulge in his trousers, and although you’ve seen it plenty, you are always in awe at how thick and big he is. While he’s busy removing his clothes, you are practically drooling at the sight of his bare cock, full, heavy, and dripping precome.

“Harry?”

He looks back down at you with his emerald green eyes, simultaneously dropping his recently-removed shirt on the floor. “Can I ride you?” The look he gives you is indescribable, a mixture of need, lust, cockiness, and beauty all rolled up into one.

“Whatever y’want puppy,” His hands scoop under your ass, and he lifts you up and switches your positions. Now it’s your turn to undress, and Harry makes himself busy by running his hands up and down your torso. “So gorgeous, y’know that?” You nod quickly then pull your shirt off of your head. “Most beautiful girl in the world I reckon.” You blush at the compliment, butterflies being added to the many sensations occuring in your body. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your hand around his length and tugging a few times. A loud groan rumbles through his throat, and you smile knowing you’re the one who made him feel like that. “Thought- thought yeh said y’wanted to ride me pup.”

“I do.” You keep your hand on his cock, sitting up on your knees and lining him up with your weeping cunt. All at once, your body is put at ease as his cock fills you up perfectly. He bottoms out inside of you, both of you moaning and groaning while you adjust. “So big-” Your words come out in choppy pants, the syllables being cut off by your heaves. You suck in one deep breath and move upwards, sinking back down onto him quickly. His large hands hold a tight grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his member. His lips attach to your neck, suckling on the supple skin just enough so that it doesn’t bruise.

“What a dirty little puppy you are,” he growls, eyes focusing heavily on where your bodies connect, watching himself disappear inside of you as you bounce up and down on his cock.

“Feel so full-” Tingles ricochet down every part of your body, and your legs are becoming weaker with each movement. Harry can feel your movement faltering, so his hips thrust upwards to meet yours, fucking you from underneath. “Harry!”

“I know pup, I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek and he leans in for another kiss, devouring your plump lips and swirling his tongue around yours. “So fuckin tight,” The words tumble from his mouth in a low growl, which sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. His cock twitches inside of you, encouraging you to muster all your energy and finish both of you off. Adrenaline kicks in and your strength returns, riding him faster and harder than before. “Let go f’me Y/N.” It only takes a few more thrusts for you to come undone, Harry’s orgasm following suit. The waves of pleasure roll through your body, and you throw your head back in ecstasy as you allow the feeling to overcome your body. Spurts of his hot cum cover your velvety walls and you ride out your orgasms together, resting your foreheads against one another.

You end up sleeping at his house, feeling safe knowing that Ella is staying with her mom today. It’s normal for you to sleep at his place, seeing as both of you are usually so tired that you pass out before you can leave. What isn’t normal is for you to be woken up in the morning by Harry’s phone ringing. Harry is a deep sleeper, and you laugh at the sight of him conked out while his ringtone blares on the nightstand just a few inches away. Carefully, you reach over his sleeping body and grab the phone, planning on hanging it up and going back to bed. However, when you saw that it was Ella calling, you changed your mind. Making a split second decision, you slide the icon to the right, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?” Her whiney voice rings through your eardrum and you wince. Not the nicest thing to be woken up to.

“Hello,” you answer, your voice not reflecting the cocky grin that spread across your face.

“Who the hell is this!” she shrieks, and you make a mental note that she must not be a morning person.

“A friend of your dads.” Your response is once again calm and monotone, trying to stifle the laugh that is bubbling in your throat.

“Ugh! What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”

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