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xenia-cenia · 2 years

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Saving You! - Jamil Viper x Fem!Reader

A/N-So you see I may of become a Jamil simp. Anyway! @phaindulgement this is your fault.

NONE OF YOU SAW THAT I FORGOT TO MAKE A TITLE

Word count: 1,925

TWs: Kidnapping for political gain, pre-established relationship, reader is Yuu/prefect, spoilers, protective Jamil?, i am once again doing abrupt endings its just in my blood, i was up all night doing this

Jamil muffled his breath with his hand, conscious of his every movement, staring off into space to cool his head. Half an hour ago, he’d been contentedly reading his favorite book before he went to sleep, but now he’s gotten you pressed up against his chest, softly snoring.

With his spare hand uncomfortably hovering in the air, he tried to reach for his magical pen sitting on his nightstand. If he could reach it, he could summon a pillow, turn the lights off, or use wind magic to move you enough for him to readjust. But no, each time he got close to the pen, it’d roll a little bit further away.

He scowled at the stupid situation, already imagining the crick in his neck the next morning. Like he needed another headache.

Part of him was tempted to swat at your arm until you woke up, but then he’d look down and see the way your cheeks were puffing out and he’d feel his heart race.

“I’m so mad at you.” He whispered, pulling the covers around your shoulder so you didn’t get cold, “You know how hard I work.” He punctuated his words by kissing his fingertips and pressing them against your forehead. “Idiot.”

He leaned against the headboard, running his fingers down your arm, and let your breathing lull him to sleep.

Harsh light beat in through the room, tearing Jamil from his sleep. He groaned and pulled the covers over his head, attempting for a few more minutes of rest. Or at least he would’ve, but today he felt himself jolt awake and the feeling of warm skin on his hands.

Jamil looked at the source of his surprise, a still completely asleep you. He chuckled softly, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes, and gently shook you awake.

“Mmm?” You mumbled, your eyebrows slightly raised but eyes still shut.

“Good morning.”

“Mmm...” You groaned, pulling the covers over your head.

“You’ll be late for class if you take too much longer.”

“Class can wait.”

“Maybe for you, but I have to make sure Kalim doesn’t get into any trouble.”

You groaned as he pushed you onto the other side of the bed, holding onto his clothes loosely. “Jamil...”

“By the sands, you’re starting to sound like him.” He got out of bed and stretched, turning his head to the left and right. “Oof.”

“I...”

“You know, Grim’s probably looking for you.” He slightly turned to face you, before pulling out his school uniform.

You shot up. “Oh, crap!” Scrambling out of the bed, you hurriedly kissed his cheek and rushed out of the door. “Bye, love you!”

“Love you, too.” He mumbled after you were out of earshot, his face alight. He changed into his uniform, fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie as he looked at himself in the mirror.

Other than the ever-present eye-bags, he looked nice. Good, even. A servant of the Al-Asim’s must always look respectable. He huffed in annoyance and ran his fingers through the overhanging bangs on the right side of his face.

He smiled falsely into the mirror, watching the way his eyes dimmed. “I don’t hold a candle to Kalim. I am straight 5 out of 10s. Average all across the board.” The longer he repeated his morning mantra, the more flickers of anger clouded his expression. He groaned in annoyance and stepped away from the mirror. Maybe tomorrow he’ll get it right.

On the other side of campus, you were rushing back to Ramshackle to avoid the inevitable fallout of Grim discovering your not-so-secret boyfriend. You didn’t want to even imagine the never-ending teasing. However, outside the gate, you were surprised to see a group of men in black suits.

You slowed your pace and cautiously approached them, a nervous smile on your face. “Ah, excuse me...” You tried to push through them and enter the safety of Ramshackle.

“Uh, ahem.” One of the men cleared his throat, “Are you (Y/N) (L/N)?”

“Nope never met her. If you’ll excuse me...”

One of the men grabbed your shoulder, his hands sizzling the fabric. “Do you know where we can find her, then?”

“Ah... actually I heard she dropped out! Oops! Just missed her!” Your eyes shot between the group of men.

“Really? Then, what are you doing here?”

“I’m... uh... cleaning staff?”

“I suppose you’re adept with magic then. Come on, now, show us a spell.”

One of the other men spat, “Stop wasting our time. Just grab ‘er and let’s go.”

The man with his hand on your shoulder rolled his hands and hit you under the chin, both throwing you back and knocking you unconscious.

When you woke up, you were tied to a chair that was sitting in a cluttered room. The room was filled with dusty papers and torn furniture, the only saving grace being a pristine window that overlooked a small town. The men who kidnapped you were sitting on the hardwood floor, playing with a deck of cards.

You blinked, your head lulling as you tried to look around. “...am I?” You mumbled through slurred speech.

One of the men started to laugh, and another just scoffed.

“You’re far.” The man who knocked you out responded. “That’s all you need to know.”

“F... far...?” You grimaced, “Home?”

“Hah!” He looked over to you, slamming his cards on the ground. “Think we’d risk all that just to take you home? Sevens, you’re not very bright.”

“Wh...”

“Listen, kid, this really has nothing to do with you. You’re just some unfortunate schmuck like the rest of us, dating that Viper boy.”

“Ja... Jamil?” Your heart started to race, a wave of clarity overtaking your senses, “If you hurt him, I’ll-”

“Calm down. You’ll both get out of this fine. He’s just gotta tell us about the Asim’s business proceedings and we’re all happy.”

“A-and if he doesn’t?”

The man stood to his full height, a sorrowful smile on his face as he grabbed the back of your chair and dragged you to the window. He leaned you slightly over the edge, the front legs of the chair in the air, the harsh wind billowing through your clothes. Hiccupping sobs started to tear through your body as you looked at the distant ground. You struggled against your bonds, bringing your eyes to his. “P-please, no.”

He looked at you, though he seemed to be seeing something far before you, “Y’know, I don’t want to do this either. Be here, kidnapping some teenager. Got a kid back home, around your age. And he likes to live large, who am I to turn him down? So I join this corporation, and what do I know? The biggest competitor in all of Twisted Wonderland is the Asim family. One family. How crazy is that? They tell me, to find out everything. No matter how. They’ll protect me, they say. Protect all of us. But how do we even get close? That dumb heir of theirs can’t tell cliff from meadow, and their estate is heavily guarded. And then we find out, that dumb heir pawns off all his work on some underling. And, what do you know? That underling’s dating a completely defenseless fool.”

“He... he doesn’t know anything.” You swallowed your fear and looked him in the eyes.

The man chuckled hollowly, “For your sake, I hope that’s not true.” He pulled the chair safely inside, placing you next to the window.

You gasped for air, limp against the ropes keeping you to the chair. With bleary vision, you looked back at the men and hoped they’d at least end you quickly. You shut your crusted-together eyes, trying to pretend you were back home.

Jamil had a very stressful day, as usual. He had to stop Kalim from organizing three separate parties, there was a pop quiz, and you hadn’t been answering his texts all day. After essentially locking Kalim in his dorm, Jamil walked over to Ramshackle and stood outside the front gate.

The first thing he noticed was all the lights being off inside, which was weird since the sun had set and you tended to be up late. After that, the gate was swung open, something you’d never let slide. Finally, there was a note skewered between the top of the fence posts.

He carefully took the note with the intention of simply delivering it inside, but his name written in blocky letters caught his attention. He unfolded the note, carefully reading the few paragraphs of text describing the situation.

Jamil sighed, never one to fold under pressure, and tucked it inside his clothes ready for this (slightly unexpected) task.

It took him a few hours to get to the location detailed on the note, a looming abandoned tower. The wooden door creaked open, quickly announcing his presence. He winced and tried not to imagine all the bugs roaming about, quickly taking to the stairs.

The note had specified that they’d be waiting for him on the top floor, so he walked up 17 flights of stairs, taking the time to check each floor for traps or possible ambushes as he went. By the time he reached the top, he was more than slightly annoyed.

Five men were waiting, two on each side of the stairwell and one standing next to an open window gripping the back of a chair you were tied to. Jamil instantly raised his hands in defeat, cautiously entering the room.

“You came.” The one standing next to you spoke in a raspy voice.

“Hm.” Jamil surveyed the room. “Well, I suppose this is the part where you threaten me?”

The man laughed loudly, “You’re bold. Information on the Asim’s or she gets it.” He tilted your chair slightly off the edge.

Jamil’s calm façade momentarily broke as he took a step forward, his charcoal eyes locked on the man’s blue ones, “Don’t be rash.”

“It’s just a simple trade.” The man smiled, enjoying rocking you back and forth on the edge. “A life for a life, let’s say.” You bit your lip to keep your silence, your eyes skewered shut.

“Alright. What is it you need? Upcoming deals? Schedules?”

“Everything you have.”

Jamil scoffed, “Well, most of it is Kalim’s favorite meals. That, too?”

“Don’t try to be smart with me.”

“I’m just average all across the board. Nobody would describe me as smart.” He spoke with a calm face, despite his racing heart and sweating palms.

The man looked up, making eye contact with Jamil before his eyes dimmed and he threw you on the opposite side of the room. You coughed at the sudden movement, reeling from how your head struck the wall behind you. When you looked up, Jamil was standing in front of you with his magical pen drawn and the remaining four men were unconscious on the floor.

He closed the distance between the final man, whispering something in his ear before he collapsed. Jamil took a second to breathe before rushing over to you, untying the knots and holding you in his arms.

With shaky arms, you pulled yourself against his chest and listened to his racing heartbeat.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, staring blankly at the chair you were tied to moments ago.

“I love you.” Your croaky voice was nearly lost between the folds of his clothing, but he leaned down to kiss your ear anyway.

“I love you, too.” He held you tighter, hoping you couldn’t feel the tears starting to run down his cheeks.

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ave09 · 1 year

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Oooh could you please write a fic where John Book (from Witness (1995)) has to hide out in a Jewish community and ends up falling in love with Jewish fem!Reader but this time he stays and marries her?

YES! pardon my french, but i fucking love john book! as much as i love han and indy, john is definitely my favorite harrison ford character and witness is my favorite harrison ford movie.

stronger

john book x jewish!reader

note; this is a long one and i apologize in advance, it got a lil sloppy at the end bc i was tired 😭, but this is 100% the best thing i’ve written for tumblr imo. also, i am not jewish and don’t know much about judaism, so i hope that this is somewhat realistic. might make a part two to this, we’ll see what happens

ALSO: I JUST WATCHED THE TWO HARRISON FORD JACK RYAN MOVIES—OH LORD IM IN LOVEEE

“ma’am. can you please tell me what you saw? is there anything you remember that you didn’t before?”

“i told you everything i know, officer.” you stated. it was true. despite the image’s continuing to pass through your mind, you couldn’t think of anything that you hadn’t mentioned.

“well, could you go over it again?” you huffed, glancing at the handsome officer seated in front of you, “i told you. i went to the washroom, someone was washing their hands. i entered the stall, locked the door as i did so, i noticed through the crack of the door, a black man and a white man entered the washroom. you know the rest.”

“tell me again.”

“i admire your persistence, mr. book, but i’ve told you about three times now.”

“well let me hear it again.” he said, hazel eyes staring intently at you. you sighed deeply, the images flashing through your mind rapidly as you spoke of them again.

“the white man covered the woman’s head with a jacket, strangling her, the other took out a knife, slitting her throat.”

“and then?”

“i only saw the black man’s face, but he and the white man left.”

john book nodded, his gaze flickering to the file on the desk in front of him. “and of all the men we’ve shown you, you haven’t recognized any?”

you shook your head, “it was only a glimpse, but i remember.” john pursed his lips, setting down the red pen in his hand before folding his hands before him, remaining silent.

you picked at your fingernails out of nervous habit, “mr. book, when will i be able to go home?” you questioned, “my father is waiting for me, i’m sure he’s worried sick.”

“i’m afraid we’re gonna have to keep you around for a little while longer, ma’am.” he replied, “but please, feel free to call your father, let him know you’ll be staying here a little while longer.” your eyes widened, “mr. book-“

“john is fine.”

“mr. book, i cannot stay!” you exclaimed, “i must go home!”

the man sent you a smirk, rising from his seat, “feel free to use denise’s phone, she’s right over there, now excuse me.” before you could even protest, the man rose quickly, walking away, leaving you alone in the crowded police station.

you huffed in annoyance, rising from

your own seat, turning to go to the desk that was used by a woman named denise. you walked past an awards display and paused, taking a moment to admire all the trophies.

and that’s what you saw it.

a picture of a man, a familiar man. you gasped softly, realizing where you knew him from.

he was the one in the bathroom.

the murderer.

“hey, aren’t you gonna call-“ john trailed off, noticing how tense you were, “you alright?” you pointed at the picture, “that’s him.”

“what?”

“the man from the bathroom. that’s him.”

— — — — — —

you sat in john’s small apartment, waiting for his return. he’d called earlier, claiming that you needed to pack your bags and he would take you home.

it was abrupt, concerning. but you did as he said anyways. your bags were packed and ready to go.

you wondered what caused the change of heart. as of this morning, he was still insisting you stick around. and now he was willing to send you back to your village.

it was all strange.

suddenly, john burst through the door, breathing heavily. you caught sight of red liquid blooming through his white button up shirt. your eyes widened, “mr. book-“

“get your stuff,” he panted, heading toward the bathroom, “mr. book!” you called, watching as the man leaned against the door, breathing deeply.

you cautiously moved towards him, placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder, “john.”

he finally glanced at you, hazel eyes swimming with worry. “are you okay?” you asked softly. he licked his lips, nodding, “fine. i’m fine.” and without another word, he slipped into the bathroom, leaving you to await his return.

— — — — — —

the drive to your village was silent, the only sound being the hum of the engine. you glanced up at the man in the driver’s seat. his face held a stoic expression, gaze fixated on the road ahead.

and yet he seemed troubled. you wished to ask what was bothering him, but refrained. surely you’d only irritate him further.

his large hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, turning it as the vehicle entered through the open gates of her community village. he continued driving until you spotted the familiar figures of your mother and father.

“stop here.”

but the car continued to roll forward.

you glanced over at john, only to see him

blinking slowly, his body tilting forward slightly. “john? john!” he slumped forward, the car continuing to move forward.

you could hear your father screaming, “look out!”

and before you knew it, the vehicle smashed into the large oak, smoke billowing from under the hood. thankfully, neither of you had received any injuries.

you immediately looked to john, trying to wake him. your eyes darted to the blood blooming through his shirt. you knew something was wrong! this had to be it! your fingers tugged on the fabric, ripping it away to get a better look at the wound.

it had been poorly bandaged, but considering the size, you assumed it to be a gunshot wound. your father rushed towards your side of the car, throwing the door open, “Bistu gut!?” (are you alright?)

“yo, ober er iz nisht! ikh darf rufn an ambulance!” (yes, but he’s not! i need you to call an ambulance!) you were so panicked that your two languages were mixing now.

john groaned, “no, no ambulance.” he muttered weakly. “what do you mean? you are hurt john, you need medical attention!”

“they’ll find me.”

you furrowed your brows, “who will find you?” you asked softly. the man let out a shakey sigh, taking your hand, giving it a firm squeeze, “no hospitals.”

you glanced at your father, “bet di mame zi zal tsugreytn meyn tsimer far im, bite.” (ask mama to prepare my room for him, please.)

your father shook his head, “mir kenen nit dem mentsh-“ (we don’t know this person.)

“papa please.” you begged, your voice cracking in desperation. your father hesitated for a moment before nodding, and rushing back to the house.

you turned back to john, holding his hand a little tighter, whispering, “just hold on.”

— — — — —

it had been two days since you and your family had taken john book into your home, and he’d yet to awaken.

you hadn’t left his side.

your mother was kind and had been taking care of him. she’d patched up his side and given him antibiotics to fight off the infection. but you had seen such a different side of him these past two days.

it was strange how such a strong person became weak in the matter of a second. john had been trembling, talking deliriously as the fever got to him. his dialogue spanned from threats to pleas. it was hard to watch.

“i’ll fucking kill you-back off.”

“don’t even try it, don’t fucking try it.”

“just let me die. i’ve got nothin’ to live for.”

“you wanna kill me? go for it, put me out of my damn misery.”

your mother tried to will you to leave him during these times, but you refused. at one point, it was getting so bad that you moved to leave, but then he called your name.

it was soft, a whimper. one could barely make it out, but he said it. so you stayed.

it was the third morning when he finally awoke. you had fallen asleep in the chair beside the bed, completely exhausted.

but your eyes had fluttered open to see john gazing at you. you couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your lips, “hi john.” you greeted, leaning forward.

“hi doll.” he replied, his voice soft. “how are you feeling?”

“shitty.” you suppressed a laugh, “you pulled through, we didn’t know if you’d make it.”

“well i’m a survivor, that’s what i do.”

you rose from your seat, moving towards the door, “i’ll let my mother know you’re up, so we can get you some real food.” as you turned the corner, he called you back, “hey-“

you peeked around the doorway, “yes?”

“thank you, for saving my life.”

you smiled softly, “you’re welcome.” and without another word, exited the room.

— — — — — —

a week or so had passed since john came to stay in your home, and he’d quickly grown accustomed to your lifestyle. being jewish, you had specific rules you had to follow.

one could not mix milk and meat, one could not eat pork, one must not profane God’s name and so many more.

but john was doing his best to follow them all.

but there was one rule that he was struggling to follow, and it wasn’t one set by the jewish community, but by your father.

stay away from my daughter.

you didn’t know about this rule of course, which led you to spend more time with the man.

and in all honesty… you were falling for him.

maybe it was his devilishly handsome looks, his charm and charisma, his dedication to pleasing your community.

there was no doubt about it, your feelings grew stronger every time you were around him.

little did you know, he was feeling the very same way.

sparks were flying, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

one night, you were in your room, saying your prayers, when someone knocked. “who is it?” you called.

“john.”

“come in.”

the door creaked open to reveal the handsome man, he sent you a smile as he approached the bed, “can i..?”

“yes, sit.” he did so, the mattress dipped slightly. he glanced at you, noticing your folded hands. “was i interrupting?”

“oh, it’s fine-“

“no, no, go ahead, you can continue.” smiling softly, you closed your eyes to continue praying, but paused.

you opened them again, looking up at the man, “would you like to pray with me?” john seemed surprised to say the least, but, he nodded, “uh, yeah, sure.”

you watched as he folded his hands, bowing his head, eyes closed. you did the same, reciting a nightly prayer, “Praised are You, Adonai, our God, Ruler of the universe, who closes my eyes in sleep, my eyelids in slumber.

May it be Your will, Adonai, My God and the God of my ancestors, to lie me down in peace..”

unbeknownst to you, john had opened his eyes and was watching you-no-admiring you as you spoke. john had tried his best to keep his feelings out of this situation.. but he couldn’t help but fall for you.

you were everything he wasn’t, and it worked so well. you were all he needed. and he wanted you more then anything.

you had finished up your prayer, opening your eyes to find john staring at you. you tilted your head, eyes narrowing in confusion, “what?”

the man remained silent, but instead, scooted closer to you. your furrowed your brows, “john?”

the way he was looking at you now was overwhelming, and yet you yearned for more. slowly, he leaned in, hazel eyes darting to your lips.

you were waiting, waiting for him to make a move. but he stilled, as though nervous.

‘just kiss me.’

unable to control yourself, you tilted your head upwards, capturing his lips in a short kiss. you pulled away quickly, seeing how he hadn’t reciprocated the action.

worry set in, had you misread the signs? immediately you rose, “i-i’m sorry,” you went to move towards the door, but felt a large hand catch your wrist, whirling you back around, “come back here,” he mumbled before smashing his lips against yours.

the act caught you by the surprise, but it didn’t take you long to melt into it, your arms snaking around his neck, his muscular arms holding your waist.

it was the most intimate thing you’d ever done, and you wanted so much more of it.

— — — — — —

a few days had passed since john kissed you, or you kissed him. and you two of you had been doing everything you could to hide your “relationship.” sneaking kisses behind your family’s back, although, unbeknownst to you, your mother had caught you and john once, but had said nothing. happy to know you’d found someone who truly cared about you.

it was a fun little fantasy, and you enjoyed every second of it.

but it came too an end too quickly.

john had finally tried to contact his partner, a nice man named elton carter, had been killed.

and that is when you received the news.

“go back? you’re leaving?”

he nodded, “yeah, tomorrow morning.” his voice was low, sad. he truly didn’t want to leave—he didn’t want to leave you.

“will you come back?” you knew why he had to go, but you could only hope he might return.

“i’ll try.”

you felt tears sting your eyes, “i don’t want you to go, john.” you whispered, your voice cracking. he smiled softly, stepping towards you, engulfing you in a tight embrace.

your body shook as you broke down in sobs, burying your head into his chest. “why must you go..?”

“i know. i know.” he rested his head upon your head, “it will work out. i promise.” he whispered, pecking the top of your head.

that is how you spent the rest of the night. he laid with you, holding you close. cherishing every second with you… unaware of the terrors that would await in the morning.

— — — — — —

you awoke alone. you heard john downstairs, surely preparing to leave.

you wished to bid him off. you quickly got out of bed, for once not carrying that you were still in the same clothes from the night before.

you hurried down the stairs, trying to keep your emotions in check, but was surprised to find john standing there, looking shaken.

you immediately knew that something was wrong.

“what’s the matter?”

“they’re here. they found me.” you felt panic set in immediately. “h-how?” “i don’t know, but you gotta-“

“book!”

your father and mother suddenly appeared by the staircase, worry in their eyes, “what’s going on? book, who are those people?”

he turned to them, “i need you both to hide, go out the back, find someplace safe.” they didn’t hesitate to run off. he glanced at you, “go with them.”

you shook your head, “no.”

“doll, now is not the time to be stubborn-“

“book! we know you’re in there!”

“john, i’m not leaving you alone with them!”

the man retrieved his handgun from the waistband of his pants, retrieving ammo from his pocket, “don’t you understand? they are going to try and kill me, they’ll try and hurt you too.”

“then i go down fighting.”

“no!”

“book!” they were at the door now.

you and john each exchanged wide eyed glances before you beckoned him upstairs. he followed quickly. the two of you entered your bedroom just as you heard the door break open downstairs. the only way out would be through the window and jumping off of the roof, which was somewhat safe considering the grass could cushion the fall.

you threw open the window, beckoning him forward, but he shook his head, “you first! i’ll meet you on the ground!”

you didn’t argue, but climbed out the window, careful not to hurt yourself. you then began to crawl towards the edge of the roof, when you heard a scuffle.

someone had found him. everything in you told you to turn back, to help, but what could you do? you had no weapon, you hardly knew how to fight. . so you continued on. you were about to jump off the edge, when a gunshot echoed throughout the air.

you whipped around, waiting to see who exited the window. praying it would be john.

a wave of relief washed over you as you spotted the man. he was alive, he was okay.

now assured that he was safe, you jumped down, landing on your backside, which wasn’t too painful considering the fluffy grass your father worked so hard to maintain.

as you rose, you caught sight of a man, who was now rushing towards you. you ran, but he was faster. he practically tackled you, confining you from moving. you thrashed, shouting, “john!”

he was standing on the roof, eyes widening at the sight. “no!”

you called his name again, but paused midway, feeling the cold metal of the barrel of a gun against your temple.

you were more afraid then ever. you watched as john jumped off, tucking and rolling somehow before rushing toward you.

“don’t come any closer!” the man holding you shouted, pressing the gun harder against your head.

“she has nothing to do with it, paul, let her go.” john was oddly calm. if only you knew how scared he was in that moment knowing that in the blink of an eye, he could lose you.

“i’ll kill her, back the fuck up, book!”

john shook his head, “no you won’t. mcphee’s dead, he’s the real murderer. you think you can kill am innocent woman, paul?”

you could feel the man, who you now knew to be paul, trembling.

“you can’t do it. you’re weak, always have been. and you know it.” john snarled.

“drop the gun and let her go.”

the man adjusted his grip on the gun in hand, and you closed your eyes in fear, terrified of what could happen.

and then he dropped the gun.

and he let you go.

you stumbled forward, but john was there to catch you. he pulled you close, kissing you more passionately then ever before. he then pulled away, hugging you to his chest.

“it’s okay. you’re safe now… it’s over.”

— — — — — —

john book was a free man. free to return to the station. they’d assign him a new partner and he’d continue on.

but how was he supposed to leave you?

you sat on the porch, watching him walk to his car, which he’d fixed himself whilst staying with you. he’d said his goodbyes, thanked your family for their help.

there was nothing else to do… was there?

he pulled open the door, climbing into the drivers seat, closing it behind him.

and you still sat there. waiting for something, anything to happen. you watched as he pulled out onto the road, and began to drive away.

you couldn’t believe it.

he’d really left.

with a heavy heart, you sighed, rising from the porch steps, moving towards the door to return inside-

but the sounds of tires screeching caught your attention. you turned, to see john’s car whipping around, screeching to a halt in front of your home.

the man then threw the door open, running toward you, practically jumping up the porch steps. his hands flew to your waist, lifting you up slightly as he kissed you hard.

the fireworks were there once again as he spun you around, your lips dancing in sync with his.

he then set you down, pulling away, his signature crooked grin upon his lips. “what-i-i don’t understand.” you were breathless due to the intensity of the kiss.

“i want you.”

you were taken aback. “what?”

“you. i want you-i want to be with you.” he clarified, cupping your face with his large hands as he kissed you again.

“i love you. and i want to be with you. i don’t give a damn what i have to do-hell, i’ll even convert to judaism if i have too-“

you kissed him, silencing his rambling. a moment passed and you pulled away, smiling softly, “i love you too, john.”

he let out a surprised chuckle, as though he couldn’t believe you felt the same way.

“yeah?”

you nodded, “yeah.” he then kissed you again, and again, and again, as though he was incapable of stopping.

funny how such a horrid tragedy could turn into such a beautiful love story, never would you expect for such a thing to happen.

and yet it had for you and john. and you had never been happier.

#harrison ford x reader #young harrison ford #harrison ford #harrison ford movies #witness movie #john book #han solo #indiana jones #indiana jones x reader #han solo x reader #this is literally the best thing i’ve written in a hot min

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Note

Oh my god i just found you're writing and I'm obssessed. First of all, I'm in love with your edgy!karl series. Seriously, it's amazing. Second of all, I had a little idea that you can take as a request if you'd like. I was thinking edgy!dream/clay but with a shy innocent girl. And a hint of some fear play kink? Like she's all cute and he's so edgy shes scared and intimidated by him when they meet and it turns him on knowing shes both scared of him AND attracted to him at the same time so he uses it against her(consensually of course)

can we call him alt!dream? ;) also,,, i rly like this request...

𝐉𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), fighting, smoking, language, oral (fm. receiving), fear play, asphyxiation, sight size kink & praise, dominance

The movie theatre dimmed, the beginning credits of the film reeling as a montage of a city played in the background. You settled back in your seat, accepting the fact that you had been stood up, determined not to let it ruin the movie you had already paid for. That’s right; instead of treating yourself to a new pair of shoes or a set of notebooks, you agreed to meet up with a sleazy guy from class after weeks of him pleading.

You sighed slightly, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you realized you hadn’t even wanted to see the film and had only agreed because he suggested it. Someone moved into a seat near you, his legs stretching as he slumped down, purely due to his towering height. You stiffened, crossing your legs to inch away from him at the sight of his various tattoos peeking out from beneath his dark corduroy jacket.

He carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, revealing an eyebrow ring as he swept his bangs off his forehead momentarily. You tore your eyes from him as you noticed the cigarette balanced behind his ear. Even with the seat between the two, you could smell the smoke on his clothes mixing with the faintest hint of vanilla.

You folded your hands in your lap as you noticed him give you a once over. He reached towards you, making you flinch slightly before you realized he was holding out his bag of candy to you. “Want a jellybean? You look upset,” he motioned, voice low as he whispered.

You shook your head quickly, muttering a thank you and playing with your fingers. He shrugged, watching you for a second more before turning back to the movie. He tucked his arm behind his head, chewing on his lip as if debating whether he should keep talking to you or just let you be. You weren’t really sure which outcome you preferred.

On one hand, he fit every one of your guilty pleasure fantasies, while on the other, he terrified the hell out of you. It was more of an intimidating feeling, residing in the way each of his movements caught your attention and the way you could barely keep your eyes off his grungy appearance. Your mind drifted from the plot of the movie and towards the images of his tattooed hands wrapping around your throat and giving you a reason to be scared.

“You here alone?” He asked, popping another jellybean in his mouth. The action made you think of your grandpa waning himself off of tobacco when you were younger. Those jellybeans were blue and a flavor of comfort for you now, while the man before you seemed to only fish for the red ones.

You nodded hesitantly. “I got stood up,” you mumbled, making him shake his softly. “What about you? Are you here alone?” You wondered where you had gathered the courage to talk to him, his demeanor making you want to run, but his voice was a symphony to your ears in the darkness of the movie house, drawing you closer with each of his lulling words.

He wet his lips. “So far,” he answered. He stuck out his large hand for you to shake, his skin was coarse against yours as his finger reached to brush against your wrist. “I’m Clay,” he added, his name rolling into your mind and nestling itself into your memory just due to the tone of his voice. After you gave him your name his mouth curled into a soft smirk. “It’s nice to meet you,” he remarked. You blushed for an unknown reason, thankful for the darkness to mask your emotions.

Someone entered the theatre, marching up to Clay and leaning down to his ear. “Dream, we have to go now,” the guy whispered into his ear, just loud enough that you could hear him. Clay's face twisted into an annoyed expression while the guy turned to leave.

Clay straightened his jacket on his shoulders. “Not to seem to forward, but can I get your number?” He queried. You raised your eyebrows at him, basking in the fact that despite his friend’s agitation, Clay was taking his sweet time making his move on you.

As if you were acting on instinct, you grabbed a pen from your bag as he held his hand out to you again. You found a bare spot on his skin and wrote your number as clearly as you could manage with your shaking hands at the way his eyes watched you alluringly. Without thinking, you blew on the ink, trying to keep it from smearing. You froze, realizing what you were doing as he bit back a smirk.

He was completely eating up your awkwardness.

He reluctantly took his hand back, being pulled up by his friend. “I’ll call you,” he whispered on his way out, heat rushing to your ears.

The movie ended shortly after he left, sending you back out onto the city streets and away from your cocoon where you had forgotten about the sleazy classmate and let thoughts of Clay weasel their way into your nerves. As you stepped through the doors, your phone began to ring, kick-starting your heart at the thought of it being Clay. Instead, it was a friend of yours asking how your date had gone. You tucked the phone between your ear and shoulder as you pulled a piece of gum out of your purse.

Her ramblings went deaf on your ears as a car violently pulled up to an alleyway a block from you. You squinted as you moved closer, your apartment being in that direction anyway. A few men got from the car and that’s when Clay stepped into view from behind one of the buildings, flicking his cigarette to the ground and snubbing it out with the toe of his heavy boots as he watched them get out. You could see your number still written on his hand, mixing with his tattoos.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking tiredly at the group of men that had come from the car as his friends began to shout at them. Clay chewed on his lip, looking around and away from the conversation before his gaze met yours. His eyes widened slightly before he turned back, an attempt to keep the attention away from you.

One of the car members grabbed for Clay’s jacket, yanking him closer as if to get him to pay mind to the man talking. Clay sent him a cocky grin, towering over him. With his normal height and his boots, he had at least a foot on the guy. One of Clay’s friends separated the two, breaking the groups into a brawl while shouting was accompanied with fists and elbow jabs.

You turned, walking in another direction as briskly as you could without bringing attention to yourself and the group of boys in the alleyway. Little did you know, Clay was watching you leave and kicking himself for it.

The next day, your mind was racing with Clay’s whereabouts. He seemed like he had his opponents under control, but what if one of them had brought a knife or another weapon? It wasn’t unusual for boys in the city to butt heads like they were, but the fact that you’d let one nearly pick you up the night before was boggling.

You gripped the strap of your bag as you crossed the street, stepping onto the sidewalk and adjusting your skirt. You kept your head down as you passed various people coming and going from their apartments before your ears picked up on a familiar voice. You picked your eyes up, spotting Clay and a small group of guys walking together. He popped a jellybean in his mouth after chiming into their conversation.

You held your breath as they neared you and that’s when you noticed his bruised face and scraped knuckles. Your number was faded on his skin, but still apparent on the back of his hand. He smiled at you, breaking off from his group and walking backward to match your pace. You bit back a smile. “Glad to see you’re okay,” you mumbled, barely able to make eye contact with him. His friends called out for him and he waved them off, walking in line with you.

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah, sorry. I would have called last night but…” he made a gesture to his torso as he trailed off. “I broke a rib. I didn’t really… I don’t.” He laughed sheepishly as you raised your eyebrows. “I’m fine. It’s good,” he brushed.

You picked your gaze off the pavement finally, focusing on his discolored black eye and busted lip. He didn’t seem to be too hurt, but he wore his wounds well. “You’re not scared of me, are you?” He asked, voice changing slightly. You drew in a sharp breath, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before it could get further knotted in the wind. A few people narrowed their eyes at the two of you and you wondered how you looked together. What kind of juxtaposition it was; his tall, dark figure looking like death in Doc Martens while you barely passed his shoulder in height with your less intimidating color scheme.

You debated how to answer him. Your eyes flickered to his dangly earring; a silver ankh. He ate another jellybean. “I was at first. I’m still kind of weary of you, I guess,” you muttered, making a smile bite into his features.

Clay ran his fingers through his hair, which you were beginning to believe was a habit when he was coming up with what to say. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

You shook your head. A blush crept to your cheeks. “No, I kind of like it,” you mumbled, barely audible enough for him to hear. His hand slipped into yours and you could feel your chest tighten.

“You like being scared of me?” His voice was dripping with allure, making you bite your tongue in a flushed embarrassment. “You just keep getting better and better,” he teased, making your ears burn.

You weren’t sure how you ended up there, but God, were you thankful for Clay’s hands as they kneaded your ass, his lips pressing against yours. He ground his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth as your nails sank into his tattooed skin. His tongue pressed past your lips, his large hand moving to fist in the sheets beside you before dragging up your shirt to grip your breast.

You breathlessly moaned as he broke your kiss, lips trailing down your body as he sat back on his knees, dragging your underwear off as your shirt was also discarded to the floor. He looped his arms around your thighs, bringing you closer to his mouth as his concentrated stare shifted to your eyes before he buried himself between your legs, your body tensing as a groan ripped through your body. Your fingers carded through his soft blond hair, tugging slightly in appraisal as he pulled away from you.

Clay looked up at you again, slowly pressing one of his long fingers into you, you moaned his name, reaching one of your hands up to grip at the headboard above you. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?” He asked, voice deep with lust as his breath fanned against your wet core. He pushed another finger into you as you nodded. He pressed his lips to your thigh. “I can’t believe you’re scared of me,” he mocked, making you whimper as his fingers pulsed against your sweet spot.

He pressed his lips to your core again, tongue teasing at your nerves as you caught your lips between your teeth. You moved your knee further up his arm for a better angle, driving him deeper. He pulled away, his fingers speeding up. “So needy,” he chuckled, the sound enough to send you over the edge if you really thought about it.

“Clay, please. I want you,” you whined softly, your thighs threatening to close around his head. His eyes sparkled devilishly, leaning away from you before tugging your legs towards him. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, jaw tensing as you moaned around him.

He grabbed your hips, flipping your body and pushing your shoulders into the mattress. You heard him unbuckling his belt and your fingers knitted into the sheets beneath you. He pulled you back by the shoulders, hand moving to hold onto your neck. “Maybe I should give you something to be scared of,” he chided, making a shiver run up your spine as he pushed your thighs apart driving himself up into you. You were sure you would tear in half at the sheer size of him, but you bit back your whimpers at the pleasuring pain.

One of your hands moved to grip onto his arm as he thrust into you, his teeth threatening to dig into your shoulder as you moaned. His other hand moved to tease at your nerves, his determination to summon your orgasm sending your head reeling. You tilted back your head, resting against his shoulder as his hand tightened around your throat.

He let go of you, dipping you against the mattress again as his fist knotted in your hair. He steadied himself, leaning on one of his arms beside your head. Your hand wrapped around his wrist as he thrusted into you at an ungodly pace, lips hovering beside your ear as he grunted your name and how good you felt.

You pushed your hips up against him turning your head enough that he pressed his lips against yours, the vibrations from his moans sending heat throughout your body. Clay’s tongue slipped into your mouth roughly, tasting your whimpers and lust. His teeth dragged against your lip as you felt him throb inside of you.

He pushed your shoulder back, moving you on your side as your leg curled around. At the new angle, he could drive himself deeper into you; dark green eyes focused on yours as his warmed breath cascaded over your chest. His hand moved to your jaw, running his thumb against your burning lips as his sights were almost hungrily looking upon you. Your breathing became shallow as he smirked at you, moving his hand to your throat again.

He leaned down, slowing his pace to drag in and out of you as his lips were close to your ear. He applied pressure, your breath hitching in your throat. “So pretty. Good girl, taking me so well,” he praised, making you moan as he kissed you again before speeding up his thrusts. You moaned out his name again, finishing as your eyes fluttered shut. He chuckled darkly, pounding into you harder. “Fuck,” he hissed, lips pressing to the skin behind your ears, digging his face into your hair as he chased his high.

He exhaled, breath blanketing your skin before he kissed your shoulder, cheek, and finally your lips in a quiet appraisal. You pulled him into the spot beside you. He ran his fingers through his hair as you curled against his side, his other hand brushing softly against your arm. You knotted your fingers with his, brushing your thumb against where your faded number rested. “Didn’t you just break a rib?” You asked, finally noticing the slide bruising on his side.

Clay chuckled softly. “Yeah, I think I was running on adrenaline until a second ago,” he groaned.

Dream Tag List: (to join, follow this link :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake

#dream x reader #alt!dream #alt!dreamwastaken #dream smut #dream imagine #dream au #dreamwastaken x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #mcyt smut #dreamwastaken smut #dreamwastaken x you #🌸 anon

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jarofstyles · 4 years

Text

Crush

A/N: this one.... biiiitch.... giving you all a little college!harry, he’s so cute 👉🏼👈🏼 enjoy hehe 😈 - n + d

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send feedback and requests here

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut. FILTH.

word count: 9.7k

Harry felt a bit creepy.

It wasn’t as if it was on purpose! No... but she was at all of the places he went. At first he had thought it was a coincidence, but as he developed a routine for his classes, he found that they were often around each other for similar reasons. And usually? He would try and go up, introduce himself, and make a friend. The problem was... she was pretty.

Not like normal pretty. Pretty as in, holy fuck you make me so nervous and perhaps I’ll word vomit, pretty. He was shit at making the first move. She was in his Monday and Friday classes and sat not far from him, he noticed. And they always ended up at the Coffee Bean on Tuesday and Thursdays, sitting not too far from one another again. She got tea with a few cookies, and he got a black coffee and an orange scone. They’d work on their coursework and Harry would wait for her to leave and see her make it to her car before he would leave, not wanting to make it seem like he was following her. He’s found out her name through friends stopping in to see her. It was Y/N. Gorgeous, just like her.

Funny enough, Harry wasn’t the only one who had a bit of a crush. Y/N realized in the second week of classes that Harry was in fact one of the most intimidatingly cool and attractive men she’d ever seen. College boys weren’t supposed to look like that, but he was all soft in his sweaters and baggy pants. She wasn’t sure how he pulled it off so well, but she could admit she was jealous.

Seeing him at the Coffee bean was a relief because well, he walked in after her every time. She assumed it was because he had a class that ended later or something, but it didn’t go unnoticed that he was there. Usually it wasn’t too busy or loud so she could glance at him from the corner of her eye as they sat at one of the big tables. She felt like it would be too weird to talk to him, he seemed so... quiet. She’d never heard him speak, hell, she’d only ever locked eyes with him for milliseconds. Y/N wished she could be one of those girls that could effortlessly flirt, ask for a pencil or something, but she knew she’d freeze up and forget her rehearsed line.

Today however, when Y/N arrived, Harry was already there at his usual spot. Okay, Y/N... act natural. She thought to herself, going to order her usual before walking to boldly take a seat across from him. It would have worked out fine if her tote bag didn’t accidentally catch the corner of one of his books, sending things flying.

“Shit— sorry, I—” Y/N swore, setting her bag on the table before bending down to get the book and a few papers and a pen. Real smooth.

Harry was slightly startled when his shit went flying, but when he saw who had knocked it over, his heart picked up. Oh, shit.

“Oh— it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Harry’s voice was a bit gruff from not using it much today, pushing his chair back and bending down to grab the stuff with her. “S’my fault for putting it so close to the edge. I used to do that at home and my cat would knock it all off.”

Great. Already rambling.

Y/N didn’t register it at first, but he was british? Fuck. If she wasn’t already on her knees she would dropped down anyway, biting her lip to stop any noises that could have escaped. She giggled when he said his cat used to knock things over, “mine too.” She mumbled and went to stand up, feeling a tug at her arm.

“Ah, shit.” Harry had caught his ring in her sweater, pulling one of the threads. “Damn, I’m so sorry.” He blushed slightly, knowing how annoying it was to have a pulled thread. His collection of sweaters was immense, thanks to his nan— and he felt terrible. Damn his chunky things. “They always get caught in mine too but I wear them anyways. I can replace the sweater, if you need.” Damn it. He was trying to come off as smooth... not so nervous. But he was. She was so pretty and she was up close, she smelled like peaches and vanilla and a bit of sweet mint and her hands were so soft.

“Oh no, It’s fine! it’s old anyway— I can just cut it off or tuck it in or something.” Honestly, Y/N would figure it out. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel bad, it was an accident after all. She let him untangle it, holding her hand still though it seemed like he needed some help. “Smaller fingers...” She mumbled, using her nails to get the thread gently off of the ring. “‘s a nice ring.” Y/N complimented, finally meeting his eyes and feeling the breath leave her lungs at the close proximity. Her lips parted naturally, scanning his face for any signs of discomfort.

She was beautiful Harry though he may get sick because wow. Wow. He had imagined holding her hand and kissing her but this exact moment he hadn’t a clue on what to do. So he improvised.

“Are you in the 8 am psych class on Mondays?” He tilted his head. “I know I’ve seen you before.” Oh, he had seen her a lot. Especially in his dreams, day and night. It had been a bit intoxicating, really. At her nod, his grin came on his face. “Sick. S’that what you’re gonna study for?” He didn’t bring up the other class because... it would be embarrassing if she hadn’t noticed him before and he knew all too much. He needed a refill of his coffee though so he grabbed his cup, gently taking her things and placing them on the table next to his. “At least let me buy your stuff though. I feel awful about your sweater.”

“I’m actually just waiting on them to finish making mine, I was on my way to secure a spot but—” Y/N blushed, realizing the mess she had made. “Could you get it for me while you’re up there? It’s for Y/N. I can sit here and watch your stuff.” She felt like that was a subtle way for her to tell him her name.

This was the most she had ever spoken to him and it had been about a month or so that she’d been eyeing him up. She knew he was in her English literature class as well, but psych was her major. Y/N wondered if maybe he too was a psych major, maybe that’s why they sort of had the same schedule? Regardless, she felt a bit nervous making conversation so she spent the time he was away coming up with what she was going to ask him and how she was going to keep the ball rolling. Hopefully she didn’t interrupt his studying, if anything she’d leave him alone.

“Y/N?” He tested it on his tongue out loud for the first time. It tasted good. “Yeah. M’Harry. I’ll be back.” He nodded, going towards the front. His heart going a mile a minute, he couldn’t believe how quickly his luck had changed. He ordered an extra cake pop today, for her. she had said it didn’t matter but to him, it did. Eventually he hoped he could buy her a replacement. Or... maybe she could wear his around. Wow. That would stroke his ego and his fragile heart to the core. He could already see her on his lavender fishermen’s sweater, in front of his fireplace back at home. She would be so cute. The voice calling her name snapped him out of the fantasy, Harry grabbing it and then his own shortly after before returning to the table. “Here. I got the last cake pop for you. Don’t tell anyone I’m the offender.”

“Ooo you’re a dead man if they find out.” Y/N said, looking around before gently taking it from him. “Thank you... that’s sweet.” She blushed, taking a bite of it before taking a sip of her chai latte. Now that she had stuff to fiddle around with she could take a breather and not have to worry about filling space. “But um.. did interrupt something? Don’t want to distract you...” Y/N nodded over to his laptop, secretly hoping that he wasn’t up to much so that she could chat to him. She just wanted to know the basics, literally anything would satisfy her craving. Harry was quite literally her wet dream, she’d been looking all around campus for someone like him to come around. “I uh... I think I’m also in your English lit class? I feel like I see you around often.” Y/N spoke, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “What’s your major?” She felt like this conversation was light, something that would eventually lead into other things like... if he was single and looking for a girlfriend.

“Oh, you’re not bugging me. I’ve kind of been staring at the screen and zoning out if m’honest.” Harry chuckled, embarrassed a little to admit it. But everyone could relate to that, right? “And yeah... actually I think so.” He smiled lightly before taking a sip of his drink. Victory! She had noticed him too. He wasn’t the lonely creep who stared at the first who had no idea who he was. She knew who he was, kind of. He gently drew his sweater over his hands like little paws before going to her question. “English. I want to write and stuff, edit maybe. My dad has a publishing company so, I’m lucky I like a bit of the family business.” He tried to joke, looking at her. God. It was unnerving how beautiful and also, how fucking comfortable she was to be around. What a contrast. “And you? What major?” He took a nibble of his scone, not wanting to make a mess.

English? He’s a writer? Goodness. She was going to lose it.

“That’s cool, any specific genre you like to write?” Y/N asked curiously because well, it would actually tell her a lot about him and the kind of person he was. “I picture some mystery or possibly poetry, could go either way.” She said and squinted her eyes as she looked at him, pretending to size him up. “I can’t say I’m all that interesting, a psych major. Just like every other artsy person who doesn’t exactly want to commit to an art degree.” Y/N chuckled, “still deciding between criminal justice or counseling but... either way I’d be happy to get to pick someone’s brain. She did have the habit of analyzing people but only so she could understand them better. Y/N knew that all people wanted at the core was to be understood and loved for who they are, for the most part. Harry seemed reserved, calm and relaxed, secure in himself that’s for sure. It was extremely attractive.

“Oh? That’s really cool though.” Harry was genuinely interested in what she had to say either way. The major didn’t matter in his interest in her but it gave him information and something to talk about. If she was marketing or math he would be just as interested. “Criminal seems particularly interesting. Like that criminal minds show then? You’ll learn how they work and all of that?” He didn’t really know what it meant or why she had chosen it. “But close. I write romance novels.” He blushed fully. “Don’t judge me for it. But s’easy for me and I’m good at it, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been writing for a while.” He felt himself loosen up as they talked. Even if she intimidated him, she was really nice and sweet. “Poetry too, lots of it. But romance is my main thing, I’d like to do novels and that sort of stuff.” He could see she didn’t think it was lame, rather interesting. Which was a major relief. He wanted to impress her, so so badly.

“Sorta, yeah. Like... being able to predict a criminal's next move, psychologically.” Y/N explained and shrugged, “feel like it’s really fun and interesting but terrifying all at once. Dunno if I could actually interview a criminal without feeling like it was going to cry.” She let out a laugh, knowing she was quite soft. Her face lit up when he said he wrote romance novels. Wow. Well, as if he wasn’t a character right out of a romcom himself! She felt like that’s what this was. A romcom. Bumping into him at a coffee shop like a scene straight from one. “Really?! So you’re a proper romantic then? Buy the last cake pop for every girl, hmm?” She gave him a bashful smile. The very last thing she was doing was judge, she was more so thinking about their wedding. Yep. Already. Daydreaming because she swore she’d hit the jackpot. Wasn’t even sure if he liked her yet, but she was hopeful. After all, she’d turned on her charm.

“I guess I am.” Harry smirked to himself slightly at the good reception. Damn. He had been so worried and hesitant- he should have just talked to her. She wasn’t... that scary. Only a little bit.

He let her talk a bit more about her degree and Harry went on to speak about his favorite authors, and then the conversation shifted towards their classes and how he had been struggling slightly in psych— which led to her offering to help. Harry was shocked because honestly he hadn’t expected it from her, but he was pleased. He was happy to have an excuse to hang out with her more. See more of her and be able to teach himself to relax properly around her. He felt like a damn wind up toy, giddy and excited.

“That would be so helpful, if you could. And if you don’t mind.” He stressed. “I have a place off campus, if you’d want to go there? I’ll buy you some pizza or something for your help.” He was a giver and if it meant getting a $20 pizza for her because he wanted good quality, then he would!

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Y/N was practically jumping up and down with joy in her mind, this was a turn of events. She went from secretly crushing on him to being invited over his house in only a few hours. “I can never say no to pizza, but it’s really no problem. They say if you can teach it to someone else then you truly understand it so it’ll be a good test for me. Y/N also knew that they wouldn’t just study. Come on. It was a Friday night and study was practically code for hook up, especially considering he had invited her to his place and not the library. She had to prepare, had to make sure she looked cute and everything. She’d shower before hand too, the whole nine. “I can be there around 6?” Y/N suggested, checking her calendar app even though she already knew when she could come. She had to at least look like she wasn’t jumping at the idea.

“That’s cool. Uh— here, if you want I can put my number in your phone and whenever you want I can text you the address?” Oh, fuck. How, how the tables have turned. He had gone from wistfully staring at her every day to having a scheduled study session with her, the girl he’d been practically having wet dreams about. Having a full conversation and then her having his number! He was giddy and playing with the sleeves of his sweater as a result of the excited nerves. “Do you have any allergies? I do have a kitten at home.” He wanted to make sure he wouldn’t have to put Marie away. He loved his baby but he wanted to try something and see if she would be cool with him in a private setting. It would be less hard to talk about deeper things without people around. He took her phone from her and typed in his number, adding his name with a little 📚 after it. That wasn’t too much, right?

“Aw you do! I have one too, well... he thinks he’s a big boy.” Y/N shook her head at the thought of her sweet little Milo. Despite not doing anything she planned to do at the coffee shop, it still felt like a productive day in her eyes. Finally getting to chat with Harry felt like a breath of fresh air and he wasn’t all that scary now that she got to chatting with him. She took her phone back and smiled at the cute little emoji, sending him a text to let him know it was her before hesitantly getting up. “Alright well, I gotta get back to my kitten... but, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/N smiled, watching him stand up as well. The two of them walked out of the coffee shop and to their cars, Y/N being bold enough to give him a hug before opening her car door. “Night!” She was surprised with herself. Y/N was proud, completely over the moon and honestly she wasn’t sure how she was going to sleep tonight.

-----

Harry laid out on the bed that night with Marie on his chest. He had told her all about how the pretty Y/N had met him and that she would be coming over. The pretty cat was a long haired white kitty, and she purred along with Harry as he spoke. She liked hearing Harry be happy. It made him want to squeak when he heard his phone buzz and a little text from her popped up— he saved her as ‘Y/N 🌼’ because he felt like it fit. Part of him wanted to put a heart but he would be mortified if she saw and thought it was weird. She wore a yellow flower shirt one day so he figured that’s what he could excuse it as.

‘Hey, happy to hear from you! :) I hope your kitty is doing well. I meant to ask, you aren’t vegetarian are you?’

Y/N smiled at his text and attached a photo of her gray kitten laying across the top of her head while she laid down.

‘Yes, he’s quite cozy.’

‘I am actually! But I’m not too fussy.’

She couldn’t help it, she loved animals and she couldn’t bring herself to do it anymore. Occasionally, she would indulge in a chicken nugget or seafood, but for the most part she didn’t feel like she had to.

‘I’m going to get some sleep though, Good night Harry 💓’

That wasn’t too much was it? It was just a heart! She sent them to everyone. Y/N stayed up for a good ten minutes just digesting the day. Tomorrow would be even better, she had a feeling.

——

Harry was... well, he wasn’t sure how to describe the emotion. When Niall inevitably quizzed him on why he was acting strange, the best he had come up with was a mix of nerves and giddiness, also terror and extreme happiness. He was going to hang out with the girl he had been silently crushing on— and they had been texting quite frequently in the short time they had each other’s numbers. Was this going to be a regular thing? Was it going to blossom into more? He knew that he had wasted time before, not talking to her. She wasn’t scary! No... she was so sweet and kind and beautiful and everything she said made him a literal heart eye emoji. She had taken to sending him random photos, even so quickly in and it felt comfortable. He had even sent her a shot of Marie on the counter this morning, on top of his school notes. It was odd. The excitement he felt when he heard the bing from his phone of the vibration in his pocket... it was incredible. He liked this feeling. Damn it. This was such a new thing. He wanted to do more.

He saw her in class, watching as she crept in a bit after the last call should be with a sheepish smile on her face. He waved to her silently and watched her climb up, his heart beating quicker when she chose a seat closer to his than before. She wanted to sit near him? He clutched the rainbow patchwork sweater by the sleeves and fiddled with the cuffs, nerves and excitement swirling in his tummy.

If class wasn’t already on, Y/N knew she would have tried to spark up some conversation with Harry, but for now all she could manage was passing him a note.

‘I like your cardigan :)’

It was really cute. Most of Harry’s wardrobe was and in her dream world she already stole a few to wear. English literature wasn’t exactly the most exciting class, but Harry seemed invested. Y/N enjoyed watching him focus and take notes while she mostly doodled some random flowers and bears in her notebook. Her mind was thinking about what she was going to wear to his house and how she definitely needed a shower before and that she had to put on the lotion that matched her perfume. Was she overthinking this? Maybe. Of course it was just a study date, but you could never be too sure where things could go. And if they did— she wanted to be ready.

He knew that he needed to contain himself but his smile made it hard. She liked his cardigan. The random compliment had him feeling mushy and happy and there was definitely a blush on his cheeks as he clicked his pen and wrote back to her.

‘Thanks :) my nan knitted it for me. I like your little head band.’

He passed it back before opening his notebook back up. Her stare could be felt and he wanted to smirk a little at it because, well, who wouldn’t? She was so great, and he wanted to experience more of her but he was trying to not rush shit. He was a romance writer after all. All of it felt so in tune with his own wants and he had a hard time believing it was real. Sweet little Y/N wanted to hang out with him and she complimented his cardigan!

‘Awe!! That’s cute and thank youuuu 🥰’

She drew him a little smiley face with hearts around it, felt like it was very on brand for her and her emotive texting. Y/N felt all giddy because she had made a new friend but she was really hoping they wouldn’t just be friends.

Y/N knew she was hard to read because she was generally nice to everyone and honestly, Harry seemed to be the same way. She could only assume he liked her because he asked her to hang out so quickly. And he’d bought her a cake pop and was planning on buying pizza tonight. Was it a date then? Gosh, she needed to stop reading into it. Her leg kept bouncing up and down, mind trying to refocus and thankfully, their professor was discussing something she too had noticed in her reading. She still managed to steal quick glances at Harry for the rest of the class, giving him shy little smiles. It wasn’t till class ended that she ended up speaking to him, but even that was quick. She needed to get home and get ready.

Harry had gotten a quick hi, and a ‘see you tonight!’ With her hand brushing his arm before she skipped off to.. wherever she went. And that had him nearly sprinting home. Cleaning top to bottom, vacuum, scrub, vacuum again. Changed his sheets— why, he wasn’t sure— put his laundry in the basket, filled up Marie’s food and water, fluffed the pillows, cleaned the windows and coffee table... he did it all. Even cleaned out the fridge! Like she would care? Harry didn’t know. All he did know was that he was finally showered and smelled nice, hair fixed and the pumpkin patch candle was lit! The tv was on low because he was nervous and needed some filler noise to keep himself from overthinking.

Y/N was doing the same, not cleaning her apartment but cleaning herself. She stripped out of her clothes when she got home and immediately got into the shower, taking one of those full maintenance ones for good measure. Once she was positive she was squeaky clean and smelled nice, she jumped out to take the next steps. God, she really wanted to impress him. He’d been her crush for a while and she needed this. She wanted to look like she didn’t put in my effort when she did so she decided to put on some light makeup and chose an outfit that was more laid back. Usually, she was seen wearing sweaters and jeans, nothing too fancy, so that’s exactly what she settled on. Y/N wanted to look warm and inviting.

Milo mewed beneath her feet as she collected all her study supplies, rubbing against her ankles in need of attention. “I’m sorry bubs, I know I didn’t get to spend lots of time with you today but don’t be too mad.” Y/N pouted, picking him up and giving him a cuddle for a few minutes. She held him up to her chest as she finished up, deciding she needed to leave now.

‘Leaving now, be there in 20 ✨’

She sent, hopping into her car with nerves bubbling up in her stomach. God, she really hoped tonight went well.

——

When Harry heard the knock at the door he shot up, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants before forcing himself to be slow, walking to the door. And when he opened it, it really did feel like being hit in the gut. Seeing someone so beautiful, so up close? It got to him. He had to admit that. Y/N has this natural beauty that he drooled over. That felt like a hit. Every time he saw her he swore she got more beautiful.

“Hi.” He spoke with a smile, opening the door up for her. “Come inside. Marie is wandering around so I have to close the door. A little escape artist, she is.” He joked, letting her scurry in and close the door behind her.

“Hey! Oop— okay!” Y/N giggled and stepped past him into his apartment. It was very cute and very tidy. Y/N felt a little flutter in her belly, it was freshly cleaned. She stepped out of her shoes before further examining the decor. The style was something she very much expected for Harry, it was cozy and artsy. Lots of earth tones and that sweet autumn smell coming from the candle made her feel that much more excited. “It’s so nice in here! I love the pillows.” Y/N complimented, liking how some were fluffy and some had funky patterns on them. It was then that she heard a meow from below, Marie sniffing at her sock covered toes. “Oh hi there... sorry if you can smell Milo on me, gave me lots of snuggles before I left.” Y/N cooed down to the kitten, dropping down so she was closer to the ground and extended her hand for her to sniff and get used to.

Y/N realized this was very real now, especially because he had gone out of his way to make his place look nice. Most guys wouldn’t care, but maybe Harry did this for everyone. When she stood back up and turned to face him, she got a whiff of him and noticed his semi damp hair. He showered too. Oh—

Harry smiled at her and Marie, happy his kitten seemed to like her. Usually she would sniff his friends and run off but she began to weave over her legs and beg for pets. He was in awe. Christ. She had him by the balls already.

“Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got diet soda... apple juice, lots of teas. And water.” He hummed, going into the kitchen with her behind him. It was an open concept though, the kitchen the first thing near the door and it opened into a large living area, the hall down going to the master bedroom. It was simple but perfect for him in college. He gave her a moment to think it over as he looked at her. So cozy and... cuddly. He wanted to slide his hands under her sweater and feel her warm skin and nuzzle into the crook of her neck, let her fingers play through his hair.

“Apple juice sounds good.” Y/N smiled, having picked up Marie at this point to carry her into the kitchen with them. She had a feeling she’d get along just great with Milo if they ever got to meet. “You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Y/N cooed at the kitten, seeing her comfortably settled against her. “Does your Daddy spoil you with snuggles too?” She asked toying with her little paw before looking up at Harry with a smile. He had fumbled a bit with the lid of the juice at her words which made her giggle, “How are you? How was your day today?” Y/N was genuinely curious, deciding to make some small talk before actually sitting down. In her head she could already imagine the two of them hanging out here constantly, tangled up in one another, kissing and laughing and doing all the cute things that Harry likely wrote about in his stories.

“I’m— im good.” Harry’s mouth was dry. He knew that she hadn’t meant anything by it, but he heard her say ‘daddy’ in reference to him, and his stupid cock had jumped, tummy felt hot. Damn it. He wished he wasn’t so deprived but... she had been at the forefront of his mind. “It was a good day. I was happy to talk to you. You’re fun to talk to.” He meant it too. She was so interesting and funny and he was completely whipped and okay with it. Damn. He wished he had maybe a bit more restraint with his imagination but he didn’t. Not at all. “I have a harder time meeting people... i can be a little shy sometimes. I’m in my own head a lot you know? I have my core group of friends but... it’s hard to get to know people. I want to know them.” Her. That translates to her.

“Yeah?” Y/N felt her heart jump. He was happy to speak with her even just a little bit? He wanted to talk to her and get to know her? It wasn’t just a one sided thing. They were both making an effort in their own way and she was thinking someone had to break the tension. “I’m happy you think so.” Y/N blushed, “I um... I also like talking to you.” She had her little friend group as well but she never thought she’d actually end up being friends with Harry. Listening to him explain how reserved he was definitely made her feel special though. He chose to open up to her, she was special enough for that and that made her cheeks grow warm once again. “I’ll tell you just about anything you want to know.” Y/N smiled, hesitantly placing Marie down before taking a few steps closer to him to get her glass of apple juice.

“Ooooh, a little daunting. Anything? Your social security number?” Harry was joking. Trying to clear the air and make her relax because she was a bit shy too and he wanted her to be comfortable here. This place should be a good spot for her. He motioned for her to come sit on the couch with him, Marie trailing after Y/N. Little traitor had a new favorite already but... he couldn’t say he could blame her. “I dunno... it’s hard sometimes, in this age to make genuine friendships. Feels like everyone’s already got their friend groups and you don’t want to infringe upon them yeah? And... I write a lot. I’m not a partier. Not to sound cliche but again.... I’m a writer.” He chuckled.

“I said just about!” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head to herself at his joke. She felt like she was an open book, she was pretty open with the things she liked and generally she aimed to spread positivity and love where she could. Her hobbies included lots of things, music, knitting, reading, gardening. That kind of stuff. “But yeah, I get that... I’ve been pretty content with my group of friends, though I think most people are open to making new ones. At least I am... I am a bit shy though.” Y/N took a sip of her apple juice before setting it down on the coffee table again. “Yeah, you said. Romance novels.” She smiled and leaned back into the couch, getting comfortable. “What sorts of romance novels?” What? Could you blame her for wanting to know what sort of content was in them? Maybe it could give her some insight on what he wanted.

“Oooooh. Hard hitting stuff.” Harry huffed out playfully. “I’m... it’s a variety, I think. I’ve done supernatural, classic tropes, historical romance was very fun. I am partial to enemies to lovers or forbidden romances though. They’re the most fun to write.” Y/N genuinely looked like she cared so he continued. “I’ve been trying out different stuff but....” he blushed again. “I’m... looking at erotica right now.” It wasn’t something he usually would blurt out but hey, she seemed trustworthy. Plus she didn’t seem like she would judge either. It was a new favorite of his. The rawness of it and writing sex scenes... it was amazing. Reading it, writing it, he thought he could do some on the side and sell it under a pen name. It would be a fun thing to try.

Erotica. This man sat down and wrote detailed sex scenes, likely kinky, for fun? Thankfully she didn’t have any juice in her mouth because it surely would have been spat out.

“H-how are you finding it?” She asked, reaching for her apple juice because she felt like she couldn’t sit still now. How else was she supposed to go about things when all she could think about was sex. Sex with him specifically. Y/N wasn’t blind, she knew that Harry was very attractive and very much gifted with beautiful hands. She could only assume he would have a wonderful cock as well. She knew there was no way someone so quite couldn’t have the filthiest of minds, she knew hers was. Her fantasies were where she roamed free.

“I mean... I do like it a lot, actually. I hope that doesn’t come across as creepy or pervy but I like to be able to write something like that. It’s freeing, in a sense.” Harry couldn’t really properly describe why but, he was a kinky dude. You’d never think it. He was soft and wore sweaters a lot and drank tea at home from a kitty mug but he was.... a kinky fucker. And he loved sex. There was just something about it. He wanted to try more and more of it but he had a tendency to get attached to his partners, even hook ups... so he had put that on a hault.

“I’d like to read some...” Y/N felt like at some point, she’d want to read his writing. If he felt comfortable now she didn’t mind. It was just writing, wasn’t it?

“You want to?” She looked at him with bright eyes and her a fast nod so Harry decided to say, fuck it. If they were going to work as friends... or lovers, which is what Harry really wanted... she would need to accept this side. He grabbed his laptop and boosted it on, letting himself grab the latest completed scene. “Here. You can read this, i'll order the pizza.” There were obvious nerves in his belly from letting her read filthy smut from his computer but Y/N... she was different. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but she was.

They were meant to be studying.

That was long forgotten though as Y/N nodded and got comfortable on the couch with his laptop sat in her lap. It felt a bit taboo, but she figured she could separate the writer from the story.

The scene was from a male character’s perspective, describing him having a long and hard day at work where all he could think about was his partner. Y/N felt her face get progressively warmer as the character spoke about his partner, she couldn’t help but imagine this was how Harry was when he was horny and needy.

Y/N knew that if she was his, she would certainly brighten up his mood after a tough day at work. Seeing her own name in the document however proved that Harry thought the same. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head, her eyes lifting from the screen to look up at him as he ordered the pizza completely unaware of her discovery.

This is what he imagined? This is what he wanted to do.... with her?

Harry ordered two cheese pizzas and some cinnamon dessert thing because there was a a special going on. He had thought about getting more but he didn’t want to go overboard with it, so he finished the order. Thank god for online ordering.

“Okay... it’ll be here in 25 minutes I think.” He hummed, looking up and freezing slightly. She looked blushy and her eyes wide as she read the post and he wondered why she looked a bit startled. “Hey... y’alright love?” He asked quietly. God damn it. Had he freaked her out too much? Was it just too much in general for the first time they properly hung out? He couldn’t remember exactly what scene he had pulled up. Just that it was recent, a billionaire type of thing.

Y/N casually moved the laptop on to the coffee table without answering his question. She didn’t think twice before she climbed on to his lap, hands settling on his shoulders. Sure, it was a risky move, but after what she’d read? She felt like she had to make her move. She wanted to be just as hot and sexy as he had imagined her to be. Harry’s shocked expression made her smile, hand going up to cup his cheek.

“You left my name in the document...” Y/N’s voice spoke low and slow, thumb brushing over his now parted lips. Never did she think she could be so bold so soon, but fuck did it feel good. She felt so powerful, so sexy, and so so horny. “Thought about me riding your cock so much you wrote about it?” Y/N whispered, leaning in to kiss the skin just below his ear before nibbling at the skin. “Noticed me before we properly met... thought about me... is this what you wanted, baby?”

Harry blanked.

Oh. fuck.

He hadn’t expected her to climb into his lap. Climbing on and straddling him, cupping his cheek, talking in that hot little voice that had his cock filling a bit. Holy fucking shit.

“Oh—” He was cut off by her thumb over her lip. She was into it, into him. How had this happened? He had to be dreaming. But... no. Her heat was too real to be a dream. Her eyes too clear and dark, her smell too real. It was real. “Y-yeah...” He whispered, gasping when she kissed his skin, hand grabbing her waist. Oh, hell. Under his pants, his cock was quickly hardening. You couldn’t blame him, his dream woman, his crush, was straddling his lap and kissing his neck. Talking like this.

“Thought about it ‘lots.” He muttered. She was so bold for this and that was something he found so sexy. When her teeth scraped his skin and bit down a bit harder, a dark groan left his mouth, hand on her waist tightening. “Holy shit... Y/N.”

“Hmm... feels good?” Y/N questioned, licking over the spot that she bit before moving to a new one. “Think I can make you cum in 25 minutes?” Y/N felt like she could take on the challenge, his cock was already hardening beneath her and she was a bit of foreplay away from being completely soaked. “Wanna try all of it, yeah?” Y/N muttered, nipping at the spot just where his jawline met his neck. “Riding your cock.... you bending me over, can choke me too. Please do...” She moaned at the thought, her hormones completely taking over. He still seemed to be frozen, despite his hand now on her waist so she moved her hips forward a little bit and tugged at his hair. “Wanna make you feel good.”

Y/N had a kink for giving but it seemed Harry did as well. She expected a needy hook up, rough touches, quickness, pure lust. It’s exactly what she needed. It’s been a while since she’d hooked up with anyone and she was desperate for Harry to break her dry spell.

“Ah, shit.” Harry hissed. The tug at his hair sent a shock of hot arousal down his spine. That got him going so quickly. She wanted to fuck? Right now? He would be a fool to say no, and he wasn’t raised a fool. “Yeah? Y’want to ride my cock?” He asked lowly. “Fucks sake... I didn’t know you were so dirty.” He never would have guessed it from her either but... they were here. And he was snapped out of his shock by the tug, and now he was ready to do whatever the fuck she let him. “What did y’want the most, love? Tell me.” He had taken into account that she wanted to be choked, raising a hand to gently cuff her throat, bringing her close to his face. The confidence was soaring now, and all because she was leaking it. She wanted it, desperately. “I said, tell me.” He gave a quick squeeze to her throat. “Want to know what you need.”

“Need your cock, daddy.” Y/N moaned out, eyes blown and glazed over with desire. Y/N could feel the tension in her bones, cunt throbbing and aching to be touched. “Need you so bad, please— wanted you for so long, please make me cum, please!” She pleaded, fully giving into the fantasy. Y/N was never one to hold back and from what she had read, he certainly didn’t want her to. Her body felt like it was on fire, hands grabbing fist fulls of his sweater in hopes that he’d just take it off. Y/N wasn’t sure what type of body would be beneath it, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel his warm skin, lick and kiss all that she could while she worked her magic. Y/N waited for his directions, falling into the submissive role easily despite her initial approach. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna have to re-write that scene.”

Harry was going to give this girl any fucking thing she wanted. He let her guide his sweater off, the cool air hitting his skin not even getting a chance because her hands and mouth were all over him. It was like she had fallen into a heat, and Harry.... he loved it. He placed his hands under her sweater, feeling her hands smooth over his chest as she kissed at his neck and over his jaw. Her skin was hot under the sweater, his hands gripping her waist and smoothing over her hips, going up and sip to her ribs where he realized— fuck.

“Not wearing a fucking bra?” He hissed. “Jesus... you’re a little minx, aren’t you? Off with this.” He spoke lowly, grabbing the ends of it but barely had a shot before Y/N ripped it off of her body. Fucks sake. She was sexier than he had ever imagined. “My god... you’re so sexy, baby.” He whispered, sitting up and burying his face between her breasts. Kissing the hot skin between them, working his way up with the wet, open mouthed kisses to her throat.

“Oh Daddy...” Y/N’s body shuddered at the feeling of his mouth on her, head falling back as she let out a happy sigh. He seemed to like her hand in his hair so she happily gripped at his locks as he scattered kisses over her skin. “Come ‘ere...” She whined, guiding him up to her lips. “Wanna taste your mouth.” Making eye contact with him in this moment felt intimate. All those quick glances in classes and at the coffee shop, all the day dreaming, it all built up to this moment where she fully felt she could let herself let go. The both of them wanted this, it was so reassuring, this was a safe space and they could do whatever they wanted. Y/N’s body rolled forward, pushing him further back onto the couch and angling her hips so she could tease the both of them before she let herself have it. Fuck was he hard... and full. Another moan left her lips, sounding more like a plea and cry for more.

“Fuck me... you’re needy. I love it.” Harry hissed, pulling her mouth to his. It wasn’t soft. No, this kiss... it was hot. Heavy. Her mouth opened and immediately he dragged his tongue inside, meeting hers. She tasted like the apple juice and a bit of mint, and he could groan just from how good it was. Sweet little Y/N wasn’t too innocent at all. “Fuck— keep teasing me like that. S’like you want to end up crying.” He had a feeling now that she did. She wanted his cock inside of her pussy, thrusting in and out and letting herself soak him. Yeah... he wanted it too. “Keep calling me daddy. You’re so dirty. Who would have fucking... known.” He spoke between the kisses, hands going for her jeans. He wanted them off, like hours ago. He was finally going to get her. “M’gonna lay you out in my bed after... first m’gonna fuck you, but M’gonna clean out your cunt with my tongue. And then M’gonna take you again. Yeah?” She has come for studying but was staying for hot sex and he hoped to turn it into a nice marathon. He had all weekend and he was hoping she wouldn’t have to go. He had too many idea for her. “Gonna let daddy lick it up?”

“Fuck— yes, gonna let daddy have his way with me...” She kept her hips rolling against his slowly, keeping the rhythm in check with the passionate kiss they were sharing. Y/N already knew this was going to be the best sex of her life, the kiss alone let her know that. His tongue would work wonders on her cunt and she’d be more than happy to return the favor. Hesitantly, Y/N began to stand to get her jeans off, one of her hands staying put on the back of his neck so the kiss didn’t break. She let him fiddle with the zipper, feeling his fingers hook both her jeans and underwear before yanking them down to which Y/N let out a little squeal.

Y/N knew she had to pull away from the kiss for air but she didn’t want to, waiting till the very last minute until she couldn’t anymore and went to get his jeans off.

“Come on. Be good.” He murmured against her lips, brushing his hips up so she could get his pants off. She tugged and easily they came down, Harry kicking them off as he pulled her back in his lap. His hands gripped her bare ass and groaned when she pushed into them, not thinking twice before pulling his hand back and smacking it the sound rang in the room and she let out the most sexy noise against his mouth, making him hiss. Fuck. He wanted her so fucking badly. This girl... she was everything. One hand went to feel and fuck. Fuck shit, motherfuck, it was wet. She was so, wet. “Jesus— you’re so wet. Baby— holy shit, you’re soaked.” He whispered. “S’cause of me? You wanted daddy’s cock this bad?” He pulled his fingers off slightly, the arousal still stringing to his fingers. He placed them at her mouth and pushed them in. “That’s it. Clean them up, sweet girl. You’re so filthy, y’know that? Precious little thing. So slick and hot, want cock so fucking bad don’t you?” He cooed, feeling her suck on the digits. “Now.... rub it against your pussy. Don’t put it in yet. get it wet.”

Y/N sucked at his fingers as if it were her job, making sure to treat it like she would his cock which included eye contact. She loved looking at him, seeing his hungry expression and his eyes that seemed to say so much more than he did. Even the feeling of her cunt sliding over his cock sent tingles up her spine. It had never affected her this much with other guys, but she assumed it was different with Harry because she had wanted him for so long. Y/N let out a whimper, feeling a gush of wetness accumulate when he pushed his fingers in farther. Harry was hot in ways she couldn’t explain, there were little things he did that just hit the spot and made her want to fuck him even harder. Y/N was practically bouncing on his cock, aching for him to let her have it inside.

“You’re such a good girl. Listening so fucking well.” Harry took his fingers from her mouth, smirking at the whine and slight chasing of his fingers when he placed it on her breast. She gave it all to him and honestly, he was ready to just... lose it. “Go ahead. Take what you want.” It was not even a moment later that he felt her begin to sink down. She was tight— so damn tight, and he choked slightly at just how good the squeeze was. He let out a hiss, head thrown back in the couch as the slick, hit cunt sucked over him, squeezing hard as she stretched open slowly. “Holy fuck.” He growled, gripping both hips now and looking at her with a darkness in his eyes. “You’re so bloody tight— Christ, you’re squeezin’ me so good.” He whispered.

“Daddy!” She whimpered as she slid farther down on his cock until she couldn’t fit anymore of him in. “I’m so full— feels so good.” Her eyes rolled back a bit as she began to bounce at a slowed rhythm. Small moans and little huffs came from her throat with every stroke of her hips, it wasn’t until she felt warmed up that she actually went for it. Y/N shifted so that she had better balance, keeping her hands on his shoulders before dropping back down on his cock. “Fuck!” She squeaked, making sure to clench one her way back up before repeating the action at a quicker pace. It felt incredible. He was touching every little part of her, feeling small waves of pleasure spread throughout her body. “Daddy! Fuck— feels so good ahhh!” Her moans were pornographic, whiny, desperate and needy. She didn’t even know she could sound like that, but apparently it was possible when she was as thirsty for cock as she was.

Never would he have guessed that this would be the outcome of their hang out. He had hoped, sure. Dreamed? Absolutely. But the reality was so much better. He had the hot, wet and extremely tight pussy gliding up and down his cock. She was moaning, tits bouncing in his face, and she was vocal. More than he could have asked for. The infatuation he had with her was only growing.

“Fuck, you’re a good girl. Such a perfect little cunt. Like bouncing on my cock, hm? Knew you’d be the perfect girl for me. Keep going.” His hand squeezed her ass, encouraging her to work herself on him. “Feels so full, yeah? Such a big cock filling such a little pussy. A nice stretch for you hm? So eager to be filled up...” her face was of pure bliss and Harry couldn’t help but take a mental photo. He hoped this could happen more than this once. “Knew you’d be good for me. Throwin’ yourself in my lap and begging to be fucked. Never guessed you’d be such a little slut, but I love it.” He took his hand, bringing it down sharply on her ass.

“Fuck!” Y/N gasped, her own hand moving to cuff his neck. It wasn’t as effective as him doing it to her, but it got the point across. The both of them grabbing at each other roughly, him thrusting up into her each time she slammed down. It could only be described as pure ecstasy, surely the hottest sex she had ever had. She needed him, she needed him to cum. Y/N couldn’t stop herself from leaning down to kiss his mouth again, making a mess of the two of them. “You’re so fucking good— love your cock, daddy... fucking love it!” She moaned between kisses, increasing her pace just enough so she could fuck him hard and steady. “I want you to cum for me daddy, wanna feel it nice and deep.” Thank fuck for IUDs. “Want you to fill me up while I cum all over your cock, can you do that for me? Can you cum with me?”

He was panting, lowering himself so he could properly thrust into her sopping cunt. He hadn’t gotten any in so long but this blew any and everyone out of the water. No one could ever understand how good this was. All the pining and imagining had come to an even better conclusion.

“I’ll do it... but you... gotta promise me.” He growled, giving a particularly sharp thrust inside of her, making her wail. “Promise me I can do it again. Let me have this pussy more.” He didn’t want it to end if it was the only time he could get it. It was too good to let go of. Drooling all over his cock and her soft whimpers and dirty words had him more worked up than anything else. “Promise, baby, and I’ll let you have my cum.”

“Promise— I promise— fuck!” She felt her breath get caught in her throat at the particularly hard thrusts Harry was giving her. “Please Daddy, please give it to me.” Y/N whimpered, moving her hands so they cupped his cheeks, keeping eye contact with him as they continued to relentlessly thrust into each other. There was nothing more satisfying, nothing that managed to hit every part of her both physically and spiritually and made her feel so alive. When you’ve wanted something for so long it makes getting it that much better and she knew that she’d always be chasing this high that only he could give her. “I’m so close, fuck, daddy—“ She mumbled between kisses, squeezing around him and continuing at her pace to bring herself to the perfect high. “Cum with me daddy, please— ah!”

Harry would work on his stamina next round. But after the whole thing, he was close to losing his mind. She was giving him the most tempting offer and he wasn’t going to give it up.

“Oh— fuck me.” He thrusted in again and again before he let himself go. Feeling her clench up around him and sob against his mouth, he let out a deep growl as he buried himself deep. Hot cum shooting inside of her cunt, rocking his hips in to get it all in there. There was no doubt that this was some of the most intense sex of his life but he was almost ready to go again, as soon as it ended. Holding her shivering form, her orgasm was tapering, he could feel her clenching still. “That’s it. Take all of it inside of you. Good girl.”

Y/N gripped Harry’s shoulders, loud screams of pleasure coming straight from her throat. There were no words to describe the high, she almost felt out of her own body as he showered her with praise. With her body shaking and face contorting with a silent scream, she found it in her to come back down letting out a pathetic whimper.

“Daddy—” She swallowed thickly, mouth finding his messily, pressing kisses to his lips and his face. The two of them were both lightly covered in sweat, breathing heavily and enjoying each other’s company. Y/N was far too blissed out to think about what just happened, but blissed out enough to know there would be many more rounds of this tonight. Y/N smiled as she nuzzled against his neck, still sponging kissing to his dampened skin. “Better?” She mumbled, smirking against his skin a bit.

“Mm.” He hummed, hands holding her hips still. Holy hell. This was the beginning of an amazing weekend- because he didn’t plan on letting her out at all, if he could help it’ he wanted her to stay, to let him indulge in her. “So fucking good.” He muttered lowly, rubbing his hand up her back and smoothing over her skin. Fucks sake. This was paradise. Nothing could pop him out of this.

At least, that was until the doorbell rang.

“Ah, fuck. The pizza.”

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

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#writing #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #college!harry #harry writing #college!h

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tricksters-captain · 4 years

Text

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 4

AN: I’m sorry I missed posting last week. I’m currently going through a hard break up and it’s really taking a lot of energy out of me so I struggle to write at the moment.

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

In this chapter: You return to Boston for the week.

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1,940

Warnings: Some strong language

You smiled as you looked at the copies of ‘Chess Review’ on the racks.

Your first front page piece for Chess Review.

They had used one of the pictures of Benny that you had taken at the hotel and you were pretty proud of your photography skills.

You picked up a copy and took it inside to pay for it.

On second thought, you picked up two so you could mail one to Angelie.

You left the store quickly after and started to walk back to your apartment.

Boston was busier than you had remembered and you finally had some time to sort out the apartment after your article went down well with the big man.

You opened the door to your apartment and put down your groceries on the kitchen counter top.

The last tenant hadn’t left the place in too bad a state, just a carpet stain here and there and a broken lamp.

You had bought some paint to redecorate your living room and bedroom since it seemed too boring after where you lived in Paris. You had spent the last couple days painting and then you finally left to go check out your title page.

The books that Benny had given you were still on your small two person dining room table where you had left them when you first got back. You looked over at them and furrowed your brow as you thought about whether you are actually going to bother to read them or not.

Your phone started to ring and your frown disappeared when you realised it was probably Angelie. No one else had your number besides your work.

“Hello?” You answered it, taking the phone off the wall as you leant beside it.

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” You’d recognise that voice anywhere after listening to it so much over the last tournament.

“Benny Watts?” You asked, almost in shock.

“Have you read those books I leant you yet?” He asked, not even bothering to confirm it was him.

“It’s been four days.” You told him flatly.

“You could’ve easily gotten through at least two of them by now.” Benny challenged you which caused you to shake your head (even though he couldn’t see).

“You know, Benny Watts, I do have a life to live.” You defended yourself to which Benny found amusing.

“So, you’re back in Boston since you picked up this phone.” Benny changed the subject completely.

“How did you even get this number?” You asked, genuinely curious and a little worried.

“You really think Chess Review won’t hand over your telephone number to their favourite US chess player?”

“You got it from Beth Harmon then?” You teased the boy to which he responded with a dry laughter.

“Ha Ha. Very funny.” Benny retorted, “If you’re in Boston, it means you currently aren’t working. Fancy an educational trip to New York City?”

“Benny, I told you. I’m not coming to New York.” You reminded him about how you declined previously when he asked.

“Come on, just for the weekend? We’ll play some chess, do some tourist shit and eat some food?” Benny asked, trying his best to persuade you Benny Watts style.

“I’ve also told you before that I don’t play.” You felt a small bubble of excitement in your stomach as you considered going to New York but you quickly squashed it down.

“What are you afraid of?” Benny asked. Deja Vu.

“Why are you pushing this?” You closed your eyes as you let your head roll back to press against the wall.

“Because I see that same light that’s in Beth Harmon, that’s in every decent chess player when you see a chess board.” Benny confessed to you.

“I’m sorry, Benny. You’ll just have to find someone else to play with. I don’t want to be apart of this little game.” You hung up the phone with a sad sigh before Benny could respond.

You found yourself looking at the books again.

You picked up Benny’s and you opened it...

“I’ve been waiting all day for your call.” You half scolded Angelie as you answered the call.

You heard Angelie’s laughter through the phone and it made you home sick.

“Je suis désolé!” Angie apologised. “This new project has me so busy, constantly on set, costume changes, make up changes, redoing scene..!”

“It sounds awful.” You chuckled,

“It is! You wouldn’t understand... You’re just a big time American journalist.” Angelie pouted. “Anyway, how are you?”

“I’m okay.” You lied.

“Menteuse!” Angelie called you out. “Tell me the truth. What is bothering you, Mon Cher?”

“Benny Watts called me today.” You had filled her in on the tournament with him once you had first arrived back in Boston and she had already previously told you off for not taking his offer to New York.

“He did?!” Angie gasped.

“Yes, he did. He got my number through work and called me to ask if I had read the books he gave me which I haven’t because it’s been less than a week since. the tournament.” You explained.

“That boy is in love with you, I am telling you now.” Angie was always the hopeless romantic type. It’s how she has had her heart broke so many times.

“The boy wants to play chess with me to assert his masculine dominance over me and boost his ego with an easy win.” You argued.

“You are always so negative about men! You hardly know this one!” Angelie groaned.

“He’s Benny Watts. That’s all I need to know.”

“I think you should go to New York and meet with him.” Angelie told you. You hadn’t even informed her about the fact he asked you again.

“I think I should stay here and enjoy my first weekend off in six months.” You shook your head at the idea.

“(Y/n), you only live once and how many girls are invited to New York by the Benny Watts?!”

“Probably quite a lot.” You knew Angie was only trying to hype you up but you couldn’t help but knock her down.

“Even if that is so. You could probably get another article out of it. Benny Watts and his life in the big apple?” Angie suggested.

“I’m sure ‘LIFE’ has already done that piece before.” You pushed another idea aside.

“Trust me, (Y/n). You need to stop being so afraid of the unknown and who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy yourself?” Angelie had had enough of the negativity from you at this point.

There was a sudden knock at your door.

“I’m sorry, Angie. Someone’s just knocked on my door, I’ll have to call you back.” You looked over at your front door and wondered who it could be.

“Ça va. Call me back!” She told you as the knock occurred again.

“Je t'aime.” You hung the phone back up on the wall and went over to your door.

You opened it and you felt your face go white at the sight of who stood there.

“Jesus, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Benny Watts.

BENNY WATTS.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him.

“Well, you wouldn’t come to me so I came to you.” Benny shrugged.

“You can’t just stalk someone. This isn’t okay. This isn’t cute!” You were bewildered.

“This isn’t stalking. It’s simply coming to Boston to visit a friend.” He defended himself as he stood out in the hallway.

“I wouldn’t call us friends, Benny.” You scoffed.

“Ouch.” Benny put his hand on his heart.

You went to close your door on him but Benny stopped you.

“Wait.” He pleaded. His cocky demeanour suddenly dropped. “Look, I know this is weird but I really wanted to see you.” Benny started to explain.

“I––” He cut you short.

“–– This isn’t some game. I just want to help you. I want you to play chess again. I want you to play with me.” Benny stayed with his hand against the door and his foot in the gap as he spoke.

“This is crazy, Benny.” You told him, your eyes locked on his as you felt your heart race.

“I know.” Benny stepped back. “I’m staying in the hotel down the block. I’ll be here all weekend. If you don’t want to see me, then don’t. But if you change your mind. I’ll be around.”

You watched him back away from the door and head back down the stairs.

Benny fucking Watts.

You rushed back to the phone and dialled Angelie’s number.

“Bonjour?” She answered,

“You’ll never guess who was at the door.”

You ended up tossing and turning all night.

You caved in at around 3am and started to read Benny’s book again.

You finished it by the time the sun was rising.

You had a cold shower to wake you up at around 9am and then you stared in the mirror as the thoughts racked your brain.

You walked over to your chess set that rested on the dresser top and you took it over to your bed, opening it up.

You set up the board and stared at it.

You picked up the queen. The same queen that Benny had held in the photo you took.

You caved.

You dressed and did simple make up before heading to the hotel that Benny had told you he was staying.

“I’m looking for Mr Benny Watts.” You asked the elderly lady at the front desk.

“He’s staying in room 306 but I’m almost certain I saw him leave about an hour ago for breakfast.” She informed you.

You thanked her then sighed.

You left the hotel lobby and started down the street. There was plenty of places to eat around the hotel, you almost considered just waiting in the lobby for him to return.

Then you saw it.

Through a window of a small diner.

The famous black hat.

You pushed open the diner door and walked towards the booth where Benny was sat.

He had his back to you but he didn’t seem surprised to see you when you sat down opposite him.

“Morning.” He greeted you as he munched on some pancakes.

“I won’t play chess with you.” You stated. “I won’t play chess with you but I will spend the weekend with you and you can talk about it.”

Benny remained silent as his brown eyes watched you carefully.

“I finished your book.” You told him. “I'm ready to learn.”

Benny placed his knife and fork down, picking up the napkin beside his plate to wipe his mouth.

“Great.” He nodded, interlinking his fingers above his food as he elbows rested on the table. “Let’s begin.”

(WHAT HAPPENS NEXT HERE)

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#benny watts x reader #benny watts imagines #benny watts imagines #benny watts x femreader #benny watts #the queens gambit imagines #the queens gambit #Thomas Brodie Sangster #Thomas Brodie Sangster imagines #newt #Beth Harmon #Anya Taylor joy

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

The Bet. Rated ( 18 +)

Pairing : Taehyung x Jimin X Jungkook x Reader. ( Foursome ) But you can see that i favor Taehyung a whole lot here ;)

Warnings : Listen, this is a foursome...three hung guys fuck one girl if you’re gonna need warnings I’m gonna just say , unfollow me. :D

Just kidding : Everything is consensual and everyone has a good time . yes and thank you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re serious? All three of us ? At the same time?” Jungkook’s eyes are even bigger than usual which is really saying something. You squint into them, trying to fathom where that devilish sparkle comes from. it’s so fucking unfair. The dude has eyes like bambi and the twin orbs seem to carry every star in the fucking milkyway.

“Sure...” You slur, only a little drunk but still feeling it. Next to Jungkook his best buddies, Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin stand leaning against the kitchen counter , watching you like you’re the last meal they’ll ever have.

You blink a bit, trying to remember what you were talking about.

Oh, yeah.

The Bet.

“Sure, Jungkook-ah.... you guys win the match this friday and I’ll let you fuck me. All three of you. “

It’s actually pretty stupid, how amusing this whole thing is to you.

Don’t these idiots know who they’re playing this weekend? Astro are national level players.... They’ve played in matches in other countries for fuck sake. the likelihood of Bangtan winning the basketball match on friday is none to none.

“I’m gonna want that in writing, angel.” Kim Taehyung’s deep as fuck voice practically vibrates through your body, his sultry brown eyes heavy with lust as he stares you down .

You gaze at him, the beautiful features clearly crafted to perfection by some god looking to show off. You don’t see beauty like Kim Taehyung on the regular and it feels like a scam, that people get to look at his face for free. A privilege if there ever was one, you think reverently.

But for all his beauty, he’s still very much a stranger to you.

Jimin and Jungkook live next door and are your friends. You’ve known them for years. Even hooked up with them a couple of times ( individually that is ) . Jungkook’s a sweetheart, kind and generous and Jimin is a bit of a pervert but very gentle.

You like them.

Kim Taehyung’s the one here you don’t really know too well. Taehyung’s the new transfer student, and for all his beauty and popularity he holds himself aloof from others. Polite but somehow intimidating. He doesn’t have a lot of friends save for Jimin and Jungkook and he’s turned down every girl that’s asked him out so far.

In fact you half expected him to make a noise of disgust and walk away when you offered to let the three star players of the basketball team , fuck you in the locker rooms after the match if they won the match on friday.

You certainly hadn’t expected him to straighten up, face showing interest for the first time this entire night, eyes lighting up as he sauntered closer , clearly eager to make you follow through on your promise.

There’s a very familiar voice screaming in the back of your head, going, ‘ what the fuck are you doing you idiot, ‘ but that voice is way too faint. Easily silenced by the lust and anticipation clouding your senses.

You blink at him, affronted.

“You don’t value my word?” You frown deeply. Jimin laughs at that, voice breathy and angelic.

“Not when something like this is at risk.” He teases, eyes fond and eager , but tongue licking his lips as he trails his gaze up and down your body, blatant and shameless in his admiration.

You pout a little, tugging the plush softness of your lower lip between your teeth , too tipsy to notice the way the three men follow the movement, hungry and eager as they stare at your tongue as it peeks out a bit to wet your lips.

“Hmm...okay.” You grab a napkin off the counter, looking around for a pen. But the chances of finding a pen in a frat party is next to none and you frown.

“Here you go angel.” Taehyung taps his chest and you stare. Oh yeah, Taehyung’s wearing a black button down and there’s a shiny pen sticking out of his pocket. You hold your hand out for it but he doesn’t budge. Instead he curls his finger , asking you to come get it yourself.

“So mean.” You pout, voice a little whiny as you move to get it from him. He’s so distressingly tall and you reach up to grab the pen, only to stumble a little, face crashing into his chest.

Strong arms come around your body, grip hard and sturdy and the scent of his cologne makes saliva pool in your mouth. You’re almost drooling because of how fucking good he smells, how warm he feels and god he’s built like a dream. Hard abs, thick arms and broad shoulders. His fingers grip your waist, squeezing hard and you wince a bit because it stings .

“little slut.” He whispers, and you blink , confused. You look up at his face and there’s nothing but fondness there, like he’s praising you.

You press your fists against his chest to push away from him. His hand shoots out gripping your wrist hard before bringing it up to his chest.

“Your pen, angel.” He smirks and you grab it quickly, shaking his grip off your wrist.

You stare down at the napkin in your hand.

“What am i supposed to write here?” You feel completely disoriented. Both Jimin and Jungkook merely smile and its Taehyung who steps forward, eyes glinting.

“Let me help.” he drawled, leaning over the counter and scribbling quickly on the piece of paper. i watched as he straightened away eyes flitting to see what he’d written.

I, ---- , agree to be the perfect little cum dumpster for Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin, for the duration of one night , to be an obedient little slut, doing as asked , when asked without putting up a fight, like the whore that I am....

I felt blood rush to my ears, the words obscene and wrong in my ear.

It was a good thing there was no chance they would win.

I glared at him, signing the paper with a flourish.

“Did you even read it?” He raised an eyebrow.

You nod.

“Read it aloud for me anyway, angel. Just so i can be sure.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’ve never seen you at a match before.” Your best friend looks completely surprised by your presence in the front row , at the game on friday night. You’re here for one reason and one reason only.

To gloat in Kim Taehyung’s face after he faces crushing defeat in the hands of the other team.

Except, that’s not quite what happens.

Astro are good but apparently the only thing your school had needed all along was one Kim fucking Taehyung. He seemed to know exactly what plays the other team was going to use , out maneuvering them each time and you feel the first inkling of regret begin to stir. Throat going just a little dry at half time ,you turn to your friend.

“How’s he beating their ass like that?” You croak out pointing at Taehyung, who’s drinking water . His eyes are searching the crowd and you just know. Instinctively, that he’s looking for you. Feeling hunted, you crouch lower, gripping your friends arm in a death grip.

“Didn’t you know? He used to play for them before he transferred here. “

Your heart takes a straight dive to your knees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the match ends, Bangtan winning by a huge margin, you hightail it out of the stands. You get held up a bit by the crowds, a precious fifteen minutes pent fighting the throng of bodies and you can feel your pulse racing.

The bet said one night. Not tonight.

So maybe you could put it off... maybe you could get some time... just to prepare yourself... getting fucked by three guys at once was definitely NOT on your bucket list and while the idea is thrilling and exciting you just need to get your bearings, get some semblance of clarity in your head.

The halls are deserted , nearly everyone is at the game and you begin running , almost sighing in relief when you reach the final turn in the hallway , opening into the parking lot.

You turn the corner, still running , only to crash straight into a broad , strapping body.

His fucking scent is what hits you first and you panic.

no...no..fuck...

Before you can get away he wraps one arm right around your middle, lifting you clear off the ground , his palm coming down to muffle the scream that bubbles up your throat and the sound of Taehyung’s deep laughter makes your hair stand on end.

“Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly.” Taehyung sings softly into your ear and you close your eyes in despair.

Now you know that the faint voice you ignored that night was the voice of reason.

It takes you a second to notice that both Jungkook and Jimin are there as well, freshly showered and dressed in sweats looking cheerfully amused.

“Changed your mind, baby?” Jimin teases and Taehyung growls behind you, the sound low and raspy against your ear.

“Like hell she has. Know what I’ve been jerking off to for the past week? Play it for her ...jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook looks entirely too happy as he fumbles with his phone.

Your own voice fills the hallway, soft and sultry and slurring just a little.

“ I,----, agree to be the perfect little cum dumpster for Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin, for the duration of one night , to be an obedient little slut, doing as asked , when asked without putting up a fight, like the whore that I am....”

You whimper because yes...you definitely said that out loud and fuck him for having recorded it when had he even done that.... and yup you definitely signed a paper too.

“ Did you change your mind, angel?” Taehyung asks gently and you hesitate. Your body is already thrumming with anticipation and the idea of putting this off , going through it all over again is unappealing. Why not just get it over with?

Hos bad could it possibly be , right?

You shake your head slowly.

“Good girl.” Taehyung’s arm relaxes a bit, letting you go and you stumble away, moving to Jimin instinctively You know Jimin. Jimin is safe.

The latter gives you a warm hug, pulling you closer.

“I got you, baby.” He says softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek,” its just a good time. You’ll have fun. Don’t be scared.” He soothes. Taehyung’s eyes glint devilishly and Jungkook rubs a reassuring hand up and down your arm.

“We’ll take my car. “ Taehyung says coolly, slinging an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder and dragging him along, , already walking away and you cling to Jimin for security, following the other two to the parking lot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung is, apparently filthy rich.

He has a huge dance studio in his house and apparently, he was well prepared. Your eyes fall on the plush mattress on the floor, the condoms nearby and you feel yourself flushing.

You open your mouth , ready to say something...what you’re not so sure, but then Jungkook is grabbing you by the arm, yanking you forward and pressing his lips against yours. You’ve kissed him enough times that it is instinctive for you to put you hand on his shoulder while he holds your waist gently, his tongue licking its way into your mouth as he tilts his face to get a better angle

“Can’t believe you agreed to get your cunt wrecked by three guys at the same time.... It’s just like they say... its always the ones that look innocent. ” Taehyung’s voice is soft against your ear and you can feel him behind you, pressed up against your back.

You shiver when firm hands come around you from the back, Taehyung’s fingers making quick work of the buttons on your blouse. Before you can fully process it, Jimin’s already yanking your skirt and underwear down in one clean move. You feel Taehyung’s long fingers flick your bra open easily and you shiver when the fabric falls away, leaving you fully naked in front of three fully dressed men.

“You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, angel.” Taehyung taunts, pressing closer and rolling his hips into your back, his clothed erection pressing against the cleft of your ass .

You can feel yourself getting wet already, you pussy clenching around nothing, your insides aching . You clench your fists to ground yourself. It was way too early to be feeling this desperate, you think wildly. you won’t survive the night if you get so aroused so quickly.

Taehyung hums hands falling on your waist, cool against your bare skin and he trails his hand down to the flesh of your thighs, fingers digging in with enough force to make you whimper.

“Shut up, you little slut, i barely touched you.” Taehyung snaps, slapping your thigh. Hard.

Jungkook pulls back when you choke a little at the pain. Taehyung points at the younger with a smile.

“Go strip and lie down on the mattress Jungkook-ah. Let’s have her sit on your face for a while.” He says calmly and Jungkook moves to obey quickly. While he strips, Jimin moves to take his place, kissing you gently , hands reaching down to shape your breasts, thumbs rubbing against your nipples till the nubs pucker up, hard and throbbing.

Fingers slip into your pussy, so long and thick that your eyes widen in shock at the intrusion. Taehyung is rough and ruthless, fucking into you with ease.

“Not as tight as i expected. You get around huh , angel?” He asks casually and you feel like your entire body is one fire. Jimin kneads your breasts, tongue licking into your mouth as he moans, tasting you. You can see Jungkook over Jimin’s shoulder, while Taehyung fucks his long, fingers into you , hard and rough. He’s stripped fully now and your eyes drink in the sight of him naked, muscles on display and you tremble, because he looks so fucking good.

“Hmm.. Jungkook looks good huh baby? He’s gonna fuck you so good tonight. All nice and gentle and considerate ... because he’s a good little kid....Not like me. I’m gonna make you fucking limp. “ Taehyung slips one hand around to rub a thumb against your clit, and you clench down around his fingers.

Jimin pulls back.

“You talk too fucking much. Let me fuck her now.” He drawls, eyes dancing as he tugs you closer . You whimper when Taehyung’s finger slip right out, wetness spilling out of you , dripping down your thigh with ease.

Taehyung wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you up, before taking a couple of steps and tossing you on the mattress. You bounce for a second, surprised and then before you can get yourself together, Jimin is pushing you up on top of Jungkook.

“Come and straddle my shoulders, beautiful.” Jungkook says sweetly and your thighs feel like jelly. You struggle a bit to do as as asked, sitting on his chest , knees hitting the mattress on either side of his face and he reaches out, gripping your waist and pulling you closer till your pussy is right over his mouth.

“Guk-ah wait. “ You turn around and Jimin is right behind you, kneeling over Jungkook’s chest as well, stroking his cock to full hardness.

Jungkook laughs a little.

“Looks like Jimin hyung wants to fuck you while I eat you out... Spread your thighs a little, baby.” He says.

You glance up at Taehyung, who’s watching you carefully, fingers lazily stripping off his own clothes and you swallow, turning away to the front and spreading your knees a bit more.

You almost lose balance and crash forward, but strong hands grip your arms, keeping you kneeling over the youngest and you stare up at Taehyung, who’s standing right over jungkook, his cock right up against your face. You stare at the hard, thick length of it mouth watering and he laughs knowingly.

“Can always tell a good slut apart from the look in her eyes.” He grins, “ You look like you can’t wait for me to fuck your mouth , angel.”

“No , I-” you’re cut off by the thick cockhead nudging your entrance and you grab Taehyung’s waist to steady yourself, gasping when Jimin slides right into you from behind. The feeling of being filled

“Fuck, Jimin hyung, i can see your cock fucking right into her pretty pink pussy... She’s dripping all over my face.” Jungkook’s awed voice makes your cheek flame and you grip taehyung harder.

“Lick her clit, jungkook’ ah ...make her cum....” Taehyung says causally, before carefully leaning down and gripping your jaw. His fingers dig into your skin , making you open your mouth.

“Your tongue feels a little too dry , angel..” He comments, after slipping two fingers into your mouth.” i like my fuckholes wet and messy.... “ He smiles, leaning closer. You feel jungkook’s tongue flicking rapidly against your clit and your thighs tremble as Jimin fucks into you. Jungkook uses his finger to lightly pinch your clit and you feel yourself get wetter dripping all over his chin and Jimin swears.

“Fuck so fucking wet...” He fucks into you harder, the squelching sound loud and embarrassing in the room.

Taehyung smiles fondly.

“ Knew you’d be the perfect little fuck toy....Hold your tongue out for me....” To far gone to think, you stick your tongue out and he smiles, “ Don’t fucking swallow...” He instructs and your eyes widen when he leans over and opens his mouth, spitting a mouthful of his spit into your tongue. Before you can fully process it , he’s already feeding his thick cock into your mouth, hands reaching back to grip your hair hair yanking your head back.

He uses one hand to keep your head back, the other tracing your throat, feeling the bulge of his dick through the skin of your neck as he shoves his cock right down your throat. Your eyes water, drooling slipping out of the corner of your mouth as you inhale shakily every time he pulls out, gripping his waist to stop your self from collapsing into a heap on the mattress.

The sensation of being fucked by Jimin , and having Jungkook’s tongue all over your clit , flicking the throbbing swollen nub, while Taehyung fucked your mouth raw with sharp powerful thrust is something you won’t forget till the day you fucking die.

“Your cunt’s dripping wet for us...you love this don’t you pretty?” Jungkook teases between licks and Jimin laughs.

“Slutty little kittens like her always like getting their cunt wrecked....” He presses kisses all over your neck and Taehyung merely groans, fingers tightening on your scalp, yanking you closer so he can fuck you deeper.

“Tight little cunt...can’t wait to fucking break it. “ Taehyung hisses and the words tip you over the edge, your pussy clenching around Jimin , who stiffens at the sensation.

“Fuck... I’m coming.” He grunts, gripping your waist hard, hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom . Jungkook groans at that.

“About fucking time hyung, “ He sighs, pulling away from your clit, licking the juices spilling out of your fucked out cunt, “ my cock hurts...get the fuck away I need to get in her....fuck.”

You feel your limbs turn to jelly and Taehyung pulls out of your mouth as well as you collapse a bit.

“You okay baby...need a drink of water?” Jimin asks softly and you nod. He moves away to get the bottle and Jungkook crawls up the mattress till you’re straddling his hips.

“Can i fuck you?” He asks hesitantly and you laugh a little at the tone of his voice. Fuck...he looks like he’s asking for banana milk or something. Before you can fully appreciate the duality of the kid, he’s lining himself up against your entrance and thrusting up into you.

“Hang on Jungkook ah... let me join you.” Taehyung says softly . Your eyes snap open and you stare up at him.

“What? i think i deserve to get a turn with that slutty cunt , too right?” He laughed, moving to kneel on the mattress next to you. Jungkook stops moving clearly confused about the mechanics but Taehyung merely grabs your waist and lifts you up.

“Wrap your legs around my waist, he prompts and you do as he says.

“Hyung...” Jungkook whines from the mattress in protest and Taehyung gives him a glare.

“Patience Jungkook-ah..” He says sternly. “ I’m gonna lean back against the wall and you’re going to slip in with me. We’ll fuck her together ..... Make sure she remembers this for a while....” he smirks.

Jimin appears then, fully dressed and with bottle of water. He opens it for you, holding the mouth against your lips and you take big greedy gulps of the liquid.

“Ready to get DP’d baby? Cross that off your bucket list?” Jimin asks with a smirk and you groan.

“I’m not forgiving you for this.” You croak out at him. Your voice scratchy from disuse. You haven’t spoken a word to Taehyung this entire time. Although its clear he’s the one running this entire show. You just can’t bring yourself to say anything to his face. He terrifies you and the worst part is how arousing that fear is.

Jungkook stands up then , stroking his cock impatiently.

“I need to fuck her now. Its not fair that I’m the only one who hasn’t had a turn yet” He pouts petulantly and you swallow, wrapping your arms tighter around Taehyung’s neck. He startles when you bury your nose into his neck, moving your hips a bit till the head of his cock is pressed against your slit.

“I’m ready...” You whisper softly, literally the first words you’ve spoken to him since this started and he swallows.

“Good girl. ” He says gently and you tremble at how deep his voice is. He grips the back of your thighs, spreading you open before gently lowering you down onto his cock . He’s bigger than Jimin and you have to grit your teeth to take in the length of him.

“poor Jungkookie....he looks like he’s gonna cry...” His fingers flutter down to where his cock is fucking into you, tracing the seam of your pussy and scooping up the wetness of your arousal. You groan when he slips two fingers in along with his cock, stretching you out a bit more.

“You can take it.... Your body ...fuck... so tight and so fucking hot...you were built for this... the perfect little doll...”

You feel yourself slipping but then there’s a familiar warm body, pressed up against your back and you sigh as Jungkook grips your waist holding you up steadier, lining his dick up against your pussy.

“Gonna push in, sweetheart.” Jungkook presses a wet kiss against your shoulder.

“Just relax....don’t clench down....relax and your body will do all the work for you angel...relax and you can take both of us in...” Taehyung whispers. You breathe in deep, exhaling harshly. Fear is still simmering on the surface. you’ve never done something like this before.

“Ready...” He prompts and you take a deep breath, letting your limbs go limp on the exhale and Jungkook pushes in , cleaving his way into your body with one smooth stroke.

The pressure is unbearable and you feel like you’re being split apart. But you also feel so incredibly full, both of them lodged so deep inside you that you can feel them in your gut. You let your eyes shut close, dropping your head down on Taehyung’s shoulder.

“Ready, kook-ah?” Taehyung says suddenly and you eyes fly open. Ready for what.

Without warning, Jungkook pulls out and just as he pushes back in Taehyung pulls out.

Your entire body clenches at the sensation, pleasure hitting every single inch of you as they set up a rhythm , taking turns to fuck into you and you can only hang on , gripping Taehyung’s shoulders as your body burns hotter and hotter, fire licking up your insides where you feel swollen and tender and fucking ruined.

This time when you cum, you black out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up in an unfamiliar room, showered and wearing a really big white t shirt and a pair of silk boxers and you blush.

God this was embarrassing. You’re feeling surprisingly okay, consider what just happened. A little sore but nothing too terrible.

The knock on the door makes you jump.

“Come in .” You said softly.

Its Taehyung.

“Hey... How are you doing ?” He asks with a little smile, a glass of water in his hand and you feel yourself flushing.

“I... is Jimin around... “ You ask desperately.

“He’s gone home. You sort of passed out so I brought you here.” He was staring at you so intently, you couldn’t quite think clearly.

“Oh well.. I’m fine.. you should drop me home.” You say shrilly.

"i called your mother. Told her you were having a sleepover with my sister. So you can crash here for the night. ”

“Your sister? “ you blink

“Taehee? She’s in pre med....”

“Oh...okay.” you smile awkwardly.

“I’ll leave the door open. I’m in the guest room down the hall.” he says pointing.

that startles you.

You look around curiously, finally noticing the posters and the basket ball jersey in the closet.

“this is your room?”

He nods.

“ I can sleep in the guest room!”

He smiles.

“The bed’s lumpy there.”

You bite your lips, fighting a smile.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Or maybe you just want your sheets to smell like me.” You don’t know where this is coming from. Are you really flirting with Kim Taehyung?

He laughs.

“Maybe. Good night, ------”

He locks the door behind him as he leaves.

~~~~~~~!~~~~~~~~

Author’s note : how to waste two hours : a memoir by me.

#taehyung smut #jungkook smut #maknaeline smut #bts smut #bts au #bts fics

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

last call | jjk x reader

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: 18+

word count: 4.4K

synopsis: jeon jungkook is the hottest bartender in the city. everyone has their sights set on him, but it seems he has his sights set on you.

warnings: oral (female receiving), protected sex, jungkook thirst, excessive jungkook thirst, hello we’re talking about jungkook here -- there is a jungkook-sized amount of thirst, unsanitary use of a space designated for food and beverage

A/N: this fic is a commission for the @ficswithluv special project “Changes with Luv”. The awesome @dee-ehn made a donation to BLM for this fic and she asked for sexy times with long-haired JK with tattoos and dammit that’s what she’s gonna get. Thanks so much for making the donation, this is a cool way for authors like me to pitch in for an important cause!

*********************

Jeon Jungkook is the sexiest man in this city.

That’s not a matter of opinion, that’s an actual fact -- voted into law by you and the rest of the Council of The Thirsty after a night of downing shots at The Black Swan. The four of you piled into the bar’s single-stall restroom to check lipstick and chat shit and it was decided, that was that.

The Black Swan is open long after the other nearby bars and restaurants have locked up for the night. After the tables have been cleared and the tips have been counted, it’s where just about everyone who works in the service industry in this part of town ends up for a post-shift nightcap. They’re drawn by the late hours and the strong drinks and, well --

Jeon Jungkook.

On any given night, his bar is packed with flirts -- men and women alike -- all hoping for just a taste of his attention. You can’t blame them, really. It’s far too easy to get lost in Jungkook’s massive, dark eyes, or that slow, confident smile. And it’s far too hard to look away when he tucks an errant strand of inky hair behind his ear or when he rolls his sleeves up to reveal those toned forearms covered with tattoos.

Jungkook works his bar with the confidence of a man who understands his magnetism, a man who understands why people get sucked into his orbit and never want to leave.

Suckers just like you.

*************************

Jägermeister is totally fucking disgusting and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

You’ve just bellied up to the bar to grab a drink when Jeon Jungkook drops a shot of the foul shit right in front of you. The look you give him is equal parts confused and revolted.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, come on,” he teases with a smile, “You work at a bar. Don’t tell me you don’t recognize a shot of Jäger.”

“Oh, I recognize it,” you tease back. “I just refuse to acknowledge it. Who sent this to me?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes playfully, pulls another shot glass from under the bar and pours himself a shot of the dark, thick liqueur.

He holds it up in the air and waits for you to do the same.

“I did.”

Your eyebrows shoot sky-high in surprise. Jeon Jungkook buying you a shot?

You’re probably just in the right place at the right time, you reason. The lucky recipient of a free drink because he’s in the mood to get one, too.

Or unlucky, you correct yourself -- looking down at the glass. But one more look at Jungkook and you know there’s no way you’re going to refuse the offering.

You’re picky, but you’re damned sure not stupid.

You raise your shot glass in the air and Jungkook looks pleased.

“Bottoms up,” he says, eyes twinkling.

***********************

Something strange happens a few nights later.

You’re seated at a high-top near the bar with your girlfriends when you hear Jungkook call something out across the room. Your friends freeze, wide eyes and shocked stares focused on you for one awkward moment.

He says it again, this time louder -- and there’s no mistaking it.

It’s your name.

You ignore the frantic whispering of your girlfriends and stand up from your seat at the high-top to approach Jungkook’s bar. He’s leaned over it, hands bracing the dark wood -- pen tucked neatly behind his ear. His long dark hair is pulled back into a glossy knot, but one lock has fallen into his eyes.

He looks insanely good -- but honestly, what’s new?

You clear your throat before you approach so you don’t croak your way through whatever comes next. Spine straight, you get close, slide into a barstool and do your best to appear casual.

“What’s up?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna threaten you with any more shots of Jäger,” he laughs, flashing his million-watt smile. You smile back, hoping he can’t hear the holy shits and what the fucks flying at the table behind you. “I’ve got something else for you tonight.”

“Okay,” you breathe, dazzled by the personal attention he’s bestowing on you. “What’s on the menu?”

Jungkook reaches for two fresh shot glasses and pulls a heavy amber bottle from the well behind his bar.

“Grand Marnier,” you answer for him, watching as he pours you both a shot. “An upgrade from Jäger, that’s for sure,” you tease.

He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the most goddamned adorable way possible. “I figured this might be more your speed.”

Figured how? As far as you know, he doesn’t know a thing about you -- apart from the fact that you usually drink a vodka tonic.

And your name, apparently. How does he know your name, anyway?

“Cheers,” he says in that low, sexy voice, and you shiver.

“Cheers,” you agree, tongue swiping at the taste of the sweet liqueur on your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes darken for a split-second and heat creeps up your neck.

“So, um -- how do you know my name?”

You can thank the alcohol for giving you the courage to ask. Sober you wouldn’t be nearly so forward.

Jungkook shrugs. “I’ve seen it on your credit card.”

“Ah,” you smile. “Well, thanks, again. Next time, I’ll be the one buying, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” he grins.

But as you’re walking back to your table something dawns on you.

You turn and head back to the bar.

“Hold on a second,” you say, eyes narrowed at Jungkook. “I’ve never paid with a credit card here. I always pay my tab in cash.”

“Hmmm,” he murmurs -- and fuck if the slow smile that spreads across his features doesn’t make your panties wet right then and there.

“Is that right?”

**************************

“Jeon Jungkook wants to fuck you.”

“For the love of God, Tifa,” you hiss, ducking your head. “Keep your voice down. Jungkook and every last one of his ancestors can hear you when you’re talking that loud.”

Tifa shrugs, unbothered.

“I said what I said,” she sniffs, checking for non-existent dirt under her nails. “You see any of us getting free shots from The Golden One? Or any of the other women in here, for that matter?”

Well, she’s kind of got a point there, doesn’t she?

You have no idea why you seem to have captured Jeon Jungkook’s attention, but you’re not going to question it, that’s for sure. You’re going to enjoy your good fortune while it lasts.

“He’s being nice,” you argue, and even you aren’t buying it the second the lame deflection comes out of your mouth. Tifa rolls her eyes.

“You know what else would be nice? Getting dicked down by the hottest man in town. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

You sigh.

It would be, actually. The part of your brain that entertains such outlandish fantasies has been working overtime these days, imagining exactly what that would be like. Imagining the body that lies underneath that sinfully fitted shirt and the almost-too-tight-but-not-quite jeans.

Jungkook certainly walks and talks and moves like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing in bed. You’d love nothing more than to know if there’s any truth to that theory.

You chance a glance over your shoulder, back to the bar -- and Jungkook is deep in conversation with a patron. She’s leaning over the bar, practically throwing herself at the man, but he looks away from her to catch sight of you. His picture-perfect face breaks into a wide smile and you break into a sweat.

“See what I mean?” Tifa asks, brow raised when you turn back to face her. “The man is trying to fuck you. I’ll be right here after he does, waiting to say I told you so.”

You sputter a laugh into the rim of your glass.

“We’ll see about that, T.”

*************************

Nothing ruins the end of a night of drinking quite like last call.

All the fun screeches to a halt when the house lights come on. No one looks good under the harsh fluorescents that hum to life as tabs are being paid and drinks are being slammed and tables are being wiped -- no one.

Well, no one except for Jeon Jungkook, of course.

He’s in the weeds tonight -- trying to settle tabs for at least twenty people all trying to cash out at the same time. He nods in your direction to confirm he’s seen you, that he’ll get to you -- that eventually you’ll get your chance to pay.

So you wait. And wait.

The crowd starts to thin as Jungkook closes tabs at top speed -- tip jar flush with obscene amounts of cash. No one tips better than people who make a living on them -- and tonight is no exception. From what you can tell it’s been a good night for Jungkook.

Hell, every night is probably a good night when you’re Jeon Jungkook.

You sip what’s left of your vodka tonic and scroll through your phone while you patiently wait for your turn -- then promptly lose track of time.

How long have you been sitting here?

It’s only when your ears pick up on the echo in this place that you look up from the screen. Jungkook is cashing some guy out -- and as you take a look around you realize this guy must be the last person in this place.

Correction -- you are the last person in this place, or at least you will be in about thirty seconds.

Your pulse picks up as Jungkook wraps the transaction and sends the guy out the door with a friendly wave. You’re definitely the only two people left in The Black Swan now, no doubt.

“So uh -- ” you drag the sound out on a nervous breath, “ -- I still need to pay my tab.”

Jungkook flips the house lights back off before sauntering to your end of the bar, wearing his most dangerous smile. He dries his hands with the towel at his waist then sets it aside.

“Your tab was paid hours ago.”

Oh.

“Because you paid it,” you say slowly, forcing yourself to drag your eyes from the man’s muscled thighs and trim waist to his flawless face. Your heart stops a bit at the smirk you find when you finally get there.

“Yup.”

You grab for what’s left of your vodka tonic and slug it down.

Jungkook laughs.

“You want me,” he says, fingers working the top buttons of his fitted shirt open. You watch with wide eyes, so distracted by the action that you barely process what he’s said.

“Wait, what?” you ask in a daze.

“You want me,” he repeats casually, like it’s no big deal. His fingers stop only a few buttons down, the tease -- but he chooses that same moment to pull his hair out of the loose knot he’s been wearing all night. The dark strands fall into his face and you stare like a moron.

“What makes you say that?” you ask, weakly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jungkook teases. “My vision is 20/20. My hearing is pretty good, too -- though it would be pretty hard not to overhear the things you and your friends say about me.”

Dammit, Tifa, I told you to keep your voice down.

“Yikes,” you murmur on a shaky laugh. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” he says with no hesitation. “‘Cause I want you, too.”

You pull back from the bar so far, your stool nearly tips over. Jungkook waits for you to right yourself in amused silence. Then he waits for you to speak.

“I’m, I -- “ you sputter, searching for things like words and thoughts. Jungkook’s brows lift as he awaits whatever is on the other end of that sentence. “ -- I think I need another drink.”

Jungkook winks before reaching down to pull glasses from under the bar. He sets a brown bottle with a familiar orange label down beside them. You hold your breath when you see him walk out from behind the bar to slide into the stool next to yours.

“Fireball,” you say thickly, watching him pour the cinnamon liqueur into the shot glasses. He nods, handing you your glass.

“Think this will help?” he asks, smiling wickedly.

“No way to know but to do it,” you smile back.

You clink the glasses together before draining them.

You can almost feel the alcohol working its way through your veins. The warm burn of it starts in your throat, slides low into your belly and spreads out through your arms and legs.

“Think that did the trick?” he asks in a low voice, dark eyes fixed on your every move. He leans closer.

“I don’t know,” you admit. He’s close enough now you can smell the warm cinnamon on his breath. Between the booze and the hormones, you’re starting to feel a little reckless. “That depends. Are you trying to fuck me in this bar?”

“Absolutely,” Jungkook deadpans. You suck in a breath.

“Then I think we’ll probably need one more.”

Jungkook chuckles as he refills your glasses. His eyes glint with unconcealed mischief when you knock the second round back. This time, the warmth that spreads down your throat seems to pool between your thighs.

You dip the pad of one finger into the remnants left in the shotglass, emboldened by the buzz you can feel coming on. Jungkook watches rapt as you slip it between your lips. You are weightless and shameless by now, more than prepared for the moment he slips two fingers under your jaw to tip your mouth up towards his.

He tastes like the pleasant spice in the alcohol and he smells like sweat and bodywash and your senses are overwhelmed. Your fingers dive right into his hair, desperate to feel the silky strands between your fingertips.

“Fireball was a good idea,” Jungkook groans between kisses, hands going to your back to pull you close. You stand out of your barstool to position yourself between his thighs. “I like the way you think.”

He pulls away to tug at the hem of your shirt.

“Take this off,” he orders with a quiet authority that makes you desperate to comply. His eyes are heavy-lidded; glued to the nipples pebbling underneath the thin cotton. You cross your arms across your body and lift the shirt over your head.

Jungkook doesn’t bother to take your bra off. You jolt with surprise when he surges forward, mouth seeking the skin peeking out of the soft cups. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses across the heated flesh before leaning low to graze the outline of one nipple. You jerk at the sensation -- at the way his lips and tongue and teeth make the fabric rub against the straining buds.

“Oh, God,” you hiss, “That feels good.”

Jungkook pushes the straps of your bra off your shoulders, eyes dark and focused when your breasts spill out of the cups and your nipples are exposed to the cool air in the bar. You shudder.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, touching his tongue to your nipples now without a barrier. You allow yourself to run your fingers through his hair again, anchoring yourself to him to keep steady in the onslaught.

It’s bad manners that you haven’t pulled yourself together enough to thank him for the compliment, but how can you be expected to think straight when his teeth are scraping against your nipples?

Jungkook pauses to look up at you -- eyes smoldering, lips swollen with use -- and you squirm in his hold. “You should take these jeans off,” he whispers, fingers slipping into the belt loops. He tugs at them gently. “I wouldn’t want them to get wet.”

Oh honey -- that ship has sailed.

You nod slowly and Jungkook leans back in his stool, eyes hooded as you unbutton the denim, slide it down your legs and step out of it.

“You gonna take any clothes off, or am I the only one stripping tonight?” you tease, shivering at the loss of his body heat.

A slow smile spreads over his face. “We’re getting to that, I promise.”

He reaches across the bar for the bottle of Fireball and your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Wait, are you gonna -- “

“Yeah,” he cuts in, dripping the cool liquid onto your breast. His lips swipe at the liqueur that spills over your nipple and you groan out loud. “I own this bar,” he teases, his warm tongue a stark contrast to the cold alcohol. “I can do whatever I want in here.”

You certainly can.

He drips more of the liquid onto a nipple and watches with satisfaction as it slides down your skin. He laps at the cinnamon taste as his hands roam the sensitive skin of your stomach and down to the band of your panties. Your breath hitches in your chest.

“I can do whatever I want on here, too,” he smirks, nodding at the bar. You laugh.

“You’re the boss, right?”

“Exactly,” Jungkook winks, before his hands drop to your waist. His grip is firm as he helps lift you on to the bartop.

You brace your hands against the wood and watch as he slips his fingers under the satin seam of your panties. In this position, you have a front-row seat to what is sure to be the hottest sexual experience of your life. Jungkook’s brows knit in concentration and his tongue swipes across his lips as he pulls your soaking panties away from your legs. The sight of him preparing to debauch you on top of his bar alone could make you come.

He steadies you with firm hands to either side of your hips before dipping his head down to test your taste with a light flick of his tongue. You buck in his grasp and he muffles his laughter against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “You’re not allowed to fall off of my bar,” he teases. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you laugh, fingertips gripping the bartop for dear life.

Jungkook pulls his mouth away from your aching center and you damned near whine at the loss of his warmth. But in a split-second he’s back, and so is the Fireball.

“Just a little,” he rasps, tipping the bottle to the side. You hiss as the frigid liquid seeps down into the crux of your thighs. Jungkook purses his lips and blows a puff of air against you, sparking an intense tingling sensation and earning a loud whimper. He’s satisfied with your response, if the look on his face is any indication -- but his wicked smile disappears from view when he lowers his mouth to your center again.

“Fuck,” you gasp, head dropping back between your shoulders. “God, that feels good.”

“Tell me what it feels like,” he whispers, slipping one long, calloused finger into your channel. The added sensation makes you whine when he swipes his tongue against your clit.

“Like --,” you gasp and try again to formulate a thought. “Like fire and ice.”

He hums his approval of that assessment right into your cunt and you nearly break your promise not to fall off his bar. Your arms are shaking with the same tension that is building between your legs. Jungkook pulls back to drip more of the Fireball onto your sensitive center and you shudder.

The alcohol burns a bit, a pleasant pain that is somehow heightened by Jungkook’s warm, wet mouth. He doesn’t rush, seemingly content to take his time as you slowly come undone.

“I’m so close,” you whimper, elbows threatening to buckle underneath you. Jungkook finally picks up the pace, tonguing you deep as your thighs tighten in anticipation.

“I can feel how bad you want to come, sweetheart,” he goads, finger crooking inside of you, stimulating that spot that makes you feel like you can’t see straight. “Do it.”

The moans Jungkook pulls from you in those final seconds are made all the more obscene by the echoing inside this empty bar. Every muscle in your body tightens and then melts as your orgasm hits with the intensity of a freight train. Jungkook seals his mouth over your cunt to capture the wetness he’s earned, prolonging the sensations, prolonging your moans.

It takes a moment for the roar in your ears to subside, for your ability to focus to return. When you can hear and see and think again, you look back down to the space between your thighs and find Jungkook wearing a look of utter satisfaction.

“Believe it or not, that’s the first time I’ve eaten pussy on top of my bar,” he teases, dimples emerging as his lips quirk into a smile. “How has your service been tonight?”

“Pretty good,” you taunt, a lot ballsier with a few shots and an orgasm under your belt. “Would be a hell of a lot better if my bartender would take his clothes off.”

Jungkook feigns a wounded look as his fingers work the rest of the buttons on his shirt open to reveal a tight white tank underneath. He pulls that overhead and reveals the body you’ve been fantasizing about for so long. Whatever you’d imagined was lying underneath those clothes pales in comparison to the real thing. His body looks cut from stone, his smooth skin the perfect canvas for the tattoos that run across his arms and onto his chest.

“Better now?” he chuckles.

“Not yet,” you say, savoring the power of your position on the bar. You watch his one-woman striptease with the hint of a smile on your lips. “The jeans have to go.”

“Bossy,” he mocks, fingers unbuttoning the dark denim. Your jaw drops about the same time the jeans do.

“Well,” you laugh, slipping down off of the bar to stand in front of him. “Your review has just improved.”

He smiles into the kiss you plant on him as your fingers snake between you to wrap around his cock. He thrusts firmly into the tight grasp of your fingers as his tongue delves deep into your mouth. He sucks in a breath when your thumb teases as the moisture gathered at the tip of his cock.

“My cock is gonna explode if I don’t bury it between those thighs,” Jungkook groans and you shudder from head to toe. “Turn around for me.”

You do as you're told, turning away from him to brace your weight against the bartop. You can see Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror that lines the back wall of the bar. You watch as he grabs a condom from the back pocket of his jeans and makes quick work of rolling it down his thick length.

He presses the length of his warm body against yours, and you tense when the blunt head of his cock teases your entrance. One hand lines up his cock and the other grips the soft skin of your hip. He looks at you in the reflection of the mirror and your knees almost give out when he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Let me in, sweetheart.”

You arch back just as he sinks inside -- going to the hilt in one firm stroke.

“Shit,” he groans between gritted teeth. “Fuck, that’s a tight fit.”

“Oh, God --” you gasp as he begins to rock against you. After a few languid strokes he sets a steady rhythm, hips smacking against your ass with the force of his thrusts.

He leans over you, bracketing you in with one arm braced on the bar while the other helps guide your hip. Your eyes fall closed and your head drops forward as you push back against him, rendered boneless by the thick slide of his cock. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoes loud in the empty bar.

Jungkook leans down to take your earlobe between his teeth and you whimper.

“Look at me,” he orders in a whisper. “Open your eyes.”

Your eyes snap open to find Jungkook’s reflection and the sight nearly makes you come undone for a second time. His damp hair is falling into his face, body covered in a sheen of sweat and his mouth is curled into a dangerous smile.

“That’s it,” he murmurs when your eyes meet in the mirror. “I want you to see how good you’re getting fucked.”

Your rhythm falters at his provocation but Jungkook refuses to let either of you get off track. He drops both hands to your hips and begins pounding into you with relentless strokes, huffing a laugh when you squeak in response.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he groans, thrusts going frantic. “Can you come for me again?”

You nod -- completely out of words -- reaching one hand down to the aching button between your thighs. Jungkook pulls your body back against his, angling deeper into your aching cunt at the same time your shaking fingers manage to apply a light pressure to your clit.

That’s all it takes.

You come apart a second later and Jungkook pulls your hair back to expose the column of your throat as he rides you through it. His teeth scrape against the sensitive skin of your neck as his own orgasm starts to ignite.

His fingers grip your hips so hard you’re certain there will be bruises in the morning. But it’s worth it -- so damned worth it when you get to watch Jeon Jungkook come undone for you. You’ve never seen anything sexier than Jungkook with brows knit in utter concentration, mouth slack with pleasure and coming for you. Inside of you.

You lean against the bar, legs like noodles as he comes down from his high and seconds later, he’s slumped over you, body lax against yours.

“Hey,” he says after a moment of silence, as you’re catching your breath. He leans his chin against your shoulder.

“Yeah?” you manage, craning your head to face him.

“Come back tomorrow and we can break open my bottle of Goldschläger.”

*********************

You wake with an ache between your temples and an ache between your legs.

The pounding in your head is your punishment for drinking way more than you should have last night.

The pleasant soreness lingering between your thighs is an entirely different story. That’s the only souvenir you get to keep to commemorate the best sex of your life. And it’s not going to stick around.

You roll over in bed and reach for your phone.

Tifa picks up on the first ring.

“I’m not even going to play the game with you, girl,” she says, in lieu of a proper greeting. “I just wanna know how it was.”

***********************

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #ficswithluv #changeswithluv

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the-brohood-of-hotties · 3 years

Text

Forget me not

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman REBORN! Pairing: Hibari x Reader Wordcount: 2,210

Summary: Hibari is a weird man, famous for his rather aggressive aura. After he moves into your neighborhood, an oasis inside a big neon town, Hibari Kyouya brings with him the weirdest situations into your life, as he makes a startling entrance with an accident with his "co-worker", Yamamoto Takeshi.

This is an entry for #khrevents April Angst 2021/ Day 8/ Yearning, Longing/ Reincarnation AU/ "I don't want to forget you."

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30658199

The glass door from your coffee shop and gardening club swings open, you don’t really care to see who’s there because it’s almost the end of your shift and you’re really entertained with social media, though you did greet the person entering. “ Good evening. Welcome to the Daily Lily.”

“Good evening, I’m afraid we’ll have to check out your storage.”

“Are you the police?”

“...No.” The voice seemed hesitant, you notice.

“Then I can’t help with that, we have a promotion on cheesecake today though.” You smile and finally look up, afraid it might be a man trying to mess up with you. Well, it was two men, in fact. You’ve heard the rumors around the neighborhood, that Hibari Kyouya was a man with a weird aura that just moved in alone with some exotic pets, while he seemed delicate and handsome, he just had this introverted, aggressive aura and you’d never expect him to show up in your small business as the companion of another guy. Tall, tan skin, dark hair, buff, a scar on his chin in contrast with a bright gentle smile. He seemed to carry a baseball bat in his back, which made the combination of sports and their suits really off, they both seem to be either Japanese or Korean.

While Hibari, the grumpy one, seemed to not be so happy about being with the other guy. Like a puppy and an old cat. "We don’t wanna bother you, but-..." The baseball guy was cut off by a loud noise coming from the back of the store. Normally you would be worried that your co-worker got hurt or something, but today? You’ve been alone for the second half of your shift. It’s not supposed to be noisy there, you’re frozen in the spot.

Hibari immediately bursts into the staff-only area of your shop, and before you can protest, the other guy gently grabs your shoulder. “Everything will be fine, we’ll take care of this situation. I just need you to hide in the restroom.’’

“Excuse me?!” No time for excuses, you heard someone grunting and the loud noises start getting too repetitive. Your phone was given in your hands and you basically got pushed into the room by the taller guy. “Sorry, huuh I really need to go there… ” He said as the door slammed on your face. The restroom was cozy enough, you had it decorated as you wanted, and you were firmly holding your phone in case you needed to call someone...But then, who would you be calling? The police would probably make things worse, especially because they seemed to be armed, or worse, maybe these guys are the police in disguise. You fidget your fingers along the cold black surface as a way to calm down a little, it seemed pointless. The noise was too loud to just put on earbuds and ignore them, but you realize: And if this is all a scheme? Rushing to peek at the door, as your eyes meet the pastel walls of the store, you realize it seems like no one’s here at all. Until you hear the cranky storage door opening, and as soon as you see the Baseball guy again, you close the door. Don’t want him thinking you’ve been spying on whatever happened in the storage, with your heart racing, you hear a gentle knock on the wooden door, accompanied by his voice. “Everything is fine! You can come out. I’m sorry I didn’t say my name before, I’m Yamamoto Takeshi and my company here is Hibari Kyouya.”

Decide to close the shop soon as you could for the day, you come out of the restroom, greeted by the two men.

“I am not your partner, Yamamoto Takeshi.” He mutters, Hibari looks completely clean, you could still mistake him with a businessman. While Takeshi seems to have bruised his hand a little. You offer him your first-aid kit which he accepts, then you close the curtains so there’s no curiosity about that’s going on inside. “So, what happened in my storage?” You cross your arms, with a cotton stained with blood between your fingers, slightly annoyed by the whole situation. Making mental notes of what to tell your therapist later, then going back to cleaning the dry blood on Yamamoto's calloused hand.

“Two burglars, they were armed but easy to deal with.” Hibari finally says something directed to you, maybe it’s the first time he bothered to look in your eyes. Not that you’re annoyed by that, perhaps he’s just introverted. But at the same time, now that he looked at your face, it's like something inside him got frozen, awkward. It's such a weird feeling, especially since he doesn't really show it off, you just can tell. “Are you guys police officers?” You change the subject, brushing it off your mind, Hibari looks away, you can’t tell if he’s offended by being compared to a cop or something else. “Not at all! We just know how to handle them. We’ll send you a check to compensate for the damage and the working time you spent in the restroom as well.” Yamamoto finished his bandage and happily hands you paper and pen. “Just write down your shop’s address and info and the check will arrive in 3 to 5 days.”

You couldn’t really believe in such kindness, or at least knowing how to deal with the consequences of their vigilante work but since they already know the shop you write it down anyway. “ Are you all putting me in some pyramid scheme? You two seem like stage actors.” They do look like handsome actors, you think.

“We aren’t.” Hibari actually pulls out an unused bullet from his pocket to show they’re not lying, effective but scary. He just turns away and keeps browsing the plants you got for sale, examining the quality of an English Ivy’s vine. “Don’t scare them, c’mon. Isn’t this shop your neighbor now?” Yamamoto jokes around, Hibari sends him a deadly look and you decide you won’t touch the neighbor subject ever again.

“If you two excuse me, I have to close the shop and go home. It’s getting late and I don't plan to work more today.” You operate the register and turn off your computer for the day, swinging the keys in your index finger. Anxious to get home to your cat and a nice hot bath to relax. “Thank you again for your kindness, next time you visit the shop anything from the coffee and plants is on me. But don't do crazy stuff again.” You smile as everyone leaves the inside area with you. “By the way, who’s going to take these two burglars out? Did you guys called the police?”

“Kusakabe already took them, before you got out of the restroom.” Hibari says in a beat, interrupting Yamamoto before he could say something else. “Who’s that?” You raise an eyebrow, the Baseball guy blurts out, dismissing any curiosity you might have. “He’s a friend of ours who’s actually a cop!” That’s weird, you didn’t even see a vehicle, and usually, when cops stopped around they were always noisy and had the blue and red lights on. Off-duty cops, detectives, spies, what are these people doing around? Your curiosity around these two can only grow. It’s not like your hometown has anything important in the first place. Anyway, you say your goodbyes and already invited them to come once more. Perhaps it will be good to have these two around, at least against burglars.

Hibari turns to Yamamoto as soon as you disappeared in a street corner, with earbuds on, bursting your playlist for a nice walk and everything “That’s why we shouldn’t operate with any civilians nearby, we might be compromised now.”.

“It wasn’t that bad, I think they got to sympathize with us, it’ll be just a weird day on their life.” Takeshi stretches his arms, it’s quite complicated to deal with you and Hibari all at once. “But, still if we didn’t interfere these guys might take them hostage, steal the shop, or whatever their intentions were. We’re lucky you saw they had guns when passing by the street.”

“I am sure Kusakabe will find out their true intentions, but meanwhile we cannot afford to bring attention to us. No more.” Hibari walked down the street, ready to get to his new apartment. “And, Yamamoto.”

“What?”

“If you get back here in the shop, don’t do anything weak and stupid.” A threat, how much that suits him, it must be a serious matter, no wonder the Foundation decided to settle in that small town for a while. Once Hibari got home, greeted by Hibird’s singing, he lets out a long sigh. What happened today? Two Mafia men going out for a civilian’s small business as if it’s a serious matter for them. But especially, the Cloud Guardian feels like he just knows you from somewhere. Your voice and eyes seem oddly familiar, but if he was to put this feeling into words it’ would simply smell like bullshit. Herbivore bullshit. He takes a long shower, and gets to bed to read something before sleeping, but can’t concentrate on his book. It can’t be, he even loses sleep and feels exhausted, only falling asleep when his body couldn’t take it anymore.

He wakes up in a bad mood, feeds Hibird and Roll, and opens his fridge: nothing, just a bottle of water. Well, he has to remind Kusakabe to do his groceries, but for now, he’ll be ok with going to your shop for breakfast. He gets changed from his kimono to casual clothing, it’s 07:00 AM when he walks down the block and notices no one’s inside the shop beside you, as he opened the door a ring is heard, you turn your head to see who’s there, the shop seems clean and decorated with paper and fairy lights hanging on the wall, plus with the plants of all sorts, making the place lively, with soft lo-fi music in the background. “Hey, good morning Sir.” He murmurs a response and orders blueberry pancakes with a black coffee on the balcony. “Thanks for coming after yesterday, I came here earlier to clean but your partner Kusakabe was waiting at the door to help me out.”

“Good.” As you manage the register, he notices you have cupcakes with colorful glaze and cutesy decor right beside you, and a poster that he can’t read from that distance. You see he’s staring at something and offers him one of the cupcakes. “Today I’m throwing a small event here, the shop will celebrate 2 years of business, come by if you want to.”

“I’m not letting you give me everything in the shop for free.” He rejects and suits himself a table nearby the window. “I don’t like parties, or crowded places so I’ll stop by tomorrow.” This hurts your ego a little bit, but it would probably be embarrasing to have a stranger around, he’s quiet most of the time. You wonder if Yamamoto is more of a party person, then, your thoughts drift to the question: Is Yamamoto Takeshi single? He doesn’t have a wedding ring, and neither does Hibari.

You shake your head before you could turn red in front of him. “Well, I’ll save you a piece of cake my parents made then.” You say, as you get prepared to do everything for today’s menu ready.

“You don’t have to.” Ouch. You decide to not offer him more things, but this behaviour makes you wonder if he has a jealous partner.

Usually you let everything sort-of-ready so you just need to heat them in the oven on the back of the balcony. Cooking is time-consuming, but at least it’s pretty lucrative. “I think I’ll take around 30 minutes since you’re an early bird. You can use a laptop to work or shop for flowers if you like stuff like gardening.” You turn your head to talk to him, but to your surprise, he’s already looking at some pots and examining some other gardening products you have around, you didn't expect him to be this kind of person, gardening takes nurturing, care, and a lot of attention towards a living being who doesn't even communicate like animals. He does like gardening apparently, you expected him to pull off a MacBook and have an online meeting over his meal or something, maybe doing finances of whatever organization he's probably the leader at, at least that's what his expensive suit tells. When you get to serve his plate, the spare chair has a basket full of gardening materials, seeds for fruits and veggies, some pots, a small rake, and a trowel.

As the clients come in and you get busier, he didn’t want to be a burden, so he just sat there and tried to enjoy his breakfast, even though the place was a little more crowded than he would like to. But still, Hibari can manage that for a bit, and then he realizes how the situation just got weirder to him, how come he’s doing that for you? And why did you felt so familiar? Spending most of his life there, just occasionally traveling he never noticed a person that matched that specific scene in his head. Is this some Herbivore bullshit? Maybe. Hibari is still pondering over this subject but as long as no one from the Foundation or Vongola finds out, he just found out a place with good pancakes, open from Monday to Saturday, how convenient. The whole saved your business and life thing or the fact that you’re attractive is just a small detail. When he’s done, Hibari gets up from his table and your co-worker comes to clean his spot. He takes his basket to the balcony for payment, but not before adding a purple flower to his shop list. When he gets to pass all the products, which usually the clients would take one or two plants, but he got around seven, letting the purple flower for last.

A small vase blooming with forget-me-nots, as you pass it on the register, you read the silly little tag you put in some pots as decoration, each has a quirky phrase or pun with the names, that one reads:

“Don’t forget about me”.

#hibari kyoya #KHR Fandom #khr fanfic #fanfiction #reader #hibari x reader #yamamoto takeshi #forget me not #I kinda want to continue this fanfic hhhh

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chaseatinydream · 4 years

Text

pirate king (2) || atz

“All the dried fruit has been accounted for.”

You fight down the yelp that had almost left your mouth, trying to quieten your breathing as much as possible. Two men, from the sound of their voices, are inspecting the food stocks. You’re going to be found.

“How much salted fish?” The deeper, lower voice you heard giving commands earlier asks his partner, and you pick up the sound of a pen scratching across paper.

“Enough to last us two weeks, if Jongho doesn’t eat them all by the first.” The second voice, softer and gentler, quips and they both share a laugh.

“That kind smile hides a darker mind beneath, Seonghwa-hyung.” The speaker with the deeper voice comments with a rolling chuckle. You’re still frozen in fear as they continue to take inventory, but them finding you is inevitable.

“How much alcohol did we get?” The person she assumes to be Seonghwa asks and you hear the sound of barrels shifting. “San needs some of it to treat the wounded.”

“Enough rum to last us till Tortuga and some wine and beer on the side.” His partner replied, writing some more things down. “I’m sure we can spare a barrel or two, not many of them got injured.”

“That’s a relief.” You can hear the worry leave Seonghwa’s voice, but your panic levels are jumping as you hear them move ever closer to you. “I heard Yunho didn’t have a scratch on him.”

“Neither did Jongho.” The other man snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already down here, chomping his way through the apples. Look, the sacking fell. I’ll get it.”

And suddenly the sackcloth is pulled away from your head.

You don’t have time to think. Lunging forward, you headbutt the man who removed the sackcloth from you in the face and you hear him let out a howl of pain, letting go of the sacking to clutch his bleeding nose. Your eyes dart around desperately for an escape route, but before you can move, someone slams you against the wall, the tip of a razor sharp knife pressed to your throat.

“Don’t move.” It’s the softer man, Seonghwa, although his grey eyes are hard as stone now. You can’t look away, transfixed, and he continues to speak, eyes never leaving yours. “Mingi, you alright?”

The man he addresses has a long, face with strong, defined features and narrowed eyes, tiny braids done in his cerulean blue hair. He’s tall, taller than you by about a head. He gives you a resentful scowl. “I think he broke my nose.” The words come out thickly as the man you now know to be Mingi cups both hands over his face, trying to stem the flow of blood.

Then it hits you.

He?

It’s true you’re not especially curvy and your chest has been bound by strips of cloth, but you didn’t expect to fool people so easily.

“I’m sorry.” You manage to choke out. Seonghwa and Mingi exchange surreptitious glances.

“You should get San to look at that, Mingi.” Seonghwa advises, worry written all over his face. Mingi nods wearily, blood falling through the cracks in his fingers and staining the ground.

“Let’s get this kid to Hongjoong-hyung first.” The taller man sighs, grabbing you by the shoulder with a bloody hand and pushing you towards the stairs you had tumbled down from. Pain lances up your ankle, but you steel yourself and step on it anyway.

It’s excruciating, but you don’t dare to show any weakness. They might toss you overboard. Or feed you to the sharks. You don’t know and you really don’t want to find out.

You bite on the inside of your cheek so hard you taste blood, but you manage to make it onto the main deck. Many faces turn and look upon you with surprise, then they see Mingi bleeding from the nose and their expressions turn threatening. One even draws his sword.

You flinch back into Seonghwa, who steadies you by the shoulders, while Mingi addresses the crew.

“I’m fine!” He shouts through his bloody nose, which obviously isn’t fine. “Everyone back to work, please.”

There’s a disconcerting silence as if they’re still planning on how to kill you in every way possible, but they eventually turn back to their work cleaning the cannons and securing the sheets. Mingi turns back to you.

“This way.” He says gruffly, pulling you up another flight of stairs, Seonghwa at the rear. You bite back another whimper of pain, but Seonghwa hears it.

On the quarter deck, you catch sight of a man at the wheel. He’s young, almost your age, dressed all in red with patchwork black pants. His ash blonde hair falls into his eyes and the back is done in a neat mullet. But the most eye catching thing about him is the black eye patch he has over his right eye, the confidence he stands with despite his age and how he’s steering the ship as if the oceans bow at his feet.

Something in him calls out to you.

“Hongjoong-ah, we found a stowaway in the cargo hold.” Seonghwa calls over you shoulder as Mingi forces you to your knees. The man at the wheel doesn’t take his eye off the sea for a moment, pulling a length of rope from around his waist and lashing the wheel in position. Only then does he turn around.

“Mingi, take the helm- What happened to you, Mingi?” The helmsman’s voice is almost an entire octave higher than Mingi’s, almost too cute to be a pirate’s. His eyes rake over the bloody nose on Mingi’s face, before his expression settles into a frown.

“Got headbutted by our stowaway here.” Mingi jerks a thumb at your face and Hongjoong’s one eye follows it down, coming to rest on you. His fingers dance on the hilt of one of the two cutlasses hanging at his hip.

You gulp. “I said I was sorry.” You mutter under your breath.

Hongjoong’s eye drills into you, a calm, unbothered smile on his face that terrifies you more than if he were furious. “Well, I guess I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I?” The side of his lips pull up in a smirk. “This ship is the Treasure and we’re the pirate band ATEEZ. I’m Kim Hongjoong, the helmsman and captain of this ship.”

At that, your mouth falls open. This man can’t be any more than twenty two, but he’s the captain? Hongjoong nods at the dumbstruck expression on your face, the chilling smile never leaving his face. “What about you, Royal Navy scum?”

Seonghwa and Mingi’s expressions change to shock in seconds and Seonghwa even begins to draw that wicked long kitchen knife from his belt.

You pause at that. “Royal Navy?” Your lips pull downwards in a frown. What is the Royal Navy?

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Hongjoong’s not smiling now and you feel the air drop several degrees. Your teeth want to start chattering but you force a terrified smile on your face. Hongjoong’s eyebrows lower into a frown.

“The coat you are wearing is of Royal Navy make. An officer’s, I might add. It may be beaten and torn up, but I’d recognize that rose insignia anywhere.” He jerks his chin at the red patches on the shoulders. Sure enough, you can see the rose stitched into the fabric. “So what is your purpose here? If you answer truthfully I might simply shoot you instead of having you flogged to death.”

He doesn't sound like he's joking.

Goosebumps race along your skin and you know that your face has drained of colour. You don’t even remember your own name, how are you supposed to remember where you got this stupid coat? So you start rambling.

“Okay actually I just woke up this morning in the prison of the town you guys just looted like a while ago and I kind of don’t remember how I got there so like they were talking about bringing me to the gallows for some kind of public hanging and I don’t really know why they wanted to hang me so when you attacked I just tried to escape and ended up in the harbor so I ran up the first ship I saw which was your ship and tried to get away from the fighting so I went into the cargo hold and fell asleep there so yeah.”

There's a pause.

“What?” Mingi blinks. You open your mouth to repeat it when Hongjoong holds up a hand. You close your mouth with a clop.

“Seonghwa, go help San take care of the wounded.” He orders and Mingi stiffens as if they’ve breached some kind of taboo conversation topic. The other man visibly relaxes and exhales shakily, nodding. “Yes, captain.” Then he turns around and makes his way down to the main deck.

Hongjoong turns back to you with a calm gaze. “So, according to you, you can’t remember why they would throw a Royal navy officer such as yourself into prison?”

“I’m not a Royal Navy officer.” You retort with a scowl, meeting his gaze angrily. When he raises an eyebrow, you catch yourself, swallow and lower your head. “I’m sorry.”

“Well this is certainly the most interesting story we’ve heard from a captured Royal Navy officer, haven’t we, Mingi?” Hongjoong muses to himself, running his tongue across his lips. Mingi nods apathetically.

“He’s also the youngest.” The quartermaster adds on to the back unhelpfully.

“Tell me, what exactly did you intend to do after escaping onto my ship?” He leans back with a smile, as if expecting some silly answer. You don’t have any smart ones, so you answer honestly.

“I really wasn’t thinking that far.”

Sighing dramatically at your lackluster answer, Hongjoong nods again. His one eye is a vivid green, like a poisonous snake’s that could sink its fangs into you at any moment. He seems to be contemplating something. Then he lifts your chin with a finger so that you meet his eyes even as you try to squirm away.

“Well then, Mister I’m-Not- A-Royal-Navy-Officer.” The young captain wears that same chilling smile again, and it doesn’t make you feel any better. “How about this? We’ll tie you to the mainmast so everyone can keep watch over you and we’ll feed you enough to survive, but the moment we stop at Tortuga, I’m tossing you onto shore. If I find out that you’re one of the Royal Navy swine at any moment...”

There’s a click and suddenly there’s a musket pointed at your temple. Your body seizes up in rapid panic, blood freezing over in your veins. You hadn’t even seen him move.

“I’ll gut you like a stuck pig.” His voice is warm and smooth, right next to your ear. You don’t even realize you’re trembling until he steps back, holstering the musket in his belt with an amused smile on his face. “I’d shoot you for breaking Mingi’s nose like that, but I suppose that it won’t matter if I’m going to kill you in the end anyway. Mingi, secure the boy to the mainmast and make sure not a single man on board touches him, then get San to look at your nose.”

“I got it.” Mingi sounds almost annoyed at being babied with the repeated advice, but Hongjoong just laughs.

“I’m interested to see how long you can keep this facade up, pretty boy. Don’t worry about anything.” Hongjoong’s grin is terrifying, wild like the raging sea as he strides back to the wheel, boots clicking on the deck.

“When it finally breaks, I’ll be the one to end it all for you.”

That’s the last thing you hear before Mingi marches you down to the main deck.

You’re still freezing from the chilling encounter with the young pirate captain as Mingi pushes you towards the main mast. Even the pain in your ankle doesn’t seem to compare with the numbing terror of Hongjoong’s threat. You slump in shock against the main mast as Mingi looks upwards into the rigging.

“Yunho-ah, toss me some rope!”

Seconds later, a coil of rope slithers down the mast and Mingi wraps it around your upper torso securing your arms and torso to the mast. It’s loose enough not to cut off the circulation in your arms, but tight enough to ensure you won’t be going anywhere. And honestly, where can you go? As far as the eye can see, it’s all ocean.

You thought that escaping the gallows had been a smart move. Now it seems like you threw yourself from the frying pan into the flames.

Go home, the voice in your head whispers. You tell it to shut up savagely.

Mingi finally announces to everyone that they are not to make eye contact with you, speak to you, or have any form of interaction with you as he finishes off with several skillful knots at the back.

“That includes physical contact like beating or throwing things at him.” Mingi adds on and there’s a collective sigh of disappointment from the crew.

“You sure, quartermaster?” One of the men at the cannons pulls out his musket. “An eye for an eye, he did make you bleed!”

The rest of the crew shouts agreement, but Mingi shakes his head firmly.

“We’re pirates, not barbarians.” He chides, wiping his nose once more. The blood flow seems to have slowed to a steady trickle at least. “It’s my fault for being unprepared. Besides, these are Hongjoong’s orders. Any of you want to answer to captain?”

“Absolutely not!” The crewman declares and the deck breaks out in carefree laughter. Mingi gives a tiny smile as he straightens up from tying your bonds.

Something in your chest tugs painfully.

“Well then, don’t get me into trouble with captain.” He waves them back to their work and they do so cheerfully, all the tension in the air gone. Then Mingi turns back to you with a stern scowl.

“From what you can see, the crew isn’t exactly happy with you.” He gestures at the deck with one of his long arms. “I’d suggest you keep your mouth shut if you want to make it to Tortuga alive.”

And then he turns and leaves you alone with your thoughts, a lonely stranger on a foreign ship.

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hit-me-with-a-ladle · 3 years

Text

Ch. 8 Creepypastas x Fem! reader

Sorry I've been gone for so long. My grandfather died a month ago and I wasn't in the right mindset to write. But I'm back and ill do my best. Thank you all for your patients. Anyway, enjoy<3

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As the week progressed, the girl found that it was the slightest bit easier to read through Masky's facade. Though that did not mean that she could thoroughly read him quite yet, she made it a challenge that eventually she would. Masky himself became lenient at first as to mind her injuries. But the moment she started to heal, it was all back to the ruthless nature of his work. Finally, when the week ended, she got informed that someone else was going to teach her. That person turned out to be Ben, the blond-headed boy that seemed too eager to meet her.

An early sensation lurked in the air the moment she woke up, groggily walking to the bathroom and taking a well-deserved shower. The feeling of all of the previous days' dirt and grime washing off her punctured flesh was refreshing. Her mind was finally clear, able to freely think and dwell on her current predicament without any outside interference. The hot water trickled down her naked body, soothing her as she thought of any way she could escape. But no matter how hard she thought, deep down she knew that the only way she could truly leave was to stay a little longer to devise a plausible plan.

Sadness overtook her body, hot tears streaming down her already wet face intertwining with the water droplets from the showerhead. She'd been able to withhold her tears for a while now, not wanting to give those bastards the satisfaction. But as her current position set in her mind once more, she couldn't hold it in. It was like a never-ending loop. After being rudely introduced and forced to spend a week being trained to the bone by two different killers, she had to repeat the process with another. It felt like her own personal hell.

Feeling the scalding hot water turn cold was an indicator that it was time to get ready. Not giving a damn if she was late. Stepping out of the shower with a huff, she looked at herself in the full-body mirror. Steam covered its surface from head to toe. Though, no matter how blurry, the rough outline of all the large scars, cuts and a few red bruises that littered her body were still very much visible. The feeling and texture of her once somewhat clear skin was now a distant memory in her mind. Slowly tracing all of the scars with the tip of the rugged fingers she winced when she made contact with a few of the most recent injuries.

Getting dressed in the same greyish jump-suit she has been washing and wearing for the last few days, she went to eat breakfast. But before leaving her bedroom she looked at the nightstand, there laid the old pocket watch he gave her. For some reason, he didn't want to take it when she offered it back. Shrugging her shoulders she put it in her right pocket and headed downstairs. Reaching the kitchen, noticing that Masky must have left early. Not paying any mind to his disappearance she carried on with her day. Eating the meal she prepared for herself. Sitting there on the dining table, in total silence, patiently staring at the clock. Ben still hadn't arrived. He was already ten minutes late, to begin with, which was a significant tonal shift from Masky, who was extremely punctual and despised tardiness. After what felt like hours, a loud crash was heard that made the girl's ears perk up as she ran to the living room. Their laying spread eagle, on the front of the old television, was none other than Ben.

" What happened, how did you get in here?" The girl quickly said while helping him up. " Dammit, forgot how small the damn television was." He said under his breath, ignoring her previous question. Getting on his feet he brushed himself off giving the girl a better look. Unlike the other two men, he was significantly shorter, 162 to 165 cm or 5'4-5'5 feet tall. Medium length golden hair under a long green hat and sharp pointy elf-like ears. His pale white skin looked ceramic, almost like a doll's and thin lips with a button nose. He seemed considerably young, but she assumed that he most likely was about eighteen years of age. Though, what caught her attention were his round black eyes that had a speck of red in them that acted as pupils. He was dressed as an elf, with his bright green tunic, forest green pants and leather belt neatly tied around his waist that held a small satchel type bag.

Looking in her direction he flashed her a creepy smile that showed off his white teeth. The girl didn't know how to react to his sudden action, as she felt discomfort all around her body, shifting her weight awkwardly she chose to ask him again. " How the hell did you manage to get in here without me hearing you?" " Well, I did the same thing I'm gonna' be teaching you today. Sorcery or magic. Whatever word floats your boat." " Magic? As in witchcraft, like spells and potions?" " Yup. I mean I know Jack already told you this so I don't know why you're so shocked." He snickered, it sounded distorted. " Yeah, I remember but I didn't actually expect-not that I didn't think that it would be magic-it is just that this is all so strange, I can't believe it." " Believe it, cuz I'm gonna' be teaching ya some spells. Follow me now out the back door." He spoke loudly, shaking his hands in a flamboyant manner.

Walking swiftly to the kitchen towards the back door. The girl was visibly confused as she followed suit. Why did they have to go through the back door, it was all quite strange. Stepping out, she noticed the rather large, wooden table a few meters in front of them. Its surface is covered in all kinds of trinkets, herbs and plants. " What's all of this for?" She said, approaching the table. "I got Masky to set it up before he left, we're gonna be needing some of this stuff so I can show you the ropes and basically help you understand the basics of making potions. A skill you'd need for survival." He answered while picking up a bunch of the items off the table and stuffing them in the bag. " Oh, what do we have here?" He said excitedly under his breath " Is it Raskovnik? My god it is. I know what i'll be teaching you first now, don't I. '' He started with a laugh as he made his way towards the trees. " Where are we going now?" " To the brewery. Do you really think you will be making risky positions in front of the cabin? You humans are actually the dumbest creatures."

The girl's face scrunched up in annoyance but still kept her mouth shut. She knew better than to try and argue with these people. Biting down on her tongue she got drawn in by the scenery like most times she was out in the forest. Autom was soon approaching so the wind had started to pick up the past few days, it made the multicoloured leaves on the trees dance as it passed. It calmed her as it passed through her body. Taking in a large breath she smiled and carried on behind Ben. Dogging trees and branches as there was no pathway in this part of the forest.

" Did you get the plant?" Ben spoke up after a while, cutting the calm silence. " Sorry, what?" " Were you the one that got the Raskovnik?" He repeated the question louder. " Oh, well yeah. I got it a while back as a part of my training with Masky." She replied quickly walking to his side. " Figures. Maskys is the type to make others do his dirty work." He muttered bitterly. But the girl was still able to hear it. " So you have a bad relationship with him?" " You could say that. Most of us do. The scumbag." The air started to tense. " I guess you could call him that. But he's not always that bad, he has his moments I guess." " Not that bad? Tell me, how did you manage to get that big ass gash on your neck." He harshly replied, pointing his leather-gloved hand to her neck. She quickly covered it and looked to the side. Not responding. " As I said, he's an absolute scumbag." " Well if it isn't stepping over a boundary, mind telling me why he's so bad." " Well, to begin with, he's a sadistic prick that only cares for himself. He broke into my house and stole some of the VERY rear herbs that took me YEARS to collect. And worst of all, he's the dog of The Operator." His face darkened when he mentioned The Operator's name. " The Operator? Whos that?" The girl quickly asked, lowering her hand and looking at him with a confused look on her face. " He's one of the most powerful beings to even exist. The embodiment of evil." " So like the devil?" " No, he's not the devil, the devil is a different being, but he's still terrifying." " Why do they call him The Operator then?" " Well, like. I don't really know how to explain this to you but, imagine this forest being a very large city. Y’know how every city has a mayor or someone in charge that leads it. Well, that's what The Operator really is. The Operator isn't his real name but a nickname given to him."

With that they finally stepped into a small grass filled clearing where in the middle, was a very small cottage covered in vines, plants and flowers. The old wood that it was made of was held up the multitude of plants, securing it firmly. The half-rounded door was nicely placed in the front, a yellow brick pathway leading to it, with a square window to the side. They quickly approached the door, the girl's breath taken by the beauty. The inside itself was small, shelves were on every side of the walks, each holding a plethora of books, trinkets, herbs and plants. It was relatively messy but still easy to walk in. A cauldron was in the middle of the room with a desk stacked with papers, pens, and scrolls.

Placing the Rascovnik and emptying his bag on the desk, Ben looked at the girl. " So let's begin I guess." He said walking to the medium-sized cauldron. " What are we going to do exactly?" She quickly asked as her eyes followed him, as he walked around the cottage collecting different ingredients and placing them on the desk. " Well, you're not going to be doing anything, just taking notes." Tossing a notepad at her. " While I prepare something and explain the different things you'll need to know." " Yeah that's great but am I going to be quizzed the same way Masky quizzed me because I need to know what I should expect." She said frantically, firmly grasping the notepad to her chest. " Nah, you're not. I don't do quizzes or tests, I like doing things spontaneously y'know. And plus taking notes will help you understand things more, so just write down herb and spell names, important details and whatever else will help ya remember. K?" " Ok, I guess." Anxiety began to dwell in her mind, as she looked around. " Readdy?" He said walking in front of the cauldron, giving her a slightly crooked reassuring smile.

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alengmae · 4 years

Text

Rabble Drabble #II

Dessert: The gang finds out that Penelope bakes after getting some the before. Some are happy with this knowledge, and someone is not.

Eloise took a big mouthful at her caramel espresso cupcake and groaned at the decadence. If she can marry this particular cupcake, she would in a heartbeat. She licked the drizzle of caramel that spilled on the side. Maybe she’ll marry Penelope instead. It’s a shame she doesn’t swing that way. Her best friend was in love with the wrong Bridgerton anyway. But as long as she had access to these desserts, she’s not going to complain...much.

“Oh my. This is sinful,” Daphne exclaimed after a bite. She was going to give her husband a portion of her cupcake but she decided against it after the initial bite.

“You missed yesterday’s batch,” Benedict mumbled as tried to find the tiny morsels that fell on his shirt. “Pen made this Mint Chocolate cake and it ruined all cakes for me.”

“I’m going to come over everyday,” Daphne declared.

“Don’t you, already?” Kate ribbed her lightly, earning herself a high-five from her husband.

“Why is she writing again? She should pursue baking full time.” Simon stole half of his wife’s dessert, much to her indignation.

“Are there any more? I’m pregnant. I deserve two of them,” Daphne whined.

“You are out of luck. Colin got to them first,” Anthony replied as he sipped his tea. “Also, why are you all always over at my house?”

Colin only smirked as he ate this third cupcake, completely ignoring his eldest brother’s complaints. “Penelope said I can have as many as I want.”

“Of course, she’d say that to you,” Benedict mumbled underneath his breath.

“Won’t she make more?” the pregnant woman despaired.

Kate pushed a plate of biscuits in her direction. It was store-bought. Compared to Penelope’s creation, it tasted like sweet cardboard but it’s the thought that counted, right? “She doesn’t bake everyday, babe.”

Eloise nonchalantly added, “Oh I think we’ll be seeing more of her baking in the coming days.”

“Ooh, how’s that?” Benedict asked eagerly.

“I just taught her how to use Bumble,” Eloise gleefully announced while casting a fleeting glance at Colin. If her clueless third brother choked on his food, it only added to her enjoyment.

“Wait, what?” asked a confused Kate.

“You see, I have this running theory. There is a strong correlation between the success of Penelope’s dates and the quality of her baking the next day. And she didn’t come home the other night until it was very, very late.”

“Are you saying that she bakes whenever she gets some?” Simon asked, almost whispering the latter end of his question.

“Precisely.”

Colin’s face turned an interesting shade of greenish pallor. He even stopped mid-bite. Maybe he’ll finally get a clue, Eloise mused.

Daphne side-eyed her Colin then said, “I don’t mind it. Good for her, and even better for us. You think she’ll take requests?”

“You wish. I’ve been conditioning her to make me my Black Forest cake since last week. I’ve been reciting Black Forest cake in her sleep for a week now. Me first. I’m the best friend.”

“Then, the Mint Chocolate cake?” Benedict wondered aloud.

“Her date was an Australian firefighter,” Eloise explained. “And she said that he can stoke a fire too, if you know what I mean.” The other two women in the room gushed, while the men rolled their eyes.

Colin grew increasingly quiet, not even touching the food in front of him. His hands were balled into a fist. His brows furrowed so closely together, she thought they would stick permanently into an angry monobrow. Eloise kinda felt bad, but not as much as she enjoyed pushing his buttons.

“When is she going for another date?” Daphne egged on.

“Tonight, I think. She’s going on another date with the Aussie fireman. I already bought all the ingredients for my cake.”

At this, Colin stood up and briskly walked out of the room.

Fucking finally. Eloise sniffed her exasperation away. If an Australian fireman gave her the Caramel Espresso cupcake, she could just imagine what Penelope will make with her long-time crush. Although she cringed internally at the thought of her brother and her best friend coupling up, she’d rather focus on the good outcome. Her Black Forest cake.

The next day, Eloise woke up extra early in high anticipation. She drove to her brother’s place, a cup of strong coffee in hand. Daphne, Simon, Kate and Anthony were already there, patiently waiting. Benedict was still on the way.

After an hour of waiting, Penelope was still nowhere to be seen. She had no choice but to call her friend. Pen answered on the third ring.

“Hey,” Penelope responded breathlessly to her greeting.

“Hey, where are you?”

“I’m at...home,” Penelope answered with a giggle. Eloise heard a familiar voice in the background before Pen hushed him up.

“Ugh. Put Colin on the phone!”

“What?” he barked at her.

Eloise put her brother in a loudspeaker. A chorus of boos from the peanut gallery filled the air, drowning Colin’s laughter.

“Where’s my cake?” Eloise furiously demanded.

“We’re very busy at the moment.”

“Ew! You leave her alone to make my cake, you slut!” Eloise bit out.

“Make me,” Colin smarmily said before he hung up.

“I should have known he’d fuck it up for us,” Benedict griped.

A beat of silence passed before Kate opened her cupboard and produced a packet of biscuits. Everyone groaned.

#bridgerton #polin #minutefics #colin x penelope

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mldrgrl · 4 years

Text

Broken Things 20/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

The incident breeds awkwardness between them for the rest of the morning. Katherine moves out of his arms eventually and he helps her to gather her clothes. She keeps her eyes down as she dresses, leaving things unbuttoned and untied, and doesn’t look at him.

“I just need a few minutes to put some fresh clothes on,” she says. “And then I’ll see to breakfast.”

“Take your time. I’ll need to check on the boys and see if the storm did any damage.”

She nods once and then she slips out the door. He wonders if he should go after her or say something, but he doesn’t know what to say that he hasn’t already. He sighs and then dresses for the day.

Melvin and Trevor already have the barn open when he makes it outside. Richard is repairing a fencepost in the hog pen. The ground is muddy, but the sky is blue and the sun is bright.

“How are things?” Mulder asks.

“Everyone pulled through,” Melvin answers. “Trevor said that them sheeps were noisy little buggers. Queenie was fit to be tied over their restlessness, but they settled once the rain let up.”

“How did George do?”

“Just fine. We actually moved the goats into the stable before it got bad and I put ‘em in with George. They kept good company for each other.”

“Roof held up?”

“Just fine.”

“Good, good.”

“Everything alright with you?”

“Just fine.” Mulder rubs the back of his head and looks away from Melvin.

“Mmhm.”

With Jesse and Jimmy away, there is just too much to be done for Mulder to dwell on Katherine’s reluctance to let him in. Whatever happened this morning, it doesn’t change the closeness they shared the night before, that he now knows is possible to have. He’s not angry, he’s just sad for her and for them. Whatever Jack Willis did to her, if the man wasn’t already dead, Mulder would kill him.

It takes some time to relocate the livestock back to their pens. The hogs romp and roll in the mud, ecstatic, ignoring their slop initially in favor of getting dirty. Katherine rings the breakfast bell as they’re mucking the stables and Mulder sends them in ahead of him. He doesn’t have much of an appetite anyway.

Katherine jumps up from the table when he comes in and rushes to the stove. He puts his arm around her and takes the spatula from her hand. “Go on and sit down,” he says. “I know how to fix a plate up.”

“The eggs might be cold. I covered the bacon to keep it warm.”

“That’s my fault. I’m late.” He kisses her cheek and sends her away.

Melvin scrutinizes them the whole meal. He can feel the older man’s eyes on him at times and he catches him looking at Katherine as well.

“It’s already starting to dry up out there,” Mulder says. “I think we should send the horses out to pasture today, what do you think? Let them run off any residual nerves and they might enjoy a nice roll in the mud, though probably not as much as the hogs.”

“You want to run the curry comb through the lot of ‘em at the end of the day, go on ahead,” Melvin says.

Mulder chuckles. “It’s Saturday. You boys planning on heading down to the bath house tonight? Faithful Jenny and Blondie would probably like a nice ride. That black stallion from the postal team, he handles well with a saddle.”

“Why do you call the horse Faithful Jenny?” Katherine asks.

Richard laughs. Mulder chuckles around a mouthful of eggs. Trevor turns a shade of red that would make a ripe tomato jealous. Melvin coughs into his fist.

“Have you ever heard of Old Faithful in Yellowstone?” Mulder asks.

Katherine shakes her head no. Mulder takes another stab at his eggs and then wipes his eyes and sits back.

“Old Faithful is a geyser,” he says. “Some members of an expedition were camped nearby and noticed that she erupted with predictability every ten minutes or so.”

Richard pounds a fist on the table and laughs so hard he doubles over off the bench. Mulder shakes his head, but has to laugh with him.

“We got Jenny from a rancher nearby that couldn’t take it no more,” Melvin continues where Mulder left off. “He come ‘round with her and asked if we could just buy her off him for a fair price because he was at his wits end.”

“But, she’s a lovely horse,” Katherine says.

“Oh, yes,” Mulder says. “She’s a good old gal, she was just also foraging in the wrong places and got herself a bad case of the colic.”

“You’re not gettin’ to the best part,” Richard says.

“Why don’t you go ahead,” Mulder tells him. “You sure do enjoy the tale.”

“The best part is that when Mr. Miles dropped her off he said, ‘I tell you what, you can set your watch by that horse’s farts, I reckon. Probably gives Old Faithful a run for her money.’”

“Oh, my.” Katherine’s cheeks redden for a moment and then the corners of her mouth pick up and her lips quiver like she’s trying to suppress her amusement, but she can’t hold it for long. Her giggles almost sound like hiccups and she covers her mouth with one hand. Her shoulders are shaking and she lets go with a full belly laugh that has the whole table roaring in no time.

“She’s on a special diet now so her, uh, troubles have passed,” Mulder says, when the laughter has died down. “But, we got used to calling her Faithful Jenny and so the name just carries on.”

“Poor Jenny,” Katherine says.

“You’re lucky you never stood downwind of her some years ago,” Richard says.

The table breaks up into laughter once more.

↭

She’s felt anxious and embarrassed for most of the day. The hilarity at the breakfast table eased some of her tension, but by noon dinner she had a knot in her stomach. Her misery is self-imposed. She knows this. Mulder has been nothing but gentle and tender with her all day and she returns his kindness with silence.

While the men tend to the horses and get ready for their Saturday trek into town, she launders the sheets and the week’s dirty clothes. There’s a stain on one of Mulder’s undershirts and she realizes it’s the one he used to clean her hands last night. The thought of what they did makes her breathless. She has to grip the side of the washtub to keep upright she feels so faint.

She wants so badly to erase the past and move forward. She wants so badly for this new marriage she has to feel real. Last night was as real as it could be, but she had to ruin things this morning. Perhaps she’s mistaking Mulder’s kindness for pity, and she wouldn’t blame him for it. She’s pathetic and weak and doesn’t deserve all the nice things he’s done for her.

She refuses to dwell on this now. She has chores to do and meals to prepare. It’s why she’s here. Not to fall in love with her own husband. She gasps and for the second time, has to grip the side of the washtub. Is she in love? No, she can’t be. She hardly knows him. She only knows that he’s kind, he’s generous, he laughs easy, he has a slight temper, but isn’t violent. He’s patient, he’s good to his horses and the men that work for him. He’s good to her.

She hears the back door close and she startles at the sound and automatically jumps to start scrubbing the undershirt in her hand. Mulder knocks softly on the side of the washroom door and smiles at her.

“The boys are heading into town,” he says. “I told them to go ahead and set out early and I thought I’d go ahead and make supper for us tonight.”

“You can cook?”

“I’m hurt that there’s doubt in your tone.”

“I’m not doubting, I’m just…”

“Naturally skeptical, since I have not yet proven my worth to you.”

“You’ve more than proven your worth,” she says, softly, taking the teasing tone out of the conversation.

Mulder smiles at her and reaches out to cup her cheek. She wants to believe that she is worth the trouble if he can still touch her so fondly and make her feel so cared for.

“Need help with the laundry?” he asks.

“I’m nearly done, just need to get these shirts scrubbed and hang up this last basket to dry.”

“I can do that.” He squeezes past her to take the basket of damp clothing and then hoists it up over her head to squeeze back out. “That pulley you had Richard install is just about the most genius thing I’ve ever seen.”

Mulder takes the laundry away and she finishes with the shirts. She goes out to the back to pin them up and he lets her take over the line. She gets fresh linens on the beds, does some dusting, and cleans up the washroom. Before she’s through, she can smell the hearty aroma of meat cooking and hear the sizzle of the skillet.

“Pork chops?” she asks.

“I confess it’s about the only thing I can cook, but I do it well.”

“Should I chop anything?”

“No, Ma’am. I’ve had potatoes baking for some time and I brought up a jar of applesauce.”

“There are a few corn fritters leftover from dinner that I wrapped. We could heat those as well.”

“I think that sounds perfect.”

Katherine sets the table for two. The pork chops are delicious. He shows her how to garnish a baked potato with chopped bacon and bits of chives and cheese, which she’d never seen done before. She tries to imagine an easy life with him and what it would have been like if only they’d met four years ago.

“Have you given any thought to what you’d like in the expansion?” he asks.

Katherine shakes her head. “There isn’t anything in particular that I can think of. I would like...well, I would like the porch to stay the way that it is. Facing west. I like watching the sunset.”

“I wouldn’t dream of changing that. I was thinking I might convert the bunkhouse into a guest house. And I’d like to have an office built on the other side of the kitchen. There must be something you’d like though. A parlor? Sewing room? Laboratory?”

She shakes her head at him and then laughs. “A laboratory?”

“Some place for the science things you enjoy.”

“No, thank you.” Her smile fades a bit as memories fall on her. “When I was a little girl, all I used to want was my own bookcase, filled with books, but my father said that reading novels was unladylike and would rot my brain and fill it with uppity ideas. I had a schoolteacher that did not agree, fortunately, and I did most of my reading in secret, with her help.”

“Is that the same teacher that got you interested in sciences?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a favorite novel?”

“Moby Dick always resonated with me.”

“Dense material for a young person, lady or gent. How did it resonate?”

“The ship’s captain, Ahab, reminded me very much of my father.” She closes her eyes for a few moments and then shakes the memories of her childhood from her head. Her family is not a subject she wishes to think about right now. “Do you think we could put in a magnolia tree somewhere?”

“I’ve never seen a magnolia out in these parts, but we can find out if the soil is right for it.”

“That’s all I want.”

“I’ll do my best to give it to you.”

She stands then to start clearing the dishes and to clean the kitchen. Mulder lays a hand on her arm, very gently.

“You could have your own library,” he says. “A room full of all your favorite books and all the ones you never got to read, but always wanted to.”

“The porch and the tree will be more than enough.”

He lets her go with a bit of reluctance and she goes on with her cleaning. He heads out to do the evening chores in the barn and stables. She doesn’t see him again for the rest of the evening. She is already lying in bed when she hears him come in by the soft tread of his boots on the wood floor that she’s grown accustomed to. She hears him open his door and there’s a long pause before he closes it.

She twists the wedding ring on her finger around and around. When she catches herself, she shakes her hands and then starts to do her rosary, but stops that as well. For nearly her entire life she’s been told that trusting in God and saying her prayers will bring her comfort and peace, but she’s never known it to be comforting at all. Certainly not in the four years when she could have used it the most. And she never knew peace until last night when she was with Mulder, so close with him, lying in his arms.

Maybe God led her here, or maybe He didn’t. Maybe it was fate, like Mulder said. The point is, if she wants peace, if she wants comfort, she knows where to find it. All she has to do is get up and walk across the hallway. Can she really ask him to do this for her though, when he’s already given her so much? And what has she given him in return?

Katherine sighs and twists her ring again. Finally, she kicks the sheets away and gets up from the bed. She unties her hair and shakes it loose before she goes to her door. It takes her some time to open it and then she stands in the dark for a few moments more before she tiptoes to his door. The floor creaks softly under her. She can see the lamplight shining dimly from under the bottom of his door. It takes her another few moments and a few deep breaths, but she knocks.

Mulder opens the door. He’s bare-chested and bare-footed. His suspenders are slung down by his thighs and the top button of his trousers is undone. He cocks his head in question and she drops her eyes for a few moments, but then looks back up at him.

“Could you hold me?” she asks.

He opens his mouth and then purses his lips and nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”

#i wrote this #broken things #chapter 20 #MSR #AU

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

Tenderness Like a Bruise

[Read on AO3]

Sequel to Creatures of a Brief Season; written in honor of @puffdragongirl‘s birthday! Robin requested anything that included Od Ana, and what would incur more Od Ana commentary than Bergatt (and potentiality Eisetsu) Arc?

They could spend a hundred years in this snow, a hundred lifetimes, and Od Ana knows: she’ll never get used to it.

You’re meant to be here, Obi would tease, trailing a gloved finger up her sternum, ruffling her feathers. They still hunt with birds like you up north, riding on horseback and snatching hares from the snow.

They’re real birds, she’d huff, snapping at that finger. I’m you, and you’re me, and we’re cold.

It makes her wings stiff, a heavy weight when she lifts them-- not something she needs when they’re already so big, so awkward unless she’s in the air. The wind cuts right through her feathers, ignoring the ribbed bulwark and clinging right to the skin. Obi always tells her to take a flap if she can’t stand it, but the higher up she goes, the crueler it is. Sure she might get some heat in her muscles, but that doesn’t do anything for the parts of her that aren’t involved with flight.

“How many of these are you gonna make?” Perkunas hops around Obi’s knees, big, clumsy paws raking at his trousers. Obi puts him off with a pat, sweeping a gloved finger up his muzzle to still him. It’s no longer like lightning when they touch, just a soft buzz, muted by leather and fur.

See, another reason to suffer down here, shivering-- if she spent all her time up in the air, she’d miss the show.

Shirayuki perches on the edge of a planter, raising her feet as Perkunas scuttles under them. He pokes his nose over her notes, skimming the page until he’s cross-eyed. That little meat bun might think himself bookish, but this is far from the first time he’s lurched from her lap, word-drunk; she spares him a small pat, laying her gloved hand carefully over the ridge of his muzzle. Right where Obi ran his finger, Od Ana can’t help but note.

She snaps her beak, chuffed. Her man’s mistress might play at being busy, too absorbed in her work to pay attention to the silliness surround her, but Od Ana has an eagle’s eyes. Whenever Obi’s all energy and no sense, Shirayuki’s got one eye on him. Not to keep watch, like she’s so keen on saying when she’s caught, but because she likes to turn two toward him if he bends over.

Even now her lips twitch, a smothering a smile before it can take flight-- Od Ana’s grateful for it. The last thing he needs now is encouragement.

Perkunas waddles back over when Obi squats, resting his chin on his knee. A glove reaches down, smoothing the fur between his ears before riffling it again, leaving thick globs of snow. “Until there’s one for all of us.”

That small head cocks, taking in the row of snowmen. Obi might be good with his hands, maybe might even be fine enough to put pen to page, but an artist he’s not-- all his attempts are round and squat, their snow daemons snuggled in beside them. Even Od Ana has to squint to make out which one is which.

“All of us?” Perkunas echoes, sitting back on his haunches. “I don’t know if there’s enough.”

“Sure there is.” Obi levers himself to his feet, one hand free to point. “That’s Master and Miss, Miss Kiki and Mister, and over here’s me...”

“That’s supposed to be Shirayuki?” Perkunas trots up to the smallest one, sniffing at the spherical snow daemon beside it. “Is this me?”

Obi nods, mouth quivering. “Mmhmm.”

Perkunsa snorts, skittering back. “I don’t look like that!”

“Sure you do!” Od Ana clacks her beak, drawing his glare. “Just a little snow sausage, waiting to be grilled up!”

“I’m not!” he squeals, rushing up to where she sits. It’s too far for his squat little legs to reach, paws flexing as they try to find purchase on the stone.

“Take it back!” he growls, hopping uselessly beneath her. “Take it back! Shirayuki, did you hear her? Make her take it back!”

It’s no use-- Shirayuki might keep one eye on Obi, but Perkunas’s plaintive whines are too commonplace to lure her attention away. He grunts and skitters, but Shirayuki sits with her heels hooked on the edge of a stone, unmoved. Od Ana can’t grin with this beak of her, but she can flap her wings, skipping along the stone with a screech that might fall on the more purposeful side of taunting. And like always, Perkunas rises to her bait.

He’s stretched as long as his elastic body can go, every strand of fur on his ringed tail standing on end--

And he tumbles, the way he always does. Just collapses into an uncontrolled roll, more sphere than sense, careening across the yard-- and right into one of Obi’s snow friends.

“Oh!” Perkunas leaps up all at once, shaking snow from his snub snout, snuffling pitifully. “I’m so sorry, Obi! I didn’t mean to.”

Obi crouches down where he lays, gloved palm landing gently on his muzzle. “I know, little guy.” He casts an eye over the ruined mound, clucking his tongue. “Well, there goes Mister.”

“Eh?” Shirayuki wholly drags herself up from her work now, glancing from Obi’s back to the snow-covered Perkunas and then all the way up to where she perches. Her mouth settles in a knowing line, and when she says, “Have you been getting in to trouble?” Od Ana knows it’s for both of them.

It’s good a bird can’t look abashed, no matter how many feathers she has. Otherwise she might have to try.

“It’s Od Ana’s fault,” Perkunas rushes to tell her, the little liar.

She sniffs, cocking her beak haughtily. “I would never have expected Shirayuki’s daemon to be such a tattletale.”

Od Ana expects a glare, a harsh word, something to quell her, but Shirayuki’s mouth only twists wryly. “You should have known me as a child.”

I did. It’s Obi’s thought, but it dovetails with her own, unobtrusive for once. It doesn’t bear saying that she was neither as excitable or pestiferous as Perkunas can make himself; Obi’s agreement radiates deep in her breast. Their secret, locked in a cage of hollow bone.

“She called me fat,” Perkunas grouses, sitting back on his haunches. It makes him round, like a ball, and Od Ana’s half-tempted to see if she could get him to roll again with just a squawk.

“You are. There’s no reason to be ashamed of it.” Shirayuki tells him, all fondness as she comes to crouch beside him, knee brushing Obi’s as easily as her hand strokes her daemon’s skull. Od Ana can feel his shiver from here, her beak rattling quietly from the one it sends through her. “Oh, Obi-- I’m sorry. He’s undone all your hard work.”

“No worries, Miss.” Obi cradles what’s left of Mitsuhide’s head in his hands. “I’m sure it’s only a bad omen. Poor Mister.”

Shirayuki cocks her head, leaning in to glance at the ruined snow skull. Od Ana might tease Obi, might mock him for never being able to puzzle out how to bridge the gap between him and his mistress, but he certainly knows how to get her to hover in his orbit. Black and red nearly eclipse each other, and oh, what she wouldn’t give to knock the two of them together just to see the spark.

After a long moment, Shirayuki finally says, dubious, “That was supposed to be Mitsuhide?”

“Yep.” Obi chucks his chin toward the oblong mound, resting beside the remains of the prince’s foremost aide. “See, Sigrun’s right there.”

Shirayuki pitches forward, squinting. “Eh?”

Od Ana clucks, amused. Sigrun’s even-tempered, just like her man, but even she would be insulted by the snow sausage standing in for her.

“It’s too warm for this anyway,” Shirayuki decides, lifting herself to standing. “No wonder Mitsuhide fell apart. He’s the biggest, after all. Couldn’t hold his own weight.”

“It was getting colder. I thought maybe we might get a snow this afternoon, and I’d get to shore them up.” He stands with a sigh, knees creaking in protest. “Doesn’t seem like that’ll be happening today, Miss.”

Shirayuki peers up at him-- further than Od Ana remembers her needing. Ah, so her boy’s grown another inch. He’ll be out of those soon, if the men around him are any stick to measure by. He’s tall enough now anyway, respectable. Doesn’t need to get cocky on top of it-- at least not any more than he already is.

“Suzu told me it’s still too early for snow.” She casts a thoughtful glance at the sky. “Well, at least in the afternoon.”

Obi huffs, amused, eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. “Suzu said that?”

“Well,” Shirayuki wheedles. “Hermia did.”

“That sounds more reliable,” Obi grunts. Most daemons are, save for Perkunas. “Still, didn’t we have one just the other week?”

“Well, yes.” She sways on her feet, but it’s not from weakness or exhaustion-- it’s from energy that needs to be spent, like a child made to sit too long. Maybe Perkunas is more like her than any of them give him credit. “But it’ll be a few weeks before it’s cold enough for another. Lilias has to work itself into winter.”

Since when, Od Ana nearly says. Obi coughs; it barely covers his laugh.

“Ah, that reminds me. Mistress--” Obi turns, catching her eyes, and Od Ana uselessly wills him to close the space-- “the knights need me to help them with something starting tomorrow. You’ll have to look after yourself for a while.”

An idle threat, but Shirayuki takes it with a dutiful nod, just the way she expects. “Got it.” She hesitates before adding, “I hope it isn’t too serious.”

Obi casts one of his long looks over her, somehow both assessing and torn, before he looks away. A pity, since he doesn’t see how she looks back. “They’ve sent a few troops elsewhere for now, so they’re running a little thin at the checkpoint. I said I’d help out.”

“Ah, see.” Od Ana flutters down, perching on his shoulder. She’s too big for it to be comfortable, and he grunts as she knocks a wing against his head before folding them in. “What he means is that no one wants to do the paperwork. And Obi’s handwriting is so nice...”

He grimaces. “Something like that.” He flicks a coy smile towards Shirayuki, heedless of how it sticks. “If I get a cut, I’ll be sure to come to you and get myself bandaged up.”

“Oh.” Od Ana always likes Shirayuki’s sly smiles; Obi deserves to have someone who can make sure he gets as much as he gives. “I’ll be sure to tell Suzu to keep an eye out for you. He’s the best at bandages.”

Perkunas nods, oblivious to Obi’s scowl. “He always has them. A bunch!”

“Because he’s so accident prone himself,” Od Ana can’t help but add. Hermia has her work cut out for her, keeping that one alive.

“I don’t even carry any on me,” Shirayuki informs him loftily, the lie obvious on her lips.

Obi spares them both a thin look; it’s a good camouflage for how much he clearly want to kiss her. “Aw, at least let Little Ryuu do it, Miss.”

Her smile only curves more slyly. “I think that’s up to--”

“What was that about me?”

Ryuu appears out of the crowd, as sudden as Obi ever has; space empty one minute and the next filled with a boy about to hit his first growth, limbs all at odd lengths for his small body. Asasara noses out from beneath his collar, tongue darting out to taste the air before slithering back, settling against his skin. It’s nice to know that she’s not the only one who hates this weather.

“Little Ryuu!” Obi pivots sharply on his heel, unbalancing her enough to see her flapping back over to the wall. He grins wide, hooking his hands on his hips and he looks down at the boy. “Can you do me a favor and remind Miss to start bringing bandages around with her? I’d hate to go to anyone else if I’m wounded in honorable combat.”

“Eh?” He blinks, the blue of his eyes stark against the pale parchment of his skin. “Doesn’t she already?”

Shirayuki sends him a warning look, but it’s far, far too late for that. Obi’s already spun around, victory bright on his angular face. “So Miss does carry bandages.”

Her hands fly up as he looms, though it hardly seems she wants to ward him off. “Those are for emergencies, Obi. Not for paper--”

“Ah, Sir Obi!”

Od Ana cranes her neck, peering up the stairs that lead to the wall. There’s a guard there, waving like his limbs are too long for his body to control, eyes already round in limpid by the time they meet Obi’s. “Sir Obi, sir! I’m supposed to tell you-- His Highness’s messenger has arrived.”

She doesn’t need to look to know how Obi’s body has stiffened, how his breath has caught in chest and mind’s gone to static.

“Messenger?” Od Ana says quietly, stilted. “I thought that was you.”

A long breath hisses through his teeth. “So did I.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #creatures of a brief season #daemon au #ans #here it is...one of my most requested sequels #i was hoping i'd get to when obi makes the decision to go #because you KNOW od ana is cussing a blue streak #what do you MEAN we're leaving #he didn't even ask us to come!!!#YOU COULD BE MAKING KISSY FACES WITH SHIRAYUKI #:| :| FINE BE THAT WAY #but alas it was no to be #if i write another chapter one day it will definitely cover Od Ana being Real Annoyed with her human #i know i'm your soul but even i'm telling you DON'T GO :|

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dovechim · 5 years

Text

lost in the funhouse (m)

⇥ 9.7k

⇥ warnings: psychological manipulation, spitting, slight blood play, oral (both receiving) unprotected sex (y’all know to wrap it right), impregnation risk, cream pie, dirty talk, name calling, Daddy kink

tldr; prisoner Namjoon is here

⇥ a/n: if you had any plans for the Valentine’s Day weekend, throw them all out the window. Happy Valentines Day from yours truly 💌

You’re used to the world being in different shades of grey. Both in the literal and figurative sense. Everything around you is doused in that dull colour, from the austere steel gates every 20 metres, to the security guards in their grey uniforms twirling their batons and sporting the big guns. This place is crawling with security cameras, with the state-of-the-art technology designed to keep the madhouse in order.

Hope World Mental Asylum for the Criminally Insane. A slightly ironic name, seeing as one couldn’t find an inkling of hope in this place no matter how hard they tried.

The prison orderlies bow as you walk past them, and you give them a smile in greeting. The staff here are nice enough. The security guards always treat you with respect, but you’ve seen the way they rough up an inmate who steps out of line. Though you suppose they’re trained to only react that way to the criminally insane. Still, they keep order in the asylum, and with the rowdier inmates that you see, you feel a bit better knowing that they have your back, although you could never believe that any of these people would ever hurt you.

Like you said, your world isn’t black and white, and neither are these people. They come in many shades of grey, and it’s your job to see them for who they really are, not for what the world has labelled them as.

Your heels click along the concrete floor as you walk past the cells of all the inmates, braving the catcalls and hoots along the way. In your white coat that conceals your figure, you feel secure, confident, not in the least bothered by the rowdiness and lewd comments thrown at you. The pristine white of your coat stands out amongst all the grey like a blinding light, painfully out of place, and the prisoners know that. They jeer as you walk past them, but you only give them your angelic smile, greeting them and asking how they’ve been.

You are late to your 2pm slot. A last-minute scheduling, a case that has been dropped by many junior psychiatrists until it was handed to someone more senior, like you. You’d thoroughly familiarized yourself with his case file last night, but when you step inside the cell that you always use for consultations, nothing prepares you to face your newest patient.

He is not bedraggled or covered with the dirt and grime that seems to be everywhere in this place. On the contrary, his blonde hair is slicked back neatly, parted on the side and revealing his forehead. His glasses are perched high up on his nose, even his prison issued jumpsuit seems to fit his lithe frame perfectly. The grey material is pulled tight over his shoulders, rolled up to his elbows in a manner which emphasizes his biceps. The front of it has its buttons undone to reveal a thin, white undershirt that clings to his chest. The rest of his body, however, is concealed behind the desk he is sitting behind.

But what pulls you in is the look on his face. Many of your patients are often broken products of the system, some of them don’t say a single word with you during your session, others ramble on incoherently. One of your patients had a condition where they’d laugh uncontrollably every other sentence. It’s all part and parcel of your job, nothing you haven’t seen before. But this man looks… interested.

He is well put together, intelligent, bright looking eyes tracking your every movement. His hands are laced together on top of the cold metal table that might have been repurposed from an operating table. His unwavering stare unsettles you as you take your seat. For the first time since you started working in this place, you feel uncertain, like you missed that last step coming down the stairs.

For a moment, you wonder if someone looking in on this scene would be able to tell who the psychiatrist is.

“Good afternoon, Mr Kim,” you place your manila folder down on the table.

He smiles serenely at your greeting. If he is surprised at the formal way you refer to him, rather than his prisoner number, he doesn’t show it. “Hello, Doctor. Nice of you to make time for me today.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you nod at him, already even more impressed with how well-spoken he is. His voice is smooth, he sounds as if he could be giving a speech at the UN.

“You know, you have quite the reputation here,” Namjoon leans back in his seat, entirely at ease as he takes in your appearance from head to toe. His stare feels intimate, and then it occurs to you that just as you are here to evaluate him, he is appraising you as well.

“Oh really? Do tell,” you are genuinely interested now. “I figure you probably have an in with the rest here. You could really be helping me out.”

“Well.. let’s see. Graduated from college at the top of your class. Could have gone on to become a prestigious surgeon, have your own hospital and all that. But no. You chose to go into psychiatry. Chose to damn yourself, sully your pretty little self working in a place like this, just to figure out madmen like me.” Namjoon says all this in a matter of fact tone, as if he were reading an instruction manual. But the scary thing is, he is spot on. “So now you spend all your time locked up in this madhouse, talking to men who think about doing the most perverse, fucked up things to you while you sit right in front of them.”

“Is that what they say, or is that what you think?” You maintain a smile on your face. You’ve heard far worse before, but you never let any of them faze you.

“You caught me there,” Namjoon’s façade breaks into a sheepish smile. “Most of it, yeah. My assessment of you, doc. The angel in the madhouse.”

“You’re right. Mostly, anyway,” you admit with an easy shrug. “I did choose psychiatry over general surgery. You’re good at reading people.”

“It’s what a psychopath like me specializes in,” he says this easily, as if he is talking about being good at math or how quick he is at learning to ride a bike. “We read people. Just from their mannerisms alone. We observe them, get into their heads, and we get inside of them. In the most intimate way possible.”

“You know, that isn’t too far from what a psychiatrist does either,” you twirl your pen, watching his eyes follow the motion like a lion stalking its prey. “You and me, we aren’t too different.”

Namjoon lets out a loud, full bellied laugh. “Oh, doll. We couldn’t be any more different. You’re so… good. A good girl. And I’m anything but.”

“What are you, then?”

Instead of answering, he fixes you with an amused look.

“People aren’t black and white, Namjoon. Just because you’re not good, doesn’t mean you are evil. Life doesn’t work like that.”

“I beg to differ. You know, here you have the guys who think they’ve done nothing wrong. In their point of view, they are the good guy, right? But then you have guys like me, guys who knowwhat they’ve done.” He leans forward now, sliding his hands along the table until you are painfully aware of how close they are to touching yours. “Who enjoy breaking people.”

You can feel his breath on your skin.

“Oh, I’ll enjoy breaking you, doll.” He finally sits back with a smile that sends the slightest hint of nerves fluttering in your stomach.

The buzzer rings, signaling the end of your session, and he gets up of his own accord, holds his hands out for the handcuffs that are slapped onto him by the prison orderlies. Before he leaves, though, he shoots you a salacious smile over his shoulder.

“See you next time, doll.”

“Tell me, doc. Aren’t you curious at all?”

“About what?”

In this room, there are only two of you. But you know that at any one point in time, there are eyes on you. There are armed guards keeping watch outside this cell, ready to strike should anything go wrong.

“I said last session that I was thinking of doing the most perverse and disgusting things to you while you sit in front of me, all prim and proper. Don’t you want to know what they are?”

He wants to elicit some sort of reaction out of you. Namjoon is watching you closely for any reaction at all, but you know his tactics all too well. He is trying every trick in the book, starting with the one he thinks will work best. Practically dangling bait in front of you, hoping that you will bite.

Today, he is wrapped up in a straitjacket, his arms crossed over his front because of a transgression committed earlier this week that deemed him a threat. Yet, his mannerisms aren’t the slightest bit affected. He speaks with the confidence of a foreign diplomat, his eyes roving about your person as if he owns you.

“I thought you said it was the others who were thinking of me like that. Not you.”

Snagged, Namjoon lets out a small chuckle. “You got me there, doll.”

His admission does not fool you. Someone like Kim Namjoon wouldn’t let themselves get backed into a corner or admit something that they weren’t already willing to give away. It’s all just a game to him.

“You’re so pretty. As always,” Namjoon smiles, a charming grin that makes your heart beat a little faster. “You know, we all love seeing you. It’s the only thing that brightens our days in here.”

Seeing him face to face like this, it’s so hard to differentiate him from the Kim Namjoon that you know from his casefile. Multiple homicides, drug use, violent crime, and worst of all, the torture he subjected his victims to.

Looking at him like this, he could be your English professor in college.

“Do me a favour will you? Just one, tiny little thing,” he implores, an innocent look on his face.

Wariness creeps in at the edges of your consciousness, but you find yourself pushing it away.

“It depends on what you’re asking for.”

“My favourite colour is purple.” His next statement catches you even more off guard, because you expected something outrageous like demanding to shorten his sentence or get him on parole. “But everything is just so fucking grey in here. The only spot of colour we- Iget to see is you.”

He leans forward, with some difficulty now with his straitjacket. Namjoon’s voice has dropped to an intimate whisper, his eyes dipping down to linger on your lips. It prompts you to lean forward as well so that you can catch his next words.

“Wear something purple for me, won’t you, babydoll? I just need some colour in my life,” he begs so prettily, and it’s such an innocent request, you can’t find anything insidious in it. “But for our sessions only. It’ll be our little secret.”

His voice trails off, and you can see the hint of possessiveness in his eyes that sends a thrill down your spine, that holds dark promises of what would happen if you wore that colour for someone else.

The buzzer rings. He doesn’t wait for a confirmation from you, just gets up obediently and turns to the guards. The heavy doors close, and you are left alone in the cold, sterile room.

“Dr _____... I live for these moments with you.” Kim Namjoon isn’t his usual, composed self today. His eyes are alight, dancing with mirth the moment you walk into the cell.

He spots the lavender blouse that you have on today, covered by your doctor’s coat, of course. Namjoon only has a few seconds to take in the lemon-yellow pencil skirt that you have on before you take a seat opposite him. He is smiling like the cat that caught the canary.

“Thank you for honouring my request,” he says with another charming smile, and today because the straitjacket is off, he reaches across the table with his hands, long and slim fingers laced together.

“It was a minor inconvenience, of course,” you sigh dramatically. “Didn’t have anything purple in my wardrobe, I realized. Had to go on a shopping spree and treat myself for the first time in a long while.”

“I’m sorry you enjoyed yourself because of me,” Namjoon banters back, and you giggle with your hand over your mouth.

He watches you laugh with a smile that crinkles the corners of his mouth, emphasizing his dimples.

“What is it like outside, doctor?” He asks with a beguiling smile, tilting his head as he watches you digest the question. “What’s the best thing you love about being outside? Is it the colour of the sky, or the warmth of the sun on your skin?”

Again, his questions are so innocent, that you can’t possibly believe how many people he’s tortured and murdered. How many of his own gang members he killed. Kim Namjoon’s innocent dimples are on full display as he searches your expression.

“I like… I like how the sky is boundless. At any one time, if I look up at it, I feel… free. Like I can go anywhere I want to.” Your thoughts wander, taking you outside of this sterile, heavily guarded prison cell until you can almost feel the breeze on your cheeks. But then, the heavy clank of a prison door somewhere outside brings you back to reality, and you realise what you’ve just said in front of someone who’s been sentenced to this mental asylum for life.

A part of you expects him to lunge across the table for your throat. But Kim Namjoon has not moved a single muscle. Instead, the smile on his face is ever present, dimples and all, and you can’t help but detect something sinister in it. But instead of making you feel uneasy, it thrillsyou.

Is this what it feels like to be dancing with the devil?

He lets out a contented sigh, as if he’s living in the memories you just described. “So innocent, doctor. That’s what I like about you. You remind me of how the world would look like if everything was good.”

Somehow, his approval feels good. It feels right.

“Do me a favour, will you?” Namjoon opens his eyes from his brief escape into fantasy. “Dance for me, little swan.”

“Dance?” You hesitate. “I can’t dance… I don’t know how to…”

“Then twirl,” he says, not giving you time to fumble about in your own lack of self-esteem. “Twirl for me, pretty thing.”

You reluctantly get up, seeing the hope in his eyes as he watches your every move. You are more self-conscious than you’ve ever been in this place, especially so when he bids you to take off your doctor’s coat. Without it, without the sense of validation and authority it affords you, you begin to feel like the tables have turned between you and Kim Namjoon. That really, he’s the one evaluating you.

You leave your coat on the back of the chair. Placing your feet together, you start to spin slowly, feeling the brush of your skirt against your thighs elevate your heart rate. You go faster, feeling the breeze of your own making caress your hair. All this while you are aware of his eyes on you, tracking your every movement like a predator stalking its prey. A laugh escapes your lips as you put your arms out for balance; but all it takes is one misstep, and suddenly you find yourself in the arms of a mass murderer.

Kim Namjoon sets you upright again, his lithe arms feel strong as you clutch his biceps. His frame towers over you, and it is only then that you realise how much power he exudes, just from his aura alone. How did he even move that quickly?

“Careful, Doctor. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt, now would we?” The beats of your heart count off the seconds that he holds you in his arms, and it feels like an eternity before he lets you go. “Only I get to do that. Only I can hurt you, babydoll.”

His eyes dip to your lips, and he places his hand on your chin, running a thumb along your bottom lip. You feel the pad of his thumb dampen with your saliva, and you can hardly breathe.

“You would look good with red lipstick,” he comments casually, dropping his hand from your face and taking a step back.

As if on cue, the buzzer rings, and the prison orderlies rush in to corral him into his handcuffs, lead him back to his cage. He keeps his eyes on you as he is dragged out of the room, on the way your chest heaves as you struggle to catch your breath.

A knock sounds at the door of your office. A little hesitant, but more insistent the second time round.

“Doctor? You’re late for your session with Prisoner 120994.” It’s the intern who does the administrative scheduling for the psychiatrists, Jeon Jeongguk. The number catches you off guard for a moment, until you connect the dots. You haven’t thought of Kim Namjoon as Prisoner 120994 for the longest time.

You take a moment longer as you stare at your reflection in the small hand mirror, contemplating the red lipstick on your desk. But it clashes with your violet cardigan, and the whole look is just messy.

The knock comes again, and you hastily throw off your cardigan, apply your lipstick, and gather your white coat.

“Dr _____, you’ll be la- oh. Um, Prisoner 120994 is waiting, Dr _____.” Jeongguk awkwardly swings the door open wider so that you can get past him. “You look… you look different today. New lipstick?”

“Just trying something new,” you shrug it off casually as he follows behind you like a puppy.

“Not only today, you’ve been looking different lately!” Jeongguk is quick to add on.

You are almost halfway to your consultation cell, but Jeongguk is still following you. He doesn’t let up until you stand before the armed guards. They open the door, and you see that Namjoon is already seated in his usual seat. He cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of you, his usual charming smile primed to greet you, but it fades when he sees Jeongguk.

“… the new style looks really good on you!” Jeongguk is bright eyed as he grins at you.

You cast him a cold glare. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to work, intern? I don’t need an escort to walk me to my sessions.”

Without waiting for a response, you enter the cell, the door slamming behind you. Shooting Namjoon an apologetic smile, you sit down across him, arranging your files on the cold metal table in front of you.

“Who was that?”

“Oh, it was…” your voice trails off upon seeing the dark look on his face. “It was our admin intern. He’s young, so he’s still pretty immature. But he gets work done, so…”

Namjoon is no longer interested in your answer. Instead, he is appraising your person, from the way you nervously arrange the papers on the desk, to your inability to meet his gaze.

“The lipstick doeslook good on you, Doctor,” he relents finally, and you are able to relax for the first time since you stepped foot in this cell a few moments ago. His gaze feels more intimate than ever as he practically eye-fucks you, lingering on the low neckline of your light blue strappy top. “But it seems like you wanted Jeongguk to see it instead of me.”

“No! Jeongguk is… he’s no one. No one compared to you,” Feeling like a scolded child, your cheeks heat up in shame.

“Aren’t you forgetting something else, too?” Namjoon is relentless, raising a brow at your outfit of choice today.

At once, you jump to your own defense, but your voice trails off in uncertainty. “It clashed with the lipstick! And so I didn’t know…”

“Did it?” He expresses doubt, his eyes still eating up every inch of exposed skin on your chest. It ignites a fire in your lower belly, makes the entire room heat up.

“But I wore something else that’s purple,” you’re quick to continue, eager to earn back his approval.

His eyebrow perks up with a lazy, lethal interest, like a jaguar flicking its tail, contemplating a potential kill. “What is that, babydoll?”

Your heart is in your throat. Knowing exactly where the security cameras are located in this room, you angle your body as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Then, you lean forward ever so deliberately until you’re sure that he can get a good peek of your lilac lace bra down your shirt, and the smirk of approval sends adrenaline singing through your veins.

This is so wrong. You could be fired for this.

But then why does being wrong feel so right?

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me,” he lets out a single, vehement curse, his eyes unable to leave that sweet spot of your cleavage pushed together by your bra. “Today it’s your bra, but next time… next time I’ll be sucking on your pretty pink nipples.”

Hearing him praise you is the best feeling in the world. And even better is how he can’t take his eyes off you.

Taking advantage of the fact that the security cameras in this room are only filming your back, you reach into the sleeve of your coat and lower the straps of your top, so that it falls down your chest, fully exposing your breasts in your lilac lace bra to his view.

“Now I’m not forgetting anything, am I?” You voice is breathless as you watch his eyes travel greedily across your cleavage, licking his lips. “We should continue our session like this.”

Namjoon lets out a chuckle. “Oh, babydoll. You think I can concentrate on what you’re saying if you look like that?”

“Then don’t,” the words come out of your mouth, and you didn’t even realise you were this brave.

“Remember those perverse, disgusting things I mentioned during our first session, Doctor?” He leans forward for a better look at your breasts, watching as they begin to heave up and down because of your heavy breathing.

“Yes. I want to hear them.”

“You’re so… good,” Namjoon whispers, as if to himself. “I want to hurt you so, so bad, babydoll. Fuck every single hole you have until you are brimming with cum. I want to tie you up to the bed, legs spread permanently and make you my little cum slut. Just a receptacle for holding my cum, and if you dare to let any spill out, I’ll choke you with my cock until you pass out. When I finally let your pretty little pussy have my cock, it won’t be vanilla sex like you’re used to with that loser Jeongguk. I’ll brand you with my cum, and you’ll be my breeding slut. Forever reduced to carrying my babies. I will own you. I will break you so good, baby doll, and I will hurt you really, really bad.”

“I can take it,” you answer eagerly. “Anything you want to do to me. I can take it. I want it.”

He laughs again, almost in delight at your compliance. “So obedient. So innocent. You don’t know how badly I can hurt you, babydoll.”

You shake your head vehemently, leaning forward to offer him a view of your cleavage. “I don’t care. I want it.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across Namjoon’s face. “If you really want it, babygirl…”

“Yes, I want it,” he has reduced you to incoherency.

“… you’re going to have to help me with it.” Namjoon reaches forward to trace a pattern on the top of your hand, and it feels like your nipples are so hard, they’re aching for his touch. The single point of contact between you and him has your entire body heating up, your thighs rubbing against each other, and your panties drenched.

You nod immediately. “Anything. Whatever you need.”

“If we’re going to fuck, we need a place where we won’t be watched. As much as I want to hurt you, that sight is for my eyes only. I don’t like sharing my toys with others.”

“I understand-“

“Now, there’s going to be a system maintenance next Monday, exactly three days from now,” Namjoon continues calmly, his eyes razor sharp as they lock in on you, no longer clouded with lust. “All the security systems will be offline until the first bedcheck at 6am. At exactly 3.05am, there will be a change in shift, and there won’t be anyone watching my cell. It takes 9 minutes. You need to come and get me out of my cell. And then… then we can talk about how bad you’re willing to get hurt.”

“How will I… how will I get the key?” It doesn’t even occur to you to question how he knows all this information.

“You’re smart, babygirl. You’ll figure it out,” he strokes your chin with his thumb, admiring how your red lipstick smears when he brushes it against your lips. “Already a mess for me. I can’t wait to wreck you, baby girl.”

“I’ll do it,” you reassure him, only to be rewarded with his approving smile.

“Cover yourself, babydoll. The buzzer is about to go off.” Namjoon sits back in his seat as you snap back into reality, following his instructions as you pull the straps of your top back on your shoulders. He looks a little sorry to see you covered back up.

As predicted, the buzzer rings, and the doors fling open.

The guards come in to take him away, and you don’t even question his near supernatural ability to keep track of time so accurately, even though there isn’t a clock in this room. Even you lose track of time during your sessions with him, forgetting to look at your watch that you keep hidden.

All you can see is him.

“Everything okay? You’ve been stirring that coffee for the past five minutes.” A voice jerks you out of your daze.

Min Yoongi, the head prison warden, strolls in lazily, twirling his all-access card in his hand. You almost salivate at the sight of it. It’s all too convenient. His access card is the only way for you to get into the room with all the keys to the prisoners’ cells.

He slips it into his back pocket carelessly.

There’s no one in the common pantry that all the staff in the mental asylum share. It’s the perfect chance.

You turn around, immediately spotting how his eyes are drawn to the low neckline of your top. So the rumours were true. Just a little bit of cleavage and the man will roll over like a puppy begging for a belly rub.

“Just tired, is all,” you smile jovially, dropping the empty coffee sachet on the floor not so accidentally. When you bend over to pick it up, you make sure he gets a good look down your shirt.

As you straighten up, you catch a glimpse of his dazed stare. You take it as an opportunity to step closer so that your bodies are almost pressed up against each other.

“Say… what are you doing this weekend? Are you free, by any chance?” You let your eyes linger on his lips, angling your head so that more of your neck is exposed to him. You can feel his breath, hot and heavy on your skin.

“Th-this weekend? Su..sure, I’m free, yeah,” he stumbles over his words, hands coming up to hover around your ass, still unsure of himself.

You gently coax his hands, his right hand resting on your butt cheek, and the other on your waist. He gropes your ass immediately, unable to control himself. In return, you giggle playfully, sliding your hand down to his ass in a show of flirting as well.

Closing the gap between your bodies, you press your breasts against him, lowering your lips to his ear. “You should come over. My roommate is out and we’ll have the whole place… to- our-selves.”

You emphasize the last three syllables, noticing the way his breathing picks up as a result. You deftly slide your hand out of his pocket, patting his ass as you wink at him. “Call me!”

As he watches you go with lustful eyes, your step has an extra flourish, hips swaying to give him a good show. But what he can’t see is the satisfaction on your face as you kiss the access card, sliding it into your bra for safe keeping.

Having worked in Hope World Mental Asylum for the Criminally Insane for the past nine years, you know your way around it like the back of your hand. The guard routes, security camera positions, emergency exits. Basically, you have the map of it memorized.

Earlier that week, you signed yourself up for the graveyard shift, which of course no one wanted. No one even asked why you wanted that shift, all too glad to clock off and leave you alone in your office.

The silence is deafening as you watch the minute hand crawl closer and closer to the ‘1’ mark. At 3.04am, you get up silently, having dressed in a black hoodie and black jeans, with sneakers to go along with it. You let yourself out of your office, clutching the access card as you make your way to the control room where all the keys are kept.

From your office to the control room is only 50 steps. Less than a minute later, you are in and out, grabbing the keys from a hook labelled ‘120994’.

From the control room to his cell is another 80 steps. It takes you one minute to get to his cell, and you see him pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. He stops as he spots you, his features lighting up with a dimpled grin.

Another 10 seconds to unlock his cell. And then he is out.

The caged beast is no longer so.

You expected him to sweep you into his embrace at once, kiss you until you can’t remember your name. But all he does is take your hand in his, breaking into a run and forcing you to keep up with him. Your footsteps are silent as he leads you down the rabbit’s hole, twisting and turning until you lose track of where you’re going.

Down flights and flights of stairs, out of a door labelled emergency exit that you never came across before. And then it is down a dark tunnel that never seems to end.

When he finally stops, you are out of breath. “Wh-where are we?”

Namjoon is not winded in the slightest. It’s obvious that he is at peak physical condition, and he turns to you, front buttons of his grey prison issued jumpsuit undone. “We’re underground, babydoll. A place where they’ll never find us.”

A quick look around tells you that this might have been a medical ward a long time ago. Operating tables, not unlike the one you have in your consultation room, are strewn about. Only thing is, these tables have limb restraints attached to them. Broken syringes lie on the floor, electroconvulsive therapy machines are abandoned in the corner. Years of disuse has not done this room any good.

You should feel vulnerable in a place like this that could have come from one of Stephen King’s novels. Trapped in close proximity with a madman who prowls the room’s perimeter.

But all you feel is exhilaration and anticipation for what is to come.

You watch his biceps tense as he runs his fingers through his hair, turning around to face you. “A place where you’re all mine.”

He stalks towards you, eyes glinting in the darkness. “We have all the time in the world, babydoll. And I told you before. I’m going to break you so, so bad.”

“I want it,” your voice comes out in a near whisper as he backs you toward the wall, caging you in with his lithe arms.

His broad shoulders pin you against the wall, and he forces your chin up so that he can finally kiss you. Namjoon’s lips are rough, his teeth not showing mercy as he owns your mouth. His hands roam the expanse of your body, groping first your ass, then palming your breasts in his large hands.

He is like a drug you can’t get enough of. Every lick of his tongue is intoxicating, his lips pull you in deeper into your descent. There’s no going back now. But of course, you knew this all along.

Namjoon pulls away with swollen lips, toned chest panting as he picks you up around the waist. His strength only serves to make you even more beguiled by him, and you have to touch his biceps to feel how they tense and strain under your weight.

He treats you like a ragdoll as he tosses you onto the metal table, climbing onto of you and spreading your thighs with his legs. Namjoon takes a moment to admire how pretty you look with your hair all splayed out across the metal table. In a single motion, he strips your body of your black hoodie with a crazed look in his eyes, annoyed with not being able to see and touch your bare skin. He brings both of your hands up by your head, straps them in with the restraints before you even realise it.

Namjoon has his thumb on your chin. “Open,” he orders, and you obediently part your lips.

He spits right into your mouth, admiring the way his saliva is collected on the back of your tongue.

“Swallow, then show me,” he demands, and you swallow down his spit, opening to show him an empty mouth. “That’s my babydoll.”

He kisses down your body, looking for the first time, unhinged as he feasts on the sweetness of your skin. Namjoon fascinates himself by spitting on your breasts, watching his spittle run down the crevices of your body, into your cleavage, soaked up by your lavender lace bra.

Then, in a sudden movement, he tears your bra to pieces, the underwire ripping your skin and making you gasp in exhilaration. The raw display of strength, the primal desire in his eyes as he sees the crimson stain on your pretty, smooth skin. One finger swipes across the newly made wound, gathering the blood and bringing it to his mouth.

“Sweeter than I imagined,” he says as if in a trance, mesmerized by the way your blood tastes.

Then he dips his finger in the crimson liquid once more, tracing patterns down your belly as he caresses your waist, until he comes to the waistband of your jeans.

“I had hoped you would be in slightly more suitable attire… but I guess this is for practicality’s sake,” he muses, flicking open the button with practiced ease. Namjoon slides your jeans down your legs, hands lingering on every inch of exposed skin as he goes. He tosses your jeans somewhere on the floor, leaving you in your flimsy lace panties that are already soaked to the core.

He brushes two fingers experimentally against the wet patch. “Tell me darling. How would you like to live dangerously?”

When he pulls your panties down, you are so wet that you can smell yourself. Embarrassment heats your cheeks as Namjoon scents your arousal, biting his lower lip in response.

“Look at you. Already so wet, your pussy is begging to be destroyed.” He spreads your pussy lips with two fingers, exposing your delicate insides lewdly as he examines you thoroughly. “Tell me whose pussy this is.”

“Y-yours, it’s yours. Forever. If you want it.” You respond immediately to the warning tap on your inner thigh.

Namjoon chuckles, a low, dangerous sound that you can feel directly in your core. “We’ll see how well it can take cock first. I’m going to tear your pussy apart, then we’ll see if you still want to offer it to me.”

When he reaches your ankles, he imparts a kiss to each one before he straps them in. You can feel the leather restraints tight against your skin, so that you are left spread-eagled on the metal table.

“So perfect,” Namjoon smiles to himself, licking your essence off his fingertips. “Just waiting for me to break you.”

Every second that you don’t feel his touch on your body is a moment of torture. “Namjoon,” you sob, arching your breasts to the ceiling.

“Beg for it,” he whispers, slapping your breasts roughly so that he can watch them bounce under his force. He pinches your nipples hard, reveling in your screams as he tweaks your pleasure. “All you have to do is say the word. ‘Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty…”

“Please,” you gasp, thighs aching with the strain of trying to rub against each other. You can feel yourself dripping onto the table underneath you already. “Pretty please.”

“Good girl,” Namjoon sighs in delight, taking in the trails of dried blood on your tummy. Your hardened nipples are begging to be tasted, but he isn’t done with them yet.

He spots what he’s looking for on the floor a couple of paces away. Leaving your side to pick them up, he attaches the electric clamps onto your nipples, causing you to wail out in pain and pleasure. Of course, there’s no current active between them, since this place has been abandoned for god knows how long, but this will have to do.

“Now, let me eat my babydoll’s pussy.” He finally invites himself to feast on the delicacy in between your legs that he’s been dreaming of ever since the first time he set eyes on you.

The first lick has you thrashing on the table, tears leaking and streaking your mascara down your cheeks. His tongue continues to probe your clit, circling it torturously as two fingers plunge themselves into you without warning.

Having this intelligent, well-spoken man who could probably run for president in between your legs makes you heady with desire. The lust filled moans reverberate in the empty, abandoned medical ward, mixing with the filthy sounds of Namjoon as he tongues your cunt. Two lithe fingers are buried deep, thrusting and seeking out that sensitive spot inside you.

The word slips out before you realise it. “Daddy… let me cum. Wanna cum.”

He pauses at this, letting out a harkened laugh with your juices still dripping from his mouth. “A pretty little girl like you, with a Daddy kink? Oh, this is too perfect. I’ll fuck all the daddy issues right out of you, babydoll.”

And then his tongue is back on your clit, he adds another finger to your cunt to stretch you out even more. Your thighs are twitching, heels banging against the metal table as you convulse under his touch.

“Don’t cum.” He commands, slapping your clit sharply. “You’re not allowed to cum until Daddy says.”

“Please, please stop, I can’t hold it back,” you beg and please, thighs straining to close. You are almost at the edge of your orgasm, one more lick of his devious tongue would send you right over.

Namjoon gives a disappointed sigh, eyes flicking to your tear stained face. Like a predator toying with its prey, he decides to let you off just this once.

“Fine. Meanwhile, I’ll use your pretty little mouth.” A series of movements follow, and you strain your neck to catch a glimpse of what he’s doing.

And it is a glorious sight. Namjoon pushes the sleeves of his prison issued jumpsuit down his well-muscled arms, exposing the thin white shirt underneath. It clings to his defined chest, slightly matted with sweat. But the real prize comes when he pushes the jumpsuit below his waist, and you realise that underwear is probably the only thing that is not prison issued.

The sight of his long, hard cock, angry and red greets you. One hand pushes the rest of the jumpsuit down, the other strokes his length and gathers the precum on his palm to provide a better glide. He catches you staring with a smirk, his abs tensing as he puts on a show for you.

Namjoon kicks his jumpsuit off, walking to the head of the table. He strokes your cheek gently, then slaps it hard, leaving a red imprint behind. He digs his fingers into your cheeks, forcing you to tilt your head up uncomfortably to make eye contact with him.

“Open,” he says, as if you were nothing but another orifice to pleasure himself with.

You can only imagine how much he’s been dying to do this. When was the last time he got off? Your lips part obediently, offering your throat as a vessel for his pleasure.

He rests his cock on your bottom lip, smearing his precum all over your chin. Namjoon grasps himself and moves the tip of his cock to your reddened cheek, spreading the precum over the imprint of his hand. Satisfied with his handiwork, he finally slides his cock into your mouth, and then you are filled with the taste of him.

His cock is hot and heavy on your tongue, his pre cum fills your throat with its saltiness as he thrusts hard. The tip of his cock hits your throat, and you can already start to feel how raw it is as he face fucks you. His balls are hitting your face repeatedly with every thrust, so you have to close your eyes and surrender your mouth to him completely.

“Your every breath belongs to me,” Namjoon emphasizes his statement with every thrust of his cock. “If you breathe, it’ll be because I allowed you to. Got that, slut?”

He punctuates this with a slap to your breasts, causing your nipples to twinge from the clamps. Namjoon then releases the clamps and tosses them aside so that he can bend down to take an abused nipple into his mouth while he fucks your face.

Every few thrusts, Namjoon buries his cock all the way in your throat, forcing you to deepthroat him. Your throat convulses around him as spit and precum drip out the sides of your mouth. Then, he decides to push his cock all the way in and keep it there, actively depriving you of your air supply. His balls are heavy on your face, smothering you.

“Shit!” He pulls his cock away from your mouth after what seems like eternity. “You have such a good mouth for cock-sucking, babydoll. Do you ever suck Jeongguk’s cock like that? Hmmm? Tell Daddy what a cock slut you are.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No! I’m just a cockslut for you. Only you.”

Namjoon chuckles darkly, before shutting you up as he places his balls on your chin. “Shut up and suck my balls, slut.”

You lave your tongue around him, taking one of his testicles into your mouth and playing with it, careful to keep your teeth from grazing them accidentally. By now, your makeup is smeared all over your face, sticky precum coating every inch of your skin, and he has rubbed his balls and cock all over your face, treating you like a sex doll.

You can feel how heavy his balls are as you switch to the other one. Namjoon groans, almost in pain as you suck dutifully.

“Fuck, I have so much fucking cum for you, babydoll. I want to fucking drown you in cum. But the only place I’ll be putting it is in your pretty pussy. Good girls like you love having a cum filled pussy, don’t they? You can’t live unless your pussy has been well-fucked and creamed. You’ll let any random man fill your pussy with cum, won’t you?”

You make a muffled sound in your throat, and Namjoon sighs impatiently, as if anything you have to say is an inconvenience to him. He pulls his balls from your mouth. “What is it, slut?”

“I’ve- I’ve never let anyone cum inside me before-“

“Oh? Never let another man cum inside you?” He reacts with genuine surprise, slapping one breast harshly again. By now, your tits are red and swollen with his handprints all over them. “Never felt a man’s cock pulse as he paints your womb with his cum? Never felt the warmth of his semen in your pussy, travelling through your pretty little body in search of your egg?”

“Never,” you say truthfully, entirely enraptured by his dark, gleaming eyes.

For a moment, he is silent, and you almost think that you can see a glimmer of something that you haven’t quite seen before when it comes to Namjoon. It is soft, tender, but gone in a split second before you had a chance to ascertain that you saw it for real.

“Then I’ll be the first, babydoll.” The luscious grin is back as he makes his way in between your legs, cock probing your inner thighs and staining them with pre-cum. “Beg for my cock.”

You perform for him, as if on cue. “Please, please, please, fuck me. Fuck me so hard and break me, Daddy. I can take it, I promise. Be the first man to cum inside me.”

“What would your parents say if they saw you like this, hmmm?” Namjoon runs the tip of his cock against your slit, slapping it a few times. “All bound up, legs spread, mouth used and begging to get fucked by a madman. Begging for a criminal’s cock.”

Your laugh sounds foreign to your ears. It resounds in the dim room, it is unhinged, on the verge of catatonic.

“They would be proud of me,” you say with a wide grin, and it prompts a belly laugh from Namjoon.

“Give it to me, Daddy,” you bite your bottom lip, canting your hips up in invitation. “I want it all.”

Namjoon gazes down at you with a look of deranged pride at your bruised and broken body, finally feeding you his cock one inch at a time. He spreads your pussy with two fingers as he thrusts the rest of the way in, marrying your hips together with a flex of his thick thighs.

“So fucking tight, I’m going to have so much fun ruining this pussy,” Namjoon all but cackles as he begins to fuck you, every stroke deep and purposeful.

You can only giggle, all caution thrown to the wind as you watch the sweat start to collect on his body. “I’m already broken, Daddy. Use me as you please.”

So Namjoon doesn’t stand on courtesy. He pumps in and out of your cunt, watching your breasts bounce violently from the force of his thrusts. Your walls mold around his cock as if you were made for him, made to take his fucking like his very own plaything.

He places his hands on either side of your waist as he ruts into you like a filthy animal, and you can see from the way his muscles strain and flex that he is putting every single ounce of energy he has into fucking your pussy. Namjoon’s eyes glimmer with a primordial urge, and you let yourself fantasise that you are his last meal. That he is an inmate placed on death row, and his last, dying wish is to fuck a baby into you.

Your pussy clenches involuntarily, and Namjoon slaps your cheek hard.

“What were you thinking about, slut?” He demands, keeping up the brutal pace as the head of his cock assaults your cervix with every thrust.

“M-making you a baby daddy,” you confess with a sinful leer, mouth open and gasping in pain as he slams into your cervix again.

“Oh? Babydoll read my mind,” Namjoon’s lips curl into a nefarious smile. “Ever since you walked into my cell, all I wanted to do is get you pregnant with my child. Fill you up with so much cum so that there’s no way you won’t get pregnant by the time I’m done with you.”

“Do it, please,” you beg, pussy dripping at the thought of him making you heavy and round with his child. It would be your greatest pleasure to carry his baby, to feel a part of him grow inside you, to walk around in public carrying the baby of an insane criminal.

“I’m gonna make you remember how well I broke you,” Namjoon growls into your skin, his voice is a deep rumble as he brands you with his cock. His girth feels as if it is splitting you apart, you can feel the head of his cock so deep, that if you were to touch your stomach, you might feel his cock there. “For the rest of your life, babydoll. I’m gonna cum so deep in your womb, gonna put a baby right here.”

His hand comes to rest on your lower stomach.

“Then I’m going to let you go with a womb full of my cum, and you’re going to walk out of this place with my baby inside you. You’re going to grow so big and swollen that when people see you, they’ll know you’ve been fucked by a psychopath,” Namjoon licks a stripe up your neck, his teeth sinking into the lobe of your ear. “Inseminated by a madman. Bred by a criminal.”

“I’ll give you all the babies you want,” you are desperate to feel him pulse inside you. “Visit you in prison and let Daddy knock me up over and over. Be your little prison breeding slut.”

A derisive chuckle comes from him as he fondles your clit. At this stage, you are so fucked out, cock drunk and desperate for his cum. You couldn’t possibly have any idea what he’s planning.

“That’s right, babydoll. Now stay still and let Daddy do his job. We only get one chance, so Daddy’s got to make sure he fucks a baby into you now.” The urgency in his voice is lost on you as his hips start to hammer into your cunt, driving his cock so deep until you are crying from the intricate mix of pain and pleasure.

You have no idea how you managed to get this far without cumming, but the tension in your lower belly is right at the brink of snapping. Still, you wait for his permission, and judging from his breathing, he is getting close. His thrusts are getting sloppy, his face buried into your shoulder as he chases after his release.

“Cum for me now. Squeeze my cock like the whore you are,” Namjoon breathes into your shoulder, finally giving you the go ahead.

His resounding groan as he fucks into your tightening pussy encourages you to let him hear how good he’s making you feel. Your screams of his name echo inside the abandoned room as your pussy clamps down around his cock, trying its best to milk him dry of every drop of cum.

“Milk me, you fucking cumslut, squeeze me dry,” he demands, slamming into you one last time before he releases with a loud groan, every pulse of his cock sending spurts of semen deep into your womb where it belongs. His fingers tighten around your thighs, leaving behind blue black bruises. “You better get every drop of cum if you want to get pregnant, whore.”

And you work for his cum, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your walls clench around him rhythmically. He is so deep, you can feel the spurts of his cum directly at your cervix, bathing it generously as your womb swallows it down greedily.

When you feel as if the spurts of cum have stopped, you expect him to pull out. But you realise that his cock still remains hard in your well fucked cunt. Namjoon’s chest is heaving, sweat dripping off every crevice of his muscled torso as he slowly begins to thrust his cock in and out of your creamy pussy.

“Daddy’s got to fuck his cum inside your womb,” he says with his eyes glued to the mess between your legs, watching his semen froth up on his cock. “Be a good doll and don’t let any of it escape.”

His thrusts are slower, but deeper now as he makes sure that his balls hit your ass with every thrust. You can feel how sloppy your pussy is, even if you can’t see the cum on Namjoon’s cock. Your inner thighs are wet and sticky, and you whine like a spoiled toddler.

“Daddy… you’re fucking me so hard.It’s all coming out,” you say with a pout. “How am I gonna give Daddy a baby if he fucks all his cum out of my pussy?”

A definitive throb of his cock inside you tells you that you hit his soft spot. “Daddy’ll have to fill you up again then babydoll.”

This time, a finger circles your clit, pulling the knot in your belly tighter as he fucks into you. You tense up immediately, feeling incredibly sloppy as he fucks the cum deeper into your pussy.

“Can I cum? Daddy, can I cum?” You beg, feeling his cock twitching as he hits you with deep thrusts.

“Cum for me, babydoll. Pull all that sweet cum deep inside your womb where it belongs. Give us a baby,” he cajoles, and the squeezing of your sweet, cum slippery walls in your orgasm rewards him. “Fuck, take my fucking cum. Take all of it!”

For the second time that night, you feel his cum flood your pussy, and he tilts your hips up as he roars his pleasure, fucking your cervix raw and open. His thrusts slow as his spurts of cum weaken, and soon, he is plugging your pussy up with his cum.

“My pretty babydoll,” he runs his tongue up the side of your face, kissing the side of your mouth. “Took my cum so well. It’ll be a miracle if you weren’t pregnant after tonight.”

“Daddy…” you eyelids flutter in exhaustion.

He gives you a final kiss on your forehead, smearing the precum on your face one last time before he pushes himself away from you.

You hear him fiddling with the restraints at your wrists and ankles. A moment later, your limbs are free, and you adjust your position so that your thighs are close together, cradling the precious gift of life that Hehas bestowed you with.

“Rest, babydoll.”

You hear his voice getting more and more distant as he moves about the room. Attempting to open your eyes to follow his movement, you see him rummaging for something in the drawers, and then the sound of paper tearing.

“Wh- what are you…?”

Then, he is back by your side, a large, warm hand on your forehead, forcing you back down again. A pinprick on your arm, and then everything goes black.

When you wake up, it is to darkness and musk.

And god, the ache in your entire body.

You move your legs, grimacing at the stickiness in between them. When you sit up, you can feel globs of cum leak down your inner thigh. You run your fingers through it reverently, bringing it to your lips for a taste and closing your eyes in sheer pleasure as you lick every bit of His cum.

How much time has passed? How long were you out cold for?

Glancing around, you slowly recall the events that transpired. The warmth in your slightly swollen belly that reminds you of the life that you have been tasked to nurture. The used needle on the ground beside you that is probably the reason why you were knocked out.

A giggle passes your lips as you scan the room for any traces of Him, but of course, he isn’t here anymore. But it doesn’t matter. He’s long gone, escaped into the night like thin air.

But he chose you.

You want to jump up and down, hug yourself in delight. But you mustn’t spill any more of His cum. You have to make sure it takes, make sure your belly becomes swollen with his child, just as he intended, so that he can see from wherever he is.

You throw your head back as catatonic laughter takes over you, peals of it resounding in the dark basement of the abandoned medical ward.

EPILOGUE

Your lips curl up in a secret smile when they ask. Words of ‘Congratulations! Who’s the baby daddy?’ only make your heart race.

Your swollen stomach is increasing in size with His gift, slowly, day by day.

Min Yoongi’s curious eyes linger on the swell of your belly. “You know… you never gave me your number that night.”

But you ignore him, stirring your coffee serenely.

“And, next up on the nine pm news. Sightings of mass murderer Kim Namjoon in the vicinity have been reported, but two months after his escape from the Hope World Mental Asylum for the Criminally Insane, police still haven’t been able to track him down. The state has initiated a full-scale manhunt for the criminal, but all efforts have proved to be futile…”

You stroke your belly with a peaceful smile, looking at his picture on the television screen. Handsome as ever.

They should just give up. No one in this entire world can find Kim Namjoon. Not even you.

But you’re not worried. Because you know he’ll come back for you, and meanwhile, you’ll proudly show the world how swollen you are because of Him. And when he does come back, it’ll be to fuck another baby into you.

Because after all, you are his chosen. His one and only.

#bts smut #bts rm #namjoon smut #bts namjoon smut #btssmutclub

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