#between drawing and writing and like. my life. time gets a little stretched thin so i dont write as much as id like 😭 anyway

[emulation-0]

@cursedvibes ty for tagging me ik it was a while ago 😭

20 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

on my profile 32, i think? (but actually 35)

2. Whats your total word count?

59,890 tho i do have like 56000 more words in orphaned works

3. What fandoms do you write for?

primarily Jujutsu Kaisen, i had some ideas for other fandoms but those remain as wips... honestly after this tsumiki one im not sure i will be writing for a while siebjfneofneod

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

there's a fire in my brain and im burning up (itadori)

this tired old machine is a-rumbling (higuruma)

the devil's after both of us (itafushi)

oh, lay my curses out to rest (tokyo students + shoko)

oh, ashes ashes dust to dust (nobamaki)

(this makes me upset im not gonna lie cuz looking back and reading these im struck by how mid they are but sjdbdkneodks its whatever)

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

i do for the most part !! i love receiving comments and i want people to know how much i appreciate it :) i also love when ppl reply to comments i leave on their fics so i want to do the same

6. what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ummm my Curses series was more one-shots without actual plot.. and as many of those were shibuya or post shibuya they were all pretty angsty beifbekdjeodk. i wouldnt say any have this kind of ending because then there would have to be a story. but i would say the saddest one ive written is 'keep running for the sink but the well is dry'

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

'light of a new morning' for sure. this one actually had some kind of development i would say. also i have bias because this is one of the only three ive written that dont totally suck. though the tsumiki wip im working on for sure will have an even happier ending

8. do you get hate on fic?

im not popular enough for that lol

9. do you write smut?

no

10. do you write crossovers?

i had one in mind a while ago but it escaped me... i never have before but that doesnt mean i never will, even if it is unlikely

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

i dont think so

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

no but id be honored if so. especially if it was one im proud of

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, but im open to the idea

14. whats your all-time favorite ship?

i go through phases so i cant really answer this lol. my interest waxes and wanes. rn though im really obsessed with uroyuki and in a satosugu phase

15. whats a wip you want to finish but probably won't?

there is a shokohime wip i started two or so years ago about shoko's backstory and the developing of their relationship up until the present but at some point there was a research aspect to it and i thought 'ill do it later'. and then i never did 💀 id like to continue it but i still lowk think it will sit there.. i dont have enough motivation to do research ekdbfkenfkdk

there is also a trigun one i started, it was kind of plotless, just vibes, but i wasnt able to get their dialogue right and idk. maybe when i get into a trigun phase again ill find inspiration and continue

16. what are your writing strengths?

i think im good at describing a scene and emotions. im good at making this kind of poetry

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

im soooo shit at dialogue and even when im not shit at it i keep overthinking it and ruin it anyway lol

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i mean ive done it (but i orphaned those... lol) and im doing it now for the tsumiki wip so its fine i guess. but id only do it for languages that i know and if not, after profuse grammar checking. also ofc it has to make sense within the context of the story

19. first fandom you wrote for?

septimus heap eiebdkwbdkebd it was so bad

20. favorite fic you've written?

ill do you one better and say three... and these are the not-mid ones

light of a new morning (tsumiki and itadori)

after hours (mob and reigen)

before-the-storm bloom (uroyuki)

my writing style changed a lot and i think these ones emulate the way it is now the best

idk 20 writers but tagging @that-was-anticlimactic @zukkaoru @blackhallow and anyone else who wants !!

[maddiem4-writes]

Lime Slushie

I told y'all I'd write a sequel to that last piece, and yes, it's hornier. In fact, from a literary standpoint, I probably should have broken this into multiple chapters, but I didn't, because I wanted to keep my promise about this being the smut chapter. You're welcome :D

Place yourself in a verdant field, with the distant sounds of children climbing on a playground, a handful of ultimate frisbee players being a little too competitive about it, and the distant sounds of traffic, all seemingly muted by the quiet hum of life itself growing at its calm and everlasting pace. Time stretches on a day like this, but it never thins. There's shade under the trees, for those who want it. Vendors hawking various snacks. And in one particular patch of grass, bathed in sunlight...

A gnat buzzed in my ear, and I shooed it away lazily, drowsy in the sun. God, how I loved the sun. To think I'd ever seriously considered giving it up… the idea felt absurd to me now. The cheap beach towel under me, ratty as it objectively was, felt luxurious pressed between my tan skin and the freshly mowed lawn of La Vista Park. Late spring felt like my birthright, and I soaked it in with the casual entitlement of a queen.

There are certain emotions you eventually give yourself license to, when you get old enough to let go of the bullshit. Certain kinds of confidence, an unwillingness to live by anyone else's standards. My airbrushed purple bikini was starting to look a bit out of date these days, and my body wasn't perfectly trim like a magazine model - but nobody stealing glances at me seemed to be bothered, and neither was I. It wasn't so bad to look younger than I was. Let them look, and let them blush. I didn't mind.

I was laying there like a reptile when I heard him. Even still, there are moments where I think the footsteps are his - my eyes opened a little quicker than I would have liked. But it was just… some guy. Some guy who was clearly attempting to summon a lot of borrowed courage from any generous god or demon willing to oblige. I gave him something that bordered on a smirk. I leaned forward, and broke the ice directly.

"I don't bite, you know. Missed my window for it." I gave him a sweet smile, a generous tableau of canines and incisors.

He sputtered nervously, disposable paper cup shaking in his hand, and the straw shaking even harder. For a moment, anyways. He regained his composure well, and earned a tick more of my attention by doing so. Not just prey, this one. Interesting.

"I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like a slushie from the cart over there. The piña colada's really good. Like…", he struggled visibly with his words, "really really good."

I reached down and picked up a half-empty cup of my own. "Oh, I've got it covered." I took a sip of the bright green slush. "Lime flavor. That's pretty good too."

"Ooh!" he leaned down to examine it. "I didn't see that flavor on the sign."

I winked. "It's my favorite. Reminds me of home. Doesn't taste like actual limes though, it's the artificial, candy kind of lime. When it's sour enough, it makes your mouth water, so it's extra refreshing, you know?" I took another sip, drawing the cup back from his prying eyes, and savored the sensation washing over my tongue. "That's the good shit."

"I'll make a note of that. Especially since summer's just about here. Which… you're definitely dressed for." He blushed a little. Cutie.

"Who am I to argue with the weather? It's a hot day, I might as well dress for it. Life's too short - or, maybe too long - to worry what people think." I leaned forward a little, looked him in the eye. "If anything, I think they like it. If they allow themselves to admit it, that is."

He blushed even redder, but didn't look away. He looked me up and down, like he'd granted himself some permission to do so. "I… I'll admit it, yeah."

I held out my hand to shake. "That makes you more honest than most men I meet. And still polite, in a world where it seems like every guy is just one or the other. Congratulations on riding the line, Mr. ….?"

He seemed to shake out of a trance, a little bit. "Shaw!" He reached out with his slushie-holding hand, caught himself, swapped it to the other hand, and tried again with his now-icy right hand one more time. "Alan Shaw. Pleased to meet you."

I took his hand lightly, and shook. "Elizabeth. Just Elizabeth."

"You don't have a last name?"

"Oh, I do." I grinned at him. "I have it, and I love it, and I'm fiercely protective of it. That's why I keep it all to myself." I realized we'd stopped shaking, and I was still holding his hand. The gentle dappled shadow of the sugar maple leaves swayed over us and back again. He felt so alive, and I felt alive with him.

"Elizabeth, No Last Name Given. Alright." He seemed uncertain, but intrigued. "How about a phone number?"

I laughed. "Nothing in service. You got a phone, though?"

"Yes?"

"Good. Help me up." He lifted me to my feet by my hand. I was unsteady for a moment, I felt like I'd softened in the sunlight, all rubbery-legged. I shook it off, and held my other hand out. "Phone?"

He handed it to me hesitantly. "Who are you calling?"

I didn't look up at him, focusing on the screen. "Nobody. I need to check something, real quick, while I have the chance…" These days everyone's phone was pretty fancy and different from each other, which is not an ideal combination if you're always borrowing phones, but I figured out how to do a web search. I frowned.

He stared at me. "What?"

I shrugged. "Nothing."

He popped his head over before I could stop him. "Wait, what? You a sports fan?"

"Me? I couldn't care less. But my best friend is."

He scratched his head. "Eagles, huh? I don't exactly follow sports myself. I had no idea they were taking off this year. Your friend, are they from Philly?"

I handed back the phone, screen privacy now entirely pointless. "Originally."

He looked at the screen himself. "They must be real excited. A shot at winning the Super Bowl, huh? That's gotta be a huge deal for them."

I pursed my lips and stared off into space. "Couldn't be bigger, honestly."

He finally looked up. "Shit. Sorry. I feel like I just invaded something personal."

I held my arm and looked down. "A bit, yeah. But you can make it up to me."

He stuffed the phone in the pocket of his shorts. "Anything! You name it. I really didn't mean to step in your private life or anything like that."

I looked up a little, at the markings just visible at the edges of his sleeves. "Anything, huh?" My mind raced, and I answered recklessly. "Then take me home with you."

"…what?"

"Not tonight. Not some scheduled date night you'll never show up to. Take me home now, or nothing." I had to look like I wasn't concentrating. Beach towel. Lime slushie. Hold in position. It was no wonder to me now why I'd felt a magnetism to this man. The risk and the reward were both astronomical, and I was going to chance it. If I was very lucky, this Alan guy would think with his dick. If not…

"N- now?" Come on. "Literally right now?" Yes. Just say yes. "With me?" You're the one, pal.

I shrugged and started rolling up my towel, putting it under my arm. "It's a one-time offer. If you're not interested, that's fine…" I was cursing profusely in my head. "But I'm heading home either way. So better make up your mind fast. I'm a busy woman, not lacking in options."

I think I saw him sweating. The towel wasn't so hard to maintain while I was touching it. I gave him a few seconds to look me over, and picked a direction for "home" in case I needed to take the bluff further. I slurped down the rest of my slushie, and began walking to the nearby trash bin. "Last chance," I said, tossing the empty cup in.

He looked around, debating with himself. "Fuck it. My place isn't fancy, but it isn't far either. Come on." He wasn't even parked far away. Cheap little beige sedan. Perfect.

The buildings passed by out the window, familiar to me by now after a long residence. I watched them go by, then turned to smile at my driver, who was stealing glances at my body. I winked, pulled down my top briefly, and told him: "that's all you get until we get there. Don't crash."

He grinned and saluted me. "Yes, ma'am!" And then turned his attention to the road just in time to slam on the brakes for a red light. God, I couldn't wait to see him naked.

His apartment was a basement with outdoor steps. It smelled damp and earthy, with a bit of fresh grass poking through the mud of the "lawn" that had long since become a walkway to the concrete stairs. There's a musty smell that all basements have, that got stronger as we walked down, and while I didn't mind it, it made me very glad I hadn't died in a basement.

He fiddled with the keys, until they jangled the lock open, and he rushed inside. Good boy. I walked in, and couldn't help but grin. I'd come to the right place, and it was obvious by the… decor. The books left open, the posters with sharpie corrections. I shut the door quietly behind me.

He was frantically trying to clean the place at the last second, apologizing for the mess, and I put my hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and I guided him to standing face to face with me, my finger on his lips. "It's alright. I like the mess. Leave it be."

His breath caught. "Okay."

I leaned in and I kissed him, tongue snaking around his, exploring him. His hands, somewhere between the roughness of a gardener and the softness of a scholar, started tentatively at my hips, then up my torso along the sides, then touching my breasts. Every second he was more urgent, or confident, or both. I reveled in it.

He broke free to breathe. "You taste like lime," he said, almost second-guessing his senses.

"And you taste like piña colada." He had scruffy brown hair, a little too long and shaggy, and I brushed it away as I caressed his face. "You were right. It's really, really good."

He gasped, and worked his fingers under my bikini top, grasping and groping, massaging my nipples. I began to unbuckle his belt with my hands. I soon had it free, and I broke off from kissing him again, and got on my knees for him. I prayed a thank you for the knockoff Persian rug beneath us, softer than the concrete below it, and slid his shorts down.

He was already hard, and I hadn't even done my due diligence of stroking him through the fabric. I knew I'd make up for that in a moment. At least from the waist down, his body was on display for me, and I liked what I saw. He was thin, and his cock was an average length and girth, but his legs had some tone to them, and the scratches on them… yes. I gave him one last look, and I think I must have been adorable, looking him in the eyes as I slid my tongue from his scrotum, up the shaft, all the way to the tip. He shuddered and leaned back against the bookcase behind him as I slid my lips down the length of him. He was salty and delicious.

And by god did I make it worth his while, and mine. I felt him on my whole tongue every time I got all the way down to the base. Up, down, up, down, feeling his fingers entwine in my hair. Hearing his sweet moans. I stopped halfway down, and worked him with my tongue inside my mouth, and I felt him grab a shelf of the bookcase to avoid crumpling to the floor. Emboldened, I pursed my lips for stiffness, so he wouldn't feel my teeth, and I sucked hard, and began bobbing my head like that. I wouldn't have cared if I made him cum then and there. I was lost in it.

His grip tightened on my head, and I knew what was coming next. I reminded myself that the need to breathe was an illusion for me. I couldn't get deader, at least, not this way. Fellatio is always an act of service, but it can seamlessly switch back and forth who's in control, and that's the beauty of it. Alan took control, and started forcing my head down onto him, fucking my face in its pretty little hole. I let myself go limp, even gag. I let him have his way with me. I became an object for his desire. If I'd been alive, I might have stopped him, but by now I'd had some practice pushing my limits.

When he finally pulled me off of him, I had tears running down my face, and a river of spit running out of my mouth and down my chin, with little threads still connecting to the sloppy drench of saliva on his penis. And I was smiling. I was proud. I looked up at him, messy and beaming. My voice was a bit hoarse and wet as I told him: "You can fuck me now, if you want."

He wanted.

He picked me up, hands under my armpits, and threw me against the bed so that I tripped and fell backwards onto it. He towered over me, with that look in his eyes. Knowing he was doing something wrong, something I wanted, something he could barely admit to wanting himself. I should have known he'd be rough with me. He peeled his shirt off, and I gasped. He truly was exactly what I was looking for.

I untied my top and threw it off, and was working off my bikini bottom when he put his hand on my chest and pushed me flat down on the bed. It was only when I went limp for him again that he took the hand back off, and used both hands to slide my panties off of me. He caught me by surprise by burying his face in my pussy, and I put a hand over my mouth to catch my own scream as his tongue slid inside me. His nose was rubbing my clit, and I used my other hand to grip his cotton sheets - a few weeks overdue for washing, and rich with the smell of him - writhing as he tortured me with pleasure.

He just kept going deeper, and then he started using his fingers… he crooked them upwards, finding that spot on the roof, and he stroked along the ridges. He moved his mouth to suck gently on my clit while he fingerfucked me. My body felt like it was on fire, and I moaned loudly. I was helpless to him.

Time seemed to stretch, I don't know how long he did that to me, but it was heaven. But when he stopped, he wiped his face on his arm, like he'd just finished up at a drinking fountain. He scooted me back on the bed. I looked up at him, feeling almost dizzy, so hungry for him to be inside me. He teased my clit with his cock once…. twice…. and then slid all the way in.

He'd lulled me back into a false sense of security with that detour into oral. His lust was greedy and aggressive, and he fucked me like he was trying to fuck the life out of me. I stared up into his eyes, my own glassing over, my brain being rattled into a submissive haze. He held me by the shoulders and drilled himself into me over and over and over again. At one point, he grabbed one of my breasts and fondled it, but the other kept bouncing with the power of his thrusts.

His breathing became harder, more jagged. I tried to nod, but my head was already being shaken up and down too much for it to be noticeable. He was going to cum inside me, and I wanted that so bad. Not for any plan, or ulterior motive. Just for me. Just to feel him do it. He fucked me harder, faster, pushing himself. I felt overstimulated and beyond the reach of reality. He took me for his own. It felt like a flood inside my pussy. I wasn't surprised that he was pent-up, but jesus. It lubricated him further as he kept fucking me, until his muscles spasmed with the roll of the orgasm, and he collapsed onto me, his weight cementing me under him, his cock plugging me full of his seed and preventing a single drop from escaping.

The sudden ending set me off in another orgasm, and I wished I'd been counting, but I'd got lost in the whirlwind of it all. I shook under him, and wrapped my legs around him, holding him even tighter. As close as a person can be. The thought flitted briefly in my head that maybe, just maybe, I'd underestimated my own loneliness. I didn't allow that thought to stay long. I just held him inside me.

We stayed like that for a long time. Interlocked, intersected, whole in a way we couldn't have been individually. We rested like that. When he finally pulled out of me, I lost control of my muscles again for a moment, shivering with stimulation. He rolled over next to me, wrapped his arms around me, and held me from the side. I looked over at him.

He couldn't look me in the eye, even as he held tight to me for comfort. When he finally spoke up, he said, in a simple statement of fact: "they don't sell lime flavor at the cart."

I shook my head. "No." And after a pause: "You've been carving runes in your skin, haven't you?"

He sighed and nodded.

I smiled. "I can show you the memory if you like. And you tell me what you're up to. Just… get dressed first."

He sat up, looking out a thin and pale-blue window of his basement home. "You say that like we both haven't made some huge mistake."

I put my hand on his shoulder blade. It lived up to its name on a thin guy like him, angular and defined. "We haven't. Or at least, I don't think we have. I think we've laid the groundwork to a very mutually beneficial partnership."

"Oh yeah?" he said sarcastically, pulling on a pair of jeans that had been crumpled at the foot of the bed. "Not getting any results in the Ghost4Sorceror section of Craigslist?" But there was a bit of playfulness in the tone. That's how I really knew. Got 'em. I knew you couldn't say no.

"Don't be an ass, hear me out. You tell me your thing, I'll tell you mine. We help each other. Friends with extensive benefits, what's not to love?" My towel and bikini had disappeared… probably an hour ago. My concentration had been elsewhere. I stood up, closed my eyes, and remembered:

SUMMER DAY. AUGUST. LATE 80'S. I WAS WAITING IN LINE AT THE BANK. I WAS WEARING A-

I opened my eyes, dressed in a red skirt and frilly orange top. The outfit had made me feel like a marigold flower, and made enough of an impression that I could remember it clearly, down to the shiny black heels. I felt fresh and clean.

Alan blinked. "That's fucking spooky."

I shrugged. "I'm a spook. And, well, you did just fuck me."

He wrestled his way into an uncooperative graphic tee, boasting a faded and pockmarked Led Zeppelin logo. "True and true. And for the record, I have no problem with spookiness. Obviously. I'm just trying to figure out which kink I've gotten myself into - interspecies, or necrophilia."

I waggled my finger in front of him. "Nuh-uh. Monsterfucker."

He stared at the ceiling in thought. "I can live with being a monsterfucker. Ah, crap, shoes…."

I laughed and offered my hand. "Don't need 'em! But… hold on.'"

He stared at me warily. "Why? Is it like, I'm gonna fall down the vortex of space and time, or fly across the city, or…"

I grabbed his hand. "No, dumbass, it just doesn't work if you let go." I closed my eyes and called up the same memory I had hours ago, when I was settling in at the park this morning.

JULY 4, 1982. SYRACUSE, NEW YORK. I WAS ELEVEN YEARS OLD AND MY DAD TOOK ME TO-

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S DESIRE - CHAPTER 26

*Warning: Adult Content*   

Freya Hunter leaves her bike in Jake Nash's backyard and drives everyone to Sasha's house in Monty’s car. 

Montreal Hunter probably could have managed it but with a busted hand and bitten shoulder, he’s glad to let her take the wheel. 

He sits in the middle row of seats with Kit Montreal, still unconscious, in his arms, while his parents rest in the back. 

Alpha Joseph Hunter is still a wolf, his head resting on his wife's lap and she strokes the fur between his large, jackal-like ears. 

At the moment, they lie flat and Monty realizes they may not be out of the woods just yet.

"How bad is he hurt?" Monty asks, twisting to look back at them. 

Alpha Astrid Hunter shakes her head. 

"No worse than I am, physically. It's the strain on his heart. That bastard didn't have to touch him to put him through hell," she inhales sharply through her nose, her mouth a thin line of anger. 

"We didn't know what had happened to Sasha and Martin and the kids or to the rest of you. Jake gave us plenty of terrible possibilities to dwell upon."

"Everyone's fine," Monty assures her. 

"Just worried for you and Dad."

Mrs Hunter nods.

"I hope when he sees that, it'll do him good."

Monty thinks back over her words and frowns. 

"What's wrong with his heart? Is Dad sick?"

Mrs Hunter sighs and adjusts the bear skin that still covers her. 

It doesn't smell very good and it's probably not helping her leave the nightmare of Jake Nash's dungeon behind.

"We kept it from you so you wouldn't worry, Monty but the fact is your father's no spring pup. His heart's grown a bit weak and he's supposed to avoid stress. It wasn't serious and Dr. Meyer said there's no reason he shouldn't live a full, long life. But that was before..."

"Don't think about it now," Monty says, reaching back to take her hand. 

"Just rest. You can tell us everything when you're ready."

She smiles and squeezes her son’s fingers. 

"You're the most like him, Monty. That's why he's always worried about you the most. A strong heart, a soft heart and a good heart is a rare thing to find all in one man or wolf. It's why I fell in love with him. But it makes him vulnerable, too, to just the kind of hurt that Jake threatened him with, not to himself but to those he loves."

Monty turns his attention to his father, stretching to rest a hand on his back.

"We love you, too, Dad," he says quietly. 

"So hang in there, okay?"

Mr Hunter whines softly and wags his bushy tail and Mrs Hunter smiles.

"That's my man," she says and leans down to kiss his head.

                                                          ~ ☾ ~

"They should be in hospital," Sheriff Page complains. 

"You should all be in a hospital.

Alpha Dane Hunter had called her immediately upon their return, demanding she investigate Jake Nash’s's house and release Sasha from custody at once. 

To their surprise, she had complied and driven her home to them, herself. 

On the other hand, now she refuses to leave and insists they all receive proper medical care. 

Dane is having a difficult time explaining why they can't. 

The speed of their healing alone would draw attention, not to mention the results of any blood-work.

"We, uh, don't go to hospitals for, uh, religious reasons," he says.

"Religious reasons? What kinda bullshit..." she huffs, hands on her hips.

"Look, we got a family doctor," Dane says. 

"She's on her way here now. If she says they need to be in a hospital, we'll go. You have my word."

"What's your doctor's name?"

"Emmeline Meyer," he answers firmly and without hesitation because it's true. Dr. Meyer has been their doctor since they were children. 

She's a real doctor, too, board-certified and everything. 

She's also a medicine-woman, belonging to one of the local indigenous tribes and she specializes in treating unusual patients. 

Through her, they get the best of both worlds, modern medicine and traditional knowledge combined.

"Fine," Sheriff Page concedes, writing the name down in the little notebook she keeps in her shirt pocket, like a real old-school sheriff. She shakes her head. 

"I gotta admit I overlooked Jake Nash as a suspect. Law-enforcement tend to be a blind-spot for other law-enforcement."

Dane frowns and rubs his hands over his hair. 

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

Of all of them, Dane had taken to Jake Nash the easiest and the most, seeing in him a fellow officer he could trust to have his back.

"Well, I'll be in touch," Sheriff Page says, touching the brim of her hat. 

"I'll need statements from everyone but for the moment it can wait. Meanwhile, I put out a state-wide BOLO on Jake. I'll keep you informed."

She leaves and Dane comes to join Monty where he sits at Sasha's kitchen counter, perched on a barstool with his broken hand bathed in ice.

"Fuck. What a mess," Dane says, letting out a long breath and covering his face with his hands.

"We got Mom and Dad back," Monty reminds him. 

"That's what matters."

At the moment, Mr and Mrs Hunter are upstairs in Sasha's room, resting. 

Mr Hunter had finally shifted back to human form and they both look better for a hot shower and a change of clothes. 

Meanwhile, Kit lies unconscious in one spare room and Julian's still asleep in the other. 

Martin and Freya watch the children outside and Sasha has retreated to her back porch, where she sits curled up with a blanket on her bench swing. 

Dane lowers his hands from his face and glares at Monty, his amber eyes bloodshot with stress.

"Why'd you let him go?" he growls and Monty does his best to glare back at him but it's kinda hard when he looks like he wants to cry but can't.

"Because getting torn to shreds by a feral wolf wasn't my top priority, Dane. Mom and Dad and Kit were."

"What do you mean, feral?” he asks, eyes narrowing. Monty blows out his breath. 

Between getting everyone back here and settled in and dealing with the sheriff, he’s yet to tell Dane everything. 

Monty takes a sip of the neat bourbon whiskey Martin had poured him to help with the pain.

"I mean, he looked like a normal wolf, except his eyes were red and his teeth were a nightmare," he says. 

"He had this rabid strength and... I dunno. There was just something unnatural about him. Never seen anything like it, apart from a Lycian and I've only seen one of those."

"The one you saved the triplets from?"

"Yep. Dumb kids." 

Monty sips his drink. Lycians are rare a diseased melding of man and wolf that occurs when a Bite goes wrong. 

They're the inspiration for a lot of pop-culture 'werewolves' bipedal with long arms tipped in blade-like claws and a mouth full of tangled, razor-sharp teeth. 

One had wandered into their territory when Monty was a teenager and Travis, Martin and Noah had almost gotten themselves eaten trying to catch a glimpse of it.

"Anyway, I don't know if I coulda brought him down, even if I had gone after him. You know I'm not a fighter."

Dane sighs and rubs the back of his head. 

"Yeah, I know. How's the hand, anyway?

"Hurts like a mother....," Monty says, grimacing 

"But it'll heal up in a day or so, once Dr. Meyer sets the bones."

Shifting with broken bones is never a good idea and if the breaks had been clean to begin with, they certainly weren't now.

"Good." Dane rises and pats Monty’s uninjured shoulder. 

"I'm glad you're okay, otherwise, Monty. I'm glad everyone's okay, more or less."

Dane leaves Monty, off to check on the twins and then his mate Julian and their parents. 

Monty watches him go and in the stiffness in his shoulders he can see that they sense the same thing, as Jake had said, they may have had a victory today but this isn't over yet.

                                                         ~ ☾ ~

When Dr. Meyer arrives, she treats Mr and Mrs Hunter first, though the lighter of their abrasions have already begun to heal. 

She prescribes Mr Hunter a few human medicines that work on Wolves and gives both him and Mrs Hunter some calming medicinal teas in the meantime. 

Next, at Monty’s insistence, she checks on Kit.

"His heart sounds fine," she says, listening with a stethoscope pressed to his bare chest. 

"Slow but strong. Just let him sleep it off. Might wake up with a headache and some confusion but he'll be all right."

Monty feels a tightness ease within himself and exhales with relief. 

They go back downstairs and finally Monty lets her have a look at his hand. Dr Meyer clucks her tongue.

"You're gonna need more than one drink not to feel this, Montreal," she says, gently examining his hand, 

"And I can't recommend that much alcohol. Local anesthetic should do it."

"Ah, Emmy, you know I hate shots," Monty complains, only half pretending.

Her weathered face breaks into a grin. 

"I do, too. Never seen such a big boy cryin' over a little vaccine."

She's got to be at least eighty years old but she's still sharp as the needle she's about to stick in his hand.

"Just a little sting," she says, tapping the syringe she's prepared.

"Like I could feel it over the rest of this," Monty mutters but he looks aside anyway. He really don't like needles. 

When his hand is suitably numb, she proceeds to mold the bones back into place.

"Damn, boy," she remarks, as she wraps his hand in gauze. 

"Someone did a job on you. You fail to repay a debt or something?"

"Nope. Just got on the wrong side of a bad wolf."

"Something I should be worried about?"

Something she should tell the tribal leadership, she means. Monty considers.

"Not yet. If there's trouble that might spread, we'll let you know."

Dr Meyer nods.

"Good. And keep your father away from the excitement, if you can. He was one of my first patients, long ago, when most folk around here still thought 'woman doctor' was an oxymoron. I'll be damned if he goes out before I do."

"I'll do my best," he says and means it. 

Finished with his arm, she examines his shoulder next and hisses through her teeth.

"Bad wolf, indeed," she says, probing the punctures with her fingertips. 

"Something rotten 'bout this one, am I right?"

Monty nods, a little alarmed that she can tell so much from a bite.

"I'm gonna give you some herbs and some antibiotics," she says. 

"Just in case. I know you Wolves heal fast, most times but I like to play it safe."

She writes the prescriptions and prepares the bag of herbs, along with instructions on how to use them.

"Call me right away if it gets worse," she says, using her sternest doctor voice. 

Monty promises that he will and watches with slight trepidation as she leaves and drives away, her old Ford pickup raising a cloud of dust in its wake.

                                                       ~ ☾ ~

Later that evening, they all gather in Sasha's living room, except for Kit, who slumbers on and Sasha herself, who's retired early. 

The kids play together in a corner and Julian is awake but grouchy, he still hasn't forgiven Dane for not letting him read the site earlier. 

Dane hasn't forgiven himself, either, judging by the look of him. 

For their part, Mr and Mrs Hunter seem more themselves and it warms Monty to see them side by side again, alive and smiling. 

He hadn't realized what a weight of dread he'd been carrying until it was lifted.

"Take your time," Dane says, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. 

"Just tell us as best you can."

"Well," Mrs Hunter begins, clearing her throat, 

"We had no warning. We never suspected Jake was anything but an honest, good man. Then he showed up at our door, late at night and asked to speak to Joseph."

She looks to her Mate and takes his hand.

"Joe came to the door, concerned for Sasha. And Jake... well, he pulled a pistol from his belt and shot him with a dart. Joseph collapsed immediately and I can only thank the fact we didn't keep his condition a secret from Sasha for Jake not overdoing the dose. Usually, even an old Alpha is hard to bring down."

She pauses and sips the tea Dr. Meyer had prescribed. Monty smell chamomile and lavender and a hint of echinacea.

"Then he turned the gun on me but before he shot me, he said something I didn't understand, 'when the black moon rises, the white dawn comes.'"

"What is that, some kinda neo-nazi shit?" Dane asks and Mrs Hunter shakes her head wearily. 

"I don't know. Extremists come in all kinds and Wolves are no exception. But from what he told us later, I'm guessing that's not far off."

Adjusting his arm around her, Mr Hunter takes over.

“We woke up in chains," he says. 

"with metal collars on our throats. He told me to Shift and threatened to kill Astrid if I refused. At first I..." 

He glances at his wife and a look of pain flickers across his face. 

"At first I didn't believe he was serious."

"It's alright, Joe," she says, touching the side of his face. 

"I'm fine."

Joseph Hunter sniffs and continues.

"Anyway, I Shifted and then he made Astrid do the same. Maybe in my heyday, I coulda taken him. Ripped his throat out and been done. Now, though..." he sighs.

"He had a gun on us, Joe, a big-ass automatic gun. Even in your prime, you'd've been a fool to jump at that."

"Well..." 

He smiles at her. 

"I've always been a fool for you."

"You're an idiot, all right," she laughs, her cheeks tinged pink as she rests her head on his shoulder. 

"But you're my idiot."

"I don't remember much after that, to be honest," he says. 

"Except..."

Astrid Hunter winces and straightens in her seat again.

"He kept asking all kinds of questions. Obscure stuff I hardly knew, about our lineages and our ancestral origins. Joseph's ancestors are North African and mine are Scandinavian but beyond that, we don't know all the minutiae of who fucked who to get us here. We're not the Book of Genesis, for Gods' sake."

"Mom," Monty chides with soft humor. 

"Language."

She glances askance at her son.

"Apologies. Anyway, when he didn't get the answers he wanted, he..." 

She draws a breath and moves a little closer to her Mate.

"He hurt me," Mr Hunter says, lifting his chin. 

"But I could take just about anything he gave, until..."

Mrs Hunter winces and shuts her eyes.

"He said he'd killed Sasha and Martin," she cuts in. 

"And he had these wolfs' pelts, all tawny and golden like hers and dark gray like his and he didn't let us see them close enough to know for sure. And he told us how he did it, in such detail and..."

"We get it," Dane says gently. 

"The point is, what did he ultimately want?"

"To weaken us," Joseph Hunter says. 

"He said he was 'preparing us' for the Hunt, as if we were to be prey. For this 'Dire' of his, whatever that means."

Monty shares a glance with his brother, Dane who sighs and then, quietly, tells their parents everything.

                                                  ~ ☾ ~

When Dane finishes, their parents share a glance.

"Isn't it bit of a coincidence..." Astrid Hunter asks. 

"That this little fox shows up, hailing from the Mortaines and this 'Dire Ferrault' just a week before Jake turns on us?"

Monty bites his tongue. 

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought the same thing and yet his heart says otherwise. 

Dane surprises him and comes to Kit's defense. 

"He was abused. Raised as less than human or wolf and sold for advantage. He's not our enemy."

"That's the story he's told you," Mrs Hunter says evenly. 

"Every story has at least five sides."

"It's the truth, though," Monty argues.

"How can you know?" 

Mrs Hunter turns her keen blue eyes on Monty and he swallows. 

Considering what Sasha's going through at the moment, it seems tactless but Monty can't help what he knows in his soul.

"I know because... Well, you saw it at first glance, Mom. Kit is my Mate."

Mrs Hunter’s eyes go wide.

"You're really sure?" she asks softly. 

Monty can't blame his mother for doubting, at the moment.

"Yes, I'm sure."

She nods and squeezes Mr Hunter's hand with a smile.

"In that case, this isn't such a bad end to the day, after all. Congratulations, Montreal, we wish you every measure of happiness."

"That we do, son," Joseph Hunter says, reaching for his son’s hand. 

"What a wonderful family we have. First a Fae and then a dragon,and now a divine fox—" 

He stops and coughs and his wife rests her hand on his arm.

"Come one, Joe. Let's go to bed. You've earned a good rest."

"As long as you're at my side, woman, I'll rest just fine," he says and she laughs and helps him up and together they make their way upstairs.

"How can they laugh?" Julian asks, having remained silent so far. 

"They've lost everything."

"They lost their house," Dane corrects. 

"That's not everything."

"No," Julian sighs, leaning against Dane's side. 

"You're right. But still..."

"What do we do now?" Freya asks, biting her nails. 

She sits in the corner, curled in a chair, where she's listened with keen but silent interest all along. 

Dane sighs and rubs his hands over hair.

"When he's recovered, I'm gonna ask Dad for the Alpha. In his condition..." he sighs again and shakes his head. 

"I don't want it but we need to be ready."

Monty leans forward in his seat. 

"Ready for what, Dane?"

Alpha Dane Hunter looks up and his amber eyes are lit with golden fire.

"For war," he says.

[jackrrabbit]

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

[sukirichi]

rude boy

— As the captain of the volleyball team, you have to set a good example of staying firm to your rule of not dating the male players...but perhaps you’re willing to bend the rules a little bit when a rude boy is kind enough to show you why you’re wrong.

CONTENT/WARNINGS. smut, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), hard!dom suna, slight exhibitionism, doggy style, overstimulation, mild breeding kink, cumplay, implied size kink, degradation with praising kink (LOL), soft! aftercare suna

NOTE. oh hell yeah we’re turning into a haikyuu blog. i can’t believe i’m writing for a character i haven’t even met yet but hey SUNA RINTAROU SUPREMACY. I’m in love with him, maybe much more than I like Akaashi, but can you blame? he’s sexy AF. tagging @noritoshiikamo​

SONG INSPOS. Rude Boy, Disturbia, Where Have You Been All My Life (Rihanna)

Win after win, your school is glorious and honourable once more. Not only did the men’s volleyball team, but as the captain of the women’s team, you proudly carried awards just as they did.

You’re on the dance floor, hazily dancing to the beat with your red cup already empty. It’s rare that people organized after parties but you made it Nationals this time around; surely it’s not too bad to let everyone let loose. Besides, the managers weren’t around and everyone seemed to be having fun, bringing in their plus ones or making out with their fellow teammates.

You scowl at the sight. The one thing you hate the most is breaking formalities and relationship autonomies – everyone knows that you have one strict rule: No dating the players for the men’s team.

Naturally, your team members are more than flabbergasted. The male players are gorgeous after all, but you’ve grown up with the Miya twins; you know beauty could never be enough of a reason for your precious teammates to be used for pleasure and dumped to the side once they’ve had their fill. You all have a bright future ahead of you, with goals and dreams to be fulfilled; one that you won’t allow to be trampled upon by these men.

You’re about to head back to the kitchen for another drink when someone holds you in place, large, calloused hands gripping at your hips. You’re about to elbow the intruder when the familiar scent of musky spicy cologne, mixed with sweat and something that was solely him, you relaxed.

“Can’t keep your hands to yourself for the whole party, Suna?”

“You’re here,” his bored, deep voice is sultry as it coos in your ear. Unable to help yourself, you shiver at his touch, your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. “I don’t see a reason to.”

“You’re a little touchy tonight,” you comment, the glare of your eyes softening as the alcohol loosens the usual composed and strict captain in you, falling back into his touches that tell a promise of something more later. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was because you miss him too – whatever it was, you’re grinding onto his front, the middle blocker humming as a warning in your ear not to tease him too much. You being you though, you only push back harder, allowing him to set the pace by squeezing your waist. “You act like you don’t see me all the time.”

“Doesn’t mean I get to feel you all the time,” his voice turns husky, the mere sound of his voice mixing with the party’s music increasing your arousal. You breathe sharply when Suna cups your core experimentally, thankful that his body is big enough to hide what he’s doing. “Upstairs?”

“Here, Suna? In a party?”

“Can you wait until we get home?” he taunts, chuckling when he sees the way your lips press into a thin line. “As I thought.”

Tch, he doesn’t have to be so cocky about it.

Suna leads you upstairs before pushing you inside the closest empty room, his lips hands everywhere on you the moment the back of your knees hit the bed. He’s eager and needy, his arousal evident from how he’s bucking the tent in his pants against your hands. His tongue prods you to open your mouth, and just to tease him, you refuse him access, slipping your hands inside his pants instead to swipe a thumb over his thumb.

He growls at your teasing, retaliating by pinching your boob followed by a flick over your nipple. Suna isn’t only an expert at volleyball; he’s a master of your body too, able to play you and hit the right spots all the fucking time.

He’s aware of this when he finally gets what he wants – a shocked moan from you that nearly makes you fall back on the bed if it wasn’t for his other hand tugging at your wrist to slam you back to his body. Suna doesn’t waste his time in kissing you, sucking on your tongue until you both start fighting for dominance. Just as he’s lost and crazed by the pent up sexual frustration of watching one another play at court today – to see the other so close yet so far away – you swallow his small, little groans into your mouth, your hand eagerly pumping and spreading his pre-cum all over the base of his shaft.

Suna’s cock twitches into your palm, prompting you to squeeze the length at the same time you bite down on his lip. Hard.

His eyes snap open moments before he comes, his touch rough and even bruising when he pushes your arm away from his. As if a switch has been flipped inside him, his eyes have grown darker, his hands running down your form hungry and even animalistic.

Your eyes widen when Suna goes down on his knees, deft fingers tugging at the waistband of your shorts. “S-Suna, what’re you doing—”

“Shh, I want to taste you,” your hands find home in his hair as he helps you shimmy out of those tight, ass-hugging material that had him rock hard during your whole match. He wants to punish you for it, for nearly distracting him when it was his turn to play; the fact you’re always so unaware of the effect you have over him downright offensive. He has other plans in mind though, plans you’re about to discover when Suna suddenly licks at the swollen nub through your panties, making your thighs shiver. “Haven’t seen this pretty pussy in a long time,” he buries his face in your cunt, taking a huge whiff of the intoxicating scent of your arousal.

It’s almost perverted, you think, the way he’s rolling your hardened clit between his teeth, relishing in the way you’re falling apart for him like this, legs spread wide open.

Suna keeps you steady by squeezing your ass closer to his face until his nose is prodding at your lips, the sounds of your pretty moans and whines erotic enough that he feels like busting a nut right then and there. He holds back though, pulling away to breathe just to bite the lace down your legs. The whole time, he keeps his fox-like eyes on yours that are pooled with lust and something carnal, the grazing of his teeth collecting heat to pool at your core.  

With two long fingers pulling your lips apart just for his eyes, he licks at your blossoming sex, pulling groans from both of you when he dives into your even harder.

Suna’s tongue is lapping at your dripping juices while you look down at him, pupils blown wide just as he smirks, he actually fucking smirks under you, his tongue suddenly plunging inside your sopping hole.

Your scream is muffled at the last moment when you bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, the nails digging into his scalp making him hiss.

Nevertheless, Suna doesn’t stop, drinking all you can give him while his tongue laps at your walls. The warm, wet muscle exploring each inch of you has you grinding against his face, shameless as you fuck yourself harder on his tongue. Suna chuckles at your actions, the vibrations pushing you over the edge.

He can tell you’re cumming when you start to clamp down on him, the flowing of your arousal easily cleaned up with tight, consistent sweeps of his tongue.

Your eyes are shut tight as you prolong your orgasm by grinding your pelvic bone shamelessly on his cum-stained face. Then your legs wobble until you’re falling, shaking, but Suna pushes you down completely on the bed.

Your breathing is ragged once you see that he’s crawling above you in the same manner a predator stalks his prey, his smirk nothing but devilish while your juices spread on his cheeks gleam under the dim lights.

Suna uses one hand to discard your shirt before throwing it to other side of the room, one knee to pry your legs apart. Your eyes dart down to the sports bra you wore, not sexy at all especially with the Nike logo, and your cheeks warm at the realization. Arms coming up to hide yourself, you fail when Suna slaps your hands away, glaring at you.

“Stop covering yourself. You don’t have to wear lingerie to for me all the time – you know I’d fuck you either way.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to be shy when he rips the bra apart, mouth latched onto one nipple. You gasp when he plunges three fingers in, definitely different to his usual routine of prepping you, and you’re being stretched open by his fingers a little too fast that you’re clutching on his bicep to catch your breath.

“F-Fuck, Suna, can’t even be a little gentle? What happened to foreplay?”

“I’m tired from winning match by match today, baby. Being gentle is the last thing on my mind when you’re splayed out for me like this,” he pulls away just to release his fingers from you, twisting his hand back to back to grin pervertedly at the way your cum slicks his hand. Using that exact same hand, Suna covers his length with it as he hovers over you, pushing the tip of his cock past your lips.

He immediately notices the way you hitch your breath, fingers clutching desperately at the sheets as you struggle to accommodate for him despite already being so wet.

He was just so thick and feels so good – it’s always a challenge not to cum all the while he’s entering you. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve taken me before,” he reminds you, hooking his arm under your knees before he stretches you further, your thighs flat on your chest. You gasp at the new sensation of feeling him so deep inside you, his whole practically atop your calves as he thrusts inside experimentally. “Come on, you’ll take this big cock like a good girl, won’t you?”

“S-Suna.”

“You feel even better than usual,” he praises you, his eyes narrowed and hazy with pleasure as he continues fucking into you. His thrusts are slow yet deep, bottoming out with each time that he knocks the wind off your lungs, successfully hitting that sacred, sweet sensitive spot inside you that only he could ever reach.

Suna smirks at the apparent pleasure written all over your face, teasing you further by grabbing the flesh of your hips while he drives his cock deeper. “You’re just clamping down on me like a bitch in heat,” he notes to mock you, but he wasn’t free of this pleasurable torture as well, not when your walls sucked him in greedily that it took most of his energy just to pull out from your grip. It must be because you’re exerted from today’s match just as he is, and Suna spreads one leg to the side, your knee pressed beside your head. “Muscle cramps? Can’t say I mind.”

“Shut up, Suna.”

“I think you need to shut up,” he stuffs his fingers in your mouth, his chuckles formed in stuttered breaths when you clamp down on him. “Clenching harder on me now? Didn’t peg you for someone who liked this shit,” Suna, having always been perceptive to your smallest reactions, leans over to you to cup your cheek, the tenderness in his eyes a huge contrast to how he’s filling you up to the brim, his hips delirious and delicious with each snap. “You’re just a dirty little whore, aren’t you? So good for me.”

“S-Suna,” you begin to reach for him, feeling that welcomed tightening of your stomach. You never like to admit it out loud, but you and Suna know you’re always so clingy and starved for touches when you’re about to him.

Your lips are puckered out, arms wrapping around his head to pull him in for a kiss when Suna smirks. He knows exactly what you want – and that’s exactly what you’re not gonna get.

He flips you until you’re flat on your stomach, encircling your waist to pull your ass flat against the ticklish hairs resting at the base of his cock, his pelvic bone snapping against your backside. You cry out at the new position, the need to touch him painfully deprived until you’re sobbing on the pillows, wanting nothing more than to kiss him as you came.

Suna Rintaro really is rude.

You came first before him, drool spilling from your lips when you’re left with no other choice but to fist the sheets. Suna’s groans are guttural, his usual pace of fucking you slowly now turns carnal. Sounds of skin slapping and his balls hitting your ass cheeks echo around the room, the sounds too loud that you both fail to hear the rushed footsteps and giggles until the door opens.

Suna feels you tense under him, the crashing waves of your orgasm dulled by the panic rising in your chest. You know he’s covering you, but your heart absolutely lurches in your chest when Suna only continues, scoffing at whoever entered the room.

You scramble to move yourself off him but Suna only holds you down, his palm flat behind your head, arms pinned at the small of your back until you’re completely incapacitated. Once again, Suna’s proved that he’s a man of control, especially when it comes to your body. He won’t fail to remind you again and again that your body is not yours – it has always been his and will always be his.

Once he starts moving again, deliberately and painfully slow to emphasize the embarrassing shlick coming from your pussy, Suna smirks at the new guests. “Rooms taken, idiot – find someplace else.”

“Fuck, is that the captain for the girl’s team?”

You bite down on your lip upon hearing Atsumu’s voice, desperate to prevent the sinful moans to be heard past your lips. You’ve built quite a reputation for being sharp tongued and even wicked when it comes to being strict – to have him hear of all people that his teammate could easily break you like this would be beyond damaging both to your pride and reputation.

Suna glares at the golden-haired boy who’s now forgotten the girl hanging off his arm, his head tilting past Suna’s uniformed frame fucking deep into you.

He could hear it, could hear the sloppy squelching of your sopping cunt, could even hear the way Suna’s breath sharpens, but he wants to see it, to witness this atrocity. Suna, however, wasn’t having any of it.

His possessive grip is intensified with the nails digging into your wrists when he only fucks into your harder, his feet now planted on the mattress as if to mark his territory. “Don’t look at my bitch. She’s mine,” he growled, pulling you by the hair until your head is splayed all over his shoulder, your breasts bouncing from the speed he’s ramming into you at. “Now leave.”

“Suna, don’t be fucking rude.”

The door closes afterwards, but not free from comments from Atsumu on how you had a pretty ass. This ticks Suna off, licking stripe down your neck and up your jaw, nose buried into the crook of your neck to memorize your scent coated with sex hanging off the air.

“You’d rather have them watch?” he slaps your ass, your moan whiny and pornographic – you were really truly different than what you want people to think of you. “Of course you’d like that, filthy slut,” he nibbles at your ear, reaching forward to rub at your clit until you’re shaking again, your second orgasm just looming around the corner. “But I don’t want to share you, baby. Now fuck yourself on my cock like the whore you are.”

He shoves you flat on the mattress again, your forearms weak as you heave your weight upwards. Your head is thrown to the side, back arched down low as you follow his command like a good whore as he’s called you. You gyrate your hips to swirl your pussy around his thick pole, pushing backwards again and again until you’re gasping, shaking, trembling and utterly fucked out.

Your pace is nothing compared to what Suna is capable off, but he’s tense, jealous even that he wants to assure himself he’s the one who could get you to feel this way, even if it meant giving you all the work alone.

“What’re you gonna do now that everyone knows about us?” he asks through gritted teeth, placing his hands at your hips just to steady yourself. Suna’s eyes are zeroed in on the way his length disappears around your pretty lips, so open and puffy as you use his dick to pleasure you. He takes pride at the way you moan, back arching and little growls on your lips when he finally snaps his hips, meeting you thrust by thrust.

“Are you finally giving into me?” he asks again for what seems like the hundredth time ever since he’s laid his eyes on you, thumb flicking over your clit again. You cry out as he does so, uncaring of the strain when your arms reach out behind him, touching him this time around. Suna allows you to do so, hugging your waist to pull you into him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to yours while you moan left and right.

You’re sweating, eyes shut tight and fingers calloused from years of playing volleyball pinching at your own slips. You look so lewd every time you’re thinking of nothing else but the pleasure he’s giving you and Suna grows harder inside you, his thrusts rough along with another slap to your ass.  

“Fuck, yeah, just like that. You look so gorgeous bent over for me, you know, might as well just be officially mine.”

You manage to scoff through the pleasure, ignoring the way your heart flutters when Suna interlaces his fingers with yours above your breast, the both of you caressing the flesh tenderly. “I told you already, I’m never dating you.”

“And why not?” he challenges, the grip on your hips tightening again. “Who do you run to when you’re sad? Who do you bother when you’re happy? Who makes you feel good and fills you to the brim when your fingers just aren’t getting you off?” Unsatisfied with your silence, Suna snaps his hips harder, his grin wicked when you scream again, his name falling off your lips like a prayer – which is ironic, since he’s the one always worshipping you despite his need to be in control. “Isn’t it always me? Just say yes, baby, I’d get to do this to you all the time. You’re already fucking yourself on my cock like you’re my whore – what’s holding you back?”

“You’ll fuck me good if I say yes?”

“Aren’t I already?” To prove a point, Suna thrusts up deep and hard enough that he’s hitting your sweet spot again, a fucked out smile rewarding him afterward.

“But you’re a rude, rude person, Suna, oh, fuck,” Suna pinches your clit that makes you snap your eyes open, a seductive glare sent his way when he teases you. “See what I’m – ugh – talking about?”

“Then I’ll be nice for once,” he promises me, his thrusts growing sloppy as he pushes you over the edge. Your mouth hangs open in a silent, breathy sob – hands gripping at his thighs when the mere slipping of his length past your walls and kissing your cervix with each thrust pushes tears out of your eyes. Suna leans down to sloppily kiss away the tears, jaw clenched as he feels you tighten around him.  “Cum for me. I’m allowing you to cum. Maybe I’ll fuck you again when we get home if you’re good enough. Fuck, gonna breed this pussy so good, you’ll be so fucking full.”

Your nails scratches blood moons into his skin, right at the spot that isn’t covered by his shorts anymore. Usually, he’s careful when it comes to markings that could affect his play, but you’re so pretty crying as you cream around his neck that tonight he doesn’t care.

Suna groans as you milk him dry with the way your walls are hallowing and clenching around him, making the tall player fall forward above you on the bed, his cum sputtering inside of you. His groans are deep and so fucking sexy right next to your ear, thumb absentmindedly still rubbing at your clit. You’re both panting as he slowly pulls out, the gush of both your cum dripping all the way down your ass. He snickers at the sight and swoops two fingers down, the heated and hard press of his fingers against your sensitive pussy sending chills everywhere in your body.

You’re about to complain as Suna pushes his cum inside you, but he silences you with a kiss, spreading the cum all around your lips until you’re a complete, sticky mess down there. You grimace at the sensation but Suna is moving beside you the next moment, his arms heavy across your breasts.

You blink when Suna presses affectionate kisses on the blades of your shoulder, wiping the remnants of cum across the sheets before tangling your legs with his. You frown in confusion but turn to him anyway, breathing in that cologne sticking to his skin that you love so much.

“I’m not used to you cuddling me.”

Suna smiles at the crown of your head, shifting lower so he could squish his cheeks at the flesh of your breasts. You watch as his usual bored face lights up happily like a kid with ice cream as he kisses the sides of your breast, hands gentle and delicate in making swirls over your hip. He’s almost...unrecognizable. “You should. This is going to be one of the privileges of dating me.”

“I haven’t said yes yet.”

“You will.”

His declaration is so self assured – as he always is – that you roll your eyes, threading your fingers through his sweat-matted hair. “How are you so sure I even like you back, dummy?”

“Because you’ve got no reason not to,” is all he murmurs on your skin, and well...he isn’t wrong about it, but you scoff anyway, thankful that his eyes are closed so he can’t see your smile. “Now shut up. Just hearing your voice makes me hard again and I don’t think I can go for another round. I’m beat.”

Perhaps...Suna Rintaro wasn’t such a rude boy, after all.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

s.o.s, m | knj

pairing(s): namjoon x reader

summary: It's two in the morning and Kim Namjoon is at your doorstep, asking you to fuck. In a fuckbuddies way, because, as a wise man once said, "I may not know love, but I know snacks." Well, you do agree with this statement. Let's go with the flow!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamics, blowjob, cowgirl); friends-with-benefits and feels through fucking (classic for me, haha, maybe I fell in love with him while writing it, oops)

happy birthday, Kim Namjoon <3 #happyRMday

--

now playing – pado by bibi

“Hey!”

“Shit, Namjoon, are you trying to break my door down at two in the morning or what? What’s with you? Why didn’t you just type in the lock?”

Kim Namjoon’s large frame and big brown eyes glanced at the silver-blue electronic number pad on your apartment door. “Oh. Right. I forgot you had that now.”

“I have it because you keep losing my key!”

He rubbed the back of his now blond head sheepishly. He must have dyed it recently because it had been dark brown last week. It was shorter than before, trimmed at the sides and longer at the top. Usually it was styled, but right now it was messy and puffy like he had been running across the city on those long legs of his or, more likely, windblown from riding his bicycle on his way here.

Namjoon didn’t drive. He said it was to maintain world peace.

“Do you wanna fuck?” he asked you breathlessly.

You looked down at your massive black sleep shirt that made you look like a lump of fabric, but, well, he picked today to pop the question and what were you gonna do? Say no?

You snapped back up, smacking your finger on your left wrist. “It’s two in the morning!”

“One forty-five, yeah,” Namjoon agreed, glancing at his brown leather-banded, white-faced watch. Simple and sleek. You noticed he had a few colorful string-woven bracelets on his wrists, likely handmade by someone in the various rural villages Namjoon liked to visit in his spare time. He dropped his arm and smiled brilliantly at you with those dimpled cheeks.

“I was thinking about you. You know, that habit you do when you run your hand through your hair and flick your wrist at the end, elegantly spreading your fingers out. Super sexy.”

You felt your ears heat. “Hahah… what?”

He scratched his head and stuck his hands in his loose black pants, draping his warm gray t-shirt over his wrists. Lowered his chin and flickered his eyes to you, awkward half-smile on those full lips.

Oh.

Shit.

“D… Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered, backing up and shifting your eyes. “You always do that.”

“Do what?” Namjoon chirped, stepping inside and out of his brown sandals.

“Give me those puppy eyes even though you’re built like a fucking tank.”

“I snore like one too.”

“Yeah, I know.”

But none of those things really mattered because your arm was snaking up, your other hand slapping the door closed, looking down until you couldn’t look down anymore, lifting your head to playful dark brown orbs and a dimpled smile, already leaning down, his scent of warm cotton and faint florals washing over you, and then his lips touched yours and it was over.

You could say no, you could, but you never really wanted to.

Namjoon wasn’t being rude showing up so late. After all, you had already told him it was one of your fantasies, a late-night rendezvous, a bit of unexpected expected fun. Namjoon was willing to help, a game of ping-pong between casual, sometimes lovers, both too busy and scatterbrained at this point in life to commit to anything, but that worked for you and for him, or at least that’s what you told him and what he told you, his large hands now encircling your back, fingertips pressed into the thin fabric, sighing into your mouth, rhythm of those long fingers dancing up, up, sinking into your hair, tangling himself in it, nibbling at your lower lip.

“I just love touching your hair,” that deep, deep voice whispered to your lips, eyes still closed, smirking as the tip of your tongue darted out, playing with him as he spoke. “And I like messing it up a little.”

“A little? You like messing it up a lot.”

Namjoon curled his fingers inward and pulled back, your head following automatically, grinning with you as he opened his eyes, devious even with the dimples.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right.”

It wasn’t fun if it wasn’t with him.

You raised your hand and spread your fingers out, slowly running your nails up and then down his chest, smirking back at him, your tongue peeking out between your teeth.

Namjoon once said to you, let’s just go with the flow, ride the wave.

He sucked in a breath right now and pulled you close, hands letting go of your hair as he captured your lips again, deep, ravenous kisses that took your breath away, such wonderful lips that loved to travel across your body and wander that wonderland, his hands already reaching for the hem of your shirt, bunching it up as he stumbled back into your apartment, dragging you with him, you riding the wave of his passion, dragging his shirt up with yours, tossing them aside, body to body, exploring lips on that warm skin and muscular chest.

Namjoon also said things like, I may not know love, but I know snacks, so, yeah, he was always poetic like that. Full of wisdom and weirdness, arguably the best combination one could have when struggling through this nonsensical world.

You pushed him down on the bed, kissing all that tan skin, running your nails down his shoulders, walking down his defined biceps finger by finger, digging in a little harder, pairing it with kisses and drawing stars on his pecs with your saliva, making him smile and flash those dimples.

“Like that?” you teased, drawing back a little so he could watch the mastery of your tongue at work.

“You know me,” Namjoon chuckled, the sound radiating from his chest to your mouth, sending ripples through your spine. “I like cute things with a little pinch.”

“Like those tiny beach crabs?”

Now he actually laughed, that throaty, booming laugh of his, nodding with affirmation.

You sometimes wondered when the waves would stop and roll out, sometimes wondered if the tide of Kim Namjoon would go low and leave you behind, but maybe it was the moon or something, cosmic threads that sent him rushing back to your beach, bright and sparkling, always catching the light and looking good from every angle.

“Fuck, I always forget you’re huge.”

“I am not huge. You are being dramatic.”

“Dramatically sucking your dick.”

You knew how to take his breath away, how to make him gasp and his hand fly to your head, groaning as he pushed you down, your throat closing around his rapidly swelling length, tongue all over in the small window you had to wetly caress every contour and vein, bobbing your head in time with his gentle nudges, waiting for you and your jaw to adjust before thrusting a little harder, a little rougher, choppy waves and lost breath. His scent filled your nose, his toned hips in your hands, digging your nails into that muscle, inhaling and drowning in the feeling, pressing him between tongue and roof of your mouth, feeling the head hitting your throat, so you tightened your muscles.

Namjoon moaned your name, brown orbs turning darker from dilated pupils.

It filled your ears and soaked into your chest, your heart pumping faster, beating harder, drawn to the sound like a sailor to a siren.

You took him deeper, pulsing around the head, sticking your tongue out a little to lap at his balls collected in your hands.

“A-Ah, fuck… You’re always so, so good… always making me think of you…”

You watched his eyes close, his hand gripping your hair, not unkind, simply adding a little bit of force, but you were in control of the pace, riding the wave, filling your mouth with his hardness over and over, closing your own eyes, small tears collecting at the corners, unable to breathe, but you already knew you were diving and you practiced for this, holding your breath and bobbing your head fast and tight, your fingernails clawing at his sides just the way he liked, a little neediness, a little desperation, maybe an act or maybe not, honestly hard to tell with how often you had blown him, so maybe it was part of you now, just like how sometimes you would be alone and smell his scent even though Namjoon wasn’t there at all, maybe real but probably an olfactory memory, strange that it would happen just like that, a wave of warm cotton and faint florals that you drank in small trickles right now, your mouth occupied with his thick length, listening to the sloppy, wet sound of his cock being swallowed over and over again by your suffocating mouth, saliva sliding over his balls and onto your chin.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

Pushing you down, forcing you to deep dive, swallowing on instinct, clamping your lips around his jerking cock with every gulp of gushing cum, the strong salty taste lingering in the back of your tongue as your throat was stuffed with the swollen head. Namjoon shuddered deeply, resonating pleasure that drifted down his torso and through your fingertips. You lapped up anything you missed, sucking it off and Namjoon hissed at the sensitivity, tugging at your hair sharply.

You hummed and retreated a little, breathing again, licking the underside of the tip, wiggling your tongue over the slit and around head, opening your eyes to Namjoon’s panting smile.

“You want me to punish you or what?”

Nah, you wanted to ride the wave, but this particular wave was pretty fucking big.

“Oooh, fuck…!”

Namjoon raised his arms and grabbed your pillows, thrusting his hips up into your pussy after you had lowered halfway. The condom wrapper flew off the bed, probably to be found in some random place in your room tomorrow morning.

A later you problem.

Hands on his chest, sinking down, gasping for breath at the forced stretch at his girth, but it was nicer that way, wet and getting wetter, spreading your knees and arching your back, your hair falling down your shoulders, rolling your body to smack down onto his crotch, fuck, so hard and so full, starting a rough, choppy rhythm because Namjoon was deliberately not letting you set up a reasonable pace and kept thrusting up a little too fast, a little too hard, hot moans tumbling out of your mouth, feeling the crashing pleasure try to overtake you, drawing your knees back in to feel all of him, your palms sliding up, grasping those strong shoulders, lowering your head to speak to those sultry brown orbs reflecting your open mouth and half-lidded gaze.

“Namjoon… please, oh, f-fuck… if you’re gonna be like this, j-just fuck me…!”

He grinned, dimples on display.

“Anything for you.”

Mayday, mayday, you needed to be saved from that teasing smile and those words.

His hands fitted to your shaking hips and held you up easily, lifting his hips up at a deep, hard pace, emphasis on strength and less on speed, the muscles of his arms tense and locked to keep you above him as he slammed his hard cock into your pussy.

“Ah, yes, yes, right there, Namjoon, yes…”

You could go deeper so you did, slapping your hips down too and making Namjoon grin under you. Shit, something about those round cheeks and bright smile while he was railing you practically to heaven was doing something to you, washing out your senses and giving you no time to think, squeezing him inside you and feeling him twitch back, something so sexy about how he could do that even while fucking you, and you saw him suck in a breath, witnessing your effect on him, his hold becoming tighter, his dark lashes lowering, hooded eyes and locking with your gaze.

Drowning in the pleasure with you.

“Come on, you want it, right?” he panted under you, voice so deep it felt like you were underwater, your skin vibrating with the seductiveness of his tone and the depth of his sound mixing with the harsh slaps of skin to skin, wet and wonderful. “Show me you want it, give it to me.”

You couldn’t say no, already tightening your core and smacking down on him harder before he could even finish speaking, the ecstasy shooting up your spine and pouring all over your scalp and mind, letting go, pitched cries and blissful moans, Namjoon moaning with you, your name on his lips and filling up your bedroom, clutching his shoulders and staring into his eyes, breathing in warm cotton and faint florals, cast away into a wild paradise.

You clenched around him and gasped, a powerful jolt rocking through you, surprised at the sudden squelch but then you felt the overwhelming rush barreling through you, sweeping you into pulsing pleasure, one of your hands losing grip and grabbing onto the pillow beside Namjoon’s head, his heavy breath and your exhaled name blowing over on your prickling skin, realizing you were accidentally closer than usual because your hand slipped, his hands tightly wrapped around your waist and slamming you down onto his crotch, groaning and tipping his head back, his eyes closing, Adam’s apple prominent against his flexed neck.

If possible, suddenly you could breathe even less.

Your pussy throbbed around his twitching cock, his orgasm spurting into the condom and your juices soaking his skin with each flinch of the aftermath, wave after wave crashing into you, your arms trembling to hold yourself up so you could absorb it all – him, the dwindling pleasure, the moment when his eyes opened, your name drifting out of those lips in a lustful haze.

“I should… go back to mine, huh…” he wheezed, chuckling slightly. “Otherwise, I’m going to snore too loud and you’re not going to be able to sleep…”

You slid down, closer, closer, seeing the mole underneath his lower lip with his rueful smile. His fingers were drawing circles on your hips.

“I bought earplugs.”

You silenced his laugh with a kiss.

--

masterpost

[gingersnaaps]

making things right

you and iwaizumi just aren't meant to be, and if he has to fuck some sense into your little brain for you to understand, then so be it.

wc: 2.8k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): noncon, explicit n*fw, blackmail, emotional manipulation, emotional sadism, dumbification, degradation, fem!reader with inner genitals, has something resembling an actual plot

a/n: i couldn't decide which way i wanted to go with the plot, so i just did both. read a darker version of this here

i don't want minors interacting with my content

Oikawa really doesn’t like how much time Iwaizumi has been spending around you lately.

It’s not that he’s jealous, of course - that kind of pettiness is far beneath him - it just doesn’t seem right. It’s not the natural order of things for someone as pretty as you, all soft skin and glowing smiles, to be practically draped around Iwaizumi all the fucking time.

He’s counted, you know, and today was the thirty-eighth time that you’ve visited their lunch table and somehow ended up on Iwaizumi’s lap.

And doesn’t he also have to think of his team? The Spring Interhigh’s coming up, and it wouldn’t do for one of the most important players on the team to be constantly distracted. He’s seen the way Iwaizumi looks at you: it’s adoration encapsulated in a gaze, the kind of tenderness and admiration that he’s only ever seen Iwaizumi direct at himself.

Oikawa’s going to have to fix this, isn’t he? He’s going to have to make everything the way it should be.

-

He finds that he enjoys the constant planning and brainstorming and especially the fantasizing far more than he’d anticipated.

Oikawa notes down which days you go home immediately after school, which days you stay, and the routes you take home. He writes down all your friends in a little notebook, familiarizes himself with the classes you take, and pays extra attention to your mood swings.

Of course, as he spends more and more time detailing every aspect of your life, it’s only natural for his thoughts to… wander. In class, he catches his own attention drifting away from Japanese literature to thoughts of what you’d look like strung out on his cock, eyes squeezing out tears as he stuffs you full and claims your pussy. He thinks about how slutty your skirt looks when you’re bending over, and about how much he’d like to rip it off of you. He likes to imagine how Iwaizumi would react, too - the way he’d cry and sob and finally understand that you don’t belong with someone like him.

He finds that these thoughts allow him to tolerate Iwaizumi’s presence near you a lot better, even though the two of you have only grown closer as of late. When you start getting particularly obnoxious with your flirting, he just has to picture you screaming in pain as he fucks you dry, or think about the bulge in your throat from his cock shoved deep inside your mouth. And when he sees Iwaizumi finally ask you out on a date to the ramen place nearby, he almost feels sorry for how short-lived, how temporary, your romance is going to be.

As the weeks go by and the Interhigh draws near, Oikawa thinks he’s got a pretty good idea of how to make it happen.

It starts off almost too easy.

Oikawa’s usually the one who stays late after practice, slamming his serves into the opposite end of the court until his vision goes dizzy and his arms turn numb. But Iwaizumi - bless his generosity - had planned on staying after to help a few of the first years out with their serves.

He waits at the school gates, scanning the entrance for any sign of you. You should be finishing up with your little club soon if the notes he’d been keeping were any indication, and sure enough, he spots your bright teal jacket scurrying towards the gates after just a few minutes.

Oikawa plasters on his friendliest smile, waving you towards him. “Hey,” he greets. “Iwa-chan told me to wait for you today. Do you want to come over? He’ll be along in just a minute - he’s just cleaning up the gym a bit.”

“Aren’t you the captain?” you tease. “So much for being responsible.”

He forces out a laugh. Do you realize how insufferable you are? Because you’re really not doing yourself any favors with the way you’re acting. But he pushes down the surge of anger that threatens to spill over, because he knows you’ll change your tune as soon as you arrive at his place.

He can’t wait.

The walk home is filled with empty banter, useless conversation that flits back and forth on the most boring of topics. To be honest, Oikawa appreciates this - it gives him the mental room to think about much more interesting things, like the way your breasts are pushing against the jacket, or the slight sheen of your lip gloss. Or, alternatively, the way your breasts would look spilling out of his hands, and the way your shiny lips would look smeared with spit and cum.

He places a hand on your waist as he guides you inside his house, but you stiffen. “Isn’t Hajime supposed to have caught up to us by now?” you ask.

Hajime.

First name basis, huh?

It’s a small detail, but it’s the kind of change that has him seeing red at the periphery of his vision, the kind that makes him want to ruin your slutty body until it's bruised and leaking cum. He’s been friends with Iwaizumi for twelve years. Twelve years, and all he’s gotten from him is a nickname. You’ve known him for barely a fucking year, and here you are, sauntering away with his first name.

His hand on your waist tightens, gripping and squeezing at your lovely flesh until he can feel you wince in pain. “I’m afraid it might be a while,” he says, voice brittle.

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning around, your eyes widening.

Oikawa shoves you inside and slams the door. “I mean,” he hisses. “That your precious Hajime won’t be coming around anytime soon.”

Panic rises in your throat, but he slaps a hand over your mouth quicker than you can scream. All that escapes is a strangled cry, weak and thin, one that quickly dies out in the entrance hall of his house. It’s much too quiet to reach any neighbors, you realize with a sinking feeling. The last bit of faint hope you harbor in the back of your mind dies when you realize that there’s no concerned housewife coming to check on the commotion, no fumbling child who might stumble in on you and Oikawa. You’re alone. You’re fucked.

He’d made sure of it.

“Bitches like you are so stupid, aren’t you? Making me spell everything out for you.” His voice drips condescension as he yanks you by the hair towards the bedroom. There’s no reason to put up an act anymore, he thinks, so he can be as rough as he wants with his new toy - he just has to make sure he returns you in one piece to Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s sure he won’t mind if you’re a little beat up around the edges, a little used by the end of this.

As he throws you down on the bed, the thought gives him immense satisfaction. You’d been so eager to do things with Iwaizumi - he’d coaxed out embarrassed confessions from his friend over late-night calls - so he’s almost sure that you’re a needy slut during sex.

Of course, you’re not nearly so eager now, not when he’s holding your squirming body down on the bed.

“You do realize that this is what you get, right? It’s your fault for being this fucking easy. Should’ve thought a bit harder about going home with me. Did your mommy and daddy never teach you to not trust men?” he says, face curling into a smile.

You’re unable to get a word out, mouth dry and cottony from the fear that pierces you. He watches your eyes flicker between the bulge in his pants and his face, uncertain and wary, like a deer caught in headlights. Oikawa can’t help the sick pleasure that bubbles up within him at the look on your face.

“Please,” you say hoarsely. “Please.”

“You have to use your words, you know. You could be begging me to stop, but I think you like this. I think you’re begging me to get on with it,” he says.

Maybe he’s taking it a step too far with the dramatics, but he can’t bring himself to tone it down - not when he’s right about to get to the good bit, and certainly not when he sees those pretty tears trickling down your face.

He looks you up and down appraisingly. He’d always thought you were rather pretty, with your soft halo of hair and your glittering smile - but he can’t deny that there’s a special sort of charm in the way you fidget uncomfortably under his gaze.

It makes him hungry.

As he spreads your thighs apart, all he can think about is how much he wants to claim you, to ruin you, because that’s what he imagines fucking you is like: ownership and victory spread on his tongue while your juices drench his cock. All the filthy dreams he’s had, every fantasy he’s gotten off to late at night, and the stifling heat spreading through his core is begging him to fuck you, to ravish your tight hole until the only name you know is his own.

He doesn’t really want to bother with prep. He’s sure that stretching you out on three - no, maybe four fingers until you scream would be fun, but you don’t deserve that kind of special treatment. Aren’t sluts like you supposed to be wet all the time anyway?

You can feel the outline of his dick dragging along your soft thighs, pressing close to your cunt, a breathy moan escaping his lips from the friction of his sweatpants grinding against your body. It’s not long before he pulls his cock out all the way and strokes it a few times. He grabs at your hips, maneuvering you like a rag doll, and fits the tip of his cock at your fluttering entrance. Nudging at your hole, he pushes in just the head of his cock - enough so you can feel the sting of his girth, but not nearly deep enough to offer any real relief.

You whine involuntarily, and a grin lights up his face. “You’re desperate, aren’t you?” he asks, dragging a thumb against your lips. “Is it because Iwa-chan doesn’t fuck you well enough? Is his pathetic dick too small to fill up that hole of yours properly?” he leers. “I’ve seen his cock before… mine’s bigger, you know.”

“Fuck you,” you mumble. You’re dizzy from the fear and panic that clouds your brain, but anger still seeps into your veins at his crude words.

Maybe if your head was a bit clearer, you would’ve realized that only stupid girls talk back.

Oikawa’s hips snap into yours harshly, his cock tearing at your insides, and you let out a strangled gasp. You’re not prepared for how well his cock stretches you out - it’s curved in all the right places, ramming into your cervix, brushing up against your tender g-spot - and as he ruthlessly pounds your frail body into the mattress, your mind blanks, overloaded with sensation. You can’t remember who you are, or why you’re getting fucked. The only thing on your mind is the raw feeling of being cunt split wide open, of having your insides rearranged until you’re a drooling, dumb mess.

“Fuck who?” he asks, shoving two fingers inside your sloppy mouth,

“F- fuck…” you whisper. His fingers are gripping at your hips so tightly you can feel the skin beginning to bruise, and there’s just too much to handle. He’s everywhere; his fingers probe around your mouth, making you gag, and his cock drags along your tender walls until you’re left quivering around his length.

He leans down to kiss at your forehead, his lips brushing tenderly against your hair. “You can do it, baby,” he encourages, cooing at you. “You can say it.”

“Fuck me,” you whimper quietly, cheeks burning with shame.

“Good girl,” he says, voice sickly sweet. “I knew you could do it for me.”

Fucking you feels so much better once you’re compliant, he thinks. He slows down a bit, savoring the sensation of your cunt twitching uselessly while you writhe on the bed in pleasure. He feels a sharp jolt of arousal as he looks at the marks he’s left all over you, admiring how the angry bruises on your hips and waist are beginning to purple.

You tug at his shirt, sniffling and crying. “Please,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re asking for anymore, not even sure whether you want Oikawa to stop or continue, but you can’t handle the way he’s slowly fucking you senseless.

He raises an eyebrow. “You want it faster?” he asks cruelly, bouncing you into his cock. There’s no response on your end, but Oikawa thinks he’ll take that as a yes. And if that’s what you want?

Well, that’s what you get.

The hum of pleasure in your core intensifies as he picks up speed again. This time, he angles his cock until it grinds down harshly on your sensitive spot, leaving your legs limp and body helpless as your cunt tightens like a vice. As you shudder from the orgasm that washes over you, he spills into your pussy until your hole is leaking white down your thighs.

You can feel him laughing softly as he pulls out and climbs to rest beside you, leaving you stuck in a pool of your own sweat and cum and. He wipes the remaining cum off of his cock, smearing it on your face, but you barely react. You feel so dirty, so tainted and violated, but you’re not sure you could move even if you tried - his cock has left you boneless and made sure that every square inch of your body is sore and aching.

“Well,” he says, breathless. “Better run home unless you want Iwa-chan to know you’ve been all used up.”

Hajime? Your eyes widen, welling up with tears.

Oikawa unlocks the phone in his hand and presses play.

The sounds that echo through the empty room make you feel like screaming, because there’s no denying the solid, tangible proof that’s being played back. Your breathy moans are clear as day, and it’s unmistakable when you hear yourself begging Oikawa to fuck you harder, faster, to split you apart on his cock.

With a sinking feeling, you know there’s no explanation that would ever satisfy Hajime if he heard this audio. You can already see the pain in his eyes if he were to find out that his best friend for the past twelve years had ruined you, fucked you so thouroughly that you could barely tell the difference between pain and pleasure.

You don’t want that, you realize miserably. You can’t have that.

“I’m not going to send it,” he says. He sees hope creep into your expression, as if you’re almost daring to believe that you could go back to your normal life after this little session, but he doesn’t feel any pity for you when he speaks again.

“Not if you stay away.”

You and Hajime don’t belong together anyway, so why would he be sorry?

Your eyes drop as you inhale shakily. Oikawa watches you fumble around for your clothing, entertained by the way you trip and stumble as your weak legs attempt to hold you upright. It makes for an awkward, ugly image - but he can’t deny the warm thrill of satisfaction that runs up his spine as you slink out of his bedroom.

He’s finally making things right.

-

When you go to school the next day, you’re glad that you don’t have any classes with Hajime for the first time ever. It makes it easier to avoid him, and you purposely choose to sit as far away as possible from their table in the lunchroom. You don’t bother responding to his messages either, every single text of his sending a bitter jolt of pain through you, and you eventually block his number.

Weeks later, you’re not sure he’d believe you even if you were to explain everything. What would you even say? That you’d been ignoring him and ghosting him because his best friend of twelve years had raped and blackmailed you? That someone he knows and trusts was capable of devastating violence? Oikawa and him seem closer than ever, and you start to wonder at your own stupidity. To think that you could ever get in between a bond as close as theirs - maybe Oikawa was right all along.

You’re walking home alone one day, the hazy late-day sun bathing the roads in a shimmering heat, when you hear footsteps and a voice behind you. Your heart hammers unsteadily, getting ready to run, when you hear three words that make your stomach drop.

“I’ve missed you.”

[peachyyykid]

Deceivers Ch. 11 - Revenge

Word Count: 4089

Chapter 10 - Parting

Chapter 12 - Daytrip (nsfw)

Disclaimer! tw: y/n is having a panic attack

As someone who experienced panic attacks before, I realised that writing one invested me a lot emotionally. If a detailed description of a panic attack triggers you, you might want to skip that part. Also, everyone experiences them differently and coping mechanism differ as well. Just remember that all of these experiences are valid and that you are loved! :)

---

"Kid!"

You didn't question the urge to run into his arms, but you didn't expect him to catch you either. But he did, and as his non-metallic arm pulled you into his chest, you felt something you hadn't felt in a very long time: safety.

You clawed at his fur coat, muffling your sobs with the soft fabric.

"What did he do to you?", he whispered into your ear lowly, while his angry eyes never left Deku, who was scrambling around on the floor with his trousers undone.

"G-get off my ship, p-pirate scum", he stuttered, visibly scared of the huge pirate that just sent his door flying.

"I will", Kid snarled at him, "but you're joining us."

And with that he extended his metal arm by adding more and more random metal, grabbing Deku's throat. He tried to get away, but to no avail. Kid strengthened his grip and he let out a gargling sound, kicking his legs in the air.

The redhead spun Deku around and hurled him right through the empty doorframe towards his ship. Killer was waiting on the other side and knew exactly what to do. He caught the flying man (who was looking awfully pale) and slammed him down on the deck. You heard a faint scream in the distance, right after Deku's body hit the ship.

After making sure that Deku couldn't run away, Kid looked down at you, wiping away your tears with his rough fingers. He had let go of all the metal, but his eyes were still angry as he took in as much of your face as possible.

"Tell me what happened", he whispered in a commanding tone, and you sniffled before you spoke.

"W-we fought, and he said awful things to me, and then he tried to rape me and he... he had my parents killed. K-kid, he's responsible for all this. He killed my parents!"

You started sobbing desperately again and your knees felt weak. They gave in and you sunk towards the floor, but Kid picked you up. He pressed your trembling body against his and held you safely while he jumped aboard his own ship, the cold air cooling your tear-stained face.

Deku was trembling as well, but for different reasons. Killer was towering over him with his arms crossed and the rest of the crew was shooting him intense, blood-lusting glares. No one in this world would want to swap with him.

Kid landed and gently placed you on the deck. You slumped down to your knees immediately, staring into the distance with blurry eyes. The sun was setting already, painting the sky in beautiful red and orange hues. It would have been a wonderful start into a new life, but Deku took all that from you. Your body felt weak and lifeless, your arms hanging down your sides.

Kid kneeled down in front of your trembling frame and looked at Deku, who was sitting a few metres away from you. He was whimpering pathetically, looking for a possibility to flee, as if Killer would let him.

"Wire, take some men and ransack the ship. Then sink it", Kid commanded.

"Roger, Captain", Wire's calm voice answered, and he and most of the guys entered Deku's ship.

Then his face turned back to you. He gingerly took your jaw in his big hand and brushed your cheek with his thumb, just like he did in that one night.

"Look at me", his rough voice told you, and you obeyed.

Seeing your puffy eyes and your tear-stained face awakened something deep inside of him, and he wanted to destroy whatever was causing you this kind of pain. You looked at him like he was the only one who could make it all better, and he understood, his face absolutely serious.

"Angel. I want to hear it from you."

His amber eyes bored into yours. They were full of rage, but not because of you.

"Do you want me to kill him?"

Killing was wrong. No matter what kinds of horrible things someone had done, killing wasn't the answer. That's what a previous version of you would have said. But looking at Deku, you only saw a monster. A deceiving monster that had dared to take your life into his hands. You wanted to hurt him like he hurt you, he didn't deserve forgiveness.

Kid knew exactly that you couldn't do it yourself, so he had asked you if you wanted him to do it for you. And you really wanted it. There was not even a hint of compassion that you could spare for this man.

You looked at him, his eyes were pleading with you. Kid had asked you to make a decision. You could easily show mercy and say no. Deku mumbled apologies directed at you, rambling about how he shouldn't have overreacted and that he would treat you well as a mistress.

With empty eyes and the calmest expression on your face, you took in the satisfying sight of Deku shaking with fear.

"Yes."

It was merely a whisper, but everyone on the ship was silent. The only sound to be heard was Deku's pathetic whimpering. You didn't take your eyes off him, not even when Kid stood up slowly, revealing his full height again. The setting sun stretched his shadow, and it swallowed Deku's body whole.

Kid slipped off his coat and put it over your sunken shoulders without saying a word.

His shadow was coming closer to Deku with every heavy step he took, and he anxiously scrambled away from him, only to bump into Killer's legs. He was cornered between the two men, and he yelped in fear when Kid took the shiny knife out of his bandolier.

The knife fell, and Deku probably thought that Kid had dropped it by accident, because his eyes widened, and he opened his mouth when the knife didn't hit the ground. It hovered under his chin instead, the blade forcing him to look up at Kid.

"W-what kind of magic is that?", Deku screeched.

"It's a devil's fruit you moron", Killer mumbled and shook his head in dismay.

"I'm just making sure that you know who's the boss around here", Kid growled and pushed the blade a little further into Deku's skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

"I really wonder what she saw in you", he scoffed.

"P-please I will do anything... y-you can have the 15 million b-berry! You can have e-everything, just let me live!", Deku pleaded, trying to grab Kid's trousers. He looked up at him with doe eyes, in a futile attempt to gain his pity.

Kid bared his teeth and kicked off Deku's hands as if his futility was contagious, while an array of swords gathered behind his tall figure. They hovered in the air, framing Kid to make him look even more dangerous.

"You're not even worth listening to. Just by looking at your stupid face I can feel the wretchedness trying to rub off on me", Kid growled.

His signature smirk was back, and with a flick of his hand, all the sword's blades turned towards Deku. They made a clunking sound that filled the silent air and seeing their reflection in your glassy eyes gave Kid the final push.

With another flick of his hand, each and every of the swords sped towards Deku's trembling body, swallowing his cries for mercy.

He screamed in pain and desperately tried to protect his body, but there were just too many blades impaling him. They pinned him to the ground in an upright position, covering him in his own blood. His breathing became more and more shallow, and he looked at you with pain-filled eyes.

You watched the sight like in a trance. You felt inner peace for a split second, but then

nothing.

Nothing at all. It was gruesome to look at, but it didn't bother you the slightest.

With wheezing breaths, Deku's life ended in front of your eyes and your face didn't show any signs of remorse.

"Feed him to the fish", Kid growled and then blocked the space between you and Deku's body so you couldn't see him anymore.

You snapped out of your trance and realised what had just happened. It was good that you didn't see your ex-fiancé's dead body anymore because your stone-cold facade might have faltered.

Kid kneeled down in front of you again and you finally looked at his face. His frown was back, but his eyes were almost too soft for someone who just murdered a man without hesitation.

"Thank you", you mumbled flatly, but he didn't say anything.

"I'm going to take a bath", you added instead, sounding absent. Your body was there, but you felt like your soul was just hovering over it. The bath didn't actually matter, you just wanted to get away.

You tried to get up, but your legs were still too shaky. Kid was watching you for a few seconds, huffing at the fact that you couldn't take even a single step without tumbling over.

Suddenly, Kid flung you over his shoulders without a warning, ignoring your shriek.

He just scoffed and carried you to the cabin's bathroom, placing you in the empty bathtub. You raised an eyebrow at him when he sat down on the toilet, making no move to leave the room.

"I'm really thankful that you took revenge on my fiancé for me, but that doesn't mean you can watch me bath... naked...", you said quietly.

"There's no fiancé anymore. You're single and I saw your tits already", he smirked.

Although you couldn't deny that, it wasn't the best time to point it out and no excuse to creep on you in the bath.

"That's not the point."

"Then leave on your underwear, but I'm talking to you right here and now", he demanded with a growl, and you were too worn out to discuss and you knew that he wasn't really the patient type anyways.

Your gut didn't give you any warning signals either, so you just rolled your eyes and slipped of your shirt, shoes, and socks. The bra that Charlos had given you didn't cover anything and didn't give you any hold, so you had gotten rid of it immediately. Once your training had started, you made your own bra out of bandages from the infirmary, so this was what you were wearing at the moment.

Not ideal, but better than being naked.

You let the water run into the bathtub under Kid's watchful eyes, and when it was half full and after you put a nice foamy soap into it, you realised that you could have taken a bath later, after Kid was done talking to you. But it was too late for that now.

You watched the foam floating around on the surface for a second, thinking about the events of today with a frown.

"Where do you think you're going next?"

His question caught you of guard and you blinked some tears away that you couldn't really prevent from building up.

"I don't know. I need to see my brother."

What happened with Deku today absolutely destroyed your chance to be reunited with Tenmon and it became painfully clear to you right now.

"And where do you think you're staying until you find him?"

"I don't know", you said again.

He was quiet for a second and then displayed his signature smirk.

"If I promise you to help you find your brother, you will stay on the Victoria Punk as our doctor."

You shot him a sudden look and raised an eyebrow. Why did he offer you so much help out of the blue? Suspicion rose in you, and you narrowed your eyes.

He just scoffed in response.

"That's it, sweetheart. There's no catch. I will protect you until you find him, and you'll protect my crew in return."

You thought about his offer. If there was no catch, you could only win. And you had to be honest with yourself, there was no way you would even last a day in the New World on your own.

He held out his hand and you looked at it before you slowly put yours in his. Your hand was tiny compared to his, and you studied all the calluses and the roughness on them. It was obvious that he had worked hard with these hands, and it just added to the fascination that you already felt for him.

Suddenly, as soon as his hand enclosed yours, he pulled you towards him harshly. The water splashed against the edges of the tub and Kid's grip was strong around your hand. You let out a startled yelp and to your dismay, you felt your face redden.

His face was so close to yours now. It had become a familiar feeling to you, just like the smell of expensive rum, mint, and metal. He licked his lips and pulled you even closer. Your tits were pressed against his hard chest, and he placed his mouth next to your ear.

"We're gonna be a great team", he purred into your ear lowly, his breath tickling your neck.

You prayed that he didn't see that you had goosebumps all over your body. Your face felt so hot that you were sure you looked like a tomato and a tingling feeling spread from your chest to your stomach, to your crotch, and even into your thighs.

What the fuck is that?

Who were you kidding, you weren't stupid and not as innocent as Deku and your parents had wanted you to be. Just because you never experienced lust, didn't mean you wouldn't recognise the feeling if it ever came. You were sure that this was it, but why today and why with Kid?

He leaned back and your heart told you to pull him back, but the rational part of your brain interfered, so you just sat in the tub dumbfounded.

His smirk didn't falter, and something told you that he knew what an effect he just had on you. How embarrassing, you thought and slowly turned around, facing the wall.

He chuckled and finally left the room, and once the door was closed you took of the makeshift bra and let yourself slip under the water surface, mentally cursing yourself and Kid until you had to come up for air.

You stayed in the bathtub for as long as you could justify, to avoid Kid. You hoped that he was either not in his room, or already fast asleep. You dried yourself extra slowly and scolded yourself for not having asked Killer for another shirt.

You tried to put on the white button-down but as soon as the material touched your skin you had memories of Deku leaning over you and pinning you down flashing through your mind. You shuddered and bile rose up in your throat.

You looked at the shirt and felt new anger and sorrow in your heart. With gritted teeth and a frown, you pulled on the sleeves as hard as you could and ripped the shirts to shreds. Seeing the heap of white cotton pieces gave you a small feeling of victory. You couldn't let a dead Deku control you like that.

After putting the bandages around your chest again, you took a deep breath and slowly opened the door to the bedroom.

Kid's back was turned towards the room, and he was breathing steadily, probably meaning that he was sleeping. As quiet as possible, you made your way to his desk. There must have been a place where he stored his clothes, but the desk was really the only option in this room. Actually, thinking about it, you had never seen him with a shirt on.

You carefully pulled out one of the bigger drawers and to your surprise, you saw a few neatly folded shirts in there. All black.

I bet Killer folded these...

You grabbed the first one and couldn't resist taking it up to your face. It smelled as you expected: Fresh laundry and metal. It smelled comfortable.

You shook your head rapidly and slipped the shirt over your head. You looked absolutely lost in it, but it would do for sleeping.

On tiptoes, you neared the bed and slipped under the covers. You didn't feel the need to roll one of the blankets into a sausage anymore, and you looked at the ceiling wondering why. So many thoughts were ghosting around in your head...

Why do I trust him all of a sudden?

Just because he killed someone who did me wrong?

He didn't just do me wrong though, he literally had my parents killed.

But still, why would Kid kill him? There's no personal gain for him.

Why is he so keen on helping me lately?

What's in it for him?

Does he still hate me? He's still complicated, but it feels different.

He could have done unspeakable things to me the last week, but he didn't.

Don't even get me started on the other night... or today.

How he touched me. Like I'm precious.

I haven't felt precious in such a long time.

And why do I get butterflies when he touches me?

Why the fuck did I feel lust when he touched me tonight?

Oh my God, what on earth is wrong with me?

Your eyes widened almost comically when another thought hit you.

Do I like him?

You covered your face with your hands and tried not to scream into the quiet room. You gave yourself a small slap, but you couldn't deny that Kid was... interesting. He definitely was, but that didn't mean that you liked him.

Yes. Yes, that's the point. He's interesting, but that's it. It's just a very stressful time I'm going through. Of course I would feel fascinated by someone like him.

You sighed in content. You found an explanation that was fitting your narrative.

The mattress shifted abruptly, and your heart jumped, thinking that Kid was awake. But he had just turned around and his face seemed peaceful, the kind of peaceful look that one could only have while sleeping.

You couldn't turn your face away without studying his. You took in the sight of his sharp features and his fluffy, red hair. It fell on his forehead because it wasn't held up by his goggles, making him look a little younger. It was refreshing to see him without his furrowed brows.

You couldn't resist the urge to take a strand of his hair into your hand. You never touched it before, and it was just as soft as it looked.

It was also the first time that you could look at him without him noticing. There was no smirk, no angry eyes or frown.

He didn't look like a pirate anymore, just like a young man. He almost looked vulnerable, and you realised that he must have seen a lot. You wondered about his motivations to become a pirate and if all the things he had experienced left marks on him, inside and outside.

Like you said, he was fascinating.

You watched him breathing calmly, the blanket raising and lowering in a steady pace. It hit you like a brick.

"You saved me so many times", you whispered so quietly that he couldn't wake up from it.

You were right when you thought that killing Deku had no personal gain for him. He could have taken his ship and his belongings anyways, but he made sure that you decided Deku's fate and then acted accordingly.

It was a twisted sense of justice, but you had to admit that you didn't care.

It had been another hard day that left you absolutely drained. The knowledge about the circumstances of your parent's death scooched in between the thoughts about Kid and became prevalent.

You never got to say goodbye and they died without knowing what had happened to you. They never got the chance to see Deku's real face. You regretted not telling them about the conversation in the garden back then, maybe everything would be okay right now. Deku's words were ringing in your ears.

You chose to disrespect me that night, so I made you pay.

Yes, your parents wouldn't have backed out of the marriage deal. Deku had them wrapped around his fingers. He had buttered them up completely to make sure that anything you would say about him would fall on deaf ears.

You tried to steady your breathing when you felt hot tears forming in the corners of your eyes. The insufferable feeling of guilt washed over your whole body. Throughout your childhood you had learned how to speak to a future husband, and if you hadn't decided to throw all that courtesy stuff overboard at some point, your parents would still be alive. Of course, your life with Deku would have been horrible, but at least your family could have been happy.

Screw you for becoming your own person with your own wishes and morals.

Deep down you knew that it wasn't your fault, but the guilt felt so strong. It was crushing you, causing you to question every decision you ever made.

Suddenly, your heartbeat was picking up. It happened so rapidly that you were scared it would rip your chest open, so you clutched at your shirt and pressed your hand down. But feeling your speeding heartbeat like this made it even worse. It made your chest hurt like someone had punched you. It tightened and it was becoming gradually harder to breathe, a lump of suppressed tears forming in your throat. Your body felt hot, and you couldn't move, only shake. Your eyes darted around frantically and breathing felt more like choking. You wanted to get up, get fresh air or a glass of water to calm you down, but you were losing control over your body. Wheezing breaths mixed with the sound of quiet sobbing, while your vision blurred. Every cell in your body was screaming for help. You tried to get at least some air into your lungs, but it felt like they had shrivelled up.

You weren't in the right headspace to think anything of Kid opening his eyes suddenly, now looking at your shaking body while you still fought for air, your sobbing and whimpering filling the room. He let out a low growl and moved his hand towards you.

You tensed up immediately but surprisingly, his touch didn't scare you at all. As soon as he saw that you didn't flinch, he grabbed the small of your back and pulled you into his chest, enclosing your trembling body with both of his arms.

"Breathe with me", was all he said.

Your chest was flush against his and you could feel how he inhaled and exhaled slowly, in a steady pace. His heartbeat was calm, and you tried to concentrate on his breathing, mentally counting the intervals between each breath.

After a few more ragged breaths, your heartbeat synchronised with his and you followed his breathing pattern. You were still shaking a little, but the scariest part was overcome. Soon, the sobbing died down as well.

With each inhale and exhale you got calmer, and soon you felt like you were in control of your own body again. Hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around Kid's body as a silent thank you.

He stiffened but didn't push you away. He expected you to let go at some point, but you didn't. You didn't want to. You experienced the same feeling as earlier this evening when he held you after saving you from Deku. It was a comfortable feeling of absolute safety, like nothing in this world could do you any harm.

You wanted more of this feeling, so you kicked off your blanket and went under his instead, entangling your legs with his. He let out a breath he had been holding and snuck his other arm around your head to place his hand on it, brushing your hair with his thumb.

There was no empty space between the two of you, but at this very moment this was exactly what you needed. You forgot about all the pain and guilt in his embrace and enjoyed the comfortable feeling of warmth and safety.

It didn't take him long to fall asleep again, and you followed soon after.

Memories of the last week rushed through your mind and you realised that being here wasn't all that bad.

[joannasteez]

Hey!! So, I have an idea. Could you write a fic about EZ and the reader’s wedding night? With smut of course 😏. I feel like he’d be so sweet and he’d be giving so much praise. You’re a wizard at combining fluff and smut, so I know you’d do amazing with this! Sending you lots of love 😁🥰

Short Summary: You and EZ turn in earlier than planned from your wedding reception.

Gif Credits @losaslut

Taglist: @my-rosegold-soul @appropriate-writers-name @est1887 @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @brownsugarcoffy @elektriknachosss @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @superhoeva @witching-hour @noz4a2 @withmyteeth @rae-gar-targaryen @cruzwalters @rose-bliss @youlovetkay

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒

It was a quake in his belly, ravenous, spreading wild and untamed, free, like fire, just a hairs breadth away from desperation. Starvation. It was hunger, jolting tingles prickling, crackling the tips of his fingers, an electric feeling of desire, need. He knew then, knows now, in his soul he’s got to have it, reach out to it, grab at it. Hunger, it’s a shift in his breath, his whole life stuck on the upturn of an inhale but now, finally, feeling free enough to fall, to breathe. And then without wait, breathe again. The body, his body, aches for it --always has-- needs it, this little thing called love. Craves it, so much so that it trembles, forlorn in the way that it lays, stands, sits, exist, till it has it. Till he has it. Has love. Till he can touch it, hear it, smell it, feel it, taste it, hold it gentle in the palm of his hand because... 

“Remember Ezekiel, love is a vulnerable thing, don’t waste it”. Felipe’s voice always so mellow and coarse. Reminiscent. “Don’t waste it son, don’t waste it”. 

“Can you go three weeks without me Reyes?” You were such a damn tease, even if he could hate you he wouldn’t. 

He felt like a madman for saying yes. Just a heel - toe away from insanity. 

Three weeks of sweet faint kisses, the taste of your lips ghosting, melting no where else but the very tip of his tongue, and barely felt touches, like a breeze born at dawn too busy moving, flowing, to cascade along the leaves that live for its graceful feel, all because you wanted him needy for you. Hungry. 

He couldn’t say “I do” fast enough. “Lets get out of here”. His whisper breathy and warm at your ear. Feet shifting with his, fingers in each others embrace, dancing beneath a chandelier sky. 

You’d said “I do” so perfectly. The phrase rich off your lips, dripping like honey, so bright, warm and embracing, a promise. Like some sweet summer melody. It was heavenly. 

“You still with me?” The question just above a whisper, your fingers ruffling aimlessly through the hair at his chin. 

“Of course”. 

“What were you thinking about?” His lip becoming the object of your thumbs affection. The rosy pink flesh so demanding to the eyes, tantalizing. 

“How much I need you”. 

But it’s a painful longing Ezekiel has, burdening him more than he’d ever be able to tell, one that aches well and deep at the heart of him, melting away bone and wearing the strength of his nerve, leaving him open to the air of you, raw and helpless, but it’s good all the same. He’s weak in love. It’s exhilarating nonetheless, the type of yearning he works tirelessly to sate but begs also never to leave him for fear that he would never feel so wholly, so deeply for another this way again. Finding such pleasure in this love stricken pain, he realizes as he stares into your eyes, only you could do something like this, possess him to feel such an adoration for the way you weaken him. And the silk dress helps him none, the soft white fabric draped along your body drawing him in, persuading his fingers to ruffle beneath, the dig of them measured as they stretch over your thighs, inching towards the sweetest place he knows. 

His gaze never leaves you, the straps of your dress slim and dainty as you slip them away over your shoulders. 

The shake of his head is a mixture of wonder and disbelief. How were you so beautiful, and he so lucky? “Goddam”, he whispers, the white lace accessorizing your skin calling him, pleading for his strong, gentle touch. 

You slip easy into his lap, the end of the plush bed dipping. 

Your lips feather over his, breath as soft as your caressing hold along the sharp edge of his jaw. So close you could taste him. “I know how much you love me in lace”. 

He groans, placing a hand at your back before he turns to lay you at the heart of the bed. Present himself properly your beauty. “You’re incredible. So perfect”.

Drowning, after three weeks of nothing you’re neck deep in a passion far too great just to be your own, the faint taste of champagne running fresh, swirling on your tongue from his. Three weeks, and finally, he gives you a breathless kiss. Deep, demanding, and addictively unbearable in a way that makes you want to fall into it, wander into the heart of it till you’re lost forever. But what does it all mean?, to be so unearthed in this moment, to fall and fly at the same time? Delve face first into heaven and earth, what else does it mean if not becoming weak in love too.

“I missed you”, his lips lazy at the lace dressing your breast, tongue drawing slow till they’re twisted hard and aching, but he doesn’t stop. Of course he doesn’t, because when has Ezekiel ever given up the opportunity to tease you? Cause your body such an alluring grief. “I missed this”. Wet kisses swirling and melting into your skin till he’s suckling hard at your lace covered slit, wetness pooling in an instant. “She missed me too”, he chuckles, before it slips into a moan at the roll of your hips. Rosy lips traveling, mapping the underside of your thighs. His eyes blown, glazed over with want as they peer into yours. “You’re so pretty baby”, a small kiss to the peak of your right knee. “So beautiful”. Another just above your navel. “All mine”. 

“You can stare and admire me later. I need you now”, you fight the whine threatening to wrap smooth over your words. Fingers reaching for him, wanting him close. 

He’s at your ear in seconds, the weight of him pressed well into you, hand strong as he takes one of your legs to wrap secure around him. “How do you want me hermosa?. Tell me”. 

“Slow. Make love to me”

He’s moving like the earth has stopped so generously for this moment, calloused fingers relieving you of all the beautiful lace like you’re some precious gift, and then his bottoms are gone, clothes forgotten like everything else that isn’t you. If nothing else in the moment, it’s his sudden affinity for patience that’s most agonizing, but deep down you know you deserve it, leaving him touch starved for three weeks was a bit low. But even patience, with the right touch, wears thin quick, the heel of your left foot settling at the base of his back, both legs now warm at his waist. It’s the creeping roll up his spine that gets him, like a call to action, a firm hand that makes him fall to you with a fluidity, such grace in motion you haven’t seen in weeks. ‘Again... three weeks... why’d you make him wait?’, the small pieces of you wonder, till he’s sinking in hard, hot and thick inside you. 

“That’s it”, he encourages. Reveling in your tight fit, utterly dazed in the way it satiates the heat reddening his skin. “Let me in baby”. Another groan escaping all drawn out into the hot skin of your neck when he bottoms out. 

“Oh fuck”. Your moan slurred in that delirious way. Eyes daring to roll, your jaw clenched, hiss smooth sailing out and into the air. 

He’s moving slow like you asked him, but his hips are digging deep, really giving you the type of passion that glazes your eyes, ears heating, whimpers broken as your fingers press into him. He’s as close as can be but you need him closer, but you’re not really sure what you’re looking for with your fingers, what you’re digging for. Maybe some grounding? Yeah, that’s what it feels like. That’s what shuddered breaths and parted lips tell you anyways. ‘You need grounding’, because he’s determined to imprint himself inside you, mold you to him, make your tight heat recommit him to memory till it’s unrecognizable where you end and he begins. 

He’s heavy, within and without, a strong, uncompromising force rocking into you so perfect every time. Your wetness pooling with every filling push of his hips, sounding sweet. “You make me feel so full baby”. 

He’s fluid still, the delicious grind he works into you at a steady pace. Thats it, that’s it, that’s it, a mumbling chant parting off his lips, close to yours. They meet and fall off your own, tongues slipping lazy, coming together with every push of his length, walls slick and warm as they hug him in, pulling and sucking so fucking good before his waist rears back, lips breaking for just a moment, before he’s home again. Your foreheads are a resting place for the other, right hand of yours meeting his chest, the other nailing gentle at the nape of his neck. “You’re always so good to me”. He’s at your ear again, whispers soft, but still ringing so loud, your thigh gripped in his left hand, his body anchored on the weight of his arm at the right, the digging turned into a brute snap. “So good for me”. His hearts pounding hard, matching the beat of yours, you feel it, like thunder under your touch. “Fuck”, the slim ring of golden brown in his eye meeting yours. “I’m never letting you go”. 

A tear slips slim off to the side of your cheek, pressure in your belly building strong. “I love you EZ”. 

He thinks it’s enough, hearing it the one time. It rises, saturates his skin, breaks him down, builds him back up, makes him whole, and then it dissipates. He needs it again. “Say it again. Tell me you love me”. 

You hold him close, lips brushing. It’s sweeter this way, always has been, always will be. “I love you baby, I love you so much”. 

A tear and a whimper, but it isn’t yours. Another kiss brushing your lips, thigh tight in his hold. “I love you so fucking much”, trembling between the gentle intensity of another whimper and the soft sincerity of a whisper. Either way, it’s truth all the same. 

His hips rear back again, hitting once, twice, and then a third final time. The coils winding in your bellies unraveling sharp. Bodies burning in white hot bliss. 

Falling and flying face first into heaven and earth. It’s amazing. 

[ozarkthedog]

Stuck Between a Rock and a Hard D***

Summary: After a Welcome Home party, you get stuck in a uncompromising position and Chris can’t seem to help himself.

Pairings: Drunk!Chris Evans x Drunk!Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Intoxication. Swearing. Slight Degradation. Confined Spaces. Anal Play.

Word Count: 2,236

A/N: This idea popped into my head and it was so silly I just couldn’t help but write it. I tried to have his “Drunk” state come across hence all the slurring words. Hope it’s not that annoying to read! This drunk Boston boy has “mah” heart. 💙 

No Beta

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Reblogs and Likes are amazing! Feedback and Comments are encouraged!

Energetic music, copious amounts of liquor and sounds of splashing from the pool filled the dusky sky as the ‘Welcome Home’ party was in full swing on this humid August night.

Chris was finally home after 3 months away and what better than to throw a little bash. Friends and family were sprawled out over the backyard of Chris’ Concord house laughing and carrying on as you sipped on your wine.

You swirled the tart liquid around your tongue and leaned against a patio chair, watching as Dodger ran around with the younger kids. Their screams of enjoyment sounded noisily as they ran from the mutt.

“Get ‘em Bubba!” You heard Chris yell from across the yard.

Beer in hand, cap on backwards and dancing like a fool. Your boy was home.

Warmth filled your belly as you watched him laugh and play a yard game with a few of his friends, all yelling with excitement when someone got the small sack in the hole.

He caught your eyes from across the lush backyard and held it with a sly stare. He licked his lips lewdly knowing what it’d do to you.

You shook your head and drank down the rest of your wine, trying not to get too worked up. There would be plenty of time for that tonight, you smirked to yourself as the pleasant haze of the liquor settled in your belly.

-

After a while, the party started to dwindle. You and Chris gave hugs and bid goodbyes as the night came to a close.

For a moment, you and Chris just stared at one another on the slate patio. A days’ worth of playful glances coming to a head.

You smoothed down your light summer dress, unsure of what to do now that you were finally alone after so much time apart.

The alcohol made his face flush a few shades lighter than the red t-shirt he wore which made him endearing even though his eyes were darkening by the minute.

The amount of lust that radiated off the two of you was hostile, but you pushed it aside as you peered over the various empty beer bottles and half eaten food platters.

“Ugh, we should clean this up.” You picked up an empty beer can before tossing it back onto the table with a laugh.

“Nah, let’s do it tomorrow.” Chris suggested, stalking over to you.

Your breathing escalated as his face held a serious expression despite the slight slurring, “I wanna fuck mah Girl right now.”

You giggled nervously at his tone. The alcohol made everything seem way too funny, but his intense stare had your core clenching.

You knew what would happen if he got his hands on you and you wanted to draw out the yearning just a little bit longer.

“Only if you can catch me!” You shout, before running away like the drunken idiot you were.

You ran up the steps of the patio as carefully as your inebriated self could and crawled through the small dog door Chris had installed for Dodger a year ago.

Halfway through, you heard Chris’s muffled, hysterical laughter through the door. You knew he was doubling over in a fit, which allowed you to more time to crawl through the narrow opening.

You were in the clear as you pushed on the balls of your toes, shimmying your lower half through when suddenly, “OOF!”

Your hips collided with the casing of the small pet door. You started laughing at what a silly idea this was until you moved to pull back and your upper body catches on the frame.

You try again but the door nudges against your armpits causing your arms to flail out in front of you on the den floor.

“Oh, fuck! Chris! I’m stuck!” You yell frantically, kicking your feet on the slate patio.

You try to push yourself through even though you knew your hips were too wide. The small plastic door thumping against your head with every jostle.

“What!?” Chris shouts, incredulously.

 “I’m stuck!” You scream into the empty room as he kneels down next to your torso less frame. 

“Are yah serious?”

“What do you think?!”

Chris busts out laughing again, falling to his hands on the patio. His abs hurt as he tries to stop laughing when you let out a number of swears.

He coughs away the laughter and lays a hand on your lower back. “Ok. Ok. Ok. Ya’ll will be fine. We’ll get yah loose.” He slurred, calming you down through the door.

His hands cover your hips and pulled only to have your armpits halt his actions. “I already tried that you, Meatball.” The buzz from the wine still flowing through your veins.

“What are we going to do?” You utter, finishing with a hiccup.

“I’ll get my tools. But first…” His deep, quiet voice alerted you.

“What is it?” You asked anxiously, thinking one of your friends was coming up the driveway. You’d be mortified if they found you like this.

But then a warm hand slid down the curve of your ass and settled on the top of your hamstring. 

“I’m gonna have some fun.” Chris declared with a playful tone.

Your eyes go wide when you feel him flip your summer dress over your hips and press his growing hard on against your ass. The dark jeans rubbed against your ass with every languid thrust.

“Chris! You can’t!” You shriek upon realizing his intentions.

“Who says? Look at mah girl on all fours, ripe fa the takin’.” His eyes are glassy and ravenous as he grinds against your heat, the thin panties doing nothing to hide your quickly growing arousal.

Your mouth goes slack and eyes flutter when you feel him straining through his jeans. Heady lust swarms your system, taking control regardless of the uncompromising position.

“Looks like someone is enjoyin’ being stuck.” He rasped, unzipping his jeans and sliding his cock head across the soaked material of your panties.

He pulls the drenched thong to the side, groaning when he sees how ready you are. “What a fuckin’ pretty pussy.” He bends down, swiping his tongue threw your folds eliciting a surprised gasp from your lips.

You slam a hand onto the floor as he prods your core with long licks and lewd slurps. “God, I missed yah taste.” He confessed and nuzzled his face back into your heat. The way his beard scratched over your thighs made your back arch, giving him better access.

Your tight opening clenched when he poked his tongue into your core, thrusting the strong muscle in and out with quick jabs before going lower.

He flicked at your clit with hard swipes causing your belly to somersault. Frantic gasps bounce off the den walls with every stroke forcing your pleasure to mount rapidly.

Just as your bliss was about to peak, Chris pulled back with a slick covered smirk. “Nawt so fast, Sweetheart.”

You whined your frustration and laid your head on the cool flooring. You wiggled your hips in the air desperate for any friction and heard him snicker before he smacked your wandering behind with a heavy thud.

“I ain’t felt this cunt in months.” He stated with a deep growl, rubbing his pulsing crown through your inner lips.

His nails scratch the swell of your naked ass, “And yah only cummin’ when my cock is buried deep inside yah.”

You bit your lip knowing what was coming. The intense energy was palpable all night and it was only a matter of time before you two met in a tangle of limbs.

Chris lines up and ever so slowly pushes into your wanton core.

Your smothering heat enveloped his cock as he split you open with a gravely groan. “Fuck.”

Your head sagged between your arms as you felt your walls stretch around his girth. It’d been too long; you’d forgotten just how big he was. A high pitched mewl slipped from your throat, nails scratching at the floor when he finally bottomed out.

The base of his cock spreading you just a bit more around him. “God, yah cunt is choking the life outta me.”

He pulls back slowly before thrusting all the way in. Your cervix swirls around his bulbous tip making him grunt and grasp your hips with a harsh grip.

The animalistic urge to claim diminished when he felt your walls squeeze around his veiny thickness. His hips bumped against your ass with every stroke lightly knocking your hips against the door. 

You mewled when he parted your cheeks, spreading your pussy even wider for him.

“So many nights I took myself in mah hand picturin’ this sweet, little pussy.” His brows pinch in pleasure hearing your muffled cries of rapture through the door.

“I couldn’t get off hard enough knowin’ I wasn’t balls deep inside yah fillin’ yah with my cum.” His admission made your belly tighten. The knot so close to snapping as his hips shoved into your soaked heat with fervor.

His secure hold on your hips slips from the sweat tainting your skin. He smooths his fallen hand over your ass, spreading it open and exposing your asshole.

Your breath catches when you feel him spit onto your exposed hole, thumbing his saliva around as it clenched under his touch. The groan he let out when he watched your tight ring spasm beneath his thumb was sinful.

You whimpered into the flooring with every thrust of his cock as he teases your puckered rim. “I could finally take this untouched hole and there wouldn’t be anythin’ yah could do to stop me.” Your pussy convulsed around his length at the ominous threat.

“Chris…” Your body arched under his assault when he circled your rim with a meticulous touch.

You lock down with a vice like grip on his length as he drives your orgasm head on. You slap at the flooring and shout out your release all over his meaty cock.

He growls in admiration, “Look at the mess yah made all over me, yah naughty girl.”

He snapped his hips hard causing you to yelp out in painful pleasure, your cervix taking the brunt of each shove. The torturous pain ebbed and flowed with the bliss he was forcing on your worn-out body. Tremors ran up your spine as he pummeled you into another orgasm so close behind the first.

“Wish I could see yah face, bet yah look so wrecked takin’ mah cock.”

He let out a surprised groan as you came around him again, mewling nonsense and shrill yelps from behind the door.

“Fuck! Cumming on mah dick outside where anyone could see.” He smacked your ass eliciting a pained gasp from your lips.

He picked up speed, thrusting into you with a punishing pace intent on driving you to another orgasm with his on the precipice.

Chris gathers some of your cum and drags it around your asshole, making it shine with slick. Your eyes rolled back when he tenderly pushed his thumb into you, feeling his cock pass by through the thin tissue with every shove.

“God, yah so pretty bent over with yah holes filled to the brim.”

He grits, feeling you clench around his girth and frantically calling out for him.

“Come on, cum on mah cock one more time. Give me that sweet cunt.” His thumb pulls on the side your hole, making you feel the stretch and forces your orgasm to explode through your core. Both your holes tighten as you cum, dragging Chris along with you.

His hips slam into yours rapidly, searing pleasure burning through his veins as he cums with a growl. His seed painting your channel, soaking you with him.

He pants heavily as he leans his head on the door, “God damn, I’ve missed this.” 

You whimper from the emptiness when he pulls from your heat.

His cum slipping from your core, staining your inner thighs making you shiver.

“What a sight.”

You hear a shutter click and realize he just snapped a photo. “Chris!”

“Hey, this doesn’t happen all the time. I want somethin’ to remember this.” He slaps your ass making you jolt.

“Believe me, I will never forget this.” You utter with an embarrassed groan and shift uncomfortably on the hard slate. “Chris can you go get your tools, my knees are starting to hurt.”

“Oh fuck. Yeah, here kneel on mah shirt. I’ll be right back.” He rips his shirt off and slides it under your knees before running off to the garage.

You sighed into the floor still dumbfounded that you even though you could fit through the tiny door. The alcohol was slowing wearing off making this predicament even worse just as Chris came back. 

“Chris, are you still really drunk? Should you be working with tools right now?” You asked, leaning your face onto your hands. You really didn’t want him hurting you or himself.

Chris sat back a moment and chewed on his lip. “Yah, know... yah might be right. I only brought a hammer and I don’t think that will work.”

“Fuck.”

“Don’t worry Sweetheart, Imma call Mom she’ll know what to do.” Chris said with a smile, taking out his cell.

You hid your face in your hands with a pitiful groan knowing his family would never let you live this down.

[tfwlawyers]

Not me singlehandedly going through your entire parent trap au I’m so invested even though like half of the posts are from 2015 💀

THESE THINGS HAPPEN I get such a kick out of knowing this au is still making its rounds though 😭😭

and yk what just because I know I’m never going to do anything else with this, have a 3.5k attempted scramble of fic for this au I tried writing back also in 2015. i was even less of a writer back then than I am now so it’s absolutely terrible but have at thee

“Oh, wait...” Trucy winced and tapped her earring. Apollo’s eyes widened in realization. “Looks like we have one more thing to do tonight - it’ll be super quick, I promise.”

“Oh no,” Apollo said, visibly paling, “there’s no way you’re doing that to me-”

“Then cutting my hair was a total waste,” Trucy huffed, tugging at a newly shorn lock, “because there’s no way I can go to camp with pierced ears and come home without. Come on, Polly, where’s your sense of adventure? It’s just one little pinch!”

“Just one?” he asked hesitantly, eyes now trained on the sharp needle laying on the table.

Trucy paused. “Well... I guess it’s technically two. I really only wear the one earring, but both my ears are pierced.”

Apollo sighed. “Great.”

“Nah, I got this,” Trucy said, grinning toothily. “I went with Aunt Maya when she wanted to get hers pierced, even though she chickened out at the last second.” She picked up the needle and a book of matches from the table, eyes glinting. “I had to get mine repierced because of infection the first time too. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

-

“Put that apple slice back,” Apollo said, narrowing his eyes at the piece of fruit in Trucy’s hands. “They’re acidic, I don’t need that anywhere near me and oh God you’re really going to shove a piece of metal into my ear, aren’t you-”

-

“You sure I look okay?” he asked, patting down the skirt. He squinted down at the stark white boots he’d thankfully fit into. “I’m terrified to walk in these, they look like death traps -”

“Which is why we’re practicing,” Trucy said primly, wiping her hands on a gel-stained rag. She still didn’t quite have a grasp on the correct ratio of product to actual hair, but she was much better than when they had started five weeks ago. “Now, walk towards me.”

-

“One last thing, I guess,” Apollo said, removing his bracelet and handing it to Trucy, watching as she carefully slid it on. He rubbed his now bare wrist absentmindedly, feeling strangely naked without it.

“So... this is really it. We’re really doing this.”

“We’re really doing this,” Trucy confirmed, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. For all her apparent enthusiasm, she looked as nervous as he felt. The studs in her ears reflected the morning light.

“Give papa a hug for me,” he said, smiling weakly.

“Give daddy one for me too,” she said.

They hesitated a moment more before Trucy threw her arms around her brother’s shoulders. Apollo’s arms immediately snaked around her waist, drawing her in tight. They clung to each other, silently willing and praying this was somehow going to all work out - that they wouldn’t just to get to meet their other parent, that they wouldn’t only get a few short weeks with the other father they hadn’t even known had existed, but that they could find some way to reconcile the two, that they wouldn’t have to lose anyone across the wide expanse of the Atlantic ever again.

-

“You’ve had your ears pierced,” he said almost absently, cradling her head between his hands and gently turning her neck back and forth to better view the studs. He clicked his tongue. Trucy felt her heart sink.

“Do you... hate them?” she asked tentatively.

Edgeworth’s eyes snapped to hers. They were the same soft gray color as the paint Daddy always kept too much of around the house. “On the contrary - I find they suit you incredibly well. Please tell me you didn’t get an infection.”

Her face split into a wide smile.

-

Apollo thumbed through a stack of canvases that had been shoved into a corner. There was a thin layer of dust of them; if he had to guess, he’d say they hadn’t been disturbed for at least three months - not a particularly long stretch of time, all things considered. They were clearly less polished works, lacking the technical skill and attention to detail that made Phoenix Wright a name to be reckoned with in the art community, but they were still beautiful in their own way. Paintings of vineyards and what looked like London, towering skyscrapers and calm seas and -

His father.

Apollo blinked.

The portrait of Miles Edgeworth drawn in rich oils did not blink back. Nor did the three that followed.

-

“There were a lot of paintings of the same person in daddy’s works. Some guy with grey hair,” Apollo said, struggling for nonchalance.

Maya’s grip on the mixing bowl faltered. “Is that so,” she said carefully.

“Was he one of daddy’s favorite models or something he just never told me about?”

Maya pursed her lips and continued stirring with a newfound vigor. “You could say that.”

-

“You’re not Apollo?” he asked, voice thick. “You’re Trucy?”

She smiled weakly. “That would be correct.” One strand of hair fell lank across her forehead - how did I not notice, Apollo hasn’t used nearly that much gel in years - and he absentmindedly tucked it behind her ear. He felt her press into the warmth of his hand, as if she were afraid he might suddenly vanish across the Atlantic again.

“I hope you don’t - I hope you don’t hate me,” she said, voice beginning to waver, “it’s just that Polly and I met at the camp and the whole thing sort of just spilled out. I’ve wanted to see you for so long, and Polly felt exactly the same way about Daddy, so we sort of just - just switched lives and hoped it wouldn’t take you so soon to notice. I really hope you don’t hate me, because I’ve wanted to meet you basically my whole life and I hope that maybe one day you can love me for me and not Polly and -” (this is ALL from movie tho so mix this up)

Edgeworth’s left hand came to cradle the rest of Trucy’s face, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Oh, my dear,” he said, cautiously tugging her forward. She came willingly, all but sprawling across his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin and wrapping her arms around his middle. “I’ve loved you since the day you came to me,” he whispered into her hair, blinking away the beginnings of tears he felt gathering at the corner of his eyes. He felt her tighten her hold and he did the same.

-

He poured himself a thumbnail of scotch, perfectly content to pretend he didn’t have tickets to a plane back to a state he had vowed never to set foot in again departing in less than four hours. “He was rather handsome,” he found himself admitting, absentmindedly swirling the glass and taking a sip. He paused, staring at nothing and mumbling to himself, “...had the most crooked smile. Always made me weak at the knees.”

“What was that, sir?”

Edgeworth snapped his attention back to the other man; he’d nearly forgotten Gumshoe was even in the room. “Nothing, nothing, never mind, have you seen the tickets?”

Gumshoe shrugged. That was Trucy’s cue.

“Almost ready, papa?” she asked, stepping smoothly into the room from her hiding place behind the thick wooden door. Edgeworth looked just as wild-eyed as she’d been hoping.

“Yes, of course, I’m almost finished packing -”

She didn’t even have to look at his still mostly bare suitcase to know he was lying.

“ -and you did tell your father we were coming, didn’t you?” he finished, placing his drink on a nearby dresser and running his fingers shakily through his hair.

“Absolutely,” Trucy promised.

“Ah,” Edgeworth said, fiddling with his waistcoat buttons. They looked like they’d been polished recently.

“Liar,” Gumshoe leaned down to whisper. She shushed him.

-

“Might I suggest we continue this little gathering inside,” Maya said, already beginning to shepherd the twins - the twins, she was going to need another vacation just to process the fact that they were together again - into the room. She twisted back around to look at Edgeworth, still shoving Apollo (that was Apollo, right?) forward. “Hi,” she began again, offering a free hand, “you probably don’t remember me -”

“Maya!” he interrupted, smiling warmly and bending to kiss her chastely on the cheek. His breath was sour with vodka and his glasses clunked awkwardly against her face. As he turned and stepped fully into the room, Maya’s cheeks(rp) began to hurt from smiling so fiercely.

“I knew I always liked him,” she said to no one as she closed the door.

-

This was ridiculous. This resort was full of entirely too many people who favored the same sort of eccentric clothing that man had even fourteen years ago, a disproportionate amount of them with the same slate grey hair. He almost would have written that (awkward*) expression seen from across Dahlia’s shoulder/a hotel lobby as a figment of his overtaxed imagination had it not been so much realer than the stacks of canvases in his studio. Which meant Miles was here, but he’d swept the first level of the hotel twice already after begging Dahlia to take to her room for a bit, the pool area was as depressingly empty as the inside was, and -

There he was.

Across the pool, descending the steps carefully from the inside lounge area and walking on the balls of his feet like he always did when he’d had a bit too much to drink (and why did he still remember that) was, without a doubt, Miles Edgeworth.

Phoenix suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

Edgeworth was halfway down the opposite path before Phoenix realized he should probably do something.

“Excuse me,” he said, shouldering his way through the crowd. It would be rude and more than a little intrusive to just call out his ex-husband’s name in the middle of a resort, right? Perhaps not as rude as nearly shoving the poor bellboy into the shrubbery, but, well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

He didn’t immediately notice the odd assortment of friends and family and a lumbering man in striped green swimming trunks perched on pool chairs as he stepped past, but they certainly noticed him.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Trucy asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said vaguely, refusing to take his eyes off Edgeworth. He was abruptly terrified he might vanish again if he did.

He

“Nick, watch out -”

“Hey, pal -”

“Daddy -”

With that, Phoenix collided into a passing service boy, arms pinwheeling wildly as he fell directly into the pool behind him.

-

“Hello Miles,” he said, smiling sheepishly and wringing out his tie. He fought the urge to rub the back of his neck and settled for clenching his hands into tight fists instead. “Or do you people call you Edgeworth now?”

“Miles is - Miles is fine,” Edgeworth said weakly, trying to look anywhere but Phoenix, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation they should be having for the first time after fifteen years. “My father still calls me Miles.”

-

Something warm coiled in his chest. It felt infinitely more dangerous than it had fifteen years ago.

“You always had a smart mouth,” he murmured, rubbing a swathe of cleaning ointment along the cut on Phoenix’s forehead. Phoenix hissed.

“So glad you remembered,” he bit through gritted teeth.

“Hush.”

Phoenix hmmed but stayed silent for a few more seconds, staring at Edgeworth as he dug back into the first aid kit. Edgeworth tried not to flush under the scrutiny.

-

Phoenix held his wrist in a loose grip. He should have felt clammy from the pool and the rapidly descending night, but he blazed oddly hot against Edgeworth’s skin.

“Miles, I-”

“Feenie? Who is this?”

“Dollie!” Phoenix said, shooting upright and wincing at the sudden dizziness.

-

Edgeworth’s burgundy coat was hung carefully over his arm, too thick for the warm California night. The buttons on his waistcoat glinted from a nearby streetlamp’s glow.

Phoenix swallowed.

-

“Do you have any idea where they’re taking us?” Edgeworth asked, leaning in slightly. Phoenix’s (nose twitched? something about scent memory?) and he refused to let himself acknowledge that Miles’s choice of aftershave hadn’t changed since the day they’d met. He abruptly remembered the taste of cheap wine and overly sweet cake on his tongue, felt the ghost weight of a ring fifteen years gone.

He hastily turned away.

“No idea.”

-

“Grandfather chipped in a bit -”

“Apollo,” Edgeworth warned.

“Alright, so Grandfather chipped in a lot, whatever, we’re poor teenagers, the point is,” he said, emphasizing the final word by pulling the ship’s impressive doors open with a firm tug, “it’s ours for the night.”

Phoenix whistled shrilly in appreciation, instinctively reaching out to ruffle Apollo’s hair. It was a testament to how important the night was that Apollo merely batted Phoenix’s hand away. “Seriously, dad,” he mumbled. His scowl was clearly forced, however; he felt oddly warm that he was able to finally use that word at all.

-

“Subtle,” Phoenix remarked.

“Mm,” Edgeworth agreed. “I don’t suppose we should let their efforts, however misguided they may be, go to waste, should we?”

“You just want to know who else they roped into this ridiculous scheme of theirs.”

“Oh, because you don’t.”

“I,” Phoenix said, moving to the chilled champagne propped by the windowsill and popping its cork, “have a perfectly healthy level of curiosity. It does not involve wondering what’s going on in my kid’s head. Trucy is a teenager. That’s terrifying.” He carefully poured the sparkling drink into two glasses and offered one to Edgeworth.

“I find that somewhat difficult to believe,” Edgeworth said, striding forward and taking the  proffered glass. He made certain their fingers did not brush. “Thank you.”

-

They waited until she had hastily bowed out of the room before turning their focus back to each other. “Miles, that’s why we came up with this arrangement in the first place,” Phoenix continued, nonplussed.

“Really?” Edgeworth carefully picked up his glass flute, trying to ignore the tremor he felt running through his hands. “I thought it was because we’d agreed to never see each other again.”

Phoenix’s heart clenched. “Not ‘we’, Miles,” he said slowly, spreading his hands on the tablecloth and feeling like if he missed a step here, he would risk something he couldn’t afford to lose again.

Edgeworth took a shaky draw of wine. “You know,” he said slowly, seemingly forcing himself to meet Phoenix’s eyes, “that part is unclear to me as well.”

“Oh, you don’t remember the day you packed?” Phoenix asked.

“No, I remember that day perfectly. Did I hurt you when I threw that - oh God, what was it -”

“It was Kamisar’s Modern Criminal Procedure. It left a dent in the wall from where it rebounded off my head.”

“Oh,” Edgeworth said, at least having the grace to look properly abashed. “Right. Sorry.”

Phoenix shrugged. “It’s not like I was making it that easy on you.

-

And....” Edgeworth trailed off, twisting a napkin between his fingers. “You didn’t chase after me.”

Phoenix felt (something) shift. “I didn’t know that you wanted me to.”

-

“A toast to -”

“Our children,” Edgeworth cut in. He ignored the tightening in his chest at the our.

“Our children,” Phoenix repeated slowly, as if the words didn’t quite match with what his mouth had wanted to say.

“We both got where we actually wanted to go.”

Phoenix’s eyes never wavered from his. “We did,” he said, voice strange.

They toasted again and finished their meal in silence.

-

“Apollo, what are you doing in those clothes? We’ve got a plane to catch.”

“We’re getting totally ripped off,” maybe-Trucy said. “Daddy said we’d get our camping trip and we want to go.”

“Wait, hang on,” Phoenix interrupted, “what camping trip?”

“The one Aunt Maya and I make you take us on every year before school starts,” almost-definitely-Trucy said. Phoenix began to lift his finger in triumph, sure he’d found his kid -

“ -the one behind the house that runs all the way up to Gourd Lake, remember when you fell in that one year,” I’m-not-too-sure-if-this-one-is-still-in-fact-Apollo finished.

Phoenix’s arm fell listlessly to his side. Edgeworth snorted.

Phoenix shot Edgeworth a look. Thanks for helping, one of these is yours. “This is entirely unfunny, you’re going to make your father miss his flight,” he said, shifting his attention back to the twins. Honestly, he was an Ivy University graduate and Miles was a world renowned defense attorney, how were they being duped by their own kids -

“Apollo -” Edgeworth began.

“Yes?” they both said in unison.

Edgeworth groaned. “They get this from you, I’m sure,” he said.

“It’s not my fault you’ve apparently been raising a devilishly deceptive teenager,” Phoenix quipped back, never taking his eyes off the twins. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine pound at the base of his neck. “He’s probably rubbed off on Trucy.”

The twins grinned.

Phoenix rubbed a hand over his eyes before stooping to their height once again. He stared hard at each of them, looking back and forth between their faces. “This one’s Trucy,” he said slowly, pointing a finger to the sibling in orange. “I’m positive.”

“You know, I hope you’re right, Daddy. You wouldn’t want to send the wrong kid all the way back to Germany - ”

“ - would you?”

How was any of this fair?

“Here’s our proposition. We go back to Daddy’s house, pack our stuff, and the four of us leave on the camping trip.”

“The four of us?” Edgeworth interjected. They ignored him.

“And when you bring us back,” maybe-Trucy-maybe-Apollo continued, “we’ll tell you who’s Trucy and who’s Apollo.”

“Or,” Edgeworth said, carefully stepping around and in front of Phoenix and crossing his arms firmly across his chest, tapping his finger rhythmically against his arm, “new plan. I take one of you back to Germany with me whether you like it or not.”

Two identical sets of eyes twinkled back at him.

(He felt a migraine beginning to pound in his left temple.)

-

“You can cook now?” Edgeworth asked.

“Oh yeah,” Phoenix said. “I can make pasta. And pasta. Probably more pasta, if you ask really nicely.”

“Hm,” Edgeworth said, eyebrows scrunched in mock thought, “pasta sounds good.”

Phoenix grinned, bumping Edgeworth’s shoulder. He was warm through the cotton. “Pasta it is.”

-

Edgeworth looked across the seat at Apollo. His glassy eyes reflected the flickering street lamps as the taxi sped down the empty street.

“Apollo, I -” he began, deflating as Apollo turned further away. It’s entirely justified, he thought despondently. I’d hate myself as well.

-

“Grandfather?” Apollo called, shrugging out of his heavy jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. The house was silent.

“I’ll check the study,” Edgeworth said, tugging his jabot loose. Apollo nodded and headed towards the direction of the kitchen, toeing off his shoes on the way. Pushing open the wide doors that led to the study, Edgeworth saw someone reading a paper at the desk. He cocked his hip against the door and crossed his arms. “Hello, father. We’re back.”

The newspaper lowered. It wasn’t Gregory.

“Hiya, papa,” Trucy said. The corners of her mouth were quirked despite her obvious attempts to reign in her expression. “Did you know the Concord gets you here in half the time?”

Edgeworth slipped against the doorframe. He felt the knob dig into his hip. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”

(Edgeworth was acutely aware of the doorknob digging into his hip from when he pressed against it. “I - yes, I’ve heard that.”)

Apollo walked into the room, drawn to the sound of voices. When he saw Trucy his face split into a blinding grin. “What are you doing here?”

Trucy neatly folded the newspaper on the desk and clasped her hands in front of her. “It took us about thirty seconds after you left that we decided we didn’t want to lose you two again,” she said, eyes crinkling.

Edgeworth swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “We?” he said, voice cracking.

“We,” a new voice agreed.

From the corner of his eye, Edgeworth noted Trucy moving to stand by the far wall of the study, giving the vaguest attempt of privacy. It didn’t matter. His eyes were trained on Phoenix, tracking his movement as he crossed the room.

-

Phoenix peppered his face in light kisses, smiling into the curve of his throat and pressing his lips to the thrumming heartbeat beneath his skin.

They eventually pulled back, desperate for air. Phoenix’s eyes crinkled - crow’s feet, Edgeworth thought wildly through his haze, he’s got crow’s feet now, I haven’t seen him this close up since - and he rested his forehead against Edgeworth’s.

“God, I’m never letting you go again,” he whispered, hands snaking around the other man’s back to pull him even closer.

-

“You want to toast with this? I’d have thought you might want to upgrade to something with a little more class.”

Phoenix smiled sloppily, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. “You’re the only one I said I’d drink it with, remember?”

Edgeworth smiled back. He took the proffered bottle warmed by the weather and tugged his husband into a proper kiss, matching rings glinting in the dying sunlight.

[sableseb]

request coming in bc i absolutely love all ur writing!! could you do a bucky x reader dancing together at a gala/party thrown by tony and everyone there is like 🥺 at the beautiful couple?

Thank you!! So happy you love my work!💞 Please enjoy, darling✨

word count: 1k

warnings: none, just a tiny mention of sexy activities

tags: @fuckandfluff @stucky-my-ship @greeneyedblondie44 @harrysthiccthighss @sparksforkoo @bemine-bucky @meetmeatyourworst @thewritingdoll

a/n: I haven’t wrote much fluff, so I hope I captured their emotions and atmosphere well! 

Bucky may have disliked a lot of things. Attention, small talk, crowds…but, Stark truly outdid himself this year, he had to give the ego trip that much.

The ballroom is flooded with expensive bodies. Delicate jewels hang from limp wrists and long necks, tailored suits made of the finest material cling to men sporting watches that he’s sure would pay at least a few months rent in New York.

He’s awe struck for the second time in his newly found life. A giant crystal chandelier hangs high above the golden dance floor. Marble pillars stretch into the air to meet intricate art spanning across the ceiling. It was like standing in the eye of an artist, everything is just utterly breathtaking.

The first time, though, he’s ever felt taken back by such magnificence was you. The moment he laid his eyes on you, he knew you would never leave his mind.

He saw you that cool summer evening, sitting on the lush grass in the park. You had the cutest sundress on, one that barely covered your thighs. You were just sitting there, enjoying the breeze that would blow by. It’s like the angels called him to you as the sun shone down, encasing you in a glow that made his heart stutter.

Ethereal. He always told you. And when he did, the prettiest grin would take over your face. You’d try to hide it, you’d try to convince him he was crazy. Maybe I am. I was brainwashed after all. He’d say. You’d lightly punch him in the arm and scoff at his words. But, I’ll never be blind to true beauty, doll.

He always means the words he says to you. Bucky genuinely believes your beauty is unmatched. He loves your body, the one he gets to explore each night, treading feather-like touches along the expanse of your skin, mapping you out. He loves each mole, each freckle, each stretch mark. He especially loves your eyes. They always hold such emotion. He knows what you feel without you having to say a single word. Your eyes tell all. He’d whisper. That would just earn him another punch to the arm and a scoff.

You’ll never truly fathom how much James Barnes loves you. And he’s okay with that. Because all that matters is that he knows it. He knows how far his love goes and he’ll never stop trying to convince you that you are nothing shy from perfect. Even if his attempts are futile.

The gala is a big hit. Smiles are shown, laughs are shared, champagne is flowing. Bucky hates to admit it, but he’s happy for Stark. He raises good money at these things for a new charity each year. At least he’s a humanitarian to some degree. He says to himself as he takes in more of the elegant designs the ballroom holds. 

Suddenly, his eyes land on your form walking down the winding staircase. Bucky’s eyes widen and his breath gets stuck in his throat. Your body is hugged in rhinestones. Each fraction of light that catches you bounces off the stones creating a glimmer. The dress is long, little straps rest upon your shoulders keeping everything in place. And boy, is everything in place.

Your curves draw him in, the low cut front showcases your breasts, the slit comes a little above mid thigh showing that supple flesh he could spend hours buried between. Damn those thin strap heels. They’re definitely staying on later.

“You look so handsome, Buck.” You tell him as you wrap your arms around him. 

He doesn’t think he does. He feels as if his all black suit was a little too tight. His hair is pinned back, showing every inch of his strong jaw and high cheekbones. He feels exposed without having his long hair fall over the sides of his face.

“Thank you, doll. You’re gorgeous, you know? Prettiest dame here.”

You don’t think you are. You feel like you’re a little too curvy for this dress that catches everyone’s attention. These heels make you feel as if you walk funny, almost like a newborn deer. 

Neither of you voice your doubts to the other because no matter how many insecurities flow through your minds, you both know that the other doesn’t see them. You’re both blinded by each other’s beauty. 

“Wanna dance?” You ask while looking up at him. 

Bucky really hated bringing unnecessary attention to himself. But, for you? He doesn’t hesitate to wrap a firm hand around your waist and guide you to the open floor.

The slow tempo the orchestra creates sends a calming feeling through your entire body. And being pressed up against Bucky’s firm frame only intensifies that feeling. It’s almost not real, he’s almost too beautiful. 

“What’s going on in that pretty little head?” He asks you, gently guiding you across the floor in time with the music.

“Nothing,” you say. “I’m just happy is all.”

Bucky says nothing further as you bury your head into the crook of his neck. He’s never felt more content than he does now. You’re both so lost in each other that you haven’t the slightest idea of all the eyes locked onto your swaying figures.

You’re both a complete contrast to each other. Inky black meets shimmering light. It has people hooked. They can practically see the adoration around your beings and they can’t tear their eyes away from the heart clenching site.

Off in a corner, Sam slaps twenty dollars in Steve’s hand, his eyes not once leaving the pair wrapped in each other.

“I can’t believe she got him to come. Cyborg never comes to anything.”

Bucky’s advanced hearing picks up on Sam’s disbelief and nickname. He lifts his chin from your head to pinpoint his rather annoying voice. The man doesn’t know how to be quiet, ever.

“What’s wrong?” You ask with worry, fearing he’s uncomfortable.

Bucky looks back down at you. “It’s just Sam,” he tells you. “His days are limited.”

You contain the laugh that threatens to spill from your lips. “Please don’t hurt your partner,” you grin.

Bucky will do anything for you, but it takes a special kind of restraint to not choke out his teammate. 

“I can’t promise anything, doll.” He says, placing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. 

There’s no place he’d rather be than in your arms, even if all eyes are on him.

[jjungkooksthighs]

Yearn for You | jjk (m)

◊  Pairing: vice president and boyfriend!jungkook x secretary and girlfriend!reader x ceo!jimin ft. co-founder!taehyung

◊  Genre: fluff and smut / established relationship / office au

◊  Rating: 18+ / nsfw

◊  Word Count: 31.5k (honestly another whopper but are we surprised?)

◊  Summary: As a secretary, it is not proper to engage in intimate affairs with your superior, who is the one you are meant to be at their beck and call for in the business world. The world, however, means very little to Jungkook, the vice president of Bangtan Industries and more importantly, your boss and boyfriend of three years. In all that time, he has never cared for hiding your passionate affections for one another and tonight will be no different after a particularly amusing day of teasing you and watching you fall prey to your desires for him that he revels in amidst his fervid love for you. In that love that has shifted his entire globe in how completely and wholly he has fallen for you, he will do anything to make you, his beloved girlfriend, happy. So, after some efforts to toy with you, he allows you to have some playtime with a very special friend whilst he delights himself in your entertaining little game.

◊  Warnings: hard dom!jungkook, possessive/jealous!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, sub!reader, sub!jimin, lots of dirty talk, pet names,  lots and lots of teasing, praise, fingering, grinding,  thigh riding, phone sex (taehyung listens in on the threesome), masturbation (male and female), cunnilingus/oral sex, unprotected sex (reader has birth control implant in her arm and Koo hates condoms lbr), breast/nipple play, biting (there’s a bunch), marking through hickeys, sucking, pussy stretching, rough and possessive sex, anal sex, double penetration (this is a jikook threesome with reader y’all), cock riding, cock warming, begging, muscle kink, scratching, light choking, cum feeding/eating, manhandling, pinning down, multiple orgasms, wet and messy sex, degradation kink (koo calls you a slut/whore for him only like two or three times each), orgasm control, orgasm denial, squirting, creampie, multiple orgasms, edging, exhibitionism, voyeurism, daddy kink, reader goes into subspace for a little bit, mild bdsm, anal fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex and aftercare (from jungkook)

◊  A/N: Gosh, this one is finally here after two weeks! This fic is not like anything I have ever written before, but I know that there will be people out there that like this! It’s very hot if I do say so myself and it was such a joy to write in my lust-filled craze that I’ve been inflicted with in the wake of D’ICON Jungkook (even though that particular look is not part of this fic lmao). I blame Jungkook’s overwhelming sexiness that always has me ready to drop to my knees for this fic because honestly it’s all his fault.

Oh, and I know some of my readers have been waiting for COC, but because I have been tight on money, I decided to write this as a commission for the wonderful @jeonsjiddies. I hope you like it, babe! Oh, and that lovely banner you see above? That is courtesy of the fantastic @nightshadevinter. I thank the both of you for your continued support of my work and do hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I was entertained by writing it.

As always, guys, please let me hear your thoughts on my work! There’s nothing that is more gratifying as an author than to get feedback on what you spent so much of your time creating! Finally, if Tumblr is crashing because the fic is so long, you can find the AO3 link right here !

The day’s hours wane amidst the sun that sets behind you as you watch the last of your coworkers slip through the elevator doors of the twenty-story building, your heels clicking against the marbled tiling of the highest floor in the corporate property belonging to Bangtan Industries, the most well-known architectural firm in the industry.

 In one hand you have papers fresh out of the printer, your eyes trained on the small font that outlines the topics of discussion and areas of interest for tomorrow’s meeting as you skim through them. As the secretary of both the vice president and the CEO of the company, you had always been the mediator of their affairs, which meant that you never had a moment of rest while at the office.

 Because your charge was attending to the ever incessant happenings between your bosses as the two most high-ranking individuals in the company, you never had a moment of respite (not that you minded). The constant hustle and hullabaloo that was dealt in their wake left you in an ever flowing state of motion and you liked the grind. It meant you never were bored by their occupancies at work, for they always ensured that you had something to busy yourself with.

 The fact that your CEO looked to have been brought to life by an artist’s brush in his beauty while your vice president (and consequently, your boyfriend after some years together) appeared to have been sculpted by the gods in his handsomeness surely was a bonus, however, for whenever your sight would begin to blur because of long hours spent drafting and writing across your computer screen, a simple glimpse at either of them had your visage instantly clearing in the clarity of attraction that perceived itself between your legs when they’d stare back at you in stolen moments of passing.

 As you scavenge the paperwork for any errs that you may have missed, you don’t notice the silhouette the crosses the cubicles hedging the floor as you navigate through the maze of them, your irises narrowing as you huff in the realization that you forgot to properly align the addendum toward the end of the files in your hurry to finish and be out of the office after six o’clock per the orders of your CEO.

 When you cross the threshold to your office, the walls of glass that are curtained with silvery gold silk are opened to allow the sun to bathe you in its comforting heat that settles warmly over your stiff bones as you drop the paperwork atop your desk and rest your hand on it as you let your eyelids fall over your irises with the sun that coaxes you to luxuriate in its golden rays in a momentary lapse of silent solace from the toils of the day’s efforts.

 Behind you, a shadow cloaks you before a deep, low-timbre voice swathes you in its hold as it teases, “Enjoying the afternoon sun, baby? You should really head on home right about now, hmm? It’s getting late,” his eyes trail down your back and drop to the swell of your ass that strains against the small, short pencil skirt it is pushed up against before he continues, “We wouldn’t want the boss to get mad because you broke rules and stayed past six o’clock, now would we?”

 “Vice President Jungkook,” you squeak, his voice stringing you up and twining you around the fingers that-after many years of dreaming about them- now touch you in your most intimate sectors of your body in his unceasing relentlessness of rapturous intent that drive him to find himself between your legs every night, morning and afternoon that he could entertain. You had once wondered how a man could possibly rival an incubus in how he seemed to thrive with the more that you gave him and before him, you’d been abstinent as a nun. He had quickly changed that once you’d succumbed to his dark promises that had been wrapped in sin’s lace as he’d covered you with them with a tongue too long to be anything but devilish. It’s been years since you first got together, but he still renders you to be in need of an exorcist in the spirit of sex that has possessed your soul in its binding to him.

 You put a hand to your chest in startlement before you turn to face him to go on, “I didn’t hear you come in. Is there something you wanted to discuss? I just was going to finish up Jimin’s,” you clear your throat under his constricting gaze that constringes you for a battle of air as you correct yourself, “the CEO’s itinerary for Wednesday after fixing up the topic outline for tomorrow’s meeting with the board of directors.”

 It was amazing how after several years together, he could still whisk your breath away from you with one glance.

 Your superior hums, “Mmm, busy girl as always, aren’t you?” He takes a step inside your office, the sun’s light beams a stark contrast to the dark suit he wears that is colored black like the night sky, the silvery stitching in thin lines along his coat shining like streaks of falling stars in the movement as he suavely exhorts, “Did you happen to have time to send to me my travel arrangements for the week? Make sure you clear time for yourself to attend the gala with me on Thursday. I meant to tell you that earlier when you were feeding me my lunch in my office,” he confides lowly as two hands grip the edge of the chair that sits in front of your desk while he carries on, “Thank you for that, by the way. My hand was so sore from constructing the miniature model of the new tower we are building. I’m so glad you were there to assist me in erecting it and that you could sate my hunger earlier today. I was ravenous, you see.”

 Your cheeks flame in remembrance of the way his deft, long tongue had wrapped around the fork you’d presented to him, the creamy alfredo sauce coating his pink lips suspiciously similar to the cum he’d expertly and easily draw out of you every time he ravaged you or the essence you’d taint yourself with during the forbidden hours of the night when you touched yourself to fantasies of him in the midst of his absence due to the longer hours that he was required to work at the firm.

 You’d never heard anyone groan from ‘the succulent taste of the meal’ as your vice president had, but you’d be damned if you didn’t enjoy every delicious sound that had dripped from his mouth as he’d opened his lips to welcome you when you’d draped the noodles across his tongue.

 Needless to say that after that particular encounter, you’d had to escape to the bathroom for about twenty minutes to relieve the ache between your thighs that had garnished and cooked your insides for him until you burned with the need to release the steam that wouldn’t escape you without his guiding hand.

 In all of that, you’d been entirely oblivious to the two sets of eyes that had been fixated on you while they watched you with utter absorption. With the visage of your cheeks that had reddened from the blood that had rushed to them and the slow, uneven walk you’d taken back to your office amidst your thighs that stung from your efforts, it had been all too apparent that you hadn’t really gone to use the restroom for the purpose it was intended to be used for.

 Jungkook himself had smirked at that and when his irises had switched away from you and to his own boss, the CEO, whom had his own workspace directly next to his own, Jimin’s teeth had gnawed on his lower lip until you disappeared behind the curtains of your office before resuming with the Skype conference with one of the company’s chairmen.

 With your head full of your illicit indecency that the man standing in front of you now had caused earlier, you try to fight past the fluttery feeling in your chest as you splutter, “U-um, well, it was no problem at all!” You croak as one of his brows lift in amusement as you fidget under his all-encompassing stare to blurt, “Always a, uh, pleasure helping you, Jungkook.”

 Truly, you don’t know how you managed to acquire a degree in English with how eloquence seems to suddenly be a foreign concept to your mind, but your vice president seems to be wholly unbothered and oppositely entertained by it as one side of his lips lift while he cocks his head to the side to divulge, “A pleasure indeed, Y/N,” his voice dips as he comes ever closer to you, his palms now splaying over your desk as his long, iron colored tie swings forward to dangerously dangle close to your own hand that twitches in the want to grasp it and pull him forward until his lips have nowhere to go but on your own as he urges, “You always take care of me so well. I want to return the favor to you, but I just,” his irises lower from your eyes to your mouth as you draw your lip between your teeth and when they rise back up once more, he professes, “can’t put my finger,” he drums his index and middle fingers along the timber of your desk, “on how I want to repay the favor.”

 Memories of last night filter through your mind like an echoing song as they tune your brain to the way he’d pummeled into you, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he’d ravished you after you’d begged him to let you ride his face and you’d dared to sit back and grab his cock in the midst of his attentions to your pussy. You’d screamed through the delicious pleasure that was too much to bear and he’d been more than eager to leave you a mess of limbs and cum on the bed in his wake as he’d fucked you so crazedly, his efforts guided by the need to see you ruined with his seed a success in how mercilessly he’d given it to you and how greedy you’d been to take it all.

 Heat floods your core at the anything but holy thoughts, for your boyfriend surely became a demon in bed that you would gladly fall to your knees to be taken by over and over again.

 “You,” you swallow past the lump in your throat and have to remind yourself to keep your legs locked together lest you succumb to the urge to rub them against each other as you give a choked answer, “you don’t have to do anything. My salary is payment enough.”

 “Oh, but is it? Is there nothing else I could give you to show you how much I appreciate you?” He looms closer, his raven’s wing hued hair kissing at the tips of his cheeks while tenderly embracing the sides of his forehead amidst the hands of oils that part it down the middle and slick it in their essence as he inquires, “Is there not some kind of bonus that you desire? Say it and it is yours, my beloved secretary. After all,” his eyes glint tellingly, “you’ve always been such a good girl for me. I want to reward you, beautiful. Will you let me?”

 “Jungkook,” your cheeks heat up as you whimper, “Please.”

 You try not to think about the implications of what your response might lead one to believe, but under his heady gaze, there’s little you can do but let your words tumble from your mouth.

 He’s called you beautiful a number of times whilst in the presence of other clients and coworkers and each time, your heart had done a flip against your ribcage. The fifth month after he’d become your boyfriend, you’d once questioned him why he called you that and he’d simply shrugged his shoulders before offering, “I should think you would know, pretty girl. It’s because I find you attractive.”

  You’d gone home that night after he’d vowed to bring you your favorite takeout food to make up for having to stay longer at the firm and you’d hugged him with the dumbest smile stretching across your features before turning to leave while he’d smiled fondly at you as you’d skipped like a lovestruck teenager all the way back to your apartment and wondered all night long what he might have been doing while you’d put on your favorite k-drama and bundled yourself up in blankets for your nightly binge of the show, your thoughts void of anything and everything that was not Jungkook in your straying attention from your tv session that was entirely your boyfriend’s fault.

 When he’d come home to you that night, he’d made sure you victualed atop his lap while you’d fidgeted with an ulterior motive leading your body, your moans of enjoyment for the soup he spooned to you all too loud and drawn out amidst your purposeful movements that had been quick to have him hardening beneath you and before you’d known what had happened, he’d thrown you atop the table and fucked you well into the morning hours.

 Now, in the silence that has seeped through the office in the lack of occupancy that is limited only to you and your two bosses, the word has an entirely sinful meaning in the deepness he’s pillaged it with.  

 When he darkly chuckles, mischievousness and everything that promises lasciviousness colors the sound as he pushes off your desk and stalks damningly closer to you, his much taller frame engulfing your own as he hovers before you to lowly inquire, “What do you want, beautiful? Say it,” he steers himself around the desk until he stands in front of you, anticipation welling up within you as he wraps one arm around you until one palm is pressed against the small of your back and in one fluid motion, he streams your body against his, your breasts cascading along his chest as you suck in a breath at the rocky plane of muscle laid over him even through layers of clothing, your hands-as if siphoned forth to him-planting themselves along his pectorals as he utters, “Tell your boss how bad you want it.”

 “Vice President,” your breath hitches when another hand boldly finds purchase along your ass before it slides down to cup your thigh as he pulls your leg up and around him so that it is wrapped around his slim, hourglass waist as you fight the mists of lust that cloud your abdomen as you try, “we c-can’t. This isn’t…it’s not proper.”

 “Do you think I give a damn about niceties when you’re fucking tempting me with how short that little skirt that barely covers your ass is?” He growls as he ducks his head, his lips ghosting along the sensitive junction just under your ear as the hand on your thigh trails upward, his digits just grazing your panties as you shakily sigh out while his other hand dives under your blouse before he husks, “Do you think it is proper to go in the bathroom and fuck yourself with your fingers after you fucking fed me with them? Huh?”

 “You were watching me, vice president?” You gulp at the realization that he knew, “I thought I had been discreet…”

 “Such a dirty little girl,” he muses as the fingers he’s snuck under your V-necked linen shirt run along your skin in languid circles before he blows a puff of warm air against your neck, your skin prickling in his wake as he noses at your jaw, “Did you honestly think that when you went to the ladies room for twenty fucking minutes that I timed on my watch that I didn’t know what you were doing?” His lips brush against the column of your neck as you let your head fall back in silent offering to him as he goes on, “Did you honestly believe that when you walked out of there and wafted the smell of sex across the office that I couldn’t fucking tell what you were doing in there as you fucked yourself while you thought about me?”

 Caught as you are in his hold, you cannot escape the mortification that drops like an anchor to your shoulders and then down through the bowels of your body in its infinite heaviness at the realization that he’s got you red-handed. Embarrassment is what has your lids closing in your inability to see the source of your lust swim in the knowledge of the waters of your sins that streamed from him.

 Despite it all, his digits draggle along your southward lips as he rubs them against your pussy, your walls clenching around nothing as he groans at the wetness that begins to coat your panties as he coos, “Fuck, you’re so naughty, babygirl. Look at that pretty cunt cry for me because it’s been neglected without the only one that really satisfies it,” his finger pulls the ruined cloth away from you and suddenly the hand that had been exploring the ridges of your spine dips in its exploration to pool around your hip and with a dangerous flash of his eyes, he pulls you down over a semi-hardening bulge between his legs, a moan slipping from your lips as he impels you against his member to grunt, “You like this, baby? Does it turn you on to know that I’m aware that you got off to me in the bathroom? Would’ve been so fucking hot to see you get fucked with your fingers, baby. God, it’s making me hard just thinking about it.”

 His dirty words soil you in as he covers you with them just as tangibly as you’d been spoiled by your own juices, your brain short circuiting in the jolts of heat he wracks you with as his touch thunders over your skin that begins dewing with the beads of sweat in the high temperature that he flusters you with.

From the very first time you’d seen him years ago in the shabby little bar where time had seemed to stop as you’d locked eyes with him while he passed you by, you had been under his spell and now, as he holds you to him with desire simmering in his gaze, you’re struck with that sensation of beating wings in your chest as you let him finally lay his lips over the junction of skin along your collarbone, the pillow of his lips bedding themselves over you lightly as the fingers of one of your hands curl inward into his shirt in your effort to hold onto something to ground yourself against the lightness lifting at your insides as you manage the only word that your mind can possibly internalize in the midst of your fading cognition with a whisper, “Jungkook.”

 Your vice president smirks against your skin as he bedecks you in his osculation. Saliva is left in his aftermath as featherlight kisses are flitted along your collarbone and when the hand on your waist pushes you down onto him to urge your hips into moving, you whine as he combines this with the stroke of his fingers at your steadily swelling bud of nerves that gardens the flower of your pussy.

 “Answer to me, beautiful,” he brings you both back until his back hits the glass wall, his hips instantly rolling into yours as he coaxes your other leg to join your other around his waist before he flicks a long, hot tongue along your mastoid that cords your neck as he declares, “If you want me to fuck you like I know you’ve been craving for me to,” he mouths against you, “Tell me how much you fucking want me, beautiful. Let me hear how badly you need me to take you because you can’t possibly be pleased by anyone else, pretty girl.”

 Heat swirls in your belly as he lazily draws shapes into your clit, his member hardening impossibly more for you when you grind yourself against him while you wrap both arms around him to brace yourself as you hump him like an animal in rut, the hand he’d had on your hip quickly cupping your ass to hold you up while he stares hotly at you.

 Knowing that you will face punishment in the bedroom later if you do not do as he asks, you try to wrack your brain for the string of words that you need to scramble out of their jumblement amidst the need that throws them into a whirl as you breathe, “Want you, Jungkook. I want you so badly. Please, let me-“

 “Oh, but do you think you deserve it, Y/N? Do you believe you should be allowed to have my cock when you denied me for so long today?” He taunts, his teeth taking your earlobe between them as he continues, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to put my cock inside that little cunt of yours? How many times I thought about bending you over this damned table and fucking you into oblivion?” You gasp in the risqué admission as he sweeps you over him, his wrist disentangling from your clit to pull your skirt up so that he has no obstructions while he shamelessly ogles your dripping cunt before you lower yourself down on him to earn a cautionary hiss from him, “Watch it, beautiful. If you can’t control yourself, I’ll take you right fucking here in the middle of your office. If I can wait all day to finally have the chance to fuck you again after you denied me, so can you.”

 "Why did you, ah-" he slots one thick thigh under you, a cocksure grin spreading over his features as he helps you thrust yourself over the thatch of muscles lining every inch of his leg, your voice cracking when both hands clutch your ass as he pulls you down and over him to brokenly whisper, "Why did you take all day to finally fuck me, sir-" your lips are suddenly captured in a heated kiss, his mouth roughly claiming yours as your head falls back while he flicks his tongue along the roof of your mouth to claim every bit of you before he pulls away to leave you heaving as you try again- "I-I wanted you to come to me earlier when I was in the b-bathroom,” your breaths are labored from the air he’s thieved from you to leave only your wanton admission, “wanted you to give me your cock and t-take me against the wall while I begged you to let me have your cum inside me...”

 "Such a little slut for me, aren’t you? You didn’t have enough cock this morning when I stuffed it between your hungry little lips and fucked your face? You know," he groans when one of your hands slides down his defined chest as you drag it to its destination before settling over the fully hardened member as you gyrate your hips atop him, " I taught you that when you want something, you ask, yeah? Could’ve had what you needed if you’d just been obedient and used that fucking mouth to request a good fuck, but instead, I had to use my fucking hand to imagine it was your pretty little cunt that my cock was in," you whimper at his confession, your fingers curling over his member as you swirl your hips up and down his leg in a frenzy, your core heating like a wildfire when his eyes darkly flash, " You're going to suffer as I did, pretty girl. You're going to feel how fucking desperate you made me while I jacked off to pictures and videos I recorded of you when you were innocently batting your eyes at me from all the way over here while I was in my office with my hand on my cock."

 “Jungkook,” you whine, “I don’t know if I can take that. Not agai-“

 "Oh, but you will, baby. You will do what I say because I'm the fucking boss, yeah?" One hand gropingly lifts from your ass to grasp at a bra-clad tit, a whimper falling from your lips when he squeezes hard and with his other hand, his fingers sink into your side as he pivots your waist down on his thigh, his muscles jumping at you and catching at your core as he urges you over him and in response, your fingers constrict around him to earn a hiss, "God, it was too easy to make you fall apart on me. Come on, baby," he challenges as he takes your lip between his teeth to nip at you, "Show me what you've got, yeah? Fuck yourself on me. You have sixty-nine seconds to finish before I pull you off me and go back to my office."

 With his demand, you’ve no choice but to obey and instantly, you bear your hips down on him with renewed fervor, the firm and solid thew tautening beneath you as clamp him between your legs while you sway yourself back and forth like a seesaw, a moan stuttering from you when he pushes aside your shirt to grip one breast in his hand, his digits expertly rolling your nipple between them as you teeter precariously atop him, your waist stammering amidst his ministrations when slams his mouth against yours once more, his tongue thrusting inside your warmth as he captures you under his osculation and possessively wraps his wet muscle around yours as he steals your breath away.

 When he pulls away, you chase him with growing hunger that latches itself to you, your mouth connecting to his in a softer kiss as you kittenishly lick at him while he kneads at your breast.

 Your core clenches around nothing when he pairs this with a harsh propulsion of his thigh into your cunt as his sinewy skin slides deliciously along your clothed cunt, the tingling friction finding every inch of your pussy as you avidly grind against him.

 You compress your fingers over his rock hard cock that has your salivary glands producing excess spittle in want of him and when you dare to start rubbing him there while you busily buss his jawline that you think might cut you in its sharpness if you aren’t careful, that’s when he growls out, “God, you’re such a fucking minx,” he angles his head back to welcome your lips against him, “Time’s ticking, princess. You have ten seconds.”

 “Jungkook, please, I…I’m almost there,” you cry out, “Please don’t leave me,” you blurt as you bounce on his thigh rapaciously while you fervidly litter his neck with the stains of your crimson lipstick, “I’ll do anything,” you beg as he smirks while he watches you with interest, “I’ll let you do anything you want to me later, just…please, let me cum. I’ve thought about this all day long, thought about you fucking me all day long,” you blabber as your pride is burned away by his searing gaze while he pushes his thigh impossibly deeper into you as you whine out, “let me finish, sir.”

 Perhaps it the fact that your boyfriend is quite honestly the hottest man you’ve ever seen walk the earth (really, how could you ever be satisfied with anyone else when your boss and boyfriend is a literal incarnate of sin and sex) or maybe it is because he’d edged you this morning in the shower, for his much longer and larger fingers had played with you like you were his favorite toy and that had you quickly winding up around him. Despite your cries, he’d not let you come after disobeying his orders to speak after he’d all but fucked your brains out following round four of your sexual escapades with each other on the kitchen table, the couch and the wall and then the bed. Maybe it is both of those, but you've never been so quick to rile up and Jungkook, the one who has his strings attached to you like you’re his damned puppet, well… it is easy for you to see why you are at the edge of the precipice he dangles you over with his strong threads.

 He observes with amusement the way that you work yourself avariciously over him, your lips insistent in lavishing him with your attentions as you line his throat with the red coloring you’d put on your mouth until he’s decorated with it like a painting you’d artfully drawn yourself. He lets the seconds pass beyond what he’d told you, delight lighting at his eyes as he sees the relief wash through yours in the slow surety that streams in your irises beside it in your thoughts that he’s going to allow you to find your end.

 It’s when your thighs begin tremble from the labors of your efforts and a low pant starts to push itself between your lips as you undulate yourself against him that the large hand on your breast twirls your nipple between deft fingers, fire flaring through your core as you moan out his name.

 “That’s it, baby. Say it louder for me,” he groans as he bucks his hips against you, a devious glint in his eye gleaming at you that only has you burning hotter for him as he husks, “Let Jimin know who you’re fucking yourself like a dirty little girl on.”   

 Your end is near and you’re so close to plummeting into your end, but he holds you from it and refuses to let you fall into it. Not yet, anyway.

 “Jungkook,” you whimper, “touch me.”

 Your boss hums, “Mmm, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He pinches your nipple only to cause you to squirm, the slight pain shooting sparks down to your pussy that clenches for him. He growls at this, for the flutter of your southward lips against his thigh has his cock throb beneath your fingers that still stroke him and suddenly, his hand is gone from your tit and instead finds its place in your hair that he clutches and yanks you forward with so that your chest is pressed flush against his front as his eyes flash darkly and he hisses, “Too bad, baby. I let you fucking use me so I could see how desperate I could make you while you tried to get yourself off. Now that I have you,” he torturously extricates his thigh from between yours and you all but sob at the loss of him as he sets you down on the floor, the hand in your hair wrenching forward until he crashes his lips to yours and sucks your tongue between his teeth as if he wants to devour you and all the while, the hand on your hip sidles down and, while he’s got your eyes falling closed, they shoot open as you moan into his mouth when he cups your sex, his middle finger prodding your hole and when he pulls them both away, carnality dilates his pupils as he declares, “I’m going to make you my fucking whore.”

 Air evades you, but the fire lighting up in your core sustains the need for him as you attach your hands to his shirt to hold on for dear life in the midst of your weakened, feeble knees that have lost their strength in how much of it he’s sapped from you in your kisses. You shakily exhale what little of it remains as you bury your head in the crook of his neck, your shyness starting to return now that the haze of hormones clouding your brain is gradually rescinding in the lack of his touch.

 Breathlessly, you whimper, “Need you now, Jungkook. Please-“

 You’re effectively silenced when he presses his pointer finger to your lips to quiet you, your labored suspirations wrapping warmly around his digit as he croons, “Shhh…I know, babygirl. I’m so fucking hard for you right now,” his fingers enclose your wrist to coax you to put more pressure on his member and you do, your eyes fixing on how much smaller your hand is compared to his own as you urges you to run your hand back and forth over him as he groans, “Feel that? That’s all for you, baby. God, that little mouth felt like heaven around me this morning. Did I tell you that? Did I mention how beautiful you looked with tears falling from those pretty eyes? Fuck, you were so cute with spit dripping from those lips while you sucked me off like a needy little slut.”

 You choke a strangled sound out at that while you burrow your face deeper into his neck as if to escape from the filth he wants to dirty you with, but you don’t get too far with the way that his finger taps expectantly on your lip as he prods at you and you need no further instruction than that as you tentatively open your mouth to welcome the digit he promptly slides in as he praises, “There you go, babygirl. Such a good girl even when I deny you your orgasm. You know you deserve to have it withheld from you, don’t you?”

 You lick at his finger in answer as you breathe, “Yes, sir. I’ve been bad to you today, haven’t I? I’m sorry,” you try a new tactic in effort to release some tension that has coiled into a knot deep in your belly as you whisper, “Will you let me make it up to you, handsome? Want your big, fat cock inside me so badly…”

 You let your words be swallowed within your mouth as you close it around him only to suction your wet warmth around his digit, a grunt quick to release itself from him as his pupils blow wide at the sinful sight of his finger disappearing into your mouth. His mouth parts at the lewd sounds that escape your mouth as you take him inside you, your tongue flicking against him with precision as you lock your eyes on his and in them he sees the kindling of desire that smokes and hazes them over.

 “Fucking hell, Y/N,” he watches as you innocently blink at him with your head still nestled onto his shoulder and when you swallow around him, that has him twitching under your hand that continues to palm at him, his fingers tightening around your wrist as he husks, “Are you that fucking gone for me? Shit, baby. If that’s how you are with just my finger, imagine how you’ll be with my fucking cock shoved in your pretty pussy.”

 “Want it,” you mumble around his finger as you lave at his digit,” want you so much. Please, Jungkook, take me.”

 “So desperate for me. Just how I like you, babygirl. If you want me that bad,” he pries his finger from your mouth, both of you watching the string of spittle that follows him before breaking off and only then does he lean forward, his lips just shy of touching yours as he commands, “Come to me in five minutes. I need to have a quick word with one of the representatives of the company for funding and then I’ll have the rest of the night to fucking ravage you, yeah?” He pushes off the window while he drags your hand away from him and you can’t deny the cold that is left in his absence when he moves away from you and you pout because of it while tucks your skirt back down.

 He grins at the way your knees buckle and, responsively, he helps you to sit down. One tattooed hand finds its place on your hip while the other splays possessively over your abdomen as he walks you backward and once he’s got you sitting, you catch the way his hands linger as if he doesn’t want to let you go, but with an imploring look you tell him more than your words would convey as you place one of your own hands over his while you urge him to stay with a small squeeze of your fingers over his.

 He’s utterly gone for the way you adorably purse your lips as if to plead with him and it doesn’t go unnoticed by your boss that you whine as he pulls away to chuckle to himself while he strides away from you. In his absence, your pussy yearns for him as it deposits even more of your taint into your ruined panties in his tormenting separation from you.

  By now, he’s at your door and before he disappears, he turns with his back still facing you to add, “Oh, and one more thing,” his irises dip down as he gestures to a dampened, wet patch on his pant leg where you’d been sat atop of earlier before he peers back up at you with a hooded gaze, “If I find out you finished yourself off in here without me,” his voice becomes brusque as he deepens it,” The only thing that cunt will have jammed in it for the next few months will be the vibrator you brought to work last week.”

 “How did you,” you clear your throat amidst the clog that has clumped itself in a ball within the middle of it,” you heard about that? You saw that?”

 “I’ve heard the whispers that all the women believe they are too quiet for me to detect, but you,”  He flicks a sculpted brow up as embarrassment mutes you, your cheeks coloring themselves red as the remnants of lipstick that still remain on your mouth as he pokes his tongue against his cheek in a sight that has you instantly wanting to get on your knees once more for him as he says, “you’re such a slave to your desire for me that you just can’t keep that little mouth shut, that you just can’t help but to tend to that needy little cunt because of me,” his eyes scintillate with sin, “you thought I didn’t notice you take that vibrator to the supply closet with you after I had you massage my thighs that you like to tell the other women that you love so much, but I did, baby,” he watches you rub your thighs together, a pained sound resounding from your lips as he finishes, “You put on such a show for me on the camera I have installed in there. God, you have no idea how bad I wanted to fuck you senseless while you tried to stop yourself from calling my name.”

Your jaw just about drops at his admission, mortification causing you to wrap your arms around yourself as if that will make you smaller against the very large realization that he knew of your feral treachery and with a devastating grin, he leaves you a heaping wet mess on your chair as you try to figure out how one man could be responsible for turning you into a human succubus that needed sex with him as much as you needed air to breathe for your body.

 In the silence that follows your boyfriend and boss, all that can be heard are the perpetually unrelenting ticks of a small wooden clock atop your desk. They chink to the uneven beats of your heart that pounds against your chest as you clutch at it to count the breaths that elude your contracting lungs against the tethers that Jungkook himself had put there.

 Trying to focus now would be like attempting to look away from your boyfriend while he’s stark naked and lounging on the living room recliner in readied receival of you after being away from him for the three-week long and very lonely secretarial seminar that Jimin sends you to every now and then to keep you sharp in your duties that you were expected to carry out as the unofficial manager of both the CEO and Vice President of Bangtan Industries.

 It just doesn’t compute in your mind that has gone haywire in the wake of Jungkook that you can do anything but to keep your attention fixated on the little circular face of the clock, its spindly hands moving far too slow for your liking as you try not to think too much on the teardrops your sex cries in its grief of losing him. When you make the mistake of shifting and sibilate at how drenched you really are in the movement, you look away at your soaked skirt to find it ruined where your sex sits, a groan coming from you as you battle the urge to just bring one or two fingers to your clit to water the fire of need burning there.

 “Jungkook,” you whisper to no one in particular, “You fucking win.”

 Heat still washes you through in the fluidity and you clench your hands into fists atop the table as the waves of it try to ebb your hand down to relieve you of the need that swelters within your core and you are quick to lay your forehead against the desk in need of a colder landscape to battle the Sahara desert’s scorch that has manifested itself in your belly.

 “That’s what I thought, doll. Better not touch yourself, baby,” the familiar voice of your boyfriend chimes through the multiline phone system sat next to your computer, your eyes widening as your back straightens and you sit up with widened eyes, your hand quickly jerking away from your womanhood as you stare surprisedly at the red blinking button that signifies that presently, you are being recorded. He must have turned it on when he’d been sitting you down and, like a siren, you’d been entirely lulled by his distraction.

 “Jungkook, I-“

 “You don’t get to make excuses when I heard you fucking moan with how badly you must want to use your fingers to relieve yourself of me. It’s hard, isn’t, baby?” You can see the shit-eating smirk he gives you even from the other end of the line as he sonorously says, “I would advise that you don’t try anything without me, love. Because if you do,” his voice hardens,” I don’t think you’ll like the consequences.”

 “Need you,” you whine as you push your breasts against the wood in effort to stimulate yourself elsewhere as you try, “Please, sir, let me touch myself. I can’t take it without you.”

 “Oh, but you must, pretty girl,” he voice dips deliciously, “If you put so much as one finger on that little clit of yours,” he threatens, “I promise you’ll get none of this cock for a long time. I am a patient creature, beautiful, but you? You are not and I’m going to teach you what happens when you want to get me hard while I’m at work, you fucking vixen.”

 “But…” you don’t get to say much else because he’s fast to cut you off.

 “But? There are no buts, babygirl. Sit there and obey like a good girl. Got it?” His domineering tone captures you in its hold as you grimace in the banishment of sensation you’d been trying to quell with the aridity searing your core.

 He expertly extricates your own voice as you submissively tell him, “I understand, sir. I’m…I’m sorry I’m so needy.”

 “That’s more like it, pretty girl. Be daddy’s good girl, yeah? He’s almost finished and when he’s done,” he lowly admits,” he’s going to fuck you until you can’t tell the north from the south.”

 With that, the red button loses its light and fades with the end of the call and you don’t need to peer down to know that your skirt is beyond being saved by the air dryer in the bathroom.

 To divert your attention anywhere but at your sopping core, you open your new Macbook Pro that Jungkook had recently gifted you only to find three new messages that have come in, each sliding along the upper right hand of the screen only to glide away after presenting themselves to you.

 Two are from Jungkook and the other is from your CEO, Jimin.

 Curiosity awakens in you and has you tilting your head as you open the older one first.

          Jimin:

 [1:45pm] What were you doing with Jungkook for lunch? You two were in there awfully long just for him to eat some Italian food. I was going to ask if you could chat with me about agendas and travel plans for the symposiums, but you seemed like you were in a hurry, so…

 You chew at your lip at the memory of the way the off-white taint had dripped down the side of Jungkook’s lips and how he’d asked you to clean him up before pulling you into his lap so that you could lick it off with your tongue before he’d captured it in his mouth and given you the most passionate, intense French kiss you’d ever had as he sucked your wet warmth clean before pulling away ask for more.

 For the life of you, you can’t remember if Jungkook’s blinds had been drawn in your fixation on each other. Since his office was directly next to and connected with Jimin’s, it was possible that if he hadn’t closed them that Jimin might have seen-

 You click out of the message at the same time you cancel your thoughts from going down a network of ideas that would only make the unbearable pressure between your legs even heavier, your legs sticking together in your fidgeting movement as you hiss through the collection of your essence that coagulates there.

 When you skid your mouse over only to click down on the mousepad and the next message pops up, you nearly fall to the floor with how quick you are to lean forward, your fingers gripping tightly onto the table to keep yourself from making contact with the carpeted ground as you read the next text.

          Jungkook:

 [2:36pm] Thanks for the meal, babygirl. You took such wonderful care of daddy. That alfredo sauce was delicious, but not as succulent and sweet as that pussy when I’ve got my mouth on it. I hope that pretty cunt is ready for me later when I put my fat fucking cock inside you and split you open on top of me. I’m hard for you right now, doll, but all good things come to those who wait, yeah?

 [2:58] Oh, and I got you a dress to wear for that gala we are going to. I do believe you should have already made arrangements to attend, my precious petal. You’ll look so beautiful for me and I know you’ll be the belle of the ball. You’re going be all mine, pretty girl. I can’t wait to show you off to everyone before I tear that gown off you and show you who you belong to. And when you can’t walk anymore, I’ll carry you home and we can watch your favorite show while you lay on top of me so that I can play with your hair and tell you how exquisite you are while we eat macaroni and cheese and watch your k-drama that you like to put on so much :)

 Truly, you don’t know how your boyfriend can turn your insides to mush with just a light glance or even a few words to then, a second later, have your core fluttering in anticipation of his dark vows. You had not one inch of doubt that he would make good on his promises and excitement flits through every contour of your body as you smile fondly at the screen.

 The telltale ping that pongs through speakers set beside the two twin monitors behind your laptop bounces around the glass walls and suddenly your attention is ricocheted to those screens as your hand closes over the wireless mouse and you open the source of sound that you had chosen to alert you of incoming emails.

 Amongst the thousands of emails, the bulk of them come from your bosses and the next mass of them originate from the plethora of dealers that your bosses worked with that often had to go through you before acquiring an audience with either of them.

  Next were the intermediary reconciliations and discussions with coworkers outlining their status and progress on assignments within the firm that you were tasked with collecting and organizing before presenting it to Jungkook, who would relay it to Jimin. On occasion, you would report to Jimin first when he’d come to your office and sit down with you to discuss the overview of all the information, his eyes never straying from you even when you’d get up and walk about the room in your experiments to measure his interest in what you were talking about.

 Jungkook set your body on fire in his scalding affections and attention, but Jimin…Jimin’s soft gaze that was speckled by the sugar of sweetness around you, well…it was like night and day.

 You had come to love Jungkook as fiercely as the sun that has now ducked under the skyscrapers that rise high in the sky and Jimin had come to be someone you adored in the gracious geniality he swathed you in that contrasted so very much with Jungkook’s own feral ferociousness in how the latter had easily seized your heart in the palm of his hand.

 With tangling thoughts of the two of them in your mind, you open the new email that was just sent moments ago. You don’t really know what to expect as you watch the circling icon in the middle of both screens as the content of the email loads, but the longer that you stare at the rotating wheel that-with every pass- has inquisitiveness circumnavigating and spiraling around you, the stronger that the emotion builds in you as you wait, your eyes only now just processing the subject of message.

 Do you like this? Don’t think I forgot what you were telling me last week…

 It’s innocent enough in the initial reading of it, but your mind really can’t help but to soil a more pure intent in lieu of a darker one if Jungkook is involved, after all. The man was insatiable and had tainted you with that same craving for him during every waking moment of your consciousness (and subsequently in your unconsciousness through your dreams that had become borderline pornographic in what your mind would conjure up illicit indecencies wrought upon you by your boyfriend).

 When the spherical icon dissipates, so too does your last shred of self-restraint that is ripped away from you as you loudly whine out, your core clenching around nothing as you devour the eye candy.

    Sweat sluices every bit of skin on both your boyfriend and Jimin, who are the models of the picture, and you’re quite certain that this might be the most profanely peccable thing that you’ve ever seen.

 Jungkook smirks wickedly with his head thrown back against the wooden panel, his eyes closed and mouth parted in pleasure and the white t-shirt he wears sticks to his muscled chest to suck away its color in patches of perspiration that display wet blotches of where hidrosis has penetrated through the thin material to display musculature that the god of lust himself, you are convinced, had a hand in decorating him with.

 His bicep bulges before the picture cuts off just below the upper half of his abs and you don’t need to think to know he’s jacking himself off with his face contorted into such a satisfied expression.

 It is a sight that has your thighs rubbing together, a whimper sounding from you try to calm your breathing that has instantly become erratic in the breaths that refuse to stay lodged in your lungs as your boyfriend expels them expertly without even being physically present to do so.

 It takes some effort to pull your irises away from Jungkook, who has you now on the edge of your seat as you rub your breasts against the edge of the wooden table in your need to feel his big, warm hands on you once again as you whisper, “Please…”

 You lay your head on the table to ground yourself against something of the earthly plane before your soul descends to the fucking nether realm, but in so doing, your vision trails along Jungkook’s other arm that is pushed against Jimin’s own. The slightly older man has his head tilted so that his nape rests on Jungkook’s shoulder, his full lips open to permit sounds you wish you could hear while his eyes, like your boyfriend’s, are shut in a countenance twisted by rapture and you wonder what it is that they’re thinking about that they’ve both succumbed to.

 Distantly, you want them to have been thinking of you, but self-consciousness nips at you despite it because how could two of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen both be frozen in time like this through a picture of their pleasure amidst minds full only of you?

 You shake your head at the thought and choose to fixate your attention back on Jimin, who has you salivating in the open v-cut black shirt that, with its short sleeves, leaves little to be imagined in the mound of muscle mounted along his own arms. He’s sitting back, like Jungkook, and is in the midst of his own sinful delight in the way that one arm is curled around his body in the way that it snakes downward and just out of the frame where you know his cock is in hand.

 You make a pained sound in your solitude where neither of them can help you under Jungkook’s own order as you curse, “Damn you, Jungkook. You knew what this would do to me.”

 You really don’t know how you’re able to look away from the delicatessen that is them, but when you slide one hand under the cup of your bra to clasp your breast and tease at the nipple there while you push against the desk so that your other is not neglected, the movement disturbs your line of vision so that you see the words he’d torturously typed under the picture sent from hell.

          Don’t think that I forgot that you have a sweet tooth for our little Jimin, here, babygirl. When you got fucked against the walls in your office and I had you begging for your release, remember how I asked what you thought of him after he happened to walk in on us and then he ran away while I made you fucking scream so loud for me that he could still hear it even outside the building?

 His tongue had been four inches deep inside you while he’d knelt on the floor for you to eat you out and your cheeks burn in the memory of how he’d had you a crying mess atop of him and in that moment, with your climax so close, he’d played you like his favorite toy in the truths that had been so easy to spew with the slew of his wet muscle that had the threads holding you together weak in their stitching in your need for the one operating your body to fix it all by bringing you to your end.

 It had been purely an accident that you’d neglected to lock the door behind him when Jungkook had come to you with a dark glint in his eye that held only carnality in its iris after Jimin had kept you from him all day for meetings. The moment your boyfriend had snatched you away from your other boss, you’d fallen into his arms readily in the need for him that had tuned you like an instrument until you sung for him in your highest key.

 Lost in each other, neither of you had heard the chink of the door that had borne your coupling to an observer who had stood with his cock hardening at the sight of you both in each other’s ecstasy until Jungkook had thrown you over your desk only for him to face Jimin, your CEO. The man’s eyes had bulged big as saucers when he’d been caught and Jungkook had only grinned as he eyed the tent in Jimin’s pants that broadcasted his obvious arousal. Your walls had constricted around the cock plunged deep inside you and you’d hit your third climax with a deadly snap of your boyfriend’s hips into you all while Jimin had ogled you before running as far as his legs would carry him.

 Secure in the knowledge that you ardently cared about him after many confessions from you in the throes of passion and in the softer moments where Jungkook’s stoicism melted away in the wake of your praise and sweet utterances to him, he knew that you wanted to be with him and that you’d come to love him. It was why he had been so keen to tease you about Jimin in the following days upon realizing that you’d gotten off to being watched by the older man. If it meant your pleasure, he would gladly partake in anything and he’d professed as much to you on many nights (and mornings) in the tender aftercare he would treat you with, ever the doting yet adventurous lover that he was.

 It was why you’d been able to let it slip when he’d had his long fingers plunged in you last night that no one could make you feel as good as he could, but that you were interested in seeing what Jimin’s smaller ones could do and how delicious his plush lips might feel on you. Jimin had always been sweet as honey to you and, in his lathering of that over you in your many moments together at work, you’d discovered that you wanted to get even more of a taste for him.

 Never could you have expected that your boyfriend would do this and torture you with such hankering desire to be sated that it all but burned like a wildfire in your body, but you could hardly be expected to endure it in his absence.

 You make a pained sound as you look at the picture that has damned your sex with even more taint to drip between your thighs and you cross your legs over each other in attempt to get some kind of friction. The attempt is fruitless and when there is nothing to relieve you, you squeeze at your breast and imagine that it is Jungkook who is doing so while the ridges of the table dig into your other and you fanaticize that it is Jimin’s ringed fingers that are palming at you as you cry out in desperation’s grip for either of them to come save you from the agony of their absence.

 You moan at the cool, prickly sensation of your fingers on your skin, your nipple hardening amidst your digits that the cold air of the office has chilled as you seek more stimulation. Your boyfriend’s name falls like an icicle from your lips and when your voice pierces through the thin audio line that Jungkook had screenshared your computer to watch and hear you through Facetime with, he licks at his lips at your exposed cleavage as he watches you pop open another button as you titillate your tits and huff in frustration as you uncross your legs in some misguided effort to encourage friction that he knows you are incapable of granting yourself in your current situation by his own order.

 He feasts his eyes on you as your breasts are shoved against one another, the ‘y’ shape of them bursting from your bra now as you cup one between the fingers of one hand and the other is butted into the table as you moan once more and call his name.

 “Help me, Jungkook…” You breathe, your irises still sticking to the picture that has ruined you from wanting to do anything holy for the rest of the day, week or even month for that matter. With your head swimming in sin spurred by your boyfriend, all you can think about now is Jungkook, Jimin, Jungkook, Jimin, Jungkook, Jungkook and lastly, Jungkook.

 It is your voice that cracks your boyfriend’s fixation on the way your breasts rise and fall with your labored breaths as pulls his eyes from the trenches of your tits before peering up to your lovely face that is marred with the aching affliction he knows wracks your core, his own cock twitching with interest as you repeat his name like a mantra in what little else your mind can internalize with how your sex must be sobbing for him right now.

 Lust seeps through the rips and tears that have begun to open and enlarge your pores as it spreads through your fragile body in the trembles that have you shaking in your attempts to abstain from the slow destruction that has reduced the filling inside your core to wet, ruined fibers like a tainted toy. Without realizing what you’re doing, one hand skids over the wet patch of your essence that has stained your skirt, your palm aquaplaning through that to dive under your skirt and when you slot it between your legs and streamline it into your sopping core with the image of your boyfriend’s hand doing this to you in your mind while Jimin watches, you keen.

 “Jungkook,” you try, “n-need you. Want you to fuck me and let Jimin see how good you make me feel, daddy. Your doll is about to tear herself apart because you won’t play with me…”

 At that, there’s a low growl that booms through the speakers that amplify his voice that promises danger as it demands, “Get your little hand out of that wet ass pussy before daddy makes you regret even thinking about disobeying me,” his voice deepens as he orders, “Since you can’t keep your hands to yourself, get the fuck in my office. Now.”

 Your core contracts at his dominance that is injected into each word and, per his command, your palms shoot away from you as if you were a puppet that he’d pulled on the strings of to whisk your hands away from where he knew you would damage yourself further.

 You rise from your chair on legs that wobble both from Jungkook’s earlier ministrations and your own, your extract dyed onto your chair as you peer back and your cheeks burn at the damned deposit of it that has seeped through your panties and skirt. One knee quivers dangerously as your joints fight to hold you up through the numbness that your boyfriend had left in his wake and you have to plant a hand on your desk to hold yourself up while you steady yourself for the moment.

 From the computer, your boyfriend glares darkly at you as he brings the window that his own computer records himself with to the forefront of your tabs, your attention being sucked like a black hole into him as he declares, “You’re going to sit in daddy’s lap and if you choose to be a bad girl and not listen to what daddy tells you, you’re going to go without cock for as long as I decide to withhold it from you. Understand?”

 “I…I understand, sir.” You nod as you will the strength back in your legs despite his words that threaten to steal it yet again.

 “Good. So submissive. Just how I like you, baby,” he groans as his irises settle on the gleaning mess painting across your thighs from the field of view the camera grants him, “You’ve got me so hard already. I bet that cunt must have drenched itself for me, huh? I guess we’ll find out in a little bit when I clean it all off of you with my tongue,” he has you whining at that as he brings a hand to his chin to rest his face against it as his eyes glint with lasciviousness as he makes a sound of consideration, “Or maybe I should use my fingers? My cock? Perhaps since you’ve been defiant and tried to please yourself, I won’t touch you at all, hm? How would you like that?”

 You reach out for him even through the screen, panic coloring your tone as you implore with pleading eyes, “J-Jungkook, please…don’t. I’m ready for you. I might just break down in tears if you deny me again, so please-“

 “You’ll get what I decide to give to you, babygirl. I gave you simple instructions and I expect that you follow through with them or that little cunt won’t be the only thing that cries for me tonight, doll. Now,” he states with no room for anything but obeyance, “get the fuck in here.”

 Your sex quivers at that and you nod in affirmation as he ends the call once more, your weakened, numbed legs reducing you to a tottering mess of limbs as you emerge out of your office and amble closely to the walls, one hand held out against them to support you in the dangerous dalliance between remaining upright and falling to the floor in your shuddering ligaments that are entirely the work of Jungkook. You don’t have to walk far, but in your slow pace, the seconds stretch on and every step has your slick lewdly dripping down your legs much to your mortification that takes its form in the heat that rushes to your cheeks in the blood that manifests itself there.

 You hobble along the glass walls that offer the view of the city that blinks to life below you in the lights that wink at you while tiny specks of moving bodies bedeck the pavement and once, long ago, when you’d been but a freshmen in college, you’d stood amongst them as you stared in awe at the same building you now work within in. Time had passed but in an instant and when you’d met Jungkook by happenstance one night in a bar with your friends and he’d been quick to pay your tab before sweeping you off your feet and walking with you through the city, you’d had no idea how much your life was about to change when you’d gone home to discover the small piece of parchment he’d slipped in your purse when you hadn’t been paying attention with as distracted by his beauty both in body and soul as you’d been while the two of you had chatted about everything and anything that kept the conversation flowing as easily as the waters in a forest brook. You’d not hesitated in calling him the day after and he’d been eager to see you again.

 You’d gone on your first date with him that night and day after day, the two of you met again and again, for his company was as refreshing as the midnight air that caressed your skin after a long day of classes and before you’d known what had happened, it had been a year and it had only been after letting it out that you wanted an internship with a firm that he’d told you what exactly he did and what company he worked for.

 Your jaw had hurt with how wide your maw had opened in disbelief and when he’d offered to bring you in as part of the team, you’d been all too happy to accept. You really had tried to keep things professional, but Jungkook had not a care in the world for appearances where you two were concerned and your escapades in the bedroom soon made it to the corporate sphere. You could not deny him no matter how hard you tried. It was as if your body had been made to fall into his skilled hands and you would gladly grant him anything if it meant his appeasement.

 After all, you’d become putty in his palm while you had unknowingly wrapped him around your own fingers.  

 Perhaps that is why, when you finally reach the familiar double doors that permit entrance into Jungkook’s office, your hand quavers in the anticipation that has you in its clutches down to your very bones and there is not a moment of pause that stops you from opening them as your hand curls around the brass handle only for you to slip inside, the small clink of the knob resounding around you when you close it behind you.

 Covering the oaken floor, a rug that you’d picked to decorate the room is lain over it. Threaded and crafted in India, it was one you’d seen in the marketplace he’d taken you to on one of his business trips to meet with a dealer that had contacted the firm in their interest to have the firm build a hotel there. You’d taken one look at the ornate swirls colored black as night and red as a rose in the way that the pattern had intertwined in rotating spirals and whirls and your boyfriend had not missed your small whisper about how nice it was while you’d both walked by it amongst the bustle of street life that filled the area packed with people and vendors energetically trying to sell their merchandise.

 You hadn’t thought that he’d heard you, but he’d promptly asked if you liked it and you really hadn’t been expecting anything at all when you’d commented and that it would complement his office in his knowledge that black and red were your favorite colors. With a smile, he’d taken out his wallet (much to your surprise) and taken out a wad of cash that he’d easily passed to the unsuspecting vendor before buying the rug and turning to the group of onlooking teenage boys to pay them off in their efforts to carry it over to your lodgings on your way to the consultation with your dealer.

 Later that night, he’d taken you to a very nice and very extravagant firelit, poolside meal at the Giardino by the the Jai Mahal Palace in Jaipur that you both were sharing a room in. He’d had you giggling every other minute between the fond touches that he’d brush along your cheek or stroke your clothed thigh with from atop the high-necked silk dress that he’d bought for you and after, you’d both had taken a stroll by the surrounding greenery and woodlands beyond the pool. The stars had gleamed in your eyes when you’d peered lovingly at him and not for the first time, he’d been struck with that pang in his chest whenever you looked at him like that while you both had reminisced about how you’d met in that dingy little bar about a year and a half prior.

 When you’d both kissed under the cover of the trees, that feeling that flew around his ribcage had fluttered when you’d adoringly pecked the mole beneath his lower lip as you’d earnestly and heartfeltly thanked him for everything that he’d done for you. When you’d confessed that he’d quickly become the light of your life, he’d tenderly pressed his forehead to your own as he’d pressed his lips to yours once more, the word that had fled him for so long that foretold his own emotions finally surfacing through the depths of his mind.

 He’d declared then and there that he loved you with sincerity beating as fast as his heart through every word. He’d been quick to gently thumb away at the teardrops of joy that spilled from your eyes when he’d finally said it while you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck as you reciprocated the sentiment in a breathless voice that held so much affection for him that it made his chest swell with the emotion and in that moment, he’d decided that he wanted to give you something that-when you looked upon it and felt its weight on your skin- you would be reminded of who loved you that intricately and implicitly.

  He’d held you close with only the moon’s eye presiding over you both while he’d cutely nudged at your nose, his fingers interlacing with your own that you readily accepted and when he’d pulled away, a new resolve had settled in his pupils as he tugged you forward and soon you found yourself being ushered through the busy, bustling streets of Jaipur.

 Bordering on the desert’s boundary, it was a city that you are sure could have been taken right out of a picture in the pinkened sandstone that every store and building had been crafted out of. Ancient structures erected in times past still stood strong among the newer and more modern creations of contemporary origin and the contrast boasted of a rich diversity that had you wanting to learn more about it despite the books that your boyfriend had gotten for you in a homely little bookstore earlier in the day. Youths had run through the streets with vivaciousness tailing them like the dogs that happily ran with them while the old had shuffled along and chattered about their daily lives and it was a place that was dyed in the warm color its inhabitants adored it with.

 Distracted as you had been with the scenery that painted itself into your memory with artful amalgamation of colors, you’d not noticed where he was intent on leading until he was opening a door for you and coaxing you inside with a reassuring nod despite your confused quirk of your chin, you let him guide you inside only to have you gasping under the fluorescently lit store that was notoriously known throughout India for its high class bijouterie called Tanishq.

 Though you had never heard of it, Jungkook himself had been told about the company from a contact in Mumbai that he’d visited with you in their interest in building an additional wing within the library and, upon seeing the way that you both had been inseparable in the tendency to be joined at the hip at all times, he’d suggested the store to your boyfriend after you’d gotten up from your place on his lap to go explore the books that had been crammed on the bookshelf while they’d both watched you curiously tap your fingers against the aged spines of the books. The elderly man had seen fondness for each other well up in your gazes as whenever you and your boyfriend looked upon each other and, after telling Jungkook he only saw that kind of amity in a newlywed couple, he mentioned the name of the store that only the wealthiest of grooms would purchase jewelry for their beloveds from.

 It had purely been by chance that you both had happened to walk by the same store the gray bearded man had spoken to him of and amongst seeing the way your eyes had widened bigger than the largest diamond in the store, Jungkook had decided you were priceless in how cute you were as he chuckled and told you to pick out anything you desired.

 You’d crinkled your nose in confusion, your brows creasing as you’d told him that you were perfectly happy to just have the treasure of him, but he’d only brought his lips to your forehead as he’d mused, “You know, you really are so adorable, Y/N. I want to spoil you. Won’t you let me do that for you, baby? I want to decorate you in my mark so that everyone will know who your heart belongs to. Please allow me to do so, petal.”

 You really had not been able to resist the big bunny eyes as he’d coaxed you forward and so he’d sat down on the leather loveseat in the corner of the room, the business-suited employees quietly looking on as you moved about.

 Jewels of every size, color and cut were decoratively placed within rectangular glass casings along either side of the first floor of the trendy store swathed in white walls and artificial illumination. Set within the walls themselves were square nooks that housed singular pieces separated from the rest that were couched on plush satin. The entire place was full of glittering jewelry that beckoned the eye, but your boyfriend had been noticed the way that you bit at your cheek as you passed them all by in your indecision since the collection of necklaces, rings, earrings and bracelets were all so pretty to you.

 When he’d risen to inquire about any other pieces, the store representative had seemed reluctant at first to give such critical information, but it had taken only a moment for the older woman to retreat to the back to retrieve one of the store’s most coveted pieces that only respected customers could have the privilege of even looking at after Jungkook had, without your notice, stuck his hand into the inside pocket of his Gucci suit jacket to pull out a thick wad of American bills and rupees, his Rolex watch revealing itself from under the sleeve of the black outer garment whilst he did.

 When the woman had returned with a black lacquered box in her hand to set it down on the four-legged glass table and told Jungkook that the necklace inside was one of the store’s most prized possessions, his interest had been piqued as he called you over and, with a questioning expression, he’d chuckled as he walked over to you to gently ease you forward with a hand on the small of your back you’d come to before the little chest.

 He’d been gentle as he’d urged you to open it as you stared at the box, ever the patient man that he was as he waited for you to finally lift the lid of the chest. You hadn’t known what to expect when you heeded him, but it certainly hadn’t been the article of jewelry inside as it immediately drew your eye as your breath hitched at the sight of it.   

 Sat on bed of velvet, you’d grown fond of it the second you saw it in the way it glinted with each sliver of light that seemed to be drawn toward it. It commanded attention in the way it glittered and glistened in the rays of light that bounced off it and innocently, your fingers hovered over it yet never touched for the fear that you might destroy something so fragile and delicate.

 You hadn’t trusted yourself with it, but Jungkook had been all too eager to lift it up and off its resting place to lay it over your neck before clasping it around you and telling you to look in the mirror at yourself.

 Beset in white gold, diamonds grew within two thin metal vines that trailed and wrapped around your neck amidst buddings of flowers that intermingled along each side, the pistils of gems at their centers made of rubies. Upon the dip of the necklace along the notch between your clavicles, a slightly smaller floweret sprouted a larger one beneath it and connected to that was a falling petal that dangled prettily just under your collarbones.

 “You look beautiful in that, my precious flower. Its charm becomes you well, pretty girl.”

 Upon his praise, you’d preened as you’d thanked him for the adulation and before you could do anything else, he’d slid his black card out of black snakeskin Gucci wallet before telling the associate to simply ‘run it through’ with no hesitation as he drew his lip between his teeth as he watched you lightly skim your fingers over the ornate piece of jewelry.

 The representative had informed him when she’d brought it out that it was a grand total of $37,713 and yet, he would gladly give that small bit of money to bejewel you so that you could shine like the gem that you were to him. You never asked for any material things nor expected them of him like other women once did in your poorer upbringing that had left you destitute and in debt when you’d met him and despite all of that, you never requested aid from him and it was one of the reasons why he enjoyed lavishing such gifts on you in addition to paying off your school of his own volition even amidst your efforts to tell him that he didn’t have to (and yet he always wanted to wherever you were concerned).

 He’d assured you once more how lovely you looked, your cheeks turning red as the rubies you wore as he came behind you to plant his mouth under the clasp of the necklace along your nape, one of your hands reaching back to intermingle with his own as you’d quietly let him know how grateful you were and that he really didn’t have to expend so much effort to show you how he felt about you to which he wrapped his arms around you to seep the waters of his truth into you as he’d answered, “ Nonsense, petal. I want you to accept this so that whenever anyone looks at you and asks who got this for you,” he’d let his lips wander along flowing foliage of gems and gold as he’d soiled you with his kisses, “you will tell them that your boyfriend, whom you love so much, was the one who got it for you,” his mouth had lifted as he’d inched close to the shell of your ear as you shivered in the hot breath that prickled at your skin, “When you’re torn away from me because of work or anything else, I want you to remember that you twined yourself around me like the vines on this necklace and that I fell for you as surely as the petal that descends from it.”

 You’d been helpless to whimper at that as you’d turned your head to the side to meet his waiting lips that had been all too willing to receive you as you smiled into the kiss.

 Later that night, you’d been sure to show to him just how thankful you really were as you’d ridden him well through the midnight hours only to wake him with your lips wrapped around the very cock that, even in sleep, he’d ground against your ass in his voracious appetite that he liked only to consume from you.

 When you’d found yourself sitting atop him, his back lain against the headboard as you’d fucked yourself over his cock while the sun had begun to peek over the horizon, the jewels had glimmered enthusiastically amidst the riled rotations of your hips over him. Seven months later, the same brilliant bijou envelops your throat as you look down to the floor submissively like your boyfriend had taught you to do upon entry into his much larger and grander office, your fingers linking together behind your back just as he’d always instructed you to do.

 Two flat screen televisions are perched atop onyx oak media stands on either side of the room, their screens set alight with virtual fireplaces that blaze within them. Between them and atop the rug Jungkook had had brought over from India is a mid-sized sofa the color of mahogany and flanking that are two lounge chairs of colored like cream and in front of them is a square glass table. Jungkook had made sure to test the durability of just about every piece in the room, for he’d fucked you over just about everything as far as the eye could see and had done so too many times for you to even be able to count anymore in his constant craving for you.

 There are wooden blinds that span the length of every glass wall, each of them opened to allow the moon’s silvery beams to filter through them amidst the lamps positioned precariously around each corner of the room, the lampshades that top them covering the sides of the room in golden ambient incandescence that softly lights the edges of the office up in a yellowed hue that reminds you of much smaller rays of sunlight despite the moonlight that coalesces around the central figure in the room amid your boyfriend’s command that calls it forth upon him.  

 Presently, Jungkook is sat in an expensive and executive leather chair the color of soil, his legs thrown atop the wenge wood desk that was crafted and imported all the way from Africa in the rare material cut from the tough bark of the legume tree native to the country.

 You see none of this and fidget uncomfortably in the steadily oozing taint of your arousal that continues to percolate down your thigh while a voice low as a baritone emits itself from the iPhone lain over Jungkook’s desk as your boyfriend eyes you with interest, a smirk twitching at the side of one lip as he takes in your debauched state while the caller on his phone fills the room with his thick voice in the midst of the business call that he’d been made to make.

 It’s not the first time he’s had you come to him in the middle of a phone call, but you have to fight the whimper that wants to wheedle its way out of you at the memory of how he’d called you in here but a month ago to suck him off while he’d been in the middle of one with a client, his need for you too strong for him to lay to bed when he’d watched you hungrily gorge yourself on a banana from your seat in your office.

 “Jungkook, I need answers as we near the end of the fiscal year. You had many opportunities for appraisals this quarter and those preceding it and as such, I want to know where our dealers and contributors were most dense and what their appeal was so that we can draft out potential areas of interest to focus our fixed assets on. Surely in all of the trips and consultations you had for the last several months, you already have a response on the tip of your tongue.”

 “On the tip of your tongue,” your boyfriend makes a sound of thought as he taps his finger against his chin while he devours you with his roving gaze, “Perhaps I do, co-founder Taehyung. Speaking of evaluations,” your boyfriend’s voice darkens, “my secretary has been quite valuable to us.”

 At the mention of you, your heart does a flip in your chest as you fix your eyes somewhere between your feet because you know if you dare to look anywhere else, you might just become a fucking puddle of limbs on the floor.

 “Come here, Y/N,” Jungkook orders, your back straightening straight as an arrow at the instructions.

 You don’t know how you manage it with your legs as feeble as they are, but you move forward unsteadily despite the threatening numbness that leaves your ligaments dangerously close to giving out on you in the strength that has been stolen from them by your boyfriend.

 The clack of your high heels reverberates along the walls and is loud amidst the blood that pounds in your ears, your heart racing amidst the heavy, hot attention that is as warm as the sun’s rays over your bared skin as your boyfriend looks on at you.

 You move as drawn to him like he’s some kind of magnet and in the attraction for him that pulls away any rational thought, you find yourself standing before him, his hands rising to swaddle your hips in his hold. His touch, even through the black button down linen shirt that you wear, is warm and has you melting the instant his palms leisurely drag themselves up and down your sides as you relish in his attention.

 Taehyung continues with an impressed snort, “Jungkook, Jimin has informed me all about your little secretary many times over,” your boyfriend’s digits curl inward to sink into your soft skin at that as he informs, “This is not the time to be rambling about how she’s snatched both your heart and cock in each of her hands. I want facts, not sentiments.”

 “Oh, but that’s the thing, Tae,” Jungkook lilts, his grip on you tightening as he ushers you between his legs that he spreads for you, your own bones liquifying like goo under his strength that he’s spent many hours in the gym working to acquire as you make a sound of startlement when he suddenly turns you around and whisks you into his lap, your ass sitting down upon the hardened bulge that readily receives you as Jungkook chuckles in the mess of your taint that darkens the fabric of his pants where your core is perched over him to amusedly offer, “ She has erected more than just my cock, however many times it has been, I’ll have you know. She was the one who orchestrated dealings with, hm,” one hand lifts from your side so that long fingers can coax your chin up and to the side so that the two of you lock eyes, “how many dealers this year did you have coming for me, darling? Tell Taehyung here. I think he’s underestimating how useful you’ve been to me.”

 “S-sixty nine,” you blurt as the hand on your chin descends down the ‘v’ of your shirt, his deft digits popping open the small buttons without pause and the plummet you’d taken in his dilating irises that promise nothing but sin, you have to climb along their edges only to realize what you’d said and quickly you stammer as you amend, “I-I mean, 669 contractors, T-Taehyung. I helped to orchestrate that number of dealers that were taken by the company.”

 “Everything alright, baby?” Your boyfriend husks into the shell of your ear, his teeth taking one lobe between them as the last button is undone, your shirt opening to reveal your bra-clad breasts as his hand flows freer than water in the way he draggles it along your abdomen until he possessively wraps it around one breast to give you a harsh squeeze, your head falling back against his shoulder as you bite at your lip to keep quiet while your skin pebbles at his touch.

 “Jungkook,” you breathe, “do something. Please.”

 “Mmm, you’ve been so good for me, so good for the company, petal,” He emphasizes as he trails his lips down the column of your neck and you turn into the featherlight touch of his lips and between them, he utters,” Don’t you agree, Jimin?”

 Your eyes widen at the name despite the heat that fertilizes your arousal deep in your core, but you don’t dare look away from Jungkook without permission. Your boyfriend nips at the tender spot along the base of your neck where the garden of jewels wrap themselves around you that he’d bought for you months prior and it is only when the hand on your breast slowly streamlines downwards to slip under the waistline of your skirt to slide between your sopping folds that he hisses into your ear, “Fuck, baby, are you that turned on in the knowledge that he just watched me do all this to you?” You moan, but it is trapped behind the hand he covers your mouth with while his fingers prod at your hole, your entrance begging him to find himself in your wet warmth in the way you clench around nothing as he rasps, “Look at him, babygirl. I want you to see what you’ve done to him because you just can’t resist me, can you? Go on, doll. Make him fall to his knees for you just like I did.”

 With your head still laid against his shoulder as he lavishes you in the brush of his soft lips against you, you shift your visage away from your boyfriend with some effort, your irises wandering from Jungkook’s deadly distending ones that are colored black as a shark’s in the predatory way he looms above you to those of the only other man in the room that might just be a puppy in disguise with the way his light brown irises implore your own for some much wanted attention.

 Dressed in a plain black suit that contrasts his unique beauty, your CEO wears a tie over a white dress shirt that you wish you could see through to gage which of the pair of them is more muscled between the two of them. His hair is carefully styled in its parting that leaves his entire forehead naked to your sight amidst the thick tufts that arch up along the left while the right side is pressed loosely along his scalp, his sideburns extending to the middle of his ear that is ringed with three hoops along each side. Perfectly sculpted brows frame almond eyes that beg for yours and lips that rival your own boyfriend’s decorate him below a straight nose. His lower lip is slightly thicker than his upper one and they are quite shapely around the thumb he currently gnaws at much like a chew toy, his tongue longer than a dog’s as it curves under the digit while he waits for his master to give him notice.

 Jimin is entirely lost in the way that his other hand is presently wrapped around the tie as if it is a leash that keeps his hand from going lower so that he can rut into himself like you know he must want to given the white of his knuckles that mar his skin as he clutches at the thin piece of silk. His hand appears so much smaller around the article of clothing, his fingers so much shorter than your boyfriend’s that clamp down over your mouth as one finger pushes into your hole, your walls clenching around him and the whimper that wants to escape never makes it out of you and when you see Jimin’s digits begin to tremble with how tightly he holds onto the tie, you wonder what they might be able to do to you despite their littler size.

 “That’s it, babygirl,” Jungkook tells you as he runs his tongue at the sternocleidomastoid muscle cording the base of your neck, your walls contracting within you as he drives his digit back and forth with his middle finger while using the others to run along your folds as he does, your face contorting into one of pleasure as your hips buck atop him all while Jimin bites hard onto his own thumb as he watches the both of you and it is then that Jungkook mutters lowly, “Keep doing that. He’s getting hard for you, petal. He could never get as hard for you as I do, but he’s getting there, doll,” your boyfriend nibbles at your now exposed shoulder to stifle the groan when you press your ass more insistently on him as he pulls your shirt off of you to give a sotto voce demand, “Use my fingers and get yourself off with them, pretty girl. Fuck yourself on me and let him watch you fall apart on top of me, Y/N.”

 You don’t need to be told twice and, following his instruction, you plant both hands in front of you with each on one of this thighs, your fingers curling inward to pitch themselves into the grounds of built up muscle that compose his legs to lift yourself up only to sink back onto his digit that easily goes all the way down to his knuckle in how deep his digit is plunged inside you. Your whine is captured by the hand he replaces with his lips in a passionate kiss that draws all your attention back to him before they flutter closed, his mouth overtaking your own as he glides his tongue along your lower lip before twisting around your own as he feasts himself on you.

 Taehyung’s voice cuts through it all as he huffs, “I don’t know what is going on over there, but someone better give me some answers,” there’s a pause and the sound of fabric rustling when your moan writhes itself between Jungkook’s lips that are held over your mouth when a second finger is added and he deliciously curls his fingers in a come-hither motion as your hips jerk atop him and when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth only to release your mouth and leave you in a dizzied daze amid the loss of oxygen he’d taken from you,  his lips lower to graze the nape of your neck as your head falls forward amidst the sudden jerk of your hips over him as Taehyung clears his throat, “Jimin, is what Jungkook said what you know to be true? If so, have you any idea where most of her accounts were set up so that we can look into stimulating more in those areas?”

 “So sensitive for me,” your boyfriend mouths at your skin, this thumb brushing your clit to have you stutter your hips as he works you open on top of him,” So fucking wet, too. Come on, babygirl. Show them how bad you want me. Make them wish they could fuck you every night like I do,” he husks as he impels his fingers back and forth inside you, your pussy clinging to his fingers in the lewd squelches that permeate the room and all the while, Jimin’s visage is tugged to the sight of your boyfriend’s digits disappear within your cunt as his own member begins to weep precum in want of you.

 “S-she um, well…yes, correct,” he flounders as words scramble in every direction within his mind as he observes a sex film right in front of him that is infinitely more arousing than any porno he has seen before in how receptively submissive you are to Jungkook who has you looking fucked out when he’s only just begun his ministrations on you.

 You, who has been in Jimin’s dreams and thoughts during many nights when he has been alone in bed with his only company being the pillows he’d rut into for some semblance of relief when his hand would become too tired to bear the burden of lust that you had inspired without even knowing.

 Helpless as an abandoned puppy, he can only look on as a rumble razes from between his lips s you raise yourself off of Jungkook’s digits only to fall back down on them as he scissors them into you with precision, each finger stretching you out around him as your own hands tighten their hold on his thick thighs amidst the whimper that is heaved from your lips when his thumb flicks at the bundle of nerves foresting your core to have your jerk atop his rock hard member that strains against the confines of his trousers.

 The fingers on your side bite into your skin as he constringes them around you while he leans forward to growl, “Watch it, baby. I never you said you could ride me yet,” you whine only for him to connect his lips to the spot just under your ear to suck the skin into his mouth and that has you keen as your hips careen into the fingers that have deliciously started to thrust into you as he hisses, “You want daddy’s dick, huh? Do you think you can fucking take it, doll? I’m not so sure… I think,” his thumb pressurizes itself into your clit in slight palpitations that are too calculated and measured against the rapid beats of your heart while a third finger is inserted and propelled inside to have you cry out as his tone bottoms in pitch amidst the way your back bows against him, “I think that since you were two minutes fucking late in getting here, you need to be taught a lesson about coming on time. Jimin, come here.”

 “You guys act like such children over your toys, fuck. I just wanted to have a normal business call for once,” Taehyung’s voice drones on, but there’s a slight tick to it that suggests he might not be as irritated as he wants to sound while he grumbles, “I don’t want to be privy to this. I’ve only heard Jimin’s voice get like that once when I took him to a strip club and I’m not going to stick around for your little threesome or whatever the fuck you all are about to do.”

 “Oh, but you will, co-founder Taehyung,” Jungkook’s hand rises from your hip to unclasp your bra and when he divests it off of your writhing body, it falls with a thump to the floor with the last of Jimin’s self-restraint, his fingernails digging into the silk of his tie to leave crescent moons in his palms as he rises to lick at his lips in the way that your tits sway temptingly to the motions as you jounce atop your boyfriend while Jungkook smirks, his lips hovering only an inch from your own shoulder as his irises flash darkly at Jimin when he asserts, “Jimin here has some nice, big lips and he likes to put them to use and run his mouth around me,” Jimin’s eyes widen as his teeth come down on his cheek while Jungkook’s smile lethally widens, “He’s told me all about what you did the night you came to the office in the supply closet with one of my receptionists and how you told him that you let a particular name slip from your mouth when you had your cock in someone else’s.”

Jimin’s back goes rigid as a rod and he stops midway in his journey toward you, the filaments of his tie near their tearing point with how tightly his hand is wound around it as his cheeks puff out while he peers pleadingly at Jungkook who simply ticks his head to the side, one brow arching in amusement as he asks, “What was the name again, Jimin? I’ll let you touch her if you tell Taehyung the truth. I know you must want to see how responsive she is under your fingers, yeah?”

 “For fuck’s sake, Jimin, do not listen to Jungkook-“

 “Y/N,” he softly says despite the rough hold on his tie in its stitching that has started to tear. With Jungkook’s heavy ultimatum resting on his shoulders, it really hadn’t been possible for him to crumble under its dense weight with the sweet serendipity of you that was so near that he could almost taste it.

 Your face lifts at the mention of yourself, your eyes meeting Jimin’s and in them there is surprise that is flecked by lifted brows, but it is soon smeared away by the desire that blotches them as Jungkook chooses that moment to let his tongue peek from between his lips only to trail it along the nape of your neck before closing his mouth around you to siphon you once again between them, your neck gradually becoming a woodland of reddened petals that rival the color of a rose in the passion that had been emitted in the making of them.

 Appeased, Jungkook hums, “Mmm, good boy. I knew you would listen to me. Come and claim your reward,” he husks as he circles your clit with his thumb the way he knows you like it, your end rapidly nearing as your boyfriend shoves all three fingers into you without pause at the same time that you frenziedly meet his ministrations in faltering jolts of your hips over him and when you watch Jimin tortuously pull his lower lip under his perfect buck teeth as he moves mercifully closer, you moan out when Jungkook’s middle finger prods at the cluster of nerves deep within you as your boyfriend groans at the way your slick drips down his fingers with how much taint you produce in want of them both before he goads, “Go on, Jimin. Touch her. Her tits were made by a fucking succubus. God, they’re so good for a nice cocksleeve aren’t they, babygirl?”

 “Yes, Jungkook…yes,” you breathlessly reply as your nipples harden in the cold air that prickles at your exposed skin, a dangerous jab of his fingers deep into you drawing a guttural sound deep from the recesses of your body that he expertly forges you with as his thumb swirls over your clit to leave you panting.

 In your labored suspirations, your chest heaves back and forth, your tits being pushed out and in to have Jimin’s fingers shuddering from their prison of their cage in his tie while his other hand mindlessly reaches for you.

 As he nears you, Jungkook speeds up his ministrations inside you, his fingers curving dangerously to rub against your walls that clench around him and it isn’t until Jimin hovers awkwardly by the side of Jungkook’s desk that he notices the way that Jungkook drags one hand away from your side to snake it around your abdomen and pull you flush against his chest as he clucks his tongue, “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Jimin… did I tell you when you were allowed to touch her? Did you think you could just come over here and have what is mine without my permission?”

Jimin’s hand shoots away from you as if he’d been burned as he shamefully casts his visage to the floor as he speaks haltingly,” I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…she’s just pretty as a doll on your lap, Jungkook. Please, let me have her. I’ll be good to her, I promise.”

 “Did you both forget that I’m still here? Christ. I can’t believe you told Jungkook that I said the name of his damn girlfriend while I was getting sucked off, Jimin,” there’s a sound of a belt buckle opening as his voice hardens, “I guess I can’t really help it. You do have quite an eye for women, Jungkook. None more so than this one, though,” You feel the grin against you amidst the skin that is currently being suctioned between his lips as he decorates you in another necklace that blossoms in blots of purple and red under the one made of gems gleaming enticingly around you as Jungkook suddenly brings your ass down onto his clothed, yet colossal cock in time with digits that pierce you all the way to your g-spot, your eyes rolling back with your head that lands on your boyfriend’s shoulder as Taehyung cavils, “It’s her fault for getting my dick wet whenever I come to visit the office. You should thank whatever god is up there that you found such a loyal little girl to give herself to you," You preen at the words despite the fingers currently driving themselves ferociously into you as Jungkook agrees with a nod while he rambles, "I will say I tried making a move on her when I last came to the office and when she refused and instead went to your office, that's how I found myself in that supply closet."

 “So I heard from Jimin, Taehyung,” Jungkook muses as while he helixes his digits inside you without fail, the arm that still is enclosed around you pulling you back into him so that there is no space that remains between you as he hotly intones into the shell of your ear loud enough for them all to hear, “I fucked her maybe seven different ways that night because of that. She just couldn’t get enough of me, could she, babygirl?”

 You agree as you hoist yourself up only to heft yourself back down with a broken moan as Jimin turns to the table in the absence of you to rut himself into it, his face contorted into one of concentration as he tries to think about anything but how your pussy would feel around the cock that cries wantonly for you.

 “Look at him, baby,” Jungkook urges as he swirls his thumb over your clit, “he can’t even contain himself for you anymore,” he speaks up, “He just can’t take it, can he?”

 “Can…can take it, Jungkook, please. I need to feel her. Need to touch her,” Jimin manages despite the obstinate grooves of the desk that scuff and scrape his member rigidly as he tries, and fails, to simulate some semblance of relief without you as he attempts to say, “You’re t-torturing m-me. Let me do something to her, anything to her.”

 “Do you think you should be allowed to touch what isn’t yours so freely? She’s mine,” Jungkook growls as he curves his digits purposefully inside you, his own cock throbbing at the way your juices have now coated his entire hand whilst your walls flutter tellingly around him as you submerge yourself on his digits with thighs that now tremble with your rigorous efforts, a moan slewing from your lips as he slides his fingers so deep inside that they press skillfully at the bundle of nerves that has your back arching against him while he possessively wraps his hand around your throat that had been on your abdomen to keep you in place and when his thumb twiddles itself around your clit, that’s when you cry out for your boyfriend who then smirks knowingly, his eyes flitting from you only to sear into Jimin's as he arches a brow to ask, “She’s almost there, isn’t she, Jimin? How badly do you want to touch her? Beg for me and maybe I’ll let you have a small piece of her before she fucking gets stuffed full of my cock for the fourth time today.”

 Your end is so close, yet so far away. Like the waters of an ocean, it washes over your feet, but the waves of pleasure in the distance that roll deeper in the seas of rapture are too far away from you to reach as you sink into the sands that are grained with Jungkook’s control over you to keep you from moving toward it. With your end so close, you hardly even process what is said when Taehyung talks under his breath that has quickly become erratic in your sounds of ecstasy that have wrapped around his cock as he jacks himself off on the other end of the line.

 “Tell him what he wants to know, Jimin,” Taehyung advises, his voice strained through the strenuousness of his own indecent actions as he wishes it was your cunt that his cock was enveloped in while his voice deepens, “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

 “You’ll both wait until I decide when Jimin can play with what belongs to me,” Jungkook professes, his fingers speeding themselves inside you and when you whimper at the way he slides his digits deliciously inside you at the same time his thumb strikes your clit, it’s enough to have you buck your hips as he tightens his fingers around your throat in warning while he orders, “You’re not allowed to cum yet, babygirl. Don’t even think about it. I want to put my cock in you so you can warm me up for later, yeah?”

 “Jungkook, I can’t hold on for much longer,” you confess through elusive breaths as his fingers constrict around your throat for daring to admit that.

 “You’ll hold on as long as I tell you to, baby. That cunt won’t get off on its own, will it?” He husks whilst his fingers deftly stroke your walls in curled motions as his thumb falls from your clit to ream the outer lips of your sex and you sob out at the loss of stimulation to the nerves crowning your womanhood as he watches your expression change in a myriad of different countenances before you settle on submission and nod knowing that you won’t get what you want if you disobey him after many lessons imparted to you in the bedroom.

 “That’s right, baby. Obey,” Jungkook groans as you clench around him and it’s when he hears Jimin call for him in a hushed tone that a devious idea unfurls itself in his mind and he doesn’t have to look over at Jimin to see that the older man is bent over the desk and is mindlessly grinding into it to resolving none of the tension that coils around his hardened member.

 This little game was far too fun to end so soon and so Jungkook chuckles darkly as you stretch yourself open atop him, his digits tracing the sensitive skin around your hole despite the three fingers that are knuckles deep within you as he starts, “As for you, Jimin, I believe I said you’d need to beg for her if you want her that badly You do want her, don’t you?.”

 The older man stops his movements at the referral of his name, his eyes glinting pleadingly as he turns his head to lay his cheek on the table, the bones of his hands pressing taut against the whitened skin he grips the sides of the desk with as he wracks his brain for anything resembling a coherent sentence and it is the sight of you with your eyes closed and mouth parted as you rebound up and down on your boyfriend’s fingers that has his own quiver in the wish to feel you himself as he swallows to comply, “I-I want her so bad, Jungkook. I’ll…I’ll do anything you want, but please, let me touch her.”

 Jungkook seems to be satisfied with that as he nods, his irises blazing in acknowledgement as he demands, “Kneel for her, Jimin. That’s what all men eventually do for her and this precious little cunt.”

 The words are barely out of his mouth before Jimin falls before you, his hands closing around Jungkook’s knees just inches below your own that squeeze your boyfriend’s thighs in a vise-like grip.

 Need saturates his eyes and shaking fingers as he waits patiently for Jungkook to give him the green light and like this, the view he is granted might just make him cum untouched in the way that Jungkook sinfully shears his fingers in your cunt as you come down on them in frantic sweeps of your hips, his hand entirely drizzled in your essence that glistens as if to tempt him in the soft light of the room.

 He doesn’t realize that he’s salivating like a fucking dog until Jungkook gruffly commands into the shell of your ear that he flicks his tongue against, “Open your eyes, babygirl. I want you to see how fucking desperate you’ve made our little Jiminie. God, you’re fucking hot, doll. I’m so damn hard for you right now.”

 Not wanting to disobey him, you let your lids flutter open, your breath catching at the sight of the pretty boy that is on his knees for you. His once perfectly styled hair is tousled after he runs his hand through it, his tongue darting between his plush lips as he stares at you like you’re food he wants very badly to eat.

 And how you’ve wanted him to do just that for weeks, though you know deep down that Jungkook would always take you to the seventh heaven without fail.

 Your hips stutter yet again at the visage of him when you lift your head, one of your hands lifting so that your fingers can trace the outline of his shapely mouth. You are slow to make contact with his lips that are softer than a feather yet rival those of the Bratz dolls you’d play with when you were younger. He relishes in your touch and even leans into you as if to grant silent permission for more and when you run your digit down his lower lip to watch it snap back up against his teeth, you moan at the thought of what it would feel like if he-

 Your hand is suddenly pulled away as your boyfriend’s long fingers enclose themselves around your wrist as he brings your arm back to marionette it behind you and when he brings your palm down on his weeping member that sobs for you even through his trousers, that’s when you suck in a breath whilst the fingers on your throat release you to grasp your chin so that your head is turned to the side, your visage instantly being pushed back to him as he gives a devastating blow to your pussy through the twist of his fingers in your cunt to have you whine out when he jams them inside you.

 “I believe I taught you to wait for my approval before I let you do anything, didn’t I, babygirl?”

 “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disobey,” you try even knowing that the last time he went unheeded by you, he’d left you on your bed to finish yourself off with your own hand.

 “And yet you did, baby. Do you think you deserve to cum now?” your boyfriend inquires, his fingers slackening inside you to have you whimper when he extricates them from you only to bring all three digits to his lips, his tongue laving at them as his eyes scintillate with fervor to have you clench around nothing and Jimin watches the way your essence oozes out of you without Jungkook to clog you now as your boyfriend’s irises simmer hotly into yours that he trails down your body and everywhere his gaze goes, the ire of fire is stoked in every crevice of you as he decides, “I think you need to be reminded of who really owns you. Take my cock out, babygirl. Do not make daddy wait.”

 With your back still flush against his chest, it’s hard to fight past the haze of arousal that clouds your mind. Your boyfriend knows this just by peering down at you and, taking pity on your afflicted state, he helps guide your hand to where his zipper is. With how unbelievably large he is, you don’t need to search for his cock in its obscene girth and lewd length. You don’t have to work at it his zipper for long, for it opens to you easily and really, you can’t think too much on the fact that he’s not wearing any boxers underneath his pants as his cock springs free and your fingers slip along it until you hold him in your palm.

 He’s heavy in your hand with the blood that engorges his member and your walls contract at the way his veins all but bulge out against your hand as you drag your hand down all the way to his base before gripping him to earn a groan from him that you swallow down your own throat when he draws you forward into a French kiss that leaves your tongue numb in how roughly he sucks it into his mouth.

 When you’re on the verge of losing what little breath you had left and you squeeze his cock, that’s when he releases you to rasp, “Good girl. Now, sit the fuck down on me and ride me.”

 Needing no further prompting, you raise yourself off him to line yourself up with him and when you sink down onto him and welcome him into your wet warmth, your head falls forward in the lack of ability to hold it up anymore, your mouth dropping open with the way that he fills you so wholly and completely that there is no room to think of anything but him.

 It is a lucky thing indeed that you have a birth control insert so that you don’t have to worry about anything in times such as these and it is pure bliss that pangs through every corner of your body the moment he finds his home inside you and you can only repeat his name with how deep his cock is lodged inside you.

 Below you, Jimin raptly observes how your boyfriend disappears inside you as you start to grind atop him, your hips eagerly canting him as he sits back and enjoys the show.

 “P-please, Jungkook, can I?” He questions, not caring at this point what Jungkook will let him do so as long as he can do something.

 “You know, you do have some really pretty lips, Jimin,” Jungkook considers, his irises burning into Jimin’s own in the view of him he’s given with your head down between your shoulders as you unthinkingly sweep your hips over him to have him grunt, “How about you kiss her with them?”

 A shaky breath trembles as it is dislodged from between Jimin’s lips, your eyes irises drawn to the source of the sound as you gaze into eyes that widen bigger than a Boston Terrier’s and you don’t have time to process what has just been said before a familiar hand wraps around the underside of your breast, a groan falling from your boyfriend’s mouth at how supple your skin is between his fingers as he holds one breast as if to offer it to the older man, your nipple hardening as his digits that have been chilled by the cool air cause goosebumps to raise themselves up over you.

 You watch as Jimin’s sight becomes entirely transfixed by the way that Jungkook’s hand completely closes around your tit whilst you continue to gyrate your hips atop him, a wantful moan releasing itself from your throat when Jungkook leans forward to take the clasp of the necklace he bought for you between his teeth as he pulls it back with him so that you follow him when he seats himself against the backrest of the chair once more.

 In the movement, your breasts sway while you pirouette your hips around Jungkook and, as if to entice Jimin, your boyfriend swirls his thumb around your areola that puckers itself out around the cold digit that draws itself around it.

 Jimin makes a sound akin to a wail and it’s what has Jungkook smirking wolfishly behind you as he taunts, “I bet it must be so difficult to just sit there and watch her get fucked so well, isn’t it? You want her, Jimin? Kiss her.”

 You observe the way that Jimin’s tongue swipes itself along his lips and the blonde haired man before you does not need to be told again before he slants himself forward and, all in one movement, opens his mouth to take the breast your boyfriend holds inside it.

 “Ah…please,” you whimper as his warm lips heat your cooled skin and your boyfriend chooses that moment to constringe his fingers around your breast to the same time that Jimin’s agile tongue flicks along the underside of your tit. His mouth and tongue are smaller than your boyfriend’s, but you’re beyond the point of caring as both men make it their motive to please you.

 When your boyfriend plants hot kisses to the tip of your spine right under your nape and below the fastener of the necklace he’d just been tugging on, Jimin seems to notice and suddenly, he’s hollowing his cheeks as he suckles from your tit like a newborn babe.  

 You splutter as your waist stammers atop of your boyfriend once more as he drives his hips into you, a grin lifting at his features as Jimin hums in satisfaction at the way your flesh melds around his mouth, the vibrations shooting like an arrow straight down to your cunt as your boyfriend impels himself inside you with a powerful thrust that had been drawn from the bow of his own hips.

 It’s enough to have you keen, one of your hands lifting behind you and back to tangle in the roots of your boyfriend’s tresses while your other cards through Jimin’s locks as you encourage both of them while you plead, “Please, don’t…don’t stop. I’m getting c-close.”

 “What are you guys fucking doing to her? She sounds like she’s about to break,” Taehyung comments against the slick sounds of his hand fastening its pace along his length as he chides, “Jungkook, it’s rude to ignore your superior when he’s asking you questions.”

 “You should consider it a privilege that I am allowing you to be part of this at all considering that you tried to take what will never be yours,” Jungkook groans when you pull at his hair while you swivel your hips erratically over him as you turn your head to the side to peer at him with a gaze that appears as fucked out as he will soon feel and he makes haste to attach his lips to the spot beneath your ear, his tongue darting along your sensitive skin while Jimin doubles his efforts on your breast to have you whining and when your boyfriend releases you, his other hand latches onto your neglected breast, his fingers expertly tweaking your nipple between them to have your own fingers tightening along your boyfriend’s thigh at the same moment that your walls contract around his member in warning whilst he amusedly discloses, “Since you’ve you been so complacent today, however, I think I will be merciful and let Jimin, your dear best friend, explain.”

 With your breast still in his mouth, Jimin’s eyes have become clouded by the lust that hazes them and Jungkook grins at the sight of the elder man’s ruin while he manages, “I…I’m sucking at her tit, Taehyung. Jungkook was right. They’re so soft in my mouth,” he draws shapes along your areola as he swallows and it’s only when you let your fingernails trail along his scalp that he is coaxed into continuing, “Jungkook is, well… she’s riding him and facing me so that I can see everything. You’d probably c-come if you saw this, Tae. She’s…she’s absolutely heaven in my mouth and her pussy just keeps swallowing Jungkook like it can’t get enough of him. It’s hotter than anything we’ve ever seen at the s-strip club.

 “Good boy, Jimin. So obedient for me. You may have your reward now,” Jungkook grunts while you bear yourself down on him at the same time that he slams his hips up into you all while he gropes at both breasts in his mission to have as much of you as he possibly can before he instructs, “Kiss her where she needs us most, Jimin. Taste her for yourself and see how fucking divine she is and understand why all men eventually get on their fucking knees for this cunt of hers.”

 The sounds of sluiced skin reverberate through the phone that lays innocently on the desk despite the sin unfolding around it and Jimin does as he’s told like the perfect little student and before you realize what’s happening, he liberates your breast from his mouth and delivers devastating osculation down your chest in flurried busses amidst lips soft as snowflakes as he descends down your body slowly.

 Your own movements atop your boyfriend’s member quicken in the rapid anticipation driving you back and forth on him and when you watch him pause his ministrations when he gets to the apex of your thighs, for you are entirely fascinated by the way that Jimin draws his lower lip between his teeth as he stares at your sex that greedily clings to your boyfriend’s dick.

 When his eyes roam upward and he meets your own, something flares in them to stoke the already fierce fire within you and when you curl your fingers in his locks to encourage him toward you, he relinquishes to you as if he’s merely your own plaything that you can do with as you wish.

 When his mouth finally affixes itself to the bundle of nerves that sit above your glistening folds, you cry out as your cunt closes around your boyfriend’s member, your fingers tethering onto them both as your thighs begin to tremble once more in the attention that is lavished on you between them.  

 Your boyfriend’s fingers find themselves winding around your neck once more as he draws your back against his chest and he croons, “Are you close, my love? Do you want Jimin to help you cum on me?” He hums when you nod frenetically to say, “I bet it must be really difficult not to let go and get daddy all dirty with your cum, huh? That’s alright. I’ll let you finish on me soon, but first,” his fingers constrict around your throat as he breathes into the shell of your ear, “What did I tell you that you need to do when you want something?”

 Language lurks somewhere in your addled brain and, as if to save you from punishment, Jimin lightens his ministrations to your cunt and instead airily pecks at your clit as you search your mind for what your boyfriend wants to hear.

 The longer you take, the more compactly his fingers curve around your throat and it’s when the hand still around your breast possessively squeezes you that breathe the air that begins to threaten to enter your airway as you respond,” Words, sir. You have taught me that I need to use my words to get what I want.”

 “That’s my girl. You’ve been so good for daddy, haven’t you?” He asks as he propels his hips into you in a harsh sweep of his hips that you readily receive as your walls welcome him.

 “Yes,” you suspire when his fingers release you around your throat to dive down and rest on your hip as he eagerly pulls you back down on him to earn a whimper from you, “I want..want to cum on you, daddy. Will you let your babygirl have her release, please? Want it so bad. Want you so badly, sir.”

 “Mmm,” your boyfriend hums, “I like it when it you beg for me. Since you’ve been so well behaved and let daddy do whatever he wanted with you, I will give it to you,” he says between kisses down your spine that his own bones will allow him to grant you before he straightens and speaks up, “Jimin, take her into your mouth once more, but this time, make love to her with your lips while her boyfriend fucks her tight little cunt, yeah? I want to see if she’ll squirt for us.”

 Jimin does just as he’s told, his mouth closing around your clit at the same time that your boyfriend crams himself inside you whilst his hand whorls around your areola as you squirm atop him. Jimin is tentative in the way he brushes the bundle of nerves with his tongue, but your boyfriend is surefire in the way he pistons himself up into you, your cunt fluttering around him in warning as you blurt,” C-close, Jungkook. Please-“

 “Cum all over me, babygirl. Get daddy all fucking wet and cream all over these pants that you fucking ruined because you need me so bad,” your boyfriend declares, both of his hands reaching for and trapping one breast in their hold as you fuck yourself over him before he husks, “Let Jimin see how good you are for me, doll. Show him how much you love my cock by coming around me and soaking me in your sweet juices, baby.”

 It is with a devastating swipe of Jimin’s thick tongue against your clit while your boyfriend tweaks your nipples between his fingers as he drives his hips purposefully into you that you throw your head back, your eyes rolling as you careen off the edge of the release you’d been dangling over for so long. It hits you like a watery wave that cascades over you and you scream out your boyfriend’s name as your walls swell around him and he throbs inside you while your walls clench repeatedly in their need to keep him locked within you until the last of your release has deluged you.

 Your essence pours down from the rainforest of your sex and you don’t know how long your womanhood ebbs and flows with it as your body is flooded with endorphins that liquifies your insides as Jungkook fucks you through it whilst Jimin sucks at your clit without pause, his tongue lapping at your sopping center that is doused with your taint like he’s a starved man eating away at the delicatessen that is you.  

 “That’s it, babygirl. Let him taste how fucking delectable you are,” your boyfriend croons, his lips securing themselves to your exposed shoulder to bring your flesh between his teeth as he too suctions you within his mouth as he coos, “She’s getting me all wet, isn’t she, Jimin? Does she taste as good as she looks? Come on, tell me, pretty boy.”

 Jimin releases you once he runs his tongue between your silken folds, his entire chin smeared in your essence as wipes it away with the back of his hand before licking away at that which has soiled his own skin as he peers with a hooded gaze up at you to confirm, “She’s sweeter than honey, Jungkook. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted pussy that appetizing. I…I could eat her out all day.”

 “Of course you could,” Jungkook amusedly replies, one hand settling on your hip to still your shaking limbs as his aching cock sobs for more within you, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your side while the digits of his other palm fondly trace the blooming petals of red and purple marring every inch of your throat and shoulders as he muses, “And what of you, babygirl? Did daddy take good care of you?”

 “Yes,” you try between labored breaths despite the way you lean into your boyfriend’s wandering fingers, “You treated me so well, sir. Felt so amazing.”

 Your boyfriend watches you lay your head back onto his shoulder, a smirk rising along the edges of both lips in amusement as he observes how your eyes flutter closed, your body sagging back against him despite the cock that is still lodged balls deep inside you.

 “I do hope that’s not all that you’ve got to give me, babygirl,” Jungkook tells you, the fingers along your nape ascending until he’s grasping your chin to urge your head to the side so that you stare into his simmering irises that are quick to light the fire of desire within you anew before he darkly declares, “because daddy’s not done with you yet.”

 Your breath hitches at that and Jungkook finds it adorable that your eyes manage to widen so largely while Jimin’s own just about bulge from his head at the insinuation.

 “D-daddy, I don’t know if I can take it,” you hardly manage to get out before he roughly consumes them himself, his mouth attaching to yours and drawing what little breath you had left away from you as his tongue glides across your lower lip before he nips at you in punishment.

 When he pulls away, you’re left entirely breathless as he taunts, “You will do what I tell you to because you want to please me, don’t you? You say that you can’t handle more, but you’re the same person that begs for my cock every night because you’re such a fucking slut for me, aren’t you?”

 “I…” You trail off when his irises dip languidly down your body until they souse themselves where you are still connected to him and underneath that, the collection of your slick that you’ve deposited over every inch of his nether region.

 “Cat got your tongue, baby? Or should I say cock got your tongue because of how needy for me that little cunt is?” He asks with a flick of a dark, sculpted brow.

 Despite the release that has just washed over you, you find the tide of lust soaking you through  with each word he speaks, your core dripping even more of your essence onto the pool of it that has accumulated over Jungkook.

 Jimin only looks on in rapt interest, his own cock quivering with the want that strikes him through at the spectacle of you spread open atop of your boyfriend.

 “Did she get off on you, Jungkook? Shit, that’s got me hard again,” Taehyung curses through the phone that had long been forgotten by you and Jungkook in the rapture that had befallen you both.

 “She did, Taehyung. She loved it, too,” your boyfriend affirms as you nuzzle him affectionately before he chuckles at your adorability, “She’s ready for round two now, I think. Jimin,” Jungkook’s blackened irises sear into the elder man’s, “You are to go to the couch over there and strip for her, but keep the tie on. Once you’re done with that, lay down on your back and wait for my precious doll to come to you when I tell her to. Got it?”

 “I-I understand.” Jimin responds as he stands, his knees sore from being on them too long as he leaves the two of you and begins divesting himself of his attire much to none of the notice of the both of you.

 Jungkook allows you to nudge his neck with your nose, your warm breaths tickling his skin and when you make the mistake of shifting, he hisses, “Careful, baby. You wouldn’t want me to take you right here again, now would you?”

 You lick at your lips while you stare openly at his, the hand that still is entrenched in his tresses sliding down to cup the base of his neck as you apologetically blink up at him to admit, “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to.”

 “I know you didn’t, petal,” he caresses your cheek with the knuckles of his hand before he helps you off of him only to turn you around in his lap, his still hard cock springing back against his chiseled abdomen and it is only when you face him that he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear to praise, “You’ve been so good for me, baby. Do you want me to give you a reward?”

 “You already have, my love,” you whisper as you lean forward to kiss the freckle beneath his bottom lip that you love so much before you tell him again, “You already have.”

 “So wonderful for me,” he adulates as he cups your cheek and runs the pad of his finger along it to utter, “Wanna make you come again, beautiful. Will you let me?”

 You nod, your own hand taking his tie between your fingers and twirling it around them as you bite your lip, “You already know the answer a thousand times over, Jungkook. I want to please you, too. Can I?”

 The hand on your waist wraps around you to pull you close so that you hover only an inch or so away from him and he groans at the way your hand closes around the base of his member to stroke him tortuously, his eyes flashing perilously as his own fingers enfold themselves around you to hold you in an iron hold as he husks, “You want to make me feel good, baby? Fine. Take off this shit covering my chest. I want feel you against me when I fuck you so good you’ll beg for me never to stop.”

 The ire of desire blazes at that within you, your fingers quickly moving to unknot the tie wound around the base of his neck. You make quick work of it, for you’d been the same one who had put it on him this morning after he’d taken you in the shower and bed. The coat is next and he has to let go of you for a tormenting amount of seconds that drag on agonizingly slow in the loss of you, but once you get rid of the suit jacket he’d had you pick out for him, the black dress shirt is mercifully the last piece of clothing that separates you from him.

 You salivate as you pop open the buttons that had already been opened down to the middle of his chest and with each iota of flesh kissed by the sun that is revealed to you, your salivary glands reproduce within your mouth to birth even more spittle as you hurriedly undo the fastenings of his garment. When the last button has been unsecured, that’s when you wet your lips amidst the aridity of desire that has dried them, your irises drinking him in as if drunk off of him as hunger coils low in your stomach.

 Muscle cords every inch of him and the six pack that proudly ridges itself along his abdomen boasts its vigor in the way that they jump against your fingertips that lightly trace along the tautened skin that is so eager to receive you against it.

 You push the shirt open thirstily amidst your throat that suddenly has become dryer than the Sahara desert as your irises roam upward to pectorals that must have been crafted by the gods in the thew of musculature that surrounds them.

 His darkly colored nipples stand to attention as you draw your fingernails over them to earn a growl from him as he takes both hands and pins them behind your back in one of his own while his other coaxes your chin up as he lifts your head so that you have nowhere to look but his eyes that burn with want into your own as he warns, “If you keep doing that, I’m not going to be able to handle myself. Don’t you want to play with Jimin? If you want to toy with me instead,” his voice hardens as your walls contract around nothing, “I’m more than happy to entertain you myself.”

 You whine at his restraint and he simply clucks his tongue at you, “ I know that it’s hard to control yourself around me, babygirl, but wait just a bit longer for daddy, okay? Look,” he urges you to peer over at the couch that presents Jimin to you both and the man lies on his back as he’d been instructed to, his hand on cock as he palms at himself while he watches the two of you, “he’s waiting for you, doll. See what you’ve done to him?”

 You can only whimper at the sight of the erect dick that sticks out of the pants he’s left open, his own coat long discarded with his dress shirt to leave only his black tie that dangles just before his cock. He’s about half the size of your boyfriend (of whom has the most monstrously made cock you’ve ever had the pleasure of having inside you), but you have not a care in the world about that as you observe the precum that he swirls around the head of his member, his eyes hooded as he gazes at you and calls for you, “Y/N…please…”

 You hardly realize what you’re saying before the words leave you in stilted whisper, “Want you both. Want you to fuck me so well like you always do while I play with him, daddy,” you pull your sight away from Jimin to glance back at your boyfriend who is smirking cockily as you ask, “Can I have your permission?”

 “Since you asked so nicely,” Jungkook ghosts his lips along your jawline, “go ahead, baby. Go warm yourself up on him and get ready for me, yeah?”

 “Yes, sir,” you answer breathily whilst he attaches his mouth along the edge of your maw and flicks his tongue devilishly against you before pulling away to help you up, the hand that had been holding your own prisoner releasing you to find the zipper amid your backside only to pull it open, your skirt sliding down your legs to puddle around your feet.

 You thank whatever force of nature had made you decide on your white lace thong for the day because Jimin’s gasp from behind you is audible to your ears as you preen at Jungkook’s own hitched breath that is fast to deepen into a growl as each thumb hooks under the sides of the panties he’d bought for you, his irises dilating at the sight he’d been denied when he’d been fucking you earlier.

 “Can’t believe you were wearing these for me, babygirl. You really do want to tempt daddy into losing his fucking mind over that pussy, huh? Such a fucking whore for me,” he rasps as he pulls the pearled strings of the panties apart so that they too join your skirt on the floor as you rub your thighs together amid the finger he slides between your glistening folds, your own hands finding his shoulders and clutching onto him as you moan, your head falling back as he rubs his digit along your slit.

 “Only for you, Jungkook,” you tell him as he spreads your legs apart with his other hand whilst the one currently nestled between your folds drags along your labia.

 “As you should be, baby,” he announces as he collects your juices and brings two fingers to his mouth only to suck on them as heat floods your core at the damning view of that as he groans at your succulent taste, “Now go and prepare yourself for me. Rub yourself on top of Jimin’s little cock and when I’m ready, I’ll join you.”

 He waits for you to take a step away from him, your knees buckling under you as your weight makes them wobble after what your boyfriend has allowed to be done to you and before you have time to let fear grip you in your descent toward the floor, his hands are there to grasp each side of your waist to steady you whilst your own grapple for each of his wrists as you cling to him for support.

 A strong chest melds itself to your back once more as he chuckles, “Everything okay, baby?”

 “Yeah,” you nod, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

 “Think nothing of it, doll,” he lowers his head to whisper hotly into your ear, “When I’m done with you, you won’t even be able to walk, let alone stand, my love. Now, hurry along,” he ushers you forward and watches you stumble forth amidst the heels that you kick off in effort to reorient yourself with using your feet, a grin rising along his lips as he takes in your cuteness before his eyes flick down to the phone still sat atop his desk, “You’re being awfully quiet over there, Taehyung. Has the masturbation brought you that much satisfaction while you imagined it was my girlfriend that you were trying to fuck?”

 “Shut the fuck up, brat,” Taehyung huffs in annoyance.

 “Brat? Is that what you call the man that let you listen in while he fucked his soon to be fiancé? Interesting,” he muses as he runs a hand through his hair, his tongue poking against his cheek in visage that is not missed by you, your heart fluttering at the words he’d many times uttered to you in the tender aftercare of passionate lovemaking and you smile at that despite the gruffness to which your boyfriend speaks with next as his irises find and melt into yours, “Such an ungrateful prick that you are, Taehyung. Since you want to act like a dick, I think I’ll just leave you to trying to keep your own hard while I ravage my girlfriend. How does that sound for being a brat?”

 “Jungkook, do not hang up on me,” Taehyung cautions, “You’ll regret it. As co-founder of this company, I can take her from you.”

 Jungkook growls, his jaw clenching at the same time that you sex contracts around nothing as he ticks his head to the side in a habit you’ve grown fond of whenever he’s especially unappeased with something as he bites out, “You dare to threaten me, Taehyung? You have the audacity to challenge me for what has always been mine and that which fucking ran from you and into my waiting arms when you tried to make advancements on my fiancé? You’ve just awoken the fucking lion, co-founder Taehyung,” Jungkook spits out, “Try me and you’ll get the fucking claws. She is mine and I decide where she goes, got it?”

 “Such a child,” Taehyung laughs mirthlessly from the other end.

 “Such a fool,” Jungkook jabs, “to lose to the likes of a child that will now ravish what you’ve sought after for years and yet, she chose me. She’ll always choose me.”

 “Jungkook, if you end this call, I’ll-“

 The man never finishes his sentence, for Jungkook terminates the call with the press of a finger, his chest puffing out in a show of virility that has you wanting to whimper for him as his eyes lift from the screen to your own to raze your insides with heat of a wildfire as he demands, “Get on Jimin right now before I change my mind and take you home to screw you senseless into our bed until I’ve fucked all this irritation out of me.”

 Desire flares in your sex as you quickly plant both hands on Jimin’s much narrower chest and swing your leg over him until you sit astride him on the couch, your irises pulled into the magnets of your boyfriend’s eyes that attract you so even when you’re straddling another man.

 He stalks forward towards you and, needing to relieve some of the knotted tension between your thighs, you shift and seat yourself over Jimin’s smaller cock, your mouth parting as you rub yourself along his length only to plead for you boyfriend, “Jungkook…more. Come to me, please.”

 Your voice wraps around your boyfriend like cool water on a stinging wound and, promptly, the anger that had begun to well up within him is drained by you as you implore him with begging eyes whilst you drag yourself over Jimin’s hardened length and Jungkook is helpless to watch as Jimin’s veiny member slides between your still sopping folds as you draw yourself along his dick.

 The elder man stays quiet, his hand rising to cover his mouth to stifle the sounds he’d make so as not to bear the brunt of whatever Taehyung had done to Jungkook, for he knows full well that Jungkook could snap if you do not completely calm the storm that had begun to brew within him.

 Your boyfriend looms ever closer and, like a predator to its prey, he stands tall above your much smaller body as his irises distend over you and he devours the sight that is you as you work yourself over Jimin and lather him in your essence. His already rearing member prods at your hole on one particular sweep of your hips over him and your boyfriend catches the way your breath is shakily exhaled from you as you peer up at him and only him, for you do not dare to look away when he’s looking at you like you’re a five course meal he’d eagerly eat.

 And gorge himself on you he does, because in the next moment, he’s behind you and sitting on his knees as his fingers spread your ass apart to reveal a puckered hole for him. His dick twitches at the thought of what he will soon do, one finger tracing the rimmed entrance that borders the back of your ass and when his finger is replaced with his mouth, that’s when you moan only for him to shove his tongue inside you as he suckles at your asshole.

 “Fuck, you’re still so tight even after the many times I’ve fucked you right here. Relax for me if you want my cock, Y/N. You want it, don’t you?”

 “Yes,” you breathe, “want it so much, sir. Please, give it to me. I’m ready.”

 Jimin, utterly enticed by the way your breasts bounce in your movements, leans up to take one in his mouth while your boyfriend opens you up for him, your walls rigid at first yet soon they soften to grant Jungkook greater access as he preps you.

 The tight ring of muscle around Jungkook’s tongue loosens around him when Jimin dances his tongue along the floor of your tit that he welcomes into his mouth, pleasure lighting you up inside like dynamite as you buck your hips over the elder man’s length.

 “You’re not ready if daddy has to work this much to get you to open up for him, baby. No matter,” he hums even with his tongue still stuck inches deep within you to send vibrations at sonic speed to your core as he goes on, “I don’t mind fucking you with my mouth if it means you’ll be able to take my big, fat cock.”

 When Jungkook pushes in a finger to join the tongue that swirls around your asshole, that’s when your back bows inward as he strings you like the puppet your body is for him around his digits, his finger curling inside you devastatingly as his tongue whorls around it to have you stutter, “P-please. Don’t want to wait for you anymore, daddy. Need you inside me now.”

 “You want something to fill that little cunt of yours?” Jungkook’s tongue extricates itself from you only for two fingers to take its place beside the one he’d already put into you as all three scissor you and you can only make a choked sound until he orders, “Then try and see if you can fit Jimin’s fucking dick inside it and keep his cock warm until mine joins it in your fucking ass.”

 Your boyfriend’s fingers shear into you with precision as you obey, your fingernails biting into Jimin’s pecs as you align yourself with his thinner cock and finally sink down on it to sit obediently on top of him in wait of your boyfriend’s next set of instructions. When your boyfriend takes you like this, usually you feel like you’ll burst with how large he is and how wholly he fills you. Jimin, however, is a miniature version that is much easier to maneuver yourself on without the colossal member attached to your boyfriend that you’ve known to satisfy you for so long now.

 Jimin’s eyes shut as he releases your breast from his mouth only to litter the underside of it with light kisses. He’s careful not to mar your flesh with his mark, for you do not belong to him and he knows that doing so will only stir Jungkook’s wrath later on, so he chooses to be wiser and avoid that as your hips still upon the final inch of him that you seat yourself on as Jungkook’s hands grip your sides roughly for leverage as the three fingers he’s plunged in you are impelled into you in forceful motions that have you whining in want of him.

 “You listen so well, baby. Your ass is so fucking tense, but I guess it’s been a while since I fucked you back here, huh? I’ll have to keep it in mind to put my cock in your ass more often, I think.” He draws his fingers out of you, his fingertips grazing your walls on the way only for him to propel them roughly within you as you fight the urge to ride the man beneath you as Jungkook asks, “Are you ready for me? I don’t think I can wait for you any longer, baby. I’ve been without you for long enough.”

 “Please,” you beg as you present your ass to him the best that you can while you’ve got a dick nestled between your netherlips, “Want you so badly, Jungkook. Let me have your big cock. You always take me so well with it.”

 The words have hardly left your mouth before the fingers inside you are pulled out, the tip of his well lubricated dick prodding at your hole as his fingers tighten along your sides for him to apprise, “Once I start, I won’t be able to stop until you’re milking the dick inside you while you beg for the mercy only I can give to you. This is your last warning.”

 You feel the shift of the couch behind you as your boyfriend rises to his knees, his tip poking at your hole as he hovers over you.

 Your hand closes around his wrist as you look back at him to offer, “I won’t stop you. I won’t ever stop you, my love. Do it. Let me feel you inside me once again, for the absence of you is too difficult to bear,” you release a sigh of satisfaction as he inches himself inside you as you breathe,” I yearn for you, Jungkook. Let me have you.”

 You watch your boyfriend’s eyes darken as he taunts, “You want me, baby? You can fucking have me.”

 With that, he plunges his cock into you without pause, a slight burn searing your walls as he stretches you out with his member as you cry out his name. You’re jostled atop of Jimin in the power that Jungkook sheathes himself into you with, your sex riding Jimin’s member without either of you doing anything in the aftershocks of what Jungkook quakes your body with as his teeth bite at the nape of your neck whilst he pummels you ruthlessly.

Pleasure pangs through you as your boyfriend rocks into you from behind and, wanting Jimin to do something to quell the need that smolders within you, your fingers wrap around the tie still draped around his neck as you pull it so that he’s made to sit up as you narrow your eyes, “Fuck me, Jimin. Let me see if you can please me like my future husband can. No one has ever made me feel as good as he has. Show me what you can do to me, Jimin.”

 He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the movement and when your boyfriend thrusts violently into you to have your back arching and your eyes rolling to the back of your head, Jimin’s irises set determinedly before he impetuses his hips within you to have you moan out for them both.

 “No one fucks you like I do,” Jungkook hisses as he rams into you, your fingers constricting around the tie as you inhale the same air that Jimin releases in what little space settles between your lips as you bounce on the blonde-haired man while your boyfriend grunts, “And when I have you in our bed later tonight, I’ll make sure to fucking remind me you of that. The only reason he’s here right now is because I can’t say no if it means my babygirl will be happy.”

 You bob atop of Jimin as Jungkook continues to pound you, his dick far too little for your cunt that has become too used to the fullness of your boyfriend who splits you open every time he’s inside you and you whine in desire of more, your forehead resting against Jimin’s as you release his tie and drag his hand up so that it envelops your breast, his tiny fingers a stark contrast to Jungkook’s much longer ones as they stroke your supple skin while you part your lips for him and wait for him to take the offering you give to him.

 “Kiss me, Jimin,” you plead, your other hand laying itself over his cheek amidst the jerking field of vision your boyfriend wracks you in as you breathe, “Let me prove to him that your lips are as pretty as they look.”

 “My…my lips are pretty?” He swallows as you nod and he meets you willingly with soft, plushy lips that are soft as pillows against you and he’s much gentler than Jungkook as his tongue tentatively drapes itself over your own as it asks for entrance and when you grant it, his warm muscle dances with your own to the rhythm of your rapidly beating heart, his digits splaying themselves over your breast to rub soothing circles into them as he holds you close, your whimper taken into his mouth as your hips rotate atop him so that his length brushes the very edge of the cluster of nerves deep within you that your boyfriend aids in pushing him further into you with alongside the shove of his own cock into your ass.

 Jungkook swivels his own hips into you while he watches Jimin tilt his head to the side to receive you, the two of you soon becoming enraptured with each other as he traces your lips with his tongue whilst you nibble at his bottom lip.

 “Keep going, Jimin, you’re making her feel good,” Jungkook husks.

 With each kiss, Jimin seems to grow bolder, his lips soon traveling southward as he busses your chin and then down the column of your throat as you lift your head to give him access. He’s sure to let his tongue brush your flesh as he goes, your core clenching around him when he laves his tongue over your nipple that you lower into his mouth.

 “That’s it, Jimin, keep going. She’s getting wet again, isn’t she?” Jungkook inquires, one hand dipping from your side so that his fingers slide through your soddened folds as he groans, “Fuck, she’s so wet for us, Jimin. She likes what you’re doing, doesn’t she, babygirl?”

 “Ah-“ you gasp when he attaches his lips to your abused breast, his tongue lapping at your nipple as he you gyrate your hips atop him before Jungkook pounds into you once more, “I like it so much. Your mouth is so much better than I ever thought it would be, Jimin, fuck.”

 “I’m glad you think so, Y/N,” he mouths from around the tit that is presently within his mouth, his lips caressing your sensitive skin as he says, “You don’t know how long I thought about doing this,” the hand that still enfolds your other tit warmly kneading at it as he licks at your hardened bud to continue, “You have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you here, how much I wanted to feel you like this.”

 “Consider yourself lucky that I’m the one allowing you to do what you are to her, Jimin. If it were any other man she’d asked me to do this with, I’d have said no. Want to know why?”

 “Why?” Jimin mutters against the slick ‘pop’ that his mouth makes as he relinquishes your breast only to focus on the other, his hand draggling down your stomach to catch on the press of his cock against his palm from within you as you moan when he bucks up into you as Jungkook burrows brusquely inside you.

 “Because,” Jungkook smirks knowingly at the blonde-haired man as he damns you with his cock through a devastating blow of his hips into you, the sounds of skin slapping sluicing the air around him as Jungkook confesses, “ You’re the only male that’s been around her for more than a week and not succumbed to her fucking charms that she likes to cast on just about everyone that owns a dick.”

 “It’s not my fault,” you pout and Jimin takes the opportunity to sweep his thumb under your lip as you turn your head into his touch so that he swipes his digit along your lip that you eagerly pucker your lips against in a fleeting kiss to his finger before you take his wrist to tug it down the line of your chin and along the column of your throat until he’s descending among the valley of your breasts while Jungkook jostles you forward and back. When Jimin’s fingers nurture the bud of nerves hedging the garden of your pussy, you moan, “How can I be blamed when I don’t even do anything but get their cocks wet for me, daddy?”

 “It’s all a game to you, isn’t it? God, you look like a fucking ragdoll with how rough you’re being handled, babygirl,” Jungkook says as he slams his hips into you to give a grunt, “Of course it’s your fault when you look like such a pretty little toy that they want to fucking break. You only opened your seams for me, though, yeah?”

 “Yes, Jungkook,” you laboriously get out and it is only then that you feel your boyfriend’s chest press down over yours, his arms falling forward to cage you into the solid plane of Jimin, your own breasts falling over the blonde-haired man’s pectorals as you as you’re melded to lay flush against him. Your hips jerk when Jimin’s cock grazes the clump of nerves deep inside you at Jungkook’s powerful ministrations, your mouth dropping open and your eyes fluttering closed as your breath hitches, “O-oh…Jimin…”

 The blonde-haired man’s cock twitches inside you at the mention of his name, but in the following moments that Jungkook screws you without abandon, he watches your face contort into one of unadulterated pleasure as he whisks his middle finger over your clit that has become engorged with the blood that pulsates needily for him and the male above you. It is a wonder that the space between your bodies is just small enough to allow him this and he touches you like you’re a glass figurine while your boyfriend fucks into you like you’re his puppet.

 “Jungkook, you should see her. She’s so hot. Shit,” Jimin doesn’t know he’s said what he’d been thinking aloud until there’s a dark chuckle that consumes any other sound as it emits itself from between your boyfriend’s lips as he rails you against the elder man and when Jimin drives his hips into you the same way he’d seen your boyfriend do to meet him halfway in reducing you to a mess of limbs between their chests, you give a guttural scream that has the windows around you shaking in the shrillness pitching your voice that has them threatening to crack.

 “Ah, there it is,” Jungkook husks, his hot breath drifting over the crook of your neck as he teases, “I’ve got you screaming for me just as I promised I would,” his tongue laves at the nape of your neck before teeth nip the tender spot as he forges forward into you all while Jimin ogles you from beneath him as your boyfriend utters, “What of my other vow to you, baby? Can you fucking tell which direction is which or have I turned that upside down, too?” You shake your head as he plows into you, your world spinning as he corkscrews himself within you as he taunts, “Can you even remember anything beyond my name anymore, doll?”

 Your walls clench around Jimin, who hisses at the sudden succumbing of his member to your sex as you’re knocked repeatedly into him like the pendulum of a seesaw, one side of your thoughts swinging to the other as you try, “J-Jungkook…Jimin …I-again…n-need-“

 “Mmm,” Jungkook hums,” She’s close. She can’t even fucking talk anymore. Jimin,” black eyes raze his own, “let’s wrap this up, shall we?”

 “What,” Jimin swallows as he watches the way your digits quiver around him as he skillfully skims his finger along the bud of nerves cresting your sex and your chest slides against his in the sweat that slickens you along him, the knot of pleasure deep in your core tightening just as your own hand does over the blonde-haired man’s wrist whilst your other grabs onto the twisted nodule of fabric at the base of his neck in your effort to hold onto something as you whisper his name pleadingly and Jimin is helpless to give you what you ask for at your glassy eyes that so resemble a priceless statuette as he adds a second finger to join the first to stimulate the button decorating your treasure as he asks, “what can I do to your beautiful little doll, Jungkook?”

 “Look at me while I fuck you, babygirl,” Long fingers curl around your jaw as he turns your head to the side so that you’re granted a glorious view of them both, your breath hitching at the way beads of sweat clamping to thick strands of tresses black as a raven’s wing falling perilously over your boyfriend’s eyes that glint dangerously at you, his own lips red as a rose from biting them too much as he snaps his hips ferociously into you, a moan drawn forth from you at the sight of him in combination with the frisk of Jimin’s shorter fingers along your clit as your boyfriend smirks, “As for you, Jimin, you may keep touching her where she needs it. I’m going to help you ruin her needy, pretty cunt and when I do,” you skin pebbles when Jungkook’s hot breath billows over it as he orders, “You’re going to damn her with your cock at the exact moment I decimate her with mine. Understand?”

 “Can she handle that, though? What if she-“ Jimin never finishes because Jungkook’s voice that is draped in certitude covers it.

 She will take it because she was made for me and will do whatever I ask of her, won’t she, babygirl?” As if to prove a point, his cock converges with your sex, your nipples poking into Jimin, who makes a choked sound as you rake your fingernails through his hair as satisfaction strikes you through whilst Jungkook’s fingers constrict just enough so that your attention does not stray from him and look away from him you do not when a familiar calloused thumb joins the two of Jimin’s that had been measuredly swiping themselves over your bud as Jungkook flicks a brow up in expectation, “Come on, baby. Tell Jiminie here that you can take it for daddy.”

 “J-Jungkook,” you implore with a nod, for the only language that you can possibly speak at this point is his name as he rocks into you while his thumb circles languidly at your clit alongside Jimin that are slower and softer in their ministrations, your eyelids drooping amidst the dark bliss the heavies them.

 “Good girl,” Jungkook praises and you preen at that, a dopey smile crossing your features in the vapors of lust that have settled over you while Jungkook’s thumb fastens its movements to reward you as he commands, “Jimin, match your pace with mine, yeah? Playtime is almost over for this one.”

 Jimin doesn’t need to be told twice with his own end on the horizon. With determination that twines itself through his eyes, his two digits that he has attached to you mirror Jungkook as if your boyfriend is the puppeteer of you both. Jungkook swirls his thumb expertly along your button while he marionettes his cock into you with fervor and you clench as he licks his lips to husk, “So beautiful, doll. You look like you’re about to fucking break,” he gives a sharp shunt into you, his balls slapping against your ass as you clench around Jimin, a strangled sound coming from between his lips and Jungkook doesn’t have to be in your cunt to know that you’re just as near as Jimin looks to be with the way that drool pools along the sides of his mouth and, with a grin, Jungkook’s irises string from yours to the blonde-haired man’s as he winds you up around him and when he hastens his fingers over you to have you whimper, that’s when he orders, “Now, Jimin. Screw her with your cock while I fuck her with mine until she cums all over you.”

 “Fuck,” Jimin curses, his hips twisting up into yours at the exact moment that your boyfriend deliciously drills his own dick with into your plushily lined sex as you’re reared against the blonde-haired man and geared like a fucking machine between the cogs of them both that grind into you and when Jimin’s cock throbs tellingly within you while your boyfriend stares down at you with danger flashing in pupils that dilate automatically for you, that’s when you fucking scream.

 The glass rattles as your voices pierces the air around you while you’re battered like a stuffed animal between two rough children and Jungkook’s eyes strike you deep with the cocks that fill you up as they devastatingly pair their thrusts together and when your boyfriend’s fingers intertwine with the one you’d unknowingly been clutching at the couch with, that’s when he grunts, “Come on, baby. Want you to come for daddy. Can you do that for me? Can you show Jimin how beautiful you are when that pretty little cunt finishes all over his cock while you look at me?”

 With the wind that is continually knocked out of you, all you can do is blink up at him in answer as you wrap your fingers around his at the same time the digits of your other hand tighten and tug at Jimin’s scalp only for the blonde-haired man to peer up at Jungkook as you’re dangled over the edge of your precipice once more, your walls fluttering in warning and Jimin, through irregular breaths that are drawn out of him in the rigorousness of his efforts, understands enough to let your boyfriend know, “She’s about to meet her end, J-Jungkook. Sh-She’s squeezing my dick. It feels so good.”

 “Feels like heaven around your cock, doesn’t it? Of course it does,” Jungkook groans as he plunges himself into you while Jimin rolls his hips, your head falling forward so that your temple rests against Jimin’s forehead while your mouth parts as their fingers quicken against your clit as you moan only for him to husk, “Shit, you’re so good for us, baby. I think I’ll let you cum for me in a minute, but first, what do you say when you want something from daddy?”

 Your mind has become wired only to the pleasure that pangs through you with each sweep of their cocks within you, but somehow, you wrack your brain to find the only other words that you know always appease him to pant, “Please, Jungkook…n-need you.”

 “That’s it, baby,” he rasps as your boyfriend runs his finger ruinously between Jimin’s own digits that draw shapes into your button and when Jungkook’s digit suddenly drags itself in hard figure-eight motions along it to the same time that his cock cataclysmically crashes impossibly deep into your ass, that’s when you’re thrashed against Jimin. The elder man perfectly times the buck of his hips into you so that his cock arcs against the clutter of nerves hidden precariously inside you, your irises jerking over the him before they’re threshed to your boyfriend that lodges his cock once, twice and then three more times within you to finally command, “Cum for me, babygirl. Get Jimin all fucking soaked because of what I let him do to you. Give me your fucking orgasm, doll. Give it all to me and let him watch you, yeah?”

 With the sin he spews, you release is swift to unravel you as you come undone, your walls spasming violently over Jimin and he hisses at the way you contract around him as if to pull him in, his own end quick to follow yours as your sex shudders around him amidst your trembling thighs that shake with the rest of your body as you shriek shrilly, your fingers constricting around Jungkook’s own as you hold onto him for dear life.

 When Jimin shoots a hot rope of seed inside you as his member twitches erratically, you hardly have time to moan at the sensation of it before your boyfriend possessively curls an arm around your front to pull you up and against his chest as he sits back on his heels to have Jimin’s own dick slip out of you and the other man throws his head back against the armrest of the couch to stroke himself needily as he hastens to replicate the feel of you around his member while he continues to spill all over himself amidst the pool of your own juices that you’ve splashed all over his dick.

 “You’re mine,” Jungkook’s other hand releases your own to wrap around your throat so that your head falls back against his shoulder as he crazedly crams himself into you again and again, the palm on your abdomen resting where his much larger cock pokes against it before trailing up to grab one breast as you whine while your own orgasm still forcibly strikes you through in unending sparks that electrify you as your boyfriend powers into you from behind before he growls, "Let him fucking see you fall apart for the only cock that you'll ever love, baby. You belong to me. Say it."

 “Y-yours, Jungkook…yours,” you cry out and it is that that has your boyfriend descending into his own end as he gives a guttural groan that you engulf when he urges your head to the side so that you can swallow the sound through the attachment of your mouths and he keeps his sealed against you until you kittenishly slide your tongue against his lower only for him to open his mouth to you and suck your tongue, along with any remaining air that you had, between his lips as he feasts on you until you have no oxygen or saliva left to give him.

 Jimin observes it all, heat stirring in his abdomen as he rubs furiously at his softening length that even now still oozes with the cum both you and he have drenched it with.

 Infatuation influxes the blonde-haired man at the way desire rings itself around the corner of your eyes from you in the cords of pleasure you’d been fibrously instilled with whilst Jungkook holds you close, your brows scrunching together as you bite your lip between your teeth in the aftershocks of your orgasm as your chest heaves over your boyfriend’s, the petalled marks that Jungkook had left over you blushing your flesh in your labored breaths.

 It’s captivating as a current and Jimin is pulled asunder for you all while Jungkook watches the emotions ripple across the blonde-haired man’s face, amusement lifting at your boyfriend’s lips at how easy it had been for you to capture yet another man in the palm of your hand.

 When Jungkook carefully extricates himself from to lay back on the opposite side of the couch with you still in his arms, he chuckles to himself as you silently nestle yourself against his side to snuggle up to him, one arm draping over his chest as you peer adoringly up at him while he makes room for you beside him to entwine his own limb around yours as he croons, “You’re so adorable after you get fucked, baby. Always have to cling to me afterward, huh? You know,” he traces the marks he’d left behind and you sigh with satisfaction as he does, “You’re cute, petal. Have I told you that today?”

 “Mhm,” you purr as you turn on your side to give innocent pecks to his chest while your eyes close as fatigue pulls at them and you affirm, “All the time.”

“I think someone’s a little tired, doll. Do you want me to carry you to the car?” Jungkook asks as he brushes an especially red mark that has purple smearing itself around it and you lean into the touch as a smile lifts at your lips while you stare at the brands he’d left on you.

 “’S fine. I can stay awake a-“ you yawn, your mouth opening only a little as you stretch your arms out before settling back next to your boyfriend –“little while longer.”

 “Yes, you sound awfully convincing, don’t you?” He teases as he sits up and you immediately whine until he laughs and helps you onto his lap as he urges, “I think it might be best to take you home now, baby. You’re about ready to fall asleep. Help me zip myself up, will you?”

 Responsive to him as ever, you tuck his member away before fastening his pants so that he looks presentable should someone see you and when he tucks you inside the blanket you’d hand-stitched and made for him for his birthday, you link your hands around his neck as he cradles you, his irises softening as he peers down at you while you whisper, “Thank you.”

 The double meaning is not lost on him as you have always said those words whenever he’s done just about every single thing for you and he drags his knuckles along your cheek as he offers, “You’re welcome, baby. Anything for you. You know that, don’t you?”

 You giggle as you beam up at him with the toothy smile that still has his heart flipping in his chest to let him know, “I do. Do you know that I would do everything for you?”

 He kisses you along the tip of your charming little nose as he nudges at your cheek, “And how could I ever forget that?”

 He carefully swaddles you in the fluffy fabric until you’re completely covered and all the while, his fingers lovingly caress your sides as he gathers you up and stands with you swathed in the safety of his arms. With his attention captured by your irises that swim with devotion for him, he starts moving forward and with his back to the other man that still is splayed along the couch, he glances back to say, “Ah, and I did not neglect to acknowledge that you’re here, too, Jimin,” he winks, “You did well. I can tell she enjoyed herself. I’ll be in touch. Please make sure you lock up, for I have more important things,” he peers back down at you with affection crinkling his eyes for you, “to attend to.”

 Jimin waits until the two of you vanish until he allows his own lips to lift out of joy born from watching such domesticity manifest itself in the form of two individuals that clearly were in love with each other with the way the emotion had so colored both of you and, with that emotion lifting his own heart, he dresses and locates his phone amidst the piles of clothes (both yours and his) that had long been forgotten.

 Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to walk, Jungkook had decided that foregoing your outfit would be best and so, as he carries you through the halls like the bride you will soon be to him, he smiles as he gazes tenderly at you, your eyes closed as you snooze comfortably in the cushions of his body as he holds you.

 You sleep peacefully in the passenger seat of his Mercedes S-Class Coupe and he glances at you every so often, your skin glowing amidst the emerald greens and ruby reds your skin shines with under the traffic lights as the city passes by in a whir with the constant to it all being your slumbering figure that gives him so much strength and stability in a ceaselessly churning life.  

 You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen even from the first time you’d caught his eye and now, after so much time has passed, you still remain the most priceless jewel to ever gleam for him amidst the dull, dim passersby that pale in comparison to your transfixing bright light.

When he’s pulled into the quiet mansion that stands tall in front of the richly hewn garden you have tended to that borders an impressive watering fountain that cost him thousands, none of it holds a candle to the treasure he takes into his arms as he withdraws you from the car and gently brings you upstairs. He’s careful not to make sound so as not to wake you and when he sets you smoothly on the bed, you do not rouse until the sound of water from the shower in the adjoining master bathroom trickles over your ears.

 You divest yourself of your covering in search of the kind of warmth only your fiancé can grant to you and when you join him in the shower, he welcomes you and washes your hair before his hands trail along your body to clean that, too. You sigh in satisfaction as you thank him once more and with some insisting on your part, you do the same for him even in his concern that you might be too sore to do so. Mindless touches turn into something not so sinless as your hands wander along his chiseled figure that has the power to have you salivating with only one glance.

 He’s hesitant at first because he knows you ache from the strenuousness of the night’s illicit activities, but in your want to reassure him that you are not as fragile as you appear, you fall to your knees before him and take him into your mouth, his groans heating you up as you rut against his leg while you suckle him. You eagerly devour his seed that you’ve come to love so much when he is ready to feed you and once he helps you rise from the ground, he’s sure to give you a kiss that would rival that of the one in the most beloved romance story before he dries you both against your ailing and feeble legs that are weak for him and when he sweeps you off your feet once more, he still kisses you like his hunger will never stop its craving for you.

Even when he lays you down like you’re a glass doll that might shatter if he’s not careful, he still treats you like a piece of art as he looks at you reverently whilst he makes love to you amid your breathless admissions of love for him while he fills your canvas with his seed until he can give you no more of his paint to taint you with.

 And when the breeze blows against your sweat sluiced skin as you lay over him, your chin resting on his sternum while you innocently let the pad of your fingers brush his chest, he asks you, “Did I please you tonight, my love? Did you have fun?”

 “Sweetheart,” you press your mouth to the dip between his collarbones before you breathe, “whenever I am with you, those two things are always a given.”

 His heart dances in his chest at your admission and the fingers that skim your sides splay out to hold you closer as you stare fondly at him.

 “Such a wonderful girl for me. Have I told you how perfect you are for me lately?” He questions, his thumbs drawing shapes into your skin as he goes on, “I don’t know if I have or not. I suppose you’ll have to remind me.”

 "Every morning," you brush your lips against his own in a soft kiss before you pull away, "and every night, my love. Not a day goes by that you don't tell me that or how beautiful you think I am," you smile at him.

 "It's because it's true. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and this, "he holds up the phone to show a text from Jimin you’d both missed in the middle of your lovemaking as he kisses the crest between your brows, "was for you, pretty girl. Whatever you want, I will always give it to you."

 "You're too good to me, Kookie. I really am so lucky to have you," you caress him, your knuckles tracing his jawline as you stare tenderly up at him, "You've always been the best for me and when we marry," you coax him toward you and he heeds your urging fingers along his maw as he meets you halfway to connect your lips to his own, but this kiss is one that he takes control of and you let him, your lips parting for him as his tongue dips low into your mouth to reclaim every contour of you in his touch before he disconnects from you for you to vow, "I enjoyed messing around with Jimin, but once marriage binds us together forever, I will love you and only you until the end of my days. No matter what, I will always yearn for you."

 "God, I love you so much. I can’t wait to marry you and put a ring on your finger so that everyone knows that you’re all mine," he ardently declares as he rests his forehead against yours to breathe in your air as he confesses, "They say that happy marriages look to the future and not the past," he lays back and brings you with him so that you're lain across his chest, his heart beating to the same rhythm as yours as he grins, "but baby, you are what I want my time to be filled with. You're my past, my present and my future and what we have together, my beloved flower, will never wilt."

[shakespearesdrugdealer]

Just friends

Minors DNI.

Pairings: College AU. College!Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut (fingering), swearing, is fluff a warning?

A/N: Okayy, so this a college AU with a friends with benefits dynamic. I wanted to make this a slow burn so I'll see where it leads lol.

Enjoy!

He was kissing your neck and you were adjusting yourself under him to allow him to move further down. He didn’t smell like himself; his cologne was mixed with someone else’s. You were supposed to be okay with that though, because you guys were just friends after all. You were there for each other while doing homework, working on labs together, going bowling on the weekends, grabbing coffee and when the teenage hormonal urge came to indulge in each other’s body; well, a month ago you agreed to that too.

“Look, despite the movies, I think it could work,” Gojo proposed.

“What makes you think that?” you narrow your eyes at him from across the lab counter you guys were sitting at, trying to compile a report you messed up twice by now.

Chemistry was hard. But Gojo was making it harder for both of you right now by asking unnecessary questions to push a few boundaries in your friendship.

“The fact that you are pretty objective, and that we are both have needs,” he said, adding a playful drawl on the last word.

“No,” you pointed out firmly, hesitating to meet the eyes that were set at looking into yours. “You have needs, I on the other hand would like to finish this report and go to sleep.”

“See, that could easily be turned into a better end to your day if you go to sleep with me,” he countered, putting his hand on the calculator you were punching numbers into; forcing you to lift your head up and look at him with a frustrated but amused expression.

“Is this really the time to talk about this?” you huffed, trying to free your hand while trying hard and failing at controlling the heat spreading to your face.

“No time better than the present lovie.”

“Not your lovie,” you emphasized, sitting back onto your chair and giving up at the notion of finishing your lab. When Gojo is being stubborn about something, there were not a lot of ways to solve the problem but give in and listen; like right now, with his absurd idea.

But was it really absurd though? You guys have been friends for a good while now, 2 years to be exact. You liked how he could go on for ages talking about the ridiculous things he did at college that day and you wouldn’t mind listening because it allowed you to see the day outside of your own world. Maybe it was because your life lacked a little chaos and his lacked the calm and organization of yours; but you worked well with each other. He dragged you out of the dorm on days you got obsessed with completing your readings and you were grateful for the sun that you got. You also dragged him back into the dorm on nights you knew were meant for rest, or studying instead of getting wasted with the kids who had already completed their tests for that week.

“Look, all I’m saying is, let’s try it out, and if it fails…” he stretched out of his chair like he was doing some kind of tedious work (like the fucking report you guys were supposed to write). “Well, at least we will know where that road leads to.”

His standing figure made you look so small you wanted to punch him in the throat. But you also felt safe?

It’s not like you were completely against the idea. I mean, you knew him pretty well; you knew what kind of a person he was. You understood that he makes a great friend, but he would probably break your heart and chuck it in the bag of broken hearts he carries around with him. And let’s not lie, he’s hot. You’ve seen how his shirt rides up when he leans back against the pillows on your bed on the days he drops by your dorm to annoy you. You also hate how you can’t stop yourself from staring at how his eyes widen and sparkle when he finds something interesting in the material he’s reading when you guys are studying together. You knew there was a thin line between being his friend, working well together, him being so fucking attractive and you falling in love with him, God forbid.

Well, maybe you could walk that thin line. “If we fail, we never talk about it again okay?” you started, framing the rules of your relationship in your head.

“Yup,” he agreed, liking where this conversation was headed.

“There are going to be rules of course.”

“Mhhm.”

“No talk of this outside the two of us.” You look at him dead serious.

“Yep yep.”

“And you have to stop being so fucking annoying when we do what we do,” you added.

“Meh, no promises,” he shrugged.

“Okay, well, it looks like we’ve come to some kind of an agreement even though this report is not done,” you sighed closing your book at the realization that the time you signed up for the lab had elapsed.

“Hey,” Gojo said, clearing his throat. Was he nervous? You glanced at him while trying to gather your things into your bag.

“Do you wanna test the agreement?”

“What?” you pause your actions at the offer. “Now?”

“I mean, I see nothing stopping us,” he reasoned. “And we can finish the report at the dorm too.”

“How do you plan for these bribes to work with me?” you smile at his offer to work in exchange of doing the dirty.

“What can I say lovie, I’m a bit of a genius when it comes to being a slut.” Only Gojo could imbue so much confidence into being a slut.

“Again,” you said, “not your lovie.” You push your bag into his chest as a sign of agreement and head towards the lab door. He caught up with you in no time, cradling your bag in his arms and smiling stupidly wide like he won at an arcade game at the fair. You didn’t know if what was going to follow was a disaster or the start of something better than anything you two ever knew.

He didn’t even wait for you guys to settle into your room or talk about how your relationship was going to work before throwing your bag onto the bed and backing you up against your door and pressing his lips against yours to let you know how the next few hours of your day were going to go. And oh my god, they were going to go so fucking good.

“Is this okay?” he asked, pulling away from your lips and twisting the lock on your door with his free hand.

“Yeah,” you squeaked, embarrassed and a little confused at how quickly this day was taking a whole new turn.

“Wanna say that again?” he teased swiping his thumb across your cheek while tilting your head to look at you properly.

“Just-” you swallowed. You’ve never seen his eyes look like this, even after all this time with him. They had their usual playful glint in them, the kind that normally makes you want to shove him through a locker (not that you haven’t tried) but right now there was something more. Something that made you want to run but also give into his touch and the patterns he was drawing on the small of your back with his other hand. “Just…take it slow okay?” you ask, hoping he understood that you hadn’t done something like this in a while now.

He knew that though. You talked about your first times over a drunk Friday evening and that was when he figured you hadn’t done as much as him and you also figured that Gojo was a threat to womankind.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, taking your hands into his and leading you towards the bed. His eyes never left yours and you weren’t done tasting his lips just yet, so you stare at them with unabashed desire. “Oh, my eyes are up here love,” he said, pausing his movements to take in this side of you he hadn’t seen before.

“Shut up,” you retort, a little annoyed at how quickly he had you feeling so hot and bothered. You wrap your arms around his neck and stand on your tippy-toes to pull him down to meet your lips as he groans into the kiss in surprise. You don’t know what it was that got into you, but you pushed him to walk to the edge of the bed as your tugged at the hem of his shirt to let him know you wanted it on the floor. He was breathing hard too by this point; his hand cupping your neck and the other finding its way under your shirt. He laughs at your attempt to lift his shirt and removes his hands from your body for a moment to take his shirt off. Your eyes widen at the view you were presented with. Your hands reach for his chest but he grabs your wrists, tilting his head in amusement. “Kinda unfair if yours doesn’t come off too no?”

And that’s how you found his hands slipping under your shirt and around your back, leaving goosebumps at his touch. He unhooked your bra and lifted the set of clothing from your body, leaving you hazy from all the kisses that he was planting along your jawline and neck. He pulled your hands that were stroking his chest to interlock with his fingers as he used your momentary confusion to push you onto your bed and hover over you in one clumsy but simultaneously smooth maneuver.

He was reveling in this side of you that you were showing. It was chaotic, it was vulnerable and most of all, it was so beautiful. His hands release yours as he finds interest in playing with your breasts. He takes hold of your left breast and squeezes it as you whine and twist your head into the pillows at his teasing and the lack of attention that was being paid to your areas down south. You pull at the white strands of his hair you had slid your fingers into and he groans into your skin making you shudder. He opens his lips to the side of your neck that you gave space to and bites down as a response to your own roughness. The moan that escapes your mouth makes you want to hide in embarrassment as he chuckles into the mark he was leaving.

Your chest was heaving, as your hands grab at the sheets next to you instead to find some kind of stability among the fireworks that his touch was leaving. “Gojo-” you started, lifting your head from the pillow, to see him smirking at you. He moves down towards your stomach and thighs, making sure to kiss the curves and edges and taking note of the areas he kissed and you moaned at. “I will kill you if you don’t stop teasing.” You drop back onto the pillow again, not being able to hold for too long as his fingers stroke your inner thighs, taking off the last article of clothing you had on.

He leans forward, looking at you with your eyes fluttering shut and fidgeting around his hold on you. “Aw, cute,” he says, stroking your thighs and brushing his fingertips around your clit, not touching it but making it more sensitive than you would have ever imagined. “You can still threaten me looking like this.” You push your head deeper into the pillows at the sensation of the butterfly kisses he was placing on your inner thighs and sucking at the sensitive skin to leave his marks yet again.

“I swear to God-” you plead, threading your hands into his hair again. “Patience, pretty,” he says, lifting his head from between your legs to allow his fingers to take their place and rub at your clit in tiny circles. You gasp and have the urge to shut your legs but he has one of his legs secured between yours and you really wanted him to keep going too. “Think you’re ready for me?” he asks, running his index and middle finger along the outer area of your slits.

you nod at him, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. You were getting hazy from circles he was drawing on your clit with his middle finger and moving it down to tease your entrance.

“Words, love,” he says, shifting to lean above you and place a kiss to your lips and chest that was heaving roughly by now.

“I-I’m ready,” you softly reply, looking into his eyes and then at his smile that reminded you that he was your safety and also the person that was going to ruin in the next few minutes.

“Tell me to stop when you want to okay?” He assures you as he slides his fingers between your slits to feel your wetness.

“Mhmm,” is all you can say as you feel his middle finger play around your entrance before finding its way against your walls. You breathe sharply at the feeling of his finger pulling in and out slowly, to explore its way around you. But it was also making you so hot-headed as it hit all the right corners and spaces. He swallows your moans with his lips and tries to steady your body by sucking at your nipples. But it only made your head cloudier and you let go of any control of the sounds that were coming out of you.

Your back arches with an audible whimper escaping your chest at Gojo’s attempt to curl his finger against your walls and he smirks, knowing what he just did. He continues the curling motions and tests your limit by nudging a second finger at your entrance. You yelp at the tight feeling of your walls against his fingers. “Fuck,” you spread your legs wider as a sign of giving in to his movements completely. He was entranced by the pretty sounds coming out of you and the way your hips were moving up and down his fingers trying to chase the knot that was tightening at the bottom of your stomach.

He speeds up the movements of his fingers, moving in and out of you. You let out soft cries at how he wasn’t letting you get a moment of rest between the feeling of his mouth against the sensitive spots on your neck and breasts mixed with the madness that was occurring between your legs. “Gojo, I can’t-” you say in a shaky cry at the way your walls were tightening against his fingers. He pushes you further with his thumb rubbing faster against your clit and you just about lose it, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and a strangled moan leaving your lips

“Hey pretty girl, wanna let go for me?” he whispers as he looks at your desperate eyes. You nod feverishly as he continues his motions, and he hoists one of your legs further apart to rest on his lap. You feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and the tingling on your clit getting borderline painful. You snap your palm on Gojo’s wrist trying to fight the feeling but he doesn’t relent. And with the next few motions of his fingers curling against you while he bit into your neck a little too rough, you let out a strangled shriek and arch your back as your walls pulsate around his fingers at your orgasm.

He drank in the sight of you panting and your legs shaking from the orgasm. Your eyes were pinched shut and one of your hands had the sheets tightly tucked into your fist and the other was squeezing his wrist that was still pumping his fingers in and out of you to help you ride out your orgasm. He leans forward, in awe and with sense of adoration.

“You good?” he kissed the corner of your mouth and brushed the stray pieces of hair on the sides of your face to place more chaste kisses across your cheeks and moving to your neck. You hiss as he takes his fingers out of you and you are given an apology as he muffles your complaints with his lips pressing against yours. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at Gojo’s now tight pants. You smirk and shift to balance your figure on your elbows to meet his eyes.

You nod at the bulge through his pants. “Do you wanna do something about that or…?” you question reaching out to place your hands against his chest, and push him into sitting back onto the bed as you straddle him.

“I mean…if you can take it,” he laughs, pressing his forehead against yours, and squeezing your hips.

God, this may be a huge mistake or one of the greatest things you guys stumbled upon with each other.

A/N: This is my first attempt at smut so help me oh lords of smut; I hope I didn’t it mess up lol. I also really like this college AU so maybe I’ll continue it, idk.

Alsoo, the header I used here was got from pinterest but if it has sources to someone here on Tumblr, I would love to credit <3

[duskholland]

Reader gets fucked by Tom and he spits and cums in her hole leaves her tied blindfolded with a vibrater and butt plug 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

— okay so I forgot about the plug when I was writing this and couldn’t figure out a way to write it in that didn’t disrupt the flow of the piece, so if you want to send this in again with more of a focus on that, I’d be more than happy to sort that out for you! otherwise - thanks for enabling my spitting kink :))))

nsfw; 18+ minors dni

extended warnings: mean!dom!tom, orgasm denial, spitting, handcuffs, blindfold, vibrator, unprotected sex, slight degradation (calls her a whore once).

———

Tom’s thumb rolls over your lower lip, pushing away your frown.

“Stop pouting at me like that,” he murmurs, his voice hanging heavy in the air, “You brought this on yourself.”

You tug at the handcuffs that tie you to the headboard, the jangling sounds of the metal filling the room.

“Please, Tom,” you whine, wriggling as much as you can. You can’t even plead with your eyes, as Tom had taken great delight in winding a scarf around your head. The silken material is wet now, saturated with your frustrated tears. “I just want- I want- I-“

“What do you want, darling?” He’s above you, hovering. You can feel his body heat radiating across your naked frame. When Tom reaches out to toy with your nipples, you lurch forward, arcs of pleasure rolling from each bud as his thumbs caress them gently. “Hmm?”

You bite your lip, mulling over your answer carefully. When you’d asked to cum, he’d just laughed, and then edged you another three times. When you’d asked to see him, Tom had only added the cuffs to the ensemble. He’s taking great joy stringing you out and working you up, but you think you know what you need to say in order to get him to snap.

“Want you to fuck me,” you ask, softly. It’s a little disconcerting, speaking into a room that you can’t see, but you can feel him touching you, hear the light sounds of his breathing. “Please, Tom,” you add, whimpering. “Use me.”

“Mmm, but that’d be giving you what you want, wouldn’t it, love?” One of Tom’s hands travels up, up, up, his index finger trailing across your jaw. You gasp when he grabs your chin roughly, finger and thumb squeezing your skin tightly. “But you’re a desperate little thing tonight, aren’t you? Would take anything I give you…” Tom chuckles, the sound cool and controlled. His thumb taps over your lower lip. “Open.”

You eagerly oblige, expecting him to slip his tongue into your mouth and kiss you. Instead, you hear the sheets rustle as Tom moves nearer, and then there’s a pause. Just as you’re beginning to wonder what he’s doing, you hear the sounds of him sucking on his tongue, and then he spits, directly into your open mouth. His warm spittle bleeds across your palette, causing you to whine as you taste him, shuddering as your centre pulses with hot desire.

“Swallow,” Tom murmurs, fingers coaxing your jaw closed. He keeps them there until you do as you’re told, swallowing his spit eagerly. “Good girl.”

He’s away before you can coax him in for a kiss, slithering down your figure, keeping both of his hands on your bare form. Tom caresses your outer thighs, humming to himself.

“You’re so wet,” he says, and you can hear the cockiness hanging in his voice. Tom pushes your legs open, and you jolt as his fingertips spread your tender pussy lips. As he rolls his touch over your puffy clit, you try to buck against him, only to find him running away from you in response. “Nuh uh,” Tom grunts, delivering a sharp slap to your inner thigh. “None of that. Haven’t you learnt a fucking thing?” He’s silent for a moment, and you bite your lip. “To think I was going to let you cum…”

Tom drags his hands away from you, and then you hear the unmistakable sound of his belt releasing. After a moment, he climbs over you, and you feel him bite the top of your shoulder as he grinds into you, cock pressing against your weeping cunt. You moan, tossing your head back. You’re so fucking tender. Tom had already brought you up to six cruel edges, only to jerk away the moment you were ready to spill. He’s had you crying, begging, whimpering - accepting it all stoically, unyielding. He’s being mean to you - cruel with his touches, crueller with his words - and you love it. You love every torturous second that he’s spent unravelling you, craving his dominant touch, living for the moments your boyfriend exercises this power over you.

Tom’s still biting up your neck as he finally enters you, the stretch melting away after a moment. You’re so wet that it slicks up your thighs, your arousal mixed with the spit Tom had left as he’d spent what felt like hours drawing lines down your slit with his tongue.

“Fucking perfect cunt though, eh?” Tom mutters. He pulls out before slamming back into you, his deep grunts spilling into the air as he buries himself in you up to the hilt. “Doesn’t matter how you’re acting, I know this fucking pussy is always going to take me well. Isn’t that right?”

You want to touch him - want to see him. It tears you up to feel his hair tickling your neck and not be able to reach out and card your fingers through it.

“Yes,” you manage, swallowing back your desires. You know he won’t want to hear them. “I love it.”

“What do you love?” One of Tom’s hands squeezes your boob, harshly, and then he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Tell me.”

It takes you a few moments to get it out, blindsided by how good it feels to have him thrusting up against you. He’s in you so deep, your legs wrapped around his waist. With each focused gyration of his hips, the tip of Tom’s cock brushes deeper, your walls expanding to fit him. Slick sounds of arousal fill the room, mixing with your whimpers.

“I love your cock, Tom,” you praise, voice raspy. The cuffs rattle above your head as you try again, instinctively, to reach out for him, groaning as you find yourself trapped.

“Mm, you’re not going anywhere.” He’s smirking into your neck, you can feel it. “Just gonna take it, love. My little greedy whore.”

You suck in a breath, your entire body shivering with want. A fresh sheen of sweat breaks out over your forehead as you get lost in the sensations. Every time he pulls out, just to slam back into you, there’s a light pressure applied to your clit. It isn’t enough to push you over the edge, but it’s enough to keep you there, dangling on the verge of climax as you cry out to him, the material of the scarf flooding with unshed tears as you let him use you.

“I think I'm going to cum inside you, love,” Tom murmurs. One of his hands grabs at your waist, fingers burning into your skin. “You’d like that, hm?” His palm slips between you, resting on the swell of your stomach. He pushes against your skin. “You want me to fill you up, darling? Because I think there’s nothing I’d like to do more than pump you full of my cum, then watch it drip out of you as you cry and beg me to let you cum.”

“Tom.”

You’re clenching around him, straining against the ties. You’re so close, his words only adding to the fire churching in the pit of your stomach, but it’s still not enough.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it. So tight around me, my gorgeous girl, I’m going to-“ Tom breaks off, and his voice twists up into a breathless pant. His forehead drops against your shoulder and you moan as you feel him peak. He continues to rut into you, your walks squeezing him, drawing out every pulse of release until he’s done, and you can feel his seed, filling you to the brim.

As he pulls out, you bite back a disappointed groan. The sound twists into a whimper when you feel wetness between your legs - his cum, falling from you, despite your best efforts to elevate your hips and keep it in.

Tom pulls off your blindfold with both hands, diving in to kiss your cheek before he shifts back down the bed, cooing.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, easily shoving your thighs back and up. After taking a glance at your slit, he looks up at your face, dark eyes glinting almost black. “Such a pretty fucking mess,” he tells you, sounding almost proud. He dips two slender fingers down, and for a few moments, Tom plays around with your entrance, smearing his cum from your cunt to your clit. When you start to buck down against him, he tuts. “Stay still.”

You watch through wide eyes as Tom puckers his lips, spitting again and letting his saliva fall over your throbbing clit. A thin trail of his spit connects his mouth with your centre for a moment before he shifts and it falls away, but the brief sight of it has your eyes rolling back.

“What are you doing?” You manage, voice raw. Tom picks up the scarf that had been wrapped around your eyes before moving off the bed and rummaging through a drawer, procuring a large wand a moment later. When your eyes widen again, he chuckles.

“Gonna leave you here whilst I take some calls, babe,” he tells you. His gentle touch passes over your thigh as he carefully wraps the scarf around your leg, attaching it to the vibrator. He presses the bulbous head against your clit, binding it there securely. “How does that feel?” He checks, eyebrow arched.

“It’s fine,” you whisper.

Tom kisses the inside of your knee before standing from the bed, flicking on the switch of the vibrator as he goes. As it buzzes to life against your sensitive bud, you jerk forward, unable to shift its pressure due to the tight binding, instead having to lay back and take every pleasurable pulse.

Your boyfriend gathers up his boxers and his sweats, unaffected by your sounds of tortured enjoyment. Tom pauses when he’s at the bedroom door, turning around to admire your form, spread out and quivering for him.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promises. He winks at you, hand on the doorknob, a wide smirk branded to his lips. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

[someonestolemyshoes]

Hello, My Queen of Steaming Levihan Content...!!

If you want/whenever you can, could you please bless our ship with Levi getting hot watching Hans training in sport bra and tight ass shorts? (Like, he absolutely dislike mess but watch Hans goes all sweaty, with fire in her eyes and smile as she pulls her shirt out, and then all her muscles flex and go taut, grunting and breathing deep doing heavy exercises or competing with Nanaba in weight lifting would definitely make Levi wonder or remember how powerful it would be to feel her body hot like - alive like that - because she was having the time of her life f*cking the brains out him.)

Or, Captain Levi body worshipping Squad Leader Hans during heavy exercises because she.is.just.hot.as.hell.from.brain.to.toe.

Many thanks!!!!

I love your writing!!!

I played around with the prompt a little because I had an Image in my head as soon as I read this, I hope you don't mind :)

Order up! Careful, this one is spicy.

Hange stretched her arms over her head with careless ease, popping her spine and rolling her shoulders with a nonchalant grace. If she sparred with the same manic fervor she slayed titans, she’d stand no chance against this soldier bare-handed—for all Hange was tall, she was too slight to take the great oaf out by strength alone.

The lumbering recruit seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He leered, mopped sweat from his heavy brow and blew snot out one of his nostrils. Levi’s lip curled in disgust. Hange’s grin broadened.

**

Levi despised sparring.

It was an activity Erwin seemed to reserve solely for blistering summer days, when the sun arched high overhead without so much as one solitary cloud to temper the heat.

Today was no different. Levi stood at the inner edge of a great circle of onlookers, all gathering around a chalk ring etched unevenly into the dirt, where two measly recruits were heaving and wheezing as they grappled, feet scrambling for purchase in the dry earth. The rules were simple; the first to set foot outside the circle lost. Winner stayed on to face the next challenger.

The taller of the two soldiers won out. He slammed his opponent into the ground outside the edge of the ring, a ploom of fine dirt puffing into the air right at Levi’s feet. The sandy earth scratched at his throat and stuck to his lips and tongue, grainy between his teeth. The elation from the brats victory gave way quickly to a nervous gulp as the next recruit entered the ring. He was a tall, bulky thing, far more brawn than brain, with a crooked nose and deep-set eyes. He sniffed hard and spat into the dirt, rolled his neck on his meaty shoulders. The victor shuffled his feet into an unsteady brace and raised his fists. The poor bastard should have done himself a favour and stepped down with some modicum of dignity—his opponent left him face down ass up on the filthy floor before he could throw a single punch.

The burly soldier naturally attracted more meatheads. Testosterone fuelled idiots with no combat sense, barrelling in with heavy handed offense. Levi watched with disinterest as shirtless bull after shirtless bull took to the circle, feral and uncalculated in every move, baited by the hoots and hollers of their peers and the dizzy prospect of victory.

The reigning champion shoved and grunted his way through four successive rounds undefeated. He broke a sweat only from the heat. Despite their vigor, none of his opponents had enough weight to throw around to stand a chance. Levi took a liberal swig from his water bag, dangling it at his side and looking idly around for the next contender; he saw plenty of men pushing and shoving one another, snickering like fucking kids, while others averted their gazes, less than willing to draw attention. Plenty of the women looked about as bored as Levi felt, none fooled by the show of muscle and bravado.

And then somebody new stepped into the ring, and the excited buzz dulled to a murmur of intrigue.

Hange Zoë was grinning brightly, tying her hair up into a scruffy ponytail. Most of the soldiers had stripped themselves of their shirts, leaving the men bare-chested and the women clad in the black, military issue chest bands, but Hange was still sporting a loose vest, a size or two too big for her thin frame. Her face had a dewy glow from the heat, a band of pink over her cheeks and nose where the sun had caught her. She had kicked off her boots and rolled the tight legs of her pants up to the knee. Her bare feet sank lightly into the loose dirt as she stepped up to the edge of the circle.

From behind her, Mike called out. “Fight fair, Hans.”

Hange turned to shoot him a thumbs up, and hollered, “You’re getting the drinks in, remember!”

“Only if you win.”

Hange waved him off with a throaty laugh. The burly recruit eyed Hange with some confusion as she wandered closer, pausing briefly to tug her goggles off and chuck them over to Nanaba, who caught them deftly and shoved them into her back pocket.

Levi dipped slowly into a crouch, gaze following Hange’s idle path into the centre of the ring. He’d sooner shit his pants than admit it out loud, but Hange, despite all her pestering and prying and endless racket, still intrigued him. He found himself watching her often, across the mess hall, out in the courtyard, zipping through the trees during regular training drills, or else tuning into the sound of her voice while she talked Erwin’s ear off about some bullshit theory or another.

He preferred keeping Hange at arms length, but the distance made it difficult to get a good read on her. Levi had tried valiantly to ignore her existence as much as possible, but there was something about Hange that captured his attention time and time again. Something in her wide smile and bright eyes, her long, lean frame, in the way she carried herself, made his gut uncomfortably warm and tight, at times. Levi didn’t particularly enjoy this brand of curiosity.

Hange stretched her arms over her head with careless ease, popping her spine and rolling her shoulders with an easy, careless grace. If she sparred with the same manic fervor she slayed titans, she’d stand no chance against this soldier bare-handed—for all Hange was tall, she was too slight to take the great oaf out by strength alone.

The lumbering recruit seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He leered, mopped sweat from his heavy brow and blew snot out one of his nostrils. Levi’s lip curled in disgust. Hange’s grin broadened.

“You need a break before we go? Grab some water? Take a piss? I can wait.” She said, bracing her hands on her hips. The recruit’s knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists. He squared himself, and Hange shrugged. “Take that as a no. Alright then.”

Hange planted her feet, weight on her front leg and arms drawn up in defense. For a moment, the pair of them stood tense and still. And then Hange lunged.

Her opponent reacted in kind. He barrelled forwards, shoulder low, ready to plow Hange’s smaller frame right back out of the circle as soon as she locked with him—but at the last moment, Hange stepped cleanly to one side. She teetered on the balls of her feet, centring her weight while the soldier skidded to a halt, kicking up great clouds of dirt and throwing his weight back, barely stopping inside the ring. Hange blew her fringe out of her face.

“Damn. I was banking on a big bastard like you taking longer to stop.” Despite the setback, Hange’s smile was manic. She lunged again, but this time the soldier held back. There was some satisfaction in his caution, and Levi was pleasantly surprised at the way Hange weaved around his haphazardly thrown punches, quick on her feet, efficient in a way Levi hadn’t expected. His eyes were drawn to the bulge of muscle in her calves, in her thighs as she propelled herself around inside the ring. His gaze lingered on her back and shoulders as she threw her punches, thick knots swelling beneath smooth, tan skin.

The crowd hissed as one when the huge recruit landed a fist square into Hange’s gut. She buckled over his arm, air gusting out of her, but she sprung back smartly out of his reach while she caught her breath. Her gaze turned steely as she looked up. Sharp. Calculating. She wiped spit from the corner of her mouth with the back of her wrist. Exertion had flushed her face and sweat glistened on her brow, running in thin rivulets over her cheek, her jaw, down the column of her throat to pool in the dips at her collar. Levi’s stomach tightened, heat flooded his face.

Hange’s chest heaved. In the quiet that had fallen around them, he could hear each rasp of her breath, quick and catching in her throat. Strands of hair hung wild and loose around her face, damp with sweat, sticking to her brow and the side of her neck. Thin veins protruded on her forearms, wrapping around tense, twitching muscle as she flexed and clenched her fingers, gathering herself. Levi swallowed, his mouth painfully dry.

Hange held her ground, this time. She squared her feet, but waited in place, eyes locked on her target. The recruit kept his distance. His trepidation demonstrated one thing—he was marginally smarter than Levi had originally given him credit for. The change in his challenger's tactic made him think.

Unfortunately, Hange was smarter. And faster.

She darted around behind him and cut the heel of her hand up under one side of his jaw. His head snapped sideways but a great meaty foot slammed flat into the dirty, keeping him from toppling over. If Hange were a more desperate fighter, she might make the mistake of hitting him again—but she predicted him perfectly. To counterbalance, he threw his weight back round, twisting towards her. Hange sunk low, jammed her leg against the back of his calf and caught his arm in both her hands, and with a loud grunt and a solid heave, Hange pulled him over her shoulder. His back hit the ground with a resounding thud and a huge huff of fine dust.

Hange straightened up. The crowd erupted with cheers, and Hange smiled, delighted, as she offered the soldier a hand and yanked him up from the ground. She pulled the hem of her shirt up to wipe the sweat from her eyes, exposing her flat stomach and the grid of muscle bunching there, tightening with each panted exhale. Levi’s gaze caught on the waistband of her pants, slung low on her hips, exposing a defined V that dipped out of sight beneath the fabric. An involuntary groan slithered out of Levi’s throat. He masked it with a quick, gruff cough, and took a few long gulps from his water.

The circle of onlookers disintegrated slowly. Mike and Nanaba approached Hange with small, proud smiles, Mike clapping her between the shoulders. Hange strapped her goggles back into place and took the water bag Nanaba offered her with a grateful smile, swigging greedily from it. Levi watched the way her throat bobbed with each swallow, eyes stuck on the hinge of her jaw where skin pulled tight over sharp bone. His tongue darted out to lick involuntarily at his dry lips.

Hange swilled the gritty dirt from her mouth with one last mouthful of water and spat it out. Saliva dripped from her full lower lip onto her chin. Levi forcibly pulled a face—he should be disgusted, because she's fucking disgusting. He schooled his features into his signature look of distaste, just in case anybody caught him looking at her. Hange licked her lip with a grin, tongue red and wet against sharp, white teeth.

"Good fight, Captain?"

Levi trained his gaze intensely forward. Erwin had snuck up on him. He grunted, and sipped slowly at his water.

"Hange's full of surprises, as always."

Another noncommittal hum. Levi rolled his eyes up and to the side to where Erwin stood, arms crossed over his chest, taking in the scene. Levi clicked his tongue loudly and drew himself up to his feet.

"She's an idiot," Levi said. "He would've beat her to shit if he caught her."

"Mm. But he didn't."

"Lucky."

Erwin looked down at him with his brows raised. "Not skillful?"

Levi shrugged. He caught another glimpse of Hange between the dispersing soldiers—she had shed her vest completely now, and flung it over one muscle-bound shoulder, one hand braced on her cocked hip while the other articulated wildly in the air. She was still all smiles, the sun glinting from her goggles when she turned her head this way and that, threw it back in a laugh that carried over the space between them. Her chest was bound tight in a breast band and her stomach, all subtle lines and lean muscle, defined sharply as she cackled, bunching and shifting beneath her sweat-shiny skin.

"She's fast."

"She fights smart." Erwin smirked. "If a little dirty."

Levi would never have called Hange's technique dirty. He'd seen his share of dirty fights. He'd been in enough of them; Hange using her wit in lieu of matched strength was strategic. It was fair. Dirty was reserved for knives and broken bottles, and extra hands hidden away in dark corners.

"It was a stupid risk," Levi said, in favour of the compliment. "If he'd had two brain cells to rub together she'd never stand a chance."

"You're not giving her enough credit. You think Hange would pick a fight if she didn't think she could win it?"

"Yes," Levi said without pause. He had seen one close call too many because Hange had thrown herself in the path of one of the freakier titans, without a single thought for the consequences. Erwin chuckled quietly at his side and shrugged.

"It's nice that you care about her, I suppose."

"Who said I gave a shit about what trouble that freak gets herself into?"

Erwin said nothing more. There was an irritating smirk pulling at half his mouth. Levi curled his lip up in anger and turned to storm away, when a loud voice rang out behind him.

"Erwin! Levi!"

Levi tensed. He turned slowly back around and eyed Hange as she approached, still barefoot, still shirtless, still glistening under the afternoon sun. Her skin was mottled with dirt, lines smudged on her face where she had fruitlessly wiped the sweat away. Up close, Levi could see the way the military issue pants clung to her legs. The fabric was thin and flexible, ideal for use with the manoeuvre gear. It hugged her thighs in a way that made Levi's stomach flip. He ran his tongue over his teeth and looked somewhere past her right hip.

"Came to watch, Commander?" Hange stopped in front of them, hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Had to see what all the fuss was about. Who's round is it?"

Hange jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards Mike. Try as he might, Levi couldn't keep his eyes off of her for long—he found himself staring, transfixed, at the way her bicep swelled when her arm curled. He followed the line of her arm to her shoulder, and across her collar, all the way down to the fabric of her chest band before he caught himself. Face hot and gut tingling, he turned his face to the side.

"Big idiot never wins," Hange said.

"Rude."

Levi glanced up. Mike had arrived at Hange's shoulder, floppy hair falling over his eyes, but he wasn't looking at Hange or at Erwin. He stared at Levi with a horrible, smug expression. Levi scowled at him and shifted uncomfortably, surreptitiously hanging his water bag in front of his crotch to adjust his pants.  Fucking ridiculous. Half hard like a horny teenager.

"New bet," Mike said. "Fight Levi next. I'll buy Sina's finest vine if you kick his tiny ass."

Hange shot him an open, considering look, cocking her head. "You know, I've never seen you spar before."

Levi made a gruff noise in the back of his throat. He felt uncomfortably beneath her intense stare, like one of her specimen samples, pinned and mounted. Exposed. His groin tightened at the unbidden thought. After a moment's consideration, Hange shot him a sunny smile and threw her arm over his shoulder, jerking him into her side.

"I'll need a few practice rounds first. See what I'm working with. You'll do it, right, Levi?"

"Fuck off."

Levi kept his hands clenched around the neck of his water bag. Hange smelled strongly of sweat, salty and earthy from the dirt clinging to her skin. Gross. But to his own mortification Levi found himself drawing a deep, unsteady breath through his nose. Warmth flooded his gut. Hange felt hot against him, and solid, strong. The arm hooked around his neck held him tight, and the thigh pressed against his own felt like rock, unyielding.

Levi's mind offered him obscene involuntary thoughts, of digging his fingers into her thighs until the flesh bruised white under the pressure, using that firm grip to yank her hips back onto his—

He dug his elbow into her ribs. Hange shimmied away in discomfort, and Levi stepped neatly to the side.

"Mean, Levi," Hange pouted. She rubbed at the sore spot and sighed forlornly. "Sounds like a bust, Mike. We'll settle for Trost's piss water whiskey this time."

Hange shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Are you two coming? It's on Mike."

"Oi."

Mike's fingers pinched at Hange's waist for her cheek. Levi stared at the spot where they gripped her, and his own grip around the water bag twitched and tightened. Her skin looked soft, and Mike touched her so easily, unbothered by the way her firm body felt in his hands. A rush of white hot envy pulsed through him, then. Levi struggled to swallow it down.

"Can't," Erwin said. "I have early meetings and I know too well what the three of you are like."

Hange shot him a wicked smile. "Excellent company?"

"Terrible influences. Levi will go though, I'm sure."

Hange turned his way again, a bright  hopeful look on her face.

"Like hell."

Hange's shoulders dropped. She recovered from her disappointment quickly enough, slinging her arm around Nanaba's neck instead, and clenching her fist into the back of Mike's shirt. "More for us then! We'll be at Smokey’s, if you change your minds!"

Hange dragged her friends around and the three of them set off in the opposite direction, to the place Hange had abandoned her boots. Levi looked slyly at Erwin, then back at Hange's retreating form. He bit back a groan when she bent over to scoop up her discarded shoes, cloth pulling sinfully tight over her ass as she did.

“You shouldn’t stare so much, Levi.” Erwin had a small smirk on his face, watching Levi out of the corner of his eye. “It makes it seem like you might be interested in her.”

Levi glowered up at Erwin, cheeks flushing. “Mind your damn business.”

Erwin held his hands up in placation. “I just thought I’d let you know. In case you didn’t want anybody getting the wrong impression.”

Levi wanted to punch the sly, shit-eating grin off of Erwin’s face. He turned sharply on his heel instead, throwing the darkest look he could muster for good measure, and stormed past the small crowds of recruits, lazily getting back to their own sparring practice.

**

Levi stepped under the dribbling shower head, cursing as the tepid water slipped through his hair and down the back of his neck. Most days he grumbled at the temperature, but between the scorching summer sun and the relentless heat burning low in his belly, Levi was thankful for the chill.

He knocked his forehead to the cool tile wall and stared down at his stubbornly hard cock.

He had escaped to the privacy of the officers bathroom as soon as he left Erwin, locking himself in the stall and willing his erection to subside, but no matter what unappealing images he focused on, Levi couldn't wish the damn thing away. The skin of his neck tingled where Hange's arm had wrapped around him. He could still feel the heat of her on his thigh, smell the sweat on her skin.

Levi growled in frustration, slamming a palm roughly into the wall. This entire situation was foreign to him. Levi prided himself on very little, but he had thought that he, at least, had some substantial control over his own body. He knew with some base instinct how to move it, how to utilise it and make every move to the best of his advantage in any situation. He had trained it well, built powerful muscles and honed sharp reflexes. Levi had never found himself so out of control of it, before.

He grabbed the soap and scrubbed roughly at his hair. Cleaning was always a cathartic exercise, a release of stress. Levi washed the sweat and dirt from his scalp and ran the soap over his face, his shoulders and arms, down his chest and low on his belly. His fingers trailed over the thin trail of hair beneath his naval. Muscle twitched beneath skin. His cock throbbed for attention.

Fucking Hange. Somehow she was a pest even now, when she was nowhere to be seen, out drinking away Mike's measly dividends in some sleazy back alley bar.

Try as he might, Levi couldn't shake the image of her sparring out of his head. No matter what he did to divert his attention, she crept her way back in, glistening skin and strong muscle, mussed hair and heavy breaths. Levi ground his forehead into the tile and clenched his jaw, hand still low on his belly. He wasn’t some fucking pervert, he didn’t make a habit of jerking off over his comrades and he didn’t particularly want to start now—and about Hange of all people.

In fact, Levi didn’t make a habit of jerking off much at all. Now and then, a quick, perfunctory thing, to relieve a little tension, blow off steam. But there was never a great desire behind it, never this insistent, unwavering need. This feeling was new. It was infuriating.

Recognising that he was fighting a losing battle, Levi sighed and closed his eyes. He let his hand wander lower, gripping his length and stroking over it. His belly tightened and his hips pressed helplessly forward into his fist. A low moan bled out of his throat.

It should have been easy to make this quick. To rush to the finish, clean up and pretend it never even happened, but every flash of shiny bronze skin or shifting muscle made him pause, guilt pooling like acid in his stomach. It was just so hard not to think about her. Impossible Not when he could so clearly picture the way those thighs might feel curled up around his hips, hard, firm, holding him close; not when he could so vividly hear her heavy, panted breaths in his ear, and the choked moans bleeding up from low in her throat.

The shower sputtered overhead. Levi drew his palm over the flushed head of his cock, smearing the thick bead of pre-come over his hand, gliding it down over his shaft. He wondered, idle and shame-faced, how Hange’s hand would feel wrapped around him. She has calluses, like him, but her fingers are longer and rougher than Levi’s, and would she grip him as firmly? Would she tug at him roughly, make him hiss and twitch under her touch, or would she treat him with the same reverence she does her titan samples—slow, methodical, analytical. Trail a line up the underside of him, from root to tip, maybe press her nail into his slit just to see the way he squirms.

Levi thumbed at his slit, too, and aborted a loud, choked groan at the sensation. He could imagine the way Hange would toy with him all too well; the glint in her eye as she catches the fluid leaking from him, spreading it around with the tip of her finger and revelling in the way his cock jumps, oversensitive. Draw her slick finger up to her mouth, maybe, push it past her plump lips and lave her tongue over the digit, tasting him. Levi sucked in a shuddering breath, hips bucking.

Maybe she’d taste more. Lay herself down between his legs, palms pushing his thighs apart to make room for her broad shoulders. She’d tease him, brat that she is, trail her lips across his lower belly, barely a whisper of a touch, not nearly enough—nip her sharp teeth into the pale flesh of his inner thigh and suck at the skin until blood pooled beneath it, red welts that pulse and throb when she runs her tongue over them.

Levi nudged the head of his cock against his tight, closed fist, pushed into the squeezing grip as he conjured lude pictures of Hange with her lips pressed against him, suckling at his head languidly, until Levi raked his fingers into her scruffy hair and applied enough pressure to coax her down. He fucked into his own fist with a breathy moan, squeezing his eyes closed. In his head, she takes him right to the back of her throat, laves her tongue over him and swallows him down, and her mouth is all hot and tight and the way she moans vibrates right through him—the thought alone sent a zing of pleasure racing up his spine.

Levi’s knees trembled beneath him. He braced himself on the shower wall and stroked himself faster, huffing heavy, unsteady breaths through his nose with his lip caught between his teeth, biting hard enough to sting.

Hange would stop, if he got too close. Drag her lips over the head of his cock and slip him out of her mouth. She's all wicked, challenging smiles, in his head, eyes blown wide when Levi pushes her back onto the bed and crawls over her. Her blunt nails would claw at his back as he sucks hot, open kisses on her belly, scrapes his teeth over the peak of bone at her hips. She'd tunnel her fingers into his hair and push his face lower, use the strength of her thighs to trap him between her legs. Needy. Unreserved.

And when he's had his fill, left her spent and trembling, he would nudge her legs apart and settle his hips between them. Slide his palms over the smooth skin, dig the blunt tips of his fingers into the tense, shivering muscle. Its so fucking easy to imagine the way Hange would look, splayed out on his bed. Her long body stretched out across the mattress, fingers clutching at the sheets as he teases the head of his cock against her—so fucking wet for him—and pins her hips down with a palm pressed low on her belly. The muscle would quiver under his touch.

There was no room left in him for guilt, now. Only the bright spark of pleasure like flint in his gut, striking and catching fire as he pictured just how hot and tight she would feel wrapped around him. She'd throw her head back against the pillows, exposing the long line of her throat to Levi's hungry lips and tongue and teeth, and he would fold over her and fuck in deep, until their hips are flush and Hange is panting raggedly into his ear. The way she whines his name is sinful, high in her throat, and breathless. Desperate.

She would grip white-knuckled at the sheets as Levi rolls his hips into hers. Plant clumsy, hungry kisses against his jaw, lips wet and trembling—and she'd lick into his mouth, when he's close enough, draw him into an intoxicating kind of kiss. Levi jerked himself quick and uneven, gut clenching, imagining the way Hange's legs would squeeze hard at his hips to keep him close while he fucks her. Her breath would hitch as he grinds down into her, strong arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close as she chokes out his name, all high and airy in her throat when he tucks his hips close and pushes impossibly deeper.

Levi sucked in quick, heavy breaths. His hips stuttered forward, clumsily meeting his own unsteady strokes as his groin tightened—the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until the tension broke, and Levi came with a muffled grunt, spilling obscenely against the tile wall.

He stood still for a long while, catching his breath. The subsiding pleasure made room for shame; guilt and embarrassment flooded into the empty space, making his face hot and his stomach knot unpleasantly. He felt dirty. Some creep, unable to control his most basic urges. He scrubbed the wall down thoroughly and washed himself again, but stood in the cubicle for a long while even after the water shut off.

Worse still, he felt unsatisfied. The orgasm had relieved some of the building pressure, but it had awakened some terrible hunger, and an awful realisation.

He wanted Hange. He wanted Hange.

Fuck.