#clocked on sight i fear

[liass-21]

another day, another weird twink for lia

clocking in for my twenty hour shift at the loving weird twinks factory. i’m the ceo btw

[chipped-chimera]

Every once and a while (regularly) I run into an obviously AI-generated art post that OP is trying to pass off as actual work so hard with restricted replies and think 'maybe I should just make a sideblog dedicated to going 'this is AI generated' and nothing else'. Like a disapproval stamp I can just collectively leave on there. Hm.

[kitkatscabinet]

SNUGGLE BUG

Summary: The boys try to get out of bed, their partner has other plans.

Pairing(s): Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, x reader

A/N: unedited

DICK GRAYSON

Dick's always been a physically affectionate person, far more so than the rest of his family. It's why he'd been so ecstatic when he'd found you, a partner that was just as, if not more affectionate than him.

On more than one occasion his siblings had been given front-row seats to the snuggle show when they broke into his apartment, served them right really.

What Dick hadn't accounted for, was just how difficult it was to peel himself from your arms in the morning. Torture would hurt less he's sure.

"Ten more minutes," you whined childishly, burrowing your face into Dick's bare shoulder, tightening your arms around his torso.

"We've already said that three times." Your partner laughed, wriggling out of your hold but with far less strength than you knew he was capable of.

Both of you were fully aware just how quickly he could extracate himself from your arms should the neccessity rise. Technically speaking he did have to go to work, but surely it couldn't hurt to be a little late?

Though a quick glance at the hello kitty alarm clock on the bedside table confirmed he was already late.

"Dickie, can't you just call in? I wanna cuddle."

Fuck. How could he say no to that?

It wasn't like he really needed the money anyway.

His boss's ire is worth it to feel the way you smile into the skin of his neck, your warm breaths and little laughs as you lay tangled together.

So worth it.

JASON TODD

"You planning on letting me go anytime soon?" Jason grunted, though you know him well enough to hear the smile he's attempting to hide.

"Never," you mumble into the skin between his broad shoulder blades, the mattress slouching beneath the combined weight of you and your boyfriend.

Jason, undeterred by your attempts to drag him down, stands with a grunt. A cracking noise you know to be his knees rings out, and though you feel a little bad, you're unwilling to back down in your quest to get him back into bed.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is built like a brick shithouse and is just as stubborn as you. Slowly, he manouevers around your small apartment all the while you hang off his back like a drunken Koala.

"Babyyyy," you whine petulantly into his ear, arms tightening around his neck in an attempt to only slightly choke him into submission.

Sighing, Jason starts to wander back into the bedroom. Just when you think you've won, he spins around, falling backwards onto the mattress and crushing you beneath his bulk.

In the minutes you spend winded, recovering, from being squished like an ant, Jason makes his escape. When you finally manage to come back to yourself you notice something incredibly distressing.

"Clothes! Why are you wearing clothes!" you wailed, sliding off the mattress and onto the floor in a pathetic slump.

Despite himself, Jason smiles at the sight, bundling you up in his arms before hopping back into bed with you. "Ok, you big dramatic baby."

Hey may have sounded put out, but the both of you knew he wanted to cuddle just as much. Besides, nothing was as important to him as you.

TIM DRAKE

He’d tried to be quiet. Truly, with years of training in the art of stealth Tim had intended to simply slip out of the bed and leave you to the sleep you needed.

He’d almost made it, both feet on the floor and the mattress no longer bearing most of his weight when all of a sudden a hand darted out, grasping his wrist.

Tim froze, slowly turning to look down at you with wide, guilty eyes. You're glaring up at him, sleep-addled face far more adorable than threatening, not that he'd ever tell you that, for fear of getting his ass beat.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" your voice is hoarse and gravelly from sleep but the threat is evident.

Mouth suddenly dry, Tim awkwardly chuckles, "Oh, babe, you're awake."

"Thanks to you," you grumbled sleepily, guilt and fear in equal measurements settling heavily in his chest.

"M'sorry, tried not to wake you but I gotta get to work on this case."

"No." You grunted, wrapping your arms around Tim's waist with freakish speed, nuzzling your face into his side.

He can't help the way his heart skips several beats at your casual affection. Tim's always been starved for touch, for the soft loving touch that you've always provided as if its as natural as breathing.

He should be used to it but despite the years worth of love and affection you've poured into Tim in the time you've spent together he still hasn't acclimated.

Tim knows, that you know, just how weak to your touch he is. It still doesn't prevent his resolve from crumbling when you refuse to let him budge, tugging him back down into your warm embrace.

"Good boy," you murmur against the skin of his neck, wrapping around his back like an octopus and trapping him against the expanse of your chest.

His skin runs hot at your words, mind numb to anything that's not your touch as he's eventually lulled back to sleep to the soothing sounds of your breathing.

[differenteagletragedy]

In which Simon Riley meets a distressed single mom at the park and is immediately LOCKED IN.

Here's Part Two and Part Three and Part Four and Part Five and Part Six and Part Seven and Part Eight and Part Nine :)

Simon likes going for walks.

It's an easy way to eat up time when he's on leave -- every minute he's walking is another minute he doesn't have to sit staring at the walls in his cold, dull apartment. And this way, he gets to see all sorts of things, trees and flowers, beautiful buildings and people that he passes by so quickly that he can almost convince himself they're beautiful too.

He doesn't think highly enough of himself to believe that he can truly have any of these things. That's why his apartment is bare bones, sparsely furnished with only the necessities, nothing even close to a frill in sight. But on his walks, he can catch little glimpses. He's been telling himself for so long that this is enough that most of the time, he believes it.

Then he met you. And now, suddenly none of it matters -- what he believes he deserves, what he thinks he can get by with, none of it. Because for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, he's filled with such an exquisite, excruciating rush of want that it drowns out everything else, floods all the ugly little nooks and crannies in his mind and his heart until all that's left is you.

It happened at the park. Not the big one he walks by sometimes in the nicer part of town, with its brand new shiny jungle gym and the constant crowd of children and parents and nannies and noise -- no, it was at the small little rundown one closer to home. The one that's almost always vacant, which is probably one of the reasons why he noticed you there.

Another, much more notable reason would be the way you were nearly screeching, your voice filled with panic and fear as you stood by one of the tall slides.

Simon heard you from a distance, and when he was close enough to see you, it was easy enough to figure out why. You were standing there, your belly big and swollen with child, looking up at a little boy with your complexion and hair color as he stood by the railing of the steps leading up to the slide.

"Get down right this instant," he heard you hiss when he snuck even closer. "Charlie, i swear to God, this isn't funny, get down."

The boy, with a playful, terrorizing little smile Simon could make out from a distance, shook his head, replying, "You come get me."

And there was the problem. You couldn't get up the narrow little staircase of that part of the playground with your pregnant belly, and the boy wouldn't come down on his own. Simon surveyed the park once more, but he already knew there was no one else there. You were alone, no husband to step in and take care of things.

At this point, he was strolling along the sidewalk beside the park, trying to decide if he wanted to help or not. On one hand, you seemed a little desperate, but on the other, he didn't want to frighten you even more. He knows how imposing he can be, and at least in these kinds of situations, he's mindful of it.

Then he hears it: a frustrated, choked little sob from you. That made up his mind.

"All right?" he asked carefully, slowly approaching you.

You jumped at the sound of his voice, your hand instinctively going to cradle your bump, then glanced back up at the boy.

"We're fine," you told Simon. "We're just waiting on my husband to come back, then we'll call it a day."

It was a weak lie -- he'd already clocked that you weren't wearing a wedding ring, nor did you have a tan line there, but even if he didn't go on that, you were just not a good liar. He might have laughed at your attempt to brush him off, but then little boy put his hands on the railing and leaned over it to greet him, and your nervous gasp brought him back to the situation at hand.

"Charlie, stop," you barked, an authoritative mom voice if he'd ever heard one. But Charlie, it seemed, was a headstrong little thing, and he simply laughed and began jumping, apparently not noticing or caring that his reckless behavior was causing you so much stress.

"Could get him down for you, if you like."

He didn't know why he said that. Why he even thought to offer. But you looked up at him, really looked at him with those wide, teary eyes, and he knew he'd do that and so much more, if only you'd let him.

"I can't ... it's ok, you don't have to do that," you replied, still hesitant to accept the help from the big, bulking stranger.

"'Course I don't have to," he answered simply. "Just trying to help."

You glance between him and the boy once more, and you even give Charlie one more chance to listen and come down on his own, but he just shrieked with laughter, pleased to be the center of attention, so you just sighed and gave Simon a nod.

He easily climbs up the tall metal structure, squeezing his wide body up the narrow steps to where the boy stood. Then he stopped.

He's not a people person by any stretch of the imagination, so of course he's not a kid person either. He's never interacted with them much, so as stilted and closed-off as he is with most adults, he's even more clueless with children.

He didn't know if he should pick him up and carry him down to you, maybe push him to the slide to get down that way. He also considered that maybe he shouldn't even touch him at all, but that left talking to the kid, which didn't sound great either.

Luckily for Simon, Charlie was chatty enough for both of them.

"Never seen you here before," he told Simon. "You're too big for the slides."

"Not here for the slide," he said, his gaze drifting back to you where you stood below, watching anxiously. "Why don't you get back down there before you give your poor mum a heart attack?"

"I'm not supposed to listen to strangers."

"That so?" Simon asked. "Supposed to listen to your mum though, yeah?"

That easy bit of logic seemed to trip Charlie up, and Simon smirked, then nodded to the slide.

"Go on, then."

The child let out a dramatic sigh, then climbed the rest of the way up the steps and went down the slide. Simon watched you rush to the bottom of it, swiftly grabbing his hand when it came within reach.

"Thank you so much," you told him when he climbed his way back to the ground, your earlier trepidation gone, seemingly with relief. "He usually listens better than that, and I couldn't ..."

"No need," he said gruffly, cutting off your explanation. "Just glad I could help."

You gave him a smile, and just for a moment, he let himself think of things he never allowed himself to imagine. A life in which he not only had a family, but this family -- a family where you, the boy, and the baby in your belly all belonged to him.

That's when the wanting started. And now, nearly two weeks later, Simon finds himself walking past the park, again and again, hoping to find you there. Hoping to ease the gnawing little ache that began knocking around his chest that day, to see what he now believes could be the most beautiful thing this ugly world has to offer.

[8lyme]

Heat Rises

Logan Howlett x f!Reader

SUMMARY: The mansion is boiling hot

WARNINGS: excessive use of italicisation, borderline dirty thoughts, makeout scene bc that's the best i can do, maybe ooc bc I fear I imagine Logan a little funnier than he actually is.

a/n: the ac in my room broke and inspiration struck after I doomscrolled through wolverine edits on tiktok ... chat i love men

It was hot. Boiling. Stifling.

You woke up at 2 a.m. drenched in sweat, sucking in a deep breath of hot, stale air. Grogginess fading, you stumble from your bed while pulling of your shirt and pajama pants. You open the door to the bathroom and turn the cold water on in the sink.

The heat was dripping down your back despite your lack of clothing. Overheating and still half-asleep, you stuck your head into the stream of cold water, splashing over your neck and across your shoulders.

You straighten to tie your hair up before turning the water off and running your still cold hands down your arms. The patter of thudding sounded outside your door, and you move to dress in a thin tank top and shorts.

You let your eyes adjust to the light as you began walking down the hallway of the mansion. A few children slipped out of their rooms in similar sweaty conditions to follow you down the staircase and onto the main floor.

Gathered by the professor's office were Scott, Storm, and Jean. The stray young mutants who trailed you settling around them.

"Goodmorning," You call out the the group.

"Do you know who turned this place into a boiler?" Jean asks. You both swipe sweat off your foreheads in sync while you shrug, shaking your head.

"Jesus, my glasses are gonna slide off my face," Scott complains, knocking his head against the wall in exasperation. He was shirtless, (rightfully so) wearing what you guessed were swim trunks.

"Charles is working on it," Jean put a hand on his shoulder, then quickly removing it to wipe his sweat off her hand and down the wall.

You turn to Storm, who was pulling the fabric of her tank top to fan herself off.

"Do we know where Bobby is?" You ask in search of the Iceman. You turned to scan the room, addressing the three students who followed you.

"Pretty sure him and Rogue took off before lights out," a young girl from the floor calls out. Her mutation rubberized her molecules, and her legs were in misshapen puddles - akin to flat stanley - due to the heat.

"Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here," a familiar voice groans loudly from behind you. "Nice shorts." Logan said to you before reaching your side.

"Alright fashion police," you respond in mock annoyance, offering a small smile at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He shot you a wink before turning away. When you caught full sight of him, your face froze and (if possible) more sweat rolled down your spine.

It was sickening how attractive he managed to look in what felt like the inside of an air fryer. Having clearly just woken up, his hair was perfectly tousled into a messier version of his normal tufts. His hair hardly looked damp despite the oiled-up glow he had on his face ...

And torso.

Fuck he was shirtless.

Although you've known Logan for the better part of a year, you unfortunately failed to experience him half-dressed. You'd been in close proximity frequently - sparring and other various training taking a large percent of that. You were friendly with each other, his acknowledgement of you with a nod whenever you walked in a room affirming he didn't hate you. You normally ate breakfast together, often offering the other the last portion of cereal or setting aside an extra cup of coffee for whoever entered the kitchen second. Within the last few months, however, after a particularly unfortunate mission gone wrong in almost every way, your friendship became more affectionate in those 'off the clock' moments.

Quick but firm hugs, slinging his arm over your shoulders, nudging each other with elbows or hips at inside jokes. He'd also been placing a hand on your back or shoulder every time he was in proximity to do so when moving behind you; in the kitchen, during briefings, even while you were grading papers in the library. He would touch your shoulder to let you know he was moving past you or going to sit next to you.

All that is to say you were aware - in theory - he was well built. He was taller and broader than you, so you made an educated guess. Theory proven, but well beyond expectations.

A month ago, you and Scott had stopped at a Texas Roadhouse an hour outside of the city after having spent two weeks clearing out a mutant experimentation lab in eastern Quebec. The plump and shine of the appetizer rolls (that you and Scott had both equally asked for seconds of) had absolutely nothing on Logan.

He damn near glistened. The dim light of the mansion sconces bronzed his skin, cutting him into an even more defined picture for you to look at. His chest expanded with each breath, shoulders and pecs slightly flexing in response. His hands lazed on his hips, if even possible causing the room's shadows to shade in the dips of his biceps and forearms. The veins of his arms just barely covered by the moisture-slicked hair covering his skin. If you had a fork and knife, you would throw them behind you to happily eat a piece of him with your hands.

You had to force yourself to swallow to shock your brain into looking anywhere else. You made an 'eaugh' sound and swiped your hands across your face. You meant it defensively, but you really were dripping into your eyes.

"I feel like I'm being waterboarded," you say disgustedly while wiping your palms on the back of your shorts. Feeling a texture that wasn't fabric, you turned your head. Glancing down, you understood Logan's earlier comment.

These shorts must have been from your freshman year of high school that somehow never got tossed or donated. They were a pair of (very) short, low-cut and dull pink velour Juicy Couture shorts with the word 'Juicy' spelled out in rhinestones on the ass. You actually felt like hurling as your body got even hotter.

You slowly turned your face away from the glittery stones on your booty to unfortunately glance in Scott's direction. His hands covering his mouth to block how obviously he was holding in a laugh.

"Scott, don't even look at me right now," you groan in exasperation, crossing your arms over yourself in attempted modesty. Scott's eyes glitter, and you snap "Keep your mouth shut" at him to no avail.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass?" He snickers. "In rhinestones?"

He's cracking up now with his hands in fists over his mouth. Jean bites a smile away and looks down, shaking to stifle a giggle. You look across the room to the kids who are choking down laughter themselves.

"Oh my fucking God-uh!" you again groan out, covering your eyes. "I really liked Jersey Shore when I was in High School, guys, leave me alone!"

Storm bursts into a laugh that inspires the others to join in. You're cracking up too, mortification disappearing. You glance at Logan through your fingers, who surprisingly seems to be choking back a laugh himself.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan clears his throat. "Save her from embarrassment?"

"Not how it works," She says. "I can't pull cold air or moisture out of this heat to create any snow." She looks at you and winks. "Sorry J-Wow, the shorts are staying on."

Scott about keels over with a snort before Jean thwaps him in the shoulder.

"If we bring you enough bags of ice, could you use that to cool the building down then?" Jean asks.

"In theory," Storm says. "I can stay here with the students to wait for the professor if you all don't mind searching for some. I'll need to conserve energy if I have to create a blizzard out of thin air."

"Copy. Divide and conquer," you say glancing at Logan again. The four of you turn to wander the mansion, but you stop to turn back to Storm.

"Also," you call back to her. "I'm so obviously Snooki."

Scott barks a laugh from the other corridor as you trot after Logan. He turns to meet you with a confused look on his face.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

Logan daydreamed about upper-cutting Scott with his claws unsheathed. He fantasized about throwing him down the stairs and curb-stomping him after. He imagined speeding over him on his own motorcycle and drilling him into the asphalt.

Right now, as your face flushed with embarrassment over your bedazzled booty shorts, he wished he had enacted any of those in reality so he had never, ever, heard Scott say a word about your ass.

Logan was used to waking up in a sweat, heart racing as he yelled out in anger (or fear, he couldn't tell which) from the nightmare that slipped from him the longer his eyes were open.

This time, he awoke uncomfortably hot and sprawled out diagonally above his sheets. He pushed himself up onto his knees and rubbed his eyes. He took a beat to wake himself up and stared at the clock on his nightstand blinking at 2:00 am.

He found it impossibly hotter in the hallway, swiping his palms on his pants every few steps. He regretted not scouring his room for shorts or even a pair of briefs. He moved down the stairs and rounded, following the sound of conversation. He dragged his sweaty palms across his pants again, groaning out; "Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here".

And then he almost tripped over his own feet.

You stood facing away from him, hands clasped on top of your head, in the tiniest clothing humanly possible. You wore a thin, strappy little yellow tank top that ghosted just under your ribs. In the dimmed lighting, your skin glistened, droplets of sweat gliding down your neck, your spine - fucking hell, was your sweat turning him on? - down your lower back, and -

Logan just about stopped in his tracks.

Impossibly tiny pink shorts clung to your ass, riding low on your hips. In glittering rhinestone, the word Juicy was bedazzled over the fabric. He felt like a dumb moth to a flame, trying to look like he wasn't seconds away from using his hands for some workplace misconduct.

"Nice shorts," he managed, trying to shake his head clear.

"Alright fashion police," you smirked up at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He winked at you, turning away to avoid staring at the beads sliding down your collar bone. Trying even harder to not imagine where the droplets would travel next.

Too focused on thinking about anything else in the world other than you, he blinked back into reality after Scott's voice grated his ears.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass? In rhinestones?"

Whatever you or anyone else responds with falls on his deaf ears. The only thing he can hear is the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood. His face tightened and he clenched his jaw.

He coughed to clear his head and interject into whatever conversation he's too furious to tune in to.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan paused, coughing again to catch himself from saying anything related to freezing Scott solid so he can shatter him to pieces. He settled on "Save her from embarrassment?"

Once again, Logan half-listened and half-internally plotted extreme violence, perking back in at the sound of your voice. He turned to you as you catch up with him.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

You declined to continue to explain trash TV to Logan. You settled on "It's entertaining to watch people be out of touch with reality", to which he quipped back a "That's stupid", effectively shutting you up.

The both of you wandered to the kitchen, you fanning yourself as Logan tried not to burst a blood vessel while holding to his willpower to not watch you tilt your head back and exhale while uttering whines of complaint. He decided the amount that his was sweating coupled with the lack of sleep made him delusional. That's why his brain kept trailing back to the same thought: you.

You pulled open the bottom drawer of the fridge, exposing the freezer. The rush of cool air fanned at your skin, and you signed in relief.

"Logan," you call, eyes closed. You waved him over and he leaned next to you.

"Oh my god," he quietly uttered out, eyes closing in relief. "Oh my god, this is better than sex."

You snorted and slapped your hand to your mouth.

"Logan, shut the fuck up" you giggle. He snickers back with you, shoulders shaking.

"Aw man," you groan, staring into the freezer drawer. Inside, there was an empty popsicle box, an half-eaten pint of strawberry ice cream, and an unwrapped ice-cream sandwich with freezer burn. You and Logan met each other's eyes with matching disappointed expressions.

You shut the freezer drawer, straightening up.

"I think there's a freezer in the basement lab," Logan says, sweat instantly beginning to drip down his neck.

"Aw man," you respond, lifting your arms slightly as sweat slides down you as well.

"Come on, bub," He moves around behind you. You feel the familiar ghost of his fingers against your back, but you recoil away at the thought of more heat against your body.

Logan yanked his hand away like he had been burned, gaze raking from you to his hand. You keep walking, not realizing how far behind you he's trailing.

---

He tries to shake it off, he really does. He feels stupid for letting something so small seep into his head and twist his thoughts around.

It's just because it's hot, he thinks to himself. Rationally, yes, he knows that is the answer. And yet he stupidly can't help but overthink every interaction he's had with you.

He masks it with a stony expression. The walk to the elevator is sticky and humid. When you both step in, he strays as far away from you as he can.

You've felt the shift in energy from him. He's pressed against the curved wall, arms crossed over his chest. It's palpable, but you aren't the type to pry when Logan is brooding.

He slips out of the opening doors first, relinquishing in the slightly cooler air of the lab. You trail after.

The air is awkward now. You fumble in your brain for the right words to say to him. 'Are you okay?' doesn't seem to cut it.

You've come to understand Logan. He has a complicated relationship with feelings and is awful at communication. If you don't notice the energy shift and bring it up, it isn't getting spoken about.

You follow him to a white metal crate pressed near a cabinet of saline. It's clasped shut and luckily on wheels. The precipitation on the outside confirming this is what you were looking for.

You place your hands on the corners of the crate to slide it from the wall, but Logan damn near rips it out of your hands. He shoves it across the lab towards the elevator.

You stare at him in shock and confusion. Your thoughts whir as you replay every moment from the entire day, convinced that he's pissed at you. He seems pissed. He's acting pissed.

You reach the elevator just as the door slides open. You're trying to decide if you should say something. Trying to think of a way to approach this in a way that will actually get him to talk. The air in the elevator is thick, more so with his shift in attitude than with heat.

Logan is locking himself inside his head. He can’t organize his thoughts and all he feels is stupidity. He can't understand why he's over analyzing, much less what he's over analyzing.

He doesn't know it's basically radiating off of him. Unaware that you've been staring at him to try and decipher what's wrong.

You utter out "Are you okay?" just to cut through the thick silence (and hopefully the wall he's locked himself in). You're sure he hears you, but the sliding of the door gives him the perfect opportunity to continue to ignore you.

Again, you trail after him. The wheels scrape against the hardwood, a testament to how hard he is pressing into the metal.

You're confused, sweaty, and almost on the verge of nonconsensual tears when you reach Storm and the other kids. The girl from the floor has turned into mostly puddle. Everything besides the tip of her shoulders and up are deflated to the wood. The other kids have spread to the floor themselves.

Logan shoves the crate towards Storm.

"Alright," he says curtly, once again crossing his arms. "Cool this shit down."

You fiddle with your fingers as Storm unlatches the metal. Her eyes gloss over to a milky white while she lifts the lid. The temperature drops almost instantly, and you begin to shiver.

"Done," She says, blinking away the glaze. "Charles said that-"

"Great," Logan cuts her off with a slam of the metal lid. He slides it around before moving back towards the elevator. You glance back and forth between Storm and Logan for a second. When you meet her confused expression, she gestures back towards him.

Ignoring the comfort of your sheets and lack of emotional drainage, you jog after Logan.

---

He huffs at you when you reach his side.

"I can push a metal box by myself," he says dismissively.

"Okay," you say, just to get something in the air. "Am I not allowed to come with you?"

You regret even speaking anyways as he scoffs at you, kicking the crate into the opening of the sliding door. It hits the wall with a loud clang. You flinch, but you're more concerned about him to not slip into the door at the last second.

You hug yourself as you start to shiver. Logan rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and turns away from you to lean against the wall. For the third time tonight.

You are racking your brain. Screaming at yourself to say something, literally any words at all. It feels like you've been panic-searching your thoughts for anything to say for a while.

"Are we not moving?" You ask. You wait for an answer before repeating, calling him by name and moving to stand in front of him.

He huffs before standing straight. After a beat, he says "We're not."

"Shit, how should we -" You start, but are cut of by the metallic unsheathing of Logan's Claws. In a blur he rears back and slices through the door, scraping three parallel lines across the metal.

"Jesus Christ, Logan!" You snap out at him. The glare he gives you while his claws sink into his skin makes you back up into the wall.

"What the hell is your problem?" you say evenly.

He scoffs at you, muttering out "Don't know what you're talking about."

"You just sliced the wall open," You point out, gesturing to said wall. "And you're acting like you're pissed at me"

"You're imagining things," he says back, resuming his position against the wall with his arms folded.

"Oh, that's bullshit. You're literally sulking in the corner and you want to tell me that isn't happening."

Logan stays silent. You almost expect him to turn into the wall so he can pretend to not see you.

"Logan," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "Why can't you be upfront with me? It's very easy to say 'Hey, you pissed me off because of this' or 'Oh, something sparked a bad memory' or, I don't know, 'I don't want to talk about it' "

"I don't want to talk about it," he responds. You smack the back of your head into the wall behind you in exasperation.

"Oh my god, obviously that was just an example. Please just tell me what's wrong."

Logan raises his eyes to meet yours for just a second. You catch his gaze, and you can tell that he wants to tell you. When you quietly say his name he looks away.

"Logan, you’re being mean." Your eyes flick over him, trying to catch any more indication that he'll open up. He stays stoick, stubborn piece of shit. You decide to wait just a moment longer before giving up. If he's going to be this adamant about whatever happened, you aren't about to keep fighting him on it.

"Okay, you’re pissing me off and I give up" You spit, sinking to the floor. You draw your legs up and fold into yourself, the chill of the room sinking into your skin.

It takes a long, awkward amount of time sitting in silence before you her Logan speak.

"You're cold," he states.

"No, I'm not," you say into your arms. Shivering.

"You look cold," he once again states plainly.

"I'm not, stop talking to me."

"I thought you wanted me to talk," Logan retorts at you. You look up at him over your arms, seeing a smug look on his face.

"Yeah, if the words you say are 'Hey, I'm sorry I'm being a dickhead and shoving stuff around and slicing into walls and ignoring you. I'm just thinking about X,Y and Z, which is making me feel X,Y and Z,' and then I would say 'Oh my gosh Logan, I had no idea! I'm so sorry, I wish you told me so I didn't make a big deal out of it because I thought you hated me!" You snap at him, mocking his voice for emphasis.

He blinks at you, and you move your head back into your arms.

"I don't hate you," he says quietly.

"You're acting like it."

"I don't."

The softness in his voice makes you sigh. You decide to take it easy on him, and ask him to come to you.

"What?" he asks, hesitation evident in his tone.

"Can you come sit next to me, please?" You ask softly.

"Why?" he asks, and you roll your eyes.

"Because I'm cold and you run much warmer than I do."

He moves and sinks down beside you, thankfully. You scooch closer until your arm is against his. The warmth of his body radiates against yours.

"Can you please talk to me?" you break the silence. The smallness in your voice chips away at his resolve, but his pride is still in the way. He's embarrassed enough about being upset in the first place, he can hardly stand (much less find the words) to say anything to you.

"Look, I'll literally cover my eyes so I'm not even looking at you," you offer, covering your eyes with your palms. "Please, just tell me."

"It's stupid," Logan says, pride dwindling down.

"I don't care, I promise. Please, Logan," You plead.

He sighs loudly, searching for the right words. He stutters out a few syllables before managing a sentence.

"In the kitchen earlier, you flinched away from me. I don't know. Didn't feel great."

Your hands dropped from your face. He was staring down at the floor. He looked embarrassed, maybe downright ashamed. You gently placed a hand on his arm.

"Logan, I'm sorry. It was just so hot and I felt all gross and sweaty. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."

"Okay," he says, but his eyes never left the floor.

"And that's not stupid. I freak out over the tiniest things in the world."

"Yeah?" he huffs out a small laugh, finally turning to you.

"Yes, duh, I'm a girl. One time you didn't sit in the stool right next to me and I had to suck my tears back in and I thought about it for two days straight," you told him.

"Because I didn't sit next to you?" he teases, and you push off of his arm in mock annoyance.

"Yes, I'm not kidding. I remember once when you came back from a mission you ignored me when I said 'hi' to you on the stairs and locked yourself in your room for almost two days. I was genuinely convinced you wanted me dead and I couldn't function until you'd brought me toast because you thought I was sick."

"You weren't sick?" He raises an eyebrow at you.

"No! I thought you wanted me to jump into oncoming traffic!" You laugh at yourself, feeling ridiculous after replaying those few days back in your head.

"Okay, okay, I get what you mean. I don't want you dead, by the way. Never will." His face has relaxed and the tension in the air completely dissipated. You tilted to rest your head on his shoulder, relishing in his body heat and enjoying the comfortable silence.

"Seems like I get you pretty worked up, huh?" Logan smiles to himself, knowing he'll get a rise out of you.

"I'm not answering that," you snort, giving him a side eye.

"Are you kidding me?" He says in a deadpan.

"No! I'm not answering that," you sputter, forcing an even tone out of yourself. "Why'd you get so upset about me moving away from you?" You shoot back.

"I'm not answering that," he says, and you now shove him away jokingly.

"Oh, come on!"

You both start to giggle at each other, needing to look at anywhere except at the other. Weight has been lifted off both of your chests, being stuck in the elevator long forgotten.

"So," Logan speaks, letting the word hang in the air for a second. He wonders if the feelings he's completely sure are mutual should remain unspoken. "Are either of us gonna do anything about," he gestures to the both of you. "Or..."

"Oh man, I was wondering which one of us was going to take the bait first," you giggle out to mask the nervousness settling in your chest. "You almost had me, I never figured you'd say anything."

"Did I?" He asks. You turn to him and meet his gaze, smirking at him. You hum happily after a few seconds, turning away from him to lean on his arm once more.

"So," Logan says again, so you mock him and echo the word back.

"So," he tries again, obviously wanting a certain response from you. You bite, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Oh my god, you can just kiss me. I'm cold, I'm not moving my arms," you say to him, earning a short laugh from him.

Logan moves and scoops you into him, sandwiching your arms between both your bodies. You slide one of your hands up him so that your fingertips reach his collarbone. His nose is just touching yours, and he tilts, barely touching your lips.

"So," he whispers against you. You snort and shove his face away with your free hand.

"Okay, nevermind! Get away from me!" You giggle, Logan following suit.

You feel Logan's hand move to the back of your neck, and you blink at him a few times with a small smile. Finally, he leans down to kiss you. You snake your free hand up to the side of his neck and grasp onto a few tufts of his soft hair. He leans into your touch slightly, so your curl your fingers in response.

One of his arms releases you to brace the floor for support, the other moving to hold you tighter. His fingers splayed across your shoulder blade as you slip your other arm out. You slide your hand up the side of his abdomen, almost moaning when the feeling of his back muscles reach your fingers.

You both pull away for a second to breathe before diving back into each other. Logan pulls you towards him, hand that was on the floor now sliding down your side to squeeze at the flesh of your hips.

He pulls back from you and presses and open mouthed kiss just under your ear. You crane your head back in response while feeling your way up the front of his body. Your fingers dip over the curves of his abs and over his chest, and then slide over his shoulder and down his arms. You think about the glisten of his body earlier in the night, the shadows of his muscular biceps and forearms.

"You and these damn shorts," he groans between the kisses he's now leaving on your collar. You let out a breathy laugh.

"I'll take them off later, they don't even fit," you say, pulling his face up so you can kiss him again.

"I hope you'll let me help," he says into your open mouth, causing you to squeeze your thighs together as you heat up.

The shrieking sound of metal against metal surrounds you both, and you shove Logan off you to scramble to your feet. He moves besides you, claws unsheathed on instinct.

The door of the elevator slowly slides open, coming to a halt while it's halfway open. Charles and Jean were waiting from the outside.

"There you both are," Jean huffs out. "You've been gone for about an hour."

"What time is it?" Logan asks, moving out into the mansion floor and sinking his claws back into his knuckles. You follow behind, the chill coming back to your skin.

"About 4:30 in the morning," Charles replies, gliding away from the opening of the metal door. "I suggest you all get some sleep while it's still early." He looks pointedly at you and Logan before rolling to face Jean.

"Agreed. Goodnight you two," Jean says, moving down the hallway to her room.

You and Logan make your way up the stairs, still buzzing. You stop at his door while he opens it. He turns to face you. Once again, you're back to staring at each other hoping you both can understand what the other is thinking.

"Well, good night Logan," You sigh. He cocks an eyebrow at you.

"You're not coming in?" He says while leaning against the door frame.

"Oh," you begin, a smile nervously making its way to your face. "Well ... I ..."

"I gotta help you with those shorts, remember?"

You can't help the soft laugh that leaves your mouth. You move towards him and step just into the doorway.

"I'll take all the help I can get," You say up at him. He takes the opportunity to wrap you in his arm and move you both through the door.

He turns you both, pressing your back against the wall next to the doorway, shutting the door as he molds his lips into yours. His hand slides under your flimsy yellow tank top as you hear the click of the door lock.

More than likely, neither of you were getting much sleep tonight.

[satoblue]

your heart sinks with every nauseating tick of the clock, signaling the hours that pass until dinner.

satoru promised he’d be here on time no matter what and so you waited, yet you find yourself alone at the table, unable to stomach your food. with a heavy sigh, you store everything inside containers to put in the fridge, making sure to cover his plate in saran wrap for when he returned so he could heat it up, ignoring that dark voice in the back of your head that told you it wasn’t necessary because he might not be coming back to you at all.

shaking away the negative thoughts, you head to bed, only to toss and turn in your sheets for what feels like an eternity because oddly enough, it doesn’t feel the same. they’re colder than usual, unlike the home you’re used to, and perhaps that was because you normally could not sleep without him. but combined with the anxiousness and worry, it was practically impossible at this point, and somehow the warmth around you fades increasingly every moment he’s not here with you.

frustrated and fearful tears prick at your eyes, and you clutch his pillow close to your chest, inhaling the lingering scent of your husband and hoping it never fades. could this be it? would this finally be the day he doesn’t return back safely into your arms? the day you’ve dreaded ever since he made you part of his world?

in the deafening and unnatural silence, you think your ears play a trick on you when they pick up on a distant clattering down the hall from your bedroom. your eyes shoot open, breath hitching — and the beating organ in your chest stops for a second. perhaps it was the cat? or perhaps it was a trick from how loudly your heart thunders in your ears and chest. it does absolutely nothing to stop you as you slowly pad your way back into the dimly lit kitchen for the final time that night, seeking the hopeful confirmation that will breathe stability back into your lungs.

……..it was him. it was really him. he was back.

but he was hurt.

though you felt in that moment it was the least of your current concerns so you’d acknowledge that later. he seemed fine in the grand scheme of things. right now however, you felt more relief than anything — and maybe a little bit of anger. not at him though, never at him, not truly.

you felt frozen in place, watching as he rummages through the refrigerator. rubbing your eyes and blinking away the fatigue and tears, you try ensuring what you were seeing was reality and not just a figment of your imagination, your words stuck in your throat. in an attempt to stay strong, inevitably, your voice wobbles.

“you’re late.”

and satoru, that idiot, whips his head to face you with wide eyes, straightening up at the sight of you before flashing a sheepish grin in response despite the numerous cuts littering his pretty face, rubbing the back of his neck in the way that he does when he’s at a loss for words. and maybe he is, maybe because he almost just died, and yet instead of coming to greet you and tell you that he’s safe (for the most part) — instead he decides to ravage the fridge, one scarred arm stuck in the cool rectangle like a child caught sneaking cookies from the jar.

“i know. i’m always late.” he breathes through an infuriating huff of laughter, as if everything was okay. “i told you i’d be home for dinner — and technically it’s not midnight just yet……so i still made it on time, right?”

he always has to have the last word.

[rafayelxsylusho]

How do the LADS men fu¢k the jealousy out of you.🥼🪐

Caleb/Zayne

Sylus is next.....

TW: SMUT SMUT SMUT

NOTE: I'm a praise slut so if you like it drop a comment and if you don't you can also drop a comment!! ❤️❤️😊😊

CALEB🪐

You hear Caleb's phone ringing, the sound echoing through the empty apartment. After a few rings, a female voice answers. She doesn't sound pleased.

"Colonel Caleb's line. Who's calling?" Her tone is clipped and businesslike.

"Oh, um, hi. Is Caleb there? I mean, Colonel Caleb," you stammer, caught off guard. "It's y/n."

There's a pause, a beat of silence that stretches too long. Then the woman speaks again, her voice dripping with disdain.

"The colonel is currently unavailable. He's quite...busy at the moment. With matters of great importance" Her words are like barbs, each one sharp enough to make you wince. "I'm afraid he won't be able to take your call. You'll have to wait."

She hangs up abruptly, leaving you holding a dead line and a head full of questions. Busy? Unless...unless she meant something else entirely by 'busy'. A cold dread settles in your stomach as you ponder the possibilities, each one less palatable than the last. What is he doing? And with whom? The questions burn in your mind, eating away at your peace of mind. You tell yourself it doesn't matter but the sinking feeling persists

So you try a video call instead. You see the screen flicker to life, a face popping up that makes your heart seize in your chest. She's stunning, with high cheekbones, full lips curved into a smile, and eyes that glitter with a cold, calculating intelligence. Her blond hair is pulled back into a sleek bun, not a single strand out of place. She's beautiful, in a way that's almost too perfect to be real.

"Y/n," she says, her voice sounded annoyed. "I'm afraid the Colonel is...indisposed at the moment." Her gaze flicks to the side "He asked me to handle any...extraneous matters that might come up."

Your blood runs cold as you realize she's in Caleb's apartment. In his space. A wave of possessive fury rises up inside you, hot and all-consuming. Behind her, you catch a glimpse of a familiar wall, a painting you know hangs in Caleb's bedroom. The one he bought on a trip, the one he said reminded him of you. Seeing it there, behind her, makes your stomach churn with nausea.

"Will you let him know I called, please?" You ask, your voice dropping at the 'please'

"Oh, I'll be sure to tell him," she says, "Though I can't promise he'll call you back. He's...very busy at the moment."

She glances over her shoulder, towards the bedroom, and you catch a glimpse of Caleb's silhouette through the open door. He's facing away from the camera, but you'd know his broad shoulders and tall frame anywhere. The sight of him makes your heart clench, a pang of longing and desperation shooting through you.

Then she reaches out, and the screen goes black.

You're left staring at a lifeless screen, your heart pounding in your ears. The silence is deafening, the absence of him a yawning chasm in your chest. You feel it then, the first real flicker of fear. The cold, sickening certainty that he's slipping away from you, that you're losing him.

The hours tick by with agonizing slowness, each second stretching into an eternity as you wait for your phone to ring. You pace the length of your apartment, your eyes glued to the screen, willing it to light up with Caleb's name. But it remains stubbornly dark, mocking your desperate anticipation.

As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and red, a sense of dread starts to creep in, coiling around your heart like a serpent. He always calls. Always. No matter how busy he is, no matter what's happening in his life, he always finds a moment to hear your voice, to assure you that you're still the most important thing in his world.

As night falls, you find yourself curled up on the couch, staring at your phone as if it holds the answers to all your unspoken questions. The clock ticks on, the hands spinning with maddening speed, as the hours slip away and still...nothing.

You jerk awake, your heart leaping into your throat as the notification chimes pierce the early morning silence. For a disoriented moment, you think it might be a dream, a cruel trick of your desperate mind. But as you grab your phone with shaking hands, there it is. A message from Caleb.

Can I see you today?

The words are simple, a deceptively casual question.

Your fingers tremble as you type out a response, each word a battle as you try to keep the bitterness from your voice.

I'm afraid I'm busy today, and your friend mentioned you'd be rather tied up as well. No need to bother.

You hit send before you can second-guess yourself, a part of you hoping he'll insist, that he'll demand to see you no matter what.

With a heavy heart, you turn off your phone, shoving it into the depths of your backpack. You spend the rest of the day in a daze, your mind a tempest of unanswered questions and suppressed fears.

When you get off work you head to the familiar noodle shop, the warm aroma of the hot pot ingredients envelops you, a small comfort in the midst of your turbulent day. You place your order, the owner greeting you with a jovial smile, oblivious to the tempest raging inside you.

With your order in hand, you make your way back to your apartment, craving the solace of a hot meal and a chance to rest. The evening air is crisp, the chill of the night a stark contrast to the warmth of the hot pot nestled in your arms

Once you get home and as you step into your kitchen, the soft glow of the stove light illuminates the countertop as you set the bags down. The savory aroma begins to fill the small apartment, a brief moment of normalcy amidst the chaos in your mind.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the silence, making you jump with a startled gasp. "You're late."

The voice is low, rough, and unmistakably familiar. It sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and a traitorous thrill. You know that voice. You know it better than your own.

You spin around, your heart pounding in your ears, to see Caleb sitting in the dark corner of the living room. He's draped across the couch, his tall frame taking up more space than seems possible. His silhouette is etched in shadow, but you can see the glint of his eyes as they watch you, following your every movement.

"Caleb," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here? How did you...?" The words die on your lips as the reality of the situation sinks in. He's here. In your apartment. Uninvited. Unannounced. Just like before. Just like always.

He rises to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he has all the time in the world. As he steps into the faint light, you can see the weariness etched into his face, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to a sleepless night. But there's something else there too. A tension. A tightness to his jaw and a cold, hard glint in his eye that makes your blood run cold.

"I wanted to see you," he says, his voice a low, rough rumble. He takes a step closer, then another, until he's standing just a few feet away from you.

"But you said you were busy," he continues, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. "Funny, I don't see you working. I don't see you anywhere but here. With me." His eyes rake over your body, a slow, deliberate perusal that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry as the desert. You try to speak, but the words catch in your throat, sticking like shards of glass. He's right. You were busy. Busy ignoring him. Busy trying to forget the way your heart ached for him. Busy trying to convince yourself that you didn't need him, that you could survive without his constant presence in your life.

"I...I didn't..." you start, but the words ring hollow even to your own ears. You look away, unable to meet his gaze, unable to confront the accusation in his eyes.

He takes another step closer, closing the distance between you until he's standing mere inches away. You can feel his breath on your face, hot and heavy, the scent of him filling your nostrils and making your head spin.

"Don't lie to me," he growls, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I know you saw my messages. I know you ignored them. Just like you ignored my calls. My texts. My emails.

His hand comes up, his fingers curling around your chin as he forces you to look at him. His grip is firm, almost painful, a silent warning not to lie.

"I was told you were busy yesterday, I didn't want to interrupt your...activities"

Caleb's eyes flash with a sudden, fierce light at your emphasis on the word. His tall frame towers over your smaller one, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light from the kitchen.

Caleb's eyes narrow, his gaze sharpening with a dangerous intensity. "Lila," he says, his voice a low, clipped response. "She mentioned something about me being...busy yesterday?" He is invading your personal space, his chest nearly brushing against yours.

"Tell me, Pipsqueak" he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, threatening purr. "Is that really what you thought? That I was so...busy with her?" His hand comes up, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture that's almost tender, almost loving...but with a underlying edge of possession that makes your heart race.

"You think I have time for anything else? For anyone else? When all I think about is you?" His thumb traces the curve of your bottom lip, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "When all I wanted was to be here? With you?" His other hand comes to rest on your hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"I did have a meeting at my place," he confirms, his voice tight and clipped. "Lila was there as my assistant, taking notes and filing reports. It's her job to answer my calls, to make sure I'm not disturbed during important matters."

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, "But she never mentioned a thing about you calling. I didn't know until now."

Caleb's eyes widen in mock surprise, a cruel smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Are you jealous?" he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. "You think I didn't notice how you clammed up when I mentioned Lila? How you couldn't even look me in the eye?"

He throws his head back and laughs, a harsh, grating sound that echoes through the apartment. "Oh, y/n. My sweet, naive little girl. You really thought I didn't see the green monster rearing its ugly head? The way your pretty eyes flashed with anger"

He leans in, his face mere inches from yours, his eyes glinting with a wicked, triumphant light. "You can't hide anything from me, pipsqueak. I know you too well. I can read every thought, every feeling, every childish emotion that flits across that beautiful face of yours."

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a mocking, patronizing gesture. "But let's get one thing straight. I have bigger things to worry about, like your safety, things that don't involve playing nursemaid to a bratty little girl who can't control her own emotions."

He pulls back slightly, his eyes hard and cold as he stares down at you. "So don't give me that bullshit about ignoring me because you were jealous. I won't stand for it. I won't tolerate it. Not from you."

He crushes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, pouring all of his anger, frustration, and dark desire into the forceful embrace.

He kisses you like he owns you, like he has every right to claim your mouth, your body, your very soul. His tongue pushes past your lips, invading, conquering, laying waste to any resistance you might have had.

You can feel the heat of his anger radiating off of him, the intensity of his emotion almost palpable. He's not just kissing you - he's devouring you, consuming you, determined to brand himself onto your very being.

He's not gentle. He's not tender. He's giving you a raw, brutal taste of the turmoil and anguish he's feeling, pouring all of his dark emotions into the violent kiss. It's a kiss that demands surrender, that insists on domination, that refuses to accept anything less than total submission.

When he finally pulls back, it's only to allow you a single, gasping breath before he's diving back in, his lips and tongue and teeth attacking your mouth with renewed fervor. He's not going to let you speak. He's not going to give you the chance to explain. He's going to silence you with his kiss, going to claim your mouth and make it his own until you have no choice but to submit to his will.

Caleb breaks the brutal kiss, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He stares down at you, his eyes wild and fevered, a strand of saliva connecting your lips. His grip on your throat remains firm, his fingers digging into your skin with a possessive force that sends a thrill of fear and excitement down your spine.

"All I've ever wanted...since I was a kid...was you," he rasps, his voice a low, desperate growl. "No one else. No one could ever compare to you. You're mine. You've always been mine."

He leans in closer, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath coming in hot, ragged puffs against your skin. "I've loved you for so long...too long. I've watched you grow from a gangly, awkward girl into the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And through it all...through every fucking moment...you've been mine."

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, a mocking, patronizing gesture that makes your heart race. "And I must say...I do enjoy seeing you burn with jealousy. It's a rare and precious thing, to see my sweet, innocent little girl so consumed with possession and desire."

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "But I won't allow it. I won't tolerate such base, uncontrolled emotions from you so first...I think you need to learn a lesson in self-control. And I'm going to be the one to teach it to you. Starting....right....now."

Caleb's eyes darken with a hungry, possessive gleam as he stares down at you, his grip on your throat never wavering. "I want you naked," he commands, his voice a low, demanding growl. "Now."

He takes a step back, giving you just enough room to obey his order. His gaze rakes over your body, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he waits for you to comply.

When you hesitate, too stunned and frightened to move fast enough to suit him, Caleb's patience snaps. A low, dangerous growl rumbles in his chest as he steps forward once more, his hands coming up to the hem of your shirt.

"Fine. If you won't undress for me, then I'll undress you myself," he snarls, yanking your shirt up and over your head in one swift, rough motion.

With a harsh wrench, he pops open the button of your jeans and drags down the zipper, the metal teeth screaming in protest. His fingers hook into the waistband and he tugs sharply, dragging your jeans down your legs along with your panties.

You feel the cool air of the apartment against your now bare skin, raising goosebumps on every inch of your flesh. Caleb's eyes rake over you greedily, taking in every dip and curve, his gaze lingering on your most intimate places.

He reaches out, his fingers trailing over the swell of your breast, teasing the sensitive flesh. "Had you simply obeyed, perhaps I would have been gentler with you. But now..." His hand suddenly squeezes, hard enough to make you gasp. "Now I think you need to be punished for your defiance."

Caleb drags you by the hand into your shared bedroom, his grip tight and unyielding. He sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and reaches down to undo his belt and pants. The leather strap clanks against the wooden floor as he pulls it free, the sound echoing in the tense, charged air of the room.

With a few deft movements, he undoes his fly, the zipper sliding down in a rush of movement. He reaches inside, pulling his hard, aching cock free from the confines of his pants and boxers. It springs up, thick and heavy, the swollen head already glistening with beads of precum.

He wraps a hand around the thick shaft, stroking it slowly as he looks up at you with a dark, hungry gaze. "Come here," he orders, his voice a low, demanding growl. "Get on your knees. Now."

Caleb watches intently as you slowly sink to your knees before him, his eyes burning into yours with an intense, possessive gaze. He takes in the sight of you, naked and vulnerable, kneeling submissively at his feet. A dark, wicked smile spreads across his face as he sees the way your lips, soft and full, part slightly in trepidation.

He reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. He traces the delicate curve, feeling the silken texture, before pressing down slightly, forcing your lip to dimple between his thumb and finger.

"Such pretty lips," he murmurs, his eyes glinting with a hungry, predatory light. "I love how they feel wrapped around my cock, how they stretch and strain as I fuck your mouth.

His grip tightens around his hard, throbbing shaft, stroking it slowly as he stares down at you with a dark, lust-filled gaze. "Open your mouth, y/n" he commands, his voice a low, demanding rasp. "Take me inside you. Show me how much you want it"

Caleb's heart races as he looks down at you, your eyes wide and upturned, gazing at him with a mix of fear, anticipation and reluctant desire. He's always been captivated by the way you look at him, the way your eyes seem to see right into his very soul. It's a look he's seen countless times before, ever since you were both young and innocent, playing in the sun-dappled rooms of your childhood home.

"God, I love the way you look at me," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion and lust. "With those big, innocent eyes...like a doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Helpless. Captivated. Unable to look away."

His breath hitches as he feels your soft, plump lips wrap around the swollen head of his cock. A low, moan escapes him, his fingers tightening reflexively in your hair as the slick heat of your mouth engulfs him. His hips jerk forward slightly, instinctively seeking more of that heavenly sensation, more of the tight, velvety caress of your lips and tongue.

"Fuuuck..." he growls, his voice strained with pleasure and a dark, possessive hunger. "Your mouth... So hot. So fucking perfect."

He stares down at you, his eyes glazed with lust as he watches you take him in. The sight of your lips stretched around his thick cock, the way your cheeks hollow as you begin to suck, it's almost too much for him to bear.

"More," he demands, his grip on your hair tightening as he tries to pull you further onto his shaft. "Take more of me pretty girl"

When you take him deeper, relaxing your throat and allowing more of his thick, pulsing shaft to slide past your stretched lips, Caleb throws his head back with an animalistic groan. His fingers tighten harshly in your hair, gripping the strands almost painfully as he fights the urge to thrust deep and hard, to bury himself to the hilt in the tight, clutching heat of your throat

He stares down at you, his eyes wild and fevered, taking in the obscene sight of your lips wrapped around his shaft, the way your throat bulges slightly with his girth. The image seared into his mind, a snapshot of pure, carnal bliss that he knows he'll never forget.

"That's it, baby. Take it all. Take every fucking inch of me," he growls, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, of not losing himself completely in the intensity of the moment.

But when Caleb feels your muscles contracting around his sensitive flesh, your throat working to swallow even as you suck him deeper, he can't hold back any longer. With a hoarse cry, he grips your hair tightly and yanks you off his cock, pulling you up and onto his lap in one swift, rough motion.

"Fuck, I can't...I need..." he pants, his eyes wild and desperate as he positions you to straddle his thick, muscular thighs.  "I need to be inside you. I need to feel your tight little cunt squeezing around me as I fuck you raw."

He grinds against you, his shaft sliding between your slippery lips, teasing your aching clit with each pass. His eyes bore into yours, blazing with a feverish intensity that makes your heart race and your core clench with need.

Caleb's eyes darken with lust as he hears your needy, desperate pleas spilling from your lips. A feral grin spreads across his face, revealing his teeth in a way that's almost predatory in its intensity.

"That's my good girl," he purrs, his voice a low, approving rumble. "So eager. So hungry for my cock. I love hearing you beg for it, love seeing you so desperate and wanton."

Without warning, he surges his hips forward, driving his thick shaft deep into your soaked, needy cunt with one powerful thrust.

"Fuck, baby," he snarls, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass hard enough to leave bruises. "You're so fucking tight every single time."

As Caleb feels your tight sheath clenching around him, gripping his plundering shaft like a silken fist, he knows you're getting close. He can feel the telltale flutters, the way your walls start to ripple and quake around his invading length. But he won't let you find your release, not yet. Not until you learn to control your emotions.

With a low, commanding growl, he unleashes his Evol, the gravity manipulation that's as much a part of him as the blood in his veins. You feel a sudden, inexorable force pressing down on you, pinning you in place against his lap, your hips locked against his. No matter how you try to rock or grind, to bounce on his cock and chase your rapidly approaching climax, you're held fast by the invisible, unyielding pressure.

"No, no, no," he chides, his voice a dark, wicked rasp. "Not yet, little one. You don't get to come until I say you can come. Your pleasure belongs to me, and I'll give it to you when I know you already learned your lesson".

He starts to thrust harder, deeper, grinding his hips against yours with a force that steals your breath and sends jolts of electric pleasure shooting up your spine. The head of his cock kisses your cervix with each plunge, the sensation pushing you to the brink of what you can take.

With each powerful thrust of his hips, each deep grind of his pelvis against yours, he uses his Evol to pin you in place, holding your writhing form immobile. You're forced to take every inch of his throbbing, steel-hard cock, over and over, as he pounds into your core with a relentless, punishing rhythm.

Feeling your desperate, anguished tears rolling down your flushed cheeks, tasting the salt of them as they drip onto your trembling lips, Caleb leans in, his tongue darting out to lap at the glistening trail. He groans at the heady, intoxicating flavor, a dark, wicked sound that vibrates through his chest.

"Mmm, delicious," he purrs, his voice a low, sinful rasp. "The taste of your pleasure, your frustration, your need...it's fucking intoxicating. I could get addicted to it, to you."

"Please..." you gasp against his lips, your voice hoarse and breaking. "Please, I need...I can't...please let me..."

"No," he growls, pulling back just enough to stare into your tear-glazed eyes. "No begging. Not yet. You don't come until I say you can come, until I give you permission to shatter on my cock."

The pressure of his Evol increases, holding you immobile, trapping you in this torturous limbo of pleasure and denial.

"Feel it, baby," he rasps, his lips curling into a wicked smirk against your skin. "Feel the way your body is mine, every inch of it. Feel the way your cunt squeezes and clenches, begging for permission to let go. But you won't. Not until I allow it."

"Count them," he demands, his voice a low, wicked rasp. "Count every thrust, every inch of your my cock stretching and claiming your greedy little cunt. Let me hear you, pipsqueak. If you count to 10 without missing a number I will let you cum"

And you start counting.

"One," you gasp, your voice high and tight as you struggle to focus through the haze of your impending climax.

"That's it, baby," Caleb purrs, his voice a low, approving rumble.

"Two," you choke out, your lungs burning with the effort of dragging in much-needed air. Tears of frustration and overwhelming sensation stream down your cheeks, but you're determined to earn your release.

"That's my good girl"

"Three," you pant, your voice growing weaker, more strained with each passing second. Your thighs tremble and quake.

"Keep counting"

"Four," you whimper, feeling your climax building, your core clenching and rippling around his thickness.

"Good"

"Five," you choke out, your nails raking down his back, leaving red lines of passion and desperation in their wake. 

"Fuck"

" Six," you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper, your lungs burning with the effort of drawing breath.

"Your pleasure belongs to me, your body belongs to me."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a brutal, dominating kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, conquering, possessing, swallowing your desperate cries of rapture. His hand tightens around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to make your head spin, your lungs scream for air.

" Seven," you choke out, your words garbled against his lips. Your nails claw at his chest, your body arching, writhing, trying to get closer, trying to escape. But there is no escape, only the relentless, punishing rhythm of his thrusts, the merciless pressure of his Evol pinning you in place.

"You got this pretty girl"

"Eight," you whimper, feeling your climax building to a crescendo, your core clenching and fluttering wildly around his thickness. You're so close, teetering on the very brink of oblivion, your every nerve ending screaming for release. 

"Almost done"

"Nine," you pant, your voice breaking, shattering. Your body is no longer your own, it belongs to him, to serve his pleasure, his twisted desires. You're his to command, his to control, his to claim.

"Cum for me baby" he says, his evol no longer keeping you in place.

"Ten," you cry out, your voice raw, ragged, barely recognizable. In that moment, as the word leaves your lips, Caleb hilts himself inside you, grinding his pelvis against yours, his shaft pulsing and throbbing as he finds his own release. Scalding ropes of his seed paint your insides, marking you, claiming you from the inside out.  Your body goes rigid, back arching, as your climax crashes over you with the force of a tidal wave. You scream your pleasure, a sound of pure, unadulterated rapture that echoes off the walls and bounces back to strike your own ears.

"Yes, fuck yes!" He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh, branding you, making you his. You can feel the dark, possessive satisfaction rolling off him in waves.

As the aftershocks of your shared climax slowly subside, Caleb lifts his head, his eyes blazing down into yours with a dark, almost feverish light. He looks at you like a man possessed, a man drunk on power and lust.

"When jealousy rears its ugly head again, when you feel that green-eyed monster threatening to consume you..." His voice drops to a low, warning growl. "...I want you to think of this moment. I want you to remember that you have nothing to be jealous about, that you are already more than enough for me."

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his words a dark, sinful whisper. "Count to ten, just like you did for me tonight. Count each beat of your heart, each breath in your lungs, and remind yourself that every one of them belongs to me. That every inch of you, inside and out, is mine to cherish, mine to protect, mine to love...forever and always."

Zayne🥼

You stepped into Zayne's office, closing the door behind you. His gaze landed on you, a warm smile spreading across his face as he took in your presence. He leaned back in his leather chair, silver-framed glasses perched on his nose, making him look even more handsome and intelligent.

"Y/n, this is a pleasant surprise," Zayne said, standing up to greet you. He walked over and pulled you into a tight embrace, his muscular arms enveloping you. You could feel the strength in his lean body, honed by years of dedication to his craft.

"How are you holding up after yesterday's mission?" Zayne asked, concern etched in his voice. He knew the dangers you faced and always made sure to check on you afterwards. His hands gently caressed your back, offering comfort and support.

"I'm doing alright," you reassured him, nuzzling into his chest. "I just wanted to see you before your big meeting. I know how important it is and I wanted to wish you luck." You looked up at him, your eyes shining with admiration and love.

He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, pouring his feelings into it.

Unable to resist the temptation, Zayne allowed his hand to slide down the side of your neck, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He squeezed your waist gently before pulling you flush against him, deepening the kiss with a low groan. You could feel his heart beating steadily against your chest, a comforting rhythm that always made you feel safe and cherished.

"Ahem, Doctor Zayne? Your meeting is about to start," a voice called out from the other side of the closed door, breaking the intimate moment.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll be right there," he called out, his voice steady and professional despite the racing of his heart.

As you both stepped out of Zayne's office, the bustling atmosphere of the hospital enveloped you. Doctors, nurses, and staff hurried past, their footsteps echoing in the long, sterile corridors. Zayne walked beside you, his hand still clasped tightly in yours, a silent connection amidst the chaos.

Suddenly, Zayne's steps faltered, and he paused, his gaze fixed ahead. You felt him stop, and glancing up, you noticed his eyes narrow as he tried to recognize someone in the distance.

Zayne's eyes widened in recognition as the woman turned and began walking towards you both. His grip on your hand tightened reflexively, a mix of surprise and a hint of tension in his muscles.

You studied the woman as she approached, noticing the same look of shock and disbelief on her face, mirroring Zayne's expression. She was a striking figure, with long, dark hair and a confident, almost regal bearing. Her eyes, a piercing green, were locked onto Zayne, a gamut of emotions playing out across her elegant features.

"Zayne," she said, her voice carrying a slight tremble as she came to a stop a few feet away from you. "I can't believe it's really you." Her gaze flicked briefly to you, a flicker of curiosity and something else, something harder to define, flashing in her eyes before she turned her attention back to Zayne.

Zayne swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Elena," he acknowledged softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a step forward, then paused, as if torn between closing the distance and maintaining the safety of the space between them.

The woman, Elena, took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the action. "It's been what, five years? Six?" She shook her head slightly, as if disbelieving the passage of time. "You look... good," she added, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

Zayne was silent for a moment, as if struggling to find the right words. "You too," he finally managed, his voice still low and slightly rough with emotion. "What brings you back to Linkon City after all this time?"

Elena's gaze drifted to you again, lingering for a moment before she spoke. "I'm here for a meeting. I didn't expect to run into you, of all people." She paused, then continued, "But perhaps... it's fate. A chance to catch up on old times."

"Are you here for the cardiovascular meeting too?" asked Zayne

"No, I'm not here for that meeting," Elena replied, shaking her head. "My research focuses more on the long-term effects of cosmic radiation on human biology." She paused, then added, "Though I suppose our work does intersect in some areas. The strain on the cardiovascular system from extended space travel, for instance."

Zayne nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Ah, I see. That's... interesting." He seemed to be processing this new information.

"Elena, let me introduce you to y/n," Zayne said, his voice regaining some of its usual steadiness. "Y/n, this is Elenaa, an old... friend of mine. We knew each other back in med school."

You smiled and extended your hand in greeting, a friendly gesture. "Nice to meet you, Elena," you said warmly, despite the slight tension you could sense between them.

Elena's gaze lingered on you for a moment, a flicker of something akin to curiosity and perhaps a touch of wariness in her eyes. She took your hand, her grip firm and confident.

"The pleasure is mine," Elena replied, her smile polite but not quite reaching her eyes. Her tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of something more beneath the surface.

Elena turned to Zayne, a tentative smile playing on her lips. "Zayne, I was wondering... would you like to catch up properly later today? There's a charming dessert place nearby that I've been dying to try. After all these years, I remember you had quite the sweet tooth." Her eyes glinted with a mix of nostalgia and a hint of flirtation.

"Yes, I'd like that," Zayne replied, a note of resolve in his voice. "It's been a long time, and it would be good to catch up." He paused, then added, "Just let me finish up here and we'll meet you there around 8 pm?"

"Excellent, I'll make a reservation for us then. 8 pm it is." She glanced at you, her smile softening slightly. "And don't worry, I'll make sure to keep the medical jargon to a minimum," she teased gently, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

You jumped in, a slight wince at the mention of the upcoming dinner. "Actually, that's okay, Elena. I have some things I need to take care of around that time anyway," you said, hoping to sound casual and unassuming. "You two should go ahead and have a nice catch-up. I'm sure you have a lot to talk about after all these years."

Zayne looked at you, a mix of emotions flickering across his face. You could see a hint of something, a silent question perhaps. He seemed to be searching your face for something, a sign that you were truly okay with this arrangement.

Elena nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. "Wonderful, then it's a date," she said, her eyes lingering on Zayne for a moment before she turned to you. "I have to get going now" With that, she gave a small wave and walked away, her heels clicking on the tile floor.

"Doctor Zayne, the meeting is starting now. We need you in the conference room immediately."

Zayne closed his eyes briefly, a flicker of frustration crossing his face at the interruption. He opened them again to look at you, a look of apology in his expression.

"I'm sorry love, I have to go. But I'll see you back at my house later, alright? Wait for me there." He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

As the day wore on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on your own tasks, your mind constantly drifting back to the encounter with Elena that morning. Questions and curiosities about her and her past with Zayne lingered, gnawing at the edges of your concentration.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the city, you found yourself sitting in your own apartment instead of waiting at Zayne's place as originally planned. The empty room seemed to echo with the questions and doubts that had been swirling in your mind all day.

You tried to distract yourself with mindless tasks, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the image of Zayne and Elena together, their shared history hanging heavily between them. The way she had looked at him, the history in their eyes... it was hard not to feel a pang of worry.

You stirred from your restless slumber on the couch as the sound of a firm knock on your apartment door echoed through the quiet space. For a moment, you were disoriented, unsure of where you were or what time it was. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains.

Blinking away the lingering drowsiness, you glanced at the clock on the wall. It was well past midnight. You sat up slowly, your muscles stiff and aching from the makeshift bed on the sofa. The knock sounded again, more insistent this time.

As you unlocked the door and pulled it open, you found yourself face to face with Zayne. He stood there, his tall frame slightly hunched in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled from the breeze outside.

The sight of him hit you like a punch to the chest. Relief, joy, and a lingering thread of uncertainty all swirled within you. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the definition of his forearms visible. But his eyes, those striking hazel eyes, were filled with a warm affection as they met yours.

"Y/n," he said softly, a note of concern in his voice. "I'm sorry for the late hour. I tried calling, but you didn't answer." He paused, as if debating whether to say more. "Are you alright? I was worried when I noticed you weren't back at my place."

"I decided to come back to my place in case you wanted to take someone else back to your house tonight" the words came out of your mouth without thinking.

He took a step back, his eyes searching yours with a mix of surprise and hurt. "What are you talking about, y/n?" he asked softly, a note of bewilderment in his voice. "Why would you think I would do something like that?"

He was silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving yours. Then, his expression softened, a look of understanding dawning in his eyes. "Ah, love," he murmured, shaking his head slightly. "Is this about Elena? Did you think..." He paused, then sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Zayne looked at you intently, his hazel eyes filled with a mix of surprise and gentle understanding. He took your hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze as he spoke.

"Y/n, are you jealous of Elena?" he asked softly, his voice low and filled with a note of concern. "Is that why you didn't come back to my place tonight?"

He was silent for a moment, searching your face for the answer. Then, he sighed, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "You don't need to be jealous, you know. There's nothing going on between Elena and me. We have history, yes, but that's all in the past."

"Elena and I dated for a few years during our time in med school," he explained, his voice taking on a slightly distant tone. "We were quite serious, or so I thought at the time. But as we graduated and pursued our careers, we realized that our paths were leading us in different directions"

You started to turn away, "What a coincidence, she is back now and maybe..." But before you could finish your sentence, Zayne pulled you back towards him, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. He tilted your chin up with his fingers, his intense hazel gaze locking with yours.

Then, he kissed you. It was a deep, passionate kiss, filled with a fierce intensity that stole your breath away. His lips moved demandingly against yours, a silent declaration of his desire and his love. One hand slid up to tangle in your hair, while the other pressed firmly against the small of your back, pulling you flush against his muscular frame.

Zayne kicked the front door shut with a firm thrust of his foot, the sound echoing through the apartment. Without breaking eye contact, he swept you up into his strong arms, carrying you effortlessly to the kitchen. He set you down on the counter, the cool granite a stark contrast to the heat radiating off his body.

Looming over you, Zayne placed his hands on either side of your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes. His eyes, dark and intense, searched yours with an unreadable expression. "Why are you giving me that attitude, love?" he asked, his voice low and rough with barely restrained emotion. "You know you don't need to be jealous of Elena or anyone else. There's no one else for me but you." His grip tightened slightly, a silent emphasis on his words. "I thought I made that clear."

Zayne's voice dropped to a low, almost menacing tone as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Maybe I need to make it completely clear," he growled, his hands sliding up your sides, his fingers splaying across your ribcage. "Maybe I need to show you, in no uncertain terms, that you're the only one I want. The only one I crave."

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he trailed his mouth down the column of your throat. His hands continued their upward journey, pushing your shirt out of the way to expose more of your skin to his hungry gaze.

His fingers found the clasp of your bra, and with a deft flick, he unhooked it, allowing the garment to fall away. He leaned back just enough to drink in the sight of your newly exposed flesh, his eyes darkening with unchecked desire.

Zayne stood before you, his intense gaze raking over your partially exposed body. He reached out, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. With a swift, decisive tug, he yanked them down your legs, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

He stepped back, drinking in the sight of you seated on the counter, clad in only your lace panties. His eyes lingered on your curves, the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the length of your bare thighs. He didn't touch you yet, maintaining a maddening distance even as the air between you crackled with tension.

Zayne loosened his tie with deft, practiced motions, the silk slipping through his fingers as he slid it from around his neck. He circled behind you, the heat of his body a brand against your bare skin. You felt the smooth, cool fabric brush against your wrist before he began to wrap it around, binding your hands behind your back with a tight, secure knot.

As he worked, his fingers lingered on your skin, tracing the delicate bones, the soft flesh. He leaned down, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice a dark, possessive rumble. "And I'm only yours. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

With your wrists secured, he circled back around to stand before you. He had shed his tie, his shirt now hanging open at the collar, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his muscular chest. His belt was next, the leather slipping through the loops until it hung loose around his hips.

Zayne's eyes flashed with a dangerous glint as he stood before you, his tall frame towering and imposing. He reached out, his fingers curling under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. "I won't hold you," he said, his voice a low, commanding growl. "You need to keep yourself straight, no matter what. We wouldn't want you to hit your pretty little head now, would we?"

Zayne disappeared into your bedroom, returning a moment later with a silk tie in a deep, rich shade of blue - one of the spare ties he kept at your place for emergencies. He stood before you once more, the tie dangling from his fingers as he took in your bound wrists and partially nude form.

Then, he lifted the tie, the cool silk brushing against your cheek as he slowly, teasingly dragged it across your skin. He brought it up to your eyes, his fingers grazing your lashes as he carefully, meticulously folded the fabric and placed it over your eyes.

You felt the tie wrap around the back of your head, the knot tightening with a soft tug. Darkness claimed your vision, your world narrowing to the sound of Zayne's breathing, the heat of his body, the scent of his cologne. Your heart raced in anticipation, your skin tingling with goosebumps.

As the blindfold blocked out the world, your other senses heightened tenfold. Each breath you took was ragged and shallow, your chest rising and falling with growing anticipation. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant sound of traffic outside and the steady, rhythmic sound of Zayne's footsteps as he circled you like a predator stalking its prey.

His fingers grazed your shoulder, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. You couldn't see him, but you could feel his presence, feel the heat radiating off his body as he drew closer. The air grew thick with tension, with the promise of what was to come.

Suddenly, you felt his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh possessively. He yanked you to the edge of the counter, the cool granite a shocking contrast to the scorching heat of his body now pressed against yours. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips barely a hairsbreadth away from your skin. You could feel the rough stubble of his jaw, the firmness of his chest, the hard length of his arousal pressing insistently against your core.

Zayne's lips descended upon your bared breasts, his mouth hot and hungry against your sensitive skin. He kissed and nipped at the soft mounds, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh until he left a trail of marks in his wake. Each bite sent a jolt of sensation through you, pleasure and pain intertwined, stoking the fire building within your core.

He took his time, lavishing attention on every inch of your breasts save for the hardened peaks begging for his touch. His tongue swirled around the areola, teasing the edge before moving on, always keeping you on the precipice of where you needed him most. The anticipation was maddening, the emptiness between your thighs aching for his touch, his fill.

One hand slid down your stomach, his fingers splaying across your hipbone before dipping lower, skimming the waistband of your panties. Your breath hitched, anticipation coiling tighter in your core, your hips canting forward in a silent plea. But he denied you, his fingers merely tracing the lace edge, not dipping beneath to where you needed him most.

"Zayne..." you gasped, your voice a needy whimper. But he silenced you with a dark chuckle, the sound vibrating against your breast as he nipped at the tender underside.

Zayne paused his tormented ministrations, his lips trailing up from your breast to the column of your throat. He nipped at your racing pulse before murmuring hotly against your skin. "Lift your hips for me, baby. Lift them so I can remove these soaked panties that are no longer serving their purpose"

You lifted your hips, the movement causing your soaked panties to peel away from your slick, heated flesh, you couldn't help but gasp as it brushed against your aching clit. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine, your back arching off the counter as you struggled to maintain your composure.

Zayne didn't miss your reaction, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest as he slowly, torturously peeled the panties down your legs. He took his time, his fingers grazing your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Once he had tugged the garment past your feet, he tossed them carelessly aside, his eyes never leaving your face as he drank in your expression of need and desperation.

"There," he murmured, his voice a low, approving growl. "Much better. Now I can see all of you, taste all of you." His fingers trailed up your inner thigh, his touch feather-light and teasing as he drew closer and closer to your dripping core. "Spread your legs for me. Let me see your pretty little pussy, swollen and ready for my touch."

You spread your legs, the cool granite of the counter a shocking contrast to the scorching heat radiating from your exposed, aching core. A breathy moan escaped your lips at the sensation, your body trembling with anticipation and need. The cool air hit your dripping folds, making you shudder and clench around the emptiness inside you.

Zayne's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your glistening, swollen flesh, the proof of your desire coating your thighs. He leaned in closer, his breath hot and heavy against your sensitive skin. "Fuck," he growled, his voice rough with unchecked desire. "Look at you, spread out and dripping for me."

He paused, his fingers hovering just above your dripping entrance, not quite touching, not giving you the relief you craved. "Is this what you want, my love?" he asked, his tone a sinful purr. "Do you want me to plunge my fingers into your tight, wet heat? To stroke and tease and curl them just right until you're writhing and begging for more?" His thumb brushed over your clit, a feather-light touch that made you jerk and gasp. "Or do you want something else? Something harder, something thicker, something that will stretch you wide and fill you completely?"

Zayne's lips curled into a wicked smirk against your thigh as he murmured, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "Or maybe you want something softer, something that can lick you in all the right places until you're trembling and crying out in ecstasy. Something that can tease and taste and savor every drop of your sweet nectar until you're drowning in pleasure and begging for more."

Without warning, he leaned in, his tongue delving between your slick folds in one long, slow lick. He groaned at the first taste of you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh and sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he feasted on your dripping sex, his tongue swirling and flicking and stroking in ways that made you see stars.

Zayne continued his relentless teasing, his tongue exploring every inch of your dripping sex except for the one place you needed it most. He licked along your slit, his tongue delving deep to taste your essence before dragging slowly up to your hood. He circled your entrance, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh as he denied you the direct contact you craved.

His hands slid up your stomach, palming the soft swells of your breasts, all the while, his tongue continued its maddening dance, licking and tasting and stroking everywhere but your throbbing clit.

"Zayne, please," you gasped, your hips bucking desperately against his face, seeking that elusive friction, that perfect touch. But he was merciless, his grip on your hips tightening as he held you in place, preventing you from chasing your pleasure.

He dipped his tongue inside your entrance, fucking you with the slick muscle, his nose pressing against your clit as he drove you closer to the edge. But just as quickly, he pulled back, leaving you empty and aching, your walls clenching around nothing.

"Zayne, please," you whimpered, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes behind the blindfold. "I need...I need..." But you couldn't even form the words, too lost in the haze of sensation and desire.

Zayne pulled back slightly, a dark chuckle rumbling through his chest as he took in your desperate, incoherent state. "Tsk tsk, You silly girl, can't even form a proper sentence?" he taunted, his voice a low, mocking murmur against your dripping sex.

Zayne paid no heed to the dampness spreading across the frames of his glasses, the evidence of your arousal smearing across the lenses. In fact, he seemed to revel in it, in the depravity of the act, in the knowledge that he had reduced you to such a state of desperate, aching need. He licked his lips, savoring the taste, before diving back in for more.

Zayne continued his relentless teasing, his tongue swirling around your aching clit, never quite touching it directly. Each flick and lick sent bolts of electricity shooting through your body, your back arching as you cried out in frustration. He could feel your thighs trembling, your hips bucking desperately against his face as you sought more friction, more pressure, more of anything to finally push you over the edge.

Zayne abruptly pulled his mouth away, leaving your dripping sex empty and aching. Before you could form any words, he gripped your hips tightly and in one swift, powerful thrust, he impaled you on his thick, hard cock.

You gasped and arched your back as you were suddenly filled and stretched wide around his impressive girth. He didn't give you any time to adjust, instead setting a relentless, pounding pace as he fucked into you with deep, powerful strokes.

Zayne unleashed his evol abilities just as you needed him to. Suddenly, you felt an intense, tingling coldness grip your nipple, his powers allowing him to pinch and roll the sensitive bud between his icy fingers. The contrast of the frigid temperature against your heated skin sent a shockwave of sensation straight to your core.

At the same time, he pressed his thumb firmly against your clit, rubbing the aching nub in tight, rapid circles. The combined stimulation of his cock pounding into you and his evol-enhanced touch on your most sensitive spots pushed you rapidly towards the brink of ecstasy.

Your climax hits you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with a force that stole your breath and your voice. You couldn't hold onto him, your wrists still bound tightly behind you, but your body convulsed and trembled beneath his as the intense pleasure consumed you. No words could describe the overwhelming sensation, no name could be screamed as your walls clamped down around his pistoning cock like a vice. All you could do was let out a primal scream of pure ecstasy that echoed in your ears as your orgasm ripped through every fiber of your being. Your eyes rolled back behind the blindfold, your toes curled, and your back arched almost painfully as you surrendered to the pure, unadulterated bliss of your release.

As you slowly floated down from the highest high of your life, you became vaguely aware of Zayne's movements. He had slowed his thrusts, his own release having passed unnoticed in the haze of your overwhelming orgasm. With gentle care, he carefully withdrew from your still fluttering depths, a mix of your combined releases trickling down your thighs.

Before you could open your eyes, you felt the soft brush of silk against your skin as Zayne tenderly removed the blindfold from your face. The sudden rush of light made you blink rapidly, your vision slowly coming back into focus. As your eyes adjusted, you found yourself staring into Zayne's intense, hazel gaze filled with a mix of satisfaction, affection, and a hint of the dark, primal desire that had driven him moments before.

Gently, almost reverently, Zayne leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your eyelids, his lips brushing away the tears of pleasure that had gathered there. His fingers trailed down to your wrists, carefully untying the silk ties that had bound them. He massaged the slight ache from your joints with a tender touch, his thumbs circling the delicate skin in soothing motions.

"I want this," he whispered, his voice low and filled with emotion. "I want us, together like this, for the rest of our lives. I want to wake up every morning next to your beautiful face and fall asleep every night with your body pressed against mine. I want to face whatever challenges come our way, hand in hand and heart to heart."

He paused, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek with a tender touch. "You're not just my lover, my partner in passion. You're my best friend, my confidante, my soulmate. And I promise to cherish you, to protect you, to stand by your side through every joy and every trial. I want this, y/n - I want you, forever and always."

[wtfsteveharrington]

something new | luca x reader

i was awoken from a dream last night

contents: requested size kink so luca is hung!! basically pwp, slight somnophilia if you squint, unprotected sex, spanking, lots of pet names from Luca, reader receiving fingering, dirty talk, semi-submissive reader vibes, pulling out for backshots but some cum play still whoops

a/n: used a photo of will bc it fit the vibe so well 🌝 can we, as a fandom, decide a last name for this man!! only semi proof read i fear pls ignore any mistakes. also no pronouns or real reader description used.

contents: 2.7k.

the climax right before morning's first light

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Your body feels heavy as it’s pulled from a deep sleep. 

There’s warm lips on your shoulder placing soft kisses along your skin, a hand kneading at your ass while you wake up. You hum into the quiet room while burying your face into the pillow desperately not ready to wake up. “S’everything okay?” 

Luca’s chuckling against you, sliding his calloused hand up the back of your thigh while you stay lying on your stomach. He looks down at the sight of you illuminated in the moonlight from his apartment window, soaking in every inch. His hand cups under the bottom of your behind, giving it a little jiggle for his own entertainment. 

“All’s fine, my love. Didn’t mean to wake you so early.”

You turn your head towards the nightstand and it takes a few blinks for your eyes to finally focus on the dim clock. 3:30 AM. Early enough for him to get up to shower, make tea, and leave out a small note of affection on the counter for when you wake up at a much more reasonable time. He typically doesn’t wake you, opting to shimmy out of the bed but not this morning. 

There’s lips on your neck now. “Was dreaming about you and had to make sure you were real.” His hand is sliding in between your thighs now, pulling them apart. Inches away from where you’re starting to crave him. You’re whining in the pillow now while arching your hips up towards his touch. He’s grinning against your skin and rocking himself towards your side. Luca’s hard and heavy against you. “Gonna go take care of this in the bathroom. Just needed a little touch of you before I go.” 

You’re shaking your head now, trying to unpin your arm that’s trapped between the two of you so you can find the waistband of his sweats slung low on his waist. “No, no. Don’t go.” The elastic is tight against your fingers as you slip your hand into his pants, fingertips brushing along his growing length which rewards you with a moan from your boyfriend. His hand gently slaps down on the flesh of your ass before he starts to pull away. You murmur out protests as you stretch your arms out straight ahead of you, fingers curling around the edge of the bed. There’s a rush of cold air as he pulls the blanket from your frame and tosses it to the empty side of the bed. 

He’s grabbing a pillow next and tapping his fingers against your side, grinning as you take the hint and lift your hips for him. “Just lay there, Darling. Let me take care of you.” Luca makes sure you’re comfortable. Taking his time to fluff the pillow just right. Running his wide hands down your back while still lazily waking up. The bed creaks under the two of you as he moves to kneel between your spread legs. He admires your stretched out form. The curve of your ass propped up and his for the taking. You’re wearing an oversized cliche t-shirt from the last trip you took together and this old pair of underwear with a half worn off print. Not the sexiest outfit to ever grace this bedroom to say the least and yet Luca doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

His thumbs slide along the seam of your underwear that’s stretched across your cheeks, warm hands sliding up your backside to your lower back to gently work on your relaxed body. He leans forward to reach up towards your shoulders, the length of him sliding against your ass and eliciting a moan from you. Luca’s taking advantage of this position to rut himself against you, the feeling of your soft body under him working him up even more than he thought was possible. 

“Always so good for me, aren’t you?” You’re nodding against the pillow, turning your head to the side to press a kiss against the hands that are now on your shoulders. “Only yours, Luca.” He’s groaning above you and there’s warm, open mouth kisses being pressed along your spine now. 

There’s a shuffling coming from behind you as Luca makes quick work of kicking his sweatpants off. You feel the warmth of his skin directly on the inside of your thighs now as he sits back up. He’s crooking fingers in the waistband of your underwear and finally, finally pulling them down your thighs and leaving you exposed to him. They’re stuck right above your knees - Both Luca kneeling between your legs and how far spread open you are making it impossible for them to go any lower. “Are you passionate about these?”

You barely shake your head no, because again they’re old and worn and you find it endearing he even asked, before the sound of them being ripped off of you fills the room causing you to gasp out. Luca haphazardly tosses them towards the trash can in the corner and gets to work pulling his own boxes down. You’re needy. Wiggling your hips through the air in slow movements to entice him. As if he needed anymore motivation. You follow his guidance and haphazardly make work taking off your shirt, balling it up and throwing it on his now empty side of the bed.

Since Luca’s doing all the work you allow yourself to stay, essentially, half asleep. Your eyes are still heavy and hooded and your body lax against the bed. He’s delivering one more small smack to the roundest part of your ass before his fingers find their way between your thighs. Normally he’d take more time teasing you, building you up. As much as he yearns to spend the whole day tangled in you, he does have to get to work soon. For now he’s going to be quick but he plans on taking his time with you again tonight. 

There’s fingers sliding up either side of your folds, a slow languid motion to get you used to his touch before his middle fingers slips in. You’re slackjaw against the pillow, letting out a stream of breathy whimpers you can’t control. Luca knows you. Knows every inch of you. So he’s using that knowledge to get you ready for him. His pointer finger slides into you while his thumb finds your clit at the same time. You’re wet, the scissoring and dragging motions Luca’s making causing a slick sound to come from between your thighs. 

“Luca, please.” He grins down at your backside, enjoying the view of his fingers working deep inside of you. “Always so greedy, aren’t you?” You respond by rocking your hips back against his hand and clenching down against his fingers which causes him to chuckle. “Alright, alright.” His hand slides out of you and smacks down against the back of your thigh. Your left behind wetness from his fingers attracts the cold air and causes goosebumps to rise. 

You secretly like when Luca spends a little less time stretching you out then he probably should. The way your boyfriend stretches you out as he first pushes in you has become a piece of heaven. There are nights he spends as long as you’ll allow eating you out and fingering you, toying with your pussy for his own enjoyment. Leaving his chin wet with you and a darken spot on the sheets until he fucks through how sloppy he’s turned you. 

Not tonight. You’re wet, yes. But you know there’s going to be a heavenly burning feeling coming your way. The amount of care your boyfriend puts into you making you comfortable enough to open yourself in that way. Knowing he’d stop the second you asked if needed. 

The head of his cock sits heavy against your entrance and you feel yourself desperately clenching around nothing. He’s pulling you from your train of thought and your body is buzzing in anticipation. The slap of the tip of him against your clit causes your body to jerk which prompts Luca to use his free hand to grip your hip, holding you in place. “Be good, yeah? Let me get us off before I gotta go. Can’t have you wet all day waiting for me to come back home to take care of you.” Luca lines himself up with your hole, sliding just the tip of himself in which pulls a moan from both of you. 

“Baby, please.” Pride swells in Luca’s chest as you start to beg. If he hadn’t been gripping your hips then you would have rolled them back to take more of his length in you. Instead he goes slow, allowing you to adjust to his girth inch by inch. Even after dating for this long, you still weren’t used to him yet. 

There’s a bit of drool coming from the corner of your still parted lips as Luca works his length in. Your boyfriend was well endowed to say the least. A good length, something you could still take to the back of your throat but not so long you couldn’t sink all the way down it. But his girth? That was unmatched. Thick, heavy, and all yours. 

“Feel so amazing, Darling. Was dreaming about this pussy spreading around me.” Luca jerks another inch in without warning, a squelching sound coming from you as the movement causes some wetness to drip out. You can’t form a thought when he’s got you like this. Your body is still relaxed against the bed as Luca stretches you out. 

It takes a moment for him to bottom out and all your mind can focus on is just how deep he feels inside of you. The sensation causes your breath to catch, pathetically letting out whatever whimper you can muster and allowing him to use you to his heart’s content. Luca gives your hip a little squeeze as a warning he’s going to start moving, giving you a second to accept what’s to come before the first roll of his hips hits. 

You’re a mess. Groggy still, already becoming cock drunk. It’s easy to do with him. “S’full, Luc. So, so full.” Even with his brows knitted in concentration as he tries not to instantly cum at the sight of your pussy stretched around him, he’s proud to get you this way. 

But God does the sight of you already have him close. 

Stretched out around him, filled to the max you could be. You look so beautiful like that. Luca fucks through all the wetness you give him, hips building a steady rhythm easily. His eyes flash over towards the clock and something about the pressure of a time constraint is making him a bit more feral than he expected. 

His pace quickens and you’re back to being reduced to a drooling mess under him. Moaning out an incoherent string of pleas, praise, and curses. You couldn’t repeat what’s coming from your mouth even if you tried. His heavy balls slap against your clit which each thrust and Luca’s grabbing your hips with both hands now to get a better grip on you. Fingertips digging in enough that bruises will be left as he starts to fuck into with a firm pace. 

“Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy. So wet for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna be sore all day now but you don’t care. Every step’s gonna remind you how good I fuck you.” 

Your head is spinning. 

You allow yourself to be fucked by Luca, hands gripping the edge of the bed as you desperately clutch anything within reach to keep yourself grounded. He’s… Brutal. Fucking you for his own pleasure in a way. He needed to get off and get off quick before work - But arrogantly knew how good you were for him. Knew that him using you like this would get you off too. 

One of his hands gripping your hip loses his grip and there’s another smack being delivered to the fat of your ass. He groans at the sight of you bouncing, the red mark already blooming from his hand. The burning of being stretched out is fading away and being replaced by the pure pleasure of your boyfriend wrecking your body. 

His hand is sliding up from your ass to press down on the small of your back, a comforting touch compared to the brutal pace of his hips. Long forgotten is the sleepy mask of morning, Luca just chasing after pleasure for the both of you now. You purposely flutter yourself around his length, trying to pull him closer as well. 

“Can you come for me, Darling? You can do that, can’t you? Wanna feel this pretty little pussy finish before I do.” You’re squeezing yourself tighter around him now, the soft pillowcase feeling rougher as your face continues to bounce against it. The room is getting hotter by the second around you two. 

Something about the combination of circumstances has you getting close to finishing far faster than normal. You catch yourself biting down on the pillow as Luca drags his nails down the soft skin of your back, his hips not losing pace as the all too familiar sensation starts to coil up deep inside of you. 

You’re crying out at the sensation, pussy tightening around him as your orgasm rocks through your body. Toe curling, back arching, clit throbbing orgasm. You collapse even further into the bed, a mess of breathless whimpers as Luca continues to fuck through your sensitive body. God you sound lewd with how wet you ended up. 

Luca’s quick to follow after watching you come undone around him.  

He’s moaning out your name, giving a few more pumps through your wetness before quickly pulling out. Stroking his soaked length to keep the sensation and then you feel warmth splattering along your ass and back as he cums on you. He’s breathless and whiney, teasing his own overstimulated cock behind you. Thumb swiping along his tip to collect the last droplets before wiping it in-between your folds and pressing it into you. 

As much as he loved cumming in you, he wanted to make sure he had time to get you cleaned up before he had to leave but he still couldn’t leave you without anything left inside of you. 

Luca drags you to the bathroom after he gives you a moment to collect yourself. Normally he’d take his time with aftercare but sadly he’s lacking just that - time. You use the restroom while he draws the two of you a shower and take a good look at yourself in the mirror while he corrects the water temperature. Healing hickies low on your chest, your hair looking crazy from the combination of sleeping and being wrecked. He’s got twenty minutes left before he runs out of time to make his breakfast but he refuses to leave you in a pile in the bed. 

He makes quick work of washing off your over sensitive body, letting you stand there and run your fingers along his chest, his arms, whatever inch of skin you can reach. “You’re so pretty.” 

Now after what just happened in the bedroom? You’d think nothing would phase him. 

But Luca’s cheeks are going bright red at the compliment. He cups your face with his soapy hands, bringing you two together for a kiss as a silent thank you. 

Luca gets you dried off and sends you back to bed with a pat on your ass. He’s rushing to get ready for work while you lay down in a lump on the bed. Towel tight around your body and the covers long forgotten. It takes a few minutes for him to emerge from the bathroom clothed and hair gelled but he can’t help laughing at the sight of you. You feel the towel being tugged away from your body, the previously discarded blanket being tucked around you and a kiss pressed to the top of your head. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

He leaves everything you need for your morning tea sitting on the counter before running out the door.

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request

Another chapter of Alley Boyfriends, if you don't mind, I love it so much. If not, no worries. I love your work and love to reread your stuff. May your food be filling and your bills be paid!

Danny carefully adds the finishing touches to the seahorse he’s carefully designing on the surface of Tim’s mug of coffee. He’s been practicing his latte art because business has been slow at Heart Attack in secret. The previous week, he had seen Tim watching videos of strangers creating works of art using the foams of their coffee with blatant awe.

The Halfa will admit to the sight of wonder on Tim’s face when the flashier artist created swans with colored foam, and his heart gave the oddest flutters. It had been so brief but intense that Danny had feared a new power was unlocking in their living room.

Thankfully, the moment passed quickly, but Tim’s expression lingered in his mind. Danny had abandoned the piano to search somehow for videos of latte art within the next minute of that strange heart flutter.  

Danny had learned how to play from Wes in an ill-fated attempt to get the ginger to date him. Danny hadn’t been able to get the ginger to be his boyfriend, but he learned a skill he enjoyed. His parents bought him a second-hand stage piano that he had used for the few years he lived with them.

It broke sometime in senior year- he thinks Young Blood had blasted him through it- and he hadn’t bothered getting a replacement. Mainly because he couldn’t be concerned, as it was a hobby he hadn’t time to participate in once he got close to graduation. It would have remained a forgotten past time had the apartment not come with the grand piano.

The sound was so much richer, with a resonating tone that bypassed his skin and sunk into his soul. Danny could not let the thing of beauty go to waste. He often found himself sitting on the bench, letting his fingers dance off the keys, finding melodies and rhythms that welcomed him home like a returning hero of a fairy tale.

He didn’t think he was skilled at it, but sometimes, when he played, Tim would move closer. His eyelids would flutter close, lying on the nearby couch and listening to Danny play with a half-smile on his face. Sometimes, Tim would fall asleep, seemingly at peace, as Danny strung through Dance of the Blessed Spirits only a few feet away.

Despite all the coffee Danny had provided him with, Tim was starting to develop a better sleeping schedule. The bags under his eyes slowly faded, and he was physically fit. Tim used their apartment building gym all the time, but his skin was gaining a glow previously not there.

He also seems much happier. Danny checked off another box of Tim being a ghost in development, with his Heart Attack Coffee being a big part of his obsession.  Maybe it would not be his sole purpose when he passed, but Danny suspected that the coffee was associated with a good memory that fundamentally shaped Tim’s sense of self.

Danny didn’t like to think too hard about it. He’s gotten comfortable with death, seeing it as a natural part of life now that he spent so much time around the Death-Brought Ghosts, but the idea of Tim passing always twisted his heart into knots.

Sharp, painful knots that leave him fleeing from the dark thoughts as fast as possible. It would be years before Tim would no longer be part of this world. He had better things to do, like adding bubbles and seaweed around the seahorse and taking time to add as many little details as he could to create the scene of a lovely underwater image.

Danny finishes just as the kitchen clock- an expensive cuckoo clock that had golden trimmings, blending so well with the dark wood and gorgeous forest theme carvings that Danny had fallen in love with the second he spotted it at a street art festival that the pair had stumbled upon during a drive they took. Tim bought it when he realized Danny liked it, and it hung up that night. - goes off with a loud chime.

Another day has officially ended. 

His roommate would be up soon for whatever he does at nighttime, where he vanished for hours, coming home nearly always after witching hours, exhausted and bruised. Danny would linger in the living room for a bit if he was awake before heading to his room with a half-made excuse.

Tim would then sleep for a few hours before he was up again, rushing around the apartment to gather his things and be out for his daytime work. A lot of his job he can do at home, but Tim was important enough that he sometimes had to go to work in person.

In the three weeks that the two have moved in together, Danny hasn’t been braved enough to ask what his roommate did for a living. He knows Tim held some big corporate job- where and what he did there was a mystery- but his second job was vague and downright denied at worst.

Whenever Danny hinted so much about what he was doing at night, Tim moved the subject away. He didn’t flat out deny answering Danny’s probing, as more as he danced around the question so well, Danny found himself waltzing in a different direction before he realized what had happened. Tim had a silver tongue that was wielded like a sword, sharp, cutting, and deadly.

 It was mildly alarming, mainly because Danny had no idea what Tim was involved in. Something big, something likely bad. It could be the only explanation for the large amount of seemingly never-ending funds and the odd hours that Tim kept.

A boring office worker by day and who knows what by night.

He also always came back home half stumbling over his feet. There was even that one time when Tim had been half-dressed, his knuckles split, and hard anger set at his jaw. Danny had been caught up with a new show, only realizing the late hour once his roommate had practically shut the door.

The pair stared at each other. Danny bathed in the glow of the TV while Tim was shirtless and standing in the shadows of the front door. He wanted to ask thousands of questions, but Danny had only lifted the heated blanket- a gift from Tim- when he learned how affected Danny was by the cold. 

Tim’s face softened as he barreled into the warmth and snuggled into the couch cushions, joining Danny in watching a Korean rom-con that the Halfa had been in the middle of. He had no idea what the plot was or who the characters were, but by the end of the third episode, Tim’s head had fallen on Danny’s shoulder so deeply asleep that he didn’t feel Danny wrapped up his knuckles or carried him to his room.

Despite this, Danny didn’t move out. He didn’t stop providing Tim with his much-loved coffee. If anything, he took his worries, boxed them up, and stubbornly turned a blind eye to the worrying signs that Tim was showing.

A door opens behind him. Tim walks out, an overnight bag thrown over his shoulder as he speed walks through the living room. His roommate is scrolling on his phone, tapping a rapid-fire response to whoever he is chatting with. Danny could see the bubble messages screen even if he couldn’t make out the words before sighing. “I’ll be out all night. I’ll probably be back tomorrow around noon.”

A pool of dread piles in his stomach, but Danny pushes it away. “Alright.”

He holds out the mug, drinking in every facial feature shift as surprise blooms over Tim’s face before it melts into tenderness when he sees the shape of the latte art. It was painstaking to learn how to make a realistic-looking one on such a problematic canvas, but Danny is happy he spent time on it. After all, Tim’s favorite animal was the seashore, so he needed to make sure it looked good.

Only a few people knew that from what Danny gathered from Tim's few mentions while working on their three notebooks. He also thinks Tim doesn’t often tell people his favorites, but Danny has been paying close attention whenever Tim reacts positively to the world around him. The way Tim’s eyes sparkled when Danny clicked on a sea documentary where the small, shaped fish had been a main feature. Danny had found it adorable how Tim seemed unaware that he would randomly blurt out a new fun fact about the seahorses in the following few days.

“When you learn to make this?” Tim asks, curling his fingers around the mug. Danny’s heart leaps in his chest at the tender warmth glowing in Tim’s eyes as he gazed at him. Coughing into his hand, he waves his hand.

“I had some time since there hadn’t been a lot of customers lately. Ever since that Dr. Freeze threat, people have been avoiding the café.” Danny ignores the guilt he feels about that.

The other day, his powers had gone out of control after he made the mistake of going too long without using his ice, and when he developed that stupid head cold, he accidentally froze the street.

One coughing session later, the entire neighborhood ran to take shelter, panicking that the rouge had chosen their homes for his newest mayhem. Thank goodness the villain had actually broken out of Arkham the previous day, so no one batted an eye at the fact the ice surrounding a single barista was in the middle of closing up for the night.

“It’s amazing, Danny,” Tim tells him, quickly snapping a picture with his phone before he takes a sip. His eyelashes flutter as he savors the flavor, this one is the original Batman theme coffee that Heart Attack discontinued.

Danny found the receipt in an older binder while doing inventory. Tim had tackled him in an enthusiastic hug the second he tried it and recognized the familiar taste.

“Thanks.” He blushes, trying not to notice that the bubbles have shifted slightly, resembling hearts instead of circles. Moving his eyes away from where the foam disappears into Tim’s lips, Danny mentally kicks himself for being weird about his fake boyfriend’s drinking.

He picks up the mug lid on the counter, turning it around in his hands while Tim takes another quick sip. There is some leftover steam milk on his lips when he pulls away, and the colorful seahorse is gone now. His core pulses, making a shiver run down his spine as Tim’s pink tongue darts out to lick away the teal green.

Danny coughs again as frost gathers on his back. Thank goodness he can feel it on his skin, which means it likely hasn’t passed through his comfortable sweater. He hasn’t told Tim about his powers, and he isn’t sure he wants to.

Gotham is an anti-meta city. Tim was as Gotham as they came. He can’t stand the thought of his roommate growing to hate him, especially for something that wasn’t precisely meta, but was the closest thing he was.

He leans forward, carefully sealing the mug. This was one of Tim’s favorites among his collectible mugs, primarily because it could shift into a traveling beverage holder.

Tim smiles at him. “I’m heading out then. See you tomorrow.” 

“Bye, stay safe,” Danny tells him to walk him to the front door. He stands there, feeling like he’s waiting for something to happen. But he isn’t entirely sure what that is, so all he does is lean against the wall as Tim slips on his running shoes, juggling his drink, phone, and bag. Danny smiles warmly when Tim raises his mug at him in a fast toast before he slips through the door, leaving their apartment with a soft “Sleep well, Danny.”

The wood of their door seals shut without a sound- apparently, the rich didn’t believe in noise because everything in the apartment was somehow soundproof. Tim moved like a shadow, rarely making a sound. Danny, by comparison, sounded like a bull in a china shop.

Once, when Danny apologized, Tim laughed.

“I like it, " he said while lounging in the hot tub on the balcony. Danny was on the other side, the warm water doing wonders for the frost forming at the bottom of his feet.  Thankfully, the water hid it from Tim’s sight. “It’s like you breathe life into the apartment with your noise.”

“Stay safe,” Danny says to the empty apartment. “Come home tomorrow.”

He rubs his face and figures he should head to be. It was ten at night, but Tim clarified that he wouldn’t return anytime soon. He’s tired from the previous three nights when he waited for Tim to come home. Thankfully, his shifts had been moved to the afternoon, so it didn’t mean much if Danny stayed up until three am for his roommate.

He strides by his piano, running his hand along the closed case of the keys without seeing it, for his gaze is locked on the city that glows under his window. It’s been nearly a month, and he’s still not used to the view of Gotham from this height. The penthouse towers over most of Gotham, and the city seems beautiful from up here. A Decorative lie of the danger that waited in the wake of anyone down on their luck.

This place was like a Siren. Beautiful and alluring until its claws and teeth dug into someone’s skin, dragging them to the darkest depths where no one could hear their screams. He prays that whatever Tim is involved doesn’t let Gotham swallow him whole.

 Danny’s fingers accidentally come upon cloth, making him snap his chin down to see what had been placed on the wood and blink at the side of Tim’s discarded sleeping long-sleeve shirt. His roommate peeled it off earlier tonight when he wanted to walk around in his shirt sleeve and flung it somewhere to take a quick nap before he left.

His fingers close around the fabric, slowly bringing it up to his face, breathing in Tim’s distinctive scent mixed with the soft lavender of his fabric softener. Danny hesitates for only a few seconds before taking off his sweater and slips on Tim’s long sleeve, allowing himself to find comfort in the familiar scent surrounding him.

He lets his sweater pool on the floor in the living room as he wanders to his room, crashing under his blankets and pressing the fabric of Tim’s clothes to his face. Eventually, he is lured to sleep, dreaming of playing in Gotham’s largest theater, hands flying over the keys at a skill level he does not possess. He moves with the music, uncaring that the seats are empty except for one.

That one belongs to Tim, who watches him perform with the same tenderness as his latte art inspired, but instead of a drink, Danny’s music causes that expression.

It’s the best dream he had in a long while.

As he dreams, he is unaware of the figure checking in on him, hanging from a grabbing hook near his window. The figure smiles when its white lens notices how Danny is curled up in a ball before it zips to the roof, their cap flaring behind them.

When they land, they reach up to link on their com "Red Robin reporting for duty. Where is Dr. Freeze's last known location? I want him caught tonight."

"Good night to you, too," Oracle responds. "Any particular reason we're in such a hurry for the capture of Dr. Freeze."

"He's making it hard for the hard-working people of Gotham to work," He huffs, knowing the rest of the bats will correctly link his complaint to his roommate.

There is a loaded pause before Red Hood grunts. "I got good news for you then. Dr. Freeze has spotted this very afternoon. Meet up at Heart Attack by Crime Alley to compare notes in an hour."

"I'm on my way."

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Lowlife Princess

Act One: Jeong Yunho, known locally as The Joker, has found himself a favorite new plaything. Or — you, a poor girl just trying to survive in Gotham City, form a strange relationship with the Clown Prince of Chaos.

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

"They became the King and Queen of Gotham City — and God help anyone who disrespected the Queen."

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut with plot, gotham au

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not beta read, sex worker turned sugar baby reader (no depicted sw), reader is definitely messed up from her job, obsession at first sight, touch starved reader / touchy yunho, dacryphilia / daddy kink outside of sex, fear, police intimidation, yunho threatening a cop, smoking and trying to quit (yun), yunho crazy as hell / reader just as crazy but hides it better at first, does making vengeful murder plans count towards aftercare ? for yunho, yes ! featuring riddler!hongjoong and highly inappropriate family / worker + boss dynamics smut warnings: rough dom yunho, soft making out, hickeys, cumming in pants, dry humping, tipsy sex, talk abt kinks and fantasies (including cnc + exhibitionism), table / couch / floor sex, size difference, fingering, cunnilingus, choking, one instance of spit, light spanking, hand kink, body worship, first time squirting, manhandling, overstimulation, daddy kink + ddlg themes, hardcore dacryphilia, dumbification, unprotected + creampie, yun gets off on reader being a bit mean to him, very possessive dialogue + dirty talk, lots of dirty talk actually- yunho won't shut up, praise, pet names (pretty girl, doll, baby, princess), aftercare

♫soundtrack♫

➯a/n: this all started when someone asked for cnc with yunho... how the hell did i end up with a three part series with a joker au ?? well, either way, here we are 😭 this is on the same level as cornflower blue and allure for me... i love what i've done and i don't say that often but sometimes my brain lets me be proud kkkkk im having really not the best night so i decided to share this early and have some fun ! ➯a/n2: this is a long, long chapter ! i think the second smut scene is probably the longest one ive ever written by like a loooong shot🥲sit back, relax, and welcome to the clown show~

♡masterlist + tag post !♡

【jokers♱】 @mentallyunpresent @fireseo @beomkyum @onyxmango @spicyhotteokkay @vinylphwoar @ramadiiiisme @m00njinnie ₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy

18+.NO MINORS ON MY BLOG.

ꕥ

"Asshole can't even be bothered to turn on the heat?"

You chuckle at the new girls complaint, looking over to her. "Be thankful he didn't start you on the poles, newbie." You're sat on top of the wooden bar, drying cups at almost four in the morning.

It's slow. And, yes, it's cold in the skimpy outfit your boss makes you wear. Winter in Gotham, much like everything about the city, is unforgiving. But you know better than to complain; born and raised in the poor, crime ridden city.

All things considered, this is a good gig. The club that you work at is a poorly veiled front for sex work; but since it's in a nicer part of the city, you get treated fairly well.

In your years at The Riddle Room, you've saved a good bit of money. Got your own apartment in a neighborhood that doesn't have break-in's literally every night. You haven't gone hungry since you started working here and you're only cold when you're on the clock.

"I don't know how to dance," the younger woman shrugs as she rubs her arms.

"Neither did I," you hum, looking around the desolate bar. "Hey," you nod over to the bathrooms, "it's always a bit warmer in there. Go warm yourself up. I'll cover for you if he comes around."

"Really?" She smiles, and you can tell she won't last long here. You almost want to tell her to actually just go home and never come back. You either adapt or you break — and you can't see her adapting.

"Yeah," you give her a tight lipped smile, "sure. Don't be too long."

"Thanks, (Y/n)!" She yells as she runs to the women's bathroom.

"Poor kid is gonna get eaten." You mumble to yourself, glancing at the clock. 3:56.

She's still in the bathroom next time you look, 4:12. Still two more hours until you can go home and put on some warm clothes and go to sleep and get up tomorrow and repeat the day all over again.

"Where's the new girl?" Your boss: Kim Hongjoong, aka The Riddler, asks immediately as he enters the bar.

"Bathroom-" You look up over at him, and quickly toss yourself off of the bar when you see that he's brought others along with him.

The man right next to him is the infamous Joker. The Clown Prince of Chaos. Looking right at you with a grin that can only be described as unsettling.

You gulp, but you push a smile onto your lips quickly. "Hello! Welcome in."

"You're fine," Hongjoong waves you off, "they aren't here for that. Here for business."

You can't help the way that your shoulders physically relax. The stories you've heard about the man are... frightening. From the news to the unfortunate souls who got to live after he got his hands on them.

Now you want to go home and never return. If The Joker is doing business with your place of work — you want nothing to do with it.

Jeong Yunho, who you know only as Joker, keeps his eyes on you like a predator as he follows your boss to a large round booth.

He has an eye for fire. And you, poor you, are shimmering with embers that he wants to stoke into a wildfire.

He manages to be business-man enough to seal the deal with Riddler; an agreement of giving some of his profit if he allows him to store product in the bar. He can't remember the details. As soon as they shake on it, he forgets all about it to be frank.

Because his mind goes back to you.

And then his eyes, as well.

You're behind the bar with the younger girl who had brought over drinks a little while ago. You're clearly trying to ignore his presence, and he can't blame you. He knows his reputation. But it still makes him tap his fingers against the table in annoyance; his sharp metal accessories thudding rhythmically.

"How much?" He asks Hongjoong suddenly, cutting the silence. "Out of curiosity." Because whatever the price is, he's sure it's not enough.

You're beautiful. And you still have fire in your eyes even with your line of work.

Yunho likes that very, very much.

"Hm?" He follows his eyes, "(Y/n)? I thought you'd like her, that's why I had her work tonight." The man smirks a bit, "(Y/n)!"

Your head perks up from your phone, immediately dropping it on the bar and making your way over. "Yes?"

"C'mere," he curls his finger, beckoning you closer, "give our new business partner a twirl, will you?"

You would really rather not. You've felt his eyes on you since the moment he walked in. But you swallow your pride as you always do and you give the man a smile before slowly turning in a circle.

One of the men next to Yunho whistles lowly, and while you aren't affected by it; he surely is — giving the man a glare which shuts him up immediately.

"Five hundred an hour. She knows how to please. My best girl."

You do, and sometimes you take joy in it. You do not want to please Joker, however. You want as far as possible away from him.

"That's it?" He cocks an eyebrow, giving you another once over. "Spin for me again." He leans back, chewing on the lollipop stick he'd been fiddling with.

You swallow around the lump in your throat as you spin, looking down at the floor when you return to face them; feeling like you've somehow displeased him.

"When's your shift tomorrow, doll?"

You blink a few times to register that he just asked you a question, not your boss. You look to said man, who looks just as puzzled. It's pretty rare for a customer to even bother asking your name, let alone try to schedule with you directly.

"Uhm, midnight to six, sir." You aren't entirely sure how to address him, but you certainly don't want to be rude to the cold blooded clown.

"I'll see you from three to six."

The way he says it leaves no room for argument, and Hongjoong's eyes widen a bit. "Wait- wait a second, she only does an hour at a time-"

"Not with me." He scans you slowly, catching onto the way you hold your own hand nervously, pinching your skin. "Don't worry," he laughs as he stands up, towering over you as you stay statue still, "I'll be nice."

ꕥ

When 2:40 rolls around the next night, you debate skipping town. Hongjoong said you didn't have to do anything you were uncomfortable with — but you were doing it anyway because you know the repercussions that come with denying The Joker of what he wants. You've seen the news headlines.

If what he wants is you, you'll have to give it to him unless you want to end up missing or mangled. And now that he's in business with your place of work, you worry that if you say no to him; you'll no longer have work.

Three hours? Three fucking hours alone with the Prince of Chaos?

You wondered if you'd be alive at the end of it even if he was 'nice'. His definition of nice could mean not shooting someone if they look at him the wrong way.

You had to take a sleeping pill after your shift to even think about resting; and god knows you needed the rest for the hours to come.

You throw your phone onto the bedside table and stand up straight as you hear the door open. Your hands behind your back, you find the bravery to meet the man's eyes.

"Hello, sir."

He didn't know what exactly he was expecting when he opened the motel door. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you in a white, lace babydoll dress that barely conceals your most private areas.

Despite the fact that he opened the door with zero intention of touching you, he feels his cock twitch.

He bolts the door behind him out of habit, unaware of the fact that it makes you gulp. "What the hell are you wearing?" He asks as he faces the door still.

"...what? Do- do you not like it?" You picked it because you believed you looked good in it. Maybe innocent even, so he might go easy on you.

"Do you want me to fuck you stupid?"

"Isn't that wh-"

Yunho turns around and storms into the room, making you flinch heedless of the way you try to hold it back. You close your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for whatever comes your way with a squeak of, "please, I bruise easily!"

You were sure that the first thing you would feel would be his hands on your exposed skin, maybe even a slap. What you did not expect, not in a million years — is the blanket being draped around your shoulders.

"No." He says simply as he takes a step back.

You look completely shell shocked. Probably because you are. And again, he can't blame you. He'd probably think he was about to be fucked senseless if he was in your situation as well.

And make no mistake — he wants to fuck you. But he also wants to do so much more.

"No?" You whisper as you open your eyes, looking at him with confusion written all over your face.

"No. I'm not going to fuck you."

"But you paid-" He quickly grabs the blanket and holds it shut around you as you try to shrug it off.

"I did. I paid good money, so listen to what I want." He bites his lip as you nod quickly. He really could get you to do anything. But that's not what he wants. He wants to light your fire, not put it out. "Listening?"

"Yes..."

"I'm not going to fuck you. And I'm not going to hurt you. Put some damn clothes on, and sit on the bed."

He leaves you utterly dumbfounded as he turns around as quickly as he came and heads to the connected bathroom, the thud of the lock making you jump a bit.

With a fast text Hongjoong's way saying that Joker isn't, in fact, rearranging your insides, he's acting weirder; you do as he instructed you and put on your clothes. They weren't meant to be seen by anyone else, they were for you to sleep in after he left.

He's pleased when he comes out of the bathroom and sees you in the pajamas. A large shirt and long sweatpants, you've even put your socks on. "Cute," he chuckles at the pattern on them, loosening his tie.

He wanted to touch himself while he was in there, the image of your body all wrapped up in white lace like a goddamn present still fresh in his mind — but he practiced self restraint.

He knows you're still tense, you're still afraid of him. Everyone is. Well, they are or they're just plain stupid.

"You in college?" His question, much like everything else he's done so far, catches you off guard.

"College? Uhm, yeah- yes. Yes, sir."

"Quit that."

"Sorry?" You holds your hands together in your lap, scratching your fingers.

"Calling me 'sir', don't do that." He rolls his neck as he takes his tie off, tossing it on the chair in the corner while he watches you.

"Sorry," you clear your throat, "what should I call you then? Joker?"

"Yunho." He half-smiles as he unbuttons his suit vest and lets it join the tie. "My name is Jeong Yunho." It feels good to say that.

Being 'Joker' to so many people feels powerful, but he doesn't want to be that to you. He wants to be himself. He wants to make you want him for him. Not for his persona or because you're afraid of what he'll do if you say no.

Even if it takes months, he'll make you want him.

Because the second he laid eyes in you, you were his. He could see the fire underneath your sweet, submissive mask. He loves fire.

"What school?" His questions keep throwing you through loops as you try to guess whether or not this is all a ploy to get your guard down. If he likes to catch people when they least expect it.

"Online," you hum, watching him just as closely as he watches you while he takes off his belt and kicks off his shoes.

"More flexibility, I imagine." He falls back onto the bed next to your sitting form and his weight makes you bounce a bit. Out from his pocket he gets a pack of gum, offering you a piece to which you confusedly shake your head.

You phone pings on the bedside table.

"You're hard." You say it like he might not have noticed, eyes flickering to the noticeable bulge in his slacks.

"I am, you're very pretty." His soft admittance makes your heart beat in a whole new way. Not thumping in fear, but fluttering with something unknown. "It will go away on its own."

You phone let's put another ping.

"You always have your ringer on when you're with a client?" He reaches across with his long arm and grabs it as it starts ringing.

'Hong' reads the caller ID.

"Jesus, learn how to answer a text!" He says through the speaker as Yunho answers it, letting you do nothing but watch uneasily at his unreadable expression.

"She's on the clock." He says into the microphone, fingers tapping the back of the device lazily and popping his gum.

"Joker! Hey, what are you doing to her? We put rules in place for a reason! Why am I getting an SOS?" Hongjoong is nothing if not protective of you and the other worker's wellbeing. He prides himself on taking care of you all. You especially.

"I haven't touched her. Don't worry, your best girl is just fine. She's just a little frightened, I think," he giggles as he catches you in the corner of his eye shrinking in on yourself.

"If there's a goddamn single scratch on her-"

"Yeah, yeah, toodles~" He hangs up quickly and turns it off before he can call back. He turns his head to you, slipping your phone into his pocket.

It's silent for a moment as you feel the emotions coming off of him — although you have no idea which ones they are.

Then, out of the blue, he asks, "so what do you do on your days off?"

ꕥ

After about twenty minutes pass, it seems he's finally ran out of basic questions to ask. They start getting more obscure and, unsurprisingly for a man such as himself, strange.

What superpower would you have? Did you ever set things on fire as a kid? You brush your teeth before or after you eat in the morning? Do you ever fantasize about getting revenge on those who've wronged you?

You were starting to get whiplash from trying to keep up, so you're thankful when he rolls over onto his side and faces you; still sitting up tensely with your back against the headboard, "I think I'll stop there tonight. We have a few more hours and there's something I want to do."

You knew it! You knew it! You k-

"Lay down and cuddle with me, pretty girl."

Wait — the fuck? You freeze, your breath stuck in your throat.

"I don't like to ask for things twice."

You slink down the bed until you're laying on your side next to him, and for some reason you have tears brewing in your eyes and blurring your vision. You're still sure that he's going to flip his act at any second. "How?"

He admits lowly, "I want to hold you." It feels strange to hear the criminal kingpin say something so soft. "You look so comfortable, like you'll fit perfectly in my arms."

You don't know what his game is — his angle. You can't figure it out.

Because in reality there isn't one. He's just doing what he wants, asking what he wants. There's no rhyme or reason, he's just doing what he feels like will please him; like he always does. And he knows it will please him deeply to hold you.

You look like a frightened deer: your chest rising and falling quickly, your body stiff as you lay next to him, your eyes either blinking too slow or too fast.

"Are you scared of me?" He knows the answer is undoubtedly yes. But he wants to see how you'll react. What you'll say.

"Yes."

The corner of his lips twitches upward. Most people would say no to try and please him, especially in such an intimate setting.

"Why? I haven't harmed you, have I?" He hums as he reaches and toys with a piece of your hair.

"Not yet."

He laughs, shaking the mattress a bit, "oh, doll~ You're so cute..." He sighs, his hands twitching for a split second before he finally caves and wraps his arms around you; yanking you towards him and closing the gap.

You panic briefly, sure that he's finally going to take what he paid for. But he doesn't make a move. He wraps his arms around you shockingly tender, one around your waist and the other around your shoulders; reaching up and petting the back of your head.

You start letting the tears that have been threatening your waterline fall. Well — you don't let them. They come whether you want them to or not.

"Put your arms around me."

You slowly move to do so, your tears dampening his button down shirt as he cradles your head to his chest. You hold onto his back lightly; and you hate that it feels so nice to be held. Not to be held down or stuck, but to be embraced.

The Joker has thrown you for loop after loop. Never, never, would you have thought this is how the night would go. You expected to be bruised and sore by now, but instead here you are being held like a precious, overpriced stuffed animal.

You start sobbing, and your choked noises come out even as you bite your lip.

"Shhhh," he coos, a large grin on his face as he rubs your shaking back, "doesn't this feel nice?"

You nod into his chest, your fingers twitching to hold onto him as he gently pulls your head back.

He smiles softer as you meet his eyes. He cups your cheek in his palm, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb and smearing your tears. "You're so pretty..." He bites his tongue as he wants to continue. He just broke down a layer of your walls, he has to be careful.

"It's been a long time since someone just held you, huh?" He pouts, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter.

You nod again, not trusting your own voice. Not even knowing what you would say. The Clown Prince of Chaos has you so confused.

"I thought as much... don't you worry, pretty girl," he gently guides your face back into his chest, hiding his gleeful expression as he can no longer hold it back. His brain is pushing him, nagging for him to get just one more thing before he's fully satisfied with his first night with you.

"I'll hold you until the sun rises —you just have to do one thing for me."

You nod quickly, probably too quickly, but you don't care. If he'll keep true to his promise and hold you like this — you'll take it. You don't care that he is who he is as the heat of his body warms your soul.

"Just say, 'please, Daddy'... and I will give you anything you want."

You pause for only a moment, swallowing the remainder of your tears. "Please, Daddy." You whisper into his shirt, "please, just hold me."

"Of course, I will." And he will. He'd have held you even if you didn't ask — but he's so glad he got you to.

The way your voice trembled ever so slightly as you asked for soft affection... it solidified the fact that he's wrapped around your finger. Coiled around your pinky like a snake in a matter of twenty four hours.

You do fit perfectly in his arms. It scratches a deep itch in his brain. You're so soft, especially as you start relaxing into him.

You're soft, you're pretty, and you have a flame deep in your eyes.

Yunho has to have you all to himself. He'd never forgive himself for letting you get away — so he's got to be sure that it doesn't come to that.

ꕥ

You have no Earthly idea how you managed to fall asleep.

Maybe it was his soft traces on your back. Probably your emotional distress didn't help you to stay awake. Perhaps it was his quiet humming or the heat of his body.

You must have been exhausted. Because you would never fall asleep in the same room as a client on any other day. Especially not if they were so high profile and had such a terrifying reputation.

And yet here you are. Blinking the sleep from your eyes and sitting up slowly as someone bangs on the door.

"Times up, buddy!" You rub your head at the sound of the man's voice carrying through the door.

Yunho is already up and out of the bed, fixing his tie in the body length mirror. He catches a glimpse of your sleepy face in the reflection and grins. "Good morning, sleeping beauty~"

You look down at your body quickly as you realize what you've done. He could have easily taken advantage of you while you slept. But the drawstring on your sweatpants is still in the same bow you tied them in.

"I didn't peek, if that's what you're worried about." He flicks his vest in the air, soothing out some of the wrinkles. "Sleep well?"

Another round of knocks comes to the door; ignored by both of you as you lock eyes.

"You didn't touch me?" Your brows knit together in what feels like disbelief and confusion and one big headache. "Why?"

"Because I know you didn't want me to." He says it likes it obvious, and really it should be. But your lines of consent and control are clearly blurred.

"But-" You stutter, searching for the words to describe what's going on in your brain. Trying to file all of the confusion into place. "But you paid."

"I did. And I got what I wanted." He leans his hands on the edge of the bed and leans forward, all the while you watch him dumbfounded. "How much does he give you, anyway?"

"Uhm," you hesitate. You aren't sure if you should be discussing payment with him. But the lift of his eyebrow makes you answer, "one third."

"Oh, that won't do!" He shakes his head quickly, getting his wallet from his vest pocket. "Here." He hands over two one hundred dollar bills.

"W-what?" You aren't supposed to touch the money, not until Hongjoong hands it to you. The Joker isn't doing anything by the book — and you can't believe you didn't see that coming.

"You were good company," he says as he forces the paper into your palm and closes your fingers around it. "And I think you deserve to be spoiled."

Your eyes widen a bit, looking between him and the money. "I didn't- I didn't earn this, Joker-"

"Yunho." He corrects you, "and, yes, you did. I'm very pleased." You're stuck in place as he leans forward, his nose almost touching yours. "Since our time is up, I'll have to kiss you next time~"

"Next time?" You breathe out in a soft pant, your heart beating a bit faster than you'd like to admit. "There's going to be a next time?" You sound almost hopeful, because this was the softest experience you've had in a long, long time.

"Without a doubt." He traces your cheek with his knuckle as he stands, letting his hand drop just as the door slams open.

"(Y/n)!" Hongjoong runs to you, giving the man a glare, "are you okay? Did he bruise you? Did he use a condom?" He tilts your head, checking you for marks, "did you-"

All of his questions go unheard as you watch The Joker saunter out of the room; whistling a soft tune as he lights a cigarette.

ꕥ

You walk into The Riddle Room at 11:45 sharp the next night and find Hongjoong sitting on the bench in the dressing room, biting at his nails.

"What's up with you?"

He jumps at the sound of your voice, immediately standing up. "Heyyy~"

"Nope."

His face drops. "Wha- I didn't even say anything!"

"Whatever it is, no. I don't like when you do that voice, it spells trouble." You groan as you shrug off your jacket, hanging it in your locker with your purse.

"Hear me out!" He pleads with big eyes.

"Put me on bar duty, I'm not doing it-"

"He said he'd pay you directly, almost a full cut." That gives you pause, looking over your shoulder at him as you unbutton your sweater.

"Who?" He hesitates a moment too long for your liking. "Hong, who did you pimp me out to?"

"Joker," he mumbles under his breath, looking around the room slowly to avoid your death glare. "I should get that light fix-"

You slam the locker door shut, "I thought we had an agreement!"

"He's basically fucking throwing the money at our feet! How can you say no to-"

"Like this! No! He's a damn weirdo, I was afraid he'd steal my panties or cut my hair or something. I don't want to spend another three hours in a hotel with that man!"

"You won't be..." He looks down at the floor, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Hongjoong." You sneer, taking a step towards him. "What the fuck did you do?"

ꕥ

"I'm going to quit." You sigh as Hongjoong pulls into the parking lot of the hotel. "Seriously, I quit. I'm gonna t-"

"Don't be so dramatic."

"I'm not dramatic, I just don't want to end up with my head in a jar or some wack shit! Seven hours- what in actual, like actual, actual fuck is wrong with you? This is the damn Joker we're talking about!"

You hate Hongjoong so badly right now. He'd signed you up for an entire seven hour shift with the man. You didn't know who's stupider, him or you. Because here you are, despite your complaining and worries. Maybe because deep down you want to see what will happen. If he'll be nice again.

Seven hours, all in one night. That's three thousand five hundred dollars into Hongjoong's pocket. And if Yunho actually pays you even half of that directly, you'll probably do anything he asks.

That is a fuck load of money for you.

"This is the last time I ever want to see him, do you understand me? I don't care is he offers us ten grand each." Well — that's a bit of exaggeration. Ten grand would absolutely get you to do anything the maniac asked. But you genuinely want nothing to do with the man. He brings chaos wherever he goes and he takes joy in it.

"Deal." He leans and kisses your head, "gotta keep my best girl happy." He smiles lightly, feeling a bit guilty for sending you into a situation that you were clearly uncomfortable with, at least on the surface. But when he tried to deny Yunho when he asked for you again, he glared a deathly glare and offered him five grand up-front.

He can admit that the jokesters infatuation with you is... strange. When you told him that the man made you uncomfortable, he was sure that he wouldn't let him anywhere near you again.

But Jeong Yunho is nothing if not persistent and scary when denied something he wants. And for reasons unclear to either of you — it's you that the man wants.

"Go make that clown happy," he says with a pat to your head.

ꕥ

"You're late," Yunho hums from his place sprawled out on the hotel bed as you enter. He's dressed a great deal more casual than yesterday, black on black on black with his sweatpants, socks, and hoodie.

"Sorry, Joker. I didn't know you had-"

"It's Yunho to you." He sits up quickly and looks you up and down. You hadn't had time to do your makeup before your boss was dragging you out of the club. You're in your day clothes, jeans and sweater and jacket to try and fight off the Gotham winter.

You notice him staring, of course you do; because he isn't even trying to be sly about it. What would be the point? "Would you like me to change?" You flinch as he stands, you'd forgotten how tall the man is in just the short amount of time.

"Yes. You don't look comfortable. Do you have pajamas?"

"Are we not going to-"

"No." He laughs as you look at him ask if to ask why, raising your eyebrows. "Don't get me wrong, doll," he says as he takes your bag, setting it down on the chair, "you're goddamn beautiful, but I don't pay for sex."

You can't help the little scoff you let out. You quickly cover your mouth as his head whips around, mumbling out an apology as he stalks forward. "What?" He smirks, "you still think I'm going to fuck you while you're on the clock?"

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to offend you! It's just-" You look away from him quickly, "that's my job? I'm not quite sure why I'm here if you don't- if we don't, y'know..."

"Because I want you to be." He says simply, titling his head as he looks down at you. "Do you need more reason than that?"

"...yes?"

"You're pretty, you feel nice to hold. I've decided that I like you." He shrugs nonchalantly, purposefully leaving out the fact that the fire in your eyes has enamored him because he doesn't want to spook you further, turning back into the room and gesturing to your bag, "did you say you had pajamas?"

What? What the actual shit? Did he actually just say that? Was that his way of saying he has some sort of school boy crush on you?

"Uhm... yeah, I do."

"Good. Get changed, I want to sleep a bit."

He doesn't leave the room this time when you change, simply laying back on the bed and flipping through the channels on the TV while nursing a lollipop. You briefly thought about going to the bathroom to change, but decided against it incase he somehow found that offensive. It's not like he hasn't already seen you essentially naked.

When he beckons you into the bed, you're back into the awkward position you were last night as well; only this time you're thankful to have the television to look at.

"Do you have a favorite position?" He asks suddenly, making your eyes widen for a second before he clarifies, "to cuddle?"

"It's- it's been a while since I had someone to cuddle with." Not for many, many years. You can hardly remember anyone giving you such soft touches in bed.

"Me too, actually." He admits, and it makes you feel a little more comfortable. "Not since I was a child. But I love it." He smiles, genuine and unfiltered as he says, "want to know a secret?"

"A secret?"

"I sleep with a stuffed animal."

It takes a moment for the information to sink in — and then you're imagining The Joker climbing into bed at the end of a long day of wreaking havoc on Gotham and snuggling his stuffed animals. And then you're laughing.

And it's the most melodic sound he's ever heard.

You quickly push the laughter away, shaking the image from your head, "sorry," you clear your throat, "just- that's just one hell of a thing to imagine."

He's still in awe for a few moments, and you're starting to get worried by his silence when he finally speaks up, "I know which one we can try."

You gasp quietly as he suddenly grabs you, easily turning you onto your side to face away from him. Maneuvering you like a doll. He pulls your back flush with his chest, moaning softly as he locks his arms around your waist. His nose finds its way to your hair before he can stop himself, and a pleased hum bubbles in his throat at the smell of your shampoo. "Mmm~ I like this."

You do to, and you're mad at yourself because of it. His strong arms and broad chest feel so safe for no logical reason, his leg draping over yours doesn't make you feel like you're being pinned down; it simply feels like he's trying to get closer. And you let him.

"Sleep with me, baby." The new nickname has you melting further into his hold, your eyes growing heavy as his warmth seeps into you. You can't help yourself. It's human nature to seek affection — and you've been deprived of it so long that you absolutely revel in it.

"Please, Daddy-" It's his turn to melt, his forehead pressed against the back of your head with a gentle sigh. He didn't even have to coax it out of you. You really are perfect, he thinks. "-keeping holding me."

"Of course."

ꕥ

You didn't work the next night, having gotten a text from your boss that you were moving to day shifts. When you entered the bar at eleven in the morning the day after that, you were ready to rip him a new one.

"Hong!" You yell as you bang on the door to his office again, getting impatient. "Hey, I gotta talk to you-"

The door swings open and reveals Joker's wide smile, "hiya, doll~" You drop your arm back to your side, looking past him into the room and finding Hongjoong with his head in his hands. You have the sneaking suspicion that they just did a deal — with you at the center of it.

You push past the tall man and storm into the room, ignoring his pout. "What in the world is going on with you lately? Day shift? Me? Are you goddamn stupid, Hong?" You reach over and smack him upside the head.

Yunho's jaw drops a bit watching you hit your pimp and curse at him. His eyes start shining as he sees that fire in you less unfiltered; showing it as you voice your upset. "Day shift is so slow! I thought I'm your best girl? What the fuck?"

If you had been any other worker and boss, especially in Gotham, you'd probably have your tongue cut out by now for mouthing off. But not you and Riddler. He has a soft spot for you. Not soft enough to ignore the bag of money under his desk curtesy of the jokester in the doorway, though.

He thinks it might actually be good for you. And, again, if you were anyone else, he'd have fought the man harder when he bribed him to take him most earning worker off of the night shift. But you aren't. You're you. And he thinks you deserve a break.

This might not be the break you're wanting, but it's the one you're going to get.

"Are you seriously going to do this to me?" You ask a bit softer as he finally lifts his head and looks at you.

"...Yes. I'm sorry, (Y/n)."

Riddler gets slapped across the face, and he looks down while The Joker laughs quietly; still watching with fascination. "I'm so angry with you." You sneer, "I was finally going to start taking real classes, you know that. How am I going to do that when I'm working during the day? When I can't pay for them? I- Oh, Auntie is going to hear about this!"

His head snaps up as you turn on your heel and storm right back out of the room, shoving The Joker with your shoulder. They both hear the locker room door slam, followed by a muffled shout of frustration. Yunho turns his head to Hongjoong slowly, lifting an eyebrow. "Auntie?"

Hongjoong sighs, falling back in his chair. "Word of advice, Joker? Never work with your cousin."

He looks at him shellshocked for a moment before he burst into a fit of laughter.

"Get out of my office before I stab you." He groans, placing his forehead on the desk. He's starting to regret doing business with the Clown Prince of Chaos.

Yunho continues his laughter as he exits, closing the door with a sigh of amusement. He checks his watch before taking a look towards the locker room. You still haven't exited, but he's got time to kill while waiting.

When you head into the lounge room, you roll your eyes at the sight of Yunho's back facing you; sitting at the bar.

As you push the saloon like door with your hip, you speak up with a punch in your tone, "is this your doing, Joker?" You give him only a second long glare before you start pouring yourself a drink. "Has your paws all over it."

"Yup~" He leans his chin in his palm as he watches you, "think about it-"

"I should slap you, too."

He smirks at the thought, "go ahead." You tut your tongue at his evident excitement, lifting yourself onto the counter across from the bar. "Seriously, though," he shrugs, digging for his lighter in his pocket, "think about it. You can get on a good sleep schedule." He takes a long puff of his cigarette, "take those classes you were talking about."

"How can I do that when I'm working?"

"I'll pay," he says without hesitation, making you choke on your drink. "How long are the lectures? One, two hours? That's nothing."

You set your glass down next to you, wiping your mouth as you search his face for any clues to as what he's up to. "You'll- why?"

"Because I want to." That seems to be his go to answer. And, really, how can you argue with that? If the kingpin wants to do something, even if nobody understands it; it's most likely going to happen. He got you moved to days so he could spend more waking hours with you. And if taking classes will make you happy enough to put up with him, he's all for it with zero hesitation. "I'll pay for as many classes as you want to take. You just have to do one thing for me."

Here he goes again. You chew the inside of your cheek for a moment before nodding, "what?"

"Smile." It's simple enough. But it still makes you hesitate. You're used to so many commands. Lay down, kneel, shut up — why are his, of all people, so soft?

"Smile?" You repeat in disbelief. He nods, a small grin of his own playing on his lips as he watches the cogs turn in your eyes. "That's it? You don't want me to suck you off or something like a normal guy?"

He chuckles under his breath, tapping his metal finger accessory against his cheekbone; the look in his eyes saying 'do I seem like a normal guy?' "While I would love to see what you can do — I'm satisfied with this for now."

Is he serious? You ask yourself that a lot. For someone called Joker, he seems deadly serious when it comes to what he's saying to you.

You crack a smile.

ꕥ

A few weeks pass. You have a routine. You're staring to enjoy being on day shift.

You took Yunho up on his offer and he pays for you to take classes three days a week, you're technically on the clock. Just doing something completely different. He doesn't touch you — not like that.

He pays for your time more than just when you sit in the classroom. He likes to have you around when he's not busy with work. Likes for you to sit in his lap and comb his hair with your fingers as you tell him all about the lectures you're taking thanks to him. He doesn't care about the subject matter, he just relaxes into your touch and listens to your voice to calm his frazzled mind. He likes keeping his hand on your waist, or the small of your back.

The first time he gave you a gift, you cried. It was only a thick jacket, he said he was tired of seeing you shiver in 'that poor excuse of a coat'. When he picked you up from your class the next day, and he saw you coming down the stairs; bundled up in the gift — he knew he wanted to give you more things.

You're an expensive obsession, but he doesn't care. He doesn't even flinch. He's practically rolling in money. Crime happens to be profitable.

He can see you coming to life more and more each time he sees you. The fire is brighter. You are brighter.

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday you have class. Yunho picks you up then and takes you to his club, saying he should know if his money is well spent when you ask him why he's so curious about your lecture. All he does is nod and hum softly in response while you ramble and rub his head.

Today is Wednesday, and it's freezing cold as you exit the building. You check your phone. One message from 'J' which reads 'Five minutes.' You bounce on your feet while you wait, chewing on a piece of gum to distract yourself from the bone chilling cold seeping into your legs.

Yunho likes when you wear skirts, and you like when he's happy.

"Hey, kid."

You whip your head to the side quickly at the unfamiliar voice, holding your purse tighter. You look the man up and down. "Can I help you?" He reaches in his suit jacket pocket, and you're immediately doing the same.

He holds out a police ID, you brandish a pocket knife with a diamond carved in the metal. Another gift from Yunho.

"Oh, shit," you flip it closed quickly, "sorry. You should know better than to spook someone, though." He waves it off, but he keeps his eyes on the small knife until it's back in your coat pocket.

"Are you Kim (Y/n)?"

You suck in a breath, debating on lying to the man — who clearly knows who you are by the way he asked. Not inquiring, more like letting you know. You shove your hands into your jacket, nodding, "one and only."

"I remember you from when your parents-" Your glare stops his words. Touchy subject, of course. "Sorry, a bit blunt of me." He holds out his hand. "Detective Bullock." You don't shake it.

"Is there some new evidence or something? I told you all to leave me alone years ago."

"No, sorry. I'm not cold case, i'm major crimes." He reaches into his back pocket, slower this time. He turns a photo towards you, the one on the top of the stack. "You know this man?" It's Yunho outside of The Riddle Room.

"Ehhhh," you scratch your head, "never seen him."

"Don't play games, kid." He takes the top picture away and reveals one of you and the man. "Want to try again?"

"Wow," you sigh, looking away and popping your bubblegum, "photoshop is getting crazy these days." Where the fuck is the clown when you need him? You search the street for his car, finding nothing.

"Is your cousin pimping you out to him?" You freeze in your spot, jaw tightening. "How much does he pay to have you be his eye candy?"

"I dunno what you mean, Bollocks."

"Bullock-" He groans, flipping to the next picture and looking down at it. "This is a personal favorite." You look in your peripheral, and then you do a double take, snatching the stack from his fingers to get a better look.

It's a photo of you and Yunho again. Outside of the hotel after you slept together — only slept. The man's large hand cupping your cheek, the metal over his index and middle finger catching the morning light. You'd never seen how he looks at you from an outside perspective. It's like he has stars in his eyes as he looks down at you.

"You following me everywhere?" You ask shakily, despite the way you try to steady your voice.

"The Riddlers number one lady suddenly starts spending time with The Joker, we want to keep an eye. So," he takes the pictures back, save for the one that you still look down at, "did they make some sort of deal? You as a barging chip?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"So tell me. I can get you immunity. I know what you do, if you give me something incriminating on Joker — I'll let you off scot free."

A car door slams. Yunho's voice booms. "Hey!" You immediately run to him, shoving the picture into your pocket. You jump off the last two steps and hug his neck.

"Mister J!" You'd taken up the nickname when he said how it was unfair he has so many for you, and he only has one. He was only joking, and so were you when you came up with it off the top of your head. But it stuck.

He wraps his arms around you tightly for a moment, glaring at the man over your shoulder. His hands slide to your waist and he pulls back, looking down at you. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm-"

"Go wait in the car for me, princess. You're gonna catch a cold." He squeezes your sides softly before sending you on your way. You hesitate for only a moment, looking over your shoulder at him as he stalks towards the detective. He's practically steaming with anger. Whatever he's about to say, it's probably better you don't hear. You don't want to be held liable. You get in the car quickly.

"How are you, Joker?" The man leans against the wall, raising an eyebrow.

"Fucking pissed, how about yourself?" Yunho gets right up on the man, only a mere few inches between them. "Are you that desperate?"

"Are you? Paying for a girl," Bullock whistles, "I didn't peg you for that t-"

"A man can't have a girlfriend? Huh? This is a new low, even for you." He spits with venom, the metal on his fingers digging into his palm. "She hasn't done anything, so stay the fuck away from her."

"Do you think I'm stupid? She's a prostitute-"

"I will cut out your tongue and gift it to her in a ribbon soaked with your blood."

His eyes widen a bit. He curses himself for not wearing a wire, but then — Joker hasn't been so quick to jump to verbal threats before.

They've been in a game of cat and mouse for some years now. The Joker always just slipping away. Never leaving enough evidence or paper trails to be solid in court. He's smart.

"Even you should know when a line has been crossed, right? This is the line. Cross it again and you will regret it."

Yunho looks the man up and down with disgust evident on his face as he turns away. "If I catch even a whiff of you around her again, I'll will make you pay."

Bullock can only watch, perhaps in state of shock, as the man makes his way down the stairs.

"What did you say to him?" You ask as Yunho slides into the car, slamming the door after him.

"Told him I'd appreciate if he stayed away from you." He says through gritted teeth, turning the vent towards you as he turns on the heat. His hands then immediately find his carton of cigarettes, an irritated sigh leaving his lips as he glances out the window towards the detective.

"You said that?"

"That's the PG version, yeah."

The sound of your soft laugh makes his racing mind calm down, and he watches in the corner of his eye as you buckle your seat belt. He doesn't bother, though. "Thanks, Daddy," you lean across and kiss his cheek.

It's chaste and quick, but it makes his heart jump into his throat. He's still thinking about it as he starts to drive away, and then for a good few minutes afterwards.

"Man, that fucking creep," you groan as you lean against the car window, "who sneaks up on a lady in Gotham of all places? I pulled my knife on him."

Yunho looks over from the driver side, his anger slowly fading in your presence. "You did?"

"Yeah, I thought he was going to rob me. I thought, 'fuck that'!"

He laughs, reaching over and resting his hand on your inner thigh; stroking your skin softly. "That's my girl."

ꕥ

"So," you hum softly as you rake your fingers through his hair later that day. You're straddled over his lap, his hand placed on your thighs; appreciating the softness of your skin. "You going to tell me what your deal is what that cop?"

"Mh, I don't like him." His bluntness makes you chuckle. He peeks his eyes open from their blissful close, looking up at you. "Why so curious?"

"He was trying to get me to turn you in-"

He sits up quickly, hands tightening on your legs, "what did you say?" He tilts his head, eyes flicking all over your face.

"I didn't say anything. Why would I?"

His eyes lock on yours. You seem to be truthful. "You didn't?"

"No," you continue combing through his tousled hair with your fingers, "I don't want my Mister J thrown in jail."

He laughs, relieved, as he leans into your touch again. "Atta girl~" He finds his hands sliding further up your thighs without thinking about it; and he even notices it before you do — too busy putting a small braid in his hair. He keeps them there. It's comforting as he decides to open up and give you a bit more information. "His name is Harvey Bullock. The detective."

"Mhm?" You nod, urging him to continue while you settle in his lap. The heat of your cunt almost makes him gasp. You don't even notice what you're doing to him.

He clears his throat, refocusing his brain, "I knew him when I was a boy. He tried to steer me away from crime, but it's what I'm good at, y'know? He's on some self redemption mission cause he thinks he's responsible for what I do, the self righteous fuck-face. He's been trying to get me for years, now. I'm always smarter though~" He slides his hands further up, and he can tell you notice now by the way you stiffen ever so slightly when he gives your ass a squeeze. "If you see him around, you let me know. Got it?"

"Of course, J," you swipe his fallen hair from his forehead gently. "Oh-" you lean and grab your jacket from the back of the chair you both sit on. "He had," you pull out the photo, "bunch of these. At least a few weeks worth."

He keeps one hand on your ass, the other pinching the photo to take it. "Hm," he smirks as he looks down at it, "cute. He should have gone into photography rather than police work. Maybe then he'd get somewhere." You chuckle a bit, shaking your head as you go to take the picture. "Put that on my desk, doll."

You look around it for a second, the flat surface doesn't provide many places to put it. You decide on propping it up against the bowl of lollipops. "Here?"

"Perfect. C'mere," he pulls you closer in his lap again. "I'm gonna ask you to do something now," he strokes your cheek with his knuckles, "and you can say no. It's past six, you can just go home. Remember that, princess." Whether it's from the stress of seeing you with the detective earlier or he's just finally getting plain impatient — he has to ask.

He looking at you so softly, so hopefully. You can't help but ask, "what is it?"

"Kiss me."

Your heart skips a beat before it starts thudding wildly. From the way he's groping your ass through your panties, you expected something more... vulgar. "Kiss?"

He nods, "just some kisses, baby. All of our clothes can stay right where they are." He can tell you're still a bit hesitant, but it fades as you lean forward and softly press your lips to his.

Both of your eyes fall shut, a blissed out hum in his throat. Your lips are just as soft as the rest of you. Your lipgloss smells like his favorite flavor lollipop as it smears against his lips with your slow movements. And it fills his gut with tingles at the fact that you're doing this. You aren't on the clock. You're kissing him because you want to.

You open up your mouth the second his tongue flicks against your lips. You lick at him, albeit a bit more held back than how he licks at you. He tastes like smoke and sugar and you never want to pull away.

When he takes your tongue into his mouth and sucks — you let out a soft whimper, hips grinding against his lap slowly. He moans softly into you, both hands gripping your ass and beginning to guide you along his growing bulge in a way that makes you melt. You grab onto his shoulders, panting softly as he pulls back.

"Fuck-" He groans, "you're so fucking hot." Whether he means in general or the way your heat seeps through your panties and rubs against his clothed cock — probably both. Your hips stutter, eyebrows twitching as you keep your eyes closed. "Are you needy, baby?"

You're used to so much more sex than you've been having. He's been hogging your schedule almost completely and this is the most he's ever touched you. "Y-yes."

"You want to cum on Daddy's lap?"

"Yes!" Comes your response as soon as he's done speaking, making him chuckle. "Just- just like this, please?"

"Just like this, pretty girl~ You can make us both cum like this, can't ya'?"

The thought of making him cum in his pants has you a little more excited than you thought it would. Nodding quickly, you spread your knees further and earn yourself a deep groan from his throat as you grind onto him deeper. "My eager girl," he moans while his head tilts back, basking in the pleasure and letting you set your own pace, "doing so good~"

His praise makes the dams in your eyes break, now crying freely into his neck while you grind against him. He smirks at the feeling of your tears wetting his skin, pulling your head back to look at you. "Why you cryin', baby?" He hums, leaning his hips up into you and making you gasp.

"Feels-" You try to sniff back your tears, "feels so good..."

"Aww, doll~ Humping my lap got you this worked up? So good you're crying for me?"

"Mhm," you reply with a pout, leaning into his palm as he uses his thumb to wipe your cheek.

"So precious," he grins as you try to use his palm to hide your tears, his member twitching underneath you. He pulls your head to his neck, leaning his head to the side, "mark me up, princess."

You don't hesitate to start leaving open mouthed kisses down his throat, grabbing onto the ends of his hair to steady yourself as you get closer and closer to your peak. You start sucking softly, your hips swirling when he groans; his fingers twitching on your ass, wanting to smack.

"Shit- just like that, baby..." A whine breaks off in his throat as he holds himself back, sliding his hands up your back instead and pulling you close. "Ah~" He lets out a particularly loud moan as you suck below his ear. "Mmh, you're gonna make me cum, princess~ So good, so perfect," he starts mumbling nonsense as he holds back his orgasm, desperate to wait for you.

"Fuckin' can't wait to ruin your pretty pussy. Gonna make you sob on my dick, baby~ Pound you so hard you can't talk, can't fucking walk the next day. Won't even be able to run away when I try to fuck you again, will you~? No~" His pleasure drunken rambling is making you soak your panties, whimpering into his heated skin with your jaw agape.

"T- tell me more." You pant, and he starts grinding up into you harder — like he's trying to fuck you through the layers of fabric while he hugs you to his chest tightly.

"Ha~" He laughs breathlessly, panting just as much as you, "you like that idea, doll? You wanna be fucking helpless beneath me while I have my way? Maybe I'll drag you to the bar and make everyone watch while I make you cum on my cock like a good girl-"

"Ah! C-cumming~!" You squeal as his filthy fantasies send you tumbling off the edge, hands searching for purchase and finding it by fisting his vest tightly.

"Fuck, fuck!" He grits his teeth, grinding into you roughly as he finally lets go and cums with you; his eyes rolling straight back into his head and his metal nail rings digging into your back to keep you as close as possible.

You breathe heavily as you hold onto his suit vest for dear life, body wracked with sobs from the emotional release that came with your orgasm. You've never felt that before — and you'd probably be frightened or confused if not for Yunho's rumbling hum of ecstasy providing you a sense of steadiness as you both float back down to Earth.

"Damn," he moans simply, easing his grip on you until you scramble and hug him tightly; wrapping your arms around his neck as you keep your face buried in his shoulder. "Shhh," he quickly wraps his arms back around you, cradling you to him, "don't worry, princess. I'm not going anywhere."

The soft strokes of his fingers while he holds you eases your worries. Not a thought in your head other than how nice he feels against you.

ꕥ

"Hiya, baby~" He greets as you enter his office, the slow music in his club briefly flooding the room before you shut the door behind you with a smile.

It's been a few more weeks. He's been a little more open with his touches, he's asked for more kisses; but other than that, things have remained the same.

"Hey, Daddy." You quit thinking it was weird to call him that pretty quickly. Just like his infatuation with you wearing skirts or sending him photos of your outfits. Because it makes him happy and happy means you're treated well. You're spoiled even. "How has your day been?"

He points to the liquor on his shelf, and that answers your question. You giggle lightly as you grab the bottle and two glasses. "You want me to play with your hair?" You ask softly as you pour his glass first, nearly filling it before sliding it to him across his desk. You only pour a few sips for yourself. You happen to be a lightweight, and he's the opposite. But he still insists on sharing with you when he drinks; even if you only have just a sip, it appeases him.

He rolls his chair back and stands, downing his drink and sliding it back to you. He taps his metal nail on the table and nods as he heads to the couch on the wall that he put in specifically for you. It didn't get much use from you alone, you were almost always in his lap.

You pour him another glass and carry it over, handing it to him with a smile as you straddle his spread legs. "Thank you, baby," he smiles back as he takes it with one hand, the other immediately finding your waist. "Tell me about your day."

"Same old," you shrug, tracing over a fresh bruise on the side of his head, "what happened?"

"Some asshole decided to slam my head on a wall when I came for payment." Your eyes widen, a pout on your lips. "Oh, don't pout," he coos as he brings his thumb to your lips, tracing them softly. He's never practiced self restraint so much as he does with you. There's been a million and one times where he's wanted to say 'fuck it' and do everything he can think of with your mouth. "Smile for me."

"You could have gotten hurt-" Why do you care? It's not like you're dating. But... it kind of feels like it. Especially in times like this where he looks at you like you're the Goddess who hung the stars in the sky. You put a smile on your lips; or maybe it comes naturally as he cups your face.

"Worried about me, doll?"

"In your dreams, Mister J."

"I must be dreaming, then."

ꕥ

You're more tipsy than you would like to admit. The world sways a bit as you get off of Yunho's lap to pour him another drink. "Easy steady, princess," he laughs softly as he places his hands on your hips.

He's just as bad as you are, even though it took him admittedly much more alcohol to get there. His ears are flushed pink and it's spreading down his neck, his tie hanging loosely from his tugging at it.

"I got it," you giggle as you shove his hands away gently. He watches you closely as you pour the drink, all the way until you come back to him and seamlessly climb back into his lap like it's your rightful throne. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

His gaze is always so intense, but there's something else in it right now. "What are you into?" He asks bluntly, blinking up at you while he sips.

"Like what?" He knows most, if not all, your hobbies and interests by now. What can he possibly me-

"During sex."

Your eyes widen to saucers for a moment, your mouth agape. "Uh-" Your years of experience take over, "whatever you want me to be."

He tuts his tongue, a sigh that smells like cinnamon coming from his lips. "No," he shakes his head, "you. What do you like?" He's held himself back from asking more intimate questions, anything to do with sex really, because even just thinking about it has the image of you in the little white babydoll dress popping up in his head or the sounds you made while you came on his lap replaying in his mind and his cock twitching to life.

But the alcohol is winning over his self control. He's really getting impatient.

"I like..." You look down, look at the walls, look at anything but his dilated eyes. You seem to be struggling to comprehend that he's asking what pleases you. You start with what you know he's into as well. "Being manhandled."

He set his glass to the side, both of his hands resting innocently on your waist; but his words are anything but. "More. I want to know what gets your pussy dripping."

You meet his gaze for a fraction of a second, and not a moment longer because it makes your heart beat even more wildly — the pure lust in his eyes. The carnal want he has just from thinking about what you're into.

"I like... being choked." You say it almost as if it's a question, like you aren't sure if he'll like the answer. His hands twitch on your sides.

"Yeah? What else?"

You feel like your heart is going to crack a rib with the ferocity with which it's beating. "Rough sex."

"How rough?" He asks quickly, his heart matching your owns rapid pace. He can already see you spread out beneath him, crying from pleasure while he chokes you.

You yelp softly as he pulls you up in his lap, landing your jean clad heat above the bulge in his slacks. "Do feel how hard you make me? Over simple fucking things. God —" He curses under his breath, letting his head loll back onto the couch. "Tell me. How rough?"

You falter for a moment before you place your hands on his shoulders, making yourself comfortable in the new position. "Really rough," you whisper, "I like to be thrown around. I like- well, I've never done it before but... I have fantasies about it-"

"Tell me." He has to squeeze your sides so he doesn't go feral and bend you over right here and now.

For some reason, his desperation for you has you all hot; you think the alcohol is definitely adding to it but you aren't stupid enough to blame it all on that. You have feelings for The Joker. And you know it's not right, it's not healthy. But you want more. You want to explore every part of yourself with him.

"I think I'd like it if you spanked me, or... slapped me maybe? You have such big hands..."

You bring one of his hands from your waist, and he holds it up for you as you trace his fingers with a ghostly touch. His pupils are blown wide, his cock straining against his pants. The cold metal of his sharp rings sends goosebumps up your arm. "They're so big and pretty." He believes he might lose the rest of his sanity as you praise something as simple as his hands. "They could do so much to me," you mumble, not even meaning to say it out loud but not caring once you have.

You spread your hand out to mirror his, and his breath hitches in his throat as he sees just how small your hands are compared to his own. "Fuck..." He lets out in a pant, lacing his fingers with yours and looking at you a bit frantically. "You're so damn perfect, doll. I can't wait to ruin you."

The corners of your lips twitch, "don't. Don't wait anymore. I want you, Daddy."

He has never believed in divine intervention more than when he looks at the close and sees it turn 6:01. You're off the clock and you finally want him.

"Fucking finally," he sighs with relief, going on to quickly grab the back of your neck and pull your face down to his, "quit your job. Be all mine, princess. I will give you the goddamn world if you want it. You know all you have to say i-"

"Please, Daddy," you have a light smirk as you roll your hips ontop of his, rough denim of your jeans grinding on his suit.

His eyes are flicking to every part of your face, always landing back in your lips. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes." His lips feel like heaven all over again as you press yours to them. His hand slides from the back of your neck to the front, resting against the column of your throat.

You blink your eyes open slowly, meeting his. His lips split into the largest grin you've ever seen, unadulterated manic glee evident as he looks up at you. "Tell me more," he hums as his hand traces down slowly, the metal on his fingers scraping your neck lightly. Not even enough to draw blood or leave marks, but it has you dizzy. "Tell me what you want me to do to you now that you're all mine."

"Fuck-" You whimper as he cups your breast through your thick sweater. "Every- everything, Daddy."

"Everything~?" He leans forward and gets his first real taste of your skin, leaving opened mouth kisses on your neck as his hands slide across your torso. "You want me to rough you up, pretty girl?"

"Yes," you pant softly as you wrap your fingers up in his hair, instinctively grinding down on him to lessen the pressure building in your lower gut.

He grips the bottom of your sweater and pushes it up with a groan of annoyance, "take this off. Let me see you." He leans back, spreading his legs and guiding your hips at a more intense angle as you pull it off quickly. "Lose the bra, too, doll~"

As soon as you unclasp your bra, a sudden wave of shyness overtakes you. You don't know how it's even possible to be shy anymore, but you are as his eyes flick from yours to your chest repeatedly. Maybe you're afraid to disappoint him. Maybe it's because this is the first time in a long time that you've been with someone you have an actual relationship with, no matter how strange it might be.

"Don't be shy, princess," he traces on your side with his metal nail — his name. Over and over again. But you're too flustered to tell. "Let Daddy see."

You gulp past the small lump in your throat and let the fabric fall, your nipples peaked from the way he grinds you against his bulge; the cold air making you whine a bit.

"Damn..." He licks his lips, staring unabashed. "Look at you~" He whistles as takes you in from every angle, tilting his head this way and that.

"Would you-" You waver, a moan breaking your voice, "kiss them?"

He doesn't have to be asked twice, he dives right in. Kissing every inch of skin on your chest: smooching, licking, nipping, sucking. When he reaches your nipples, he brings one of his hands up and rolls his thumb over the pebbled flesh while sucking the other; gently, at first. Then he hears the most delicious little whimper as his teeth graze your flesh.

He starts a steady suction over your nipple, flicking his tongue quickly and circling the other with his thumb. "Oh-" You gasp, holding onto his shoulders tightly for leverage as you roll your hips quicker, "oh god, Yunho~"

His hips act with a mind of their own, bucking into you as soon as his name leaves your mouth. He pulls away from your chest with a lewd pop. "Say my name again," he moans lowly before leaving a pointed lick to your wet nipple.

"Yunho!" You mewl as your head tilts back, hips stuttering and legs beginning to tremble on either side of him.

"Are you about to cum, princess~?" You let out a high pitched moan as he wraps his large hand around your neck and yanks you down, making you bend over him as you grind. "Are you? Tell Daddy."

"Y-yes! Please! I'm so close," you whine into his lips, eyes fluttering shut as he squeezes your throat for the first time. The noise you make is burned into his brain. Like you just came then and there because of the pressure of his hand on your neck. Like you're about to float away.

"Go ahead, baby," he hums deeply, his cock twitching under you; leaking so much pre-cum that there's a little wet patch forming on his slacks. "Make yourself cum on my lap again. Make yourself feel good~"

"Fuck!!" You shout as you come undone over him, your hips trembling and your fists grabbing his vest so roughly that he swears he hears a seam rip over your sweet sounds. He drinks in every twitch of your face, committing it to memory as he grips your hips tightly and guides you through it.

"There ya' go, that's it, pretty girl," he holds back a chuckle as you slump against him, hiding your face in your bundled up fists on his chest. "Catch your breath, doll. I got you. Daddy's got you~"

You shiver atop of him in the after shocks, sniffling quietly.

"You good, baby?" He asks softly as he tilts your head up, his eyebrows creasing together as he takes in your teary eyes.

"Very." You nod with a small, dopey smile. "Thank you, Daddy~" You lean and give him a kiss, hands sliding up his chest as loosening his tie enough to pull it over his head when you pull back.

He lifts you up off his lap, standing up and helping you get steady on your own two feet. "Take your clothes off." He says quickly as he starts removing his own, "everything but your panties."

You work fast, both of you watching and scanning each new inch of skin that gets exposed with burning lust. "You want me to fuck you, baby?" He leans to your level as he unbuttons his shirt, "want me to be rough?"

"Fuck, yes," you grin wildly, cupping his cheek and kissing him rougher than before. It's fleeting, but it makes him smirk when you pull back — that fire in your eyes is brighter than ever.

"C'mere," he grabs you by the neck, smirking as you lean into his grasp. "I'm going to fucking wreck you, I hope you know that."

"Do it-" The yelp you let out morphs into a moan as his palm makes contact with your ass. "S- damn!"

"You like that, baby?"

You nod quickly, rewarded with another smack to your ass. You jump a bit, a large smile on your face all the while. "Come on, Daddy," you yank him closer by his belt loop and expertly undo his buckle, sliding the belt off of his hips in one fluid motion. "Let me treat you for a change."

"Another day, baby-" You pout at him as he pulls you back up when you try to kneel, "I want to eat you out."

You pause, feeling a whole new wave of heat in your body. "W-what?"

"I want to eat you o-"

"Oh my god, please-" You grab at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him down to peck his lips repeatedly. "Please, Yunho, don't say that unless you mean it. It's been so long-"

"I mean it." He nods sincerely, "I've fantasized about making out with your cunt more times than I can count." He backs you up with his hands on your hips until your thighs hit his desk. "I want to spoil your pussy, make you soak my face~"

He looks down at you with dark eyes, chewing on his lip as he guides you to sit on the edge of the desk. "Yeah?" You breathe shakily as he spreads your knees, your throat suddenly dry despite the pools of saliva you keep swallowing.

"Yeah." He nods again, leaning down to kiss across your neck while he removes his rings. "You ever squirted before, baby?" His breath tickles your skin, his hands are hot while he caress down your thighs.

"No," you whisper, slightly hesitant but still letting him maneuver you however he likes; spreading your legs across his desk and tracing teasingly soft patterns in your inner thighs.

"Don't worry, pretty girl," he smirks as he pulls back, going on to kneel in front of you, "I can make it happen~"

"You can?" You swallow again, your heart in your throat as you take in the sight of The Joker on his knees for you.

"I bet so," he nips your thigh softly, making you jolt. "Ask me nicely, princess. You know what to say~"

You lift your hips towards him, and he quickly pulls down your panties — shoving them in his pocket before he slides you closer to the edge. "Please, Daddy, I want you to eat my pussy until I squirt- g-ah!!"

His mouth is so hot. He wraps his lips around your entire cunt and sucks. Slurping and drinking up all the arousal that's pooled up from his teasing; letting his tongue dive into you and twirl around to gather up your previous orgasm.

"Oh, good hell!" You cry, hands immediately wrapped up in his hair roughly to ground yourself. "Don't- don't fucking stop," you groan as you pull him closer, hips bucking into the sensations, "I swear- I'll kill you if you stop."

He moans into your cunt, lapping up and down your slit faster. He can feel the fire inside of you, he can see it as you look down at him. This is exactly what he wanted from the very beginning. To stoke your hidden flame until it burns so brightly that it consumes him.

He's making out with your cunt like his life depends on it — because with the way you're gripping his head, it might. You might keep true to your threat and kill him if he dares to pull away. He doesn't mind, because he wouldn't be stopping anyway.

He closes his mouth around your clit, making you wail at the sudden focused suction. You fall back on his desk, papers scattering. He presses closer, humming with amusement as your thighs close around his head — nearly smothering him in your precautions to make sure he doesn't pull back.

"J- oh, yes! Yes!" You nod frantically as you feel two of his fingers teasing your entrance, eyes closed to bask in the flood of pleasure that keeps coming.

His fingers are so long; they press right against your g-spot as he fucks them into you knuckle deep, immediately starting a punishing pace in the way he curls them. "Ha~" You pant out, laughing in shock at just how skilled he is, tears falling from your closed eyes as your peak grows closer quickly. "You fucker," he moans again at the way your frazzled brain lets things slip, his eyes threatening to roll back into his head, "you're gonna make me cum..."

The way you're absolutely gushing on his tongue and fingers; he doesn't doubt it. "You're — oh, god — you're gonna make me cum!" You yell as the realization dawns on you through the mind-numbing ecstasy of his hot tongue and his deeply curling fingers. He's about to be the first person to make you cum from giving you head. And it's going to be big, you can both tell by the way you sweat and tremble while grinding into his mouth. "Please, please, oh please- Daddy!!"

Your back arches off the wood, jaw slack and knuckles losing their color from how tightly you grip his tousled hair. He did make you squirt. And it's an entirely different type of euphoria washing over you as you soak his chin, his hand, his forearm, his chest even gets splashed as his roughly curling fingers send your release sloshing around lewdly.

Your thighs shake around his head violently as he continues to thrust and curl his fingers as your peak passes; working you right back up to another one. "Nghhh~" You moan unintelligible as you slump on his desk, bringing one of your arms up to cover your eyes as you sob from the overwhelming pleasure. But, you don't want him to stop even as your body starts aching from the intense sensation of another orgasm building up.

Much to his dismay, Yunho has to pull back to breathe. But his disappointment while filling his lungs is overshadowed by the sight of your pussy leaking and twitching around his fingers and the view of you lying across his desk in an absolute mess of tears. "Fuck-" he pants, the hot puff of air meeting your clit and making you jolt. "I could eat your pussy all damn night, pretty girl~"

The nickname makes you clench around him, wordlessly begging. You swallow with a fair amount of trouble, your lungs burning from the soft moans that just won't stop spilling from your lips and the sobs wracking your ribs. "D-Daddy!"

"Mh~ Yes, baby?" He reaches his free hand down, palming his neglected member with a deep groan.

"P-uh!" You gasp as he spits right onto your throbbing clit. "Please, Daddy, fu- fuck my pussy~" You moan through your tears, eyes still covered with your arm.

"Are you ready for that? I'm pretty big, doll, and I've only stretched you on t-"

"Yes! Stretch me on your cock, pleaseeee! Make me fucking feel it-" He's yanking you up in the next second, holding your dizzy body to his chest and letting your feet drag across the ground as he pulls you towards the couch.

"Oh, you're gonna feel it~" He grins as he tosses you to lay across the length of the sofa. "I'm going to reshape your cunt so it only knows me. Rearrange your fucking guts while I'm at it — would you like that, princess? I bet you would, you're just as much a freak as me~"

You nod dizzily as he crawls over you, not even bothering to take his pants off all the way, only pulling his stiff and leaking member out. "I would." You have fuzzy hearts in your eyes while he spreads your legs for himself again, letting one of them dangle off the couch.

"Mh? Tell me. Wanna hear you say it." A shiver runs down his spine as he grabs the base of his length, sliding his tip up and down your messy slit.

You wipe the tears from your face roughly, looking up at him with a sniff, "Daddy..." You trail off, too distracted by his warm cock head rubbing against your clit.

"Say it. Tell me how much you want me, you can do it~" His free hand slides up your stomach, through the valley of your breasts, and lands on your throat. "Fucking beg." Something in your brain snaps into place. Realizing this is what you've always wanted, how you've always wanted to be treated. Stern and rough but so sweet and spoiled.

"Ffffuck-" You shudder, completely lax underneath him and tilting your head back to expose more of your throat as you start doing what he asked.

You start begging. Like your fucking soul is at stake. And he watches close. Eyes dark and filled with lust, smirk planted firmly on his slick lips and ears burning as he takes in your downright filthy words.

"Daddy, please! Oh, god, please- give it to me! Fuck me~ Fuck me rough, I- I need you! Ruin my pussy! Make it yours! I need you to pound me until I can't think, for the love of- ahh!" You moan out, elated, as he sinks his fat tip into you; fluttering around him so nicely that he has to dig his fingers into your neck to control himself. You let out a choked sigh, your eyes flickering shut as he slides into you. Slowly. Savoring every inch as he stretches your gooey walls, carving you out to fit his thick girth. "S'good~"

Your slurred hum makes him crazy. His brain short circuits as he bottoms out inside of you, relishing the feeling of your cunt hugging him. "Fuck me..." He groans lowly, "you feel fucking perfect~"

"Thank you~" You mumble, lost so deep in your pleasure that you don't even know what you're saying thank you for.

He laughs breathlessly, leaning over and kissing you gently for a moment while he starts a slow, experimental thrust. "You're so wet, baby~" He breathes in your soft gasp as he bottoms out again, taking your breath as his own. "Have a listen," he put his thumb over your lips and quiets your moans; giving another painstakingly slow thrust.

Your slick walls are squelching as they work to accommodate his girth, filling the office with lewd, wet sounds.

"Open your eyes, doll," he whispers, leaning over you, "look at me." Your eyes are filling back up with tears already — it makes him throb inside of you. You try to blink them away, but they aren't going anywhere. "Fuck, you're so gorgeous... You can cry all you want, princess, I don't mind." He rubs your cheek bone softly with his knuckle, "makes me hard."

You start letting your tears free fall, relieved that he's not going to call you a cry baby or flip you over so he doesn't have to see. You always cry when things feel good. You've tried to train yourself not to, but it's something you can't help.

His brows push together, a moan breaking off in his throat. "Mm- I'm going to fuck you for real now, no more playing around." He cups your heated face, resting his forehead on yours as he looks deep into your eyes. "I'm gonna make sure your pussy remembers who it belongs to."

You don't even have the wits about you to scream or moan or do anything other than cry and look up at him in awe as he starts a brutal pace; your eyes soft with passion behind your tears and you jaw slack as he pounds into you.

Before you even know what's what, your back arches towards him and you let out a shaking yelp of, "c-cumming!"

"Fu- Goddamn, baby!" He hisses, gritting his teeth as you clamp down on him. Your cunt trembles around him, convulsing in waves with your orgasm as your eyes roll. He pins you to the couch with his body, hugging your head to his chest as he continues to fuck you through and past your peak.

It's then that you start making those noises that make him go even harder; as he overstimulates your poor pussy and glides against your g-spot. He can hardly hear your skin slapping against one another over your pornographic moans. Each of his thrusts pushes another up your throat, and you get some of your own from him as you shakily wrap your arms around him; scratching his back.

"Shhh," he grins as his hushing does nothing to slow the lewd flow of your moans. "Mhmm~ So good, doll- like you were made to take me. Don't you agree?" You nod into his chest furiously fast, grounding yourself with your nails in his back.

"Hm? My little pretty baby likes getting her pussy pounded?" You clench around him tightly again, his words going straight to your cunt. He pulls your head back to look down at you, slowing his thrusts; but they're still just as harsh. Snapping into you hard enough to knock the wind from your burning lungs. "You like it when I fuck your brains out?"

"Uh-huh!" You whine, your piteous voice wracked with pleasured sobs. He leans down and licks up a stripe on your cheek, moaning deeply as the saltiness of your tears meets his tongue. You slap at his back as his hips still, begging him to keep going even though you're a trembling mess.

"Uh-huh," he mimics you, "use your words, baby." He smiles darkly as he leans to lick at your other cheek as well.

"I li- I like it," you sniffle, trying to grind your hips under his.

"You like what? C'mon, doll, tell me exactly what's got your cunt soaking wet~"

His soft teasing has you pouting, crying fat tears that he licks right up. "When- ahhh," you whimper, "please... I love it when you pound me~ You feel s'good, Yunie."

His heart skips a beat. Then, another. Then, he's back to trying to fuck your soul out of your body and claim it as his own. You don't even register that you've given him a new nickname in your fucked out bliss, it came so naturally while praising him.

"F-uck," he stutters, his hands all over you before they grip your legs and pull them up over his shoulders, making you groan quietly at the stretch in your muscles as he folds you in half underneath him. But the discomfort is quickly aided by the fact that he's prodding your g-spot as he starts slamming into you again and making you see stars. "Say it again. Call me Yunie."

His tone leaves no room for argument, and you don't have any anyways. "Yunie!" You sob out, grabbing at anything you can reach to steady yourself. One of your hands lands back in his hair, the other reaching and grabbing the armrest.

"M- ah, ah!" Your eyes screw shut tightly, shaking your head as you squeak in a single quick breath, "Yunie, please! Daddy!" His entire body is tingling. He can't tear his eyes away from you for even a split second — he curses himself for even having to blink.

He cups your face roughly, keeping your legs folded up and squishing them to you with his torso, "look at me when I fuck you." His voice waivers slightly as he approaches his peak, plunging into you deep and slow and hard as he locks his eyes with yours; your hips ache from the force of his slamming into you and fucking you into the couch. "Whose girl are you?" He hums as he wipes some of your tears, reveling your fucked out expression.

"M'your girl!"

"You are~" He coos, his cock painful hard and begging for release but he wants more. "My pretty girl. All mine. If anyone else even thinks about touching you, I will fucking gut them."

You gasp sharply, gushing around him and shouting his name as you cum unexpectedly. His words, his unhinged possessiveness reaching an all time high as he ruins you has your head rolling dizzily in his hands, feeling like it's filled with nothing but cotton candy. "Y- P- please, Daddy..." You stutter and snivel, wrapping your arms around him tightly as your entire body shakes.

"Mhm~?" He moans in response, not even trusting his voice anymore as your overworked walls pulse around him; letting him feel your heartbeat. He wraps his arms around your head, cradling you to his chest softly again as he ruts into you roughly.

"Cum," you whimper, officially toeing the line between pleasure and pain with the amount of overstimulation he's putting you through. "Pr- pretty please? Cum inside of me-"

You yell in shock as he suddenly sits up and drags you with him, not an ounce of hesitation in him as he rolls off the couch and lands on his back — immediately thrusting up into you. "F-fuck! What the f — oh, shit~" You only have yourself together enough to chastise him for half a moment before your brain catches up to the new position and realize how he's deeper.

"You want my cum? Huh? Fucking take it then~" He grins up at you wildly, one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your head, keeping you bent over him while he plows into you from below. Pressing your forehead against his.

The millisecond that one of your hot, overstimulated tears falls and lands on his cheek; he cums. And he cums hard. Letting out a guttural moan and letting his jaw fall open as he pumps all of his release into you. Keeping you still on top of him with a tight grip as he wraps his arms around you.

"Fuuuck~" He pants as his hips finally still, his brain flooded with dopamine as he cradles you. "How the hell a-are you so damn perfect?" His warm hands softly rub your trembling back, a dopey smile on his lips as you sniffle and press your face into his neck. "Hey," he lifts your head softly, "don't hide, baby."

You look down at him with eyes full of stars and hope and tears. "Yunie..."

He wipes your puffy eyes with a tenderness that he didn't even know he had in him. "Yeah, princess?"

"Will you hold me for a while?"

"Of course I will."

ꕥ

The floor of Yunho's office is shockingly comfortable, but maybe that's because you're mostly laid on top of him.

You're on your side, snuggling into his as he lays on his back; menthol cigarette between his fingers in one hand and the other arm wrapped around your shoulder. He switched brands when you kept complaining about the smell. The menthol was cooling, calming. You didn't mind it nearly as much.

You're laid with your leg over his hips, tracing patterns on his chest as you watch the smoke billow into the air. The silence is comfortable. It feels safe. You feel safe.

Of all the places in the world, you feel the most content you've ever been right here. Body sore and eyes dry from the way you exhausted all of your tears, laid on the shag carpet of The Jokers office with his cum wiped off your inner thighs with his silk vest.

He hums of soft melody between puffs of his cigarette, copying the patterns you make on his chest back onto your shoulder to tell you that he's paying attention to you even as you're both quiet. You close your eyes, moaning softly as they rejoice in the well deserved break. "I like that song." You say softly, sighing blissfully before you hum; picking up where he leaves off.

He looks at you with a small smile, reaching up to the table to put his cigarette out before rubbing your arm that's draped over his torso. "Maybe tonight, I'll call ya' after my blood is drowning in alcohol, mm-mm," he whispers the song as he laces your fingers together.

He can't believe he's finally got you all to himself. He doesn't remember a time when he's been this happy in the presence of another person. "All I want, is the taste that your lips allow..."

"My- my, give me love," you giggle before peeking your eyes open and looking up at him, "who'd have thought that you like love songs, Mister J?"

"What? I have taste," he shrugs playfully, giving you a smile as he rubs up and down your back. "Aren't you getting cold, princess?"

"Mmh, a little, but I'm not ready to leave you yet. Is- is that okay?"

"Hm? You don't have to leave," he reassures you softly, planting a kiss to your head, "you can get dressed and stay, baby."

"Thank you, Yunie."

It was almost a mission to get off the floor, even with Yunho doing most of the work for you. He still had your panties in his pocket, and he wasn't giving them over. You're thankful you still keep your pajamas in your bag out of habit, because they're much more comfortable than your day clothes would have been in your fragile state.

He helps you into them, giving you another tender kiss to your head and pinching your cheek with an affectionate smile before you slap his hand away. "Couldn't help myself~" He laughs, finally zipping his slacks up before kicking up his shirt off the floor and catching it. "You feel okay?" He, in all honesty, has no idea what he's doing.

The only experience he has is a good handful of one night stands. He's never been with someone he actually wanted to keep around and therefore; doesn't know how to go about making you comfortable enough to do so.

"I'm more than okay." But you don't notice it. Because all of the experience you have is through your job — your ex-job. You were used to getting the job done and going on your way, taking care of yourself with the help of Hongjoong; who would bandage any bruises while telling you how proud he was. It made you cry a great handful of times. Like now.

"Princess," Yunho pouts, immediately kneeling on the floor infront of you and cupping your hands gently. He thinks you're so pretty when you cry — but only when he's the cause. "What's- what's wrong? What can I do?"

"I d- I don't know." You look down, holding his hands tightly, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me-"

"Yes, you do." He can see it. He can tell. He can tell so much by your eyes, they give everything away. "You can tell me."

He gives you the time you need to breathe, and you're thankful for the moment to gather your thoughts. "I... hated my job. Not- not the actual doing it. But after, and the people..." He rubs his thumbs over your hands, his eyes soft and urging. "People who just got up and left. I wanted to strangle them. Leaving me alone after I did everything in my power to please them."

He waits for a moment to be sure you're done speaking before he does. "You don't have to go back. Ever. And I will never leave you, I promise you now. I will do anything you want." He cups your cheeks gently and makes you meet his gaze, intense as ever. "I will take care of you. In any and every way you need me to."

You swallow your tears, leaning into his touch, "but why?"

"Because I want to. I want to take care of you. I want to watch you thrive. I love the fire in your eyes, it makes me crazy." He doesn't think he's ever been so straightforward with anyone like this before. He might have felt vulnerable exposing his true feelings if you were anyone else. "You're mine now, right?" You nod into his hands, cradled like a fine china doll. "I take care of what's mine. So tell me; what will make you happy? What will set you free from that place?"

You think for a long moment, eyes drifting away from him. "Do you remember... when you asked if I ever fantasize about getting revenge on people who have wronged me?"

"Mhm?" You had said no, but you had hesitated. And he had noticed.

"I lied. I do think about it. I think about it a lot. There's a man..."

"And?"

"I want him to suffer like I have."

"Who?" He has zero hesitation. If you want someone gone, he'll make sure they can never show their face in Gotham again. If you want someone to suffer, he'll make them beg for death to just come already.

"Earnest Holmes." Your lip trembles. "He's the reason I was working at The Riddle Room."

Oh, he's going to die slow. That's what Yunho decides. In a split second, he's coming up with a million different ways to torture the man. He doesn't press you for the reasoning. All he needs to know is that you want him to hurt like you do.

"Give me two days, baby. And you will have his heart in a gift basket."

ꕥ

[the-librarby]

DRUNK IN DA CLUB III

- SIMON RILEY (COD)

18+ MDNI.

The aftermath and finale.

Double feature, who knew I had it in me. Don’t get used to it.

Part I Part II

Simon reaches for his phone which buzzes on the nightstand. With bleary eyes he can see the clock reads 7:00 am, and an unopened message.

Open the door for me will ya

With a deep exhale he rolls out of bed, forgoing putting on a shirt as he pads down the hallway of your still house. When he opens the door, the harsh morning light pours in, revealing a chipper looking Johnny in his clothes from last night.

He takes in the sight of Simon rubbing the sleep out of his eye, looking like a picture of relaxation, he almost doesn’t want to comment on it out of fear his words will send him back into his shell.

He does it anyway, “Jesus Simon, put some clothes on, I’m not my sister,”

“Get the fuck out of here,” he mutters, tone still gravelly, but opening the door anyway to allow him in.

“Anything happen while I was gone?” He inquires, kicking his shoes off, “Do I have to give you the talk?”

Simon walks off into his room to find a shirt, John eagerly tails after him and watches him from the doorway, “Nothing happened, I’m no brute. She’s sleeping it off,”

John crosses his arms, leaning against the frame, “Good, you know I’d murder you if you treated her wrong,”

“Why are you back so early? Thought you were just dropping her off,” He asks, shifting his shirt over his head.

John looks away, reaching up to scratch his stubbled jaw, “Oh you know, one thing led to another…”

He raises an eyebrow, walking past John into the kitchen, “And you call me a dirty bastard, should look in the mirror Johnny,”

“Yeah, yeah, say what you want, at least I didn’t beat a guy up to a bloody pulp,” he teases.

Simon turns away to flick on the kettle, “Bloke fuckin’ deserved it,”

“Can’t disagree with that,” he sighs, stretching his arms out, “I am in need of a shower. I’ll be back.”

Simon goes about making a tea as John finds clothes to change into before disappearing into the bathroom. He’d barely slept a wink, a constant loop of what had happened last night on his mind. Your looks,— there was something in those glances of yours— sounds, and body. He’d play any part you wanted him to if it meant he got to see you on the edge of your bed, almost naked, again.

The teaspoon he was holding clatters against the surface of the bench. He sighs deeply and massages the bridge of his nose, for all the jokes being said, he knows this is a line he can’t cross. Being Johnny’s sister, it’ll only get messy if it intwines with his work. He just needs to get through this break with minimal issues before he’s shipped off to the next place he’s needed.

He takes his mug outside to the backyard, slipping through the sliding door, he can feel the sun that is already beaming with warmth this early in the morning. He reaches for his packet of cigarettes, and takes a seat on one of the chairs you have set up in your small, makeshift dinning area. It’s peaceful in your backyard, despite the sweat that’s already beading along his forehead. He’s about halfway through his cigarette when the sliding door opens again.

You emerge, t-shirt from last night still on, and legs on full display. Sheepishly you cross your arms over your chest, to hide the fact that you’re not wearing a bra.

“Morning,” you greet, eyes squinting against the sun.

Simon pauses his next breath, letting his cigarette dangle between his fingers. He feels like a pervert for momentarily thinking about what colour your panties are, “Morning,”

“Sleep well?” You ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. You hadn’t bothered to brush it yet, you can only imagine what a mess you look like right now.

No. “Yeah, you?”

“Slept like a baby,” you hum, “Thanks for everything and I’m sorry for—”

“There she is!” John’s voice booms from inside the house.

You groan, covering your ear nearest to him, “Fuck me, do you have an inside voice?”

John drapes an arm over your shoulder, rustling you from side to side, “Aw, feeling hungover are you lass?”

You head lolls from side to side with his movements, “I had free drinks all night, of course I’m feeling like shit now,”

John frowns, “Free drinks? From who?”

Simon takes a drag of his cigarette, looking out into the backyard. You smile and pat John’s shoulder, “Fancy a slice of birthday cake for breakfast?”

John follows along, “If I ever say no to that, shoot me because I’ve gone senile.”

The events of last night came rushing in the moment you woke up this morning. And although you’re definitely embarrassed over some of it — seriously what were you thinking, trying to run in your heels? — the way he took care of you was endearing. Even up until you undressed in front of him, he was still the perfect gentleman and sent you to bed. If you weren’t already interested, you definitely were now.

You could always talk to Simon later.

Seeing John’s freshly washed hair makes you wonder, “Did you just get home?”

John pauses mid bite, “Uh, yeah,” he says simply, not wanting to elaborate.

You scrunch your nose, “Ugh ew, I knew you weren’t just going to walk her home,”

John laughs, raising his hands in defence, “It’s not like that,” he thinks for a moment before elaborating, “I’m taking her out on a date tonight,”

Your eyes widen, “What?”

“Does that upset you?” He inquires worryingly.

You smile and shake your head, “No, of course not, I’m just joking,” you place your fork down, “I didn’t realise you liked her so much,”

He looks down at his plate, “We just really hit it off,”

“You’re such a softie,” you tease. “Her favourite flowers are Lilies,”

John nods, “Noted, thank you.”

Another few moments of silence pass, from your spot at the bench you can see Simon through the sliding doors. His posture is more relaxed compared to last night, as he finishes off his cigarette.

“You’ll have the house to yourself tonight,” John notes, following your line of sight.

“Hm? Oh that’s good, could do without you for a night,”you sigh dramatically.

John pointedly ignores the insult, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,”

You tilt your head, “Pretty small list to work with.”

The sliding doors open and Simon steps through, cup in hand, “Si, beach today?” John offers.

“In your fucking dreams.” he mutters, shutting the door behind him.

Laughter erupts from both Johnny and yourself at his disdain. The rest of the day follows a mundane path, you’re sprawled out on the couch with your feet in John’s lap, freshly showered in a t-shirt and shorts to keep cool in the heat. The hangover has passed thankfully, so you’re left with a lazy feeling in your bones that can only come with deep relaxation.

Simon is sitting on one of the chairs near you, aimlessly watching some show you put on. John is occupied on your Switch, playing Stardew Valley even though he was unconvinced it would be entertaining, he’s been silent for at least two hours.

“Fuck, I fell asleep in the mines,” he mutters.

“Aw fucks sake John, you’re gonna lose all my resources,” you complain, digging the heel of your foot into his leg.

“I’ve almost reached the bottom,” he says, “Damn bat fucked me up,”

“Did you get any frozen tears?” You question.

John pauses for a moment, waiting for the cutscene to end. You can hear him checking his inventory, “Yes,”

“Can you give it to Sebastian?”

He frowns, “Why?”

“I’m trying to romance him,”

You can hear Simon chuckle above you, but John just scoffs, “Of course the town loner is your type, fucking nerd,”

“He’s not the town loner,” you defend.

“He likes to hang out at the pier in the rain, he’s a loner,”

You click your mouth shut, “Just give him the damn frozen tear, I don’t need the commentary,”

He sighs deeply but you can hear the player’s footsteps and smile. You’re about to zone back into the tv show until he speaks again.

“What have I done?” He asks, “There’s a weird moment happening,”

You look over confusedly, on the screen you realise John has unlocked one of the Sebastian cutscenes, “Give that to me, quick!”

You snatch the Switch out of his hands and watch the cutscene. You can’t help but giggle at how cute it is, unbeknownst to you, Simon watches from over your shoulder to see what you’re laughing at. He doesn’t understand it, and it’s completely irrational to be jealous over a video game character. So he isn’t.

“I’m gonna marry him,” he can’t help but roll his eyes and look away.

You exit the game to check the time, the display reads 5:00 pm, “Don’t you have to get ready, John?”

John checks his phone for the time, “Shit, I completely lost track of time.”

He shoots up from the couch and walks off into the spare room where he’s left his clothes. You save the game and put the console down on the table, Simon and yourself listen to the way John frantically paces between rooms as he gets ready. Eventually he comes out into the lounge, arms spread to show off his outfit.

“This okay?” He asks.

“Turn around,” you reply, still lying down as you scan his outfit up and down.

“You look fine,” Simon responds.

“Fine is not what I’m going for, Simon,” he exasperates, “I don’t have any clothes packed for a date,”

“The clothes are fine, but do you have a different jacket? You wore that one last night,”

John shakes his head, looking a bit deflated. You hum and think for a moment, “I think you left your bomber jacket here last time you stayed over, go check the back of my wardrobe,”

John rushes off to your room, probably turning it upside down in search of this jacket. Thankfully he manages to find it a few moments later, looking much more confident.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he sighs, checking his pockets. He frowns when he feels a tube like shape. When he fishes it out, he sees a sparkly pink lip gloss.

You gasp, “Oh my god I’ve been looking for that! That’s my favourite gloss,”

He tosses it towards you, “Can see you’ve been wearing this in my absence,”

“Yeah, I looked cuter in it too.”

John waves you off, looking down at his phone once more to send off a message. “Can I borrow your car?” He asks, not looking up from his phone.

You frown, “What if I have plans?”

John gives you a knowing look, I think we both know what your plans are.

You roll your eyes, “Whatever, fill her up will you?” You pause, “Where did I leave my keys?”

“In your bag,” Simon responds, “On the bench,”

John walks towards your bag, rummaging through your stuff to find them. Once they’re found, he does a quick once over before announcing his departure.

“Don’t stay out too late!” You call out.

“Ten pm curfew,” Simon tags on, convincingly authoritative.

“Yes mum and dad,” he shouts back, closing the door behind him.

You let out a sigh and stretch your legs until they’re barely touching the other side of the couch. You shuffle up into a sitting position, only drawn in by your desire to eat something.

“Should we cook something for dinner?” You ask.

Simon responds without looking away from the tv, “I am not someone that should be trusted in the kitchen,”

You laugh, “Surely you’re good at following instructions?”

Simon looks over at you with questionable confidence, but you know he’s too polite to say no, so you use it to your advantage and offer your hand to help him stand up. Begrudgingly he follows you into the kitchen, standing awkwardly as you mill around taking out whatever ingredients are left in your house.

With the chopping board set up you turn to him with a broad grin, “Think you can handle chopping vegetables?”

He sighs and picks up the knife, it’s comfortable in his hands, you can tell— and you won’t dwell on the reasons why. You stand beside him to peel certain vegetables before passing them off to him.

“Did you have a good time last night?” You ask.

“It was nice—some parts over others,” he muses, looking over at you.

You smile sheepishly before looking away, “I’m sorry again, I didn’t mean to rope you into my business,”

Simon shrugs, “No big deal, guy was a wanker,” he looks down as he begins to chop the vegetables, “I hope calling you my missus didn’t make you uncomfortable,”

You can feel your cheeks flush, “Nah, it was fine. It was cute being your missus for the night,” you sigh, “I’m almost jealous,”

Simon’s fingers still for a moment before continuing, “Of what?” He tries to ask neutrally.

When you don’t respond straight away, he looks over at you only to see your eyes already gazing back at him, “Of how considerate you are,” you murmur, placing the peeler down you step over into his space, close enough that your arms are brushing together a you lean your back against the bench, “You’ll make a fine partner,”

The way your eyes assess him has him tense, “What are you doing?”

You smile coyly, “Not doing anything,”

He raises an eyebrow, “Whatever you’re thinking, it needs to stop now darlin’,”

“What am I thinking about?” You ask, biting your lower lip to stop the grin that’s trying to form on your face.

Simon puts down the knife to give you his full attention, “Naughty thoughts that I should not be apart of,”

You hum but ease off, walking over to the other side of the kitchen to turn on the stove, “Missing out, they’re pretty fun thoughts I’m having.”

Simon looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head. God help him, he’s on his last tether. He continues about his work silently, refusing to look your way to keep whatever resolve he has intact. You try your hardest to not laugh at how tense his posture has turned, the mere brush of you walking past him as him flinching. It’s uncanny to see a man so big on edge.

“I’m not going to bite you Simon,” you promise, after the third twitch of his arm.

“Don’t know about that one.” he mutters, passing you bowl of chopped carrots.

Dinner manages to come out of it unscathed, he leaves it mostly to you considering he really does not trust his ability to not burn something. Once it’s finished and served, you both eat in the kitchen. Simon seems hellbent on keeping some form of distance between the two of you, so he’s leant against the opposite counter near the stove while you’re sitting atop the bench on the other side.

Unabashedly from your view you get to stare at how his shoulders fill out his shirt— does he own anything that’s not black? —moments of how he took care of you filter through your mind, the way his knuckles flexed after he came back in from the alley, the way he kept a close eye on you after that despite there being no threat.

Simon’s rough sigh and the sound of his bowl clattering against the counter’s surface has you floating back into the moment. Innocently, you watch as he crosses the space between the two of you. He’s still hovering just out of your reach, out of respect. You’re not having it, as soon as he’s within reach you hook your leg behind his knee and draw him in without restraint.

His hands rest on the bench either side of you, leg still entwined with yours, “What will it take?”

You tilt your head and put your own bowl down. With hands free, you can lean back against the counter to accomodate the man in your space. Innocently you trace your foot up and down his calf, “Come on Simon, use that brain of yours, I know you’re a smart man. What do you think?”

He breathes out through his nose, his thumb edges along the side of your thigh, “We shouldn’t do this,” it’s a flimsy defence.

You reach up with on of your hands to stroke the side of his face, slowly inching closer, “Stop acting like I don’t want this,” you whisper, “You’re not hurting anyone here.”

Before he can come up with another feeble excuse you lean forward to slot your lips against his. It’s soft, and tender, like leading a frightened animal out of its cage. Simon takes a moment to warm up, but once he has feeling in his fingertips, they’re moving to dig into your plush thighs. Your arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer, the kiss taking on a more urgent edge.

When you pull back, you lean your forehead against his, the kitchen is silent save for your soft breathing, “Good?” You inquire softly, not wanting to shatter the moment.

Simon silently scans your face, his answer forms in the way he pulls you closer until your legs wrap around his waist, “Johnny’s not gonna let me live this down,” he mutters.

“Don’t bring my brother into this,” you huff exasperatedly with an eye roll.

He kisses you out of apology, rubbing up and down your thighs in a soothing manner. You’re so taken off guard by his initiative, that he takes control. He’s being careful, holding himself back from gripping you too hard like he wants to. Your hands migrate down his chest until they reach the hem of his shirt, Simon lets you hike it up only separating from your mouth when he needs to pull it the rest of the way over his head.

With his chest on full display you can’t help but run your fingertips down it, you haven’t seen his tattoos since the day at the swimming hole. You try to take in as much as the detail you can before he’s pulling you into another kiss. Lost in the middle of it, Simon hooks his palms under your thighs before hoisting you off the bench into his arms. You squeeze him harder for leverage as you pull away.

You grin as you rub his shoulders, “Not just for display, huh?”

Simon chuckles as he walks down the hall to your bedroom, “That is the second comment you have made about my muscles in the last twenty four hours,”

You scoff, “What you’re keeping count now?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs.

“You like hearing me talk about how big they are?” You raise an eyebrow teasingly, “Does it inflate your ego? What else about is big about you, Simon?”

A palm covers your mouth, muffling your laughter. Simon is borderline mortified at your cliché comments, as he walks through the door into your room. When he drops you down on your bed, you’re still giggling to yourself.

“You talk too much,” he states.

You lean up on your elbows to meet Simon halfway as he hovers over you on his forearms, “My talking got us here, didn’t it?”

Simon looks at you with a knowing smirk, he knows defeat when he hears it. Instead of giving you the satisfaction of being right, he reaches to pull your top off which you wordlessly follow. It’s a different bra is what he first thinks, before dropping your shirt to the floor in favour of leading a trail of kisses down your chest.

You’re quiet as you watch him go, his blonde hair brushes against your ribcage the further he goes. His hands are grasping your hips for leverage until he reaches your bellybutton in a slow descent. You can only lift your hips as he tugs your shorts down unceremoniously.

He chuckles for a moment, “No underwear? Bit cheeky of you when you have company in your house,”

You smile slyly, “A girl can do what she wants in her own house,”

Simon slowly kneels at the edge of the bed, pulling you forward by your calves until they’re resting over his shoulders, “Can’t argue with that,”

You roll your eyes, “Especially not when it’s working in your— favour,” your comment filters off into a harsh breath.

Simon kisses up the sensitive path of your inner thighs, even on his knees you can’t help but marvel at how powerful his figure looks. You can’t imagine what he’s like in the field, if only you had paid attention to Johnny’s phone calls you would have a clearer mental image.

All thoughts are lost on you now when you feel his tongue against your clit. “Yes,” you sigh, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair.

Simon listens to each turn of your breath to guide his movements, he presses harder depending how tightly you’re squeezing his hair. By the end of it, he can almost relish in the way your thighs squeeze around his head involuntarily trying to shy away from the building sensation in the pit of your stomach. When you wriggle too far, he digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you closer until you’re flush against his mouth.

“Fuck’s sake,” you gasp, “I’m gonna cum if you don’t give me a break, Simon,”

Simon unlatches his mouth but you can still feel his breath against your clit, “Trying to tap out already, love?”

Your head thunks against the mattress beneath you, so unfair for him to look like that between your legs. Dazed and like he’d rather be nowhere else, “If I can’t move after this it’s your fault,”

“I’ll do all the work,” he promises before diving back in. It’s messy you can feel it, the way he tongues between your clit and hole which is now leaking with how turned on you are.

You clench your eyes shut and reach for his hair again, this time pulling him forward by the crown of his head until he can’t get any closer with his nose shoved against your lips. The rush of your orgasm comes all at once, you’re sure you said Simon’s name either in warning or something entirely else. He doesn’t pull away from your clenching grip until he feels your thighs start to ease off and twitch from the overstimulation.

He looks entirely pleased with himself if the toothy grin is something to go by. You’re too boneless to think of a snarky response as you feel yourself melt into the mattress. Going along with it as he leans down to kiss you deeply. When you lift one of your legs for leverage, he grunts as it gently brushes past his cock which is painfully still confined in his pants.

He pulls away to look down at you, “Good?” He checks in.

You hum, “Great,” sneakily you shift your thigh in between his and rub it against his crotch, “Should we figure that out?”

He exhales roughly, resting his forehead against your shoulder as he ruts down against your leg. The outline feels big, heavy. It makes you a little bit nervous if it’s anything proportional to how big Simon is himself. With his head bowed, he reaches one hand down between your legs, briefly running his finger over your soaked hole before sliding one in. You gasp and clutch at his shoulders, he follows your weight dragging him down, causing him to rut deeper against your thigh.

The sound pulled from him sounds borderline painful, with panting breaths you reach down to unbuckle his pants. The lack of constriction brings instant relief, he pushes another finger inside you as you dip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. There’s a mutual sound of pleasure, Simon’s brow furrows as your hand circles around him within his pants. Any sort of touch fuels his need to go faster, when his fingers stretch you out too abruptly he apologises roughly and kisses your shoulder.

His cock feels huge under your palm as you stroke up and down, but every subtle grunt and breath you hear against your ear makes it worth it. You’re so wired by the time a third finger stretches you out that you start shoving against his chest. Simon kneels up on the bed, fingers departing from your cunt causing you to clench. His cock lays flushed against his pelvis, you’re immediately drawn in by your own impatience as you try to tug his pants down. You only get as far as his thighs before he has to crawl off the bed to shove them the rest of the way off.

Everything about Simon, you’ve come to realise, is big. “How the fuck do you walk around with that thing,” you gasp.

Simon rolls his eyes as he resumes his position above you, resting his closed fists either side of your head, “Stop being dramatic,”

Your jaw drops, drawing your gaze away to look up at him, “I promise I am being far from dramatic Simon,”

He quirks an eyebrow, “Having second thoughts?” The way your jaw clicks shut makes him smirk, “Didn’t think so,”

“You are a bastard,” you mutter, hooking your legs around his waist.

He leans down to kiss you as he adjusts one of his hands to guide his cock to your entrance. When you feel the tip of it tap purposely against your clit, you can’t help but tense.

You reach up to dig your fingers into Simon’s jaw before you pull away from the kiss, “Don’t be a tease now, Simon,”

He smirks within your grip, sliding his cock up and down but not quite going where you’re want him to, “Ask nicely,”

You huff, each pass over your clit makes you twitch, “You want me to use manners now? Really?”

“Yes,” finding satisfaction in your faltering resolve. “I like a girl that can listen to me,”

It’s a test, to see if you’ll follow orders. You shake your head incredulously, and for a moment Simon thinks you won’t follow through, that you’ll say someone back with equal sarcasm. Eventually you drop the hand that was holding his jaw and let it fall to the mattress beneath you.

“Please, Simon,” you sigh, tightening your legs around his waist just to nudge him that little bit closer, “Put that fucking cock in me already,”

It’s close enough. “Such a good girl,” he rumbles, sinking all the way in.

You ball your fist and gently knock it against his shoulder as you try to bare the girth of his cock stretching you open, “Fucking hell,”

Simon strokes the of your waist to your hip in soothing motions. It’s painful for him to remain so still inside you, you’re perfectly tight around him— it’s almost laughable that you got referred to as loose the night before by your jealous fling.

“Doing okay, love?” He asks between breaths.

You can only hum with your eyes clenched shut as you try to collect your thoughts. After a moment of breathing you manage to open your eyes, and capture the sight of Simon mildly fretting over you.

“M’good,” you unfurl your fist and grip his shoulder with a squeeze, “Too good, start moving.”

Simon’s previous patting stalls to grip your hip instead, with a slow withdrawal comes a deep thrust forward. It’s knocks the wind out of your lungs, you can only hang on as Simon finds a rhythm that has you unwinding. It’s deep, you tell him as much in a repeated mantra like it’s the only thing your brain can comment on.

“Doin’ so well,” he huffs, tugging you forward with his thrusts, “Perfectly tight little cunt you have darlin’, it’s made for me,”

The whine that pours from your lips is involuntary, completely affected by the language itself. You wish he would shut up as it only adds to the onslaught of pleasure pooling in your core. In a moment of quick thinking, you shove at his shoulders again until he eases up. Before he can question if you’re alright, you guide him into rolling over until you’re on top.

The withdrawal of his cock makes you feel empty, but you use it as a moment to catch your breath and get your bearings as you lean your hands flat against his chest. From this view you can see every fleeting look that passes through Simon’s eyes, his hands gently circle your hips. His thumbs digging into the bones as reassurance.

You shift forward and grip his cock with careful fingers before guiding back inside you. Simon’s grip tightens on your hips but he says nothing as you readjust to the feeling.

“You holding back on me, Simon?” You ask, breathless. He remains quiet, you take that as your opportunity to unhook your bra before leaning forward until you’re inches away from his face, “Think I can’t handle it?”

“Yes,” he says earnestly, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You rise back up, planting your hands for leverage as you lift yourself up before dropping back down in a slowing pace. It’s selfish, to cause a rise out of him, but you can’t help but consider it a challenge. Who is he to dictate what you can and can’t take?

Simon’s fingers dig into your hips, “What are you doing?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Riding you,” you state, matter of factly.

Simon lets you continue your slow pace for a moment longer. It’s not helping either of you, “I know what you’re doing,”

“What’s that sweetheart?”

“You’re not going to get a rise out of me,” he comments, letting his arms fall above his head. A mock picture of relaxation.

“Can’t I just enjoy myself?” You ask, corner of your lips quirking up in a mischievous smile.

It’s quiet save for the soft breaths coming from you and the sound of your skin connecting against Simon’s. Your thighs are starting to strain, and Simon will give it to you, you’re fucking stubborn. But he’s got the upper hand, and is perfectly happy staring at your tits as you work yourself up and down his cock. He’s entranced by it until he hears you mumbling something under your breath, completely unaware.

Please, Simon, please, please, please.

Who is he to say no to his missus?

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts, grabbing ahold of your hips and slamming you down against his pelvis. The gasp you let out is most satisfying to him, you asked for this, not him, it’s punishment now.

Your mouth falls agape, clutching desperately at Simon’s shoulders as he takes over, slamming up into you as he pulls you down. It’s much rougher, deeper now, you can feel everything. Your thighs try to draw closer to shy away but he shakes his head and uses strength to flip you back onto the mattress beneath him.

“Greedy little thing,” he grunts, “Can’t just do as you’re told can you?”

You’re panting, open mouthed now, “Simon, fuck,” your fingers curl up into his hair, “Keep going,”

He shakes his head, “Still making demands of me? When is it enough for you?”

He shifts back on his knees, dislodging your grip on his hair. Your thighs rest either side of his waist as he spears you back and forth on his cock, your hands reach for the headboard above you. With your spine arched, everything feels more pronounced as he thrusts in and out at a bruising pace.

“M’gonna cum,” you whisper, clenching your eyes shut.

“C’mon then love, waiting for it,” he grunts.

Your jaw drops with wordless moan, your spine goes taut as Simon delivers one last deep thrust inside you. His thumb circles your clit as you orgasm, making you cry out just that little bit louder. Your thighs are quaking around him until he decides he can’t take it anymore.

You watch dazed, as he pulls out and jacks off over your stomach. Ropes of cum spill against your abdomen and ribcage until he’s done. With heavy breaths he crouches over you to compose himself. You pat the back of his enclosed fist before tugging at his wrist to encourage him to lay down beside you.

Staring up at the ceiling both of you try to catch your breath. When you turn your head, you can see his eyes are closed, “Did I tire you out?”

He exhales deeply, “Is there ever a quiet moment with you?”

You laugh and roll over to his side, hooking your leg around his and draping an arm over his chest, “Is quiet what you want?”

He doesn’t even open his eyes, “No,” he’s had enough of quiet in his life.

You lean up to press a soft kiss against his lips, “I like when you call me your missus,”

He cracks an eye open, “Really?”

You grin when his arms circle around you, “Yeah, does something to me.”

Simon rolls his eyes and kisses you again.

[stylesispunk]

"Whatever you'd like us to be" - part 4

harry castillo (materialists) x fem!sunshine!reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

summary: the one where you fall and get your confessions of love.

w.c: 7,5k

warnings: age gap (harry is 45 and reader 29-30), angst, fluff. no proofreading because you know me.

A/N: I'm not sure if this chapter will meet your expectations, but it's pretty much what I wanted to do with it. I'm convinced this series is a lot about how you can transform into something complicated when someone who makes you feel at ease comes into your life. But whatever. This was the winner update of the day, but I'm updating all the series this week. Happy reading, and please let me know what you think about it.

Remember, I now have an AO3 account, where I'm also posting the chapters.

When next day came, the vibrant excitement you had been feeling lately was gone. The sky seemed gray, soft raining was falling over New York and you stayed in bed the whole day, barely sleeping, tossing and turning, replaying every word, every look from the night before like a film reel you couldn’t switch off.

You waited for a call, a message, a knock at your door. Everything that could remind you that you were valuable to Harry as more as a simple piece of his game.

But when Monday rolled around, still no sign of Harry, you dragged yourself out of bed, threw on a sweater that still faintly smelled like coffee, and opened your café with a weight in your chest you couldn’t erase.

A foreign kind of feeling, a foreign kind of pain, that was numbing your heart. Because within the jealousy, hurt, and humiliation, there was love growing its roots in the cracks of your heart.

The place was alive as always, the soft clinking of mugs, the gentle chatting of costumer conversations, even Mia’s laughter carrying from behind the counter. But you felt like a ghost in your own space because Harry had made a home inside your house and now it felt hollow without the certainty of that presence. After all, he had carved his place into your heart in such a short time.

Every time the bell over the door chimed, your head would lift, your pulse skipping in your throat. A couple of old regulars. A mother with a stroller. A pair of college students ordering iced lattes. But not him.

“Boss,” Evan murmured, sidling up to you while you wiped down a spotless table for the third time in an hour. “Are you good?”

You forced a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine.”

But even Evan didn’t buy it. He gave you a knowing look and said nothing else, as if he knew better.

By lunchtime, you were officially annoyed at yourself. The knot in your stomach wouldn’t loosen, and you hated that you kept checking the clock like some lovesick idiot waiting for his prince to come and get her from her solitude. That you half-expected to look up and see him leaning against the doorway with that infuriating grin, like nothing had happened.

But still, that would have shown he cared. That you were more than just a simple piece on his game.

By mid-afternoon, the steady hum of the café had lulled into a calm, that late-in-the-day quiet when regulars trickled in for their second wind and students claimed tables with textbooks and cold drinks in order to study. You were behind the counter, pretending to busy yourself with organizing the pastry case, though in truth, you were miles away inside your head.

And then the bell over the door chimed, you looked up out of habit, and your stomach dropped at the sight of Lucy at the door.

She stepped in with her perfect hair waving, soft smile playing on her lips. Her eyes swept the café before landing on you. And for a split second, both of you just stared each other. Recognition flashed in her expression, a glimmer of surprise widening her gaze, but then something else took its place. Not malice, not smugness like your overworked brain had feared, just kindness inside those blue orbits.

“Hi,” she said, approaching the counter.

You swallowed thickly, forcing your face into something resembling neutral. “Hi! Welcome in.”

She glanced at the chalkboard menu, though it felt more like a polite formality. “Could I get two vanilla lattes to go, please?”

Your heart did this traitorous little lurch in your chest at the sound of two.

Two vanilla lattes.

And immediately, the spiral started.

Was the other one for Harry? Had he gone back to her?

You hated how easily the thought slid into place, how sharp it cut. How it affected your heart in a way jealousy was everything you could feel now.

You punched the order into the register, managing a tight smile. “Coming right up.”

She took out some dollar out her wallet, glancing at you again, a small curve to her lips. “I’m sorry if this is weird, are you…? Harry’s…” she hesitated like searching for the right word, “friend?”

You gripped the edge of the counter. “I think so.”

“You think?”

“What do you want me to say?” you sounded almost exasperated, “Yes, I’m his girlfriend.”

“You are also Claire’s best friend.” She said, still smiling “I also remember you because of that.”

You nodded, “You did a pretty good job introducing her to Chris.”

Lucy’s expression faltered for a moment just a flicker, so quick most people wouldn’t have caught it. But you did. That brief tightening around her eyes, the way her fingers tapped twice against the counter before she tucked them into the sleeves of her blazer.

“I did, didn’t I?” she murmured, her smile turning bittersweet. “I think that had been my best job yet.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. You thought her job was a kind of scam, as in the digital form of love. Offering you a hollow and shallow momentum instead of the real experience. Forcing to people to meet each other with the list of qualities set on the table.

Lucy inhaled softly, then straightened, smoothing her expression. “Well,” she said with a little shrug, “I do really think you and Harry make a good couple.”

You raised a brow at that but bit your tongue, glancing down as the machine beeped, signaling the order was ready.

You slid the two vanilla lattes onto the counter. “Here you go.”

Lucy took them, wrapping her hands around the cups. “I’m sorry if I made this weird,” she added quietly. “Honestly, I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

You forced a small, polite smile. “Well, I own this place, so you would run into me anyway.”

Her eyes widened, “Oh, that’s—that’s amazing, really. Best coffee in this city.”

Best coffee in this city

That last line made your throat tighten. Best coffee in this city. The exact words Harry had murmured more than once, usually with that surprised grin after he had found of you owned this place, like it was a secret only the two of you shared. Hearing them from Lucy’s lips was kind of disarming and made your heart clench.

You gave a small, almost bashful laugh, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Lucy hesitated, a flicker of something unreadable in her expression, then offered a sincere smile. “Well, it was nice meeting you. Really.”

You nodded. “You too.”

She gave a little wave with the two cups in hand and slipped out the door, the bell chiming softly in her wake.

You stood there for a moment longer, the scent of coffee and vanilla hanging in the air, heart pounding in a way you couldn’t quite explain. The whole interaction had been surprisingly kind. She wasn’t the woman you had pictured it to be. There was no tension, no accusations. Just two women on different ends of a story neither of them fully understood. Being pictured very differently by the very same man.

She gave you one last look, something almost like a sorry, and then she was out the door.

You stood there for a moment, the ghost of old conversations and half-formed assumptions rattling in your head, before Evan sidled up next to you with a smirk.

“Damn, boss,” he muttered under his breath, bumping your shoulder. “You, okay? You look very grumpy today.”

You groaned, leaning forward against the counter. “I need a drink.”

“Or to see your boyfriend, huh?”

You shot him a glare, but your traitorous heart still fluttered at the sound of his name. You hated how much you missed him and how much you wanted to see him.

An hour later, you were at your office working on some inventory stuff when knock at your door took off your guard, you lifted your gaze.

"Come in" you said.

You blinked, your stomach twisting, heart leaping in your chest before your brain could even catch up. The door eased open, behind it, a huge bouquet of vibrantly red roses, then a hand, and finally the face you had been craving to see for the last 48 hours.

His face was hard to read, those stormy brown eyes you knew too well now, a little softer, a little more hesitant than you’d seen since you had met him. He stepped in without a word, closing the door behind him with his foot.

You swallowed thickly, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed like you needed the armor to protect your heart from it. “What are you doing here, Harry?”

He set the flowers carefully on your desk, as if they might break under his touch. “I owed you a hundred apologies. And maybe a small bribe,” he added with a weak grin, motioning to the roses.

You didn’t return it.  You still feel the humiliation creeping up your cheeks.

“I told you to stay out,” you said quietly. A lied, a big lie, because everything you wanted was him to come to you and to hold your face with his hands.

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “And I meant to. I tried to. But you have no idea how fucking loud my life feels when you’re not in it.”

The room went still. You stared at him, no uttering a word.

Harry sighted, “I missed you, even if it was just a day.”

Your throat felt tight, your heart lurching at the rawness in his voice and at his words. You wanted to stay mad, but his words still had found it way to soften you a bit.

You dropped your gaze, studying the edge of your desk like it would provide the answers to the questions you were asking to. “You can’t keep doing this, Harry,” you murmured, the fight in your voice wavering. “Showing up with flowers and pretend I’m going to say yes to every demand you have,” You lifted you gaze to meet his, “You always came here when you need something from me. You confuse me. You say you want to be my friend, then you kiss me and say your ex-girlfriend’s name, who is fact is really kind.”

Your arms stayed crossed, but your posture softer. “Why did you mention her that night, Harry?”

His expression cracked a little, like you’d pressed your thumb against an old bruise. He stepped closer, leaning his palms against your desk. “Because I’m an idiot,” he said, voice low. “And because a part of me was scared it wasn’t just a kiss.”

You felt your throat tighten, your fingers curling against the edge of the desk. “So, you said her name to what? Ruin it? Push me away before I could hurt you?”

“I didn’t plan it,” he confessed, shaking his head, his gaze never leaving yours. “I don’t even know why it came out. I haven’t thought about Lucy that way since we went our separate ways, you know that. But you—" he let out a broken breath, “you terrify me.”

“All of this started because you wanted to get back at her” you replied, “And you also lied to me about that at the beginning.”

Harry’s jaw tensed, guilt flickering over his face like a shadow. “Yeah, that and also my parents want me to marry someone for good,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I am pissed off. I was hurt. I used you at first, telling myself you’d never mean anything because it wasn’t supposed to be about you.”

You flinched, the words hitting like a blow even though you’d known them deep down. He saw it, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare.

“But then it was you,” he went on, eyes glinting with something raw and unguarded. “It became you, so fast—“

“You’re a child” you interrupted, annoyed and hurt.

Harry blinked, the words striking sharper than anything you’d said before. His mouth opened like he might protest, but nothing came out. You saw the fight drain from his posture, his shoulders sagging under the weight of everything he had poured out.

“Yeah,” he exhaled, running a hand down his face, defeated. “Maybe I am.”

You shook your head, leaning back against your chair like you needed to distance yourself enough from him to properly breath again, “You don’t get to drag people into your tantrums because you’re pissed off at your parents or your past, Harry. I’m not a placeholder for your act of rebellion. I’m a person. And I deserve better than being some convenient way for you to feel in control for five minutes.”

He looked like you’d slapped him. And maybe, in a way, you had. You had broken his ego, but this time it wasn’t like anything before because now, there was love growing withing the cracks of his heart.

“I know,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I know you did. I keep… I keep breaking the things I care about before I realize how much they matter.”

A bitter laugh slipped from your lips. “And what? Now that you realize it, you think you can just what? Patch it up with these expensive flowers?”

“No,” he admitted, his gaze steady for the first time since he walked in. “I just—” he swallowed hard; jaw tight. “I needed you to hear it. That you matter to me.”

You sat there for a long moment, the silence between you loaded, heavy with the miscommunication that comes with playing a game like this.

“I hope you figure yourself out, Harry,” you said softly, your voice steady even though your chest ached.

His eyes glistened, but he didn’t argue. Didn’t beg. He knew his place now.

He just gave a small nod, turned, and left the flowers on your desk as he walked out the door.

You sat there long after the door had closed, the thud of the door felt like a final point to a story yet to be written and that made it hurt the most. The roses sat on your desk, too many and too red, a vibrancy you felt it left with harry through that door. The kind of gesture Harry always leaned on when words failed him.

Your throat burned. You hated how beautiful they were. How part of you, some pathetic, stubborn part, still wanted to believe it meant something. That maybe under all the mess and mistakes, there was a version of him that he had come to love you.

You reached out, fingertips brushing over one of the petals. It was soft. Perfect. And it felt like a lie.

The sting behind your eyes sharpened, and before you could stop yourself, you swiped the flowers off the desk. The vase hit the floor with a dull thud, water sloshing over the tile, roses scattering like discarded confessions.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, trying to swallow the ache in your throat, the tears prickling your lashes.

God, you were so tired. So tired of the way he made you feel like you were standing in a room with no walls, nowhere to lean, nowhere to run. Always hoping this time would be different. That someone would have choose you for the right reasons this time. That you would be the first choice in someone’s life.

But he didn’t. Not really.

And you couldn’t keep letting your heart be collateral damage.

You wiped at your eyes, took a steadying breath, and grabbed a rag from the counter. You’d clean up the mess. Because that’s what you did. Because life moved on, and so would you.

Another flame, another fire to ease.

A few days passed in a heavy, muted blur. You fell into a quiet rhythm, opening the café, managing orders, pretending you didn’t glance at the door every time it chimed. But it wasn’t Harry stepping through anymore.

It was his assistant.

You recognized her more now, always polite, always rushed, always ordering Harry’s usual without meeting your eyes for too long as if she knew, like he’d been sent in as a quiet, calculated replacement for the man who couldn’t come to face you.

Your heart felt heavier every time. The absence of Harry’s careless grin, his infuriating comments, the way he’d come into your life like the world only existed where you stood, it all left an ache you couldn’t name.

You told yourself this was how peace was supposed to feel, but the thing about this type of quiet was that it left too much room for your thoughts.

It was late afternoon when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out with a sigh, expecting a supplier, but Claire’s name flashed across the screen.

You hadn’t heard from her in a few days, and you hesitated before answering.

“Hey, you” you said, trying to sound lighter than you felt.

“Hey, you.” Claire’s voice was soft as always, unaware of the conflict you were walking through right now “I was wondering… are you free tonight?”

You glanced around the café, where Evan was wiping down tables and the soft hum of the espresso machine filled the air. “Yeah. Why?”

“I want you to come over for dinner,” Claire said, then hesitated. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach dropped. You’d known her too long not to catch the note in her voice. There was some kind of excitement and nervous on her voice.

“Claire,” you said slowly, your pulse picking up. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course, it is. Can you come by eight?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, then forced a steady breath. “Okay,” you murmured. “I’ll be there.”

“I love you, bye” she said.

“I love you too.”

At the same time somewhere, a few streets away. Harry’s assistant, was pushing open the office door with one hand while balancing a takeaway tray in the other.

“Here’s your coffee, boss,” she said, setting the cup down on his desk.

Harry glanced up from the pile of papers he hadn’t actually been reading, his fingers running through his hair. A faint, tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks,” he murmured, reaching for the cup. He hesitated before asking, the question burning behind his teeth, though he knew he shouldn’t. “How is she?”

Kate blinked, then sighed softly, sitting on the edge of a nearby chair like she’d been expecting it.

“She looks okay.” She replied carefully.

That made something in Harry’s chest tighten, a dull, familiar ache. He looked away, his gaze falling to the corner of his desk, where a small photo frame sat half-hidden behind a stack of folders.

A picture of you from Claire’s and Chris wedding.

You were sitting on the grass, a glass of champagne in hand, laughing at something someone off-camera had said. Light caught in your hair; your face flushed.

Chris had given it to him as a joke after the wedding when you had made it “official”

“For your desk, you sap,” he had teased.

Harry had played it off, acted like it was just one of those silly things people kept around. But it stayed. Day after day. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, staring at that photo like it might speak to him.

You’d probably think I was a creep for keeping this, he thought bitterly.

But the truth was, he’d never been capable of loving someone, never let anyone carve their way inside his heart the way you had.

And he wasn’t sure what terrified him more: that he’d already lost you, or that part of him still believed you were it for him.

Some people only get one person. And he had the sinking, gut-deep feeling you were his.

…………

The taxi pulled up in front of Claire and Chris’s townhouse, the familiar white shutters and climbing ivy on the brick walls making something in your chest ache. This place had always felt like a second home ever since they moved in together. You’d laughed in this kitchen, cried on that couch, drank too much wine on the back patio under string lights.

And now, your stomach was twisted up like you were walking into something you couldn’t name.

You raised a hand and knocked.

The door swung open almost instantly, and there was Claire, in a pair of mismatched socks, hair in loose waves, wearing a simple loosen linen dress and that bright, unmistakable grin she always saved just for you.

“There you are,” she beamed, pulling you into a tight hug. You sank into it, letting your cheek press against her shoulder, breathing in the scent of citrus and vanilla she always wore.

“You look stunning as always,” she said, pulling back to give you a once-over with a teasing little smile. “Seriously, what is it like to be everyone’s favorite person in the room?”

You huffed a small laugh, grateful for the easy warmth between you. “I almost didn’t come,” you admitted quietly.

“I know,” she said, brushing a hand down your arm. Then, she glanced past you, out toward the street, as if expecting someone to be lingering behind. “I thought you were coming with Harry.”

Your stomach dipped and your brows furrowed. “Harry’s coming too?” you asked, voice careful, guarded.

Claire’s expression faltered for half a second, like she was realizing too late that she’d said something she wasn’t supposed to.

“Yeah… um… Chris invited him,” she said, quickly smoothing it over. “Did something happen between you two?

You forced a tight, brittle smile and shook your head, though your throat burned with the effort. “No,” you lied, voice too light. “Nothing happened.”

Claire gave you a look, the kind only someone who’s known you since you were eight can give. The kind that says bullshit without having to saying the exact word.

“Come on,” she murmured, pulling you gently inside and closing the door behind you. The familiar scent of rosemary and roasted garlic drifted in from the kitchen, and it made something twist painfully in your chest because everything about this felt so normal, and you were anything but fine.

Claire set a hand on your shoulder, stopping you just before the living room. Her expression was softer now, her voice careful. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she said. “But Chris said Harry has been kind of grumpy for the past few days. And you, you look like someone who is holding her shit together.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze darting away.

Claire sighed and gave you a half-smile. “Whatever it is, you can count of me, you know that, right?”

You let out a weak laugh at that and nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I know that.”

Chris appeared from the hallway, grinning when he spotted you. “Hey, there she is!” he said warmly, wrapping his arms around you. You sank into it, grateful for the steady, familiar presence. Chris had become a safe place, the brother you’d never had but somehow ended up having.

“You doing, okay?” he murmured against your hair, keeping his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You gave a small shrug. “Getting there.”

Chris squeezed your shoulder gently, then pulled back with a crooked smile. “Good. You know we’ve got your back.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but then a knock at the door interrupted the conversation.

The sound made your chest seize up, your pulse stuttering like a skipped beat. You saw Claire glance at you, her face unreadable, and for a second it was just the two of you, a silent conversation passing between your eyes.

The door creaked open. And then, his voice.

“Hey, man.”

Low, rough, a little hesitant in a way you weren’t used to hearing from Harry.

You couldn’t see him from where you stood, but the sound of him hit you like a slow, searing burn you’d been trying to forget for days. That voice laced with its usual confidence now dulled by something none one could pick out in a crowded room, even if you tried not to.

Claire squeezed your hand once. “You want me to kick him out?” she whispered, only half-joking.

You gave a brittle little laugh, your throat tight. “No,” you murmured. “I’ll be fine.”

The truth was a more complicated, tangled thing, but you were done running your feelings.

Chris stepped aside to let Harry in, and you caught the edge of his tall frame, the dark sweep of his hair, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets like a man walking into a storm of his own making. His eyes landed on you almost immediately, like he couldn’t help it, and you felt the weight of them burning you.

He looked tired. The kind of tired that wasn’t from sleepless nights but a soul-deep weariness, the tiredness that came from a broken heart. And he held it together in front of the others, a practiced smirk flickering to life when Chris clapped him on the back.

But then his gaze found yours again, and the mask cracked, just for a second.

Claire glanced between you two, then cleared her throat. “Well,” she said brightly, like she was trying to cut through the unbearable tension, “who’s hungry?”

No one answered. Because now Harry was standing there like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to take another step. And you were standing there like your heart might break clean open if he did.

And the truth was, neither of you was really hungry for anything but the one thing you both kept pretending you didn’t still want. Each other.

Dinner was a strange, fragile thing.

The four of you sat around the table, a beautiful spread laid out like Claire always did, roasted vegetables, a bottle of wine already open, soft music playing low in the background. It should’ve felt normal. Familiar. But the air was thick with things unsaid, heavy with the weight of you and Harry sitting side by side.

You’d tried to angle for a seat across the table, but Claire, ever the meddler in the name of love, had pulled out the chair next to her, leaving only the one beside you open when Harry entered the room.

He slid into it without a word. Close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, his elbow brushing yours every time he reached for something. And each accidental graze felt deliberate, like a silent apology you refused to accept.

Chris was doing his best to fill the silence, launching into a story about some disaster at work Harry didn’t know that had happened, and Claire kept nudging you to eat, to drink, to smile. You managed a few polite laughs, but you could feel Harry’s eyes on you, stealing glances when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

At one point, when Chris went to refill the wine glasses and Claire disappeared to the kitchen for dessert, it was just you and him, the low hum of the music and the faint clink of silverware the only sounds.

Harry cleared his throat. “I didn’t know you were coming,” he said quietly, his voice rough.

You didn’t look at him. “Same.”

A beat of silence. Then, softer “You look beautiful.”

The words landed like a punch and a balm all at once.

You finally turned your head to meet his gaze. His face was open in a way you hadn’t seen in days. No smug grin, no cocky spark. Just the man you’d somehow let yourself fall for. Bare stripped open or you.

But before you could answer, Claire swept back in carrying a tray of chocolate cake, her voice loud and cheerful as she set it down, singing a tune you recognize.

“Okay,” she grinned, slicing into it, “I have an announcement.”

You blinked, forcing your eyes away from Harry, grateful for the distraction.

Chris’s face lit up. “Are you telling them now?”

Claire beamed and nodded. “We’re having a baby.”

The room burst into congratulatory shouts and laughter from you and Harry. Chris leaning over to kiss her, you getting up to hug her tight, pretending the burn behind your eyes was just happiness for them.

Claire clung to you for a moment longer than usual, like she sensed the ache beneath your smile but chose not to name it. When you finally pulled back, you wiped at your cheek with a laugh, blaming it on the wine and the news.

“That’s amazing, Claire,” you said, your voice thick but steady. “You’re going to be the best mother a baby could ask for.”

Claire’s grin softened into something gentler. “And you’ll be around, right? I mean… I’ll need you.”

“Always,” you promised, meaning it.

You settled back into your seat; your heart still heavy but warmed at the edges by her happiness. Harry’s eyes met yours across the table, something unreadable in them, and for a brief second, it felt like the room disappeared, like it was just the two of you again, in that frustrating, electric limbo you couldn’t quite seem to leave behind.

He smiled, small and almost sad, and you hated how your heart skipped for it.

“Congratulations, Claire,” Harry said, raising his glass, and his voice was softer than you expected. “You and Chris. You’re going to be incredible parents.”

Chris grinned, sliding an arm around Claire’s shoulders. “Thanks, man. Means a lot. I hope a raise now, Boss.”

The table broke into light laughter, Claire playfully swatting Chris’s arm.

“Oh my God, Chris,” she groaned, though she was smiling.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he lifted his glass again. “You’ll have to fight the board for that one, but maybe I’ll put in a good word.”

Chris grinned like a kid who’d gotten away with something, and Claire leaned in to kiss his cheek.

The conversation moved on after that, baby names, nursery colors, Claire’s bizarre cravings already setting in, and you let yourself drift through it, contributing where you could, laughing when it was expected, but mostly trying to ignore the constant nuance of Harry’s presence beside you.

You became silent after that. You pushed your chair back quietly, the legs scraping against the hardwood floor a little louder than you intended.

Three pairs of eyes turned to you, but you kept your expression easy, giving them a soft smile.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you said, your voice gentle, threading through the cozy warmth of the room. “I’m kind of wiped… it’s been a long week. I think I’m gonna head out now.”

Claire’s face immediately pinched in concern. “You sure? You can stay, crash in the guest room if you want—”

You shook your head, offering a small, reassuring smile. “No, it’s okay. I just… need a quiet night.”

Chris stood up to hug you. “Thanks for coming, really. Means a lot to us.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” you murmured, squeezing him back.

Claire wrapped you in a tight, lingering hug. “Text me when you get home, okay?” she whispered against your hair.

You nodded, your throat burning again. “I will.”

And then, you knew it would happen, and you tried not to look, but your gaze snagged on Harry as you stepped toward the door. He was already on his feet, watching you with that same quiet, wrecked expression he’d had all night.

You hesitated, then gave a polite, distant nod. “Good night, Harry.”

His jaw flexed. “Good night.”

You pushed your chair back quietly, the legs scraping against the hardwood floor a little louder than you intended.

The door clicked shut behind you, and the room felt heavier for a moment, like the air itself shifted. Claire stared after you, her smile gone, replaced with sharp, narrowed eyes. She turned toward Harry; her voice low but fierce, aching.

“What the hell did you do to her?”

Chris glanced between them, frowning. “Claire—”

“No,” she cut him off, not taking her eyes off Harry. “She came in here holding herself together with string, Harry. She barely spoke, barely smiled, and she left like she was running from something. And now I know it’s you.”

Harry’s expression didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked like someone already carrying the punishment she was trying to give. He set his glass down with a soft clink, the echo filling the space between them.

“I hurt her,” he said quietly.

“Then what are you doing here still?” she demanded, her voice gentler now, but no less cutting.

Harry looked at her, eyes rimmed with something real and so raw.

Claire softened just a fraction, giving a small, tired smile. “If I’m not wrong, she hasn’t left. She’s sitting on the stairs. I bet on that.”

Harry’s head jerked slightly at that, something sparking behind his eyes.

“Please, Harry,” Claire said, quieter this time. “Fix it.”

For a long moment, he just stood there, fingers flexing at his sides, battling whatever storm was churning in his gut. And then he moved, wordlessly, pushing back his chair and heading for the door.

Claire exhaled, leaning into Chris’s side as he watched Harry go.

“I swear to God,” she murmured, “I will make him go broke if he doesn’t fix this.”

Harry stepped out into the cool evening air, his pulse hammering in his ears. He moved toward the front steps, and sure enough, there you were.

Sitting there, arms wrapped around your knees, your head tilted back against the railing like you’d been holding back tears and now you were too tired to bother.

His chest cracked open at the sight.

“Hey,” he said, his voice breaking slightly around the word.

You didn’t look at him right away, just kept your eyes on the dark sky above, the cool air kissing your skin. The ache in your throat was sharp and stubborn, but you spoke anyway.

“You don’t have anyone else to bother?” you asked, your voice quieter than you meant it to be, but steady enough.

Harry let out a rough breath, shoving his hands into his pockets like a man who had no idea what the hell to do with them. He took a cautious step closer.

“No,” he admitted, voice hoarse. “I don’t.”

You finally turned your head, meeting his gaze. And God, the way he was looking at you.

Harry gave a small, rueful smile, stepping closer. “Can I sit next to you?” he asked quietly.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He eased down onto the steps beside you, close enough to feel the warmth of his presence but not so close that it made your heart race out of control.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The quiet stretched between you, comfortable and heavy all at once, but this was the normal.

The air was cold, and your bare arms tingled from the chill. Without a word, Harry slipped off his jacket and draped it gently over your shoulders. The fabric was warm, smelling like him and the unexpected gesture sent a small shiver down your spine. You glanced at him, surprised, but all he did was offer a quiet, timid, smile before turning his gaze back ahead.

“I feel so happy for Claire. I really do,” you murmured, your voice thin and uneven, eyes fixed on some distant point ahead, as if the darkness could offer answers, you hadn’t found yet. “She’s getting everything she ever wanted. The baby, the family, the life, and someone who loves her like that.”

Harry stayed quiet, not interrupting, just listening. It made it easier, somehow, like the words had been caged in your chest for too long and now, and now they could finally come out.

“And I’ll be there,” you went on, a humorless, soft laugh catching in your throat. “I’ll watch it happen. Watch them build a life, a family. And I’ll be happy for them because I am. God, I am. But it’ll still feel like losing her. Like, like I’m standing still, and everyone else keeps moving forward.”

You swallowed, blinking hard against the sting in your eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever have that,” you admitted, voice cracking around the words. “The baby. The house. The person who loves you like it’s a fact of the universe. Someone who chooses you every single day. I don’t know what’s wrong with me that I can’t get there. That I let people in, and they leave. And maybe it’s just… maybe it’s me.”

The ache in your throat burned and you pressed your hands together tightly in your lap to keep them from shaking. You could feel his gaze on you now, heavy, like it was stitching you together and unraveling you at the same time.

You turned your head to look at him, and for a moment the world shrank to just the two of you “And the moment I thought I met the perfect man…it turned out he wanted me to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.”

Harry flinched it, you saw it. The way his jaw tensed, the flicker of something sharp in his eyes, like your words had struck somewhere he wasn’t ready for.

He didn’t look away though. He stayed right there, his gaze locked on yours, the weight of it a little heavier now.

“I deserved that,” he said quietly, his voice rougher than before. “Every word of it.”

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. You hadn’t meant to spill it out like that, but once it started, you couldn’t stop.

“I kept telling myself I was fine with it,” you admitted, the words trembling out of you. “That it didn’t matter. That it wasn’t real after all. That I wasn’t… falling. But I was, Harry, I am, because you…you’re …because you’re the one I want,” you whispered, the words breaking at the edges like glass under pressure. “And I hate myself for it. For letting it happen. For hoping for something that was never mine to have.”

Harry’s eyes closed for a second, like the weight of your confession physically hit him. When he opened them again, they were shining with something raw, unguarded, and it stole the air right out of your lungs because he looked so vulnerable under your broken stare.

His shoulders sagged a little, like hearing that eased something in him. “I never came here just to get something from you. Yeah, I made a mess of it. I crossed lines. I confused you. But I kept coming because this place, you. You’re the only part of my life that feels like mine. Not my family’s, not some move, not something someone else expects from me. Just mine.”

The words settled between you like a secret too sacred for everyone else to hear. Your chest ached, your heart thrumming so loud you were sure he could hear it. You looked at him, really looked, the stubble on his jaw, the way his mouth trembled around the truth he was finally speaking.

“I don’t know how to be good at this,” he went on, his voice rough, cracking in places. “At… loving someone the right way. I don’t know how to love someone.”

You closed your eyes at that, standing up before he could break your heart.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist, gentle but firm, halting you in place. The warmth of his touch seared through your skin like a brand, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Please don’t go,” Harry murmured, his voice so soft it was barely a sound. You didn’t dare turn around; afraid your resolve would crack the moment you saw his face.

“I can’t do this, Harry,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I can’t be the almost once again.”

Harry’s grip tightened just a little, not to keep you there, but like he needed to hold onto something real. His breath hitched, and for a moment he didn’t speak, like the words were too heavy in his chest, too tangled up in everything he’d never had the courage to say.

Then, finally, in a voice raw and aching, he said, “You’ve never been temporary to me. Not for a second. You’re the only thing that’s ever felt real, even when I tried to convince myself otherwise.”

Your heart clenched, and you felt your defenses crack, a splinter running right through you.

He stood up “The moment I laid my eyes on you at the wedding I could feel my heart stopping for a second because I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen,” Harry went on, standing there in front of you like a man unraveling at the seams. His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion, and his eyes never left yours. “And then you smiled and it was over for me” He ran a shaky hand through his hair, laughing softly, like he couldn’t believe he was finally saying it.

Harry took a breath like it hurt to hold it in any longer, his eyes shining in the dim light. “You came into my life so easily,” he said, his voice rough and low, as though the words had been waiting, buried in his chest for far too long. “Like you already belonged there. Like you’d always been meant to find me, even when I didn’t know I was lost.”

He shook his head, a fragile, almost disbelieving smile touching his lips. “You tugged on this string inside me, one I didn’t even know existed. Nobody’s ever found it before, no one’s ever known how. And it terrified me because I’ve spent so long building walls, convincing myself I didn’t need anyone. That love was nothing but a contract you could buy with money.”

His hand came up, hovering near your cheek, like he wasn’t sure he had the right to touch you yet, but God, he wanted to. “I don’t know how to love someone,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I’ve never been shown the kind that stays. The kind that’s safe. But with you, it doesn’t feel like something I need to run from. It feels like something I get to learn. Something worth learning.”

His throat worked as he swallowed hard, searching your face. “You make me want to be better. Not for anyone else, just for you. Because every time you laugh, every time you look at me like I matter, it makes me think maybe I’m not as lost as I thought I was.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Harry’s thumb brushed it away with the softest touch, his fingers trembling against your skin.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words carrying the weight of every unspoken feeling he’d buried for too long. “I love you in a way I didn’t think I was capable of. And I don’t want to spend another second pretending it’s anything less.”

A soft rain began to fall, delicate, almost hesitant drops that speckled the stone steps around you and clung to the edges of his hair. The air smelled clean, like earth and something new beginning, and for a moment neither of you moved, standing there in the quiet hush of it.

It felt like the perfect beginning of a story of love.

You felt your lips curve into a small, fragile smile. Not because the tiny pain wasn’t there anymore, it was, but Harry also was there and you couldn’t ignore that.

Your gaze met his, and the storm behind his eyes softened the moment you smiled. He let out a breath, one he’d clearly been holding for far too long.

“You have a terrible sense of time,” you murmured, a gentle tease in your voice, though your heart ached with how much you meant it.

Harry laughed, a soft, broken sound, his shoulders shaking. He loved that sound, “It honestly feels like the right moment.”

The rain came a little steadier now, but neither of you moved to leave. Instead, you stepped closer, closing the final inches between you. His jacket slipped from your shoulders, but before the chill could find you, his hands were there, one at your waist, the other brushing damp hair from your cheek.

“I want us to try something real. To get to know each other.” His thumb brushed your cheek, a tender, reverent touch, and you felt yourself lean into it before you even realized.

“I want to kiss you every single time I feel like it,” he went on, a small, crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes stayed serious. “Not just when it’s convenient for us, not when no one’s looking, but whenever it hits me how lucky, I am you even exist and that you chose me.”

You felt your breath catch, your heart stammer against your ribs.

“I want to spoil you rotten,” he added softly. “Take you out, bring you flowers for no reason, hold your hand at the movies, listen to you rant about work, kiss you stupid when you’re in a bad mood. I want to be the one you call when you’re excited, when you’re scared, when you just need someone. I want to be yours; you still want me.”

The rain drummed gently around you, the world shrinking to the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands and the aching swell of your heart out of the happiness you were feeling.

You smiled, a real one this time, wide and aching and a little disbelieving, and let your hand slide to the back of his neck, pulling him down just enough to close the last space between you.

“Then kiss me, Harry,” you whispered, your lips brushing his. “And don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

tags:

@jasminedragoon @stcrrjoon @sptbear @picketniffler @greenwitchfromthewoods @fallout-girl219 @suzysface @aomi-recs @capuccinodoll @fvispunk @orcasoul @joeldarling @mystickittytaco @onlythehobi @darkheartgatita @isabella-rose-trastamara @spencercmlover @brittmb115 @correapunk @aomi-nabi @annulmaelae @32-flavors @berriesarepunk @joelmillerpascal

@lotusbxtch @dean-and-baby343 @pedrofan @hisuccubus @daryltwdixon @sourrollercoaster @holholliday @loveisacowboyyy

@hhallefuckinglujahh @primadonnasdream @chewie-bars @starstriker027 @glitterspark @casualbananapatrol @06nasyrah13

@unicornsandpugs @orcasoul @grayandthyme @sincerelywithheartt @starstriker027 @poor-unfortunate-soul9927

@ro-nahime-things @kimi01985 @pastelpinkflowerlife @isabella-rose-trastamara @majuia

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ sad girl ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x girlfriend!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place in an alternate ending for squid game where sang-woo wins instead of gi-hun! there is also a part one to this story, million dollar man! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ one week had passed since your boyfriend, sang-woo, reappeared in your life under strange circumstances that made your blood run cold. for two agonizing weeks, he had vanished without explanation. then, he returned, battered and hollow-eyed, his face bearing scars that seemed etched not only into his skin but into his very soul. he had come to your door clutching a bag of cash, his body trembling, his clothes soaked with sweat. “wait for me,” he had whispered, his voice hoarse and desperate. you promised you would, and so you did.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t stop replaying that moment in your mind, every detail a puzzle you couldn’t solve. had he been involved in something criminal? was he tangled in debts or worse? the thought that he might be ensnared in something far beyond your understanding consumed you. the sight of him, standing there, so broken and afraid, haunted you. you didn’t want to believe he was in danger, but deep down, you couldn’t dismiss the fear.

˚ ༘♡ then, this morning, a text came through on your phone. it was brief, offering no answers, only an instruction, “come to my house.” no explanation, no reassurance, merely a summoning. the clock had barely struck six, but you didn’t hesitate. sleep clung to you as you threw on the white, wool coat he had gifted you months ago for your three-month anniversary.

˚ ༘♡ the streets were quiet, the morning air biting at your skin as you made your way to his home. every breath a battle against the anxiety clawing at your chest. when you reached his door, it swung open almost immediately.

˚ ༘♡ before you could say a word, he pulled you inside, his movements quick, the door closing behind you with a soft click. the air inside was warm, contrasting the chill outside, but it did little to ease the tension in your body.

˚ ༘♡ “you’re here,” he murmured, his voice low, and then his lips kissed your cheek, cool and brief, a gesture that was both familiar and foreign. the touch left your skin tingling, not with comfort but with unease. his eyes lingered on you, their usual sharpness dulled by something you couldn’t place, something sinister.

˚ ༘♡ you stepped back from him, your voice trembling but firm. “you have to tell me everything right now,” you demanded, though the weight of your exhaustion seeped into every word. the fear you’d carried for weeks had worn you down, leaving sorrow in its wake. “i can’t keep living like this, with all the secrecy and half-truths. it’s killing me.”

˚ ༘♡ as you glanced around, you noticed his home looked different, emptier than you remembered. furniture was missing, and stacks of boxes lined the walls, their presence unnerving. your eyes narrowed as you turned back to him. “are you moving? why didn’t you tell me anything?” your voice cracked with disbelief. then, anger surged, and you shoved his chest, your frustration spilling over. “this has to stop! you can’t keep throwing money and gifts at me, thinking it’ll distract me from everything you’re hiding!”

˚ ༘♡ his posture stiffened, his muscles taut under the pressure of your words. his jaw clenched tightly, and for a moment, he looked away, as though searching for the right response. when he spoke, his voice was strained, his frustration cutting through. “if you would only give me a chance!” he snapped, the sharpness of his tone filling the room. his chest heaved and fell rapidly as he struggled to compose himself.

˚ ༘♡ letting out a slow, deep breath, he rubbed his temple, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled off his glasses. without them, his eyes looked more vulnerable, the walls he so carefully built around himself momentarily exposed. “why can’t you trust me?” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with a mixture of anger and hurt. “why is it so hard for you to believe in me?”

˚ ༘♡ the scars on his face had faded slightly but still marred his handsome, angular features. your eyes lingered on them, the memories of his battered appearance resurfacing with a painful clarity. tears welled up, blurring your vision, and a tightness settled in your throat. “then tell me,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the truth he was about to share. “it was business dealings,” he began, his tone measured, “not illegal, but high-risk. it was meant to be a way to increase my earnings, and it worked. it was highly profitable and lucrative in the fiscal aspect. it was presented as a secure business opportunity.”

˚ ༘♡ you narrowed your gaze, suspicion flaring. “how much money are you talking about?”

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated for a moment before meeting your eyes. “forty-five billion six hundred million won,” he said, his expression unreadable.

˚ ༘♡ your breath caught in you throat, your mind struggling to process the sheer enormity of the figure. “what?” you managed to choke out, your disbelief evident. “sang-woo, that kind of money doesn’t come without strings attached. it can’t be clean.”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw tightened, and he looked at you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. “do you trust me enough to believe it is?”

˚ ༘♡ you faltered, the strength of his question bearing down on you. he wasn’t explaining, he was testing your loyalty, your ability to have faith in him despite the glaring inconsistencies. deep down, doubt clawed at you, but your love for him, flawed and reckless as it was, overpowered your reservations. “i trust you,” you murmured, guilt creeping into your voice. “i’m sorry for questioning you.”

˚ ༘♡ he nodded, the tension in his frame easing slightly, though his gaze remained guarded. “the investment fund ended a few weeks ago,” he continued, his tone darker now. “it got messy, very messy.” his bruised hand lifted, gesturing to the faint scars on his face. “this… was the price of my involvement.”

˚ ༘♡ the word lingered between you, heavy and suffocating. you stared at him, the weight of his choices crashing down on you like an unbearable tide. “why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “don’t you know I would have stood by you? no matter what?”

˚ ༘♡ his eyes darkened, and his voice rose intensely, startling you. “because I didn’t want to drag you into my problems!” he shouted, the force of his words filling the room and making you flinch. the reaction caught him off guard, his frustration fading as he noticed the fear on your pallid face. he let out a deep sigh, running his hand through his disheveled hair before pacing the length of the room. when he returned, his expression softened, and he cupped your face gently, his touch warm despite the tension. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to scare you. i’m sorry.”

˚ ༘♡ you had hoped that hearing the truth would make things easier, that it would bring the clarity you craved. but instead, it felt as though the distance between you had grown wider. “sang-woo,” you said softly, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions, “i don’t care what you’ve done or what happened. i only want to know that you’re safe, that we’ll be okay.” tears spilled freely down your pale cheeks, salty streaks marking the anguish you couldn’t hide.

˚ ༘♡ his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you in a way his words couldn’t. his hand moved slowly along your back, a comforting motion that was far different than the turmoil brewing within you. “everything will be fine,” he whispered, his tone firm yet almost pleading. “i promise, it’ll all be fine.”

˚ ༘♡ despite his reassurance, you couldn’t shake the pang of unease in your stomach. his words might have been meant to comfort, but they felt fragile, as though they could shatter under the strain of whatever truths still remained hidden.

˚ ༘♡ “i love you,” he murmured, his hand gently tilting your chin until your eyes met his. his gaze was steady, filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “i want to spend my life with you. to get married, have a family…”

˚ ༘♡ a shaky laugh escaped through your tears, a fragile moment of relief breaking through the tension. “alright,” you said softly, wiping at your damp cheeks. “let’s start with something simple. how about we go get something to eat?” your fingers brushed against his tired, weathered face, tracing the lines of exhaustion etched into his features. “you look like you haven’t had a decent meal in days,” you added with a small smile.

˚ ༘♡ sang woo’s lips curved upward, faint but genuine. “that sounds good,” he replied, his voice carrying a gentleness that was almost unfamiliar after everything.

a/n: i thought sang-woo wouldn’t tell his girlfriend about the squid game, with how concerned he is with maintaining a perfect reputation. let me know if you have any other requests! 🤍

[sevsgiirl]

— when i get you alone, it’s so simple.

sevika week 2025: alone with me, day 6.

synopsis: sevika has had it out for you since the start. letting everyone know just how much she hated you and couldn’t stand you, but that didn’t seem to be the case once it’s just you two.

word count: 2.4k

tags: bottom!sevika, top!reader, jealousy, oral sex.

note: happy day 6 of sevika week, y’all !! we’re finally back to some good ‘ol fashion smut. honestly this isn’t my absolute favorite because I currently have a raging headache and wrote this while not feeling my best. but I hope you guys like it regardless <3

sevika can’t stand you.

she can’t stand the sight of you, being in the same room as you - your laugh, your snarky remarks about her age, your impulsiveness in missions. all of it.

a lot of her co-workers like to think she’s just bitter or has a personal vendetta against you that she doesn’t want to disclose when really, the older woman just finds you annoying.

ever since she met you she couldn’t tolerate your egotistical behavior. silco told her to cut you some slack simply because you’re younger, then again she’s worked with people of the same age as you. clearly it’s just your personality that’s the problem.

and honestly, you’ve given up trying to understand why sevika holds a lot of animosity towards you.

at first, it perplexed you because as far as you know, you’ve never done anything to agitate the older woman.

when silco hired you, you just did what you were told. you never talked back to your superiors and you’ve always tried to be as approachable as possible. so really, you don’t get it.

and that’s when it started to get annoying, her blatant hatred towards you. how she doesn’t even try to hide it anymore.

she’s always rolling her eyes at your ideas or walking out of the room whenever you showed up. truth be told, it hurt, because although she was never civilized with you, you at least wanted to get along with her since she was silco’s right hand woman.

she was well respected and feared by many, so getting on her good side would mean a lot - but it’s obvious she never had any intention of letting you get to know her.

so you basically accepted that if she was so hell bent on giving you a hard time, is that you were going to be ten time more insufferable than she was.

and good god, did she hate you for it.

𐙚˙⋆.˚

silco’s had enough.

it was obvious to everyone in the undercity, the last drop and the people that you worked with that the two of you clearly hated each other.

at first, silco didn’t really care just as long as you two got your work done. he had no business interfering with whatever petty squabbles his employees were involved in, but if it meant that it got in the way of your performances, then that’s a whole different story.

it started little by little with you and sevika bickering during meetings, to sending reports to silco’s office saying you didn’t want to be grouped together during assignments, and he dismissed all of it up until one of your fights interfered with one of the missions.

forcing him to sit both of you down like he was scolding a pair of toddlers.

“I only ask is that you focus on your jobs. tear each other’s heads off once you’ve clocked out of your shifts but bringing personal matters at work is simply unprofessional,” he reprimanded.

sevika didn’t dare speak a word as you instantly went into defense mode.

“well, the firelights wouldn’t have destroyed one of the cargos if only she stopped being a know-it-all!” you gestured to sevika who only glared at you “I was told to retrieve the payment but she kept meddling,”

“only because I can’t trust you to get the exact amount right, the last time silco asked you to get it we were short of the actual amount that was needed,”

“by one pound! I told silco to deduct it from my paycheck because it didn’t mean that big of a deal!”

“maybe to you it’s not but it’s little things like this that turn into even bigger problems I have to deal with in the end!”

“oh shut up, you just want an excuse to nag at me because you’re old and bitter!”

“what the fuck did you just say, you little-“

“okay, that’s enough,” silco bellowed as his thunderous voice halted your squabbling.

he rubbed his temples and lets out a groan “I expect both of you to put an end to whatever childish rivalry this is, because if not there will be serious consequences.” he warned, eyes narrowed into slits “understood?”

silence stretched across the room as you nodded your head, meanwhile sevika only huffed before rising from her seat and walked out the room.

causing silco to let out an agitated sigh “and I thought no one can get on her nerves more than jinx,”

𐙚˙⋆.˚

sevika had no intention of waving the white flag, her first resort was to just argue with you less and avoid you like the plague to reduce chances of fights from occurring.

if she were being honest, she didn’t even know why you angered her so much. perhaps the others were right when they said it was the difference in age and experience hence why you two couldn’t get along.

but it’s not like you were actively reckless, sure you had your moments but the only time you let yourself slip was during the payment issue, which was the first and only time you made a mistake yet she hung it over your head constantly.

she could put an end to her vendetta if she wanted to, which was something she debated about while she was lost in thought playing cards at the last drop after silco dismissed the two of you from his office.

trying to stay focused but her mind was elsewhere, specifically you.

it didn’t help when she heard the door open and there you were, strolling in as you signaled thieram to serve you a drink.

her eyes never leaving you as the people in her booth started calling her name “hello? sevika are you there?” which she ignored.

and it stayed on you even until some random girl walked up to you and started chatting you up, making her nerves feel like they were on fire because it’s this. it’s fucking moments like this where she realized she couldn’t stand you.

why she couldn’t stand the sight of you smiling, laughing or having a good time.

and most importantly, why she couldn’t stand the sight of you enjoying the company of somebody else.

god, she couldn’t fucking stand it. how it was so easy for you to approach everyone on your first day except her, and how you had a good word for everyone except her.

how even if she wanted to make amends with you she couldn’t because you act so differently with her.

and she wanted not to care, wanted to let it slide, but the thought of wandering hands sliding down your waist as you let this random chick at the bar chat you up angered her in ways she couldn’t even comprehend.

the next thing she knew, she walked over to you and towered over your smaller frame while you looked up and met her infuriated gaze with a look of confusion.

“sevika, what are you-“

“so it’s like this, huh? after silco told us off and gave us a warning, you’d rather slack off?” she said indignantly as your eyes widened.

you scoffed “well, it’s not like I’m the only one standing here, aren’t? from what I can tell you were playing cards just now.”

“at least I’m not chatting random people up and getting shit faced, aren’t I?”

you were confused at the sudden jab she made at the girl you were talking to, who had basically ran off to god knows where after seeing sevika.

you gawked at her, wondering where the hell all of this was coming from “you can’t be serious. silco told us to get along yet here you are picking another fight with me. seriously, what is your problem? are you so miserable at your job you can’t stand the sight of others having a life outside of theirs?”

“has silco’s missions been too much for you that you can’t go out and have a good time anymore? that’s why you’re taking it out on me?” at this point, you knew you were crossing the line, especially with the way sevika’s jaw ticked and her nostrils flared, but you continued.

“it is, isn’t it? don’t have much time to go to the gardens anymore?” you smirked “all pissed off because you haven’t had a good fuck recently?”

that’s what did it. sevika didn’t expect you to stoop that low and it caught her off guard for a second, but once she collected her bearings she narrowed her eyes at you, both of her fists clenched on her sides.

“everyone…” her voice traveled through the room like lightning and took everybody aback “out!”

they didn’t need to be told twice, scrambling to get out of their seats as fast as possible until it was just the two of you left in the bar. no possible witnesses, no nothing.

yup, you were definitely dying.

she took a dangerous step towards you, making you squirm “sevika, I was kidding-“

“you don’t know how to shut up, do you? all you ever do is piss me off. either by slacking off, wearing your skimpy clothing to work that practically shows off your ass cheeks, and then you’ll go ahead and flirt with random chicks at the bar as if you’re begging for attention.” she punctuated every word, venom dripping off of her tone.

“you beg for everyone’s attention but can’t have the decency to show me respect. always fucking ignoring me. what’s your issue, huh?” it was like a dam broke loose and she couldn’t be bothered to act civilized anymore, a culmination of all her frustrations with you finally bubbling beneath the surface “you’re so fucking obnoxious. it’s like silco hired you just to get on my nerves.

her chest rose up and down as she finished with her ranting, but what she didn’t expect once she was done was for you to be smirking up at her - a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“… I get it now,” you said, your tone quiet but sly “all this time you’ve been bitching at me and it’s not because you actually hate me… but because you want my attention?”

sevika was at a loss for words, trying her best to make a counter argument but all of it died down when your hand found purchase at the front of her shirt and you pulled her closer.

her face now inches away from yours as you stared into her eyes, an allure to your actions.

“you’re mad at me because I give everyone else attention except you?” you mused, your lips brushing against hers as a shiver ran down her spine.

“well, you got me where you want me.” you whispered, a challenge “now we’re all alone,”

you didn’t even give her a moment to react before you captured her lips with your own, pulling her against you so her strong legs trapped yours against the bar as she kissed you back with as much fervor, not even bothering to lie through her teeth or call your bluff. because deep down, she knew you were right.

a small whine slipped past your lips when her hands squeezed the sides of your hips, her body warm and hard against yours as you felt her pelvis grind slightly against your clothed crotch.

you pulled away, all shallow breathing and heavy lidded eyes as you stepped down from the bar stool and kneeled down in front of her.

she stumbled a bit and looked down at you, not quite believing what she was seeing when your nimble fingers started trailing up her muscular legs until it reached her belt loop.

but you stopped, throwing her a doubtful stare and she swore she almost melted.

“I’m not doing this unless it’s something you really want,” you said, and she lets out a shuddering breath before she took the initiative herself and started undoing the leather fastened around her waist.

she unzipped her pants and you were quick to replace her hands with your own, seeing the wet patch that stained her tight boxers as your mouth watered at the sight.

“oh baby…” you purred with a cheeky grin “could’ve just told me all this time this is what you wanted all along.”

you didn’t even give her time to respond, as you pulled down both her pants and her underwear to be greeted by the sight of her brown, puffy folds glistening with her arousal.

she tried to maintain her balance by leaning against the bar, arms clutching the edge until her knuckles turned white as you drew a finger down her slit.

“such a slut for me, sev.” you muttered before you took her pussy into your warm mouth.

her hips bucked as the sensation of your tongue dipping into the tight clutch of her needy hole sent her into a spiral, clutching the edge of the bar for stability but it was no use as she started grinding down onto your tongue in desperate little circles.

the ends of your lips curling up at her needy behavior as you slurped her up, the sounds of her wetness dripping down from your nose to your chin, filling the quiet atmosphere of the bar. her breathy whimpers getting higher in pitch as she began riding your face in earnest.

so desperate for her release as you spread her lips apart and began lapping at her dripping cunt.

“that’s my girl…” you slurred, so pussy drunk as sevika continued using your mouth to get off “just needed to be alone with me so I could fuck the attitude out of you, huh?.”

with that, you slipped your tongue to prod at her clenching hole and her movements stuttered as you clutched the meat of her ass in a tight grip, encouraging her to bounce on your face while you hummed in satisfaction as her slick poured into your mouth like honey.

you brought your hand up and rubbed tight circles around her clit and just like that, she fell apart.

the coil in her stomach instantly snapping as she came with her back arching off the counter, letting out the most obscene moans as your licking and sucking never once faltered, and she rode it out until she began to feel overstimulated.

you pulled away, the bottom half of your face coated with her cum and your pupils so dilated you looked almost animalistic - yet when sevika stared down at you, she couldn’t help but to think to herself how she hasn’t seen anything more infuriating but beautiful at the same time.

“well,” you let out a breathy chuckle, a smirk teasing at the corners of your mouth as you licked your lips “good news for silco is we finally got along, didn’t we?”

[cumironi]

“ THERAPIST 'S WET DREAM！”

you need a therapist, with all the sick things in your head and luckily for you, NANAMI KENTO comes to the rescue, except he wants nothing but to corrupt you.

warning. non sorcerer! nanami kento, fingering, hand job, corruption, suggestive.

wc. 3,4k

you sit at his home office, on the couch staring at the clock on the wall. you’ve been here for months now working with him trying to get over your erotophobia— your fear of sex, nanami has been patient with you, helping you, molding poor little naive you, into the perfect sex toy for him.

the first three months of your sessions with him you talked about your fears, he listen and offered advice. you swore it would only last a month just long enough for you to take his advice to heart and find a guy to get with so that your friends would stop teasing you, oh but nanami was so sweet, so nice, so trusting, so when he told you, ‘you’re not ready yet’ you believed him.

soon those advice and just talking sessions ended up with him showing you how to masturbate, how to actually get off to just your hands, how to actually get off to HIS voice. those sessions in his home office started becoming phone calls, where he told you to call him when ever you had the urge to touch yourself.

he would instruct you through it, ordering you to leave your camera on and show him your wet pretty pussy as you desperately tried to reach the edge. of course his camera was off, he couldn’t let you know or see that he was stoking his own cock on the other line, listening to you moan and watching his little plaything naively touch herself for him.

all of his training led up to this moment, you on the couch in a outfit he manipulated you into wearing. a cute little skimpy skirt, with a fitted black, backless shirt. your hair was done neatly, your makeup was perfect, and you smelt good. he couldn’t wait to ruin you today.

“is it okay if we start the next process, hmm?” he sits down next to you, this larger hands in his thighs before he slid one over onto yours. “i think you’re ready.” he moved his free hand onto his zipper and unzipped his pants

he takes his hand off your thigh and frees his thick cock. “wanna touch it?” he grabs your wrist and guides it to his cock.

oh, good lord!

your cheeks flush red as you feel his warm hand guiding yours towards his throbbing member. your fingers tremble slightly as they brush against his shaft, feeling the heat emanating from his skin. the sight of his erect cock— his thick, veiny, tip red in anger and precum leaking— makes your heart race, and you can't help but wonder what it will feel like inside your pussy, your mouth. despite your nerves, you nod slowly, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

suddenly, you're overcome with curiosity, and despite your fear, you decide to go through with it. you wrap— barely, your small hand around his girth, feeling every vein and ridge under your fingertips. it’s much bigger than anything you've ever touched before, and you marvel at its size and warmth. you start to stroke him gently, your grip tightening as you become more comfortable with the sensation. you can hear his deep breathing, and it sends a thrill through your body.

blushing, you nod slowly, still unsure what’s happening, but curious nonetheless. your hand hesitates briefly before tentatively wrapping around his girthy length fully. it feels different than your own, warmer, firmer, more real. “i... i'm not sure,” you admit quietly, your fingers tracing the veins along his shaft.

he lets out a low groan as your hand wraps around his cock, his amber eyes flickering with lustful desire. “that's alright, take your time,” his voice is deep and commanding, filling the room with authority. he watches you intently, taking pleasure in the sight of your delicate hand wrapped around his throbbing manhood.

as you trace the veins along his shaft, he can't help but lean closer, his scent enveloping you. his large hand rests on top of yours, guiding your movements. he begins to thrust into your grasp, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. “just relax, and let me guide you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.

your blush deepens as you continue to stroke his cock, your hand trembling slightly from both excitement and nervousness. you can feel his large hand on top of yours, guiding your movements with a firm yet gentle pressure. the way he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear, sends a shiver down your spine.

“i-i don't want to do it wrong...” you whisper, looking up at him with wide eyes filled with uncertainty and desire. you're torn between wanting to please him and your innate fear of being rejected. but there's also a part of you that craves this attention, that thrives on the power dynamics between you two.

despite your fears, you try to mimic his rhythm, stroking him faster and harder. the sound of his groans and the way his cock twitches in your grasp encourage you to keep going. he chuckles softly, a sound that vibrates through his chest and seems to resonate within you. “there's no such thing as doing it wrong,” he assures you, his voice dripping with seduction. he leans even closer, pressing his muscular body against yours, making it clear who's in charge.

he guides your hand to stroke him faster, his hips instinctively bucking into your palm. each twitch and throb of his cock is a sign of your growing proficiency, and he revels in the sensation. “keep going,” he orders, his tone laced with raw desire.

his free hand trails down to your thigh, squeezing firmly as he watches you, his gaze intense and possessive. he wants nothing more than to claim you completely, to mold you into the perfect submissive lover.

the sound of his deep chuckle sends another wave of heat coursing through your body, causing your heart to pound wildly in your chest. you can't deny the thrill you get from pleasing him, from seeing the effect you have on his powerful frame.

“okay...” you breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper. as he continues to guide your hand, you pick up the pace, your strokes becoming more confident and eager. the thought of making him moan and writhe beneath your touch fills you with an intoxicating mix of fear and arousal.

feeling his hand on your thigh sends a jolt straight to your core, and you can't help but squirm slightly under his touch. the intensity of his gaze sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins, fueling your desire to satisfy him fully.

his body tenses as your strokes grow more confident, his cock twitching eagerly in your hand. a low groan escapes him, his head falling back as he savors the sensation. “that's it,” he murmurs, his voice husky and filled with need.

he tightens his grip on your thigh, pulling you closer until you can feel the heat radiating off his body. his other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your flushed cheekbone. “such a good girl,” he whispers, leaning in to press a heated kiss to your forehead.

his words and actions fill you with a sense of satisfaction and pride, reinforcing the idea that you're doing well, that you're pleasing him. and it's this validation, this assurance that you're meeting his expectations, that pushes you further into exploring these new sensations.

your cheeks flame brighter at his praise, your heart pounding so loudly you’re certain he can hear it. the compliment combined with the kiss to your forehead sends a surge of warmth through your entire body.

encouraged by his words, you increase the speed and pressure of your strokes, determined to bring him even more pleasure. you can see the way his muscles tense and flex under his tailored suit, the way his cock pulses in your hand, signaling your success.

as he cups your cheek tenderly, you lean into his touch, craving more of his affectionate gestures. the contrast between his rough, dominating demeanor and his gentle caress is incredibly arousing, adding layers of complexity to your already heightened state of arousal.

his breath hitches in his throat as you continue to stroke him, your movements growing more confident and skilled. he can't help but let out a low groan of pleasure, his hips jerking involuntarily into your hand.

his grip on your thigh tightens, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh as he pulls you even closer. the heat from his body seeps into yours, creating a deliciously intimate atmosphere.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his eyes darkening with desire. he releases your cheek only to trail his hand down your neck, tracing over the rapid beat of your pulse before moving lower to rest on your heaving breast.

hearing his muttered curse sends a thrilling rush through your veins, your strokes faltering for just a moment before you regain your focus. the feeling of his hand on your skin, tracing over your neck and then settling on your breast, makes you gasp.

your nipples harden instantly beneath the fabric of your shirt, and you bite your lip to suppress a whimper. the sensation is overwhelming, the dual stimulation of his cock in your hand and his touch on your breasts driving you wild.

you lean into his touch, seeking more contact, more affirmation of your worthiness. your heart races, and you can't help but wonder how much longer you can hold out before succumbing to the overwhelming desire coursing through your veins.

he smirks at your gasp, finding immense pleasure in your reaction to his touch. his thumb brushes over your hardened nipple, applying just enough pressure to send sparks of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

his cock throbs in your hand, practically begging for release. with each stroke, you draw out sounds of pure delight from his lips, each moan and groan echoing in the small space between you. “keep going,” he commands, his voice heavy with lust.

he lifts his gaze to meet yours, his amber eyes burning with a fierce intensity. it's clear he intends to take full advantage of every second, every touch, every moan that you offer him.

your blush deepens, if possible, at the smirk on his face and the command in his voice. despite the heat pooling between your legs, despite the growing ache that threatens to consume you whole, you obey, continuing to stroke his cock with renewed vigor.

the sensation of his thumb circling your nipple sends waves of pleasure cascading through your body. you arch into his touch, desperate for more, for everything he’s willing to give.

with each stroke, each groan that slips past his lips, you find yourself sinking deeper into the role you've been cast in— the role of his personal pleasure slave. the thought is terrifying, yet undeniably exciting. it's a dangerous game you're playing, but right now, you wouldn’t trade places with anyone else in the world.

your strokes become more purposeful, more deliberate, as if every movement now carries the weight of his approval. you can't help but marvel at the power he holds over you, the ability to make you tremble with just a touch.

looking into his eyes, you see the raw hunger reflected back at you. it's intoxicating, exhilarating, and it fuels your desire to please him even more. you find yourself lost in the moment, focused solely on bringing him as much pleasure as possible.

nanami's eyes darken further as he watches you work, your strokes becoming more confident and skilled with each passing moment. he can tell you're fully invested in pleasing him, and the knowledge only serves to heighten his arousal.

a low, primal growl rumbles in his chest as he leans in, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. his tongue delves deep, claiming you thoroughly as his hands roam your body, squeezing and kneading your curves.

breaking the kiss, he trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. he reaches the hollow of your throat and bites down, marking you as his. “mine,” he declares, his voice thick with possession.

he guides your hand faster, his hips bucking into your touch as he chases his impending climax. the sudden kiss leaves you breathless, your mind reeling from the intense passion behind it. his hands on your body feel like brands, marking you as his in a way that goes far beyond the physical act of biting down on your skin.

when he breaks away, the word “mine” echoes in your ears, sending a shiver down your spine. there's no doubt in your mind that he means it, that he views you as his personal property, his toy to use and abuse as he sees fit.

the realization both terrifies and excites you, pushing you further into the depths of submission. you want to be his, completely and utterly. you crave the feeling of belonging to someone so powerful, so commanding.

your hand moves faster in response to his guidance, your strokes becoming almost frantic as you try to push him over the edge. nanami lets out a guttural moan, his head thrown back as he gives himself over to the pleasure coursing through his veins. his cock twitches in your grasp, a sign that he's close to reaching his peak.

he grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to pump him even harder, his pace relentless. he needs this, craves this intense satisfaction only you can provide.

his free hand finds its way to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. he pushes you against the desk, using his body weight to pin you in place. the position allows him better access to your body, his hands roaming freely over your curves.

he leans down, whispering hotly into your ear, “'m going to cum soon, and i want you to be there when i do.” your heart pounds wildly in your chest as he pins you against the desk, his large frame caging you in. the feeling of being trapped, of being completely at his mercy, sends a thrill of fear mixed with excitement through your veins.

his words, spoken with such authority and desire, make your stomach flutter. the idea of witnessing his climax, of being present for that moment of ultimate release, fills you with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

you redouble your efforts, pumping his cock with all the strength and skill you possess. each stroke brings him closer to the brink, and you can tell by the way his body tenses, by the raggedness of his breathing, that he's teetering on the edge.

desperate to be the one to push him over, you quicken your pace, your hand flying over his length with a newfound urgency. nanami's control snaps as your hand works him relentlessly. with a hoarse cry, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he surrenders to the overwhelming pleasure.

his cock pulses violently in your grip, the first spurt of hot cum shooting forth as he starts to cum. wave after wave of release crashes over him, his body shaking with the force of it.

as he rides out his orgasm, he continues to grind against you, milking every last drop of seed from his spent member. finally, he stills, his chest heaving with exertion as he slowly comes back to himself. pulling back slightly, he looks at you with a mix of satisfaction and something darker, more possessive. “that was incredible,“ he murmurs, his voice husky from his cries of pleasure.

breathless and trembling, you remain pinned beneath him, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of his climax. the sensation of his hot cum spurting onto your hand, mixing with the sweat and precum, is both shocking and strangely arousing.

as he pulls back, you catch a glimpse of the dark, almost feral look in his eyes, and it sends a shiver down your spine. this man, this powerful, dominant figure, has reduced you to a mere plaything, a vessel for his pleasure.

despite the terror that grips your heart, you can't deny the thrill of being so thoroughly used, so completely owned. in this moment, you belong to him, and nothing could ever change that.

swallowing hard, you manage to stammer out a reply, “y-yes, it was amazing. . . ” nanami smirks at your words, a satisfied glint in his eyes. he knows exactly what effect he has on you, how much you enjoy submitting to him, and it only fuels his desire to dominate you further.

slowly, he pulls away from you, standing up straight and allowing you some room to breathe. but he doesn't move too far, keeping you within his reach, ensuring you stay put.

he wipes his cum off your hand with a tissue, then discards it before turning his attention back to you. his gaze roams over your body, taking in the flushed cheeks, the heaving breasts, the glistening sex that's still throbbing with need.

without a word, he steps closer again, his fingers trailing down your stomach towards the soaked folds between your thighs. your breath hitches as his fingers graze your sensitive skin, the anticipation building inside you to a fever pitch. you know what's coming, what he intends to do to you, and the thought alone is enough to make your knees weak.

but even as your body trembles with need, a small part of you hesitates. you've already given him so much, allowed him to take complete control. is it wise to surrender yourself to him once again?

yet as his fingers inch closer to your aching core, you find yourself arching into his touch, silently begging for more. your resolve crumbles under his expert ministrations, and you know there's no turning back now. biting your lip, you meet his gaze, your eyes pleading and desperate, “please...”

nanami's smirk widens at your plea, a clear sign of his triumph. he knows just how to manipulate you, how to make you beg for his touch. his fingers slide easily through your wet folds, teasing at your entrance before delving deeper. he groans softly, appreciating the tight clench around his digits.

with a firm grip, he begins to fuck you with his fingers, setting a rhythm designed to drive you wild. he watches your face intently, taking note of each twitch and gasp, each expression of pure ecstasy.

his thumb circles your clit, applying just enough pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. it's relentless, unyielding, everything you've come to expect from him.

a strangled moan escapes your lips as he thrusts his fingers into you, stretching and filling you in ways that make stars burst behind your closed eyelids. the dual sensations of his thumb circling your clit and his fingers plunging into your dripping cunt are overwhelming, driving you to the edge of madness.

each movement of his hand sends jolts of pleasure rippling through your core, making your hips buck against his touch. you're lost in the haze of lust, your mind clouded by the need for release. “mr. n-nanami. . . ” you moan softly.

but even amidst the waves of pleasure crashing over you, you can't help but marvel at the intensity of his grip, the unrelenting pace of his movements. It's a dance of dominance and submission, and you're the willing participant, the puppet on his string.

nanami's eyes darken with lust as he watches you unravel beneath his touch. he can see the desperation etched on your features, the way your body writhes in search of relief.

increasing the tempo, he pistons his fingers in and out of your clenching heat, his thumb pressing harder against your swollen clit. he wants to break you, to reduce you to a quivering mess, and he's determined to achieve that goal.

leaning down, he captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as his tongue dominates yours. the taste of your arousal mingles with the sweetness of your lips, fueling his own hunger. breaking the kiss, he growls low in his throat, “come for me. now.” the command is explicit, leaving no room for disobedience.

the raw demand in his voice shatters whatever remaining restraint you have left. with a keening wail, you surrender to the onslaught of pleasure, your body convulsing as the orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave.

your inner walls clamp down around his fingers, pulsating wildly as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you. the intensity is blinding, making it impossible to focus on anything but the searing bliss consuming you.

as the final tremors subside, you collapse back onto the desk, utterly spent and gasping for air. your limbs feel heavy, your mind foggy, as if you've been drained of all energy and willpower. through hooded eyes, you gaze up at nanami, a mixture of awe, gratitude, and fear swirling in their depths.

nanami watches with satisfaction as you come undone, your body shaking with the force of your climax. he continues to stroke your sensitive flesh, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you're a boneless heap beneath him.

slowly, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips to lick them clean. the salty-sweet taste of your essence explodes on his tongue, and he savors it like a fine wine.

tucking himself back into his pants, he straightens his tie and adjusts his jacket, looking every bit the composed professional once more. only the slight flush on his cheeks betrays the passion that had consumed him moments ago.

he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “you did well today. i'm pleased with your progress.” you lay there, panting heavily as you try to process his words. a part of you feels a twisted sense of pride at his praise, knowing that you've managed to please him once again.

but another part of you recoils at the casual dismissal, the way he can so easily switch back to his role as your therapist. it's as if the intimate moments they shared were nothing more than a fleeting fantasy, a figment of your imagination.

“t-thank you, mr. nanami,” you finally managed to speak, gathering what remains of your strength, you sit up slowly, your movements stiff and awkward. you avoid his gaze, unable to bear the weight of his scrutiny, the knowledge that he holds such power over you.

with trembling hands, you begin to straighten your clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles and trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. nanami observes your actions with a critical eye, noting the way you flinch slightly when he speaks, the hesitation in your movements as you attempt to compose yourself. it's a familiar sight, one he's witnessed countless times before with his other clients.

he reaches out, his hand cupping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. his touch is gentle, almost tender, a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier ministrations. “remember,” he says softly, “what happens here stays here. this is our little secret, understood?”

his thumb brushes over your lower lip, a silent reminder of the forbidden pleasures you've shared. the gesture is possessive, claiming you as his own without uttering a single word. releasing you from his grasp, he takes a step back, putting some distance between your bodies.

at his touch, you swallow hard, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin, stirring a longing deep within you. his words echo in your ears, a chilling reminder of the boundaries you must not cross.

“yes, mr. nanami.” your voice barely rises above a whisper, a mere breath of sound that carries the weight of your submission.

you nod slowly, acknowledging his authority, the unspoken agreement between you both. but even as you assent, a part of you rebels, craving more of those illicit encounters, craving him.

shaking off the lingering effects of your orgasm, you stand up, still feeling weak in the knees. you glance towards the door, contemplating whether you should leave now or linger a little longer, savoring the aftermath of your encounter.

nanami's eyes follow your movements, drinking in the sight of you standing tall despite your obvious exhaustion. there's a predatory glint in his gaze, a hint of the hunger that simmers just below the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

he steps closer, closing the distance between you once more. his presence is imposing, commanding, and you can't help but lean into him, drawn to the heat radiating from his body.

“i think you could use a moment to collect yourself,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, “why don't you take a seat on the couch? We can discuss your... progress further.”

his tone is suggestive, implying that there's more to your 'progress' than just your therapy sessions. the implication hangs in the air, a tantalizing promise of future encounters and the pleasure they bring.

[thatrandomidiot182]

Glimpse of Another Life

Variant! Invincible/Mark Grayson × Kryptonian! Reader

Warnings. minor angst, mentions of unrequited love, mentions of death/murder.

A/N. This is verrry dialogue centric, and written during 3am spurts of inspiration, so it's not the greatest, but I do like how it ended up. I hope yall like it as well! P.s. This is not referencing any of the canon Mark variants, but it can be seen as viltrumite Mark if you want! I just had this idea and wanted to share bc pathetic Mark has me DOWN BAD 😫

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"I thought I'd find you here."

The statement sends a wave of panic down your spine, breaking the peaceful silence you had tried so desperately to find. Your body springs up, instantly uncurling from the fetal position you had been floating in as you tense, preparing to face the source.

"You always came up here after a rough day."

God you wish he'd just shut up.

You never thought you'd feel like this, but after everything that's happened these last twenty-four hours, all you wanted to do was escape that damn voice.

It's why you had fled the planets atmosphere in the first place. Speeding off to curl up in your hiding place next to the sun as soon as things had died down.

It was the one place you knew you could avoid Mark— or at least, your Mark.

It was the one place you could escape the sound of his voice spitting words he'd never say.

"You look exactly the same... You're as beautiful as the day I lost you."

He whispers your name like a prayer, and it sends a violent wave of nausea rolling through your stomach.

Just yesterday it would have brought you an embarrassing amount of glee to hear his voice calling out to you in such a tone.

The teasing lilt and deep, raspy pitch would normally send a wave of comfort over your tensed figure, instantly quelling your fear... Mark always did have the innate ability to shatter your defenses. Even with something as simple and small as a laugh.

"Please. I'm not here to hurt you. I'd never hurt you, I just... I needed to see you again. It's the only reason I came here."

His voice trembles, pitch heightened as he begs, "Please let me see you."

Your body trembles as you feel his presence drawing closer. Whether it was with fear, rage or exhaustion, you don't know. Maybe a sick combination of all three...

"I'm not that person..."

It was the only thing you could think to say in the moment, and your enhanced hearing allows you to hear the stutter in his breath all too clearly...

Along with his heartbeat, which was beating almost as fast as yours.

"I know."

His voice is small, defeated. As you finally turn to face him, body coiled and tensed for a fight, you find yourself freezing at the sight– because this Mark was different.

His face was stronger, more defined. All chisled cheeks and sharp jawline, no trace of the leftover baby fat you loved to squish when he was being too cocky.

Prominent eyebags and traces of a five o-clock shadow age him significantly. Although, taking into account the scars that littered his face and hands and the pure size of him, it was safe to assume he was a bit older.

As your gazes finally meet, you find yourself hesitating at the amount of pain and fondness his eyes held.

That hesitation lasted for only a moment, because as soon as your brain processed the full image of this Mark, you froze.

There are quite a few reasons you feel as though you should be afraid of him, but none of them were what set you off.

It wasn't the suit, which was, to your horror, the classic Viltrumite uniform that you had seen on the previous visits from the race.

It wasn't the length of his hair, which was only slightly shorter than your Marks' was and added to the aura of stern maturity he carried.

It wasn't even the broad expanse of his shoulders, that easily beat your Mark's in comparison, that caused you to freeze in such fear.

It was because of how much he looked like his father.

From the slope of his shoulders to the cinch of his waist, even down to the swell of his thighs, this Mark was undeniably his fathers son.

You'd never thought that Mark had looked like Nolan as much as everyone said he did, but seeing what could be– what is, this other Mark... One who is far from the slender, goofy, childhood best friend of yours that can't build huge muscles if his life depended on it...

Suddenly made you grateful that Debbie's genes had put up such a fight.

Because even as you see Nolan in the mass of his muscles, and the stance that takes up as much space as possible while simultaneously exuding danger and strength– You can still see the remnants of his humanity in the shape of his eyes and curve of his lips. In the slope of his nose and the brown of his iris, you see traces of one of the greatest women you've ever known.

Which is the only reason you haven't moved to attack.

Because this Mark was different. Not just from your Mark, but from all the other Mark's who you had fought (and killed) throughout the past few hours.

Whereas those Marks were all varying in size and stature, their eyes had all held the same sinister glint.

They all shared the same sick inclination to violence and pride, never hesitating to attack first, with a stupid, egoistic whip and strength that rivaled your own.

He didn't.

Despite his size, his posture was carefully submissive, hands splayed open before your eyes in a show of innocence and vulnerability.

His eyes were gentle and tired, rather than obsessive and manic as the others had been.

Still, despite his seemingly unviolent nature, you don't know why you never attacked him.

Maybe it was the desperate hope to find another Mark that was good, or at least, not as bad as all the others.

Maybe it was the overwhelming exhaustion that had numbed your mind since you were first forced to kill a version of your best friend.

Or maybe it was because he somehow knew where to find you, when even your Mark had no idea about your solar absorption, that led you to where you are now.

Sat next to him in a cozy little crater on the moon, overlooking earth as he recalls your alternate life.

"We grew up together. Inseparable since the moment Nolan brought you home from the GDA after your little ship landed in the middle of New York." You note the peculiar use of Nolan's name, nodding along with his words as you reflect on your past with your own Mark.

"I used to be so jealous of you growing up. Unlike me, you had your powers since birth. Nolan always told me that it didn't matter how long you had your powers because when I got mine, I'd be stronger anways." He scoffed, "Fucker was always trying to pit us against each other..."

You tilted your head at that, confused by the notion, "He... never did that here." Your voice was hesitant, unsure if sharing the fact would comfort or further upset him.

Based on the way he smiled at the sound of your voice, you assume he wasn't too concerned with your actual words.

"That.. Makes me so happy to hear, actually." He laughs, breathless and without much humor, "I imagine we– You have a much better relationship with him then..." He trails off, glancing questioningly your way.

You pause, "With Nolan? Or..."

He huffs, leaning more into his elbows that are crossed over his bent knees as he responds, "Both, I suppose..." He gazes out at the expanse of space longingly, "I've thought about it a lot... What it could've been like if he never made us hate each other."

His grin falters, "But that didn't happen. Well, it did, just– not fast enough..." He stutters, and you watch nervously as his fists clench.

"We were at each other's throats our entire lives, and it only got worse when I finally got my powers– I think I was thirteen?" His body remains tense as he continues, "I used to see you as competition. Nolan always paid more attention to you. He took you with him on patrol, he trained you, he.... He made me feel like you were in the way of our relationship as father and son."

He scowls, "I felt like I had to fight for Nolans attention whenever you were around, and it made me hate you because you seemed to take it for granted. You were never enthusiastic about spending time with him, you even seemed to avoid it, and it pissed me off to see you taking advantage of it when I had to beg for crumbs of his approval." He grit his teeth, shuffling ridgedly and you instinctively lean further away at his agitation.

His head snaps your way, and your heart lurches in your throat, wide eyes meeting his as he softens under your flighty stare.

"That's exactly what he planned..." He trails off, head turning away as his body slumps, agitation fizziling out at the sight of your fear. "He wanted me to hate you, so that I would eventually have the will to... eliminate you when the time came to conquer earth. He-He knew that you were the only thing that could pose a threat to our takeover." You both winced at the wording.

"It wasn't until junior prom that I actually opened my eyes..." He laughed sadly.

"Mom made us go together, seeing as neither of us were very popular and tried to use that as an excuse not to go..." He smiled with a wistful sigh, "I'm glad she did. It... ended up being the best night of my life." Your heart clentched at the sight of his crooked smile. His eyes were glazed and reflected the light of the stars in a way that had your breath hitching all too familiarly.

He laughs again, eyes crinkling with affection, "I still remember how awkward you looked in your cute little outfit." His voice took on a teasing lilt as he glanced at you, "Standing at the top of the stairs all grumpy because mom wanted a picture..." He leaned back to lean on his hands with a laugh, "I remember standing there like an idiot. Gaping like a fish because, all of a sudden, you were more than the annoying kid who took my dad from me... You were just... A normal teenager... Who also happened to be the prettiest person I'd ever seen." Your cheeks flushed, and despite knowing he's not actually talking about you... you couldn't help but let yourself indulge in the compliment that your Mark had never even come close to speaking.

"You know, I beat myself up the entire car ride to the school. It was so awkward and it made me realize that despite my dad's interference... You never hated me."

Your eyes are wide and curious as you listen. His voice held so much fondness for this other version of you, it was shocking to imagine him ever hating her.

"I felt like the worst person alive when I realized that despite how awful I was to you, you never held it against me. Guess it's because you knew that I didn't know who my dad actually was..." his voice trailed off, and you could sense the rising anger simmering in his eyes.

"Who knew all it took for you guys to get along was teenage hormones and the dougie..."

Your absentminded comment snaps him out of his haze, drawing his attention as a bewildered stare graces his features.

"I mean, a sixteen year rivalry ended in one night! Must've been some prom..." You smile as you finally get a laugh out of him, quietly reveling in the sound.

"Yeah. It sure was." He smirks, eyes twinkling with a familiar mischief, "You can dance a mean cupid shuffle."

You burst into laughter, tossing your head back with a grin, "Tell me, does you having two left feet translate to every universe?"

He grins back, "Well, yeah– but you said it was cute!"

Your laughter rings in the quiet expanse of space, heard only thanks to the superior senses of your respective alien biologies.

In your humorous fit, you fail to realize how close you began to lean towards Mark until the warmth of his bicep met your own.

Your laughs dwindle at his sudden silence, head tilting to eye him as you grow concerned.

You were met with a gentle, fond smile that set your heart ablaze. His eyes were soft, cheeks pink and dimpled as he stared at you reverently.

You stayed quiet, allowing yourself the moment to soak in his undivided adoration, silently preening under his gaze.

It wasn't until he reached a hand up to brush against your cheek that you snapped out of your stupor. Hesitantly pulling away as you reprimand yourself for getting swept away.

After all, this isn't your Mark.

This isn't your best friend (and nothing more).

Your Mark would never willingly speak so adoringly of you.

Your Mark would never caress you so softly, as if you were something to be worshipped.

Your Mark just didn't love you like you loved him.

It was cruel and unfair to lean into the embrace of this Mark and take advantage of his feelings because at the end of the day, you are not the you he fell in love with.

Your thoughts drive you to break the silence with a sharp sigh, pointedly ignoring his hurt stare as he slowly lowers his hand back to his side.

"Why are you here, Mark?"

He stares at you with a furrowed brow, "I told you, I wanted to see–"

"No, I mean–" You take a breath, gesturing to the earth before you half-heartedly, "Why did you come here with them, if you don't want to conquer our world like they do?"

He takes longer to answer you this time, and you began to worry about his answer.

"It was the only way to see you again." His voice is shaky, the warmth from your previous conversation gone as he glares out at the planet. "Angstrom promised that if I helped him get revenge, he'd let me see you– have you." He pauses, and you tense at the implication of his words.

He sighs, wincing at your jumpiness as he rushes to reassure you, "I'm not here to be the bad guy. I don't want to conquer this earth, I could care less about this Mark! I just– I needed to see you alive. T-To know that you're happy and healthy here... and to make sure it stays that way." His last words are spoken so softly they were almost whispered, and you hesitate to believe them for the sole reason you think you might have hallucinated them.

Nonetheless, you stay silent at the revelation, allowing yourself the time to properly digest your entire encounter thus far.

Your head is far more clouded than when you originally came up here after Mark had disappeared with Eve. After your heart could no longer take killing him again and again...

You don't know what you're supposed to do anymore...

You want to cry, but you can't because you know the Mark next to you will want to comfort you, and the worst part is that you'd allow it.

You want to go back down and pummel every varient you come across just to let out the frustration you feel, but you won't. Not after discovering the possibility that they're not all bad.

So what can you do? What should you do?

What will you do?

What you always do–

"Well, you said you weren't here to be the bad guy, right?"

You slowly rise from your seated position, looming over Mark with a steeled gaze.

Despite your seriousness, you can't help the quirk of your lips at the intense way he nods his head. You shoulders stiffen as you turn back towards earth resolutely, sparing him one last glance before taking off.

"Prove it."

–Save your planet.