#i thought for sure it would be another episode or two...

[sluttywonu]

when in rome ◡̈

pairing: idol!joshua hong x f!reader

theme: smut— based off this [MDNI]

synopsis: while you are on vacation in rome, italy, you meet joshua and hit it off great. but, while he’s supposed to be filming nana tour, he has another idea for fun.

word count: 2.8k+

warnings: below the cut

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warnings: alcohol mention(wine), pwp (kind of??), p in v, unprotected sex (pls don’t. it’s for the plot), soft dom!joshua, soft sub!reader, oral (m&f rec), soft face fucking, fingering, quick mention of aftercare (lmk if i’m missing anything), lowercase intentional

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when in rome. that’s what they always say, huh?

that seemed to be the motto while you and your friends were on a girls trip to italy. you’ve never been before and truly you fell in love with the city, choosing to go out and see anything you can even if it means you’re doing it alone— your friends opting to stay back and rest.

their loss, you thought. when in rome.

you saw that there was a wine festival happening that evening and with or without your friends, you were going!!

when you made it through the large crowd towards all the tents, you made it to the first vendor, taking a glass of the red wine. you swirled the liquid around the glass, giving it a sniff to smell the notes inside, a sweet hum leaving your lips.

“smells good, huh? tastes good but i think the next booth has a better merlot.”

you looked over and see a man smiling down at you, a glass in his hand. he was handsome, had a kind smile and black fluffy hair. “oh, thank you!” you smiled back. “mhm,” he started as he took another sip. “would you want me to show you where to go?” you shrugged, then nodded, offering the man another smile before he led the way. the crowd around was thick of people but you stayed close to the guy.

he grabbed two glasses from the vendor, one for you and another for him. you thanked him, feeling a bit of blush creep up your cheeks when he smiled again.

“my names joshua, by the way.”

“y/n”

“pretty, i like it.”

you felt blushed again, taking a sip of the wine. he was right. it was really good. you hummed in approval as you pulled the glass away from your lips. “i’m glad you liked my recommendation!” he mused as he took another sip himself. “do you have any others?” you asked back, tilting your head to the side slightly.

he thought you looked so cute, kind of innocent with the way your eyes looked up at him. he should go back to his group… finish filming what he needs to for his pov of the episode. he should.

but he looked around you briefly and raised an eyebrow. “are you here alone?” you nodded, “yeah, my friends didn’t want to come.” he bit his cheek, he doesn’t want you to be alone, especially in this crowd of people.

“i haven’t tried all the wine yet. want to walk together?” you lit up, nodding your head while sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

as the festival was winding down, na pd and a few members were looking all over for joshua.

you and him had maybe one too many glasses of wine, feeling more giggly and talkative as you found a secluded spot to sit and talk. he felt easy speaking with you… like he wasn’t an idol here for work, filming content instead of enjoying his vacation in a foreign country. joshua is a huge wine enthusiast so for him to take his time, drink and talk with you just really made his trip so much better.

the alcohol, sure you didn’t have a ton, but it was starting to get to you… making you a bit more bold. you were playfully touching his hand, eyes looking down at his lips.. and he loved it.

there for sure was tension here, neither of you were blind to it.

as the sun was setting, he was more interested in looking at you, listening to you talk but also thinking about how beautiful you looked under the sun. you caught his glance and smirked at him, ending your story abruptly. “what?”

“can i kiss you?”

caught off guard entirely, you blinked at him a second but eventually nodded while a smile crept up on your face. his lips met yours in a sobering kiss. his lips molded to yours. when he pulled away, you let out a small giggle and reconnected once more. he liked the forwardness, giving you a few pecks before the kiss got a bit more heated.

before things got too out of hand, he pulled away and took your hand, taking dragging you behind him to a nearby alley. it wasn’t the most romantic but it got both of you (mostly him for the idol image) out of the public eye.

he backed you into the nearby wall, his arm caging you under his taller frame while the other hand found purchase on your waist, ghosting his lips over yours. you smiled at him, biting your bottom lip while your hand gripped his shirt. “i don’t normally do this..” he breathed out before kissing you again with the same passion from before.

with his hand on your waist, he tugged your body to meet his— your chest pressing into his. the way he moved your body how he wanted earned him a soft moan from your lip. his tongue trailed over your bottom lip then into your mouth, taking dominance of the kiss once more.

both your hands ran feverishly over his body as the two of you made out. his hand on your waist moved down to your ass, making you gasp when he squeezed his fingers into the soft flesh.

“you sound so pretty for me…” he spoke into your neck while placing kisses anywhere he could, lightly dragging his tongue over your warm skin.

with no luck finding him, jeonghan resorted to texting joshua, the younger groaning when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

jeonghan: we’re leaving, where are you

jeonghan: pd is freaking out that we can find you

sigh.

“i need to go.. i'm so sorry..”

there was annoyance in his tone. “o-oh. well. that’s okay.” you replied with a sweet smile. he checked his phone again briefly when he asked “what are you doing tomorrow?” thinking for a second, you replied “nothing. what’s up?”

“i’d love to see you again before we both leave.”

you smile wide, feeling butterflies in your stomach. “i’d love that too, joshua.” he gave you another kiss.

“i have something to do in the morning but after, meet me at the coliseum. around 2?”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

well. 2 pm!

you left your friends for the afternoon with a smile on your face. you didn’t admit you were seeing a guy but with how you dressed, took extra long in the shower and the smile on your face, they knew. they’ll just be sure to pester you about it later.

you waited outside the coliseum and a few minutes after 2, joshua approached you with a wide smile. “hi, y/n.. you look great.” he cooed. you thanked him, eyes lingering on his lips a bit too long. oops?

being sober, the tension from yesterday was much more thick.

“my friends are out doing something. wanna come to my airbnb for a little?”

that was more than okay with you. after yesterday, you’re dying to finish what you two started.

you agreed and to not waste anymore time before the members came back, he took your hand and led the way. luckily it wasn’t too far of a walk, the coliseum being in view from his window.

once you two were in his room, locking it behind the two of you for extra measure.

he looked down at you with a smirk, his hands finding your waist. “i’m sorry about yesterday.” “that’s okay, shua.” the nickname made him weak. “we can pick up where we left off.” you smiled innocently. he bit his bottom lip, sliding his hands from your waist to your hips, “well, where were we?”

you got on your toes and pressed your lips together, his hands picking up where they left off yesterday on your ass before he pushed his tongue into your mouth. he backed you into the bed, letting you fall on top of the mattress, smirking down at you while taking his shirt off and tossing it somewhere else.

“don’t think less of me— we just.. don’t have much time.”

you reassured him it was a-okay, scooting back more onto the bed when you glance out the window. “wow, this view is amazing..” he climbed into the bed beside you, wrapping you up in his arms and pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

“mhm. but i’m more interested in looking at you.”

cheesy but still it made your heart stutter a moment, pressing your body back into him. he worked you out of your shirt and started feeling you up through your bra, small gasps and needy whines escaping your lips. “this okay, love?” he asked with a kiss to your bare shoulder. your throat was dry, a stuttered “y-yes.” came out as you licked your lips.

he laid you back, moving to straddle your hips as he leaned down to kiss you again— from your lips to your jaw, on to your breasts. he gently massaged the mounds while placing delicate kisses over the cups of the bra, looking into your eyes with a teasing glint in his. “shua.. more..” you whined.

still looking at you, he pulled the cups down, exposing your nipples. they began to harden in the cold air-conditioned air, making his length ache behind his jeans when he captured one of them in his mouth, flicking his tongue over the bud before sucking on it. his other hand tweaked the other nipple, gently flicking it and rolling it between two fingers. your hips were bucking upwards, looking for friction as you grew more turned on. he grazed his teeth over the bud before moving to the other, giving it the same treatment he gave the first one.

he then kissed down your stomach to the waistline of your shorts. you nodded a silent approval and before you knew it, your bottoms along with your panties were off, leaving you fully bare for him. he sat back on his knees, looking breathless as his eyes drank you up.

“fuck.. you’re so beautiful, baby.”

joshua slotted his hand between your legs, dipping his middle finger into your slit. “so wet, too.. fuck. can i eat you?” you frantically nodded, “i’d be mad if you didn’t.” a small chuckle left him as he got comfortable on his stomach in front of your needy core, draping your legs over his shoulder. he placed soft kissed to the inside of your thighs, fingertips massaging the supple skin. each kiss was driving you insane while he worked on getting closer to you pussy, eventually finishing with a kiss to your clit making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

slow at first, his tongue teased through your slit, groaning at the taste of you. he’s not sure which is better— the wine last night or the taste of you right now.

focusing on your clit, he slid a finger into you slowly, then another, pumping them at a slow pace. when you moaned so beautifully, it gave him the go to move them faster, angling them into your sweet spot while he sucked on your sensitive nub. he spoke into you briefly, “shit, you taste so good, baby.” before he went back to eating you like a starved man, making your orgasm approach quicker than you expected.

your hand tangled in his hair, tugging slightly at the roots with a long grunt escaping you. “shua.. close, fuck, please don’t stop!”

no way he was going to stop. not when you sound the way you do.

“cum for me, pretty..”

his tone was so hoarse, a twinge of desperation behind his words to get you to finish.

a few more pumps of his fingers, you came hard against him— legs shaking and threatening to close around his head. he slowed his movements down, letting you slowly discend from your high. he pulled his fingers out and licked them clean, groaning as your taste hit his tongue one last time.

moving to sit beside you, he took your jaw in his hand and gave you a rough, tongue filled kiss. you took it upon yourself to sit on his lap, feeling him smile against your lips. his hands found your hips again, helping you while you slowly ground down into him. your hands slid down his toned stomach ti the button on his jeans, fumbling while trying to undo it. he softly laughed and pulled away from you, looking at your hands.

“want them off?” you pouted a bit and nodded.

“wanna suck you off..”

the sudden lewdness caught him off guard but was surely welcomed.

“can you get on your hands and knees, baby?”

you quickly did as he asked, mouth watering while you watched him remove himself from his pants and tossing them off the bed. just like him, his cock was so pretty… on the long side and slender. no imperfections. your mind was racing.

he stroked himself a few times, biting his lip at the eager look in your eyes. “open.” you did, allowing him to push his tip into your mouth. you hummed, closing your eyes blissfully when the taste of precum hit your tongue. he started doing shallow thrusts, making you take more of his length while you hollowed out your cheeks. “fuck. look at me, pretty.” opening your eyes, you squeeze your legs together at the sight above you. he just looked so hot… so pretty towering over you, abs tightening with each thrust of his hips.

his cock felt heavy on your tongue as he continued to watch you. “you look so pretty with your mouth full.” he smirked, pushing his dick a bit farther into your mouth. your took what didn’t fit in your mouth in your hand and pumped, making him moan loudly. “fuck.. keep doing that, i’m gonna cum..” he laughed while tossing his head back effortlessly. his hand carded though your hair, keeping your head still.

his moans grew louder, breathing becoming more labored and thighs tensing, signaling he was close. you kept your cheeks hollow, sucking hard with each thrust from him. when he felt close, he pulled out, not ready to finish just yet. disappointed a bit but you were excited when he moved you onto your back again and positioned himself between your legs, pushing in quickly. he groaned, digging his blunt nails into your thighs as he bottomed out.

“my god.. i’m not gonna last long..”

leaning down to cage you under his frame, joshua began thrusting into you. you wrapped your arms and legs around him to keep him as close as you can. he growled against your ear, a slur of curses leaving his lips.

“shua, f-feels so good!”

he slid a hand between you two to rub against your clit, making you moan even louder now. “cum for me, pretty.. cum and i’ll fill you up. you want that, yeah?”

not trusting your own voice you just nodded, eyes rolling back while the knot in your stomach tightened.

he was quick with his thrusts, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you came against him, a broken whine leaving you.

he was in awe with you, triggering his orgasm and cumming deep inside of you, leaning down to kiss you through it.

eventually your arms went limp, falling to the bed and feeling exhausted from the orgasm. he pulled out of you and smirked seeing his mess leak from your pretty hole.

you laid there, half asleep while he cleaned you up with some tissues before he got back into bed beside you, nuzzling up into your neck.

“that was great.” he mused with a kiss to your shoulder. “mhm~ shame we’re both leaving soon.” he bit his cheek and sighed, “i know. hopefully i can see you again.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

you and joshua laid in bed a bit longer, talking and snuggling until it was time for you to leave. joshua didn’t want you to be seen by his members or worse… management. but it was nice for him to forget about being an idol, even for a little bit.

he walked you back to the coliseum, giving you a quick kiss and his number before departing.

when you reached your hotel, you see your group of friends leaving with a huge smile on each of their faces. “where are you going?”

“i just saw on twitter that seventeen is here filming something! we got to go find them!” your friend sarah said. “who?”

“seventeen! the kpop group? you’ve never heard of them?” you shook your head no. she scoffed and pulled up a picture of them, trying to jog your memory only for your heart to fall in your ass seeing joshua front and center.

“they’re insanely popular. come on, let’s try to see them!”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

a/n: i have a part two written with more idol joshua!! lmk if i should post. thank you for reading :)

[mytrashcanlife]

Happy Birthday Sergeant Barnes (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

I did not in fact write anything in the thunderbolts* era yet. I am staying in the old avengers tower era for this one. I thought it was cute and it came together in couple hours so here is cute one shot.

Summary: When Bucky gives you permission to celebrate his birthday 1 time, you find a way to make up for 70 years of missed birthdays.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff. This is so sweet you might get a cavity reading it.

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The day had started like any other. It was a lazy Saturday morning, in the tower. Bucky had been awake for hours, but he refused to disturb you when you looked so peaceful. You were cuddled up to him, head on his chest, one arm draped over his stomach. He could tell you were waking up by the way your breathing changed. While he didn’t think he’d ever feel like he deserved it, he relished the way you looked at him in these moments with pure adoration. Slowly blinking awake with your eyes locked on his face as if you had to be sure you weren’t still dreaming. 

“Good morning darlin’”

“Good morning my love.” Bucky smiled at the nickname. You’d taken to calling him that by accident. After watching one too many episodes of your period dramas, you had called him that in the kitchen one day, earning a request from Tony to “never say that again, or I swear I’ll puke.” Ever one to take any chance to annoy Tony, it had quickly become your default name for him. 

“We have to get up soon” 

You groan dramatically and cuddle further into him. Your arm once lazy draped across him now wrapped around his middle to hug him closer to you earning a chuckle form him tha vibrates through your whole body. “Noooooo.” 

“Yeeeeeeees”

“I don’t wanna. You can’t make me.”

“I don’t want to either. If I could keep you in this bed forever I would, but wanda’s birthday is later today and we have to get dressed.”

You look up at him, and prop your head on your hands. Still refusing to fully detangle from him. “Hey James?”

“Yes doll?”

“When’s your birthday?” 

Bucky froze. You two had been together for almost a year. He had asked you out shortly after his last birthday. But given that the team celebrates everyone but his he knew you’d ask eventually. “It’s march 10th”

You sat up quickly. Eyebrows furrowed, in that worried, planning look he knew all to well.

“James! That’s in like a month!” You look away from him as you start to get out of bed. Bucky sits up against the headboard. “Why didn’t you tell me? I have so much planning to do. I have to talk to To-” 

“Absolutley not.” Bucky says casually as he grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him. 

“What do you mean?!”

“I am over 100 years old and I missed most of my birthdays as the winter soldier. There’s no point in starting up the celebrations at this point.”

Your eyes go wide as you swing your leg over him and sit up to straddle him. You grab his face gently and look directly into those sea blue eyes you so easily drown in. 

“There is every point! Bucky you not only lived another year, you accomplished so much. You have survived, and healed, and grown so much each year.” He gives you the same look he does when you call him kind, or intelligent, or amazing. One that says he has to accept the compliment but doesn’t believe a word you’ve said. “Let me give you one birthday party. Just one. Pleeeaaase” 

Bucky takes a deep breath and leans his head back to look at the cieling. “Fine. One party” He snaps his head back up to face you. “You are not inviting the whole of New York to this like Tony likes to do.”

“I’ll keep it in the tower. Just the team. Promise.”

“Okay.”

“Yay!” You grab his face again and pull him in for a quick kiss. 

“Now get up. We have to be at Wanda’s party in an hour.”

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You had kept the entire plan under wraps for the full month leading up to Bucky’s birthday. You had enlisted the help of the rest of the team of course. Steve would take Bucky to coffee, rare tradition the two of them kept for both their birthdays, while the rest of the team set up the tower. Tony had been surprised when you told him about your idea and that you’d managed to get Barnes to agree to any form of celebration. He was, however, more than willing to fund your endeavor, handing you and Pepper his black card. 

Bucky was slightly dreading the day. He hated being the Center of attention, but he also knew you’s keep your word. He wasn’t going to have to fake a smile and give an interview to every reporter Tony could invite to try to fix him image. He has been trying to think of all the things you might do for the party. Hats, balloons, maybe a cake. He wasn’t expecting this. He and Steve go to their yearly debrief coffee that morning. It’s noon by the time they get back. As they step into the elevator he goes to push the button for the top floor, assuming the party would be in the main living room, but Steve stops him. 

“Not today Buck. We are starting on the 10th floor today.” 

“She got you in on it too huh?”

“I think you’ll like this one.” 

Boy did he. The 10-20th floors had been reserved as essentially ballrooms which could be split if needed into smaller meeting rooms. As the elevator doors open to the 10th floor he is  greeted by a room set up more like a small house. Part of the room a cluster of old couches and chairs. A few feet away was a table with some snacks on it. And there in the middle of the room was you, dressed in long button down dress that cut off at mid calf. The short sleeves on it were framed by your hair which was down in pin curls. The sight reminded him of home. And seeing you in the 1940’s get up made him think this wasn’t gonna be so bad after all. 

The team was there in similar outfits. Tony really was the spitting image of his father. Even steve came back after disappearing for a few minutes in something similar to what he’d worn in his youth. After around an hour of celebration involving some music from the time, the rest of the team cleared out. Slowly but surely leaving the two of you alone as one final slow song came on. The two of you were on the dance floor slowly swaying back and forth, your arms around his neck looking up at him. 

“Happy Birthday Sergeant Barnes.” He wraps his arms around your waist and looks down at you. Long lashes, a mild blush on your cheeks, and that same look of adoration in your eyes. He leans down for a soft kiss. “Do you like it?”

“Oh yeah. This was a good day!” You chuckle a bit at the enthusiasm in his voice. 

“Oh James, it’s not over yet. It’s only been an hour.” 

“Where’s the rest of the team then?” You leaned back, letting go of him and extending your hand for him to take. He recognizes that mischievous glint in your eye. 

“Follow me.” 

He follow you back to the elevator and watches as you hit the button to go up a singular floor. He’s surprised when the doors open and the room is a similar layout to the last one. It is set up like a little house with a living room and kitchen area, but everything is just slightly older. The Couches are in brighter colored fabric, and there’s a big box TV in the center of them playing some kind of old sitcom in black and white. The team is there, but they’ve all changed. Wanda and nat have slightly fuller skirts, and their lipstick has gone from a peachy tone in the last room to a bright red. The boys were in various forms of suits. Bucky realizes quickly what he’s looking at is a recreation of the 50’s or at least as good as you could get it. He turns back to you

“I said one party.”

“You did. And this is all one party. You didn’t say how long I could make it.”

“What exactly is the plan here, doll?”

You grab his hand and walk him over toward the couches as you talk. “You said you missed a lot of birthdays while you were…him. 70 years of them to be exact. Which means I have a lot of missed time to make up for.” The two of you sit on a couch and face the rest of the team.

“Are you really about to try to celebrate 70 years of birthdays in a day?”

“Try is the wrong word there James. We will be speed running through 70 years of your birthdays” 

She wasn’t wrong. Every hour or so the team would clear out slowly but surely leaving the two of them alone for one last dance, though the music changed with each decade, before you led him to the elevator and raised a floor or two to the next room set up for the next decade. The team would always be dressed in the next decade of fashion with everything from poodle skirts and leather jackets, to bright neons and spandex. Even the style of the tiny home set up in the rooms changed as the decades progressed. Bucky was very impressed. 

As he stepped into the elevator for what would be the last room, he’s surprised when instead of another floor up, you hit the button for the top floor.

"Doll?"

"Yes?"

"This has all been fantastic but I do have one question. Why didn't you change with the times?"

"Because you didn't"

Stepping off the elevator into the living room he finds the floor decorated how he was expecting it to be this morning. Balloons in the corners and on the floor. Confetti sprinkled everywhere. Multicolored hats on everyone's head. He even lets you put one on him. You disappear shortly after you drop him on this floor, and he thinks you’re finally going to change. He can’t imagine the 40’s heels you’ve been in the last few hours are all that comfortable, but a few minutes later you emerge in the same outfit carrying a cake with a few lit candles on it. The team sings happy birthday as you place the cake in front of him. 

“Happy Birthday my love. Make a wish”

Bucky looks up at you with pure love and adoration in his eyes. All he think before he blows out the candles is that doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, but he is sure that a life with you is all he could ever wish for.

[danaens]

SEX AND GOTHAM CITY

EPISODE 1

SEX , GOTHAM and... the vigilante fetish.

Gotham is a city where demons wear double-breasted suits, women carry pepper spray as an accessory, and love… is more dangerous than a dark alley at three in the morning.

In the shadows of the streets, danger and protection intertwine erotically, giving birth to the most secret yet common desire among us Gotham women: vigilantes.

We’ve all heard at least once from a friend or acquaintance about a passionate night with one of them, but how many have really experienced it? And how many, when night falls, wrapped in silk sheets and with the evening news broadcasting yet another robbery, wait for a masked man to knock at the window?

And I’m not just talking about adventurous twenty-somethings, but also sixteen-year-olds full of dreams and curiosity, and mature women who, beneath the armor of everyday life, hide secret passions.

So, as a journalist and a single woman, I decided to investigate the phenomenon that has been igniting the nighttime fantasies of many Gotham women: the vigilante fetish.

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

Businesswoman in a Wayne Tower skyscrape. "I know it’s crazy, but sometimes I dream that Robin bursts into my office… and cuffs me."

Psychology student at Gotham University. “It’s the dark hero syndrome. He saves us, yet remains untouchable. It’s the thrill of the untouchable. But also… the allure of danger.”

15 year old student from Gotham High. “I have their posters in my room. My mom says it’s weird. She tells me they’re here to save us, not to be models... but I caught her once cutting out their photo from the paper.”

Basketball player from Crime Alley. “I don’t need to see their faces to know they’re just rich guys saving other rich guys. If they ever stepped into this neighborhood, maybe they’d see the real problems. And no, I don’t sleep with rich boys.”

But let's talk with my friends

Barbara Gordon, 26, attorney, tech nerd, and perpetually single, though she says she's fine with that (despite constantly seeking company). "I don’t get why so many women have this primal urge to be protected by men, especially vigilantes. Sure, they’re important for the city... but would I fall for one? I don’t know. Maybe...if he had a solid retirement plan."

(Spoiler: she’s secretly one of them.)

Vesper Fairchild, 24, television and radio host, a lover of beauty and order. Single, but holding out for true love. "You can’t be serious. Batman? He’s so... gloomy. I need to see the face of the man I’m with. Anonymity is for criminals...and dating apps."

Silver St. Cloud, 27, elite event planner for Gotham’s high society. Also single and, not so secretly, into wealthy men. "Personally, I’ve always had a thing for Nightwing. That bodysuit? That butt? Oh my god. And with that grappling hook? Let’s just say we could pull off some stunts that would put Cirque du Soleil to shame."

And then there's me. Bianca, 25, from one of Gotham’s roughest neighborhoods. I dropped out of high school and started working the streets. My past? It's wilder than a Saturday night club guest list. But writing changed everything. And now, here I am, page three of the Gotham Globe.

So what happens when you stop being a survivor and start being a woman who’s actually living? Gotham doesn’t hand out second chances... but sometimes, it gives you a night worth writing about.

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

It’s two in the morning, and my little Prada heels have already walked far more than they were ever designed to.

I wake up in a friend’s bed, no panties on, by the way, on the complete opposite side of the city. And now I’m wandering through Gotham, phone dead, no money, no taxi, just me and the questionable decisions of the night before.

I’m deep in my thoughts (and blisters) when I slam right into what feels like a wall. Only, it’s not a wall. It’s a guy. A very solid, very large guy.

My purse spills everywhere. Great. Three condom packets, my lip stain, and my notebook with half-baked article notes hit the pavement like a mini explosion of chaos.

He crouches down to help me.

“Vigilante fetish?” he says, with a cocky little smirk. His eyes are sharp and ice-blue, and there are a couple of scars on his face. Just enough to make me wonder what kind of trouble he’s seen.

“I’m writing an article,” I say, laughing awkwardly as I push my hair out of my face.

God, he’s tall. Leather jacket, worn jeans, and he know i have three condom packets in my purse.

He laughs, like I’ve made a joke about him.

“So what do you think?” I ask, playing along. “Is it true Gotham women have a thing for vigilantes?”

“Some dream about the man in the mask,” he says. “But most don’t know the weight he carries.”

Smart guy, I think. Long legs, messy black hair, and honestly, I kind of wish he knew I’m not wearing underwear under this dress.

And hey, it’s been two minutes and he hasn’t tried to rob me or kill me. In Gotham, that’s practically romantic.

He gives me another smile as I say goodbye, wobbling away in my worn-out heels like a drunk flamingo.

“Need taxi money?” he calls after me, almost like he means it.

⭒⋆🍸⭒⋆

So... who is this mystery man? And will I ever see him again? What I do know is this: beyond the fantasy, beyond the sex appeal, there’s something else all Gotham women want: protection. In a city where strobe lights blur with Bat-Signals, maybe we don’t need a hero to save us. Maybe we just want to feel part of the danger, maybe even a little in control of it.

So I wonder:

Do we crave the vigilante to feel safe… or to feel powerful by standing beside the storm?

Hi! This is the first story I’ve ever written. I hope you enjoyed it, because I’d love to keep going and turn it into a series. Sex and the City is my all-time favorite show, and I’m obsessed with the Batman universe, so this felt like a fun way to blend both worlds.

The main character is original, I created her because I couldn’t find anyone in Gotham who quite had Carrie’s spirit.

I hope my English isn’t too off... it’s not my first language.

[kolomo]

NEXT WEEK??????????????????????????????????????????????

[unproduciblesmackdown]

pinning to the workshop corkboard: you've heard of winston "i'm cassandra" billions clairvoyance concepts for fun & profit, hear also of winston billions sphinx concepts (you must be This understanding of what he means to proceed)

[hyuneflix]

THE CURE 0.2 • Bang Chan

sex therapist!chan x client!reader after years of unhappy endings, your friend suggests a trip to sydney's most up and coming sex therapist. you hadn't expected much, least of all to discover the cure you'd been looking for all this time was your therapist himself.

word count: 13k << back to dash // next episode >>

CONTENT WARNINGS

𐙚 - female masturbation, mutual masturbation, vibrator use, guided masturbation, dirty talk, use of "slut" and similar terms, chan is called sir, light degradation, light spanking, slapping, more orgasm denial, fingering, oral both female and male receiving, sub!reader, soft dom!chan but some hard dom too, slightly possessive chan, praise, very tiny breeding kink in the form of chan pushing his cum inside her.

! - inappropriate relationship dynamic (chan is her sex therapist), reader is written to be neurodivergent though it isn't explicitly stated, therapy talk/setting, descriptions of self help and healing, brief mention of toxic positivity and dissociation, very brief description of reader having a difficult childhood, talk about hopelessness and feelings of defeat. like last time, everything is intentionally vague but approach with caution all the same.

episode two - a cure for self-dissatisfaction

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe that you were actually here, again. Making another appointment had sounded so promising in the after-glow of your first ever orgasm–or, at least, the first that felt like that–but now that you were actually here you questioned your sanity. How could you possibly face him after that phone call? Sure, it had been an entire month since then, plenty of time to get over it or just cancel the one-hour slot. You never did, though, and you still couldn’t quite decide why. Was it him that you wanted to see again? So entirely unable to close this chapter of your life now that he’d suddenly made its contents more interesting; turning the pages of your life from dull shades of black and white into hues of technicolour.

Or, maybe it was just that. He made things interesting and you needed interesting.

You weren’t sure when it had happened, the manner with which your fairytale life had twisted and morphed into something so mundane. You had the fancy beachside apartment, the dream job with the fun co-workers. You had the nice clothes and the sparkling jewels to go with them; large wardrobe full to the brim with rare pieces and garaments alike. Even your dating life had been exciting, meeting famous faces and well-off suitors in the upscale establishments you frequented with your friends. But it wasn’t enough. You feared nothing would ever be enough. Nothing exciting enough, glamorous enough, expensive enough to fill the growing feeling of indifference that threatened to paint your entire world grey. 

A part of you liked familiarity, needed it, even. Clung to it in the same way you gripped the straps of your favourite tote bag. It was comforting to ease the unknowns of life with something habitual and constant. But when you did settle, when the anxiety did dissipate, it was like you almost missed it in its absence. It was the adrenaline you craved rather than the anxious wracking of your brain; the adrenaline that followed every redundant fear your mind conjured up; the push of chemicals through your veins as you murmurred ‘oh fuck, am i going to miss my train?’, ‘shit did i leave the stove on?’, ‘did i have a meeting today or was that tomorrow?.’ The bubbling of nervous adrenaline, it was like a shot of espresso, or the abrupt sound of your morning alarm clock. It forced you back to reality, tore you from the prison your restless thoughts built around your consciousness.

Chan had been that too in a lot of ways, a rude awakening of sorts. He had astounded you in more ways than one, tearing you from normalcy and forcing you from your comfort zone in the process. No longer just floating through life while your mind hummed with restless noise. Perhaps that was why, despite every anxious part of you that wanted to run away from him, a deeper, unheard part refused. You’d regret it, wouldn’t you? Walking away from him, vowing to never see him again. You’d regret it almost instantly no doubt, the tick of your apartment’s clock taunting you as it reminded you where you should’ve been on the day of your cancelled appointment. Your mind would trap you again, filling your head with thoughts of what could’ve been, should’ve been, if you’d just pulled yourself together. 

That was of course without mentioning that you indeed remained uncured. You were still very much afflicted with the same inability to get yourself off no matter how hard you tried. You’d done it once, you so foolishly believed from that moment onwards it would be easy. It was not. Even with the vivid memory of that night playing over and over in your mind like a song caught in a loop, you were back to square one. You needed the dark to find the light. How true that had turned out to be, how unfortunate that your infatuation for your therapist was turning out to be more practical than whimsical. You really did need him. 

The timing of your appointment meant that within moments of your arrival, the doe-eyed receptionist was already hurrying off for her lunch break, insisting that you wait for Dr Bang in his office instead. Dr Bang, hearing her say it almost pulled a laugh from your parted lips; what a suitable name for someone in his profession. She didn’t join in with your amused half-chuckle as she gathered her purse and coat. You didn’t blame her, you were sure she’d heard the stifled laughter a million times before. Thanking her one last time as she motioned you toward his office, you pushed open the door expectantly. 

Immediately your eyes fixed on the black oak desk situated in the foreground of the furthest wall. The room was empty, no muscular figure tucked behind the neat workstation, nor situated in the same leather chair he had been a month prior. You breathed out a sigh, your throat finally releasing a breath you hadn’t even realised you’d been holding until you accounted for his absence. You made your way inside, letting the door close behind you with a clack. It felt eerie being in the infinite silence of his abandoned office. Not even the sound of the AC lulled in the background as you wandered throughout the space, taking in the details as if it were your first time being here, and in a way, it was. 

During your last visit you’d been so distracted by Chan you’d been unable to focus on much else, let alone the intricacies of his office. The much too large windows were the first thing you’d noticed, both today and the last. Unlike a month ago they were covered by enormous blinds, the afternoon heat so unbearable today that having the sun exposed would be as sweltering as standing on a shadeless street corner. The lack of AC left the office tepid, and the vacancy of natural light shadowed the once bright room. You felt as if you had stepped into the embrace of a warm hug; one that sucked all the sound from the atmosphere until all that remained was the thumping of your heart.

You could hear it now; your heart. It beat with uncertainty as your eyes trailed across the shelves upon shelves of awards and personal photos behind his desk. You felt like you’d snuck into a secret place you weren’t supposed to be, taking in every detail of someone’s life without an inkling of what any of it meant. One frame held a picture of a smiling boy, a younger girl tucked under his arm in a near chokehold. Judging by the look of disdain on her features, and the mischievous expression on his own, you figured they were siblings. Another picture captured an older version of that boy, one that now more closely resembled Chan. He knelt on the grass, a dog, who’s white fur was blotched with copper-tones, smiled up at him, pink tongue spilling from its mouth. You knew Chan’s life hadn’t started when he met you, but it still felt strange to see it all play out in front of you now. 

The office door opened with a clatter, your body spinning round at the intrusion; trusty tote bag slipping from your arm in the process. You caught hold of the strap before it could fall from your rigid limb completely, eyes settling on Dr Bang himself. He seemed frozen in place, palm clutching the door handle with bleached knuckles. His nervous disposition suggested he’d been preparing himself for this moment, to no avail, and if that were true, you were thankful. At least then you’d be in the same boat. In a second, a mere tick of a clock’s hand, he was back to his usual self, pushing a large smile atop his pillowy lips. 

“Hello, y/n. How have you been?” His voice was soft as he closed the door behind him, the hand that wasn’t clutching a stack of papers flicking on a second set of lights. In an instant the room was engulfed in pale yellow hues, your eyes blinking to adjust. He walked the distance from the door to his desk, letting the pile of papers fall down with a dull thud.

“Could be better, could be worse.” You murmured, still feeling like a deer in headlights. He nodded at this, almost as if he silently understood, agreed even. You didn’t know whether you should stay rooted beside his desk or take a seat, body itching for another of his commands. You hated how badly you wanted him to tell you what to do and how to do it, no matter if it were a simple seating arrangement or one of his filthy, guided masturbations.

“That’s a start, hopefully by the end of the session we can turn it around?” He spoke, tone as level as it had always been, though you noticed how quickly his eyes seemed to wander. It had been impossible last time to look anywhere but him, that intentional and scrutinising stare holding yours for what felt like eternities. His gaze was scattered now, moving from your face to his desk and back again, fingers re-arranging his already neat desk as if attempting to regain control. 

But, regain control of what? His thoughts, his racing heart, his body? You wanted to know. You wanted to crack him open, let the secrets spill from him like yolk. You wanted to study his mind the way he studied you. It was intoxicating, the mystery that still surrounded him. So intoxicating that you were starting to find you didn’t need to get lost in the shadows of his stare, only needed to be close enough to feel the palpable energy, the magnetic charge, that radiated from him like the sun’s unbearable warmth. 

“Should we get started?” He asked, brown eyes leaving the surface of his immaculate desk to search your expression. You nodded, pushing a smile atop your lips as you moved toward the leather chairs, slouching into yours right away. 

You noticed he wasn’t wearing that same dark suit this time, instead he wore a crisp white dress shirt with a few too many buttons undone at the top. The bottom part of it was tucked half-hazardly into a pair of tight ebony trousers. It didn’t remain that way for long. With a raise of his hand–fingers combing through dark curls–one side fell from its confines, a slither of pale skin meeting your hungry gaze. You swallowed, drawing your eyes from his figure as it drew nearer to you, stopping only when he reached the chair opposite you.

“Shall we start with an update?” He questioned, taking a seat while his hand tightened around that same large ipad. “How have you been doing, did you manage to climax again?” 

“No.” You admitted right away, head shaking in disappointment. It was hard to hide how frustrating it was, even more now than before. At least prior to your first happy ending you were none the wiser to how much greener the grass truly was on the other side. Now you’d grazed in it, tasted it, felt it between your fingers and toes. How could you ever return to astro turf after you’d experienced the real thing? 

“No?” Chan looked surprised at this, chin tilting to the side as he drank in your expression. You were sure you looked anything but pleased, brows furrowed as you shook your head no once more. “Okay, did you follow the routine?”

“I did, yeah.” You mumbled, digits playing with the pleats in your skirt.

“What do you think was different?” He asked, looking genuinely curious by your dilemma. 

“Do I even have to say it?” You released a huff of air, heart jumping nervously behind its skeletal confines.

“It would help if you did. Guessing games can lead to miscommunications.” HIs smile was back, dimples pressed prettily against his plush cheeks. How badly you wanted to cup them, how badly you wanted to let the pads of your thumbs brush against the indents that dotted them. How badly you wanted him. 

“I just… I feel like I need your help, you helped so much that time… ever since I haven’t managed it, I mean, what does that tell you?” You asked, heart racing a little faster now, hands growing clammy; thoughts scrambling as you felt your frustration grow. Your situation felt so hopeless, so entirely unfixable. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. It always would.

So many past relationships flashed across your mind, so many times when you’d watched the partners in your life walk away. Their promises that you’d never be too much, that there was no storm you couldn’t weather together, ground to dust beneath their retreating steps. There had been other issues that ended the relationship of course, not this one, never this one. Yet it still seemed so unbelievably ironic how, try as they might, they never could fix this little problem. How laughable it was that Chan had managed within hours of meeting him. 

“You- you need my help with climaxing?” He seemed taken aback, his innocence almost sending your eyes rolling. How could he be so surprised? Had he not been on that phone call with you after all, had that all been a vivid dream? 

“I think so, yeah.” You opted to speak instead, fingers still playing lazily with your clothing in search of some relief from the awkwardness of the conversation. 

“I’m sure you just need a little direction and practice.” He shook his head, ever the dismissive party out of the two of you. But you knew better now. You’d heard the way he fell apart, heard the things he’d said when all resolve had vanished. He was just as depraved, just as desperate and needy but he hid it well. He cowered behind fabricated boundaries, crossing one and then inventing another. He pushed, and he pushed, but he always found a new way to hold back. You wanted to test that, wanted to make him snap. Was that bad? 

“I’m twenty-five Chan, I think if practice was going to do it I’d have done it by now.” You shook your head, tone uncharacteristically sarcastic as you let your frustrations slip. He winced at this, taken aback by the change in your tone. Easily your annoyance dampened, sigh falling from your lips as quickly as your apology “I’m sorry, that was– I’m just– I feel defeated.” 

“It’s understandable, you don’t need to apologise.” Chan offered you a comforting smile, eyes glimmering with a patient understanding that had you thawing instantly. 

“Can’t you just, I don’t know, tell me what to do. Like give me some direction or something.” You asked, trying to pry more solutions from his all-knowing brain. 

“Like on the phone?” He questioned, palm gliding across his thick thigh as he spoke. You couldn’t help the way your gaze followed its movement, long fingers instantly taking you back to that night. You pictured them wrapped around his length, the wet sound of his desperate, thrusting grip, too much to think about right now. You squirmed in your seat, thighs pushing together in momentary distress. 

“Yeah like then, is there more I can do?” You asked, trying to hide your growing weariness behind another frustrated huff. 

“Perhaps you need to focus on finding ways to relax, maybe you have a problem switching off, moving from one task to the other. If you’re still tense when you’re masturbating then it can be hard to let yourself go.” He was so composed, seemingly so unaware of the way you were breaking down internally. How did he do it? How did he look at you with such easy indifference after that night. Maybe he was just that; indifferent. Maybe you’d been looking at this all wrong. 

“Okay.” You shrugged, barely listening by now.

“You don’t look happy with that.” Chan pushed for an answer, clasping his apple pen a little tighter in anticipation of your response. 

“I’m not patient enough. I guess I just hoped that it was fixed. But, now I have to get used to the idea of this being some long healing journey as if I haven’t had enough of those. As if I haven’t–fucking–read enough–fucking–self-help books or listened to enough ‘all you need is recharged rose quartz and you’ll be fine’--fucking–influencers.” You felt your hands grip at your forehead in defeat, palms attempting to erase the tension that settled there through half-hazard motions. You wanted to laugh at the way you got so easily wound up, but the idea of starting yet another ‘healing era’, felt suffocating, impossible even. 

How much more growing was there to do? Some people say it never stops, but you’ve had a lifetime of it. A lifetime of people pointing out your flaws, telling you what was wrong or what needed fixing. You’ve had a lifetime of changing everything about you until something felt right, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. A lifetime of trying to do everything right just to be told you were doing it wrong, anyway. You weren’t emotional enough, then you were too emotional. You were loud, then too quiet. You were rude, then you were compliant. It took reaching your twenties to realise you didn’t really care who you were, or how you acted, as long as you were happy with yourself. 

It felt freeing, so entirely exhilarating to feel as if you were done changing, morphing and growing into someone else’s idea of a normal human woman. It matched you well, but it was also tiring. You’d grown to be independent far younger than you probably should’ve, your therapist said it built character, you thought that was stupid even at ten years old. Having a childhood built character, having healthy relationships and good role models; that was what you needed. People’s incessant criticisms had felt like the only freedom from your independence for so long; the only time you weren’t thinking for yourself. Bittersweet was the lingering feeling that remained for a few years after your new found self-assurance. 

It was stupid, to crave something that had been so toxic, but that was just so unequivocally you. Hate something with every fibre of your being when you had it just to miss it when it was gone. Didn’t matter how much it hurt you, didn’t matter that it damn nearly killed you, only the good parts of it remained in its absence. The ghosts of memories even your unrelenting, self-sabotaging brain forgot. Were those the causes of your dissociation? The fragmented memories of times gone by, the missing pieces still stashed away in some untravelled corner of your mind?

“These things do take time, yeah.” Chan pulled you from your thoughts, tugging a sigh from your lips as you shook your head in defeat.

“Fuck that, there’s gotta just be something in me that doesn’t work, right? Like there’s just a part of me that can’t do it and I’m gonna have to just live with that.” Your arms raised in exasperation, frustrated rambles not phasing him in the slightest. You figured that shouldn’t surprise you, despite everything that had transpired between you, despite how unlikely it sometimes seemed, he was a therapist. A person you were paying to listen to you speak. A person you had essentially paid to make you cum. Jesus. 

“But you did.” He countered.

“No, you did.” You reminded him, his brows rising at the implication. 

“That was all you, I just helped.” He shook his head, dismissive once more. 

“Can’t you help me again, then? Just tell me what to do, show me. Make that part of me wake the fuck up and realise it has a job to do. Fix me again.” You murmured helplessly, searching his mind for something, anything that could ease your anguish. 

“You want that? You want me to teach you? You want me to fix you?” He spoke after a beat of silence, plump mouth emphasising your latter sentiment. A switch had seemingly been flipped in him, reminding you of his faltering resolve from a month ago. You were sure it was your imagination–after all he was so quick to collect himself–but that was expected, you didn’t know him well enough. You didn’t know how badly he yearned to ‘fix you’. 

There was a saying that went along the lines of this; therapists need therapy the most The first part of their adult lives were dedicated to learning the secrets of the mind, just to spend the rest of it fixing other people’s. The perfect distraction; fix others so you don’t have to fix yourself. Yeah, that was him. Finding distraction after distraction to avoid the complicated mess in his own brain. But that wasn’t just it. No, Chan was a people pleaser, a man so desperate to be needed that he put his heart in danger every single fucking time. 

He’d lost count by now, the amount of times he’d run in blindly; falling for a pretty girl with pretty problems. A pretty girl with a pretty smile and a pretty big hole in her pretty heart. He did it every single time. He’d never mixed work with self-sabotage though, this was unchartered territory. But that was then, one slip up, one mistake made in the heat of the moment. How could he not? You were so pretty, sounded so pretty pleading for him to help you. Not even he had the patience for that. 

“Yes.” You breathed out, eyes turning wide and expectant beneath his weighted retort. There you were again, looking hopeful, as if he really did have the power to cure you. But he didn’t, Chan had learned that again and again; he couldn’t change the last girl, or the girl before, or the girl before that and he couldn’t change you. Not like this anyway, not through lust or–heaven forbid–love. Growing attached, letting them be dependent, it was bad in the end; always bad, never good like he’d intended.

“I can’t, you’re not broken.” He assured you, not a drop of insincerity mixing with the honey sweet tone of his soft voice.

“Then pretend I am and fix me anyway– break me just to put me back together again– I don’t care, just please do something to make it stop.” You felt a little frantic now: he wasn’t giving you the answers, wasn’t providing solutions. Was it really that hopeless? Were you really this cursed? Knowing that the cure was right in front of you, within arms reach, but too far to hold. Too distant and closed off, too unwilling to give you what you know you needed. 

Were you crazy for thinking he wanted it to, were you delusional for thinking you could see the fire in his eyes every time you reached for him with words? The air around you didn’t lie though, did it? Or were you the only one feeling that constant chemical reaction that surrounded you both. That fizzle and burn, that electric fever that drove you crazy; depriving you of clean, pure air with every breath. It was filling your lungs with hot embers, you could feel it, could feel the way it choked you of all sense and left only desire in its place. Could he really not feel it too? 

“Make what stop, love?” The nickname wasn’t lost on you, its presence sent a ripple of hope across your skin, igniting goosebumps in its path.

“I don’t know, everything I guess. The boredom, the anxiety, the noise, the frustration, the emptiness; all of it went away that night and I’ve been trying to get back there ever since.” You admitted, teeth gnawing at your lip, brows scrunched together in frustration. Chan thought you looked utterly pitiful in the hottest way. Was that possible? To look pathetic and undeniably attractive all at once. Yeah, it was; you were. 

“I can’t cure you, you know that right? You have to do that on your own.” He insisted. It was true, wasn’t it? Historically speaking, practically speaking. People can’t change other people, that was how it worked right? They had to change on their own, grow alone, love themselves before they could learn to love someone else. If they didn’t, they’d be forever codependent, clinging to the sun that helped them grow into a fully flourished person. But the sun went down, it didn’t stick around forever; he couldn’t stick around forever. 

“But what if…” 

“I can’t.” He was quick to cut you off, not wanting to fill your head with pointless sentiments of hope. Whether he wanted to or not, whether you wanted to or not, you had to stand on your own two feet. He knew this to be true more than ever when it came to your own pleasure. You couldn’t depend on him for that; he couldn’t fill the void. He’d fall in love too easily, catch feelings in an instant. How could he ever make it out of that alive? It wasn’t right, you deserved better. Deserved to know your own body, how it felt, what made you feel good.

“Try?” You spoke, voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide and pleading. 

“I can’t.” He huffed through gritted teeth, jaw stiff with useless restraint.

“Please?” You looked at him as if he held the world and all its mysteries in his grasp, ready to hand them over if only you could wear him down enough. It wasn’t not working, he hated to admit. 

“Don’t… don’t do that.” He shook his head, eyes dipping to the ipad in his grip as he drew mindless patterns across its slick screen. It was enough to distract him for a moment, but not long enough.

“So, I just, I just go home and try the same shit again then is that it? Another month of nothing? Or can I call again, would you pick up if I did?” Your words had his cock twitching, palms growing clammy. That night haunted him. It felt so wrong, so completely fucked up. He lay awake for nights after that wondering if he should resign, turning his dream of owning a successful therapeutic clinic into a distant memory with the same stroke. But more than that, he wondered if you’d call again. Would you need him some more? Would you lean on him a little longer? Was it really true that he was the missing piece? That only he could make you cum.

“You know I would.” He responded in an instant, too quick in fact. “I’m surprised you didn’t call, to be honest.” He chuckled, attempting to seem unaffected. As if he hadn’t been waiting by the phone every evening, as if he hadn’t checked and re-checked for missed calls when sleep didn’t come to him easily. 

“I wanted to try on my own; I’m really trying.” You half-whined and that sound alone was enough to have every noise from a month ago flooding his mind at once. His hips shifted, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 

“I know, baby, you’re so good.” He sighed, resolve slipping; gaze darkening along with it. You saw it happen right in front of you, pupils dilating, mask slipping from his handsome face. “How about this… You show me how you do it at home and I’ll see if there are areas for improvement?” Chan suggested, against what he knew to be his better judgement. Fuck it, though, right? He could cross another line, just one more, find a new one to draw between you to keep you at arms length. You’d seen right through him in that regard, knew exactly how he justified each gradual crawl toward your eagerly awaiting form. 

“You want me to… now?” You blinked, fireworks erupting in the pit of your stomach signaling an internal celebration of what you were almost sure was a triumphant victory. 

“Isn’t that what you want? To make a mess of my chair? To cum again?” His words sent a jolt of something electric and sweet straight to your core. Your teeth felt like blades, threatening to draw blood from the plump flesh of your bottom lip as you nodded wordlessly, too turned on at the prospect of getting to climax again to formulate a coherent sentence. 

“Why don’t you lift that little skirt of yours and show me how you pleasure yourself.” His voice was low, impossibly dark gaze studying you with an almost predatory stare. Your nerves stood alert like the hairs of your arm, hands moving at their own accord. You moved the hem of your skirt up the meat of your bare thighs, his eyes following your motions closely before fixing on the sheer fabric of your damp panties. 

You felt like an imposter in your own skin as you spread your legs, circling the pads of your fingers across your clothed clit in compliance. You tried to stop the heat from rising in your cheeks, from pulsing through your blood like lava, the molton toxicity wetting your panties even more. You were helpless to it; the growing intensity of your lust. It was strange, the combination of embarrassment mixed with desire. It felt like a dangerous cocktail, one destined to leave you with a hangover unlike any other you’d felt; a banging headache, a sick feeling, a desperation for a wellness you could never reach without it. 

Was that what this was? A growing addiction?  An inability to feel better without him, or an unwillingness to find an alternative cure? You pushed the thoughts from your mind, easily too with the help of his sultry voice, though all the same the bubbling of nervousness remained. 

“This is how you do it? What’s rule number one? What did we do last time?” He asked, too put together considering the pornographic movie that was playing out in front of him. His eyes told a different story though, hungry and feverish as you moved your fingers clumsily. 

“Umm, take my clothes off?” You managed between huffs of impatient air, wanting nothing more than to skip to the part where your toes were curling, head tipped back in reticent ecstacy. You moved your hands away from your clothed cunt, starting to remove the tight fitting crop top a strap at a time. You watched his jaw grow slack at this, your confidence growing in place of the initial uncertainty. 

You put on a show for him, suddenly abandoning the idea of being taught the ways of your pussy in favour of winding him up. Both straps fell past your shoulders, the rough material of your tiny top grazing your perky nipples as you dragged it down your chest, letting your plump breasts spill out from beyond its fabric confines. His brow twitched, lips faltering along with it as he watched the bounce of your tits.

“Mhm and start with your nipples, make them feel good, work yourself up.” Pulling your top off completely, you followed his demands, fingers tugging at your hardening buds. You remembered his advice from the last time, making sure to wet your digits with your tongue in a slow sinful motion. This earned a half moan from the man, his body shifting as he hid his faltering confidence behind a closed fist. With his chin resting against it, he gazed at you through his lashes, watching every pinch and tug with a hawk-like intensity. 

“I’m already so worked up.” You groaned, unable to hold his heated glare any longer. You lulled your eyes toward the wet patch growing in your panties, pussy clenching around nothing at the sight of it. 

“I make you worked up?” He mused, leaning forward in interest. Leveled as his voice remained, his restless form gave him away; dilated pupils darting between your hard nipples and your soaked underwear. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, moan designed behind a cough at your response. 

“Yeah, so bad.” You mewled, one hand traversing the expanse of your smooth skin until your fingers met with the pool of sticky wetness between your thighs. You pulled at the band of your panties, sighing at the feeling of the tight fabric squeezing against your sensitive clit. You watched his expression as you drank in every movement, the obvious stiffness mounting in his crotch area not going unnoticed by you. 

You wondered what it would take to have him desperate for his own release again, enough to disregard every one of his frivolous boundaries until his head was too clouded with intoxicating lust to draw a new line between you. 

“Don’t focus on me, focus on yourself and your body.” It was almost like he knew, as if he could read your mind; could sense the way it reeled with thoughts of him and him alone. You tugged at your panties again, focusing on the movement of your fingers as they swirled around your excited nipple. “That’s good, don’t be shy now, you weren’t shy last time.” 

“You couldn’t see me last time.” You murmured, the tips of your ears and apples of your cheeks the same shade of crimson. 

“You’re beautiful, don’t be embarrassed.“ Chan shook his head, shifting in his seat once again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get comfortable, not when the growing ache in his pants became harder and harder to ignore. “Now do what we did last time, feel what works best for you, take your time.” 

“This?” You questioned, fingers pulling your panties aside as strings of sticky cum followed suit. You touched your bare clit with care, jolting and wincing with each caress. You were so sensitive, so turned on by the intent stare he fixed on your soaked cunt. You traced a finger down the seam of your pussy, rubbing the thick, juicy substance across your bundle of nerves in a clockwork motion. 

“Yeah, that’s right, feel yourself.” He drew a breath, tongue darting across his lips, hands not sure what to do with one another as he watched the sight play out in front of him. “That’s good, does that feel good?” Chan questioned, slouching back in his chair as if the increased distance would afford him some alleviation from your mesmerising performance. 

“Yeah, I think so.” You retorted, repeating the back and forth between your clit and dampening folds. You teased your entrance with the gentle prod of your fingers, tight clenching accompanying each experimental push. 

“Do what makes you feel good, learn what you like.” It was unbearable how calm he was, a whine leaving your lips as his professional tone. 

“How.” You murmured, the strumming of your clit increasing in speed as you felt a pleasurable sensation begin to wash over you. 

“Try new things, keep touching yourself–why don’t you take those panties off and give your pussy a slap.” You nodded, eagerly complying with his wishes as you pulled your panties down your legs letting the sheer fabric pool at the base of your chair. You placed your skirt there too, completely bare save the pair of kitten heels snug around your feet. 

“What?” The second part of his statement had you puzzled though, or perhaps it was just the intense feeling of being exposed in front of a person who was not only fully clothed but seemingly unbothered. Yeah, maybe that was it; that would be enough to have anyone confused and uncertain.

“You like it rough don’t you? Smack your pussy, give your clit a spanking for me.” His words had your hips shifting, a moan tumbling from your lips. Everything sounded better coming from his full mouth, the gravel tone interlaced with his thick accent–it was unbearable. 

“Like this?” You questioned, landing a smack against your sensitive clit. Both of you moved in sync, hips shifting at the shrill noise your palm made abusing your sensitive nub. Your face screwed up at the feeling, the delightful sting accompanied by another wave of self-satisfaction. 

“Harder.” He growled, moan mingling with his next words. “Yeah, you like that? I can see how wet you are, keep spanking your pretty little cunt.” You complied, strings of whines and groans following each harsh slap. 

“You’re making me this wet.” You mewled, expression still contorted in pleasure. Chan wasn’t sure how he’d expected to make it through this entire ordeal, that had been foolish thinking on his part. He hadn’t expected you to be so brazen though, both nervous in your disposition but shameless in your filthy words and actions. His cock was impossibly hard in his pants now, hand itching to relieve the tension.

“Fuck don’t say that, gonna have to learn how to make yourself cum when I’m not around.” He insisted, though in truth you were saying all the right things to morph him into malleable putty, substance perfect for the palms of your hands; mass supple enough to wrap around your finger. “That’s good, yeah that’s good fuck you’re clenching around nothing.” 

“Wanna be full.” You whined, pinching and rubbing at your clit with a rise and fall of your hips. You could tell the chair beneath you was drenched by now, the surface becoming slippery beneath your clammy thighs.

“Fuck yourself with your fingers, start with one and keep adding as many as your greedy little cunt needs to feel full.” His resolve was slipping, you could tell, could connect the dots from that night a month ago. It filled you with confidence, had your heart racing and limbs squirming as you rubbed your clit more furiously. 

“Not gonna be enough.” You shook your head, hoping, so intensely, that he would just give up and finish you himself. You could practically sense it, the way his fingers would make you feel, the sharp rush of intense white light that bubbled up with every thrust of his skilled digits. How perfectly they’d fill your tight hole, stretching you open as if preparing you for his fat cock. You slid a finger inside, feeling empty despite the new intrusion. 

“You just need to learn how to make yourself feel good baby, curl your fingers, do a scissor motion, whatever makes you feel the best.” He was still instructional in his method, but he looked anything but the calm teacher he’d been previously. Chan was leant forward now, tongue poking out his mouth, elbows propped on his knees as he watched you intensely. 

“How?” You questioned, brows scrunched.

“How, what baby? Use your words.” He asked, his palms rubbing together in a useless attempt to distract his mind from the ache in his pants.

“How do I make it feel good, sir.” You elaborated, pushing another finger inside your convulsing pussy. 

“Fuck, god, gonna make me crazy if you keep that up.” He run a hand through his hair, hips rising from the chair. His dark hair looked a mess by the time his fingers were done combing and tugging with restraint. You didn’t think it was possible for him to look any sexier, but his disheveled appearance proved otherwise. 

“Please.” You implored, the steady back and forth of your fingers slowing to a standstill at his next words. 

“You want me to show you, yeah?” He licked his lips shamelessly at you, hungry eyes awaiting your response with uninhabited lust. 

“Yes, please, so bad.” You mused, squirming in your chair at the prospect of his fingers tucked snugly inside your needy pussy. You hoped this wasn’t a dream, that you weren’t about to jolt awake to the shrill sound of your alarm clock. 

“Beg, show sir how badly you want his fingers inside you.” He murmured, jaw clenching at the sight of your pussy as it squeezed around nothing. “Keep circling your clit, yeah, keep going.” He commanded you, and without hesitation you followed. 

“Please, please, want you to fill me so bad, please sir- please.” You keened, fingers toying frantically with your bundle of nerves. 

“That’s it baby, keep getting yourself off, you're doing such a good job on your own.” He licked his lips again, chest heaving with every circular motion. You pushed your fingers back between the snug walls of your cunt, moving your hips to accompany the thrust of your digits. 

“I need more, please.” You wailed, the edge you’d wanted to revisit so badly gradually inching into view. 

“You really want my help, baby?” He asked, almost as if he were undecided. That couldn’t be it, though. There was no conceivable way Chan could doubt your desire to have him, in whichever way he was willing to give. He wanted to hear you beg some more, didn’t he? Wanted to hear just how badly you needed him, as if seeing it wasn’t enough. 

“Please.” You gave him what he wanted, putting on your best forlorn expression to better your chances. It worked, a little too well judging by the haphazard way he fell to his knees in front of you. Whatever glimmer of self-discipline he’d been clinging to, it was gone now, and in its place: a man starved. 

“You’ll tell me if you wanna stop, can you do that for me?” He looked up at you with hopeful eyes, his final attempt at giving you an out. An insincere part of him hoped you would, that you’d be the one to grasp ahold of your better sensibilities and put an end to your affair. But you didn’t, of course not, you never would, would you? He doubted it, not when your gaze exuded a level of desperation he was sure he’d only seen in wild animals. Instead, you nodded, teeth claiming your bottom lip as you did so. “Good girl.” 

Chan wasted no time sliding a finger inside your warm walls, a drawn out groan falling from his lips at the spongy grip that took a hold of his digit. His hips shifted compulsively as you tightened around him, a second finger inching its way in as he studied every rise and fall of your expression. Another moan from your lips–another half-grunt, half-groan from his own. He pushed his digits deeper, thrusting them in and out at a steady pace, letting his knuckles brush against your velvety clit.

“Ugh, that’s good.” You practically screamed out, head tipping back with a wide open-mouthed grimace; face contorted in unimaginable pleasure. How was it possible to feel this good? You thought you’d reached the maximum capacity for bliss that night, but Chan was showing you an entirely new palette of gratifying hues. 

“Barely touching you, darling. So desperate, hmm? Not been able to get off without me? Need me that badly?” He mewled, lips pressing wet, desultory kisses to your shoulder and collarbone. Your body twitched and seized beneath him, eyes rolling back at the sensation of his plump mouth against your hypersensitive skin. Every nerve felt as if it were going haywire, every brush of his bony flesh against your clit feeling like a rush of adrenaline. It was then that he did something truly toe-curling, the sudden feeling of something prodding at just the right angle inside of your tight walls; it had your spasming wildly beneath him. 

“Yeah I need you, need you to make me cum–need your cock in me, want you to stretch me out.” You sang in between moans, hands clinging to his clothed shoulders, nails latching onto him harshly. 

“Fuck, baby, slow down. Gonna take my time; you gotta take your time.” He panted, dark eyes finding yours in among the thick haze of lust that consumed you both. It had you moaning even louder, the combination of his intoxicating stare and that unidentifiable sensation threatening to push you over the edge prematurely. 

“Oh god, so much better.” You whined, tears filling your eyes, forehead shifting to press against his own as you clung to him for dear life. The warmth that radiated from his body was like a balmy embrace, the rousing scent of his cologne only adding to the numbing of your senses. He smelled incredible; expensive and masculine but with an undertone of something musky and thrilling. You wanted more of it, more of him. Wanted to taste him, to feel his cock pushed so far past your walls you could feel him rearranging your guts; the head of his member visibly prodding at the pit of your stomach. You wanted his mouth on yours, tongue exploring the inside of your mouth until he’d discerned every inch of you, top to bottom. 

You felt safe beneath his strong body, the hand that wasn’t busy splitting your open prying at your thigh until he managed to hook a leg over his shoulder. You felt your head fall back again, eyes squeezing shut as he sped up his pace, the room filling with the sound of your drenched pussy. The squelching was so lewd, so loud that you were sure you’d cum from that alone. Could feel it in the way your cunt clenched again and again, sucking his digits in and refusing to let them free.

“That’s ‘cause I’m curling them. Feel the difference?” He murmured, tone the only thing calm about him now. Looking down at him, you saw the frazzled expression painted across his handsome face, the frantic look in his eyes underpinning that same predatory stare. “Mmm fuck– gonna find your g-spot; gonna make you scream.” 

“Chan, fuck, please.” You wailed, hips bucking upwards in motion with his thrusts. He pushed you down with his free hand, cheek pressing against the meat of your leg as he watched you intently. His attentive stare didn’t last long, though, not when your pussy was putting on such a pretty show for him. His arm was soaked, the chair beneath you was drenched, juices pooling on the floor by your clothes. 

“So hot–stay still for me baby, did I hit the spot?” You could only nod now, moans coming out in pitchy screams as you bucked against his firm palm, desperately trying to fuck yourself with his fingers. You couldn’t describe it, the pleasure that was building inside of you, the edge that was careening so close to your helpless, frantic body that you could taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue. 

“Yeah, think so, oh god, oh my god.” You found your words at last, whining disapprovingly when his fingers left your needy pussy empty in favour of pushing past his plump mouth. Your gaze drank him in as he did so, watching with narrowed eyes as he sucked on them. It was slow and erotic and downright torturous, a string of desperate moans tumbling from his glistening pink lips. 

“Fuck you taste so good, let me taste you properly, please can I?” Apparently it was his turn to beg, his nose nuzzling against the inside of your thigh as he adjusted the leg propped atop his shoulder. 

“Please, please, do whatever you want, own me.” You nodded frantically, wanting nothing more than to return to that blissed out state you’d been so caught up in. 

“You want me to make this pussy mine, for real? Want me to fuck you rough like the slut you are?” You wanted him to mean what he was saying, but something told you he wasn’t. That was as a line you were certain he wouldn’t cross, not for now anyway, but you could live with that. A sentiment that rang even truer when you felt the rough texture of his tongue against your puffy, sopping cunt.

The reverberation of his moans only added to the intense wave of pleasure that overcame you, his frenzied ministrations causing your hips to buck, thighs closing around his head. He took it all, licking up and down your pussy as if lapping up your juices. Whatever lesson this was supposed to teach you about masturbation, you didn’t know, and you weren’t about to question him about it, not when you switched to burying his face in your leaking pussy, tongue fucking you with purpose as his nose prodded your swollen clit. 

“Yes, please, sir–ruin me.” You grabbed ahold of his hair, earning another moan from the man as he continued devouring your drenched cunt. Every time he lapped at your sweet juices, more poured from your clenching hole, his tongue drinking up every last drop as he shifted between your entrance and your sensitive nub. 

“Fuck this isn’t good.” He groaned, breathing out words in the short amount of time he spent away from your pussy; allowing him mere moments to suck in oxygen before he dove back in. “We shouldn’t be doing this, baby, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Ugh, that feels so fucking good.” This time he focused his mouth on your clit, lips wrapping around your bud as he pushed his fingers inside of you, thrusting in knuckles deep with a pace that bordered on animalistic. Your fingers gripped his hair just as aggressively, hips moving at their own accord as you felt the edge of your orgasm hurtle towards you. 

“Good keep going, use my fingers fuck yes.” He moaned, breaths coming out in desperate pants against your sensitive clit. The gentle push of air paired with his relentless thrust of his fingers against your g-spot was enough to have you screaming, head falling backward, cunt convulsing as you felt that white light begin to encase you.“Shit you’re cumming so soon? Oh fuck, yeah, fuck, so messy.” 

“Fuck, please, keep going– no why did you stop?” That feeling you’d been so frantic to chase, the bright, welcoming light that you’d been so ready to rush toward was ripped from you the moment his fingers exited your clamping walls. You looked at him in disbelief, body spent, skin aglow with sweat.

“It's your turn, do what I did.” He rejoindered. 

“No, no please” You shook your head, tears welling over as you pleaded with him to give you release. This was bordering on mean, knowing how frustrated and desperate you were to feel that warm white release only to pry it from your begging hands. 

“Come on pretty girl, you got this. Let me help you.” His palms ran comforting patterns across your skin, face still level with your pussy as his breath fanned across your sensitive core. You twitched beneath him, stare holding his own in hopes your beseeching eyes could reason with him. 

“Not the same.” You murmured, shaking your head once more. 

“Don’t be greedy now, come on.” He spoke, landing a slap against your clit in warning. Your hips jumped, sensitive pussy clenching around air as you greedily accepted your punishment. Despite your momentary disobedience, you followed his request, pathetic fingers moving down between you both to begin thrusting in and out of your weeping hole. “Good girl, keep going.” 

“Need yours.” You sobbed, the feeling of your digits nowhere close to the pleasurable strokes of his thick, veiny hand. 

“Hmm, why don’t we try a new toy? See if you can make yourself cum like that?” He suggested, and how he’d managed to maintain any semblance of his role as your sex therapist after annihilating your pussy with his pretty lips, you had no idea. Truly the man was a saint, he hadn’t even touched his hard cock once, too busy pleasuring you to even notice the impossibly tight feeling in his pants.

“Okay…” You agreed, body beginning to ache with fatigue. 

“Keep playing with yourself, slap that pretty little clit around while I find a toy for baby girl to play with.” Chan commanded, and you obeyed. 

You watched him walk the short distance to his desk, opening one of the cupboards to look over a collection of unboxed sex toys. The consistent branding told you it was probably a sponsorship deal, a collaboration of sorts. But you didn’t pay the toys enough attention to confirm this, no, instead you watched the way his back flexed, vein hands tugging at a box before returning it to its home. It was utterly unfair how even the back of him could drive you crazy; everything about him was thick, masculine and oozing sex appeal. Yet despite the plumpness of his arms, thighs and ass, his waist remained tiny beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt. You wanted to see what lay beneath his tight-fitting clothing so badly, the thought enough to have your fingers speeding up in a newfound wave of ecstasy. 

“What about this? Long like my fingers, that’s what you like right?” He returned with a different vibrator. Unlike the other one, this had some sort of vibrating node for your clit; making sure to stimulate every inch of you it could touch. 

“Lemme show you how this works, okay? Gonna use it just like the vibrator, push it up as far as your little cunt can bear.” Chan grumbled, tongue licking his lips as he lowered himself to his knees again. Removing it from its packaging with ease, he pressed the velvety device against your desperate cunt, quizzical gaze searching for any signs of hesitation. 

“I can take it all, please make me take it.” You were quick to retort, squirming in anticipation of what was to come. You hoped, no you prayed, that this time he’d make you cum, not stopping till your body was limp and spent, eyes rolled back in your head and screams so pitchy not a sound came out. You wanted that, you wanted that so bad. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re all wound up baby, you sure you want that?” His voice was low, free hand coaxing your leg back over his shoulder as he peppered kisses to your inner thigh.

“Please, pretend it's your cock. How would you fuck me?” You whined, hands shifting to pinch at your nipples desperate for any form of release.

“No, no you can’t think like that baby.” He shook his head dismissively, using the toy to push up and down your gushing pussy, chuckling wickedly every time your body twitched. 

“You want it too, don’t you? Wanna know what it’s like to fuck me? So do–” You couldn’t even finish getting the words out before he was shoving the toy into your needy hole with force, a dark expression atop his faltering features. “Yeah fuck, like that.” You screamed out, your pussy barely able to sheath the toy with how puffy and swollen your walls were.

“That feel good, baby?” He growled, teeth gritted as he pushed the device in and out of you with fever.

“So good.” You whimpered, bucking your hips in time with his thrusts.

“Gonna have to take over, you need to learn for yourself.” He reminded you, your head shaking in an instant. 

“Not yet, keep going please.” You sobbed tearlessly, moans coming out in broken, melodic strings of half-cries and curse words. 

“Haven’t even turned the vibrate on and you’re already clenching like a whore.” He tutted, tongue spilling from his lips as he got lost in your pleasure. It looked like he enjoyed this almost as much as you did, his brows furrowed in concentration as he took in every change in your expression. 

“Can I touch you?” You whined out, hips bouncing in time with his expertly timed thrusts. Your hands reached out, starting to undo the buttons of his dress shirt with a growing desire to see him naked and exposed like you were. He didn’t show any resistance, even shuddering beneath the graze of your nails against his bare chest as you opened the unbuttoned top. He looked delectable; toned muscles flexing with every thrust of his arm. 

“No, then I really will wanna fuck you.” He murmured, setting another boundary you had every intention of crossing; his forehead leaning down to press against yours, bodies as close as they could possibly be given the current position. His lust-filled gaze sparkled in the shadowed confines of your close faces, the soft whimpers and laboured breaths that left his parted lips sending your body into overdrive. You leaned forward to connect your lips, mouth ghosting over his for a nanosecond before he moved his face away from yours. You whined, aching to chase after him but opting to pry a little more instead. 

“Will you touch yourself when it’s my turn then?” You questioned, hungry eyes searching his for any signs of defiance.

“You want that?” He whimpered, free palm pushing you down against the soaked leather chair once more, trying to keep your quivering body still beneath him. 

“Yeah wanna hear you moan again.” You yelped, clenching again and again around the silicon toy, wanting more than anything to replace it with his meaty cock.

“Does that turn you on?” Chan asked, proud grin on his lips.

“So bad.” You murmured, head rolling back as you felt him graze against your g-spot with the tip of your new device. “Wanna watch your cock make a mess– oh my god I’m so close Channie~” He didn’t let you finish, turning the vibrator on mid sentence. The sudden change in sensation caused you to shake and convulse beneath him, creaming the toy with every pointed thrust he offered your greedy cunt. 

“Yeah? Take over for me baby, fuck yourself like the depraved slut you are.” You could barely think straight, eyes glazed over with unadulterated, carnal desire. 

“Fuck you’d break me open so good, want your cock so bad.” You mumbled, taking the toy from his grip to try and match his relentless pace. You weren’t even close, too tired, too rigid to compare. 

“God, bet you do, never enough for your greedy little pussy is it? Just want more and more.” Chan mused, the sound of his belt clattering drawing your attention to his lower half. You watched eagerly, excitement growing with every push of his hands. He pulled his cock out hurriedly, leg still propped over his shoulder as he fisted the base of his cock. 

You whined at the sight, free hand clawing at his half-clothed chest before gripping the meat of his upper arm. You hoped, pointlessly so, that the feeling of his toned muscle beneath your hold would ground you, keeping you steady as you worked yourself with the toy. The sight of him jerking desperately at his leaking cock, though, was far too compelling. Moans fell from his mouth, curse words interjecting every sinful noise. 

You’d thought his pointed gaze was enough to hypnotise you, but the image of his stiff member as it oozed pre cum transfixed you in an entirely new way. You couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear your eyes from his thrusting hips and eager fist as it worked its way up and down his length. You were sure you’d not seen a cock quite as pretty as his, either. It wasn’t overly large but it was thick and veiny with an angry red tip that you knew would prod your cunt in all the right ways. You wanted it, you wanted him so bad. You were salivating at the thought, mouth gaping wide open at the prospect of it.

“Bet you’d fuck me dry, so desperate you’d milk my cock of every drop.” He groaned loudly, hips bucking into his first with an air of impatience. 

“Yeah, want that so bad sir.” You could feel your high approaching once more, the edge coming into view in new and improved shades of technicolour bliss. 

“That’s it, good girl, you’re doing so well.” He praised you, head lulling back as he hissed, teeth clenching, face scrunching; the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. His adams apple bobbed, thick neck glistening with sweat as he squirmed, face falling to rest against your leg. 

“Cum on me, in my mouth.” You pleaded, trying to match the rhythm of his thrusts, imagination fixing on the idea of it being him fucking you like this.

“Fuck that’s so hot, you’re so fucking hot.” He instantly complied with your wishes, hand abandoning his cock momentarily in favour of getting to his feet. He gently lowered the leg once propped atop his shoulder as he did so, discarding his trousers and underwear properly when he was stood. He was frantic in his motions, wanting nothing more than to dump his load on your pretty face. 

Hovering over you, he watched as you eagerly opened your mouth, head angled to allow him to aim the tip of his length toward your lips. He hummed at the sight, face scrunching again as he began to fist at his cock. The wet sound of his cum streaking the length of his member had you keening, tongue darting out to lick at his tip desperately. He bucked his hips at the new sensation, shoving his cock closer to your mouth in the process. You kept lapping at his head, enjoying the salty taste of his cum as it hit your tongue–the bitter flavour pulling pornographic moans from your throat.

“Oh god that feels amazing. Yeah, keep doing that baby.” He too moaned, pumping his cock relentlessly while you leaned closer to him, sucking the head of his twitching member feverishly. “Such a good girl, yeah, your lips look so pretty around my cock baby.” 

“More.” You begged, the initial taste of his salty cum enough to have you craving more. You wanted all of it, wanted to feel his mushroom tip abuse the back of your throat, wanted to choke on his fat cock until breath became a necessity. You were positive you’d see the white, orgasmic light then, when you were deprived of all air, forced to take in every inch of him until he was done using you for his own pleasure. 

“No, don’t be greedy. Take what I give you and say thank you like a good slut.” He landed a slap against your cheek, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to sting and fuck it felt incredible.

“Mmm, thank you sir.” You whined, complying instantly, pussy clenching around the toy still thrusting in and out of your numb cunt. Your arms were in a similar position, movements growing sloppy and slow as you tried to chase your high through till the end. 

“Good, now you gonna cum for me?” He asked, fucking his fist with the same fierce pace he’d gifted you. “Yeah, fuck you’re so hot.” He moaned, watching you struggle to pleasure yourself, movements ragged and desperate as you became unable to control your limbs. 

“So close, so so so– please.” You cried out, riding the toy with one final push of determined energy.

“That’s it, keep fucking yourself. You’re so close, baby don’t give up now.” He moaned out, his own high building with every snap of your hips, the noises your mouth and pussy were making so sinful it had his eyes rolling back. He resisted though, keeping his well-trained eyes on your abused cunt. You were struggling, he could tell, something in you not quite snapping the way you clearly wanted it to. It wasn’t your fault, he’d tired you out by now; he blamed himself for that. 

“Come on, you can do better than that. Like this baby.” He abandoned his own pleasure again, hand leaving his cock to replace yours. His pace was exactly what you needed, your body convulsing the moment he replaced your sloppy grip. 

“Oh god, yes, please keep going.” You cried, almost scared he’d deny you again. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum? Look at the mess you’re making pretty girl, fuck, I bet it tastes delicious.” He growled, pushing the toy as deep as your puffy cunt would allow, angle directed toward the extra-sensitive spot you seemed to love so much. “You’re taking it so well, such a good little slut.” 

“I’m gonna cum.” You wailed, hand gripping his, half-reacting to the sudden feeling of overstimulation that washed over you, the part of the vibrator pressed against your clit sending you into spasms with every hard thrust.

“That’s right, come on baby, good girls cum– you’re my good girl aren’t you? Gonna cum like sir told you to?” He growled, the possessive tone that had overtaken him sending shockwaves across your limbs. 

“Yeah, yeah fuck! I’m-” You didn’t have time to respond to his pleas before you were thrown from the edge, same white light blinding you in the process. You lost all feeling, all consciousness as you came, the explosions errupting throughout your spent body going unnoticed by your fucked out mind. Your chest heaved as you started to come to, hand still clamped around his now motionless wrist as his voice broke through your heavy breathing. 

“Shit, you squirted everywhere baby. Fuck that’s so hot.” You whimpered, scrambling to sit up in embarrassment. You looked at the chair first, the leather slick with your release, but it wasn’t until you gazed at Chan that you saw the extent of it. His white shirt was dotted with wet spots, looking almost like the splatter of something colourless. His hand and arm were soaked, chest glistening too. 

“Sorry.” You frowned, suddenly embarrassed by the mess you’d made.

“Shh, don’t be sorry, you did so well baby; look at you, so messy, so pretty.” He was quick to assure you, abandoning the vibrator in favour of cupping both your cheeks. You took each other in for a moment, no words spoken between you as your eyes lowered to his lips. One of his hands moved toward your chin, tugging our gaze upward again; not letting you linger with the thought of kissing him. 

“Lemme make you cum.” You spoke after a beat in time. 

“No, no lovely girl, you need to rest a second.” He smiled, pad of thumb caressing your plump bottom lip before he shifted, seemingly ready to clean you up and send you on your way. You weren’t ready for the moment to end, though. Couldn’t bear the thought of not getting to see him like this again for another month, or, god forbid, longer. 

“Then use me to finish.” You reached for him, grabbing ahold of his wrist before his back could straighten, reaching his full height. 

“Baby, fuck.” He moaned, clearly battling with the idea of you crossing yet another of his lines. He couldn’t blame you, not wholly anyway, he let you do it easily every time. Deep down he knew they were nothing but silly justifications; a safety net to fall back on when he broke every rule in the book.

“I want you to.” You assured him.

“This is supposed to be about you.” He shook his head.

“Then do it for me, use my mouth.” Your persistence seemed to be enough for him, still-hard cock twitching excitedly at the prospect. 

“Get on your knees.” His eyes darkened, turning to face you properly as he watched you position yourself on the floor, obedient as ever. “That’s it, good girl.” He swallowed thickly, guiding you toward his painfully hard length. He tapped your outstretched tongue with the tip, wordlessly ordering you to open wide.

“Tastes so good sir.” You mewled as he slid the base of his cock along your tongue, moaning at the texture of your muscle against his veiny member. His patience, or whatever was left of it, was slipping away with every messy lick of your tongue, his hand shifting to grip your hair.

“Squeeze my thigh if it's too much, okay?” Your nod was enough to have him pushing his length past your parted lips, cock giving you no time to adjust as he pushed his hips forward. “Such an obedient little slut, aren’t you? Touch your clit for me, want you cumming with my cock shoved down your throat.” He growled, pushing his length as far down your throat as your tight mouth would allow.

“Oh fuck yeah, yeah, yeah that’s so– ohmygod you feel amazing.” You moaned the moment he afforded you a few seconds to breathe. Your fingers toyed with your clit just as he’d requested, but you were far too focused on swallowing his member to focus on the tingling feeling between your thighs. 

“Bet your pussy feels better though, doesn’t it baby? Filled all the way up with my fat cock.” He grunted, grip in your hair tightening as he thrust his length past your lips harshly. You squealed at this, sound muffled by the back and forth of his cock as he used your throat to chase his own release. It was hard to focus his gaze as he pushed his cock all the way to the base, your nose pressing against his toned flesh as you gagged, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Are you crying? Yeah? Sir giving it to you too rough? This is what greedy girls get–a throat full of cock.” He growled, any hints of his prior softness dissipated with the tightening of your throat around his sensitive length. He started setting a pace, no longer mindlessly pushing you down his cock. Rather he pulled out of your swollen mouth, giving you a few seconds to breathe before he thrust in, repeating that motion again and again with a frenzied persistence. If he had any doubts about your feelings on the matter, your soaked cunt gave it all away. 

“God your pussy is drenched, sounds so good. Does it feel good, baby? Getting mouth fucked while you play with your little cunt for me?” He moaned, fucking your face with a new found fever, his approaching high numbing his senses until all that remained was the sound of your wet pussy clenching around nothing and the feeling of your tight throat seathing his desperate cock. In all of the blissful chaos though, the man couldn’t help but take pity on you; the tears streaming down your cheeks, drool coating your chin, was enough to have him pulling out. You instantly gasped for air, forehead falling against his thigh as you caught your breath.

“Sit up baby, spread your legs. Gonna paint your pussy with my cum–gonna make it mine.” He instructed, helping you back atop the chair when you looked at him with pleading eyes. Your chest still rose and fell, gaze glossy with fresh tears as you whimpered, barely able to register the possessive way he wanted to claim you beneath your heavy fatigue. 

“You gonna cum for me too, yeah? gonna fuck my cum inside you with my fingers while you play with your clit.” He was back to those sinful rambles, an apparent sign of his impending orgasm as he worked his cock, hovering above your spread legs while he watched you circle your clit violently. “Good girl, good girl, fuck.” 

“Yeah fuck, mine, my good girl, looking so pretty for me.” His pace picked up, abs tensing with every twitch of his cock. His tip leaked with presumptive release, small bouts of thick cum running down the head, aided in its journey by the drying slick of your spit. “So useless without me aren’t you baby? Can’t do anything without me, need me so badly.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, oh god.” His words had you quickly barreling toward the edge again, consciousness slipping as you fell in and out of subspace. 

“Say you’re mine.” He growled, face contorted in the hottest expression you’d ever seen. He looked determined, the first that fucked his cock thrusting at such a frenzied pace you wondered if it was painful.  “Mmm” Was all you could manage, before a harsh slap to your cunt was enough to jolt you away from the fucked-out state you found yourself in. 

‘Say it, slut.” He insisted.

“I’m yours, all yours; only yours. No one else can make me feel like this, not even me, this pussy belongs to you.” Your words were all it took, his entire body shifting, twitching and shaking at the sudden onset of his climax. His knees almost buckled, the half-awkward position causing his muscles to burn and tense as he milked his cock of its stringy cum. Moan after moan fell from his lips as he watched it splatter against your lower half, your hungry cunt clenching as the warm liquid painted your clit and abdomen. 

Lowering to his knees again, he kept his promise, pulling your hand away from your puffy clit in favour of collecting up all the cum that settled on your skin, sticky substance coating two of his digits as he shoved it inside your overworked pussy. “Cum for me, come on. Don’t make me spank you again.” 

You moaned out, shrill noise almost awakening his cock once again as he drilled your cunt with his fingers, pushing his cum as far into you as your swollen walls would allow. “Good girl, that’s a good girl; such a good little cum slut.” He cooed as you lost all control, body seizing beneath the weight of another orgasm; the wave of ecstasy so sudden and unexpected it stole the air from your lungs, the noise from your voice.

Chan rode you through your high, pressing kisses to every inch of your inner thigh, fingers slowing to a halt inside you. Sweet praises filled the air as he pulled his digits from your defeated cunt, palms rubbing soothing patterns against your skin. He kept this up until the ability to move seemed to finally return to your aching limbs, your body shifting to sit upright. Your breathing was laboured as his eyes leveled with yours, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort.

“Are you okay?” He asked, fingers back to tracing your skin affectionately; an action that felt just a little too sweet considering the events that had just transpired. You nodded, still not quite able to form words as you moved forward, pulling him into your embrace, desperate to lean on him for support. He let you, of course he did, arms wrapping around your fatigued body as he pulled you against him. Your head fell to the crook of his neck when you lowered from the chair, awkwardly positioned atop his kneeling form until he shifted to accommodate you.

For a moment you stayed like this, the sounds of your breathing the only thing breaking through the heavy silence. It gave you both time to think, to come down from your post-orgasm bliss and retrace the events of your appointment. 

“Fuck, what are we doing.” Chan was the first one to speak, a heavy sigh pulled from his downturned lips. 

“I don’t know but I don’t want it to stop.” You whispered, neither of you making any attempt to put distance between you. 

“We have to.” His response was instant but insincere, there was no denying that now. Not even your anxiety could trick you into believing that Chan didn't want this.

“But do you want to?” You asked, making the first move as you pulled back to look him in the eyes. Maybe his mouth lied, but his gaze never could. 

“...No. do you?” He said after a beat in time, large gaze studying you just as you did him. His palms moved to grip at your bare waist, a single hand shifting to run up and down your right side, tracing the curve of your hips as he waited expectantly. 

You smiled, the fireworks that erupted behind every one of his caresses giving you the answer you'd been looking for: “Never.” 

“Never?” Chan stared at you dubiously, hand stilling at this. 

“Never.” You didn’t hesitate, head shaking. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, eyes flicking from feature to feature in search of any insincerity. He found none, only a flourishing of adoration that threatened to grow tucked behind your gaze. 

He decided to believe you. You decided to believe it too–hoped so badly for it to be true–wanted so badly to have finally found the cure. Needed so badly for him to be the cure.

<< back to dash // next episode >>

taglist @mangojellyyy • @diekleinesuesse • @bahablastplz • @jeonginnieswifey • @skzittomebabyuhhuhx3 • @yaorzu-blog • @skzreader25 • @sseungmongi • @swaggylili • @geni-627 • @fun-fanfics • @channiesluvrclub • @iambangchanswife • @bluesungology

A/N: jfc i nearly didn't finish this in time oopsies! semi-unedited again so apologies for any sloppy writing in places. thank you all for 200 followers!! next chapter is due for release at the 350 milestone <3

[icaruspendragon]

lemme tell ya fellas, having a mental illness that is heavily stigmatized and dangerously misrepresented in media sure is hard sometimes.

random strangers on the internet will be like, “i’m so ocd! i just can’t stand it when things get messy!”

so cool! but i think the word you’re looking for is actually “organized.”

because then i’ll get on the internet and be like, “i’ve had ocd episodes so bad i considered seeking inpatient treatment.”

and then a random stranger online will say, “if you say you have ocd, then why is your space so cluttered and disorganized?”

and to the random stranger i say, “the clutter exists because my object permanence skills are ass. and besides, there are lots of different types of ocd, the kind you see on tv isn’t the only kind.”

and then i will be asked, “how do you have ocd, then?”

to which i reply, “it’s an anxiety disorder that makes me have lots of awful and disturbing and upsetting intrusive thoughts, mainly centering around death and dying (amongst other things). like i had an episode in the past two years or so that stopped me from being able to drive anywhere.

i couldn’t drive bc i was convinced i was going to be involved in a car accident and be completely fine whereas the other driver would be terribly injured and i wouldn’t be able to help them and instead i’d just have to stand there on the side of the road watching them bleed out in a ditch.

because for me. that’s the obsessive part of the disorder. my brain conjures an upsetting intrusive thought that i very much don’t want to think about, which means all i can do is think about it. and i know i can’t make something happen by thinking about it too much, but also i can girl boss #manifest a fatal accident.

there was episode where i didn’t leave my house for weeks because i was convinced my presence in the general public would cause a mass casualty event and i’d be helpless while being forced to watch people die and it’d be all my fault because i thought it into existence.

so yeah my desk may be messy, but to be fair, i am constantly plagued by thoughts of death and try to cope with it by coming up with every single contingency plan and then some. that way i can be prepared to help the victim of the accident i’ve caused by existing.

another quirky fun non-cleaning my bathroom symptom of my disorder is picking at the skin on my head to the point it’s covered in sores and bald spots. bc body focused repetitive behavior self grooming habits are the self soothing technique my brain picked. so i don’t even notice i’m doing until someone smacks my hand away from my head or i need to use my right hand for something and see my fingers have blood on them.

the bfrb is a manifestation of anxiety, not self harm. but i am so self conscious and embarrassed by it that i stopped getting my hair done for like a year because i didn’t want anyone to see the 15 plus sores i have on my head at any given time.

so yeah. a dirty countertop “bothering your ocd” must be incredibly difficult for you to manage. i’ll be sure to ask you for advice the next time i go across an intersection with my eyes glued to my speedometer because if i don’t look at the road i can’t make a car appear out of nowhere to t-bone me, subsequently forcing me to watch someone die.”

[ohproserpine]

i. deer dolly

part i | part ii | more | ao3 tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, human! possibly ooc! alastor so he's a bit more "tame" here, allusions to murder and such, unsettling & obsessive behavior, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, gorey-ish descriptions of love

"So what?" Angel Dust hummed, drumming his nails on the counter. "You and Alastor are like... friends?"

"Oh, well, that ain't the word I would’ve used, but it's something like that!" Mimzy chirped, reaching for her drink and downing it in one go. "He used to frequent the club I had! In fact, that’s where he met his wife—"

“Wife?!” Angel Dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “Freaky face is married?”

“Oh yeah,” Mimzy hummed, waving her hand around. “Under all that murder and cannibalism, he’s a total sap! Can't blame him, I mean—his wife is a doll! Me an' her used to perform together!”

"An’ how come I never heard of this? People ain't told me shit!" Angel Dust grumbled, turning to Husk behind the counter. "You knew 'bout this, whiskers?"

"Yeah. They were together back in the living. But don't even think of bringing it up in front of Alastor. He gets all heated," Husk grumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe down Mimzy’s now-empty glass. The cat then turned to grab another bottle off the shelf, a grimace on his lips. "I would know."

Angel Dust leaned forward, resting his face on his folded hands. "Well, ain't that something. Never knew he even had one of those."

Mimzy cackled, her voice a raspy melody that echoed through the smoky air of the bar as she snatched the bottle of liquor away from Husk’s paws. "Oh, honey, you wouldn’t even know how deep it goes. They go way back."

"Spill," Angel Dust grinned, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Mimzy leaned in, looking both ways to make sure Alastor or his shadows weren't around before lowering her voice. "It was back in the day, at my joint. Alastor dropped by for the bootlegs, you know? But then he caught sight of her. She was singin’ and dancin’ on stage, a real heartbreaker. He couldn't resist the charm, and boom, he was struck on! Ever since then, he came around as frequently as he could. Made me so much money~" 

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, his long lashes fluttering as he squished his cheek against his palm, a coy smirk playing on his lips. "And you were part of this love saga?"

Mimzy shook her head, a wicked glint dancing in her eyes before she lifted the bottle to her lips and downed its contents in one swift motion, her throat working as she swallowed. "Oh, sugar, just a witness to the drama. Those two lovebirds had their own dance going on. I just spiced things up."

Angel Dust chuckled, shaking his head. "Never thought smiles had it in him."

"Again. He likes to keep his shit private. So, don't go running your mouth unless you wanna be on the receiving end of one of his… episodes," Husk interrupted, his gruff voice breaking through the conversation as he leaned over the counter and reclaimed the bottle from Mimzy with a low growl.

Angel hummed dismissively, his golden tooth catching the glimmer of the bar lights as he spoke. “Anyone could've guessed that. Where is she, anyways? I haven't seen or heard of her since day one."

"Busy," Mimzy snorted, her finger lazily tracing the rim of her glass. She leaned back in her seat, the dim glow of the bar lights casting shadows across her features. "That's where."

“Really?" Angel's brow lifted in skepticism, his boot lightly kicking against the base of Mimzy's chair. "Busy? That’s it?”

Mimzy shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Can't tell ya much. Y'know Alastor doesn't like sharin'. Secrets and shadows, that's his game."

“Aww c'mon, tits,” Angel grinned, his golden tooth glinting beneath the bar lights with each word. “You gotta know more than you let on. It'll be our secret.”

"Well," Mimzy drawled, savoring the suspense as she tapped a gloved finger against her cheek. "I guess I can tell you a lil’ something about how they met…”

.

Alastor found himself standing in the heart of a secluded corner of town. 

A desolate, dimly lit street stretched out before him, raindrops rhythmically tapping on the worn concrete beneath his feet.

It was something he had never imagined—searching for a speakeasy in this far-off locale. Rarely did he have time for himself. Most of his days were dedicated to caring for his mother, his job as a radio host, and any free time he had was reserved for his… hobbies. But he supposed a change of scenery wouldn't hurt.

Adjusting his glasses, he gazed up at the timeworn, ragged sign of a barbershop that read, "Chum’s Clippers." 

Charming. 

With a roll of his eyes, the radio host stepped into the worn-down establishment, visibly grimacing at the shop's decrepit condition. His eyes surveyed the room, settling on a young blonde woman. 

Perched on the edge of the registrar counter, a cigar dangled between her cherry-red lips, the tendrils of smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals. Her legs crossed provocatively, causing the fabric of her dress to ride up her thighs, revealing more skin than what civil society would allow. 

As soon as she caught sight of Alastor's silhouette, a spark of excitement lit up her features, and she greeted him with an animated wave.

"Hey there, mistah! Names Mimzy!" she chirped with a friendly lilt. Her crimson-painted nails plucked the cigarette from her lips, trailing a wisp of smoke as she gestured toward Alastor. "Whatcha here for?"

"Pleasure to meet you," Alastor smiled back and stepped closer, offering her a bow of his head, “Quite a pleasure. You see, I was just strolling through these darling streets, and wouldn't you know it? The whispers in the wind pointed me straight to you, the gal in the know when it comes to bootlegs. Care to confirm?"

‘A potential client?" Mimzy thought, her smirk hidden behind her hand as she took one last puff, the cherry of her cigar glowing brightly before she flicked it into an ashtray. 'Straight to the point.'

"Well, well, mistah," she drawled with a playful twirl of her finger through her blonde curls. "You've got a nose for sniffin' out the good stuff, huh? Well, we might have a few things tucked away for the right kind of folk. But, sugar, we don't just give 'em to anyone.”

Alastor's smile widened as he smoothly fished out his wallet, giving it a theatrical wave. "I do have a penchant for fine libations, my dear. And I assure you, I'm just looking for a little taste of the local flavor, nothing more."

Mimzy's eyes sparkled with mischief as she perked up, eagerly hopping off the counter. The click of her heels echoed against the worn floor as she approached the tall man.

"You're in luck, then! Follow me, and we'll talk business in the back," she said, gesturing toward a concealed door at the back of the barbershop.

Alastor followed her through a narrow passage, which unveiled another door leading to the very speakeasy he’d heard talk of. The atmosphere changed instantly, lively jazz music filled the air, and the dimly lit space was alive with laughter and clinking glasses.

Mimzy guided Alastor to a private booth tucked away in a corner, where a polished bottle of bootleg whiskey awaited their arrival.

"Here's to unexpected encounters, mistah," she beamed, the words dripping with charm as she poured a generous measure into his glass. Alastor raised his glass in acknowledgment, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"To unexpected encounters," he echoed before taking a deep sip.

The whiskey was bitter and strong, yet there was a subtle sweetness that danced on his tongue, leaving behind a tantalizing warmth. It had been increasingly difficult to find such fine brews ever since the prohibition hit, making each sip all the more precious.

Seating himself comfortably, Alastor swirled the glass in his hand, mesmerized by the way the golden liquid caught the flickering candlelight. Beside him, Mimzy continued her lively chatter, her words accompanied by the persistent clinking of ice in their glasses as she refilled his drink, hoping to stack his bill higher with each pour.

As the room hummed with the soft, easy notes of a piano and the clinking of glasses, a sudden hush fell over the crowd as an announcer's voice sliced through the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the enchanting Dolly!"

Mimzy's excitement bubbled up even more, and she leaned in toward Alastor. "That's my sister! Well— not by blood, but you know, me and her are real, real close. One of my best performers here at the bar!"

"Is that so?" Alastor hummed, his eyes now alight with curiosity as he shifted his focus toward the stage.

In that moment, you stepped onto the platform, grabbing a hold of the standing microphone. With a subtle flick of your wrist, you directed attention to the dark-haired pianist, his fingers poised above the keys. A nod from you and the jazz ensemble sprung to life, setting the stage for your performance. As the spotlight enveloped you in a warm glow, a hushed silence fell over the speakeasy.

Folks, here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher She was a red hot hoochie-coocher She was the roughest, toughest frail But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale

The lyrics flowed easily through Alastor's mind, carried by the smooth, buttery tones of your voice that filled the air. The radio host found himself utterly hypnotized, his gaze never tearing from your form.

He could stare for hours, unabashed by any sense of shame—though, truth be told, he didn't possess much of that quality to begin with.

She messed around with a bloke named Smokey She loved him though he was kokey He took her down to Chinatown And he showed her how to kick the gong around

As Mimzy began clapping excitedly and waving her arms to beckon you over, Alastor's attention shifted. The final notes of the song echoed in the room, snapping him back to reality. In the haze of your performance, he hadn't even realized that the song had come to an end.

“What a gal!” Mimzy cackled, joyously wrapping her arms around you as you approached.

Alastor took a moment to study you with keen interest.

The dim lighting of the speakeasy lent a soft, ethereal glow to your figure as you moved, casting long shadows across the floor. A slender dress, shimmering with golden sequins, hugged your figure, shimmers and glitters catching the light. The dress boasted a daring low neckline, while its swaying boxed skirt gracefully fell just above your knees, accentuating your every movement. Complementing the ensemble were black kitten heels, their clicks and clacks adding a subtle rhythm to every step you took. Your hair, styled into a sleek bob, framed your demure features perfectly. Adorning your head was a headpiece adorned with golden yellow feathers and dark lace.

"Dollface, I want ya to meet Alastor!" Mimzy exclaimed, pulling you along and positioning you in front of him. “He’s new!”

With a wave of your hands and a warm smile, you tilted your head up to meet Alastor's gaze. The man standing before you was tall and slim, boasting broad shoulders. His white button-up clung perfectly to his frame, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms adorned with scars, cuts, and prominent veins.

‘Must be a hunter or a butcher,’ you noted heatedly.

Short, side-swept brunette hair framed his face, adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance, while rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose lent him an air of intelligence. As he smiled, a chill crept down your spine, and an odd sinking sensation settled in your stomach.

There was an unsettling nature to him, a subtle aura that left you uncertain of whether your reaction stemmed from the eerie quality of his smile or if it was simply a flustered response to his strikingly handsome features. 

“Pleasure to meet you, cher,” Alastor purred, turning on the charm. He delicately took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. In a subtle move, the radio host let his fingers linger over your skin, subtly checking for any sign of a ring. Noticing the absence, he filed the information away with a sly smile. 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, sir,” you smiled, tucking your face behind your hand. Alastor observed with delight as a subtle blush painted your cheeks, a tacit acknowledgment that his presence had left an impression.

"Al here knows his way around a glass of whiskey like nobody else in these parts! Ain't that right, Al?" Mimzy chattered, her voice bubbling with familiarity as if she had known him for years and hadn't just met him one song and ten drinks ago.

Alastor chuckled, a low, melodic sound that sent your stomach doing flips. "

"Well, I do have a certain fondness for…" The radio host paused, his sharp, gaze raking up and down your form, his words trailing off. "…finer things in life."

A silence lingered in the air, and Mimzy, always attuned to the mood of a room, shot a knowing look between the two of you.

"Well, don't cha?" Mimzy exclaimed, her hands clapping with excitement. "If that's the case, then I'm sure Dolly would love to show you around here!"

"Is that so?" Alastor, maintaining that devilish smile, turned his attention back to you. "Well, what do you say, cher?" he questioned.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you met his gaze with a coy smile. "I'd be delighted to show you around. There's a lot more to this place than meets the eye."

Mimzy clapped her hands together. "Perfect! Now, why don't you two enjoy the rest of the night? I'll be right here waiting."

“Shall we?” Alastor offered his hand, gesturing to the dance floor.

With a small nod, you graciously accepted Alastor's outstretched hand, leading the way to the lively dance floor where the band played an upbeat tune. Around you, couples twirled in a dizzying dance, with heels tapping, shoes stomping, and skirts gracefully gliding and twirling. Alastor wasted no time, pulling you in and molding your form against his.

Looks were indeed deceiving, as despite his lean appearance, Alastor had no issue effortlessly tossing and spinning you round and round, lifting you as if you were as weightless as a feather. Each spin and dip was executed with skill, his footwork was a blur and soon enough, you found yourself willingly surrendering to the rhythm of his lead. 

This man could fucking dance.

As the music gradually slowed, Alastor guided you to the side, providing a moment to catch your breath after the energetic routine.

"Thank you for the dance, cher! You are quite quick on your feet," Alastor chuckled, his voice low, blending with the fading echoes of the music.

"You're not too bad yourself," you managed between breaths, a raspy laugh escaping your lips. "Nobody's ever been able to keep up with me," you continued, running a hand through your tousled hair and adjusting your dress. "I think I was the one who had to keep up with you."

After ensuring you were presentable, you lifted a hand to fix Alastor's slightly damp locks, adjusting his glasses and tie. Alastor froze, a foreign sensation enveloping him. Despite his typical aversion to physical contact, there was an absence of the usual recoil in disdain this time.

"Looks like we're both a bit of a mess, aren't we?" you chuckled, a wry smile playing on your lips as you gracefully brushed away a speck of dust from his shirt.

Alastor blinked and eventually relaxed, allowing you to proceed without any resistance. "Quite."

While you continued to fix him up, Alastor couldn't help but feel a sense of bewilderment. He felt as though coils had entwined themselves around his heart. Slowly constricting, they didn't just tighten but twisted, sharp edges digging into muscle, squeezing his emotions into a thick syrup that spilled beyond the confines of his ribs, seeping out in a haunting shade of crimson through the cracks in his chest.

As the seconds passed, he paid no mind to your touch, shifting his focus to instead dissect you with his eyes. He scrutinized the subtle reactions playing across your face—the delicate twitches of your brows, the soft pout of your blood-red lips, and the scrunches of your nose. 

What were you doing to him?

"There you go!" you announced, a note of satisfaction in your voice as you finished your task, your hand coming to rest briefly on his chest before retreating. "Ready to head back?"

Snapping out of his obsessive trance, Alastor emitted a soft hum, offering his arm to you. You gracefully accepted, intertwining your arm with his. The energetic atmosphere from the dance gradually subsided as you and Alastor made your way back to the private booth. Mimzy's mischievous grin awaited you as she rejoined your company.

"Looks like you two had quite the time!" she exclaimed, a twinkle in her eye.

Alastor quickly composed himself, nodding with a grin. "Indeed! It was quite a delightful dance."

Just as Alastor turned toward you, the insistent dings of a nearby clock echoed through the room. His expression shifted, a fleeting shadow of disappointment and ire crossing his face. The hours had danced away quicker than he had anticipated.

Undoubtedly, the night was still young for you, given that speakeasies often extended their festivities until the early hours of the morning.

However, as much as Alastor would adore the idea of continuing to enjoy your company, the weight of responsibilities at home tugged at him. He had his elderly mother waiting, relying on his care for her well-being, as well as an upcoming morning shift at the radio station.

"It's later than I realized, my dear," he admitted, his voice carrying a touch of regret. "I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. Duty calls, and the dawn awaits for my return."

Something twisted and snapped in Alastor's gut as he observed the unmistakable disappointment etched across your features, evident in the downturn of your blood-red lips. His fingers itched with an impulse to claw your mouth back into a smile, to dig his nails into your skin and carve your lips into a grotesque display of happiness, all in a desperate attempt to restore the radiance of your joy.

Meanwhile, Mimzy sighed in disappointment, yet Alastor discerned that beneath the theatrics, she was indifferent to it all, evident in her thinly veiled disinterest.

"Aww… That's too bad, sugar! The night's just gettin' started!" Mimzy exclaimed, shaking her head with a pout. 

"But I get it! Some folks got places to be," Mimzy waved it off. There was a sudden twinkle in her eye as she pulled out a tab from her dress pocket. "Anyways, 'bout those drinks you had, they weren't exactly on the house, sooo..."

Alastor chuckled and pulled out his wallet. "Of course, my dear! I apologize, it must not have crossed my mind!"

He settled the bill and threw in a generous tip, for both you and Mimzy. His job as a radio host was quite the money-spinner, affording him the pleasure of treating others to the finer things in life. Mimzy practically glowed with satisfaction, her blue eyes sparkling as she snatched the tab. Swift and efficient, she flipped through the bills, before pocketing the money.

"Thank you, love!" Mimzy chirped, already moving away from the table as she waved him off. "You're welcome anytime!"

“I’m sure I am,” Alastor responded flatly, almost mockingly, with a roll of his eyes, pulling a laugh from you. As Mimzy made her way off backstage, both you and Alastor were left alone.

“It's a shame you have to leave so soon. I've got more songs up my sleeve for later. I would have loved for you to stay and catch the performance,” you sighed, turning back to him.

Alastor's eyes sparkled with genuine interest. "Songs, you say? Well, cher, that does sound like a delightful experience. Perhaps I can catch your next show some other time."

You smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm. "I'd love that. I perform here regularly, and your company would be more than welcome anytime."

Alastor's gaze intensified, fixing onto you with a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer despite yourself. His eyes, pools of darkness, held an unexplainable intensity. As his lips curled up into a grin, there was a hint of something more primal than human lurking behind his charming facade. A shiver traced its way down your spine, leaving behind a lingering sensation that unsettled you to your core.

"I'll definitely make it a point to come by," he finally said. 

Scrambling for a response, the only sound that reached your ears was the rhythmic thud of your own heartbeat as your blood rushed through your veins.

"Y-You too! Don't let the night slip away too quickly," you stammered.

With a nod, Alastor bid you a final farewell, weaving through the dimly lit space towards the exit. 

Yes, he shall see you very soon.

Cher - Louisiana Creole term meaning "darling," "sweetie" or "honey."

[januaryembrs]

CROSS MY HEART | Spencer Reid x wife!Reader

Request: read here

description: Spencer's wife struggles with the aftermath of JJ's confession

length: 1.5k

warnings: JJ's 14x15 confession spoilers (big ick, pull yourself together Jennifer) infidelity, thoughts of worthlessness, reader thinks Spencer is going to leave her for JJ.

authors note: I have loved JJ for all of fourteen seasons and fourteen episodes. this was a BIG ICK for me watching this won't lie

She should have known something was wrong the minute they left that damn store. 

It took her all of two seconds to throw herself into her husband’s arms, her voice choked with tears that had threatened to spill when she’d seen the video of Casey shooting at him, and she swore Spencer had never grabbed her so tight. 

“I thought you,” She sniffled, running her fingers through the back of his scalp, the entire spanse of his huge hands ran along her spine, counting every vertebra to make sure she was still intact, despite the fact he had been the one held hostage, “I thought he’d shot you- it came so close,” 

He hushed her mewls, a hand reaching to the back of her head and tucked her into his neck further, the sob rattling through her ribcage almost, almost, taking his mind entirely off what JJ had said in that stupid game of truth or dare. 

What the fuck did she mean she had always loved him? She had a husband and children who doted on her; Will, who loved every shred of her being like it was his only purpose in the world. His godsons who had known him as uncle Spencer since he’d held them in the hospital, covered in goop and looking like the cutest little aliens he’d ever seen. 

And yet JJ, his friend, perhaps one of his longest friends, was willing to throw it away for him? He, who had a wife he adored more than there were birds in the wind, leaves on an Autumn floor, more than there were galaxies in the damn cosmos. His wife, who had been there for him since the moment they’d met, who he’d known was the one since that first day she’d ran into him in the lobby, their files mixing together because neither of them had been watching where they were going, like one of those romcoms she forced him to watch and he pretended to hate, or like the silly thing she called fate that she insisted was very much real. 

Spencer was a man of statistics and numbers and facts; things he could see. But he was sure there was nothing in any textbook that could have ever made sense of how the one person so perfectly created for him, the blob of cells that made up his wife that seemed to call to his own as if they were coming home to one another, would have just so happened to bump into him on a random Tuesday in August. 

Most people waited decades for that kind of love, or something close, and he’d managed to get it at the ripe age of thirty three. 

And yet in the space of ten seconds, of four little words in a wretched game, he felt like the carpet had been pulled from beneath him. Because why would JJ, who saw as clearly as anyone else how much he cherished his wife and the future they were planning together, try to take that away from him?

And as if his own odd spiral of thoughts wasn’t a kick to the gut enough, his sweet wife had quickly released him from her grasp and thrown herself at JJ, who seemed to just now be understanding the gravity of her words as she looked around with wide eyes, tear stains wetting her cheeks, the guilt gnawing in her gut already. 

“JJ! Are you okay? Oh, you poor thing, you must have been so scared,” She sobbed, wrapping her friend in a loving hug that was shakily reciprocated, like JJ was waiting for the second she would get a fat shiner to the nose for confessing such a thing. 

But that never happened. Instead, she pulled away from the frozen blonde woman, who looked like she could burst into tears then and there and apologise for everything until her face turned blue, and ran a kind hand over the JJ's hair, stroking it behind her ear tenderly as she tried to quell her cries because she wasn't the one who had been held at gunpoint. 

She didn’t know. It hit them both at the same time. She didn’t know what JJ had said, hadn’t even got an inkling into what had happened, and god did it make the sinking feeling in Spencer’s chest swallow itself up into something the size of the Mariana Trench. 

And what was left, what had for a second been a horrid mix of confusion, shock, fear and then another big dollop of confusion for good measure, quickly was dragged away by the current and replaced with anger. 

Anger that JJ could do something like this to his wife; he frankly didn’t care how her words had affected him, that if he had been single he would have been left feeling unworthy of her affection the first time it had been offered around, like there was something so disgustingly wrong with him this was what it took for her to say anything. He didn’t care about any of that. He cared that this would absolutely destroy his wife. 

And it was for that reason Spencer hurried the paramedics into fixing the small graze on his palm as he watched with boiling blood his wife tend to JJ like she would any other time her close friend was hurt in the field. He seethed whenever Jennifer would simper and avoid her friend's eyes, how his beautiful, caring, devoted wife would stroke the woman’s back and will her to talk, to tell her what to do to make it better.

Because it was her who should be fussing over his sweet wife, certainly not the other way around. 

But he couldn’t say that, not there at least, and so he didn’t, not until he had got the greenlight from the medics to leave and he had all but cut off the circulation in her fingers with how tight he’d held her hand as he led her to the car. 

Spencer said nothing, not wanting to fight when she forced him to sit shotgun as she climbed behind the wheel, not wanting to cause a commotion when there was a much bigger bombshell he was sitting on that he knew would change her feelings entirely. 

-

“What?” Her voice was soft still, a murmur in the quiet night air of their bedroom. She sat, fresh faced, minty breathed, kevlar vest long gone and replaced with one of his old Dr Who shirts and comfy bottoms.

She said the word again, like she hadn’t heard him, but judging by the way her expression had fallen into something dejected, he knew that wasn’t the case. 

Sighing, drawing gentle motions up and down her legs with his warm hands, shuffled closer where he kneeled down in front of her submittingly. “JJ said that she has always loved me; that was her ‘truth’ in the game,”

“Well, she-she was lying right?” His wife said quickly, her voice shaking, trying to make sense of it herself. She didn’t get an answer right away, just her husband’s eyes casting down as he tried to think of the best thing to say, “Right, Spencer?” 

“I don’t know,” He said earnestly, and he saw immediately the way tears sprung to her eyes, her bottom lip trembling, her face warming in wet-anger, “But it doesn’t change anything, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter, to me- baby, please don’t cry,”

“Ofcourse it changes things, Spencer, it’s JJ. She’s literally the hottest woman to walk the earth, Pen said you were like in love with her when you started the BAU, and now you have your chance,” She whimpered, fat tears rolling over her freshly moisturised cheeks, and he swore he felt his chest concave at her words. 

“My chance? I don’t want a chance, I want you,” Spencer said in earnest, his hands rubbing further and further up her legs until his hands went under her night shirt, grabbing onto the soft of her hips with pleading tenderness, “I want you forever, no matter what JJ or any other woman feels about me,” 

She sniffled pitifully, her eyes still unsure and he took it as a sign she needed more, so he leaned in fully to hug her to him. 

“But it’s JJ,” She said again, like that was going to change anything, and he shook his head, stroking over the back of her hair softly.

“I don't care,” He said, and she sniffed gently into the crook of his neck, his skin wetting with the contact. She finally wrapped her arms around him, and he knew he was close to getting it through to her, “I had the smallest crush on JJ, what, fifteen years ago? Honey, I want you for the rest of my life, and nothing and no one is going to change my mind about that, not even you.” 

“Really?” His sweet wife whispered tearfully, and he chuckled sadly, hating how hard she had cried that it had ripped the life from her voice. 

“Cross my heart,” He kissed her hairline softly, tipping her head upwards with one long, warm finger under her chin, pressing a gentle kiss to her wetted lips, “Hope I never die,”

She smiled sorrowfully, kissing her husband as if it was the last time she could ever do so, hoping it made up for how puffy and ugly her tears had made her face. But he didn’t care, he never had, he thought she was perfect just the way she was.

And he’d remind her of that any time she thought otherwise. 

–

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ The prince of pleasure ⭑

Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Niece!reader

Summary: You and your uncle always had fun growing up and when you see each other years later, he knows just where to take your for some real fun.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ mdni, family feud, Aegon being a bad influence, making out, grinding/dry humping, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, titty sucking.

A/N: Inspired by Rhaenyra's and Daemon's adventures, and parts of dinner scene in episode 8 S1. Can you tell I miss season one :(?

Word count: 4.6k

Your heart almost came up in your throat as you descended the stairs behind your family. After the petition and the announcement of your brother's bethrotals, the king wished to spend supper with his entire family, finally reunited. This was, of course, doomed from the start. The strained and tense relationships had never really washed away. There had always been a weird dynamic between your two uncle’s and you and your brothers. But one thing was for sure, you all kind of ganged up on Aemond. He was just easy to pick on. This created a sort of mischievous and friendly dynamic between you and Aegon. You both hadn’t seen each other since the whole ‘incident’ on Driftmark. Eager to see him but also anxious were the only words you could use to describe the weird feeling in your abdomen. 

Both of you had grown into your own person, you had finally gone through puberty, curved hips, filled out breasts, sharper and more defined features. And even your silver hair had grown longer, but tonight it was braided in the style of your house. As well as being styled in a beautiful red and black dress. And as you finally arrived, before the king it seemed, you saw him there. He turned around in his chair, his mouth slightly agape as he took you in. His hands seemed bigger, his shoulders broader, circles under his eyes and his lips stained red from wine. A habit he hadn’t grown out of by the looks of him. You took a deep breath at the sight of him, pressing any affectionate feelings deep down. 

He quickly turned back in his seat as you and your family took yours. Of course, your brother had to leave one chair between him and Aegon as his betrothed sat on his right side. Are you fucking kidding me, why couldn’t he have just been mature and took the seat. To avoid suspicion you tried to set your thoughts aside and hurriedly took your seat, already earning a confused look from your mother. Luckily for you there wasn’t any time for conversation as the arrival of the king was announced and you had to stand up again. When he was seated at the table as well, he started off with a speech that quickly got drowned out by your own thoughts. Somehow you couldn’t shake the feeling of him staring. But why would he?

However, your intuition was right because just as you glanced to the side, you already caught him staring. That bastard only made things harder. You could feel his glances on you the entirety of your grandsire’s speech. It made you want to be sucked up by the floor, never to be seen again. But why couldn’t you help yourself from glancing once every while either? All those thoughts were put to a stop when the king sat down again. Your family started a seemingly peaceful conversation with one another. But then, the inevitable... Aegon leaned to his right, where you were seated, and got a bit closer to your ear. The stench of wine and his musk, which was way more enticing than you wanted to admit, filling your nose.

“It’s been a long time hasn’t it, dear niece?” Fuck- His voice had matured too, not as nasal and annoying as it once was. But deep and smooth, cold and hot at the same time. But he had more of a mischievous tone to it, which instantly made goosebumps ripple over your skin. “Yes it has. Still a strong taste for wine I see.” You mused. Keeping a light but inviting tone yourself. “Oh- and she has become more brazen as well.” He grinned, still keeping close to you. You knew he was planning on fucking up this whole dinner tonight, but maybe you were looking forward to that. The annoying voice of Otto Hightower already making you lose your patience. “As well?” You gave him a questioning look, finally acknowledging him. 

“Must I really say it?” He was clearly drunk with the way he observed your tits in the corseted dress. You must admit, you did pick one of your more revealing gowns tonight. Either by accident or on purpose, Aegon cared not. He was just glad you seemed to give him a view to enjoy tonight. “Yes, you must. What do you mean by that?” Clearly you had no idea what he insinuated and oh did that make this all more perfect for Aegon. “Fine. You have matured. Grown into your body, I suppose.” Lowering his voice and choosing more careful words. He didn’t want this dinner to be over yet. “Oh- I- uhm, thank you uncle. That is kind of you to say. You have matured as well. Less...skinny.” That earned you a grin, one you had missed more than you thought. 

Your brothers were always fun to be around but as they got older they started to become more serious. Something that hadn’t caught up with you yet. Jace cared more about his studies and Luke about training with the sword, and Joffrey was too young to have any real fun with. But Aegon hadn't changed as much it seemed, and it made you happy. Knowing that during your stay, you could maybe find some good company in him. Maybe even make it like the old days and pester Aemond a bit, although he had matured too and become more intimidating, so you decided against that part. That was especially proven when the king parted for the night and a pig was brought in, and set right in front of Aemond. Giving one glance to your brothers, you three couldn’t help but let out a snigger. To which Aemond rose from his seat, slamming his hands on the table in a fit of rage, one he hadn’t felt since the old days.

“Final tribute.” He began as he raised his cup to which Aegon mirrored him. You gave your brothers a knowing look. This could only go one way. “To the health of my nephews.” There we go. “Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong.” Alicent gave Aemond a warning but he didn’t give a single fuck, too blinded by hurt and embarrassment. “Come, let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.” You didn’t think he would really go there as Aegon was usually the one to ruin events but Aemond always had a taste for the dramatics. “I dare you say that again.” Jace spoke up, he was always sensitive about the rumours and accusations. Saying you could never understand with your Valyrian features. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” 

Aemond really had to take it further. Jace at this point had stood up and stalked towards Aemond in a fury. Aaand dinner ruined. Jace landed the first punch, then all hell broke loose. Luke stood up as well wanting to help his brother defend their honour. But Aegon stopped him slamming him on the table. Making you stand up and push Aegon off him. Your mother and Alicent were all yelling at this point, guards were stepping in and you were all pulled off each other. “Why would you say such a thing in front of all these people?” Alicent scowled. “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family mother. Although my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs!” Aemond raised his voice, really making sure your brothers heard it. Jace broke free, ready to launch himself at Aemond again but Daemon stopped him. “Go to your quarters, all of you go, now.” Your mother put an end to it. 

At least supper went as expected, however you knew you needed to clear your mind and cool off before going to bed so you sneaked out to the gardens. However while you were out, a knock landed on your door. Aegon stood there with a bag and a note. He didn’t expect you to disobey your mother and leave but that only confirmed he could make it up to you tonight. His way. He slid inside your chambers and left the bag accompanied by the note on your table, and sneaked away. This was the real test, he thought. To see if you were still the daring, brazen and reckless girl of all those years ago. 

When you returned to your chambers one of the guards let you know who stopped by. And that he left something in your chambers. Curious as to what Aegon could have possibly brought you, you hurriedly stepped inside and closed the door. There it was, the bag on the table and the note of course. Opening it with haste, your face fell into a frown, old dirty commoners clothes? What the fuck kind of gift was that? But your gaze fell on the note beside. You grabbed it and revealed the messy handwriting inside. “Meet me at the back entrance if you want a real fun experience tonight. -The Drunken Fool.” The smile on your face was uncontrollable as you discarded your regal gown and stepped into the musty clothes of the bag, pulling your hair into a bun to tuck underneath the hat that Aegon left in there as well. With one look in the mirror to make sure you didn’t leave any white strands out you left your chambers during the guards shift change, with there always being about two minutes between their shuffle. Something you remembered quite well from your childhood. 

Giggles and laughs almost escaped you every time you managed to evade guards and servants. At last you found your way outside, no one there recognizing you as you tried to make your way to Aegon. Passing a few people you met his gaze as he stood by the back entrance, a couple of feet away from you, wearing his usual attire and accompanied by two men. You smiled at him and started to walk over to him, when you all of a sudden felt a hand grip your upper arm pulling you back. A gold cloak stopped you. Panic seeped in your skin as you were terrified of being caught. “Girl. What is your business here?” His hoarse voice broke the giddy haze you were in. “Let her go immediately.” You almost didn’t notice Aegon coming to the rescue until he was already at your side. “My prince. I apologise, I didn’t know she was with you.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. 

“I have never been called ‘girl’ before.” You chuckled. “Keep your voice down, no one can know you’re here.” Aegon shushed you. Dragging you with him through the city. The two men following you. “What about them?” You asked as you nodded behind you. “They don’t know who you are, told them you were a whore I picked out to take for the night.” He grinned, still accompanying you through Flea Bottom, the streets of which you recognised. “A? Whore?” You asked confused. Oh no. Aegon thought. Did you really know nothing about sex? Pleasure? He was about to take the night a lot further than he initially planned. He wanted to take you out drinking, to get a break from his boring family and have some fun with the only person who didn’t judge him. But you still being innocent in that regard made him swell in his pants. He was going to show you a lot more fun than you thought. 

“How about I explain when we get to the place huh?” Aegon bit his lip in anticipation, he walked past the tavern where he originally planned to take you and continued walking- to the streets of silk. There was one particular pleasure house where he could have his privacy with you. As you both reached the door of the place, moans could already faintly be heard outside and Aegon noticed your face grow confused. You made this so much harder for him. He ordered the guards to wait outside and took your hand once more to lead you inside. When you entered your jaw almost crashed through the floor at the sight. People everywhere, naked as the day they were born. At least most of them, the others barely wearing anything. They were all over each other, men on women, men on men and even women on women. All screaming, moaning, whining and groaning in pleasure. You looked around, mouth agape as Aegon looked only at you. 

Your reaction was better than he could’ve ever dreamed about. “A whore is someone who gets paid to pleasure a man, or woman. That all happens here. In a pleasure house, you see, pleasure is the greatest thing the gods have ever given us. Besides wine. Marriage is a duty, but fucking is a pleasure.” He whispered in your ear. You almost moaned at his words. A tingly and heated feeling spreading through your body. Aegon squeezed your hand and led you through the people, their eyes occasionally landing on Aegon. He probably came here often? As a serving girl recognised him, she gestured for him to follow her. Taking you both to the back of the building, curtains were revealed. Aegon told the girl to piss off, opened the curtains and revealed a decently sized room, a large round bed inside. Which was decorated with pillows and blankets. Hundreds of candles were lit on the incavings of the walls in the room. 

Aegon closed the curtains and led you on the bed, removing the muffy hat you were wearing. “Do you... come here a lot?” You asked, a slight tremble in your voice. You still didn’t fully grasp the concept of what was exactly happening here, but you were beginning to understand. “I do, and before you go back to Dragon Stone. I’ll show you what real pleasure and fun can be.” He murmured, leaning in a bit closer. He now stroked your cheek. Your lips parted and you could feel the slick and ache between your thighs. The feeling of it becoming uncomfortable, you pressed your legs together, kneeled on the bed before Aegon, who was eyeing you hungrily, the action not going unnoticed. “Does it hurt, little niece?” He asked, lust and impatience filling his body. He knew you didn’t know you craved his touch, but he knew. All too well in fact. You could only nod, a small whimper leaving your lips.

Aegon felt dizzy, his cock was now fully hard. He was probably in more pain than you. He never felt this horny, this pent up. He could feel the precum sticking to the inside of his breeches. “Let me show you, teach you. Real pleasure.” You could only whimper in response. “Kiss me.” You let out a breath and kissed him on the cheek. “No darling, on my lips. It will feel better, I promise.” You obeyed and kissed him softly on his lips. A spark igniting in you at the touch. Aegon felt it too, as he pressed his lips more firm against you. His hands pulling you closer but his desire for you was far from satiated. He deepened the kiss and forced your lips open, prodding his tongue inside. You still awkwardly kissed back and he pulled back a moment. “Try to move your tongue against mine love.” His voice came out hoarse and raspy. You tried to do as you were told, kissing him once more, you moved your tongue against his, getting saliva on both of your lips. Aegon sucked on your tongue and moved his hands in your hair. 

You could feel the vibration of his groans on your lips, on your tongue. You felt yourself pulsate between your legs and pressed your thighs together once more. Aegon didn’t slow the kiss as he now licked your teeth and nibbled on your bottom lip as well. Then he moved back, sitting against the headboard as he moved you on top of him. Sitting on his lap, you started to mimic his tongue movements, licking his teeth as well and sucking on his tongue. Then he moved his hands lower, towards your ass. Only then it really hit you what was happening. You ripped your lips away from his. “Aegon- what- wait we can’t do this.” Aegon was afraid you would realise. This is what the septa’s meant when they would tell you you couldn’t dishonour yourself. 

“Shh, don’t you worry about that. I promise it will be fine. Don’t you want to get rid of that ache? Don’t you want to feel good?” He panted, still lust filled. Desire clouded your mind and judgement and before you could think about it more, Aegon pulled you further on his lap. Right on something hard, hitting that aching spot between your thighs just right. You let out a moan at the feeling. How could you stop now? The pain and ache would become overbearing and besides, Aegon did this all the time. And he was just being so nice showing you how good you could feel. Aegon moaned in response. Did that make him feel just as good as it felt for you? Wanting to chase that feeling, you grinded your hips yourself this time. 

“Fuck- yes just like that. This feels just as good for me as it does for you.” You shuddered at his words. “What is that-” You whined. He grabbed your hand that was resting on his shoulder and moved it between his legs, letting your hand grip his bulge. “That, is my cock. And it feels so fucking good when you touch it. And when I touch you between your legs,” He paused, moving his own hand between your legs, letting his thumb graze your clothed clit. “right over your cunt, it will feel amazing for you.” You gasped at the feeling and his words, never did you feel you so excited, good and hot at the same time. And the urge for more only grew. “So I beg of you, don’t stop. For the good of both of us.” Aegon pleaded, moving his hand back to your ass and helping you grind on him this time.

You could only chant ‘yes’ in response accompanied by moans and whines. Aegon, not being quiet himself, let out his filthies moans and groans. Pulling your head down a bit, he kissed you again. Using his other hand to keep you steady while you humped each other like animals in heat. His covered cock hitting your clit just right every time, and the slick covering your cunt making it easier to grind against each other. Your breath caught in your throat as you pulled away from Aegon, never stopping your hips that grinded on him. “Aegon, some- something is happening- I don’t- please, more- more!” You mumbled incoherently as you felt an intense amount of pleasure building up, your entire body about to burst. “Fuck- good girl. You’re about to cum. You gonna cum for me little princess? You gonna cum for your uncle?” His vulgar words sent you over the edge as you felt waves of fire cursing through your body. One long moan left your lips as your grip on Aegon’s shoulders tightened, pressing yourself as hard as you could against his erection. 

Aegon let out a groan at the sight of you, mouth agape, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, a light sweat covering you. What a divine sight before him. It was worth every restraint of staying sober before your outing. Just so he could remember every detail. When you had calmed down, your eyes locked, you shared a breathy chuckle. “This is only the beginning.” Your eyes widened at his words. Aegon moved his hands to your tunic and started to pull it off, you decided to do the same. Removing his tunic as well. His skin exposed, his abs and toned arms out for only you to see. He could only focus on your hardened nipples, the soft flesh looking beautiful under the candlelight. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to and immediately dove in on your breasts. Suckling and licking your nipples, your hands moving to his neck. You needed to hold on to him, otherwise you were sure you would lose it. 

As he held you, nipple in mouth, he moved you on your back. His hips now back to rutting against you, but it still wasn’t enough. “Need more, more of you princess.” He huffed. He removed himself from you and pulled the old pants you were wearing down, immediately revealing your slick cunt. “Fuck- it’s almost as if you did this on purpose.” He grinned, fully ripping the pants off, with a wet stain at the crotch, to throw it to the side. You didn’t however, you just didn’t have access to men’s breeches and womens smallclothes wouldn’t do in pants. His thumb circled your clit and Aegon looked at you through hooded eyes, small pants leaving his lips. How could he ever go back to regular boring whores when he had a Valyrian princess to devour? He decided he no longer had time for patience and removed his own pants, removing his breeches as well in the process.

You leaned on your elbows, curious to see what his cock looked like bare. Aegon let you stare, he loved the effect he was having on you, the first to be having this effect on you. His cock stood proud, curved, veiny, leaking and red from arousal. Balls filled with seed, eager to be emptied and white pubic hair trailing from his navel to his pelvis. You licked your lips at the sight, an urge filled Aegon as he took the base of his cock and trailed the head between your folds. A low grunt escaped him and you let out a whine at the feeling. Finding your tight hole, he let spit dribble from his lips on his cock, although he doubted he needed it, he didn’t want to hurt you.

Holding the base still, he guided the head to your entrance and with a bit of resistance he managed to get the tip inside, a moan filling the room as he felt your tight hole suck him in. The primal urge to fill you, pound into you until you were stuffed with his seed overtook him but he had to take it slow. “Such a good girl aren’t you? But so disobedient at the same time, taking your uncle’s cock in a pleasure house, in the middle of the night.” He groaned at his own words. Only the idea of it already made him hard. Never could he have fantasised about the real pleasure. He pushed further into you when he felt you relax, you whimpered but didn’t feel too much pain. Checking in on you he now fully sheathed himself inside, hitting your cervix. 

You moaned and gripped the sheets beneath you, your legs wrapping around his waist. A sign for him to start fucking you. Aegon kissed your neck and started to slowly rut into you. “Yeah, feel good? You’re making me feel so fucking good love- your tight cunt wrapped around me. Taking me so well, my own little whore.” He grunted as he fucked into you harder. The sounds of sweaty skin smacking against each other and both of your sounds of pleasure filling the room. “More please- uncle- please!” You begged, you finally knew what he was talking about, what he craved- why he goes here. “You want more? How about you get on your stomach? Ass in the air little princess.” His voice sounded demanding and depraved. He pulled out so you could move, you both hissed at the loss of contact. Being in position he wasted no time pushing his sensitive cock back inside you. 

Pounding into you again he grabbed the flesh of your ass helping you move into him as well. “Fuck- You’re perfect- So fucking perfect. Don’t think I can let you leave after this. Gonna need you every night-” He felt his balls tighten, a sign of his release approaching soon, he wanted to chase it, fill you up real good but he also didn’t want to stop yet, for reality to come back. “Doing so good for your uncle darling- so good-” He spoke the words pound for pound making your moans louder and louder. “Yes! All for you Aegon- only for you! Just want your cock please-” You barely even knew what you were saying, all you knew was that he was right, you could never go back to normal after this. His thrusts became more staggered and harsher, giving a couple more before pulling out and letting ropes of his cum painting your ass, long and whiny moans leaving his lips at the sight. You whimpered at the feeling of his warm sticky cum hitting your skin. Taking a deep breath he fell beside you and pulled you close, ignoring the blood on the sheets. 

“I don’t think I can stop myself from taking you again.” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. “I don’t want you to stop yourself, I’m already tainted now, what does it matter anymore.” You both laid in each other's arms for some time before Aegon decided to kiss you again. Letting his tongue trace your lips, before entering your mouth. You both made out for a bit before Aegon felt his cock stir again. The power you held over him was dangerous. He removed his lips from yours and laid you on your back again, before kissing down your stomach. “Aegon, what are you doing?” You asked hazily. “Kissing you somewhere else.” When he reached your folds he kissed them softly before kitten licking your clit, making you jerk your body at the feeling. You were still sensitive from the grinding and his warm, wet tongue felt way too good. 

“Oh- do that again, please- harder.” Aegon grinned at your reaction, feeling his chest swell with pride at how he was already making you beg again. He did as you asked and started lapping feverishly at your folds. Occasionally prodding his tongue inside you. His hands held you in place by your tits while your own found his silver locks tugging at the roots. He groaned against your cunt and sucked on your clit. Your feet tensed up at the feeling, and your hands tugged his head closer, basically grinding on his face. Aegon wanted nothing more than to have you cum once more, all over his face. As he lapped and sucked your release came closer, Aegon would devour you every night if he could. He flicked his tongue faster as your moans grew louder and curses fell from your lips. With one shattering moan you fell apart, moaning Aegon’s name as your vision went black and fire cursed through you once more. When you calmed, Aegon gave your cunt one last kiss before laying beside you again. 

“I want to do that to you.” You huffed, a smile on your face as the post orgasm still flowed through you. “Another day if we can, darling.” You frowned at that. “Sadly we must get back soon, before we raise any alarms.” You sat up, the reality of it all hitting you. Yet you felt no regret. “This was- unforgettable, Aegon.” You smiled, looking back at him as he still laid on the bed. “That it was.” He agreed. How could corruption feel so good?

[lizardho]

The Halloween Story

As with most of my life stories, I have to clarify beforehand: Yes, this is real, and it is real because (and ONLY because) I am stupid. This is not something that happens to normal people because they wouldn't ever get close enough to a situation like this for it to happen. That being said, without estrogen my brain's "keep this idiot alive" switch was not turned on and I was, I think, biologically incapable of making good decisions.

Another thing to know is that I did not have a lot of friends as a kid because I'm terminally awkward; additionally, most of the friends I did have were maybe better described as "people who tolerated me but who I would take a bullet for." This is important for later.

Anyways, I was like 9 or 10 when this happened, and my littlest brother was like...5 or 6? This was his first Halloween where he was allowed to Trick-or-Treat past the end of our block, and he HAD to be accompanied by me or another older kid so he had begged me for DAYS to take him. And while I held the title of oldest brother, I feel like I put my whole pussy into being a good oldest brother, so I of course took the family's babiest of babies for his first ever trick-or-treat adventure!

I went dressed as Dartanian because I've been gay for a while, and he went dressed as a skeleton because he's adorable. We went trick-or-treating only in areas I knew, so mostly within the boundaries of our l'il Mormon ward, and we had fun. About a half-mile away from home, he started saying he was getting tired, so I told him we were gonna turn back and watch "Scary" movies, which was actually just two old VHS Scooby Doo episodes my mom let us watch because she only let us watch episodes where the monsters were fake because if they were real we'd get nightmares. So we start walking back. It's not too far and we know the way so it's going great. Littlest bro's first trick-or-treat adventure went swimmingly, we've got pillow cases full of candy, and we're about to watch scooby doo and eat skittles until we pass out. Life, for us, literally could not have been better.

BUT

As I walk around the corner of my old street, the far end of it, by a bush, I hear my best friend whisper-shout at me from a bush:

"Lizard, Lizard, stop, hide, quick!"

In most cases, my thoughts can be summarized by a humble: "Bwuh?" and in this case I'm pretty sure I said something like that out loud. I look into the bush, and I see it is JAM-FUCKING-PACKED with kids my age. Like 6 of them hiding behind this tall oleander bush shaking like they just saw a ghost. I wave to them, because I don't know what's going on, and tell them that Littlest Brother is tired so I'm going home. That's when one of them angrily grabbed me and littlest brother and tugged us into the oleander with them.

I think they thought we were hidden, but this was one shrub currently occupied by like 7 kids and despite how small we all were that was still more shrub-per-kid than the shrub could hide so me and littlest brother didn't actually fit. And I was squirming trying to get away because it was poky and scratchy and smelled bad and also I didn't know why I was being pulled into a shrub to begin with.

The ruckus of my squirming was freaking my friends out, who were all telling me to shut up and hide, and I was telling them I wasn't playing hide-n-seek and Littlest Brother was REALLY getting tuckered out so PLEASE let go so I can go home, when around the corner came three Big Kids on bikes.

These kids seemed HUGE and SCARY to me at the time, although realistically they were like in 8th grade and also dork-ass losers. They were on bikes with handlebar breaks, though, and they were wearing costumes ironically under hoodies, so they seemed scary at the time. They see me thrashing in a bush and correctly deduced that the kids they had been hunting down were in the bush too. This is when I learned that my friends were all scared because they'd been being hunted for sport by older boys. Like, actually, for real, we were being bullied on Halloween by kids who called us "dweebs" and shit, I cannot explain how that was actually happening in the early 2000s, that was a worn-out trope in the 80s, but it for real, actually, swearsy-realsies, happened to me.

They're bigger than us and have at least started puberty so they're a lot stronger than us. They fished us all out of the bush pretty easily and made us all line up. This was all happening on a well-lit suburban street in a Mostly Mormon neighborhood so again, I don't know how it all got this far, but it did.

Once we were lined up, they start quipping about our costumes and harassing us a little bit. Again, this is like STRAIGHT out of a shitty campy overdone 80s sitcom so I get that this sounds fake, but we were literally getting pushed around and called dweebs and nerds by some fuckass 8th graders who were all smoking a cigarette one of them stole from their mom. Finally they were getting bored so they told us that their terms to releasing us were that we give them our candy.

My friends, who are smart and wanted to be alive, immediately started grabbing fistfuls of candy from their buckets or bags to hand them. But I am stupid, and was trying to be a good older brother, and didn't understand the concept of mortality because HRT had not yet flipped that switch in my brain, and I saw littlest brother getting scared. His lips were trembling like he was about to cry, he was clinging onto me for dear life, and one of these kids comes over and is being all mean and calling him a baby (which he basically was, so like what even is the point?) and I got mad. So I took my prop rapier from it's sheath and started jabbing his ribs and head until he rips it out of my hand.

"Jesus Christ, you little faggot. I'm keeping this, you're not getting your sword back."

"K, fine, just leave my brother alone."

"I leave him alone if you give me ALL your candy."

He says it with this shit-eating grin, like he's got the upper hand. But I'm mad and suicidal in the same way a horse is suicidal, which is to say I don't care if I die as long as this fucker dies too, so I tell him if he wants my candy he can have it, and I wallop him with the candy sack. Hard. I put all 70 lbs of 9-year-old rage into that whump, and to my credit it caught him off guard. He steps back and rubs his face and the biggest kid in the group steps into his place.

"You wanna fight?" He's trying to act tough but he's also trying to square up with an unquestionably faggy 9-year-old Dartanian so it's tough. It's also a stupid, stupid question to ask, since I literally DID want to fight and he was just posturing.

So I hit him too. Again, all the rage my 9-year-old body possessed channeled into a pillow case filled with Dum Dums and skittles slaps into his face. I move to smack him again, because he's looking at me all incredulous like he doesn't think I'm serious. He tries to grab the bag but I kick his shin and he has to step back for a second because he was on his bike with only one leg on the ground and I had just kicked it so he was trying to keep balance. I took advantage of the momentary distraction and whapped him in the belly. That, I think, was the final straw for him, because he (seriously, yes, for real) took out an actual knife.

It was a real folding knife, I could hear the little mechanical click as he flicked the blade out and the locking mechanism secured it in place. He looks at me with murderous intent for like a tenth of a second before one of my other friends asks,

"Dude, are you serious?"

And it clicks that he just threatened someone with a real weapon. He takes a step back and tells me, trying to sound brave but now far enough out of his own comfort zone that he's starting to wonder what happened in his life to bring him here (which is dangerous, confused people do confusing shit).

But I'm horse-style suicidal and I honestly didn't think it was real, so I swing at him again. Full-body swing right for the face, and he slashes at the candy pouch and it tears. And I'm like "Oh shit, that's a real knife!" and he's like, "Oh shit, this kid is gonna beat me until I stab her or run!'' And that's when my Knight-in-Emo-Armor arrived!

The kid was like the archetypal "Bad Boy" of my childhood. He wore black hoodies to church and said "damn" instead of "dang" and "shit" instead of "shoot." He listened to metal music and told his grandma (who adopted him after his mom lost custody for drug use stuff) to shut up sometimes. He smoked. He was a moody goth/emo/scene/whatever enigma of rage from his shitty family life. He was also known for being actually real-life dangerous. The kid in front of me was contemplating stabbing me, but my Knight had actually broken someone's jaw in a fight before.

The whole time we were getting held up, he was just walking down the street listening to an honest-to-God MP3 player, stoned as all hell, angry at the world, and watching this all unfold. And he recognized a bunch of kids from church he barely gave a shit about, but then he recognized *me* and although he didn't know *me* super well, he fucking LOVED my dad because my dad was super nice to him at church, and he knew I was my dad's kid. And he knows the kids talking to us are bad news because he's friends with some of their friends and he knows they're all wannabe tough guys. And he makes a decision.

This guy, my knight, was tall, mean, scary, and crabby, and EVERYONE knew that, not just the Mormons in my life. And in all black, with black hair and black nail polish, he had remained almost perfectly hidden as he walked in the middle of the road on the tar-black Arizona asphalt until he suddenly emerged from the shadows right behind the kid with the knife.

"Bruh, what the fuck are you doing?"

This kid whips around and sees my knight and just blanches. Like, all-the-way white-as-a-sheet scared.

"Oh, Knight, h-h-hey, I didn't see you. You know these kids? We're just teasing them!"

"Hilarious joke, cocksucker. That's a real knife. Fuck off."

They almost left a cartoon dust cloud in the shape of their bodies as they left. My friend and "friends" from church all followed suit - Knightboy was BAD news with a capital B-A-D and they were probably more scared of him than the original trio. But I knew Knightboy because he teased me a lot in his last year elementary school and sometimes came over to talk with my dad so I knew he wasn't a bad kid. He bends down and picks up the plastic sword the first kid dropped and gives it back to me.

"This is yours, I think."

I took it, sheathed it, and said, "Thanks! You shouldn't swear."

"Man, I'm too stoned for this shit, just get out of here."

"Ok, thanks Knight! See you at church tomorrow!"

And I toddle off with Littlest Brother. I take him to some of the best houses on our street for a second round of trick-or-treating so he can calm down, and we go home. My mom puts Scooby Doo on and asks me how everything went - I tell her it was fine, it was fun. She said that Littlest Brother said something scary happened, and I said "Oh, I think he got spooked by Knight is all." And she just shrugged and walked off. By the end of the night, I honestly forgot it even happened. I was more invested in trying to figure out how to grow up to be like Velma and lining my skittles up by color so I fully did not even remember.

BUT.

My mom is friends with all the other moms at church - she has to be because she has a master's degree in a church that teaches that employed women are failing God and their families so she ended up as a high-achieving woman working as a stay-at-home mom and if she didn't make friends at church she would fully go insane.

And at church the next day, my mom is approached by a tiny pack of mothers all saying "Wow, Lizard is so brave, aren't you so proud of her?"

And because she's a Good Mom who Loves Me So Much, she says, "Yeah, totally, why do you ask?"

And they say, "Because she tried to fight off some muggers last night! She hit them with her candy bag!"

And my mom says, "Haha, Yeah, she's fierc-wait what in the fresh hell did you say?"

And they all tell her the story, and my mom is PISSED that I didn't mention, but she also knows I am capital-D Dumb, so she pulls me out of Sunday school and asks me,

"Lizard, baby, did you scare off some muggers last night?"

And I said, "Oh yeah, kinda! Knight was the one that actually scared them though."

And she says, "Lizard, baby, why did you not tell me?"

And I said, "Oh, I forgot."

And she just nodded and tried unsuccessfully to push my little "Alfalfa sprout" strand of hair down, and gave up, and then pushed me back into class. And later that day she made like 3 lbs of chocolate chip cookies and drove them all over to Knight's house to thank him. And basically ever since then I was in Knight-in-shining-armor's good books (although he wasn't very good at showing it for a bit), and I had an undeserved reputation among the kids in my church as a badass for like a year, which I felt pretty good about.

Anyways, the Halloween Story is so weird that sometimes I question my own memory of it, but I am telling it now based on my memory as best as I can recall and after fact-checking it with my mom a few times.

[stargirlygirl]

you walk out on him

zayne x fem!reader

⭑.ᐟ part two

summary: it's been one week since you walked out on zayne. both of you have been silent. cue your surprise when you get a knock at the door late at night from your ex-boyfriend.

contains: hurt comfort, angst, suggestive in text messages, zayne apologises and professes his love for you, 2.1k words

pt.1

One week.

It’s been one week since Zayne laid those sharp, hazel eyes on you, and he’s going insane. At first, he was feeling pretty confident. You were upset and needed some space. Surely, you would message him sometime that day, asking to discuss things.

Wrong.

The second day, Zayne was still feeling confident, albeit less confident than yesterday. Leaving the apartment that morning, he notices you forgot your favourite necklace— the necklace he bought you for your one-year anniversary. Surely, you would be around to pick it up, and he would somehow catch you in the act.

Also wrong.

When he came home around 11pm that night, your necklace was still sitting on the dresser. To Zayne, the diamond looks slightly dull, or maybe that’s his teary foggy eyes. He resolves to have it cleaned tomorrow.

By day three, Zayne’s confidence in you returning is non-existent. Still no word from you, his mind races over all of the mistakes he’s made these past few months leading to this hiccup in your relationship. Looking back, it’s so fucking obvious. Not texting you daily, not taking days off, never telling you when he would be home, and not giving you his full attention even when he was at home. And it wasn’t solely because he was busy or tired. It was because he thought you could bear it.

Being a cardiac surgeon isn’t for the weak. Choosing this profession, he’s had to put much of his personal life on the back burner, especially when his work schedule got even busier than usual. But over the years, he’s learnt to grit his teeth and bear it. He enjoys it even. But why did he expect the same of you?

For the first time in Zayne’s life, he succumbs to temptation and tries his first energy drink. It tastes like medicine, grating and sour to the tongue. But nothing can compare to the flavour of your absence. Unable to sleep for the past several nights, he treks down to his local gas station and buys the canned arsenic.

Once the cardiologist gets home, he pops the tag and takes a sip. Recoiling with disgust, he finds the willpower to finish the 200 mL of poison. And now, he can’t sleep. The caffeine keeps him up well into the early hours of the morning, fuelling his attempts to type out an apology message.

I’m so sorry, darling. I want to make things right between us—

“No,” he groans, pressing ‘backspace’ with his pointer finger so hard he could crack the phone screen.

I’m so sorry, darling. I miss you terr—

My sincerest apolog—

I know that I’ve hurt you very deeply, my love. But if you’d be willing to give me another chance, I’d like to make things right between us.

Huffing, he deletes the message and throws his phone on his bed before heading to the bathroom to get ready for work.

As it hits Friday, one week after you left, Zayne is feeling confident. Confident that he can’t go on without you anymore. The energy drink catches up to him, and he almost falls asleep mid-consult. Finishing off with the patient, he has the rest of his appointments cancelled and dozes off in his office.

When he wakes, night has fallen. Gathering his bag and coat, he books it to his car and clicks ‘Start Route’ on his Audi’s GPS to Tara’s apartment complex. Once parked, he takes the elevator up to her apartment, mentally rehearsing everything he’s been meaning to say to you this past week.

…˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚…

You’re halfway through the new episode of your show when there’s a knock at the front door. It’s just you tonight, seeing as Tara’s out on a mission for the next couple of days. Throwing off your blanket, you stalk to the front door and stand on your tippy-toes to glance through the peephole.

“Go away, Zayne,” you grumble through the door.

He shifts closer, one hand on the wood as he declares, “No. I’m not going anywhere.” Groaning, you flip the lock and swing the door half open. He’s close, towering over you with dopey, wide eyes, which rake over your figure. You’re in his shirt, the sleeves rolled back and v-neck hanging off one shoulder. His gaze darts up to yours.

You sigh, “What is it?” Zayne steps back, putting some distance between you as he clears his throat.

“I’d like to talk,” he says clinically.

“Talk?” You bite back. “About what?”

“About us.”

You scoff, “I’m surprised you have the time. Don’t you have some emergency surgery to attend to?”

He shakes his head, saying firmly, “I took the night off.”

“Wow,” you say sarcastically. “Your first night off in months, and you choose to spend it with me. How thoughtful.” You roll your eyes, the pettiness bubbling up to the surface.

“Y/n.” Looking back at your boyfriend(? ex-boyfriend?), you take note of the knot in his brow. His scent wafts over to you, a mix of sweets, sweat, and… was that a Red Bull?

He sighs, “You have every right to still be angry with me after how I neglected you. But please, will you give me the chance to fix things between us?” You stare at him, thinking over his words. You’re about to respond when you notice the resident gym rat trying to sneak past. Reaching out, you grab Zayne’s forearm and tug him closer to you.

“Sorry,” you call past him.

Your neighbour mutters, “It’s fine,” as they dash off to their apartment. Hearing the click of their door, you release Zayne’s arm.

Gazing up, you huff, “Come in.” You push the door open wider with your back, standing against it and trying to make yourself smaller as the surgeon slips past you. It’s cosy inside: soft halogens, a warm vanilla candle going, and the low hum of your tv show.

“Take a seat,” you instruct, pointing to the couch. Leaving his shoes by the door, Zayne does as he’s told. His sleepy eyes are glued to you as you sit across from him, the too-big shirt sliding further down your shoulder. You must have recently showered, he thinks. Your skin is positively radiant and looks so smooth. The urge to touch you is unbearable, but he bears it. As long as he gets to speak to you, he’ll do anything.

“My eyes are up here,” you snap.

“Right,” he says quietly, heat rising to the tips of his ears. His heart rate accelerates as you two sit in almost silence for a minute.

Finally, Zayne apologises, “I’m sorry for ignoring you, darling.” Ooo, strike one. Your brow raises, and your eyes dart up and down his frame from the pet name. Fuck, no more pet names, he reprimands himself.

“You mean everything to me, and I was— I am— an awful partner for not reminding you of that every day,” he continues. Strike two. Bold of him to assume you’re still together. Not that you aren’t. You didn’t consider the sticky situation you would create for future you by walking out on him. But you appreciate his sentiment.

“I wish that I had taken the initiative to contact you earlier, and reassure you of your importance to me despite my busy schedule.” You nod, starting to like what you’re hearing. But by no means is he off the hook.

He sighs, “I took you for granted. Not because you’re not important. But I thought we could handle it. I thought you could handle my absence.” Strike three.

“What’re you saying?” You ask, your forehead creased and mouth twisted into a pout.

Zayne mumbles beneath his breath, “Fuck.” Pushing up his glasses, he clarifies, “What I mean to say is that I was ignorant of your needs, and my duties as your partner to fulfil those needs. I was unaware that you needed me to be more present in our relationship. And I was unaware of the toll my neglect took on you.” Better.

You prompt, “And so what’re you going to do about it? When it gets really busy, how are you going to make time for us?”

“Well,” he starts. “I’m going to communicate to you around what time I’ll be getting home, and make sure that if that changes, then I let you know. I’ll take a day off once a week, and we can spend it together. When you visit me at the hospital, I’ll be attentive to you. And if I can’t be, then I’ll tell you.” You hum, approving of his answer.

Zayne sighs, “But, I need you to communicate to me when you’re feeling dissatisfied in our relationship. If I’m very busy, then I want you to do whatever it takes to make me listen to you.” You chuckle. It’s short and soft, but it reinvigorates him the way an energy drink can’t.

“Whatever it takes?” You muse, your arms crossed underneath your chest, loosening.

He nods, “Yes. Grab me by the collar and give me an earful if you have to. Whatever you have to say to me, I want to hear it.” You gaze at him for a long moment, weighing up his apology and your pain. Your heart thumps in your chest, and your hands are becoming sweaty.

You pose the final question: “Why didn’t you come after me sooner? It’s been a whole week.”

Zayne avoids your eyes as he murmurs, “I… needed time to collect my thoughts as I’m sure you did.” He pauses before meeting your gaze.

“I love you, Y/n. I will always love you,” he states like it’s a fact and not a feeling. Like the only thing he’s sure of in this lifetime is his love for you.

Sighing, you slowly rise from the sofa opposite him. Stepping around the coffee table, you stand in front of him. He stares up at you, analysing all of the emotions in your eyes. They’re much gentler now.

He breathes out shakily, “Did I pass?” You smirk and run your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp lightly and eliciting a soft sigh from him.

Zayne raises his hands slowly and reaches out for you tentatively. You give a small nod, urging him to touch you. When his cold fingers caress the back of your thigh, you shiver. They tremble as he palms your warm flesh and presses you into the space between his legs.

You giggle, “You scraped it by only one point.” His eyes almost pop out of his skull, and his jaw slackens— utterly mortified.

“O-one point?” He stutters.

You chuckle, unable to contain yourself, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. By two points at least.” His head dips as he nuzzles your tummy.

He murmurs into his your shirt, “That’s my worst grade yet. Don’t you think you mark too harshly?”

Ruffling his hair, you quip, “No.” Your hands slide down to his shoulders and wrap around the back of his neck. His toned arms encircle your legs as he sighs into your warmth. All of the tension accumulating this past week dissolves beneath your fingertips, and Zayne finds himself rather tired. Yawning, he tenderly kisses your navel through the cotton fabric.

“Where’s Tara?” He asks lazily.

You chirp, “She’s on a mission. Won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

“Mhmm,” he hums. You two remain like that for a few minutes, content to enjoy these tender touches and each other’s presence.

Eventually, Zayne yanks you down onto his lap and cuddles with you. He murmurs sweet apologies in your ear as he strokes your thigh, twirling the hem of your shirt between his fingers. You rest your head against his shoulder and close your eyes, your hand on his heart. It beats steadily beneath your palm, a constant reminder that everything will be okay.

At some point, you doze off because when you open your eyes, you’re in Tara’s guest room. Morning sunlight streams through the curtains, and birds chirp in the distance. You stretch and turn your head to the side, eyes searching for a swathe of black hair and pale skin.

There’s no sign of Zayne. Not as you get out of bed and clean yourself up. Not even as you head to the kitchen and boil the kettle. Not until your phone pings.

You grab it, hoping that it’s him. And you grin as you pour boiling water into a mug with a tea bag in it, clicking on his message.

masterlist

a/n: here's part two as requested! hope all of you liked it. i was gonna make him like beg, but i feel like zayne doesn't grovel. i think if it was raf or caleb, they would be on their knees pleading for a second chance, but not zayne.

(almost) every one who asked for a pt.2 - @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888, @schnittled, @ciaradream8, @mystqyy, @syluslittlecrows, @mcdepressed290, @regalillegal, @crimsonsylus, @slimearchon

[soft4gguk]

yearning | jjk one shot

the one that finds you in Jungkook's doorstep after a night out...

Description: idol!jungkook x reader, fwb 

Content: porn with loads of plot!

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: oc smokes 1 cigarette lol, they’re so flirty ouch, so much kissing, cutest little dynamic, dry humping (a personal fave in this house), fingering, protected sex (they’re so smart!!), loads of spanking, jaykay ass man forever. 

Author’s Note: i once sworn to never write idol aus because… i know nothing about this man ok? i do not claim to know what he’s like in a relationship or a situationship or in his personal life!! so please thread carefully when reading <3333 that being said, his lives last year and these first couple of episodes of “are you sure?” have me feeling very delulu so here u go!! hope you enjoy xo

★ masterlist ★

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

The moment you exit the club, a gust of summer breeze engulfs you. It makes you wrap your arms around your body, but it amounts to nothing, the little black dress that you’d made the executive decision to wear, in the name of fashion, betraying you. The tequila shots you'd downed before leaving the house sure had deceived your senses, too.

Needless to say, you regret said decision, a shiver running down your spine all the way to your legs, making you jump a little in place as you tipsily look around you. You’d cut the night short. Your friends had found another lonely pair they’d quickly gotten cozy with, leaving you to drink one too many gin & tonics all by yourself. You hadn’t minded it for the first two hours, enjoying the music, sparking conversation with the bartender from time to time and entertaining the occasional stranger. Eventually though, it became boring, predictable, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel a little shitty about yourself. 

It was all getting repetitive. Friday nights, the same faces, small talk, ice breakers. Even the strangers you met had a similar M.O., making it all seem predictable. It made it feel like a waste of self, more than a waste of time, and it ate at you in moments like these, where it was strange to feel lonely amongst a sea of people, unable to shake the feeling.

The bright city lights illuminate the night, lacing it with something livelier than your mood and you smile. At least the scenery is always pretty. Pretty places. You hear the laughter of a group of people that stand a couple of feet away from you, they seem happy in that genuine way that reflects in pure, unadulterated beauty. Pretty people. 

You think of him. 

It’s rather instant. Or perhaps instinctive. The very own butterfly effect of your thoughts because to you, he’s the prettiest of them all. He’d been since the very first day, and as you lose focus of the pretty sights the more you stare into the city lights with him on your mind, you can’t help but think nothing will ever stand close. 

A girl stands next to you, audibly shivering as she exits the club and the air greets her with the same fate it did you. She holds a cigarette between her red lips, the fire from her pink lighter shining on her red hair. It makes you crave one, too, rummaging through your bag for your own. You smile when you remember how he would tease you for smoking “the skinny kind” as he would call them. Calling you a bit of a snob, but all in lighthearted nature. After all, he could. He knew you enough to let your closeness turn into inside jokes, banter. 

Perhaps giving into a vice could prevent you from falling into another. 

“Can I borrow your lighter?” she smiles at you before she’s handing it over. Her nails are pink, too. 

The fire feels pleasant for all of five seconds, warm against your face as you take the first drag. You give into one instinct so as to distract yourself from the one that’s tugging at your heart and senses, begging you to make a reckless call. 

You check the time. 

2:32 A.M.

~

Jungkook scrolls through the endless list of channels aimlessly. Small snippets from whatever’s playing that he cuts short, not really giving it much thought. He settles on one, solely so he can stop putting exertion on his thumb and go back to leaning against his couch – fully relaxed. He sighs. On the screen, some drama he hasn’t gotten around to watching plays, and the story seems to be developing quickly. He doesn’t care for it, if he’s honest, simply content with the white noise it fills the room with. 

Bam leaves his dog house, standing right in front of him and they seem to start an unspoken staring contest. He smiles, patting the spot right next to him on the couch and the pup rushes to take the place excitedly. He gets cuddles and kisses simply for existing. For keeping him company – his presence giving Jungkook more peace than he’ll ever know. 

“Hey, Bam, should we, like, meet up in our next life as well? Perhaps I’ll be the dog in that one and you’ll be my owner.”

Bam simply stares and Jungkook swears if he could, he’d let out a deep sigh right now. This makes him laugh. 

“Hey, don’t be jumping of excitement at the idea, man.”

At this, he attacks. With kisses, that is – wet, sloppy kisses that have Jungkook giggling and pushing back, though it is no use, his dog is that determined to give him love.

“Alright, you win. Let’s go get a beer. For me, not for you. You’re still too young. One day, son.” His voice takes on a lower tone, imitating his father. Or maybe Yoongi’s, he can’t tell anymore. 

He retrieves a cold beer mug from his freezer and cracks the can open, nodding his head at the sound it makes, the fizziness bubbling up before he pours it in the cold glass. He takes a sip as he walks back to the couch, blissed out in leisure.

He doesn’t mind being alone, specially not on nights like this when sleep leaves him and everything but seems more tempting. He likes the way everything slows down at this time of day, the ease of it all. No one to see, no texts to reply to. As for what the world is concerned for, he’s asleep. It’s peaceful, just being. 

Plopping down on the couch, he rests against the pillows, making himself comfortable. He must’ve spoken too soon, he thinks, because it’s not thirty seconds after this that his phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of him. He ponders on the possibility of simply ignoring it, let it sit there, facing down. But something tells him he should check the message. It could be important, or not. The pull isn’t necessarily violent, just a quiet voice that tells him so, like a little nudge. He leans forward, setting his beer on the table before he’s taking a hold of his phone. 

He gets it now – the pull. 

From ___: jungkookie, u awake?

To ___: no

From ___: can I call?

He smiles – so fucking big he almost hates that he does, slightly flustered and embarrassed you have this quick of an effect on him. And before he can talk himself out of it, he calls you. 

~

Seeing his name flash on your phone screen does more to you than anything you’ve deemed exhilarating tonight. The simple prospect of hearing his voice rushes more excitement through your body than any of the mindless conversations you had this evening. Than any of the conversations you’ve had all week perhaps. You smile and there’s no doubt that he can hear it in your voice when you say,

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

There’s a moment of silence and you can hear the smile on his face, too. It’s warmth – he’s warmth, even far. How far is he, you wonder. Did you happen to demand of him at a bad time? Will the end of this call find you disappointed?

You cut to the chase. 

“What are you up to?”

There’s a pause and you can hear the way he sinks into his couch. “Can’t sleep so I’m having a beer and watching some TV with Bamie.”

He’s home and a giddy giggle escapes you. “Ahh,” you say.

“You? It sounds busy in there.”

“Yeah, I’m outside the club.”

“Fun night?”

“No.” You don’t lie, you never lie to him. Don’t have the need to, or the want to. Everything about Jungkook is comfort – the kind that welcomes. 

“Yeah, had a feeling. It’s not really your scene, is it?”

Your head leans to the side, eyes closing for a moment. He knows you in ways most people don’t, and it’s a simple remark but it gets to you. The fact that he doesn’t see you for the parts of you that feel the emptiest settles on your heart. It’s good, you think, to be seen by someone who observes.

“I want to see you.” There’s all the point in the world to be honest right now. 

“Come over. I’ll make you ramen.”

“Will you show me your cat?”

There’s a pause. You picture him smiling, biting his lip, running a hand through his hair. 

“Yeah, that too.”

~

You sway from side to side, a little drunkenly and a whole lot excited, as you stand in front of his door. It’s brief, but as you wait you make a little reflection on your emotions. What exactly do you feel right now? It’s been so long – probably not that long – but long enough to make you happier than usual to be seeing his face. Anyone else would make you nervous, and perhaps he does, too, if only a little. But it’s a different kind of nervous. It’s laced with sweetness, as opposed to anxiety. And the minute he opens his front door, it’s replaced by something sweeter. 

Yearning. 

He stands there, glasses and black sweatpants on, signature oversized shirt – something so very home about him. Your eyes widen as you take in his hair, it’s grown significantly, giving you a rough idea of when it was you last saw him. Two, three months ago. He looks good; rested, fresh, beautiful. You can smell him before you even touch him and it makes you smile. He returns it. 

Yeah – yearning. 

“I like your hair,” you say, because anything else would give you away. 

“Yeah?” he runs a hand through it. “I like you.”

“I like you, too.” Let it give you away, you think. Who cares?

“Alright, well- it was nice seeing you.” He says, closing the door in a too casual, yet dramatic manner and you laugh, simply standing there – a little flustered because, oh does it feel good when Jeon Jungkook flirts with you in that boyish, teasing way only he knows how. 

He doesn’t close the door all the way. Instead, he leaves it open far enough for you to see the way he peeks his head out, nose scrunch and toothy smile to signal just how proud he is of himself right now. 

“Come here,” he tells you, reaching his hand out from the little gap and pulling you closer as you yelp, squeezing through the nearly closed door. “I missed you.”

You’re in his arms again, and the moment he closes the door behind you, his lips are on yours. It’s a soft kiss, one that says I missed you because you know him well enough by now to understand the things he says with his lips, and his eyes. With his hands, too.

“Mm,-“ you don’t want to pull back to get your words out, so you don’t. “Me more.”

Jungkook was always a happy coincidence – or at least that’s what you told yourself in a futile attempt to tame the feelings down. But the truth was that being back in his arms felt like fate, in that gentle way that doesn’t come in a movie-like encounter or in some sort of catastrophe bringing you together. Just being here. Anywhere, with him, felt fateful. You opt to believe in angels right this second just to thank them. 

“How are you,” his hand cups your cheek, pecking your lips before you can answer. 

“Good- better now.” His kisses muffle your words and you think you could live with this interruption for the rest of your life. 

“Yeah, me too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as he circles his around your middle. You take him in, not one for big displays of affection yet this one you could never deny, could never not welcome. 

It’s a sweet moment but the pull turns hasty soon enough the more your lips become familiar with one another yet again. You run your fingers through his long hair, rejoicing in its softness and length. His hand travels down, slowly but a bit desperately, squeezing when they meet your ass. 

What has a promising ending is cut short by none other than your rumbling stomach. It’s rather loudly and you both hear it, laughing in the middle of the kiss you two seem to refuse parting from. 

“You hungry, baby?”

“You promised ramen. And something about a cat.” Your lips part and you look at him, a pretty smile on his equally pretty face. 

“Mm, yeah. I did. I’m all stocked up on ramen but the cat…,”

“I prefer Bamie anyways.” 

You leave his arms, a smile on your face as you walk towards his beloved child’s crate. The moment he sees you, he hesitates for a moment, not yet having Jungkook’s command to leave his space but he’s excited – you can even make up his little tail wagging from side to side. 

“Come here, baby.”

He runs to you and nearly tackles you, settling into the floor to give him the proper cuddles he deserves. He steps on you the way he did when he was a puppy, sitting down on your knees as you scratch under his ears. 

“No one’s allowed to tell him he’s grown up. He’s little forever.”

Jungkook laughs. “He’s Jiminie’s height.” 

You sneer at him, shaking your head at his joke. He stands there, staring at you with a fondness he reserves for certain things that bring him that kind of comfort that’s gotten rarer over the years. He’s grown up, matured and gotten real about a lot of things but not you.

Never you. 

You’re still the innocence he kissed you with that very first time and the little bit of fear it wouldn’t go further than that. You’re the excitement he had when it did. You’re the flirty teasing and the falling in trust, opening himself little by little. You’re still something he once dreamt about – he still does. You’re the thing he has and doesn’t at the same time. You’re you. 

Your loud giggles as Bam licks your cheek wake him up from his little daydream and he winces at the sloppy kisses he’s leaving. You don’t seem to mind though and he knows that if it were up to you, you’d stay there til dawn. No ramen, no cat. 

“Alright, alright. Daddy’s getting jealous now. You can’t have her all to yourself.”

Your cheeky smile tells him you’re up to no good. “Daddy, huh? Have we ever tried that?”

“What haven’t we tried?” He genuinely ponders on his own question. 

“Pegging!” You say, a little too quickly and excitedly for his liking. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Mean.”

“Come on, let’s feed you.”

You smile. “Okay, daddy.”

~

It’s a chaos in the kitchen in between distracting kisses and your tipsy antics, munching on Jungkook’s leftover fried chicken as you scavenger hunt his cupboards for anything that could satisfy your alcohol induced need for sweets and carbs. You’d begged for pancakes, but he didn’t have any honey, and what’s pancakes without honey, really? 

“Ramen. Enoki and spring onions.” He says, convincing himself more than he convinces you.

“Okayyyyy. Ramen, enoki- what else did you say?”

His thumb and pointer finger rest at his temples in mock exasperation, making you giggle. “Hey, why don’t you go shower? This’ll be ready when you’re done.”

“Will you be able to work a knife with the thought of me all wet and naked in your shower?” 

“I’ll get you wet and naked later. Go sober up. Quick, quick!”

You laugh, kissing his cheek loudly and ruffling his hair before you leave the kitchen, making your way to his bedroom with familiarity - like you’ve done it hundreds of times and perhaps you have if you were to count. 

You know where he keeps the towels, that it’s the left tap that opens the hot water, the way his soap smells and what brand of shampoo he uses. His face wash and moisturizer are familiar to you because it’s the same brand you use. You’d left them here once and never got the bottles back. He began purchasing them after they ran out. 

You put on the same black Carhartt shirt you always do. It feels and smells the same. It makes you yearn and when you miss him, you smile in the comfort of knowing he’s in the kitchen, probably eating ramen from the pot as you take your sweet time in the bathroom. 

All clean and cozy, his house always being the perfect temperature with the add on warmth that swarms your insides at knowing you’re with him, you make your way back to the kitchen. He’s reaching for bowls, back to you and your voice startles him when you say,

“Don’t get dishes dirty, let’s eat from the pot.”

He turns to you, a boyish smile forming on his lips at the sight of you in his comfy, oversized shirt. He’s seen you in it more times than he can count but it still makes his insides tingle. Butterflies, dare he say, is what the sight gives him. 

“You sure?”

“Aren’t you? Afraid of exchanging saliva?” You poke your tongue at him and he grabs your wrist, pulling you swiftly towards him. 

“Not the funnest way we’ve exchanged juices, but it’ll do for now.”

“Juices.” Your nose scrunches at his words.

“Mm.”

He kisses you, ramen getting cold in the pot as your lips make him forget all about his hunger in the first place. Your stomach doesn’t, though. Interrupting your heated little moment yet again. 

“Feed me.”

“On your knees, then.” He teases, lips still on yours. 

“That sounds more like a treat than a threat.”

He smiles, passing you the chopsticks. “I knew you’d say that.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“With me. Yes. Just me.”

His words are selfish, of this much he’s aware. He knows exclusivity is too much to ask for. He knows the baggage he comes with and the hesitation that shines through your eyes whenever you find yourselves slipping into comfort and familiarity a little too much. How he can almost tell he’s about to go a season without you, just by this comfort alone. But he can’t help but want you, all to himself. He can’t help but say you’re his even if he’s just saying it. And when the smile on your lips meet your eyes in an almost nostalgic way, he knows you feel the same. 

“Yeah. I am.”

“I am with you, too.”

“I’d say I tried to talk myself out of texting you tonight, but I’d be lying.” Your chopsticks play with the noodles, eyes not meeting his. 

“Why would you talk yourself out of texting me?”

You shrug. 

“Don’t.” His voice is firm and your eyes finally look at his. “I’m always- I always want to see you, ___.”

“I know, it’s just- you know.” You say, and he does. He knows what you mean and he’s glad you don’t voice it because he doesn’t think he can bear the words that would only add insult to injury to the way your gaze falls, that spark threatening to dim its light.

“Yeah,” he gets closer, but it’s almost careful. His thumb caresses your cheek and you lean into his touch. “But you’re here now. I want you here now. Come back to me.”

You stare into his big eyes, smiling at him not because your heart isn’t breaking but because you wouldn’t dare break his with the reality of the situation. So you lie, but it holds truth. “I’m always with you.” 

As you two eat, in bursts of comfortable silences and mindless yet meaningful conversations, you start to get used to him again. You’re too tired to fight it, and when you welcome it, it’s sweet. 

~

The pot is empty, your bellies full. You lean against the counter as he puts you to date, catches you up on what his life has looked like for the past two months or so. Trips to L.A., New York, photoshoots, late nights in the recording studio, music videos, long flights and a Calvin Klein campaign you shamelessly admit to swoon over every time you pass by it. He asks about you and you keep your updates mostly work related. Long flights, long meetings, long days. Short bursts of inspiration and even shorter waves of motivation. You omit to tell him about the things you’re maybe not so proud of. The partying, the drinking on a wednesday night, the way your friends don’t feel like your friends anymore, more like acquaintances that keep you around when they deem convenient. You think his words could help, provide comfort and advice, but at the same time you fear the reality of the situation could burst the bubble of bliss you find yourself in right this moment. 

So you talk. You catch up. You play friends for a while, feel real mature when he shares snippets of his life that involve other people, other girls. People in his radar, his line of work, the love interest in his music video. Jungkook does, too. Feels like perhaps he’s come a long way when you tell him about trips you’ve taken with friends, new restaurants you’ve tried, galas he knows you haven’t attended alone. It’s all fine, it’s good. Total control of your feelings as you take each other in. 

Bam interrupts him mid-sentence, a sleepy whine in half protest he lets out as he walks inside the kitchen. 

“Aw, Jungkook,” you coo, “he’s sleepy.”

“Time for bed, Bamie?” He smiles, reaching down to scratch under his ears. “I’ll be right back.” 

“I’ll be here.” 

You smile, well aware that he keeps his dog bed in a cozy room in his house, quite literally puts him to bed every night. It makes you think about how good of a dad he’ll make one day, how much love is stored inside of him, how he likes to be needed and shows affection through acts of service. Your smile drops a bit, a feeling taking over you that you don’t like but have grown used to over the years. 

You snap out of it, busying yourself as you begin to tidy up the kitchen, sliding his pink rubber gloves over your hands before you start washing the single pot, knife and chopsticks he’d used to make you dinner. It doesn’t take him long to be back, though, walking back inside the kitchen and smiling at the sight before him. You hum a song he can’t make up, hips shimmying to the beat as you scrub the pot. Your shirt rides up a little and he cocks his head to the side, smiling at the way your underwear peeks from underneath the fabric. A black and lacy thong that has him nodding his head in boyish satisfaction. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells you, making you jump in place a bit at the sound of his voice.

You turn around, bringing a gloved finger to your lips as you shush him before you’re pointing it at the couch and shooing him away. “I’ll only be a second. Wait for me there.”

“‘Kay, boss.” He army salutes you, turning around and walking back to the couch, sitting down and sinking further into the cushions, legs spreading as he scrolls through his phone, a bit impatiently, missing you even though you’re so close. 

And to Jungkook’s great fortune, he doesn’t have to wait for much longer. Wrapping it up in the kitchen, you give it one last glance to make sure it’s back to its pristine state before you’re making your way towards him. He looks up at you, throwing his phone to the side and following you with his eyes, smiling when you’re in front of him.

“Thank you for dinner,” you say, voice sweet and low, eyes a bit hazy.

“Come here.” He takes your hand in his, pulling you closer to him, bottom lip getting caught between his teeth as you throw your legs at either side of him, straddling him. 

“I needed this,” you admit.

“Me too,” he breathes. “I’m glad you called.”

You pout, eyes looking up for a second as you ponder. “You called me.”

He chuckles, not a single ounce of desire to deny you. “I’m glad I called.”

You giggle, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers getting lost in his long hair. His head draws back as your nails massage his scalp gently and he relaxes at your touch, goosebumps adorning his skin. His hands travel under your shirt, promptly finding your hips, waist, and then threatening to go higher but Jungkook wants to take his time tonight. He wants to stay in the sweet state of wanting you for a bit longer. When his eyes are back on yours, you kiss him. He sighs against your lips, bringing you closer to him by the waist, letting his tongue taste your bottom lip before he’s tasting your mouth. It’s slow, a bit sloppy and lazy, holds the quality of anything that happens in the middle of the night, when no one’s watching and time stills for the two of you. 

“Your skin is so soft,” he says, lips still on yours. 

“It’s your body lotion.” You roll your hips over his, smiling when you pull a low groan straight out of him. 

“Yeah,” he says, hands traveling down before he’s squeezing your ass, guiding your hips into his. “You smell like me. I like it.”

“I like it, too.” Your words get caught up in a moan as the outline of his cock parts your slit perfectly. 

You pull away a bit hesitantly, hands coming to rest at his shoulders as your hips pick up the pace. You go slow but sink deeper into him with every roll of your lips, eyes never parting from his as you take in the way his face starts to contort in pleasure, mouth parting slightly as his breathing grows heavier, little grunts leaving his lips with every push and pull. His hands travel back down to your hips, squeezing a little at the soft flesh, guiding them as you move over his cock. He’s so hard, can feel you through the layers, can bet on the fact that you’re wet and pulsing for him right now. 

“That feels good,” he sighs, gaze dropping as he rides your shirt up a bit at the front. His eyes fixate on the way the thin, lacy fabric of your panties bunches up every time you throw your hips back. 

“Brings back memories,” you say, voice a bit shaky when a particular roll of your hips has the tip of his cock hitting right against your clit. 

Jungkook smiles, mind hazy but perfectly able to picture the memories you refer to. “Mhm,” he sighs, so entrapped by the feeling he swears he can feel you pulse against him. He likes the way you consume his senses. The way everything around him stills and all he can think about is you. His hands squeeze at the flesh on your hips before he says, “turn around, baby.”

“‘Kay.”

Jungkook feels the loss of your warmth as you stand up before him once again, smiling at him before you’re turning around and sitting on his lap. You press your back to his chest, letting your head fall to his shoulder, your lips meeting his cheek in an open mouth kiss. His hands travel up your body, palms closing around your tits, thumbs playing with your nipples over the thick fabric of your shirt. You circle your hips, chasing the same friction from before but it’s not enough in this position. You bring your body forward, hands resting on his thighs as you throw your ass back at him, your pussy perfectly aligned on top of his cock, making you both moan at the same time. Jungkook’s gaze drops to your ass, enthralled by the way he feels, by the way you look. He rides your shirt up your back, exposes you to him and it only eggs you on, moving against his cock at the perfect rhythm. 

He hooks a finger down the side of your panties, letting it travel down, smiling lazily at the way you trap his knuckles between your pussy and his cock, moaning as you grind on them. He can feel how wet you are, dripping for him already even though he hasn’t touched you yet. “Want my fingers, baby?”

“Yes, please,” you plead, voice shaky as you look back at him. 

He’d usually tease you, make you beg for it a little longer, but tonight Jungkook obliges. It’s been long – too long – and all he can think about is being inside you, feeling you around him, making you feel good. He takes his time simply so he can savor the moment. So he can memorize it well enough to store it somewhere inside of him, just in case it’s another three months until he sees you again. 

He pushes his middle and ring finger inside of you, hissing at your warmth, cock jumping inside his sweatpants in anticipation and a little big of neglect. You close your eyes, pleasure taking over you as he begins to thrust his fingers inside of you slowly, arching expertly every time they hit your g-spot. His free hand squeezes around your ass cheek, groaning when the hand that fucks into you pushes down on his cock, aiding at giving him some much needed friction. You feel lightheaded already, all-consumed in his hold as he takes over your every sense. Your body relaxes and you can feel the way your tummy tenses right away. 

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna cum,” your voice is faint but he hears you well enough. 

“Already? That was fast, baby.” You don’t miss the cocky tone his words hint at. 

“Shut up and don’t stop,” you say, looking back at him playfully. 

You see the way he smiles at you before his gaze is dropping back down, fingers moving expertly inside of you at the same pace, applying a bit more force as he pushes in, massaging that spot with the tip of his fingers. The added pressure has you mewling in no time, nails digging into his thighs, teeth biting at your bottom lip to ground you back into the moment as you let go. 

“Fuck,” he says as he feels you cum around his fingers, sweet moans filling the space around you and he so badly wishes he could look at your face right now. “Yeah, baby, that’s it.” He feels the way you contract around him, hips circling over his hand as you ride the waves of pleasure. 

You come down after a minute, mind still hazy as you fall back into him, lips finding his the moment he turns his head to the side. You kiss him, breathing into his mouth, smiling in your fucked out bliss. “That was so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you say, pressing your forehead to his. “I need you to fuck me now.”

“Want it?” he asks, and you nod your head. “You can have it.” 

“Yeah, want it so bad, Jungkook.” Your voice is needy, holds a dreaminess to it that Jungkook doesn’t miss – one that makes him melt into your words, your touch, your lips as you kiss him again. 

Jungkook presses his hips into you, raising them a bit as he pushes his sweatpants down. You help him take them off, hand reaching back before you’re wrapping it around his cock. He’s hard and pulsing for you and if you weren’t pulsing for him, too, you’d probably want him in your mouth right this second. He feels heavy, big and thick in your hold, a grunt leaving his lips when your thumb circles around the head. You love how sensitive he is, how receptive. 

“Condom,” he says, before he runs out of blood in his brain and it all falls down to his cock. 

“In my bag,” you say, reaching to the side and pulling it towards you. You rummage around it for a second too long – a second that has Jungkook’s mind betraying him. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But nonetheless he can’t help but wonder where you’d be right now if he’d been asleep and hadn’t seen your text. Perhaps in the same position but with a stranger. Or maybe a stranger only to Jungkook. Perhaps he hadn’t been the only person you texted tonight. “Here you go, baby.” 

Your voice dismantles his worries and he’s warm again, all thoughts vanishing and it’s back to you and him. He leans forward, kissing your lips as he takes the condom from your hand. It makes you blush slightly, biting your lip in anticipation as you watch as he rips the foil of the packaging with his teeth. You watch the way he smirks as he rolls the condom on. 

“Why are you smiling?”

“Just thinking,” he says, smile growing wider, cheek dimples making him look cute but something about his voice begs to differ. 

You hum. “Thinking about what?”

He smiles. “July 14th, 2021.”

You both crack up, laughter filling the air the moment the words leave his mouth because of course you know what July 14th, 2021 meant. You’d been in a position very similar to this one, perhaps a bit more hazy minded, the true meaning of the heat of the moment finding you the minute you’d realized neither of you had a condom. You’d looked into each other’s eyes and made the silent agreement to be a little reckless and put a whole lot of trust on birth control and Jungkook’s pull out game. 

He said he’d never forget that day. 

“Long live, July 14th, 2021,” you say. 

“Shhh,” he says, squinting his eyes and bringing a finger to his mouth. “Don’t remind me.”

“You reminded yourself,” you bite back. “Now, can you fuck me? Pretty please.”

“Yeah, baby, come here.”

You push your ass back at him, looking at him from over your shoulder, biting your lip in anticipation as he strokes his cock once, twice, before he’s lining himself against your entrance. His hand comes to your hip, pulling you down towards him as you push him inside of you. You both sigh, moaning as he bottoms out, so deep and warm it has Jungkook throwing his head back against the couch, sinking further into it and pushing impossibly deeper into you. 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whimper, nails digging into his flesh. 

“Fuck me, baby,” he says, running a hand through his long hair. You nod, circling your hips a couple of times as you adjust to his size before you start moving your hips into him, ass bouncing with every push and pull. He hisses at the sight alone, bringing his hand down as he delivers a hard slap against your cheek, making you moan. “Shit, just like that. You’re so hot, ___.”

“Jungkook,” you whisper.

“Yeah, baby?” His eyes are back on yours, threatening to close in pleasure at the way your pussy feels around him. 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, baby. So much.”

You fall into his chest, kissing him as he wraps his hand around your throat, not applying any pressure, just simply holding you. You gasp into his mouth when his other hand travels down and finds your clit, drawing lazy circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You whine and he moans when you move your hips to the rhythm of his touch.

“I don’t wanna be on top anymore,” you say, pouting into his lips, frowning when you feel his chest shake in laughter. 

“Of course you don’t.”

“I’m an awful top.”

“You’re not a top.”

“Hey, I was a good top that one time,” you protest.

“Mm, yeah, that was hot. You got all bossy on me.”

“Oh, but that’s regardless,” you tell him, pushing your lips into his once more and straightening your back, smiling as you look back at him. He wipes said smile off your face in a second, hand meeting your ass in another hard slap. 

“Stay there,” he says, holding firmly onto your hips. 

“Okay, daddy.” That earns you another slap, though you can’t say it wasn’t exactly the goal in mind. 

“Behave.”

Your face grows pliant as you nod at him and Jungkook has to fight to keep up the front because if he’s being honest, the sight alone drives him crazy, threatens to break him down completely and leave him a needy, whiny mess. He holds you in place, legs raising you up a bit before he starts pistoling his hips against you, fucking you hard and fast and even though you saw it coming, it still takes you by surprise. The force of his thrusts, how good he feels as the pain translates into pleasure, the noises he makes – it’s all too much but fuck, you don’t want him to ever stop. Your mouth parts in a silent moan, eyes closing as your face contorts in pleasure before the sensation ripples through you and you’re crying out. Your hand holds onto his arm and the firm grasp you have on it let’s him know.

“Fuck, I’m cummin,” you breathe out.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

“Oh my God,” you say, voice shaky and faint as you throw your body back into his. 

“Fuck, I love your pussy.”

“I love your cock,” you say, fucked out giggles escaping your lips. 

It takes you both a minute to steady your breathing and regain your strength. Jungkook kisses your neck, snaking a hand inside your shirt and squeezing your boob as you arch your back at the feel. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

“Music to my ears,” you say, giddy and excited. 

Your knees buckle a bit when your feet touch the floor, the both of you laughing at your loss of balance, Jungkook a bit more cockily than you. He slaps your ass softly once, then twice as you begin to walk towards his bedroom. Once inside he takes his shirt off and when you turn around, your eyes scan over his body, metaphorically and possibly physically drooling over him. Your hands find the hem of your t-shirt before you’re pulling it off your body and tossing it aside until it’s landing on top of his. Your tits bounce as you do, and he nods his head at you, a satisfied pout adorning his lips. The pout turns sour the moment you turn around but is soon enough replaced with a smile when you start to crawl on top of his big mattress, finding the perfect spot over his pillows and laying down comfortably. 

“You’re so perfect.” Jungkook says, because anything else would downplay it and he’s not in the mood to run away from the truth. You giggle, soft and sweet and he feels the way his heart aches for you inside his chest. 

“Come to me,” you say, arms outstretched towards him. He makes his way to you, letting himself hover over you for a minute as he takes you in before he’s falling perfectly between your legs. You kiss him, letting your fingers get lost in his hair, breathing into the kiss and you swear this moment is laced in pure, unadulterated bliss. “Want to feel you inside me.”

“I’ll give it to you, baby. I’ll give you anything you want.”

There it is, yet again, and without a fail. It’s so common you nearly miss it – the way the moment turns tender. It’s mostly soft, this unspoken agreement you’ve fallen into with Jungkook. It’s friendship and attraction, good sex and years of exploring each other. It’s trust and communication. It’s understanding. It’s soft at the beginning and tender halfway through. It’s so tender it feels tangible, like the moment itself could fit inside the palm of your hand and feel ripe to the touch as you hold onto it. It’s tender when he looks into your eyes, it’s tender when his voice says your name, when you kiss his lips. It’s tender when the lust borders on something else. It’s tender when it lingers, when it threatens to fall. 

He fucks you, hips moving against yours slowly, pulling moans out of your lips that get caught between his own when he kisses you. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper into his mouth, words that only he could hear even if it weren’t just the two of you. 

“Fuck, baby, so do you,” he whines, supple and yours, even if for that moment. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You smile, hand running through his hair before your fingers are pushing a strand behind his hear. “Cum for me, Kookie. Wanna feel you cum for me.”

Your words throw him over the edge, falling blissfully into you. It feels so fucking good. Your fingers running through his hair, down his neck and then back up again. The way your pussy clenches around him, cock throbbing for you at the wake of his release. Your lips are soft and the rise and fall of your chest falls into perfect sync with his. His hand squeezes at your breast before it’s traveling down your body, squeezing at your thigh before you’re wrapping your legs around his waist, flushed to him. Every little thing you do heightens his senses until all he can breathe, think and feel is you. His face falls down the crook of your neck and you breathe out a moan into his ear, unraveling him completely.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.” His hips slow down before they still completely, a moan passing his lips as he releases into the condom, your nails softly running down his spine. His body feels spent but he doesn’t miss the way it relaxes on top of you, blissful and peaceful, growing sleepy right away. 

“Feel good?” you ask, your fingertips running down his back in what feels like a feathery whisper. 

“So fucking good,” he mumbles against the skin of your shoulder before his eyes are finding yours again. He kisses you. He kisses you because in moments like this he wants to say something else, something that makes more sense to his heart than anything his brain could say.

You kiss him back, afraid your heart will betray you, too. 

~

You stare at him as you make your way back to his bed. He lays on his tummy, cheek pressed against the soft pillow, his pretty hair framing his face in a way that makes him look dreamlike. He doesn’t move an inch when you pull back the covers, if only for a second, to get back in bed with him. You lay on your side, eyes still fixed on him and your heart grows a new kind of tender at the sight of his sleeping form. He’s pouty and soft and so, so peaceful. Something sinks in your tummy, but it’s not in a way that signals bad news. Perhaps it’s the butterflies settling, perhaps the heat of the moment has began to cool down. 

Your hand comes to his face, fingers gently pushing his hair out of his eyes before you let them wander down his face. His cheeks are soft, his ears cold and when it tickles, he frowns. Your thumb travels up again, smoothing his brow bone and he relaxes. Your eyes follow your touch as you trace the bridge of his nose, slowly, softly, as if you were being quizzed on it later. Wanting to take everything in, afraid that even blinking could take away from the moment. And when your finger lands on his lips, you trace that too the way your own did only minutes prior. 

His eyes begin to flutter, a failed attempt to open them but you know he’s partially awake from the smile that pulls at his lips. You feel it on your finger before your eyes meet his gesture and when they do, you close them instinctively, leaning over and kissing him. His body can’t respond to his brain right now, exhausted and more asleep than he is awake, but he hums in satisfaction, lips puckering as he tries to give into his instincts. 

“Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll go buy honey and make you pancakes.” 

You smile, though he can’t see, and perhaps it’s for the best. Your voice is a whisper when you say, “deal.”

His smile is the last thing you see before you fall asleep.

~

[failchild]

i can write so much more about why i think severance S2 isn't as strong or enjoyable as S1, but i could truly go on forever so i've organized my thoughts into three categories: lack of inter/departmental connection, dropped storylines, and how the world feels much smaller (1.2k words under the cut)

lack of inter/departmental connection

a significant theme of the S2 finale is the solidarity between different severed departments. MDR, mammalians nurturable, and the marching band department become impromptu allies against lumon management. innie mark is hesitant to save gemma not just because he might cease to exist, but so might the entire severed department. so why wasn't this a theme throughout the whole season?

episode 3 was building up to this: mark and "helly" made contact with mammalians nurturable, and irving visited O&D to share a nice moment with felicia. but that interdepartmental connection is completely dropped until the the finale, seven episodes later.

innie mark's concern for all severed workers rings a bit hollow when he doesn't seem to care about the three innies he got terminated in episode 1, and hasn't thought about irving at all. (i know ignoring grief is mark's whole thing, but he's known irving his whole life! there's not even a single moment of him acknowledging irving after his firing.) like, okay, mark said innie rights! does he really demonstrate that throughout the season, though?

EDIT: oh my god, miss casey—innie mark willingly killed miss casey. if he was truly so concerned about every innie, shouldn't he have been conflicted about leading her to her death? the person he said "we're people, not parts of people" to? the person he said "no one gets to just turn you off" to? (mark! you just turned her off!)

what stands out more is the lack of connection within MDR itself: once irving's gone, MDR just doesn't seem to care about each other. their tight-knit friendship and "we're in this together" dynamic is supplanted by romance. sure, mark and helly love each other now—why does that have to come at the cost of their friendship with dylan? do they just not care that he's been disappearing for half the work day? in the S2 finale, it's a great character moment for dylan when he comes to the rescue, but would helly and mark do the same for him? they didn't seem to notice or care that he was gone for mark's completion of cold harbor.

dropped storylines and dramatic twists that lead nowhere

(i know how television works, i know that plotlines that begin in one season can get resolved in another. okay. now that's out of the way)

remember how bold of a decision it was to have mark reintegrate in episode 3? the building of tension, reghabi asking an increasingly confused mark basic questions ("what season is it?" "you mean, what quarter?"), mark waking up on the severed floor table, and the triumphant soundtrack that follows? none of that seems to matter now: reghabi is out of the picture and mark doesn't get reintegration sickness or hallucinations anymore. reghabi kept warning mark to not move his head—then he fell to the ground and slammed his head, and was beaten in the head by drummond. is his brain okay? did the reintegration process even happen? did i dream this plotline? where am i?

what did the undercover helena plot accomplish? okay, so it was crazy when irving revealed that helena was impersonating helly. what exactly were the consequences of this? besides irving getting fired, there were barely any ripple effects for this seemingly momentous betrayal—mark was uncomfortable for two episodes, and helly was upset for, like, ten minutes tops. it's a fun plot twist for sure, but it doesn't seem to truly affect the character it should matter most to, and helly isn't given the time to wrestle with the fact that she's an eagan (royalty! a god!) and found out mere hours ago. we get to know helena a bit, i guess, but she was already compelling when she was just a face on a TV screen, telling helly that she wasn't a person.

speaking of irving's firing, this was the perfect setup for learning more about his outie, but we learn nothing. we have the same questions as we did in S1: who's he working with? what's his motivation to infiltrate lumon? why does he know about the elevator to the testing floor? irving is just as much of a mystery as he was in S1—and now we don't know if we'll ever see him again and get answers to those crucial character questions.

milchick has undoubtedly the best character arc this season. in episode 9 he finally snaps at upper management and can barely process what it means when outie mark tells him, "work's just work". i don't think milchick would turn his back on lumon entirely, that wouldn't be realistic, but all his character moments throughout the season seemed to be culminating to him realizing that, yeah, work is just work, it's not that serious. it makes sense that he would try his hardest to escape the bathroom, then get greeted by an innie uprising—but that would have also happened to a S1 milchick. after the kier animatronic microaggressions and all the shit he has to do to prepare for cold harbor's completion, would he really try to escape the bathroom that hard? or would he be having a midlife crisis, staring himself down in a mirror? i'm genuinely not sure.

i know i'm in the minority here but i loved ricken in S1—he and his strange followers bring an earnestness and sense of humor that made the show feel unique in how it juggled wildly different tones. ricken was also crucial to the innie story, and helped innie mark realize his potential as a human being. but besides appearing in a single flashback during the gemma episode, ricken's been completely absent since episode 3. what happened to his lumon sellout arc? what does he think his wife, who he has a newborn baby with, is doing? did he die in a private yacht explosion?

we still don't know what cold harbor is, right? we know that each file MDR completes is another room for gemma, but what's cold harbor specifically, and why would it kill her? she starts to disassemble a crib without feeling negative emotions—how is that any different from any other innie? is the point to sever away specific trauma? is that really it? and again, why would that kill her?

the world feels much smaller

the world outside of lumon is absent in S2. S1 had ricken and his weird friends, mark going on dates, back alley concerts, anti-severance protests, snippets of the news—there was life outside of lumon! S2 leaves that all behind to tighten focus on lumon and the people directly involved in the company, which makes the story very insular.

characters are so vitally important now: helly is an eagan, mark is the only one who can finish cold harbor and cold harbor is The Most Important Thing In The World We Have To Complete It Now, everything MDR does is because of gemma, and cobel invented severance. everyone else feels supplemental—people like irving and ricken can be easily discarded. the science fiction aspects, which were bizarre and unknowable in S1, are now directly personal to everyone. it's like milchick lying about the tallest waterfall in the world: it just makes everything seem smaller.

this also muddies S1's central themes and satire of the corporate world. mark isn't just another cog in the machine anymore, he's the most important guy (they fired and rehired a bunch of people, just for him!). the work isn't mysterious anymore, we know exactly what they're doing. mark being an ordinary guy who goes to an office job he doesn't really understand was the point of the corporate satire. severance just isn't interested in that anymore, which i guess is understandable; the show can grow into something different. but using a sci-fi concept to comment on office culture and the different personas we inhabit for work was so clever and special, and now they're just exploring well-trodden ground like identity and what it means to be human. sci-fi has already done that one, guys! many times!

again, i can say a lot more but i think this sums up my main thoughts. and i generally liked each episode individually, but when i look at the season as a whole it just doesn't cohere nearly as well as S1 did.

[ssahotchnerr]

girl!dad aaron reading to his daughter over the phone while on a case! 🥹 just like that one episode of jj and henry 😭🥰

nightmares

i will sob. 🥺 i'm also setting this in ellie's bad dreams era :( cw; fem!reader, girl dad!aaron, slight angst, fluff <3

"It looks like this is his comfort zone." Using a red marker, Spencer circled an area on the map. "If we pinpoint-"

As he was continuing his thought, Aaron's phone rang. He fully expected to see Penelope's name, anticipating her call as she was working her magic to narrow down a pool of potential unsubs. However, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he saw it was from you instead.

"Excuse me." He spoke lowly yet urgently, keeping his eyes on his screen and hurrying away with no hesitation, missing the team's concerned glances.

"Hey," he answered, closing the door to the empty conference room behind him. There was knowing feeling deep in his chest - and a grim one at that. "Everything alright?"

"Kinda... no." You switched up quickly with a sigh, slight distress in your voice. "I'm sorry, I know you're busy. But can you spare a minute or two?"

"Another nightmare?" Aaron's eyes shot to the clock perched on the wall. While it was somewhat early for him, it was getting late back home, timezones to thank. And doing the math quickly, bedtime for the kids had been about two hours ago. So sadly this - right on schedule.

You hummed in confirmation, beginning with the positive first. "She fell asleep in her bed tonight, actually. Went down easy, not much protest. But then woke up crying, and was nearly inconsolable for a while. She's with me now." Your eyes shifted down to your frightened daughter besides you, who was inching closer and closer to seemingly making herself smaller. "And keeps asking for you."

Aaron glanced out; the team was still preoccupied, discussing the geographical profile amongst themselves, and could definitely manage without him for a while longer. "Yeah, I have some time."

There was a quick rustle as you set your phone down, placing it on speaker. Your voice was farther now, not by much, but it felt treacherously distant, as if more miles had been added. "It's Daddy, honey."

"Hey Ellie Bellie." Aaron's tone quieted, his face softening as he spoke. "What's the matter?"

A light sniffle came from the other end. "I had a scary dream."

"A scary dream, huh?" He repeated, an achy pang producing in his chest. Ellie's nightmares have been occurring for a while now, and indubitably becoming a problem. You both expected the dreams to run their course, eventually pass, and things would return to normal. But as time moved forward, it was becoming clear it was well beyond that as they worsened. "It's okay, you're safe with Mom now, right?"

Ellie nodded, unknowingly to him. Her small voice cracked, laced with tears. "I want you."

"I know, and I'll be home when work lets me, I promise. You can even use my pillow tonight too, if you want." He bit down onto his lip as Ellie mumbled a small 'okay' in response. Hard. "Or how about a story? Would that help you feel better?"

Her head rose up and down again, prompting you to speak up as Aaron was met with only her silence.

"We have a few right here." You reached across her, grabbing the few storybooks that frequented Aaron's nightstand and settling back against your own pillow.

"Your pick sweetheart." Aaron pulled a chair from the table, sitting down and making himself comfortable momentarily.

"Goodnight Moon?"

Goodnight Moon, also one of Jack's favorites when he was younger. Between him and Ellie, Aaron's read it so many times, he had the entirety of the book memorized. In addition, Ellie's other, more lengthy favorites - he had gone through and cleverly taken a picture of each page, all stored safely in his camera roll for instances such as tonight. No matter where he happened to be, he could read the text, while also drawing attention to and discussing the images with her.

"Sure. Get all comfy and cozy up to Mom, yeah?"

Ellie nestled herself more into your side, her head resting on your arm as she death-gripped onto her plush bunny. You adjusted the duvet to adequately cover the two of you, scooting down and propping the book up for the two of you to see.

"We're ready when you are." You told Aaron, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from Ellie's face.

As your brief sentence concluded, a harsh pinch formed behind Aaron's eyes, the guilt creeping in as he pictured the two of you laid together, where he also should've been. His little girl was beside herself in fear, wanted him, and yet here he was. Far away on the other side of the country. He felt as if he were failing her; letting her down.

Aaron swallowed to even out his voice, to sound as cheery as he possibly could, and to refrain any agony from being heard. He took a deep, yet small guttural breath.

"In the great green room..."

[zalrb]

I'd love a breakdown of the acting in the 3rd episode of Adolescence if you ever feel inclined, maybe the moments that hit the strongest? I thought the actor did well in going from one emotion to another and when he raises his voice to exert power over the therapist

Sure! Yes, Owen does a really great job in shifting emotions throughout the episode and slowly showing Jamie's darker side without being theatrical even when he's explosive.

What I really enjoyed is at the beginning when he's having, considering the circumstances, a relatively good time talking to Briony and they're having their sort of banter because it does seem like he's a generally and genuinely a witty, funny kid but I think you can also tell that he's negging her, which, you know, the term is from The Rules of the Game, which isn't a book that I've read but has been described as a catalyst for incels so even when he's kind of being a happy-go-lucky kid, I think Owen imbues something lightly sinister to how he's talking with Briony

while also showing a childlike delight in having an easygoing, fun conversation with someone

I also quite like the yawn now that I know that it wasn't intentional, Owen was genuinely tired and he yawned and Erin Doherty just went with it and ad-libbed her response

and Owen laughs and he's kind of giggly because he also didn't expect that ad-lib

but Erin continues with her lines and so you see in a few seconds how Owen locks back into the scene, and gets back into the character

and it works for the entire dynamic between the two of them because I would not have guessed that that was what we were watching and it's a testament I think that he recovered so quickly.

When he does stand up and says, "What was that? Hey?"

he kind of mimics Stephen Graham's intonation and body language, which kind of showcases how he tries to model himself after different male role models, which includes his dad who he's very protective of and who isn't a bad guy but has harmful habits that Jamie's picked up on, so I thought was really well done.

And he's also good at facial expressions, derision

sadness

irritation/defensiveness

I also think when he panics and lashes out when Briony says that they aren't going to see each other anymore is really well done, the "Do you like me?" and "Tell my dad I'm alright"

because there is a raw vulnerability there but he puts that in his performance after such a vile confession, which was also done really well because it's performed as beseeching, like even though the underlying message of his confession about how he felt is "that bitch deserved it" he doesn't play it with that kind of sinister tilt and he doesn't play it as emotionless and logical, he plays it as, if you just understand, if you just understand from my point of view, which is really chilling.

As for Erin Doherty, it's harder to discuss her even though she does so much because everything is so subtle with her, you can't get in screenshots but she was such a great scene partner and like I said, she does so much with her material because she's meant to be an impartial ear there to make an assessment but you see how she slowly shifts throughout their hour together with her tone especially, like when she comes back in after her first outburst, she's curt

and her expressions change infinitesimally, because she doesn't show too much emotion because she's not meant to sway Jamie in any kind of way but for the audience (and sometimes for Jamie because he's bright and observant) we can see a very slight eye roll or sigh, we can she how she watches him, hopeful for any kind of sign so there can be mitigating factors to his crime

and then her realization when Jamie speaks about how he could've molested Katie's body but didn't and that makes him better, the disappointment and disgust and shock is communicated with a furrow of her eyebrow

or a very slight pursing of her lips and then the sort of release she has to do once he's left

is such a great performance.