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echobx · 4 months

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It's... complicated?- Rafe Cameron × polyam!reader & JJ Maybank × polyam!reader

summary: you're in a relationship with Rafe, but a one night stand with JJ turns into more and suddenly you find yourself entangled in a relationship that you don't plan on getting out of any time soon

general warnings: cheating, angst, fluff, smut, swearing, lying, reader being a bitch, talk of marriage angst warnings: mention of death, downward spiral, self-doubt, fighting (verbally), fighting (physically), traumatized reader smut warnings: p in v (unprotected), oral (f & m receiving), 3 way, cnc, creampie/cumdump, spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, (heavy) pda, subdrop adjacent, aftercare, foreplay, toy use (not primarily), overstimulation

word count: 19k

author's note: this started as a Rafe fic but immediately my brain fucked me over and then I was too deep to change it so I kept it and decided to explore the throuple idea. I wanted to not have it be cheating plot but I couldn't figure out how to do that while keeping the set dynamic, so I hope you're gentle with me on that :) I genuinely hope you enjoy it, it's the longest one part one shot I've ever written lol (p.s. I wanted to do dvp here but I couldn't find an appropriate place for it, but if you want it, I can write it separately)

“Can you maybe not do lines on my boobs tonight? Last time you got some on my vintage Chanel dress and I haven't managed to get it out yet,” you ask Rafe while leaning in the door of his room, watching him get ready. “I'll just buy you a new one,” he shrugs and buttons his shirt up. “That's not the point, babe, and you know it,” you shake your head, swaying your perfect curls. “It's also vintage, and you can't just buy a new one. Besides, I paid for it, not you.” “You mean your dad paid for it?” he eyes you with a smirk playing on his pink lips. “Nope, pretty sure that it counts for me now,” you smile, faking it as per usual when the topic of your dad comes up. “Dead people can't pay for shit.” He steps over to you, tilting your chin up and kissing you. “Let's not talk about him. Instead, we can go and have fun, all right?”

“Eugh, whose house is this?” you scoff as he stops the car in the driveway. The mansion isn't even half the size of your own, and it makes you feel a little disappointed. “Hey, be nice,” Rafe smiles and takes your hand up to kiss it before getting out and opening your door for you. “I am always nice,” you tell him, but he knows it's a lie. Your way of being nice is what other people would call bitchy or bossy. You aren't nice like people want you to be, not since your dad has died. He was the only one who you had tried your best for. “You know I love to see your claws out, but I have to sell shit tonight, so none of that, please,” Rafe begged, his arm tight around your waist. You roll your eyes and look up at him, “fine.”

The party is already going, and a few people greet you while walking in. You find Topper and Kelce rather quickly, taking your seat next to Rafe you let your eyes wander as they talk. “You know, you guys are boring as fuck,” you groan after having had to listen to them talk about golfing for twenty minutes straight. “Since when are we here for your entertainment, y/n,” Kelce scoffs, but he gulps as you get up and lean over him. “Maybe you should suck a dick to fix your fucking attitude,” you snarl and walk away towards the kitchen. You never cared what Rafe's friends thought of you, you never cared what anybody thought of you.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” you roll your eyes at the blonde boy, who's leaning against the counter. His ring clad fingers are holding onto the solo cup, but the flirtatious smile is just for you. You had gathered as much over time. “One day, you'll beg, y/l/n,” he says and takes a sip. “Not if I make you beg first, Maybank,” you smirk and take the bottle of tequila to fill two shot glasses. “I never beg,” he counters, and you laugh. “Oh, I'd bet my BMW you do.” “Does Rafe?” “I won't tell you that, you'd just go runnin’round tellin’ people,” you poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue and hold the shot out for him to take. “Be happy that I'm keeping him on a leash. He'd have ripped your head off by now if I didn't.” You watch him take the shot, and follow. The slight burn in your throat wakes you up, and the warmth in your stomach is familiarly cozy. “And why would he do that?” JJ asks, tilting his head to the side. “‘Cause you won't stop staring at my tits, Maybank,” you bite your lip and take the step over to him, leaning in and whispering into his ear. “I know how you look at me, as if I'm the ultimate price. But you wouldn't even be able to handle me on your best days, pretty boy.” “You underestimate me, princess,” he whispers, and you pull away to look at him fully. “Maybe in another life, Maybank,” you wink at him, grabbing the bottle of tequila and making your way back to the couch.

“What he want?” Rafe asks as soon as you get back and take your seat by his side. “Nothing,” you sigh and kiss Rafe's cheek, leaving a lipstick mark behind. He doesn't need to know how much it riles you up when JJ flirts with you. How much you have to suppress the need to kiss him whenever you see him. It doesn't even make sense why it is like that. JJ and you have nothing in common, and you are happy about that. You love being in a relationship with Rafe. You don't care much about love anyway, so why would you need to love the person you are in a relationship with if they are perfect on paper? Rafe is everything your dad had wanted in a future son-in-law. He comes from good money, takes care of the people close to him, and knows how to act around money. You don't need to love him to build a good future with him. After all, your grandparents had done it the same way. And when you look at your own parents' life together, you keep wondering if it had really been the wisest decision to marry for love. No, love was overrated, and so was whatever you felt when JJ looked at you.

“You sell any yet?” you ask straight out, and Rafe clears his throat and gives you a look that doesn't really make sense to you. “What?” “You know they won't buy shit when you're here, unless you act it,” he whispers to you and you roll your eyes. “Fine, but only one,” you cave, and for the next few hours you play the dumb girlfriend. For some reason, all of his buyers are some type of misogynistic asshole, and the only one who you could talk to without feeling looked down on is Barry. But Barry never gets invited to the parties, because he doesn't fit in. To you, he's not much different than the businessmen your dad had worked with, the same ones you would have to deal with once you were officially taking over the company.

“Baby, c’mere,” Rafe claps on his thighs, and you turn to straddle him, giving him a single warning glance to not fuck up. “Love when you use my tits for it, babe,” you giggle stupidly, but internally you feel like throwing up. And it just gets worse when he puts a little line of the fine powder on your skin and dips his head down to snort it off. Your eyes cross with JJ's as soon as Rafe's head is down, and he vanishes from your vision the moment Rafe comes back up, wiping his nose. “Thank you, baby,” he smiles and kisses you. It's a show. When you moan into him and buck your hips; and for once you're not sure if the show is for his clients, or for the blonde Pogue who can't keep his eyes off of you. “I wanna go upstairs,” you whisper to Rafe and he nods. “Just gimme ten and I'll meet you there.”

You get up and walk off, towards the stairs. A quick glance back to Rafe, who's focused on counting money, before you take the stairs, downstairs instead of up. You decide to take a look around. The pool is a perfect 80 °F and if you had swimming stuff with you, you'd consider swimming for a while. Training a little to clear up your mind. “Didn't you tell him you'd be upstairs, waiting?” You hear JJ behind you and turn around. “And? I changed my mind. He doesn't care if he fucks me here or at home,” you shrug and JJ shakes his head. “God, you really are something.” “What do you want, Maybank?” you sneer, walking around the pool towards the sauna at the end of the room. The sound of your heels on the concrete floor echoes through the huge room. “Why are you with him if you hate him so much?” he asks and starts walking closer, following you. “I don't hate him. I hate his friends, anyone but Barry, basically. I hate how he acts around them. But I don't hate him,” you clarify, and JJ nods. “But you don't love him.” “Who needs love anyway,” you smile. The picture-perfect smile you had practiced in front of the mirror since you were 12, the same one you had to relearn when your dad had died. It was an ironclad mask. “I forgot, you don't have a heart,” JJ smiles but drops it instantly. “Tell me what you want, or leave,” you roll your eyes at him and he steps closer. Your heart starts racing as he leans over you, brushing a curl from your face and tucking it behind your ear. “What do you want?” he rasps quietly and your eyes flutter, it's a reflex, and you don't know why. You don't understand why he has this effect on you. “Nothing,” you press out, and his thumb ghosts your lips. “I don't like when you lie to me, y/n,” JJ whispers, and you can't stop yourself from getting lost in his blue eyes. They are so different from Rafe's. JJ's eyes are bright and hopeful, they feel like happiness entrapped to you. And you can't stand it, because this isn't how it's supposed to be. “Tell me what you want,” he demands, leaning down to smell your neck, his nose brushing against your skin and giving you goosebumps. “It’s neither appropriate nor allowed,” you hush, and he chuckles. "Since when do you care about any of that? You make the rules on this side of the island, don't you, princess?”

You blame it on the tequila when your lips find his. You blame it on the daiquiri when he leads you into the cold supply closet, without pulling out of your kiss. You would blame it on the coke, when he pushes your dress up and sinks into you; but you hadn't had any coke that night.

“Fuck, you're so wet for me, baby,” JJ groans, he had sat you down on a lower shelf, and you did your best to hold onto the metal structure that was pressing into your back. “Shut up and kiss me, asshole,” you gasp, and he does just that. His kisses are wet and sloppy, just like his fast thrusts. But you can't stop kissing him, not only because it feels like heaven and hell combined. But mainly because you know you'd be screaming by the way his cock keeps kissing your cervix. “You're so good at taking it, princess. Fuck, you feel so good,” JJ moans, and you can't help but feel pride in how much he seems to love it. “Look at it,” you demand, and he dips his head, focusing on where you are connected. Your slip tucked to the side, but it's ruined anyway, it had been from the moment on he had started to flirt with you. “What's that say,” JJ asks, his thumb rubbing over your tattoo, making you smirk. “Eat me, Maybank. It says, eat me,” you moan, and he grins. “Next time, princess,” he growls and starts rubbing your clit in harsh circles. You don't understand how he does it, but he has you moaning even louder, and clenching around his cock in the matter of minutes. The band in your stomach is ready to burst, and you don't think you've felt this good ever before. It feels like he's made for you, but you know that can't be the case. “Cum for me, pretty girl. Soak my dick,” JJ breathes into your ear, and as soon as you come undone, he pulls his hand from your clit and shoves his fingers down your throat to shut you up. You feel afloat and completely dazed when he pulls his fingers out and clasps his hand over your mouth.

“Shh, quiet,” JJ whispers, and you hear footsteps outside the closet. If someone finds you, you're screwed. “No, she's not down here either. Check upstairs again, man,” Rafe's annoyed voice carries through the door, and you stare at JJ. You're not scared of what might happen to you if Rafe found out, but more so that he'd finally snap and actually hurt JJ like he had threatened so many times before. Rafe is still outside the door when JJ decides to start fucking you again, and your eyes roll back uncontrollably. He knows how badly you want to make a sound for him, but you can't let yourself. As soon as his footsteps carry Rafe back upstairs, you let out a loud groan, pulling JJ into a kiss and purposely squeezing his dick just to prove to him that you're the one in charge. And when his hips stutter, and he spills out inside of you, you don't even mind it. You like the feeling, especially when he keeps fucking it into you, muttering incoherently about how good he fucked you.

“Do you always praise yourself after?” you ask him after having pulled your dress back down. “Do you always cheat on your boyfriend with Pogues?” he smirks, and you push him back against the shelf. “If anyone finds out about this, you are dead, you understand? Either you shut up, and hope for a second time, or I can ruin your life. I don't need Rafe to do it for me, I can do it all by myself. Do you understand?” You poke into his chest and he nods. “Good,” you take a step back again, and he grabs for your chin, pulling you close again. “I have one question, princess. Has he ever fucked you raw?” “I don't trust him enough for that,” you reply, and JJ snorts. “Why'd you let me, then?” “You don't sleep around as much as you pride yourself, Maybank. I mean, you're not bad, but- Well, it all comes down to the circles you run in and the ones you don't,” you give him a mean smile and open the door to go look for a bathroom.

“How do you plan on not letting him find out if he never-” “I told you, he does what I say. If I say no, he's not getting any,” you tell him and turn a corner towards the bathroom. “You really got him wrapped around your finger,” JJ laughs. “You too,” you grin before sitting down to pee, you don't care that he is standing right next to you. “Didn't you literally call Cally R. disgusting for insinuating that she doesn't mind peeing in her boyfriend's presence?” JJ laughs. “First of all,” you say while finishing up and standing. “Cally R. is a lying slut, the only reason why she keeps having to piss in front of her boyfriend is because she can't get rid of her std. And why doesn't it go away? Well, because little miss piss queen keeps on fucking Tyler Folly on the side. Calling her disgusting was the kindest thing I could do to her.” “And the second reason?” JJ cocks his brow up. “You're not my boyfriend, Maybank. And getting rid of your shit inside me, is kinda necessary unless you want me ending up like Cally,” you give him a threatening smile, and he holds his hands up in defense. “Good.” “I'm just wondering if it's not hypocritical, with the whole fucking on the side and all,” he mumbles before wetting a towel and trying to remove the red lipstick marks from his face. “I don't claim to love my boyfriend, and Rafe never claimed to love me. He thinks we have an open relationship on his side. I don't see why it can't be open on both,” you shrug and pull the lipstick from your bra to reapply it. “Was I- was I better?” JJ mumbles, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck. “Could you choose between your two favorite types of food?” you ask, and he starts to grin. “You know, that's a weird metaphor.” “Simile,” you correct him, and he exhales a laugh. “You're a real smartass, y/l/n.” “And you can be glad you're pretty.” “Pretty enough to fuck your brains out,” JJ turns you towards him and leans over, his lips ghosting yours and when he pulls back you exhale a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. “See,” he smirks. “If you want to do it again you can't fuck around, and most importantly you won't tell a soul. But then again, who would even believe you,” you scoff and turn around to leave, taking the stairs and vanishing in the crowd before anyone had noticed where you had come from.

“Where were you? I was looking all over,” Rafe sounds concerned and hugs you, out of courtesy, surely. Rafe rarely hugs you unless you ask for it, or the social obligations call for it. “Just here and there, I went upstairs and forgot why. I'm sorry, babe,” you tell him, and he lets it go. “Hey, y/n, wanna play a game with us?” Topper asks, and you turn to look at the group of people gathered, your eyes get stuck on JJ for just a second before they snap back to Top. “Sure,” you smile and push Rafe into a chair, sitting down sideways on his lap.

It's a dumb drinking game, just like always. It stays rather boring until Topper's new girlfriend gets to speak, and you instantly regret your choice to take part. “Never have I ever had sex with someone in this room,” she giggles and falls back down into Top before they each take a sip of their drinks. You take a sip, focusing on Rafe, but Rafe is staring right across from where the two of you are sitting. “Why does Maybank keep staring at you,” he whispers in your ear and you shrug. “He's a creep, you know that, babe,” you try to calm your boyfriend down, but you know it's not gonna help much.

“Never have I ever cheated,” JJ says and takes a drink, but the chatter went mute as soon as the words left him. “I thought we were being honest, guys. God, you guys really are some Kooks,” he laughs and stands up to leave. His eyes are yet again fixed on you, but this time you can't force yourself to look away. “Maybe cheating is just a Pogue quality,” you say, and a few silent mumbles seem to agree with your lie. “You must know all about that, princess,” JJ smirks and tips his non-existent cap to you before turning and walking away, out of the house and into the darkness. “He’s so weird,” Topper's girlfriend lets out a disgusted grunt. “Was he even invited?” Topper asks and I roll my eyes. “They don't check invitations at the entrance, stupid,” you laugh it off. “He probably stole something,” someone out of the crowd suggested, and you stood up in a light fit of anger, before you realized that you couldn't act on it. “What would he steal here? Cheap candles from Target?” you scoff and walk off. “Rafe!” you call out, and he takes a moment before he meets you outside by the car.

“I didn't wanna go home yet,” he complains. “And? You have to drive me home. After that, you can do whatever the fuck you want,” you scoff at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “What's up with you?” he snorts, opening the door for you and letting you get in. “I'm tired and annoyed by these people who think they're better than anyone else, just because their dad's play golf and fuck their secretaries,” you mutter, and he stops asking, dropping you off at your house and driving off as soon as you are inside.

Weeks go by in which you don't even see a glimpse of JJ. You manage to push the memory so far back into your brain that you don't even dream of it, well, not as often. And when Rafe fucks you, it's good, it's great, but you don't feel as complete after as you had with JJ.

“Best pussy in the fucking world,” Rafe groans as he pounds into you from behind. Your face is pressed into the duvet and your ass is high up in the air. He had been stretching you out for what felt like hours. It was good, he hit every single spot inside of you perfectly, but you couldn't get yourself to cum. “Would be so much better without it, baby,” Rafe rasps, and you're not really listening, just nodding and groaning in response to whatever he's saying. Before you can actually register what is happening, he has pulled out and slammed into you again, but it feels different. You can feel him more clearly, every single vein on his thick cock, the soft tip that kept nudging your cervix as he went deeper. “Fuck, I love you, I love this pussy so much,” Rafe moans and without a single warning he cums inside you, filling you up and clouding your mind. You gasp, close to an orgasm but not yet there and if he'd just- but he pulls out and you all you can feel is used. “Shit, did you not,” he pulls you into him, having fallen into the sheets by your side, but you put on a smile. “It's okay. Next time,” you tell him and get up to clean yourself up. You curse yourself for losing yourself in your thoughts about JJ instead of paying attention to what your boyfriend had said to you. And now you had two guys thinking they could fuck you over anyway they wanted.

“Are you okay?” Rafe asks as you leave the bathroom wrapped in your robe. “Yeah, just next time, maybe warn me beforehand. Probably would've been better if we had both finished,” you say and roll your eyes while your back is turned to him. “Why are you getting dressed?” “I have to buy q tips, we don't have any left,” you lie and he scoffs. “You could just ask the help to go buy some, and I could make it up to you. Come on, baby,” he slaps the empty bed to his left, but you shake your head. “I just need some air, all right.” “Fine. But text me so I know you're okay,” he sighs and gets up to take a shower.

You basically run out of the house, jumping in your car and driving off towards the Cut before you realize you don't even know where to go. You pull out your phone and scroll down a long list of contacts before you find his number, saved under three Xs to remind you to never text him, but here you are, doing just that. “Where are you?” you type out and hit send, a second later a text appears on your screen. “why?” “Tattoo” is all you say, but the three small dots stay for a while and then they vanish. You are about to curse him out when a text pops up. “you know the Château?” “Routledge?” “yes” You put your phone away and start driving again. Maybe you'd have to thank Topper's weird obsession with Sarah for knowing where the house was, but you really couldn't.

As soon as you arrive, you kill the engine and jump out of your jeep, stomping towards the porch. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Kiara sneers at you, but you don't pay her any attention. You grab JJ's hand and drag him into the house. “That's the wrong way,” he chuckles and holds you back from going deeper into the house, pulling you to the side and into a small bedroom. “Tell me what's wrong,” he asks, wanting to hold onto you, but you brush him off. “He said he loved me,” you yell at JJ even though it's not his fault, nor can he do anything about it. “And that's bad?” he raises his eyebrows at you and you huff. “Yes. Yes, it is. You don't fuck someone, not let them fucking finish and then tell them you love them,” you hiss quietly, not wanting his friends to be able to hear it all. “I see. I can help with one of those,” JJ smirks and pulls you into a kiss. A kiss that makes you forget why you even came over. Like a snip of his finger, he had erased all the bad thoughts and feelings inside of you, replacing them with warmth and desire. “They didn't believe me,” he whispers against your lips before bringing them into another kiss. You pull on his shirt, and he takes it off. “Told you they wouldn't,” you smile and take your own shirt off before starting to fumble with his shorts. “Now they have to,” JJ chuckles and pushes his pants down, leaving the boxers on.

He pushes you onto the bed, kissing you all over, especially focusing on your tits, and you nearly cum just from that. His skilled tongue toys with your nipple while his hand squeezes the other tit mercilessly. “You have the best tits, baby,” JJ moans against your skin, squeezing them another time before trailing his lips down the valley of your breasts and over your stomach to the hem of your jeans shorts. “Are you sure?” he asks while looking up at you, but the way he's lying between your legs is godly. His unruly hair is hanging into his face, his lips slightly parted in a mischievous smile. “I'll go ask one of the others if you don't want to,” you tease him, and he nips at your hips. “Don't ever suggest that shit again, princess.” “Noted, but only if your tongue’s as good as your dick,” you smirk. JJ takes his time taking off your shorts, teasing you and edging you on, and you want to drown in the feelings he can so easily conjure in you. “You smell different,” he notes and presses his nose against your slip. “I'm not gonna do this when you smell like him.” “I told you,” you sit up on your elbows and look at his disgusted face. “You didn't say he fucked you raw. That's different, and you know it,” JJ complained and sat back up. “I don't see the problem. It's an easy fix,” you shrug and pull him closer by his neck. Your lips press against his until you have him lying underneath you.

“See, easy,” you grin down at him, pulling his boxers down just enough to let his hard cock spring free. “Aren't you pretty,” you whisper to his pink tip, placing a kiss on it and tasting his salty precum. “If you do that again, I'm busting a nut. You gotta warn a guy,” he laughs nervously. “Cute,” you giggle and lift yourself up, pulling your slip to the side and brushing his throbbing tip through your aching slit. You let out a sigh of relief as you sink down on him, the familiarity makes you feel better instantly. Fucking JJ is easy, it's messy, it's freeing. You don't mind that he can't keep himself from cumming when you do, because he's ready instantly as if it never had happened. You claw at his chest while you bounce on him, screaming of pleasure and not caring who can hear you. Your pussy sounds obscenely wet, and can feel the mix of your many releases spill out of you and onto him. But JJ doesn't care as long as you keep fucking yourself with his dick, he doesn't even mind having to take over when you get a cramp in your leg. He's moaning and cursing worse than you, calling you all kinds of dirty things, but mostly he's showering you with compliments, which turns you on even more than you had ever thought. And when he finally pulls out, your pussy is still clenching, pushing out all of his and your cum.

“Would you look at that, princess. We should definitely not clean you up and send you back home just like that, show him who's actually better at fucking this pretty pussy.” JJ says and takes two fingers to push his cum back into you. “J, please,” you beg him to stop. You are overstimulated and sore, so sore you feel like you might not be able to walk properly the next few days. “Oh, but we haven't even done what you promised me, princess. You wouldn't let a poor guy starve, would you?” JJ gives you a pout and moves back to kiss your swollen cunt. A jolt goes through your body as he does it another time. “You taste so sweet, baby,” he moans into you, his hands massaging your thighs; tongue dipping into your hole and nose brushing against your clit. You moan and mewl as he slowly kisses and licks you to your orgasm, you can't even remember how many you've had that day, but what you do know is that the last one was the best one.

“Where'd you learn to use your tongue like that?” you ask him out of breath as he's lying next to you. “Natural talent, y/l/n,” JJ boasts and turns his head to kiss you, twisting his tongue with yours and then pulling you closer. His hand is harshly gripping your thigh, pulling your leg over his own; while your own hands are entangled in his hair. There's a sense of security in the way he kisses you, like you know he won't leave even if you'd tell him to. “JJ-” you try to pull away, but his lips keep on chasing yours, even when you try to get his attention by biting him. So, you pull on his hair, holding his head in place and making him whine with it. “S’unfair,” he murmurs. “I have to go home, it's late,” you remind him. “You could stay, I could show you how much better I am at morning sex,” JJ tries to convince you, but you know it's impossible. You let go of his head and twirl a strand of his hair in between your fingers. “It's a charming proposal, but you know I can't. He'll come looking for me, and we don't want that to happen, do we?” “I’ll let you go if you answer me one question.” You roll your eyes at his antics, but agree to it anyway. “Deal, dumbass,” you smile. “Why’d you text me?” JJ whispers, and you sigh, turning around to look at the ceiling. “I don't know,” you lie. “I think you do, you're just lying to yourself if you say anything else. Because I wouldn't have told you to come by if I didn't feel the same,” he admits and nuzzles his face into your neck. “It's a polar opposite. And I never thought- It's difficult to know you want a specific thing when you never had it, and once it’s there, it's hard to forget about it. And he won't give me that, I know it,” you explain quietly and JJ kisses your neck in response. “I would never even consider not letting you cum, baby,” he hushes against your skin, and it gives you goosebumps all over. It's cozy and loving in a way, and it might just scare the life out of you when you realize that you crave this affection he's giving you. “I have to go,” you press out and jump up, leaving JJ groaning as he runs his hands over his face. You find your clothes pretty quickly and put them back on, while he stays in bed, lying there looking like a Greek god. “You look severely fuck out. I like it,” he grins, his head propped up on his hand. “Walk of shame material?” “Nah, nothing to be ashamed of.” “You know that's not what I meant,” you sigh and leave the room to go look for the bathroom. “Left,” JJ calls out, and you turn left, towards the end of the hallway and enter the small bathroom. You don't understand how they can live in such a narrow space, but you know mentioning it will not end well.

Your curls are standing up in every possible direction and your eyes look extremely tired. “See, not bad at all,” JJ smirks, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. “Do you have a hair tie or something?” you ask, and he steps behind you and pulls a drawer open. You pick out a simple black hair tie that could easily pass as one of your own, and wind your hair into a loose knot. “Tell me again why I should let you go back to that asshole?” JJ asks, laying his chin on your shoulder. “One, because he's not an asshole, and two, because he's gonna kill you. I don't want to see you dead, you're really good at what you do,” you say while looking at him through the mirror, and the smile on his face gets deeper as you speak. “The secret side piece,” JJ flashes his brows at you, and you can't stop the light chuckle that leaves you. Charming and sweet and all you should ever want and need- “I really have to go now,” you remind yourself, and he lets go of you.

When you walk out onto the porch, your eyes meet Sarah's and your heart stops, but you can't let yourself get caught up in it. You know, she hasn't spoken to Rafe in a whole year. She surely won't break that silence just to tell on you. Your feet quickly move you towards your car, but before you can open your door, you are harshly turned around and pushed against the metal. JJ kisses you so hard, you wish you could go back inside and do it all over again. His hand is holding onto your neck while the other is gripping your waist. It feels like the best kiss in your entire life, and it awakes something inside of you that you had long thought dead. The tiny flutter in your stomach is as faint as a gust of wind in spring, but you know it's there, and you know it'll just complicate everything else with it. When he pulls away, he does it slowly, leaving an abundance of small, soft kisses on your lips before running his thumb over them. “She won't tell. None of them will, I promise,” he whispers and you nod, believing him. “You should go. Didn't know kissing alone could turn a guy on like that.” You smirk innocently as your hand traces over his erection, and he can't even hide it because he hadn't thought about putting on anything more than underwear. “That's all you,” JJ whispers and kisses you one last time. “Text me,” he says before stepping back and letting you get into your car. As you drive off, you can see him flipping off his friends before going inside; and then the house, and all of them with it, vanish as you make your way back home.

“Where were you?” Rafe bludgeons as soon as you get through the door. “Out. You don't need to know everything, you know?” you snap at him. “You didn't text and were gone for hours, y/n.” “Shit, you sound more like my parents then my parents ever did,” you laugh and make your way into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice and downing it in one go. “Excuse me for giving a fuck,” Rafe barks, and you roll your eyes. “If you hadn't been selfish, like fucking always, I wouldn't have walked out.” “I wanted to make it up to you. You left!” he counters and you gulp hard. “Tell me what you would've done. Something that puts me first for a change or no?” Your blood is boiling and there is nothing that can stop your fit of rage. It had been easier to look past Rafe's selfish tendencies when you hadn't known any better, but now that you do, you can't help but get annoyed at him for it. “Where's this coming from now?” he laughs, pacing along the room. “God, why can't you fucking open your eyes! You know, sometimes I fake it just so it's over quicker,” you spit out, but he knows it's a lie, it's the one thing you promised each other to never lie about. “You never tell me what you want either,” Rafe says, and you hate that it's true. “Would you do it if I did?” “I can try,” he raises his shoulders in what feels like defeat to you, but you can't be sure. “Good,” you glare, but you know it's unnecessary. “Now?” he asks, somewhat hopeful, but you shake your head. “Maybe tomorrow, or whenever. I'm tired right now,” you sigh and make your way upstairs to take a bath.

The hot water is soaking your body, and you close your eyes and let it play out again. How JJ kept kissing you as he fucked you senseless, how his praises worked way better for you than Rafe's degradations. How he had kept looking up at you with his head buried between your legs. Your hand travels down between your legs, rubbing soft circles on your clit, and it's not enough. Your fingers plunge into your pussy, curling perfectly, but it's not enough. You can't reach, and it frustrates you. You step out of the tub, dripping wet as you make your way into the bedroom and Rafe doesn't complain when you straddle him. And he complains even less you start to fuck yourself with his dick. It's not something you’ve ever done with him, but he wants to be better for you, and he doesn't mind as long as he gets to fuck you one way or the other. “Tell me how much you want me,” you moan softly while bouncing on his huge cock. The light stinging feeling his size always causes you just adds to your pleasure. “You're so fucking hot, fucking me like the slut you are,” Rafe rasps, holding onto your hips. “No, something nice. Tell me something nice.” You shake your head but keep going anyway. “Uhm, okay… You're fucking me so well, baby,” Rafe says, but his eyebrows are furrowed until you moan louder. “Yes, more.” “I love your tight pussy, baby,” he groans, and you fall down on top of him, kissing him, but it doesn't feel at all like you had hoped. He tastes like whiskey, but you craved the mix of weed and beer. Yet all of your thoughts about it fly out the window when he stops your hips and starts pounding into you from below. “Faster,” you gasp into him, biting his lip and digging your nails into his shoulders. It's mind-bending, they way he fucks you and his uncontrollable noises turn you on even more. Rafe grunts and moans like you've not heard it before, and you wish you had made him try it earlier.

“Fuck, baby, tell me you're close,” Rafe moans, and you press your face against his shoulder, feeling the band inside you tighten. “So close, babe, don't stop,” you cry out and snake a hand down to your clit rubbing harshly and suddenly JJ's words echo in your mind. “Cum for me, y/n. Be a good girl and let go.” You scream when your orgasm rips through you and Rafe follows just a second later, pushing in deeper and painting your walls in his pretty white. “Keep going, just a bit,” you instruct him, and he fucks his cum into you with a few more thrusts until you tell him to stop again. “That was probably the best sex we ever had,” you sigh, still not ready to get up and have him leave you. “Definitely top ten,” Rafe pants and runs his hand over your back. “No, definitely the best,” you argue with a smile and he caves. “All right, the best.”

After having cleaned up you're back in bed, and cuddled into his side, your head resting on his chest. “Why didn't you tell me all that earlier? We could've done this already,” he whispers, and you don't know how to come up with a good lie. “I don't know. Maybe I hoped you'd figure it out on your own one day.” “It's very different from what we usually do,” Rafe mumbles, brushing over your hair. “I like how you fuck me, but sometimes I need something for me. I need control too,” you whisper and he kisses your head. “We can do that.” “Good.” “I love you,” Rafe sighs, and you can hear his breath slow as he falls asleep.

Your dreams are haunted by JJ, always, and you wish you could turn it off. Sometimes Rafe gets to him, other times you see yourself living the Pogue life, as if that was ever something you'd even do as much as consider. But tonight it's different from any other time.

You are at home, Rafe is sitting at the kitchen island, and JJ is lying on the couch. They are both aware of each other and not actively trying to murder one another. The whole scene makes you incredibly suspicious, but it just gets worse when two blonde children come running in. “Dad!” one of them yells and both JJ and Rafe pick up their heads. “What's up?” Rafe asks and gets up from his seat, giving you a loving smile before leaning down to the child and talking to it. “Well, your friends are pretty fucking stupid for not getting it,” Rafe tells the child and JJ snorts. “Yeah, what's not to get? My wife has another guy, and we play daddy roulette every single time.” “Daddy roulette?” you ask and furrow your brows at the two. “You said it's better to not know. Removes the thing for fighting or whatever,” JJ explains. “This one, definitely mine,” Rafe points at your stomach, and you look down at yourself to see yourself severely pregnant. Your belly is bigger than you'd ever imagined and it feels even worse. “Why is it so big?” Your heart starts racing, and you feel like you're about to fall over. “That's because we're having twins. You got a Maybank and a Cameron in there, baby, just like you love it,” JJ grins and your vision goes blurry.

“Y/n, will you please stop screaming? I was trying to sleep!” Rafe groans after shaking you awake. “Sorry,” you mumble and turn away from him. “Bad dream or what?” he asks. “You don't have to pretend to care,” you whisper, and he snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest. “I do care, but I also really need to sleep, baby,” he mumbles and kisses your neck a single time. “We should just sleep,” you mutter and this time you are allowed to get your few hours of dreamless sleep instead of being haunted by your mistakes.

Weeks turn into months, and one hookup every other week turns to some every other day. The more Rafe tries to focus more on you, the more you seem to crave JJ and the lightness of what you have with him. Like the quick fucks in the Country Club restroom, or the “business meetings” you tell Rafe about. After all, you really don't have a choice, because where Rafe is still reluctant to go down on you, JJ is offering it every single time, even when you are really not capable of cumming another time. You know it would be technically easy to break up with Rafe, but you can't. You promised your dead father to marry a good man, someone from a good family. And Rafe is exactly what your dad had in mind. And even if that wasn't the case, you still couldn't, or just don't want to, really. You like that every girl on the island seems to want what you have, especially with both boys on your leash. You like that people are scared of you, because they know Rafe does what you tell him to, and not because he’s scared, no because he knows it's the best way to live his life. What most people don't know is that although still rich, the Camerons had suffered a dent in their savings, and not a small one. But you, you are secured by a long line of rich assholes. Old money. More than you could ever spend in a lifetime. Which just means that Rafe doesn't have the faintest idea why he should ever leave you. You are his perfect package deal.

“boat day?” The text from JJ rips you out of your thoughts, and you praise the fact that Rafe has the day packed with meetings. “sure” you reply quickly and get back to doing your hair. “I should come pick you up” “no, you really shouldn't.” You shake your head at his dangerously stupid idea. The boat thing is after all already risky, you don't need to up the chances of anyone finding out. “Will be there in 30.”

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Kiara scoffs as soon as you get out of your car. “I invited her,” JJ shrugs as if it's nothing special and keeps walking towards the pier. “You shouldn't get to invite anyone, especially not the Kook bitch who keeps fucking you on the side to get back at her even worse Kook boyfriend,” Kiara complains. “I'm not getting back at anyone,” you smile at her, knowing how much it must enrage her that you keep your cool and calm exterior. “Just, please be nice, Kie,” JJ yells from afar and you hide your grin. “John B!” Kiara hollers and walks back into the house, while you keep standing there, leaning against your car. As soon as JJ comes back they all gather on the porch, discussing the matter of your attendance.

“You know I can hear you, right?” you say loudly after Kiara had called you a slut the third time in a row. “Then why are you still here?” she snaps at you. You stroll towards the steps that lead up the porch and walk to where they are standing. It's not that you are particularly happy that they are all there too, but you at least have the decency to be nice to them, if not for anything but JJ’s sake. “I'm interested in what your issue is here,” you ask and Sarah scoffs. “Maybe that you're a horrible person. Using JJ? Cheating on my brother?” “Oh, a horse can only be that high,” you smile at her. JJ tugs on your hand and makes you look at him. “You said you'd be nice.” “I am nice. I'm not the one calling people slut and whore and what else y'all can come up with for me. But I'm not gonna stand here and hear these insults if they can't even take one back. And for the record that wasn't an insult, it was the truth and y'all know it,” you say and John B runs his hands through his hair, visibly on edge. “Are you kidding me? You literally insult us all the fucking time,” Kiara spits at you, and you can't help the tiny laugh that escapes you. “I don't insult Pogues, you guys have it hard enough as is, but… you're not a Pogue, Carrera. I guess that means you're fair game, because that one,” you point at Sarah, “is basically family, as much as I hate to say it, and you don't go against your own.” “You’re not my family. You'll never be,” Sarah shakes her head. “Okay,” you roll your eyes at her. “Can we just-” JJ tries to get control of the conversation, but Kiara stops him. “No, we can't. If she's here, I'm leaving.” “Y'all are the worst fucking friends in the world,” you laugh and take a step back, ready to leave. “Incredible.” You turn around and walk back to your car, JJ right behind you.

“Don't leave, please,” he asks, and you stop in your tracks, turning around on the dirt and looking straight at him. “I tried, you can't tell me to do more than that. I'm not gonna be called a whore and slut every five fucking minutes. It's appalling how your friends can't even pretend to like me for a few hours, but I'm supposed to do so while also being insulted. I'm not doing that. I'm sorry.” “I'll make it up to you, just don't go,” he begs and you shake your head. “No.” “What do you mean no?” “I mean, no, because you have nothing to make up to me. They are the ones constantly fucking up. Last time you told them beforehand, and suddenly they all had different plans. They hate me,” you tell him, but he didn't seem to wanna hear it. “Can we just try and-” “I did try. Don't force me to do this, J. I can't do this if they can't even manage to not call me names,” you say quietly, and he takes your face in his hands, warm and calloused. “Will you wait just another few minutes and if I can't fix it, we will go to my place. Sound all right?” His voice is low and raspy, and it's making you wet just a little bit. “You never invited me to your house before,” you whisper, blushing and pressing your thighs together to try to get rid of the growing desire between them. “It's an equally favorable outcome to the other thing then?” “More favorable to me,” you smile and lean up to peck his lips. “Use that magical charm of yours,” you whisper and push him back to go talk to his friends.

Half an hour later you're all sitting on the small boat somewhere in the marsh. “You want a beer?” JJ asks and hands you a can. “You know how to shotgun, right?” “I can pretend I don't so you can show me,” you smile at him and he laughs. “That would be cheating.” You grin at him before taking out your keys, plunging a hole in the can and chugging it in a matter of seconds. “Impressive,” JJ notes before shotgunning his own can and dropping some beer on his sun kissed skin. You don't even think about it when you lean in and kiss the droplets away. Your kisses trail upwards, along his neck until they connect to his mouth, and he kisses you like his life depends on it. His hands come up to hold your face, while yours are in his neck, twirling the hair at the nape of it. “I should shotgun a few more if this is the new process,” JJ smirks, his forehead leaning against yours. You blink slowly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and giving him a small nod. “M-hmm,” you hum, and he places another kiss on your lips.

“Should we, uh, play a game or?” Pope suggests, and you turn to shift your focus away from JJ and towards the people he calls his friends. “What type of game?” you ask with a genuine interest. “Truth or dare,” Kiara suggests with a mean smile on her face. “Who starts?” you ask and give her a polite smile, serving its intended purpose when she rolls her eyes. “Truth or dare, princess,” JJ asks and turns your head towards him with a simple nudge of his finger. “Truth,” you whisper. “Why did you come when I asked?” “Because I like you,” you gaze into his blue eyes, and he smiles, “for more than the incredible sex also. It's actually pretty fun with you.” “Definite win on my end,” he whispers. “Truth or dare… John B,” you say before turning your head to look at him. He gives you a confused look, his eyes jumping between JJ and you. “Truth,” he shrugs. “Do you actually hate me or do you just hate me because your girlfriend hates me?” Your smile is sugar sweet, but the glare you give Sarah could definitely make milk curdle. “I mean, you're a Kook and I don't understand what this is,” he gestures at JJ and you. “But I guess, I don't know you enough to hate you or like you.” His answer genuinely surprises you because you didn't think he'd be honest and not just say the thing Sarah wanted to hear.

The game goes back and forth with a few dares and a few harmless truths in between, until it's Sarah's turn, and she glares at you as if she wants to actually kill you. “Truth or Dare, y/l/n?” “Dare,” you reply quickly, and her mean smile grows wider. “Call Rafe and tell him where you are,” she demands. “It's 2:30pm, he's in a meeting. I'm not gonna call him during a meeting just because of a stupid game,” you scoff and laugh at her stupid dare. “How do you know he's in a meeting right this second?” she hits back at you, and you can't help but laugh even more, but you catch yourself and answer a bit more seriously. “I have his schedule memorized. That's what you do when you're a good girlfriend.” “A good girlfriend wouldn't cheat!” she screams at you. “You think he doesn't? That's a pretty narrow-minded way to look at it, sis.” You know the new nickname has her boiling, and the little sadistic part of your brain loves to see it. “And you don't get to talk about cheating, everyone is aware of your timeline errors.” “I never loved Topper,” she defends herself, as if it makes her morally superior to you. “And I don't love Rafe, but you at least had a fucking choice because your shitty life was never bound to you marrying whoever your parents pick so you ‘get to’ inherent what would rightfully be yours anyway. So don't fucking tell me what to do with my life, because everyone else has always done it too, and they had more legitimacy for it,” you yell at her, unintentionally spilling more of your secrets than you had initially wanted to, and they all go quiet. The only thing you can hear after you're done is a few frogs, the birds close by, the waves crashing against the boat and your heart pounding in your chest.

JJ pulls you in closer and hugs you while placing soft, calming kisses on your neck. “I wanna go home,” you whisper to him, tired of having had to pretend, even if it had just been for an hour. “Let me talk to them. I promise it's gonna get better,” he says and gets up. There's no doubt in your mind that it won't. Yet you don't understand why you keep giving him, and with it, them, one chance after the other, when you wouldn't usually give anyone even a second chance. You look out onto the water, your legs propped up, arms around them and your head lying on your knees. You think back to the last night you had with your dad, before he had died in a horrible car crash. T-boned by a drunk driver who hadn't seen a red light. You think about how you had tried to convince him to change his mind, that you could run the company without a man by your side, that you were good enough. But all your pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And your mom isn't any better. She decided to stay away, vacating in Palm Beach and only coming home every other month to make sure you are still alive. She deals with grief like that. By sunbathing and drinking and pretending like everything is fine and perfect and not at all in shambles. Instead, you decided to close off your heart, and that worked for nearly two years until JJ decided to charm his way into it. You don't like it, the thought of feeling all this pain again. Or worse, to know once you let yourself love, the pain will be inevitable. People leave one way or the other, that's how life has always been and how it always will be.

“Hey,” John B rips you out of your head, and you don't even turn to look at him as he sits down next to you. “What do you want?” you say in the meanest way you can conjure, but it still sounds pathetic. “I'm sorry about your dad, I know he died a few years back. I, uhm, I just wanted to say I understand how hard it can be to live up to their expectations, especially after they-” “I don't need your pity, Routledge,” you snap and look at him. “You don't know anything about me. You don't have to pretend to care.” “I was just trying to help,” he apologizes and gets up again.

Your mind wanders back to the night, to the pain. It's scarily easy to revisit that memory. Seeing yourself standing over the table in the morgue, having to identify that, “yes, that's my dad,” because your mother had broken down as soon as the message had come through. You were keeping yourself together for her, for everyone around you who came with their condolences and expected a consolation prize for caring the bare minimum. You remember taking the ring from his cold, stiff finger. You remember having to pick out the casket, the suit, the food, where and when and how and- You feel like your lungs are empty, like you had stopped breathing air, but pain and desperation instead. Tears are building in your eyes. You can't blink, can't let them run, can't let anyone see you cry, especially not these people. The only one who has gotten to see you cry ever, apart from your parents, is Rafe. And maybe you are aware that you can't leave him because he knows the part of you that you try so hard to keep hidden. Because he was the only one caring for you when everyone else was solely relying on you. And now you are hurting him, in a way you never thought you would, but you can't help it, you're too far in it now. You need to tell him, needed two months ago, but you hadn't, because you were scared of breaking his heart. Because you know telling him might mean losing the one good and secure thing you had going for yourself. Maybe you never considered it love, because it doesn't look like the love from the movies and books you basically inhaled in your early teens. Maybe you do have a childish outlook on love after all, because whatever connects you and Rafe goes deeper than that.

“You okay?” JJ asks, standing over you, and you muster a faint smile for him. “I just really wanna go home now, I'm sorry,” you apologize for it, although you know you're not the only one at fault for it. You're soft for him, because he needs it, because you need it in a way. But it's so different from Rafe and you don't know if you can survive without either of them. If you could, you'd put them in a blender and get the perfect boyfriend out of it. But life isn't a fairy tale. “It's okay,” he smiles and kisses your forehead before turning to the steering wheel and starting the engine.

As soon as you're back at the Château you get off the boat and basically run towards your car. If not for JJ, you wouldn't even think twice about ever coming back. But this was his second home, his happy place. “Hey, y/n, wait a sec,” JJ calls after you and you stop to turn around. “I don't care if they like me, J, but I'm not gonna be able to do this again. Not like this. I really want to, for you, but if they can't bring up the same amount of- They need to try too, all of them, and not when I accidentally tell them my whole life story so they can pity me. I'm not gonna do it that way,” you say softly and he nods. “I understand. Will you text me that you got home safe? Please,” he whispers and you nod. There's a moment of silence, insecure and heavy, as if he doesn't know what to do, so you do the only thing you can think of to stop the awkward moment from prolonging. In a quick motion you lean up and kiss his cheek.

As soon as you come home you text him a quick “am home” and turn back to wallowing in your sadness. It takes Rafe another two hours to get back home and as soon as he walks in, you jump into his arms, trying to find the little security you knew you could always hold onto. “Hey, baby, what's up? Huh? Missed me that much?” Rafe asks with a light chuckle while holding you up, with one arm around your waist and the other holding onto his bag. “Missed you,” you mumble into him, not wanting to actually tell him why you are feeling down, but you know you need to. Soon. Very soon.

He puts down his bag and carries you into the kitchen, sitting you down on the island and taking your puffy face in his hands. “What happened?” he asks softly, softer than you know him. “I don't want you to be angry with me,” you whisper, and he prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue before nodding. “I won't be, I promise.” “I, uh…,” the words get stuck in your throat, and you feel the tears well up again. “Whatever it is, you know I love you,” he says, and it makes your heart feel even heavier. “I've been seeing someone else,” you whisper, and he takes a step back, laughing and running his hands through his hair. There is no mistake in how mad he is, because this was a new level of mad, one you haven't seen before. “Who?” he barks and you flinch. “Who is it, y/n?” “No, you'll hurt him. I won't let you hurt him,” you shake your head, and he steps closer again. “Why should I give a fuck about how you feel right now? Huh?! For how long have you been cheating on me?” he screams into your face. “Rafe, please,” you beg softly, and he takes a step away again, and a second later his fist lands in a cabinet door. “How long, y/n?” he yells. “Four months,” you whisper and he laughs. “You gotta be kidding me.” “I didn't know- It's confusing and then today-” you stammer, and he interrupts you. “You were with him today? That's why you're crying? And you expect me to not go and kill that guy instantly?” “I love you,” you yell at him, and he stops, furrowing his brows and looking at you more confused than you have ever seen him.

“What?” “I think so, at least. It's very confusing,” you mumble, looking down at your hands. “Is that supposed to be an apology? You tell me you've been fucking some asshole on the side and think it'll all be made okay by finally telling me that you love me after two years?” His anger is back, but he's still confused, and you don't know what to do about it. All you know is that you need to be truthful about it, as much as you can, as much as he lets you. “I know it doesn't make sense and I know it's not an apology. I don't mean it like that. But today, things were said by other people, not him, he was trying to help- I don't know what I feel,” you shake your head. “None of that makes any sense, baby,” Rafe runs his hand over his face. “I didn't think that what I felt for you was love because no one ever told me it could be like that. But I do. I love you and I made a horrible mistake, but I would have never known- I can't survive on just one. I need both of you to be happy,” you say, and he steps closer, harshly taking your face in his hand. “Who!” “JJ,” you whisper and his hand slips down to your throat, holding you tight enough to restrict your blood flow, making you dizzy. “You let a dirty Pogue fuck you? And then you come back here and pretend like nothing happened?” “I love you,” you are practically begging him to not hurt JJ, your own well-being has become secondary the moment you decided to tell Rafe about it all. “Is that why you wanted to do all that new shit?” he laughs almost hysterically, squeezing a little tighter and your vision starts getting blurry. “Please,” you choke out, and he lets go again. “You know what the worst part is? That this started making more sense in the last few months, and now you're tellin’ me it's because you’re fucking Maybank on the side. That's fucked up, y/n,” Rafe shakes his head. “I never got mad at you for cheating on me,” you remind him quietly, it's a low blow, but you know it's gonna do the trick. His escapades early on in your relationship, and even a few slip ups in the first year after your dad hadn't bothered you much anyway back then. “No, but you never got mad at me for anything because you don't have a fucking heart. You were acting like a fucking robot until-,” he doesn't even finish the sentence, only shaking his head yet again. “I don't understand why, Rafe. You have to believe me. And I tried not to. I did. For months before. And then it happened once, and I tried to stay away but then you- you hurt my feelings and I had no one else-” you stammer, and he glares at you. “The best sex we ever had? Because you had just fucked him?” “I know you. You're not happy with all I need. And everything you can give me- It's not enough, and I hate myself for it. I wish it was but it isn't. And I can't keep on trying to change you. I won't do that to you. It's not fair to either of us,” you whisper. “You think you can have us both? Maybe we should call your little boy toy and ask him what he thinks, because apparently you value his fucking Pogue opinion more than me!” Rafe snaps and rips the phone from your back pocket. “Rafe, please don't,” you cry, and he smirks, but it's neither playful nor sweet, it's simply vicious. “Oh, I have a way worse idea, baby, and you won't say no because you love me, right?” he taunts, and you nod slowly, knowing whatever’s to happen next won't be the last punishment you receive for your crimes.

Rafe throws you over his shoulder and carries you upstairs and into the bedroom. Throwing you on the bed as if you weigh nothing. You know not to move when he's in a mood, he'll do it by himself or give you strict orders to follow. Doing anything on your own account will just make it worse for you. “Take off that horrible dress,” he barks while walking into the closet to pick out a tie and get his special box for you. You do as you are told, and he comes over to you, pulling on your arms and tying your wrists together behind your back so you can't use your hands anymore. Then he pulls on the strings of the tiny bikini you had on, having expected to go swimming before you had left for JJ’s. The flimsy piece comes undone and Rafe slaps your ass a single time, but it stings harsh enough for you to whine a little. “The more you cry, the worse it'll get,” he threatens, and you try to swallow the pain as he sits and pulls you to lie over his lap, spanking you for half an eternity. And even when he's done and goes over to softly massaging your butt, it's still stinging, and you don't know how much more you can take if this was the start of it.

“You think that was enough? Or do you deserve some more?” Rafe asks and you gulp before replying quietly. “I was a very bad girl,” you say, just like he always wanted to hear. It had only happened two times before that he had decided to play these games in such an extreme way. The first time you had drunkenly flirted with some Touron and Rafe had decided it was the best way to teach you a lesson. That was a month into your relationship. The second time was a week before your dad had died, and he keeps telling you that he regrets doing it, but you know he doesn't. You had made fun of his family that night, just a little bit, but it had been enough to grant a punishment. But neither of those come close to the pain you imagine he must be feeling right now. And you rather let him take his anger out on you than go and hurt JJ. That was the better option, surely. “Yes, you were, baby. That's why you're gonna do whatever I say now. You know the rules. And if you cum I'll hurt you some more,” Rafe pulls you back up and you nod. “Won't cum.” “Good. Now lay down and let me fuck your throat,” he says, and you hesitate for a second but do it anyway. He's aware that you don't like it, not because it's not fun, but because he's simply too big for you to be able to breathe properly while doing it on his terms.

Yet here you are, lying on the bed with your head hanging off the edge. But before he tells you to open up, he goes to his box, taking out a tiny device and smirking mischievously. “You know what, we're doing it differently tonight,” Rafe pulls you up to sit. Then he goes to bend you over and for a moment you think he's just gonna fuck you, but instead he shoves the toy into you, filling both holes without any prep, and you cry out at the unexpected intrusion and the low vibrations of the toy. “No. You're not gonna cum from that, and if there's anything on that when I pull it out, I'll make it hurt worse. Do you understand?” He warns and you nod. “I understand.” “Good. Kneel,” he orders and points at the rug in front of the bed and you follow diligently.

When he tells you to open up, you do it, and when he tells you to moan around him, you do it, and when he tells you to look into the camera, you do it, albeit reluctantly. Rafe doesn't care that you're close to choking on his cock, or that you can't stop the tears from streaming down your cheek. He doesn't care that your jaw will hurt for the two following days. He doesn't care because he knows it's still not enough punishment, and you know he's right. Once he's happy with his little video, he tells you to get up and lie down again, and once you do, he pulls you towards the edge of the bed again and goes back to fucking your throat. What you can't see, because his balls are in your face, is that he's gone back to filming you, especially the part where his dick goes so far down your throat that it's visible on your neck. Somehow you managed to blend out the vibrations in your pussy and ass, the low intensity was barely doing anything to you but edge you on more and more.

“You're a real slut, aren't you, baby,” he huffs after pulling out and manhandling you to be face down before him. Your legs are propped up and spread wide as he harshly pulls the toy out, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your throat. “Tell me you love me again, and I might stop,” he rasps, and you are about to say it, but just as you open your mouth to speak, he thrusts into you. An obscenely loud moan is all you can conjure before he starts ramming into you. “Tell me how much you love me!” “Love you, Rafe. Love you and your cock so much,” you cry out and a second later your phone lands on the bed right next to your head. “Look who called to check up on you, baby. Tell him how much you love when I take what's mine!” Rafe demands and your eyes fill with tears as you see the screen. “What the fuck is this?” JJ asks and you sob. “Rafe, no,” you cry. “You want him so bad, he has to know what it means to share you. Because I'm not letting you go, baby,” Rafe growls, fucking you harder and your tears keep on streaming. “Princess, it's okay. Focus,” JJ tells you through the phone, and you don't understand why he didn't hang up immediately. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Rafe, please,” you beg, but he won't stop, not until he's got what he wants. “Tell him how much you love me,” Rafe barks, pulling on your hair and yanking you towards him. “You don't get to make any demands tonight, baby. You know what you did to me!” He pushes you back down, and you land face first in the duvet, sobbing uncontrollably. “I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry,” you are close to hyperventilating. Your body is sore and tired, but he won't stop the attack on your poor pussy. “You hear that Maybank, she loves me!” Rafe says, jealousy drenching his voice, and picks up the phone. “But I still don't think she deserves to cum. Do you?” “You're sick, Rafe,” JJ hisses through the phone, but your mind is starting to go blank, the noise of his skin slapping against your own, and the quenching sound of your pussy is filling your ears. “No, she's sick. One dick isn't enough for the little bitch. Nah, she needs two fillings to feel better about herself,” Rafe laughs, and you're so far gone that you can barely hear him anymore. “Princess, focus on me. Come on, pretty girl,” JJ pleads and you nod absentmindedly. “Shit, stop,” Rafe moans, but you can't. JJ's soft, loving words of encouragement have triggered your release, and you really don't have any control over it. You moan so loud you think the whole island might hear, but you don't care, actually. And when you push your ass back into Rafe he loses his game and cums so hard that he collapses onto you almost instantly.

Panting you lie there, incapable of saying a single word, but at least JJ had disconnected the call. “I get it now,” Rafe pants and pulls you into him, hugging you and kissing the top of your head. “Maybe I can learn to live with it.” “Love you,” is all you manage to say before your exhaustion takes over, and you fall into a deep dreamless slumber.

You don't even feel like getting up the next morning, but you do it anyway. Pulling on one of Rafe's shirts to feel a tiny bit of familiar comfort you prod downstairs after having cleaned up the tiniest bit. “Good morning,” Rafe says as soon as you step into the kitchen. “Morning,” you walk past him, kissing his cheek just like any normal day. But unlike any normal day, Rafe isn't dressed yet, he's only got his shorts on and something tells you he had planned it. “I don't think you should get to wear my shirts right now. I'm still mad at you, remember?” he nods at you, and you sigh, wanting to turn back and go change, but his hand shoots out to hold you back. “Oh, no, no. You're gonna take it off here. And you're gonna eat without it on.” “But I don't have anything else on,” you complain quietly and he shrugs. “Not my problem.” You pull the shirt over your head and hand it to him. “Anything else?” “Actually, yeah,” Rafe gives you a lopsided grin before sitting you up on the island.

It stings when he pushes into you, stretching you to your limit without any prep. But it's a punishment, you shouldn't enjoy it anyway. His grunts and curses and intensely hard thrusts make you whimper, but at least he doesn't tell you off about it this time. Instead, he encourages you, wanting to see the tears and as soon as they start running his thrusts grow sloppier. “I brought waffles as a peace offering,” you hear JJ's voice and footsteps that are coming closer. Your head spins around, and you stare at him across the room. The shock on his face tells you that he had just as much been blindsided by this as you, and it takes him another moment to drag his eyes away from the scene. But Rafe just laughs and keeps fucking you. “Look at him, he can't even look at you while I fuck you. How the fuck is that supposed to work, baby?” “As if you'd like to see it the other way round,” JJ snaps back at him, his back still turned to you. But the pain is too much, you can't take it anymore. “J, please,” it's a mere whisper that leaves you, but he walks over to you anyway, avoiding looking at Rafe. “It's all right, I'm here,” JJ whispers to you while caressing your hair, and you look up at him, into his pretty blue eyes. “Make her cum,” Rafe demands and JJ rolls his eyes. “You know, if you were better at it, she would've never fucked me in the first place,” JJ glares at him, but you pull on his collar, kissing him and moaning into his mouth while Rafe keeps fucking you. “You're doing so great, princess. Such a good girl,” JJ praises you and your stomach starts filling with tiny butterflies. “More,” you moan and JJ looks up at Rafe. “Touch her,” he orders and for some reason Rafe does what he says and starts rubbing harsh circles on your clit. “Oh God!” you scream, so close to your release that you feel like bursting. Your back lifts off the cold marble and your lips tremble. “That's it. Look at me baby,” JJ whispers and when your eyes meet his you feel afloat, just like the first time. “Let go,” he hushes, and your eyes roll back. You scream and feel how hard it is for Rafe to keep fucking you, but he tries anyway until he can't hold back anymore and fills you up with his hot seed. “That was better than last night,” Rafe pants while tucking himself away and JJ comes around to pull you up and carry you upstairs.

“Is this what you want?” JJ asks quietly after sitting you down on the toilet. Your voice is strained, but you only manage to nod a yes. “We'll have to put down some ground rules, because I really don't wanna be in a situation where I find out what Rafe looks like when he finishes. That was way too close already,” JJ says while letting in a bath for you. “I'm sorry,” you rasp, but he shakes his head. “Don't apologize. If I hadn't told you to come by yesterday, this wouldn't be happening. And you should save your voice,” he smiles.

The hot water helps with the pain, but leaning back into JJ and being with him without having to think about what might happen if someone finds out is freeing. It's nice and good and feels a thousand times better than before. “I don't care if they get it or not. I know you can't help it,” he whispers to you, softly massaging your sore thighs under the water. “Stupid hearts,” he sighs. “You okay?” Rafe asks, standing in the door, and you turn to look at him and nod. “Good. I have to go to work,” he says and takes a few steps over to kiss you softly. “Love you,” he whispers and turns around to leave without waiting for you to say it back.

The following days are filled with planning and talking and fighting over phrasings, but in the end they manage to come to a conclusion that they can both live with. The easiest one at that. You get to choose, anything and everything when it comes to what happens between the three of you, in this weird new relationship you found yourself in.

Most nights you find yourself sleeping in JJ's bed instead of your own, but Rafe doesn't mind it much, never having been much of a cuddler himself. But when it gets to your darkest moments, you don't trust yourself enough to talk to JJ, maybe it's stupid, but somehow you can't change it. Yet you also don't think you'll ever regret your decision, especially when you're waking up to JJ plastering you with kisses before slowly fucking you awake. Or when he goes to eat you out while a boring movie is playing. Or when Rafe comes home frustrated from a meeting and uses you in any way you let him, and sometimes he even lets JJ join and not just sit there and please you mentally.

Your new favorite thing has to be sucking off JJ while Rafe is plowing into you. With every deep thrust of Rafe's hard cock into your clenching core, you moan louder around JJ, and it's even harder for him to not cum as soon as he sees your puffy lips wrapped around his dick. And you love to swirl your tongue and play with his balls a little, slapping your lips and cheeks with his pretty cock until he begs for you to suck him dry.

The days in between when you get time to recover properly are filled with surf lessons from JJ or going shopping with Rafe. It's passed the point where only the three of you and the people close to you know about the arrangement. Especially parties start to be a boiling pot for dramatics.

You're at the Boneyard, playing stupid drinking games with JJ, having fun the way teenagers are supposed to be. You're aware that the people around you talk, but you couldn't care less because you're on cloud nine, too happy to let anybody ruin it. But JJ is the complete opposite. The more people he hears, the more agitated he gets. “What’ya say?” he snaps at some guy, pushing him back. “Chill bro,” the boy tries to laugh it off. “No, repeat what you said, asshole,” JJ pushes. “Only the biggest of sluts need-” He doesn't get to finish the repetition of his words when JJ's fist lands in his face. You yell for him to stop, but it's like he's in a trance. It takes both John B and Pope, who storm over from the other side of the party, to pull JJ off the guy. “What the fuck, bro,” John B shoves JJ backwards but J just laughs. “He deserved it.” “Why ‘cause he said something mean?” Pope snaps, and you cross your arms in front of your chest. “You wouldn't get it, Pope,” JJ shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. “Y'all just don't get it.” “We don't, because it doesn't make sense,” Pope counters and you scoff. “Just because you don't understand something, doesn't mean it's shit or that we're horrible people for it.” “I didn't say that,” he shakes his head, but you're done with them, you have been for a long time. “C’mon, J,” you say and start walking towards where you had parked your car.

At home, you start by cleaning him up, kissing him all over in the shower until he pins you against the tiles. His kisses are forceful, and he's groping at your ass and thighs. Picking you up and fucking up into you while you moan and gasp. He doesn't give you time to cum when he finishes and puts you down on your feet. This is different from what you know of him, but it intrigues you too. JJ turns you around and snakes his arm around your thigh, pushing two fingers into your sore cunt to stop you from spilling out. “I know I should've asked, but it's gonna be great. I promise,” he whispers into your ear before leading you into the bedroom and making you lie down.

JJ is standing in front of you, your legs pressed to your chest, and he’s holding onto your hips as he fucks you. It's not loving and soft like any time before. It's harsh and fast, and you like it too much. You like the sound of his claves crashing into your ass, the way his balls slap against your skin. The wet noises your pussy makes when he drags his cock out of you just to slam right back in. And the way your tits jiggle with the movement. Your hands are clawing at the sheets when JJ starts playing with your clit, making you cum in a matter of seconds. You know you'll be there for hours when he shoots his cum into you and just keeps going. You haven't quite figured out which way you like it better; with JJ’s incredibly small refractory period, or Rafe's stamina to hold out for just how long he wants to.

“Who's gonna clean that up?” you hear Rafe ask and your head spins around to look at him. Your mind is blurry with pleasure, your mouth agape and JJ doesn't stop and rips another orgasm from you. Rafe has never actually watched him fuck you, but something about this is making him want to stay and watch. Your back arches up again, and JJ grunts and curses, filling you up for the fifth time that night, and you watch Rafe's face contort in a light confusion. “You just keep going? Maybe you should give her some time, dude,” Rafe says, and you shake your head at him. “She'll have time once I'm done,” JJ growls, and it sends shivers down your spine, making you roll your eyes back. “Isn't that right, baby?” “Yes, yes, yes-” you scream each time his cock pushes against your cervix as if he wants to pass through it. “Want your cum, JJ, all of it,” you babble, maybe you like giving Rafe a show too. “Good girl,” JJ moans and cums another time, making you clench around him with ease.

“You see that,” JJ smirks down at you, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to see the tip of his dick poking against your stomach. “That's it, princess,” he praises you before pushing down on your stomach, and you fall back, moaning, incapable of holding yourself up with the intense pleasure he's giving you. “Give me my phone,” JJ orders and for a moment you have forgotten that Rafe is still there, still watching. He hands JJ his phone and J points the lense right at where you two are connected. His free hand is back to rubbing torturously harsh circles on your clit, making you mewl and cry out. “Cum for me, princess. Make me proud, baby,” JJ hums, and you let go of the tension. Screaming his name and squeezing his cock so hard that he cums almost instantly, pushing in farther and holding himself there until he's all done. And once he's pulled out, he goes down on his knees before you, pointing the camera right at your pussy, clenching around nothing and pushing all his cum out of you and letting it drip down onto the rug.

“What she do?” Rafe asks just as JJ comes back from the bathroom, a wet washcloth in his hand. “Nothing,” JJ mutters while cleaning you up, but you can't move, not yet. Your legs feel like they are made of rubber and your mind is empty, only having enough capacity to listen to their words. “Why'd you do this then?” Rafe points at your utterly fucked out state. “Do I ask you why you do what you do? No. Just let it go,” JJ snaps at him and leaves for his room. “You could at least change the fucking sheets!” Rafe yells after him, but it's no use.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Rafe whispers and picks you up, holding you in his arms while you regain your strength. “Frustrated,” you mumble and look at him with your glossy eyes. “Maybank? Why?” “Fight- Asshole-” you stammer, and he carries you out of the room and towards JJ’s. “What did you do?” Rafe barks at JJ, your body still tightly wrapped around him. “None of your fucking business,” JJ hisses. “It fucking is when it ends with her losing all bodily capabilities, you ass,” Rafe yells, and you try to cover your ears, but it doesn't really help. “He called her a whore, and he had to pay for it. I don't care what they say, but they don't get to insult her,” JJ explains harshly, and you start to slowly feel your toes again. “Doesn't explain why you nearly fucked her into subdrop,” Rafe shakes his head and caresses your back. “You can't just do shit like that, and you know it.” “She said she was okay with it.” “She's a fucking people pleaser, asshole,” Rafe snaps, and you lift your head from his shoulder. “Please stop,” you whisper, and he wipes a tear from your cheek. “It's okay, baby,” Rafe whispers to you before turning back to JJ. “Don't let your fucking anger out on her without making sure she's alright.” “Noted,” JJ says, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes. “Good, because you gotta aftercare the shit out of her now. I'm not cleaning up your messes, Maybank,” Rafe tells him and basically hands you to him as if you were nothing more than a puppet.

“I'm sorry, love,” JJ whispers, placing you in the hot water and running his hand through his hair. “S’okay,” you mumble and look up at him with a droopy smile. “I'm gonna clean up, and then I'll be right with you, all right?” He kisses you gently and leaves again. You think back to it, the moment he snapped. He looked like a different person, more like his dad in a way, and although you never even saw Luke Maybank up close, you know it’s true. You know the rumors are true. He didn't tell you, but in your heart you know it. If his friends hadn't come, he wouldn't have stopped. If they hadn't showed up, the other guy would be dead. If it hadn't been for you, none of it would've happened. It’s a rather quick spiral that you go down, and you can't stop yourself from crying, not even when JJ comes back and looks at you rather confused. “Hey. Hey, pretty girl, don't cry. It's okay. You're okay. I'm here,” he tells you and pulls your head to his chest. But it doesn't help. You can't stop feeling like it was all your fault, all the pain in your life is your fault. “Rafe!” JJ shouts, and it only takes a minute for him to run in. “What you do now?” “Nothing, I came back, and she's crying, and she won't stop,” JJ defends himself. “Go. You seriously have no clue,” Rafe shakes his head and takes JJ's spot next to you.

“What's wrong, baby,” Rafe whispers to you, holding your face in his big hands. “It's my fault. I killed him. It's my fault,” you sob and he shakes his head. “No, it's not. You know it's not,” Rafe assures you, but you're too far gone for it to work. “I did it. I killed him,” you cry and he clenches his jaw. “Y/n, you didn't drive that car, it's not your fault. Please, listen to me,” Rafe pleads, but you shake your head, not wanting to believe him. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he orders, and you turn your eyes back on him. “Three things you feel, name them.” “Pain. Tired. Sad,” you answer slowly. “Four things you can touch.” “Water, you, me, bathtub,” you reply a little faster and he nods. “Five things you see,” Rafe whispers, and you look around in front of you. “Towel, shower, robe, painting-” your eyes get stuck on the blonde boy that is standing in the doorway of the bathroom, “JJ.” Rafe snaps around to look at him. “I told you to leave!” “What's wrong with her?” JJ asks quietly, and your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach. “Leave!” Rafe yells, and it takes a moment for JJ to realize that it will have consequences if he doesn't. But Rafe had already turned back around to you, stroking your hair. “We should get you to bed, baby.” He dries you up and puts you in a shirt of his to sleep in, before laying you down in your bed and turning off the lights.

When you wake up, you're alone, and you decide to not get ready and just go downstairs the way you are. Before you can meet the boys in the kitchen you overhear them talking and stop in your tracks. “That doesn't make sense,” JJ says. “No shit. But that's just how it's been ever since. Your stupid fight triggered something, and the day is coming up in a week- It's a fucking minefield this time of year,” Rafe sighs. “So we distract her?” JJ asks and Rafe scoffs. “That's just delaying it. No, you just gotta stay with her and make sure she won't spiral. And when she does you have to keep telling her that it's not her fault, and pull her out of it. The naming thing always works,” Rafe replies. “And what if it doesn't?” “I don't know.”

You turn the corner and pretend like you had just come down the stairs, walking straight to the coffee machine. “How did you sleep?” Rafe asks with a smile. “Alone,” you say and take your mug, nearly burning your tongue as you take a sip. “I'm sorry, y/n, for yesterday and all,” JJ apologizes, but you just shrug. “Shit happens.” Pretending to not care was easy, too easy. “I’m gonna be at the office all day. You think you're gonna be all right?” Rafe asks and you nod. “I don't know why we shouldn't be.”

You spend your day training, not having done so in too long for your own liking. The water calms your mind and gives you enough time to reflect on your life choices. You know Rafe is right. You know that it's not your fault. But the guilt you feel around it doesn't just vanish because of it.

Later that day Rafe texts you that you're having dinner at the country club with his dad, meaning JJ isn't allowed to come. “I'll just enjoy the view right now,” JJ smiles and watches you get dressed. The underwear set is new, and you can tell by the way he's looking at you that he wants nothing more than to take it off again. “If it was my call,” you start, but he interjects. “I know, but it isn't. Besides, I don't really give a shit about family dinners and all that fancy bullshit.” “Sarah will be there, and John B,” you remind him, but he shrugs. “So what?” “Have you talked to them at all in the last few weeks?” you ask and JJ rubs over the light stubble on his chin. “They didn't reach out either.” “They are your family though. That's what you told me,” you whisper. “I have a new family now. I have you,” JJ smiles and takes your dress from the clothing hanger. “That's not enough, and you know it,” you say while stepping into the dress and letting him zip it up. “It's enough for you,” he says, and you sigh, looking at him through the mirror in your closet. “But I'm a heartless bitch with more money than anyone else on this island. I don't need anything more, and if I did, I could just buy it.” Your fingers fumble with the necklace until JJ takes it from you and places it around your neck. “I know there's a heart in there,” JJ says while holding you from behind, his right hand resting on top of your chest. “Horrible. We should go get a knife and cut it out,” you whisper with a smile and he kisses your shoulder. “You'd kill me if I said what I was thinking right now,” he mumbles against your skin and your heart stops for a moment, scared that he would say the dreaded words that you knew would definitely complicate your life even more. “Then you really shouldn't say it.” “I should, but I won't,” he looks back up, leaning his head against yours, smiling.

The dinner goes rather smoothly, although Sarah still gives you a side eye and once the Camerons are gone, John B asks how JJ is, but nothing more. “Boring as ever,” you complain on the drive home. “Glad he didn't ask when we're getting married,” Rafe exhales a laugh. “Hmmm, let me think,” you tap your finger against your chin in a joking manner. “We can fuck them all over and just fly to Vegas right now.” “Wouldn't be the worst idea we ever had,” he laughs and takes your hand up to kiss it just as he turns into your driveway. “My mom expects a huge white wedding. At least a hundred guests,” you sigh while getting out of the car. “We should start planning then,” Rafe grins at you, pulling you into his side and kissing the top of your head.

“What happens to that one, once we get married?” Rafe asks you, pointing at JJ who is standing in the kitchen with nothing more than his boxers on. “They should make this harem thing legal,” JJ says and shugs the rest of his drink. “A harem is one guy with many women, dumbass,” you laugh. “The opposite of that then,” JJ shrugs. “Sure,” Rafe rolls his eyes at him and JJ flips him off. “Sometimes I think you guys forget who's the boss around here,” you say and zip your dress open, letting it fall to the ground and walking upstairs. “First one up gets to start,” you call out and hear them arguing already.

“Just because you're first, doesn't mean you know what you're doing,” JJ complains. “Fine, you start then, genius,” Rafe scoffs, and you furrow your brows, it was unusual for Rafe to give in and let JJ do anything to you unless you specifically asked for it. “What's the plan here, boys?” you ask with an anticipating smile on your lips. JJ pulls you into his arms, kissing you deeply and pushing you against the bed. The backs of your knees hit the wood and you fall down. “Just relax, gorgeous,” he muses and drops down on his knees before you, taking off your heels and letting his hands run up to your thighs. You sigh into it, the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin and the kisses he leaves on the inside of your thighs before unclasping the lace body right on top of your pussy. JJ rolls the fabric up to reveal your stomach, kissing and nipping at your skin; biting your hip and making you jump in surprise. He loves to tease you, and you'd never tell him to stop, ever. He comes up to kiss you, pushing the lace up even farther and helping you take it off completely. Kissing your neck and leaving marks you hear him chuckle, then his lips meet your ear, and he whispers, “you think he's taking any notes?” Your eyes dart over to Rafe who has pulled a chair over and is watching you carefully. “Maybe,” you reply. JJ hums, picking up his head to smile at you. “Hopefully.”

JJ kisses down your neck, following along your collarbone and to your tits. He sucks on your nipple, grazing over it with his teeth before he pulls on it and your back arches up. “Would be neglectful to not give you the same attention,” JJ says to your other tit, and you would tell him off if he wasn't squeezing your sensitive nipple right in that second. His hand is playing with your sore tit while his mouth attacks the other. It's overwhelming and perfect, and you don't see any reason to hold back. Your moans and gasps fill the room, and they continue on even once he has let off your boobs and moved downward again. He sucks hickeys into the soft skin of your thighs, making you mewl and squirm. “Tell me what you want me to do to you, princess,” JJ demands, and you grasp into his hair to push his face into your clothed cunt. He blows a little against your wet slip, and you instinctively want to close your legs, but he holds them in place. “You should let me take this pretty thing off first,” JJ smirks and you lift your hips. The tiny slip is off faster than you can say your own name.

“Tastes so fucking sweet, baby,” JJ moans after licking over your wet pussy, his tongue dipping between your folds and torturing your clit a little. “Hold on, princess,” JJ smirks up at you and your hand finds his hair, tugging on the fine strands as he plunges his tongue into your pussy. His nose presses against your clit, and with every stroke of his tongue, he edges you closer. “More, JJ, please,” you moan, and he starts to suck on your clit while pushing his fingers into you. Curling them and sucking harsher, almost biting down on your clit, and you can't help but grind your hips against him. When his fingers come up to your face, and you lick them off, you already feel like you're about to explode. “Cum on my tongue, baby,” JJ hums into you, licking long strides up your pussy before pressing his tongue flat against your entrance and rubbing his nose on your clit. You keep rolling your hips and moaning his name as you come undone for him. His new technique isn't as good as the old one, but you're not one to complain about it. JJ gets up and wipes his face on a small towel that Rafe hands him, but you can't stop staring at the wet spot in his boxers. “Again?” you ask JJ with a smile and he shrugs. “Can't help it. You taste too good, baby.”

You hold your hand out for Rafe after sitting up, and he takes and intertwines your fingers. He's still in his suit pants and shirt, looking down at you with a lustrous smile. “You look really hot in this,” you whisper and nod, but your hands wander to the buttons, slowly opening the shirt until you can push it off his shoulders. His abs look so rideable to you, but you are still unsure if he'd let you once you ask. “You're way hotter, baby. Next time I get to take off the fancy shit,” Rafe growls, his hand cupping your tit, brushing his thumb over your tit, but his eyes shift towards JJ. “You understand?” But JJ just holds his hands up in defense and sits down on the chair. “Take the pants off, babe,” you pout at Rafe, and he slowly opens his belt, pulling it out and dropping it to the side. It was like he was doing a strip show for you, and you loved every second of it. Rafe pushes you to lie down, your hands pinned over your head as he kisses you aggressively. His free hand gropes at your tit, and you lift your hips to press your wet cunt against his hard cock. “Always so needy,” Rafe mocks you before going down on his knees between your legs. He's aggressive and fast, sucking on your clit with so much pressure building that you are scared he's gonna rip it off. But your screams just turn him on even more. His tongue thrusts into you with a harsh pace, and you try to get away from him, but he's holding you in place. “Curl it,” JJ says and Rafe listens, curling his tongue up and ripping an orgasm out of you in a matter of seconds.

“J,” you pant and Rafe wants to get up, but you close your thighs around his head. “No, you stay. J, come here,” you tap the bed right next to your head. They do as you say, and while Rafe is eating you out another time, JJ is fucking your throat and praising you. Before JJ can cum you pull him from your throat and pump his cock slower, trying to pace him just a bit. But when you look at the two boys, so helpless when it comes to your wants and needs, you can't help yourself. With a quick move you have J’s dick back in your warm and wet mouth, swirling your tongue and hollowing your cheeks. Your hand is massaging his balls, and he throws his head back and fills your mouth with his salty cum. It feels so good, you cum instantly, creaming all over Rafe's pretty face. “Definitely doing this again,” you sigh, falling flat into the bed and not planning on getting up anytime soon.

The engagement dinner is jarring and the only reason you can get through it is, because Rafe keeps reminding you that it'll be over soon, his hand resting on your thigh the whole night.

But the engagement party, the weekend after is fun, is actually fun. You invited everyone you knew, including JJ's friends and Barry, who you hadn't talked to in ages. You spend the first half of the night tightly wrapped in Rafe's arm, smiling and laughing at some things his friends say. Sitting on the couch on Rafe's lap you let your eyes wander, and they get stuck on JJ who is visibly uncomfortable while nipping on his beer. “Maybe a blowjob will lighten his mood,” you whisper to Rafe, but he shakes his head. “No, but honesty might.” “What do you mean?” you ask and look at your, now, fiancée. “I mean, he's been miserable and fighting it ever since we brought up that this would be happening. Not like you have much of a choice anyway,” Rafe shrugs lightly and runs his hand over your back. “How do you know he's miserable?” you wonder, eyeing your boyfriend across the room. “Because I use my eyes, and to be fair, I'd be pouting too if you wanted to marry him instead of me.” “And what am I supposed to tell him? He knows I don't have a choice if I wanna keep the company,” you sigh. “The truth. That you love him,” Rafe whispers and kisses your cheek. “You can't know that,” you shake your head and he laughs. “I see the way you two look at each other. I love you so much baby, but you've never looked at me like that.” “That doesn't mean anything,” you fight his words, not wanting him to be right about it. “I mean, you can try it with the blowjob, but I think the truth would be better,” Rafe smiles and slaps your ass, signaling you to get up.

You're dragging your feet walking over to JJ. “Look at that, a Pogue in a Kook mansion,” you tease with a smile. “Hey,” he mumbles without looking at you. “You okay?” you whisper and he nods, avoiding your eyes. “Why shouldn't I be?” “Because you've been avoiding me all day.” You reach out your hand to hold onto his and as soon as your delicate fingers close around his, he stares at you. Pain filled blue eyes and a merely unnoticeable tremble on his lip. “Do I have to be happy about it? You want me to be happy about the fact that you're leaving me?” he hisses at you, but you feel like a weight is lifted off you, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Come on, I need to tell you something,” you whisper and lead him upstairs to your bedroom, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

“Why did you bring me here?” JJ asks, his hand is holding onto the bottle for dear life. “Sit with me,” you say and place yourself at the edge of the bed. He follows reluctantly, yet again avoiding to even look at you. “JJ, I'm not leaving you,” you whisper and he scoffs. “Sure you aren't.” “I'm serious, J. Just because I have to marry Rafe, doesn't mean anything changes between us.” “Sure it won't, until you want to have kids, and then it's no longer appropriate,” he mutters, and you don't know how to convince him. Maybe Rafe was right with his assumption about him, about you. But the thought of it is debilitating. “When I have kids they will have my name, JJ. Do you not want kids?” you ask and he sighs. “I don't just want any kids, y/n, I want your kids,” he whispers and turns to look at you. “Why would you think I'll leave you then?” “Because you are marrying Rafe. Starting a family with Rafe. Just like the plan was. I'm nowhere close to being part of that picture,” he talks himself down, and you really have no more words left inside you.

You take his face into your hands and kiss him. Your heart is racing while looking at him and your throat feels dry, but you know you have to do it. And you know Rafe is right, you've known it ever since you let JJ compromise your thoughts from the very first time. “I love you, JJ,” you whisper, and his eyes go wide. “You sure?” he asks and as soon as you nod he pins you down onto the bed and starts kissing you. Your giggles and the soft attempts to get away from him are making it even better, until he has you pinned right where he wants you, and you are panting, looking up at him. “You're so beautiful, y/n,” JJ whispers, diving down to kiss you, sloppy and with a smile on both your lips. “We should go back down,” you whisper and he shakes his head. “Not yet.” “They might be looking for us and I don't-” You don't get to finish your sentence when his lips find yours again. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and entangles his tongue with yours until you moan into him. “I love you, y/n,” JJ whispers, and nuzzles his face into your neck.

And before you can think twice about it, your little make out session has turned into the best sex you've ever had with him. JJ is sitting under you as you softly roll your hips. He's buried so deep into you that every miniscule move is sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His hands are rubbing over your hips and ass in a perpetual motion, while yours play with his hair. You think you could stay like this forever, just you and him in perfect synchrony; in love. And the only time his eyes leave yours is when he dips his head to suck on your tits, or kiss your neck. When he turns you around to lie down and thrusts into you, it's like he's fucking you for the first time. A plethora of praises and a dozen more “I love you’s” fall from his lips while all you can do is moan and babble incoherently about how much you love him too.

When you find your way back downstairs, after what felt like an eternity, his arms are wrapped around you. JJ is himself again, flirty and always joking, and so incredibly more touchy than before. “I see you made up,” Rafe smiles and holds his hand out, for you to take your seat back on his lap. “Excuse me, you had her all night,” JJ complains and pulls you away, just to sit down right next to Rafe and let you kiss him like you had wanted to. “No more trouble in paradise?” Rafe whispers to you and you shake your head. “I love my boys,” you sigh. “And I thought you went with the blowjob,” Rafe teases you and you roll your eyes. “I could've gotten a blowjob?” JJ gasps quietly and softly pinches your thigh. “You get those all the time, dumbass,” you giggle, and he smiles at you, completely enamored by your whole being. “To think I get to be this lucky just because I couldn't stop staring at your tits, princess,” JJ whispers. “Pretty nice tits,” Rafe agrees with a mumble. “Pretty nice dicks,” you giggle and cuddle into JJ, bathing in the newfound closeness and in your mind you're already planning it all out; the kids, the dog, and the two loves of your life.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart

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wonuuism · 3 months

Text

strong heart, strong mind (TEASER) - 전원우.

pairing: general!wonwoo x cartographer!reader (female)

word count: 1k

warnings: sexism, wonwoo’s an asshole, gore!!! bc there’s a war going on, takes place in joseon era but is probably incredibly historically inaccurate

synopsis: War hero General Choi Seungcheol lays upon you a heavy request: traverse into active enemy territory and sketch a map of the land’s geography. You are to be accompanied by five of his best men. One of them ends up being Jeon Wonwoo, the bloodthirsty general who makes it his life’s mission to make your own miserable.

a/n: this fic has been something i've wanted to write for a while now! it's still not done, but i wanted to give you guys a taste of what it's going to be about. let me know what you think about it! i'll try to get the full fic out as soon as i can:)

You didn’t know how long you’d been running for. All you knew was that you could not afford to stop – not when five men were swinging their swords to provide you with enough time to escape. You had gone much deeper into the forest, dry leaves crunching under your feet as you ran. Unfortunately, you were unable to see the web of roots jutting out from the ground due to the cover of the nighttime, which led you to trip and fall to your hands and knees. Ignoring the pain, you rushed to pick yourself back up. However, one look behind you and you knew you were too late – he had already caught up to you.

The man in front of you advanced slowly as he brandished his sword, the moonlight reflecting off it making it seem even more menacing.

Dammit. You were going to die.

General Jeon was right. You were, in fact, just a girl with no skills or knowledge regarding self defense and fighting. All you could do was run per Minghao’s orders, and clearly you were no good at that either. You should’ve never accepted General Choi’s mission in the first place.

Whimpering, you crawled backwards in a futile attempt to get away from the barbarian who had chased after you. “Please,” you exhale shakily, “I am only a mapmaker. Killing me is of no use to you. Please!”

You feel the ground around you, desperately trying to grasp anything that could be a makeshift weapon. Coming into contact with a hefty rock, your fingers immediately curl around it and you hold it out in front of you. In a last ditch attempt at survival, you throw it towards the attacker with a weak cry. Your heart sinks when he dodges it easily with a small step to the side.

You’re hysterical now, heaving and choking as sobs wrack through your body. Your tears obstructed your vision, but you could make out his figure growing larger and larger as he stomped closer to you.

Please, you beg silently, Minghao, Junhui, Chan – anybody, please. Come save me.

The mercenary now stands right above you, his sinister smile making you sick. Accepting your fate, you squeeze your eyes shut as you brace yourself for death by his hand. You hear the swing of a sword, but the pain never comes. Instead, it is followed by two thuds, one quieter than the other.

Opening your eyes slowly, your blood runs cold at the sight that greets you. General Jeon stands ahead of you, and at his feet lies the body of your assailant whose head is no longer attached to his body. You gasp in equal parts shock and fear, unable to take your eyes off his severed head.

“Get up.” General Jeon hisses, irritation drawn all over his face as he shoots you a withering glare. “We risk our lives fighting for you, and here you are laying pathetically on the floor. As if you were not useless enough already.”

Perhaps it’s the adrenaline from a near-death experience that allows anger to overcome your exhaustion. You stand, rage bubbling up inside you from his harsh words.

“You’re too cruel, general. I did not ask for any of this. Being sought out by General Choi, going into enemy territory, traveling with you and General Kwon’s men – none of it. Especially not your disrespect.” You fume and take pleasure in the way his eyes widen in silent fury. “I am grateful you appeared before that man could take my life, but remember that that is what you are here to do: protect me. Do your job, and I shall do mine. The sooner I am to be done, the sooner we will be able to return to our base.”

“Why, you little brat–” The cat-eyed general cuts himself off as he takes hold of your collar, pulling you close to him. “I should’ve let you die when I had the chance.” He seethes, hot breath fanning your face.

You stare back at him defiantly, too prideful to admit that you were filled with fear. His gaze is intense and does a splendid job at conveying just how much hatred he harbors towards you.

“General.” A voice interrupts from a couple feet away and Wonwoo’s head whips around toward the sound. You exhale in relief as Minghao comes into view. “The rest of the men have been dealt with. We should move ahead when we have the chance.”

Huffing angrily, the general turns back to you. He manages to let you go, shoving you backwards in the process. The force of the shove sends you stumbling back and you fall once again. Wonwoo couldn’t seem to care less as he walks away from you and Minghao and deeper into the forest in search of the other men who had come on this expedition with you.

Minghao approaches you, crouching down to your level. “Are you alright?” He asks, straightening out your collar that had been left wrinkled from General Jeon’s harsh grip on it.

“Splendid.” You mutter in response, fatigued now that the whole ordeal was over. “I feel like death.” “You look like it, too.” Officer Xu chuckles as he straightens up and holds out his hand toward you. “Up, now. We must get going if we do not want to be ambushed a second time.”

Gratefully, you grab his hand and he pulls you off the ground. You walk alongside him in silence, and you’re grateful he doesn’t bring up what just happened between you and the general. Soon enough, you spot the rest of General Kwon’s men as well as General Jeon, who is staring off into the distance with his arms crossed firmly over his chest. General Kwon takes note of you and Minghao’s arrival and picks up what is left of his belongings off the floor.

“Let us go.” He says solemnly, clearly displeased that he was not cautious enough and had been outsmarted by enemy forces.

You offer a curt nod and follow the general as he walks ahead, Minghao to your left and Chan to your right. Glancing behind you, you see General Jeon trudge along. Still aggravated by his previous words, you quickly face forward and speed up in an attempt to put some distance between the two of you.

#seventeen #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo seventeen #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo fic #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo imagine #jeon wonwoo fic #wonwoo imagines #svt

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wildlavendermoon · 4 months

Text

Just a summer thing

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

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pairing. Ethan Landry x fem!reader

warnings. Fluff, swearing, mention of blood

summary. You decide to spend your summer as a camp counselor and meet another camp counselor Ethan Landry whom you quickly catch interest in and so does he

a/n. The characters are from the Scream universe but there's no Ghostface involved. I'm actually thinking about doing another part let me know what you think this is the first fic I'm publishing here! please do not repost.

Pt2 here

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was just the beginning of the summer, and you could still feel the heat slowly rising. It was your first summer being a camp counselor at Camp Moondale you didn’t know anybody; it was a new experience, and you hoped to get out of your comfort zone.

As the scent of wood lingers in the air, you take in your surroundings, which you will become familiar with over the next month.

The room was packed with other counselors. You sat by the window, listening attentively to a tall guy with blue eyes and dark hair. He welcomes everyone and explains the rules of the camp, his face is very serious, but he has a charming side that doesn’t make him cold or irritating.

A girl with black hair and freckles is sitting next to a tall muscular guy with a big smile, and a girl with short curly hair looks at him disappointed.

Then your eyes meet with brown eyes; he has a little smile and curly brown hair. You look at him for a few seconds, then look away, flustered. Your attention goes back to the head counselor, whose name is AJ

“Well, if you don't have questions, we can move on and put you in your assigned cabin”

You soon learn you will be in the squirrel cabin with the two girls you saw earlier. The brunette comes up to you with a big smile

“Hi, I'm Tara It's nice to meet you and this is Mindy” she points to the taller girl next to her

“Hey, I hope you don't snore or anything, right?”

A small chuckle comes out of your mouth

“No worries, I don't. I'm y/n, by the way”

Mindy smiles at you

“Is this your first time here ?”

“Yeah actually... I’ve never done this before”

Tara looks at you with a reassuring smile

“It’s quite fun here; it's going to be a great summer, trust me!”

Mindy has one hand on her hip with a little grin. “I hate to admit it, but it's not that horrible, and we come back every year with my twin brother.” She points at the tall, muscular guy with a varsity jacket; he moves toward you with a dazzling smile and says,

“Hey, I'm Chad, and this is my roommate Ethan!”

You smile back at him and see the guy with whom you exchanged looks earlier behind him. Mindy puts a hand on your shoulder.

“This is y/n she's at our cabin, and she's our new friend”

Ethan flashes a smile and simply says hi. His eyes are dark, but you could easily lose yourself in them for hours. He has a defined jawline, and overall, he is very attractive. Your heart skips a beat the second he looks toward you.

Then Tara interrupts you in your daydreaming: “We better get going to our cabin now; see you later, boys!”

Tara grabs your arm, and you three walk to the cabin. You unpack your bags and talk with the girls, trying to get to know each other.

As the sun sets and the night breeze hits your neck, you walk towards the campfire, where all the camp counselors are. You can hear some laughter and fire crackling in the distance. You sit next to Mindy and, a girl with black hair with some blond streaks. Furthermore, you look up and see Ethan sitting in front of you, talking to Chad, as the fire warms your face. You haven't had the chance to talk to him yet; all the girls have told you is that he is a big horror movie fan, and he is a bit shy.

Your conversation with Mindy gets more joyful and you get to know Anika the girl next to you, but you can't help yourself with some glances at Ethan. Feeling the tension between Anika and Mindy you decide to leave them alone, you see Tara and Chad cuddling up and decide to approach the fire.

As you look in the distance you hear footsteps behind you, Ethan emerges and sits next to you you look up at him

“What are you doing all alone?” he asks

“I think Mindy and this girl are flirting with each other and I didn't want to interrupt anything”

“Yeah I kinda feel like the third wheel when Chad and Tara are together”

You chuckle softly

“How long have you guys known each other?”

“Um It’s been less than three years I think, I moved in with Chad and I've been part of the group ever since”

“And you go to this camp every summer?”

“Yes basically it's just really cool to go here together”

“Well it's cute that you have each other”

He looks at you more attentively

“Why did you decide to go here?”

“I just needed something new…I just wanted to change my mind you know?”

He nods and doesn't insist on it, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"Besides this place is very cute it’s kind of refreshing”

“Doesn’t it scare you the woods?”

“Well as long as Jason doesn’t crawl from them I’m good” you chuckle and he looks at you surprised

“Wait you like horror films?”

“Guilty! It’s my nerdy side”

“Well, I’m a pretty big nerd when it comes to horror movies too!”

You smile at him glad that you could make a conversation with him after dying to talk to him all day.

You and Ethan talked about horror movies all night until you went back to your cabin. You waved goodnight to him before going to sleep, unable to stop smiling about the day.

The first few days were pretty relaxed, with activities around the camp with the kids and getting to know everyone better. You often talked to Ethan late at night.

The heat today was intense, making your skin feel like it was melting. You smelled like sweat and sunscreen. Naturally, everyone decided to freshen up and go swim in the lake. The kids were excited, and you couldn't hide your excitement either. You notice Chad playfully fighting with Tara in the distance. As you turn your head, you catch a glimpse of Ethan in his swimsuit and shirtless. You slowly take in his ripped physique, unable to look away from his abs. The temperature seems to rise suddenly, and then he notices you and smiles. The group starts heading into the water, and you decide to join them.

Everyone was enjoying the moment and laughing playing games in the water, and then you were alone with just Anika

“You know Ethan was checking you out!” she says playfully

You open your mouth a little surprised“No you're lying!”

“I'm not! He can't stop looking at you” playing with her eyebrows

“Really?” you smirk

“I can assure you he only got eyes for you”

She points with her head behind you

You look behind you and see Ethan with Chad and you catch him looking at you

“What should I do?” you say to Anika

“Maybe you should try a move on him and see how he reacts. But be subtle not too forward!”

“I will try that thanks Ani”

You swim back to the group but it's just you Ethan as the two couples go do their own thing.

“It's just me and you again!”

“Yes, are we like the 5th and 6th wheel?” you laugh

“Do you not like spending time with me y/n?” he teases

“It’s like torture you can't even imagine!” you tease him

He acts offended faking a pout

“Oh really?”

You nod and he decides to splash you

You're surprised at first but then attack him back as you two act like kids playing in the water.

After a few minutes, you say “I'm thirsty I'm going to get some soda you want some?”

“Sure let’s go!”

Ethan gets out of the water first picking a soda from the cooler, as you get on the ladder you feel something scratching on your knee you hiss in pain.

Chad notices it and sees blood on your knee

“Are you okay? shit your bleeding” he helps you out picking you up, Ethan rapidly makes his way to you

“What happened? Are you hurt ?”

As you look at your bleeding knee in pain you say “fuck I think a nail from the ladder scratch me or something”

“You are bleeding a lot let me take you to the nursery” he puts a towel on you and hands you your shirt.

“Let me help you” he puts his arms around you helping you walk to the nurse office of the camp.

You walk into the quiet room and sit on the bed, putting on your shirt and feeling the cold air. Ethan looks around for something to clean you up with. You glance at Ethan and appreciate how caring he is, taking care of you. He sits in front of you, applying antiseptic on a cotton ball and gently approaching your wound.

"Thankfully, it doesn't look too severe, there's just a lot of blood," he says. You flinch in pain as the antiseptic stings your wound. "I'm sorry," he says.

"Not your fault, Ethan," you reply. You gaze down at him, admiring him. He is still shirtless, and you notice his freckles and moles spread all over his chest.

"You've got moles and freckles everywhere," you gently trace them. He looks up at you, smiling, and you can't help but admire his brown eyes. "Your eyes have a little bit of yellow in them, it's almost golden in the sun," you say. Ethan's cheeks blushed a little, and you could swear you heard his heart pounding. After he finishes cleaning the wound, he puts a band-aid on it, gently caressing your knee.

“Why do you have so many bruises?" he asks.

"I'm a little clumsy," you laugh.

"I see that," he chuckles softly. He is still caressing your knee, and with his other hand, he puts a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your hair is still wet, and his touch is warm.

Your stomach is all in knots as you look into each other's eyes, feeling the tension between you and Ethan, wanting to taste him.

It has to be broken. Suddenly, Ethan traces your lips with his thumb; he is dangerously approaching them now, just a few centimeters between the two of you.

Your lips meet his, your right hand is in his hair, and your left one is grazing his jaw, feeling the butterflies in your stomach.

His hand is still on your knee, caressing it gently. As the kiss deepens, he puts his hand on your waist, pulling you closer to him. You let out a gasp, which allows him to push his tongue inside your mouth.

He pulls you closer until you are sitting on his lap, kissing his neck. He lets out a little whimper as he strokes the sides of your hips.

You stroke his bare chest, feeling his muscles. It is now your turn to whimper as he kisses your neck and whispers in your ear, “Feeling better?”

“Much better; thank you, nurse,” you whisper back.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #scream 6 #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry fluff #jack champion #jack champion imagine #jack champion x reader #scream imagine #camp counselor

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hyesk3y · 12 days

Text

nobody gets me (you do)

Lee Heeseung x reader

synopsis : Little did you know that you would be the ones to save each other.

w.c : ~10.9k

warnings : comfort fic! mainly fluff with brief mentions of drugs, alcohol and sex, slight angst, mentions of side character death, mild kissing and some skinship, lmk if anyth else!

song rec🪽: nobody gets me - sza

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Getting here wasn't a breeze, the hardships you endured just to be able to be call Lee Heeseung your boyfriend would have been enough to drive anyone else away. After all, he did have a certain reputation. Having to bear with the countless rumours that left you crying yourself to sleep at night, the countless encounters with the girls obsessed with him in the girls' bathrooms. The number of times you've both argued and fought just because you "caught him cheating" after seeing pictures of girls in his lap at a party, or when people told you he was hooking up with someone behind your back, when in reality he was in fact not interested in anybody but you, rejecting every other girl without a thought, shoving them away, and flipping them off. This barely even suffices to highlight how much you have gone through because of him, but still you stayed. Why?

{more under the cut}

Park y/n, a name that everyone in Decelis Academy knew. It was the name that was at the top of every grade report. Regardless if it was for the most useless subjects like physical education, or if it was for the subjects that would determine if one would even graduate. You were known for always being so on the ball when it came to your studies. Never one to really associate herself with anyone else besides your best friend, Sunoo. A "goodie two shoes" they said.

Lee Heeseung, the boy who'd earned himself a permanent spot at the bottom of the grade report for his year. The boy who seemed to have a never-ending line of girls waiting for a chance to get with him, the boy whose life revolved around parties, alcohol, drugs and sex.

One would question how in the world he managed to get accepted into the most prestigious and exclusive academy in the country with a lifestyle like his. He was the typical bad boy from a wattpad story, the epitome of delinquency. He always stuck with the same group of friends- doing all the illegal shit together, as if it were the activities of a typical person at that age. Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon were Heeseung's closest friends. Though many thought that the only reason the 4 hung out together was to create trouble, party and get high, they were simply misunderstood. They knew each other's darkest secrets, ones they’d carry to their graves, and they would have done anything to protect each other. They were all each other had, as thick as thieves, inseparable.

Heeseung liked to make himself think that he had all he needed: money, popularity, good friends. But he’d always known that deep down there was one thing he yearned for the most. Hell, it kept him up some nights, some nights it's what helped him fall asleep when he wasn't high. And it was the desire for someone who could love him for himself, flaws and all. Someone to fill the void in his heart.

He knew the effects of his reputation, the kind of people it attracted. And none of them could have been that person who really understood him.

So why did you stay? Because you knew him. Not the whole "high all the time and couldn't give a fuck about anyone but himself" persona. But the persona of the broken boy behind all of his facades that managed to fool everyone but yourself. The boy that you found on the school rooftop one day, smoking a cigarette while the traces of tears on his cheeks dried from the sun, grieving the death anniversary of his mother.

You too had your fair share of problems and were trying to escape them. You had received your report card and to your absolute dismay, not only did you fail a subject for the first time since you were 14, you failed multiple. miserably.

You never had a good relationship with your parents who wanted absolutely nothing but perfection from you, in all areas. To any other parent, you would have been a star in their eyes, their trophy child. But to your parents, you were nothing but disappointment. Nothing you did was good enough for them. Absolutely nothing. And when you looked at that piece of paper, you wanted to die. You thought that maybe even death would be less painful than the punishment you were to receive from your parents. You wanted to run away. From them, from the expectations of the world, from yourself even. But you found him.

Despite being the boy everyone sought after for his good looks and sex-appeal, Heeseung's life wasn't all that, either. He had lost the only parent that genuinely cared about him not long before practically getting abandoned by the man he once called "father", who had grown sick of his delinquent lifestyle, miserable grades and the people his son surrounded himself with. It’s not like he cared about him anyways, always doting on his other son who was the exact opposite of Heeseung. Even while Heeseung’s mother was around, it was as if Heeseung didn’t even exist in his world. Her passing only allowed her husband to completely write himself off as Heeseung’s father.

His father had cut off all personal contact with Heeseung, leaving him with a penthouse apartment in the city to live in, a nice sports car to drive and a bank card which he said that he would deposit money into every month. This didn’t really bother Heeseung, at least it meant being away from the man that he’d grown to despise, but what really ate Heeseung alive, was the loneliness and longing for affection that only his mother had been able to provide him with.

She had been the one that stopped him from truly hitting rock bottom, the one who showed him the value of life. But now that she was no longer around, he was truly left alone and he no longer saw that value.

Yes, he had his friends that would have dropped everything to help him, that were undoubtedly there for him. But that didn't seem to be enough to stop him from slipping into habits much worse than what he was already accustomed to. All he wanted was for someone to save him from his misery. From himself.

That was until you came along. That day changed both your lives. You both sat on that rooftop for hours, talking to each other until the sun had set. You didn’t even realise when you started telling him about your worries until you saw him holding out his arms, offering a hug. You couldn’t possibly describe the emotions you felt stepping into his embrace. It just felt so safe. And eventually the emotional floodgates opened once again, and you began to sob more.

If you asked Heeseung, holding you in his arms reminded him of the times he would be consoled by his mother after being beaten up by his father. And from that day, he swore to himself that he would do his best to be your place of solace in this evil world. He had even briefly shared about his own worries, barely scratching the surface of them. And after hearing what he had to say, you found yourself crying even more, holding on to him tighter as if he’d disappear if you didn’t. You two got significantly closer after that day, but you couldn’t help but feel entitled to be there for Heeseung the way he had for you.

It took much more effort and time to get to know Heeseung, because of the number of walls he had up protecting his heart. It was not easy, considering that even his friends struggled and are still somewhat struggling to do so. But you were more than willing to go the lengths to gain his trust. He was terrified. Terrified that once you got to know the person under it all, that you would leave him and hang him and his worries on a platform for all to see.

But you never did. You were the only person that was successful in trying to get to know the person under all the walls he put up around his heart. From the day you found him on the rooftop, You stuck with him through it all. Despite his problems, his reputation and his less than legal habits, you never once left his side.

He never left yours either, fighting for you against your own parents, holding you as if you were made of thin glass when your emotions got the best of you. He understood that under your own facade of being a top- student, someone who had everything under control, there was a girl who longed for validation and affection, just as he did.

He would do anything under the sun, just to see you happy. Whether it’s just his mere presence, or buying you the most expensive gifts. To him, you were the one that hung the stars in his dark and empty sky.

Eventually, his nights of getting high and drinking til he was black out drunk turned into late night study sessions with you, one night stands with random girls he’d just met turned into movie nights in his living room with pizza he had ordered in for you both, sleepless nights turned into sleeping soundly with you in his arms. He never thought that he’d reach this point, where he would finally be able to say that he was happy with where he was in life. Everything seemed to have fallen into place. He finally had good grades, he was able to have genuine fun with his friends without being intoxicated, he’d gotten rid of his delinquent-playboy reputation and most importantly, he’d found the person he yearned so long for.

And you had never felt happier. Being with Heeseung taught you so many things, like what it felt like to truly be loved by someone, what it felt like to have someone to lean on. You were even able to finally move out of your toxic household, and into your now shared apartment with Heeseung. And as much as he taught you, you retaught him the meaning of life, showing him the value of it that he had lost sight of.

So much had happened, but you would both go through it again and again, if it meant being able to be where you were now.

“Angel, you're zoning out. What’s going on in that precious head of yours, hm?” Heeseung says, shaking you from the daze you were in. You were lying in bed with him, supposedly watching Big Hero 6 for the umpteenth time. You sat up slowly, readjusting your position so that you were now lying on his chest facing him. “You know, I’m so glad we found each other. I’d go through everything again if it means I can spend every lifetime of mine with you. I’m just so happy,” you say softly as you put your ear against his beating heart. “I know, angel. I would too. I had never felt so misunderstood and alone. I thought I was happy, doing all the things I did, but really all I was doing was just distracting myself from the pain." He paused. "But in the end, we found each other didn’t we? We are here together now, and that's all that matters.” You lift your head once again to face him to see him already looking at you, a smile tugging at his lips. You feel his hands cup your face, thumb stroking your cheek gently as he connects your lips in a soft kiss, one that reassures you that he isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Later that night, when he thought you had already fallen asleep, he placed a kiss on your temple, saying something so quietly it was almost inaudible, and as if you had heard him, you snuggled closer to his chest in response. “Nobody seemed to get me, but you do.”

a/n : hi everyone! hope you guys like this one, its the first long fic, and my first post on enhablr so i don't really know what to expect...soo, if you guys liked it do interact by reblogging and leaving a like!

#enhablr #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #heeseung x reader #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #heeseung soft hours

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precious-little-scoundrel · 8 months

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Dear John || Pt.1

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Requested: ☑️ My sweet Bri begged for a love-letter-centric Egan fic and with her wonderfully infectious ideas this was produced, the first part of many.

Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters, he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways, tucked up in luxury in Beverly Hills with carts of tedious fanmail burned in her back yard each day, his letter will get lost in the mix. It’s harmless. That thought -and the booze- may loosen his pen a little too much but it’s alright, it’s not like she’ll read it. Right? Right.

It was specified in the request to use or create some of those old WWII dirty acronyms, so in here you have Bucky making up his own for his starlet crush (acorn). I’m ripping off a few ladies here, Lana Turner, Betty Grable, Hedy Lamarr to name a few -the moodbaord is for general aesthetics, I try to keep my fem!readers and oc’s as ambiguous physically as possible. (Besides the fact Johnny Egan finds you mouthwatering, which -be honest with yourself here sweet thing!!- he would.

Rating: 18+ this is the letter writing, vintage form of sexting. i kid you not, this man swings wildly from sweet as pie to downright filthy and vintage slang for anatomical parts is used freely. This would make a better shameful diary entry than a letter but he’s a rogue and he’s in a war, cut him some slack.

Fun game: how many times can Major Egan manage to mention Buck in a horny fan letter to his crush?

Dear A.C.O.R.N.

It is highly unlikely that you remember me, but, all the same, we have met. Now, hear me out, I’m sure fellas say that to you all the time but my point still stands and to match them I’ll do you one better, seeing as how I am not buttering you up for something in return -I have met you, yes, but I have also sung to you.

There. Said it.

Not that you’d recall that either, but then again maybe you would, but either way it doesn’t matter as the entire reason I am writing to you is because it is entirely unlikely you will ever open this god-awful endeavor made of pen and ink.

I am quite drunk, you see.

A necessary medicine. And they do make good whiskey here, one of the few joys they haven’t rationed yet. It’s got me wondering what’s your poison of choice. Something fruity? Or are you an olive sucker? Like that salt on the rim? Or maybe you go for somethin’ silky and warm goin’ down your throat? Which-ever it is, I bet you’d be a surprise, sweet ACORN, I just know it. You were a surprise at the canteen. Back in Jersey? Before shipping out? I know you were on a whole tour and kisses were goin’ for dollars but still, you were a surprise.

A lovely one, really. And that’s the point of this letter. To tell you that you're lovely and while I’m not the pen-pal sort, I’ve written home 80 letters tonight to families whose boys I was supposed to bring home. It got me thinking: Bucky, why the hell don’t you write nice letters? Whyd you only write ‘em now that you gotta? And it occurred to me then that the one silver lining in this whole Air Exec job is the desk, the lamp and the office.

I could write anybody from here. I could write you.

And you wouldn't read it so I could write anything. And it could be a nice letter. ‘Cause I don’t know anybody of yours to tell you anythin’ sad about them and you don’t know me except that I’m alive and drunk. Which is better than those poor eighty two bastards. Which reminds me, I’ve still got two more but maybe Buck will take those, he took seventeen off to his bunk to write from there. Buck doesn't have a desk because he’s not as important as me and he has all the luck.

You’ve met Buck, too, Acorn. He was the appalled pretty one with the straw colored hair pulling me off you after we had our duet. He objects to your nickname, see, even though you didn’t seem to mind. You were lovely, A.C.O.R.N. And I’d not wanna ruin this letter by telling you what it means, not now that I’m actually writing to you and determined to be nice but Buck knows and while he agrees with me as much as any man in the nation that you’ve got the most robust rack on the silver screen -he has objections, you see. So it wasn’t the song or the canoodling he didn’t like, and I still say, he broke up a little love affair that night. Bastard. So I’m writing to you now because as the acronym suggests, I’ve got a goal in my mind in regards to you. I tell myself -Bucky, there’s reasons to make it back.

Reasons, Bucky, reasons. Like Acorn and her halo of gorgeous hair that smelled like coconuts and the way she thought my new lyrics were pretty clever. That’s what you said, acorn, you said they were pretty clever. Now I may have been a little drunk then, too, but I think you might’ve been tipsy, that coke smelled too strong to be straight. I still have the straw you gave me, it’s bent to hell but I’ve taken it up each mission. I’m not counting on it for luck so much as a reminder of the aforementioned reasons. To come back. Your lipstick has mostly worn off but I figure it’s still the same.

You had your precious lips around it. That’s what matters.

And that’s the sorta sentence that makes Buck think I shouldn’t write letters.

But what he can’t accuse me of is being dishonest or vague. I’m being straight with you. You deserve that much, you were lovely and very straight shootin’ yourself, dear little girl. I could pinch your cheeks right now, you’re so sweet. And don’t think me a coward for sayin’ all this under assumption that you won’t read it. I hope you don’t since it’s not worth your time and if you do I wish I’d written less about me and more about you but I need you to know if we were face to face I’d say the same:

You were lovely, you ARE lovely!!!! and I think all your work for us boys is swell and you’ve got the bestest set of knockers any of us have ever seen and I’m stayin’ alive in hopes to see ‘em again some day and while the girls here are swell and sweet they aren’t zippy like you. At least not the ones who’ve put out so far. And if I had you face to face, I’d find a way to make you laugh again and I’d tell you to your face you’re lovely and if I’d been David Nivin in Love Trap with you, I’d have stayed in that little kitchen with you and ate all your burnt flapjacks and watched you in your apron and made babies with you till we were old.

Anyway. It needed saying. And maybe I’ll say it to your face given the chance again. I was working my way up to a proposition for burgers and milkshakes when Buck ruined it. But maybe you’ll tour? Here!! Over here. In England or maybe in Europe once we kick the Nazis bastards out.

Now that’s motivation. That’s a reason! -clear out a nice little swath of land through fortress europe so Miss Lana Tierney can sing in the city of lights surrounded by nothin’ but wine and good food and a buncha boys who love and appreciate her.

Because we do, ma’am. We do.

And make no mistake, I do this to keep the country safe and try to bring as many boys home as I can but every second I also think - it’s where you are too, and so I must continue keeping it safe.

If you, by some godawful chance, do read this letter, please don’t feel pressed to respond or pull out a restraining order. Think of it this way, it’d just be one more “Dear John” letter and the system is clogged as it is. You just deserve a nice letter and my wrist is past sore, one more doesn't matter. And being unable to deliver nice, I’ve written this.

~ I am ever your respectful (and hammered) admirer, Maj. John Egan

P.S. if you do happen to read this I’m sorry. Buck told me not to do this but I just had to Acorn. You’re just too swell and I really have got to get myself to a theater before long, I miss your Angel face.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! This was entirely out of my usual comfort zone but I’ve had fun writing it and I’m trying to tune my ear to pick up his voice, that’s been stretching. This series will have many letters in it but there will also be fic, so fear not. I’ve got some plans already figured out for this series but I do love a suggestion or ten so have at the inbox with what you’d like to see play out.

Hope you enjoyed, if you’d like to be tagged in future MOTA fics, drop a note below.

#masters of the air #callum turner #john egan #Major John Egan #Bucky Egan x reader #callum turner x reader #masters of the air fanfiction #mota fanfic #hbo war fanfic #Bucky Egan #mine #archive

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furst1ded · 6 months

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Thoughts on Shipping Alastor from an AroAce person

(this entire thing is copy and pasted excerpts from a Discord rant so if the grammar is funky, that's why, I just felt like giving my 2 cents on the topic)

Aroace people can still participate in romantic and sexual interactions. All being aro/ace/aroace means is you don't feel romantic/sexual attraction upon seeing other people. You can feel it later on or in waves or could never feel that attraction but still can participate and love others in a fulfilling way. Some aroace people are fine performing intimacy onto others but dislike reciprocation, others are the opposite where they're fine receiving but not giving. It's a spectrum.

The nuances of asexuality and aromanticism aside, you can be in a relationship without being in a relationship. Platonic relationships beyond friendship are a thing (QPRs for example). But like, I get it. Not everyone who ships Alastor keeps it confined to a QPR. And his character seems pretty sex-repulsed and romance-averse. But here's the other thing. He's fictional. As long as his character remains aroace in canon, fans taking the silly radio man and making him kiss the devil isn't taking away from aroace representation.

This next bit is coming from me as an AroAce person myself. I ship Alastor. I write/read him kissing people and fucking and acting romantic. And guess what? It's related to expressing my sexuality. Alastor is one of my favorite characters in anything ever and I love that there's a character that represents a facet of myself in a popular media. I relate to him so goddamn much and that's why I ship him. He's a fictional character I like that I project onto, so I use him as a way to navigate and explore romantic/sexual relationships that I'm never going to participate in myself. He's not real so I just puppet him around to live through vicariously in the scenarios I don't want to be a part of myself but find super interesting. It's not anything new, I do the same with my own characters in the stories I write them in, it's part of storytelling, I just use him for a specific type of story for a specfic part of myself.

It's not like we're hurting anybody by shipping him. We're not drastically effecting canon and making him an alloromantic. I've seen plenty of fics that ship him that either make it a QPR or they thoroughly explore the nuances of his asexuality and what subtype of sexuality he is and how he navigates it and I love those fics because they speak to me on a spiritual level. Grayromantic Alastor, demisexual alastor, sex-repulsed but romance-favorable Alastor, sex-repulsed and romance-averse Alastor in a one-sided ship fic, etc they're all so important to me because it helps me live out my own sexuality and romantic orientation and explore myself.

I get it. Not everyone is respectful. Not everyone feels the way I do and use characters in this way. It can suck seeing people just ignore his sexuality when asexuals and aromantics don't get much in terms of screen-time. But you can't control everybody and what work they put out. And trying to censor stuff like that does more harm than good. I just explained why fics involving Alastor are so important to me. They normalize QPRs and aroaces being in relationships. That's probably what pisses me off the fucking most. If we're not allowed to write about aroaces being in relationships or romantic/sexual situations, you put aroaces into a box. A box where every aroace is perceived as sexless and loveless, which just isn't true. A box where aroaces are prudes or infants who can't handle hearing the word "sex". It's just so frustrating. You can be mad at fics that expressly rewrite or stomp on his sexuality, sure. You can't stop them, but you can disapprove of them. But let the rest of us have our fun making the literal devil and TV head man have the hots for a man whose teeth are yellower than the sun, Jesus Christ.

TL;DR: asexuality is a spectrum, I'm aroace and use shipping as a way to explore and express myself and I know I'm not the only one, trying to suppress works where an Aroace character is seen participating in romance or sex can actually be harmful in that it promotes only one idea of what being aroace is, and at the end of the day the character I'm talking about doesn't even exist.

#sorry to flood the aro and ace tags with more hazbin stuff but I feel like what I said can be important to the community outside of hazbin #asexual representation #asexual #aromantic #aromantic asexual #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #radioapple #radiosilence #radiostatic #one sided radiostatic

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melanieph321 · 1 month

Note

will you make more robin fics or headcanons? 🩷

Ofc ❤️

Reader x Robin Le Normand - New Addition

Reader works for Alteltico Madrid medical staff, directing physical tests on the players. One of them being Robin Le Normand, the newest addition to the team.

Enjoy!

"Okay Y/N, we've got a couple of the U21 guys coming through to do their ECG's. I suggest you deal with them while we take on the players from the first team.

"Great." You muttered, as five years of studying physio therapy had all gone to waste in the name of male misogyny. Working for Atletico Madrid, arguably one of the biggest football clubs in Spain, was a dream come true. However, that dream was dimmed by the likes of your colleges, who only thought you were good for analyzing players ECG charts.

"Turn around." You said dully. "Now raise your arms."

"You mean show you my gun's." The young U21 player said, flexing the meat attached to his bony arms.

It was bad enough that you had to deal with teething football player's all day. It clearly boosted their already sky high confidence to stand half naked in front of a girl not too far off their own age.

"So what do you think?" Said the young player, stepping off the treadmill, putting his shirt back on.

"You're test results are fine. Pretty good actually."

"I told you I've been hitting the gym this summer."

You snorted unintentionally.

"What, you don't believe me?"

You pressed the boy's chart to your chest. "It doesn't matter what I believe Mr Garcia. All the team wants to assure is your fitnesses for the upcoming season."

"Well, am I?"

He looked so dumb, you thought. A sort of juvenile intelligence that came about young boys who spent most of their days running around a grass field with other mindless boys.

"Fit? Yes, that you are Mr Garcia. See you during our the next check up." A smile remained platsered on you face as he left the room. But once the door shut behind him you threw the young man's chart amongst the other's piling up on your desk.

"Ugh, I can't take it anymore more."

You slumped down against the nearest wall, your legs folding up beneath you. Jealousy, was the only right word to describe how you were feeling. You were jealous of your colleges, some of them fairly new at their jobs, just like you. Despite their incompetence, the team saw it more fitting that men should analyze men, leaving the boys to you. A woman.

"Hello, is anybody in here?"

There was light knock on your door. One that made you shoot up from the floor. You were met by a pair of glaring brown eyes. Belonging to a man whose height barley made him fit through your door.

"Are you...Y/N?" He said, invading your space by entering your office without your permission.

"Erm...yeah." Your hands were quick to dust off the dirt on your lab coat. "That's me, but who's asking?"

"Erm...I guess that would be me who's asking." He chuckled. "I'm Robin Le Normand. I'm new on the first team and was told to come to you for my ECG."

"Of course you were." You sighed, but made a gesture for the player to close the door behind him. He did so cautiously before stepping further into the room.

"I'm assuming that the first team wants a full body profile of you?"

"Yes. That's why they told me to come here. They've been running tests on me all morning." He said, sounding a bit exhausted.

"Well, prepare to do more running."

"Seriously?"

"Jupp." You pointed to the treadmill. "In order to track the electric signals of your heartbeat I'm gonna have you running to get your pulse up."

"Great." He sighed, but made his way over to the dreadmill located in the middle of the room. Several electro cords hung from the side of it.

"Should I just start running?" He asked.

You approched the treadmill and grabbed a bundle of the electro cords. "Yes. But first I've got to attach these to your skin."

"Oh, okay."

"Yeah, so just take of your clothes and I'll prepare some stickers."

You turned around in search for the stickers meant to attach to the players skin. However, the lack of movement behind you made you stop what you were doing and turn back around.

"Erm...is everything alright?"

Robin still stood beside the treadmill, a slight blossom to his cheeks. "You...you want me to undress?" He stammered.

"Yes. Your shirt and pants please."

"With all due respect," He coughed. "Wouldn't that be a bit uncomfortable."

"For who?" You frowned. "I can turn on the AC if it's the draft you're worried about?"

Robin shook his head, a sly smile on his lips. "I meant, wouldn't it be uncomfortable for you, if I took my clothes off?"

"Why, because you're a man and I'm a woman?" This was definitely a first. Non of the other players had hesitated to strip for a ECG. You dare say that some of the players seemed to look forward to the akward moment when your rubber gloved hands nipped at the twigs that they called chest hair. "I assure you Mr Le Normand, this will just be another day at work for me."

"It's Robin."

"Huh?"

His gaze diverged from yours. "Mr Le Normand is my dad. You can call me Robin."

"Well then, Robin. I'm gonna head out for a moment since it appears that we are out of stickers. Hopefully, that will give you all the privacy you need to get undressed."

He nodded. "Thank you."

It was odd, yet refreshing. A player with morals. It was easy to say that running Robin's ECG chart might have been the highlight of your career as a physio. Firstly, his profile was more than impressive. As a defeder, a lot was expected of you when it came to size and strength. For Robin to uphold a stamina similar to a left wing, really impressed you. Professionally, of course.

"There, all done." You said, removing the last sticker from Robin's bare chest, now slightly damped with sweat. To your suprise he was as hairless as an infant, his pecks large and defined.

"So...am I good to go?"

"Mhmm, sure. You can put your clothes back on now."

"Great" He chuckled. However, kept his eyes on you as he did. "Is this what you do all day, run players ECG'S charts?"

"Unfortunately, yes." You grabbed a spraybottle of sterilizer to hose down the treadmill with.

"Does some of the players ever give you a hard time about it?"

"I wouldn't say the players do. It's more so my colleagues. But you know..."

Robin stared at you blankly, a slight twitch to his brow.

You paused what you were doing, the spray bottle in your hand. "Why are you asking?"

Your words made him come out of it. His temporary trans. "Oh, I was just wondering." He ran a hand through his damped hair. "My sister was supposed to become a physio. I guess that's similar to what you do, no?"

"Physiotherapy? Yes. Yes it is."

Robin nodded, a disturbed look on his face. "She quit, though." He draped his Atletico Madrid t-shirt back over his head. The sweat on his body made the shirt glue to his skin. "She quit her studies because some of her male classmates were giving her a hard time during training. Making her feel uncomfortable, you know."

You nodded. Knowing very well of the terrible experience that a lot of women in a male dominated field had to go through. "I'm sorry that happened to her."

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose, appearing done with the conversation. Done with you really. However, as he stumbled towards the door, clearly exhausted from his morning full of testing, he stopped in the frame and regarded you sincerely. "If there's ever anyone giving you a hard time, I swear I'll help you deal with them."

You shoulders withered, the spraybottle pressed tightly in your hand. "Thank you Robin. I appreciate you for saying that."

"I mean it." He nodded. "Even the slightest joke thrown your way, I'll make sure that person never even tries to look your way again."

A shiver ran down your spine. It was either of terror or you were just tremendously turned on.

"I'll see you later, Y/N." Robin shut the door behind, with the same caution as the last time.

"See you." You squealed and confidentiality astablished that you were indeed tremendously turned on.

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football angst #atletico madrid #robin le normand x reader #robin le normand #football

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chasingstardustandmoonbeams · 3 months

Note

I was wondering if you could write headcanons for the Bone Boys as dads. ( you can pick one or multiple) (ie. Seeley, Jack, Lance, Zack, or any of the squinterns) I loved your hodgins fic sm <3 take your time!!! Thank you!!!

Oh, I love you for asking this 💕Any opportunity to write for my Jeffersonian family. And my squinterns? You didn't have to ask twice. If anyone want a part 2 let me know. I didn’t include a bunch of squints or my boy Aubrey

Seeley - over protective, caring, goofy, stern, willing to do whatever he needs to to make his kid happy. I mean, just look at Parker - that kid turned out so well adjusted and happy. Booth just loves him to pieces - and Christine? Apple of his eye. Any kid this man has will want for nothing and know nothing but pure unrelenting love. Sunday afternoons of throwing a baseball around - I don't care what gender, any child of Booth will know how to throw a curve ball. And the hockey games? Oh, the kid(s) will be wearing Flyers jerseys before they can walk.

Lance - we were robbed. Robbed of seeing this beautiful man raising a child. Sweets would be such a good dad too. Caring, affectionate, understanding, patient, hilarious, and with one disappointed look have his kids in line apologizing.

Oh, I could just imagine the first few weeks of sleepless nights. Lance, being so excited, but also so terrified of messing up. He knows what its like to have shitty people looking after you, and he'd never want to be that way. But he also knows what it's like to have two loving (amazing) people take care of him and love him with unconditional love.

This of course, would cause him to take the brunt of the middle of the night feedings/check-ins. Lance, sitting in a rocking chair, softly singing Coconut by Harry Nilsson. It's no surprise when the kid knows all the words before they know the alphabet fully.

Just, ugh, nothing but love and laughter.

Any child of Jack's will be showered with affection, over the top gifts (what do you mean a thousand dollar playhouse is too much? It has a fully functional kitchen and a mini lab!), and a love and appreciation for all the beautiful things around them (bugs and all).

"Whose my little prince/princess of the lab?"

Jack would realize his mistake during the preteen phase. "Honestly, I don't know where the sarcasm is coming from. They're too quick for their own good." This of course, would be met with eye rolls, and really? No DNA test needed here. King of the Lab? More like King of Sass.

Jack would love to take the kid(s) to the lab. "This is a Carabidae, they belong to the Adephaga." He'd love to see their little faces light up with wonder. He'd never feel more elated then hearing the little giggles when he puts the beetle into his kids tiny waiting hand.

Wendell would be the sweetest most down to Earth dad. No child of Wendell's would ever know what it means to struggle - not if he had anything to say about it. That doesn't mean his kids wouldn't know the meaning of hard work - that's the one thing Wendell prides himself in. Working hard and knowing you deserved to be there.

Considering his own mother induced labor on a roller coaster, I'm sure Wendell would be there for unconventional methods. His kids would also know how to defend themselves - verbal and physically (No one would ever talk down to his kids and get away with it. And boxers fracture? His kids would know how to throw a punch and mean it - "only if they deserve it, you can't just go around just starting fights with anybody."

His favorite memory would be the first time he took his kid(s) onto the rink. Seeing them persevere and keep going until they got the hang of it - "That's right, you got it!"

Wendell would raise his kids to be prepared for absolutely anything. Car broke down? They would know how to fix the engine. Someone broke their heart? Cry, feel it all, then take a deep breath and keep going. Because no matter what - he'll always be there to back them up.

Vincent would be a dotting dad. A little over the top, but that's why his kids would love him. Any child of Vincent's would know more random facts than any other five year old. The calls from the kindergarten teacher would always be...interesting. "Yes, yes, I can see why talking about the amount of insect legs found in chocolate would be upsetting to the other children."

That of course would not and could not stop him from prattling out more facts every night. Facts were his love language - his bonding time. Every night, without fail, he'd tuck his little one into bed, rambling about any random thought that popped into his head until his child fell asleep.

Colin, sweet morbid hopeless Colin. Would have no idea what to do with a child until one evening when he hasn't sleep for four days straight - he can barely see, his mind and body more fuzzy than normal.

He's looking hopelessly at his baby in his arms, "What? what do you need from me?" His voice growing more weary and desperate. Until he see's it, a smile - then a small gurgle that could be mistaken for laughter. "Oh, you like that, huh, my misery?" He's welcomed by another gurgle and big beautiful eyes blinking slowly back at him. He feels it then - the warmth- the happiness creeping up in his bones. He's got a shot now - at something he never thought about before.

Oh, his kid wants to paint his nails? Sure, he's always got the time, and maybe some tips, a little sloppy on the corner there. It's okay- you're only six we'll get you there, kid.

Colin would be the type of dad to always complain about being dragged to something, but he would secretly love it. Sappy teen movie playing in the background? No, he's not interested. He's just going to stand here for 30 minutes eyes glued to the screen. No, he doesn't want to sit down. Wait- rewind - what are they arguing about? He missed it.

Colin would have a little mini me - both the complete opposite of him and so similar it was scary. His little partner in crime.

Zack would like to think he knows exactly what he's doing but he has no idea. He buys every parenting book known to man. Spends hours of research looking up different child development theories.

No, the baby did not in fact laugh. It's only been a month, a baby can't laugh until at least 5 months. He states that firmly until the next few days when Zack swears up and down he made the baby laugh doing an impression of Hodgins. I know I said that, but perhaps the baby just has my intelligence and early development.

Zack will be there front row and center for every recital, game, or event. Doesn't matter if he has no idea what the rules are or what is going on. He'll be there cheering from the side lines.

His favorite afternoon snack to make? Macaroni and cheese.

Zack is just happy to have made his family a little bit bigger. He never thought he'd be proud of anything outside of the Jeffersonian, but he was happily proven wrong everyday.

#did i go overboard? maybe but I have no regrets #bonestv #bones tv show imagine #bonestv imagine #seeley booth #zack addy #lance sweets #jack hodgins #colin fisher #wendell bray #vincent nigel murray

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ladykailitha · 2 years

Text

Can Anybody See Me? Part 8

Now we’re getting to the reason behind the title.

On the tagging, I HAVE REACHED MY HARD AND FAST LIMIT OF 50. I love the response this story has gotten. I do. I love you all. I love every reply, like, and reblog. It brings me so much joy, you don’t even know. But tagging is hard for my ADHD brain. I have gone up from 20 to 30 and finally 50 as my system improved but I think if I do any more than that I’ll go insane. So any future tagging requests will be ignored. Sorry.

The best way to keep update on these stories is follow me and set me on notifications. I rarely do a lot of reblogging these days (too busy churning out stories like whoa), so more often then not a post will be a story. I try to post at least once a day (some times twice if I’m trying to rush through the posting a bit like I did to make sure the Valentine fic got out in time without making people wait on Vamp!Eddie), just never at set time.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

When Eddie heard how Gethin had done it, he was starting wonder who the smart twin was, because it was brilliant.

The chemicals for developing film were kept in Miss Chen’s room and he took some quick pictures of Steve’s piece before promptly spilling some of the chemicals that the teacher had in her class room all over it.

It ATE the paper. Gethin had tried to mop it up before it got too bad. But alas, it was too late.

“Mr Hughes!” Miss Chen protested. “Please be more careful next time!”

Gethin apologize profusely. He begged her to give the poor student whose piece he had just destroyed an extra week to finish the project, because he had been soooo careless.

She agreed.

He ran out of her class with the chemicals he needed to develop the film in his camera.

Pictures he slipped into Eddie’s locker during lunch.

After school Eddie waited until the halls were empty before he opened his locker. He knelt down to pick them up and blinked. Steve was really good. The composition was sound and colors were great.

The page wasn’t even that scary. It was just of this boy walking up to a house in the dead of night. In one of the panels you could almost make out something watching the boy, but it was the vague sense of unease made it so you could tell it was going be a horror comic. It was good. And suddenly Eddie was pissed at Miss Chen for calling Steve out for this.

Especially since Eddie’s own comic was about slaying a dragon.

He shoved the pictures back into his backpack and slammed the locker shut.

“Well what have we got here?” a voice said from behind him.

Shit.

Eddie turned around slowly. There was Tommy H, Billy, and Kyle, standing there with their arms crossed.

“Hey, boys,” he said with a grin. “You looking to buy? I’ve got about four kilos.”

Tommy and Kyle looked at each other, nervously. They didn’t want to antagonize their drug dealer.

Billy ran his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully. “I just wanted to talk. I’ve been seeing Harrington hanging around you freaks lately and wanted to know why?”

Eddie folded his arms. “I get you’re new here, Hargrove, but your friends should have told you: I’m the king of picking up lost sheep. I like bringing people into my fold that the rest of this school has deemed outcasts. Steve Harrington has become one of those. And how could I resist such a tempting treat as the former king of Hawkins High?”

“You leave him the fuck alone, you hear me?” Billy growled.

“Or what?” Eddie asked. “You’ll do me like you did him? And then where will you get your weed? Because if you do I will make sure that I don’t sell to you or any of your little friends.” He wagged his finger as he indicated to Tommy and Kyle. “I’ll fucking cut off the entire basketball team. Don’t think I won’t. How long do you think you’ll be king then, Hargrove? When suddenly everyone’s supply dries up because you fucked with me?”

Kyle tugged on Billy’s arm. “Come on, man. Whatever your beef with Harrington is, it’s not worth this.”

Tommy just stood there looking Eddie in the eye.

“So what’s it going to be, Hagen?” Eddie asked. “You going to side with King Jackass here and alienate the whole fucking basketball team because you’ve got a hard on for Harrington? Or are you going to the smart thing and walk away?”

Tommy grabbed Billy’s other arm. “Let’s go.”

Billy wrenched his arms from both of them and stalked off.

“Run along, Tommy,” Eddie said making a shooing motion with his hands. “Go suck Hargrove’s dick.”

Tommy made to swing at Eddie, but Kyle stopped him. “Don’t do it, dude. He’s trying to get a rise out of you.”

Eddie grinned. He blew a kiss at Tommy and then walked off, a nervous energy humming in his veins.

He walked out to his van and found Steve waiting for him. Eddie smirked.

“You waiting for me, big boy?” he asked walking up to the other boy.

“I wanted to thank you for what you did about my art project,” Steve explained. “And then I saw Billy and Tommy and I got worried.”

Eddie patted his cheek. “You’re sweet, but I told you, I’m immune.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Plus, pretty boy,” Eddie said. “You won’t have to worry about that lot anymore. They came after me and I set them straight. If they want to keep buying weed, either they’ve got find someone new or leave you the hell alone.”

Steve sighed in relief. “So everything’s cool?”

“Cool as can be,” Eddie agreed. He opened the door and hopped into the van. “And I didn’t do anything to your project, Stevie.”

He saluted Steve and drove off, leaving behind a very confused, but very happy Steve Harrington.

Steve kept his eye on Tommy and Billy but by the end of the week there was no doubt that whatever Eddie had said them, made them back off.

“Hey, Steve,” Gareth said, nonchalant. “Did you know that there chemicals used in the art department for all sorts art related shit that can dissolve paper?”

Steve cocked an eyebrow at him. “You don’t say.”

“Didn’t you now,” Brian said with a grin, “Gareth’s brother is a big photography nerd.”

“Oh, he must know Jonathan Byers, then,” Steve said, deliberately not taking their bait.

Gareth cocked his head to the side and hummed. “Maybe not. Different grades. But still could do, I suppose.”

Steve grinned. “Miss Chen did say it was a photography student that ruined my comic, maybe I should go thank Jonathan.” He winked at them and they burst out laughing.

Which was actually what Steve thought had happened when Eddie denied all knowledge of what happened. That Jonathan had recognized the scene of Steve on his way to Jonathan’s house and messed it up, worried Steve might get in trouble with the government.

But Gethin doing it made Steve sigh in relief. He already owe his life to Jonathan, owing him for the art project, too? That was too much for even Steve’s wounded pride.

Steve had already fobbed Nancy off earlier in the week because Jonathan had snitched.

She was practically screaming about being so careless. As if Steve would make the characters look like them. He had asked her if she had seen it herself and when she admitted she hadn’t, Steve told her to back off. Which lo and behold, she actually did.

“It’s bullshit Miss Chen even said anything,” Eddie growled. “It’s of this boy walking up to a house at night. It could’ve been of a boy going to pick up a girl on a date, but because Steve used muted tones and creepy vibes, she decided it was sad or some shit and threatened to call Steve’s parents.”

The other three boys looked at each other. “That is bullshit,” they all agreed.

Steve shrugged. “I changed to be about a lost little girl who connects with a social recluse and they become a family. If she gives me shit about that one, I’ll kindly let Chief Hopper know that Miss Chen thinks him and his adopted daughter’s story is toooo depressing for school.”

“I like the way you think,” Jeff said with a cackle.

Steve grinned. Silence descended as the boys ate their lunch. As they were packing up, he casually dropped a bomb on them.

“Miss Lucy wants me to try out for the school musical...”

“No way, dude!” Eddie said. Miss Lucy was the drama teacher. Her last name was one of those that looked easy on paper but really wasn’t. So she had all her students call her by her first name.

“I thought you were new to the whole drama thing,” Brian said.

“I am but she seems to think I’m good enough to tryout,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Are you going to do it?” Eddie asked in all seriousness.

Steve bit his lip. “I want to but I don’t want people to get mad at me if I do a get a part.”

Gareth’s brow furrowed. “Why would they be mad at you?”

Steve shrugged again. “That a newbie like me is taking away a roll from one of the more seasoned kids?”

“If that’s the case,” Jeff said, “then fuck them. You didn’t know you had a talent for it.”

Steve smiled warmly at them. “Thanks, guys.”

Eddie clapped him on the back. “You go get ‘em, tiger!”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, okay.”

He felt the warmth from where Eddie touched his back all day long. And he carried that feeling all the way through his audition.

“You are such chicken shit,” Eddie told Steve. The results were back for call backs and he was too afraid to look.

“I know, I know,” Steve murmured. “But I would rather walk through an entire pack of demodogs then look at that stupid piece of paper.”

“What the fuck is a demodog?”

Steve blinked. “Something the kids made up for their D&D campaign.” Which was true. Mostly.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie said, licking his lips. “You owe big time for this.”

“I’ll buy you dinner,” Steve promised.

“And it better be somewhere nice!” Eddie called back over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grumbled.

Within seconds Eddie came flouncing back. “Bad news, Stevie...”

“I didn’t get called back?” Steve asked.

Eddie cackled. “You got called back for Charles Thomson. You’re going up against Kyle Carver.”

“Fuck.”

“Language, Mr Harrington,” Mr Hall, one of the swim coaches murmured as he walked by.

“Sorry, coach,” Steve said automatically. He turned back to Eddie. “He’s going to get it, isn’t he?”

“Kyle?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded. “Probably. Though it would be a serious miscarriage of justice if he does.”

Steve grinned. “Good thing you’re a fan of those. Maybe you start a letter campaign against bias casting in school plays.”

Eddie looked around to make sure there weren’t any teachers. “Fuck off, Harrington.”

Steve kissed his nose and ran off giggling. “See you later, Munson.”

Eddie stood in the hall being jostled by other students as he thoughtfully rubbed his nose.

Steve watched Kyle audition from the audience and was so sure Kyle had it in the bag. Until he opened his mouth to sing and what came out of his mouth was horribly off key.

“Mr Carver, are you all right?” Miss Lucy asked.

Kyle nodded and tried again. This time it was better, but no where near it was when he auditioned the first time.

“I must be coming down with a cold,” Kyle excused.

Miss Lucy frowned. “Your turn, Mr Harrington.”

Steve took a deep breath and let it out slow, like Eddie had taught him. He stepped up to the stage and turned around.

“You know, sometimes I think the general is speaking to me,” Steve recited his lines, his voice breaking on the last word. And then he used the scene to launch into the singing part of his audition.

Miss Lucy was humming and nodding as Steve finished up the song.

“Thank you, Mr Harrington,” Miss Lucy said. “Results will be posted on the drama room door tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Miss Lucy,” Steve said.

As he passed Kyle the boy hissed, “Suck up.”

Steve just shrugged. “Or maybe it’s just polite to thank someone for their time.”

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Tag list: @shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites @garden-of-gay @anaibis @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @jinxjinn @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @dangdirtydemons @lovelyscot @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #canon divergence #the boy with the bat #ladykailtiha writes

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bijouxcarys · 8 months

Text

Allure (Brian May x fem!Reader)

Masterlist

This has been on my Ao3 since June, but I thought I’d put it on here properly. This is probably the filthiest Bri fic I’ve ever written… I’m proud of it🥲

NSFW, minors dni

Summary: You slip up at work. Luckily for you, Brian May can get anyone out of anything…

Tags: @whothefuckisanja @celestial-dragoness you don’t have to read this, but I thought I’d tag you just in case 🥹

It started off as any other day. Up at 7am, shower by 7:30am, breakfast by 8am, out the door by 8:30am.

Except, this wasn't an ordinary day. Not by a long shot.

I guess I should have been more prepared for the fact that my job as a journalist meant I'd have to speak to some pretty well-known folk here and there. Granted, I was only an apprentice journalist, but I should have known it wouldn't be so easy.

There I was, stood by my front door, at 8:31, debating whether or not I was right for this career. And I was tempted to turn, disrobe, and bury myself in the covers of my bed until the apocalypse came.

My mentor, Candice, had thirty years on me, and twenty years of experience in the field, so I trusted that she would be blunt and honest with me about what I should expect when interviewing somebody of high status. She just didn't warn me about how important this experience would be for me.

But then again, I'm not sure anybody could have prepared me for what was to come.

I managed to make it to the car park, however, of where Candice and I had set to meet, just shy of ten o'clock. I still wasn't 100% sure where abouts in London we were heading that day, as I was just told to bring an overnight bag due to the possibility of having to stay at a hotel, depending on how long we would be. Turns out, we were going to Germany by the Eurotunnel.

But, man, did I know who I'd be in the presence of that day. I'd thought about nothing else for weeks.

It was June 14th, 1998 – Brian May had just released his second solo album 'Another World' two weeks earlier, and it was my job to assist on the interview he was set to do with Isabelle Brinkman. She wasn't that much older than me, but definitely had more experience. I wasn't at that point in my career yet where I could conduct interviews myself. I just had to sit on the side and naively watch as somebody who could do the job better did it instead. To top it all off, I was merely there to take notes from a translator, as I did not understand a single word of German. That made it all the more terrifying for me. Perhaps they just wanted to see how I would adapt to a foreign setting.

As Candice and I stepped foot into the studio in which TMF conducted their interviews, a sense of anticipation permeated the air. Our rendezvous with Isabelle awaited us, serving as a prelude to the highly anticipated interview. While the interview itself was schedules for later that afternoon, the studio surroundings provided me with ample opportunity to acclimate myself to the dynamic atmosphere that awaited me. It was a chance to familiarise myself with the intricacies of the environment I was about to enter—a world where words held immense power and where every question had the potential to unravel hidden truths.

As the minutes ticked away, my mind oscillated between nervous excitement and a profound realisation. I would soon find myself in the presence of none other than Brian May himself—a legendary figure whose musical contributions had resonated with generations. The magnitude of this encounter began to sink in, and with it came a mix of awe and trepidation. Thoughts swirled in my mind as I pondered the upcoming exchange—how would I react in his presence? Would I have able to articulate myself with the clarity and precision they deserved? Hopefully I wouldn't have to actually speak to him... Just being in his presence was privilege in itself.

Yet, amidst these swirling thoughts, a flicker of determination emerged. I reminded myself that this was an extraordinary opportunity—an invitation to engage with a living legend, to witness him delve into the depths of his creative process, and to extract insights that would captivate audiences around the world. With each passing moment, I sought solace in the knowledge that, despite any apprehension, this experience was a testament to the trust placed in me by my more-established peers. I was being given a chance to contribute, even if it was from the side, to the legacy of Brian May—and artist who, I believed, had shaped the very fabric of music.

As the hours stretched before me, I endeavoured to channel my nervous energy into thorough preparation. I immersed myself in research, diving into Brian May's two albums, and reading through archived interviews he had done before, mostly so I could strike out any repetitious questions Isabelle may have had prepared for him. But I also was just intrigued by him, and I wanted to know what I was going to be in the presence of. Through my research, every lyric, every note, every word, became a mosaic of inspiration.

The late 80s proved to be quite a tumultuous period for him regarding his relationship with the media, and his relationships in general. An intricate dance between his public persona and the unyielding scrutiny of the media.

I wasn't totally naïve. I was acutely aware of the parasitic nature that permeated our realm—a cesspool of opportunistic souls who revelled in tearing down the very individuals they claimed to admire. Yet, I steadfastly refused to succumb to that dark allure. My fascination lay in unravelling the enigmatic tapestry of these extraordinary beings, basking in the brilliance of their craft, rather than dismantling their lives for the mere pleasure of it.

To me, celebrities were not objects to be consumed, but multifaceted individuals with their own joys, struggles, and insecurities. Their private lives, as tempestuous or serene as they might be, had no bearing on the rest of the world. Behind the glamour of their fame, they were simply human beings, not so dissimilar from you and me, navigating the labyrinthine paths of existence.

I approached my work with an unwavering respect, seeking to bridge the gap between the public and these luminaries, offering glimpses into their creative realms rather than prying open their vulnerabilities. I yearned to understand the essence of their artistry, to unearth the inspiration that fuelled their endeavours, and to convey their stories with the reverence they deserved. It was a mission guided by empathy, driven by an insatiable hunger to celebrate and preserve the legacies these individuals were shaping. Not destroy them.

While others revelled in salacious scandals and gossip-laden headlines, I found solace in the sacredness of their artistic endeavours. I revelled in the melodies that stirred souls, the words that painted vivid landscapes, and the performances that transported audiences to ethereal realms. It was this inherent love for the craft, this yearning to explore the inner workings of these extraordinary talents, that propelled me forward amidst the chaos.

So, the public image of Brian May that derived from the late 80s and the scandal involving his affair with his current partner, Anita Dobson—the scandal that whipped the media landscape into a frenzy wasn't of interest to me. I clung to my convictions, navigating the treacherous terrain with a blend of naivety and determination. I understood that the world I inhabited was stained by the shadows of exploitation, but I remained resolute in my pursuit of genuine connection—the kind that transcended gossip and scandal, diving deep into the heart of creativity, and fostering a genuine appreciation for the luminous souls who graced our stages and screens.

However, that changed slightly once I actually saw the man.

As I found myself standing in the formidable presence of Brian May, a wave of energy cascaded over me, leaving me utterly entranced. It was as if the very air crackled with a magnetic force that defied description. In that moment, any semblance of composure or rational thought disintegrated before my eyes. Within the first fifteen minutes of his arrival at TMF, Brian May effortlessly shattered my preconceived notions, transforming into an awe-inspiring figure who commanded attention and reverence.

The sight of him was nothing short of breathtaking—an embodiment of perfection that seemed plucked from the realms of mythology. His chiselled features bore the unmistakable mark of divinity, as if the gods themselves had sculpted his visage with meticulous care. The symphony of his presence reverberated through the room, overpowering every other sensory experience. It was impossible to avert my gaze as he greeted everyone on set; I witnessed the personification of physical beauty in its purest form.

I didn't approach the welcome committee. I stood as far away from them as I could, trying to act inconspicuous and making myself as invisible as possible as I observed.

A cascade of dark curls framed his face and sat, slightly draping, over his shoulders, their lustrous strands captivating the light and casting an ethereal glow around him. His eyes, a mesmerising kaleidoscope of celestial depth and hazel intensity, even from this distance, seemed to hold the wisdom of ages. They were windows into the realm of profound emotion, reflecting a captivating blend of passion, intellect, and sensitivity.

Every contour of his face, every sculpted angle, exuded an aura of strength and grace—a testament to the artistic precision with which he was formed. His strong jawline bespoke of resilience and determination, while his lips, seemingly touched by the same gods that created his being, were etched with a subtle hint of enigmatic allure. And when he smiled, it was as if the sun had emerged from behind the clouds, illuminating the room with an effervescent radiance.

I instinctively lowered my head, trying to blend into the background as he navigated his way through the crowd in the studio, a sea of eager faces vying for his attention. Perched on a small stood, clutching a notebook and pen tightly in my hands, I silently prayed that I would go unnoticed. The last thing I wanted was to embarrass myself in front of him. It was safer to keep my distance and retreat into the safe haven of my own fantasies.

"Didn't fancy joining the rest of them?"

His voice, soft and melodious, pierced through the clamour of the room, sending a shiver down my spine. My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach, leaving me momentarily breathless. Summoning every ounce of courage, I swallowed hard and took a deep, steadying breath, lifting my gaze to meet the man who had taken my breath away mere moments ago. From my seated position, his commanding presence loomed above me, radiating an aura of undeniable power. I had to tilt my head upwards, straining my neck to meet his piercing gaze.

"I'm Brian," he introduced himself, extending his hand towards me. My throat felt dry and raspy, a nervous rasp that I quickly cleared before attempting to speak. I timidly reached out, expecting a perfunctory handshake, but instead, my smaller hand was enveloped firmly within his, a testament to his unyielding determination.

"I know who you are, Mr. May," I managed to murmur, hoping he would perceive my passive greeting, one that he had received from everyone else, as a signal to proceed with the scheduled interview alongside Isabelle, who was comfortably seated on the cream-coloured sofa amidst the orangey décor of the set.

"Don't you have a name?" His low chuckle reverberated through the air, adding an unexpected layer of complexity to the encounter. I could feel his gaze penetrating through me, raising an inferno of sensations within. It was both exhilarating an unnerving.

"What?" I stammered, my voice betraying my awe, caught off guard by his presence.

"What's your name, love?" he inquired, his words laced with a mixture of warmth and intrigue.

"Y/N," I replied, my voice barely audible, resembling a small squeak that escaped from my lips.

He didn't respond immediately, but a final squeeze of my hand conveyed more than words ever could. A smile graced his lips, a smile that could rival the radiance of the sun before he turned to continue his path towards Isabelle.

I quickly realised that resistance was futile. The power he held over me was undeniable, a force that stripped away my inhibitions and left me vulnerable, willingly surrendering to his captivating energy. The sheer magnetism and allure he emanated transcended mortal boundaries, weaving a spell that ensnared me completely. Every facet of his being—the physical, the intellectual, the artistic—melded seamlessly, forging an embodiment of perfection that surpassed the realm of ordinary mortals.

From that moment on, I understood that my perception of beauty had irrevocably changed. Before me stood a true titan, a modern-day manifestation of the gods themselves.

During the course of the interview, Brian effortlessly settled to the plushness of the sofa, exuding an air of both confidence and ease. His body language commanded attention, with one arm casually draped across the backrest, and his other leg bent upon the cushions, positioning himself towards Isabelle with captivating allure. However, my attempts to absorb the content of their conversation proved futile as my gaze became entranced by his mesmerising presence.

From my vantage point, I relished the opportunity to observe him from a distance, allowing my eyes to linger appreciatively on his impeccable attire. A navy-blue two-piece suit enveloped his frame with sartorial perfection, accentuating his refined taste and sense of style. Beneath the well-tailored blazer, a crisp white shirt peeked through, its top buttons undone, revealing a tantalising glimpse of his sun-kissed upper chest. The subtle contrast of his slightly tanned skin against the pure white fabric was a testament to his natural allure and radiance.

Adorning his neck were two carefully chosen necklaces, their delicate details harmonising flawlessly with his complexion. Each pendant seemed to dance in unison, subtly emphasising his features and drawing attention to his undeniable charm. The interplay between these intricate accessories and the warm tones of his skin created a symphony of visual aesthetics, highlighting his magnetic presence.

Amidst the flurry of the interview, my eyes were irresistibly drawn to his captivating appearance. Every intricate detail of his attire beckoned for closer inspection, each aspect a testament to his impeccable style and timeless elegance. The room faded into the background as my gaze became fixated on the contours of his form, the way his clothing accentuated his stature, and the natural grace with which he carried himself. It was a visual feast, an opportunity to savour the beauty that surrounded him, and I couldn't help but be captivated by his magnetic charm.

Fortuitously, a small earpiece nestled in my ear, providing a direct channel to the translation of Isabelle's introduction and any other German dialogue that followed. But more significantly, it granted me an intimate connection to the melodic cadence of Brian May's voice. The mere thought of his voice coursing through that earpiece ignited a surge of anticipation within me. Little did I know that the experience that awaited me would transcend all expectations.

As Isabelle initiated the conversation, a symphony of words flowed through the airwaves and gently caressed my eardrums. And then, there it was—Brian May's voice, like warm butter gliding smoothly across my senses. The velvety timbre carried a magnetic quality that effortlessly captivated the listener. Each word resonated with a seductive charm, a richness that wove a tapestry of emotions within me.

The power of his voice was unparalleled, evoking a multitude of sensations that transcended the realm of rationality. It wrapped around my consciousness, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and enchantment. Every syllable held a certain allure, drawing me deeper into his world, where time seemed to stand still.

The boundaries of reason crumbled, leaving only the ethereal essence of his voice, a sonic embrace that caressed the very core of my being. It was a voice that defied age, carrying the wisdom and maturity of a man who had traversed five decades of life. Each information exuded a richness and depth, a testament to a life well-lived and experiences etched into the fibres of his being.

As his words reached my ears, I found myself spellbound, unable to resist the intoxicating allure that emanated from his every utterance. It was as though his voice held the power to awaken desires and emotions that lay dormant until that very moment. The experience was nothing short of transformative.

In that fleeting moment, I could have sworn that Brian's hazel eyes, though perhaps coincidental, locked onto mine from a distance. It could have been a passing thought, a random gaze that happened to intersect with mine, but the impact was undeniable. The weight of his attention, even if momentary, unleashed a surge of emotions within me.

Under the piercing intensity of his hazel gaze, a tempest of sensations coursed through my body, sparking an unfamiliar and overwhelming response. A wave of desire washed over me, as if an invisible force had taken hold of my very core. Unbeknownst to him, his mere presence had ignited a primal longing that rendered me powerless, leaving me trembling in its wake.

In that profound instant, my purpose became blurred, and the world around me faded into insignificance. The boundaries of my job seemed trivial, overshadowed by an insatiable craving to bask in Brian May's dominance and surrender myself to his every whim. The realisation struck me with an intensity that was as terrifying as it was intoxicating.

The clenching of my thighs, an involuntary response to the overwhelming desire that surged within me, was a physical manifestation of the inner turmoil I grappled with. It was a battle between reason and raw passion, where reason ultimately stood no chance against the allure of Brian's commanding presence.

Throughout the unfolding interview, a subtle dance of power and desire materialised between Brian and I. With each passing moment, I became increasingly aware that that gaze that I had noticed before was in fact for me.

It was a captivating display of dominance, a silent declaration that sent a shiver down my spine.

As the questions flowed, Brian's eyes kept meeting mine with a compelling force, even with myself being well-hidden behind the camera set-up. His presence enveloped me, it was a game of seduction, a battle for control, as his penetrating eyes sought to unravel the depths of my desires.

With each subtle shift of his body, a wave of power emanated from him, asserting his dominance over the room. His confident posture and deliberate movements spoke volumes, conveying an unspoken command that ignited a fire within me. I found myself willingly succumbing to his overwhelming presence, yearning to explore the unspoken desires that lingered in the air.

Through the veil of professionalism, his eyes whispered secrets that stirred a primal response within me. In their depths, I glimpsed a hunger, a hunger that mirrored my own, as if he were daring me to embrace the intoxicating allure of submission. It was a dance of power and surrender, an unspoken invitation to explore the depths of passion under his watchful gaze.

He spoke with Isabelle, showing her the album cover, his fingers grazing over parts that he detailed. But the electricity that crackled between us grew more potent with each passing second. His dominant presence commanded my attention, drawing me further into a world where his desires and mine entwined. In the recesses of his eyes, I discovered a realm where control was relinquished, and the boundaries of pleasure were pushed to their limits.

But as the interview continued, I was left with a lingering uncertainty. Was it merely a game of dominance, a tantalising tease to stoke the flames of desire? Or did his eyes convey a deeper truth, an unspoken invitation to submit to his commanding presence? Or, perhaps, I had been utterly spellbound by that man's presence that every little thing he did translated as sexual and intoxicating seduction. The questions lingered, suspended in the air, as the energy between us remained tantalisingly unresolved.

As the interview drew to a close, a lingering sense of anticipation remained. He had created uncharted territory, without him even knowing—unless he did know... I'm still not sure.

Suddenly, the world around me seemed to fade into the background as Brian's presence intensified. Time slowed to a crawl, and every detail of his captivating demeanour etched itself into my memory. Isabelle's closing remarks echoes in the room, yet my attention remained fixated on the enigmatic figure before me.

A mischievous smirk played upon Brian's lips, radiating confidence and a hint of playful intrigue. His eyes, like pools of intensity, surveyed the room with a subtle air of dominance. A glass of water rested in his hands, his long, slender fingers tracing a mesmerising path along the rim, leaving a trail of anticipation in their wake.

It was then that a startling realisation washed over me. Throughout the entire interview, my hand had unconsciously clung tightly to the pencil, rendering it immobile. As I reluctantly tore my gaze away from Brian's captivating presence, I glanced down at my neglected notebook, only to discover its pristine pages untouched by a single word.

A mix of awe and bewilderment coursed through my veins. How had I become so utterly transfixed by his presence that I had neglected my professional duties? It was as if time had suspended itself, and my sole purpose had shifted from capturing his words to capturing the essence of his being.

The blank pages of my notebook served as a stark reminder of the power he had over me, and in that moment, I understood the depth of his allure and the undeniable impact he had on those in his orbit. As the weight of the realisation settled upon me, a mixture of embarrassment and fascination flooded my senses.

An overwhelming wave of panic washed over me as I sat there, paralysed by the realisation of my negligence. The enchantment that had held me captive for the past twenty minutes shattered, leaving me vulnerable to the harsh reality that awaited. Candice, my ever-watchful colleague, would undoubtedly discover my failure, and her disapproval would be swift and scathing.

My heart pounded against my ribcage like a drum, its frantic beats mirroring the chaotic thoughts racing through my mind. How could I have allowed this to happen? The dream of advancing my career, of one day becoming a renowned journalist, now seemed like an elusive mirage, fading away before my very eyes.

Self-recrimination echoes through my thoughts like a relentless chorus. The weight of my own stupidity bore down upon me, squeezing the air from my lungs. I berated myself for succumbing to the allure of Brian's presence, for allowing it to eclipse my responsibilities. The consequences of my foolishness loomed over me, casting a shadow of doubt and regret.

The sound of Candice's voice calling my name snapped me back to the present. Her stern tone pierced through the haze of my thoughts, jolting me to action. It was time to face the consequences, to confront my failure head-on, and accept the repercussions of my actions.

I watched as Candice approached with an expectant expression. Dread coiled in the pit of my stomach, knowing all too well what awaited me. With every step she took, my heart sank deeper into the depths of remorse.

Candice's sharp eyes scanned the notebook in front of me, her gaze narrowing in disbelief. The realisation hit her like a tidal wave as she noticed the pages, void of any lead reflections from the interview. A mix of disappointment and fury twisted her features, and I braced myself for the inevitable scolding.

The room seemed to hush, the air thick with uncomfortable tension, as Candice's voice boomed through an angry whisper. "What on Earth is this, Y/N?" A collective murmur rippled through the small bunches of people that surrounded us as curious eyes turned toward our direction.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, my gaze dropping to the floor, unable to meet the accusing eyes of my colleagues. Shame wrapped around me like a suffocating shroud, tightening with every word that spilled from Candice's lips. Her reprimand echoed in the silence, a blistering reminder of my failure, and I swallowed hard, my throat constricted by a mixture of guilt and embarrassment.

"I-I'm sorry, Candice. I got caught up in the moment, and I just... completely forgot to write anything down, I promise it won't happen agai—"

"You were given a responsibility, and you let it slip away because you were too mesmerised by the answers? This is not acceptable, do you understand how poorly this reflects on our team?" Her eyes narrowed, and her voice was laced with irritation.

"I know, I'm truly sorry. It was a lapse of judgement."

Candice's scolding continued, her words filled with a mixture of reprimand and concern for my professional growth. The weight of her disappointment pressed upon me, intensifying my remorse.

A peculiar sensation tingled at the back of my neck whilst my supervisor continued to reprimand me in the corner of this studio, drawing my gaze elsewhere and hoping she would stop soon so I could just go home and bury myself in the covers of my bed. I met the intense gaze of Brian May, who hadn't left yet, much to my demise, and watched the scene unfold from a distance. His eyes held a mix of curiosity and intrigue, remaining an observer, captivated by the drama playing out before him.

It was a moment of profound humiliation, and yet, there was something strangely captivating about the way Brian watched. His silent presence added an extra layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere. It was as if he recognised the vulnerability within me, the weight of my mistake, and found a fascination in the spectacle.

As Candice walked away, her words lingered in the air, mingling with a mix of determination and self-reflection. I felt the stinging of tears in my eyes from the sheer embarrassment of my lack of competence. I rested my elbows on my knees, bringing the notebook up to my face and burying my head in it in shame.

I stayed there for as long as I could, not wanting to meet the judgemental gazes from those around me, and it had cleared out somewhat by the time I decided to actually stand up and gather my things. The bottle of water I had with me had been completely dried out from the constant sips I had to take whilst watching Brian's interview. My mouth was dry from Candice's scolding, and I whined under my breath just from the thought of anything else going wrong today.

It can't have been that far after four in the afternoon when I was collecting myself in the hallway of the studio, preparing to get a taxi back to the Euro so I could fuck off home and never emerge from my bed ever again. But before I could make my hasty exit, a soft voice called out, interrupting my thoughts.

"Excuse me?" the voice said, drawing my attention. I looked up, my eyes still slightly watery from the threats of tears, only to lock gazes with the very person who had inadvertently disrupted my responsibilities. It was none other than Brian himself, standing a few paces away, holding out the empty notebook towards me. "Sorry to disturb you, but, uh, you left this in the studio."

Confusion mingled with surprise as I furrowed my eyebrows, my emotions still raw from the earlier events. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously reached out, accepting the notebook from him. My voice quivered slightly as I murmured my thanks, unable to meet his gaze for more than a fleeting moment.

Concern etched across his face, Brian leaned against the wall, hands tucked casually in his pockets. The audacity of his next words caught me off guard, a mixture of bluntness and subtle insult towards Candice.

"Are you alright?" he inquired, his tone laced with genuine curiosity. "I couldn't help but notice you being lectured by an old sow earlier."

My surprise turned into astonishment, my eyes widening at his audacious remark. The unexpected camaraderie in his words momentarily eased the weight on my shoulders, and I met his gaze, finding solace in his directness.

"I... I'll be fine," I replied, my voice steadier now. "Just one of those days, you know?"

Brian's expression softened, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The air between us crackled with a silent understanding, as if he knew the struggled that came with navigating the industry.

"May I ask what happened?" Brian inquired, his gaze fixed on me. The mere sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, leaving me at a loss for words. How was I supposed to hold a conversation with him when his presence alone had already rendered me speechless? I felt the weight of inadequacy pressing on me, threatening to unravel any semblance of coherence I had left.

It's nothing," I managed to squeak out, my eyes involuntarily darting downwards to take in the details of his attire illuminated by the strip lights in the hallway. "Just some... technical issues," I lied, my voice betraying the fabricated story. I couldn't let him know that I had been so foolish as to let his allure overpower my ability to do my job.

"Oh," he responded, briefly averting his gaze. "So, why were you being told off? That's what it seemed like, anyway." He shrugged, shifting his weight on his feet.

A blush crept across my face, and I found myself unable to meet his eyes, instead fixating on the flawlessly polished surface of his shoes. "I... I never wrote down the notes I needed to..." I mumbled, embarrassment washing over me once more. "By this time tomorrow, I'll probably be back in assistant mode, fetching coffee for everyone..." My voice trailed off, the reality of my prediction causing it to waver with distress. I felt the sting of tears welling up again, and I averted my gaze, desperately seeking solace in a different direction.

The internal self-deprecating thoughts echoes within me. How unprofessional, crying in front of Brian May. I couldn't help but feel the weight of my own perceived inadequacy crushing my spirit.

"Hey... I'm sure that won't happen," he smoothly assured me, his voice like velvet. In that moment, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder, sending a thrilling shockwave through my entire being. Turning my head, I found myself face to face with Brian, his hand extending toward me, offering a pristine handkerchief. His warm, non-judgemental eyes conveyed a silent reassurance as he lightly waved the handkerchief, inviting me to accept it. With a shaky hand, I reached out and took it from him, mustering a feeble thank you. Although my mind should have been consumed with thoughts of potential demotion, I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of using Brian May's handkerchief, to dry the tears over something he had inadvertently caused.

A rueful laugh escaped my lips. "No, it probably will happen," I nodded, my gaze fixed straight ahead. "It's a joke."

Brian let out a slight huff, as if in agreement, clicking his tongue and crossing his arms. He allowed a pause to hang in the air before speaking again. "Where are you staying? You can't be that old, I don't want you to be wandering about on your own."

"I am twenty-two, thank you very much," I chuckled. "I was supposed to be at the hotel down the street, but... after everything that's happened today, I think it's best if I just get on the Euro and head home," I replied with a somewhat wistful smile. "I don't really want to be around everyone right now. I can already imagine the judgemental looks they'll be throwing my way all night." I let out a sigh of resignation.

"Is it really that bad?" Brian raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"You have no idea..." I trailed off, my voice tinged with a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

"I don't know about that," he smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I toured the world with three other drama queens and had to spend nights in hotels with them," he said, giving me a pointed look.

I met his gaze with a shy yet genuine expression, a smile slowly spreading across my face. "You've got me there."

"What was it that you were supposed to take notes of, if you don't mind me asking?" he inquired curiously.

"My job was to note down your answers in shorthand," I replied, a hint of disappointment still lingering in my expression as I recalled the embarrassment of my failure. "For the British papers," I shrugged.

He hummed, his gaze shifting as he pondered for a moment. I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope as his eyes seemed to briefly sweep over me, but I dismissed it as mere wishful thinking.

"Well..." he began, his voice dropping slightly lower, his eyes still locked with mine, a mischievous glimmer dancing in their depths. "I have an idea that might just solve your predicament."

My heart skipped a beat as I waited, captivated by his words and the magnetic pull of his presence. There was an unmistakable air of authority and confidence about him, and allure that made it impossible to resist.

"Why don't you come back to my hotel with me?" he suggested, his voice laced with an irresistible charm. "We can sit down, go through the interview together, and you can take your notes directly from me. That way, you won't have to worry about losing your job over a simple technical glitch."

His proposition hung in the air, tantalising and daring. The thought of being alone with him, in the intimate setting of his hotel room, sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine, despite the lingering knowledge of the committed relationship that was awaiting him back in London. It was an offer I couldn't refuse, despite the lingering doubts and fears that swirled in my mind.

His gaze held mine, an unspoken challenge conveyed through the subtle arch of his eyebrow. He exuded a domineering aura, a man who was accustomed to taking charge and getting what he desired, when he desired. And in that moment, I couldn't deny the thrilling temptation of surrendering to his authority, even if it meant stepping into the unprofessional, and the unknown.

I took a deep breath, my voice barely a whisper as I mustered the courage to respond. "Alright," I acquiesced, my heart pounding in my chest. "I'll come with you."

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips, a silent victory that revealed his satisfaction at having ensnared me in his web. With a gesture of his hand, he beckoned me to follow, his subtle dominance asserting itself even in this small act.

The ride to his hotel was a tense affair, filled with a mix of anticipation and self-doubt. I settled into the plush leather seat of the car, my palms slightly clammy as I clasped my notebook tightly, its empty pages a stark reminder of my shortcomings.

Brian sat beside me, radiating an air of casual elegance as he reclined comfortably, his gaze occasionally flickering towards me. The silence hung heavily in the air, pregnant with unspoken desires and uncharted territories. It was as if the car itself had transformed into a cocoon, isolating us from the outside world and intensifying the connection between us.

He broke the silence, his voice low and velvety, filled with a hint of weariness. "You know, these press dates can become quite tiresome after a while," he confessed, his tone tinged with a touch of frustration. "Having to repeat the same anecdotes, answer the same questions—it can feel like a never-ending cycle."

I listened intently, my heart aching with a mixture of sympathy and guilt. His dedication to his craft was evident, yet here he was, taking the time to accommodate my incompetence, going above and beyond to salvage my position.

The weight of his sacrifice settled on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility for the burden he had shouldered on my behalf. A subtle pang of remorse washed over me, mingling with the lingering excitement that coursed through my veins.

"You didn't have to do this," I murmured softly, my voice tinged with gratitude and regret. "I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused."

He turned his gaze towards me, his eyes filled with understanding and something deeper, something that hinted at a hidden power dynamic between us. "Sometimes, we all need a little help," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of command. "And besides, it gives me an opportunity to spend some time with someone who appreciates the nuances of my work."

His words hung in the air, charged with unspoken implications. The car journey continued, each passing moment bringing us closer to his hotel, to an encounter that held the potential to blur the boundaries between professional obligations and personal desires.

As the city lights streaked past us in a mesmerising blur, a wave of apprehension washed over me. The weight of potential consequences bore down heavily, my mind conjuring images of disapproving glares and lectures from Candice. The thought of her disapproval and the potential damage to my professional reputation loomed like a dark cloud over this impulsive decision. But also... there was something in the back of mind that found that danger enticing.

I glanced at Brian, his profile illuminated by the passing lights, a captivating blend of charisma and enigma. The subtle shift of his features hinted at the complexities that lay beneath the surface. Yes, he was a renowned musician, an idol to many, but he was also a man with his own commitments and responsibilities.

My thoughts veered towards Candice's hypothetical reprimands, reminding me of the line I was treading. I wrestled with the inner turmoil, questioning my judgement, and yet, the allure of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the chance to glean insights from the man himself, called to me like a siren's song. The boundaries of reason blurred, and the forbidden fruit of possibility dangled temptingly before me.

I couldn't deny the excitement that coursed through my veins, even if we were simply going to talk about the interview. But something told me that he wouldn't have invited me to his hotel room if he only wanted to repeat what he'd told Isabelle. But reality, too, had its grip on my conscience. Brian's relationship status, thought not conventional in the traditional sense, added another layer of complexity.

The conflict within me intensified, the battle between reason and desire waged in my mind. And as the car whisked us closer to the hotel, I knew that a pivotal moment awaited me on the other side of those doors. A moment that would test the limits of my self-control and challenge the very fabric of my professional identity.

As the car pulled up in front of the grand hotel entrance, I couldn't help but be awestruck by its opulence. Towering pillars adorned with intricate carvings framed the entrance, while a cascading waterfall nearby added a touch of serenity to the bustling city surroundings. The lobby, with its marble floors and sparkling chandeliers, exuded an air of sophistication and exclusivity.

Brian stepped to get out of the car, his presence commanding attention as he glanced back at me, his eyes inviting me to join him on this adventure. I took a deep breath, my heart fluttering in anticipation, and followed suit.

The moment our eyes met, a magnetic connection sparked between us. A subtle exchange of glances spoke volumes, conveying unspoken desires and hidden depths. It was in those stolen moments that the tension between us grew, the unspoken understanding that something powerful was unfolding.

As we stepped into the lavish lobby, the plush furnishings and hushed atmosphere enveloped us. Brian's hand brushed lightly against my lower back, a simple gesture that sent shivers down my spine. The touch was fleeting yet deliberate, a tantalising hint of the electricity crackling in the air.

We made our way to the elevator, managing to be inconspicuous to the very few people who were actually in the lobby, the soft chime signalled its arrival. The enclosed space became our private sanctuary, the air thick with anticipation. The mirrored walls reflected our proximity, capturing the unspoken intensity that hung in the air.

In the confined space, Brian's scent enveloped me, a heady combination of musky cologne and a hint of adventure. Every moment felt deliberate, every breath carried a weight of anticipation. Our eyes locked in the reflection, mirroring a depth of connection that defied words.

As the elevator ascended, our proximity grew, the space between us closing with each passing floor. Brian's voice, laced with a husky undertone, broke the silence. "I must say, the view from my room is quite breathtaking," he remarked, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down my spine.

I leaned in slightly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can only imagine," I replied, the innuendo hanging in the air, adding a subtle layer of flirtation to our conversation.

A playful smile tugged at the corners of Brian's lips, his eyes holding that same mischievous glint as earlier. His hand casually brushed against mine as the elevator came to a halt, the touch electrifying and tantalisingly brief. The doors slid open, revealing a corridor bathed in soft, warm lighting.

We walked side by side, the click of our footsteps echoing in the hushed ambiance. The anticipation between us was palpable, a dance of desire and restraint. The subtle glances exchanged spoke volumes, carrying a shared secret that only we understood.

Arriving at his room, Brian fumbled for the key, his hand brushing against mine once again as he unlocked the door. The room's interior exuded luxury, with plush furnishings and a panoramic view of the city skyline. The atmosphere was charged with an undeniable energy, as if the room itself held its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

Brian motioned for me to take a seat on the plush sofa, while he made his way to a side table adorned with crystal glasses and a sparkling bottle of water. His movements were controlled, each action carrying a subtle authority that commanded attention.

He poured a glass of water, the liquid cascading effortlessly into the glass. With an almost calculated grace, he handed it to me, his fingers grazing mine ever so slightly. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, and I found myself captivated by his commanding presence.

Settling into a nearby armchair, Brian's gaze fixed upon me with an intensity that made my heart race. He picked up my notebook, his fingers tracing the empty pages as he glanced back at me, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and dominance.

"Let's go over the interview, shall we?" he suggested, his voice laced with authority. I nodded, my voice momentarily escaping me in the face of his dominant aura.

As we delved into the conversation, his proximity grew, our arms occasionally brushing against each other's as we gestured or reached for the notebook. Each touch was a subtle reminder of his control and my vulnerability.

His gaze never wavered, his eyes piercing into mine with a sense of ownership. He dissected each question and response with precision, his tone firm yet enticing. The atmosphere crackled with an undeniable tension.

Brian's hand occasionally found its way to the small of my back, a subtle gesture of possession that left me breathless and wanting more.

As we concluded our review of the interview, an unspoken understanding passed between us. Brian's gaze held a hint of satisfaction, as if pleased with my progress under his guidance. I couldn't deny the thrilling allure of his dominance, the way he effortlessly took charge and led me down a path of unexplored sensuality, purely in the way he spoke and answered the questions.

Once we'd finished, a sense of relief washed over me. I placed my pencil down on the coffee table, grateful for the notes I now had to present to Candice. But little did I know that the night was far from over, and the dynamics between Brian and I were about to take a new turn.

As I sat back on the sofa, taking a sip of water from the glass Brian had graciously given me, he caught me off guard with an unexpected question.

"Why don't you ask me about my relationship?" His words hung in the air, laden with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

I nearly choked on my water, my eyes widening in surprise. His question was so sudden and unexpected that I struggled to find the right response. "W... What?" I stammered, my voice betraying my confusion as I carefully set the glass back on the coffee table.

"Everyone else does. Why don't you?" Brian rose from his seat, striding over to the armchair across the room. He reached up, gracefully removing his navy-blue blazer and draping it over the back of the chair. His movements were confident and self-assured, his hands casually returning to his pockets.

I watched him in awe, captivated by his every gesture. The way he carried himself, the slight tilt of his head, the way he rolled up his sleeves to reveal his forearms—each detail seemed to heighten his allure. His hair, with its enchanting allure, seemed to beckon to me, and I couldn't help but feel a magnetic pull toward him, yet again.

Feeling a heat rise in my cheeks, I cleared my throat, crossing my legs in an attempt to steady myself. I hoped he wouldn't notice the effect he had on me, even though the atmosphere had been charged with flirtation throughout our time together thus far. Deep down, a small voice whispered that it was all in my head, that Brian was simply being accommodating.

"I, uh..." I began, my voice slightly shaky as I took another sip of water, hoping to steady my nerves. "Well, I don't see why I should ask about your relationship," I replied, attempting to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the perplexed undertone in my voice. "It's really nobody's business, right?" I added, my brows furrowing.

Brian's lips curled into a partly playful, partly impressed, smile, and he moved closer to me, now stood right in front of me, like he was when we first met eyes earlier that afternoon. His eyes locked steadily onto mine. The air once again crackled with anticipation and unspoken feelings.

"That's true," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But sometimes, it's intriguing to delve into the depths of someone's personal life, don't you think? To understand their desires, their secrets..."

His words hung in the air, charged with an undeniable seductive energy.

"So, I'm going to ask you, Y/N..." Brian's voice drew me in, his words laced with a magnetic allure. He moved away slightly, only to settle beside me on the sofa, his body angled toward mine. I couldn't help but feel a surge of prospect as I realised that he had remembered my name, speaking it for the first time since he'd met me.

"What about you?" his voice was a seductive whisper, gently coaxing me to reveal the depths of my own desires. My breath caught in my throat, the intensity of his presence almost overwhelming.

"What about me?" I managed to whisper, my voice betraying a mix of nervousness and curiosity.

Brian let out a low chuckle, a sound that sent a rush of heat coursing through me. As he shifted his position, resting his arm casually across the back of the sofa, he mirrored the way he had sat with Isabelle during the interview. But this time, his proximity to me was closer, his energy more focused. It was as if the space between us had become charged with an unspoken understanding.

His hand reached out, deliberately smoothing over the slight ruffle in my black skirt. The touch was gentle, but its intention was unmistakable. I couldn't help but feel the electricity that surged through me as his fingertips lingered on my knee. A wave of desire washed over me, causing my thighs to clench and a quiver to run through the depths of my being. I briefly closed my eyes, my senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating tension that enveloped us.

But my eyes snapped back open, meeting his gaze when he finally responded. The air seemed to crackle with anticipation, and I hung onto his every word, eager to unravel the depths of this enigmatic man before me.

Brian's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he locked his gaze with mine. He had seen through my feeble attempt to divert the conversation and now he was toying with me, like a skilled predator playing with its prey.

"You know, Y/N," he began, his voice dripping with subtle amusement, "I can't help but wonder if those technical difficulties were just an excuse. Perhaps there's something else that prevented you from taking those notes." His words hung in the air, laden with implication.

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and fascination. How did he manage to see through my façade so effortlessly? It was as if he possessed an uncanny ability to unravel the truths hidden beneath the layers of my carefully constructed lies.

"You're quite perceptive," I admitted, my voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "There might have been... other distractions that prevented me from fulfilling my duties."

Brian's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. His hand, still resting on my knee, exerted a subtle pressure, a silent reminder of the power dynamics at play. It was a gesture that sent a jolt coursing through me, making me acutely aware of his commanding presence.

"Well, Y/N," he murmured, his voice lowering again, "if you were indeed distracted, perhaps its time we address that distraction head-on."

I swallowed hard, my heart once again pounding in my chest. It was as if the world around us had faded into the background, leaving the two of us locked in this exhilarating dance of desire and power. I was drawn to him, unable to resist him, and he knew it.

"What do you suggest, Brian?" I exhaled, my voice a velvet whisper that teased the air. I teetered on the precipice of desire, my every fibre ready to succumb to his captivating dominance, yearning to explore the uncharted depths of passion that enticed us both.

His piercing gaze intensified, a searing ember of authority glowing in his eyes, beckoning me further into his world. "Y/N," he purred, his voice a sultry blend of command and invitation, "Perhaps it's time we plunge into the depths of these tantalising distractions. It would be such a waste to let them slip through our fingers, wouldn't it?"

He meticulously grazed his teeth against his plump lower lip, his predatory eyes descending upon my body with a swift hunger. "Are you seeing somebody?"

I took a deep breath, my eyes locked on his hand resting on my knee. It felt like an anchor, grounding me in the midst of the swirling emotions that Brian had effortlessly stirred within me. I shook my head slightly, my voice barely above a whisper. "No..."

His grip on my knee tightened ever so slightly, a subtle display of dominance that that sent a jolt of excitement coursing through me. Tense, the weight of his question hanging in the silence. Brian's gaze continued to bore into mine, his eyes filled with an intensity that made it hard to look away.

"But I'm assuming you have," he prodded gently, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and desire. As he spoke, his hand shifted, his fingers tracing a path of electrifying warmth up my thigh. Every inch of my skin burned under his touch, igniting a fire deep within me that I struggled to contain.

My thoughts became hazy, a cocktail of longing and forbidden fantasies swirling in my mind. The allure of Brian's commanding presence was overwhelming, captivating me in ways I couldn't resist. Rationality wavered as I found myself yearning for his dominance, for him to physically take control and guide me into uncharted territory.

I mustered the strength to respond, my voice trembling with a potent mixture of apprehension and desire. "Yes," I finally confessed, my admission punctuated by a shuddering breath. The confession hung in the air, a tangible invitation for Brian to delve deeper into the depths of my past and desires.

"Of course, that was a silly question for me to ask you." Brian's laughter, a melodic symphony, echoed in the room, mingling with the charged atmosphere that enveloped us. That mischievous glint in his eyes danced with a hint of desire as he playfully taunted me.

"A pretty thing like you... No way a man hasn't approached you. No way you can't have experienced such things that come with it." His words, dripping with seductive confidence, sent shivers down my spine, awakening a dormant fire within me. As he continued, his hand embarked on a daring expedition, traversing the landscape of my thigh with deliberate intent. The tantalising proximity of his touch ignited a flame of exhilaration, intensifying his charm.

"Is this okay?"

Caught in the magnetic field of his presence, my breath hitched. His audacity, his audacious exploration of my boundaries, both thrilled and unnerved me. His question, whispered like a forbidden secret, hung in the air, enticing and provocative.

My gaze met his, locked in a fierce battle of desire and restraint. His head tilted ever so slightly, offering a glimpse into a world of untamed passion that lay just beyond my peripheral vision. It was a challenge, a temptation I couldn't ignore.

"Yes..." I gasped, a delicate confession of my yearning. The room seemed to pulse with the rhythm of our shared anticipation, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken desire that had been crackling above us since he asked me if I had a name back at the studio.

With every fibre of my being attuned to his touch, I met his piercing gaze, a hunger ignited within myself. The anticipation hung thick and heady in the air, as my body responded to his unspoken desires, yearning for the raw intensity that lay just beyond our fingertips.

His hand, once resting on the back of the sofa, now ventured into the depths of my hair, fingers dancing through the strands with an almost possessive tenderness. My breath hitched, a mixture of excitement and anxiety coursing through me veins.

His voice, a velvety caress, laced with his characteristic authority, penetrated the atmosphere. "You said you were twenty-two?" he asked, his touch a sensory symphony that sent shivers cascading down my spine to the fullest. I nodded, my lips instinctively finding refuge between my teeth, an unconscious response to the mounting tension that enveloped us.

"So young and full of life," he mused, his words a tantalising invitation into a world of hidden desires. The weight of his statement settled upon us, passing through us like a current. "You do understand what I'm trying to do right now, don't you?"

I knew exactly what he was attempting to do, and the thought alone could have caused me to climax on his sofa right then and there.

A barely contained breath escaped my lips, as I chuckled and shifted my body to face him fully as an answer. The crossing of my legs changed, creating an open pathway to explore our proximity. As if attuned to my movements, Brian's hand left my leg momentarily, only to reclaim its rightful place on my thigh, a possessive declaration of his intent.

Curiosity burned within me, emboldened by his unabashed dominance. "Do you do this a lot?" I ventured, resting my arm on the back of the sofa, a subtle invitation for him to delve deeper into the intricacies of his world. The revelation of his true intentions liberated me, allowing me to respond in kind, the allure of the forbidden dance consuming my thoughts.

Brian seemed a little taken aback by my question, but his initial surprise quickly dissolved into a low chuckle, a hint of intrigue glinting in his eyes. His gaze momentarily shifted to his hand, which had settled on the back of my thigh, his thumb tracing tantalising circles against the soft skin, exerting a gentle tug.

"I wouldn't say a lot... but every now and then, I stumble upon someone I really, really like," he confessed, his voice descending to a husky whisper as his eyes flickered up to meet mine. "Someone I simply can't resist," he added, his words resonating with an intensity that left no room for doubt. "And you, my dear, are the most captivating creature I've encountered thus far."

His compliments reverberated within me, causing me to sink deeper into the plush embrace of the sofa, my face suffused with a bright crimson blush. "Am I?" A small smirk danced on my lips as I raised an eyebrow, my inquiry carrying a weight that went beyond the surface. Unintentionally, I had invoked the presence of Anita, his partner, and now the unspoken tension lingered between us.

His eyes narrowed, the spark of recognition igniting in his gaze. But instead of letting the unspoken words bloom, he chuckled once again, his grip on my thigh tightening with a tantalising force. In one swift motion, he pulled me forward, until I found myself ensconced upon his lap. The unexpectedness of the action electrified the air, sending waves of desire coursing through me, my core pulsating in eager anticipation, yearning for the layers of clothing to vanish, to feel the raw heat of his skin against mine.

"You're asking too many questions, darling," he mused, his voice laced with a mixture of amusement and desire. His hands boldly found their place at my hips, sliding beneath the thin fabric of my blazer, their touch sending a jolt of electricity through my entire being.

A mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I playfully retorted, "I thought that was my job," my lashes fluttering in a seductive display. Yet, my attempt at teasing seemed to have an unexpected effect on Brian. His hands clamped around me with a vice-like grip, the sensation of his fingers pressing through the fabric of my skirt sending a thrilling jolt through my body.

A low, almost predatory growl rumbled from his throat as he spoke, his voice a dangerous blend of desire and authority. "You're a bit mouthy, aren't you?" he murmured, his words laced with a hint of reprimand. "Just as I thought you were so innocent... sitting there on that stool with this little skirt almost exposing you to the whole world, not knowing a thing about it..." With each word, he pulled me down onto him, the force of his action making it clear that he was taking control. "Thinking I didn't notice that you were staring at me the whole time," he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "And here you are, now sat on my lap, all shaky and needy."

His gaze roamed over my face, observing my every reaction to his sudden shift in demeanour. This was precisely the dynamic I had been seeking, a captivating dance between dominance and submission. The air hummed with an electrifying tension as I found myself entranced by him, surrendering to the intoxicating mix of vulnerability and desire that pulsed between us.

Brian's subtle manoeuvre in his lap caused me to instinctively cling onto his shoulders, seeking stability in the midst of escalating desire. His self-satisfied smirk revealed his pleasure at my reaction, fuelling the fire that raged between us. "There's a few things I want to go through with you before we go any further, sweetheart," he hummed, his hand firmly grasping the back of my neck, drawing me tantalisingly close to his face, our lips hovering inches apart. The anticipation was palpable, my breath hitching in anticipating of his next words. "Have you every been with anyone older before?"

I exhaled softly against his mouth, my eyes half-lidded with a mixture of nervousness and longing. I shook my head slightly, my hands finding solace in the firmness of his shoulders. "Maybe, like, a thirty-year-old, but..." My voice trailed off, the unspoken admission hanging in the air.

"Nobody as old as I am?" he finished my sentence with a knowing smile, fully aware of my unspoken answer. I nodded, my teeth earnestly biting down on my bottom lip, a nervous habit that betrayed my inner turmoil.

"Well, Y/N, I should warn you," he began, his hips abruptly surging against mine, stealing the air from my lungs. The intensity of his touch sent chills coursing through my body. "As an almost-fifty-one-year-old who knows what he's doing, I can guarantee that you will cum at least five times tonight," he purred, his fingers encircling my throat in a gentle yet possessive grip. "And with any luck, you'll struggle to walk out of that door in the morning."

With a swift, decisive movement, our lips finally connected, a torrent of pent-up desire exploding within me. The metaphorical fireworks ignited, their radiant bursts cascading through my body, kindling a symphony of tingles and shivers that coursed from my stomach to my throbbing core. The long-awaited contact between our lips unleashed a tempestuous passion that left me yearning for more.

"Stand up for Daddy," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of desire and possessiveness. The unexpected pet name he bestowed upon himself sent a surge of excitement through me. It was a name I had imagined slipping from my own lips, and now that he had uttered it, I felt an intoxicating thrill. His eyes fluttered open, meeting mine for a brief moment. "You don't mind that, do you?" he asked, his grip on my throat loosening. Even in the midst of our escalating passion, Brian remained considerate and a gentleman.

"I'm more than okay with it," I replied, my voice laced with eagerness. I nodded, a spark of anticipation igniting within me. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he bit down on the lower one, an expression that hinted at the wild desires swirling in his mind.

"I knew you would be perfect for me, you naughty little thing..." he growled, his words laced with a primal hunger. He pressed his lips against mine one last time, a fierce and demanding kiss that left me breathless. With deliberate yet cautious movements, he guided me to stand in front of him. His legs were spread out, and his hands firmly settled on my waist, grounding me in his commanding presence.

"Let's get those clothes off of you," he breathed, his voice husky with anticipation. Sitting up, he leaned back slightly, creating a space for me to step between his legs. His hands roamed my waist, teasing an exploring, as he revelled in the sight before him. "I bet you look mesmerising, you sweet thing," he murmured, his words stirring a fire deep within me.

With Brian's guidance, I slipped off my blazer, letting it fall carelessly beside him on the sofa. My attire consisted of a form-fitting long-sleeved t-shirt, neatly tucked into a sleek black skirt. The fabric of the shirt clung to my body, accentuating every curve and contour, and I could sense Brian's gaze lingering on the enticing view before him.

"Keep going, love," he smoothly instructed, his voice laced with command. With his arm casually draped over the back of the sofa and his other hand resting suggestively over his own clothed arousal, he watched intently as I continued to undress, gradually revealing more of myself.

I slowly unbuttoned the top few buttons of my shirt, exposing a teasing glimpse of the soft skin nestled between my breasts. The fabric parted, revealing a tantalising V-neckline that halted just at the beginning of my cleavage, leaving much to the imagination. Brian's eyes darkened with desire, his focus fixed on the seductive reveal.

Encouraged by his unwavering gaze, I continued to undress, peeling the shirt from my body with deliberate grace. Each movement involved in unzipping and shimmying down my skirt was accompanied a subtle sway of my hips, a deliberate invitation to indulge in the forbidden desires that simmered between us. The shirt slipped off of my shoulders, pooling at my feet, leaving me standing before him in nothing but my underwear, vulnerable and exposed.

Brian's hungry eyes drank in the sight, savouring the contours of my body outlined by the delicate lingerie that adorned it. His breath hitched, and a primal hunger flashed across his face.

"My, my, my..." he mused, his voice a low, throaty rumble. Leaning forward, he focused his gaze on my chest, his eyes lingering on the delicate white lace bra that adorned me, before trailing down to the matching pair of underwear that concealed the very essence of my being—a part of me yearning to be devoured by Brian's primal desire.

A subtle flush of embarrassment tinged my skin, blending with a tingling sense of prospect as I stood before Brian, acutely aware of his gaze that stripped me with its intensity. It was a an undeniable turn-on, this vulnerable exposure, yet I couldn't help but wonder if he desired something more from me.

"Turn around," he commanded, his tone blunt, his finger tracing an authoritative arc in the air. Without hesitation, I obeyed, pivoting silently on my heel until my back was completely exposed to him. And then, in a split second, a fierce sting erupted across my backside, the resounding slap from Brian's hand reverberating through the room. A gasp escaped my lips, mingling with a mixture of surprise, excitement, and a hint of pain.

Brian rose from the sofa, his presence expanding behind me like a towering shadow, and with a firm grip on the band of my underwear, he yanked me back against him. I could feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing forcefully against my backside, the bulge in his trousers growing with each passing moment. Lowering his head, he released a low growl that sent a shiver up through my core, while his other hand firmly grasped my head, tilting it to the side, exposing my vulnerability.

"Good little girls answer their Daddy," he whispered, his voice a seductive blend of dominance of desire. His hand slid around my lower stomach, applying pressure that coerced me to press my backside more firmly into him. "Don't they?"

A gasp hitched in my throat, a mixture of shock and exhilaration coursing through my veins as Brian spoke to me in such a degrading yet intoxicating manner. "Y-yes..."

"Yes, what?" he demanded, his fingers intertwining with my hair, his fists closing with a possessive grip as his lips brushed against the sensitive shell of my ear. "If you want even the slightest taste of the sweet release you crave, you must address me accordingly, little one."

A quivering smile danced upon my lips, an eagerness to comply swirling within me. "Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl," he praised, his words hot against my ear, his breath fanning the flames of my desire. Resting the side of his head against mine, he directed his gaze downward, his hand venturing lower, ghosting over my core, teasing and tantalising. "I can't wait to feel your cunt wrap around my cock... I bet you're so tight and warm for me," he murmured, a promise that elicited a suppressed whimper from my lips. "Oh, the thought of that excites you, doesn't it?" he tested, his voice wicked.

"Yes, Daddy," I replied, my voice trembling with a potent mixture of obedience and unquenchable longing.

He chuckled, a sound tinged with satisfaction and amusement at my swift adaptation to our dynamic. "That's a good girl," he breathed against the sensitive skin of my neck, his lips claiming me with a fervent, sloppy kiss before abruptly releasing me, leaving me yearning for his touch and craving more.

"Stand back a little," Brian's voice commanded, an authoritative tone that brooked no resistance. I complied, taking a step back, my anticipation mounting as he took control. With a swift movement, he spun me around, his hands asserting their presence on my body, yet withholding any intimate touch. The air crackled with an electric charge, heavy with unspoken desire.

"No touching until I say," he declared, his voice laced with a mixture of authority and anticipation. Stepping back himself, he lowered his hands to his belt, his gaze never wavering from mine as he skilfully unbuckled and unzipped his trousers. The sound of the metal against metal reverberated in the room, heightening the intensity of the moment. His trousers cascaded down to his knees, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his bare flesh, while his shirt billowed around him, hinting at the hidden secrets it concealed. He stepped out of the confines of his restrictive clothes, gracefully kicking them aside, leaving him standing before me in only his partially unbuttoned shirt.

My eyes couldn't help but be drawn downward, magnetically pulled to the sight of his own underwear. His bulge, sizable and still growing, strained against the fabric, a visual testament to the desire that consumed him. Heat flushed through my veins, a mixture of nervous anticipation and a primal hunger to taste him.

"I'm assuming you've given somebody a blowjob before, yes?" Brian's voice cut through the charged silence, his head tilted in a patronizing yet knowing manner. His words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation entwined. He awaited my response, his eyes burning with a mixture of curiosity and desire, never once breaking our unyielding eye contact.

A tremor of excitement coursed through me, mingling with a tinge of apprehension. I nodded, my voice momentarily stolen by the intensity of the moment, my desire to please him amplifying with each passing second.

"Yes, Daddy," I finally managed to respond, the breathless admission hanging in the air, a testament to the intimate encounters of my past.

A predatory smile tugged at the corners of Brian's lips, a gleam of satisfaction illuminating his gaze. The flicker of dominance danced in his eyes as he took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance between us. The bulge in his underwear pressed against my senses, a physical manifestation of his hunger and anticipation.

"Good," he murmured, his voice husky and thick with desire.

I could feel the excitement bubbling up inside me, and I couldn't help but shuffle side to side to deal with the intense desire to get my hands or my mouth on Brian's arousal, especially when he moved to sit back against the sofa.

"Please can I taste you, Daddy?" I whispered, glancing up at him with an innocent expression.

He hummed, his hand coming down to move some of my hair out of my face. "So good, asking for permission," he praised, lowering his head and biting a little into my shoulder before turning his head and growling back into my ear. "I want you on all-fours, looking up at me with those pretty fucking eyes."

"Yes, Daddy," I moaned just at his response, but was quick to do as I was told, moving back to give myself space to do as I was told, whilst he got to work in removing his underwear from his body. I arched my back, showing off the round of my curves for him like I noticed he enjoyed so much. He took his length his hand, giving it a few strokes before shuffling forward a few inches. I couldn't stop staring at its appearance, pulsating, red, veiny, and everything I dreamed it would be. I took the hint and propped myself up on one hand, using the other to move my hair from my face, before finally leaning forward and licking from the base, right up the pronounced vain on his shaft, and up to the tip. I teased him, glancing up at him as I slowly flicked my tongue over the redness. I could taste the saltiness of his pre-cum already, which only encouraged me to keep going. But apparently, the teasing wasn't enough.

"Oh, you don't want to tease Daddy, little one," he drawled, one hand coming behind my head to tangle his fingers once again in my hair. "I have to feel your mouth all over my cock, alright?" His natural dominance was toned back, and I could tell that he was testing where my comfort level was. But I was too far in my comfort zone here. So, I pushed him.

With a mischievous smirk, I only wrapped my lips around his tip, sucking ever so slightly.

"You really want to play games?" He asked with an amused tinge to his voice. He chuckled, right before he pushed my head further down, causing his cock to slide into my mouth and to my throat as far as it could go, a gag automatically sounding from my throat. It made my core throb yet again.

His grip loosened briefly, in order to breathily ask me if this was okay. I hummed around his cock in confirmation, my eyes peering up at him the best they could. Just like that, he knew where my head was at, and his grip resumed, and his hips drew back, just to thrust back again. He showed me – demonstrated – the pace he wanted, and I was obliged to deliver.

Once I had my head bobbing along his shaft how he wanted, my hand wrapped firmly around the base, my gag reflex had been temporarily diverted, but not completely eradicated. Brian, however, smacked my hand away from him, making me keep my hands down on my knees and allow him to force himself however far into my mouth as he wanted.

As my mouth encased the warm length, my own arousal picked back up, feeling myself clenching around nothing and wishing his cock was balls deep inside me. But that only encouraged me to do a better job on him. I found myself moaning as his taste, the way he grunted and breathed above me. I'd never heard anyone sound so fucking beautiful.

"That's it, baby... Fuck," he groaned, his jaw clenched in sheer ecstasy. "Let me see that pretty face, Y/N." His request fuelled my desperation and desire to please him. With a whimper, I adjusted my position slightly, ensuring that my movements on his cock remained relentless, my lips tightly sealed around him.

As I complied with his command, my eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, aware of the redness that had undoubtedly consumed them. My lips, swollen from our passionate kisses and the way they enveloped him, added to the visual proof of our intense connection. Tears welled up at the corners of my eyes, a mix of pleasure, vulnerability, and overwhelming sensations.

However, what truly pushed me to the brink of desperation was the sight of him. He looked like a god, an ethereal being of pleasure and dominance. His hair fell forward, framing his face as he gazed down at me. His mouth was slightly open, allowing soft moans and growls to escape. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, a testament to his state of euphoria. His heavy-lidded eyes exuded a mix of desire and satisfaction, capturing me in a moment of profound intensity.

"Such a beautiful little slut, aren't you?" He sighed, running his hand back through my hair to bunch it up at the back, helping me through my pace. "Yeah... such a good girl for Daddy..." He mumbled, mostly to himself as his eyes looked back at my backside. His free hand reached forward and felt over my curves until he reached his destination, grabbing a handful before lifting and landing his palm against the skin with a forceful smack. It sent me moaning and whimpering yet again, the small sting sending shocks to my arousal and shivers to my skin. He did it again, this time a lot harder. He must have been testing the waters beforehand. I flinched this time, my back arching more.

I whined, the hand that was propping me up gripping into the bedsheets as I tried my very best not to rub my thighs together for friction I so desperately needed. Brian took notice and let go of my hair, pulling his cock from my mouth. A string of saliva still connected us, and my face was completely fucked out.

"Look at you, darling," he purred, taking a hold of my face with one hand and pressing my cheeks together. "You enjoyed having my cock in your mouth, didn't you?" With a deliberate slowness, he traced his thumb over my swollen lower lip, savouring the aftermath of our intimate encounter. It was a silent question, a rhetorical inquiry that required no verbal response. Instead, I responded with a breathless nod, my eyes locked on his, conveying my pleasure and desire.

But in an unexpected twist, his hand swiftly left my lip, and a sharp, stinging sensation erupted on the side of my face. A decent slap, delivered with purpose, but cautiously landed, not giving his all in the event that I wasn't into that kind of treatment. Of course, I would let this man do anything to me.

The impact took me by surprise, integrating with the haze of pleasure. Yet, as quickly as the pain registered, he seized me once again, his grip possessive and firm. His actions were a reminder of his control, a reminder that I existed in this moment solely for his pleasure. It was a moment of sharp contrast, the pain mingling with desire, further fuelling the intensity of our connection. "What did I say about answering Daddy?"

"Yes, Daddy—sorry, Daddy," I breathed out, looking up at him with watery eyes. "Can I have more, Daddy?" I batted my eyelashes.

Releasing his hold on me, he sat forward, his shirt clinging to his body, evidence of the sweat that adorned his skin. With a purposeful motion, he discarded the garment, revealing the glistening contours of his middle-aged physique. Rising to his feet, he positioned himself near the edge of the sofa, his foot resting upon the plush surface for support. His hand encircled his throbbing cock, exerting a firm grip as he glided his fist along its length, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure.

"What are you waiting for? Show me what you're capable of," he commanded, his voice laced with a potent mixture of authority and desire. His invitation beckoned me forward, and without hesitation, I eagerly reattached my mouth to him, my lips enveloping his engorged length. Balancing myself on the edge of the sofa so I could reach him, I rested my hands on the sofa, surrendering to the primal rhythm that coursed through us.

Brian's hand gathered a handful of my hair at the back of my head, ensuring a firm grip as he began to thrust into my mouth with abandon. He paid no mind to the reddened hue of my eyes, nor the cascades of saliva that spilled from my lips, consumed by the raw pleasure that surged between us. Each forceful thrust of his hips sent a jolt of ecstasy through my being, a delicious combination of pleasure and submission. The intensity of our connection intensified, the boundaries of control blurring as we surrendered to our most primal desires.

"Do a good job, and then Daddy will make you cum all over his tongue, okay?" He moaned down at me, making me nod, and whine a muffled "Yes, Daddy," with his cock still shoved in my mouth.

I maintained my position, allowing him to forcefully thrust into my throat, my head held firmly in place by his unyielding grip. I looked up at him through teary eyes, my face glistening with a mixture of saliva and tears, a testament to the depths of pleasure and submission I was experiencing.

The sound of his hissing voice filled the air, blending with his deep groans of satisfaction. "Yes... So perfect," he gasped, overcome by the intense sensation of my mouth enveloping him. The mixture of pain and pleasure, dominance and surrender, fuelled the fiery connection between us, heightening the raw, primal energy of the moment.

I felt his thigh shake beside my head, and he pulled my head all the way down onto his cock, my nose pushing into the mass of pubic hair at the base of his arousal. I let out a heavy breath, closing my eyes and relaxing my throat to allow him to slide down it with ease. Then, without warning, he yanked me back, his cock completely slipping out of my mouth. It was glistening with a mixture of my thickening saliva and his pre-cum, matching with the way my lips sparkled with the same kind of adventure.

Gasping for breath, I found myself being pulled up to my feet by the firm grip of Brian's hand, entwined in my hair. The forceful manner in which he yanked me upright only heightened the intensity of our encounter. Our lips crashed together once again, igniting a wild and insatiable passion that consumed us both.

The kiss was anything but gentle. It was a raw display of desire, marked by urgency and need. Our mouths melded together in a feverish dance, tongues clashing and intertwining in a desperate battle for dominance. It was as if Brian couldn't get enough of the taste, eagerly seeking to reclaim a trace of himself on my lips.

Every swipe and flick of his tongue against mine sent electric jolts of pleasure surging through my body. The hunger in his kiss matched the fiery desire coursing through my veins, building an intoxicating tension that threatened to consume us both. Our lips and tongues moved in a frenzy, an unspoken declaration of our insatiable lust. It made me wonder what his lips and his tongue would feel like on my aching core.

With one hand wrapped around my throat, he pulled me back enough to speak to me. "Get on the bed for me, love," he demanded softly, letting me go and pushing me slightly in the direction of the bed.

"Yes, Daddy," I obeyed, swiftly turning and heading for the large king-sized bed. I lowered myself onto the sleek silk, my heart pounding in raging lust as my core continued to flutter and tighten at the pure thought of being devoured by Brian. "You sucked Daddy's cock so well, little one," he praised with a patronising flare, as he slowly made his way towards me, closing in on me like I was some sort of prey for the taking. He stopped right in front of me, leaning down so both of his hands were placed flat on the surface of the bed, and his face was mere inches from mine. "Do you think you deserve to have my face buried between your legs, baby?"

His question stirred a whirlwind of sensations within me, causing my entire body to tremble with a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. My thighs involuntarily clenched, and a breathy sigh escaped my quivering lips. Brian had a way of rendering me speechless, making it nearly impossible to form coherent words as I struggled to catch my breath against his intoxicating lips.

"So precious. I get you this hot, you can't even speak," he hummed, amusement dancing in his voice. One hand found its way back to my throat, asserting his dominance over me. His thumb grazed over my lower lip, teasing it down and allowing it to spring back against my teeth. Leaning closer, he guided me down onto my back, his presence looming over me like a commanding giant.

Once he fully hovered above me, his aura radiating power and desire, he whispered with a menacing grunt that sent shivers down my spine. His words held a primal hunger, a promise of untamed pleasure.

"Would you like Daddy to taste your sweet pussy, darling?"

The question enough made me writhe a little under him, and I whined a small "Yes please, Daddy" up at him, making him chuckle and shoot me that sexy smile of his.

"Stay there," he whispered, his voice laced with a commanding edge. With a swift motion, he pulled himself up to his feet, his strong hands gripping my ankles firmly. I felt myself being effortlessly dragged to the edge of the bed, my legs hanging over the edge. The anticipation prickled across my skin as he took a moment to appraise me, his eyes roaming hungrily over my half-naked form.

His fingers hooked into the band of my underwear, and in one fluid motion, he tugged them down my legs, leaving me completely bare from the waist down. The sudden exposure left me feeling vulnerable, every inch of my body open and ready for his intimate exploration. I could feel the cool air caress my heated skin, heightening my senses and intensifying the anticipation that pulsed through me.

His touch ignited a fiery sensation across my skin as he parted my legs, positioning my knees closer to my chest. The intimate vulnerability of my exposed core made my heart race. The throbbing of my clit intensified, yearning for the exquisite sensation of his lips wrapping around it, ready to be devoured by the force of his desire.

His fingertips trailed a tantalising path down the back of my thighs, leaving a trail of electric sparks in their wake. The pressure he applied against my legs urged me to instinctively open up for him, surrendering myself to his skilled ministrations.

As he lowered himself to his knees, his breath caressed my most sensitive flesh, sending shivers cascading through my body. The warmth of his breath teased and enveloped me, igniting a primal desire that caused my breathing to quicken in sync with the mounting tension.

The realisation struck me with a jolt. Few men I had been with had truly taken the time to explore the depths of my pleasure. But Brian was different. He possessed an insatiable hunger to please me, to delve into the realm of my desires. To show me he was capable, at his age, of making a young thing writhe and arch at his talents. This was not a mere obligation but a ravenous craving that consumed him, a thirst that he longed to quench with my pleasure as his ultimate reward.

I felt a surge of gratitude for Brian's genuine desire to please me. It was a rarity, a precious gift that I would savour with every fibre of my being. The weight of his intention settled over me, heightening the anticipation that coursed through my veins.

His hands moved with purpose, exploring the contours of my thighs, tracing delicate patterned that elicited soft moans from my lips. I felt my body responding to his touch, arching instinctively, seeking more of his caress. The intensity of his focus ignited a fire within me, fuelling the craving for his skilled tongue to explore me.

With a deliberate yet tender touch, Brian's fingers found their way to my most intimate core. His fingertips danced along the wetness that coated my folds, teasing and tantalising, as if he were an artist painting strokes of desire upon my canvas. Each stroke of his touch sent ripples of pleasure cascading through me, building the intensity with each passing second.

The room was filled with an intoxicating mix of our shared breaths and the sound of my own heart pounding in my ears. Every nerve in my body stood at attention, poised for the exquisite release that awaited me. I closed my eyes, surrendering myself to the sensations that enveloped me, allowing the anticipation to swell and consume me.

And then, with a flicker of his tongue, Brian made contact with my swollen, throbbing clit. The jolt of pleasure shot through me, causing my back to arch and a gasp of pleasure to escape my lips. His skilful tongue explored every crevice, every delicate fold, igniting an inferno of sensation that spiralled within me.

I lost myself in the maelstrom of pleasure, my fingers grasping the sheets beneath me as waves of ecstasy crashed over my body. Brian's rhythmic movements, a symphony of pleasure orchestrated by his expert tongue, bringing me closer to the brink of oblivion.

Brian, ever the master of control, sensed the depths of my pleasure and revelled in his power over me. He intensified his assault on my sensitive nub, his tongue swirling and flicking with unrelenting precision. Each stroke, each caress, pushed me closer to the edge of ecstasy.

As the intensity mounted, I could feel the coil of desire winding tighter within me. My body trembled with anticipation, my moans growing louder and louder, more and more urgent. Brian's grip on my thighs tightened, a silent command to surrender completely to the overwhelming pleasure he was orchestrating.

I was teetering on the precipice, my entire being consumed by the need for release. But just when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, Brian pulled back, denying me that final plunge into ecstasy. The absence of his touch left me achingly empty, my body pulsating with unfulfilled desire.

With a predatory glint in his eyes, Brian rose to his full height, his dominance radiating from every pore. He seized my wrists and effortlessly pinned them above my head, his strength asserting his control over my quivering body. I was at his mercy, my desire reaching a fever pitch as I yearned for his next move.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice a low, commanding growl. "You think I'm going to let you cum that easily, my little plaything?" he whispered, the words igniting a fierce ache deep within me. "No, my sweet, I'm going to make you beg for it."

His words sent a shockwave down my spine, my breath catching in my throat. I wanted to plead, to beg for release, but he silenced me with his dominance. He relished in the power he held over me, revelling in my desperation.

With a deliberate slowness that bordered on torturous, Brian trailed his fingers along the length of my body, tantalisingly close to where I craved his touch the most. Every nerve in my body screamed for his contact, my hips instinctively arching toward him, begging for his release.

But Brian was in control, and he dictated the pace. He continued his maddening exploration, his touch teasingly light as he traced circles on my inner thighs. The anticipation grew unbearable, my need for release becoming an all-consuming ache that threatened to overwhelm me.

Finally, just when I thought I could take no more, Brian yielded to my pleading body. His fingers found their way to my throbbing core, delving deep into my wetness. The penetration was swift and intense, a primal connection that shattered any remnants of self-control.

He moved with an effortless rhythm, his fingers expertly stroking every sensitive spot within me. "How tight you are, sweetheart... definitely need to warm you up a bit before I stretch you out," he moaned down at me, the pleasure coursing through my veins and my body convulsing beneath his touch. I writhed against his unyielding grip, lost in the sea of sensations that consumed me.

"D-Daddy..." I whined, my head pressing back into the silk sheets. "Feels so good..." Was all I could whimper out as his two fingers sloppily stroked inside me, generating the lewdest of noises. I was no longer an individual, but a vessel of desire, completely surrendered to his command. "Yes..." I hissed, my back arching.

"You almost there, angel?" He looked down at me, moving his head to meet my gaze and mirroring my whimpering breaths. "You gonna cum on my fingers like a good girl for Daddy?"

I nodded feverishly at him. "Yes, Daddy, I'm gonna cum so hard... Please, c-can I cum, Daddy?" I plead, looking up at him with innocent eyes. He bit on his lip hard, his gaze averting down to where his fingers connected with my body, enjoying the sight.

"I did promise you at lease five orgasms, didn't I?" He started, each question rhetorical. "I would be a pretty lousy daddy if I let you go without fulfilling those promises, wouldn't I?" He looked back up at me, his eyes as black as anything. "Cum around my fingers, sweetheart."

With a commanding nod from Brian, a surge of desire shot through my veins, compelling me to yield his dominance. My jaw slackened, and my back arched painfully as an intense pleasure coursed through my core, tightening, and pulsating around his lengthy middle fingers.

"God, you feel so good," Brian growled, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Squeeze around me, baby. Show Daddy how much you enjoy it."

A whimper escaped my lips as I obediently clenched around his fingers, my body quivering with mounting pleasure. My thighs instinctively clenched around Brian's wrist, attempting to hold on to the overwhelming sensations that threatened to consume me.

"Relax those pretty thighs, darling," Brian commanded, his voice dripping with authority. "I want you completely open for me. I want to see every tremor of pleasure."

I fought against the instinct to resist, forcing my thighs to loosen their grip, granting him unrestricted access to my pleasure. Waves of numbing ecstasy washed over me, rendering me breathless and lost in a state of euphoria.

I could hear the wet sounds of his fingers moving inside me, the slick friction only adding to the intensity of the moment. Each deliberate stroke pushed me closer to the edge, my body teetering on the precipice of release.

Brian's husky voice filled the air. "Cum for me, baby. Let yourself go."

The words echoed in my ears, igniting a surge of desire and surrender within me. The coil of tension within me tightened to its breaking point, until finally, I couldn't hold back any longer. My entire being convulsed with pleasure as a powerful climax consumed me, leaving me breathless and trembling in the wake of the intensity.

Brian forcefully withdrew his fingers from my throbbing core, causing me to gasp in both pleasure and loss. He didn't waste a second before shoving those glistening digits into my mouth, filling me up and silencing any protest with his dominance.

I moaned around his fingers, my eyes watering with a mix of desire and submission. The taste of my own arousal mingled with the salty tang of his skin, creating a sinful concoction that fuelled my insatiable hunger.

"Open wide, my obedient little slut," Brian growled. "Taste yourself. Show me how much you crave me."

I obediently parted my lips wider, taking my fingers deeper, feeling them brush against the back of my throat. The overwhelming sensations threatened me, my senses heightened by the knowledge that I was at his mercy.

I clung desperately to his wrist, my nails digging into his flesh, seeking an anchor in the midst of this dizzying pleasure. The taste, the submission, the raw power he exerted over me, it all blended into an intoxicating cocktail that pushed me further into the depths of desire.

Brian's eyes bore into mine, their intensity burning like a searing flame. He relished in the sight of my vulnerability, the surrender etched across my face. I could see the hunger in his gaze, the hunger to possess me completely, to claim me as his own.

As my body trembled with the aftershocks of my release, Brian's grip on me tightened, his dominance unwavering. He knew we were far from done, that the fire between us still raged, demanding to me stoked.

"You're mine tonight, and I'm not done with you," Brian growled, his voice laced with a primal hunger. "You belong to me, body and soul." He took his fingers from my mouth, moving some hair out my sweat-sheened face. "I need to be inside you, pretty thing," he breathed, kissing me sloppily before pulling himself up onto his knees. "Hands and knees," he once again did that thing with his finger, spinning it in a silent command that I acquiesced to without question. I weakly held myself up in an all-fours position, Brian stalking behind me.

Unable to see him, I could only imagine his gaze raking over my exposed form, his hunger growing with each passing moment. A low, primal grunt escaped his lips, a telltale sign of the torturous pleasure he was inflicting upon himself, stroking his hand along his length, relishing in the decadent excitement.

The air crackled with tension as he closed the distance, the bed shaking with his movements. I could sense his presence behind me, his heated breath caressing the nape of my neck as he leaned over me. The promise of his possession hung in the air, electrifying and intoxicating.

"You're so eager, my little temptress," he growled in a seductive rumble against my ear. "You've been aching for me, haven't you? Since you knew how to... They all ache for me like this, but you're so lucky to have me behind you, about to stretch all of you out with my cock."

My body trembled in response, craving the euphoria only he could provide. "Are you on the pill?" I promptly nodded back at him, just needing him to be inside of me already.

And then, without warning, I felt the tantalising pressure of his length at my entrance. He teased me, brushing against my slick folds, denying me the fullness I craved. It was a torment that pushed me to the edge of madness, but I knew it was all part of his exquisite control.

"Please, Daddy... I need to feel you," I practically cried out, my hips wiggling a little.

The moment stretched out, time suspended in a haze of desire. And then, in one swift, powerful thrust, he claimed me as his own. Pleasure and pain collided within me, a symphony of sensations that left me gasping for breath. The world dissolved into a symphony of moans and carnal pleasure as we became entwined for the first time.

"Jesus Christ..." he exhaled. "You surpass every fantasy, darling," he praised, his hands firmly gripping my hips, guiding me backwards to meet his initial thrust. "Does it hurt, love?"

A strained whimper escaped my lips as I lowered my head, my senses overwhelmed by the intense sensation of his cock filling me, stretching me with its commanding presence. "Just a bit..." I confessed, my words barely audible in a whisper. "But... I-I like it."

"Of course you do," he chuckled darkly, savouring the power he held over me. He withdrew, creating a fleeting void within me, only to reclaim it with a forceful thrust that elicited a gasp of pleasure. His movements grew rougher, a deliberate test to gauge my response. "You're such a dirty, naughty little girl, aren't you?"

He continued with a relentless rhythm, each thrust penetrating deeper, igniting a primal fire within me. My body quivered under his command, surrendering to the pleasure he bestowed upon me. The room filled with the sounds of our joining, a symphony of moans and the wet, rhythmic slapping of our bodies colliding.

Brian's grip on my hips tightened, his fingers digging into my flesh, marking me as his. With each forceful thrust, I could feel his power and dominance asserting itself, claiming me completely. I was his vessel, a conduit for his pleasure and my own.

"You were made for this, my sweet." He placed a hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me down, causing me to collapse onto my upper body, my back arching deliciously, and making Brian's thrusts hit me deeper than ever, which made me practically scream out in ecstasy. "There you go... I was waiting for you to scream for me," he breathed through a smug grin. "Now, lets see if I can get you to cum like this, then..."

With an insatiable hunger, Brian embarked on a relentless rampage of lust, thrusting into me with an unbridled force that left me breathless. The sound of our bodies colliding echoed through the room, mingling with the symphony of my moans and the lewd expletives that escaped my lips.

My senses were overwhelmed as pleasure surged through every fibre of my being. I surrendered completely to the symphony of sensations, losing myself in the wild rhythm of Brian's hips. As the pleasure built within me, I could feel the familiar stirrings of my second release. The excitement swelled, my breathing grew heavy and shallow, and I instinctively laid my head to the side on the cool pillows. My entire body moved and jolted forward with every powerful thrust that Brian delivered. I clung to the sheets, my fingers gripping them tightly.

"Yes, yes... Fuck, right there, Daddy," I moaned, my mouth hanging open as he hit every right spot within me. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum again, Daddy, please—“

"That's right, baby, let me feel you cum on my cock," he encouraged with a breathless exalt. He sent a sharp slap to the side of my arse, which edged me even closure. "Come on," he coaxed me, railing into me with a more viscous vigour, his hands pulling me against him with each thrust.

With each passing moment, the intensity escalated, pushing me closer to the edge of another mind-shattering climax. Brian's expertise and unrelenting passion drove me closer and closer, his actions meticulously calculated to elicit the most profound response from my quivering body.

The world around us faded into insignificance as I teetered on the brink. I was lost in a whirlwind of sensation, my mind consumed by pleasure, and all that mattered was the overwhelming connection between us.

And then it happened. The dam within me burst, unleashing a torrent of ecstasy that washed over me like a tidal wave. I cried out, my voice a symphony of raw desire and fulfilment. My body convulsed in rapture, every nerve ending ignited in a frenzy of pleasure.

Brian's thrusts continued, prolonging the ecstasy, each movement pushing me further into the depths of euphoria.

However, he didn't allow me a moment to catch my breath. With an almost frantic urgency, Brian swiftly positioned himself beneath me, his face now nestled between my legs. His hands gripped onto me, pulling me upwards until I was straddling his face, fully exposed to his hungry mouth. His lips claimed me once more, his skilled tongue lapping at my folds, delving deep into my entrance.

I couldn't help but run my fingers through my hair, my head falling back as the overwhelming stimulation consumed me. Brian was relentless in his pursuit of my pleasure, determined to extract another orgasm from my quivering body. He disregarded the fact that I hadn't fully recovered from the last climax, his singular focus on pushing me to new heights of ecstasy.

There was no room for hesitations or reservations. It was a raw and primal exchange, a symphony of desire and surrender. Brian's hunger for my pleasure was insatiable, his actions an unspoken command for me to abandon myself completely to the sensations coursing through me.

As I shifted my hips, I felt the firm contour of his nose glide teasingly over my sensitive clit. A surge of pleasure shot through me, and I seized the opportunity to use it to my advantage. Brian recognised my intentions and eagerly encouraged my movements. His hands gripped my backside, guiding me to grind against his face, his nose and tongue working in perfect harmony to ignite the most exquisite sensations within me.

Every glide and stroke over my swollen and aroused nub sent waves of pleasure crashing through me. I surrendered to the primal rhythm, my hips undulating in sync with Brian's skilful ministrations. His tongue ventured deeper, exploring the depths of my core with a fervour that matched my own mounting desire.

The air was thick with the heady scent of arousal, mingling with the sounds of our shared passion. Moans and gasps filled the room, a testament to the intensity of the connection we shared. In this moment, there was no room for pretence or inhibition. It was an unadulterated celebration of pleasure.

Time lost all meaning as the sensations intensified. I was on the precipice once more, teetering on the edge of an impending release. The world narrowed down to the overwhelming pleasure radiating from my core, the delicious torment building within me.

"O-Oh, shit... Br—Daddy," I mewled, looking down and seeing Brian's eyes glaring up at me, with a knowing look. He growled against me, now moving his head against me to intensify the feeling of his nose against my clit. And just like that, another climax ripped through me like a stampede of hormones. But he didn't stop, like I thought he might have. He flipped us over, so that I was now laid with my head on the pillows, looking up at the ceiling with his head still firmly shoved between my legs.

"Oh, God..." I weakly stuttered, the pain from the sensitivity unfolding into another type of pleasure altogether. The baby hairs on my head clung to my forehead, my skin flushed light pink and starting to glimmer ever so slightly with a light sheen of sweat.

Brian grunted with determination, continuing his movements on me, his fingers slipping inside me and continuing with a heavy ministration. The free hand that wasn't holding me firmly in place, yanking me even closer to him, now travelled up to my chest, using every ounce of his strength to pull down my bra, not bothering with unhooking it beforehand. He seemed to hold onto it for leverage. My whines and moans were totally unfiltered by this point, but I didn't give a single fuck.

The small glance I made down at him showed his head moving along with the motions of his tongue, completely in a world of his own as he went down on me. It made me feel better knowing he enjoyed it seemingly as much as I did.

My thighs were starting to shake uncontrollably as well as the rest of my legs, the combination of the sensitivity and the brief visual I just got of him was edging me closer and closer to another release. Already.

"Holy fuck, Daddy, I'm gonna cum again..." I groaned out one of my arms laying out on the bed beside me. My eyes shut as I revelled in this feeling. Most of my body went completely numb, but I was able to feel my forbidden, scandalous, older lover's free hand slide into mine, intertwining our fingers together. It was such a small, subtle action, but it made my heart flutter and my core clench deliciously. I squeezed onto his hand, my nails digging into the back of his as I started to grind my hips against his face.

I didn't even anticipate my second release; it happened so fast and sudden.

My voice broke and cracked as I whined out, this climax much more intense than the last one. My back was not the only part of my body that arched off the bed this time; this time, my hips rose off the bed, seemingly having a mind of their own as Brian stayed attached to me. He let me ride out the cluster of orgasms he'd just given me before eventually lifting his head up from between my legs. I was still recovering, my head buzzing and my body still tingling. I didn't even realise that Brian was crawling up and over me, watching me try to recover from that mind-altering experience.

He granted me a brief respite, allowing me to descend from the dizzying heights of pleasure. But just as I began to regain a semblance of control, he swiftly reclaimed it, his grip tightening around the back of my neck. With a commanding tone, he ordered, "Open up, love..."

My body trembled with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability as I obediently parted my lips, ready to receive his intimate offering. Brian provocatively gathered saliva in his mouth, savouring the lewd act before releasing a single droplet into my waiting mouth. The taste of him mingled with my own essence, an intoxicating blend that sent shivers down my spine

"Do you have any idea how amazing you taste, sweetheart?" he purred, his voice laced with a breathless whine. The audaciousness of the act ignited a forbidden desire within me, a thrill that I had never experienced before. In this moment, with Brian, I revelled in the taboo nature of our encounter, embracing the depths of my desires without reservation.

His unyielding gaze never faltered, and as his hand descended to his throbbing shaft, a wicket smile played upon his lips. He dragged his slick length over my sensitive core, causing me to tremble with the onslaught of pleasure. The delicate touch against my clit sent electric shocks surging through my body, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

Without delay, Brian pressed forward, his cock sliding effortlessly into my eager depths. A guttural moan escaped my lips, merging with his deep growl of satisfaction. "One more, my perfect little thing," he whispered, his voice thick with desire and dominance. He increased the tempo of his thrusts, each one driving us closer to the edge of oblivion. Our bodies collided with a symphony of flesh, a crescendo of passion that echoed through the room, fuelling his insatiable hunger for release.

I locked eyes with him, our gazes merging in a dance of primal desire. His sculpted form glistened with a sheen of perspiration, his dishevelled hair framing his face in a wild halo, and his jaw clenched with unrelenting determination. He embodied raw masculinity, and untamed force that overwhelmed my senses.

As our bodies moved in perfect synchrony, the tension grew with each passing second. The room became a sanctuary of pleasure, filled with the cacophony of our moans and the intoxicating scent of our arousal. Every thrust brought us closer to the precipice, our shared climax shimmering on the horizon, a tantalising promise that held us captive.

"Oh God, Brian," I gasped, losing the pet name, the closer I got to what would be an other-worldly release.

He met my subtle plea with a wicked grin, his thrusts growing more forceful, driving us to the brink. "Hold on tight, darling," he rasped, his voice dripping with carnal hunger.

With each primal thrust, the crescendo rose, pleasure and ecstasy threatening to consume us. I clung to him, my nails digging into his flesh.

"Cum for me, one last time, baby, I know you can do it for Daddy," he reaffirmed one last time. And in the final crescendo, time stood still. Our bodies moved as one, a frenzy of need and desire. The air crackled with electricity, the room filled with the sound of our moans mingling, our rhythm reaching a fevered pitch.

And then, with a primal roar, we shattered. A surge of ecstasy coursed through me, radiating from the depths of my core to every sinch of my being. It was an earth-shattering climax, an explosion of pleasure that consumed us both, obliterating any thought or sense of self.

As waves washed over us, our bodies convulsed in tandem, locked in a euphoric embrace. My mouth hung open, and broken cries fell from it, as I experienced the most intense, harsh orgasm of my life.

"Fuuuck!" Brian's animalistic growl rang in the air, as he stilled inside me, shooting his thick load deep within me. Brian May's release. Inside of me. He clung to me, dropping his head down to bury his face in my neck as he slowed his thrusts. He let out whimpers of his come down, his arms wrapped tightly around me.

As our laboured breaths mingled in the air, a moment of surprise interrupted the post-coital haze. Sensing a different sensation, I glanced down, my tired eyes widening in disbelief. A pool of wetness glistened beneath me, evidence of an uncharted territory of pleasure.

"Oh, God..." I gasped, my face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and astonishment. I instinctively covered my face, overwhelmed by the unexpected release. Brian, still catching his breath, followed my gaze, his expression shifting from confusion to a knowing smile.

Chuckling softly, he gently removed my hands from my blushing face, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and amusement. With tender reassurance, he pressed a loving peck on my nose before capturing my lips in a lingering kiss.

"Darling," he murmured, his voice laced with affectionate amusement. "You've been with the wrong people if they've never made you squirt before."

With a smug smirk at his accomplishment, he swiftly stood up from the bed, momentarily disappearing into the bathroom and then returning a short while after with a small face cloth. He kneeled in front of me, placing one hand on my knee and gently guiding it to the side so he could have access to me. He was clearly experienced in this, and it made me blush as he cleaned me up; he did it as slow as ever, his eyes feasting upon my worn-out state. After all, he had just given me five mind-altering orgasms. Just as promised.

"There we go," he sighed, throwing the cloth to the side and leaning down above me. "All perfect," he gave me another heated kiss, his tongue rolling into my mouth sensually, making my eyes flutter shut. He broke the kiss and smirked down at me. "Happy you didn't get on the Euro?"

"Definitely," I breathed out with an airy laugh. "I have to say, I wasn't expecting this to happen today..." I bit my lip, for some reason finding it difficult to look him in the eyes.

"I'll be honest, I didn't either," he chuckled, moving beside me and pulling me into his side.

The only thing now was figuring out how to leave. Surely, there'd have to be that conversation. And surely, he didn't want me staying there. After all, he was a renowned rock star, in a committed relationship with someone much closer to his own age, on a press tour, eyes on him 24/7.

"What's going on up there, love?" He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at me. "I'm not throwing you out, if that's what you're wondering."

I looked at him, shocked. "Really?"

He laughed down at me smoothly, admiring my innocent state. "Of course not. Why would I get rid of something so perfect?" He purred down at me. My perplexity stayed, but I lacked the energy to question him further.

"We'll talk in the morning, sweet thing," he stroked over my hair. "Now, I think we should sleep."

Like a train conductor, he commanded our every act, and we did exactly that. Sleeping next to Brian May in a luxury hotel in Germany, after being pummelled into the mattress of his king-size bed, was so much better of an alternative to staying in a three-star hotel with colleagues that would reprimand me non-stop for my slip up at the studio. I hadn't even received a call from Candice to check up on me, or ask where I was, since I did disappear without notifying anybody.

I must have overslept, since by the time morning rolled around, the bed felt ominously cold and void of any other human presence. I fluttered my eyes open, stretching my arm out instinctively to find that Brian was no longer beside me. But as I came round, I noticed a piece of paper sat delicately on the bedside table. I tiredly sat up, crawling over to it and picking it up, letting my eyes gaze over the pristine cursive that adorned its surface.

Y/N,

Last night was incredible, and I found myself sat awake in the early hours of this morning, whilst you slept beside me. You looked so perfect and at ease. Anyway, I had to run out and get some stuff done this morning, but don't worry, my perfect Y/N, you stay right where you are, and I shall be back before midday. In the meantime, order room service, take a shower, do whatever you need to do. And maybe call that old sow from the studio and tell her you quit. I needed a new PR person, anyway. And you? You're perfect for me.

See you later, sweet girl.

Bri x

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marreddream · 2 months

Text

Housamo Fic - Two Dog Warriors Walk Into A Cafe

Ding-a ling~

Shinya Tennoji is picking up empty cups and plates from the tables when he sees a small pink and a large brown Therian enter his cafe. Hazelnut strawberry and matcha dark chocolate. They make a rather charming pair, he thinks.

“Oh my, Tanetomo and Yasuyori! It’s so nice to see the two of you again!”

Yasuyori beams. Tanetomo scoffs.

“We’re just here to use the coupons you gave us. We happened to be close by, so we figured we’d scope your place out.”

Shinya’s glad to see them, and glad they hadn’t shown up until a good amount of time after the Valentine’s Snowball Fight Shinya had met the two at had passed. Days after an absence of his at the cafe were always busier than normal, to speak nothing of a missed Valentine’s Day shift.

“Aw, I’m happy to hear that! Yes, see what on the menu you’d like, and order at the front when you’re ready.”

“Shinya Tennoji. I hope for your sake that what you just said was a simple case of you automatically rattling off whatever generic customer greeting phrases first popped into your brain when you saw us, and not you assuming me to be so moronic I never learned how to order from a cafe.”

“Ahaha, it was most definitely a case of the former, Tanetomo.”

“Well, perhaps Yasuyori might have needed the assistance, so good on you for being such a diligent and attentive employee.”

“Counselor! You have seen me function perfectly well at the plenty of other establishments we have been to together before!”

There are some minimally subdued rumblings from the regulars about the fresh faces who have entered the cafe.

“At least...not fawning…Shinya, but…” “Treat… more respect…holes…” “...think they’re …type?” “… are pretty cute…”

Tanetomo’s ears twitch at the last comment. He does a hair flip and a whimsical 360 degree twirl for the crowd as naturally as he draws breath, which is to say: effortlessly yet with intention, before returning to scanning the menu.

Taromaiti is at the cash register. She observes this action without judgment or reaction. Hermes isn’t here today, but it’s what you could call a slow day, so Shinya doesn’t particularly mind. Kalki is busy preparing food and cleaning dishes in the back, so he does not get to witness this 10s-across-the-board maneuver.

Cafe Asterism’s patrons tend to get upset when Shinya isn’t the server or cashier, but he wishes he could be on cooking duty during cafe hours more often sometimes. Oh well. He wishes for a lot of things that can’t come true. He returns to what he was doing before hand, and Tanetomo and Yasuyori make their order.

“Iced coffee. Grande. And a bread pudding.”

“Could I have… a venti sized matcha frappuccino? Five Monte Cristos, and two shortbreads, please.”

Yasuyori pays for them both, and they take a seat.

“Oh, 1 hour seating?” “Well, we won’t be staying long. Anybody who could find something in here even remotely interesting enough to justify spending over an hour in this place (aside from the presence of yours truly, of course) would have to be quite the simple minded kook.”

It’s a subtle dig at Shinya, and the corners of his lips curl up a little. But, for somebody whose goal was to win over Shinya’s “adoring throng of fans to show them who was truly worthy of their love”, as Tanetomo had put it, Shinya wasn’t quite sure if…ah, what was it called? If, “negging”, was the right direction to take.

The people seated nearby Tanetomo and Yasuyori smile upside down. There are definitely some unsavory feelings to be felt in the air, but romantic rival nor direct threat to Shinya’s life/ego (it’s the same thing to them really) Tanetomo does not yet appear to be, so they keep to themselves.

Shinya drops off crockery in the sink, and Kalki has already completed the preceding order for Shinya to serve. Kalki’s insane multi-tasking skills are one thing, but that combined with his four, rugged, heat-resistant arms puts him on a whole nother level when it comes to cafe work. Shinya could sing his praises about Kalki all day long, but not out loud. Kalki would explode the world from embarrassment before any of Shinya’s fans could do it for him in a fit of an envious rage. So Shinya settles for a simple ‘thank you Kalki’ and serves Moe-chan her order, who smiles and says thanks.

When Tanetomo and Yasuyori’s orders are completed, Shinya brings their food over.

“Wow! It looks so good! Thank you, Tenn-”

“Taste test for poison.” Tanetomo spoons a scoop of pudding into Yasuyori’s mouth, and then a strawful of iced coffee.

“Gulp. Delicious! No poisons identified, Counselor.”

Shinya wonders if this is Tanetomo’s roundabout way of sharing his food with Yasuyori, some sort of twisted display of dominance, or if poisoning attempts really are frequent enough to be something they actually needed to watch out for. Regardless, it’s a somewhat endearing scene, in a darkly comedic sort of way.

They are in dangerous territory too after all, Shinya acknowledges. He smiles at the two and leaves them to go attend to the other customers.

Yasuyori takes a small sip of his frappe before setting it down on a coaster. The drink is now already half empty.

“Give me some of your drink.”

Tanetomo has already snatched it before his sentence is even finished and tries some. He drinks a quarter of it, and Yasuyori nibbles on one of his cookies before giving it to Tanetomo.

The two of them efficiently dine and chat. As Tanetomo consumes the bread pudding and his drink at a surprisingly fast yet visually refined pace, Yasuyori piles three Monte Cristos on top of one another to impressively bite down on all at once, and then hands the remaining two to Tanetomo who proceeds to do the same.

Wow. Shinya can already feel his jaw locking from just looking at them, but it also kind of makes him want to try it out as well.

Yasuyori finishes his sandwiches and cookie first, and then stares at the one he had given to Tanetomo. Tanetomo purses his lips and tells him to go buy some more for the both of them to-go. Yasuyori complies.

To Shinya’s surprise, Tanetomo calls out to him.

“Don’t think I haven't been seeing you side-eye us the entire time, Shinya Tennoji.”

Oopsies. Looks like Shinya Tennoji got caught. He wasn’t bombastically ‘side-eyeing’, as Tanetomo had verbally interpreted it as, but he really thought he was doing good about not being that obvious observing them. He hopes the other customers haven’t been as perceptive and paranoid today as Tanetomo is in general, but he’s been pretty good about personably interacting with everybody so he thinks it’ll be okay.

“So was the entertainment of our dining in your establishment to your satisfaction?”

“Aha, sorry, sorry. It’s not like I wasn’t looking, but the two of you seemed like you were having a lot of fun. I always want to see my customers having a good time at Cafe Asterism.”

“Hmph. Is that so.”

Well, yes. That is so, Shinya thinks. He most certainly does not like to see people having a bad time at Cafe Asterism, when the reasoning for most everybody gathering here tending to be because of him.

“Ahhh… could it be that... that wasn’t the case for you two today?”

His hands come up to his chin. It’s an endearing pose that he finds tends to quell agitated customers, but it only serves to scrunch up Tanetomo’s expression even more. Shinya holds back a smile.

“The atmosphere here is not to my standards. The interior design doesn’t help either.”

Shinya’s proud of his quaint little cafe, but he knows it’s just that. A quaint little cafe. That also attracted a lot of… rather strong-willed habitué . So he can acquiesce to that opinion. And besides, Tanetomo was not saying Shinya’s decorating was making the atmosphere worse! He can take that part as a compliment.

Anyways, the only opinion on his cafe that truly mattered was Retail Food Health and Safety Code’s opinion, and Cafe Asterism was up to snuff.

“Aww…. Tanetomo, I’m so sorry to hear that. I’d love for you and Yasuyori to come again sometime… but if you’ve lost all interest in returning to Cafe Asterism, then I completely understand.”

He doesn’t want them to never return again. But it’s not a bad thing to let people run while they still can either.

“I’d be significantly more incentivized to return if I had some more coupons to use at a next visit. The food is up to par, I can at least say.”

“Hehee. At least that can be arranged.” He pulls some from out of his apron pocket. “Here you go, Tanetomo.”

He smoothly plucks them from Shinya’s fingers and looks them over.

“You just give these out to whoever asks?” “When I feel like…I have extra, I guess.”

Shinya feels a presence behind him and turns around. Oh, it’s Moko.

“Sh…Shinya… sorry, cuz’ I overheard…but could…. I have a coupon, too…?”

Moko gets the words out just audibly enough for only Shinya to hear, but Shinya knows it’s only a matter of time before people will begin to gather round, and Tanetomo seems to sense this looming phenomenon as well.

“My, one’s heart can't help but be tugged at by such pitiful displays of desperation…”

Yasuyori returns with a paper bag of confections in hand, and Tanetomo gets up to leave.

“I’m off.” He spins, his hair elegantly following in a curve, and heads to the exit.

“Farewell Shinya!” Yasuyori gives a friendly wave goodbye, and Shinya turns around to reciprocate.

When he turns back to respond to Moko, and Sumael, Amon, and Rue who have also begun to crowd around Shinya, he hears the bell of the exit door ring as it is opened and Tanetomo calls out from behind.

“Customer service wasn’t bad either. Give my regards to Miss Taromaiti and the chefs.”

The door closes shut.

“I was still right here to give regards to, you know,” Taromaiti remarks amusedly from the front register.

Shinya proceeds in the distribution of coupons to his patrons who have circled around him.

#my art #housamo #housamo shinya #yasuyori #tanetomo #housamo tanetomo #housamo yasuyori #shinya tennoji #housamo fanfic #tokyo afterschool summoners #sorrryyy not too sure how accurately i wrote Tanetomo and Yasuyori here but i really was trying #edit: F WORD. coffee and matcha are toxic for dogs #gahhhh idc idc

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7-wonders · 2 years

Text

Our Very Own Greek Tragedy (Pt. 1 of 2)

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: You love Morpheus, and Morpheus loves you. You're the happiest that you've ever been in your life, and your love's intention to propose to you is just the icing on top of the cake.

Too bad you don't remember any of this when you wake up.

Or, yes this is based on that post that I made about Reader and Morpheus being in a relationship in the Dreaming but then you don't remember your dreams when you wake up.

Word Count: 5.9k

Notes: First off, a huge thank you to @writethrough for reading this over and editing it for me. I had spent so much time on it that none of it made sense anymore and I'm SO thankful to you for offering to help me out. Seriously, I cannot thank you enough.

This is part one of a two-shot! I want to say that now bc this is so angsty, and I don't want anybody to think that I'm leaving things as they are in this fic. There will be more, and it is being written. Don't worry.

Part Two of Two

The village that lies to the east of Dream’s palace is quaint and fairy tale-esque with the cottages lining a cobblestoned street, a small market, and the general whimsy that comes with places such as this. It’s a village that you take your time meandering through, saying hello to every member of the dreamfolk that you come across (something they take great delight in), and enjoying yourself and the gift of lucidity in the Dreaming. Today, though, you’re nearly running through the village with one mission in mind: making it to Fiddler’s Green as quickly as possible.

Morpheus had left a note for you tucked into the book you were reading in the library, instructing you to meet him, and after not seeing him for a few days, you’re almost desperate to find him now. You wonder what people would say if they knew that the brooding King of Dreams and Nightmares that’s forever dressed in all-black is a romantic at heart, but it also doesn’t matter what they would say–you love it.

Fiddler’s Green is just as beautiful as always with grass swaying gently in the breeze and all manner of plant and animal life inhabiting it. It’s as if every picturesque meadow has been rolled up into one, and standing under a tree taking in his masterpiece is your favorite work of art. Though he claims he doesn’t have a favorite area of the Dreaming, that he loves every part of his realm equally, you know that Dream of the Endless is especially fond of Fiddler’s Green.

“Morpheus!” He turns around when you call his name, even though you know he sensed you the moment you arrived here. Again–he’s the most romantic sap you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

You feel almost ridiculous as you run towards him, like some left-behind lover whose soldier has returned from war. But that’s how Morpheus, and the act of loving him, makes you feel–like you’re living every great love affair and love story all wrapped into one. Even though it’s been mere days, you missed him.

Morpheus is already waiting for you with arms open, and you throw yourself into his embrace hard enough to send you both onto the lush grass. Considering Morpheus is strong enough to not even move when you collide with him—having the preternatural strength all beings that should not exist have—you think he just enjoys the feeling of collapsing into an undignified heap with you. Somehow, even in the blur of a few seconds, he’s managed to maneuver your positions so you’re under him when it should most definitely be the other way around.

You certainly won’t complain about this.

As you stare up at Morpheus, his head haloed by the rays of the sun, you can’t help but think that he looks ethereal. He’s always unfairly beautiful–it comes with the territory of being Endless, of being unable to be fully contained in a regular human body. Still, looking upon him today feels almost too much to bear, like you’re staring straight into the sun instead of just seeing the edges of it. You would gladly burn your eyes beyond repair if this was the last thing you were to see.

“Hi.” You smile at him radiantly before leaning up and kissing him. Everything feels so heightened in the Dreaming, especially emotions. You can’t just be happy here. No, it’s happiness that feels incandescent. Not that you’re complaining, of course.

His hand comes to cup your face, and you nuzzle your cheek into it. “Hello.”

There’s so much you want to say to him, but it all feels too overwhelming to even attempt to verbalize. Instead, you settle on, “I missed you.”

“As I have missed you.” The stars in his dark eyes sparkle with mirth. “You have not been sleeping properly.”

Your ears grow hot; you should have known better than to assume Morpheus wouldn’t bring this up. “I have a good reason though.”

He raises an eyebrow, daring you to try him. “Oh?”

“I’ve been busy?”

Morpheus looks entirely unimpressed at this, but you had to try.

“Listen, it’s hard for me to properly relax when I’m busy and I know that I have stuff that needs to get done!”

“You could have called upon me. I would have granted you rest.”

“Y’know, contrary to popular belief, I was able to take care of myself during rough patches prior to meeting you.”

“How you ever survived is beyond me,” he says dryly, a small chuckle forming deep in his chest when you smack at his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t ask you to leave your realm for something as stupid as me not falling asleep at a reasonable hour.”

“Nothing involving you is ever,” he makes a face because he hates cursing, finds it crude, but he’s trying to get a point across here, “‘stupid’.”

“It’s very sweet of you to offer,” you lean up in order to kiss him again, the urge becoming too strong to resist, “but I’m able to get through a couple of restless nights without you.”

The conversation comes to a stop as words are replaced with kisses. It’s only been a couple of days, but you both feel the need to reacquaint yourselves with the other’s body. Morpheus is extremely gifted with words, and that doesn’t stop when his mouth is otherwise occupied–when he touches you, he writes all the poetry he wishes to say along the surface of your skin. Long after the sensation of his fingers on your skin has faded, you’ll still feel, see, his declarations of love like an invisible tattoo.

Morpheus finally pulls his lips away from yours, making you whine as you chase after the kisses you’re being unjustly deprived of. He doesn’t move too far away, thankfully, and rests his forehead on yours.

“I believe I have a better solution to you not finding enough rest to visit me.”

“Yeah?” You’re intrigued now. “And what’s that?”

“You could simply stay here. With me.”

“While I would love nothing more than to spend both my day and my night with you, I have responsibilities that I have to, y’know, be responsible for. Besides, isn’t it you who always says that I ‘can’t live the entirety of my life in the Dreaming when the Waking is awaiting’?” You try to deepen your voice in an attempt to mock him, but it only serves to make a fond smile appear on his face.

“I have said that, but because you have always been a mere visitor to my realm.” He sits up, bringing you along with him, and holds both of your hands in his. “What if we made your residency here permanent?”

“What?”

You know what he means, but it’s a little difficult for you to wrap your brain around. You’ve discussed subjects such as marriage before, but only ever in the abstract. Never has he been so clear with his wants as he is right now.

“You want me to live here?” You were going to ask if he wants you to move in with him, but there’s a pretty big difference between moving into an apartment with someone and moving to the realm that one rules over. “With you?”

Morpheus nods. “You should be aware, though, that I am a selfish being. Were you to say yes to me, I would want it all.”

“And what is it that you want?” A smile plays at your lips, and you try desperately to hide it and act as cool and unbothered as he looks. It’s surely not working, but you at least feel like you’re holding your cards close to your chest in a situation where you’re about to burst.

“Is it really not obvious? My love, I want you. As my wife, as the queen of my realm, as my lover and best friend and companion. And in return, you would have it all as well. Everything that I have, everything that I am, would be yours—has been yours for a long time. I simply did not know it was you that I was waiting for.”

You put a hand over your mouth to hide the huge grin you’re now sporting. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“No. When I formally ask you, it shall be an occasion befitting what you deserve for a proposal. Consider this…me speaking my intention to soon ask you for your hand.”

“Can I give you my answer now?” You can’t not tell him your answer–you think you’ll burst if you have to keep it to yourself.

“You may, but I will still ask you when the time comes.”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” You kiss a different part of his face after every ‘yes’, finally kissing his lips. “I’ll marry you, and I’ll–I’ll be your queen. Whatever you want. You say you’re mine, but I’m just as wholly and completely yours. I always have been, and I always will be.”

Never have you seen Morpheus fully smile before. You consider yourself lucky to see his lips just barely quirk up in a fond smirk–sometimes he will have an actual smile, but it’s always barely there, and one needs to know what to look for when he does. Now, he grins at you, and you see why his smiles are so rare. If you thought his mere countenance rivaled the sun, his smile could put a damn supernova to shame.

When you throw yourself at him for the second time, Dream has the foresight to transport both of you to his chambers in a whirlwind of sand before your passion fully envelops you; you and a very abashed Dream Lord have taken more than enough verbal scoldings from Gilbert, who has physically manifested into his human form to admonish you against coupling at Fiddler’s Green. (You’re still ashamed when you recall the time where he said, “I am happy for you both, truly, but I must beg of you to please keep your affections to a—I believe it is called PG-13 rating—while you are here.”)

It’s a good thing that he does, because it feels impossible to keep your hands off of each other as your surroundings melt away to nothing. All there is, all you need, is you and Morpheus and this moment. The world could be burning to ash around you and you wouldn’t care, so long as Morpheus was touching you the way that he is.

You used to never understand why books and other forms of media referred to sex as “making love”. It sounded ridiculous, in your opinion; sex is…sex. Something carnal and pleasurable. If anything, you thought it should be called “making pleasure” instead. But then you met Morpheus, and suddenly it all made sense. Sexual intimacy with him is just a physical manifestation of the love you share—a love so potent it bubbles over your ability to contain it.

And oh, does that love manifest most pleasurably when you’re in bed with the King of Dreams and Nightmares. It makes your head spin just how devoted Morpheus is to you. In all situations, really, but especially in this one. It’s his realm you’re in, and he’s the one that has been mistaken for a god or deity by more cultures than can be named. He’s more powerful than any god that has ever existed or will ever exist, and yet he worships you as if you’re the one who’s holy. He would lay himself bare at your altar as a willing sacrifice, and the realization leaves you breathless. (As well as the way he’s moving his hips–that leaves you breathless, too)

Later, you’re attempting to recover your brain cells as Morpheus has you in his embrace, listening to your breathing as it finally evens out

“Do you think you’ll ever come to visit me? In the Waking?”

It’s a conversation you’ve had many times before, with Morpheus’s answer always remaining the same: no. He’s explained to you that it’s not that he doesn’t want to see you, it’s that he’s not sure if there still remains a threat in the Waking. Though you’ll never say it to him, you think he’s avoiding his trauma instead of dealing with it head-on.

“Perhaps,” Morpheus says, “if Lucienne can find out what became of the Magdalene Grimoire and the Order of Ancient Mysteries.”

“I’d protect you, you know.”

“You would?”

“Mhm. I’m scrappy.” You hold your fists up to illustrate this.

Instead of fearing your fighting prowess, Morpheus grabs one of your fists and kisses each knuckle. “Yes, you look the part.”

“I get the feeling that you’re not taking me very seriously.”

“How ever did you gather such an impression?” He smirks as he says it, your cheeky love, before brushing his thumb over your ring finger. “I confess that I’m not very familiar with the concept of wedding rings, but I do look forward to creating one for you to wear.”

“Will you wear one, too? After all, if you get to let everyone know that I’m taken, I want the same for you.”

He tries to act unaffected by your words, but you’ve known and loved him long enough to see the faintest tinge of pink on his cheeks that lets you know you’ve gotten to him. You’re about to tease him when your vision tilts for a moment before becoming fuzzy around the edges, and you frown in disappointment when you realize the familiar feeling: you’re waking up.

Morpheus senses it too, holding onto you a bit tighter as if this can keep you tethered to his realm. Unfortunately, he’s given the advice about you not living your life in the Dreaming more than you could count. To not follow it would make him a hypocrite. More often lately, it seems as though he’s regretting those words–hence him voicing his intention to propose to you.

You laugh at the obvious displeasure on his face. “Better get on that proposal sooner rather than later, huh?”

Though he scowls, he refuses to let you leave without a kiss. “Until we meet again, darling mine,” he says, his words echoing as you’re pulled back to the Waking.

•••

Whoever invented alarms must have been a sadist; there’s no other reason for them to be so loud (certainly not to be loud enough to actually wake you up). You groan at the harsh sound that repeats over and over, refusing to open your eyes as you fumble a hand along your nightstand until you feel the glass surface of your phone. Hitting it harshly a couple of times, you finally manage to turn it off and bask in the sudden, blissful silence of your room.

As you yawn and rub at your eyes, slowly stretching your limbs and procrastinating actually getting up, you try to hold onto the fleeting fragments of your dreams before they’re gone for good. You’ve never remembered the things you dream about; it’s always random glimpses, if that. More often than not, the dream completely fades by the time you’ve gotten out of bed.

Though you can’t remember your dreams, you do know that, lately, they must be rather nice. With the way you’re consistently left with residual contentment and happiness, it��s impossible that you’ve dreamt about anything not completely and totally wonderful.

What you do remember, at least before you get out of bed, are certain feelings. Before consciousness invades and wipes the slate clean to prepare you for the day ahead, there’s flashes of what you might have dreamt of. The feeling of soft skin under your fingertips, or the way the sun shines on an unruly mop of black hair. Your head in someone’s lap, and the brush of lips against yours.

You really wish you could remember those dreams.

When enough time has passed that your second alarm goes off, you grab your phone this time instead of shutting the alarm off. Though it’s certainly not the healthiest morning routine, you’ve gotten into the habit of scrolling through your phone until you’re nearly rushing to make it out the door on time. With this self-awareness in mind, you unplug your phone from your charger and roll onto your other side to lazily scroll through your notifications and apps.

Instagram and Snapchat stories show that a surprising number of people you’re acquainted with go out on weeknights, which makes you a little envious of their stamina and fortitude. Twitter hasn’t sunk like the Titanic yet–you’re not sure if you’re happy or sad about this. The couple of TikToks your friends have sent make you exhale harshly through your nose in a lazy laugh, and you respond with the appropriate emojis. There’s a few matches on Tinder and Bumble you should probably respond to, but you’re not feeling very into them at the moment (they don’t have the dark hair, alabaster complexion, and starry eyes that you’re unknowingly looking for), so you ignore the messages for now.

Finally, when you can’t put off getting out of bed any longer, you throw the covers off of you and rush through the rest of your morning routine. Brushing your teeth, making your hair look some semblance of tamed, grabbing whatever clothes are sitting on top of the basket of clean laundry you still haven’t folded, snagging something quick for breakfast, and predictably, rushing out the door. Just another boring, mundane day in your boring, mundane life.

•••

Dream of the Endless stands across the street from a small coffee shop, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. He knows why he’s so nervous, of course. Though he can claim to his trusted emissary that he’s wary of any fringe members of Burgess’s cult, it’s actually because he’s seeing you for the first time in the Waking world. In your world.

This would be so much easier in the Dreaming. In the Dreaming, he feels entirely at ease; after all, he is the Dreaming, and the Dreaming is him. But now, in a world in which he wants no part of, he feels entirely lost and out of his element.

For over 100 years, he had remained locked up in a glass prison underground. An entire century had passed by, one where he had no idea of anything that occurred in this world or any other. Fates’ sake, he hadn’t even been aware of the Second World War until he had escaped, what with Fawney Rig being too far away from any locations of significance to be hit during the Blitz, and Morpheus doing his best to tune out any of the drivel from the guards trying to pass the time.

Morpheus is still trying to get “up to speed,” so to say, in the current era. Something he is failing miserably at, if Matthew is to be believed. All of this to say, he’s regretting his spur-of-the-moment decision to visit (well, as spur-of-the-moment as a Dream Lord who is a stickler for rules can get), and he’s almost tempted to put this whole surprise to rest and wait until you arrive in the Dreaming later. It is a surprise, which means you have no idea he’s been planning this.

Those closest to him (read: Lucienne and Matthew, the only two with the balls to actually try in the first place) expressed their concern for this idea of his. After all, “Morpheus” and “surprise” are not two words that often go together. But Hob Gadling, his dear immortal human friend, had so liked it when Morpheus made an unexpected appearance that he was sure that surprise visits from those they care for must be something all humans enjoy. Besides, it’s not as if you haven’t specifically requested for him to come and see you in the Waking.

Though his mind is, and has been, made up, a certain raven holds a grudge and decides that, for once, he’s going to attempt to be the voice of reason instead of the voice of chaos. Looking up at him from where he stands on the ground next to Dream’s boot, Matthew says, “Look, I’m just saying! What if she’s not happy to see you?”

“While your concern is appreciated, Matthew, it is unwarranted. I can assure you that we last parted only because we were forced to.”

If Matthew could roll his eyes, Dream imagines that’s what he would be doing right now. “Yuck, got it. Please don’t continue with that. But, like, I thought we were chill the last time that I saw her! And then today you’ve got me running messages so I figured I’d stop and say hi, and she just ignores me when she sees me?” He scoffs in disbelief. “No, she didn’t just ignore me. She looked at me like I was a nuisance!”

“Perhaps she had you mistaken for another raven.” Morpheus’s lips twitch as he tries his hardest not to smirk at Matthew’s outrage.

“Yeah, one of the other talking ravens she knows.”

Up until now, Morpheus was unaware that such a small being could hold so much disgruntlement. It almost makes him relax. Almost.

But then he makes the mistake of seeking you out through the windows. When he finds you, the breath he doesn’t need catches in his throat.

His beloved. His soon-to-be betrothed. His future wife and queen.

You’re sitting at one of the tables against the large window, head down as you read without a care in the world. The hand not holding your book open is loosely wrapped around a paper cup sitting on the table. Late afternoon sun bathes you in warmth, and Morpheus is struck by the image you make. Oh, the beautiful dreams he could create with you as his muse (yes, he’s aware of the irony, seeing that he was married to an actual Muse (capitalized) at one time). Suddenly, Morpheus understands what you mean when you tell him he has such a ‘kingly air’ in the Dreaming. It’s because he’s in his element, somewhere he’s familiar with. Here, in the Waking, you look much the same.

Any thoughts of leaving and returning to the sanctity of his realm fled his mind the moment he saw you. Morpheus steps off of the curb to make it across the street, and it’s only Matthew’s panicked squawking and his jerking on his coat with his beak that keeps him from getting hit by a car. Right, traffic rules are much different now than they were before his imprisonment. For one, cars can go above 20 miles per hour.

“Try not to get yourself killed, lover boy.”

Morpheus glares at his raven, but finally nods once. “Stay here.”

This time, he steps onto the road after making sure there are no vehicles coming his way.

A small bell chimes above him as he opens the door of the coffee shop. Morpheus supposes this shop is the same as all others, but he hasn’t had the opportunity to experience such novelties yet, so he takes a moment to appreciate the relaxing atmosphere and the aroma of coffee beans in the air. Though he doesn’t need human food or drink to survive, he can still appreciate such things.

Finally, finally, Morpheus approaches the table you’re seated at with his hands shoved deeply into his coat pockets. You don’t look up at him, too lost in your own world, and he takes a moment to admire you before he says, “Is this seat taken?”

When you look up at him, he’s expecting you to jump up and hug him, as you do almost every time you see him (though he’s never been especially fond of hugs, he’s learning to quite like them when they come from you). At the very least, he’s expecting you to grace him with the smile he adores so much.

What he’s not expecting is what he gets, which is the complete lack of recognition in your eyes and the small, awkward smile you give him. The type of smile reserved for strangers, or people one doesn’t very much like. A cold chill runs down his spine, and he tries to push away the dread that comes along with it.

“No, I guess not,” you say begrudgingly.

You’re simply teasing him, Morpheus attempts to reassure himself as he sits down across from you. In a couple of seconds you’ll break and laugh at him for getting so worried, and everything will be alright. Convinced of this, and determined to make you break sooner rather than later, he places his hands on the table, knowing how much you love to hold hands with him.

Morpheus realizes something is wrong when you jerk your own hands away from him, sliding them into your lap protectively. Your gaze becomes guarded, and he can see the way you straighten up to try and give off an aura that you are not to be trifled with. Scrappy indeed, he thinks dryly as he tries not to immediately panic.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” you ask.

Okay, now he’s panicking. Morpheus always knows when he’s being lied to, but especially when it’s a mortal lying to him. As he looks at you, he can sense none of that deception within you. You genuinely do not recognize him, and that hurts so much worse than if this were a joke taken too far.

You’re staring at him expectantly, and Morpheus realizes you’re still waiting for an answer from him. “I–” he stutters uncharacteristically, clearing his throat before trying again. “I…apologize. It appears I have mistaken you for someone else.”

The tension you held at the potential of someone seeking to do you harm melts from your body, and your smile returns. “Ah. Sorry I’m not that person.”

“No, the fault lies with me.”

His voice is trembling, and he has to force the words out of him. This visit has gone so terribly wrong, and Morpheus needs to abscond before his emotions tear this building apart. So he stands, though it pains him to do so, and gives you a polite nod and a, “Good day to you,” before stumbling (well, stumbling as much as an Endless can) out of the coffee shop.

Matthew, who had been sitting on a bench down the street enjoying pieces of popcorn left behind, looks up at Dream in alarm when he sees the tears building in his eyes. That’s always been the one flaw of this human body–how easily tears come. At least this time, they’re warranted.

“Hey, Boss, what happened?” Matthew asks, abandoning his snack to land on Dream’s shoulder. “You didn’t…oh no, you broke up, didn’t you?”

He shakes his head. If only it were that simple. “No. She did not recognize me. I was a mere stranger, interrupting her day.”

“What? How is that even possible?”

“I do not know.”

He’s completely and utterly lost right now, and wouldn’t even mind his sister throwing a loaf of bread at him as she did the last time he felt this lost. If it would give him the same sense of clarity as that visit with dear sister Death had, then he would take it. But instead, he takes one last look at you, back to reading your book, before fleeing to sulk in the Dreaming and wonder how it all went wrong.

•••

The weird interaction you had earlier sticks with you as you get ready for bed. It had just been so odd, how sure this man was that you were whoever he assumed you to be. Though you felt bad for his obvious disappointment when he learned otherwise, you were glad to be rid of his presence after he briskly left the café. Sure, he was attractive (like, otherworldly, would-make-a-model-burst-into-jealous-tears attractive), but the intensity he carried with him…well, it scared you a little bit.

Apparently, though, it didn’t scare you enough to not think about him. There was just something about him that made him impossible to forget. You huff angrily, not wanting to think of the man with pitch black hair and starry blue eyes, but your brain seems to have other ideas as you try and fall asleep. No matter, because sleep thankfully comes quickly to you tonight, aided by a cup of tea that, while not your favorite, did give you the desired effect of actually falling asleep at a normal hour.

It’s when you find yourself in the Dreaming’s library, wondering if you’ll need to track Morpheus down today, when it hits you. The stranger at the café who you didn’t know at all was actually the love of your life…the love of your life that you didn’t recognize when he was standing right in front of you.

Why hadn’t you recognized him?

Your heart drops, and keeps falling, when you think about how upset Morpheus must be. This, in turn, makes you extremely upset as well. What the hell is going on right now? You need answers, and since you’re in the Dreaming, there’s only one person (well, two people, but that’s neither here nor there) that can give you some.

“Lucienne?” you call out, knowing she’ll appear sooner rather than later and that it’s no use to go looking for her.

Sure enough, she’s standing in front of you in a matter of seconds, wearing a purple overcoat and with her glasses perfectly polished. Seeing a friendly face such as hers would normally make you smile, but you’re too anxious right now to do such a thing.

“Where’s Morpheus right now?”

“His Lordship is in the throne room, conducting some research. May I–”

You’re already running out of the library before she can finish, calling out, “Thanks, Luc! Sorry!”

As you sprint along the hallways that you know as well as your own home now (but do you? would you remember them when you wake up?), you take note of the dreary weather outside and the rain rolling down the windows in fat beads. Morpheus once told you the realm’s weather was often dependent on his mood. If it was raining right now, then surely he’s upset. Worse, you’re the cause of it.

“Morpheus?” You seek him out the moment the heavy doors to the throne room open ahead of you. He’s sitting on his throne at the top of the long stairway, piles of books haphazardly scattered around him. He’s been crying, you can tell, which makes the tears you’ve been holding back spill forth. “Oh, Dream.”

Rather than take the stairs down to you, Morpheus simply magics himself in front of you as you cry at how heartbroken he looks. Wordlessly, he hugs you. If this weren’t such a dire situation, you’d be thrilled he took the initiative for once.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t–Why didn’t I recognize you? I’m sorry, I wasn’t doing that on purpose.”

“Do not apologize. Please, for you have nothing to apologize for,” he soothes.

“Yeah, I do.” You pull away from his hold to look at him. “I asked you to come and visit me, and you were nice enough to actually plan to surprise me, all for me to not even know you. You must have been crushed.”

“It was not your fault.” His eyes grow a bit distant as he thinks for a moment. “I should have known, actually. Matthew was very upset that you ignored him, and believed that you did not care for him any longer.”

That memory suddenly comes back to you, of a raven who landed in your path and refused to move no matter how harshly you shooed him away, and you groan. “Oh no! Great, now I have to apologize to him too.”

“There will be no apologizing for anything from you.” His tone of voice leaves no room for argument, so you simply nod. You’ll just slip Matthew a bagel when Morpheus isn’t paying attention.

“Why can I not remember you?”

“I confess that I do not know.” He reluctantly releases you from the warmth of his arms, only so he can hold his hand out to you. “Come.”

When you grab his hand, you feel the whooshing of sand around you before you find yourself with him in the library. Inexplicably, the books he had been reading are sitting on a table next to the plush reading chairs. You’ve long since learned not to question “how” or “why” when in the Dreaming.

“Lucienne has graciously offered her services in helping me discover why you cannot remember the Dreaming, and how we can remedy that,” he explains, taking a seat. You go to sit next to him, only for him to pull you into his lap instead. You should have known better than to sit away from your touch-starved Endless. “I have a couple of contacts in the Waking as well, who may be able to help should we not find answers here.”

You’re touched, but your natural reaction is to joke. “All this for little old me?”

“You will find that there is nothing that I would not do for you, beloved.”

It’s such a simple phrase, uttered quickly before Morpheus picks up the book he had been reading and begins to peruse again. Yet, coming from him, it sounds like the sweetest music, sweet enough to have your heart thumping against your rib cage. You know Morpheus can feel it, because he always does, so you tamp down the embarrassment and grab a book of your own.

If the evening wasn’t spent searching for why you can’t remember the Dreaming, this would be a pleasant way to pass the time with your lover. The rain has slowed from a torrential downpour to a regular rainstorm, making the library feel cozy and peaceful. It’s quiet, save for turning pages and the occasional note from you or Morpheus. Best of all, you get to simply be with Morpheus, with no expectations for either of you.

You almost forget the reason you’re here until your vision tilts familiarly and your body feels heavy. Sitting up, you grab onto Morpheus’s coat in a last-ditch effort to keep yourself in the Dreaming as panic consumes you.

“No, don’t make me wake up,” you plead, even though he can’t do anything about it. “Please, I don’t want to forget you again.”

“Shh,” he attempts to soothe. “It will all be alright. You will wake up with no memory of this, and go about your day, and when you come back to me, I will have found a way for you to remember your time here. I swear to you that I will find a way.”

He’s sincere in his promises, you know that, but none of it helps the animal terror that comes with knowing you’re going to forget. You try to voice this, but can only continue to repeat, “No, no, no, it’s–”

You shoot up in bed, one hand on your heaving chest as your eyes dart wildly around the room for some perceived threat. Once you become aware enough to realize it was simply a nightmare, you groan and rub the tear tracks (when did you start crying?) from your face. After so many nights of wonderful dreams, you forgot how terrible nightmares can be.

It’s times like these where you’re glad you don’t remember what it was about.

You’re tempted to go back to sleep so you can wake up again on a better note, but your alarm, that old enemy, chooses that moment to go off. Rolling your eyes, you huff before shutting it off and reluctantly getting out of bed to start your morning routine. Brushing your teeth, making your hair look some semblance of tamed, grabbing whatever clothes are sitting on top of the basket of clean laundry you still haven’t folded, snagging something quick for breakfast, and predictably, rushing out the door.

Just another boring, mundane day in your boring, mundane life.

•••

Tag list of those who asked to be tagged on the original post (let me know if you'd like to be tagged in Part Two!): @igotanidea @chocogoths @kiwistarfruit @crafygamerscrafts @aspenmushroom69

#morpheus #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman imagine #the sandman

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