#oh so she talking of experience huh

[mushroom-for-art]

Part 3 of Shadow au, Syns making progress! I think! He thinks! We don't know! Also added some extra stuff to this one because I was inspired by the height chart art using Darkness' extra sharp design so woo! Enjoy your boy @seasidemew! This part was actually meant to be bit heavier but lmao I've changed the order of my canon it's fine lmao so you get another relaxing one

Conversations and Progress

The dark hued two delicately landed in the middle of the makeshift camp, the grass was soft and cool under her feet as she glanced wearily to the side, her pink toned brother snuffled in his sleep stretching wiggling made a mrrp and rolling over with an exhale returning to lightly snoring as she let out a faint sigh of relief. He didn't actually know her yet, they'd never met and frankly after what happened she intended to keep it that way.

The orange hued two lifted her head from where she sat leaning against a tree looking at her sister with dark bags forming under her eyes. She stood slowly motioning with her head and stepped out of the campsite walking a small distance before stopping and waiting for her taller sister.

"What has he asked then?" May hugged herself as she asked the question, thumbs rubbing her arms softly in self soothing motions as she turned her head to glance at her sibling.

"This and that, he still wonders how and why we know each other and he's suggested his own theories he thinks we have a truce or blackmail on each other. And he's been asking what we've been saying about him naturally."

The orange one hummed uncomfortably squeezing her own arms, "and are you still being safe? He's not threatened you or followed you back to your nest?"

"No, not yet, he's moved as if to join me on the flight home but I told him I needed my beauty sleep and my privacy and I didn't like a man that disrespected either of those." She shrugged casually, "it seemed to work."

"Citrine… you really must be more careful..if he, I don't know he might turn if he thinks you're just screwing with him or get real nasty if he gets bored of the games."

"I know.." Her tail swayed, "I know. I'm being careful don't worry so much May, you should be thinking of yourself more I mean look at those bags. Are they designer? You could steal a purse with them when did you last get a proper nights' sleep?"

May looked away squeezing herself, "not since I thought I saw him that night… not properly since finding out I was right.." She shook her head looking back at her sister, "But it's my JOB to worry about you and to worry about Matt. I'm the oldest, you're my baby sister and he's my baby brother. I can't just sleep peacefully knowing he might lurk into camp and slaughter either of you."

Darkness grimaced to herself "May.." She felt Mays hands grab her face reaching up with some difficulty for the height difference.

"No, don't you May me, you're family okay? And I care about you a lot so I'm gonna worry."

She sighed, moving to take her sisters' wrists, planning to move her hands off her face, "you're too forgiving all things considering with me you know."

"You've grown and you've changed, I know you feel bad over what happened because you push away any kindness thinking you don't deserve it, but you do. I mean you keep checking in on us and watching that, that guy for us even though he could be a threat to you. AND hush hush ehp not finished close your mouth, and you're trying to change your identity claiming a new name moving on from being Darkness, and I'm really proud of you for it. Maybe I am too forgiving but I think you've earned the forgiveness."

Darkness hummed awkwardly looking away with her eyes, "I mean the whole experimental new names thing is personal because the name was dumb not some, spiritual metaphor." She moved Mays hands to emphasis the denial of self flinching and pulling her hands away when May winced.

"Ah-!" May looked at the bloody little marks on her wrist and frowned before grabbing one of her sisters hands who tried to retract them pulling it close to examine, she squeezed one of her fingers hearing her hiss in discomfort as a jagged crystal protruded from her paw like a claw.

"What did you do…" her voice was soft and deeply concerned as she examined Darkness' hand noticing the spikes protruding from her wrist also, "Citrine…"

"Dont…that names too nice for me.." She sighed softly, "I saw him. During the day fighting a Mega evolved Aggron. It didnt stand a chance… I got, scared, and panicked so I added more to myself to be stronger so if he turns nasty, if I have to fight him it'll give me the edge and extra strength."

"That must hurt.."

"It's not so bad, rather ache now and win then avoid needed pain and lose."

"I don't agree with you doing this to yourself, but it's done now.. If it comes to it you know I'd fight by your side against him."

"You're such a mother sometimes." Darkness chuckled softly, "I suppose I like the sound of those odds." May gently released her hand.

"Just please don't do anything else like this to yourself okay? Cause I don't want it turning into a self punishment thing. I know you because you're like me, you're from me, I am your mother." Though her tone was stern it did end in a playful way as she offered her sister a comforting smile.

"Hm, fine sure whatever mom," Darkness laughed softly, "I should go entertain him then for a bit, don't want him getting too bored or jealous." Moving to step away.

"Please stay." She paused at Mays request, "I, want Matt to meet you and I just, I have a bad feeling tonight. I don't know I feel bad letting you leave to go to him. I worry you won't come back. So, stay? You can have my bed." Darkness swished her tail smiling softly to her sister, usually she'd argue about having to go but to some degree she'd been wanting to meet her little brother too even if she was anxious with his initial negative experience with shadow mewtwo. "and I might actually sleep better tonight with you both nearby and safe!"

"aah fine I guess you've convinced me," smiling casually she watched Mays shoulders drop in relief as they moved to walk back to the camp.

"I think Matt will love you once he gets to know you realize who you are...and I think you're wrong Citrine is a nice name for you you deserve a good name and I think you should get a name that's pretty. Like Crystal or Jewel or uh Diamond or Moonstone." Darkness snorted softly.

"I'm noticing a theme here," smirking as May floundered.

"Well you said Citrine was a gem so like eehh was trying to think of other gem things I thought you liked it for that?"

"Well, it's like a yellow gem and it's kinda pretty..though it was his suggestion before he swapped to Citrus cause I got the two confused."

"Ah yes orange scented," May lightly bumped into her sister playful as they walked into camp, "I mean you're a pretty gem, it's up to you what you choose."

Darkness hesitated for a moment, "I, was thinking of maybe looking at M starting names…since like you and Matt..but that's probably intruding.."

May smiled at her comfortingly, "Hey that'd be nice, or if you pick an A starting name we could become M A M." Darkness lightly hit her face shoving her away as she laughed.

"Never mind I'm never taking suggestions from you ever," but she laughed fondly as May chuckled in mischievous motioning for Darkness to take her bed, a few leaves carefully arranged on the ground for padding against the dirt just as cushioning the best they could do considering they were out in the wilds with no equipment.

Darkness moved to sit but pointed at her in play threat, "you better sleep." With May putting her hands up in surrender before moving to find a spot to sit to sleep as Darkness awkwardly tried to get comfortable. She missed her cot back at her nest but she appreciated the gesture and that her sister wanted her there. She stretched out and then curled up using the middle of her tail as a cushion. May found a tree trunk to lean against, she looked up past the treeline scanning the sky for a moment before taking off her glasses carefully placing them down on the grass besides her before as she brought her knees to her chin crossing her arms over her knees and nuzzling her cheek into her arm crook to sleep.

From far away higher up, Syns tail swayed and thumped aggressively into the tree trunk of the branch he was sitting on. He scanned over the area where the pair had made camp watching the other shadow pokemon join them as his brows furrowed in frustration and confusion, why was she staying there?? What about their chats? His tail thumped the tree trunk in frustration again.

He moved to stand and stepped casually from the branch he was stood on to fly over, if she wasn't going to come see him he'd go see her. He felt the air shifting as he grew closer, a subtle but tangible building of energy as he approached causing him to slow but not stop. The air shimmered and he stopped before he flew right into the shining white dome that materialized feeling the sharp gust caused by its sudden creation. He watched it glisten a shine of white before fading and wondered what that was, he reached a hand out with practiced caution feeling his fingers collide with something solid the white shimmer reappearing where his fingers made impact.

"A protect huh…" He pulled his hand back and the glow faded but as he observed where the dome had originally formed there was a slight haze to indicate it's existence that it wasn't gone just simply blending into its surroundings. He started to wonder how a protect this large and powerful could form as his eyes glanced to the campsite, Mays whited over eyes stared forward without seeing glowing with psychic energy. He should've guessed.

Judging by the size and strength of the protect, he theoretically COULD smash his way through it if he really went for it but watching her eyes roll back and her body slump to the ground gave him the impression it was a subconscious move and breaking it might actually wake her. Besides, there's no way it'd last forever. He'd wager by morning it would've weakened or faded. Sighing just a little annoyed he moved to go find a new perch to watch them more closely he supposed.

——————————————————————

Syn grumbled as rays of light beamed offendingly right into his face, he squinted at the sun with a faint growl lazily moving his hand to shove a cloud over it for five more minutes as he wiggled his shoulders to readjust himself against his tree trunk. As he tried to return to his sleep his brain became aware of the lack of psychic tension that had been present the night before practically dragging his thoughts around to force him into an awake state to which he groaned softly squinting to the side of camp, he blinked his tired eye momentarily mistaking glistening droplets of water as the haze around the protect before realizing it was in fact gone.

Slightly unhappily he sat up to properly peer at the campsite, it was early first light and they were all still asleep. He could've easily approached but also he didn't want to trigger another protect, he'd wait till May was at least conscious deducing she'd be less likely to do anything spontaneously powerful with an awake brain.

The Pinky one, Matt or something had managed to roll off of his makeshift leaf bed in the night and had contorted himself into an obscure position with his head touching his lower back nearly, legs stretched backwards and tail wrapping around the tip resting near his chest. Citrine meanwhile had curled herself up quite small into a ball much like other feline creatures. And May was still flopped out on the floor, chin in the grass body twisted so her legs were still up as she was sat which would probably put an ache on her spine.

The sun won its battle against Syns block cloud and the sunlight gently warmed the leaves and grace dancing over the sleeping lot in the campsite with only May grumbling her legs finally falling in a flop as she rolled over to hide her face from the sun before clumsily sitting up and promptly bashing the side of her head into the tree trunk she'd originally been leant again with clearly no spacial awareness. Syn did a mock flinch to himself quietly chuckling as she quietly groaned rubbing the side of her head with a soft "ow" as she slowly got to her feet grabbing her glasses and waddling off to the side.

Syn contemplated walking into the camp with her gone, maybe he could grab her brother as a bargaining chip or drag Citrus away to find out why she abandoned their usual talks but he knew that wouldn't really help him get closer to his goal. He couldn't force May or Citrus to reveal their secrets, couldn't intimidate or threaten them into wanting to join him because they could attack him and would likely reject him. He had to play it calm and he had to be approachable, he was a charming guy he just had to let May see that like how Citrus did.

He sighed softly collecting himself with an inhale and exhale running a hand past his eye to clear away any sleep and smoothly feeling up his horn, he was quite the specimen after all he's sure they could both see that. He moved casually to glide along to see where May went, he didn't want Citrus mad that he ruined her beauty sleep after all.

He was glad by the lack of energy in the air it meant his theory was correct and it was subconscious otherwise another barrier would have appeared as he passed her siblings. He found her knelt by a small stream, her glasses carefully placed down beside her, her head was currently under the water and making bubbles with her head slightly shaking before she sat up and breathed and shook her head again to shake the water off. She squinted past the water on her eyelashes making opening her eyes and seeing kind of difficult. In her side vision she could make out a darker colored shape before she brought her hands up to rub her eyes to clean the sleep away and to clean her face from the grass and mud stuck under her chin.

"G'morning sis," She yawned past her hands cleaning her face, "sleep well?"

"Oh," the male voice that reached her ears caused her to stiffen in terror, "so she's your sister?" Mays head whipped around as she shoved herself quickly against the floor to half stumble and half throw herself backwards scrambling away from Syn as he drank water collected in his hand from the stream. He turned to look at her as she fell into a sit at a distance from him, he could see her eyes were wide and breathing rapidly.

He couldn't deny feeling a bit disappointed at the reaction, the fight had been a while ago surely she would've gotten over it by now and besides he knows Citrus and her have been talking so he didn't get what the reaction was for. He moved his hand to pick up her forgotten glasses holding them out to her.

"I think you need these, right?" Her eyes were trained on him watching his every move down to the flick of his tail. "Look I don't want to fight, I'm not here to hurt you I just wanna talk." He offered one of his dashing smiles and the sight of his sharp teeth sent a feeling of dread through her.

He could see she was thinking locked in place unable to decide what to do, he in this moment kind of held the glasses over her because she needed them so she couldn't flee safely without them but he could see she didn't feel comfortable staying either. It was frustrating he was hoping for a warmer reception but he kept his face steady letting his brows fall in a sad kind of way rather than displaying frustration, acting sad instead of showing his real emotions.

"I'm sorry, I must have really hurt you huh?" He copied the tone of someone genuinely apologetic quite well, he didn't necessarily feel bad about the fight or aftermath. She was a rival, a meal at the time. How was he to know she was interesting? He lifted the glasses with his purple psychic energy and moved them over to her as a peace offering.

She hesitated before slowly taking them and he watched her at least pause to put them on as she looked at him again rather than immediately bolting. He kept the sad look on his face lowering his head as if ducking in apology or embarrassment as she watched him uncertainly.

She didn't move for a moment watching him as he moved to look at the water as if he was unable to bear looking at her, internally impressed with his acting skills. He heard her quietly shifting but it didn't sound like she was standing, she adjusted from her terrified position into a slightly more comfortable sit making sure it was a position she could easily move from. She watched him blinking a bit in confusion as she observed him.

Darkness had said he was much more civilized when she spoke with him, flirty even but not looking for a fight and not aggressive. She'd assumed he only acted that way because Darkness had a crystal too, but he was acting kind of normal now.

"Uhm," May uncertainly coughed into her hand to clear her throat, "I'm, gonna, go…" She moved to awkwardly stand saying, "enjoy the, water?" then cringing to herself as she turned to return to camp awkwardly. He turned his head to look at her watching her go, part of him having wanted her to stay to be fascinated by his good behavior to want to know all she could and he was a bit annoyed she didn't seem to care. He did also know it was to some degree a win, had she attacked him it meant she still saw him as a threat so clearly she must be somewhat intrigued by him.

"May?" She froze a bit at him knowing her name it felt so strange coming from his mouth uncertainly turning her head to look at him, "I am genuinely sorry for what I did, I'm trying to do better with this," he touched his shoulder around the crystal feigning pain and sorrow, "so I hope I can make it up to you and your brother someday." He gave her a smile that seemed genuine and she almost found herself fully believing him. With a shy smile she nodded unsure how to answer that at all and walked away to camp.

When her back turned Syns smile fell into a disappointed scowl, he put his head in his hand and he wrinkled his nose in frustration knowing no more than he did for trying this. He only hoped that he'd planted the seeds and he'd be able to reap the harvest later, if she did believe him then he could start to worm his way in. If her and Citrus were sisters and had a rocky past he's sure he could work it out with her too.

May walked back to camp feeling confused and anxious, her heart was still thumping despite nothing having happened but she knows it could've. And yet he seemed quite sad… She couldn't deny she did in fact feel a bit bad just abandoning him there on his own lonesome but what could she even say to him? And how could she justify just sitting being friendly with the Pokemon who tried to murder her brother? She sighed a bit to herself and stopped, she should've maybe at least asked his name. Should she go back? Would it be weird to? If he was sorry and did want to fix it wouldn't it be polite to be able to address him by name? Mutually extend the opportunity of healing? If he's just 'that Mewtwo who tried to kill Matt' in her mind isn't that a bit cruel?

She groaned to herself debating and awkwardly walking back, he was still sat by the water and he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, after some more mental debating she cleared her throat making him quickly look towards her, seeming a bit startled which in turn startled her.

"I, uh, sorry, I… never got your name?" She felt awkward just saying it she should've just kept walking. He looked at her and she could only imagine how much he was judging her, meanwhile Syn had to hide the want to break into a victorious smirk, she wanted to know his name and there's no way she'd want to know that if she wasn't thinking about him.

"Syn, you can call me Syn." He smiled at her giving another dashing smile and it weirdly didn't fill her with dread this time, she smiled a bit nodding at him in understanding.

"Syn..well, um nice to officially meet you, you already know my name but uh I'm May." She felt awkward as he looked at her smiling, but it felt a bit weird not introducing herself back. She thought about what to say next until she heard Matt yelling in the distance.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU WHERE'S MAY?!"

She flinched a bit at the volume with an oof, "I gotta go do uh damage control, bye!" She moved to run back to camp, stopping to lean back into view, "Syn." giving a wave before sprinting back to explain everything.

Syns' tail swayed up and down, content with the turn of events. He grinned satisfied to himself as he stood up thinking that May was indeed very interested in him. He'd be back later though it seemed like the pair was becoming a trio and the change in chemistry may cause difficulties. But, he counted this as a win overall. Maybe Citrus had put in a good word for him.

[beholdthemem]

In between getting things done up at my grandparents' house, we've been talking with Granddad and occasionally learning some unexpected tidbits about family history. Like, I already knew both Granddad's father and stepmom were extremely involved in union work- the first time they met was in a UAW office!- but I did not quite realize to what extent.

"We had people come and visit a lot, and sometimes they'd stay for quite a while. There was one guy, when I was about seven, who stayed with us for some time- it wasn't until years later that I learned that was Roy Reuther, and Dad and Mom were hiding him because Henry Ford wanted him dead."

[munamania]

idk if this’ll make sense to anyone but me but it seems like when it comes to non canon relationships, people will support m/m unconditionally yes even if one or both is in a relationship with a woman or shows interest in one bc their potential is just so much better or obvs one or both of the characters is gay but when there’s a lesbian relationship there’s always pushback like well. ok sure i guess but she’s in a relationship already tho :/ and that would hurt his feelings. or they are moderately enjoyable together so why break that up. like we aren’t just allowed to have fun and say fuck it with the girlies lol i mean i am and i don’t care but it’s annoying to see that pattern at large

[inkskinned]

it isn't really complicated, but i still can't tell my grandma about it. my girlfriend is also my boyfriend and i'm her girlboyfriend and there are a lot of days this feels like smoothing sheets over a good mattress. it feels like getting a cup of good hot chocolate. we paint our nails lesbian flag pink, and i watch her eyelashes make shadows on her cheeks. she wants to kiss me because i am really good at baking, and i want to kiss her because when i am freaked out about how i spilled coffee, she just hands me extra napkins and helps me clean. he is so handsome i want to eat my fist. they once just winked at me and i couldn't talk for like the next fifteen minutes.

i haven't seen the L word and i was raised catholic. my earliest experiences with queer relationships were through harrowing conversations and hushed questions and blood on the ground. i didn't like boys soon enough. what, are you gay? asked to a 6th grader, almost like a demand.

when she is asleep next to me and i can feel the dreams run up and down her body, i pretend we are both somewhere in the stars. i like to picture a future full of fruit trees, and writing him poetry. sometimes she wakes up, has a whole conversation with me, goes back to sleep, and utterly forgets that we ever even spoke. she is always kind to me, even in that liminal half-there ghost. i like the croaked, raw way her voice sounds in the very-early morning, the way she always seems surprised i'm still here, and home.

on the internet, there are a lot of people who would be annoyed by both of us, and how labels must be pruned into orchids. a box has to hold and define the insides. people must be organized.

we went on a date last night, and the host said, oh, table for 2 nice ladies? neither of us are ladies, but also we are very much 2 nice ladies. i have been wearing her sweater nonstop. he has frequently been forced into wearing my taylor swift official merch quarter-zip because i was worried about him catching a chill, and you simply cannot be cool in an official taylor swift quarter-zip. do not worry: they listen to better music than i do, and their voice sounds like leaves falling.

i wear the skirts and makeup and i am better with spackle and know how to drive stick. recently someone commented on my work - you're just a man trying to reappropriate lesbian spaces. sometimes i feel like she is a clementine to me, and sometimes i feel like he is a german shepherd and sometimes i feel they are a bird. i like watching his hands over a guitar. can i write this poem, even? how can you be a lesbian if you're sometimes with a man? or you are the man?

how can i, huh. you know, our first date lasted 3 days. we'd been flirting for over a year before i finally asked her out. i'd already written her into poetry. she'd already written me into songs.

last night, in the late night, when they woke up again, confused about where they were, they said - oh, thank god. this is your arm. there's just something so precious to me about the specifics, the denotation that the arm was (thank god!) mine. i really liked that definition. i liked the obvious relief because i understand it.

i say yeah, i have a partner. i mean - oh. thank god. it's your arm.

[bunnyb34r]

Always feel so bad when I get irritated at having to show NewLady how to do something (usually for the 2nd... or 3rd.. or 5th time) bc I understand not grasping it the first time and we dont have formal training but like write it down man 😭 like that's what several of us have done when we started out until we got the hang of it

And it's like I know she wont learn if I keep just doing it for her but sometimes by god is it just so much less painful for me to do it myself and have her go do something else bc holy shit

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

browse the Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[maybankcore]

rafe cameron — nsfw alphabet ༝༚༝༚

context : the alphabet.. but each letter has a new rafe cameron nsfw/sfw concept. this is also bunny!reader x rafe.

tws : smut, nsfw, rafe x sweet/bunny reader, cream pie, voyeurism, brief degrading, brief daddy kink. fingering, porn/nudes, tying reader up, oral sex, a ton of nsfw headcanons.

A: aftercare • you would tend to get sleep almost immediately after you come, and the first thing rafe does is take you to the bathroom and let you pee so u don’t get a UTI, n he’ll probably wait outside and keep asking “u done baby?” ‘till you clean up. and obviously, after the oh so harddd task of peeing, he’ll carry you back to bed. rafe somehow doesn’t get tired after sex, but seeing you already get lazy eyed, he has no choice but to lay down with his little bun and cuddle up with her.

B: boobs. literally boobs. • rafe loves your tits, and he loves grabbing them even more. he’ll randomly come up behind you when you’re doing your makeup, hair, etc. and just grab ur boobs. he loves the way they fit perfectly in his big palm, and how flustered you get too. “rafe! stop— i’m doing my makeup!!” you’d say, as you wave his hands away, feigning annoyance. “relax baby, their just too tempting.” rafe snickered, smirking. rafe just can’t get enough of them, especially when your wearing the thin, baby pink, lacy top from victoria’s secret.

C: cum • okay, rafe knows that he has to use a condom, blah blah blah. but on those days where he just needs a good, raw, fuck.. trust me, he’d cum inside you, making sure every inch of his hot cum fills you up to the brim. and rest assured, you’d hate and love it at the same time.

D: dirty talk • he’d soooo dirty talk you in public, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, knowing how wet your sweet pussy gets just by the sound of his voice. he’d sometimes say the most vile things about what he’d to you when you both get home.

“do you really think i’m not noticing your blowjob eyes as i’m golfing, huh? y’know.. i’d love seeing those eyes of yours when i’m fucking you endlessly. making you cum so hard. oh god, baby, i can hear those pretty moans of yours already. hmm?” he’d huskily whisper, inches by the shell of your ear. and then, he’d walk off as if nothing happened. leaving you anticipated for the entire day, squeezing your thighs and drinking an excessive amount of water to help with the heat building in your cheeks.

E: experience • rafe deffo has experience with sex. but i wouldn’t call him the biggest man-whore, since he met you in s2 of obx, i’d say he had 4 bodies by then. 2 of them being random hookups and the other 2 being girls from a short term relationship w/ him. i also hc that bunny!reader would have a few bodies, but would act like she’s a virgin just for rafe, similar to how maddie perez did it.

F: fingering • mmm, rafe is a master at fingering. he knows how to get your pussy wet and make it even wetter when he’s touching you. he’d start off with just a few strokes on your clothed pussy, building up tension that you so desperately want to release. n then when you’d get all needy he’d slide your panties down and spread your thighs.

you’d position yourself on his lap, head on his shoulder, looking at him with your big bambi eyes, pleading. and he’d slowly circle your clit in circular motions, taking pleasure in the way your hips jerked and lips parted with heavy breaths. and then he’d sink two fingers in, slowly at first, and then going faster. the cold touch of his golden rings slipping between your lips made you moan. loud. and in amidst of all this, he’d be doing some random thing on his laptop, but secretly taking a voice memo of your sweet moans. to obviously jerk off to later, you really think he’d pleasure you and restrict himself from doing it later on?

G: g-spot • imagine no guy has actually found your g-spot before, they’d just fuck you and you’d get that tiny ounce of pleasure that made you cum, but when rafe first fingered you, curling up his fingers to hit that sweet spot that only you yourself could find, you UNRAVELED. i’m sure he was shocked at how loud you moaned. he had thought you’d never gotten fingered before. but when you told him that no guy had actually fingered you that good, he was both pleased and shook. “what d’you mean no one’s found your g-spot? isn’t that like— the main thing in sex??” but to be honest.. him being the only guy that found your g-spot really boosted his confidence lol.

H: hair • rafe absolutely loves your hair, playing with it, braiding it, seeing how it drapes over your shoulders elegantly. he had never met someone who takes care of their hair like their life depends on it. you’d have serums, hair masks, good hair days and bad hair days, and rafe was all here for it.

(this is for my curly hair readers btw). sometimes when your hair wasn’t cooperating you’d get annoyed and bang your hairbrush against your head, clearly disheveling your hair, and rafe would come over and brush it for you. putting in your gel, mousse and even diffusing it.

rafe also is weirdly obsessed with how your hair smells, he’d bury his shoulder into it, or randomly smell it throughout the day, and once he’d even gotten wheeze to smell your hair.. “her hair smells so good right? i don’t even know how, it just smells fuckin’ amazing.” he’d proudly state, and you not being sure if wether that’s creepy or cute.

I: initials (tattooed) • right on his chest, beneath his heart, are the two letters of your name, more so, your initials. Y/N.Y/L/N written in a bold, italic font. and right next to it is your favorite animal, a bunny. you were struck when he had actually gotten a whole ass bunny tatted next to your initial!!

J: jerking off in ur absence • whenever rafe has trips, or if you’ve been away for some time, rafe deffo jerks off to pictures you sent to him. you’d send a teasing mirror pic of you getting dressed, your hand covering your nipples. and then you’d send a soapy tit pic of you in the shower. but lastly, a day before you come back, you’d send the hottest picture of you in rafes favorite pink lingerie set, playing with yourself and moaning rafes name. leaving him needy and desperate until he lands..

K: kinks • omg the amount of kinks u and rafe would share imagine him fucking you for the first time and slowly starts roughing you up, only to see you cooperate and urge him to do more. the smirk on his facee😩.

L: location (where you fuck) • personally, public sex is a huge turn in for rafe, but being the little slut you are, it’s an even bigger turn-on for you. obviously you’d fuck in his bed or yours, and sometimes i’m the couch or kitchen counter. rafe would also take you on the druthers boat and make you ride his lap, stopping when a boat comes buy, your sweaty face and messed up outfit being evident.

M: marks • rafe would leave hickeys everywhere. stomach, thighs, neck, collarbone, shoulders, tits, even inches away from your pussy. you’d leave bite marks on rafe, scratches illuminating his back, and lipstick stains all over his collar and cheek.

N: nudes • he just has a hidden album filled with your nudes. wether its videos of you both fucking, teasing pictures you’d send him of your bikini try ons, or you fingering your self. he’d also have voice memos of your moans saved. p.s, rafe would so ask you to talk about something random for a minute on voice memos and jerk off to your voice.

O: only fans acc • a little similar to the one on top ^. but imagine making an only fans account where ur only follower/subscriber is rafe. and trust, he will act like a whole ass fan. he’ll comment on your videos; “omg ur so hot can i request food play” with a +400$ message next to it. youd livestream and he’d be your only viewer, talking you through playing with yourself. and when i mean he’s a fan, i mean this man would literally pay you 1000$ per month as per his ‘subscription’..

P: plushies • whilst fucking you hard, rafe would grab your favorite plushy and tell you to hold it. he found it so fucking hot seeing you cling onto the soft toy, bringing it to your mouth to bite onto to hold back your loud moans.

Q: quickies • yall would deffo have quick fucks in between parties, hangouts, dinners, etc. sometimes if your ovulating you’d practically beg on your knees for a quickie with rafe. “rafeyy, please. if you don’t do anything i’ll go to the bathroom n’deal with it myself!” you whine, nudging his arm to get up from his seat at an event. and obviously, he gives in. every. single. time.

R: riding his thigh • when your extremely horny, and need an immediate relief youd prop yourself on rafes thigh and start grinding. this would be your only option as he’d dismiss your attempts to make him fuck you, so he’d tap his thigh and say “if your really that horny jus’ ride my thigh. cmon, you wanted to come, right?”. you’d get so wet, making a mess on his sweatpants.

S: sucking his dick • messy blowjobs>>. sucking him off after a hard day, at a party when he’s high and needy, or right after you went to his family dinner. you’d look so perfect with your big, glossy eyes staring up at him. head bobbing as you perfectly swirl the pad of your tongue against the base of his cock. him groaning and praising your amazing head-giving skills.

T: tying you up • hands above your head, a belt knotted against both your wrists, restraining you from pushing rafe away whilst he fucks you mindlessly. rafe would be destroying you, pounding in and out as you take the pleasure like a good girl. you are his little bun, after all.

U: unfair • teasing you when your sat on his lap, waiting for him to finish off his work, whilst he slowly and lightly circles your clit. “daddy, i really need you.” you’d moan in his ear. “i know baby, i know. daddies gotta finish this off first, ‘kay?” and so you waited, only for him to go into the shower, not even letting you in.

V: voyeurism • sliding your panties off and stuffing it in his pocket is his favorite thing to do when he’s off golfing whilst your sitting in your garden chair, feeling the coldness of the air blowing against your sticky cunt. not being able to fix the unbearable tension in your pulsing clit, and having to wait till you get home.

W: what/how big is he • a whopping 7.3 inches. a tad bit specific ik, but the way he’d ruin you.. and what’s funny is the fact that rafe knows he’s big!! and he knows that you can take it too.

X: ion know what to put for this one.. so i’m gonna put a random hc of rafe.. • has a weird food play kink?.. i just feel like he’d take ice cream and lick it off your tits, or spread chocolate syrup all over your nipples and stomach and lick it off too. (obviously nothing down there, don’t wanna get a yeast infection).

Y: ‘your too big!’ • lining himself up against you, seeing his big cock already needy of slamming into you, made you worry. your eyes slightly widened at his size, how the fuck is he gonna fit?. “rafey, i don’t think it’s gonna fit.. your too big.” you mustered out, wanting but at the same time not wanting him. “shhh bun, ts’ gunna fit, i’ll go realll slow? okay baby?” he stated, making you ease up and unclench your pussy, allowing full entrance. he slowly slid inside you, already owning a long moan and scatters of whimpers escaping your mouth. he went in further, and you took him in fully. “good girl, i told you it’d fit.”

Z: also have no idea, so another random hc one again! • loves seeing you spit out his cum after sucking him off. just seeing his cum drop down your chin turns him on sm and makes him hard asf.

[harunayuuka2060]

Floyd: I want to play with Damselfish, but he's always busyyyy~.

Azul: That can't be helped. Yuurin is a model student and he has some responsibilities to fulfill.

Floyd: Eh~ But he's just a first-year, you know~.

Jade: Why not take on the role of a responsible upperclassman for him?

Azul: As if Floyd would do that-

Floyd: That's a good idea, Jade~.

Azul: Huh?

Jade: *chuckles*

Azul: ...

Azul: Floyd, please refrain from causing any trouble for us.

Yuurin: *is on her way to Professor Crewel's class*

Floyd: DAMSELFISH~~~!

Yuurin: ? *turns around* *and sees Floyd walking towards her*

Yuurin: Floyd-senpai?

Floyd: *when he's in front of her* *smiles* Where are you going~?

Yuurin: To Professor Crewel's class.

Floyd: Okay~. I'll take you there~.

Yuurin: No, it's fin-

Floyd: *scoops her up, cradling her effortlessly in his arms*

Yuurin: ...

Floyd: Eh~ You're surprisingly light, damselfish~.

Yuurin: ...

Professor Crewel and the rest of the students: ...

Professor Crewel: I see you both decided to come to class together.

Floyd: *is carrying Yuurin now like a teddy bear*

Yuurin: I appreciate the free lift, senpai.

The students: Wow... He can talk casually with Floyd...

Floyd: You're welcome~. Next time again~.

Yuurin: No. I'll be just walking by myself next time.

Floyd: Eh~? Why are you being mean to me~?

Yuurin: No, I'm not.

Professor Crewel: That's enough. Since both of you got here, why not be partners for the experiment today?

Floyd: Are you serious, striped beakfish~? *smiling*

Professor Crewel: Yes. I feel that you'll behave if you are with Yuurin.

Jamil and Ace: ...

Floyd: I'll be playing with Damselfish~!

Jamil: ...

Jamil: It's been a while since you visited the Basketball Club, Yuurin.

Jamil: Not even Ace could invite you after that.

Ace: H-Hey! He was always busy!

Yuurin: Yes. I couldn't find the time to visit. I'm sorry.

Jamil: That's alright. Everyone is aware that you're fond of the Equestrian Club more.

Yuurin: ...

Floyd: Ehhh~ What's in Equestrian Club~?

Yuurin: I have a horse there. His name is Aerion.

Floyd: Hmmm... You like animals?

Yuurin: Yes.

Floyd: ...

Floyd: Hehe~ Damselfish! Let's go to the ocean now!

Jamil: Huh?! Aren't you two here for the basketball practice?!

Ace: Y-Yeah!

Floyd: I've changed my mind~. Let's go, damselfish~! *dragging Yuurin away*

Floyd: *could tell that Yuurin enjoys playing with the lemon sharks*

Floyd: *swims next to her* They're friendly, aren't they?

Yuurin: *looks at him*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *nods*

Floyd: Hm? Why are you just nodding- Oh, right! I didn't give you any potion to breathe underwater!

Yuurin: *just reads his lips* *gestures to him that it's fine*

Floyd: Oh... *smiles* How long can you stay underwater?

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *signs to him that she can stay underwater for 30 minutes*

Floyd: Eh~! THAT'S SO COOL~!

Azul: Floyd, you're NOT going to take Yuurin on another underwater trip again.

Floyd: Ehhh~? Why not~?

Azul: Leona yelled at me on the phone.

Floyd: And that's my problem~?

Azul: You-

Jade: How did it go, Floyd?

Floyd: Hehe~ I really enjoyed my time with him~.

Floyd: He promised that we will play again together with the lemon sharks~.

Jade: Oh that's good.

Azul: No, it's not!

[horangare]

omggg please do a part 2 to the dilf jeonghan fic

tis the season

pairing : dilf!jeonghan x college student!reader

content : smut (mdni u already know)

in which : it’s time for christmas break, and iseul is asking you to buy some time with her father so she can finish her last minute shopping. you’ve been meaning to spend some one on one time with her dad, and now you finally can

warnings : age gap (late 40’s jeonghan, early 20’s reader), daddy kink (i’m sorry but it’s also like barely there), pet names (princess, baby, good girl, slut, whore, sir), dom & sub dynamics, dumbification, teasing (dirty talk, degradation, praise), mentions of multiple orgasms, fingering, finger sucking, lingerie kink (kinda? i think?), u two want each other so bad, iseul (yeah she’s a warning in this one lol), hannie’s kinda mean but u like it

wc : 3.3K words

note : i was wondering how long it would be before someone requested this. srry it took so long omg i had no idea what i wanted to do w this i literally had like 3 diff ideas

part 1

By now, the Yoon household had become like a second home to you.

Even though it was just Iseul, Jeonghan, and that big maze of a house, it didn’t ever feel like anything was missing. Since Iseul brought you over the first time, things hardly ever changed. You’d still slept in Iseul’s room whenever you slept over (until Jeonghan made one of the guest rooms into a room for you, then the two of you both started having your sleepovers there), you still took a wrong turn trying to find the bathroom and ended up in the kitchen or the laundry room, and you still ended up bent over on a new surface somewhere in the house while Jeonghan had his way with you.

It was a comfortable routine. One you were upset would have to abandon for the next three weeks to drag yourself back to your dull little hometown to spend time with your family and a handful of other relatives who’s names you couldn’t remember even if you tried.

“You know you could just come stay with us,” Iseul said offhandedly one day when you mentioned how much you were dreading on returning home. The suggestion hadn’t held that much meaning when Iseul gave it, she already knew just how much you enjoyed coming over, but in that moment she had become your saving grace.

“Really? You mean it?” The girl just nodded, jumping in surprise when you pulled her into a hug and spun her around. “What would I do without you, Iseul?”

“Wow, it’s that bad, huh?” She laughed, patting you on the shoulder once you had placed her back on the ground.

“Oh please, you have no idea.”

You rode in Iseul’s car for the first time the next day. When she asked how you were planning to get there and you mentioned the countless number of times you’ve Ubered back and forth to her house, she nearly started crying and promised to drive you anywhere you wanted from now on. “Do you know how much money that adds up to? No more Ubers!”

So now here you were, in the passengers seat of Iseul’s white Honda Accord, gripping onto the handle above the door as Iseul sped down the roads with the most stoic look on her face you think you’ve ever seen. The Ubers may have been expensive, but at least they were safe. It confused you a little; you had ridden in the car with Jeonghan at the wheel before and never had an experience like this. Clearly Iseul hadn’t inherited those skills from him, but right now you were wishing she had.

“Are you alright?” She looked over at you when the car finally came to a stop at a red light. You nodded, one of your hands flat against your chest as you felt your heart threatening to beat right out of your ribcage. Iseul smiled, either ignoring the panic you were trying to hide or not picking up on it at all as she sped off as soon as the light had turned green. “We’re gonna take a shortcut, there’s way too much traffic right now and—shit!” The car lurched to a halt, both you and Iseul’s bodies jerking forward with the sheer force of the stop. “Oops, I almost hit the curb.”

You really needed your own car.

After spending the next eight minutes in Iseul’s death trap car, you pretty much threw yourself out of the seat when you saw that she was pulling into the garage to the side of the house. You considered kissing the ground, but you didn’t. Your sister was a worse driver.

“Dad, we’re home,” Iseul shouted into the warm interior of the house. There was no immediate verbal response from Jeonghan, he just snaked his way through the hallways of the space with a mug in his hands and a smile on his face.

“Hi, Seulie,” He hummed, letting his eyes wander over to you. “Hello, [Y/n].”

“Hi, Mr. Yoon.”

“How was the drive? Was there a lot of traffic?” Jeonghan had already started retreating back to the living room, you and Iseul followed, seating yourselves next to each other on the couch.

“It was fine. The traffic wasn’t so bad, everyone’s probably going to the airport.” Iseul hummed. She turned her head in your direction. “Dad’s happy you’re staying over. He pretends like he’s calm about it, but he giggled when I called him and told him earlier.”

Your body flushed with heat at your friend’s casual comment, your eyes flitting over to Jeonghan, who was staring down into his mug. The two of you haven’t gotten to spend much time together for a while since you were usually coming over to spend time with Iseul lately. He missed you.

“We’ll have the next three weeks to spend together, sir.” You smiled, finally getting him to look back at you. One of his eyebrows quirked upwards—he was expecting to keep that promise, but he wouldn’t say it. He would just expect you to act on it.

And you would.

You hadn’t acted on it.

A week into staying with Iseul and Jeonghan, you had spent almost every waking moment of your time with your friend. Baking cookies, decorating the house, watching Christmas movies, going ice skating for the first time in your life (and having Iseul laugh at you until she cried when you ate shit on the ice over and over again), and a plethora of other festive events. You had been having such a good time with her, the promise you made to Jeonghan had let itself slip from your mind. The most the two of you could do was kiss for a few seconds before Iseul came popping up from around a corner or shouting your name to the house in hopes of a response. She was his daughter, and you were her friend, but he was losing his patience. All he wanted was some time to have you all to himself.

Maybe today he would finally get the chance.

Monday morning greeted you with a six am phone call from Iseul, which you answered, your mind and voice still riddled with sleep. “Hello?”

“So sorry to call you so early, but I am totally gonna make it up to you.”

“Iseul, what—”

“Look, I have to finish shopping for presents. I don’t know when I’ll be done, there’s kind of a lot on my list,” She explained, and you thought she was joking. It was just her, you, and Jeonghan. How long could the list possibly be? “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know where I was. Something else…oh! Maybe spend some time with dad while I’m away. He gets lonely, y’know. Okay, that’s all, bye!” Iseul hung up the phone before you could even process everything she had said, leaving you staring at the device in your hand dumbfounded.

“Okay.” You sighed, dragging yourself out of bed and to the bathroom (the one connected to your new room, because you were sick and tired of almost pissing yourself because you walked into the study instead) to freshen up.

Finally, you thought. Finally you’d have private time to spend, just you and Jeonghan. The time you spend with Iseul was precious to you, obviously, the girl was your best friend. But if you said the reason you had wanted to come over was just to avoid your family and bond with Iseul, you’d have been lying. You smiled to yourself, wondering what the two of you would do, and you squeezed your thighs together if it would be anything like you had come to finish your midterm project.

You jumped at the sound of the door opening and peeked your head out of the bathroom, your body relaxing when you saw Jeonghan standing in the doorway, his hands behind his back. You sighed with relief, bending over slightly to spit out the toothpaste in your mouth and wiping your mouth.

“Do you and Iseul always wake up so early?” You asked him as he got closer. He shook his head.

“It’s usually just me that’s up at this time.” He mumbled. “Where is she, anyway?”

“Last minute shopping.” You said, finally turning your body to face his. His hands were still behind his back, and Jeonghan smirked when you tried to peek at what he was hiding. “What is that?”

“What, this?” He shrugged. “Oh nothing. Just something I picked up one day. It’s supposed to be your present, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give it to you now, hm?”

You gasped, your heart swelling with the knowledge that Jeonghan had gone out and gotten something for you. Both of his eyebrows shot up at the excitement creeping onto your face and he quickly turned away from you.

“Or maybe I should just wait until Christmas. You wouldn’t mind, would you? I’m sure the presents Seulie got for you will be better than this.” Still smirking, Jeonghan started to walk away but stopped in place when you pulled on his arm.

“No! I’m sorry sir, really am.” You pouted, reaching to try and take the present from Jeonghan, but he easily held it just out of your reach. “Iseul will be gone for a while. It’s…just the two of us.”

Jeonghan groaned at that. He loved his daughter, but he’d gone too long without getting to have you all to himself. Turning back around, Jeonghan placed the gift in your hands. “Alright, princess. Just one condition before you open this.”

“Anything for you, sir.” You but your lip in anticipation, eagerly awaiting the response he would give you. Jeonghan leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“You have to do anything I say, got that?” You exhaled shakily, but you still nodded, and Jeonghan cupped your face, swiping his thumb along your bottom lip.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. He tasted good, sweet, like hot chocolate. That’s probably what he’s been drinking in that mug everyday. When he pulled away, you whined, much to Jeonghan’s delight. “I’m not going anywhere. Go on, open your present.”

You smiled, giving your full attention to the neatly wrapped box in your hands, gently untying the silver ribbon holding it together and lifting the top of the box up. You gasped. Lingerie. Jeonghan got you lingerie. “S-sir, I…”

“Put it on for me. Right here.”

Stunned into silence by his abrupt request, your clothing was thrown to the ground with haste. Jeonghan watched you the entire time from his seat on the edge of your bed, drinking in the way you would fidget and avoid making eye contact with him. Yeah, you were a little nervous. He’s never asked you to strip for him, usually he would just rip off your clothes to avoid wasting any time. He really seemed to be enjoying the fact that Iseul was away.

“It’s pretty, sir.” You whispered, tracing your fingers over the delicate lace now adorning your skin. It was white with pale pink detailing, and the bra piece had mesh slips that went all the way around your upper body. The bottom piece was a thong with a slit at the crotch. Oh, and one more tiny little detail. It was almost entirely see through. “Did you have to get something with one of these…holes?”

Jeonghan nodded, pulling you into his lap, your back flush against his chest. “Makes things easier,” he said, trailing his fingers up your inner thigh. You exhaled shakily at the feeling of them circling around your wet hole. “Already so wet for me, aren’t you?” You nodded, unable to stop the moan that spilled from your lips when he pushed one of them inside you.

There was nothing Jeonghan wanted more than to fuck you senseless right now. He’d been holding himself back for a week. Just the sounds of your moans and the way he had to hold you down just to get you to stop squirming had his cock straining against his pants. The only reason he bothered with foreplay was so you’d take him without a fuss (and because he liked it when you begged him not to stop).

Your head fell back onto Jeonghan’s shoulder at the addition of a second finger, your eyes screwed shut and your mouth hanging open while you panted and whined. “F-Feels s’ good, sir. Missed this so much. Missed you so much.”

“Missed you too, baby,” Jeonghan mumbled, curling his fingers up inside of you to hit that spot that had your head spinning. You’re shaking and sweating and you can’t think straight, the feeling of Jeonghan’s fingers caressing your insides forces any other thoughts out of your head. Just when you think you can’t handle anything else, Jeonghan suddenly pinches your swollen clit, the sensation making you tighten around his fingers as you scream. “Liked that, didn’t you?” He repeated the action, the corners of his lips tilting upwards when your body reacted the same way once again.

“Mmm, yeah, liked it so much, sir. Gonna c-cum, can I?” You forced your eyes open to look at him, the pleasing look on your face doing nothing but making him harder. If he didn’t need to fuck you so bad, he would’ve said no. Seeing as this wasn’t the case, Jeonghan nodded, despite wanting this to last just a little longer.

“Yeah, princess. Go ahead and cum for me.”

His permission was all you needed before you allowed yourself to fall apart on his fingers. You cry out his name over and over until you’re left breathless. Jeonghan continues to finger you until your high has passed, and once it has, he pulls his fingers out and holds them up to your mouth. “Open,” he says, and you allow your lips to part enough for him to stick them into your mouth.

The taste of yourself on your own tongue and the action itself has you groaning, and you close your lips around his fingers, sucking off every last drop of your release.

“Good girl, sucking my fingers like the whore you are. I almost forgot how much of a slut you are,” This time, Jeonghan groans at your actions, pulling his fingers away. When you finally opened your eyes again, he was already naked. Oh, naked Jeonghan, one of your favorite sights, by far. Leaning forward, you ghosted your hands over the base of his cock, which had the older man moaning. “Fuck, baby, so desperate for my cock aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

You fell backwards onto the bed and gazed up into Jeonghan’s eyes, holding onto his arms tightly as the tip of his cock slipped into your aching pussy. It had been long—too long—that you had gone without the satisfying feeling of Jeonghan stretching you apart and filling you to the brim, you almost forgot how good it felt. Jeonghan felt the same, he had long craved the warmth of your insides, how wet you’d get for him so easily, how you so easily obeyed his every order.

He didn’t bother to start off slow, not when he had been waiting so long to finally have you like this. His pace was rough and unforgiving, each thrust seemed deeper than the last, but still you loved every second of it.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting his to be as close to you as he could possibly be. “Ah! Yes, right there, sir!” You cried, out as his cock abused your sweet spot, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Feels so good, doesn’t it, princess? You like it when I fuck you like this? Hm? When I use this tight, cute little pussy of yours?”

You nodded, the words you had planned to say dying at the back of your throat and being replaced by sounds that were a combination of grunts and moans. With one of his hands, Jeonghan held onto your face, trying to get you to look at him. Your eyes were glassy and unfocused with lust, and Jeonghan grinned at your fucked-out state.

“Oh baby, if only you could see yourself,” He groaned. “So fucking pretty, you can’t even use your words. All you can do is moan like the little cockslut you are, isn’t that right?” Just like he had done before, Jeonghan’s fingers pinched your clit, once again making you cry out with pleasure.

You tried to speak—to warn him of your imminent orgasm, but all you could squeak out were a chorus of high-pitched whines as the man above you pushed you closer to your release. He seemed to get the hint though, with the way your hole clenched around his cock, making it harder for him to move.

“Gonna cum, princess?” You squeaked again. “Aw, I know, baby. Poor sweet thing, can’t even tell me yourself. You don’t need to ask me, since I’m sure you would’ve cum anyway. But go ahead, cum.” His tone was so mean and condescending, and that was exactly that tone that made you cum for a second time.

Not even a moment after you had cum, Jeonghan was following you over the edge, pushing his cum deeper into your pulsating core all while your spent body shuddered beneath him. He shushed you, stroking your hair to get you to become calm and quiet once more before snapping his hips forward again.

“S-sir! I’m still…” Jeonghan shushed you again, never letting up with the fast pace he had set earlier on. His hips snapped against yours, the sound of skin against skin being one of the only sounds in the room aside from your pornographic moans and the occasional groans or rare grunt from Jeonghan. You were so out of it, you couldn’t even stop the words that came flying out of your mouth. “D-Daddy, please…”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard Jeonghan moan so loud.

“It’s alright baby, Daddy’s got you.”

The two of you continued for what felt like hours. Several different positions, a dozen more orgasms, one very long bath, and a two-hour long nap later, you could finally feel your body again. You blinked, looking around the room when Jeonghan opened the door.

“You’re awake,” his smile was gentle. “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head. “No, that’s alright, thank you.”

Jeonghan made his way to the bed and knelt down in front of you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I, baby?” The concern was written all over his face, the idea of you being in any sort of pain or discomfort would absolutely break his heart. Now you were the one smiling.

“No, never. If that were the case I would’ve told you, sir,” you tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, letting your hand linger on the side of his face. “I think I’m in love with you.” You confessed quietly, almost as if you were afraid to admit it.

“You’re really gonna act all shy after everything we’ve done today?” He teased you, resting his head on your thighs. “Don’t worry, princess. I love you too.”

Don’t worry princess, I love you too.

You could’ve died right then. Jeonghan’s cheek on your thigh, his breath tickling your skin, reciprocating his love for you. Nothing could be better. Just you, Jeonghan, and—

“Hellooooo? [Y/n]? Dad? I’m home.”

Iseul.

“Iseullllll!” You shouted. Jeonghan pulled himself away despite his reluctance to part from you and stood himself up right as Iseul walked into the room.

She gasped. “Dad? You’re here too? Did I miss something?”

“Nothing at all, Seulie.” Jeonghan assured his daughter, his hand on her back as he walked her out of the room. “Did you find everything you were looking for? Nothing happened to the car, right?”

“I drive fine, what do you mean? You’re mean, you know that? [Y/n] never complains about my driving.”

He spared you one last glance, and your heart skipped a beat. It was just like the last time. Except this time, you loved Jeonghan, and he loved you back.

And that was the only thing you could ever want for Christmas.

[simpforboys]

daddy’s money

rafe cameron x fem!pogue!reader

summary: rafe overhears someone being rude to you at your job. it doesn’t end well for either of you, but rafe tries to make up for it.

warnings: arguing, violence (a punch is thrown), protective!rafe, sugar daddy!rafe (?!??), fluff, reader can speak spanish (but race or anything isn't described), not proof read

these are based on my personal experiences (love working retail), just minus the punching

the ring of the bell made your ears perk up as you folded clothes.

you began working at amor, a popular clothing shop for kooks of all ages about a year ago. why they hired you, a pogue, was beyond you, but nonetheless you appreciated it.

especially since your manager, kat, loved you, as she came from rags and rising to riches.

you loved your job, being able to wear casual dresses and clothes, as half the store was beachy clothes and the other half was fancier.

“is that y/n l/n?”

you turned your head to see rafe cameron, kook prince. you hadn’t seen him in awhile, his hair now buzzed as he walked with the same prideful look.

you grinned, putting the shirt you were folding onto the table before hugging the tall man.

you and rafe had a thing, as one day he came into the shop you two immediately hit it off.

“did you find everything okay?” you asked, trying not to stare at the attractive man in front of you.

you scanned the shorts and polo shirts he was buying, noticing him smiling down at you. his hair was pushed back with a baseball cap on his head.

“i did now,” he said slyly.

“oh yeah?” you grinned, taking the security tags off the clothes. a heat rose to your cheeks as you bagged his items.

“didn’t realize they had pretty girls working here, y/n.” the man read your name tag.

“i wouldn't say that..." you trailed off, not knowing the man's name.

"rafe, rafe cameron." a cameron, huh? it had shocked you, really. the camerons were all over the news and basically ran figure eight.

"your total is going to be $259.73." you couldn't help but peek as he pulled out his wallet, his gold card practically dissing you as he put it in the pinpad.

you handed him his receipt, feeling electricity as you two accidentally brushed hands. he smiled down at you, grabbing his bag.

"i'll see you around, y/n."

"have a good day, rafe."

you watched as he exited the building, but quickly turned around after he paused. you furrowed your brows as he walked back up to the register.

"can i take you out?"

the rest of the story turned around, but you still kept in touch with rafe until he was on the ship with his father. he never texted or called you back after that.

"thanks for answering me." you said sarcastically, trying to hide your beaming smile. even though you hadn't heard from him, you still missed talking and being around him.

"sorry, mama. things got tough."

rafe's eyes wandered your body. from the way your hair was styled, your shorts that displayed your pretty legs, cropped tank top that showed some cleavage with a hawaiian shirt over it to make it seem a bit more modest, although failing to do so.

"i bet, being a cameron isn't so easy, huh?" you teased, continuing to fold the shirts you had previously ditched.

rafe didn't get to respond before kat came over, cutting off your conversation. "y/n, hay un cliente (there is a customer)."

kat was a very strong person. her family had come from mexico in search of a new life, and kat had quickly picked up the pace as she was able to open up amor. the store allowed her family to move from the cut to figure eight. she was around 5'6, brown hair that looked black in some lighting, with a mole next to her top lip that just added to herself, in a weird way.

"lo veo (i see him)." working at amor, you quickly picked up on spanish (unless you already speak it). kat eyed rafe, before nodding at him and heading back to the fitting room.

"did you find everything okay?" you questioned the man. he was around 40, dressed in a collared shirt with jeans to match. he had a rolex on his wrist, displaying his wealth.

rafe had moved to look at some of the mannequins, staying close by.

the man didn't respond, scrolling on his phone. you pursed your lips together, biting back your tongue as you continued to scan his items. his body language seemed defensive as he stood away from you.

"i like your-"

unfortunately, working customer service you had some rude customers from time to time, especially being a pogue in kook territory.

"just zip it pogue and bag my clothes. and don't try anything suspicious, either."

you were taken aback by his comment.

"don't talk to her like that." rafe had appeared next to the register, his nostrils flaring as his normal blue eyes turned dark. his pupils were blown wide as he stared at the man like he was going to kill him.

"and who are you?" the man scoffed.

"she's just doing her job, dickhead."

"if she was just doing her job, she wouldn't be tryna talk to me. now, who are you? do you even work here?" the man eyed rafe angrily, trying to appear more dominate but ultimately failed. rafe was taller and seemed to be much stronger.

"rafe-" you tried.

"rafe cameron, is that right?" the man suddenly smirked, sizing rafe up.

"i should've known. all camerons are dicks, especially your father."

you saw how rafe clenched his fist, the veins in his hand looking like they were on the verge of exploding.

"but i never expected a cameron to be protecting a pogue, or less a whore."

you gasped as rafe's knuckles made contact with the man's cheek, a cracking sound that could be heard around the store.

"rafe!" you shouted as he shook his hand, trying to not beat the man to unconsciousness.

rafe saw red as he grabbed the man by his collar, dragging him out of the store. "never fucking come back, got that?"

the man, now with a bruised cheek that appeared to have a broken bone, quickly walked off. rafe spit on the floor, walking back into the store.

kat had come running over, the noise causing her to be alerted.

"y/n, what the hell was that?" she asked, her voice thick with an accent as she was fuming.

"he was being-"

"we have a no violence policy. i told you to stay away from that cabrón (asshole)." kat swore.

"kat-" the woman wasn't letting you finish.

"you know i love you, kid. but that was unacceptable."

your lip trembled as your heart sank. you knew what her next words were going to be.

"you're fired, and i want rafe out of the store permanently."

rafe watched the scene, opening his mouth to speak but quickly stopped himself. a tear ran down your cheek as you wiped it away.

"who needs this stupid job away," you mumbled. you grabbed rafe's bicep, guiding him out of the store.

once outside, you let go of him and slightly pushed him backwards. rafe stared at you in shock, his knuckles throbbing in pain.

"what was that for?"

"you got me fired, asshole!"

"you just let dickheads speak to you like that?" rafe asked, an appalled tone in his voice as his mouth slightly hung open.

"yes! i need money, i don't care what gross rich men say."

the north carolina heat radiated off of you two, seagulls squawking as they flew above.

"y/n-" he went to grab your hands but you pulled away.

"i don't have daddy's money to support me, rafe. you just cost me my entire income and home."

your words were harsh as you stared directly into his eyes, a flame ignited in you that he lit.

"listen, okay. i can take care of you."

rafe was trying to remain calm, not wanting to scare you away from him if he raised his voice too much.

"oh, yeah? how?"

"c'mon." rafe took you down to where barry was sitting in rafe's car. the man got out as he saw you and rafe approach, the tension thick.

"long time, y/n." barry nodded his head at you, which you pursed your lips in response and watched as rafe popped the trunk.

inside were cases as rafe opened one, shiny gold beaming off the sun to peek at you. your stomach dropped, looking between rafe and barry who had huge smirks on their faces.

"how did you-"

rafe carefully handed you a piece of gold, watching as you inspected it.

"each one is worth at least 20 grand. we're set for life with these, baby."

you let out a surprised laugh, any feel of anger going away from the sight of all the cases filled with your new riches.

"no bullshit, right?"

"100 percent real, honey. rafe melted it down himself."

rafe gave barry a death glare from the nickname he called you.

"how- where- you know what, never mind. i don't care. you guys are fucking loaded."

"we're loaded, y/n." rafe put his arm around you, bringing you into a side hug as you smelt his dior sauvage cologne.

you grinned, feeling rafe press a kiss to your temple as you hugged him tightly. you ran your hand up and down his muscular back as his hand went down to your lower back.

"so.... are you my sugar daddies?" you joked. barry laughed as rafe rolled his eyes.

"c'mon, country club. we got clients to see."

[idyllicidols]

Caught.

A/N: Tumblr tells me I've been on here for a year already. Time really flies! Just a quick one for Happy self anniversary and Merry Christmas.

***

"Hello?!"

Nayeon calls out as she enters your apartment, closing and locking the front door behind her. There's an eerie silence as she walks through the hall. Your door is slightly open, just a crack. Nayeon gives it a light nudge and pokes her head inside.

"Merry Christm-"

Nayeon drops her duffle bag by the foot of the bed, her breath quick and heavy. Her heart almost stops beating. Her body freezes, rigid with shock.

She hears groaning, coming from a figure laying on your bed in the center of the room. Your cock in your hand, your phone in the other, frozen in place while your best friend looks at you in disbelief.

You can't take your eyes off her, quickly placing your phone back onto the nightstand.

You didn't even think. The content of your phone remaining visible until the screen falls asleep: a photo of her - nothing even scandalous about it, just a photo of her, smiling at the camera with her cute bunny teeth and gummy smile—making a dumb cute little peace sign and acting like a goof. The screen finally goes dark, but the image is burned into her mind. A photo of her. You were jerking off to a photo of her. Your best friend.

Nayeon stumbles forwards, her mouth agape and her brain still failing to comprehend any of the shit that's happening.

It's like an out-of-body experience. Nothing makes sense anymore, everything is wrong. All the air seems to escape from her lungs, and all her thoughts melt out of her ears.

You lay there silently, your cock sitting on your stomach, covered with your own precum. Your heart is about to burst out of your chest, sweat sticks your hair to your forehead, heat emanates from every inch of your body. You should have heard her outside.

"Nayeon, it's not what you think."

"Oh yeah? What is it? Because this seems pretty fucking obvious to me."

"I don't know! I mean, I do, but...shit."

Nayeon fumbles through the photos. More images of her, from different angles, of different clothing, none particularly pornographic or inappropriate. A few shots that highlight the curve of her body, one that is focused on the swell of her firm ass, one from the front where you can see how snug her yoga pants are.

"So this is what you're into then, huh, jerk?"

Nayeon sits down on the bed with a thud. You're at a loss for words, laying next to her awkwardly, cock awkwardly hanging against your stomach. Nayeon doesn't speak at all. You can practically hear her think, processing this information, unsure what it means, uncertain whether she should feel flattered, used, hurt, betrayed, disgusted.

Without another word, or any kind of warning…

Nayeon starts to undress, her shirt thrown behind her. Her basic pink bra cups her petite breasts, a small layer of flesh rises up over the cup, but it's hard to make out. The top half of her torso, from her clavicle to her abdomen, is toned muscle, lithe and defined, feminine and sexy. You can't tear your gaze away from the taut curves of her shoulders, her arms, her hands, which start working on taking her jeans off.

"Keep going jerk. Touch yourself."

You look at her quizzically. Nayeon has never talked to you so harshly, especially about this kind of stuff, and even less while she was slowly stripping out of her clothes in your bed. This is a new side to her, your best friend still has the same looks to her, only now she's half-naked, stern and intense and almost angry as she watches you slowly jacking yourself, holding your member at a gentle but eager pace.

"Is this what you like? Pervert. Thinking about me while you jerk yourself off? Is the real thing better?"

Her barrage of questions makes your head hurt. Or perhaps it's just the amount of blood that seems to be going to your cock, as your mind fills with a haze of lust and desire. This condescending tone. The humiliation. Is this really what you're into?

Your thumb glides over your swollen, sensitive tip, a quiet moan escapes you as Nayeon lays next to you on her side, watching.

"Disgusting. Tch."

With each disparaging comment from her lips, the greater the pit forms in your stomach.

"You wanna see them?" Nayeon teases, letting one of her straps fall down her shoulder.

Your throat is dry. So fucking dry that it's hard to talk. So you nod your head in the most shameful and guilty way imaginable. It's Nayeon. Your Nayeon. There are boundaries that aren't supposed to be crossed and lines that shouldn't be crossed, and here you are, crossing them both.

She lets the other strap slip off her shoulder. Nayeon plays around with you a bit, letting just a hint of tit flesh spill out of the side before sliding the cups up again. After letting your pathetic begging whines linger for a minute, she undoes the hook of her bra in one smooth, single-handed motion and slowly takes it off.

"Well better or worse than what's in that fucked up head of yours?"

"Better..." You groan out, your hand instinctively reaching out towards her chest.

She slaps your hand away, pinning your wrist down into the mattress.

"Perv. Fucking touch me and I'll tear off your dick, got it?"

Nayeon said no touching, but she did nothing to stop you from jerking off in front of her. Actually, quite the opposite: Nayeon leans in even closer, her fingers trailing down the sides of her small perky tits. She lifts the small handfuls and gives them a playful shake, grinning at how desperately your mouth hangs open, lust clouding over your eyes, completely entranced. She knows full well she doesn't have a spectacular pair of melons, but in this case, she's fairly confident in them and what they're able to accomplish. And accomplishing a whole lot right now, it seems like.

You're mesmerized and enamored and lost and whatever the fuck else the synonyms for obsessed are. You want her. God do you ever want her, your arousal building more and more as Nayeon trails down the waistband of her underwear. Down, past her soft curving hips, exposing the tight pink slit underneath.

"You're not gonna cum already are you?" Nayeon mocks. "Look into my eyes" she orders, taking her thumb and giving your bottom lip a tug, forcing your drooling face to stare into her smoldering eyes, her tone still berating.

"Focus. Don't you look away, okay?"

A whimper and a nod. "Okay Nayeon." You're willing to do anything at this point, if only she allows you to keep staring at those brown bedroom eyes of hers. You are so fucking screwed.

"Good. Follow my fingers now. But remember, no touching." With that her hand slides down: down to neck, hovering over perfect handful of tits, gently pinching her rock hard nipples, a blissful smile washing over Nayeon as she does. Fingers trace around her navel, delicate and lovingly, teasing your poor erection with an agonizing display of sexuality and intimacy, torturous enough to make you beg for it, but never doing. Your balls feel so tight. Your entire pelvis feels like one massive tight knot.

"Keep watching..." Nayeon notices your blanked out expression, snapping her fingers to draw your attention back to her. Finally, finally! Her hands slither under the waistband of her underwear, and with a devious smirk, finally pulls her panties off and throws them to the floor. Nayeon presses a couple fingers to her nether lips, feeling the wetness, then showing off her slick coated finger to you.

"Wanna sniff?"

You want to so badly. It would only take a moment, it'd be so easy to cross over those inches. Her beautiful eyes. The girl you've known for so many years. Your best friend. You pathetically pant, like a dog who knows he shouldn't be begging his owner, but still hoping against hope to get the treats she has locked away.

Nayeon thrusts out her fingers again, rubbing them directly against your nose—smearing the honey across your upper lip. That heavenly sweet aroma. An explosion of alluring femininity that hits you like a brick, a thick waft of her womanly smell so strong and enticing.

And yet you can't touch, unable to do anything but pathetically touch yourself , like some kind of fugitive prisoner denied everything but the cruelest of tortures. You want to run. Escape from the intoxication and humiliation. To say 'let's just not ever bring this up again, be friends like we always were.'

But that'll never happen, not when Nayeon holds her hand over yours.

"Why don't you cum already eh? I'm waiting to see what a worthless perv like you looks like when he orgasms. Look at your gross, needy face."

If only you weren't so damn excited. A warm, burning sensation coils in your chest, pooling downwards. Nayeon isn't even touching it—there's no skin on skin contact with your cock. Instead she's using your hand like a puppet, pumping faster and faster, bringing yourself right to the brink, watching with wicked glee at the pitiful state you're in.

"Thinking about your best friend. After all we've been through. How the fuck do you even live with yourself? Pathetic."

A shudder goes through your body, as if you are absorbing the verbal abuse she gives you, making you even more aroused than before, feeling ashamed and dirty and alive. It's sick, perverted, and horrible, yet you revel in it, taking pleasure in feeling inferior, seeing her act with superiority and indifference to you and your pleas.

Her hand is over yours, her soft skin so close to your cock, yet so far—forcing your hand up and down, the head throbbing and swelling, unable to hold on any longer. Your entire focus is on Nayeon and her lithe touch. How her tiny tits jiggle ever so slightly when she moves. How her dark locks drift about her frame, flowing past her slim arms.

Before you even know it, you're blowing your load, feeling like a teenager in your own body, humiliated as it happens, almost falling backwards from the force, completely submitting to the control of another, spraying all over yourself, as Nayeon stares at you with disgust and contempt in her eyes. "You already came? God damn, that was even faster than I expected."

You can't stand the fact that you orgasmed within seconds of Nayeon touching you, even if it was over your hand. So easily able to dominate you, you are overtaken by desire, need and lust. By shame and embarrassment, your cock in your hand with jizz all over you.

She picks up her clothes and walks away, leaving you with a mix of shame and indignation, getting dressed while ignoring you.

As she is about to leave she turns back and faces you.

"See you tomorrow, pervert. Coffee. Yea?"

You're left alone, covered in jizz, looking down and watching yourself go soft and your member drip onto your lower belly. Your head is cloudy with afterglow, unhinged and confused feelings settle over you; part guilt, part exhilaration, all humiliation. Your body feels exhausted. The cold December air cools the sticky substance, drying it against you, you feel it, that's your shame, a shame that Nayeon exuded upon you and that you took pleasure in.

[mattsrod]

- ; CHRIS STURNIOLO ; -

' experimenting ' - requested.

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

- ; warnings - use of toys, plot(?), smut, established relationships , mutual masturbation,

- ; 11:13 am

you and chris left the house early this morning before matt and nick had even opened their eyes.

usually, you and chris would sleep later than them considering the nights you had together.

but no, last night you two went to sleep extremely early as your morning plans would require you to.

because in the afternoon while you were at work you received a text from your boyfriend.

and this lead to where you are now.

in a sex shop.

in downtown LA.

at 11:30 in the morning.

- ; 11:28 am

"chris if you get a boner from those sex dolls we are leaving."

"too late."

although he was joking, you still shot him a look.

but he didnt look back.

instead, he was looking at the large array of vibrators infront of you two.

"what are you thinking?" he asked, looking at you attentively.

"of you fucking me with one of these." you turned your head and looked up at him innocently.

"i meant what kind of vibrator are you thinking of getting dumb a-"

"is there anything in specific you two are looking for?" a voice chimed in before chris could finish his retort.

it was a store employee with purple hair and a face adorned with peircings whose name tag read "sapphire"

"im just looking for something to make my girl feel good." chris answered way too casually.

you again, shot him a look, but his eyes were locked onto 'sapphire'

"well, we have a lot of that here!" she laughed awkwardly.

you cracked a smile back.

chris stayed expressionless before saying, "well do you recommend anything for first timers?"

how the fuck is he so casual about this? you thought.

"i think i have just the thing! its on the pricier side.. so let me know if you want something cheaper!"

sapphire then walked to the back of the store where you heard the rustling of boxes.

"damn that bitch talks a lot." you whispered

chris giggled at your remark before the purple haired girl came back with a fairly large box labled: inspiring vibrating wand: powerful vibrations

the box was about a foot tall with a long black well, wand, on the front. it had a bright orange label that had '149.99' on it.

intimated by the large thing, you looked at chris, who was smirking and shaking his head in delight.

"we'll take it." he said like he had done this a million times before.

"alright, perfect! meet me over at the register." sapphire walked over to the counter.

"chris!" you whispered sharply. "thats too expensive!"

you tugged on his hoodie to prevent him from waking over to the counter.

he stopped walking and turned around"hey, anything to make my girl feel good, alright?"

you couldn't help it but get red in the face at this.

you obliged and followed him to the register, thinking about what was to come.

- ; 11:44 am

the ride home was excruciating.

you pressed your thighs together as you thought of how your new item would be used.

"you alright, baby?" chris put his hand on your thigh, not taking his eyes off of the road.

you squirmed impatiently under his touch

"i might have to you the wand on you right when you get home, huh?"

-; 12:00 pm

you entered chris's room and sat on his bed.

chris walked in a few moments later, the box in hand.

he immediately sat down next to you and started opening it up.

he pulled out an instruction manual first, "damn they have a whole instruction manual for this bitch? maybe we shouldve gotten something different.."

you laughed. "it's probably just how to clean it or some shit."

"oh, then we will definitely need that." he looked up at you and smiled, gaining an ego boost after saying that.

you smacked his hand playfully.

then he took out the wand and clicked the button to the highest setting.

the head of it wirred loudly, which startled the both of you.

chris quickly turned it off and laughed, he tried to pretend he wasn't thinking about overstimulating your dripping cunt with it.

but, his manhood gave him away.

"we might just have to use this now." chris said playfully as he discarded the box onto the floor, leaving 6 inches between you and chris.

"but chris" you were cut off by a sloppy kiss on the lips from chris.

he pushed you down on the bed hovering over you, kissing you.

when you finally caught your breath you spoke, "what if matt and nick hear?"

"pfft. they wont be up for at least another 2 hours."

you giggled and resumed sloppily kissing.

lips still interlocked, chris moved to the side so you could take your sweatpants off, and you did the same for him.

the kiss lasted a few more minutes before chris could bear it anymore, and he took his boxers off.

you broke the kiss so you could look at his soaking member.

he stroked it a few times before picking up the wand.

you swallowed, it burned.

he turned it on the second lowest setting and pressed it against your cunt.

"mmh.." you let out a small moan in response.

chris moved the vibrator up and down your clothed pussy.

his cock twitched as he could visibly see how turned on you were by this.

and although you were extremely stimulated by the wand, his aching cock didnt go unnoticed by you.

you grabbed the wand from chris's hand, signaling for him to take off your panties.

he happily obliged to this, taking them off with his teeth, which grazed you as he did so.

he lowered his tounge down onto your pussy, licking it.

you shuddered.

he licked your pussy again, this time with more strength.

he licked again and again and again until he couldnt help himself from sucking.

you moaned loudly.

your hand was getting sore from holding the vibrator, so you brought it down and rested it against chris's leaking tip.

"fuck." he moaned into your pussy, sending vibrations up your core.

this went on for a few more moments until chris's hips started to shudder, and your breathing became more rapid.

chris sat up, taking the vibrator off of its resting place on his dick, and bringing it up to your pussy.

he stroked his cock at the sight of your cunt, and you convulsing.

as much as you were enjoying this, you still wanted to help chris, so you grabbed the base of his cock and moved his own hand off of it, jerking him off.

"oh yeah baby- fuck- just like that" he moaned out as the pace of your strokes increased, focusing on his tip.

you could tell he was getting close.

with he free hand he stuck two fingers into your pussy. curling them perfectly and they explored you.

but with the sight of your boyfriend jerking into your hand, vibrator which was now at the highest setting assaulting your cunt, the feeling you knew all too well crept up on you sooner than expected.

"fuck- chris im cumming!" you screamed, the pleasure washed over your whole body in waves.

you came all over his fingers, the movement of your hand on his cock become sloppy.

this was enough for chris to let out a long moan "shit- me too-"

he came all over your cunt, and the vibrator.

your breathing, although heavy, became synchronized with his.

"i guess we are gonna need that cleaning manual huh?"

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

i have no fucken clue where i got this motivation to write so.. this took me like an hour tff😱

[mechaknight-98]

Full Circle (NSFW) Ft MiChaeng

Authors note: inspired by the picture…you know the one. @smutoperator your turn

Two weeks before your relationship anniversary and Chaeyoung's birthday you ask her what she wants,

“Hmm I want a threesome with you and Somi,” she says plainly. You blink multiple times. You, Somi, and Chaeyoung have hung out loads of times. Somi was cool that you liked her but this was a massive and intense step for your relationship. He’ll it caused you your last one. You gulped trying to figure out how to respond.

“Huh,” you ask.

“You heard me. I want a threesome. I want my two favorite people to take care of me all day. I want to be pampered and fucked all day and all night,” Chaeyoung said her voice oozing the sexy confidence you fell for. She knew you were going to say yes, despite your reservations because she knew you. You were invested and to you, that transcended your past feelings about them. Knowing this you were momentarily put at ease about it.

“Okay, Tiger. I trust you.” You relent and Chaeyoung’s eyes grow wide with joy.

“You won’t regret this?” Chaeyoung assures you that she knew your sordid history with threesomes. As the day nears your dread increases. flashes of your old relationship begin to haunt you as each day nears. Chaeyoung notices of course and reassures you when she can but also gives you decent space to parse and constructively deal with your feelings, and music. Now you didn’t possess her level of talent but you had become quite practiced and skilled in a few instruments she helped you learn.

“What if she leaves you for Somi? What if Somi seduces you? What if a meteor strikes you down before the appointed time,” your mind raced as you tried to find a solution or an out to this circumstances. Yet whenever you broach the subject you just see Chaeyoung’s eyes go so wide with joy anytime she mentions the “experience”.

The week before is stressful as she left you sexually ravenous and frustrated. A far cry from the sexual satisfaction you mutually enjoyed. She had forbidden you from touching yourself or touching her but she would touch you and make a great show of masturbating in front of you with reckless lewd abandon. This torture lasted seven nights. On the day before her birthday while you were getting ready for work you asked “Hey Chae why all the edging,” Chaeyoung smiled

“I want you feral so that you destroy my pussy. I want you so feral you fuck Somi and my brains out. I want you feral that all you can think about is using us for your pleasure,” Chaeyoung said with a lustful tone. This led to the most diabolical edging sessions she’s ever done to you. Before work, she grabbed your cock and began to stroke you as she said all of the things she wanted done to Somi and her. You stand helpless in her grip, like putty in arms hoping she releases some of the tension, and just like that she stops. She kisses your cheek and says, “See you later Rocky please get home safely,” She did just enough to rile you up but nothing to satisfy you. You grind your teeth. You could and should demolish her right now for what she did but no. It was her birthday and as a good boyfriend obeyed, but damn could she see it in your eyes. Her eyes seemed to egg you on then her mouth followed,

“Oh has it gotten to you,” she says, “you better go or you’ll be late for work,” she said with a sadistic smile.

The night before you had to avoid Tiger. for fear of losing control as her touch was enough to drive you mad at this point. You stayed out on something you don't do trying to take your mind off things. You went to the bar where you met Chaeyoung. You order a straight whiskey hoping the alcohol will ease your nerves. it doesn't. you sit alone until a familiar voice talks to you

"Hey stranger," You turn to see a smiling Somi. You wave,

"What brings you out Mr Workholic?" Somi playfully teases

"Oh you know just wanted a drink ya know," you lie. Somi sees right through it and replies

"Chae told me she's been subjecting you to torture in preparation for her birthday bash of us three," Somi smiles. You nod

"I just need a break. for a couple of hours at least. She's got me on edge. I almost called in just so I could fuck that smirk off her face," You reveal

"Yeah, Chae told me that you had reached your limit, but if it's any consolation she has also told me that she has also reached her limit not being able to fuck her "favorite cock and balls" like you did something to her. I have never seen her so down bad for a guy before," Somi teases

"I'm glad. She's so smart and talented and I just want to watch her succeed," You elaborate.

"I know now come on. it's time we give the birthday girl everything she has been wanting," Somi says.

you groan get up and head to your place.

you open the door and Somi and you are run over by the overwhelming scent of Arousal and lust in the air. both of you hear moaning and echoing but no sign of Chaeyoung.

"Oh babe Somi texted me she's on her way. Please fuck me before she gets here. I haven't been able to cum all week. I need your cock," Chaeyoung moans. At that point everything Chaeyoung has been doing to you. A light in your brain turns green that hasn't been green since your first night with Chaeyoung. without a word and in a flash you strip and your body moves on its own with a hunger you didn't know you had.

"Wow," Somi says seeing you move like a demon to her. you find her fucking herself with a toy desperately trying to cum but can't.

you spread her already open legs and line up your erect cock with her moist cavern. the two of you lock eyes as images flash through both of your minds about what you would do to the other.

When you plunge in she's tighter than the first time you tasted her.

"Ahhh," Chaeyoung moans. Normally you'd ask if she was okay but you are too far gone at this point. you rear back and slam into her with a violent intensity. Chaeyoung moans turn into screams. Thank God the two of you soundproofed your little love nest because otherwise the two of you would have woken the neighbors.

You thrust in and out of Chae as she is reduced to a blubbering mess.

"Fuck Tiger keep moaning for me. I am going to murder this cat," You groan as you thrust into her. out of the corner of your eye, you see Somi sneak to your girlfriend's side, and before Chaeyoung can moan Somi shoves her sizable bust in Chaeyoung’s haeyoung's face

"Suck on my fat tits Chae. I know you want to," Her friends say lewdly. the scene only serves as fuel for your already considerable fire. You keep thrusting in and out of Chaeyoung and watch as she sucks on her friend's tits. You smile at the lewd scene only one thing is missing. Nearing your release you pull out of Chaeyoung who whimpers pathetically before you cum over the ladies’ bodies. Ropes upon ropes of white semen paint both of them as you watch with perverse pleasure. Chaeyoung and Somi moan in pleasure. They begin to make out and lick your cum off of their bodies. You’re still hard though and you start to stroke your cock.

“Where do you want it, Tiger,” you ask

“Fuck Somi stuff her with that fat cock,” Chaeyoung moans as she breaks from the kiss switching Somi and her position.

“Yes please fuck me with that fat cock,” Somi agrees. Chaeyoung moans as she breaks from the kiss switching Somi and her position.

“Yes please fuck me with that fat cock,” Somi agrees. You watch as Somi spreads her legs while Chaeyoung sucks on her tits. Without a thought, you plunge into Somi who moans. While you fuck Somi you yank Chaeyoung up to you and kiss her. You force your tongue down her throat as she gives in the pleasure.

“You like how I fuck your best friend,” you ask as you pump in and out of Somi. Chaeyoung breathlessly nods as you plunge into her friend

“You want my cock to mark her womb as mine like yours?” You ask and Chaeyoung nods aggressively. You turn to Somi and grab her right tit and begin to knead it.

“What will it be Somi? You also wanna be my slut?” Somi screams yes in response

“Fuck me with that fat cock. make cum,” she screams as her wet cavern sloshes around. Where Chaeyoung is Tight and wet Somi is wet and slippery. Her pussy almost pushes you out with each thrust as you go in and out of her. It’s pleasant though but not as much as Chaeyoung’s tight snatch. Speaking of Chaeyoung you move your hand to her left breast and massage hers with your left hand while massaging Somi’s with your right hand. Somi’s pussy seems to open up before she cums. Squirt comes out forcefully pushing you out of her cavern. Not wanting to stop you pick Chaeyoung up and put her into a full Nelson before plunging into her. Chaeyoung moans as she watches Somi keep cumming, she laughs, before saying,

“I think you broke her babe,” she says as she watches Somi unable to stop herself from cumming. You watch concerned for a moment until Chaeyoung pulls you into another kiss.

“Cum in me babe,” she says when you break it “fill me.” She whimpers. Her soft look sends you hurdling to your orgasm as you finally cum in your girlfriend. Chaeyoung also has her first orgasm of the night as the two of you continue to fuck each other through each other’s orgasms. After calming down the two of you fall next to Somi. Chaeyoung passes out in between the two of you. You’re still hard though and try to fight your urges. The three of you had been fucking for three hours. It was 3 am and you knew Chaeyoung needed a little rest she was such a tiny thing after all but your body demanded one more release. You trace Chaeyoung's back tattoo hoping to calm yourself down but your mind races with more ideas more ways to fuck her and have Somi watch. Unable to control yourself you lift Chaeyoung’s leg and plunge into her. Chaeyoung jolts awake in shock Somi smiles

“I told you Chae that you were playing a dangerous game,” she says as she’s watched Chaeyoung’s mind melt. You marvel at Chaeyoung she moans for you and you thrust faster. It was then that you realized you were fucking her ass. Somi watches before she starts touching herself as Chaeyoung's tight ass constricts around your cock. You tightly grip Chaeyoung’s wrists as you plunge into her tight hole.

“Oh fuck tiger I can’t stop,” you moan. Chaeyoung moans her brain overloaded from pleasure as she tries to talk you down but both of you are past the point of no return as you both cum again. Somi watches in glee, and for the first time that week you feel back to your normal self. You finally relax and go to sleep.

[demonpiratehuntress]

vampire shenanigans (Straw Hats + Ace, Law, Kaku)

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader

summary - your crew's stop at a nearby island takes a dark (but also kind of funny) turn when the town's vampire king tries to make you his wife. your boyfriend is NOT amused.

warnings - none

a/n - one of my stupid, random ideas

You were bad with directions. Because while everyone had been exploring the new island you'd stopped at, you had somehow gotten yourself lost. And found yourself deep in the woods, in front of an evil-looking castle that practically oozed danger. It was obvious enough to you not to go in, but before you could turn and walk away your vision went dark.

ZORO

"Wait, where's (Name)?"

Zoro was the first to notice your absence when the group met up in the town square, looking around worriedly. Even he and Luffy had found their way here before you, which never happened.

"Maybe she lost track of time?" Robin suggested. "She's probably in one of these shops."

After a while of looking around and asking shopkeepers about you, though, they had no luck finding you. Until a pale, eerily skinny girl came running from the forest, attracting the townspeople's attention.

"The king has chosen his bride!" She cried out, then collapsed.

The Straw Hats were confused. What happened to her, and who was this 'king'? Also where did she come from and why did all the villagers look frightened by her words? Questioning a few of them yielded nothing except 'vampire'.

"Wait a minute..." Nami started, frowning. "That must be (Name)!"

"What?" Zoro demanded, almost growling.

"Well, think of it, she's been gone so long and it's odd for her to be the last one to come back. Maybe that's because she was kidnapped by this king."

"Oh hell no," Zoro grumbled, "He is NOT marrying MY girlfriend. Only I can do that."

Before the other Straw Hats could even react to that, the green-haired swordsman was trudging up the hill and entering the forest. They hastily followed, giving each other uneasy looks as they got to the spooky castle.

"Give me back my woman!" Zoro was yelling at someone, "The only person who's going to marry her is me!"

Your eyes widened at his words, a blush falling over your cheeks as you watched your boyfriend challenge the annoyed vampire beside you.

I'm pretty sure we all know who wins this fight. An angry Zoro is NOT to be trifled with, after all.

"So, you're going to marry me huh?"

Zoro's cheeks turned slightly pink, "Someday, yeah."

ACE

The minute Ace lost sight of you, he flew into a frenzy. He was panicking like he'd lost a child, running all over town looking for you. He knew of your tendency to get lost, and it always scared him. Especially when he took his eyes off you for one second and then looked back to see you had vanished. The poor man wants to cry when he doesn't find you anywhere, and Marco has to calm him down and assure him that they will find you.

A nearby couple talking in hushed tones caught Ace's attention, as well as the fact that they kept glancing at him and Marco not-so-secretly. He went over to them.

"Hi, have you seen a woman with-"

"She was taken by the vampire king," someone behind them spoke. The couple rushed off, frightened by the newcomer. Ace turned to see a young woman coming towards him and Marco. She held an umbrella over her head, despite the sun being out.

"Um...vampire king?" The commander questioned.

"He takes a woman once every few years, marries them and turns them, and then leaves them," she explained. "So if you've lost your friend and can't find her anywhere in town, that must be where she is." The woman's tone was sad, as if she knew this from experience.

"Thank you," Ace nodded and sprinted off before Marco could protest or suggest telling Whitebeard what happened.

"Ace! You don't even know where he lives!"

Somehow, Ace found the place and by the time Marco had caught up with the pissed 2nd division commander he saw Ace challenging a man who was holding you hostage. This must have been the vampire king.

"Give her back!" Ace was aggressively demanding, flames dancing along his arms and legs, his eyes just as fiery. "If she's going to be anyone's wife, she'll be my wife!"

You blushed HEAVILY at that. You and Ace had spoken a lot about marriage, but you hadn't thought he was serious about it. Your heart warmed at the thought, and once he had taken care of the king - fire was a pretty convenient weapon against vampires - you immediately kissed him when he came close.

"There's only one person I would ever say yes to, Ace. And that's you."

LAW

You had split off with Bepo to find something to gift Law for your anniversary. When the bear came running back to Law with tears streaming down his face, the doctor knew the worst must have happened. And it was only confirmed when Bepo repeatedly apologised through his tears before finally telling Law you had been kidnapped.

"Kidnapped?" The surgeon frowned. "By who?"

"I couldn't see him very well," Bepo was sobbing, the poor bear, "But he was tall and pale. With red eyes."

Law cursed. He knew what that might mean, and he felt ridiculous putting you and his crew in this position in the first place. He had, for once, forgotten to check what island this was, and now you were paying the price for his negligence.

"Come on, I know where she is."

The crew followed their captain through the forest, getting frightened by the spooky atmosphere but still trudging through. You were one of them, after all, and that was their motivation. Especially Bepo and Law. The captain was practically fuming, and steam would have come out of his ears if possible. How dare someone kidnap you? Was this stupid vampire king not aware of who you were with?

It was almost as if he sensed Law's presence, because the doors swung open for the Heart pirates to enter. They found you in the dining room, you looking relieved to see them and the vampire smirking smugly at Law.

"A pretty thing, you had," he began, "Such a shame she's mine now. But I am generous, so I'll let you stay for the wedding."

Bepo was outraged, but Law held him back, "Wedding? I haven't planned one with her yet, but I appreciate you letting us use your facilities for it."

Your face turned beet-red, never having expected to hear that from Law. He 'room, shambled' the vampire and then quickly walked over to you.

"Are you okay?"

You smiled up at him, "I'm perfect."

"That you are," he smiled back and kissed your cheek, a rare display in front of the crew just because he was so relieved you were okay.

KAKU

You and Kaku had just been trying to have a nice vacation. But you should have really done your research first, because apparently women disappeared a lot on this island, but the islanders wouldn't tell Kaku why or where you had gone. He remained calm on the outside, but internally he was panicking and freaking out completely. How had he lost you??

He searched everywhere in the town, but found nothing. You were nowhere in sight, as if you had just vanished into thin air. One moment you were next to him, the next you were gone. You might have wandered off, but to where??

"Go look in the forest," someone spoke from beside him as he looked again through a store window. "She might be there."

He turned to look at who had spoken, and found himself facing a very scary looking woman. She might have been scary because she looked like all the blood had been drained from her body, and her skin was paler than any normal human's.

Kaku wanted to ask why she looked like that and how she knew where you were, but decided that finding you took top priority. He thanked her and went off to the forest, and it wasn't long before he realised the answers to the questions he wanted to ask that lady.

He was standing in front of a gothic castle, one that looked like it belonged to a vampire - and Kaku soon found out it did.

"I can't give her back," the vampire said coolly, smirking, "She is my bride."

Kaku glared, a sight so scary you'd hid your face the first time you saw it. Kaku was normally cute and shy, but when he got angry and when he glared he was the scariest person in the world. It was probably the unhinged look in his eyes.

"She will be no one's bride but mine," the CP9 assassin growled, drawing his swords.

It was a very intense fight, but you only had one thing on your mind. When Kaku tossed the ripped off head of the vampire aside, making sure to light it on fire, he turned only to have you crash into him and engulf him in a hug.

"Your bride, huh? I look forward to it."

SANJI

God help anyone who tries to marry you with this guy around. Even if said person was an immortal being capable of draining his body of blood. But he didn't know that's what the crew faced, when you suddenly just didn't return from a store you had gone to look at. Everyone had split up to explore, but you hadn't come back yet and Sanji was getting agitated.

"I'm sure she's fine," Chopper tried to assure him, "(Name) can handle herself."

An old man suddenly came up to them then, looking so sad that Sanji almost gave him a hug.

"Your friend is gone," he spoke dejectedly, "He comes and takes any woman he chooses, and you never see that poor girl again." Then he walked off, as if what he'd said had made perfect sense.

"Um..."

Sanji looked around, trying to see if anyone looked suspicious, until something caught his eye from the forest. As if drawn to it, he suddenly went in that direction and found himself in front of a very eerie castle a few minutes later.

"(Name) is in there?"

"Who dares talk about my bride?"

"EXCUSE ME?!" Sanji yelled. "THAT IS MY GIRLFRIEND!"

"I think not," the vampire finally showed his face, pulling you along, "She will marry me and become my wife."

"If (Name) is going to marry anyone it's going to be me!" Sanji cried and then attacked.

Once that was over, you went over to him and grinned, "Marriage, huh? I didn't think playboys had that in their vocabulary."

"Oh, ha ha," he replied sarcastically, sweeping you into his arms and peppering your face with kissed, "I mean it, you know."

You smiled, "Good, cause I want it."

LUFFY

I'm going to be honest with you, Luffy is lost with you too. He sticks to you like actual glue, so it's no surprise when he ends up by the castle with you. The only difference is that he's knocked out and left outside, while you were taken inside to face god-knows-what. When Luffy finally woke up, the rest of the crew was surrounding him.

"Luffy, what happened?" Chopper asked, concerned as he checked Luffy's vitals and made sure he was okay.

"I don't know," the captain frowned, "(Name) and I got lost, and came here to this creepy castle. Then I woke up now."

"Wait, so you don't know what happened to (Name)?!" Sanji panicked. "You idiot, you were supposed to protect her!"

Zoro glared at the cook, "Calm down, stupid cook. Take a look at this castle, something weird lives in there."

Luffy's eyes widened then, realising just now what he had said. He shot to his feet, head whipping around wildly as if that would help him locate you, "Where's (Name)?! Is she in there?"

The crew groaned collectively, knowing that Luffy was about to get them into possibly another life-threatening fight. However, before that could happen, the doors swung open and you walked out, but you were not alone. A tall, pale man was with you, a wicked grin on his face as his eyes gleamed red.

"Say goodbye to your friends, my bride."

"Bride?!" Nami and Sanji screeched in unison, followed by Sanji fainting.

"(Name) is not your bride!" Luffy argued, clenching his fists. "She should not be forced to marry you! She should be able to marry who she wants to, and that will be me!"

Your heart swelled at his words, and when he had gotten rid of your captor you walked over and kissed his cheek, "You're right, it will be you."

USOPP

"(Name)? (Name)!"

The crew found Usopp spinning in circles and frantically calling your name, as if summoning you through some weird ritual. They all raised their eyebrows, waiting for the sniper to stop and notice them.

"Oh, hey guys! Have you seen (Name)?" He asked them, his eyes wide with panic. "I think I lost her."

"You think YOU WHAT?!" Sanji yelled, eyes blazing.

Usopp laughed nervously, backing away slowly, "I swear she was just right next to me! Hurry up and help me find her!"

That didn't take long, because when they wandered into the forest and found a creepy castle, Luffy pulled them all inside and said you must be hiding in there. More like kidnapped, which is what they found out when they walked in on you sitting at a very very long table, across from a very very pale man with glittering red eyes.

"V-v-v-" Usopp couldn't even get the full word out of his mouth. "What are you doing with my girlfriend!" He took aim at the vampire.

The vampire laughed and dusted himself off, "She's not your girlfriend anymore, sadly. She is mine. And tomorrow, we shall be wed in front of the entire town."

Usopp's blood boiled. People and monsters alike could walk all over him if they wanted to, which they did, but you were a different story. When it came to you, hell hath no fury like an angry, protective Usopp.

A barrage of exploding stars is what led the vampire to his unexpected end, his cockiness getting the better of him.

Usopp glared at his burning body, "Sorry but the only person who can wed this pretty woman is me. And it'll be in front of our crew."

You beamed and threw your arms around the sniper, kissing him passionately, "Agreed."

[zorobraun]

ex husband ghost at your kiddo’s football game part two

“dad, what does ‘sex’ means?” theo asks, looking at simon while they’re playing video games. his father freezes. “what did you just say?” simon stares at his son in disbelief, instantly crashing the car in the game. “sex.” theo says again, his bright soft eyes full of innocence. simon swallows hard, frowning his nose. “first of all, how did you discover the existence of this word?” simon raises an eyebrow at the kid, laughing quietly. “mommy’s friend.” theo replies in a worried tone, his cheeks getting red from both regret and embarrassment.

“is that so?” simon’s tone is a bit angry now. “i’ll have a word with your mom, then.” he adds with a sigh, looking at his son. “don’t, please. it’s not her fault… she was very uncomfortable.” theo’s eyes are desperate and worried. “don’t worry, buddy. i’ll just talk to her… nicely.” simon reassures him with a soft smile, caressing theo’s head. he nods with a half hearted smile. “her friend was saying something about… mom missing the sex she had with you. i wasn’t supposed to hear that, but she’s too loud.” theo swallows hard, looking away.

simon is in shock. he holds back a laugh. “and mom said that… she can’t help but miss having sex with you, that you’re the best she ever had.” theo completes with hesitation in his tone. “oh my god, really?” simon asks with a fake surprise, laughing out loud. he’s not cocky, but he obviously knew that already, you used to tell him all the time. “yes, dad…” theo mutters with a light chuckle, still confused about the meaning of his mom’s statement.

simon shakes his head, still laughing in disbelief. “your mom is crazy, huh?” he says in a playful tone, wrapping his big arms around theo. “sometimes.” the kid replies, laughing too. “so… what’s ‘sex’, anyway?” theo raises an eyebrow, curious and confused. simon takes a deep breath, staring at his son in a serious, calm way. “sex is… an intimate moment that you share with someone you trust.” he explains in a non explicit way, smiling softly. “really? so you and mom… you trusted each other.” theo smiles sadly. “actually, it was more than trust. we… we loved each other, which makes the experience even better.” simon adds in a calm tone.

“do you miss having… that… with mom?” theo raises an eyebrow, innocent and naive as always. simon suddenly sighs quietly, the memories eating him alive. “i can’t believe we’re talking about this, buddy.” he lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “but yeah, i miss it.” he pauses. “i miss everything.” a sad smile appears on simon’s lips. theo stares into his father’s eyes. he knows that simon is not okay, but he decides to ignore that and give him a tight hug. “let’s get you back to mommy’s house.” simon breaks the silence, kissing theo’s temple.

a few minutes later, simon and theo are standing in your doorstep. you quickly open the door with a smile, since you were already expecting them. you crouch when you see theo, hugging him while you kiss his soft cheeks. “i’ve missed you!” you chuckle quietly, kissing all over his face. “mom, stop, it tickles!” he chuckles, pulling away from you. simon smiles softly in silence. the loud thunder makes the three of you look at the sky. the rain is just getting worse.

you look at simon. his eyes look like coming home. like listening to an old good song after months without listening to it. “hi.” you greet him, smiling. “hey.” simon smiles back, his fingers interlocking with your strands, caressing your head gently. “he already had dinner. and he also showered.” simon tells you, just like always. most of your conversations with him are like this. you nod with a smile. “um, you should come in. it’s raining too much.” you look at simon with a an awkward smile, making him chuckle quietly as he shakes his head. “it’s fine, but thanks.” he says, looking at you. “seriously, don’t drive right now. don’t make me worried.” you reply, touching his arm in a friendly way. simon seems to be hesitant.

“please, dad. stay a little longer.” theo grabs simon’s hand, pulling him inside. simon could never deny his son, so he gives in, clearing his throat before looking around your cozy living room. the living room that was once his, too. it’s a bit awkward to realize that he let you stay without even thinking twice, while he had to buy another place to live. “make yourself at home.” you say the magic words and simon feels that pain in his heart. this is his home. or used to be…

“can i get you something to drink?” you ask with a weak smile. “i’m fine, thanks.” he smiles back and you nod. simon takes a seat on the couch, theo throws himself beside his father. before you could sit next to theo, he leaves the couch to give attention to the puzzle on the ground. you and simon look at each other with a soft smile. you sit next to simon on the couch, making sure to keep a certain distance. “so, did you guys have fun?” you ask with a playfulness in your tone. “of course, mom.” theo chuckles, focused on the puzzle. simon chuckles too, his gaze shifting from theo to you.

“hey, can i talk to you about something?” simon asks, laying his arm lazily on the couch, his body turned towards you. you swallow hard, nodding. “sure. what is it?” you smile nervously. “tell claire to stop talking about sex in front of my son, for fuck’s sake.” simon laughs quietly, touching your hand and squeezing it in a playful manner. your cheeks get instantly red. “w-what? i mean, how… how do you know it’s claire?” you seem embarrassed at first but you end up laughing, slapping simon’s thigh.

“i know all of your friends, idiot. only claire would talk about such things in front of theo.” simon laughs again, making you laugh even more. “i already told her, alright? she’s impossible, i swear…” you smile playfully as you shake your head. “oh, i can tell.” simon mutters in a joking tone. you raise an eyebrow at him, mockingly. “she’s so blunt, it’s funny.” he adds, chuckling.

“she really is. remember that time when you first saw her? it was right in the beginning of our relationship, we had just started dating…” you say with a nostalgic smile. simon’s attention is fixed on you, a laugh wanting to leave his throat because he knows exactly what you’re talking about. “fuck yeah… she said: oh, honey. this isn’t your boyfriend anymore, it’s ours. i couldn’t believe my ears when she said that.” simon completes, laughing out loud, just like you.

“oh my god… i was so embarrassed. i felt so bad for you.” you mumble between chuckles, grabbing simon’s arm in a playful manner. “i was willing to break up with you, she almost scared me off.” simon jokes in a teasing tone, chuckling. you roll your eyes with a laugh, pushing him away. he laughs, adjusting himself on the couch. you stare at his lap for some reason, maybe because you just had flashbacks of the two of you having some late night fun on this couch. simon raises an eyebrow at you, clearly judging your malicious stare. you shy away.

the tension is too heavy when simon sighs quietly, staring into your eyes with so much longing that it almost hurts. he misses you like crazy… but then his brain reminds him that your boyfriend is probably upstairs, waiting for you, as he lays down on the bed that you used to share with simon. suddenly, he gets mad. he gets mad because that stupid boyfriend of yours doesn’t deserve you. he can’t even handle being with a woman like you. simon clears his throat uncomfortably, trying his best to ignore his intrusive thoughts.

“mom, did you tell dad about your wedding?” theo breaks the silence while focused on his puzzle and the world stops. simon holds his breath for a while, staring into your eyes as if he’s pleading to hear that this wedding thing is a joke. he feels like theo’s words opened an unhealed wound. he sighs quietly, looking away. the realization hits him. so you weren’t bluffing when you said that you were actually willing to marry your boyfriend. your eyes are filled with despair as you notice simon’s reaction, you can almost hear his heart shattering. “i’m so happy for you.” he finally says something, but his words are meaningless, shallow. he leaves the couch so he doesn’t have to be near you.

“w-wait, where are you going?” you stand up too, grabbing his arm. “i’m going home.” simon replies with a fake soft smile. you can see in his eyes that he’s devastated. “simon, just… stay. let’s talk.” you swallow hard as your touch stays on him. “i think we’re both done talking.” he replies in an annoyed, upset tone, still faking a small smile. “no, simon. i know you…” you insist in a frustrated frown. “don’t leave me in the dark, alright? please. your opinion matters to me.” your voice breaks a little, already fighting the urge to cry. simon has that pain hidden in his face, that you only saw when he was right on the edge.

“what do you want me to say, y/n? do you need my approval, is that it? don’t you think i’ve had enough of your bullshit already?” simon asks with an extreme frustration in his tone, a hint of betrayal. you hold eye contact with him in silence. a silence that’s too loud. you lick your lips nervously, swallowing hard. “i need… i need you to be okay with this. i need to hear you say that i won’t hurt you if i marry him.” you say in a whisper, your eyes tearing up.

simon sighs heavily, looking away in disbelief. he takes a step back. “oh, you want me to be okay with this? you must be out of your goddamn mind.” simon says with a hint of sarcasm. “i can’t keep doing this, y/n. i can’t keep getting in the way of your new love life, just because you want me to. stop relying on me to make decisions that i don’t have the power to make. i’m so fucking tired of having to watch you give all of your love to another man, right in front of my eyes.” simon stares at you with a certain anger as he comes closer again, grabbing the back of your neck with both hands. he’s tearing up. “can’t you see that?” he whispers, almost begging.

“you ended me the night you asked for a divorce instead of trying to make things right again, because you know damn well that i was more than happy to fight for you. for our marriage.” simon’s tired eyes are still on yours, just like his hands on the back of your neck. “so yes, you will hurt me if you marry him. after all we’ve been through… you betrayed me. i spent years loving you, treating you right, taking care of you, helping you through tough times… just so you could change your mind about us and fall in love with someone new in less than a year.” his chest tightens with his own words, pure betrayal consuming his veins.

“all i ever wanted was you, with all of your qualities and flaws. i wanted my son to have both of his parents living under the same roof. but maybe i asked for too much.” he says, a hint of disappointment in his low voice. tears start running down your cheeks and he sighs tiredly, wiping your tears away, again. “you see? you break me in half but i’m always the one to put you back together somehow, when your boyfriend should be doing it. so look me in the eyes and say that he deserves to be with you. say it. you can’t. because it’s my hand you reach for when you’re falling apart.” simon adds, kissing your tears away. it catches you off guard.

you can’t seem to have the strength to answer, so you just stay silent, feeling the safe warm feeling of his touch on you. simon stares into your eyes, waiting for a response. “y-you don’t understand, simon…” you mutter in a shaky voice. his hands are shaky too. he closes his eyes for a second, feeling even more frustrated and desperate with your words. his pleading gaze fixed on you, his chest rising up and down.

“you don’t seem to understand how this breaks my heart, love. you haunt me. i search for you in anyone, anywhere. i search for you in my empty bed, in the passenger’s seat of my car. in the grocery store, by my side, reading our grocery list out loud. i search for you when i’m out with our friends, when i’m at my mom’s and she asks how have you been, when i’m watching our favorite movie with theo for the thousandth time.” he swallows the lump in his throat. you close your eyes, you can’t handle it anymore. “god knows i even miss your toothbrush next to mine.” he chuckles quietly and sadly, making your heart break.

theo stares at his parents with sad, guilty eyes. but he knows that this seems to be a conversation for adults, only. so he stays quiet, turning his attention back to the puzzle. “you said you wanted my opinion, so i’ll give you just that. i want you to be happy, with or without me. if you’re sure that he’s the one for you, marry him. don’t let me hold you back.” simon’s voice is trembling, he keeps holding back his tears, he needs to sound firm and reassuring. “i’ve got you, always.” he adds and you sob uncontrollably, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

you hide your face in the crook of his neck while he strokes your waist gently. “i… i can’t live without you.” you whisper against his skin, almost begging for him to keep getting in the way of your new love life. simon sighs heavily. “you don’t mean that, love. you were the one who decided to live without me in the first place.” he places a bitter kiss on the top of your head. simon hates the fact that you make him weak to the point where he doesn’t even mind being raw and vulnerable. you know all sides of him, anyway. just like he knows all of yours.

“dad, please…” theo mutters, making the two of you stare at him with surprised eyes. “just tell her.” he turns his gaze towards his parents, holding back a cry. simon immediately walks towards him, crouching in front of the kid. he feels terrible for having that type of conversation with you in front of his son. theo starts crying quietly, making simon widen his eyes with a certain despair. “h-hey, kiddo, it’s okay…” simon picks him up, hugging him tightly. “i’m so, so sorry. i shouldn’t have said all of that in front of you, i’m sorry, buddy.” simon strokes theo’s back, kissing the top of his head.

you take a deep breath to calm yourself down, trying your best to stop crying. you have to be strong for your son. you walk towards them. “you always make her cry, dad…” theo mutters with a sob and simon’s heart and breathing stop for a moment. “theo, baby, no… it’s not like this at all.” you stand up for simon, caressing your son’s wet cheeks. “your dad is… the most caring, lovable person in this whole world, okay? don’t ever say that again.” you plead him, kissing his forehead. simon feels like shit.

“he’s a liar… he said that you’re still his love… that he misses everything.” theo says in a low tone, touching your face. simon sighs heavily with a defeated frown. you look at simon in silence, speechless. “enough, theo.” simon says in a more firm tone. he puts his son back on the ground, crouching in front of him. simon looks theo in the eyes, grabbing his shoulders gently. “sometimes love is not enough, but you’re too young to understand that.” simon completes, caressing his son’s cheeks.

theo stares at you with hopeful eyes, waiting for your response to his father’s statement. but you never open your mouth. “i already told you, mommy’s in love with someone else and that’s okay. that’s life. people come and go, right? just like waves. you know when we’re at the beach, swimming in the sea? the waves, they come and go.” simon smiles softly at him, kissing the top of his head before standing up. theo looks at you, disappointed.

“i-i do love you, simon.” you grab his arm, getting a little mad at his statement. “don’t say that in front of our son.” you scold him with red, puffy eyes. “you know exactly what i meant.” simon bites back, almost in an angry whisper, touching your arm briefly. “just be happy, alright? but don’t you dare be happier than you were with me. do this one thing for me, love.” he adds as a single sour tear runs down his cheek. he can’t hold back anymore. simon runs his fingers through your hair gently, while more tears start filling up his eyes. he breathes out, placing his hand on the back of your neck.

you’re staring at him as if you’re screaming i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i’m sorry for punishing you for things you never did. he pulls your face closer to his, leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, so you can’t see how betrayed he feels in the corner of his eyes. “you broke me like your promises, but just between us… you’ll never be unloved by me. you’re too well tangled in my soul.” he whispers, being completely honest. you sob, speechless. then he kisses you. it’s not a passionate kiss. it’s a sad, tender, salty kiss. it’s the last kiss. it’s the closure kiss, for him.

this is the night in which simon finally sets himself free from the bitter embrace of your ghost. he officially gave up on you, for good. and you can feel it too — in the way he breaks the kiss without even looking at your face. he even seems a bit disgusted. simon pulls away from you, walking towards the door without looking back. now you feel cold without his body to make you warm. “i’ll pick you up at school tomorrow, kid.” simon mutters to theo in a defeated cold tone before leaving your house.

your love maimed him so excruciatingly well that suddenly he feels like a soldier who’s returning half his weight, waiting for his lover’s deadly kiss to put him in a never ending sleep.

[macfrog]

little aphrodite sex on fire chapter nine

the amount i had to write jean-marc in this chapter makes me nauseous. anywho. these two heal my soul and make me weep. please enjoy a little look back at the ceo's experience of paris.

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: we're going back to paris. this time, through joel's eyes.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, alcohol consumption, ostentatious flaunting of wealth (eat the rich i say), sugardaddy!joel, softdom!joel, oral (f and m receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, cursing, angst & pining, and...well. the ceo falls in love.

word count: 7.5k

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He wasn’t even sure you’d say yes when he asked. Thought you’d find it a bit much, flying halfway across the world just for one lousy meeting. He had what he’d say when you turned him down in mind, already: Sure, yeah, no problem. No, I just thought – Yeah. ‘s alright. I’ll bring you back som’ as a souvenir.

But you didn’t.

Oh, yeah? you’d said. Your face seemed to light – humored, impressed even. It made Joel feel braver. Reassured. You’ve a habit of doing that to him.

Mhm, he replied, chewing on the sub you’d ordered him after his conference call. He can’t remember what he promised Human Resources he’d have done within the hour. You walked in as he was saying it, and – well. Two days, he said, swallowing, Saturday Sunday.

And are you gonna make me take minutes while you meet with this Jean-Marc? You wiggled your fingers as you said it, letting the name drip through your lips in some kind of dreamy song. I don’t make the flight back unless they’re typed up by the time we leave? That the catch?

No catch. You don’t even gotta come to the meetin’.

I don’t have to –? Wow, Miller. You’re spoiling me, no? You kicked your leg, one knee hooked over the other. Your skirt shrinking up your thigh.

You were sat in the chair on the right, opposite his desk. You always sit in that one – and Joel’s still trying to figure out why. The working theory so far is that it’s at a good angle to watch the city below, and at the same time, see exactly who comes and goes in and out of the office during lunch.

But there has to be more to it, he thinks. He suspects. Martha’s desk is, like, five feet from yours. She spends her lunches in the conference room with Deb, shaking salads doused in balsamic vinegar and sharing cross-floor gossip. They invite you every day, and almost every day, you turn them down in favor of his shuttered office, the muted swish of cars on the street, the mock gasps and clutch of invisible pearls when you share that same fifth-floor gossip with him over the desk.

You’d been talking while he’d been thinking about the damn chair. He hadn’t heard a word of it. Huh? he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

Ain’t never listenin’, you muttered, peeling the damp paper back from your own sub.

Say it again, Joel said. Was just making a mental note to book dinner for us over there.

You scoffed, licking mayo from the corner of your lips. Why you making mental notes for anything? That’s what you pay me for.

And you were right – it is what he pays you for. Pays you to be his shadow, his right-hand man, his eyes and his ears and his entire brain, some days.

But lately – he doesn’t know. It’s different.

Truth be told, he has no idea what’s gotten into him. Looking at you the way he is. You’ve fucked around twice, now, and both times have been…nothing short of fucking amazing. Both times, Joel’s thought he might come within the first two minutes. Pushing inside your velvet walls, watching the way you roll forward, hearing the lewd moans pour across your lips.

He’s always thought you were attractive. It’s pretty fucking hard to ignore. Physically, sure – the look of your body, the way you know how to dress it. And the prettiest, softest face he’s ever seen. You can win him over in any discussion without a word, just by fluttering your eyelashes at him.

But you’re more than that. He thinks of you both as friends, maybe something more. Something deeper. It’s in the glances you steal, the silent lines tossed between one another. The way you read one another like an open book. Sometimes, he wonders if you actually can read his mind.

You’re intelligent, you’re funny, and you’re a hard fucking worker. Always on time, always seemingly juggling thirty things at once, and never letting him down. Nothing is too much, it seems; everything just is as it is. And he likes that about you. Simple. No baggage.

The morning of the flight, you send him a voice note telling him you’re downstairs. “And I ain’t lugging two cases up to the top floor only to bring ‘em back down when we’re leaving, Mr. CEO.”

He’s striding past Martha for the elevator before he’s even done listening to the message.

“Uh-uh!” she chirps, dashing over to slip between the brass doors behind him.

Joel sighs under his breath.

“I know better than to rely on you to remember all this stuff,” she says, holding up a file he’d asked her to put together for the trip.

She’s right not to – he’d probably leave that file in the car, or put it down somewhere and walk off without it. You’re the only one who can be trusted with it – with anything. You’re good at your job. And yet, he resents the fact that Martha’s about to lump you with even a fraction of responsibility for the next four days.

So when the Rolls pulls off and Martha is nothing but a pin-sized silhouette through the back window, still waving from the sidewalk, he pinches the folder in two fingers and tosses it to his left hip. Out of your grasp. You smile, eyes rolling, and pop your earbuds in. Joel breathes a laugh, eyes dipping again to skim read some contract on his phone. His hand is locked around your thigh. He likes that you just let him do it now.

Likes a lot of things about you. Likes that you put your music on shuffle, and then skip eleven tracks until you find one you actually want to listen to. Likes that your fingers twirl around the light chain of your necklace – the way they do anytime you’re nervous – and when he asks if you’re alright, you bareface lie to him and squeak, Yep.

Likes the glow the morning sun casts on you when you emerge from the car on the tarmac, pooling in the dimples on your cheeks, bright gold. The way you tug on the loose cotton of your sweatpants, bashful. Shy. And he likes that, when he follows you up the steps to the plane cabin, your awestruck expression lasts all of five seconds before that quick wit kicks straight back in.

“Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution,” you tell him, and Joel silently says his fifth thankful prayer this morning that he thought to ask you and not Martha.

He watches you settle into a seat by the window, watches you crane your neck to survey the view from the tiny circle of thick glass. He thinks about what he’d do if you were alone right now, if there weren’t crew slowly filing into the jet behind him.

He floats the idea. Tells you about the bedroom up back, tells you it’s cozy. You read between the lines just like he wants you to. And when the plane’s in the air, you follow after him.

You fall into bed together the same way you do when you arrive at the hotel. A tangle of limbs, of sweat and stuffy plane air. He sleeps the soundest he has in months – years, maybe. Pushed off by the sound of your breathing, the dip in the mattress by his side. The warmth which radiates from your body, the soft brush of your hand against his.

He puts it down to the travelling – the eight-hour flight, the plushy super king waiting on the other side. He puts it down to the way the world feels different, this side of the Atlantic. The privacy he feels come over the two of you, like sneaking into the next room: your voices muffled through the wall, your movements reduced to vague shadows beneath the door.

He watches you through sleepy eyes as you prance around the suite in the morning, twirling in and out of the bathroom while you get ready for the day. He wonders if this is what you’re like every day – if you spend your Monday mornings beaming like a little kid, toothbrush hanging lopsided from the corner of your mouth, white bubbles lining your gums. He wonders why he’s wondering. Why a part of him wants to see that version of you, too.

This version – now following his lead down Avenue Montaigne, doe-eyed and wonderstruck – is over all too soon. He’s dragged from her, from you, before he’s ready to leave.

His phone vibrates in his pocket right as he’s leading you out of some ridiculously overpriced jewelers – an irritating reminder of his meeting in an hour’s time.

“Fuck,” he whispers, holding you steady as you spin around to glimpse at the baroque building. “Hey, pretty girl,” he squeezes your hand, “I got some bad news.”

Your bottom lip pouts, eyes gleaming. It’s enough, he thinks, to convince him to stick around. If you asked him to, he’d text Jean-Marc right now and tell him to fuck off. But you tell him to go, tell him you’ll meet him back at the hotel once he’s done and you’re tired. With a teasing smirk and a tiny wave, you see him off down the cobbled street. He watches from the back window as you set off again, heading towards another iron-gated store.

Denis pulls up alongside the towering hotel, totters around the car to meet Joel as he stretches out of the Maybach. The square-jawed man stands with his hands linked, and nods enthusiastically when Joel thanks him.

“The shopping – I will take it back to the hotel,” he assures his boss, a wide smile on his lips.

He’s a good guy, Denis. He’s chauffeured Joel to five of these meetings over as many years – he knows the drill by now. Knows it’ll be a couple hours and a few whiskeys before he gets another call to pick him up.

His nodding doubles, more obedient when Joel asks him to make sure he listens for your call. “You mind stayin’ nearby that part of town?” he asks. “Just so – when she’s done, y’know…”

“Not at all,” Denis says, flapping two palms to the ground. Swatting away Joel’s concern, his worrying, his missing you.

He replies, a little absentmindedly, passing by the head of gray hair with a distant smile. “Thanks, Denis. See you later.”

Five meetings, five trips over here to be pestered by some obnoxious little man in an obnoxious little robe and obnoxious little loafers, and still, Joel never knows what to expect. He strides beneath the golden archway entrance into a domed lobby, every surface spotless and shining; marble counter in the center with a symmetrically-suited clerk sat behind.

She stands and smiles politely to Joel as he approaches, recognizing him with a flutter of her eyelashes. He feels the absence of your arm on his, an ache at his elbow.

“Monsieur,” she croons, pale fingers reaching for the telephone. She whispers something softly into the receiver and then nods, folding her painted lips together as she places the handset back into its cradle. With a floating hand aimed at the elevator behind her, she says, sultry and dreamlike, “He is ready for you.”

Joel fights an eyeroll with every fiber of his being. He wanders round the circular desk, bunches his shoulders into the tight elevator, and jams his thumb into the button marked P.

The doors shudder open when he reaches the top floor. He steps out slowly, waiting for the Frenchman to pounce on him like some kind of wild cat. Wouldn’t put it past him, Joel thinks. As he’s scanning the room, counting the six bouquets dotted around, there’s a single clap from behind the veiled curtains. A silhouette out on the terrace.

Jean-Marc swings between the sheer white, calling out to the lonely figure in his entryway. “If it isn’t my favorite American,” he sings, taking Joel by the arms and squeezing roughly. “How lovely to see you again, Joelie. Please, come.”

The sunlight blinds Joel when he steps out into it, peering over the city skyline under low brows. Jean-Marc is already sat at the top of a thin, glass table, pouring golden whiskey into a square glass and scooping two bulky ice cubes in. The nectar swirls around when the glass is held out to Joel, the ice tittering as he accepts it.

The table, a rocky terrain of pain au chocolat and brioche, pools of citrus spreads and dishes of butter. Joel keeps his hands to himself as Jean-Marc slaps jam onto a croissant, bronze flakes fluttering all over the table as he attempts to regale Joel with some investment into a casino.

“Riccardo says it is too much; I told him to go to hell. We will double the cost of the place, I know it, Joel. We have the eye for things like these, men like you and I, hm?”

Men like you and I, Joel thinks, lips tilting. He balances the glass on his thigh, watches the ice cubes turn over themselves. He thinks of you, thinks of the man you see him as. Thinks how tall he stands against the man Jean-Marc must see sat opposite him right now.

Thinks how rotten, and ugly, and how small the latter is. How easily you and your words could crumble him. All show, all sitting on perfect terraces with pretentious dickbags disguised as friends, drinking pissy whiskey with a plastered smile on his lips.

How comical it all is – the sound of yapping across the tabletop, These idiots would pay millions for manure if you painted it golden, the sprawling sheets of green-leafed plants, the headache-inducing flowers, the buckled loafers and the signet ring catching the sun.

How much he misses the weight of you on his hips, forearms flat on his chest, ear against his heart. The sound of your laughter lilting in his ear. The rosy smell of your skin and the feel of your eyelashes, featherlight on his cheek. He feels the distance between the two of you like elastic strung apart, stretching thinner and thinner, weaker and frailer, ready to snap into two halves at any moment.

“Anyways,” Jean-Marc says, lifting the wine bottle shakily. It clinks brashly against the lip of his glass, a painful scrape. Joel wonders if he’s already halfway to hammered. “Tell me how you’ve been, Joelie.”

Joel tells him he’s been fine. Business is fine. Money is fine. Company’s doing fine. Everything’s fucking fine. Easiest answer to avoid further questioning, to satiate Jean-Marc’s constant thirst for news, or intel, or just plain gossip.

He slips up, though. Makes the one colossal mistake he spent all morning hoping and praying and drilling directly into his brain that he wouldn’t.

Jean-Marc asks how his flight was, sticking the damp end of a cigarette to his bottom lip.

Joel says, “Good, yeah. We got here, maybe, ten o’clock last night.”

And Jean-Marc’s eyebrows arch. His hands freeze, match held against the striker strip. “We?” he asks, white stick flapping between his teeth.

“Uh,” Joel shifts in his seat. Your gentle wave, the corners of your lips, the toss of hair over your shoulder. It’s as though Jean-Marc can see his thoughts played on a reel before him, the haste with which Joel attempts to wipe you from his own mind. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, “Jerry ‘n Lisa. Len and Pol.”

The Frenchman’s eyes narrow, a grin pulling on his pink lips. “We,” he says again, whipping the match roughly against the strip. Speaking into cupped hands, a cloud of white billowing from his leathery fingers, he murmurs, “Joel brought company with him to Paris, yes? Who is the lucky tourist? Une petite amie?”

Joel’s tongue dabs at the sickly wash of whiskey on his lips. He thinks to grab the fucker by the throat, throttle him until the idea of you rattles from his skull, spilling back into Joel’s safe hands where you belong.

He almost fucking lies. Almost says it’s just Martha, or Drew, or his fucking mother. But Jean-Marc is like a rat, scurrying along after a source of water. He’ll find it in the end. They always do.

He breathes your name, reluctant to let it go. Jean-Marc cocks his head, leans in, a swirling snake of silky smoke lifting from the cigarette between his fingers. Joel repeats it, voice louder, but flatter. Breaks it into too many syllables. Lets his host hear every bite of annoyance.

“She’s my assistant,” he says, and Jean-Marc claps again.

“Your assistant! How wonderful. And where is she today? She is not…” his fingers circle the air, disturbing the trail of smoke, “…assisting you?”

“Gave her the afternoon off.” Joel lifts his glass to his lips. The geometric shape amplifies his voice, bass like the growl of a bear. “Busy couple days. She deserves some downtime.”

He hates the sound of your name as it peels from Jean-Marc’s tongue. Like a hangnail, the residue a gorge of bloody, torn skin. Your name is Joel’s favorite sound, he realizes now, and the way this little asshole keeps butchering it boils an anger so hot and so quick under his skin that he’s not sure he can hold it at bay.

It’s not as if he owns you or your name – far from it. He has no desire to be anything more than a placeholder: somewhere for you to slot your hand, rest your head, curl your body against. Still, he feels a direct protectiveness over you right now. An impulse to stand in front of Jean-Marc’s tiny figure, arms wide, stopping him from picturing you or learning about you or meeting you.

Which is, of course, exactly what the little fucker suggests.

A wet pff sound as he rids his mouth of bitter smoke, and he offers to host breakfast in the morning.

“No, no, we, uh –” Joel’s hands are up, like pleading with the man, whiskey kissing the lip of its glass, “– you don’t have to – Look, Jean-Marc, I’m sure you’re busy enough with all –”

“Nonsense!” Jean-Marc waves a hand. Ash sprinkles down the cuff of his robe. “It would be my pleasure. Shall we say, ten?”

Joel grumbles, eye following the flight of a bird in the distance. What are you doing right now? Are you back in the suite, trying on the outfit you picked out together? Are you still wandering down the streets, drinking up the lavish city like a perfect little cocktail of bliss and wonder?

And what the fuck does he have to do to excuse himself, to come find you, to wrap his arms around you and never let you leave his side again?

He feels idiotic. Juvenile. Like a stupid little teenager, pining for his junior year girlfriend. The feelings all sharp and brittle, prodding his heart roughly anytime he thinks too hard on them.

When he looks back to Jean-Marc – the cigarette tearing closer and closer to his fingers, an expectant smile on his lips – he concedes.

“Ten is fine,” he says, and suddenly, the sky casts over.

You’re on the terrace when he finally returns to the hotel room. Head aching from the alcohol and forced conversation, he drags himself over to you.

The sight of you, hair lifting in the breeze, the sweet smell and soft touch under his hands feels like the pouring of honey on a raw throat, like cool water lapping at his waist on a scorching day. And he needs more, and he feels the saliva pool beneath his tongue, and you’re touching him and talking to him and all he can think about is replacing his saliva with you – with every drop of you that you’ll lend him.

You follow his every request – parting your legs, making room for him between them, opening yourself to him like coming home after work, like sinking deep into your shared bed, like pushing your salt-slicked fingers on his tongue and chanting taste me taste me love me need me.

Petals opening, shards of orange separating. His cock throbs in his pants when he feels the circle of your hips against his jaw, the taste of sweet, sweet nectar spilling from your center. His clothes still smell of the smoke from Jean-Marc’s weedy lips; the sweat on his skin borne from three hours sat in the sun, dehydrated by whiskey, discussing money and gold and then money again.

He doesn’t want to fuck you here, like this. As that puny, pompous prick he’s felt like since the second he wandered through the Frenchman’s hotel doors. He can’t. You deserve him clean, new. You deserve the Joel you think he is – yours. Affected by your touch alone, moved by the gleam in your eye. You deserve him, Joel decides, on your terms.

And that same night, stood in the same spot, dregs of sunlight replaced by molten moonlight, staring at the dazzling Eiffel Tower against the deep blue sky – that same night, when he turns and clocks the silhouette of your body just feet from him, he realizes that this is it.

He’s sure he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, standing in the dim light, your fingers playing with the bust of the silk robe draped over your body. The jewelry on your neck catching the light like his own private attraction, his own little spectacle. Just for him.

He forgets any other version of himself. Shakes them off like seawater flying from his body as he emerges from the ocean. Venus stood before him; hair lifting in the light, palm over her breast. And he doesn’t notice the departure of those old versions; doesn’t feel the way they tear from his skin. His eyes are glued on you, only you, everything around the two of you reducing to dark matter. There is only his awestruck gaze pointed to your radiant form, as though the scene sits alive in the eye of Botticelli or Michelangelo.

Baby, he whispers, and you move forward, dragging him with you under a wave of lust and rebirth.

He stirs the next morning to the feeling of a weight shifting across his body, two divots in the mattress either side of his waist. Something nuzzling, warm and featherlight, into the nook below his earlobe. Wet kisses trailing down his neck.

There’s no weight of you in the crook of his arm anymore. He’s scooping thin air. He lifts it, and his palm meets the baggy cotton of his own T-shirt, draped over your body, draped over him.

A laugh brushes between his lips. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he croaks, voice still low and broken.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice like silk and sugar and tufts of lustrous clouds.

He opens his eyes and you’re hovering over him. Tip of your nose circling his, hips light as air across his own.

You look so fucking cute, he thinks. He’d take what he had last night – you, dripping in black lace and bound by satin straps – every night for the rest of his life, if he could. If you’d grant him it. But, this. This.

You – in Joel’s clothes and nothing else. You – the curl of your hair now a lazy wave, the smoky afterthought of your half-removed makeup. The smell of sex still lingering on your skin, the taste of Joel still home on your tongue. Each part of you laced with a part of him.

You – holding yourself up over him, less than an inch apart, and all Joel thinks to do is wrap his arms around your back and let you drop onto his body; his strong, solid body, which accepts the weight of you with only so much as a tiny grunt over his lips when you fall on top of him.

You giggle. He swears he feels butterflies in his stomach. He prays you don’t feel them, fluttering purposefully against your ribcage.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble into his collarbone, words curled by the smile on your lips. You suck a mark into the hot skin, teeth and flesh and sel et sucre, and then push off from his chest, nudging his thighs wider with your knee.

Your tongue drags a wet trail down his chest, from solid sternum to suppler stomach, following the thickening of hair the lower you move. You leave wet kisses along the crests of his hipbones, the gentle slope of skin leading you to the wide base of his cock, already stiff.

Joel’s breath hitches when your tongue sweeps across it. Your eyes lift and lock with his, fingers taking a heavy hold of him. He smiles, tongue sitting patiently behind his teeth.

“Go on, angel,” he nods, “put that pretty little mouth on daddy.”

You obey instantly, as hungry for it as he is, your tongue swiping from the base of him up, curling around as you reach the head. Swollen, gleaming, slit dripping with slick precome that you lick with just the tip of your tongue and send a roll of pleasure across every nerve in Joel’s body.

He falls back, hands searching for the back of your skull as your lips sink further down down down, tightening around the smooth skin, stopping only when they meet the tuft of hair decorating his dick. His tip pushes against the back of your throat. His head begins to spin.

His back arches, hands anchored on your head, holding you steady as you bob up and down. His shoulders push heavy into the mattress, tummy sucks in until the points of his ribcage mold through his skin. And, oh – you’re so soft with it, so wet and so warm and so good with your tongue, kitten licks over his tip, wet fist wrapped tight around the width of him.

You lift your hand and meet his halfway up his stomach, fingers intertwining, Joel’s knuckles instantly whitening.

“Doin’ so good, baby,” he groans, gasping when your throat constricts around him again.

You gag, choking with a wet grunt, but you never pull away. A quick pause, a heavy breath from your nostrils, and your movements resume.

“’s alright,” Joel coos, fingers rubbing against the back of your hand, “you got it. Atta-girl, fuck.”

His hips begin to lift, slowly jerking up into your mouth. He looks down, loosens the grip you have on his hand only to run his thumb delicately across your cheek, dabbing lightly at the tears in the corner of your eye.

You suck hard around him, cheeks hollowing, tongue flattening to his underside to let him fuck your mouth – a rhythm of sopping sounds and heartbeat hums from your throat. He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

“Just like that,” he tells you, and you blink up at him. Moans muffled by the mouthful of cock, saliva and sex slipping from your swollen lips. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. You’re such a good girl – you want daddy to give it to you?”

Mhm, you mumble into the warmth of his cock, the vibration of your throat on the eager skin enough to send Joel over the fucking edge. He throws his head back, lifts his hips up to you, and fills your mouth at the same rate he fills the room with the sound of his orgasm.

You take every last drop. You’re so good for him. Once he stills, once the screaming in his ears subsides, once the room slowly desaturates back to normal, a faded, blurry normal – he sits up and hooks his hands under your arms, pulling you up into him.

You collapse against his chest for the second time this morning, giggling and licking the last of his come from your mouth. Joel guides your jaw towards his, lips meeting in the middle, and licks the salty aftertaste from your tongue.

He rolls you both over, your thighs sitting safe on his hips.

“I know,” you sigh, head rolling against the curve of his arm beneath, “I know. You don’t gotta tell me.”

“Tell you what, angel?” he asks, one eyebrow lifting.

“Best head you ever had. I know.”

He scoffs, lips finding the hinge of your jaw. You giggle into his ear, a sound softer than birds cooing at the break of dawn, sweeter than the first bite of ripe fruit – the sharp taste bursting across his tongue and coating his teeth in sugar, numbed by the holy coaxing of feathered doves.

“You’re good with it, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, and the giggle erupts into a laugh which fuels him enough to follow your roll out of bed, tear his shirt from your shoulders, and slip into the shower behind you, kneeling before you when you turn to look.

Joel’s second encounter with Jean-Marc in as many days, goes about as well as the first.

He balls his fists as he introduces the pair of you, watches like a caged and bound animal as Jean-Marc’s eyes loop all around your face, your shoulders, the pull of your dress around your waist.

He knows he’s being quiet. The glances you keep stealing at him tell him you know it, too. He wishes there was something he could say, something his lips might be able to carve into a neat little sentence. Tongue sanding the jagged edges of what he’d really like to say into a joke, a quip to ease the tension you so obviously feel.

But he can’t. His tongue isn’t blunt, isn’t defensive. It’s sharp like the kiss of venom, protective and aggressive. He knows he’d do better to hold it tight between his teeth.

The best he finds himself able to do is keep a heavy hand on your thigh, let you wrap your fingers around his own, squeeze you in place of whispering in your ear.

You hold your own, up against Jean-Marc. He knew you would. He learned less than a week into working with you, not to underestimate you. Your quick tongue, the million and one observations hidden behind the flash of a frown. He knows you can read Jean-Marc – probably better than he can, having known the guy ten years.

It doesn’t make it feel any safer, though. Luring you into a lion’s den. He knows you’ll make it out alive, but he can’t stand the thought of the claw marks in your skin.

That feeling washes over him again – that urge scored so deep into his bones that it hits marrow, to put himself between you and anything which might come to harm you. He swallows it down with the acidic sting of orange juice – slots it somewhere safe in his chest until he can assess whatever the fuck it is. Whatever the fuck it means.

His hand tightens around your leg when Jean-Marc mutters something to his assistant. Joel decides against asking you what it means, for fear he’ll tear the Frenchman limb from limb, strips of satin robe strung across the paved patio.

The assistant – tall, thin, looming over you like impending doom on legs – offers to show you the view of the city. And as Jean-Marc settles into your empty chair, the image of that torn satin robe shunts closer towards reality.

“I wonder if you might indulge me,” Jean-Marc slithers, pinching thin air with one hand and resting the other on the back of Joel’s chair.

“I wonder,” Joel mutters, finger tapping angrily on the table.

“She is a wonderful character. Beautiful, and very smart, I can see. I would be crazy not to ask, you must understand, Joel –”

He can’t help himself. He bites before Jean-Marc lays the trap. His head shakes. “She’s – she’s –”

And suddenly there isn’t a single word in the English dictionary worthy of describing you. Not a single combination of letters, of sounds, of syllables and phonetics that would do you justice.

He settles for, “I wouldn’t be anywhere without her.” It feels fucking redundant. It is fucking redundant.

Jean-Marc nods. “And you know that I see the value in things, hm?”

Joel dead-eyes his opponent, gaze narrowing. “What are you sayin’, Jean-Marc?”

“Well,” he shrugs, gesturing to the shadow pointing out the Eiffel Tower, “Paul is fantastic. Dedicated, hardworking. But it is a lot, for one person. I am sure you can understand, being that you have two assistants yourself.”

“And you wanna take one of ‘em out from under me?”

Jean-Marc chuckles, shaking his head. Tutting. Teeth grinding. He senses the bitter tone, hears the distortion of words squeezing through gritted teeth. “Not at all, my dear Joelie, not at all.”

Placating. It pisses Joel off more.

“I simply would like to raise the question of: would she like to be…taken?”

“Taken?”

“Hired. By me.”

The smug grin which pulls over taut lips incites Joel with a desire to punch the luminous veneers from their gummy holders. His fist balls again, nails digging harshly into his palm. He swallows roughly.

“She seems…she seems happy enough where she is to me.” He glances over, catches your eye for a fleeting second before Paul’s ghostly hand perches on your shoulder and turns your attention away again. Resigned, he adds, “You would have to ask her. I ain’t speakin’ for her.”

Jean-Marc’s leer only grows. “Ask her,” he repeats, nodding. “That is an idea.” He pushes out of his chair with a squeal of wood across stone, calling to the party, “Why don’t we take a drive? There is so much of the city I would love to show you – both of you, of course.”

Before he knows it, Joel’s on his feet, too, panic hammering through every muscle in his body. He tosses some half-assed excuse to the breeze; a half-truth, a desperate attempt to pull you away from the beady eyes and sharp claws of Jean-Marc and his assistant, and back over to his side. He takes your arm and scatters, pulling you past four, five, six bursting bouquets, your heels clicking along the polished floor, your head spinning.

He can feel the blood thrashing through his veins as the elevator arrives back in the lobby. Can see the shadow of Paul the assistant still over your shoulder, the place his hand sat like charcoal on white linen. He feels red hot, anger mixed with panic mixed with a word he hasn’t let slip just yet. He covers it by answering your questions shakily, diverting the ones about the conversation on the terrace.

And then you’re back in the safety of Denis’s car. You’re back to being on your own, together. No third set of eyes watching your every move, studying you like you’re some doll to be observed, or worse. You’re touching him again, holding his arm, caressing his cheek. His breathing eases, his body relaxes into the backseat of the Maybach.

You tell him you’d like to see the Louvre. So Joel takes you to see the Louvre.

Joel Miller has never been in love.

He’s said it, sure. Said it plenty to Avery.

G’night, love you.

I’m so proud of you, sweet; I love you so much.

Thanks for makin’ dinner, babe, I love you.

It began to take the form of breath, passing over his tongue with as much ease and instinct as his lungs would push out air. She looked at him a certain way – he’d say he loved her. They’d talk about the future – he’d tell her he loved her. They fought, over his working hours or the interest rates at different banks or whose family to spend Christmas with – and he’d remind her he loved her.

He meant every single one. He did, truly, love her. He loved her auburn hair, the way it’d sweep over her shoulders like a wave of fire. He loved the way she would pause to take thirty photos of the sky at sunset. He loved how homely she was, how simple and warm she could be. Her recipe books lining the shelves in her kitchen. Her pajamas folded neatly at the foot of her bed, waiting for her at the end of the day.

He loved her enough to spend four years with her, a life split nearly down the middle. Never seeping into one another. His side of the bed, and hers. His items in the fridge, and hers. His fucking bathrobe, and hers.

But right now, standing in a jam-packed room, maneuvering awkwardly around museum guides and backpacked tourists, avoiding the knee-height glass barriers and dodging fucking selfie sticks – Joel knows: he has never been in love.

Not until the moment he turns from some headless bust to search the room – the dark marble walls and great, carved arches; the white Parisian sky illuminating everything in a pale glow. Not until he catches a glimpse of you amongst the sea of bodies – stood before the Venus de Milo, staring up in wonder at Aphrodite like she’s the first thing in the world you’ve ever truly seen. The gentle lean of her body, the low sling of marble fabric around her waist, the soft dimple of her navel.

The way your eyes scan every detail of her form – every fold draped over her thigh, ever chisel mark and chip in her torso. The round swell of her breasts and the wavelike swirl of her hair. Barely blinking, afraid to lose sight of her for even a second.

Joel’s never been in love. Not until this very moment.

He only turned to make some quip about…well, now he can’t fucking remember, can he? Something irrelevant. Something so mundane, so meaningless, so dull that he wishes he could take back every word he ever said to you and use the breath more wisely – use the time spent making stupid jokes and work orders, just to look at you. Watch you, like he is right now. Every other thought, every worry and concern drop weightlessly from his mind, with such ease that he doesn’t feel the loss.

Your fixed stare up at the statue’s set face, the slow pacing of your heels, ankles crossing over one another as you pivot around her. And the look of wonder on your face – as if Joel instantly recognizes eight-year-old you, thumbing through the pages of the first art book she was ever gifted, copying the curled hair and round shoulders of the marble goddess in a pencil sketch.

Haloed by the towering windows behind you, arms crossed over your chest. Lips melting from a content smile to agape, and then pinning back in a smile again.

And suddenly – he can’t remember the flame of hair over his ex’s shoulder. Doesn’t remember a single meal she ever cooked for him. In the blink of an eye, he realizes he doesn’t want a life neatly split anywhere.

He realizes that his life, the way he wants it, was always meant to be meshed with yours. Intertwined so tightly that there is no his and hers. Last night at dinner, you couldn’t decide between the bœuf bourguignon and the confit de canard, so Joel ordered both – as well as what he wanted – and the two of you picked at three separate meals. Holding out forkfuls to feed one another, comparing and judging them like professional chefs on a fucking cooking show.

Back at the hotel, you fell asleep in his arms. Your head nestled under his chin; your arms curved around his shoulders. In the center of the bed, laying at an angle. When he got up this morning, the robe he threw around himself smelled like your perfume. The terrycloth on your shoulders, tinged with the weak scent of whiskey.

None of it – not the relationship you had before any of this happened, not the strolling over one boundary to the next, not the blurring of lines between colleague, and friend, and lover – has been neat. None of it has made any sense. And maybe that’s why he fucking trusts it so much.

Joel spent the first two weeks after you fooled around in his office swearing he wasn’t that guy. Staring himself down in the mirror with a balled fist, a pointed finger that said, You don’t sleep with your fucking assistant, you idiot.

And now, standing opposite you in a crowded room and only seeing you – he knows. He finally gets it.

He loves you. He – no, fuck.

He doesn’t just love you.

He’s on his knees, dagger through his heart –

blood spilling all over the pristine floor –

pathetic and adolescent in its nature –

butterflies tearing through his stomach as destructive as a hurricane –

in love with you.

He thinks to say it. To wander over and kiss your shoulder, hook his chin into your collarbone like he did in the Dolce and Gabbana store, and whisper, Hey. I love you. Did you know that?

But he knows that’d be fucking insane. Knows you’d probably unstick yourself from him and back up, tripping in your step. Paris ruined.

He knows he’d probably get so far as curving around your back and then bottle it, anyway. The words would die in his throat. You’d just lean back into him, none the wiser. You’d still make his heart pound.

Pound the way it does when you reach for his wrist and drag him off into the next room, and the next, and the next. And with every piece of art your eyes fall upon, another fragment of your soul is revealed to Joel. The depth of da Vinci, the color of Bruyère. The scale of Veronese and the beauty of Canova.

And with every part revealed, a desire blooms in him to learn the next part. Understand you; know you better than he knows himself. See you, the way he’s seeing you right now.

He takes his ex’s lead, when you’re stood in front of the Mona Lisa. All those fucking sunset photos, like she was afraid to forget what it looked like. The thought becomes urgent, pushing past every other meaningless word in his head.

He taps you on the shoulder, says your name lightly. When you turn, he’s already holding the phone up, watching your delayed motions through the screen. Please don’t let me forget this. Don’t let me forget you, like this.

“Smile,” he says, and you do.

“You’re cheesy,” you tell him, wandering off from the painting.

He’s still staring at the photo. At your dimpled cheeks, your red lips. Staring at your eyes, seeing a new glint in them that wasn’t there before. Like eight-year-old you smiling back at him, trusting him, knowing him.

Joel breathes, “She’s beautiful,” taking your waist in a steady arm to guide you out of the room.

You misunderstand him. He knows it. He doesn’t correct you.

She’s beautiful – the Mona Lisa. But she only became beautiful the second you laid eyes on her. The second she handed you a piece of your soul, the transaction laid bare for Joel to witness. A bucket list item ticked, or simply your childhood self, stood before one of her own seven wonders.

Everything is only beautiful after it comes into contact with you.

There’s a change in you, the morning that you leave. Something low-lying, melancholy and blue. Joel feels it under your skin, in the grip you keep on his hand the entire car ride from the hotel to the airport.

“You good?” he asks, walking up the steps of the jet, shelled around you. Safe, with him, safe with him.

You nod, but you’re watching the Maybach roll off, rounding the corner back to the airport. The same way you watch the city disappear beneath the clouds as the plane takes off.

The same way you glance over to him, your glossy eyes twinkling, pearly tears swimming across your waterline. Joel gets it. Figures he feels much the same.

He leads you slowly back through to the dark cabin bedroom, where you peel the shirt and sweats from your body. He watches from the bed, arm outstretched and inviting you to burrow into his side, curl around his body, loop your legs through his. His own little Aphrodite, the curves and the dimples and all the beauty to go with her.

He sinks his shoulder to let you nuzzle into him, let your slow-closing eyes follow his movements like rocking you back and forth to sleep. You link your arm through his, locking your bodies tight together. Joel slows his typing down, moves gentler, so you can fall asleep without being nudged too much by his arm.

You mumble something into the sleeve of his tee. He pauses. Looks down at your already closed eyes, your parted lips.

“What’d you say, baby?”

You take a deep, slow breath. Already sleeping, he thinks. And then, in the sigh that escapes from your mouth, you whisper to him.

“Please don’t ever leave.”