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callmecallmecrazy · 4 years

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Preppy 1

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Warning! This is not my usual fare. Back in college I got very into preppy clothing and wrote a few short stories that I never shared anywhere. Figure I might as well post them for posterity. Enjoy this 2007/8 flashback!

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Two athletic men hauled Shawn into a dark room with a gurney table, and strapped his arms and legs down.

"What the fuck?" Shawn shouted, his shaggy hair covering his eyes. His muscular body struggled uselessly against the leather restraints holding down his body. "Who the hell are you fuckers?"

This caused the two men to stop suddenly.

"My goodness, how rude of me," one spoke. He was a tall man. He was wearing Sahara Sperry topsiders, pleated khakis, and a hunter green sweater. Peaking out from under the sweater was a blue and yellow striped oxford shirt. The collar was buttoned tightly around his neck, which was adorned with a simple yellow tie. His hair was cut in a short buzzcut.

He offered his hand out in the gesture of greeting and smiled at the man he had strapped down. "My name is Cody Bellford, please call me Skip. And this," he said as he pulled the other man towards him in a sort of man hug, "is Ace." The shorter man smiled. He too was dressed in pleated khakis, but was wearing a light blue polo with a popped collar. His hair was longer than Skip's, cut into a crisp flattop. Both men had athletic, strong bodies that were highlighted by their attire, but still looking very dressy.

"What the hell is going on?" Shawn screamed.

"Ugh, so barbaric," Ace sighed.

"Don't worry, we'll get you cleaned up."

"Cleaned up?" Shawn asked.

"Yes," Skip began to explain. "Cleaned up. Groomed. Presentable. Your appearance and mouth reflect poorly on yourself and the school. Wouldn't you be happier if you were groomed and proper?"

"Fuck you!" Shawn retorted. The two preppy men just smiled to each other and began their work.

Ace walked up to Shawn's chest and proceeded to rip the oversized t-shirt off his chest, exposing Shawn's voluptuous pecs covered in fur. At the same time, Skip had proceeded to cut the sweat pants off of Shawn's legs. In few more simple motions, Shawn was lying nearly naked on the table, only his privates covered by a pair of striped boxers. His strong legs were lurching against the confines of the straps, and the veins in his arms and neck were bulging from his constant resistance. Shawn finally glanced upwards to realize that a full size mirror hung over him.

"You have a good physique, Shawn. You should take better care of yourself," Skip said.

"What?"

"This hair is disgusting. You would look so much better if you were more streamlined."

"Shit, shaving body hair is for fags!" Shawn was still struggling against the restraints but it was useless. He was exhausted, and the reflections of the two groomed, calm men standing over him confused him. Here he was, stressing and fighting, and they were calm and collected. In charge.

"Lots of men shave their body hair," Ace explained. "It works for some, but you would look better trimmed." Skip handed Ace an electric trimmer, which he turned on and waved delicately in front of Shawn's face. Shawn looked in terror as Ace took the blade over his chest and began to strike down the forest of hair growing across. He could only look forward and watch as his reflection was slowly denuded across the chest and abs. Skip made eye contact in the mirror and smiled brightly at the terrified man.

Next, Ace continued his swarthy path on the legs, reducing the long hairs to fine fibers, highlighting the deep cuts along his quads and calves. Beyond his range of vision, Skip had been stirring a pot of hot wax, and now sat down next to Shawn. He took one of Shawn's hands and applied the wax on the hair covering his fingers. With a quick rip, and a tired yelp from Shawn, one finger was clean of unsightly hair. Skip continued the process across all five digits and the back of the hand, then proceeded to do the other hand. Ace had moved on to the arm that Skip had finished and removed all the hair from Shawn's wrist to his shoulder. Skip went down to Shawn's feet and quickly ripped the hair off of his feet and toes.

"Goodness, Shawn," Ace smiled at Shawn in the mirror. "You look so much better now."

"Yes, I think so too. You should keep this look." Shawn stared at the two smiling men in the mirror, finding himself drawn into their bright smiles and amber eyes. He wanted to look away, but his face was held in place. He tried to close his eyes, but he was constantly drawn back into the soothing haze of their white teeth and tan skin. His skin did look good. His skin had a natural tan and without the hair it seemed that his muscles were bigger, more cut, more defined. Maybe it wasn't, no, he hated it. Shaving body hair was stupid. But kind of sexy...

"Now, about these," Skip said as he cut the boxer shorts from Shawn's body. Shawn was shocked into silence as Ace roughly gripped his package.

"Don't worry," Ace said, again smiling. "I'm not a pervert. I just want you to be the best you can be." And with those words, he once again turned on the electric trimmer and carefully reduced his pubic hair to a short stubble. A few more quick strokes near the inner thigh, and both preppy boys stepped back and addressed Shawn in the mirror.

"You look swell, Shawn," Ace said. "This clean look really suits you."

"Yes, I agree," Skip said. "I think everything we're doing you should maintain. Weekly should be enough for you to look presentable everywhere. It's important to be groomed and presentable at all times. You don't want to meet the wrong person looking poorly."

"Wrong... person?" Shawn stammered, he was nearly overwhelmed by the whole situation and found himself increasingly groggy and incoherent.

"Yes, there are the right people and the wrong people," Ace explained. "If you meet a bank president, you don't want to look like a grunge band member. You want to look like you know a Brooks Brothers inside and out. That's how you get ahead."

"Oh, but... I ... umm.... shit," Shawn said, exerting a tiny bit of resistance in an attempt to move his head to the side.

"And don't swear, Shawn," Skip said. "You sound unprofessional and uneducated. Looking your best means acting your best."

"Umm, okay."

"Don't stutter or stammer. Speak clearly and decisively. A man."

"Okay." Ace and Skip smiled to each other, and for just a single moment, Shawn smiled himself.

"You are coming along very well, Shawn. Just a tad more and I think you'll be a new man."

"Yes, I agree. Shawn just needs a few touch-ups and he will be an ideal gentleman." Skip stepped out of view for just a second and then reappeared. Into the mirror, he held up a pair of classic y-front briefs. He pulled on them slightly to emphasize the item.

"These, are the ideal underwear for a conservative, preppy man. That's what we want you to become. That's what you want to be Shawn. All of this is just so you can be a gentleman." Shawn's eyes bulged as he saw the old-fashioned underwear. Ace undid the straps on his legs, but Shawn found himself too exhausted to move. The boys gently lifted up his legs and slip down the tight, white briefs. They traced up his thighs and gently began to engulf his crotch and butt. With a sharp elastic snap, he felt the band settle against his waist. He had resisted looking, but curiously he peered at his image. He looked amazing. The briefs looked so presentable and manly. He felt powerful and in control. Once again, Shawn found himself smiling pleasantly.

"Feeling a tad preppy?" Ace teased. "Don't worry, only one thing left."

"Your hair," Skip said. "It's so rough and wild. Not the image one wants to send." Shawn had nothing left inside himself to resist. He merely nodded as well as the straps would let him. The table holding up his head receded, and Shawn saw Ace holding his neck up while Skip brought over a pair of clippers. They sprang to life with a low growl. Skip wasted no time in reducing the sides of his head to nothing. The shaggy haircut was being quickly reduced. He ran the clippers over the sides of his head, leaving a white wall of flesh behind in its wake. That finished, he proceeded to comb the hair back and began hacking it off. Large chunks of brown hair fell to the floor as Shawn was shorn. Finally, with about an inch left, Skip wet the hair and brushed it all up. Using a small trimmer, he proceeded to flatten out his hair, until the top was a level plain identical to Ace's square hair.

"You need something drastically different," Ace explained. "Such a dramatic change proves how intent you are on improving yourself." Skip just nodded as he continued to even out the top of the hair. Shawn was nearing his breaking point, as he watched his long, mangled hair replaced with a corporate hairstyle of precision and execution. Skip applied some strange wax to the hair forcing it to stand up straight.

"After some practice," Skip began, "your hair will hold itself up. But the wax is still good measure." Shawn found himself nodding as the knowledge of how to maintain his new hairstyle sunk into his freshly exposed head. Skip pulled the head piece out from the table, and Ace let Shawn's head rest on the table. The two prepsters stood back and admired their work.

"You look like a decent guy now. No more grunge or nasty college boy."

"No, you look like the prefect preppy."

"You are going places. Meeting the right people."

"I'm sure you'll get a great job and make lots of money."

"You've already met us. And there is a bunch of men back at the house excited to meet you."

"Of course, you should join the fraternity. Men like us need to stick together."

"Don't you like this Shawn. Being preppy. You look so much better."

"You're a born-again preppy. We prefer you like this. And all the brothers want you like this. You want to be like this, don't you?"

Staring at himself in the overhead mirror, Shawn was shocked at how much he liked his reflection. Formerly shaggy hair now stood straight up over his head, looking stiff as a board. Whitewalls on the sides, his ears seemed to stick out a little - something else he found surprisingly appealing. His tan, muscular body was shown to all its glory, his former resistance giving his body a sheen from sweat and muscle tension. Without his body hair, he looked bigger, stronger, and cleaner. He had always thought that shaving body hair was nelly and silly, but he looked much better now. And then the briefs. Tight, white briefs with a full cut covered his nether regions. He had always worn boxers. But there was something alluring about the underwear, with its clean-cut lines. Almost unconsciously, Shawn found his face slowly being filled with a charming, pleasant smile. His dazzling white teeth began to cover more of his face as the empty grin consumed him. Brown eyes lit up with a sort of cordial ambiance.

He liked it. He really did. Shawn was suddenly overwhelmed with a dire urgency. Something he had never felt before welling up inside of him. He wanted to be like the preppy boys. To be like this. Attractive and fit and well liked and happy. To be successful and entitled and self-assured. And surrounded by men his equal. Men as fit and clean and productive. To be engulfed in their manly etiquette and mannerisms. Better yet, be a part of group of such men. To be part of a fraternity.

All at once, Shawn's sudden pleasant nature began to override the rest of his personality. So what if he wanted to dress, act, be one of the preppy boys? If anything, being a preppy boy would be good for him. He would get in with the right people, wear the right clothes, be the right kind of man. The kind of man Shawn would never have been on his own. And he'd be happy. It sounded pretty great to Shawn, who continued to sink into a cheerful bliss.

At this point, Skip and Ace proceeded to undo the straps holding Shawn down. He allowed the two well-dressed boys to help him off the table and he thanked them politely. Manners were always important after all, but too much thanks sounded sarcastic or desperate - neither of which were admirable qualities in a man. Ace gave Shawn a gentle pat on the back and a bright smile.

"Feeling better?"

"Yessir, thank you both very much," Shawn replied.

"Of course," Skip replied eloquently. "Here, you might want to get dressed."

The boys handed Shawn a pair of khaki Dockers’. He slipped the pants up his muscular legs and pulled them high over his briefs. The khakis sat a little higher than his normal baggy pants had, and Shawn liked it. It was a much classier fit. As he zipped up the fly and buttoned the top, he noticed the pants were pleated. Actually, it was a double pleat, he was pleased to note. For some reason, he had always hated pleated pants. He didn't know why. Clearly, they were a much smarter look on a man. More formal. Next, the two fraternity boys gave Shawn a light blue oxford shirt, complete with a little polo player on the left breast. They helped him tuck the shirt gently into his pants as he began to button the shirt up. He stopped before the very top, but Ace flipped up Shawn's collar and proceeded to button it to the very top. His neck was a little too thick for the buttoned collar, but he realized it would force him to carry his chin high, with pride and confidence. Yes, a high collar was definitely better for his posture.

"A proper man doesn't wear a button-down shirt without a tie of some sort," Skip said coyly as he approached Shawn, a line of fabric resting in his hands. Shawn couldn't see what was happening as Skip proceeded to tie a tie on his neck. At the same time, he felt Ace fumbling with the cuffs of his shirt.

Skip stepped back and admired his handiwork and once again presented that gorgeous white smile to Shawn, who was pleased to return the cordial charm of the other man. Ace was working away at his hips, looping a brown leather belt through the hoops of his Dockers. Skip held up a pair of blue dress socks with a purple and yellow argyle pattern on them. Shawn smiled and lifted up one leg, and then the other, feeling the stretch of the fabric engulf his feet. When he set each foot down, a pair of penny loafers had been set in the way, forcing his foot to slide elegantly into the leather classics.

"Just a tad preppier," Ace said as he pulled up the final item. A sweater vest, with a black, grey, and white argyle pattern on it. Shawn could see thin yellow and blue lines running between the diamonds. He lost his vision as the sweater was pulled over his hair and rested on his broad shoulders. Rough hands began adjusting the sweater across his body. It was a bit of tight fit given the size of his pecs and shoulders. The belt was adjusted, the tie straighten, the hair fluffed. Meanwhile, Skip had pulled over a full-size mirror. When Ace stepped away from Shawn, taking his place next to Skip, Shawn could finally see his new visage.

He was a preppy boy. Pleated khakis over an oxford shirt and sweater vest. It hadn't been a traditional tie that was put around his neck, but rather a purple and yellow bowtie. Classic cufflinks had been used on the cuffs of his shirt. Combined with the brown loafers and belt, he was the spitting image of a preppy boy.

Spitting image? Shawn thought to himself. How inappropriate. More like the classic construct of a prepster.

"I think Tad is preppy now," Ace said as he looked over the new prep's outfit.

"Think you are a Tad now?" Skip said as he slipped his hand on the recently madeover man's shoulder.

"Skip, Ace, thank you both very much. I would be pleased if you called me Tad. Shawn is so uncouth."

"We understand, Tad," Ace said. "Neither of our names befit our preppiness. Hence, we have preppy nicknames."

"Well, Tad, I think that it's time you went upstairs and met the rest of the men. You are in the fraternity now, correct?"

"I would be honored to be a brother. Rush begins today?"

"Oh, you're not going to need to rush. In fact, we would like you to greet the rushees."

"Absolutely!" Tad exclaimed. "I am honored to represent our brothers and our fraternity."

"Great, let's get you settled in." The three brothers walk upstairs into the house, to introduce Tad to his new life.

Later that day, as the rushees came into the house, the brother meeted and greeted all the potential men. Among them, was a preppy man with a flattop and a purple and yellow bowtie. He was wearing pleated khakis and a sweater vest. And his nametag had 'TAD' written in bold letters. It crossed his chest in the same place the little polo player did. Aside from the nametag, he was nearly indistinguishable form the other brothers. And in the next week, a few more good men would find themselves proud brothers of the fraternity and brothers in preppiness.

#preppification #callmecrazy #clothing #nosex #mental change

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years

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Conference Room B

A little smutty fix-it for poor darling Marcus Pike, who really got shafted in The Mentalist. I wanted to give him a treat. Special thanks to @alldatalost for cheerleading.

Warning: shamelessly fluffy smut.

You stare at your computer screen, willing something to change, so you can leave already. You adore the team here, in many ways they’ve become your family, but you were meant to have been in DC with Marcus for eight days already - well, okay, so he wouldn’t have been there yet, but you could have slept in the sheets that smelled of him and started to organise your home together. Instead, a new murder case dropped and swallowed the lives of everyone. But you’re nearly there, you’re all so close you can taste it. Even Jane is antsy.

You miss Marcus. No, that doesn’t seem enough. You long for him. Marcus’ new job seemed to come with some hefty, dangerous undercover work, and while he’d been on the job, you hadn’t been able to video call, so for six weeks your relationship had been maintained via whispered voice calls and texts at random times.

Sometimes, late at night, you hadn’t seen his face for so long that you wondered if you’d made him up, inside your heart.

Agent Cho drops by your desk, tapping the corner to get your attention. “Agent Pike is in the building.”

Your pulse jumps. “Thanks. But-”

Cho just arches a brow and smiles.

Your heartbeat rockets as you stare at the lifts opposite the bank of desks you work in. What would he smell like, after this time apart? Why was he here now?

“What if I fuck it up?” you whisper to Cho. “What if he’s changed his mind?”

Kimble smiles at you, and his usual calm, stoic demeanour works its magic on your nerves. “If he’d changed his mind, would he be here?” He gives you a little nod, and then swaggers off, no doubt to impart his even-keel advice on someone else who needs it.

You spend a few fruitless moments trying to get back into work, and failing. Lisbon meets your gaze from her own computer and gives you a sympathetic smile. You guess they all know.

And then the elevator doors open and actually, nothing else matters when you see him.

His hair’s grown out, and it curls over his forehead, flicks up at his collar. It looks so soft; you want to sink your fingers into it. And his top lip and jaw are scruffy and the new, patchy beard really suits him. His posture is great as usual - he’s not arrogant, but he won’t apologise for being confident. He wears a suit well; always has, the lines cut sharp, his white shirt striped with grey, cut in half by the wine red tie.

He is a big, tall drink of water, and you want him more than your next breath. He scans the room and you stand up, and your eyes meet. His are that bottomless, dark chocolate brown, and his face lights up when he sees you, that big, goofy, no-holds-barred grin, and you make yourself calm down and try and remember you’re at work, rounding your desk and walking to him slowly across the carpet.

“Hey,” he says softly, and his voice is deep and sexy and everything you’ve ever wanted. Your hands itch with the urge to touch all that soft hair and his scruffy beard.

“Hey.” You search his gaze. He looks thrilled to see you, his expression soft and sweet and tender and unguarded, and your heart aches for all the nights you’ve missed him. “I love the beard.”

Marcus rubs a hand over it. “Thanks. It’s for the undercover thing. It ended last night, and - well. I know it’s sudden, but I had to see you.” He glances around the office, and you turn around to see Cho, Lisbon and the rest of the team quickly duck their heads, pretending to be super engrossed in other stuff.

“Wow,” you mutter. “We’re supposed to be good at subterfuge.”

Marcus chuckles, and takes your hand. Just that simple touch sends licks of want and need up your arm. “Is there… somewhere we can talk?”

Your stomach drops. Is he.. Ending things? “Sure.” You keep his fingers linked with yours, and lead him down the hall to a small, unoccupied conference room. You gesture and he precedes you in, dropping your hand, as you close and lock the door, and release the blinds, so you’re totally alone.

“Marcus, is everything-” your words get swallowed up as he’s on you in a heartbeat, kissing you like a man desperate for air after a lifetime underwater. His tongue traces your lips and you open eagerly, sliding your hands up his chest and into his newly grown hair, and it’s as soft as you imagined. He smells of his habitual black pepper and vanilla cologne and fresh coffee and clean soap, and it’s heady and you could breathe him in forever. He tugs you as close as possible, folding your body into his larger one, his hands running over your back like he’s re-learning you after over a month apart. You fist your hand in his hair hungrily, licking into his mouth. His moustache tickles your skin and it’s decadent and delicious, like a favourite cake with a new flavour added.

He releases you, making this low groan of need in his throat, and you think if he isn’t inside you in the next thirty seconds, you might die.

“Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Couldn’t do that to you out there. And I had to - I had to. Sometimes I’ve wanted you so much, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me too,” you whisper, cupping his dear face, tracing your thumb along his scruffy jaw. He feels so good. “Is it wrong to get frisky on FBI property?”

Marcus winces. “Most definitely, but…” He pulls you close again, and you thrill to the evidence of his want for you pressing hot and heavy against your belly. “ Fuck, I want you. We’ll have to wait until you get home from work.”

“For what I really want, yes, but… not for everything.” You back him up against the door, kiss him breathless, drinking in his addictive taste, and slide one hand down to his fly, unzipping his suit pants.

“What are you-” Marcus asks, and then footsteps sound on the other side of the door.

You kiss his scruffy cheek and whisper into his ear; “You’ll have to be quiet. Anyone could come past.”

He swallows audibly but doesn’t say anything to the contrary. You nip at his earlobe as you use your other hand to play, too, sliding open the slit of his boxers and drawing him out, palming his length and soaking up the little growl in his throat that’s just barely audible.

“Oh my God , have I missed you,” you murmur, licking at the scruff on his jaw. “And you show up looking hotter than a Laredo night.”

Marcus’ hands clench on the small of your back as you continue to stroke and tease him. He’s steel in velvet, and your hands become slick as you begin to draw an orgasm up his spine, one eager touch at a time. When you pull back to look up into his face, he’s wrecked, pupils blown with lust, teeth sunk into his lower lip in an attempt not to make any sound.

He’s a fantasy wrapped in a Bureau-issue suit, everything you want in a tanned, voice-made-for-sex package - kind, smart, patient, soft, and he’s yours. “Marcus,” you murmur, your head full of love with him, and you slide down his body and take him in your mouth.

A strangled sound escapes his lips just as voices pass the door, and you hear him mutter “ Jesus fucking Christ,” as you start to lick him the way you’ve been fantasizing about for six weeks. One of his hands curls into your hair as you work him steadily close to a blinding climax. He’s slumped against the door now, desperately trying not to let his knees give in, as his hips move incrementally, exercising extreme restraint in not fucking your mouth.

You take him as deep as you can and he makes that sexy little growl again, and your name falls from his tongue, the syllables deep and gravelly, a warning, and you squeeze the hand he’s fisted at his hip, letting him know it’s okay.

A litany of curses barely reaches your ears as he comes like a freight train, his whole body tensing for a moment that seems to stretch to forever, and you drink down everything he gives you, afterwards gently tucking him back into his boxers and zipping his smart suit trousers.

Marcus rubs a hand over his face, and you see his wrist tremble. “Fuck. That was…. Probably not legal.”

You kiss a smile on to his sweet lips, hug him tight, and he pulls you into him, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Thank you,” he rasps, low and sweet in his perfect drawl. “You can’t imagine how many times I’ve come in my hand in the last six weeks, wishing it was you.”

“About the same number of times I’ve imagined you in my bed,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “That’ll have to hold us until I finish for tonight. Do you still have your key? Wait for me at my place?”

Marcus pats his pocket, dark eyes shining. “I will.”

You take time to adjust your clothes before leaving the conference room. The coast is clear and you walk Marcus back to the elevators.

Jane passes with a cup of coffee in hand. “Glad you had time to come, Pike,” he says genially, and you follow Marcus into the elevator, and when the doors close, you laugh in each other’s arms until you’re weak.

Tagging: @pedropascalito @pedropasscals @paniclana @littlemissthistle @spacegayofficial @tiffdawg @keeper0fthestars @dindjarindiaries @pedrosasscal @thewaythisis @javierian @restingnurseface @abuttoncalledsmalls @fleetwoodmactshirt

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#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fic #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist fic #shameless smut

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jaefluenza · 4 years

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In Case You Don’t Love Yourself | J.jh

word count: 2,4k words

pairing: Jaehyun x prostitute!reader

warning: suicide attempt, suggestive content, mention of sex, arm-cutting, drugs, self loathing etc

a/n : i didn’t write this to mock or use the idea of not loving and appreciating ourselves, but through this little package of scenario i would like to pass on a message that; you cannot truly love another until you know how to love yourself. be proud of who you are, and not ashamed of how someone else sees you. forgive yourself and seek help from professionals or loved ones if needed. remind yourself every day that you’re not alone :) i’m here with all of u <3

I am very much aware that I am in a place where everyone thought is wrong and sinful. Everyone has to hide whenever they'd want to taste and jump into this particular world where they call it the devil's lair, but I get to taste and feel it almost every day.

Everyone eyes me with lust and greed, but no one ever looks at me with even one hint of respect. I know that I don't deserve any of it, but what about love, appreciation, and self-worth? I keep looking for them, oh, I swear I'd chase them to the end of the world. But my dirty body and this filthy mind of mine are banning me to look for who I really am. And I eventually came to the conclusion that I, a nobody in this big hellish world, do not deserve a single fucking love.

Sometimes, I thank God for allowing me to see the rays of sunshine through the small window in my miserable apartment, even though I'm not sure if He was listening. No one ever wants to listen to any of my prayers. I too, sometimes, are listening to people begging the Almighty, to forgive their sins almost every weekend. But that makes me do a lot more thinking, will He ever forgive me? I don't know, who would I ask?

That was until I met Jung Jaehyun.

Working in a place where I met a lot of dirty old men, some young perverts, and curious male students, I didn't expect myself to find a soulmate in any place in the world. For fuck’s sake, I couldn't even find myself. A soulmate? Sounds needy. But that one night, I didn't even know it changed me for the better.

He came with his two friends. One with long beautiful blonde mullet, and one with astonishing pink hair. Him? Not really that special, just a dazzling golden brown hair. I was so awe-struck by the three of them, and I knew that they couldn't just land in this kind of place without actually getting lost. There's no way that they instinctively came here to seek touch from a woman, I thought. But I was wrong.

"The name's Jung Jaehyun. And I would like to order three champagnes for the night. We're celebrating," He ordered with a gorgeous wink. I took his order, and as usual, I offer the services of the ladies we have here. Surprisingly, they didn't ask for any list just like any other guys did. He chose me. By the means of him, yes, only him chose me. The other guys bluntly said that they weren't coming for the sex, but he was. I immediately said yes and two hours with hell-like sexual tension later, I found myself having fun with the devil with him in the VVIP bedroom.

The only thing good from having this job was you got your sexual needs fulfilled, as any other human beings would say. And the only thing bad from having to be this kind of woman was you never got to find love. Moaning each other's names even though you only heard it like fifteen minutes ago never gives you the kind of love that everyone kept talking about. The lust-filled kisses you'd get every night will never compare to the ones they said will sweep you off your feet. They feel either as rough as if an abuser would grab a fist of your hair.

But that one particular night felt faithfully different. Jung Jaehyun kissed me like it was the last night he would ever see me. Jung Jaehyun stripped my upper top as if he would open a whole new fragile world. He sucked on my body like I am the most precious thing in the world. He made me feel like, maybe, I deserve some love in a tiny space called moment. Hang on, was that even love?

I had no idea, but some ideas did come to me at the moment. Something like adoration? Appreciation? Everything that sounds like love and affection.

And when I thought he kissed me so passionately like it was the last time he was gonna see me, we never ended there. He got my number, and I thought I was just gonna be a call girl.

He did call me two days after that hook-up, and I expected him to request me already naked in a sexy nightgown somewhere in a fancy motel, but no. You wouldn't believe me, but he requested my presence in a small cozy cafe for a lunch date. I remember blinking at the sound of his delicate question, before actually saying yes to him. He replied with a simple, "nice" before telling me when we should meet. And for the first time, my heart beats quickly in excitement.

Do I want to end my life? Yes, sometimes. When I feel like my lungs are filled with guilts and regrets, I'd want to just disappear out of this uncaring world. No one would know, anyway. But life does not work that easy, right? When life would suffocate my little existence, I know I can not just end it. Instead, I have to keep on fighting. As much as how dirty and useless I am as a person, I still have these little rays of pride and hope.

Back to Jung Jaehyun. He took me on a real date, something that I couldn't believe truly happened that day. He paid for the lunch after we ordered some fish-and-chips and two glasses of peach ice tea which felt like a fancy dinner compared to the countless ramen cups I had almost every day.

And, though it may seem strange, we talked. Like, having a good conversation as actual human beings who love to chat with someone under good weather. He asked about how I've been living, and I lied about how I live just fine, even though I wasn't sure if he had noticed the glint of my shaky eyes. He casually informed me about his life, how he lives with other four boys in the apartment, before telling me that he is, as a matter of fact, a celebrity in a strained manner.

I didn't dare to judge him. I mean, who even am I to judge? Everyone would know that I am nothing but a piece of trash compared to what he is. He is far beyond me. And I plucked up the courage to ask him the question that had just popped in my mind with a bitter laugh, "If you're a singer, then why would you be sitting with me here in daylight, and not spending some time singing or slaying the stage like you usually do?"

And he unworldly answered, "Well, because I'm interested in you?"

I know it was wrong to lash out on him like that. I was confused, I was pissed that he said he was interested in me. It's like he was saying that I got to feel this whole new experience, just because he was interested in me. I could never understand why he would be fucking interested in me, while there are millions of women he could just pick out to be his, but me? Hell no.

Though there was a little bit of regret when I unpleasantly ended the date, I couldn't do anything besides shoving him off when he offered to send me home.

Jung Jaehyun was indeed a whole new experience to me. He didn't give up just like that. He might know that it would be uncomfortable for me to receive his text at the moment, so he came again to the pub. I bit my lips nervously when I offered him a drink which felt like deja vu, and he only smiled. "I would like you for the night."

I wasn't ready for the sex, though I secretly crave a second time with him, and he seemed to know that. We ended up at the same VVIP room just like we first met, but he didn't touch me.

I sat down as he told me so, and when I thought that it could be a hint of dominance in bed, he also sat next to me on the edge of the bed. "You're not going to touch me?" I asked. He shook his head, "As much as I want to, no. We're just going to talk." I knew that I couldn't lose to his pair of sharp eyes, so I sighed and listened to him.

"That lunch, I apologize if what I said to you was offending." He paused before looking straight into my eyes. His deep brown orbs dig through my own pair as if he was looking for something hidden in them. "You did not actually offend me, but I was just overreacting."

"May I perhaps... know your concerns?" Oh, how much I love that gentle voice. It gives me reassurance and calmness.

"I was just confused. Like, how come a snazzy person like you, be interested in me who is a literal nobody? I was just feeling like you make a joke out of me. I'm sorry I made you apologize," I explained.

He chuckled beautifully. "You don't have to be sorry. It is not wrong for you to think like that, I wouldn't judge you. But after almost a week of knowing you, you are not that worthless like what you have just said." And for once, I believed in someone.

We continue to seek each other, him occasionally trying to tell me to quit the dark nightlife, and me trying to adjust to his busy schedules. We called each other as lovers, and I could finally say that I found the love I never thought I could find. I ended up quitting my job sooner than I expected, and move into his newly bought apartment one month after we started dating.

But, does life finally give up on hammering me down?

To be in love with Jung Jaehyun would be an understatement. We love each other so much to the point that I started to forget my anxiety and insecurities in awhile. He made it clear to me every day that I am worthy of being myself, being loved, and being cared for. Every time I would look at the mirror, he would get there as quickly as he can, to reassure me that he loves me, for everything I am, and I believe in him.

But is that enough? I don't know. As much as he showers me with love and fondness, he's not home 24/7. He works for our future, as he promised. And those alone times would have me overthinking on the big lavish sofa, am I really worthy of his time? Why would he stay with me, a literal nobody who still needs her pills every night before she falls asleep to keep her calm?

Yes, I never told Jaehyun that I have meds to keep my sanity steady. I never told him that sometimes I ordered some syringes of sedatives to keep my cries away. He never gets the idea of what's behind the reason why I'm always able to smile in front of him.

I don't want him to know that I hate to cry alone, at the thought of being a useless parasite leaving under his wings. I don't want him to find out that I'm just a drug addict that makes him look like a fool trying to convince me that he truly loves me. And those negative thoughts would eventually turn into something bigger, something that'd make me walk staggering into the kitchen, to where we kept our knives.

I always promise myself that I need to keep on fighting, but sometimes, feeling enough was never enough. The more I convince myself that I can be happy with him in this full-of-twist life, the more those monsters crawl onto the back of my mind. I hate being whispered that I'm not good enough for him, and anybody else and that I don't deserve the love I've been dreaming of getting. It hurts, it's killing me inside. It feels like its thorns are ripping through my lungs as I try to slide the knife into my arm-

"What the fuck are you trying to do?!"

Jung Jaehyun opens the door as the exhaustion started to dart away from his body. He expected his lover to be greeting him with those lovely eyes, and a bear hug would be nice. But what he found as soon as he reached the kitchen has made his senses almost flying out of his mind.

She dropped the knife just as she heard the panic in his scream, eyes red from the fear of death. Scattered on the floor, there she is, sitting weakly while coming into a realization that she almost broke her own promise, to keep on fighting. "J-jae..."

Jaehyun immediately runs toward the poor woman. He quickly scoops her into his arms, hugging her close to make sure that she feels safe. His eyes stutter in the fear of losing her, worries start to creep into his brain about what if he was a minute late, or so. He sighed in relief in her ears, whispering a string of "Oh my goodness" as an indication of ease that she's still here with him.

He loves her with all his might, but why would she doubt him?

Loving Jung Jaehyun is not easy, as the journey wasn't even close to that yet. The first step is to love me first, to accept who I really am, and to forgive what I had in the past. Syringes and pills slowly disappear from my life, just after I found out that telling him and a professional my every story would help much better.

I learned how to see the future ahead, with the help of a man whom I'm trying to love dearly with all my imperfections. He no longer promises me things like he used to before, though it sounds so much reassuring whenever I hear them, but now his actions directly and clearly tell me that I'll be alright. We'll be just right. And I'm still learning to believe in myself and to believe in him as well.

I love you, Jung Jaehyun. I love myself, too.

NCT 127 Masterlist

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#nct #nct 127 #nct 127 angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut #jaehyun fluff #jung jaehyun scenarios #jung jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #nct x reader #jaehyun x reader #nct 127 writings #neowriters #neowritingsnet #cznnet

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windsing5 · 3 years

Note

Why do we all find Spiner so sexy? It bothers me a little, because I can't pinpoint the exact reason (but actually, I just like thinking about it, I guess 😏)

You can't say that he's a conventionally beautiful dude: Frakes was supposed to fill that role in TNG, but we all know how it turned out.

Is it because Spiner is a great actor? Maybe. Patrick Stewart is a great actor, but I don't find him particularly sexy. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Is it because we find the idea of an asexual android sexy?

I confused myself, anyway, so what do you think on the subject? :D

Thanks.

Thank you so much for this question bc I’m ready to GUSH and I’m a little curious of others’ opinions on this matter as well.

But first, a disclaimer: I cannot speak for anyone but myself. I couldn’t tell you why someone else finds Brent attractive, so I will just say why I think I do.

Separating the character from the man for a moment, Data is absolutely A Type and it happens to be a type that I fall for often. Physically speaking, high contrast and dramatic features are traits that I’m particularly drawn to for whatever reason. So Data’s ivory/gold skin against his dark brown hair (exaggerated when his costume has a lot of black, esp near his face) is striking enough already, but tack on that nose and his long-armed lithe frame, and boom, that’s half the recipe.

Adding in his personality as an intelligent, curious, graceful (serious props to Brent for his incredible physical acting... like, we see him run, climb, crawl, lift, fight, and dance, and his breathing is always extremely composed), kind, ambitious, brave, good person.... not to mention we also see more character development in Data than we do for other characters. Data and Picard grow consistently through all seven seasons, but everyone else either grew a little, or in short spurts, or not at all (Geordi deserved better). I don’t know if that makes Data necessarily sexier, but like, we see him mature from this person who desperately wants to be human into this person who still has questions but is much more confident and capable of navigating life’s infinite complexities, and that’s just neat. Also his lil facial expressions. All of them. 😍

Back to Brent. What makes Brent Spiner the Person sexy, you ask?

I could pick apart his features: talk about his gorgeous oval face and regal countenance; big blue eyes that can hold so much fire or look so dopey; his Nose and how he can look like a Roman relief and highly mischievous at the same time; his smile(s) that just light up his whole face and the room and the world. I guess yeah, he’s not what Hollywood would typically cast in a heartthrob role, but Brent is handsome.

You know how there are some people who look gorgeous in a still photo but if you see them actually move they just.... somehow aren’t as good looking? Brent is the opposite of that. Still photos of Brent are nice, but it’s when he’s moving and alive that his visage takes on a mesmerizing quality. I don’t want to get too carried away, but he is a phenomenal actor and the more roles I see him in, the more firmly I believe that. It’s hard not to be biased bc I’m already a fan, but when I see movies or shows or plays that he’s in, he is just so much fun to watch because when he’s in character, he is all in, and when he breaks character, it’s jarring. The best way I can put it is that for me, when Brent breaks character, it’s like seeing Brent in a really good cosplay for that character without being that character. There is a sharp distinction. Maybe for actors this is totally normal and nothing to go on about, but to me it’s just the most amazing thing.

So what have we got so far... handsome, good actor.... Well, I haven’t mentioned his voice yet!! That’s its own post, honestly. My favorite Brent voice is his Puck voice but a very close second is his dark drawl as Sydney. I’m a Texan too so when I hear Brent do any kind of Southern drawl or twang it just.... knocks my feet out from under me.

Brent’s just the whole package. I firmly believe that humor and humility contribute greatly to a person’s overall attractiveness, and Brent has them in spades. He’s also aged really really well!! I know there are folks out there who are still very attracted to current day Brent (and he is still very cute and handsome, in his own way), but I think if I saw him in person I would just... like I’d appreciate his attractiveness without feeling attracted? I guess? I would just want him to regale me with riveting tales of Broadway and life in the local LA theatre scene. Idk... he has many qualities both physical and... metaphysical... that continue to draw people to him. He’s enigmatic, classic, quick as a whip, with an absolutely killer sense of (un)ironic style, and has a pretty broad range of appeal.

But if you were just asking for like my top two things that I think make Brent sexy? Uh. Voice. And uh... hmm..... eyes.

#long post #I'm.... not even sorry honestly #I could gush about Brent for DAYS #theboywhocriedworf #ask #sorry this took so long lmao #in all fairness Frakes is very good looking #but he just gives off big brother best friend vibes for me #probably bc in a lot of ways he reminds me of my own brother #and Patrick.... oh Patrick #Patrick isn't like good looking sexy necessarily?#like he IS handsome! but just #he's more intellectually sexy #hey notice how I didn't mention brent's HANDS here cosmi

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tanookikiss · 3 years

Photo

Paul’s Birthday

Pairing: Tommy x Paul, Gene x Eric. S

Rating: T

Author’s note: So I’ve had this silly little fluffy idea in my head for about a month. I wasn’t sure if I was going to finish it in time, but I have some awesome friends to thank for that. Thank you @ashestoashesvvi for offering me valuable art tips and suggestions for this story.

................................................................................................................................

Tommy looked forward to all special occasions. He adored gatherings, celebrating milestones with his loved ones. However, there was one special occasion in particular that the guitarist had been prepping for months: Paul’s birthday.

The Spaceman would be the first to admit his infatuation with The Starchild. Who could blame him? Paul was the whole package; smart, sexy, kind, and talented. The two had spent a lot of time together, bonding over their shared love of painting, and Tommy cherished every minute of it. He adored any chance to be with Paul, really, but there was something special and intimate about their art sessions. He had taught Paul a few tips here and there, and Paul took to it like a natural.

Paul wasn’t just painting a canvas; he was baring his soul. His radiant smile sent butterflies a flutter throughout Tommy’s stomach when he mixed his paints. There was a childlike wonder that twinkled within those beautiful chocolate eyes as the brush met the canvas ever so delicately. Paul was soft and vulnerable. It was a side of himself that he shields from the world out of fear and that made Tommy sad. Paul was at his most beautiful whenever he could let go and create. And Tommy was determined to help set him free.

As the party guests were busy mingling in Paul’s living room, Tommy was busy setting up his grand gift display in the art studio. Gene and Eric distracted Paul while Tommy meticulously re-arranged the color palette to be perfect. Nothing was too good for his Paul. He smiled as he observed his display.

“Hey Tommy, if you want any cake you better hurry before Gene monopolizes the sweets table,” Eric announced, walking into the studio with a glass of champagne. “Holy shit! How many cans of paint did you buy!?” he exclaimed, nearly spilling his drink all over the floor.

“Seventy-two,” Tommy replied with pride. “All seventy-two colors of Liquitex Professional Acrylic Paint. It took me weeks to get every single color to complete the collection,” he gestured to the colorful pyramid display in the center of the room.

Eric blinked, completely gobsmacked at the impressive rainbow pyramid before him. “Of all the things you could’ve bought Paul, you spent weeks buying various fingerpaints!”

“This is the highest quality acrylic paint on the market. All of the great artists use this brand. It’s in very high demand!” Tommy blurted out, explaining his reasoning to the skeptic drummer.

Eric squinted his eyes. “Oh yeah? What’s so special about it?”

Tommy carefully pulled a red bottle down from the display. He opened the top to show Eric the buttery red consistency inside. “Each color is uniquely formulated to bring out the brilliance and clarity of the individual pigment. It’s perfect for color mixing.”

Eric still couldn’t see what was so great about this overpriced paint. It looked like regular red paint to him, but he knew Tommy went to a lot of trouble to get it for Paul, and he knew how important it was for his friend, so he tried to be as cordial as he could, “Yeah, that red is…very red,” he smiled, patting Tommy on the back. “I’m sure Paul will love it.”

Tommy smiled back at his friend. “Paul is an artistic genius! He only deserves the best.”

Eric scratched his head while observing Paul’s latest painting titled, “Doors Of Perception” in confusion. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far…I mean, this door looks more like a window!”

“I think it looks like a waffle.”

Tommy and Eric turned their heads to see Gene propped outside the door, munching on his cake.

Tommy shook his head. “You guys aren’t looking deep enough into the emotionally charged compositions. It’s Abstract Art. It’s not supposed to be realistic. The colors and shapes represent aesthetic ideas instead of natural forms.”

Gene and Eric gave each other a puzzled look with arched eyebrows before turning their attention back to their supposedly art connoisseur Spaceman.

“Then how do you explain this one?” Gene asked, pointing his fork to a canvas covered in brown smudges with a hint of blue and green along the edges.

Eric chuckled. “Let me guess…it’s supposed to be a window into the troubled soul of a starving artist,” he overdramatically stated, prompting a deep chuckle out of Gene.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “This one is not finished yet. Paul has been working on this piece for days now.”

Eric blinked. “It took him days to just randomly slap some brown, blue and green onto a canvas!?”

Tommy sighed. He honestly had no idea why he bothered trying to explain Abstract Art to these two unappreciative buffoons.

“Tommy? Are you back here?” Paul asked from outside the door.

In a hurry, Tommy put down the red bottle in the middle of the floor and scrambled to the door just before Paul could set foot into the room.

“Hey Paul,” he asked breathlessly, trying his best to block Paul’s view from his surprise.

Paul cocked his head curiously. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I thought you left,” he said sadly, twirling a nervous finger around his necklace clasp.

“No! Never! I would never leave you…err… leave the party,” Tommy fumbled, shaking his head. Eric snickered behind him. Tommy resisted the urge to swat at him.

“What are you all doing in my art studio?” Paul asked, noticing Gene and Eric standing behind Tommy.

Before Tommy could speak, Eric blurted out, “Tommy has a surprise for you!”

“Oh!” Paul’s eyes lit up, and there was that joy that Tommy loved so much. “You got me a surprise! You didn’t have to…but I am glad you did,” his grin blossomed into a huge smile, melting Tommy’s heart on the spot.

Paul reached out and grabbed Tommy’s hand, pulling him out of the room. “We’re about to open presents in the living room. I didn’t want to start without you,” he said softly. Tommy blushed and followed Paul’s lead eagerly, ignoring Eric and Gene’s playful taunts the entire way back.

Once inside the living room, everyone gathered around Paul as he opened up his various exquisite gifts from Rolex watches to fine silk bed sheets.

“Alright, this is from Gene,” Paul said, picking up a random present from the table.

“Ha! Oh, this is going to be good,” Eric snorted, smacking his gum loudly. Gene gave Eric a stern look, which the Catman only gave a cheeky smirk in return.

Paul unwrapped the present, only to find a box. He opened the box and saw what looked like a wooden knife block with a knife in it. Paul pulled the knife out, dropping it in horror.

“Ah! What the hell, Gene?”

“What? It’s a Nesmuk! Didn’t you say you wanted one?” Gene crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow.

“Yes, I did, but why the hell is it stained red?” Paul asked in disgust.

Everyone eyed the suspicious red substance all over the knife blade and then looked up at Gene with weirded out expressions.

“What? It’s just strawberry jam. Eric didn’t wash the dishes so I had to use the knife to make a sandwich,” Gene explained casually.

“So, instead of just washing a butter knife yourself you just used the expensive fine German cutting knife?” Eric laughed in between loud gum smacks.

“Uh, yeah, it’s still a utensil!” Gene defended abrasively.

“Well, um, thanks Gene,” Paul said with an obvious forced smile. He then reached for another gift in the pile.

“This one is from Eric,” Paul said, reading the tag.

Eric grinned in excitement as Paul unwrapped his gift.

“It’s a Nick Fouquet hat! By why is it flat?” he pouted, examining the squished black hat with a few dented blue feathers on the side.

“Gene accidentally sat on it,” Eric replied with crossed arms.

Gene merely shrugged as he continued munching on his chocolate cake.

Paul put the hat aside. “We should all head up to my studio. Apparently, Tommy has a marvelous surprise for me that I’m just dying to see,” he grinned at Tommy.

“I wanted to save the best for last,” he whispered in Tommy’s ear, causing the younger man to blush as he led the group up to Paul’s art studio.

Everyone oooh’d and ahhh’d over the beautiful acrylic paint display, but no one was more intrigued than Paul, of course.

“Is this the entire Liquitex Professional Acrylic Paint collection?” Paul asked in awe, circling around the magnificent seventy-two canned pyramid like an excited child on Christmas morning. “You got all of this for me!?”

Tommy couldn’t stop the large grin from spreading across his face even if he wanted to. “Yeah, I sure did.”

Without warning Paul pulled Tommy into a tight loving hug. “Thank you so much, Tommy! I love it!” he cheered, kissing Tommy on the cheek. “He taught me how to paint!” the birthday boy bragged to everyone in the room. Tommy’s cheeks burned hot as he leaned closer into the warm embrace. He wished he could stay in this position with Paul forever.

Breaking away from the hug, Paul still kept his arms around Tommy. “I want to test the colors out on a blank canvas,” he smiled, turning to grab a clean canvas.

As Paul was carrying a large canvas over, Tommy noticed the lone red paint can he had left in the middle of the floor carelessly. Quickly, he rushed over to retrieve the can to prevent Paul from tripping over it, but, unfortunately, Tommy’s foot caught a nearby easel causing him to lose his balance. Everything happened so fast. Before Tommy could get his wits about him, his arms, hands, the floor, and the unfinished painting were covered in red paint.

Surprised gasps filled the room as everyone grew quiet, staring down the clumsy guitarist.

“Nice fall, Grace!” Eric bellowed out loud, breaking the awkward silence.

“Did you have a nice trip?” Gene chimed in, making the already embarrassing situation ten times worse!

Tommy’s face flushed red. “I’m s...so sorry!” He stood up wobbly, looking around for some paper towels. He felt delirious as if he was trapped in some sort of nightmare.

“My painting!” Paul cried out, dropping the new canvas to rush over to inspect the damage done on his precious art work.

That precious glimmer in his eyes had dulled. That beautiful radiant smile had become a frown. That look of disappointment plastered on his face would forever haunt Tommy in his dreams. Several nosy bystanders had snapped out of their trance, rushing over with paper towels to help clean up the mess.

“Paul, I’m sorry,” Tommy’s voice cracked, staring at the other man helplessly.

Paul didn’t even look at him. He just stood motionless, staring at the ruined painting in silence. Tommy couldn’t bear it anymore and rushed off to the nearby bathroom, turning on the water faucet and pumping lots of soap into his hands. With a sad sigh, he scrubbed his hands and arms in the soapy water with fury. He wanted nothing more than to erase the evidence of his great blunder. The bright red paint residue mixed with the white soap had turned into a hideous pinkish color stained onto his skin. Who was he kidding? It would take days for this accursed color to come out. Just another painful daily reminder of how he ruined Paul’s birthday.

Tommy held his head down in shame, feeling completely ashamed and angry at himself for what had happened. He knew Paul had worked hard on that painting. All those relentless hours down the drain and all because of one careless mistake.

Paul knocked on the bathroom door before entering. “Tommy? Are you alright?”

Tommy took a deep breath and faced Paul. “Paul, I’m so sorry I ruined your painting. I just feel awful for what I did.”

“Ruined it?” Paul blinked at him. “You just made it even better.”

Tommy looked over in confusion. He wasn’t expecting that kind of response out of Paul. “What do you mean?”

Paul grinned, putting a plaster tool in Tommy’s hand. “Come on, we both started this, let’s finish it together.”

Tommy followed Paul back into the studio and observed the painting. The red and brown had mixed into a gorgeous burgundy color with hints of blue and green on the edges. The guests were buzzing around the painting like bees to honey, commenting on what a superb color that was. Gene and Eric stood dumbfounded, unable to figure out what everyone was so excited about. Gently, Paul put his hand on Tommy’s hand, guiding the plaster tool onto the canvas. Everyone watched closely as the two men moved like one. In one swift motion they had melded the gorgeous deep reddish colored form into a heart shape.

“Beautiful,” Paul whispered, his eyes surveying the gorgeous masterpiece.

Tommy nodded in agreement. “Beautiful,” he agreed.

Paul looked up to see that Tommy wasn't looking at the painting but at him instead. The two leaned in closer, sharing a gentle kiss.

~There are no mistakes, only happy accidents~ Bob Ross

#tanookikiss #kiss fanfiction #fanfiction #fluff #oneshot #SpaceChild #DemonCat #tommy x paul #Gene x Eric S

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odinsonsobsessed · 5 years

Text

Damn Him

Inspired by the pictures and gifs of Wimbledon 2019

You can hardly stay focused on anything with an excited Tom dressed in a new suit for a day at the All England Lawn Tennis & Croquet Club. All you want to do is peel that expensive suit off of that body.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Reader || Word Count: 1.6k || Rated: T || Warnings: Tom Hiddleston being a full course meal. I mean seriously, how does it get any yummier than him?

Steps were heard in the hallway coming toward your bedroom. Perfect timing, you had just slipped into your floral dress and you needed to be zipped up.

“Will you zip me up?” You called out and not but a few seconds later, you felt his fingers on your back. Tom pulled on the zipper for what seemed like a century, his movements were slow as if he were savoring the task. His breath hit the back of your neck and was soon replaced with his lips as he pressed a couple of kisses to the nape.

“Is this new?”

You bit your lip, “Yeah…” Your reply was breathless and you mentally cursed him for doing this to you before the two of you went out for the afternoon.

“I like it. Fits you perfectly.” His lips touched your cheek in a quick peck as he moved around you to the closet.

So do your clothes. You thought with a grin.

With your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes were glued to his deliciously curved backside as you watched him go, his navy blue pants hugged him generously, giving you a very pleasing view. His light blue dress shirt was tight around his upper back and shoulders, showing off his lean but muscular build. The view was brief as he disappeared into the closet, but returned a few moments later with his new racket patterned tie that you had gotten him for this birthday a few months back. It warmed your heart to see his eyes light up when he'd opened it that day, a long lasting smile graced his lips and you knew he loved it.

“Return the favor?” He asked but you were already holding out your hand for him to pass you the tie. You ran your fingers along it, feeling its tiny ridges as you held it in your grip before looping it around his neck so that you could fasten it. You noticed the childlike grin on his face, the one he typically got when he was about to go somewhere that he thoroughly enjoyed.

“Are you excited?”

His grin never faltered as he shook his head stiffly, trying not to move too much as you fixed his tie. “No… Maybe."

“Don’t lie to me. You’re ecstatic. You can barely keep still.” You giggled, thinking about how adorable it was that this kind of stuff made him this happy. It was the little things.

Tom chuckled sheepishly, “It’s supposed to be an interesting tournament this year. A lot of promising players.”

You finished up with his tie and couldn’t help but stand up on the tip of your toes with your arms draped around his neck to give him a kiss. He placed his hands to your back and brought you a little closer, bringing your lips more firmly against his. You groaned into the kiss as he ran his warm, slick tongue across your bottom lip. Pulling back, you gave him a playful glare, "Now that's not fair. We don't have time for this."

"You started it." He gave your lips a short, chaste kiss and removed himself from you.

"Wh- How do you figure that?!" You called after him as he walked away. Tom left you to go finished getting ready, leaving you standing there with your heart beating fast and wondering how in the hell you started it. If he was talking about your quickly intended kiss, then he was wrong! It wasn't your fault he responded so well to it.

You shook your head as you slipped on a pair of heels and went to fetch your jewelry, your mind completely stuck on that kiss. Damn him.

As you were putting your earrings in, you saw him step into view by the reflection of the mirror on your vanity.

Oh fuck me.

Now with his completed look in your view, you felt all of your breath leave your lungs. He looked like a damn treat. No, scratch that. He looked like an entire fucking meal. A majestic lion is what really came to mind when you first laid eyes on him, his mane and beard was groomed to your liking. His naturally waved hair slicked back and his beard neatly trimmed. Your eyes wandered downward to the rest of his body. The darkness of his suit made him look taller than he already was, the jacket fit him to a T. Now that you had distance between you, it gave you a better view of his whole situation... and more importantly, his package situation.

You swallowed, returning your attention to the earring you had tried to stick into your earlobe at least five times, but failed. Your distracted movements had seemingly gone unnoticed by Tom, who had come up behind you to place his hands onto your waist.

"Are you ready to go? Our car will be here in ten minutes."

"Yeah, almost." Finally, you focused and got the earring to cooperate and thread into your ear.

Tom's hands slid his hands to your stomach, pulling you against his chest in a warm embrace. You rested your arms on top of his and squeezed them in return. You turned your head and he kissed you a couple of times before pulling back to look at you. "You look absolutely beautiful, my darling. You make me a proud husband."

You giggled, gazing into his pretty blue eyes that were staring back into yours. "I'm just as proud to be your wife. Look how handsome you are in your new Ralph Lauren suit. Such a stud."

Tom glanced down at himself and you felt the tips of his curls brush against the side of your neck with the tilt of his head. "Is that what this is?" He mumbled and a chuckle escaped his lips as he looked back up at you with a playful grin, "A stud, huh?"

"Yes," You sighed dramatically, "I'm going to have to bat all the old ladies off of you today."

"Nevermind that you imply that only someone old would be attracted to me or that Tennis is only spectated by older individuals…" You couldn't help but giggle at his hilarious assumption. He raised his eyebrows in a playfully shocked look, "You would harm all of those elderly women?"

You let a wicked grin form on your lips, "You make me do crazy things, Mr. Hiddleston."

Tom laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Crazy things, hm? Why don't you show me what-" His suggestion was cut short by his cell phone ringing in his pocket. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and answered the call, walking off to talk to the person on the other end of the line.

You assumed that it was your driver, reaching over to take your small handbag from the vanity and following him out. Sure enough, Tom was ushering you out of the house and into the car.

The whole way over, you glanced over at Tom as he chatted with your longtime, trusted driver about today's plans, all the while unknowingly holding your undivided attention as his hand held yours between you, his thumb brushing your knuckles constantly, almost like he was reminding you that his sexy self was sitting there so close. They discussed what they thought the outcome would be and other Tennis related politics, which kept him too busy to catch you eyefucking him in his suit.

You wanted nothing more than to thread your fingers into that golden brown hair and tug him to you. Fantasies about fucking him in the backseat right then and there ran wild in your mind.

Damn him.

As much as you loved to see his suit on, you couldn't wait to take it off of him later. No really, you couldn't wait. You couldn't focus on the match, you didn't have a clue most of the time. You tried not to keep looking at him during the entirety of the event, but you couldn't help it. He just looked so good. Thank goodness for that unfaltering focus of his, you were free to oogle him as much as you had liked without him scolding your lack of attention toward the game.

The day dragged on, seeming like it lasted for weeks before you were finally on your way home. Tom was in a good mood, chatting happily with driver about the outcome while your hand rested on his thigh, mostly going unnoticed. He draped his arm around you when you'd done it, but that's about it. Gosh, he was so oblivious sometimes. Sometimes he had no idea the affect he had on you.

The moment the driver stopped outside of your house, you were ready to go inside. Obviously, Tom was not. He kept his conversation going, his enthusiasm would have been cute if arousal wasn't swirling around in your belly with anticipation.

Finally, after you couldn't take it anymore, you laid your hand gently on his arm, "Tom…"

He looked at you with the realization that you were waiting on him and flashed you an apologetic look. "Sorry love. We'll go inside now." He turned back to the driver and said his goodbyes before the two of you exited the car.

You thought you were home free when Tom stepped out of the car, until the driver said something and Tom turned back to answer him.

"Ohhhh no you don't." You tugged Tom's arm and he gasped, quickly saying goodbye to him.

"What's this about?"

"I've been mentally undressing you all day, I'm not waiting a second longer." You grabbed his tie and pulled him toward the house as he grinned at you.

"So about these crazy things I make you do, Mrs. Hiddleston. Care to show me now?"

"Oh trust me, Mr. Hiddleston, I plan to."

@fandom-and-feminism @fadingcoast @igotloki @mrshiddleston-uk @nikkalia @manager-of-mischief @spidey-bites @kcd15 @dangertoozmanykids101 @xxloki81xx @devilbat @furstinnajoelle @exbandragirl @sabine-leo @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms @officiallyunofficialperson @joyofbebbanburg @littlefrogstuff @wolfsmom1 @wrappedinlokisarms @scorpionchild81 @theoneanna @drakesfiance @awkwardfangirl2014 @archy3001

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston/reader #tom hiddleston x reader #damn him #wimbledon2019

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goodnightallwhites · 4 years

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Snowkitty By BlackingPacking

Snowkitty

By BlackingPacking

Submitted: January 23, 2019 Updated: January 23, 2019

Selina Kyle has never been a big part of the Batfamily. Nor has she ever fucked a big black cock. The two are more related than you might think.

Contains: NTR/Cuckolding, Interracial, BBC, SPH

Provided by Hentai Foundry.

Chapter 1 - Selina gets Blacked 2

Chapter 2 - Along Came a Black Spider 9

Chapter 3 - Stephanie Brown and the Blackedcomputer

1 - Selina gets Blacked

Selina Kyle loved Bruce Wayne. Catwoman loved Batman.

But she also loved money- and, while she’d never manipulate Bruce into giving her access to Wayne Enterprises for a job, she had no qualms with breaking into the place- just a quick in and out really, and, just to be extra nice, she wouldn’t steal any extra goodies for herself.

Worst case scenario, she got found and Bruce came- she’d lose the contract, but would have the fun of playing with him, and then the thrill of escape, always a plus.

(She also wouldn’t mind getting a little closer to Bats than she usually did, but, despite all the black he wore, he was still white down there.)

As she disabled the motion sensors on the window of an office atop Wayne Tower and climbed onto it to cut a hole to climb in, she thought about all her experiences with men- at this point, she had pretty much accepted that big dicks were a myth, and had learned to accept the ‘motion of the ocean’ guys and a good-sized dildo when she could. She was always too busy to watch porn. Maybe she’d break into a studio one day and ask what their secrets were.

She was in, the only lighting in the office being the moonlight making everything, from the flat screen TV to the $2,000 chair to the tall, plastic plant in the corner. Artificial but comfortable- like a dildo-

Goddammit, you have to stop getting distracted! Head in the game, Selina- you’ve got the hardrive, all you gotta do is plug it in- wow, right way on the first try- and now for the data dump. Corporate espionage and the secrets of the rich and powerful? Child’s play.

She waited for all that lovely compromising information to upload, lounging on the chair and, when she head the light but firm steps indicative of a muscular man approaching the door, she unzipped her costume down to her crotch, exposing her stomach and all of her cleavage to the cool air.

When the door was opened, she was unsurprised, for a second- she thought she recognized the broad shoulders, the biceps stretching the sleeves of his shirt- but then she realized he was wearing a t-shirt- Bruce never wore t-shirts- and, what she thought she should have realized first, he was black.

“What are you doing here?” he asked glaringly, tapping something on his wristwatch.

She kicked the desk, pushing the chair away from it, spinning around the office, her tits jiggling, “I could ask you the same question- who the hell are you supposed to be?” once she spun the chair in front of the dest, she stood up to face him.

“I’m the guy who keeps trash like you out of this building.”

“Trash? Puh! Is it because of how I dress? I didn’t know it became the Victorian Age when in a tower

this tall, Mister, ah-” she pulled out a black leather wallet- “Luke Fox.”

“Wha- how did-”

“Oh, the CEO’s son, I see. I’ve met your father and your company’s owner, but I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced,” said the Cat. She leaned on him, tits rubbing against his chest.

“You’re right, but I think, after all you’ve done with Bruce, I know you well enough.”

Selina encircled one of his muscular legs with her lissome one, but, truth be told, she was concerned- did Luke here know that Bruce was Batman? And did he know how much they’d fucked over the years?

She decided not to let it get to her, “Well, sorry to say, but I don’t really have time to stay and chat,” she said, slinking back, grabbing the drive, and digging her claws into the glass. She waited for the dark young man to make a move.

“Good, because you won’t be talking to anyone except your lawyer,” he declared. Like clockwork- it surprised Selina how much he acted like Batman. His face looked even more driven than Bruce had in his early days, when he was angrier and brasher. She’d forgotten how sexy it was.

Still, no time for reminiscing. Selina pushed into the cracked glass, totally shattering it, letting it fall like water behind her down to the street far, far, far below. She took a step back, and Luke took a step forward. He proceeded towards her, but not before she jumped out the window, totally free.

What she sure didn’t expect was for him to jump after her. Not only did she question what the fuck she was gonna do know, but Luke’s very sanity.

But then she saw a package rocket out of the building, making a beeline towards Luke, then attaching to and encasing him, before the sleek metal parts tightened around his form. It turned on, blue neon aesthetic lights and glowing eyes and, most importantly, a blue bat-symbol on his chest.

So Luke was Batwing. That explained... a bit.

Before she could think of what to think next, he shot down toward her, caught her, and flew her to the concrete top of a nearby tower, one not half the height of Wayne Tower.

She fell on her ass- dammit, he better not have hurt her lovely ass!- while Luke stood tall above her.

“What did you steal?” He asked, voice robotic.

“Maybe I’ll tell you if I can talk to the real you,” she cooed, “take off the mask,” she could feel the open air on her nipples- presumably, the fall made her tits flop out. The price of mixing fun and work- but it wasn’t like the fun would be over now. She hoped she could use Luke easily.

He gulped audibly as the mask receded from his face, exposing his head and neck. He shifted uncomfortably.

She giggled at him, “Well, first of all, I stole this-” between two clawed fingers, the cat held a button. The kind that belonged on expensive business pants. The kind-

“What- dammit!” Luke realized what caused the discomfort in his pants. He turned around to fix them, opening up the bottom half of his suit to adjust himself, muttering in his deep, throaty voice, “Damn new suit.. Shoulda worn the cup..”

“Ah, the cup?” asked Selina, hoping to get him so aroused he couldn’t catch her, “Oh c’mon, you were staring at mine, why can’t I see-”

“No, I-” he fell forward as he felt Selina push against his leg, but in doing so showed Selina what she wanted- his cock half hard, pushing out against his grey underwear in a massive bulge.

“Oh- oh come fucking on, you’re wearing a cup now!”

“No- no, you don’t get it,” he said. In a move clearly done by pure hormones, he pulled it out to show her- and holy hell was it a sight.

Darker than the rest of his milk chocolate skin and, even when at best half hard, as thick as her wrist and twice the length of her hand, it protruded from his muscular pelvis, curving down until the large, deep mauve head pointed straight at the floor, nearly touching Selina's sensitive skin.

Selina’s sultry, deep breaths stopped cold. She reached out to touch it. In her hand, which she couldn’t wrap around it, of course, she felt his blood pump, making his width tug, his head throbbing just a bit.

It was frightening- how was he so big? Bruce's sat snug in her hand when he was rock hard, but this was barely above flaccid, and it fit in her hand, the squishy, yet strong flesh spilling out of her hand. He was like a handful of sand, something she couldn't hold, while Bruce was just one stone. Or a pebble. Eventually, she managed to get her lithe fingers to touch all the way around it, but, as her breaths turned waveringly deep, she felt them barely brush each other, and then be pulled totally apart as he rose to hardness.

She decided that she didn’t want to run away anymore.

“H-how big does it get?” She stared.

“Fourteen inches,” he gulped, more confident now.

“Christ-” she lifted it up, letting the head brush her face, “do they even make cups this big?” was all she could ask.

“It’s.. difficult,” he chuckled, “And the suits are a whole nother thing... this is a new one, you see. I haven’t made the necessary adjustments yet... I’m sorry, lemme just-”

Selina grabbed his plump cock, “Oh fuck no bitch! I’m gonna get this cock- Goddamn it’s big! And why the hell don’t you have your suit fitted for this? Not that I’m complaining...”

“No- I, I make the adjustments myself. Bruce makes the suits-”

“Say no more,” smiled Selina, working her arm to pump his fat cock to hardness, “Goddamn, those rumors are true...” she felt a massive urge to lick at his black cock.

“Rumors?”

“Oh, you know- about black guys’ dicks- don’t tell me you’ve never been in a locker room with any of Bruce or his, heh, little Robins?”

“I don't think you should trust me to be honest.”

“Well, I’ll be honest, I’ve never fucked a black guy, but if I ever had, I’d be thinking about that cock all the fuckin time.”

“Never fucked a black guy, Miss Kyle?”

“Not even when I was a hooker- and no need to be all formal. It’s Selina, at the very least,” she smiled widely as she smacked his meat against her snow white face.

“Alright, Selina- I think I’m there. Wanna take what you want?”

“Don’t ask next time. It’s hotter,” she replied, and then, just slow enough to taste every inch of the massive thing, Catwoman decided she'd go all in, and inhaled his cock, its blackness more than she had ever had before. It tasted musky and strong, pulsating on and heating her little pink tongue.

She widened her jaw to take in his girth, his dick filling both her. She was great at the blowjob face, sucking her cheeks in, but with a black cock the limber woman felt like a chipmunk. It was heavy, too, pushing down on her poor straining lower jaw. Worst of all, she was about halfway down the actual length. She pushed on, feeling her throat expand as she swallowed his length.

She gargled it, then pulled out, coating his big black dick in saliva, more than it looked like her cute little mouth could produce.

Her eyes, however, told a different story. One that said she needed more of this massive dick to suck on, to lick, to drool over, to fawn over, to get all up inside all her holes. With one suck, Selina Kyle became another victim to black cock lust. She totally forgot how she felt about Bruce- emotions were a thing of the heart, and right now, her dripping pussy was the captain of her actions.

She happily slurped him down again, ropes of spit sticking to his veiny dick every time she came off it. She sucked him like a vacuum, her ruby lips stretching across his shaft as she pulled back before going all the way back down again. Lipstick smeared on him, only to be licked back up when her tongue darted all over his cock every time she went down on him.

Slurping, sucking, kissing and licking, Selina gave Luke the best head she ever gave, and the best he’d ever gotten.

“How.. how close are you?” she gasped, just off his hot dick, strings of spit and precum hanging from her lips, dangling onto her creamy breasts.

“To cumming?” he asked, “Not really.”

Well, fuck! Selina’s usual routine (both before and after she found robbing was more fun than sex) was to make him cum with a blow job, then fuck him. But it seemed this ugy had a big dick and could last twice as long as the normal guy,

“Change of plans,” she announced, gulping as she realized her throat felt much wider, “do you wanna take your costume off?”

“For what?”

“To fuck me silly, silly!” She smiled, stripping, letting her leather catsuit fall onto the roof as she crawled back to his erection, licking its tip playfully.

“I’d like to keep it on, if that’s fine with you.”

“Oh, God yes it is,” she licked his balls and up to his very tip, then let his dick drag between her pillowy tits, “keep me naked, all submissive and helpless, you’re so fucking hot.”

Luke didn’t see it that way- he just didn’t want to be disarmed in case he had to fight this crazy white cat burglar bitch, but every second it seemed more like that wouldn’t happen, since she wasn’t stopping.

She gave him a short, toying titjob, rubbing her pale breasts all over his pole, and then stood further up, rubbing his precum against her firm but smooth stomach, before finally standing up straight, his cockhead poking just under her navel.

“Oh, take me, Batwing,” she cooed, no sign of remembering all the times she’d said Batman instead. Luke kissed her, making out deeply, slimy tongues rolling over each other. He then grabbed her by her soft asscheeks, not as impressive as her tits, but still a wonderful pair. He smacked them, pushed into the soft flesh with his strong fingers, and then cupped her sexy ass in his hands to lift her up onto his cock.

“You feel so big,” said Selina, biting her tongue as she held onto Luke, her pussy lips rubbing on his shaft.

“You feel so wet,” responded Luke.

“Better to guide you in with, Lukey baby,” she said, pushing her stomach against his abs, guiding his cock up to point right at her cunt. She closed her eyes, braced herself, and sat on it.

“Ah, fuck!” she yelled, loud enough that it made Luke hope no one was on the roof, “It is really big! I haven’t felt like this since I lost my virginity! In fucking middle school! Oh yeah, fuck me hard and deep with your big- big- oh, fuck you’re so big!” Selina turned into a chatterbox by his electrifying black cock.

“Damn you’re tight! I thought you were a whore!” He bounced her up and down his massive dong, her sweaty, sticky legs locked tight around his waist.

“Oh, I am! I’m a whore! A dirty, slutty, whore!”

“Then why are you as tight as a school girl?”

“Ah, fuck! You just wanna hear me say it! I’m a- fuck I feel it all the way in I’m sooooo full!- I’ve never been a whore for black cock before!”

“And now?”

“Holy- holy shit! Ah, I’m getting lightheaded... I’ve never been fucked like this before. I can’t believe I’ve never gone black..”

He pulled her short, black hair and smacked her ass, “And now?”

“Now- I went black! And goddamn if I’m never going back! Ahh, fuck!” the usually clever cat burglar had become totally degraded, slick with sweat and eyes wild with pleasure. She held on tight to his armor, gyrating her round, obsessed, child bearing hips on his cock.

It pushed and throbbed and strained all inside her, stretching her insides, making them even wider than her pussy, which never stretched wider than his steady base. It was his twitching head deep in his canal that made her feel like she never had before.

“I’m a fucking slut for black cock!” she cried, mind exploding as she felt a rush of hot, syrupy liquid in her cunt spill out and run on her legs. It took her a second to realize that this was not his cum she felt, but her own.

The BBC whore tried to see what time it was on something, but there were no clocks near. Her screams and cry were replaced with a long, humid moan, that was only interrupted when her whole body shook with one of his thrusts. They could have been fucking for ten minutes or for half an hour. Either way, the man had stamina like she had never felt.

He pushed her up against the wall of the stairway exit, her back scraping against rough concrete, but if any of her white hide hurt, it was her rose-red asscheeks, which had been thoroughly spanked by the dominant man.

She screamed his name as she came again. Her pussy tightened, and he kept driving. She loved the pain. She was a white woman- a snowbunny, now. A snowkitty. She loved it. She wanted him to hurt her more.

He then held onto her back. His gloves had retracted into his armpeices- when, Selina’s dopamine-addled mind didn’t know- and his black, rough palms felt up her back. He didn’t squeeze tight, which she would have loved, but she realized how much hotter it made her felt.

Stupid white girl! Just let the black man pleasure you, Selina. Let his black... black...

It felt like he was dominating her, making her more whorish than Stan or Slam Bradley or Bruce had ever done, effortlessly. She was so weak compared to this adonis.

She was never going back to white boys.

She felt his round, fat black balls slam up against her ass. They were hanging, the size of tangerines, and as delicious as them. Selina could swear that she felt them churn with his superior african seed, what she wanted- no, no, no, NEEDED- inside of her.

Suddenly, as she came a third time, her lover granted her wish, and came inside of her, shooting strong, round, fluid ropes of thick goop inside her already wet pussy, drenching it. The solid weight within her ravished hole doubled as his manhood came deep inside. It felt like gallons of his potent sperm was emptied right into her womb. Shame she wasn’t anywhere near ovulating.

She went limp, falling down, having to be caught with his strong, quick hand around her back. Her head and limbs hung, supported by his one hand and his massive dong, buried deep inside her tight cunt.

“That was.. The best... I’ve ever had,” she panted, dropping to the ground. She looked at her raw, well-fucked cunt, staring at its strained opening. Then, cum ran out- not gray, thin white cum, but thick, creamy, virile black cum, “You’re so much better than all the other Bat boys... how are you so good...” it kept spilling out, drowning her crotch, soaking the ground.

Luke laughed, “Secret identity- I’m black.”

“Of course.. And Bruce had to get a chinadoll to actually have a kid with.”

“And all the boys are pretty shy in the locker rooms too...”

“I bet.”

“‘Cept for Duke.”

“God, tell me more. I’m already wet...” her hand slid down her sticky creampie. It made a shlicking sound. Selina’s eyes closed as she bit her messy lip.

“Sure,” Luke cracked his knuckles, “ready to go again?”

2 - Along Came a Black Spider

Selina had to wonder if Bruce understood that he was a beta white guy, with a below-average dick and no jet pack. After all, he had given Luke Fox, the guy with the gargantuan dick that made Selina into a black-only snow bunny, the super suit with a jetpack.

He used both on the way to Selina’s apartment, where he had agreed to drop her off after she had taken a second load of his on her face, still feeling like a spa day, his thick cum masking her pale countenance with enough fluid to fill a bucket.

She fell naked on her balcony, her ass cheeks redder than her roses from the pounding, her knees more scraped than her old metal chairs from how deep she had sucked him, and her nipples standing erect as the table’s umbrella, the tits they adorned glazed with ropey cum, more than she could swallow- and she loved swallowing his delicious cum.

He took the flash drive and flew away, leaving Selina, naked, and without her catsuit, to go in her apartment, totally exhausted. She had barely taken a few steps in when she collapsed on the couch, lifting her legs up in the air to expose her burning cunt as she teetered at the edge of consciousness.

“Fuck, I need a shower.....” groaned Selina as she felt a fat dollop of syrupy cum leak from her used hole, putting her fingers up to herself to feel her creampie, letting it drip on her couch, the fluid ruining it as Luke had ruined her cunt. Hell, the whole couch may have been ruined. She was sweating so much- every inch of her skin was on fire with a pleasure years of white lovers had never given her. She closed her eyes and smiled, tongue lapping at the cream on her lips.

She began fingering herself. She loved feeling the insides of her tight little cunny, but now it felt like she was hollow, her stretched hole feeling like an abyss around her hand, wider than three fingers. Even when she pushed her whole hand in, her sex stretched easy as a shirt, looser than she’d ever been before. It felt like it would just collapse in on itself if she removed her hand.

Reluctantly, the wet, dripping, sweaty, cum-soaked mess got up from the couch and meandered into the bathroom, tracking her mess throughout the brightly lit, angular apartment. She passed the balcony in her bedroom there, but, to her sadness, there was no Batwing flying around. The Bat-signal was lit, but she hoped Bruce wouldn’t ever expect anything from her again, because, as good a person he was, he wasn’t a real man. And Selina needed a real man.

She turned on the steamy water as she felt guilt and pleasure keep washing over her. It wasn’t like she’d cheated on Bruce- they weren’t together right now, and it’s not like it wasn’t seen as normal for a beautiful white lady such as her to cuckold a white guy with a big, dark lover, was it? And god, Luke felt so good, deeper inside her than she’d ever thought possible.

She played with her clit in the hot bath, finely manipulating it, thinking if she was stereotyping. After all, she’d fucked only the one black guy, what’s to say he wasn’t an outlier? What if she couldn’t, just in

theory, get herself all tattooed up with queens of spades and ‘black owned’ and be totally satisfied with black guys twice as big as any white ‘man’?

Well, she could always just be with Luke. He, she knew, was good enough. He was a decade and a half younger than her- did that make her a cougar? Fuck if she cared.

She kept playing with herself under the water, pinching and pulling at her swollen clit, thinking of the wild night she’d just had. How Luke had picked her up and their bodies sunk into each other, how he’d put her on her hands and feet as he mounted her, her from behind, how he slapped her ass as he pounded her cunt, how his thick pile of meat slapped her tits and her face before cumming all over them, emptying those full, hanging balls she only got to lick a precious few times.

Even more disappointing than how much she licked his balls was her ass- yeah, the cheeks were as red as could be, but as she moved the finger of her other hand to the pink, tight pucker of her anus, it felt very neglected compared to her gaping pussy. She wanted a big black cock in her ass.

As she drifted into sleep, fingers holding her clit in a fist as she put another two far up her ass, she dreamed of it.

She woke up when her head finally dipped underwater- something the expensive in-bath seat was designed to prevent. She stole hard for that, it might as well work!

Still, she felt comfortable- the water was still somewhat warm, so the heating worked. And judging by the dim light it was dawn. If she had any idea how long it was between encountering Luke and going to sleep, that may have meant something.

She didn’t want to get up. She kept her face barely above the water so she could keep feeling herself. Her asshole had accommodated to her middle and index finger, and so she pushed another into the snugly held hole. Her pussy, on the other hand, had tightened around her fingers, no longer gaping or full of semen.

Of course, she’d love it to be again- stretched open and fucked, then poured into with hot, thick sperm. And even more in her ass- god, how she needed a black man to really fill that hole, how-

She rolled her head over, and saw something in the corner of her bathroom- no, someone. Wearing a black full-bodysuit, with orange and purple highlights, a maroon spider on his face.

“Ah, shit,” grumbled Selina, hooping out of the bath into the cold air as a throwing knife flew past her short black hair. He pounced at her, so she grabbed the bathroom door and left him to run into it.

“Black Spider, isn’t it?” She asked, flipping into the living room, soaking the floor again.

He didn’t respond, simply running after her and firing a line from his gauntlet, missing Selina and catching a chair, which also missed her.

“Oh come on!” she yelled, keeping on her feet, “I’m right, right? You’re Black Spider- Eric Needlewhatever-“ she dodged more of his swipes- “Shouldn’t you be with Waller? And even then, what

the hell are you doing in my bathroom, pervert?!”

“You knew the deal- turn in the drive by 6 am. It’s been an hour almost, so I was sent to check on you. You clearly haven’t bothered, I searched the place, and it’s not here, so I assumed the contract is void, and you know the boss don't accept betrayal.”

“Ah, fuck you!” She gasped as she narrowly dodged another barbed line, whipping around her bedroom, “I can still get it!”

“Plenty of people can- and I’m sure the boss is already hiring. You’re done-“ he swung around the line like a whip yet again, “it’s just you and me now.”

“Can you let me get dressed first then, Eric, before I kick your ass?”

“How cliche,” chuckled the Spider, switching to wrist-mounted blades to keep Selina on her toes, “and shouldn’t you appreciate the fact that you’re naked? Isn’t sex appeal meant as a distraction?”

“What? You buy that bullshit? No, I show my tits off because I’m a slut-“ she slid under him to kick him in the back, knocking him down onto a armoire, knocking down a jewelry chest, “be lucky I didn’t go for the dick, asshole,” She grumbled, letting the chest hit him.

“Oh, you would have liked that, wouldn’t you, slut?” He rolled over, still mocking her.

“That’s-“ she paused, knowing he wasn’t the one who started that, “Okay, fuck you, I am a slut, and I was having a great time before you showed- wait,” she paused, reaching for his mask, but not taking it, “you’re black, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and I’m a spider.”

“No, I meant-“

“Bitch, I know what you meant! Yes, I am,” he pushed her hand away to take off his mask, revealing a sharp, goateed black face, “why?”

She lowered her body, exposed and naked, on top of his well armored one, until her pussy was nearly touching his large codpiece, “I mean... I just wanted to ask-“ she put her hands on his shoulders, pinning him down, “how big is your dick?”

“...Bitch, what?”

“I’m serious-“ she whined, “how big? Because I fucked my first black guy last night and need to know if they’re all like that!”

They both looked at each other, Selina in what seemed to be desperation, and Eric in confusion.

“AHAHAHAHA,” suddenly, he laughed, “So you’re just another big black cock slut, is that right?”

“Uh- you’ll fuck me if I say yes, right?”

“Fuck Batman’s bitch? Any day.”

“Then yes, I’m the biggest fucking black cock whore on earth!” She exclaimed, almost shaking on him, “oh! And I’m not his bitch- not anymore,” she smiled gleefully, putting up two pinched fingers to illustrate Batman’s little white dick.

“Hah! You are a bad bitch, aren’t you!”

“I’ll be your bad bitch if you really do have a big black cock!”

“Then lemme show you,” he breathed as he pushed her ass off him. She felt her pussy dampen at the feeling of him control her, picking her up with just one big, strong hand.

He tore off his belt and peeled off his pants, pulling the codpiece down to reveal to Selina what could only be described as an anaconda- as long, if not longer than Luke, with a fatter head and thinner shaft, actually making it look bigger, harder to take, more painful. Definitely like a snake.

“I’m already so fucking wet,” whispered Selina.

“I can tell-” he made her moan by feeling her wetness, holding her from behind with two fingers sloshing over her pussy while his thumb pressed right above her asshole.

“Your hands even feel big,” she lowered her shuttering head to his ear, “I want you to do whatever you want to me, baby.”

“Good,” he slammed her ass, spanking her. His spry, sturdy hand totally covered her alabaster cheek, rubbing it like a baker kneading dough, the strength of his black hands rippling over her velvety flesh. She kissed his dark neck, tasting sweat. It clung to her lips until she licked it off.

He began tearing off his padded suit, Selina pawing at the edges as if to help, but she was really just enamored with his black body, his ebony tufts of hair running down his broad chest and sculpted abs, the hair of a real man. His torso and cock was totally opened, and so, like a moth to a flame, Selina dropped, ass up, and face down, kissing his muscular frame.

Preoccupied with his musculature and musk, Selina’s hand drifted down to Eric’s legs without looking, feeling around, groping at his wide, strong legs. She kissed his stomach like it was an idol until her hand felt something new- a smooth, bulbous head, a deep peach poking out from the long, curved, black shaft. It tensed as her hand felt it, as her worshipping slowed to look over at the massive tube of meat, semi-erect and pointing down at his swollen, hanging balls.

Selina’s hand purled around his sleek cockhead and his round ballsack. He secreted precum, the perfect lubricant for Selina’s lustful hand to hold his cockhead, at least three times bigger than any white boy she’d ever been with. As she tried to wrap her fist around his round tip, his cock tightened, hefting his balls, swelling his veins all the way down his shaft.

She planted sloppy, smacking kisses down his abs to his crotch, where she glossed the base of his cock, which, despite its curve, was still taller than her head at its vertex. She kissed and tongued and groped his cock, feeling the fat, many veins only a black cock had, tugging at the soft, loose skin around his solid shaft.

“You’re so fucking... fucking huge... gargantuan... BBC...” she murmured in between licks, just loud enough for him to hear. Even the thought of those words made her pussy ache.

He smiled a pearly grin as she put her silky, drooling lips parallel to his cock, then lowered them slowly onto it, right in the middle. She held it on either side of her mouth, the shaft and it’s veins filling each hand as she sucked on it’s delicious flavor.

She slurped on it, doing her best to drench it with spit from her small mouth, his black member dwarfing her mouth. She went all the way down it and all the way back up, like she was on a harmonica. She closed her eyes and touched herself as her lips popped off his base. When they opened, they saw that her spit, which felt like enough to fill a lake, made maybe half of his godly cock slick with spit.

Selina whimpered at the monster before her. Luke’s was in the dark, but here, in her apartment, at daybreak, she could see the whole thing, all of its features and pulsations and dark, dark blackness against the pinks, peaches, and whites of her home. Her home was a damn mess thanks to their fight- but now she was ready to be made a damn mess thanks to their fuck, thanks to his huge, strong, black dick.

She pumped his dick to hardness, thickening it and flattening out its big, floppy curve, replacing it with a solid pipe of black cock. It’s head still pointed down, just a bit. It sat snugly in her hand, the lightest skin on his dark chocolate member, round and smooth as an apple and slick with precum.

She lied down perpendicular to him, elbows resting on his sinewy dark skin, and let his dick shake and bounce and finally get to full mast right in front of her blue eyes. She kissed the hole at its tip top, and pushed her tongue into to sticky hole, pulling off with a string of precrum. It broke and fell down to his pelvis. She watched it as is fell, far, far below. She jumped off skyscrapers regularly, but, with his cockhead at her nose, the cock she was staring down looked frighteningly tall.

She put her arms on either side of his base and sat up with good posture, the domineering cock running nearly from her belly button to her forehead. She laughed nervously.

“Bitch, you ain’t being anywhere near as much as a slut as your tight ass tells me you can,” he said, slapping her ass. His dark palm renewed the light pink handprint that covered both her cheek before he took his huge middle finger, and ran it down her asscrack, pushing at her perfect pink butthole.

“Eep!” She jumped, body tending and hair bobbing as she felt his fingertips against her sensitive pucker. She looked down, bending to show him he tits with his powerful, huge cock in her cleavage. She beamed, well kept teeth whiter than her skin, but hopefully not to be any less defiled by his blackness, by his huge black cock.

She closed her eyes and breathed deep, “Don’t stop touching my asshole,” she gasped through th,an enraptured smile.

He said nothing as he kept playing with her backdoor, moving his fingers in circles around its pucker, running its pad over her, dipping his fingerprints into her lusting anus. Eventually, he matched the pace of Selina’s nervous licks to the underside of his tip, the perfect spot to lap at the juices.

Her licks were playful, as was his fingering on her behind. Him touching her dirtiest whole made her wet, and that arousal made her more desperateShe lapped at his glans, the smooth, round bulb, the color of syrup. His pace stayed the same, but her mind was running faster and faster. She began to drool on his head and kiss it sloppily as her cunt was, his precum tasting like syrup. He stayed the same. She took a hand and shoved it between her legs, fingering herself. Not long after, his bulb was in her mouth.

“Mmmf!” she stopped herself when his head, the size of a ripe fruit, was already in her head. Sticky spit flung from her stretched lips, sinking down the long rod of his cock. Ready to gag, she chased it down his dick, careful not to hurt him with her teeth. He may have been thinner than Luke, but she still felt it against her teeth no matter how wide she opened her mouth. Like the water of a warm shower, Selina descended down her would-be assassin’s cock.

She began to gag at halfway, more than she could take. She pushed down, feeling her wetness increase with each throb of his cock deep down her little slutty gullet. She teared up as she struggled to even take half of his incredible black cock, and almost cried when he took his hand off her hungry asshole, and her ass altogether. She felt like she was gonna collapse when he put that hand on top of her head, and forced her even further down his black rod.

When she nearly reached the bottom, red-faced, choking, and sputtering as his fat head pushed and pulsates deep, deep in her windpipe, he took his hand off. He moved it down to her crotch, and, to her dismay, he removed her hand from gm inside her soaking wet pussy.

“W-why?” She pleaded, after rushing up for a gulp of air. That huge cock only a black guy could have flopped on her crestfallen face.

“Ah calm down,” he said with his well-earned confidence- after all, who could know how to please a girl better than a man with a big black cock?

He took her waist and hips and pulled them toward him. The pussycat looked over at him, a but he simply pushed her face back into his rock hard dick. Teasing and kneading the flesh, he pulled her hips right at him, lifted them up, and laid them in his face, wet cunny dripping onto his ruggedly handsome face.

Hugging her waist close to his chest, he slurped and smacked on her drenched puss as she did the same to his cock. Needleham had an easier time eating her out than Selina had blowing him, but both felt similar pleasure.

Selina began to go limp as she felt an orgasm flowing through her. If it was a white boy, his dick would fall out her slack mouth, but this black snake stayed deep in her. Eric soon noticed, and put her down- practically throwing her on the bed.

“You’re good at sucking cock, but you need to learn to last a little longer,” he chuckled. Selina moaned

and groaned, but couldn’t verbally respond. She just sat there as he jerked off his long, black dick to her, building it up until his huge, hanging, wrecking-ball testicles clenched, and he came. He spurted cum down her throat, and her clear wet drool became a thick, sticky, and white.

She pulled off his cock, not that you could tell, with the slimy cum sticking to his cock and her lips, making a messy curtain between them. That was nowhere near all his cum though- most of it was down her throat, a bigger load than she had ever had before. She sucked up the slimy mess, trying to hold his whole load in.

“You’d better not spit,” he muttered.

She gagged and gasped, eyes tearing up with desperation. She bent over and opened her mouth, vomiting potent slime onto her floor.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry-“ she cried, bending over to get near to the puddle of cum, “your load was just so big! I couldn’t hold it all in!” She gasped, and stuck her tongue out to lap up the puddle, working to swallow it all.

He walked around back to her bare ass. “It’s fine- long as you lemme go all the way,” he grinned, putting his hand on her numb butt.

She took a breath in between her eating of her own oral cream pie, “sure! Please do- I- I won’t be able to fuck as good as usual, but I just want that inside me!”

“All you had to say,”

“And no condoms!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, bitch.”

She gleefully closed her eyes as she pushed her tongue down onto the hot cum and stuck her butt up for him to use.

“Pussy or ass?”

“Mmgh- pussy! I’d die if your black cock went into my asshole-“ she kept talking about how white guys would make her ass stretch, and she wasn’t ready for Eric’s black mamba to get all up in her guts, but he tuned her out, just pushing his cockhead against her soaking wet lips, and shoved it inside her canal.

She spat out more cum almost immediately, screaming as his strength overtook her tightness, and he shoved his fat head deeper inside her than any first thrust ever had, slamming into her uterus, causing her to explode in pleasure and pain.

Her white pussy was tight, perfectly sized for the types of cocks she’d been fucking her whole life, and while she needed something more, this sure was a hell of a way to get it. It was stretched in every direction, pushing into places that had never been fucked before, that she never knew she wanted to be fucked.

He pounded her so hard it felt like she may as well have been doing anal, slamming her whole body. He sent every inch of loose skin, of which there wasn’t much, shaking as much as her bouncy tits. And forget about her face, it was now totally slack and no longer trying to lick up his spilled cum. Instead the force of her whole body was being buckled and slammed, and her face was laying in the puddle, ground into the puddle. Her hair was a mess. Her pussy was on fire.

He was rougher and gruffer than Luke was, probably due to age and the comfort of her well-heated apartment. Being a criminal, as she knew, certainly help. Being black compounded that. She could barely think, and soon he fucked her brains right out of her. Her arms gave out, and the front half of her body weight fell on her cum-covered face, legs behind her held up by his large hands on either hip. He kept her in place as he destroyed her pussy. She couldn’t see, but he was grinning like a madman, which made sense for any man who got to be with a woman like her, but she considered herself the far luckier one.

The pounding felt beyond physical. Yeah, he was strong as hell and fucked her deep, slamming through her hole and poking her womb like she was a piece of meat, but she felt more than just that. She felt tingly throughout her body. Not a girlish, schoolgirly sort of sensual tingles, but shocks of pleasure like a hard drug throughout her body from his hard cock. Her pussy juices dripped like lava, her stretched canal coated in magma. Her body felt better than ever.

That was when she realised what was happening- she was orgasming. Not just a powerful, climactic squirt from her pussy, but a continuous, flow of orgasms. She was cumming one time after another, so many, so hard, so fast, that it felt like her body was perpetually climaxing.

His pounding had rubbed the sticky puddle of cum on the floor into her face, sending small globs flying into her hair, against her slack lips, even in her rolled-back eyes. She had gotten so used to her constant orgasm that she was barely even conscious, she just sat there, barely propped up against his pumping black hips.

She was jolted awake when she felt his dick twitch uncontrollably inside her, pushing up against her walls. She leaned her head down, putting her hair on the floor, and looked between her legs. She saw his gargantuan black meat entering her and how her pussy was raining juices from the dozens of orgasms she must have had. She also saw his massive, loosely hanging balls swing less and less and begin to tighten up against the underside of his cock.

Why his cock was twitching was finally clear- he was going to cum! His grunts became louder and his thrusts became faster. She threw her head back and moaned as she prepared for what was coming.

He shot his load in her, just as big and thick as before, if not more so. The sheer force of his cum in her womb made her tremble, and as he pulled out, her clit went off as it felt gallons of black cum pouring out of her, enough to make another puddle on the floor and still fill her up.

She had her biggest orgasm yet. It made her jump, pull away from Eric as she fell on the floor, rolling around in a mess of cum as she moaned- no, screamed. Her hips shook and she tried to cover her pussy with her hand, but it was buckled off, and she squirted everywhere, lifting her ass off the ground.

“I love black cock!” Catwoman screamed as she fell onto the floor like a starfish.

“Sure did,” muttered Eric, getting dressed again, having trouble fitting his black manhood in his pants again, “I’ll tell the boss you’re the least of our problems now that the Bat’s onto us. Good luck, you crazy little whore.” And with that, he walked out to the balcony, and left.

Selina was left scoop up the pools of black cum, playing with the precious substance like, well, a kitten. She coated her hand in it, rubbed it all on her worn-out pussy. She massaged her belly with a glob of it, soothing her stretched insides. She made her milky white tits even whiter, lubing them up with his copious baby batter. Most of all, she filled her hands with it, and poured it down her hungry, slutty little throat.

“I love black dick,” she breathed, not even thinking. It just came naturally. “I love black cum. I’m a blacked little slut.”

She passed out, soon dreaming of getting stuffed by big, black cock.

3 - Stephanie Brown and the Blackedcomputer

Selina was in trouble honestly. It was the first time in years she’d failed a job (granted, she never took up contracts, but still!), and surely Black Spider wouldn’t be the last assassin to be sent after her. While that turned out well, she didn’t wanna gamble her life with the next one.

Especially if the next wasn’t black.

That’s why she was here now, at the residence of Carlton Duquesne, a generally well-liked and well-respected mob boss. The kind who would provide her the protection she needed. In more ways than one, of course, but only Selina would think of an innuendo like that when her life was on the line.

Then again, considering Duquesne’s mob was owned and operated by the black families of Gotham’s underworld, not to mention the luxurious overworld old Carlton himself lived in, maybe plenty of women would accept protection. Those of the underworld would prefer to stay clean with the hung black thugs they fucked, while the wealthier women would use it to make sure they didn’t end up pregnant with a black guy’s baby.

Either way, Selina would probably still use it. She wasn’t that addicted to her newfound love. Not yet, anyways. She still knew what she was doing though. Every mob in Gotham had it’s big, strong black enforcers. But she picked the one she knew had the most. And the one that was run by one.

Selina was neither greedy nor generous, stealing more than she could possibly need, but still gave tons to charity. Mostly for animals, but still, it was charity. Mr. Duquesne, however, was not a charity case, and she didn’t intend to spend a dime on protection money to stay at his big, extravagant, and a tad tacky hotel. She did, however offer another payment that was worth more to her than it was to him. Not that she’d ever tell that.

When she first came to him, she pleaded for protection from the newly made enemies. He initially refused- Catwoman was a big name, and a big target. Her reputation couldn’t buy her protection, but it seemed money would. Selina had a better idea.

“Tell me, Mr. Duquesne,” she’d said. She still remembered exactly how the exchange went, that night in his penthouse office, him in a suit and turtleneck, her in her catsuit, “How much do you pay the girls who I saw running around your office earlier?”

“My ladies ain’t a concern, kitty,” the mob boss replied, “you’re not negotiating with them.”

“Oh, of courrrrse I’m not negotiating with them,” she purred, “I’m Catwoman, they’re just... girls, really. How could they compare?” she rubbed a gloved hand up her torso. Her palm grazed against her D-cup.

Carlton looked her up and down. She invited him by sliding her zipper all the way down, so that the tiniest flecks of her well-trimmed womanly hair poked above the catsuit. “I just wanna place to stay, baby. To lay low.” She made a kissy face.

“There a catch, kitty?” The black boss leaned down to look at her. She got on the floor in response,

“Not at all. I’ll do this every week if it you’d rather that then rent. More than every week....”

“I’ll be the judge of what’s worth it,” he said, deep gravelly voice doing things to her pussy. He lifted himself up, undoing his belt and pulling down his pants, then his underwear, down his ashy black legs, revealing his cock.

He was enormous. The thickest cock she’s ever seen, almost as long as her arm and bulbous. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was in love.

“So it’s gonna be like that, huh?”

She nodded. “I’ll be your slut once a week. More, if this thing feels as good as it looks.”

“Good.” He wasn’t surprised by women wanting his dick at all.

“Any limits, sir?” She asked, uncharacteristically submissive. She pulled down the top of her suit, letting her braless tits shine with all their glory.

“Just don’t call me daddy. Shit’s weird.”

She was a little disappointed. She loved the fantasy of a black daddy ramming her ass as she cried his title. Still, it wasn’t worth giving up an inch of this monster cock. Selina nodded yes right into his eyes as she kissed the sliding foreskin of his cock. She got it hard just with sluttly little licks and pokes of her tongue. Just like a Cat. And that was what he wanted, right? Catwoman, the dangerous, uncontrollable expert thief and outlaw, totally submitting to his massive, alpha, dominant, mob boss black cock.

“I... don’t know if I can suck it all,” she worried, looking up at him as he unbuttoned his shirt with massive, strong arms, showing a slightly bulging belly and powerful chest.

“I’ve had white girls take it before. Penguin’s bitches, Lark and Jay? They’ve sucked it down to the base. Do you really think you’re worse than some sluts who suck Cobblepot’s ugly cock?”

That got to her head. Selina always had a bit of a complex, and this played right to it. She hadn’t stood down from sucking a dick since middle school, and she didn’t want to start now. Although, if there was one sort of dick she couldn’t overcome, it was the massive kind black men possessed.

“Yes sir. Your dirty whore, at your service,” she smiled at him.

She licked from his huge, loose balls, her tongue drawing them up until his sack was stiff and wrinkled. Her tastebuds didn’t experience any worse taste though. She put her hands on his comparatively huge ones (and she had big hands for a woman). She felt him relax, loosen up for her. Even if she wanted to hurt him, he’d overpower her. Maybe she’d try to, just to feel him rough her up.

She kept peeling off her spandex down to the last inch, tossing it to the side. He was dressed in classy,

expensive armani wool, unbuttoned to show his impressive physique. Selina, meanwhile, was totally naked, silky ass and tits all out for anyone to walk in to see. If they did she’d keep going. She loved being a black cock slut.

Positioned in front of his bulbous cock, she looked up at him. He didn’t look down. It was like she didn’t even matter. It was a little upsetting, after all, Catwoman deserved more respect. But god it was hot. This monster black cock was probably so popular that the Catwoman worshipping it wasn’t any big deal to Carlton.

Kiss after kiss, she made out with the tip of his dick, not letting an ounce of precum escape from her greedy lips. She was ready to steal all his cum, like the good little slutty thief she was. She went down on him, struggling to swallow all of the huge black rod. She choked, but knew this was where she belonged.

Sucking his cock.

Outside, another sight was happening. Red Robin, Tim Drake, was assigned to watch Catwoman. Her alleged dealings with Tobias Whale’s mob was cause for concern, and as such, he was tasked with the field monitoring, while Stephanie Brown was on the other end of the line.

“She- she’s getting on her knees,” he said, watching the beginning of the scene, peering over the stone lip of the building across the way from Selina and Duquesne.

“What?” came Stephanie, the muffled sounds of movement, “So she’s not just making a deal with Duquesne?”

“I- um, I think she is,” her boyfriend replied.

“Aww, I can hear you blushing. What’s wrong? You watch porn all the time, don’t you?”

“And do stuff with you, but it’s weird to watch.”

“Don’t kid yourself, babe. You know I don’t wanna do stuff with the little thing you’re packing. And you watch me all the time while you’re sitting in a corner or behind a screen, jerking off. Are they still talking?” She slurped down chinese takeout. Not the healthiest, but it was her cheat day. Besides, she knew black guys liked girls a little plumper than she was.

“She’s- um- pulling his pants down. And her top off. Jesus..”

“What? Is he huge, or are her tits that great. It’s both, isn’t it?”

“It... it’s both.”

“D’aww,” she mocked, “Is your little thing hard?”

“Do you have to make fun of it all the time?”

“Oh come on, look, I’m sorry, but it’s just too hilarious! I’m not even horny right now-” she heard Tim grumble something on the other end of the line. “What was that? Is it about me being horny? Because if I was you’d be hearing me watching those VIP Blacked.com videos you paid for me. Now look, I’ll be nicer about it, but we have to get this work done! Either keep talking or turn on the camera!”

“Right,” Tim mumbled, pulling out the portable tripod-mounted camera and hooked it up to the Batcomputer, streaming the scene right into Stephanie’s monitor. The blonde focused it, getting the best shot possible. Tim went off to ‘monitor the perimeter’, but she barely even heard him. The pretty white girl was, as any pretty white girl, mesmerized by the fat cock of a powerful black man.

Shouldn’t have thought about my blacked membership, thought Stephanie, only somewhat reluctantly sliding her hand down to the crotch of her purple tracksuit. Wet, she thought. She could feel it even before her fingertips touched the dampness right above her pussy. Of course I’m wet- god I’m such a slut. Not that she wanted to change that, of course. She put her feet up on the Batcomputer and spread her legs. She focused intently on the image on her screen.

Selina Kyle- Catwoman, a villainess she’d had to put in cuffs at least once before, was looking like a fucking supermodel but with bigger tits, bobbing her face on Boss Duquesne’s massive cock. Her skin was almost as pale as Batwoman’s, and the roundness of her muscular arm and silky tits shone in the moonlight. The drops of spit flying onto them only made them shine more.

As Catwoman drooled sloppy spittle all over this old man’s huge dick, Steph just had to zoom in the camera. Thank god for the 4k quality, she thought, dipping her shakily desperate hand under her waistband. She sunk two fingers into her pussy as she watched how Catwoman’s spit flew everywhere everytime her lips reached the base of his cock. His beefy fingers ran through her short black hair. Both women wished it was longer. Carlton was perfectly happy the way it is. All three of them could see that big hands did indeed mean big dick.

Selina was beginning to feel something was off. She had a sort of cat sense, and right now, it told her that she was being watched. That was usually a bad thing, but right now, with her throat all stuffed with dick and lips dripping with molasses-like spit, she hoped she was being watched.

She was proud of this. She hoped whoever was watching her get blacked the third day in a row was feeling as good as she was. Besides, if she did anything about it, that’d just mean she’d have to wait longer to cum on a big black cock. Or feel it shoot all over her tits. Or cum in her ass. Or just keep having this black monster force her tongue down and her uvula up. Any of those would make it worth it.

So Catwoman and Spoiler, neither in their costumes or even knowing the other was aware of their presence, reached a mutual understanding. Selina would enjoy all the pleasures of sucking, fucking, cumming, and squirting on Carlton Duquesne’s deep black manhood. And Stephanie would get to spend her work time fingering her cunt to a live, real interracial scene. No actors. Every drop of hot cum and warm spit was as real as the juice on Steph’s own fingers.

Speaking of cum, Carlton’s balls tightened further and his rod came to full attention, making Selina gag and choke. She felt like he was going to rip her throat open and her lily white jawbone apart as his whole penis swelled, charging up for a massive blast of cum.

He shot his load down her throat. It was a massive load, fitting for a foot-long monster on one of the most powerful bosses in the city. It felt like a gallon of thick, gloopy cum forcing itself down her throat. Her eyes bugged out with tears. She had always loved that, when guys choked her, but she never knew she could really choke on a fat fucking cock until she downed this one. It felt like some shots blasted his creamy seed right into her stomach. She quickly gulped down whatever didn’t, until her stomach was churning with a massive meal. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday, as she was on the run. She was hornier than she was hungry, though. She never expected both to be satisfied at once.

Her eyes widened again as she realized what was happening. She was cumming!

She came right as he did. And without it even going near her favorite holes.

That never happened. Well, it might have with the two black guys before, but she couldn’t remember those well, after they had fucked her silly. Still, it was an overwhelming orgasm, hot pussy juice squirting all over the floor, making Selina try and yell with his huge cock still jammed insider her mouth, “MM!! MMM!!!! FCKKKK!! FFFFKKKK!!!”

This was all a very different experience. It wasn’t random, like the other two fucks she had with Batwing and Black Spider. Those were random. She didn’t expect those. This was planned, she came in here with a plan to get a big black cock fucking her, when she was safe and sober. She didn’t even talk to the guy. She’d bantered with every guy she fucked since she first became a hooker almost twenty years ago. Well, except Batman, but she tried to have him let up his ‘strong silent type’ thing.

The point was, this was when things changed. Selina knew what she would never stop being a horny little slut for black cock. This was the next chapter of her life- the street rat Selina, the prostitute Selina, the famous criminal Selina, and now, the Blacked Selina. The wet, hot, dripping whore couldn’t be happier.

She collapsed from her kneeling position Her bare thighs slid on the tile floor that she covered with her wet cum and she landed on her ass. His scarily big black cock emerged from her mouth still hard and ready for more. The dark brown skin of his body was pitch black on his spit-soaked dick, strands of the mess sticking to Selina’s limp, addicted lips. They curled into a smile.

“What the fuck?!” Yelled Stephanie, kicking her legs down onto the floor. Her bottoms were only a tiny bit down, so the soft skin of her thighs muffined over the band and her blonde pubes, soaked with pussy juice, were barely visible, “You fucking suck his dick once and when he shoots his load in you, you squirt like a fucking fifteen your old all over the floor and pass out like some coke addict whore? All from a fucking BJ?! What lame shit is this? I can’t cum to this!”

She paused her complaining to hear Tim mumble on the other end of the line, “I can hear you.”

She sighed. “Do you want me to just mute you, or keep going? I’m trying to enjoy myself here, and I promise I’ll make it up to you when you come home. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t mute, I might need your help if I find something.”

“Yeah, I know babe. Now lemme keep watching- and save the footage, you should watch it later.” He

didn’t respond. That was why she loved him so much.

She stripped off her bottoms, the top of it all soaked anyways from sweat and her syrupy cunt juices. The purple leggings tossed to the side, she was free to spread her legs as far as she liked while leaning back in the chair that was far bigger than her.

Carlton had been speaking to Selina. Before Steph started watching, he’d asked, “Did you really just cum that hard?”

“F..fuck yeah d- uh, Carlton. I swear I don’t normally cum when just giving head.”

“I hoped not. I thought Catwoman would be a better bed than some virgin schoolgirl.”

“Have you- fucked virgin schoolgirls before?” Asked Selina. By pure coincidence, she thought of Stephanie Brown, miss 15 and pregnant.

“Can’t confirm or deny,” Carl smiled, showing off one gold tooth.

Selina got up, rubbing her smooth, shaky legs, covered in cum and gross juices that she absolutely loved, all over his expensive suit. He didn’t care. He’d just have his maids wash them. If they asked what happened, he’d fuck them too. Hell, he’d fuck them either way. Carlton Duquesne did whatever he wanted.

She ran her hand up his sweaty, hair, bulky body. The idea of him fucking some slutty highschooler, because of some mob debt or some deal or just because she knew a good fuck when she saw one, was impossibly hot to her. By the time her long, curvy body stood all the way up, a drop of horny, hot pussy juice fell to the floor from her dripping cunt.

“You want more?”

“Fuck yeah. Make me your whore.”

“I’ll make sure to get you a luxury suite if you make me cum real good.”

“Mmmm,” she rubbed her plump white ass over the base of his cock, slinging the huge rod all around her sexy butt. Its length dwarfed her behind, its fat head easily sitting on the small of her back. “Fuck my pussy and my ass. I’ll make you cum twice- in each.”

Carlton slapped her ass and grinned ear to ear.

By the time it was over, his cum was all over his desk, her juice was all over his suit, and Stephanie’s squirting was all over the batcomputer. Between the three of them, Carlton’s big black cock had caused at least a dozen orgasms. And Tim hadn’t even watched the video yet.

#bbc #story #interracial

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m00nslippers · 5 years

Text

Everyone Crushing on Jason 2

Today is my birthday, and I’ve got a present for you all! It’s chapter 2 of the ECoJ AU! Later tonight I’m going to post the first on AO3 under the title Jay-Crazy, then a few days later I will add this chapter tow it and then all future chapters will be simulposted. So I hope you all enjoy this slice of complete crack.

If you missed Chapter 1, it’s here.

- - -

“Holy shit, who is that?” Hal demanded of Barry, jabbing his friend with his elbow to get the hero's attention.

They were in the Watchtower Satellite after routing a poorly orchestrated alien invasion attempt. Even compared to the usual morons that thought they could conquer Earth despite it's super-powered protectors, it had been especially inept and the whole endeavor had barely made it to the ground. Martian Manhunter, Cyborg and the Watchtower scanners had detected the alien vessels quickly and, once hostility was ascertained, the satellite and vacuum-hardy heroes like the Kryptonians and Lanterns lit their asses up. A small force managed to slip by their attacks and make it to the Earth, but according to MM, a hastily dispatched contingent of available JLA members mopped them up easily enough. Hal hadn't heard any of the reports, was actively avoiding them to be honest, but everyone seemed to have come out of the incident alright except the bad guys, so he'd say everyone in participation had earned a beer, especially himself for being a front-line badass. Too bad he was stuck on the Watchtower until the all-clear went through.

He and Barry had just managed to dodge an after-action report with ugh Batman and were loitering in the infirmary—partly because Barry suggested they should be around in case anyone needed more hands with the injured, but mostly because Hal had found out the Bat was allergic to medical care—when Hal's eyes had zoned-in like a laser on the most exquisite pair of tits he'd ever seen on a man.

Jesus that chest was toned! Hal didn't know what kind of exorcize gave a guy pecs developed enough to spill out of your hand, but this guy was doing them and clearly never skipped. Hal was damn near hypnotized as he watched the man strip out of thigh holsters and shrug out of black reinforced-Kevlar body armor that zipped up from the back, revealing a body like a battle axe, hard, cut and stacked, shoulders broad and muscular. The man's legs were insane, his thighs were bigger than Hal's head! He looked like he could dead-lift Hal with one hand and Hal was suddenly wishing the guy would try.

Hal had pretty much been sold before he managed to take in the full package, but lighting on the guy's face Hal realized he was young, in his early to mid twenties, and almost painfully good-looking, even with the domino mask obscuring his eyes. His hair was dark and had a hint of a wave, longer on the top of his head and short at the sides, and at his temple was an interesting streak of white. His face was long and he had a wide, dynamic mouth that was on the verge of a snarl as he argued something with—oh, hey, Nightwing! Damn, he'd been so distracted with the view that he somehow missed that Nightwing, AKA the best ass in the entire vigilante community, was trying to stitch up a nasty three-inch gash in the mystery man's side that should have curbed Hal's arousal but somehow just made him hotter. Yeah, Hal liked the battle-worn and sweaty look all of a sudden.

Barry squinted where Hal was staring (he assumes, Hal refused to look away from those drool-worthy abs, squeezable pecs and powerful arms and back muscles that had him drooling a puddle on the infirmary floor). Luckily his friend had an answer for him because Hal needed a name to put to that amazing piece of real estate ripe for the tapping that had presented itself before him.

Barry's voice was incredulous as he answered, “That's Red Hood. You know, the guy we all voted into the JLA two nights ago?”

Eh, Hal never paid attention at those things. “Remind me, will you?”

“Gotham Vigilante. Like Nightwing, he used to be Robin. He was a bit of a villain until a few years ago, but he's cleaned up his act and Batman vouched for him—which is all information you should know if you listened at the meetings,” Barry complained. “Don't tell me you voted for someone without knowing anything about them again, Hal...”

Hal tore his gaze away from the smoking hot Red Hood so he could roll his eyes at Barry. “Does it really matter? You listen to the boring stuff and look into all these people and I just vote what you vote.”

Barry sighed, wearily shaking his head. “Hal, that's not--”

Hal raised his fingers to Barry's lips and cut his friend off mid-sentence. “Shh—Daddy's on the prowl,” he whispered and bobbed his eyebrows suggestively.

The speedster's wince was clearly communicated despite his mask as he shoved Hal's hand away from his mouth. “Please don't let me ever hear you refer to yourself as 'Daddy' again, Hal. I'm begging you.”

Hal smirked and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Begging me, huh? Don't let Iris hear about this, she'll be jealous.”

“Why are we friends again? I can't say anything to you,” Barry mused, covering his face in embarrassment, ready to phase through the floor to disappear from the conversation.

“Don't know, but here is where I leave you, pal.” Hal gave a lazy two-fingered salute and grinned. “I've got a pair of pants to get into or die trying—and the pants don't belong to me!”

“I don't even know what to say...” he heard Barry profess as Hal smoothed his hair and strode confidently across the infirmary floor to where his future—Boyfriend? Sex friend? Morning regret? He'd take what he could get, honestly—had an arm resting on Nightwing's back while the other vigilante was underneath it, bent over his side, putting stitches into the long red gash across the man's ribs. And honestly it spoke to the power, or maybe just the novelty, of his new obsession that he wasn't drifting behind Nightwing to get a view of his fantastic booty, but was marching straight up to Red Hood, ignoring Nightwing almost entirely.

But no sooner had he stepped up to the plate then Guy Goddamn Gardner stepped out in front of him with his dumb red hair and his cocksure strut, cutting off his path.

“Hey, is that your jacket, there? Looks nice,” his rival Lantern said, nodding to a brown leather jacket laying on the medical cot next to Red Hood.

Guy's head blocked his view as he raised a brow in disbelief. 'Hey, is that your jacket, there'? 'Looks nice'? What kind of opening line was that? The hell was Guy playing at?

The Red Hood looked up from where he'd been scowling at the floor—damn, his scowl was mean, it was freaking hot—to eye Guy with the confused incredulity such a stupid ice-breaker deserved.

“Uh, thanks?” Hood said, sounding confused as to why anyone was talking to him, which was vaguely adorable to Hal for some reason. “'s kinda breezy, though. Gotta few bullets holes I haven't patched up yet.”

Hal thought he was going to melt into the floor. Shit, even Red Hood's voice was hot. On the deeper end of baritone with a street-sounding drawl Hal had only ever heard in movies because most people didn't actually have accents that strong.

Gotham vigilante, huh? He sure sounded like it. Hal usually had a 'no Bats' policy when it came to pretty much everything in his life he could manage, but this guy seemed different, more chill, more down to Earth than the usual Bat—or maybe Hal was just making excuses to justify sucking face with the guy. Whatever, he wasn't about to question it. The dick wants what the dick wants.

“Yeah, I used to do the whole leather jacket biker-schtick,” Guy said, his usual cockiness leaking into his tone as he flipped up the collar to his vest as if he actually thought he looked cool emulating a 60s greaser. He pointed a thumb at himself with pride as he said, “I incorporated it into my Lantern uniform and everything. It's a one of a kind style in the corps.” Hal could hear the attempt at a smolder in Guy's voice as it dropped half an octave and he praised, “I bet it doesn't look as good on me as it does on you, though.”

Red Hood's expression slanted into bafflement, mind clearly whirring as he processed the words spoken to him, turning them over every which way before hitting on the realization that he'd just been hit on. All at once Red Hood's cheeks blushed pink and he reached a hand up to tug through his hair anxiously, almost as if he wasn't used to people pulling out corny one-liners trying to get his attention and he had no idea what to do about it. It was so damn cute that Hal's brain momentarily ceased to function. Hal was stunned, amazed, incredibly turned on. What the hell, how does someone who looked like they could punch a hole in a car door, no powers necessary, and shoot you without remorse, look that sweet and innocent? It would be wrong if it wasn't so sexy.

Crap, he couldn’t let this go on. Hal had to get in there and break this up or he was going to be shown up by freaking Guy Gardner of all people, and that was something he simply couldn’t allow, especially when someone this good-looking was on the line.

“Okay, move over Horatio, the real Green Lantern has arrived,” Hal said, reaching out to physically maneuvered Guy out of his way before the other Lantern realized what was happening. Taking advantage of the opening, Hal swooped in to his place in front of the delectable Red Hood, whose eyes flicked from Guy to Hal and back quickly, with the almost creepy assessing intelligence that Gotham vigilante's were known for.

Hal offered a hand and his most dazzling smile. “Hi, Red Hood? I'm Hal Jordan, AKA Green Lantern, AKA Earth's first and best Green Lantern, AKA one of the JLA's founding members. I hear you just got accepted into the league, congrats! I bet you'll be a worthy addiction—I mean, addition, around here. Maybe after Wings finishes fixing you up I could show you around? I know all the best spots to avoid Batman.”

The Red Hood didn't take his hand but his mouth stretched into a lop-sided grin, a thing of brightness with a hint of mischief that had Hal going weak in the knees and he didn't know what he said to get said smile but damn was he going to enjoy it. Red Hood snorted in amusement. “'All the best spots to avoid Batman', huh? Maybe I'll take you up on tha—ow!”

Red Hood scowled down at Nightwing who was glaring at the Red Hood's wound as he tied off his stitches. “Oops,” he deadpanned, sliding his disapproving gaze Hal's way. Hal narrowed his eyes back, not sure when the guy had put on that party-pooper bat-look Hal hated, but now he suddenly couldn’t forget the other vigilante had worn the cowl of his greatest rival, world-class busybody Bruce Wayne. He'd always liked Nightwing better in the role of the big bat—he was more laid back, he cracked jokes even if they were mostly stupid puns—but he might have to reassess that opinion. Apparently Nightwing had picked up a thing or two from his mentor. Specifically, how to make Hal feel like scum for breathing.

Hal opened his mouth to ask Nightwing why he was here and what his relationship even was with Red Hood, but before he could confront his potential cockblock, Guy grabbed Hal by the arm and dragged him away to the corner of the room with a mumbled, “Excuse us, guys...” as Hal complained, “Hey, easy on the goods there, Guy!”

As soon as they were out of ear-shot, Guy rounded on Hal with fury in his face. His usually pale complexion was flushed red with anger and embarrassment, twin to his fiery red hair.

Guy shoved Hal hard enough to rock him back on his heels, whisper-shouting, “What the hell, Jordan! Why you gotta butt into my business?”

Hal scoffed. “Your business? No no no, I let you have first crack, but now it's my turn.”

Guy snorted and got in his face, as if he actually thought he could back down the GL Corps original 'man without fear' with his inadequate self. Please, Guy wasn't even close to his level. “You didn't let me do anything, Jordan. I saw him first and you just shoved your way in, like an asshole!”

Hal threw up his hands, unrepentant. “Hey, the man has a right to make his own choices, and clearly the better choice is yours truly. I'm just presenting him the option of my amazing self.”

Guy looked ready to strangle him with his bare hands, which was pretty typical of the man. “Why do you always have to be number one, huh Jordan?” he demanded and an edge of pleading entered his voice that put a momentary damper on Hal's sense of entitlement. “I might have found my soulmate here, why can't you just let me have this?”

Hal frowned, suddenly uncertain. Did Guy know Red Hood previously and have some relationship with him Hal didn't know? Was there some connection between the two that Hal was selfishly getting in the middle of?

“Soulmate?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding his fellow Lantern with skeptical but open ears. “You think Red Hood is the one, huh? What makes you think that?”

Guy's face turned dreamy-eyed and dopey as he explained, “I saw him right-hook an alien in the jaw, take the goon's own gun and blast his face off in a quarter of a second, then back-flip off a car and detonate an explosion that wiped out a landing craft. I fell in love instantly Hal, this is the real deal, man!”

Oh, so he didn't have a connection, Guy was just being typical Guy.

Hal rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “He's not your soul-mate, you just saw him do something badass and now your smitten!”

“Well you just saw him take off his shirt and now your smitten,” Guy countered with a snarl, “At least my reason isn't superficial!”

Hey, physical attraction was usually the first step to a relationship, or so he'd heard somewhere. It was human nature to see a hot body and go after it. “There's nothing wrong with—”

“Hey!” Hal heard as someone snapped their fingers in front of his nose and he looked over to see another fellow Lantern, Kyle Rayner, gracing both of his predecessors with something like irritated disbelief. “Are you two seriously fighting over Jason Todd of all people?”

“So his name is 'Jason Todd'?” Guy perked up, voice soft, “I love it. It just perfectly captures his, like, his everything, and—”

Hal shook his head. “Words are not your strong suit Guy, just stop.” Please.

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his Green Lantern's mask, wearing a pained look as he said, “Okay, let's just put on hold the absurdity that is anyone thinking that dickhead Todd is attractive enough to pursue despite his garbage fire of a personality--”

“Woah, that's a bit harsh Rayner,” Hal said with a raised eyebrow, taken aback by the fierceness of Kyle's insult. What the heck? The kid was usually so nice. What did he have against the other man, how did he even know him?

“—aside from all the obvious reasons Todd is a bad idea,” Kyle went on, ignoring him. “If you're really interested, then you guys have way bigger problems than each other.”

Guy crossed his arms and tilted his head in question. “The heck are you talking about?”

Kyle jerked a thumb behind him and Hal looked over his shoulder to find the object of his and Guy's affections, Red Hood, one Jason Todd, was crowded by no less than Supergirl, Superboy, Booster Gold, Arsenal and Starfire, as Nightwing and Orphan hovered nearby like stodgy nannies. Kara had actually latched onto one of Red Hood's arms like a leach and was pressing her breasts against the man's biceps as she covertly ran her eyes all over him, no doubt putting her Kryptonian x-ray vision to good use (so unfair). Superboy—the older one, Kent's kinda-clone, not his kid—was trying to shove Kara out of the way and insert himself into the conversation, but the girl was clinging fast and refused to let go. Booster Gold was yacking and gesticulating, trying to draw attention to himself, but Red Hood seemed to be ignoring him in favor of chatting with Green Arrow's old partner and the Tamaranean princess who were looking way too friendly, with Starfire's hand on his shoulder and Arsenal poking at his ribs, as Red Hood swatted back.

“What the hell is this?” Hal demanded, the unfairness of it all pissing him off. “We were there first, come on!”

“I was there first,” Guy corrected and clicked his tongue angrily. “Man, this is freaking bullshit. This is all your fault, Jordan!”

Hal huffed, indignant. “My fault? You're the one who dragged us away! If you hadn't we—”

“Seriously guys, don't fight over the Red Hood. He's the worst,” Kyle spat with an uncharacteristic vehemence. “He thinks with his gun instead of his head and he's a broody goth-nerd lone-wolf-wannabe who he doesn't know when to quit!”

Guy's face screwed up in confusion. “What's your angle here, Kyle? You're just making him sound hotter.”

Kyle put a hand on Guy's shoulder, inviting him to listen closely as he explained, “Look, he's not hot—I mean, yeah he is, he's like crazy hot—but he's not, trust me.”

Guy looked like his brain was struggling to keep up with Kyle's non-logic. Actually, Hal's was too. “You are making no sense,” Hal informed the kid.

Kyle didn't look especially bothered. “Just don't fight, okay? Seriously, I'll sic John on you.”

Oh, not John Stewart-stick-in-the-mud! He'd shut down their whole operation like the by-the-book buzzkill he was! Damn, when did Rayner get so bitter? The kid was still in his twenties but he was already old and jaded and wise to he and Guy's ways.

“Woah, calm down,” Hal said evenly, as if soothing a potential jumper away from the edge. “We don't need to get John involved. We're cool, right Guy?”

Guy was a bit closer to John than Hal was, so he wasn't sure if the other Lantern would back his play on keeping the third Lantern out of it, but Guy also seemed to realize they needed to think smart here.

“Yeah, we can act civil about this. Probably,” Guy said, fluttering his lashes innocently.

Okay, 'smart' was relative.

Kyle rolled his eyes, not in the least sorry that he was trying to ruin their day with a lecture from John about GL solidarity and keeping your mind out of the gutter, or whatever rules the architect-ex-Marine followed to keep his nose so damn clean.

“Yeah, sure you can,” was Kyle's skeptical retort. The younger man rolled his shoulders wearily and finally seemed to let up on the oppressive tone. “Well, I'm out of here—they sent out the all-clear, no casualties, so I'm flying to my apartment to crash.”

“Okay, goodnight, I guess. Good work out there,” Hal said by way of a goodbye.

The younger Lantern smiled back, suddenly more himself. “Thanks. You guys too.” As he started to walk away Kyle hesitated and stabbed a finger their way, saying, “And if you take my advice you'll stay away from Todd.”

With that, Kyle set off toward the door, only pausing as he walked passed Red Hood and his accumulated admirers to sling a snarky, “Not dead yet, asshole? Shame.”

Jason immediately reacted, throwing up a middle finger as he tossed out a, “Fuck you, Bitch-Lantern,” that sounded almost playful. “I've already come back once, what makes you think I wouldn't rise up from the grave just to kick your ass?”

Kyle was still walking towards the door, yelling back, “I'd like to see you try, Failure-Robin.”

“Suck a dick, Rayner, I could bend you in half,” Jason retorted easily.

“I've got a piece of alien jewelry that says otherwise.”

“I bet your ring runs out of power before I run out of bullets.”

Kyle huffed. “Pff, whatever.” He turned the corner out the door with a much more friendly, “See ya nerd.”

Red Hood rolled his eyes and flapped a dismissive hand at him. “See ya geek.”

Hal stared wide-eyed and dazed in Kyle's wake. The hell was all that? How the heck did Kyle know Red Hood, Jason Todd? And what was with all the belligerent sexual tension? Did he have to worry about Kyle now too? Damn it, this was getting out of hand!

“That kid's a problem,” Hal muttered darkly.

Guy looked like he had somehow fallen even deeper in love after hearing his crush shout at Kyle to suck a dick. “Shit, this is bad,” he said and Hal wasn't entirely sure what Guy meant by it, but he was also certain that the man was correct.

“I hate to say it, but I agree.” Hal chewed his lip, for the first time beginning to think this wouldn't be an open and shut case of show-up-get-laid. He might actually have to work for his prize. It would probably be worth it, though. God, but he could die happy crushed between those beefy thighs.

“Maybe we should...I don't know, join forces or something,” Guy offered.

Hal frowned. “How would that work?”

Guy raised both brows and pointed at himself with a deprecating chuckle. “You're asking me?”

Of course, what was he thinking? “Good point, um...” Hal thought a moment before he said, “How about...we share information and give each other space to work, but everyone else is the enemy. If either of us land him we back off.”

Guy nodded. “I'm game. Truce?”

“Truce,” Hal answered. They sealed their alliance with a fist bump, ring to ring, and both Lantern rings sparked green briefly. Hal and Guy dropped their hands and moved to regard their competition with zealous scrutiny.

“Right,” Hal said after a moment to strategize. “Now let's get in there. You try to push out Booster and the ex-Titans and I'll take the Supers.”

Guy punched a fist into his hand and grinned, ready for a brawl. “Got it.”

#ECoJ AU #Everyone Crushing on Jason AU #Chapter 2 #Jason Todd #Red Hood #robin #Hal Jordan #Guy Gardner #Kyle Rayner #Green Lantern #dick grayson #Nightwing #JayKyle #JayHal #JayGuy #fanfic #Justice League #crack #jason todd rarepairs

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ltleflrt · 5 years

Note

prompt please: dean/cas panties

Okay so fun fact about this story: This is actually the first seed of an idea that developed into Satin and Sawdust, but I ended up not being able to use the premise for Reasons. I always wanted to do this little meet cute ficlet though, so thanks for giving me an excuse. Also thanks to @pallasperilous for helping me get over the tiny hurdle that I ran into with the plot :D

Working from home means pajamas as a uniform. There’s a lot of advice against it; stuff about “getting into aprofessional mindset” by “dressing like you’re going to the office” and otherbullshit that probably works for others, but Castiel doesn’t subscribe to thosenotions. Especially not before he’s on his third cup of coffee, and eventhen, why dirty another set of clothing? He hates doing laundry.

Of course, he does haveto leave his apartment sometimes. For meetings, or to deliver thefinished product to the office. But for the short trips to the office topick up his mail and deliveries, pajamas are just fine. It’snot like a t-shirt and some Ninja Turtle patterned sleep pants are indecent, oranything.

Not that he cares whatpeople think about how he’s dressed. He’s only on coffee number two, andsocial functioning doesn’t start until halfway through cup three.

He’s more alert thanusual this morning though, even if he isn’t awake enough to justify changinginto normal daytime clothing. A new neighbor has moved in across thehall, and Castiel catches him leaving for work sometimes. The eye candy is almost equal to a third andfourth dose of caffenation. Brown hair, scruff, freckles, and eithergreen or hazel eyes--maybe light brown?--plus a body built to kneel before inworship and supplication… The guy’s practically built to Castiel’s taste.

And oh how he’d like ataste.

Maybe he should startthe caffeine infusion earlier. So he’ll feel fortified enough to start aconversation one of these days instead of just exchanging a smile, a wave, anda quiet hello before they go their separate ways. And he can finally getclose enough to figure out the guy’s true eye color. It would be worth getting up earlier. He’s not a fan of mornings, but he’s a fan ofhot potentially single guys. He can make an exception.

Unfortunately he seemsto have missed the object of his desire this morning. The door across thehall stays firmly closed for the few minutes Castiel lingers, hoping to get hisother morning fix. But he decides it’s just a little too chilly out toloiter any longer, and he heads down to the office to pick up his mail.

There’s three packagesfor him today, and he’s pleasantly surprised because he wasn’t expecting one ofthem for another day or two. That means he can get started on the nextproject earlier than he’d promised. Hecan use the extra time that saves him to stock up a few pre-made things for hisEtsy shop.

He goes over a mentalplan for what kind of crazy sweaters he can design for the shop as he opens theboxes. He smiles as he unpacks the Alpaca yarn, pausing to pet the softgreen. This one is for himself, and hepromises he won’t use it for any commissions this time. He’s got a lovelyscarf in mind, and since the weather is getting cooler, he needs to get startedsoon if he wants to use it this winter.

The second box is fullof regular wool, and he checks to make sure all the colors he requested wereincluded. Last time his order had been short a few hanks, and it had beena huge pain in the ass to get everything straightened out with his supplier. Everything is fine this time though, and he’ll still be on track for hiscurrent projects.

The third box shouldcontain the vegan yarns. Not his favorite to work with, but he respectsthat people choose a lifestyle that requires it, and they still want mittens,scarves, and sweaters. Plus they’re usually okay with paying extra forthe cotton yarn instead of the acrylic. So as long as they’re willing to shell out the cash, he’s willing to knitout the goods.

When he opens the box, hesmiles when he’s greeted with a rainbow of colors and reaches in to pull outthe plastic wrapped skeins. He rips at the plastic, and then hissub-optimally caffeinated brain catches up with reality and he realizes thathe’s not holding yarn at all, but something satiny. Whole cloth, not thematerials to make it.

It’s a pair of panties.

Castiel blinks at thered satin in his hand. “This is not what I ordered.”

He pulls out a few moreplastic wrapped bundles. All panties. What the hell?

Finally he reaches theorder sheet. And when he reads the information printed at the top, horrorcreeps through him. This package wasn’t meant for him. He doesn’t recognize the name, but hedefinitely recognizes the apartment number. It’s for… his new neighbor.

“Oh, no.”

***

Dean is more than readyto get home and relax after the day he’s had. Too many fires to put outat the job site, and feathers to unruffle when he had to advise the client thatthe new timeline they were requesting wouldn’t be tenable. Seriously whatis up with folks agreeing to an estimated finish date, and then wanting it donein half the time? Entitled bastards.

At least it’s Friday,and he shouldn’t be needed for anything for the weekend. He’s going tocozy up to a few beers and the episodes of Doctor Sexy building up in his DVRand relax.

Plus, he’s got a packagewaiting for him that he’s been looking forward to for days. Just thethought of it puts an extra bounce in his step as he locks up his car and headsfor the office.

Ten minutes later, hisgood mood goes up in a puff of metaphorical smoke. The package isn’tactually there.

“Are you sure the emailsaid it was delivered today?” the receptionist asks for the third time.

He waves his smartphoneat her. “Got the delivery notification email right here.”

Her vaguely hopefulexpression crumbles and she shakes her head. “I’m so sorry, it’s reallynot here. I even checked to see if itgot left on someone’s desk instead of in the mail room. There isn’tanything addressed to you.”

Dean sighs and tucks hisphone away. Well there goes part of his weekend plans. And on topof it he has to deal with reporting a lost shipment to the vendor. Funstuff. “Thanks for checking anyway.”

She smilessympathetically. “Have a good evening.”

Despite hisdisappointment about the missing package, his plans aren’t totally ruined. So his smile is mostly genuine. “Thanks, you too.”

A few minutes later helets himself into his apartment, and he leans back against the door and justbreathes for a few seconds. It’s quiet and dark and it’s nice not havinganyone needing his attention. It reallyhad been a rough week, and he feels like he hasn’t had a minute to stand stillfor days. The only bright spots in his week have been the notificationthat his present to himself had been delivered, and the few times he’d caught aglimpse of his hot neighbor across the way.

Those are always gooddays. It’s become something of an obsession for him to see what kind ofwacky pajama bottoms the guy’ll be wearing each time they meet. Dude’sgot quite the collection, ranging from bumble bees, to kittens, to hammers andsaws, to superheroes. Plus he’s fuckingsexy with his sleepy eyes and mumbled greetings. He never quite lookslike he’s all the way awake, but he always greets Dean with a warm smile and adorky little wave that leaves Dean feeling light and bouncy all the way to hiscar.

Maybe when thisconstruction project is done he’ll take a few less intensive jobs. He can seeif his hot neighbor wants to hang out a bit. Even if he’s not into dudes,it would be nice to make a friend in the new place. Dean’s used to having a roommate, but nowthat he’s living on his own, it’s a little lonely in his down time.

“Oh well,” he says intothe empty apartment. “At least I’ve still got Doctor Sexy.”

A light knock betweenhis shoulder blades startles him away from the door. He looks at itsuspiciously for a moment before putting his eye to the peephole to see who’sknocking. When he gets a glimpse of wild dark hair and blue eyes, hejerks back in surprise.

Why is Hot Neighborknocking on his door?

Only one way to find out.

When he opens the door,Hot Neighbor seems startled. He stares up at Dean with wide, very blueeyes, that immediately make Dean’s world fall away for a few seconds.

“Oh,” Hot Neighborbreathes. “Green.”

The non-sequitur bringeverything back. “What?”

“What?” his neighborparrots, squinting in confusion.

Oh no, he’s cute. Dean’s internal monologue sometimes has a knack for stating theobvious. He shakes his head, dislodging the thought and dismissing the previousexchange. “Uh, hi.”

Hot Neighbor shakes hishead too, apparently also needing the mental reset. “Hello,” he says, anddamn his voice is just as sexy when he’s fully awake as it is when he’s sleepy. “You’re Dean, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me. How did you--?” The question cuts off when he realizes that Hot Neighboris holding a box. That’s been opened. “Oh.”

Heat rushes into hischeeks when he realizes that this guy has probably seen what exactly is in thatbox. It’s only slightly reassuring when he also blushes, all the way tohis hairline. At least Dean’s not alonein his mortification.

“Sorry, I picked this upwith my other packages,” his neighbor says, holding the box out to Dean. He clears his throat and smiles. It looks forced. “Your girlfriendhas excellent taste.”

Maybe it’s because he’stired, or maybe it’s shock from the situation, or maybe he’s just a dumbass,but Dean’s mouth opens and the truth comes out. “No, these are for me.”

If the increased heat inhis cheeks is any indication, he’s about to spontaneously combust.

“Oh, um…”His neighbor lifts the box in Dean’s direction again. His smile turns tosomething far more genuine. There’shumor there, but also… maybe interest? “Well, you haveexcellent taste.”

Okay yeah that’sprobably interest.

Dean finally takes thebox, unsure how else to respond to the compliment other than “thanks, man.”

The guy nods and grinsbrightly. “Anyway, uh… have a good evening, Dean.” He does hisdorky little wave and turns back to his own apartment.

Before he can open thedoor, Dean’s brain finally shifts into the correct gear. “Wait, what’syour name?”

Hot Neighbor turns withhis hand on the knob. “Oh, I’m Castiel. Or Cas. People call me Cas.”

“Castiel,” Dean says,relishing the way it feels to say. “I was going to veg out with a beerand some trashy TV. I got a few extrabeers if you’d like a drink.”

HotNeighbor--Castiel--Cas, beams so brightly that Dean’s a little dazzled by it. “Yes, I’d like that.”

Thrilled, Dean stepsaside and gestures for Castiel to come inside. When he shuts the doorbehind them, his eyes fall on Castiel’s ass. Through his admiration of the shapely body he notices that Cas is stillwearing pajamas. They’re covered in Ninja Turtles. “Dude, your pants are awesome.”

Castiel turns and flickshis eyes down at the box in Dean’s hands then meets his eyes. “Yours too.”

“Maybe we can do afashion show for each other some time,” Dean suggests, feeling brave. IfCas was going to be weird about the panties, he wouldn’t be here now, right?

“I think I’d like that very much.”

Oh yeah, they’re goingto get along great.

Unless…

“I’ve got a bunch ofDoctor Sexy on the DVR. That sound okay?”

Castiel practicallyglows with excitement. “It’s my favorite show.”

Dean grins. “Awesome. Have a seat, I’ll getyou that beer after I put these away.”

Yup. Definitelygoing to get along like a house on fire.

#destiel #oops i ficced #au mashup #queenandthree

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vowelspineapple · 5 years

Note

Alex or Justin is insecure about his body and the other one tells him how beautiful he is

I started a long time ago and the story was rotting on my computer.. for what is worth (please keep in mind that english isn’t my first language)

“You look like a fucking angel“

That’s the thing with Justin, he’s in a relationship with Alex for one month and he can’t take it anymore. The boy was champing at the bit since he laid eyes on the blonde. It wasn’t so hard to understand that Justin wanted to get intimate with his boyfriend, he had the right to, but Alex always avoided the subject and escaped his wandering hands. And here he is now, stuck in front of a cup of coffee at Money’s, waiting for his boyfriend to show up for their date. Wild thoughts running through his mind, maybe Alex isn’t so much into him after all. Maybe he was just a pastime or Alex isn’t attracted to him in that way. And that would suck, because Justin was crazy about the blonde, crazy about every little thing, from the way he looked at him when he was being goofy to the way his hand clench at his shirt when they were kissing. He was so smart too, Justin loved that nasty comeback that his boyfriend could have, he basically was in love with Alex, the whole package and he couldn’t quite figure out what did he do wrong.“Justin are you ok ?” asked Alex, startling the brunette who didn’t see him sit down in front of him a minute ago. He recomposed himself quickly, shrugging a little and smiling at Alex with a nod. “So what do you wanna try this time ?” The blonde frowned a little, looking at the menu, his eyes scrolling down the list of beverages. “Hmm I almost finished the menu, and that’s kinda sad actually. But I’ll try the last thing.” Justin looked down at what Alex was showing him, the menu said “hot chocolate with whipped banana cream”. “Seems nice” he said, looking at the blonde once again, his brown eyes drowning in the cold blue ones of Alex, who smiled at him fully, he seemed just so freaking happy and Justin heart skipped a beat. When Alex’s beverage was here, the two boys started talking about everything: school, how Monty was a dumb ass, school again, Justin’s practice, Alex’s dad. “He won’t be at home this week, though” said Alex while finishing the last drop of chocolate. “Why ?” asked the brunette, always eager to go to his boyfriend home when his dad wasn’t around. That would mean they could cuddle on Alex’s bed and Justin wouldn’t have to leave at night. It wasn’t like Alex’s dad wasn’t ok with their relationship, he was just that kind of parent that doesn’t want teenagers fooling around under their roof. Not like there is much fooling around anyway, thought Justin bitterly. “He’s working on some creepy murder case, and he doesn’t spend much time at home.” Alex reached for Justin’s hand, taking it gently “So .. wanna go home with me and spend a good night in a real bed ?” he asked with a smirk, almost teasing. But Justin knew nothing will happen.

They were walking toward Alex’s home, the night was falling on the city, a thin cloak of darkness which awakes the lights. It was that kind of night, Justin thought to himself, that kind of night or everything feels right. The wide smile on Alex’s face, the shard of light in his eyes, his cheek stained with the softest pink in the world, everything felt right.

Alex opened the door, both laughing about a joke Justin said. They were holding hands, Alex dragging Justin inside, locking the door. They went to the living room, Justin collapses on the coach while Alex opens the fridge to take out something to eat. “Alex” “yeah ?” “come here .. “

They watched a movie, something Justin can’t remember, too busy watching Alex blond hair, and Alex nose. They kissed once or twice during the film when Alex went up to take something to drink for the both of them. The screen was black, the film ended a while ago. Justin was laying on his back, Alex on him, kissing his nose, his hair, or just looking at him with his blue eyes. The blond was getting comfortable on Justin’s laps when suddenly the sportive decided to stand up, holding him behind his legs while Alex reached for his neck, afraid to fall, he just melted with Justin cuddling like he was a koala on a branch. Justin walked upstairs, while Alex was smiling softly on the curve of his neck.

He entered Alex’s room, putting Alex down on the undone bed. The blond laid down, pulling Justin with him. The brunet fell onto him, an amused expression written on his features. They kissed a couple of times, each kiss getting a little more intense than the previous one. “Alex ..”“Could you shut the fuck up for once and just kiss me ?” Alex responded, not in the mood for talking. He’d rather kiss his boyfriend right now, his lips capturing Justin one’s. While Justin thong explored inside the mouth of the blond, the jock started to pull off his shirt, breaking the kiss only to remove it entirely. His hand traveling on the body under him, feeling through the clothes, until his hands went under Alex’s shirt, trying to take it off gently. “Stop.” Said Alex breaking the heated kiss Justin was giving him. “Fuck .. Foley stop it.” Grunted the blond shoving Justin to get up quickly. He was standing, his lips harbouring a sexy reddish colour. Justin stayed still catching his breath, turning himself to face Alex, who was now looking at him from the opposite side of the room. And, the sight was quite breathtaking, Alex’s face blushed by some kind of embarrassment. But Justin couldn’t take it, not this time, he wanted to know why Alex was always stopping things. His body craving for some south contact. “What’s the problem Standall ? You’re not interested in me, that’s it ? Or you just don’t want sex ? I’m fucking tired of having a boyfriend so hot, and I can’t even fuck him !” said Justin a bit more hard toned that he had intended. Alex frowned, his mouth twisted in anger. “Oh I’m sorry Foley! I’m sorry if I’m not your little bitch. You know what … go fuck yourself!”

Silence filled the room after Alex burst of anger, Justin looking a little off, not expecting the blond to be so easily riled. “Hey” he said softly, extending out his hand like if he was calming a wild animal. “I just wanna know why that’s all .. If you’re not into all that sex stuff, it’s fine.” Alex sighed, closing his eyes for a while before saying “It’s not that it’s just .. like look at you Justin” he gestured to Justin’s naked torso “You’re perfect and hot and all that and I’m just .. just a bag of bones and ..” The blond didn’t finish that sentence, too mortified while Justin was standing up slowly, a dumbfounded look on his face. The brunette so wanted to kick his own ass for being so stupid, how the fuck did he not realise that Alex was just being insecure? Justin was so done with his own stupidity, thinking that he let Alex feeling so poorly about himself while he was parading shirtless almost all the time, and he never noticed anything. Alex was also good at pretending to be fine, to Justin’s defence. Justin walked slowly to his embarrassed boyfriend, slowly taking his hands into his. “Hey, look at me..” Alex gaze was grounded to the floor. He only looked up when Justin’s finger found his place under the blond’s chin and forced him to look at the brunette in the eye. They stayed like this, in the complete silence, for a while, a minute or thirty, they couldn’t have told. “Alex, you’re perfect” whispered Justin and when Alex tried to protest, he continued “no, listen to me. I don’t care that you don’t have a six pack, I don’t care that you’re slim and your hipbones are showing, because you look breathtaking to me, no matter what.” While speaking, he proceeded to remove slowly Alex’s shirt, the blond letting him, too focused on his words to start a fight about it. Once the cloth hits the floor, Justin broke the eye contact he was holding, his gaze drifting to the upper body displayed in front of him. An infinite land of white skin, almost porcelain, waiting to be kissed, to be touch, spreads in front of him. His eyes locked once more with Alex’s “I swear Alex, you’re beautiful” His finger traced an invisible pattern on the blond stomach, making the blond hair dress up on Alex’s arms. “I don’t care that you don’t look like me, because you look like you, and damn Alex.. what a sight.” The other boy’s cheek coloured in red at the words “Ok Jus, stop it you’re over doing it.” Justin just pushed his body forward, trapping Alex between him and the room’s wall. “I’m not”, a smile spreads on his lips, “you look like a fucking angel” his lips brushed the neck now unveiled, at his mercy “and I’ve never been so hard in my life” he added pressing his hips into the other boy to prove his point.

#justalex #justlex #fanfic #justin x alex #13rw #thirteen reasons why #justin foley #alex standall #justin foley x alex standall #gay #short #prompt #kinda cute #fluffy sexy #justinalex

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mf-despair-queen · 6 years

Text

From Dusk Till Dawn - Part 1 - Mitch Rapp

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 9,087

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Unprotected Sex, Oral (Female Receiving), Sexy Finger Sucking, Neck Kisses, Multiple Orgasms, relatively loving sex

Notes: Long awaited. I hope you like it. Please send me love and/or end my life for what happens

Prologue | Part 2

You were surrounded by darkness, the black abyss stretching far beyond the horizon. Your body ached as your floated in the nothingness around you, lungs throbbing and begging for fresh air. No matter how many times you opened your mouth, nothing helped, the feeling of being submerged washing over you. Your tired eyes failed to open, a weight atop them keeping them closed.

Am I dead?

You finally forced your eyes open slowly, staring into the blank space around you. There was not an ounce of life around you; you were alone. Your body wouldn’t move, refusing to budge from the lifeless state you were in.

I’m dead. This is how it ends.

Your eyes closed for a split second, a bright light beginning to twinkle on the other side of your eyelids. When your orbs fluttered open once more, you saw a figure surrounded by the light, their face unrecognizable. Their hand extended towards you, as if gesturing you towards them.

Is that you…? It can’t be. You left. You’re dead. Or… are you welcoming me to my hell so I can be in your arms again?

Your fingers twitched, muscles burning and screaming as your reached towards the hand, urging your body forward in the black space. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, your eyes widening as you closed in on the figure. You were drawn to it - or him, maybe? Even from this distance, you felt whole, the frozen heart you had developed over many years melted into a puddle. You willed yourself forward, the figure clearing up the closer you got. Your eyes widened, your body warming with completeness at the man before you.

It’s you…

The second your hand met his, your world went black again.

You rolled onto your side, coughing up the water that was filled your lungs, taking deep breaths of the air around you. You heaved fiercely, droplets of waters dripping from your lips onto the tile floor, purging every bit of liquid that you had swallowed. Your body shivered from the cold air, arms weak as you tried to push yourself up.You were clad in just a black shirt, the cotton clinging to your body, nipples poking upwards in the wet fabric. Your legs rubbed together to try and generate heat, no pants or underwear to shield your nethers from the night air.

You heard shuffling against the floor, foggy eyes taking a second to focus on the man against the wall. Mitch Rapp sat with his head in his hands, fingers running through his fluffy, slightly curled chocolate locks. Bits of water dripped down his bare torso and arms, a solemn look on his face. It took a moment to remember what had happened, but you sighed when it clicked. He drowned me… you told yourself, sitting up slowly. You assumed the water was because of holding you under and your constant flailing and your heart sunk at the nearly nude man in front of you, looking more than distraught despite his occupation. Your lips tingled as you stared at the disheveled man, his lips slightly swollen and failing to be hidden from his downcast gaze. But he also saved me...

“Mitch…” you whispered, the man’s partially red eyes upturning at you. His veins hands gripped harder at his hair before moving along his jaw, scratching at the scruff on his cheeks and chin, fingers unconsciously tracing over the constellation of moles he had littering his skin. You frowned at the man, unsure what to say.

He shifted against the wall, knees bent as he stared you down. His arms moved to rest on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. He pursed his lips together into a tight line, eyes a dull shade of brown. “Just tell me the truth. Please,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am,” you replied, unable to look him in the eye. You ran your fingers through your hair, wringing some of the water from it. “My name is Y/N, and I am a prostitute that was hired by Sharif Hamdi while he was doing business in Istanbul.”

“That doesn’t tell me shit,” he growled slightly, his conjoined hands tightening until his knuckles were white. “How do you know about this guy named Ghost? How do you know about Rome? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Mitch…”

“Just tell me, Y/N!” he yelled, fist finally colliding with the wall behind him, a dent left in its wake. “Please. I need to know. I… I need to.”

You bit at your lip, finally looking up at him. The assassin looks slightly fragile - something you hadn’t seen since he showed up in the hotel room. But the look on his face was familiar to you and you wanted nothing more than to make it go away, holding him close and telling him everything would be ok.

“I’ve been in Istanbul for a while now,” you told him, Mitch looking up at you slowly. You kept your gaze on the ground, your fingers playing with the wet shirt you wore. “I was just trying to make a living. I couldn’t get a job, I had no money, and I couldn’t keep playing people just to get by, day by day. So I did what I could…”

“You resorted to prostitution?” he asked, looking for the confirmation he already knew he would get.

“It’s the only thing I knew I could do,” you admitted to him. “I’ve done it for years, Mitch. When I met Mecnun… I pleaded for him to give me a job. He only brought me in because of the man I was with before coming to Istanbul. That was the day Sharif requested someone. That someone was me.” You paused, licking your lips slowly. “Mecnun mentioned that Sharif was in town doing business with some man named Ghost.”

Mitch looked up, his eyes narrowing. “Really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know what that meant, but when you came in and killed Sharif, saying he was a terrorist, I kind of figured that you would be going after him next. If Sharif was doing business with him, that means this Ghost man has something he shouldn’t, right?”

“That’s quite deductive,” Mitch mumbled.

“I’ve always been told I’ve been smart for my age,” you told him. “I told someone to hurry and kill me when I was ten because if he were to escape before the police showed up, he couldn’t leave me alive.”

“Fuck,” Mitch mumbled. “That’s intense.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle, seeing the ghost of a smile appear on Mitch’s cheeks. “So they say,” you joked. “It just makes sense that if Sharif is some terrorist that was making some deal or exchange with this man they call Ghost, you would be going after the man he was in cahoots with. He got away, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Mitch mumbled. “Killed the other member of our team and took off with some… package. Hurley wouldn’t tell me what it is. At the time, Hurley just that we would know when we see it. Since he took off before we could stop him, there’s no way of telling what he got.”

“Something bad, I assume,” you said, Mitch chuckling under his breath.

“Just a little bad,” he hummed. “What about Rome? I never said anything to you about Rome.”

You took a shaky breath, fighting back tears. “Look. I-I didn’t want to seem like I was eavesdropping when you guys were talking, alright? But when that lady… Irene, I think, and Hurley were leaving, I faintly heard something about some bank account in Rome that they were tracking movement on.”

“Did they?” He questioned quietly. He thought back to his superiors’ departure, their low mumbles as they passed through the house to the front door. It wasn’t impossible that you could hear them as they were out of his own earshot.

“I-I think so,” you stuttered out, visibly shaking in the cold air. “I don’t know what it’s all about and maybe I was wrong. But you mentioned having to go somewhere tomorrow, right? You’re going to meet them? So you’re going after the bad man that got away. And he has something to do with this bank account, right?” Mitch didn’t answer, making you head drop. “I get it. You won’t tell me and for good reason, I’m sure. I’m just a lowly prostitute and you’re… this badass assassin. I probably shouldn’t even be alive right now.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I know too much,” you muttered. “I don’t know what this guy has or what you’re doing in Roe, but if you are going to join your team, you should dispose of me, right?”

Mitch watched you closely before standing from the ground, disappearing out the door. You blinked after him, confusion on your face. The man returned a minute later, a dry shirt and boxers in hand. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing,” he said lowly, holding them out. “Get changed and we will talk more in the bedroom.”

“Why?”

Mitch knew what you were asking, the single why having multiple questions buzzing behind it. Why was he helping you, giving you warm clothes? Why was he so calm? But most of all, why wasn’t he killing you?

“You’re innocent,” he said, glancing back at you to watch you change out of the wet shirt, bare breasts aking his mouth water, your hard nipples putting a strain on his boxer briefs. He scratched at his stubbled jaw, leaning on the doorframe. “I’m not here to kill innocent people. I joined the CIA to kill terrorists so people didn’t have to suffer the way I have.”

He walked away before you could question him further, forcing you to stumble after him on cold, semi-numb legs. “Then what are you going to do with me?”

“That’s… negotiable right now,” he stated, opening the bedroom door to let you in. He gestured to the bed, silently telling you to sit, no questions asked. You complied without a word, staring at the bare-chested assassin. “Irene and Hurley were going to decide what to do based on what you know. You know a bit-” you face fell slightly, Mitch seeing the fear in your eyes, “-but I don’t think you know enough. A few mentions here and there and very interesting deductive reasoning skills led you to know more than you should, but you don’t know what the package was, right?”

“No.”

“Who is Ghost?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why is he going to Rome?”

“I don’t know, Mitch,” you told him repeatedly. “Whatever he is using money in that bank account for is what you are after. Whatever the package he acquired is, that’s what you are after. But I can’t help you. Sharif told me nothing. Mecnun told me nothing. I never met this Ghost character! I can’t tell you what he looks like. I can’t tell you what he needed or what Sharif was giving him. I just hear his name, stayed in that hotel and wasn’t allowed to touch anything or speak to anyone.”

Mitch pursed his lips, crouching on the ground in front of you. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew about Ghost anyway?” He asked, his strained voice dropping an octave, trying to relax your anxious being. He took your hand, your hands lacing together instinctively. “Why didn’t you just tell me all of that straight out?”

“I…” you started, a few tears slipping down your face. “I didn’t want you to think I was involved. I barely know anything and I was afraid that if I said I knew even one thing, you would think I knew it all. Or,” you swallowed thickly, shaking your head to clear your eyes of the tears. “You would torture me. Kill me. I don’t know. I was scared to tell you because I didn’t want you to judge me.”

Mitch sighed, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’d never hurt you,” he said. “I just wish you would have told me before…” He went silent unable to admit the treacherous action he had done. “I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” you told him. “I get why you did it. It was all my fault.”

“No it wasn’t,” he told you. “I don’t know why, but… I feel very strongly about you. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I want to see you happy, Y/N. But, when you mentioned Ghost and Rome, I lost it. I thought you had lied to me.”

“Well, I did lie,” you pointed out, squeezing his hand. “Just not what you thought I was lying about. I told you I didn’t know anything, Mitch. But I knew the few things Mecnun had mentioned. I heard Irene and Stan talking about that bank account in Rome. I don’t know more, but I told you I knew nothing.”

“I’m still sorry,” he sighed, the stone-hearted man, resting his head on your lap, your fingers lacing in his hair. You smiled at him, your heart rapidly hammering against your chest. It had been forever since you felt like this - needed, warm, full, complete. Mitch warmed your heart and made you happy, even though you had only been with him for a few hours. The feeling was new yet familiar, the look in his eyes something from the past but the color of the future. It was unnatural to feel so close to him - to feel a love for him already - but you gladly welcomed it.

“I’m sorry too,” you told him, Mitch lifting his head from your lap to look up at you. Your fingers dusted along his jaw, tracing the outline of his lips. “For lying to you. I know I hurt you and I don’t want that, Mitch. I should have just told you. But why would you believe me? I’m just…”

“A prostitute,” he frowned. “That doesn’t define you, you know. You are way more than that, and I wouldn’t judge you because of your occupation.”

“I know,” you whispered under your breath. Your fingers pressed to his lips, Mitch taking a short moment to kiss the tips tenderly. You smiled, shifting slightly atop the bed, your body craving more from him. “You know, I can totally make it up to you, Mitch.”

“What?” he wondered aloud.

You carefully tilted his chin up to look at your fully, fingers tracing his stubbled yet chiseled jawline. “I said I could make it up to you. I know I hurt you and that was never my intention. So, let me make it up to you.”

“How do you plan on doing that?’” he asked. You just smiled at him, your hands running down his bare arms until they were at his hands, giving them a light tug as an indication to stand. His forehead wrinkled slightly as he did so, his form towering over your small stature. “Y/N?”

“Let me do what I do best,” you hummed quietly, releasing his hands to palm at his groin, cock semi-hard in his boxer briefs. Mitch bit into his lip to suppress his moan, mouth parting to try and utter anything that came to mind. “Just let me please you and make up for for everything. Let me please you as a way to apologize.”

“Y/N-”

He couldn’t finish his thought when you pulled him down onto the bed, his back hitting the plush cushion and bouncing slightly. You propped yourself on your elbow on his side, hand dipping into his boxer briefs to properly fondle his growing erection. Your eyes locked with his before you leant forward, connecting your lips to his. Your eyes fluttered closed instantly, a spark between your lips igniting a fire deep inside you. It was the same spark you felt when he ‘punished’ you for not telling him what you knew or when you swallowed every drop of his essence in the car ride to Romania.

The same spark that made you feel complete inside.

Your lips dragged against his, the sound of smacking lips filling the room, Mitch’s low, breathy moans following when your lips disconnected for the briefest moment. Even though you were trying to please him, his lips found a way to control the pace and ferocity of the kiss, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip until your lips could part and his tongue could slip inside for not so pure actions. The wet article traced along your cheeks, memorizing every inch of the inside of your mouth, even though he had spent plenty of time inside it already, before it swirled with your own tongue, playfully messing with each other. His hand moved to the back of your head, threading through your locks to keep you pressed into his face, ignoring the way your teeth clashed or your noses bumped from the contact.

Your hand inside his boxer briefs gripped him firmly, stroking his shaft as it elongated and hardened in your hold. Your thumb casually swiped over the tip, feeling him twitch in your hold as you smeared the precum that seeped out fromt he slit around the head, your mouth watering slightly in the middle of the kiss. His moans reverberated in his throat, his hips bucking upwards slightly as if to tell you he wanted more. The material around him restricted your movements much to your dismay and you struggled to pull yourself free, trying to push the material down his legs. You were growing desperate, kisses growing sloppy before they started trailing along his jaw to his neck and chest.

“Wait, wait,” he groaned out, the word almost jumbled. His hand hastily moved to your own, stopping you from trying to remove his boxers. You blinked in confusion, astounded that he had stopped you when you were mere moments away from giving him a handjob and a blowjob. You lifted yourself from his chest, eyes meeting his whiskey ones. “I just…”

“What?” you asked, frowning at him. “Don’t you want this? We’ve fucked before, Mitch. I thought you’d like my lips around your cock again.”

“I would,” he muttered, sitting up on the bed. You followed his lead, watching the assassin run his hand through his hair, the chocolate locks flopping and curling in various directions in their fluffy goodness. “But I just have to know one thing.”

“What is that, Mitch?”

The man pursed his lips, eyes darting to you occasionally as he tried to string together his thoughts. Part of him wasn’t sure why he stopped you. He should be elated to have a beautiful girl willingly sucking his off, especially one he was highly attracted to. The first girl he had been with since Katrina, the same girl that made him feel things stronger than Katrina even though he barely knew her, and he was turning her away. And for what?

“Why are you doing this?”

You cocked your head at him, brow knitting together. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you a prostitute?” He continued.

You stared at him, shock written all over your face. “W-what?”

“You said you would make it up to me by doing what you do best. You mentioned that it was all you knew you could do. That you’ve done it for years. But why?” He asked. “Why is this your life?”

“Because it is all I know, Mitch,” you sighed, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt. “The man that killed my family… he took me in.”

“Your family was killed?” he asked, watching you nod. “That’s when you told the man to kill you then?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “It was kill or be killed, in a way. Either I die with the rest of my family, or I work for him. Sure, I was ten when he took me in, but he taught me how to be… me. I started fully when I turned eighteen. He taught me how to use people for my advantage. For eight years, he drilled into me these principals of prostitution and what to do to get what I wanted and when he thought I was ready and, as he said, a ‘woman’, he allowed to me use those skills. Though, he kept me pretty close and didn’t really let me sleep with anyone. I was mostly used to lure people in and they were left with other prostitutes that worked for him. But…”

“You did anyway,” he said, voice falling lightly. You could have sworn you heard the sound of his heart breaking inside his chest, your own heart cracking.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “He was… um…” You hesitated slightly, Mitch risking the chance of taking your hand in his for support. “He was different, I guess you could say.”

“You loved him,” Mitch mumbled.

You sighed, squeezing his hand. “I did,” you told him, knowing it was hurting him to hear these things. “I didn’t mean to fall for him, but I did. He showed up randomly and Crowe didn’t want me to help him, but he was injured. Badly. And things just seemed to escalate from there. He showed up once or twice a month for two years. And over that time, I was the only one he saw. And he was the only one I saw.”

“You slept with him.”

“Multiple times,” you admitted, Mitch letting out a long sigh.

“Is he the reason you aren’t with that guy now?” Mitch pondered. “Or why you came to Istanbul? Why didn’t he save you from that lifestyle?”

“No,” you sniffled, rubbing at your eyes slightly. “He disappeared one day and never came back.”

“Did he die?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Most likely. When he showed up injured and asking for help, he mentioned he was a street fighter. I thought he wanted to stop though because he got better. No more cuts or bruises. Just scars to remind him of that life. I guess when he stopped showing up, he went back to that life and the fighting got the best of him finally. When he never came back, I figured he was gone for good. I just kind of felt it. I knew he was long gone and I was alone again.” You paused, looking back up at Mitch. “You know, the look in your eyes is the same as his.”

“What look?” Mitch asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Determination, passion, endurance. There is this ferocity in your eyes that tells me you have a drive to complete whatever you put your mind to,” you revealed to the male assassin. “But there is a hint of compassion as well. You can love and you want to be loved. You desire happiness just as much as you want to protect those close to you.”

“I doubt that,” he said, a small smile gracing his lips.

“No, you do,” you told him, lacing your fingers together. “Maybe that’s why I feel so strongly for you already. There’s something about you, Mitch, that I can’t put my finger on. There is something about you that makes me feel… special and unique and wanted. And I can’t explain why I’m drawn to you or why I like you as much as I do. But I am. I really like you, Mitch.”

“Like?”

You knew what he was talking about. I love you, Mitch. You vaguely remembered uttering those words as he held you under the water, your world darkening. “I don’t know,” you told him. “I probably said it in the midst of the moment. It’s too early to say if I do love you.” Right? “But that’s not saying I can’t love you. I just… I don’t know.”

“You still have feelings for this guy from your past, don’t you?” He asked, catching your nod from the corner of his eye. “I get it. I really do.The moment I saw you huddled in the corner in that hotel room, my heart stopped. The world around me stopped. And the only time that has ever happened was when I was with Katrina.”

“Who is Katrina?” You asked him.

“She was my girlfriend,” he said, voice breaking slightly. “My fiance. She was killed almost two years ago in Spain when some terrorists landed on the beach and shot up the place. She died right in front of my eyes not even minutes after I proposed to her.”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Mitch.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he hummed. “It led me here, didn’t it? If she never died, I wouldn’t have joined the CIA. I wouldn’t have come to Istanbul. I wouldn’t have met you. I can’t say that I don’t love her anymore because I do still love her to some extent. She was my world and that just doesn’t leave. I would give anything to have her back. So I understand why you still care about this guy. I just don’t get it.” He licked his lips slowly, scratching his scruff. “Why do I feel so strongly for you? We barely know each other. I feel split between my past love and your potential love. It’s hard to describe.”

“Love at first sight?” you joked, Mitch’s face never changing. “Maybe we’re just two messed up people in this messed up world.”

“I guess so,” Mitch agreed, chucking lightly. “You know, you never really answered my question. Why are you still doing this?”

“Well, Crowe died when I was twenty-one and I was left to kind of wander and fend for myself. And I just did what I could do to survive. What else can I say? Why do you care, Mitch? I’m a fucking prostitute and that’s all I ever will be. I sleep with guys for money.”

“But that’s not true,” he sighed. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened to you. Your family dying, your lover most likely dying. I get it. My parents died when I was fourteen. They died in a car crash in Tunisia. I told you about Katrina and losing her. I know what it feels like to lose the people closest to you. But, I don’t get why you are still doing this. Sure, you did it for what, eleven years? But you are a million times more than just a prostitute. You could anything you wanted with your life now because you are amazing. The guy died so you can do whatever it is you want with your life. But you’re still doing this?”

“Mitch, I…” you started, failing to finish your thought in one fluid statement.

“I may be out of place saying this, but you’re wasting your potential,” he said. “You are way more than you admit you are. And I wish you could see that. You say all you are is a prostitute, and maybe that was true in the past. But you are amazing and I wish you could see that. I hate that you lived like that.” He paused, biting on his lip. He tilted your head to look at him fully, his eyes meeting yours. His eyes sparkled in the dim lighting of the room, emotion he tried to hide evident in his beautifully golden orbs. “I hate that you are still living like that.”

“It’s fine, Mitch,” you whispered, inching towards him unconsciously. “If it wasn’t a prostitute, I wouldn’t have met you. I should be thankful because it brought us together.”

“You know you’re more than a whore, right?” he asked once, pushing some loose, wet hairs behind your ear. “You can be happy and do whatever you want. I can make sure you are safe and get the life you deserve.”

“If it means I can be with you, I would go with you anywhere,” you hummed.

Mitch leaned forward to connect your lips, both of you falling back on the bed. Your head hit the pillows, Mitch straddling your body with ease without breaking the connection he initiated. You mewled into him, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers lacing through the hair on the back of his head. His hands pushed the hem of the shirt you wore up, playing with the elastic lining of the boxers he leant you. Your tongues tangled together in perfect harmony, swirling together between your cheeks. Your lips dragged against each other passionately, the smacking of lips resounding around the room from each disconnection and reconnection.

He broke away long enough to pull you up, stripping the shirt over your head. He eyed your form for a second before dropping you back onto the bed, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck to your chest. You missed the feeling of his lips on yours but the second they wrapped around your nipple instead, you whimpered loudly, find your way back to his hair to tug at his lusciously smooth locks. His name slipped from your lips, Mitch tugging at the nipple with his lips, kissing relentlessly at the hard peak. His long digits grasped the other carefully, palming it between his fingers. His lips lavishly ravished your breast, listening to your countless moans whenever he pulled at the bud, nibbling on it, and flicking his tongue across it in different directions.

“Mitch,” you mewled at in, back arching into his body. You tugged more at his hair, Mitch releasing your current nipple with a pop and moving to the other, repeating the same process. “More.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed seductively, kissing at every inch of your chest. “You don’t realize how beautiful you are, do you? Guys want you for your sexiness, but they should be embracing your beauty. Mind, body and soul.”

“Stop trying to flatter me,” you whined, clenching your eyes shut at the pleasure that rolled through your body. Your heart warmed when he chuckled against your chest, slowly moving down your stomach to the lining of the boxers you had on.

“It’s not flattery when it’s true,” he said, kissing along the elastic band. “I’m going to show you that you are more than a prostitute. You are amazing and, if you’ll let me, I will take you back to Virginia and show you that you can do more than this.”

“Why?” you asked him. “I don’t have a clean past, Mitch.”

“Neither do I,” he hummed as he looked up at you, referring to his current occupation. “But I don’t care. I don’t care that you’ve spelt with other people because of what you do for money, even if it’s just one guy. I don’t care that you lied to me about this man named Ghost and him meeting with Sharif. I will talk to Irene and Stan about that and we will make sure you are safe and taken care of. I won’t let them harm you.”

“You’re too good to me, Mitch,” you sighed. “I don’t need you to help me like this. I can manage.”

“I want to help you,” he hummed. “I want to see you happy because you deserve it.”

He didn’t allow you to respond, tugging the boxers down your legs and dropping them over the side of the bed. He tenderly pushed your legs apart, licking his lips once before he dipped down, sliding his tongue through your folds.

“Oh God,” you moaned, back arching off the bed. Your fingers gathered the blankets in your fists, Mitch’s restless kisses and licks at your folds and clit tightening a knot inside you. “Fuck, Mitch. Just like that.”

“You liked that?” he mused, wrapping his lips around your clit and tugging it lightly to hear to moan again. He glanced up through his lashes to watch you nod your head rapidly, practically begging him for more. “Moan for me than, baby. I love hearing my name from your lips.

Flashes of your events earlier that evening ran through your mind, hearing the assassin between your legs telling you to scream his name countless times so all of Romania knew who was pleasing you - who was inside you. His name bubbled from your core to your throat, threatening to release already. The scratching of his stubble against your thighs and core didn’t help that feeling, a normally uncomfortable feeling being one of ecstasy instead. Your body was flaming hot from the contact, the assassin lavishly licking at your core.

His tongue dipped into your pussy, swirling in circles. He scruff on his upper lip scraped pleasurably at your clit, your head falling back into the bed. “Shit, Mitch,” you whimpered his name. He held an obvious grin against your nethers, the circling of his tongue inside you speeding up. His low, throaty groan vibrated you, your body twitching when the tip of the wet article inside you skimmed against you sweet spot at the same time. You had never felt that good, and that's saying something after what had happened with the same man mere hours prior.

He pulled away with a low pop, his lips puckered together, doused in your arousal. They instantly moved to wrap around your clit, tugging at the swollen nub with his lips before the tongue darted out, flicking it left and right. You withered and writhed under his hand, Mitch having to bring is hands to your hips to keep you still. Your moans grew louder, hands moving from the bed to your chest, palming at your breasts to stimulate yourself and increasing the pleasure you felt from his restless assault on your pussy and clit.

While his tongue and lips focused on your engorged nub of a clitoris, two fingers suck back inside you, letting out a nearly inaudible sloshing sound when his fingers curled into the wet hole. His thrusts started slow, gradually speeding up to match the pace of his mouth against your clit. His partially untrimmed nails, only dulled recently by constant nail biting from his training with Stan Hurley, scratched at your sensitive walls until they hit your sweet spot,your body shaking in bliss. The digits spread you wide when he pulled out, coming back together to slip easily back inside you.

Your walls wrapped around his fingers, signally you were close. Mitch’s ears perked up at the sound of your labored breathing, your squirming against his hold increasing. His fingers disappeared from inside you, replaced shortly thereafter by his tongue once more, feverishing licking at your aching pussy, urging you to your climax. You whimpered his name to his delight, his hum against your folds telling you to cum without true words. Your right hand slid down your chest and stomach to his hair, giving the tendrils one harsh tug mied with your loud moans. Your hips bucked against his chiseled jawline, walls trying to cling to his tongue as you came on it. Juices leaked from inside you, dripping onto his tongue like a waterfall, the man happily lapping at the sweet arousal you offered him without a second thought. The assassin felt himself harden more than before from the delicious taste, your juices stimulating not just his taste buds.

He pulled himself from between your legs when your visibly relaxed into the bed, chest heaving from the orgasm he had given you. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he sat back on his legs, licking his lips slowly and tauntingly, his beard sparkling with untouched arousal. He carefully eyed his fingers, the digits too glistening from your juices, his tongue poking out at the ready. Before his fingers could reach his lips to savor the last bit of your juices, you caught his wrist, stopping him.

Sitting up, your eyes locked on his whiskey brown ones, never deterring from his hardened gaze His pupils dilated, orbs flicking from your hand wrapped around his wrist to your lips and finally back to your eyes. He never tried to break the staredown, watching you every move with utter silence. You licked your lips slowly, drawing his hand closer to you, taking the two arousal-coated fingers into your mouth, your tongue swishing around them carefully. Mitch’s head tilted as he watched you closely, fidgeting in his spot. You moaned around his fingers, ignoring the off taste of yourself on his skin. You stared directly into his eyes, watching the range of emotions he felt for you.

You pulled from his fingers slowly, a small string of saliva connecting your lips to the tips of his digits, your lips slightly parted. The assassin’s eyes flashed a dark color, his hand taking yours and kissing each fingertip before lacing them with his, leaning forward to connect your lips to his. You let your eyes close finally, pushing yourself closer to him even though he put his free hand to the back of your head, nails digging into your hair and skull. Your tongues playfully battling, both tasting similarly of your core. His mouth dominated yours with ease, lips dragging along yours as he kissed at you desperately, breaking for small bursts of air with a small smack before dipping forward again. Your noses brushed against each other, your heads tilting in opposite directions to allow maximum connection.

The man before you - the man you were slowly falling for - laid you back slowly, returning to hovering over you, his muscled arms flexing to support his weight. Your fingers ran along the veins in his arms, wrapping your small, dainty hands around his bulging biceps. He groaned against your lips, disconnecting long enough to utter, “I want to fuck you. I need to fuck you. I need to be inside you, Y/N.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” you asked, ruffling his locks slightly, pushing them off his forehead. “Show me how good I can feel.”

Mitch nodded quickly, struggling to kick his boxer briefs off his legs without moving off of you completely. He cock sprung free from its confines, slapping his stomach before coming to a rest between your bodies, throbbing and pulsing against your folds. He didn’t care where the black material landed. He focused on rolling his hips against yours, grinding his ever-growing erection against your moist, aching core. You mewled quietly, bucking upwards at him in return, quietly begging him to please you.

He hips rolled backwards, the tip prodding at your pussy once before slipping inside, filling you in one swift shot, his cock hilt deep inside you. You moaned for him, keeping one hand laced with his and the other arm slinging loosely around his neck. Mitch’s head buried into your neck, wordlessly rocking himself into you, his cock slipping free from your core before digging itself deep inside you again. His lips ghosted over the skin of your neck and shoulder, small kisses matching the gentle thrusts he started with.

“More, Mitch,” you whimpered lowly, tugging at his hair. “I need more. Please.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, never moving from your neck. You nodded once, a sharp sting in your neck when he nipped at it, his body moving harder and faster against your at a quick but steady rate. Slapping hips against hips resounded around the small room, Mitch’s thrusts growing harder, faster and more desperate. His cock pistoned in and out of you quickly, the tip finding your sweet spot with each thrust, the shaft pulsing against your tight walls. The kisses he place to your neck got harder to match his furious thrusting, countless marks littering your skin.

“Oh, God, Mitch. Just like that,” you moaned into his ear, arching into him completely. Your nails raked down his bare back, red marks joining any he had developed earlier in the night, Your legs wrapped around his waist loosely, heels bouncing against his perfectly round asscheeks with each powerful thrust he gave you. “More, please. Fuck, I need you, Mitch.”

“God, I love you,” he mumbled lowly, your heart stopping. It had been years since you heard those words, and Mitch wasn’t entirely sure why nor was he fully aware that he said those three words to you. But you weren’t disregarding the way it made you feel. It wasn’t the way his cock pounded into your pussy, hitting your sweet spot every time and rubbing your walls, or the way his lips ravished your neck that made your stomach knot up tightly, your breathing staggering inside you. It was those words that topped the ecstasy charts, your stomach churning with happiness and bliss.

Your walls clung to his entire length, his cock filling you to the brim as you came around him, juices soaking into the skin of his shaft. His thrusts never relented, only getting smoother with the increased moisture. Your toes curled into his backside, legs hugging him close. Your head fell back into the pillows, drawing out a loud moan that was solely consisting of his name. Mitch had to stop sucking at your neck to keep his composure, feeling you hugging him closely, your bodies chest to chest, hearts in sync. Your hand tightened around his, knuckles white from the pressure but his returned the gesture just as much.

He came to a stop, your eyes fluttering open in confusion. You were about to question when he shifted position, his cock never leaving your pussy as he leaned back on his knees, lifting your back off the bed. You were perched in his lap, damp hair falling in your face as you looked down at him, the position you found yourself in perching you atop him. Your legs still wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass to keep upright. His hand disconnected from yours, both moving to your back to keep you against him. Our arms went around his neck, Mitch’s head buried in the valley of your breasts, taking a single second to glance up at you.

His hips awkwardly thrust upward, the angle giving you a new sensation. Even in the odd position, Mitch knew how to hit amazing spots, finding your sweetest spots each time. He bucked up into you, your body bouncing against along his enter length. It was almost the same sensation as if you were riding him, bouncing eagerly against his cock; just, this was a million times better. You whimpered at him, the man speeding up his constant thrusts, pounding into you at God-like speeds.

His lips found your breast, ravishing the nipple without compromising his thrusts. Your fingers threaded through his hair, head falling back slightly as you tugged at the dark chocolate tendrils. They scraped against his scalp, leading down his shoulders and back, feeling his shoulder blades and strong back muscles tense under your touch. The man never moved from your chest, only breaking from the nipple to move to the other without warning.

When he finally pulled away with a distinct pop, he looked up at you, your eyes locking together. His lips curled upwards slightly, his sparkling eyes never leaning yours before leaning up, smashing his lips against yours. Your own eyes fluttered shut, returning the kiss with equal vigor and passion, your body rolling against his to match his pacing. You stayed like that, tongues gently caressing each other and lips fitting perfectly together like two jigsaw pieces, bodies meshed into one unit, his cock hitting every spot inside you that made you see stars behind your eyelids. Your moans vibrated each other’s throats, thrusts growing needy and sloppy.

He broke the kiss for a gasp of air, his cock sputtering inside you, twitching against your tight walls that hugged him completely. He placed one final chaste kiss to your lips before resting his forehead on your shoulder, your head digging into his hair. Streams of white spewed from the tip, his seed spilling into you in massive waves and loud groans. You whimpered and mewled at the feeling, his warmth spreading from your core to your entire body, burning the knot inside you to nothing. Your juices splattered against your walls, your body clinging desperately to the assassin as you spill around him, juices mixing into one inside you. His thrusts upwards slowed to a gentle push, your bodies relaxing against each other, simultaneous orgasms washing through your systems.

He carefully laid you back against the bed, pulling from you as you twitched and shook from the orgasm. He rolled off the bed, stumbling on shaky legs as he trotted to the bathroom, returning with a warm cloth to clean your body. He cleaned himself quickly as well, dropping the towel to the floor and collapsing next to you on the bed with a loud but happy sigh. You rolled towards him the second his body hit the mattress, snuggling against him. His arm was behind your shoulders, pulling you into his side. His lips pressed to your forehead, returning his gaze to the ceiling after a moment.

“What was his name?” Mitch asked softly after a moment of silence, hugging you closer as you relaxed against his chest, taking the time to catch your breath from your vigorous activities.

“Whose?”

Mitch stayed silent upon your response, trying to decide who he was truly asking about. The man that dragged you into this horrid lifestyle? Or, the man that you potentially still loved and kept you from Mitch’s reach. He took a deep, silent breath before taking the plunge, answering, “The man that did this to you.”

“Did this to me?” you asked, looking up at him. His eyes were glued to the ceiling, but he nodded regardless. “Crowe. His name was Ragnor Crowe. He was the… pimp, I guess is the way to put it, that killed my family and took me away to London. He is the reason I sold my soul to prostitution.”

Mitch wanted to ask about your past lover, his curiosity growing to know the name of the man that ruined your life and your love, never saving you from the hell you grew up in. He scorned this man and didn’t know his name. But before he could gather the courage to ask, his phone rang from the bedside table, a groan from his throat instead. He waved around blindly for the device, finally grabbing it around the fifth ring. His thumb ran along the green button without looking at who was calling, pressing it to his ear.

“This is Rapp.”

“That’s not how we answer,” Hurley’s gruff voice came through, Mitch flinching slightly. You looked at him in confusion, as he moved you from his chest, rolling off the bed in search of pants.

“Sorry, sir,” he mumbled. “What can I do for you?”

“I have your instructions for the morning. Are you alone?”

Mitch glanced at you, his eyes telling you enough. “I’ll go fetch some water or something,” you whispered so Hurley couldn’t hear you. Mitch nodded, watching your bare body slide off the bed, waddling your way from the room and out of his sight. Even as you padded your way across the room in slight pain, perky breasts free with hardened nipples and legs covered in a mixture of yours and his dripping arousal, he found you beyond gorgeous. And the fact that you didn’t bother to dress yourself as your stretched your arms up, easing your aching muscles and cracking bones, giving him a full view of your body before leaving, his cock was growing hard once more.

“Are you listening, Rapp?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Please go on.”

You returned a few minutes later, a glass of water in hand for the assassin. Mitch was sat on the bed, phone in hand, the call seeming to have just ended. He glanced up at you wandered in, adjusting his hard cock in the shorts he pulled on while he talked to Stan before you sat beside him, handing him the glass.

“What did he want?” you asked.

“You know I’m not supposed to tell you, right?” Mitch joked, taking a sip of the water. You giggled at him, wrapping your arms around his, hugging his muscled bicep and tracing your fingers along his veiny skin. “I am going to Rome in the morning and we are planning to stake out the bank the money is coming from.”

“For what?” You asked again. “What would this Ghost guy possibly need a bank account for?”

“Apparently some nuclear physicist,” Mitch said.

You perked up slightly. “Nuclear physicist? That sounds cool.”

“Not when the physicist is helping build a bomb,” he mumbled.

“Oh,” you hummed lowly. “Is that what he got away with?”

“No,” Mitch told you. “Whatever he got from Sharif is helping him build the bomb though. So, we are going to intercept his plan and nab the physicist he’s planning to use for his plan. And, hopefully, we can get him in the process that way I can get my revenge for him killing Victor.”

Mitch’s fist tightened, his knuckles turning white. You carefully took his hand between yours, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re going to break the glass in your hand if you keep that up.”

“Sorry,” he whispered, sipping the water again.

“So, where in Rome are you headed? I’ve always wanted to go so I’m curious. Maybe you can take pictures while you are there.”

“Who says you aren’t coming with me?”

“I kind of assume your boss won’t let me tag along when you’re tracking some nuclear physicist,” you laughed.

“Well, you’re right,” he said sadly. “While I’m on a plane to Piazza Navona, Rome, you are on a plane back to Langley. Irene will send someone to pick you up and take care of you until we get back. You might be on lockdown for a bit, but once I am back, I will make sure you get out of there and find a proper life.”

“Piazza Navona?”

“Yeah. The bank is there that the money is sitting in. Banca Rugerio, I think is what Stan said? He didn’t tell me much more than that. I’m hoping I can get more information from him while we are there, though I hope we get this guy before anything else happens.”

“I believe in you, Mitch,” you told him, pressing your lips to his cheek. You unwound yourself from his arm, standing from the bed. “And, I’m sorry.”

Mitch’s brow furrowed, his forehead wrinkling. “Sorry? For what?”

“For what I did,” you told him, finding his jeans and digging out his wallet.

“What are you doing?” he growled, attempting to stand. His vision blurred the second he stood up, the glass in his hand dropping to the ground and shattering. He wobbled slightly, trying to catch himself before he fell. “What the fuck?”

“I am just going to take this now,” you hummed, waving a wad of cash in the air. It was spare money Stan had given him just in case of an emergency and they weren’t together.

“What the hell are you doing?” he uttered, his words slurring together. His mind was growing fuzzy, his body growing drowsy. He sat back on the bed, his head bobbing. “What did you do?”

“I can’t change who I am,” you told him. “I’m a prostitute and this is my pay for all the times we’ve fucked.”

“You fucking bitch,” he grumbled lowly, trying to push himself up and failing.

“I told you I’m sorry,” you sighed. “But I can’t go with you right now. I appreciate all your kind words, Mitch. They really do mean the world to me. You mean the world to me. But, I am who I am. I’m sorry.”

“You fucking used me,” he growled, finally pushing off the bed. But his weakened state only stumbled forward, collapsing on the ground away from the glass. He tried to push himself off the ground, but he failed, his words slurring more often. “You used me for information. Why?”

“No reason,” you told him, dropping his wallet on his jeans. “I’ll just take my pay and go now. But, next time you need a good time, Mitchy Boo, hit me up.”

“Fuck you,” he snarled, crawling forward slightly. “I will fucking kill you.”

You frowned, kneeling in front of him. “No, you won’t,” you told him. “And know this. I never meant to hurt you, Mitch. I’m doing what I have to. It’s my job.”

“No,” he huffed. “You’re more than this. More than a prostitute.”

“I know I am,” you whispered, the man finally drifting off, the drug in his system finally taking effect. “And hopefully one day, you will understand that I’m doing what I must.” Your fingers ran through his hair, running down his stubbled jaw. “I really am sorry. But this is who I am.”

You stood from your spot, grabbing a pillow and blanket from the bed, placing the pillow under his head and covering his body. Rummaging through his bag, your found a blank shirt and athletic shorts you could throw on until you could buy fresh clothes, shrugging on one of his leather jackets. You sighed when the smell of his cologne wafted to your nose, his clothes covered in his aroma. You smiled slightly, hugging the jacket closer around your frame before looking back down at the man.

“I’m sorry,” you said one finally time, leaning over his body to place a kiss to his cheek. “I… I’m sure I do love you, Mitch. It was spur of the moment, but it feels right to say. And I’m sorry I can’t let you love me back. My job would never let me us happen.”

You disappeared from the room, grabbing the sedatives you left in the kitchen, having found them in one of the bags Stan left for Mitch. Pocketing them, you made sure you had everything you needed, leaving the small safe house cottage. Your heart broke slightly as you looked back at the house, knowing you were leaving such a perfect man. A man that made you feel like more than a person. He made you feel complete.

“No,” you whispered to yourself, shaking away the tears. “You can’t feel for him like this. Stay focused on your job.” You sighed, letting one tear slip, biting your lip as you walked away. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, Mitch.”

And there you were, walking away into the dark dusk of the night, leaving the light behind you.

Until we meet again, Mitch Rapp.

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taeinmycup · 6 years

Text

Happy Birthday, Taehyung (M)

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Warnings: yeah.... it’s just 5.5k words full of filthy smut don’t read it if you... don’t read smut.

Words: 5.5k

You surprise Taehyung with an ‘oh so lovely’ birthday gift, and what could be a better surprise than you yourself; wrapped in nothing else but a single red ribbon.

A/N: i...... cannot believe i actually wrote this for tae’s bday hskgajkghjkshgjk. i got inspired by a tweet about this piece of clothing. anyways taehyung, happy birthday!! i love u and i hope you don’t ever read this asdfghjkl

You take the small, but tight wrapped package out of the mailman’s hands, feeling your cheeks getting burnt as your mind seems to remember what the content of this package was supposed to be. You cannot help to feel a bit ashamed all of a sudden – although the oblivious mailman in front of you only wanted you to take the package quickly, so that he could move on to his delivery address. Seeing the frown on his middle-aged face and his impatient posture, you assume that he must love his job very much. NOT.

“Please sign here, miss,” the mailman tells you, handing you a device on which you are supposed to confirm the package has arrived at your house. You silently thank the mailman for delivering your package, before you quickly close your front door. However, you did not miss the man’s irritated grunt, but he walked away before you could throw back a remark.

You put the package down on the salon table in the middle of your living room, eying it down for a couple of seconds before checking your watch. 5:50 PM. You rub your palms in a nervous manner as you realize your husband would come home in less than an hour, and for the last time, you go through your plan in your head thoroughly – somehow not believing that you are actually doing this.

Three weeks ago, when you and Taehyung were wandering around the streets randomly – just enjoying the fresh winter breeze in general – the two of you stumbled upon a new sex shop three streets next to your favourite restaurant. You remember Taehyung’s glistening eyes and his cocky smirk as he eyed a particular clothing wrapped around a mannequin displayed behind the store’s window.

“It would be nice if you could surprise me with that on my birthday, love.” You remember his words as if it was yesterday, and the chills down your spine that came with it as he whispered these words in your ear. As soon as you laid your eyes around the exposed clothing, you immediately disregarded the idea in your head. You would rather throw yourself of a cliff than wearing such type of clothing. You were not even sure you could call it ‘clothing’ – since it was basically just a red ribbon wrapped around the chest area and a little bit around the intimate part down there.

You and Taehyung had many similarities, which was why the two of you are going strong for almost four years now. However, your sexual preferences are not part of the similarities – which was made clear with Taehyung’s suggestion three weeks ago. You simply prefer soft, vanilla sex – while Taehyung… tends to go for the more extreme actions. To your luck, the two of you never went any further than a belt and a Gucci tie – which you are happy about, but you cannot help but feel bad for Taehyung. After all, he always complies to your wishes – telling you that he does not mind the soft, innocent-like sex – but you know that he is always up for a level higher.

Which is why you’re eying the brown, small package in front of you on the salon table once again, for once wanting to grant Taehyung’s wishes, instead of him granting yours.

After all, it is his birthday today.

With your semi-trembling hands, you pick up the package, before darting to your bedroom in a quick pace – as if you were afraid to get caught after doing a bad deed, but you know that it does not make sense at all, since you are all alone at home.

You close the door – a bit too loud to your preference – and you get a scissor from a random drawer in your desk. With a deep breath, you sit down on the bed you shared with Taehyung, before opening the package carefully. A short breath hitches in your throat after the package is unwrapped completely, the bright shade of red catching your eye in a second. Unconsciously, you stroke the satin ribbon with your fingertips, unable to believe that it will be wrapped around your naked body in less than an hour.

Fuck, you needed to hurry up.

You get out of your comfortable clothes with ease, the beat of your heart rapidly increasing with every piece of clothing that you disregard. As your naked body comes in contact with a random cool breeze, you cannot help but feel a small shiver go down your spine. You then pick up the red ribbon with your hands, scanning it quickly with your eyes moving up and down – mentally preparing yourself.

It takes you quite a few minutes to wrap the ribbon around your body correctly – a small number of curses escaping your lips unconsciously in the process of putting it on – but you eventually manage to do it. Biting down your bottom lip, you look in the mirror to get a glimpse of your reflection, honestly not feeling less naked than the moment before you had put on the red ribbon. However, as you eye your reflection, you suddenly understand why Taehyung loves… these kinds of things.

You looked fucking hot.

You let your hands go wander through your frame – from your boobs (where you can see the ribbon being tied up in a bow) down to your stomach. Although you were not a huge fan of this, you really have to admit that the ribbon fits you well. It manages to make you feel sexy for the very first time in your life.

You take one last glimpse at your reflection, before walking away from your mirror, only to put on your satin robe – since your house felt really chill with only a satin ribbon wrapped around your body. As you check the time, you find out that it took you exactly fifteen minutes to get ready, so you have a little more than thirty minutes to prepare yourself mentally for Taehyung’s birthday ‘surprise’, before he would come home.

To get some distraction, you do some cleaning, since that needed to happen as well. You and Taehyung were so busy these days that whole weeks went by without cleaning the house thoroughly, but you do not realize this until you do the cleaning – instant regrets seeping into you in a fast pace. It takes you a rough twenty minutes – and practically half of your energy – to do the dishes and to vacuum the living room, and you make a mental note to yourself to clean the rest of the house on the next day. Surprisingly enough, you were not too uncomfortable to do the cleaning with a single ribbon wrapped around your frame – which you are happy about, of course.

You have ten minutes to regain your breath and energy before Taehyung arrives, so you just sit down on the sofa with a glass of red wine in your hand, smiling down at it as you reminisce your honeymoon with Taehyung – where you had your first sip of red wine. The first sip was disgusting, you had to admit. However, Taehyung was – and still is – a huge lover of red wine, and because the man drinks it at least once a week, you eventually had learned yourself to drink it without gagging; up to the point that also you cannot live without it right now. Ironic, really.

A sudden notification from your phone takes you out of your daze, which was placed on the other side of the salon table. You put down the wine glass on the table, before leaning over to grab your phone – which was lightened up because of the tons of messages you got from no one else than… Wendy, your best friend since elementary school.

From Wendy: did u put it on?? From Wendy: i bet it suits you rlly well, u are hot From Wendy: tae’s gonna like it ;)))

You cannot help but roll your eyes at your best friend’s messages, a smile growing on your face as you type in a reply.

From you: i put it on and i honestly thought it would be uncomfortable but to my surprise it fits really well From you: and yeah. i actually look rlly hot what the actual fuck

You honestly would not know what to do if Wendy would not be by your side as your mental support – and you will always be grateful towards her for that. Wendy and you are basically sticking with each other like glue was put on the two of you. She knows all of your ins and outs, while you know hers as well. Besides, without Wendy, you would not be able to meet Taehyung as well, since he was a good friend of her boyfriend – soon to be husband – Yoongi.

From Wendy: u always look hot girl. but i’m sure you look a thousand times hotter now ;))) From you: well thx sis. i gotta go now, tae will be here in less than five minutes BITCH IM NOT READY From Wendy: okay gOOD LUCK TELL ME HOW IT WENT OKAY I LOVE YOU

You grimace at her last reply, asking yourself if you really want to tell her everything. Sure, she knows a lot about your sex life with Taehyung, but of course, you did not tell her everything. You respected your privacy with Taehyung and you did not want to traumatize Wendy with your ‘exciting’ stories as well – although you are sure of the fact that Wendy and Yoongi have shared more extreme intimate moments with each other than you and Taehyung ever had.

All of a sudden, you hear the loud click of your front door, and as an automatic reaction you jolt out of your seat, standing straight up as you waited for your husband to come in. Not long after the click of the front door, you hear the familiar footsteps – his shoes making a soft sound against the surface of the laminated floor. You take a deep breath to calm down your heart, which was pounding rapidly against your chest – so loud that the sound of it almost overwhelms Taehyung’s footsteps.

After a minute, the door of your living room flings open with a loud sound – and if you were not so nervous like this, you would have laughed at his eagerness to see you. The next thing you see, is a worn-out, but happy Taehyung smiling down at you, his arms wide open as a signal for you to run into his arms for a tight hug. You shake your head in amusement, letting out a giggle as you do exactly what he wants – running into his arms for a tight hug from your favourite person in the world.

At first, Taehyung does not seem to notice your unusual attire. However, as he feels your chest against his own, he lets go of you with a frown plastered on his face. It is then when he sees the pink satin robe wrapped around your body, and you see one of his eyebrows quirking up before he looks you straight into your eyes.

“Y/N, did you change clothes?” Taehyung asks dumbfounded, and it is hard for you to resist the urge to shake your head in a disapproving way.

“Yeah… I did,” you simply reply, not saying anything further as you slowly take his hand in yours, guiding him to the couch and silently telling him to sit down. Taehyung does not let out a word, and you do not know if he is quiet because he is confused or because he is too worn out to figure out what is going on exactly. A mix of both, probably.

You sit down next to him, cupping his cheek with your hand as you give him a semi-pitying look. Although Taehyung’s eyes are full of life at the moment, the rest of him basically screamed out tiredness and lack of sleep. His new job took a toll on him, you notice that. You are happy that he could live out his dream as the managing director of the most famous art-museum in the city, but he was a human as well – and humans need rest.

“You look tired, Tae. Is everything okay?” you ask him in a genuine tone, as you let your thumb stroke against his cheek gently – the skin feeling soft against the surface of your thumb. Taehyung manages to let out a little smile, taking your hand that was stroking his cheek into his own hands – the small action making you realize how big his hands were in comparison to yours.

“I’m okay,” Taehyung says as he nods slightly, tightening his grip on your hand as the smile on his face never disappears. “How about you, though? You’re acting weird,” he remarks afterwards, lowering his eyes down to your frame, once again pointing out the robe you have wrapped around your frame at the moment.

“Well… Today is a special day, right?” you voice out carefully, but the slight teasing tone in your voice is very clear, and you are sure Taehyung got a catch of it as you see him raise both of his eyebrows in utter confusion and astonishment.

“Oh no. What kind of wicked birthday surprise did you have planned?” Taehyung asks you in suspicion, letting go of your hands slowly as he leans backwards – still eying you with both of his brows raised.

“I wouldn’t say wicked. You’ll actually like it…” You bite down your bottom lip as you shift your body closer towards Taehyung. “You will like it a lot.” By now, you are whispering the words in his ear seductively – his body frame pressed against yours, causing you to feel the shiver going down his spine as he progresses your words in his mind.

Before your husband is able to utter a single word, you back away from him – only to stand up from your seat on the couch. You take a few steps away, until you are standing in front of him directly. Taehyung’s eyes follow your movement, a certain intensity reflected into them as he wets his lips with one flick of his tongue. You cannot help but even feel more nervous underneath his gaze, and the insecurities that suddenly hit you almost makes you want to back out of your plan. However, your desire to see his shocked face after he would see you clothed in a thin red ribbon was bigger than all of your insecurities – so you decide to keep going.

With that, the robe slips from your body within a nanosecond – your almost-naked body in full glory for the man in front of you, wrapped in nothing else but a satin, red ribbon.

Taehyung’s jaw-drop is almost hilarious – not to mention his huge, widened eyes rapidly flickering up and down your body.

“H-How- When- What?”

“Happy birthday, Taehyung.” The man does not move an inch as you let out these words, and your worries come back for a second. Why isn’t he saying anything? Does he not like it?

However, your negative suspicions are proven wrong when he stands up abruptly, before attacking your lips and bringing them in a heated kiss. It all happens so fast, that you are not even able to process what is happening right now. Nevertheless, you enjoy the feeling of his soft lips attached to yours – and you let yourself wander into his touch, your hands gripping his hair like your life depended on it.

Taehyung looks more beautiful than ever when he backs away from the kiss; his lips slightly red and swollen, panting heavily with his hair all fuzzy because of your hands. Once again, he lowers his eyes down to your body, eying it down hungrily while biting down on his bottom lip.

“I thought you didn’t like the idea, love?” Taehyung asks you, his lips forming a smirk as he eyes you with a one of his perfectly sculpted brows quirked up. You feel your cheeks heat up in shyness, as you fidget your fingers and avert your eyes from his gaze – attaching them on anything but on him.

“Yeah well. I might have changed my mind,” you try to reply in a nonchalant tone – not that it works though, because the words come out with a slight nervous vibration in your tone rather than a nonchalant one. At this, Taehyung furrows his brows for a second, tilting his head to the side as he kept on looking into your eyes – although you are not looking into his.

“How come? You know that you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” Taehyung grabs your chin in between his index finger and his thumb, moving the position of your head slightly so that you are able to look into his eyes directly. You smile at him, giving his swollen lips one small peck and giggling as you see his semi-confused face.

“You always treat me so well, Tae. I want to give something back to you- and I’m not uncomfortable with this, you have to believe me. I actually think I look smoking hot wrapped in nothing but a red ribbon…” you tell him in reassurance, but you notice that your last few words may have stirred up a hungry sparkle in Taehyung’s eyes, as he noticeably tried to shift in his position.

“You always look hot,” Taehyung groans in slight frustration – a remark from Taehyung that you totally expected. He showers you with all kinds of compliments – from looking beautiful in your baggy sweatpants and your (technically, Taehyung’s) oversized t-shirt, to looking sexy in a tight, black dress that outlined your curves clearly (only to be ripped off your body by Taehyung’s strong hands later on). You honestly never get why he gives you so many compliments, but you happily accept them.

“But,” Taehyung whispers, bringing his lips towards your ear shelf – his warm breath coming into contact with your sensitive skin. His next words make you shudder in pleasure, a light shiver going down your spine as you process his words in your brain.

“I bet you look hotter without the ribbon on, my love.”

You try to suppress the gasp stuck in your throat, and you have to tighten your grip on Taehyung’s shoulders in order not to crash down on the floor. Your husband seems to notice your weakened position, so he tightens his grip on your waist even more – his deep chuckle vibrating against your ear.

“U-unwrap me then, Tae.” You barely manage to say these words out loud and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours once again, locking your lips with his in another heated kiss. You expect him to untie the ribbon wrapped around your body already – but to your surprise, he does not do it. You can only feel his hands roaming through your body, the touch of his fingertips causing your skin to be covered in goose bumps.

The two of you reach the bedroom sooner than you would have thought, and you only notice Taehyung being half naked when you lie down on the bed – only dressed in his jeans. However, that is not the only thing you notice, and your eyes widen unconsciously at the outline of his bulge, looking like his dick really wants to break free out of his pants.

Taehyung hovers above your body, his fingers stroking the path of the red ribbon in a slow pace without touching your bare skin – and it drives you nuts. You want him so bad, you honestly cannot wait until you are freed from this damned red ribbon wrapped around you. However, since it was Taehyung’s birthday, you let him take his time with you – trying to suppress your own lust and longing with all your might.

“This might be the best birthday surprise that you have ever given me,” Taehyung hums, his fingers fidgeting with the far end of the ribbon, as if he was debating on whether or not to untie the knot on your chest area.

“Oh god. I really want to untie this ribbon and fuck you raw – but you look so hot in it,” Taehyung groans, the deep sound of his voice causing you to feel even wetter than before. You rub your legs against each other, hoping for just a bit of satisfaction for the throbbing in between your legs. Taehyung notices your small action, and only chuckles lowly as he keeps fidgeting with your ribbon, tilting his head to the side with his eyes locked on yours – his stare weakening your insides even more.

Taehyung breaks the stare by leaning into your neck, your sensitive skin burning as you felt a mixture of his lips and teeth ravishingly destroying your neck – covering it in small, purple hickeys. You let out a few strangled moans as a reaction, and they seem to excite the man even more – because you surely felt his lips sucking your skin harder.

His lips go down a bit further, and as they reach your chest area, they stop moving downwards. Taehyung unlocks his lips from your skin, and you want to whimper at the loss – but you get stopped by his hands untying the knot, the satin ribbon loosening around your breasts. It takes Taehyung a few seconds – and a few curses as well – to unwrap your breasts entirely. He lets out a strangled ‘finally’ – and before you can even process the feeling of your breasts being freed from the ribbon, his lips were attacking one of your hardened nipples, while he took the other nipple in between his fingers – toying with it as you arched your back at the touch.

Taehyung lets go of your breasts, before he unwraps you from the ribbon entirely, his soft and delicate hands treating you like you were made of porcelain. You are left naked on his bed, laying down underneath him and looking like you were ready for it all; ready for him.

“What shall I do first, princess?” Taehyung smirks as the words come out of his lips, already crawling backwards until he reached that particular spot where you needed him the most. He spreads your legs, and wets his lips with his tongue as his eyes meet your core. You are practically dripping right now, and you almost want to smack Taehyung’s head for chuckling so devilish while eying your throbbing core at the same time.

“Gosh. I can’t believe I manage to make you feel this way.”

There it was – a typical remark from Taehyung’s bold lips at which you want to roll your eyes to the back of your head. You would actually manage to do so, but his wet tongue moving up your slit stopped you. Instead, you let out a particularly loud moan, feeling like you were finally freed from all the teasing from before. Taehyung licks, sucks and groans – the various movements of his mouth were enough to drive you crazy. Shots of intense pleasure go through your spine, and your head falls backwards as you feel his mouth sucking you dry. You want to open your eyes and watch his head bobbing in between your legs, as you were sure about the fact that the sight of Taehyung eating you out would weaken you even more. However, your arms are too weak to support your upper half, his tongue on your clit sipping away all your left-over energy – so you just settle with bringing your hands to his hair and gripping it like your life depends on it.

His tongue feels so good against your clit, causing you to spread your legs even wider, hoping that in this way you would get your release sooner, somehow. Of course, the release would never come, since Taehyung notices your eagerness – so his licks on your clit become less massive, and you let out a whimper once again when his tongue leaves your core. As Taehyung sees your semi-disappointed pout, he chuckles briefly – shaking his head as he lifts one of his index-fingers, swiping it from left to right.

“I can’t let you come, love. At least – not yet,” Taehyung whispers – loud enough for you to hear – while fidgeting with his belt. His eyes never leave yours as he loosens his belt, before unbuttoning his jeans as well, and you curse yourself for getting wetter by the sight of him just pulling off his jeans. You can already guess what he wants from you, as your eyes follow his movements – the glimpse of his hardened member locked in his boxers catching your eye.

“In this harsh world, people have to work hard in order to get what they deserve, Y/N.”

Oh, how you loved a dominant Taehyung. You quirk up a brow at his remark, before shaking your head in an amusing way. You try to sit up on your knees, ignoring your wobbly legs as you scoot closer towards him. Playfully, you move your fingertips from his thighs all the way up to his shaft, grabbing it softly through the fabric that blocked the direct touch. Taehyung’s hips buckle forward as a response, and your proud smirk was dangling on your lips, enjoying the fact that you are able to make him feel this way.

“R-remove these damn boxers, Y/N.”

And so you did. With one swift, you pull his boxers down his legs, laughing at the way he struggles a bit to get rid of them. However, your giggles soon disappear as he brings his hardened dick towards you, being only a few inches away from your mouth.

“Show me how bad you want me to fuck you – how bad you want to come.”

His words cause you to shudder, a moan slipping through your lips as you imagine you good it actually feels to have him in you – his member filling you up so good. You do not hesitate to take his dick into your hands, slightly pumping it before pulling out your tongue, giving the head a small lick. You can already taste his pre-cum on your tongue, and you realise how aroused he must have been from the beginning. You do not remember Taehyung complaining or whimpering about it – unlike you did – and once again, you are amazed by your husband’s stamina when having sex.

It does not take you long before you take most of him in your mouth, holding the part that your mouth cannot reach with your hands. Taehyung lets out a muffled groan as he feels your mouth engulfing his dick, his head falling backwards as you suck your way up and down – in and out. You do not mind when he lets go of himself a bit, causing his member to reach a bit deeper into your mouth than you originally could take, and you have to suppress your gag reflex for it. Your eyes flicker up towards his face, and they are blessed by his beautiful face all covered up in drops of sweat, the colour of his cheeks stained in a light shade of red as his brows are furrowed deeply.

Before the pleasure is able to take over Taehyung, he puts one hand on your shoulder, signalling you to stop as he pulls himself away from your mouth. He lets out a small sigh from the loss, but does not fail to bend over towards you and to give you a sweet peck on your lips. His sudden action catches you out of your guard for a bit, but you soon realise that it is his way to thank you – not only for the amazing blowjob, but for making him feel that way.

“Lay down, my love. Now it is my turn to show you how much I want you.”

You comply his demand, and your bare back was laying down on the bed within seconds, the cold surface causing you to shiver slightly. To show your husband that you were ready for it, you spread your legs for him – your throbbing, wet core in full glory, and you do not miss the hungry flicker reflected in Taehyung’s brown orbs. He pumps his shaft a few times with his hand, but it does not take him too long to enter your slit, letting out a breath of relief as he feels your walls engulfing his member.

The feeling of him inside of you drives you crazy, a moan already slipping out of your lips as you felt his dick stretching out your walls in such a pleasurable way. Being the gentleman Taehyung is, he lowers his lips towards yours – engulfing them in a soft kiss. He does not move an inch, stilling the under half of his body as he lets you get used to the feeling of his member in you. Although it never takes you a long time to get used to it, he always makes sure to take his time, wanting you to feel good and comfortable as well.

Taehyung frees himself from the dazzled kiss, only to lean his forehead against yours – his deep brown eyes looking through your soul. “Are you ready, Y/N?” The question comes out of his lips in a soft tone, and you cannot help but to get touched by it as you feel your heart skipping several beats.

You only nod your head, giving him a small peck on his lips as you signal him to move. Taehyung then slowly thrusts in and out of you, taking in the feeling of your walls clenching around him as the groans slip out of his mouth. His slow thrusts gave you enough friction to moan out loud, but you want more. You need more. In reaction to your own needs, you unconsciously buckle up your hips, trying to move up and down yourself in order to get closer to your climax.

Taehyung seems to notice your neediness – so he thrusts his hips harder, faster. His member was particularly drilling in and out of you, eventually managing to reach your sensitive spot multiple times, causing you to see the familiar stars behind your closed eyelids. You tell him not to stop, a few strangled moans and muffled breaths coming along with your voice. The burns in the pit of your stomach are getting heavier, your body covered down in sweat as you scratch his bare back with your fingernails – leaving a few marks behind, like you always do when he does you good.

It does not take you long to reach your climax. His name leaves your lips in a mantra as your body spazzes through your orgasm, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids with Taehyung being the only one in your dazzled mind. Your body becomes limp, letting both of your arms falling down to your sides as Taehyung was still thrusting in and out of you, since he still had to reach his own climax. You are literally deprived from energy by now, but you have enough left to clench your walls tightly around his member, making his dick twitch inside of you.

“Ahhh- Fuck!”

He lets out a deep groan – and you feel his substance painting your walls white, the warm feeling overwhelming your core as you let out a soft whimper. Taehyung rides out his orgasm until he was milked out completely, before gently pulling out of you. You were so used to the feeling of having him in you that the empty feeling down there almost feels strange right now, but you were too tired to point it out.

Taehyung lays down next to you on the bed, shifting closer towards you before he puts his arm around your waist – pulling you into a warm hug. He puts his head into your neck – which was covered in all kinds of purple spots – and you feel his warm breath touching your skin. You stroke his soft locks with your fingertips, as you found yourself listening to the sound of your breathing engulfing the ‘post-sexual’ atmosphere, causing you to relax instantly.

However, the peaceful silence is broken by Taehyung’s deep voice – almost causing you to jolt up from surprise.

“I thought you did not like the idea of being tied in only a ribbon at first. Why the sudden change of mind?”

His question is such a simple one, yet it takes you quite a long time to answer it. To be honest, you are thankful to Taehyung – for putting up with you while you were annoyed for the rest of the day only because of a dim whipped colleague; for making you breakfast every time when you are basically dying because of a particular flu; but most of all, you were thankful towards him because he makes you feel loved, and he never seems to fail doing it; loving you.

You wanted to show him your sincere gratitude in a simple way – and if you had to do it by being wrapped up in nothing else but a red ribbon, you would simply just do it.

So you tell him your sincere feelings, and you almost tear up at the way he smiles up at you, your heart melting at the way his eyes are reflecting nothing else but love. Love for you only.

“Happy birthday, Taehyung.”

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