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moonchild1 · 3 months

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jeon jungkook fic rec list (Ⅹ)

yup i've hit you with another list and once again i had so much fun putting it together... i was away for a bit but that spark came back and i'm back in action... this list holds so many amazing fics i've read it's alot of different types of storylines and some new genres i wanted to try out and i am so excited to go down that road with these new genres i haven't explored yet, but please do enjoy this list there's so many great fics here you will get lost in it i know it did, my next list should be out by next month i want to take time to read as many as i can and get back all that excitement so the next one might take a while... since these fics are so outstanding we can't forget to give all the love and support to the incredible authors who have taken the time to plan and write these fics without them we wouldn't get to read such beautiful and entertaining fics so please so them all the love and support in the world cause they truly deserve it leave them a nice comment, like and reblog the posts so others can discover them too and give them a follow and check out their masterlists i'm telling you, you will most definitely fall in love with their work and find lots of great pieces in there. most of the fics i recommend contain smut so no minors allowed and don't interact you as well as ageless blgs will be blocked and if you would like to share a fic with me you are more than welcome too i love hearing from you i hope you all enjoy this list and till next time ~ kiki ♡

f- fluff s- smut a-angst

series

between takes by @jeonstudios f s a

as a fluffer for a popular porn star, your focus is to keep him hard and performing on set. turns out he's not the only thing that's hard.

i want you to stay by @ahundredtimesover f s a

Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You've dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

you're losing me by @sparklingchim s a

in the midst of marital challenges, jungkook and you grapple with the complexities of your relationship. yet, the lingering question whispers: how do you truly determine if the journey is worthwhile?

kiss the girl by @guked f s a

after saving a human prince from being drowned by the sea witch, you’re cursed by that infamous witch to live out the rest of your days as a human—unless you can manage to get true love’s kiss from that very same prince. which would be a simple task, had he not hated you the moment you met.

flux by @yoonia s a ft. myg

One of them is your longtime secret crush, while the other is the man with whom you had shared many heated nights filled with lust and forbidden desire, forever kept as your biggest secret of all time. You had sworn that those sinful nights would end, and that your secret crush would remain a secret. poly au

in motion by @/yoonia s

The rule is simple; you can look but you can’t touch. You’ve been attending the event for a few times since you’ve encountered the voyeurism club, but it was only when a certain boy arrives on one occasion did you feel the fire of lust burning inside.

what the fire gave us by @gimmethatagustd f s a

↬ You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

friend in me by @ktheist f s a

“don’t confuse your party friends with your real friends.”

knife's edge by @readyplayerhobi f s a ft. pjm

The Jeon Clan is Family, built on blood and loyalty. It’s been an unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the Clan, Jeon Jungkook. You would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?

take a chance by @crystaljins a

You should have known the second your business partner asked you to plan his best friend’s wedding as a favour that it was going to be nothing but trouble. Especially when it turns out he’s in love with said best friend. And dying of a deadly disease because of it.

chess of ice by @jimlingss f a

Jeon Jungkook is a rising star, aka. hockey captain of a team heading for the Olympics. The last thing he expects is to begin a whole ‘nother sport, holding a broomstick in his hand, sweeping the ice and throwing dumb stones towards a target. As if that wasn’t bad enough, his love life is about to turn into a game of chess as well....and you’re his opponent.

diamond in the rough by @kimvtae f s a

When a business heir from Busan, Jeon Jungkook, meets you, a poor girl from Daegu, he doesn’t expect to fall as quickly as he does. He’s been told for his entire life to avoid Daegu, a town riddled with gangs and a history of a brutal murder in Busan, but he can’t stay away from you, even when he’s warned that you’re not good enough for him.

try hard by @hobibliophile f s

Yoongi asks you to help him photograph the university rugby team, and you’re reluctant until you see Jeon Jungkook in uniform. Damn.

cruel intentions by @jeonqukie f s a

All is well in your overtly simplistic life. You managed to maintain decent grades in university all the while progressing through your relationship with your long-time boyfriend and accompanying your best friend in her exhausting personal life. But as the saying goes when there are ups, there will surely be downs. While you’ve maintained this upward pattern, you are defeated when one afternoon inevitably brings you to a downward spiral. All good things must come to an end. Who knew you would be sharing the same sentiment with someone you barely know.

sillage by @deerguk s

Soulmate!AU where soulmates are drawn to one another by the infliction of physical touch, whether it be pain or pleasure. But it is only initiated once the two people somewhat interact.

remote learning by @hansolmates s

working remote sucks, and you would love a little relief. after buying a new toy to blow off some steam, you’re baffled when you can’t cum. however, jungkook thinks you’re doing it wrong, and shows you a thing or two.

when it rains by @choiwrites s a

Being an exotic dancer was never easy. Every day was the same for you, until you reached that one breaking point you’ve been avoiding since your miserable life started. On a rainy night, Jungkook and his yellow umbrella were your last call of hope.

hate at first weeb by artaemis, freckleyoon (ao3)

You just want to weeb in peace but your annoying downstairs neighbour just won't let you breathe

wanted by @jincherie s a

You were a deserter, a renegade, a wanted “criminal”. It was never in your plans to crash land on that planet, and it most certainly wasn’t in your plans to fall in love with it’s handsome ruler.

everything in you by @jjungkookislife f s a

You want a baby and Jungkook is willing to help. f2l, roommates au, pregnant!reader

home for the holidays by @/jjungkookislife f s a

Jungkook is in desperate need to find a girlfriend for Christmas. His mom has nagged and nagged about him bringing someone home for the holidays. Determined, Jungkook recruits his friends in hopes of finding the right girl to take home. In need of a place to stay, and no plans for Christmas, you answer his friend’s ad. You have 25 days to convince not only his parents but his grandmother that you’re in a real relationship, solid enough to get through Christmas with the Jeons.

every breath you take by @junqkook s a

everything was going great when you first met jeon jungkook. he was a new light in your life with soft smiles and tinkling laughs; but then you noticed a lurking presence that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

navy by @jjkfire f a

He’s your best friend, practically your other half and the two of you have always promised to be there for each other no matter what. The both of you have dreams of professionally making music together one day and to you it’s almost like reality, a given really, and with each day, the dream starts to feel like it’s within reach. But, one day, with one sentence, Jungkook destroys it all.

wicked by @adonis-koo s a

In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?

paper doll by @winetae s a

When the nation’s little sister, IU, gets into a huge scandal, your agency seizes the opportunity to thrust you into that now vacant spotlight. Your self-composed song Paper Doll becomes an overnight sensation, and soon people are itching to find out who was the one who broke your heart. All hell breaks loose once netizens discover that you used to date popular idol, Jeon Jungkook. Little do they know that it wasn’t him who left the relationship unscathed — it was you.

one shot

the devil's change up by @jungblue f s

Majoring in athletic training means you have mandatory observation hours to perform with every single sports team at your school throughout the year, and so far it’s been going pretty great. However, when regrets from your past cause your rotation with the baseball team to become a little rocky, there’s one star pitcher who says that he can make it all better.

this is how we break up by @/ahundredtimesover s a

There are things you prepared for coming back home and that includes seeing your ex-boyfriend, but helping him design his apartment isn’t one of them. From meetings over coffee and lunches with your friends, you both learn more about the time in-between, and what you find out leave you heartbroken, wondering if there’s enough of you left to try to get back what you’d lost. “You know what they say about past lovers remaining friends? It’s either they never loved each other to begin with, or they still do. And we all know how much they loved each other, don’t we?”

a piece of the moonlight by @/jimlingss f a

For your loved ones, the people who are waiting at home, the people who have died - you will fight. And sometimes to fight means to sacrifice: who you really are and the person you really love.

the quest to bedding the lead singer of frontman by @kpopfanfictrash s

Frontman is your favorite band in the world and honestly, the only reason you waited this long in line is to stand at the front for a shot with the lead singer. Enter sexy sound boy, who just won’t leave you alone. (punk!Jungkook)

heartbreak trials by @dreamyjoons s a

it all started with a bet: the one with the highest body count would get the most illustrious prize - Namjoon’s bedroom. For you and Jungkook, the race was on.

perhaps love by @mangowillow f a

for as long as you can remember, you have been in love with your childhood friend turned roommate, but jeon jungkook remains oblivious even when he comes to comfort and help you sleep every night.

what? now by @theharrowing f s

For as long as you and Jungkook have been friends, your feelings for him have been unrequited. Or have they?

lilac wisteria by @blushoseoks f a

the first time jeon jungkook says that he is going to marry you, you are five years old sitting underneath a large wisteria tree.

tell me no lies by @jeongi f s a

You chose to rob your boss, however; you never expected to fall in love with him.

mcd*ckin by @jinned s

"So, if I'm so predictable," you tease, running your finger along his clothed chest, "what am I going to do next?"

things you said while you were driving by @cupofteaguk f

post breakup au

(y)our name by @jjkpls f s a ft ot 6

It’s always been the two of you since you were little. People came and went in your lives and Jungkook didn’t mind until you turn into grown-ups and he starts to mind a bit too much.

(un)welcomed addition by @shuadotcom f a

After a drunken one night stand with your neighbor, you have your reasons for wanting to forget it ever happened and never talk to him again. Unfortunately, Jungkook wins the award for the world’s worst neighbor so his 3 am wakeup calls and mail stealing have you banging at his door on an almost weekly basis. You just want to make it to the end of your lease so you can leave all the traces of the fuckboy next door behind...unless your feelings get in the way of course.

Just Like the Movies by @/shuadotcom f s a

When you need a fake date for your cousin’s wedding and all of your other friends have plans, that only leaves your best friend Jungkook - who you also happen to be completely in love with. It’ll be easy getting through a week of fake dating him, right?

watermelon sugar by @/shuadotcom f s a

When your friends outvote you for your annual summer trip, you end up stuck at a beachside town. To make it worse, there’s an irritating local surfer boy that won’t leave you alone… that is until you see him shirtless and in the water - then you don’t want him to leave you alone and your unexpected summer romance begins.

take my whole life by @/ktheist f s a

chaebol au. arranged marriage au. expecting parents au.

never let you go by @yeojaa f s

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t. (or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

speaking in bodies by @/yeojaa f s a

The holidays have never meant much to you - less a promise of Christmas morning joy and more a reminder of all the things you’ve lost. Some would call you a grinch; others, just a plain old asshole. Jeon Jungkook would call you both. The more time you spend together, though, the more you thaw, melting beneath the sun that seems to sit right in the centre of his chest.

howling for you by @fortunexkookie f s

The way your Little Red Riding Hood costume lured over a fuckboy in a half-assed werewolf costume was a little cliche, but god damn was he beautiful. He promised he had plenty of big things to show you, and you took him up on the offer, not realizing that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew

cold nights & blurred lines by @awrkive f s a

jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

christmas is waiting for you by @/lamourche f s ft myg (ao3)

Being home for the holidays surrounded by your well-meaning family isn’t that bad. All you have to do is (1) survive the Andersons’ annual Christmas Eve party, (2) avoid all questions about your job, and (3) avoid your high school nemesis (not a crush!), Jeon Jungkook.

lost stars by @/subvk f s a (ao3)

Falling in love with Jeon Jungkook was everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more, but maybe it was exactly that: a dream so blissful and comforting that it was too good to be true, something that could all disappear when the night changes to day, and your eyes open again. Or, making a marriage pact with your best friend was supposed to instill a sense of hope for you, so why does this hurt you more than it should?

a beautiful epiphany by @/subvk f s a (ao3)

Derailed by heartbreak and the loss of inspiration, Jeon Jungkook tries to rediscover his love for art again. As his best friend, you’re willing to do anything to help him reignite his lost passion. Little do you know that the struggling artist’s new muse is closer than you think.

the philosophy of goodluck by @kidguk f s

“you told me i looked good and that you needed to get a tattoo of my face” is not the explanation you wanted to hear from the tattoo artist that permanently etched the dumbest drunken request of your life onto your skin.

mountebank by @/kidguk f s ft. pjm

Soulmate AU featuring Jimin, in which you’ve been waking up next to your soul-enemy and running from your soul-mate. Figure that mess out, will you?

holidays of breads and wood by @cutaepatootie f a

Every December now smells like freshly baked bread and wood to you. Its cold wind brings you memories of him every morning as you are kneading your mixture of water, flour and a pinch of nutmeg – the secret ingredient that makes your bread taste so special. It seeps through the open window of your small kitchen and shakes your entire body. It seeps under your flour-stained apron, getting through your clothes and reminding you of his soft touch. It sounds like forest and shines like snow under the sunlight. It fills your nostrils with familiar scents. Every December now feels like distant memories of a man you once knew, who loved to carve his dreams in wood.

a fallen bookmark on a thursday afternoon by @/cutaepatootie f s a

He came to you like the air comes into the train station after the fast arriving of the machine. It comes fast and unexpected, making you hoist your head to look at the long vehicle and the people inside. It is so fast you can’t even distinguish the different wagons. As the train comes to a stop, the wind that it creates plays with your hair, leaving you breathless. That’s how Jeon Jungkook came into your life.

every kind of way by @gukslut s

Three little vignettes, three completely different experiences, same perfectly wonderful boyfriend JK

heavy lifting by @snackhobi f

you work the night shift in a supermarket. and now your crush, aka the cutest boy in the world, aka the guy you’ve been thirsting after for months, aka jeon jungkook, works the night shift too.

blue orchid by @inkedtae f a

hanahaki & soulmate au

up to snow good by @aredheadedmess f a

It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

cherry bomb by @milfgyuu f s

You’re a cocktail waitress in a high end nightclub and you’ve been mutually crushing on one of the bartenders. Tonight, one of your customers oversteps boundaries and when Jungkook gets involved, you’re ready to toss your ‘no dating co-workers’ policy out the window.

work it out by @/choiwrites s

You never would have thought that you’d be working with the college dropout who was coincidentally your best friend’s ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Saying his name already burns your tongue, you wonder how long you can hold your professionalism around him.

all in by @iamjungkooked s a

Jeon Jungkook is everything you have ever desired in a partner. He’s kind, passionate, funny, honest, warm and every positive adjective in the dictionary. He totally gets you and you get him. He seems like the perfect guy for you, except he is dating your best friend. What could possibly go wrong? OR The four times you get the wind knocked out of you by Jeon Jeongguk

until my last breath by @/iamjungkooked s a

Sporting an undercut and tattoos Jeon Jungkook waltzes back in your life after 5 years of being away. You think you know him– and just when you think you have gotten close, he reveals a secret (or two). Following this, is a series of trials and tribulations that concludes in a way you never expect. (Alternatively: the one where Jungkook creates a mess out of you)

está dañada by @aquagustd f s a

life through the eyes of someone who watches you fall apart and helps gather the shards of your heart, only for you to make the same mistake time and time again, but he refuses to accept the truth because to him, you’re infallible.

coin toss by @yoondoze a

you and jeongguk go way back, even before you were the menacing duo many knew you to be, even before he brought you into the mafia and left you there to join the city’s detective agency. a call for cooperation comes out of a common enemy, requiring the two of you to reconcile for one last mission.

wonder by @bubmyg f a

romance novels lie about finding some deep epiphany in the ocean because you find your inspiration in some chlorine tainted red locks or where jeongguk isn’t smooth with a pool net.

starboy by @sugaxjpg s

Jeon Jungkook was, above anything else, the type you should not get involved with. He was the guy who slept around; the guy who was gone before you woke up; who left a path of broken hearts and missed calls wherever he went. He was right in just about every wrong way. That being said, maybe the bet you made with your friend could be the best thing that happened to you in a long time, and even enough to break the chain of misfortune that circled your party nights — after all, it was all just a simple, four-part plan to make Jungkook beg for you. What could possibly go wrong?

symmetry by @adriftmoonchild s a

with both of you being from rival houses, the smirk that jungkook seemed to throw in your direction every shared class did nothing for your disdain towards him. as far as you were concerned he was arrogant and childish; you just wished he wasn’t so damn good in bed.

little surfer girl by @ppersonna f s a

every summer you watched jeon jungkook turn into a perfect, professional surfer. every summer, you wanted him more. this summer, you were determined to make him yours.

↬looking for other jjk fics or the other members check out my library

2K notes · View notes

purple-babygirl · 5 days

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yours to hurt, yours to love

Pairing: (dom)!Bucky Barnes x (sub)!f!reader

Word count: 8,050

Summary: They had a deal. She would surrender her control; he would take it. Love had no place in such a relationship, did it?

Warnings: 18+ Content: friends with benefits, blowjobs, lots of cum, cum eating, cum in pussy, unprotected vaginal intercourse (don't do that), mentions of cheating, angst, crying, dom x sub dynamics including a sir kink and the use of puppy as a petname, BDSM features including begging, following orders/instructions, mentions of ropes, being tied/suspended, mentions of edging and overstimulation and the use of toys, ass whipping with a belt, mention and use of a safeword, chocking, two insecure idiots being in love, metal arm kink, fingering, rubbing of cock on pussy, multiple orgasms, aftercare. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: this is a self-indulgent fic I wrote simply because I wanted to read and now it's finally done so I'm sharing it with you, babies:"💜💜 I just started at a new job and it's very tiring and energy and time consuming so I thought I'd post something before I get swept up in the real world of numbers and targets and not being broke. I really hope you like this one and I love you all with every bit of me💜

As most one-night stands start, they had met at a bar.

She was sitting all alone with her palm hugging a beer bottle, her face carrying the saddest look. She had turned down every guy that had tried to approach her that evening.

Bucky had been watching her all night, lost in deep thought as she barely raised the warming bottle to her lips, the melancholic look marring her features never leaving.

She had only smiled once that night, and it was for Bucky.

She was snapped out of thought when a louder song abruptly came on, startling her back to reality and that was when she saw him.

The most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on had his eyes on her from the other side of the crowded nightclub, and she found herself smiling at him.

He quickly turned his gaze away, suddenly shy that he was staring.

She wanted to ignore the man, telling herself she had a lot on her plate already, that it would likely be a mistake to go talk to him; that she needed to keep her distance from men for a while at least. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t ignore him.

Even with his back to her, his presence was too strong to simply be ignored.

So she disregarded her minds’ screams and went to talk to him.

Bucky almost chocked on his drink when he saw that it was her who had approached him, but he managed to compose himself.

“Were you ever planning on talking to me?” She teased with a smile as she sat down next to him at the bar.

And just like that, they were talking.

They talked about anything and everything, the deepest things as well as the silliest.

She was so easy to be around and she actually made the man laugh.

She had no idea, but Bucky didn’t think he had even cracked a smile in weeks.

Before she could decide what was right and what wasn’t, she had her lips on his, and before he could overthink it, Bucky was taking her back to his place.

It has been a long time since the man had had the chance to like someone, and he liked her even more when she didn’t make him feel bad about himself that night.

The metal arm didn’t faze her.

She didn’t ask intrusive questions or even let her gaze linger. She treated it just like his other arm, wrapping both around her back as she straddled Bucky on his couch, making out with him like she has been waiting for him her whole life.

But that wasn’t the only reason Bucky appreciated her so much that night.

She had gotten on her knees for him, both of them fully naked at that point, her boobs swaying lightly as her hand pumped his hard cock, lubing him up with his pre-cum.

Her hands were magic and he didn’t want to tell her that he was too close to exploding just from her soft hand palming his tip.

She had barely gotten Bucky in her mouth when he had started cumming all over her.

The sight of his fists clutching the couch, mouth open as groans left his chest while copious amounts of cum covered her mouth, chin, neck and boobs had her wetness dripping down her bare thighs.

When he was back on earth again and his vision was no longer black, Bucky started apologizing profusely when he realized what had happened.

He had come way too fast. All over her. Without her getting to finish even once. He didn’t even get to touch her down there.

Bucky thought she was definitely going to leave.

“It’s okay,” she said with a kind smile as her clean hand caressed up and down one of his thighs, “I don’t mind.”

And before Bucky could explain that it has been a long time for him, she was collecting his cum off her skin with her fingers and slipping them into her mouth, maintaining eye contact with the man and almost giving his old heart an attack.

Bucky stared with parted lips, cock already hardening again, as she shut her eyes and moaned over the taste of him.

She had managed to eat every bit of cum that had gotten on her face and neck before Bucky unfroze and lost it.

He grabbed his shirt and hastily wiped her chest clean of his cum before eagerly carrying her to his bed.

He thought her surprised giggle as she called him a “caveman” had to be the sweetest sound he had ever heard until he pushed his cock in her and her wail of his name echoed throughout the quiet bedroom.

Bucky was hooked on the sight of her, the taste of her, the smell of her, and the feel of her.

Her walls were hugging his cock so tight that he thought he wouldn’t be able to get the rest of it inside. Her hands were scratching at his back as she tried to adjust to his size with a silent scream on her face.

“Relax,” Bucky had told her softly.

It was a simple word, but it was the most exhilarating thing when she had immediately listened, her pussy muscles relaxing for him at once, thighs spreading wider to accommodate him better.

Bucky was amazed by her ability to listen to instructions; it awakened an unmatched feeling inside of him.

Once he was buried to the hilt inside of her, Bucky wanted to see what else he could make her do; how much she might obey, so he stayed still.

“I’m ready, you can move.” She had nodded to him, thinking he was waiting on her.

But that wasn’t why Bucky wasn’t moving. He knew she was ready, her juices were ruining his sheets for heaven’s sake.

“I mean, if you ask nicely enough…”

He was just giving it a try, and if she didn’t go along with it he would still give her what she wanted—

“Please,” she begged, eyes pleading as she wiggled her hips, “please fuck me, Bucky.”

Fuck.

Bucky couldn’t think much after that, his body moving of its own volition as he pulled out and slammed back inside her pussy.

It was one thrust. One single thrust had her arching her back and shouting out his name.

He completely broke down, fucking her with abandon, just wanting to hear more of her; feel deeper inside of her.

The bedpost slammed against the wall repeatedly as she screamed with every hit of Bucky’s cock to her g-spot.

The way she was scratching his back, whining, wailing and writhing under him as he pounded her into his bed should’ve and could’ve been enough for Bucky, but he couldn’t help but want more.

“Open your eyes,” he gave her another command, knowing it might be hard for her to manage that one with how deep he was giving it to her.

But her eyes were instantly on him, fighting to stay open as his fat cock filled her up again and again.

“Keep looking at me,” Bucky had told her, his right hand coming up to wrap around her neck.

He was slow and gentle, just waiting for her to stop him or refuse what he was doing.

But she had managed to surprise him again because instead, her hand had come up to his, fully wrapping his palm around her throat before showing Bucky the right amount of pressure to apply.

Fuck, she had to be an angel sent specifically to him from heaven. It seemed like whatever god was up there had finally had mercy on him.

She wasn’t only okay with Bucky’s hand being on her neck, she was showing him how to choke her as his cock fucked her raw within an inch of her life too.

Bucky felt his thrusts stutter as he almost came at the sight of her: mouth open with nothing but his name coming out of it, throat held in his palm and eyes battling to stay open as they rolled back in her head, her pussy chocking his cock.

And when he thought she couldn’t get anymore perfect, she started screaming out a request, “can I please cum? Please, Bucky!”

She was asking his permission to let herself feel the pleasure he was so willingly giving her.

Bucky felt high as he groaned, “cum”, and watched her hand hastily come down to rub her clit once, twice before she fell apart around his cock.

Her thighs involuntarily clasped around Bucky as they shook with the rest of her body, her orgasm hitting her like a thousand trains, making her back bow.

Bucky’s hand tightened around her throat the slightest bit as he felt her pussy shutter around his cock and felt himself get closer to his own release, thrusts becoming erratic.

“Please cum inside me, Bucky. Fill me up with your cum, need it,” she pled and the man could only take so much.

Bucky came and he came hard, proving the cum he had painted her body with earlier to be just a sample of what his cock really had to offer.

When they could both breathe normally again, she found herself in his arms, pitching him an idea, too satisfied and full of cum to stop herself and rethink.

And to her happiness, Bucky actually agreed.

When they first started that type of deal, she said she didn’t want a relationship.

Bucky respected that and he was okay with it because although he liked her very much, he knew he wasn’t the relationship type himself. He didn’t believe himself fit for romantic relationships. He thought he was too messed up for such stuff.

And she was just like him.

She didn’t know how to be loved; didn’t know how to receive love. She didn’t think she deserved it. She didn’t think she was worth it. Never thought of herself as beautiful enough or attractive enough or lovable enough.

So the dynamic they came up with was their best option.

They were going to be friends with benefits. Except, the benefits were much more extreme than the usual, vanilla sex that would come to mind. So friends with benefits with a fun twist.

After being manipulated for so long, Bucky wanted nothing but to be in charge of his life, body and mind; to be in a position of power where he had the upper hand.

She, on the other hand, needed her freewill to be taken away from her. Being as responsible as she was in her everyday life, she would get too exhausted; drained. She wanted decisions to be made for her as she only obeyed and conformed. She wanted to be used until her head held no thoughts of her deadlines or tasks.

She wanted choking and spanking and bondage. She wanted domination.

Bucky needed to feel in control, and she needed to give up control.

Take mine, she said, take my control away and make it yours.

It was a perfect match. They had clearly communicated their boundaries, wants and needs. They had established their roles, likes and dislikes. And they had agreed on a few simple rules:

It was strictly sex; only sex.

No kissing on the lips no matter what.

No cuddling afterwards even if aftercare took place.

No strings attached.

The safe word meant they stopped; no questions asked.

Bucky wasn’t exactly on board with number 2 because he knew what her lips felt like on his and he wanted more of that. But she said it would only complicate things; that it might get feelings involved and they couldn’t have that.

So he agreed. He really just wanted her to be as comfortable as possible.

And they had almost done it all in 6 months. She had let Bucky tie her down, spank her, choke her, use toys on her, edge her, overstimulate her, fuck her in every position known to humans and on every service that could take their weight and Bucky’s pace.

But deep down, Bucky knew that she still needed more even if she had claimed otherwise.

He knew that she was frequently going on dates in between their sessions, desperately searching for the one that would manage to sweep her off her feet and magically change the way she looked at herself with his unconditional love.

So when she sat with him that one day and told him she wanted to stop what they were doing because she wanted to commit to her new boyfriend, Bucky wasn’t surprised. He was heartbroken, but not surprised.

And so he let her go.

He didn’t want to. He never wanted to. But Bucky knew that he couldn’t give her what she wanted, and so he was going to let her have it with someone else. He needed her like the air he breathed, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand in her way.

Bucky was addicted to her, yes, but he wasn’t going to be selfish and get in the way of her possible happiness with that new boyfriend whoever he was. He just hoped that that new man deserved her.

The real surprise came when Bucky opened his door one day and she was standing there looking like an abandoned puppy three months after their last meeting.

Three months without her that have been torture. Three months during which Bucky couldn’t bear the mere idea of bringing another woman to his bed. Three months of replaying their intense scenes in his head with his hand down his pants.

Oh how he missed seeing her choke on his cock. He missed her begging for him to touch her, to relieve her heavy shoulders of everything they had to carry. He missed seeing her come for him so hard that tears would start rolling down her face.

But now she was here, and she didn’t look okay. And it made Bucky realize that he has mostly missed her being her.

“I need you, Buck,” she whispered and he instantly opened the door wider for her.

Bucky let her inside and she climbed on his lap the second he sat down. He held her in his arms on his couch for as long as she needed, internally aching to know what had gotten her looking so dejected.

He knew it had to do with the new man in her life and he could only calm himself down by imagining his fist slamming against the faceless man’s nose.

“What did he do?” Bucky finally broke the silence, making her pull her face from his neck and look at him.

God, she looked so hurt, so broken.

He wished he could fix it, but how could he when he himself needed fixing?

“If I ask you for a favor, would you do it for me?” Her faint voice asked instead, pulling away from their hug.

“You know I will,” Bucky replied without reluctance.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He would do anything for her. He would kill again for her, burn down whole cities and cross oceans on his bare feet for her if she asked him to.

She got up from Bucky’s lap, getting down on her knees before the couch just like the first night he had brought her home, “I want you to punish me, Bucky.”

“What?”

Where did that come from? She wanted to start a session? Now? In that state?

“I want you to spank me. Punish me.” She repeated calmly.

“Doll, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Bucky tried to remind her, wanting her to know that whatever that man did to ruin his relationship with her wasn’t her fault.

And he wasn’t seriously about to give her a spanking when she looked like that, so small and worn out and wounded.

“Please, Bucky.”

Damn, she begged so sweetly. But he just couldn’t.

Bucky never thought he would say no to a scene with her, especially a passionate one, but he couldn’t hurt her even more than she looked to be hurting.

That was not what they did this for.

“Doll, get up. Sit down and talk to me,” Bucky said softly, trying to lift her up by the shoulders.

“Buck, you said you’d do it.” A sad frown settled upon her delicate face with a look that Bucky knew well.

She was getting more heartbroken at his rejection. She really did want this. She needed it and she could only come to Bucky for it. How could he keep turning her down?

“Okay, doll. How many?” Bucky asked despite himself, rubbing his palms together.

“Not with your hands,” she said with a smile, getting up and walking inside the bedroom to his closet.

Bucky carded a hand through his long hair as he waited for her to come back with whatever item she was choosing, knowing this was going to be the hardest time he has ever had to cause her pain, even if it was pain she wanted and asked for.

“With this.” She left the belt she brought on Bucky’s lap as she got back to her place by his feet.

“Doll, this is the thickest belt I own,” Bucky told her, wanting to intimidate her into changing her mind.

He needed her to change her mind. He couldn’t hit her with that thing. Not today. Probably not ever.

“I know.” She nodded with the same sure smile.

“Doll, why?” Bucky touched her cheek tenderly, desperate to understand.

If she would just talk to him, he would do his best to fix it. He probably couldn’t, but he was ready to try.

“Please, Bucky. For me, I need this.” She, again, avoided answering his questions.

“This is gonna hurt, doll,” Bucky warned, examining the belt in his lap.

Damn, it was heavy.

“I know. That’s the point.” She nodded in acceptance, “I need it to hurt.”

“Doll.”

“C’mon, Buck, we’ve done this before. You’ve had me dangling from your ceiling for god’s sake!”

He remembered that day. It was a week after she had gotten promoted and everything was becoming too much for her.

She had Bucky suspend her upside down from his ceiling as he spanked her rear raw before getting her down and fucking her into oblivion until all she could worry about was if she would be able to take another orgasm.

She looked even sadder today, and she was asking for far less.

Maybe he could give her what she wanted.

“How many?” Bucky asked again with a clenched jaw, seeing that there was no way he was going to change her mind.

“As many as it takes for me to cry,” she replied and her answer sent a pang into Bucky’s chest.

So that was it. She needed to cry and she couldn’t. She just needed to cry; to give release to her pent-up tears.

Bucky knew that crying was something that she struggled with. He knew that one of the things she loved about what they did was the fact that she could cry during it all; during a spanking, an edging or even an intense orgasm.

But couldn’t it be done any other way this time? Maybe he could make her watch a sad movie or something?

“Doll, if it’s about you crying—”

“Bucky, please,” she stopped him, shaking her head with determination, “please give me this. I need it.”

If she could, she would have cried to get him to say yes faster.

Bucky sighed, glancing at her one final time before asking, “do you remember your safe word?”

“Red.” She smiled gratefully, adrenaline already pumping through her blood in anticipation.

Bucky slipped the hairband on his wrist down to his fingers, pulling his hair in a low bun before taking his shirt off, leaving himself in his white tank top.

Keeping his eyes on hers, he ordered: “strip and get on the bed, puppy. You know your position.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” She jumped up, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“What was that?” Bucky’s tone was deeper and his eyes darker.

It has started.

“Thank you, sir,” she quickly corrected herself.

“Go.”

One nod of his head and she was running to the bedroom to do as she was told.

As she took her clothes off, folding them piece by piece and leaving them on the chair in the corner of Bucky’s bedroom, he was outside readying himself for what he was about to do to her.

Bucky had pledged months ago that he would give her anything she needed or wanted during their sessions.

Leaving her fulfilled made him feel fulfilled and the first time he had his bare cock in her, Bucky knew he was wrapped around her littlest finger. It seemed like he was the one in control of those meet ups but control was actually always in her hands.

Now, if what she needed was a spanking to make her cry, Bucky knew how to give it to her, but he didn’t want to. He knew this belt was going to hurt a lot and he wished she would’ve chosen something less bad.

But a deal was a deal and he couldn’t back out now that he knew she was waiting naked on his bed.

She heard Bucky’s heavy steps coming closer and tried to regulate her breathing, reminding herself that she wanted this, that she begged for this, that she deserved this.

She trusted Bucky with her life, not just her body. She knew he was going to stop the minute she said her safe word and that made her a little calmer.

“You ready, puppy?” Bucky asked, gliding the tip of the belt across her bare ass from one cheek to the other.

She shivered, fixing her gaze on Bucky’s bedpost as she whispered, “yes, sir.”

And just like that came the first spank.

But it didn’t hurt, not like she had expected, not at all.

Bucky was going easy on her; too easy.

She didn’t like it.

“Harder, please,” she begged, lowering her head and sticking her ass out.

“Doll—”

“Bucky, please, you promised,” she pled, her voice thick with frustration at her inability to get what she needed from the one person who could give it to her.

Another spank came, a little stronger than the first, but still not enough.

“Did your arm get rusty in those three months?” She threw angrily, raising her eyes to glare at Bucky, “hit me like a man!”

Bucky knew she was just trying to rile him up, make him angry enough so that he would actually hurt her and even though he didn’t want to, he decided he would finally give her what she came for.

“Fine,” Bucky growled, pushing her face into his pillows by the hair and she immediately gave him a full view of her lower half, ass in the air and thighs spread.

He wasn’t going to be able to look at her face as he hurt her this time.

Bucky took a deep breath before finally giving her a real whip and she gasped at the force of it, “is that what you wanted, puppy?”

“Getting close,” she moaned, her words muffled into the pillows as she wiggled her ass for him.

Another similar spank hit her and then another and another until suddenly her body was getting hotter and her butt sorer.

She needed more. Just a little more to break the dam and get suffocating thoughts and burning tears out.

“More, please, sir,” she begged, voice so desperate that it had Bucky swallowing.

He gave an experimental whip on her thighs and she let out a startled scream.

“What’s your color?” Bucky asked at once, hesitant that he might have actually hurt her.

“Green.” Came her reply as she looked up to Bucky, “green, sir, please.”

She was begging for more of this.

Bucky recomposed himself and spanked her thighs with the belt again and she wailed out a “yes, thank you, sir!”, urging him on.

For the first time ever, however, Bucky was not enjoying this. He was not enjoying causing her pain and he was not enjoying knowing that he was supposed to make her cry by the end of it all.

His whips got faster and harder as his thoughts ran wild with worry, just wanting to get this over with as her moans and cries egged him on.

“Color?”

“Green!” She would answer every time he checked in with her.

Pictures of her boyfriend in bed with another woman flashed throw her mind and she stuck her ass out more, hiding her ashamed face in Bucky’s pillows. He let her touch him the way only she was supposed to touch him. He made her shout out in pleasure the way she never did with him. He made her scream his name; the name that was supposed to only roll off her tongue during intimate times.

Her mind kept replaying it all, making her squirm and stick her butt out further. She wanted it all to stop.

She needed this. She deserved this. She was stupid.

“Thank you, sir,” she muttered, a lump finally forming in her throat.

It seemed like whatever had happened this time, had been so bad that the normal amount of whips weren’t enough to get her mind off of it. She was still her, well out of sub space and still very much aware of the ache in her heart.

She needed that ache to move somewhere else, preferably to her ass.

“More, sir, please.”

Bucky’s shoulder started to slightly ache as he kept whipping her, again and again, just wanting it to be over so he could comfort her after as he heard her sniffles, and finally, with a particularly harsh spank on her lower thighs she screamed out, “red!”.

Bucky’s arm stopped immediately, dropping the belt on the floor as he listened as her soft cries get louder.

She burrowed her face in his pillow and let it all out, sobs wracking her entire body as she cried her bleeding heart out.

“Doll,” he whispered, regret filling him at the sight of her body trembling with each wail she let out of her chest.

He looked at her lower body and her ass and thighs were a crime scene, her skin painted in angry red welts all over.

“Please, leave me alone, Buck,” she wept, her face still hidden in his pillow.

“Let me take care of you, doll—”

“No, no. Just leave me,” she pleaded without turning to him.

“At least let me put something on your skin—”

“Please just leave me alone. Please, Bucky,” she sobbed harder, her fingers clutching the side of the pillow as she let her tears flow.

Bucky reluctantly left the room, giving her the space she asked for as guilt ate away at his heart.

He shouldn’t have listened to her. He shouldn’t have done that to her.

It was only when he sat down on the couch outside that he had realized how hard he had actually whipped her. His right shoulder ached, a few strands of his hair were out of place and sweat had forced by his hairline. All the realization did was make him feel more terrible about himself.

He knew he has done it before so many times, but this time was different.

She came to him hurt emotionally and instead of helping her feel better, he ended up hurting her physically too.

She did ask for it, but he could have said no. He could’ve insisted on not doing it.

The sound of her cries seemed never-ending and was absolutely heart-wrenching to listen to. Bucky could all but cover his ears to prevent it from reaching him as he beat himself up for causing it all again and again.

She winced as she sat up on the messy bed, hand on her naked chest as she tried to calm herself down, still hiccupping while her cries slowed down.

God, she had needed this so bad. She had needed it for days and she was so grateful for Bucky for giving it to her.

Being able to cry and let everything out was a blessing that people didn’t appreciate enough; one she was kind of deprived of and had to do a lot to get to enjoy.

When her heartbeat was somewhat slower and her tears have ceased, she slowly pulled herself down the bed and on her wobbly feet.

She looked out to the living room from the bedroom door to see Bucky back on the couch, leaning forward with his head in his hands and she knew he was blaming himself.

So she wiped her tears as much as she could and went back inside. She opened the drawer she knew too well and pulled out the Calendula cream Bucky had bought specifically for her.

She carefully walked to Bucky. She didn’t want him to feel guilty so she made sure not to wince as she took her steps.

She had wanted this. She had asked for it because she had needed it and he only helped her. She wasn’t going to let him berate himself for that.

She left the cream on the coffee table and gently removed Bucky’s hands from his face, guiding him to rest his back on the couch so she could sit herself back across his lap.

Bucky stopped her, standing up to take his pants off so that the material wouldn’t rub against her sensitive skin.

She smiled, her heart lurching at his gentleness and thoughtfulness.

He let her manipulate him into position, closely watching her red-rimmed eyes and swollen nose and lips as she made herself as comfortable as possible on his lap, the new lashes covering her behind out of his sight for now.

Bucky hugged her close, his hands stroking up and down her bare back as she pushed her nose in its place in the crook of his neck, “thank you.” She breathed gratefully.

Bucky only patted her back, pulling her closer in reply. He knew she meant her thanks, but he was still mad at himself for doing it.

She pulled back and let him take her in for a second before leaning in, making Bucky swallow.

“Now fuck me,” she whispered on his lips, grinding down on his covered cock despite the pain it gave her every time she rubbed her inflamed skin on Bucky’s boxers.

“Doll, I think you’ve had enough for today,” Bucky sighed, softly trying to get her off of him.

“Please, just once. I won’t ask for anything else.” She pleaded, her hands clutching the material of Bucky’s tank top, not wanting to leave his lap.

She didn’t want to be away from him. She just got here.

“Doll, give me the cream so I can take care of you,” he demanded, trying to maintain a stern tone so she would listen.

“You can take care of me this way too!” She whined, needy and desperate as she ground herself harder, smiling when she found him hard beneath her.

“I can’t, doll. I can’t. You’re hurt.” Bucky shook his head, gently pushing her to the side and getting up before she could straddle him again.

“Please, Buck,” she croaked out, on the verge of crying again as she grabbed onto his waist, “please don’t walk away.”

“Do you promise not to try anything if I sit back down?” He asked although he knew the answer.

“But I need you!” Anguished tears rolled down her flushed cheeks, “just one orgasm. Please, just one.”

Her constant begging was making Bucky’s cock leak inside his briefs, hard as a rock as he tried his best not to give in.

He had missed her so damn much, but this wasn’t right.

“Doll, come on, quit it. You’re hurt—”

“I haven’t cum in three months.” She cut him off, sniffling as more tears left her eyes, “he— he couldn’t— please.” She begged yet again, her hands cravingly clawing at Bucky’s tank top, wanting him to be close again.

“What?!” Bucky sat back down, wiping her tears away as he took her back into his arms.

She nodded in shame as she cast her eyes down, burrowing her face in his shoulder, “he couldn’t make me cum”.

“Not even with his mouth?”

“Especially not with his mouth,” she muttered, hating the memory of a different man touching her.

“And you didn’t get yourself off?”

She shook her head, still embarrassed as she hid from him.

“Why not?!”

“Couldn’t touch myself without your permission.” She looked up to him, her teary eyes sincere.

Bucky let himself just look at her for a beat longer.

She was with another man that she supposedly wanted to be committed to, but she still followed Bucky’s rules during that relationship.

“I can make you cum, doll,” Bucky said, his gaze darkening, “but I have one condition.”

“Anything,” she whispered, desperate for his touch, his lips, his cock.

She had missed Bucky beyond compare.

“Allow me to break a rule.”

“What—”

“I need to kiss you, baby.”

She smiled, her heart relieved despite its fluttering as she answered by pressing her lips to Bucky’s.

He laid her on her back on his couch, careful not to rub himself against her lower region as he devoured her lips. Bucky sighed on her lips, the first taste always the best.

He hasn’t tasted those lips in nine months, since their very first time together. He remembered them tasting of beer back then, but today it was chocolate lacing her tongue.

It was Bucky’s turn to be desperate as he ate up her whimpers, his tongue dancing with hers as he deepened the kiss. He wanted to gobble her up, get as close to her as possible, taste every inch and swallow every whine.

He realized he couldn’t get as close as he wanted without his boxers scratching the welts on her sore skin.

Bucky pulled away for a second, leaving her to chase his mouth as he chuckled.

She whined, making grabby hands at him.

When he was done taking his boxers off, he got back on top of her, tenderly pushing her legs to her chest to keep them from bumping against the couch before slotting himself between her open legs as his mouth found its way back to hers.

“I can’t believe I let you take this away from me for so long,” he groaned, biting down on her lower lip.

She moaned in reply, pushing her hips up so she could get his cock to stroke against her.

She couldn’t believe she had deprived herself of those kisses either because she knew that she had fallen for the man anyways.

One swipe had Bucky hissing as he felt how wet she was under him. He has needed her for so long, not letting himself find any kind of relief with another woman in her absence.

“Do you want my fingers, doll?”

“No, no, gimme your cock, Bucky, please,” she pleaded, squirming on her back on the couch, pushing her hips up.

“I can’t do that, baby. You know it. It would be too much,” he sighed, his thumb stroking her cheek.

“Bucky, please. I can take it. I’ve taken worse!”

“I can’t. I can’t hurt you anymore, doll.” Bucky admitted, his hand sliding her hair behind her ear.

“Bucky,” she whined and his eyes gave her a firm look, making her shut up at once.

“It’s either my fingers or you get nothing, puppy. What do you want?”

“Your fingers, sir,” she replied obediently, pulling her legs further against her chest to give him all the access he would need.

“That’s a good puppy.” Bucky smiled, thumb circling her swollen clit.

“Please,” she breathed, already throwing her head back at the simple touch.

Bucky chuckled, though he was internally fuming at the fact that she was with a ‘man’ who didn’t make her cum for three whole months, “ready for the first one, puppy?”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded quickly.

Bucky carefully slipped two of his metal fingers inside of her dripping cunt, groaning at the tightness he has missed so much, “I know this hand’s your favorite”.

“I thought you said one!” She moaned in surprise, pushing down on his fingers still.

“I meant first orgasm, puppy,” Bucky laughed, scissoring his fingers inside of her, opening her up exactly like he knew she liked.

And when he curled his fingers just right? She was wailing out the yes’s and thank you’s like it was the last time she would ever get fingered in her life.

“Fuck, baby, squeezing my fingers so hard already,” Bucky groaned, the tips of his vibranium fingers nudging her sweet spot with every indulging thrust, massaging and abusing until he saw her thighs quiver with her first orgasm.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she squealed as Bucky let her come down from her high, fingers slowing down their movements without leaving her leaking pussy.

“Thank me when we’re done, doll.” He smirked, twisting his fingers inside of her.

Bucky got them out for a second only to slip back three fingers instead of two, feeling her cunt hungrily swallow them as she cried out at the delicious stretch.

He bit his lip, shaking his head as he got to business, “fuck, I’ve missed you so much”.

“How we feeling, puppy?” Bucky asked her as he saw her legs tense again.

“So good, so so good, sir. Thank you,” she sobbed in pleasure, feeling her thighs shake for the fifth time that afternoon.

“You’re such a good puppy, cumming so hard for me,” Bucky groaned, feeling the pull of her pussy as he tried to take his fingers out, moving them on her clit instead, “keep cumming baby”.

“I can’t take anymore. Please, I can’t.” She shook her head as she tried to squirm away from Bucky’s skilled fingers.

“Okay, okay,” Bucky chuckled, raising one hand up in surrender as his other went into his mouth.

She was gasping for air as she let her legs go, grimacing when her ass touched the couch. She raised her thighs back up, opening them when Bucky hovered over her body for another kiss.

His cock swiped against her sensitive pussy, making her clench when she felt how hard he was. Bucky was so hard it must be getting painful by now.

“Bucky, I can do one more,” she said against his lips.

“Oh you getting greedy on me, puppy?” Bucky smiled, instantly complying as he brought his hand down between their bodies.

She shivered at the mere tracing of his fingers on her pussy lips, “not with your fingers.”

“Come on now, baby, I thought we’ve already talked about this,” Bucky said, ready to pull away from her body.

“You don’t have to put it inside.” She held onto his waist with all her might, “just rub it on me. I can take that.”

“Baby,” Bucky hesitated, his resolve getting weaker as he imagined the feeling of her silky, drenched pussy under his cock.

“Please, Bucky, just rub it on my pussy. Use me. Make yourself cum.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Bucky whispered, getting hold of his cock.

He swiped the tip between the lips of her cunt, moaning lewdly at the feeling he had missed for months.

She was so wet, so sensitive and so soft.

Bucky was never one to cum fast; not after his very first time with her. But she looked so good under him, already fucked out of her mind. She felt even better and he could only handle so much.

He couldn’t believe she was going to make him cum this quick just by letting him nudge her pussy with the tip of his cock.

“Fuck, baby, this beautiful pussy’s gonna make me bust and I didn’t even get to fuck her!” Bucky groaned, feeling his abs get taut as he tried to hold off his orgasm for as long as physically possible.

He didn’t know where to look; she looked gorgeous everywhere and it was making it harder for him not to cum right then and then.

“I’m cumming,” she gave a shout before shaking underneath him for the sixth time.

“Fuck, yes, cum for me, doll.” Bucky groaned, squeezing at his base to hold his orgasm off.

“Slip the tip inside me, Buck,” she begged, still catching her breath and writhing underneath him needily as if he hadn’t just given her five mind-blowing orgasms on his fingers.

He shook his head, trying to focus on not cumming.

“Please, Bucky, just the tip.”

“Shit, don’t say stuff like that.” Bucky’s head tipped back as he closed his eyes for a second to keep from staring into her imploring ones.

“Please, Bucky. Give me your cum. I missed being filled up of your cum so much.” She begged further, “I’m clean, I promise.”

“I never doubted you, puppy.” Bucky opened his eyes, pressing his lips to hers at once.

“Then give it to me,” she moaned on his lips, holding his face close to hers by the cheek, “give me all of your cum, Bucky. Fill me up until I’m leaking all over myself and your couch.”

“Fuck, doll, I can’t hold back anymore. You wanna be filled up? I’m gonna fill you up,” he growled, popping the fat tip of his cock inside her pussy.

She arched her back for Bucky, desperate to feel more of him, “thank you.”

She missed this cock stretching her to her limits so bad. She missed its girth and its veins and the hot cum it paints her walls with.

Bucky could all but let go at the first clench of her pussy, feeling his cum shoot inside of her until it had filled her up to the brim.

He watched her sigh in satisfaction, a smile spreading on her sweet face as Bucky’s hot load filled up her pulsating cunt.

Bucky reluctantly slipped out of her, watching his cum leak out of her ruined pussy, “oh thank you, doll.”

She couldn’t keep her thighs off the couch anymore, body limp and exhausted. She hissed once again when her raw skin touched the rough couch but didn’t pull her legs back up.

Bucky sighed, kissing her forehead lovingly before going to the bathroom to get a wet cloth to clean her up.

He tried to be gentle as he moved around her skin, wiping away the cum and the sweat. He went to leave the cloth in the bathroom and when he came back, she was tiredly perching herself on his lap.

Bucky smiled, taking the calendula cream from the coffee table to finally rub some against her marked butt and thighs. Aftercare was the most important part and he wasn’t about to forego it.

“How the hell did he fail at making you cum?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask as his palm rubbed circles on her sore skin.

“I guess it was me and my unorgasmable pussy.” She chuckled, making Bucky even madder at the man.

He had caused her to think there was something wrong with her and her body?

“Seems pretty orgasmable to me, doll. He’s the one with a broken penis.” Bucky grunted, focusing on keeping his touch gentle on her skin.

“Could make the other girl cum just fine, so not that broken.” She mumbled into her forearms as she rested her chin on them, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

“What?”

Now Bucky really was angry.

“He cheated on me.”

Her voice was so sad, so shattered.

“Doll,”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if there was even something to say to make this better.

“Yeah, found them together in his bed and everything. They do try to cover up with the white bed sheet just like the movies.” She chuckled again.

She was making jokes, trying to make light of her pain like she always would, but Bucky wasn’t laughing.

“Doll, I’m so sorry. He’s an asshole.”

“It’s fine, really. Doesn’t come as a surprise to me that I wasn’t enough for him.”

“It isn’t fine and you are enough. You’re everything.”

“Bucky, you don’t have to—”

“Be my girl.”

“What?” Her head whipped back so fast, thinking she must have imagined the words.

“Forget about the rules and the deal and forget about our fears. Be my girl, doll,” Bucky repeated.

“Buck, I—”

“I know I’m messed up beyond repair, but if there’s one thing I can’t mess up, it’s loving you, doll. And if I suck at it, let me die trying my best for you.”

“Why’d you have to go and talk about dying now!” She sat back up, not waiting for her skin to fully absorb the cream as she straddled him again.

Her body was hot all over as she took it his words; words she had imagined him saying while standing alone in the shower so many times before that she’d lost count.

“Be my girl.” Bucky smiled, “let me love you like you deserve, doll.”

“You—”

“Yes. I love you,” Bucky admitted, shrugging, his blunt nails clawing at the small of her back nervously.

“You love me love me?”

“I love you love you.” His palms flattened against the small of her back as he nodded with a bigger smile.

“I love you love you!” She exclaimed angrily, “why didn’t you say anything!” She punched Bucky’s chest.

“Ow!” Bucky laughed, holding her hand midway before she could hit him again, “I didn’t think I deserved you.” He kissed her fist.

The gesture left her quiet as a smile formed on her face despite herself.

She cupped Bucky’s cheek and kissed his lips softly, “you’re an idiot.”

“Still think I don’t deserve you, doll. But I can’t pretend like I’m not madly in love with you anymore.”

He tried to deepen the kiss but she pulled away, shocked.

“Bucky, what are you talking about? If anything, I don’t deserve you!”

“Baby, you deserve the whole world.”

“I don’t want the whole world!” She threw her hands in the air, “just one idiot who would hold me on his lap after a good spanking,” she mumbled shyly, making Bucky laugh.

“This one idiot is all yours if you’d have him, doll.” Bucky’s smile was for once reaching his eyes as he brought her in for another kiss.

“I love you,” she repeated, throwing her body around his, holding him tight, fearing it might be a dream.

“I love you too, baby. I don’t deserve you but fuck I love you so much it keeps me up at night like a teenager,” he confessed in her hair, his big hand pressing her closer to him.

“Stop saying that.” She looked him in the eyes, “you deserve everything good in this whole universe and then some. I just hope I could be enough.”

“Could be enough— doll, you’re enough. You’re just right. The exact amount. You’re it. You’re the best for me and the only one I want.”

She didn’t know what to say to that so she put her lips on Bucky’s again and let the kiss demolish her fears and insecurities.

She was in Bucky’s arms and she was enough. She was safe and loved.

This was Bucky. Bucky, who was never intimidated by her professional success. Bucky, who has met her at her worst. Bucky, who has never done her wrong. Bucky, who has gotten to see the real, raw her and never turned away.

It was in that very moment that she realized that running away from Bucky to find love with other men was the worst crime she had committed against herself because now the mere idea of being out of this man’s arms and heart was too illogical and incredulous to even consider.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated on her lips as they caught their breaths.

And she could see it all in his loving, blue eyes as they adored every inch of her face: she was home and she was never getting lost again.

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shemaycry · 5 months

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❛I’ll give you lessons, it’s so much to know. ❜ ⸺ Gojo Satoru

【⠀♱⠀】 SYNOPSIS. satoru just wants to show you how different real sex and literature sex is.

【⠀♱⠀】 AUTHOR’S NOTE. i know there’s like plenty of virgin x experienced satoru fics but i just wanted to write this one based off my own experience. so yeah, hope you enjoy there may be a part 2. 3K+ WORDS & PLEASE EXCUSE GRAMMAR MISTAKES

Novels were so easy to get lost in. The moment your eyes landed upon a link of words you were lost to the world; glued to the seat underneath you for hours until your eyes demanded rest.

This was your current situation; glued to your bed, back pressed against the hill of plush pillows whilst your eyes skimmed the sentences within the book. You held the paperback delicately, lips parting every so often to giddily act out a piece of dialogue.

You loved books. Loved reading them, writing them, and much more.

What you didn’t love, was being interrupted while reading one.

The knock against your door was enough to cause your head to snap to it, bottom lip curled tight under your teeth as annoyance threatened to bubble over. With a heavy sigh you slumped into your pillows, “Yes, Satoru?” Your voice ranged monotone, something you used frequently whenever your beloved roommate and friend; Gojo Satoru, decided he needed attention during your reading time.

The door opened with haste, the tall white-haired male entering with a small frown. “You never sound excited to see me.” Satoru breathed, hand rising and lowering against his chest as if truly wounded by your behavior. An act that dissipated the moment you rolled your eyes— the man chuckling and entering the room fully to sit upon the corner of your bed. “I’m bored.. The rain killed all my plans.”

His complaints were barely registered the moment your eyes landed back to your book— a single mhm escaping you instead. A silence covered the room, feeling your bed sink as his long form stretched out upon the edge. Still, your eyes remained on the manilla pages; far too consumed in the utter debauchery playing before your eyes.

Unfortunately for you, Satoru didn’t let this slide for long; given his hand rose to poke the bottom of your foot.

You blinked harshly, lowering the book to cast a glare his way; Satoru’s eyes elsewhere as if innocent. The moment you returned to your book however— he poked you again, going in for a third one just for good measure.

Your legs slid up quickly, book falling to your lap as you glared at the man. “Satoru, how old are you?!”

“I’m bored..” He repeated, cheek sinking into your soft blankets as his pretty eyes stared up at you. Any other time you would have gave into the infamous pout, but not this time. You were enjoying your book far too much.

“Not my problem, find something safe to do.” You huffed, grabbing your book from your lap to slap Satoru’s reaching hand with.

With a quick recoil of his hand, the man sat up, huffing softly. “Like what?”

You groaned, leaning back against your pillows. “I don’t know, Gojo. Cook a dish, sleep, maybe read a damn book— just stop worrying me to death!”

Silence carried around the room for a moment, a bout of anxiety settling deep in your stomach at the man’s unreadable expression. Have I upset him? Was the single thought running in your mind. There were times he was unbearably annoying but again— Satoru was your friend and someone you held very dear.

“Sato—“

“I’ll read a book.” The man rose from your bed slowly with a soft sigh. This alone caused the small bout to quickly grow; your eyebrows furrowing and racking your mind for the perfect apology.

Until.. your beloved roommate and great friend snatched your book right from your hands— dashing out of your room before you could even blink.

Your eyes slowly widened as you registered the situation, fighting with your blankets to throw off as expletives escaped your lips rapidly. You were finally free from the web of comfort— rushing out of your bedroom towards where you loudly heard Satoru reading your book.

“His voice was husky, low; a tone that caused warmth to spread from my stomach all the way to my toes..”

“Satoru— give me back my book!” You rushed towards his spot standing beside the coffee table, watching him raise the book higher and crane his neck to continue to read; all while with a shit eating grin.

“He was close now, eyelids low with plump lips slick with my..” Satoru’s words slowed, eyebrows coming close together for a split moment. “— arousal.” His eyes were wide at this point, falling to your face which held a mix between embarrassment and anger.

The two of you watched each other for a moment, lips forming into a grin and the other a frown; the silence breaking the moment you groaned and landed onto the couch. Satoru quickly followed, snickering to himself as he quickly went back a page;

“Looks like I need to reread for the full effect..“

“Satoru, bite your tongue and die—“

Your harsh words were over shown by his downright maniacal giggling as he read over the pages, leaning back against the cushions. You spared a glance to spot the bright smile drawn across his features, glossy lips parting to softly read out the scene.

Another groan escaped you as you leaned back, balling up the shirt you wore in your hands. You shouldn’t be this embarrassed, really— or should you? Sex was sex, obviously; but it was a little different to be sexually active and simply being reading about. Plus, it was no secret you were a virgin— so you were sure you looked like a perverted hornball.

You wanted to die right then and there.

Soon enough, however; your stolen book made contact with your lap, which caused your eyes to open and land onto the culprit.

Whose grin was still intact.

“So that’s why you wanted me to leave so badly.”

“Satoru, please..”

The man snorted softly, dimples deep and turning to face you. “I’m not making fun of you [Name], it’s normal— it’s like a guy watching porn..” His eyes trailed off for a moment, dancing about the room before clicking back to you. “— Though I have to ask, is this the same stuff you spend time writing about?”

The heat growing within you was becoming too much, washing over your face and causing the embarrassment to dive deeper and deeper. “N—not all of it!” You huffed, eyebrows pinched close as you watched the man raise his hands defensively.

“Like I said I’m not judging either way. It’s just, interesting is all..” He shrugged to himself, leaning back against the cushions as his arms stretched out upon the couch. Satoru’s eyes flicked to your own, grin deepening the moment he noticed your bewildered expression. The man, as teasing as ever— leaned over just a bit closer. “Because you’re a virgin, that’s why.”

“Oh.” You spoke softly, eyes falling from his face to your lap, lips pushed close for a moment— the heat in your face seething at this point. “Well yeah, it’s uh.. ya know, my imagination so it kind makes up for.. lack of experience?”

Satoru stifled a short laugh, slinking away and facing forward. “Your smut is completely different from the real thing, though.” He claimed, tone teetering between cocky and just a tad playful.

You rolled your eyes as a soft obviously escaped your lips hearing the man chuckle. Satoru wasn’t wrong, you were sure real life sex and literature were completely different. From reactions down to positions, it was bound to be very distinct.

Still, the question of how different lingered within you.

Slowly your eyes rose from your lap to settle upon your roommate and great friend, only to suck in a breath the moment you noticed his gaze already upon you. Nervously you wetted your bottom lip, bringing your arms even closer to your chest.

“H..how different?”

Without missing a beat the man was turning to face you, one arm falling to his lap.

“I could show you.”

Satoru’s words took a moment to register, you being unable to hear anything but your rapid heartbeat. It felt as if you were lit on fire, staring up at the man who glanced down at you with clear intent swirling in his eyes. His hand remained on his lap, waiting patiently for a response from your quivering lips.

He was your friend and roommate too; he was supposed to nothing more and nothing less. Every alarm was going off in your head, stating getting entangled in such a way would be a bad idea all around.

But, you ignored them. Wholeheartedly. The stiff nod you gave a clear response.

Except Satoru wasn’t having that, scooting closer as he shook his head at you. “I’m not words on paper,” He spoke cooly, staring down at you carefully. “—I need you to say it.”

You struggled to hold his intense gaze, eyes dancing just about anywhere to avoid it. Your hands fell to the pajama bottoms you wore, carefully clearing your throat. “I… Want you to show me.” You spoke softly, finally glancing back up at the man.

You breathed softly as he drew closer, feeling his hand fall to your thigh to part and intrude the space between them. Satoru lowered towards you, your eyes fluttering shut the moment you two kissed.

It was a embarrassing how inexperienced you were; barely being able to keep up with his lips despite the already slow pace. Your hands rose to grasp his arms, eyebrows pinching close as his tongue treaded across your mouth. A soft moan escaped you, causing his tongue to slither in and tangle with your own.

It was a foreign feeling, one that caused your mouth to ache and for a flutter to occur between your thighs. You gasped softly as his hand slid off the couch to your back, carefully pressing against it and lowering you onto the couch.

Satoru’s long form hovered over you, hand smoothing across your thigh for a moment before rising to the waistband of your pants. It simply rested there as he continued to mark your mouth as his own; lathering his tongue in the wet cavern and sucking on your own appendage to hear you whine. By the time he released from the kiss, drool was trickling down the side of your mouth, lips a mess and red from his own.

You panted softly, watching as he rested on his haunches. Satoru’s other hand met your waistband, toying with the fabric for a moment before removing his hands all together.

The action caused you to raise your eyebrow, biting the inside of your cheek. “Satoru, are y—“

“‘M waiting until you take your pants off.” He said as if the answer was obvious. The man made a show of leaning back to sit on his ass, arms crossed infront of him.

Whether to show he meant business or to restraint himself was something you would never know nor care for seeing as you were currently groaning at his words. You knew your pants would be off in the end anyway, but something about him doing it would.. well, ease your nerves somehow? Who knows, you can’t find an excuse in the moment.

Especially not when the man is simply grinning at you, refusing to make a move until you listened to his request.

Knots formed in your stomach as you rose your bottom half off the couch a bit, thumbs hooking on your pants and panties and slowly tugging them down your legs.

About halfway Satoru was helping, clearly impatient despite the look he was giving you just a moment ago. He tossed the garments off to the side, turning back to spot your thighs closed tight together.

The man blinked in response, even laughing a little to himself as his hands rose to rest upon your knees. “You always look so expressionless while reading your little books..” Satoru spoke coyly, thumbs lowering to press into your heated skin. “Yet here you are; legs closed and barely looking at me.”

“I’m nervous, Satoru. You can’t blame me.” You spoke softly, blinking up at the male who only smiled back. You hissed as his hands fell to the side of your thighs, his fingers trailing the skin to allow you to get used to the feeling.

“There’s no need to be. It’s just me, sweetheart.. no one else,” His voice was calm, easing your mind just a little. His hands lowered to the underside of your legs the moment he noticed you sinking into the couch more, thumbs peeking through the tiny slit between your legs. “— just you and Satoru.” That was enough to allow him to ease your legs apart, revealing your slick slit and more as he widened them further.

You grew uncomfortable under his gaze, adjusting yourself as your hands balled up the shirt you wore. Your stomach leaped however the moment you watched him began to lower and situate himself between your legs, face hovering just a breath away from your wet heat.

You hissed as his breath fanned against you, shivering the moment you felt his thumbs lower to gently pull your folds. “Satoru..” You whimpered softly, gasping as you felt his lips graze your pussy.

“Just relax for me..” Satoru hummed softly against you, tongue lolling out to lick a stripe up your slit. His hands tightened against your legs the moment you twitched, keeping your hips down against the couch as his tongue continued to work up and down your cunt.

You’ve never felt something like this before, it was well… weird. It’s not as if you were unfamiliar with pleasure in general. You’ve touched yourself enough to know what does and doesn’t feel good, or what type of response you would receive from yourself.

But Satoru was.. territory you have never encountered before. It was different, far too different to get used to in the moment. You were unable to contain the soft breaths and moans that escaped you, eyes screwed shut and not daring to look at the man currently ravishing you with just his tongue.

It was as if he had already studied your body; tongue dancing across your slit for a moment before lapping at your clit, squeezing your legs the moment they began to rise from the attention. Hearing your rushed cries was pure bliss, soft breathy moans escaping his mouth as he refused to allow you to move away from the pleasure.

Your back was arched now, arousal dripping down to your taint and surely the couch as Satoru sucked and licked your little bud raw. Your toes were curling, legs shaking, and your breath became labored; eyes peeking open to spot his gaze settled onto your face— clearly happy the moment you looked at him.

Satoru’s hand rose from your thigh and allowed his thumb to replace his mouth; rubbing your clit into circles, watching you carefully. “So wet, baby.. you hear it don’t you?” The man went silent whilst his thumb sped up, allowing you to hear the soft squelches of your pussy over the heavy breaths that were escaping you.

You gripped your shirt harshly, whimpering as your legs threatened to close from the pleasure. “S—satoru.. fuck, fuck..” You hissed the moment he leaned down again, feeling his tongue replace his thumb and set a harsh pace against your clit again.

What’s more, you felt his hand low, finger circling your sopping entrance for a moment before slowly pushing the long digit in. You whimpered at the sudden intrusion, but recovered quickly given the continued sucks and licks on your bud.

“Sato—satoru, fuck..!” You cried out, hands lowering to his fluffy white hair, taking the tresses between your fingers for something to hold. Your legs shook, bouncing about and threatening to close as his tongue sped up, while his finger slowly pushed in and out of your opening.

Your stomach was tense, grip tight, and mouth loose with moans as your orgasm hit you far too quickly; a beautiful string of sounds escaping you, as your legs shook around him. Satoru groaned into your sopping sex, gripping your leg as his actions never let up; carrying you through your orgasm effortlessly.

Little tears pricked at your eyes as pants escaped you and with shaky legs you were gripping his hair, pulling him away from your pussy quickly.

“Need to.. breath, Satoru.” You huffed softly, mouth hanging open and whining as you felt his finger slowly slide out of you. Through hazy vision you took in his beautiful features; spotting the red flushing his pale skin and the absolute mess of saliva and your essence coating the lower half of his face.

Satoru smiled up at you with low eyelids, circling the inside of your thigh with his thumb. “Breathe.” He hummed to you, rising up from between your legs to hover above you. The moment your eyes rose to meet his own, his head was lowering to plant a wet kiss to your cheek. “You don’t know how pretty you look like this, [Name].”

The warmth from both his actions and words were burning you up, your eyes shutting and not daring to look at him as a soft whine escaped you. You heard the man chuckle at you, feeling his hand gently squeeze your thigh.

“So shy..” Satoru teased, hand lowering to glide his fingers up and down your messy slit, paying extra attention to your bud with each pass. His eyes lowered as he spotted your legs widening, smile deepening in response. “You want more, huh? You want my mouth on this pretty pussy again, don’t you?”

The vulgar language had you whining, hips rising as soft pleas escaped you. This was enough for the man; slinking back to his previous position all while pushing at your thigh again.

His tongue moved up and down, side to side; reaching places that erupted feeling after feeling within you. Your mouth became raw from how loud you were becoming, arousal pooling under you as your grip never loosened on his hair.

Satoru’s breathing was heavy against you, tongue lowering to your hole and slowly pushing in; fucking you with the slimy appendage while working circles into your bud with his fingers. Despite these expert actions his eyes never left your face, feeling his cock strain within the confinements of his clothes.

Everything about you was addictive at this point. The moans you tried to cover, the way you absolutely refused to look at him, hell; even the twitches of your legs when the pleasure became too much. Satoru could only focus on you and nothing else. Especially not some dumb book that couldn’t make you feel half as good as he was right now.

Satoru’s tongue rose to allow his long digits to push into your awaiting entrance. The man hissed as your velvety walls clamped around them, using his thumb to circle your clit while he rose. “Can barely move my fingers, princess— you have to relax for me.”

You slowly nodded, a subtle pout forming as your hips rose. “‘M trying Satoru..” You huffed softly, eyes threatening to close as you felt his fingers pull back before pushing back in slowly. The pressure and pain dissipated the more you settled into the couch, pleasure even forming the moment his fingers curled. A moan escaped you shortly after, watching his grin widen.

“Good girl, that’s it..” He spoke sweetly. Yet his eyebrows furrowed the moment you closed your eyes, hand rising from your thigh take your cheeks in his hand— turning you forward again. “Mm.. don’t do that, lemme see you. Don’t look away.”

With how easily he was ruining you with his fingers, the task was difficult— but you obeyed; hands falling to his shoulders to hold tightly.

Your hips shook, rising to meet the thrusts of his fingers as a continuous honeyed melody fell from your swollen lips. Praises escaped the man above you as he felt your walls pulse rapidly, his thrusts increasing the moment your moans began to pitch.

“Fuck..! Satoru, I’m close!”

Your whimpers went unheeded, his pace quickening as he leaned down to press his lips against your neck. Your hips rose in the air for the last time as a prolonged moan escaped you, making a mess all over his hand.

This time Satoru pulled his hand away, allowing you to regain your breath while kissing your skin. Your grip loosened upon his body, eyelids falling shut as your pants slowed carefully.

A silence carried in the room until Satoru leaned down, resting his forehead against your own as he spoke;

“Do you know the difference now, [Name]?”

Regaining your breath, your hand rose to smooth across his neat undercut.

“Yeah, yeah I do..”

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !

2K notes · View notes

ravenromanova · 7 months

Text

Bad girl

Parings: Wandanat x Female Avenger

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Mommy kink, Daddy kink, Fingering, Edging, Bonadge, Orgasm denial, Oral, Nipple play, Mean Wanda, Overstimulation. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Summary: Wanda and Natasha need to give their neglected baby some attention

This fic came from this request!

Kinktober masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!!!

You could feel the two sets of emerald eyes throwing daggers at you as you talked to their younger siblings. Your plan was working a little better than you had intended and you were just hoping they’d break soon. The plan was simple, flirt with pietro and yelena, get Wanda and Nat to give you attention like you’ve been wanting all week.

Your girlfriends had promptly been ignoring you for over a week now and it was killing you. Honestly you had no idea why they were being so cold towards you. So you did what you did best…scheme. And by the looks that both redheads were giving you it was definitely working.

The three of you were downing shots at the bar in between sharing your most embarrassing mission stories.

“No i swear i almost died that mission” You laugh at your own stupidity from your last mission as you down another shot. Pietro went on about how Clint “accidentally” shot him with an arrow during training and you lost it. You slyly put your hand on the blondes shoulder making his twin fume.

“I think you’ve had enough malysh” A thick sokovian accent flooded your ears as her hands came around your waist. Her hands squeezed your hips making you squeak a little as you turned to look at her.

“But im having fun” You try to protest earning a disappointed sigh from the redhead.

“I said you’ve had enough” She repeated herself lowly in your ear causing you to shiver. “Natty is already in the room waiting for us” Wanda took your hand and pulled you away from Yelena and Pietro despite your protests. Her cool rings her digging into the flesh of your arm causing you to struggle in her grasp.

“Heyyyyy!” You pout as she takes you away from your friends.

“Bad girls dont get to have fun” She pushed you into the room where Natasha was waiting on the bed. You opened your mouth to say something but she pushed you onto the bed before you could.

“Anything to say for yourself?” The russian asked kneeling behind you. Your senses were all kinds of fucked as you were surrounded by the two women.

The air in the room was thick with tension as you felt Natashas hands come underneath your shirt rubbing small circles on your stomach. Both of the women raised an eyebrow waiting for your response but you couldn’t find one that wouldn’t make them mad.

“I-I just wanted your attention” The words fly out of your mouth before you could stop them. “You two have been so distant and cold towards me lately” Both women look at each other as you speak and they truly felt bad for abandoning their princess.

“So instead of coming to us about it you decided to flirt with our siblings?” Wanda seethed feeling her guilt melt away and her anger take over.

You simply nod your head at her question feeling all kinds of stupid at your antics. You knew your girlfriends loved you and were probably just having a difficult time lately but you still missed them.

“You could’ve just asked detka” The russian husked in your ear kissing it softly. “But since you wanted to be a slut we now have to treat you like one” Her hands found their way to the hem on your panties making you shiver.

“I-I’m sorry daddy” You groan feeling her hand pull away from your core. “I’ll be a good girl” Natasha chuckled in your ear moving from behind you to lay you flat on the bed.

“Oh we know you will detka” She said softly giving you a sweet kiss before they ruin you. Wanda flicks her wrist and youre left naked on the bed. Both women kneel on either side of you slowly rubbing your soft skin making you burn with desire.

“Here’s how this is gonna go” Wandas voice broke you out of your thoughts. “We are going to play with you and you only get to cum when we say so and if you cum before we allow you to then you will be punished more than you already are okay?” She says gripping your chin.

“Yes mommy i understand” Wanda smiles at your submission and then uses her magic to tie your hands to the bed frame. The red tendrils buzzed against your skin and made you smile.

Wanda made her way down to your wet pussy and stopped right before she got to your clit. Your hips bucked against her hand when you felt her cool hands come into contact with your heated skin. She slowly licked a stripe against your pussy making you moan but ultimately she left you wanting more. She flicked her wrist again and started drawing circles against your clit.

“Oh fuck mommy” You mewl feeling the buzzing on your most sensitive area. Wanda smiled softly and you and gave Natasha a look that sealed your fate for the night. You felt the older woman move behind you and rest your body against her chest. Her slim fingers made their way down to your nipples and started tugging on them.

“Yes yes yes” You chanted relishing in the touch of your lovers. You felt the coil in your stomach about to burst at their touch. But it was soon cut off when Natasha stopped touching you and Wandas magic ceased on your clit.

“Did you really think we’d let you cum that easily? Bad girls dont get to have fun” Wanda repeated her words from earlier coming back up so your faces are inches apart.

“B-But mommy” You whine trying to pull her closer and she responded by smacking your mouth.

“Do not talk back” She reprimanded with a harsh tone making you sink back into Natashas hold.

“Oh come on dont be so mean to her Wands. Our little baby just wanted our attention” Natasha cooed rubbing your cheek softly to soothe the sting.

“Stop being so soft of the little slut Natalia” Wanda sneered giving the russian her signature death glare.

“No, she’s just our dumb little baby who didn’t know any better” The russian played with your hair making Wanda roll her yes.

“She’s still getting punished for being a slut” The younger of the two women flicked her wrist again and the your clit started buzzing again.

“Oh fuck” You throw your head back onto Natasha in pleasure. One of Natashas hand found home around your throat applying just the right amount of pleasure.

The coil in your stomach was about to snap again feeling Wandas magic on your clit. Wanda stopped the magic once more making you whine in protest.

“Please mommy please let me cum” You begged the witch making her shake her head.

“Now what’s the fun in that when you get so worked up by me not?” She asked and Natasha just shook her head at the younger woman. You felt a shifting behind you and then Natasha was the one between your legs.

Wanda shot the spy a look that read ‘what are you doing?’. Natasha simply shook her head and parted your thighs.

“Well if you aren’t going to fuck her then i will” She simply said shrugging her shoulders and started eating your pussy. Wanda groaned at her girlfriend and slightly outed that her fun was over. She always knew the spy had a soft spot for you and Wanda did too expect for when you fuck up.

“Always so soft on her” Her words sent a chill down your spine making you look up on her.

“That doesn’t mean you have to be” Your words made her tilt her head and raise an eyebrow at you. “I-I like it when youre rough with me mommy” You say trying to pull on the magical restraints but failing.

Wanda just smiled and wrapped her hand around your throat and her mouth came into contact with your nipple. “Yes mommy-fuck-“ You moan when you feel Wanda biting and tugging on your nipple.

“So sweet detka” Natasha praised sticking two fingers in you hitting your g-spot. You threw your head back feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure you’re enduring.

“Hurry up and make her cum” Wanda hurried Natasha as she stared at the spy making her speed up her actions.

“R-Right there-oh fuck- yes daddy yes!” The moan ripped itself from your throat and the coil in your stomach snapped as Natasha hit your g-spot just right.

“Good girl” She praised bringing you into a heated kiss. The two of you moaned as you tasted yourself on her lips. Wanda was quick to pull you two apart and settled herself in between your thighs again.

The witch wasted no time in shoving three fingers in you making you scream at the burn. She kept her eyes on you the whole time as Natasha started leaving marks on your chest and neck.

“Oh fuck mommy please can i cum?” You asked feeling your second orgasm build up. Wanda smirks and then rips her fingers out of you causing you so cry out.

“P-Please mommy” You beg pulling on your restraints. Wanda clutches your face in her hand again forcing you to look at her.

“Who do you belong to?” She asked giving you another smack on the cheek.

“You and Daddy i-i belong to you and Daddy” You responded to her question quickly which made her smile.

“You better start acting like it” She said and you nodded obediently as she made her way back down to your pussy. Natasha was still leaving marks on your neck when Wanda shoved her fingers back into you.

“Cum you little slut” Wanda urged fucking into you at a hard and rough pace. The coil in your stomach was building up at every stroke of your g-spot.

“R-Right there mommy fuck!” You screamed feeling your orgasm rip through you. Wanda continued to finger you not caring that you were pleading her to stop. Her fingers worked relentlessly against your core. It all became too much Natashas mouth of your nipple while Wanda fucked you hard had you reeling.

“Too much Mommy s-stop please!” Your attempt at pushing Wanda out with just your thighs failed you when she used her magic again to tie your thighs together.

“Fight me again and you wont get to cum for weeks” She muttered against your clit while her fingers were still in you.

At a certain point you lost how many orgasms your girlfriends had pulled out of you alternating between who fucked you. But after what felt like hours they finally stopped.

“I’m sorry for being a bad girl” You said in the midst of a fucked out haze. Both women laid next to you and Wanda tilted your chin to look at her.

“We’re sorry for ignoring you malysh. We’ll do better.. Just dont pull that again little one” She gave you a sweet kiss and then rubbed your cheek softly.

“We love you detka” Natasha whispered in your ear as her arms snaked around your waist.

“I love you guys too” You said with a dopey smile on your face. The three of you fell into a comfortable silence just enjoying the soft kisses and touches they gave you. That night they promised you no matter what that they’d never neglect their baby ever again.

~The end~

A/n: Sorry i kinda rushed this one i wanted to make sure i posted this one tonight since i have a few more kinktober fics coming out and i dont wanna keep not posting for days at a time!

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other cites

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forbidden-sunlight · 4 months

Text

platonic yandere! Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

Warnings: aged-up! reader [in early to late twenties], ooc, overprotective! Alastor, possessive behavior, implied yandere!vox, stalking, knowledge based on the six episodes of the 2024 season.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to another Hazbin Hotel fic, starring Hell's one and only Radio Demon, Alastor and his little darling!

Special thanks to @witch-of-the-writing-desk and @isuckatwritingsobenice for providing criticism and feedback.

As always, bullying is not tolerated here. If you have nothing nice to say, please do not say it. Furthermore, if you believe the warnings listed above will make you uncomfortable, please leave now.

For those who have decided to stay, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going on for tonight's broadcast :)

Tomorrow was your turn for Show and Tell.

According to Charlie’s lesson plan, it is an activity where your interests and stories are shared with a group of people. But you did not know what you could share with everyone.

They know why you are here at the hotel.

They know you were ex-military.

They know you have prosthetic arms after you lost them in the war.

They know you were an Auto Memory Doll for the Lieutenant’s company.

They know many things about you…what is else there to talk about? You had thought long and hard but nothing came to mind. Your Remington typewriter is only used for work. The only ones who would even be remotely interested in its history were Alastor and Sir Pentious. Including your nightgown and tool kit to fix your hands, there is nothing else in the hotel that is under your possession except for a crimson parasol that the Alastor had gifted to you.

That was when you remembered something. A difficult man who lived by a lake. A man who struggled to write his next play until he asked you to take the pale blue parasol and….

You could show them that. However, there is no lake around the Pride Ring. The closest thing to an ocean was in another ring. Nor is there one here at the hotel because it stood on top of a hill. Yet…there is someone who is capable of conjuring something like that with a snap of his fingers. The Radio Demon.

Would he actually hear your request or simply say ‘no’ with a boisterous laugh was another question entirely. Your redemption was on the line here….at this point….you might have to make a deal with him after all. So you sought him out in his radio station in the hotel’s west wing. You had heard from Niffty that he was planning a special show this evening to celebrate his return. When you knocked on the door, he called to see who is the delightful visitor who has come to see him when he is quite busy at the moment.

“It’s me, sir.” You said. “Permission to enter?” You asked. Some habits were difficult to forget, especially when in the presence of a cannibal gentleman, as Vaggie has referred to Alastor. In the nicest way possible.

You only heard silence on the other side of the door. Assuming that he was not in the mood or struck speechless at the absurdity of your idea, you spoke again. “My apologies, Alastor. I didn't mean to disturb you. I will see you at dinner.”

You took a step away from the door, bowing your head. “I wish you good luck with your radio broadcast.” You turned around, grabbing the wrought-iron railing leading back down to the main floor with your gloved hand. You only took one step when the door leading to Alastor’s office swung open. You looked over your shoulder and saw Alastor leaning out of the doorway, wearing a wide grin as his bright red irises locked onto your gaze. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” You began. “I’ll ask Charlie if I could do something else for my Show and Tell presentation -”

“Nonsense, my dear!” He exclaimed. You watched his lanky form dissipate into wispy darkness, slithering across the floor and beneath your feet. Your mouth opened to interject that it was truly all right, but your body was not listening. Instead of leaving the Radio Demon to his work, you walked back up the stairs and straight into Alastor’s office. But you were not in control of your body. It had moved on its own.

The door closed behind you with a loud click, and you were seated on a couch adjacent to what appeared to be the soundboard. A shadow crawling out from the sleek wooden floor and up the golden bear claw of the furniture, twisting and writhing until he appeared by your side. “I didn’t know you could do that.” You said finally.

“Oh, I can do many things, darling~!” He said, leaning forward. “And do not fret over my listeners, they will get their daily dose of perfection as promised~! Now then, how can I help you?”

“I have an idea.” You replied. You then went on to explain what you wanted to do…but you were not sure if it could be pulled off. You clasped your gloved hands together, squeezing them in your lap. “Please be honest…is it possible for you to do this for me? I am willing to make a deal with you. Not for my soul because it is not worth anything to someone of your caliber as an overlord…but I am willing to do a favor for you.”

He stared at you for a long moment, still smiling as he tilted his head to one side. A high-pitched static noise bounced off of the walls till silence filled the room again.

“In the first place my dear there is no such thing as an unworthy soul, though I could name a few individuals. Certainly not yours. However, I will agree that granting this favor for your soul is asking for too much for something too little. Instead, let’s do a simple deal. Quid pro quo, if you will~! I do this for you, and you will help me as I host my radio show. Bringing me food and water, screening phone calls, the basics. Your choice. And~! Before we agree to this, I must be the one to see this little presentation first. Not even Charlie will see it. It will ruin the fun~!” He held out his hand, green smoke twirling around his gloved fingers. “Do we have a deal?”

You glanced down at his hand, then back at his face before raising your own to your mouth. Tugging the leather glove off your teeth, it fell into your lap. You extended your hand, the dim lights bouncing off of your adamantine skeletal fingers as you gently placed them into his open palm. You looked back at him. “Is this acceptable?” You asked. “Our hands being like this instead of a handshake. I do not want to push any more boundaries or waste your time further.”

Alastor looked down at your hands with a stupefied expression before he hummed, taking your mechanical wrist, holding your hand up and then….folding your hand over his own.

“If you want to make this deal official, both parties must shake hands on it. Finger tapping doesn’t count~!”

You watched the same green smoke from earlier envelop your intertwined hands, shifting into tiny skulls that circled around and around before disappearing entirely. The deal is made. You thought. Then you wondered, why is he still holding your hand?

You looked at him. “Sir?”

“Hm? Oh, my apologies~!” He quickly withdrew his hand, standing up from the couch. You followed suit, confused a little at his sudden actions.

“Now, let’s get started~!” He snapped his fingers again, and the vintage wallpaper of the radio station disappeared, replaced with the open, crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Looking around, you saw that the two of you were standing outside of the hotel. “So…you want to put the ‘lake’ here,” He said, pointing at the open space of the hill going down towards the city. “And you will be using a parasol while…performing this stunt?”

“Yes.” You said. Then you realized that you did not have your own on hand. “It will…make it difficult to perform without it.” And it was how Olive made it home after she had slayed the monster. To return to her father, whom she loved the most in the whole world.

“Fair enough.” Alastor said. “An act can’t be completed without the necessary props~!”

You speculated that him snapping his fingers is either something he enjoyed immensely or it was just how he conjured his powers that were not affiliated with his manipulation of the shadows. You have come to this conclusion after careful observation of him, and your parasol quite literally popped out of thin air and in your hands suddenly.

“Thank you.” You opened the parasol carefully, raising it over your head and now focused entirely on the space where the lake is supposed to be. Alastor hummed, and with the fourth snap of fingers, a foggy and inky body of water appeared several feet from both of you. Then he disappeared, his shadows slithering to the other side. He was ready. But were you? Yes. Yes, you were.

You stared at the water for a moment before taking three steps back, digging the heel of your boots into the ground. You bent your knees.

Then you took off.

Alastor thought you were a sweet little darling. Despite being insightful and a quick learner, however, you were oblivious to the signs of someone who takes an interest in you romantically. But he does not dare think that sending random gifts to the hotel, stalking someone through the cameras around the city whenever you leave the hotel for work or to run errands for Charlie, or even trying to ‘coincidentally’ mention your name and antagonize him on his broadcast qualifies. Alastor knows that Vox is doing it. He knows why, because the clout video podcast is bold to assume that you are his lover, the Radio Demon’s lover.

Ha! No. Not at all. You were simply someone who entertained him and needed protection from licentious fellows who would not hesitate to take advantage of your innocence and ensnare you in a contract. That will not happen. So unless Vox wants to make an appearance on his broadcast as a new voice for all of Hell to hear, the fucking egoistical piece of shit had better keep his distance.

But imagine his surprise when you approached him for help. You, the person who would rather try to figure everything out on your own! Why, he was delighted~!

Granted it was for one of Charlie’s silly exercises, yet how could he not take advantage of this opportunity to get to know his darling a little bit more? So he offered a deal with you, listing the terms and the two of you shook on it…though he had to put your hand around his in a handshake. You were still wary of him, no doubt, and knew he did not like being touched. Suppose there was a benefit of working under Rosie as her secretary in his absence.

No doubt she told stories about you as much as she told him about you. She would go on about how efficient you were, how you always showed up on time and dressed appropriately as per the rules of the Cannibal Colony, etc. Why, she told him so much about you that he had been curious to meet you~!

And he was not disappointed.

Now, as he watched you gracefully leap across the murky lake he had conjured, the parasol held high over your head in your gloved hand, Alastor was spellbound at the sight. His smile grew wider, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. But he refused to allow himself to get dirty again and pay another visit to the tailor; that was why he kept several feet away from the water, and he chose not to appear on the opposite side of the lake, as much as he’d like to. Oh well, there was always next time.

You had almost slipped, however, when your back foot began to loose traction on the water.

Well…nothing wrong with providing a little assistance, as far as he is aware of.

He summoned a tentacle from beneath the lake with a wave of his hand, letting you use it as leverage to bolster your speed and give you the stability needed to make one final leap to the opposite side. And you did, much to his delight and yours. When you smiled brightly at him….well, he was very pleased. He had just witnessed a new expression that he was quite sure no one else has seen since your arrival at the hotel. He chuckled darkly. He watched you walk back to him, face flushed, still clutching the parasol in one hand and the other one raising your skirt so that you wouldn’t tumble over your feet.

My, my, you truly are a fascinating soul.” He remarked, a hint of ominous delight in his voice. He had no doubt that you will dazzle everyone with your performance tomorrow and with his help. Afterwards…well, there will be no way for Vox to interfere. Oh, this was going to be entertaining.

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #yandere alastor x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #yandere male #platonic yandere #character!reader #violet evergarden!reader #cw possessiveness #tw possessiveness #yandere #ns.fw #forbidden-sunlight #tw stalking #cw stalking #yandere vox x reader #yandere vox

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fyorina · 2 months

Text

ᡣ𐭩 ALL THINGS END

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: all of dazai's carefully calculated plans come to an abrupt halt when you run into him at a club. he thinks fate is a funny thing, that despite all of his desperate attempts to stay away from you, it still leads you right to him. one night, he decides, is all he'll allow. one night of indulgence, and then things will go back to how they were. that's how it has to be to keep you safe. {wordcount: 11.8k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: wow we're starting side b—side b can be read separately from side a but you’ll get some neat references if you read both (｡♡ ‿ ♡｡). i'm so nervous actually HAHAH i put my heart and soul into side b and trying to characterize beast!dazai properly. it was really hard because the majority of the fic is from his pov and getting into his mind is a lotttt harder than canonzai imo. anyway, reblogs are always appreciated! thank you guys & i hope you guys love this as much as i enjoyed writing it

GENERAL WARNINGS: dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book, it's going to be a common theme throughout the series so i'll leave the heads up now. + as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings!

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

Dazai Osamu thinks that his touch might be noxious, indiscriminately rotting all he comes in contact with until only putrid remains are left of what had once been lively souls. His gaze drags across his fingers from where they’re splayed on top of the table, absently tapping out a familiar name over and over again, the only thing grounding him to the meeting taking place around him in one of the second-floor VIP rooms of the Port Mafia’s most elite nightclub. If he looks hard enough, he swears he can see that the tips of his fingers are blackened, ready to lay the curse of decay upon the next person he brushes them against.

He can feel eyes on him—the impatient glares from the foreign emissaries and the tense stares of his executives, as they wait for him to respond to the offer, laid out to him by the top brass of the Russian kingpin called Nabokov, an old ally of the Port Mafia courtesy of the previous boss. Dazai was already annoyed coming into this meeting, thinking that the Russians were presumptuous for assuming that the Port Mafia should come to their defense in the three-way territorial war going on in their motherland, but the fact that Nabokov couldn’t even bother to come speak to him himself after Dazai’s executives insisted that he be the one to personally handle this only made him even more bitter and irate. He hates having to leave the headquarters.

He takes a long drag from the cigarette hanging between his lips, lifting his free hand to pull the end from his mouth before putting it out on the table in front of him. The buzz of the nicotine isn’t enough to keep him present anymore. He keeps tapping, steady and controlled, the same bunch of letters again and again—everything around himself feels hazy and blurry. The only thing clear that he can focus on is the uniform drumming of his fingers, his voice doesn’t even sound like his own as he speaks:

“Why should I even entertain your offer when Nabokov couldn’t bring it to me himself?”

The first words that he speaks during the entire meeting are cold and harsh, as they should be in response to the disrespect shown by the Pale Flame, but Dazai just wants to be done with this and return to the base before anything can go wrong. His executives are vaguely pleased by his words, evidently taking more offense to Nabokov’s failure to show than Dazai himself does, and the three emissaries of the Pale Flame bristle, sharing looks as they try to figure out what to say in response to Dazai’s remark. Dazai doesn’t even care to hear what they have to say, lost in his thoughts as he glances up at the ceiling.

He thinks that if his touch isn’t entirely noxious, as there have been a few people who haven’t faced ruin after being exposed to it, then his presence makes up for it in its draining effect. The black hole in his chest is just as indiscriminate as the corroding touch of his fingers, emptying people of hope and exhausting them of energy. A part of Dazai mourns over the fact that those who can survive his touch are drained by the void—(chuuya. atsushi. their names weigh heavy on him, knowing that he’s dragged them so far down with him in this life)—while those who can withstand the void are inevitably killed because of their proximity to him—(you, odasaku, your names ring through his head, cruel and taunting. he pushes away the longing that rips at his chest, as he always does.)

His fate is to be alone, a cruel design drawn out by whatever sadistic gods reign above.

In every universe, it’s proven to be true. Even in this one, he can’t spare people from the effects of his existence. Atsushi, Kyouka, Chuuya—as years have passed their eyes have become dull and their souls have become as black as the blood that he forcibly injected into their veins. He considers whether or not he might just be better off dead, that way he can give those who have been the most affected by him, in this life and all of the others, a much-needed reprieve from him. But he can’t, not when he’s unsure over whether or not those who’ve been condemned by his touch will actually survive if it means he’s gone.

“... okov sends all of his reg…”

The tapping becomes a bit harsher, faster. If he was writing out the name rather than tapping it, the script would be jagged and unclear. His surroundings start to fade out again, Nabokov’s executives are speaking but the words are going in one ear, out the other. His head feels fuzzy and his free hand is starting to go numb.

Odasaku. You. He’s sure that there are plenty of others, but you two are the only ones that matter to him. He doesn’t know if killing himself would mean that the two of you could live out your lives to the fullest. You could both die anyway, for all he knows, and then he would’ve died for nothing and he can’t risk that, not when this is the only universe where he’s aware of the fate that you and Odasaku face in every other world.

He can work to protect the two of you in this world; he’ll do what must be done from the shadows to ensure that you and Odasaku can finally fulfill your dreams. A life without you, and a life without Odasaku, is a small price to pay if it means that you two can actually live out your lives. You’ve granted him enough good memories from every single other universe that the least you guys deserve is one without his presence bringing you ruin.

“... the previous b…”

Sometimes, he longs so badly for a life with the two of you that it makes him sick. A world in which Odasaku lives and Dazai can be with you, a world where he’s untouched by the shadows and the tarry substance corrupting his blood. He thinks that Odasaku would adore you if he’d ever been given the chance to meet you—you both have a similar dry humor and an intrinsic desire to help people, even those who decidedly don’t deserve it. On nights that are a bit too dark and a bit too heavy, Dazai imagines dragging you to Odasaku’s place so he can introduce you to him and he imagines how his face would flame up in embarrassment when Odasaku tells you all of the humiliating stories of Dazai’s youth that he knows the man has stocked up.

Moments like this, when everything feels a bit too far away and his mind can’t connect to the present, lost in the pages of all of the other worlds he’d seen, he swears that he can feel the ghost of your touch running across his skin as you trace patterns along his arms and brush kisses against his jaw. He thinks it’s cruel that his mind tortures him with the unattainable; taunts him with the knowledge that the only person he’s ever entirely given himself to, and was accepted by, is out there waiting for him, but the moment Dazai gives in to the aching in his chest, it’ll be ripped away from him again.

“… disorder in the motherl…”

He can’t feel his left arm, and that awful numbness is starting to spread across his chest to his right arm; with nothing left to consume, the black hole in his chest is devouring him again. Now is not the time, not when his executives are around, and especially not when outsiders are around. He taps more intensely—your name, over and over and over again, the only thing that can ever pull him out of these states. It’s the reminder that you’re out there, alive, and that even if it’s not in this world, you love him in every single other one, no matter how absurd the idea is.

“... will not be contained to…”

He needs to focus. He knows what the Pale Flame emissaries are saying even if Dazai can’t actually hear and process the full conversation—whatever is happening in Russia will spread, and it will spread to Japan, certainly, if Dostoevsky comes out on top. This conflict never occurred in the other universes and Dazai doesn’t know what exactly he did in this one that caused this change. Figuring it out and adapting needs to be his first priority because Dostoevsky’s arrival in Yokohama will put everything he’s built at risk.

It will put you at risk.

How many times have you died at his hand? Too many. Too many for him to risk this.

He was able to handle Odasaku’s fate years ago when he got ahold of that painting and convinced him to join the Armed Detective Agency. Odasaku’s fate was easy in comparison to yours, that painting and the Port Mafia have been the cause of his death, removing them from the equation will be enough to keep him safe until Dazai follows through with the final phase of his plan.

Your fate is always more arbitrary—Fyodor Dostoevsky will be the first trial he has to overcome to ensure your survival and then depending on how things play out after that, Agatha Christie will be the second trial. They’re the two leading causes of your death besides Dazai himself. Once the two of them have been taken care of, Dazai can move on to Phase Three, the beginning of the end.

The darker part of him, the one that has festered and corrupted and spread to every inch of his soul without the light you and Odasaku had brought to him in all of his other lives, wonders if he should have you kidnapped and tucked away until he can make sure that Dostoevsky is six-feet-under and unable to disrupt the world he’s built for you and Odasaku. Unlike Osasaku, you have no ability to protect yourself with if everything starts falling apart. You’ll be the most vulnerable, the most at risk.

But he knows he can’t for the same reason that he knows he’ll never be able to approach you in the same way he did Odasaku so many years before: Dazai has never had any sort of self-control when it comes to you and he doubts it’ll be any different in this universe. Even when he knows you’re better off, even when he knows that each second he spends in your life is slowly destroying you, he can never bring himself to part from you. He fears that even the slightest look of you will condemn him and all of the work he’s done, that even just the knowledge of where you are will tempt him into wandering the area in hopes of running into you.

He’s done everything he can to ensure that he never has any contact with you or any information about your life. He assigned Kouyou to look over you, being the best suited for such types of missions. She’s spent years making sure that you’re safe and nothing from the underground disturbs your studies or everyday life. The woman was naturally curious about the request, even more so when Dazai instructed her to never give him any updates on you unless it was a life-or-death situation, but she knew better than to question him.

At this point, only the hand of god and sheer chance could lead him to you, which is why he’s particularly against meetings like these where he’s forced to leave the shadows of his towers and dally into the public. Dazai doesn’t beg, and he certainly doesn’t pray, but whenever he has to leave the Port Mafia base for extended periods, he gets damn close to it because each moment in the light risks everything.

“... oevsky and Tolstoy…”

The ice spreads to the wrist of his right arm and just as Dazai thinks he’s about to be fully swallowed by the void, his gaze drifts to the window looking down on the main floor of the club and he catches sight of a figure leaning on the bar, and it’s ludicrous, really, because how does his gaze tunnel on one person in the sea of hundreds before him. But his mouth goes dry and his body stills as recognition floods through him, replacing the numbness so quickly that his body is almost palpitating in the sudden shock of it. Flames burn through his veins and the fingers that had been steadily tapping out your name jerk so abruptly that Chuuya, Kouyou, and Gin are all casting him hesitant looks.

He rises to his feet suddenly, ignoring the fact that all eyes are on him and that he’s completely disregarded whatever the Pale Flame emissaries had been explaining. He waves Gin off as the girl instinctively moves to follow him, the room is spinning and closing in on him so swiftly that he doesn’t even think he’ll be able to make it out of the room before his mind and body collapse in on themselves.

If there is a god, Dazai realizes, then he’s abandoned Dazai since the moment he was born, because standing there with glittering eyes and a smile so painstakingly familiar and foreign at the same time is you.

There’s a hazy smile on your face as you stumble out of the main room of the club, and down a side hall toward where you’re pretty sure the restrooms should be. You lean against the wall as you try to regain your bearings, inhaling the air greedily—you hadn’t realized how deprived of it you’d been in the stuffy club, where there were more bodies than pockets of air, and even those were smogged with thick, floral perfume and sweat.

You think you’re having a good night—for the most part, at least. You and your coworkers have been at the club for an hour already celebrating your acceptance into Waseda’s prestigious graduate program. You’d been pressured into inviting one of your more unsavory coworkers, having been told you would seem rude and ill-mannered if you invited everyone else except him. You think now that it really shouldn’t have mattered to you, you’re leaving the office soon to prepare for school anyway, but you suppose you’re easily peer pressured. Sometimes.

But you’re free now, momentarily, at least. One of your friends had distracted Takeda so could sneak off to the restroom to freshen up. God knows he probably would’ve tried to follow you there if he didn’t.

You push yourself off the wall with a sigh, wishing that you’d tied your hair back before coming to the club because you can feel it sticking to the back of your neck. Maybe you’ll run into a girl in the bathroom who has a spare tie for you, but you frown as you look around, noticing that the hallway is a bit too empty for it to lead to one of the club’s restrooms.

You pout when you realize that you must’ve gone down one of the halls leading to the VIP suites on the second level, but as you turn to make your way back into the main area of the club, your eyes catch a figure leaning against the wall dressed in a long black coat and sleek dark suit that probably costs more than your life savings.

He’s tall, you note absently, drawn to the man a bit more than you probably should be for no good reason, handsome, too. He hasn’t noticed you standing there, so you just observe for a moment—he has dark hair and smooth, pale skin, partially covered beneath bandages. He’s struggling to light a cigarette, frustration twisting his face; his lighter won’t light no matter how many times he tries, and you think it’s a bit funny that for all of the expensive clothes he wears, his lighter won’t work.

Finally, you take a few steps forward, moving closer to him and fishing into your purse for your own lighter before you hold it up and ask, “Need a light?”

The man freezes, gaze cutting toward you—his eye is so dark and so empty that it almost chills you, an endless abyss that threatens to consume you. You swear the black is so intense that it seems to be swallowing the dim lighting of the hallway, and you watch as something akin to recognition flashes deep within it. He hardly reacts to your presence otherwise, only his gaze shifts as it roves over you, vaguely reminiscent of a parched man in the desert setting eyes on a distant oasis, unsure if it’s just a figment of his imagination. You raise your eyebrows, feeling a bit exposed underneath his stare, and wave your lighter pointedly.

He doesn’t make a move to reach for your lighter as you hold it out to him. You can’t tell what the expression on his face is as he watches you, it’s entirely indecipherable, his lips are pulled flat but his eye is swimming with emotions that you just can’t quite place. Just as you’re about to take it as rejection and put your lighter back in your purse, he suddenly closes the distance between the two of you, leaning his head down, cigarette dangling between his lips and gaze trained on you, expectant.

Oh, you think to yourself a bit breathlessly, throat spasming as you falter under his gaze. He looks amused, watching you carefully, and you can’t help but notice that the dark pit of his eye starts to lighten as he watches you get flustered. When you struggle to light it the first time, you want to blame it on the martinis you’ve been drinking with your friends, but you know from the way your cheeks feel extra hot and your fingers shake that it’s definitely because of the man standing in front of you.

The scent of his cologne floods your senses, you can almost taste the old whiskey on his warm breath, which you can feel fanning lightly across your fingers, making goosebumps rise to your arms—you pray he doesn’t notice, but from the way his eye flickers up a bit to your arm and the corner of his lip quirks up, you think he probably does.

You thank every god that might be listening when your lighter finally lights, catching the end of his cigarette. Your breath catches as he makes eye contact with you and you think you might be able to get lost in his gaze if you’re not careful; your lips part a bit as if to say something to occupy the silence but no words leave them.

After what feels like eternity, he finally stands straight and you can breathe again, watching as he leans back against the wall next to you, head falling to the side a bit as he takes a long drag of his cigarette.

His gaze doesn’t leave you once.

“You smoke?” He finally speaks, and his voice is low, raspy, and hoarse as if he doesn’t use it much. There’s a lilt to his tone, something caught between subtle criticism and surprise, reminiscent of a disapproving old friend who’s taken aback that you’ve picked up such a bad habit.

“Sometimes, why?” you answer, a bit defensively when you catch the edge to his tone.

You don’t smoke—you carry around your brother’s old lighter as a memento, safekeeping for if he ever decides to come back to you, you’re honestly surprised the thing still works as well as it does—but you feel like you have to prove a point now because he sounds a bit judgmental about it.

He only shrugs lazily. “Don’t look like the type.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Is there ‘a type?’” you ask sarcastically.

He pointedly looks over you, gaze raking up and down your body once in a slow, borderline sensual way. You can feel your cheeks heating up again, you curse your body violently for betraying you.

“Yeah,” he drawls after a few moments. “Not you.”

You scoff loudly, looking away, and you blame the alcohol when you find yourself admitting, “… I don’t smoke.”

The man smiles thinly at the three words, a triumphant spark shooting through the brown of his eye and an expression on his face that tells you he somehow knew it without you having to say it out loud but appreciated the confirmation.

“Told you,” he says. “Don’t look the type.”

“Hmph,” is all you respond with, flipping your lighter shut and slipping it back into your purse.

You don’t leave right away; you don’t think you could even if you wanted to, you feel like a deer caught in headlights beneath his gaze, feet glued to the ground. But the problem lies in the fact that you don’t want to leave, there’s something about him that has you drawn in like a moth to flame and you don’t even know why because you don’t even know his name yet. And you probably shouldn’t be, you’ve always had a keen sense of self-preservation and there’s a dangerous edge to this man that should concern you—you can see it in the way he looks at you, the way he dresses, and the way he holds himself.

Dangerous, you think to yourself, but you’re charmed by it—you know you should probably get back to the bar where your friends are, but your feet don’t budge. He’s watching you curiously, not making any move to say anything, just observing you and you feel like you might crumble beneath his gaze. You can’t tell if he’s searching for something or if he’s just looking at you to look at you; the air between the two of you is tense but not in an awkward way. But you decide to break the silence with: “What’s your name?”

He hesitates, gaze narrowing just a bit as if he’s considering whether or not he should tell you, and you feel a bit embarrassed, tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth as you anxiously wait for his response.

“Dazai,” he finally says, and you can’t help but notice he sounds a bit breathless. “Dazai Osamu.”

The name feels so achingly familiar that it almost makes you question whether or not you’ve ever met this man before even though you’re sure that you would remember if you did. You give him your name in return and watch as his lips curve upward slightly as he repeats it out loud, making your chest feel warm and your mind a bit foggy. He says your name as if he’s spoken it dozens of times before, the intimacy of it nearly has you reeling.

It has you reeling so badly that you speak without thinking, longing to drag the conversation out.

“Would you… maybe want to have a drink with me?” The words spill from your lips before you can stop them and instantly, you want to swallow your own tongue, shifting a bit nervously on your feet. Usually, when you drink you’re more outgoing, but with this man, you feel like a teen girl fumbling over words with her school crush.

His lips part to respond but no words leave them, conflict swims in his gaze so flagrantly that it makes you a bit embarrassed, realizing he’s probably trying to figure out the best way to reject you. You notice, distantly, that some other foreign emotion flashes on his face and it’s so brief that you almost miss it, but you swear that it’s something akin to a reality slap from the way his eye widens and lips part a bit.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you wait for the inevitable rejection, he casts a look backward, in the direction of the steps that lead to the second floor’s high-end VIP rooms that only the most elite of Yokohama can afford and you realize that this man is probably a bit more important than you thought if that’s where he came from, throat a bit dry.

You start to try to make up some excuse and rush back to your coworkers with your tail between your legs but then he finally says:

“We can get a drink.”

Your eyes widen a bit, a smile splits across your face. You catch a sour look crossing his face as soon as the words escape him as if he regrets them right as they’re spoken. For a second, it’s almost as if he’s fighting an internal battle, and you wonder if he’s trying to figure out if he should take back his words. You hardly think anything of it in your tipsy state, too excited to even fully register it all.

“Yeah?” you ask so eagerly that you want to rip your own tongue out because the last thing you want is to seem desperate.

But clearly, he loses the battle, because his dark eye only softens a bit at your enthusiasm. The corner of his lip curls upward and you swear you see something else in his expression—something caught between grief and longing that makes your throat swell even with the alcohol clouding your mind.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

You hold your hand out to him; you’re not really sure why and you think you might’ve just embarrassed yourself again when his gaze cuts down to it intensely. You withdraw your hand with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” you say quietly. “Got ahead of myself, I guess.”

Dazai doesn’t respond for an agonizing amount of time and when you’re about to head back to the main part of the club and hope he follows you, he decides to hold his hand out to you.

“No need to apologize,” he tells you, voice a bit more hoarse now.

You reach out to take his hand, fingers brushing his bandaged wrist, where his suit jacket is riding up his arm just a bit. His pulse is erratic and rapid beneath your touch, a complete 180 from the calm, aloof expression on his face. His fingers intertwine with yours as you lead him back into the club—his grip is a bit too tight, but you don’t mind. For some reason, it feels a bit comforting.

You and Dazai make your way back down the hall in the direction of the main room of the club. As soon as he pushes open the door, he pulls his hand from yours but before you can even process the action enough to pout at the loss of contact, he’s slipping his arm around your waist to tuck you into his side to not lose you in the crowds of drunken clubgoers and you think you might feel a bit faint at the way his fingers press into your lower hip through the thin cloth of your dress.

You can’t help but notice the way people seem to part for the two of you, even with the majority of them drunk out of their minds, it’s like they catch one glance of Dazai and move out of his way. It seems instinctual, almost, as if he’s exuding an aura that no one can bring themselves to come near.

You peer up at him curiously, watching his eyelashes flutter as he looks down at you as if he can feel you looking at him. Your face is hot when he catches you looking at him so you immediately avert your gaze; you can feel him let out a puff of amusement, but he doesn’t say anything as the two of you finally reach the bar.

“A gentleman,” you tease when he pulls out the stool for you to sit. He waves the bartender down and you watch, a bit surprised, when the man instantly makes his way over to you, gaze flickering to Dazai.

It had taken you twenty minutes to wave the man down earlier to get your drink.

You also can’t help but notice that he doesn’t even ask Dazai what drink he wants, pouring him whiskey on the rocks, a luxury brand that probably costs more than your monthly rent.

You feel a bit embarrassed ordering your cheap martini after, distracting him with idle conversation.

“Do you come here a lot or something?” you ask him curiously, lifting your drink to your lips to take a sip of your drink once the bartender passes it over—it tastes better than it did before. Smoother.

“Or something,” Dazai agrees cryptically, the corners of his lips tilting upward as he looks over you. “Why?”

“So mysterious,” you say playfully, before shrugging. “I’m just curious, he seemed to know you… maybe I’m also trying to figure out if I’d be able to run into you again here.”

You watch him hesitantly, wondering if it was a bit weird to add that, cursing your lips once again for moving before your brain can process. But Dazai doesn’t look weirded out by your comment—he looks a bit surprised, yes, but in a pleased way rather than a disturbed way.

“Already trying to plot out meeting me again?” he drawls, watching you from the corner of his eye with an indecipherable look that doesn’t match the curl of his lips. “What if you decide you don’t like me? If I end up being dangerous?”

“Oh, you’re definitely dangerous, Dazai Osamu,” you say firmly with a laugh, eyes glimmering. “I could tell that from the moment I saw you. I’m not that drunk.”

His eyebrow raises a bit as he tilts his head to the side. “And yet you invited me for a drink anyway,” he notes, his index finger on his free hand thrumming steadily on the bartop.

“Maybe I like danger,” you say, leaning in a bit closer just to test the waters.

Dazai doesn’t pull away, your heart races in your chest as his gaze traces your face, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips. You think you might’ve been wrong before when you compared the color of his eye to an abyss—now, beneath the lighting of the club, you think they’re far more reminiscent of a starry night, just as endless as the abyss, but not quite as dark and hopeless with the celestial bodies glittering within them.

“Maybe you should be more careful,” he murmurs, and there’s an odd shift in his voice—a warning, as if he knows something that you don’t.

“Maybe,” you agree idly, “or maybe I enjoy living life on the edge. It’s short enough as it is, isn’t it? I’d prefer to live it to the fullest than die having barely lived at all.”

“Living life to the fullest involves inviting shady men to drink with you and scheming out a second meeting without even having decided if you like them?” Dazai questions, voice low and amused.

“Shady?” you grin. “Well, I guess you said it, not me. Anyway, I’ve decided that I already like you, Dazai Osamu, so, of course, I’m going to scheme out a second meeting—hopefully, one where I’m not quite as drunk so I can actually charm you, I’m very charming when I’m sober, I’ve been told. I don’t fumble over my words quite as much, or lighters, for that matter.”

You’ve literally never been told once in your life that you’re charming when you’re sober, so you don’t know where that came from, but you decide to roll with it and hope for the best.

“I’ll have you know that I’m quite charmed already,” Dazai says, lips tilting up into a smile that seems a bit more genuine, reflecting in the way his eye curves up too. “If you get any more charming, I might just be in danger.”

“Well, do you like danger then?” you ask, resting your elbow on the bar so you can prop your chin on your hand, looking up at Dazai through your lashes. “We’ve already established that I enjoy it, are you going to join me on the edge, Dazai?”

For some reason, for a split second, it seems as if you’ve asked Dazai the most difficult question in the world—the space between his brows creases and the easy smile on his lips flattens, the starry sky painted in his eye dulls back into the terrible abyss. Your lips part to say something, because even with the fuzziness of your drink clouding your head, you know you made a mistake somewhere.

“I usually stay far from the edge,” he admits quietly, “... too much at risk for that.”

“... Usually?” you press, latching onto the word quickly as you toss him another teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Am I enough to tempt you closer to it, then?”

“You have no idea,” he breathes out so quietly that you think you’re not meant to overhear it. As if he realizes he might’ve said it a bit too loud, he tilts his head to the side and gives you half of a smile as he asks, “What makes you so sure you like me already, anyway?”

You match his smile, making a show of humming, dramatically thinking long and hard about it. Then you shrug, smile widening, “Don’t know. Maybe I just decided. Or maybe, I’d like to think it’s fate.”

Andddd you’ve made a mistake again. You falter when you see how his expression closes off instantly and you wish you could bite your own tongue off because, of course, it’s just your luck to have misspoken twice in a span of two minutes. This is why you don’t socialize with people.

“I don’t believe in fate,” he finally says, voice a bit tighter than it was before.

“Why?” you ask curiously, brows furrowing a bit.

He hesitates, gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turns his gaze away, lifting it to the ceiling instead. All he says is: “I don’t like the idea of my life being predestined by some higher power—if there’s a fate, then I’ll exhaust everything I have trying to defy it.”

“Okay,” you agree, still not entirely understanding why he’s so against the idea of fate—you think it’s rather romantic but to each their own. Either way, you raise your glass to him, waiting for him to click his against yours. “To defying fate then.”

His throat bobs as he swallows at your words, an odd look in his eye as he repeats quietly, “To defying fate.”

Dazai is in trouble.

He thought he could indulge himself just for one night. If it’s his fate to meet you, then let it happen only once so he can be done with it—one night, and then everything will return to how it should be. He’ll fall back into the shadows and you’ll live your life in the light, a long and fulfilling life where he isn’t putting you in danger just by being around you. But he’s realizing, very quickly, that he severely overestimated his self-control, which is a feat in itself, really, because Dazai knew that his self-control would be abysmal when it comes to you but he still somehow managed to critically misjudge just how abysmal it would be.

He thinks he probably looks like a fool—you’re rambling about your work and the graduate school program you’d just been accepted into, you’re switching between topics so quickly that Dazai can hardly keep up, but he doesn’t care, he’s content just hearing your voice, slurred and excitable as it may be.

It’s different hearing it in person than it is in all of the vague memories of the other worlds—you’re different. You’re brighter. More alive. A shining star in a sea of midnight. The warmth of the sun giving life to a rotting corpse. For the first time in twenty-two years, Dazai Osamu feels like he’s finally breathing. The misty memories didn’t do you justice in any regard, and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to return to the shadows alone after having felt the brief glow of your light, warm and comforting against his skin, because Dazai already can’t seem to get enough of it. He thinks you must be like a drug or something because there’s no other explanation for the way he’s so utterly entranced by the sight and sound of you.

A part of him wonders if all of the other Dazais have met this same fate at your hands: bewitched and spellbound, unable to draw their eyes away from you, hardly even able to remember to breathe in your presence. He thinks that they must have—he can see flashes of their lives and feel echoes of their emotions, and it’s always most intense whenever it involves you.

It’s a struggle just to remind himself to play the part of the ordinary man with you around so as to not scare you off, pretending he's like any other human being and not a monster wearing the skin of a man, like you haven’t been the object of his obsessions since the moment he came in contact with the Book. He tries to keep himself pliant and inviting with a loose posture and warm gaze, free of the intensity curdling through his body. He keeps his smile small and gentle, hiding the sharp and bloodied teeth decorating his mouth, and he keeps his touches brief, hardly ghosting your skin in fear that you’ll start rotting beneath it. He doesn’t know if he succeeds. He honestly doesn’t even know if you notice, you’re way more intoxicated than you originally made yourself out to be; he can tell from the way your ever-present smile is lopsided and the way your eyes are a bit glazed over, if it wasn’t abundantly apparent by the slur to your words.

“... and then, Hinata kept talking even though everyone else was… Dazai Osamu, are you even listening to me?”

He hums quietly as you abruptly turn your gaze back onto him and for a moment, Dazai is breathless—his name rolls off your tongue with the familiarity of a pair of lovers who’ve been together for years, and he swears that your eyes glitter beneath the lighting of the club as you look at him, and he doesn’t think anyone in his life has ever looked at him the way you do in this moment. Dazai Osamu has always been a name that no one would rather hear, attached to a man that no one would rather see. He’s not used to being talked to like this. He’s not used to being looked at like this.

He wants to be used to it.

He so, so desperately wants to be used to it.

You lean in when he doesn’t respond to you, a bit too close because he can smell the faded scent of your perfume and the gin on your tongue when he takes in a sharp breath to respond—it goes straight to Dazai’s head, his words dying before they can even formulate in his mouth. Everything feels fuzzy and light and Dazai thinks he might actually pass out. You’re such a far cry from the numb void that he’s used to, overwhelming his senses with the sight and touch and scent and sound of you, overwhelming his mind with emotions that he doesn’t know how to cope with and he just can’t get a handle on himself no matter how hard he tries. Every time he thinks he does, you throw another curveball at him like leaning in so close that Dazai swears if you were any closer, his lips would be brushing yours.

He’s never yearned like this before, not when he found himself in Odasaku’s house years ago as he tried to get ahold of that wretched painting and not during the long, dark nights when he found himself gasping awake, torn from dreams of lives he’ll never experience, the ghost of your lips still smiling against his skin. He can feel it deep in his chest, clogging his lungs and throat. He feels like he’s fighting the strings of a marionette as his fingers twitch at his side, begging him to reach out and feel the skin of your cheek beneath the palm of his hand, cup the side of your face just to see if you’d lean into his touch, craving it the same way he craves yours.

He yearns and Dazai Osamu doesn’t know if he has the strength to deny himself of you now that he’s finally gotten a taste of what he could have. He tries to remind himself of what’s at stake, he tries to conjure the images that have plagued his nightmares so many times before—the sight of you crumpled in his arms, cold and still, and the sound of your cries for help, jarring and agonizing to his ears. But all he can muster is the sight of the wide and genuine smile that only you have ever directed toward him in all of his other lives and the sound of your bright laughter ringing in his ears, two things that he’s been deprived of entirely in this life until now.

“... if the phone call is that important, you can take it, y’know? You don’t have to sit here pretending to listen to me when you’re focused on that.”

Dazai is hardly able to drag himself back to the conversation at hand, your words processing slowly, as if his thoughts are being dragged through thick tar, but he forces himself to focus because even in your drunken state you sound a bit irritated.

He glances down at the bartop, where he had placed his phone down after taking a seat next to you, watching as it vibrates against the hardwood and as Chuuya’s name flashes across the screen. A few seconds pass, and his phone goes still and the missed call notification pops up on his screen—evidently along with nine others.

Dazai winces. He wishes the phone call had been what was distracting him—unfortunately, it’s impossible to tell you that he’s spiraling because of you without sounding psychotic.

As soon as the call ends, his phone is buzzing again, Chuuya's name flashing across the screen once more, persistent as ever. Dazai’s gaze cuts backward to where the two of you had come from, up to the windows on the second floor that look down on the main floor, and then he glances back down at his phone.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Dazai tells you quietly, reaching for his phone.

You toss him an easy smile that nearly has him faltering, whatever irritation you may have felt is gone in an instant.

“I’ll be waiting,” you tease, and Dazai’s heart is in his throat as he hesitates for just a second too long, as familiar words echo through his head, memories that aren’t his own from a life that he’d never be able to experience.

“I’ll wait for you.”

He lingers too long evidently because you shoo him away, spinning on the bar stool to face the bartender as you try to flag him down for another drink that you probably should not be having, seeing how you’re swaying a bit on the stool. Dazai only shakes his head as he makes his way away from the bar closer to the edges of the club, where it’s a bit quieter, if only marginally.

As soon as he leaves your presence, the familiar cold numbness returns, spreading like ice through his chest and he’s desperate to be back in your vicinity already, missing the warmth. Oh, this is trouble, he laments to himself, trying to push away the longing feeling spreading through him and instead turns his attention to purposely waiting until the last ring to answer Chuuya’s call, if only to be a bit spiteful because the other man’s persistence is the reason he had to leave you.

Lifting his phone to his ear, he asks coolly, “Do you need something, Chuuya?”

“Where the hell did you go?” Chuuya immediately hisses back, fury dripping from his words. He’s speaking quietly and Dazai can’t hear any conversation in the background, so he can only assume that Chuuya had stepped out of the room where the rest of the Port Mafia and Pale Flame executives were having their meeting. “You’ve been gone for forty minutes, Kouyou and I have been handling the meeting. Do you even have anyone with you right now? Hirotsu? Tachihara? Atsushi?”

“I’m sure you and Ane-san have been conducting the meeting perfectly fine without me,” Dazai says dismissively, leaning against the wall as his gaze cuts through the crowds to the bar he’d left you at but he can’t catch sight of you through the masses of people. He frowns, pacing a bit down the room to try to get a better angle.

“Bastard,” Chuuya spits out with a venomous type of disrespect that he only attacks Dazai with when he’s exceptionally frustrated. “Answer my question. Where the hell are you? Do you have a protection detail on you? What are you doing?”

“I’m in the club still,” Dazai says distantly, and he’s sure Chuuya can tell that he’s barely paying attention to the conversation because the man lets out a noise caught between a snarl and a growl, much like the dog he is. “I’ll be fine, we have men stationed all over—you’re always so uptight, Chuuya, you should pull out the stick every once in a while.”

“You-” Chuuya says loudly and sharply, cutting himself off abruptly, evidently having realized he’s let himself get too loud. Dazai is hardly listening at this point, getting increasingly more agitated as the masses of crowds block his line of sight to where you should be sitting. “I’m coming down there.”

That catches Dazai’s attention.

“Do not.” The two words leave his lips, a command so cold and cutting that he can practically hear Chuuya jolt in surprise at the sudden shift from the absent tone he’d been speaking with before. He forces his voice to take upon a more teasing lilt as he says, “I met a girl, Chuuya. If you come down here, your ugly mug will scare her right off.”

“What?” Chuuya sounds so baffled it’s almost comical. Dazai might’ve found amusement in it were he not so irritated with his current predicament. “I-you-what?”

“You sound so shocked, Chuuya. Some of us talk to more women than just Ane-san and Gin-chan, you know?” Dazai drawls, noticing that there’s a gap in the crowds up ahead that should give him a direct view toward the bar, beelining toward it immediately.

“Shut up,” Chuuya seethes. “Who the hell would even give you the time of day? And since when do you seek out women? You’ve never shown any interest before.”

“Are you jealous?” Dazai croons. “It’s an ugly look on you, Chuuya.”

Chuuya splutters. “The fuck is wrong with you tonight?” he demands. “You’ve been acting like a damn freak ever since we left the base. Mood swings left and right.”

“You know I don’t like…” Dazai trails off as he finally gets a direct view of the bar, dark eye focusing in on where you seem to be arguing with an unfamiliar man. The smile that had been curling to the corners of his lips falls flat and his gaze goes cold—ice spreads through his chest again but this time it isn’t a result of the numbness, rather it’s a much more dangerous emotion that threatens to erupt. “I have to go.”

“Bastard, if you hang up on me-”

Dazai doesn’t wait for him to finish the sentence, hanging up the call and slipping his phone into his pocket, ignoring it when it immediately starts buzzing again. He doesn’t waste a second before he makes his way back across the club to the bar.

If people had avoided him before, it was nothing compared to now, watching them scramble out of his way even in their drugged-up and intoxicated states. He doubts that most of them even know the significance of who he is, they can just feel the cold fury rolling off of him in waves. It’s a bit impressive, honestly, how quickly he’s able to get back to you, and his hand darts out quickly, fingers wrapping tightly around the wrist of the man who was grabbing your forearm, if his grip was any tighter, the man’s bones would be cracking beneath his touch.

The reaction is instantaneous. Your gaze draws up to him, relief flooding your eyes at the sight of him—distantly, Dazai notes that he thinks that this might be the first time in his life anyone has ever been relieved to see him, but he’s more preoccupied with the man who was bothering you, who’s now turning toward him with an irritated expression.

“Look, man.” Dazai’s hidden eye twitches at the casual address, but he makes sure that the annoyance doesn’t show on his face. “Just trying to get her home, the rest of our coworkers left already.”

Dazai’s vice-like grip doesn’t budge, but his mind races. This is his out. If he lets you go home with your coworker, then he can go back up to the meeting taking place on the second floor and he can try to scorch his mind of the yearning that’s been plaguing him so intensely. Things can go back to normal—his one night of indulgence over, no matter how agonizing the thought of that is. He can return to the Port Mafia base, back in the shadows, and he can use the memory of this night with you to fuel his dedication to his grand plan of protecting this world. It’s a perfect setup, honestly, if he disregards two critical issues: 1) he’s probably incapable of scorching his mind of the yearning you’ve brought on and 2) more importantly, you’re staring at him with an expression nothing short of pleading, seemingly begging him not to leave.

The words escape his lips before he can think to stop them: “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take her home.”

The faux-concern that the man had been directing toward you disappears as soon as Dazai speaks, shifting into an expression that probably would have been concerning to anyone who wasn’t a literal mafioso, and Dazai is not just a mafioso, he is their boss and he has dealt with people who were objectively much more powerful and concerning than a regular civilian who thinks he’s tougher than he is. So Dazai only tilts his head to the side a bit, the corner of his lip curves up in amusement as he pointedly looks over the man once. The cool metal of the gun hidden in his jacket weighs heavily as a reminder that it’s there and ready for him to use; his fingers twitch toward it, but instead, he pockets his hands, deciding against it, if only because he thinks pulling out a gun might scare you away. He doesn’t want that.

“Who the hell are you?” the man asks furiously—Dazai wonders, a bit absently, if this is that Takeda fellow you were complaining about earlier, he certainly fits the picture with the beady eyes and weaselly face.

“An old friend,” Dazai drawls—not entirely a lie, just in a different life, and definitely more than friends, but he doesn’t need to know that. “We’ve been catching up. You can go.”

It’s not a request, and evidently, the man isn’t stupid enough to keep pressing Dazai because his confidence falters as he takes a step back, letting go of your arm. Or more probably, he caught a glimpse of the glint of metal hidden by his coat when Dazai shifted to look at you. Either way, Dazai doesn’t care because the man stutters out a few words and a ‘see you Monday’ to you before turning tail and leaving.

Dazai doesn’t bother correcting him—he definitely will not be seeing you on Monday. He ensures that through the silent order in the sharp look, he gives Tachihara Michizo, who’s been lingering on the outskirts of the club for five minutes now, no doubt trying to keep an eye on him under Chuuya’s command. Tachihara doesn’t hesitate as he nods his head, gaze following the retreating figure of the man before he slinks right after him.

He thinks you have bad friends. Coworkers. Whatever. All of them leaving you drunk and alone with someone who’s a stranger in their eyes. Yes, he scared the only one that tried away, but if it was Dazai in his position, not even god himself would be able to scare him away from making sure you get home safely.

They don’t deserve you, he decides firmly, and those dark thoughts from earlier return, whispering that he should just take you for himself, tuck you away in the tallest towers of the Port Mafia base. He’d keep you safe. He’d make you happy. You’d never have to want for anything ever again, he’d give you the entire world if you so pleased. He shuts off the train of thought before it can become any more tempting, knowing that his thread of self-control concerning you is waning at best.

Dazai promptly turns his attention back to you and all of the irritation that he might’ve been feeling about your coworkers and that man washes away when he catches the dazzled look on your face as you look up at him, elbow propped on the bartop and chin resting in your hand.

“Thanks,” you say so softly that Dazai barely hears you over the thundering music and clamoring people around the two of you. “That was Takeda… I don’t know, maybe he didn’t mean any harm but… I just don’t want him to know where I live, I guess.”

You look sleepy now, eyes a bit heavy and shoulders slumped; the alcohol must’ve worked its way through you already. Dazai also can’t help but notice that the front of your dress is drenched with what looks like the rest of your drink; it must have spilled in the brief struggle between you and your coworker.

“You’d rather a stranger know, then?” Dazai can’t help but ask, making sure to keep his voice teasing, watching you carefully for a response.

He’s curious to know if you feel even half as drawn to him as he is to you, to know if this really is a mutual bond that transcends worlds or if it’s a sick obsession on his part triggered by the revelations of the Book. Or it could be both. It’s probably both. Dazai is pretty sure what he feels for you isn’t normal or healthy, and he’s not sure if it’s any healthier in any of the other universes or if every other Dazai is just as twisted when it comes to love as he is.

“You don’t feel like a stranger,” you admit quietly, looking up at him through your lashes and Dazai’s heart leaps into his throat, clogging his airways and threatening to suffocate him. “Is that weird?”

“No,” Dazai breathes out instantly, the confirmation that your words give him lights a dangerous fire in his chest, one that he needs to put out but can’t bring himself to. “I feel the same.”

Your expression softens, eyes tracing his face, and Dazai thinks he would set the entire world on fire just for you to look at him like that again. Then, he realizes, throat a bit tighter now, that the words are not quite the empty promise that they would be coming from anyone else’s lips—he might just be setting everything he’s built on fire just for you, and your warmth is not enough to push away the cold awareness that suddenly spreads through his body, putting out all of the fires that his time with you has set within him.

He reaches out, knuckles grazing your cheek. Your lashes flutter as you lean into his touch and instantly, he’s set aflame again, it’s raging through his chest and melting the ice and Dazai thinks he doesn’t care if this is a bond that transcends worlds or a sick obsession. He thinks it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he needs you so desperately that it might kill him if he doesn’t have you.

It might kill you if he does have you.

Fire and ice wage a brutal war within him, a futile battle because no matter how much the ice tries to spread, the flames melt it away, and he realizes that he can’t be around you when the war is inevitably won because he’ll never be able to drag himself away from you.

One night, he reminds himself, sharp and scolding, one night of indulgence. That’s all.

“Come on,” Dazai murmurs. “Let’s get you home.”

Dazai wonders how a place he’s never been to can feel so much like home.

Or, well, he assumes this is what a home would feel like, it’s not like he’s ever actually had one to compare to. The penthouse suite of the Port Mafia base is closer to a prison than something he can consider a home. He doesn’t remember enough of his childhood to know if he lived somewhere back then that he considered a home. The shipping container he lived in during his teenage years is probably the closest thing he has to compare to and even then, he never felt safe or warm or comforted there, he just had the distant reassurance that no one would ever bother him while he was there and that was more than he had anywhere else.

And this is…

He doesn’t really know how to describe it, the words just won’t come to him—a rare occurrence, considering Dazai’s always been known to have a tongue of the purest silver, acquiring the most lucrative deals for the Port Mafia despite egregious odds and hostile parties solely because he’s learned to read and charm people to the best of his ability. His brain and his tongue have been the driving force behind the Mafia’s rapid and exponential expansion across Japan and into the mainland, yet both fail him now.

Courtesy of you and your influence, naturally.

The curve to his lips is fond as he trails his fingers across the back of the couch in your living room. It’s all so achingly familiar, as if he’s been here a thousand times before—if he lets his eye flutter shut, he can almost picture you cross-legged on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate tucked neatly between your hands, dozing off as he regales you with nonsensical stories.

Everything is just how he remembers it from the vague memories. Your desk is set up near the window on the far side of your room, next to the bench where he would sit and watch you while you study, pouting until you finally decided to give him attention. Papers are strewn all across your coffee table; he flips through them idly, realizing that they’re all study materials for the entrance exam to the graduate school you’d just been accepted into—he makes sure to leave them in the same order that you’d left them in, recalling how often you’d end up yelling at him for messing up your piles. A picture hangs on your wall near the door of you and your brother—familiar, why is he so familiar? His gaze lingers for a moment, brows furrowing before he shakes his head, putting the thought in the back of his head as he wonders if he ended up passing in this universe too.

He wanders over to the kitchen and his eyes narrow just a smidge, noticing that there are two dirty mugs in your sink, the ones you’d always use to make those fancy hot chocolates of yours. He hums to himself softly as he traces his finger along the rim of one, recognizing the same shade of lipstick you wore tonight staining the brim. The other mug has no such stain. His throat tightens a bit, gaze flickering up to the cabinet he recalls you usually putting your ingredients and when he opens the cabinet, he thinks he might feel a bit sick, seeing them all up on a shelf too high for you to reach on your own—you always put them on the lower shelves.

His jaw tightens as he pointedly puts them all back down on the lower shelf before shutting the cabinet, a bit more tense now than he was a few moments before. His gaze cuts across your apartment, searching for any sign of who you might’ve been having over—someone important enough for you to make your favorite hot chocolate for—but he finds none until his eyes land on a jacket crumpled in the corner of the room that’s definitely not yours, hidden halfway beneath one of the pillows on his window bench. He has to remind himself that it’s not his and he’s never been here before now so he has no claim over anything.

He makes his way over to it, yanking it out and lifting it to his nose. It doesn’t smell like you, it’s an unfamiliar woody scent that makes his stomach churn for more than one reason—the most primary one being that he doesn’t know whose it is and why they’re leaving clothes at your apartment. It’s a man’s, certainly, he can tell that much from the scent and the size and Dazai thinks he might feel a bit light-headed at the idea of you having other men over your apartment. His only solace comes in the fact that there doesn’t appear to be any other signs of his presence, but it’s a small solace at best.

He has to leave. The longer he lingers in your apartment, the more he’s struggling to decipher the already blurred line between the lives he remembers and his unfortunate reality.

One night of indulgence, he reminds himself for the nth time because the night is over. You’d passed out long before even arriving at your apartment, after you gave the address luckily because for better or for worse, that had been one of the few things Dazai hadn’t retained from the vague memories he has of the other universes.

He trails back over to the door that leads to your bedroom, a heavy feeling settling over his chest as he leans against the frame. His gaze draws to where you’re fast asleep beneath the covers, still dressed in the outfit you’d worn to the club because although all of the other Dazais would have changed you into something more comfortable when you’re too drunk to do it yourself, he does not retain that privilege in this world. The last thing he wants is for you to think he’s some perverted creep.

Dazai sighs, eyes sliding shut as he lets himself bask in the moment for just a little longer, dreading having to return to the harsh reality of a life without you, fated to be alone until he’s sure that he’s secured the safety of this world when he can take the final step in guaranteeing that you and Odasaku will be able to live out your lives peacefully. Without him.

He wants to touch you one last time, brush his fingers against your cheek, enjoy the way your warmth spreads through him, but he thinks he’s tested his self-control too much for one day. He fears that if he pushes it anymore, he’ll never be able to go back to how it was, so it’s with a heart that pleads for him to reconsider and a body that resists his every move that he turns away from your bedroom, making his way over to your kitchen counter to grab the key that he fished out of your purse.

It takes all of his restraint to not look back, jaw clenched so tight that he thinks his teeth might grind down to dust. He steps outside and the fresh air feels like poison to his lungs, he wants to step back inside, drown himself in the familiar scent of you, the familiar scent of the only home he’s ever known in any lifetime, the one he has to deny himself of for the sake of preserving this world, for the sake of saving Odasaku and saving you.

His fingers tremble a bit as he slides the key into the lock and turns it, checking twice to make sure it locks properly so no one can sneak in while you’re sleeping, before kneeling down to slide the key beneath the crack of the door back into your apartment.

As soon as the key is out of his reach, Dazai feels cold and empty; the black hole within him expands now that he’s vulnerable again without your presence fighting it off, and the force of it is ten times as lethal now that he’s experienced what life might be without it constantly consuming him. He stares at your door for a second after rising to his feet, his mind and heart and body all at war with each other. The parts of him that haven’t festered and withered over the years beg him to just go back to you, tell you everything, and crumble in your arms and pray that you don’t think he’s delusional and call the police on him; the parts of him that have been corrupted by the time he’s spent in the darkest parts of the world whisper more dangerous words, telling him to go back in and take you back with him, it doesn’t matter what you want if it means he can keep you safe, and he knows that one day you’ll understand why he did it, you’ll even be happy because you’re meant to be happy with him, no matter how it comes about.

And he thinks he’s a fool because the only fortunate thing about his circumstances had been that no matter how vividly he remembered you and your apartment, the Book had not passed on the knowledge of its location, so he’d never been tempted to “accidentally” seek you out by wandering in locations that you frequent because he had no idea where you were. Yokohama isn’t a small city and he was never going to cross the line of purposely seeking you out through the use of Port Mafia resources because that meant he was purposely putting you in danger.

But now, he’ll have the knowledge of your location dangling in front of his face for the rest of his life, however long it may be. Every day will be a struggle to resist the urge to seek you out, as if everything isn’t hard enough for him already.

Frustration builds in his chest as he makes his way down to the parking lot of the apartment complex. Realistically, Dazai had plenty of options that would have objectively been better than this. He could have sent you with his driver alone, but the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Albatross, the Flags remain among the most loyal members of the Port Mafia, but Dazai doesn’t think anyone is worthy enough to lay their hands on you. He thinks that if Albatross had reported back to him that he had to carry you into your apartment and put you in your bed, he might’ve put a bullet through his skull and then he’d have to deal with mutiny and he can’t afford a mutiny when things are already so tenuous, stability in the Port Mafia has to be paramount until he can get through all five phases of his plan.

But even if he didn’t send you with Albatross, he could have had Kouyou handle this. Kouyou already knows of you, she’s the one that he assigned to make sure you’re never threatened by Yokohama’s underground, and she knew where your apartment was already. It still leaves a sour taste in his mouth but not as strong as the thought of sending you with Albatross. He could’ve had Kouyou take care of this and he could’ve been free of the temptation already looming over him but-

But Dazai is selfish. Dazai is selfish and reckless when it comes to you; even when he knows what’s at stake, even when he knows the destruction that he brings. Fate, the word rings through his head, mocking him. Fate, fate, fate. It’s his fate to always be drawn to you, like a bee to honey and a moth to flame, irresistible and inexorable. He can’t avoid it and he can’t control himself no matter how hard he tries. You’re tied together by threads that the gods shorten with every passing second and they laugh down at him as they watch him trying to resist it.

It’s his fate to be drawn to you.

It’s his fate to be your destruction.

Dazai slips back into the backseat of Albatross’s sleek black car, shutting the door just a bit too harshly, gaze immediately drifting back toward the apartment complex, up to the closed door on the second level where he’d left you. He waits for the car to pull away, but it doesn’t. Irritated, he turns his gaze to the rearview mirror in the front of the car, catching Albatross staring at him curiously, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose.

“What?” Dazai asks, voice low and icy.

Albatross is unperturbed—of all of the members of the Port Mafia, only he and Chuuya never flinch at his unapproachability. “Ya gotta girl now, boss?” he asks curiously, tilting his head to the side as he waits for Dazai’s response.

“No.”

“Hm.” Albatross only hums as if he’s disappointed by the answer. “You seemed happier, s’all. Never seen you like that before. Was nice.”

Dazai’s jaw tightens again at the man’s words, biting words threatening to escape his lips but he swallows them. Instead, he becomes acutely aware of the jacket that he’s still holding in his left hand. His expression twists and then he tosses it into the front seat at Albatross, who blinks and catches it, looking down confused.

“Whadya want me to do with this?” he asks, baffled.

“Burn it.” Is all Dazai responds with. “Take me back to the base.”

“... You got it, boss,” Albatross murmurs, and he still sounds disappointed, but an order is an order so he doesn’t hesitate as he starts the car back up and pulls out of the complex’s parking lot.

Dazai’s gaze doesn’t leave your apartment door once until Albatross finally turns down a street out of sight of the building.

One night of indulgence, he reminds himself for the last time. One night of indulgence and then he’ll never encounter you again. For better or for worse, that’s how it has to be.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #beast dazai osamu x reader #beast dazai osamu x you #beast dazai x you #beast dazai x reader

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elsweetheart · 1 year

Text

crystal champagne glasses — bodyguard!abby au

synopsis: when reader, the millionaires daughter can’t help but misbehave — Abby the no nonsense bodyguard is hired to live in the mansion.

♪ every man gets his wish — lana del rey (unreleased) ♪

cw: fem reader, mentions of money / money problems, overprotective parents, mentions of loss of a parent (not reader), daddy issues lol, sprinkle of mommy issues too, alcohol and drinking, tiny mention of being sick, reader working out mentions, brat tamer abby lol, size kink, reader cries and gets humiliated and angry a lot lol, degradation, masturbation, strap on sex, think that’s it?

an: i had so much fun writing this! this is the quickest i’ve ever written a fic, i think because i’ve been excited to write this one and planning it for ages! now, if you don’t like my writing please click off now. no one is forcing you to read my fics. to all the people who have been excited for this fic, ily and i hope you enjoy it! as always, minors + ageless blogs do not interact with this or any posts / fics of mine. you will be blocked! ♡

You weren’t a princess. You were not a princess. You wished you were, shit — maybe your parents would actually care about you. Unfortunately though, there was no royalty behind your name. Just two millionaire parents who would apparently rather be anywhere else but at home with you.

You had your own hobbies, friends, a life — back at home. But of course, if you had so much as wanted to leave the mansion to partake in such activities, such as socialising (God forbid!) you’d need an escort, a driver, secret security officers stalking you, creeping out all of your friends and more. After a while it just became… not worth it. So you stopped showing up, stopped hanging out with people — and understandably, your invite to meeting up with friends started to get supposedly lost in the post. Things get lonely fast.

Bitterness was hardly the word for it. You understood your circumstances and if you were anything it wasn’t ungrateful. Your father only wanted you to be safe, hence the dozens of hired body guards in and out (But you’ll get back to that in a moment, of course.) Your friends just assumed you didn’t wanna hang out anymore, hence the missed invites. You had only started misbehaving out of bitterne— no, not bitter. Pissed off. Rightfully.

You always felt dread when you saw the answer machine light up red with a new message from the only person who had the number — your father. Where on Earth could he be calling from this time? Perhaps lounging by the pool in Greece or dining at a rooftop garden in Dubai — experiencing the world and bravely taking a moment out of his incredibly busy day to drop you a patronising and vaguely threatening voicemail. Atleast he spoke to you, unlike your mother who’d much rather pretend you didn’t exist because, and you quote, the stress of your misbehaviour ‘gave her wrinkles.’ Your manicured finger hovered over the button before pressing down, huffing out your nose as you stared out at the morning fog over the grassy hills of your land.

‘Good morning darling, dad calling again. You keep missing my calls, which I assume is on purpose so I’m leaving you a message anyways. I’m currently in Amsterdam with your mother and I just caught wind of Malakai the bodyguard quitting ‘suddenly and abruptly’ according to one of the maids. I’ve told you once and I will tell you again, if you don’t stop harassing the guards and forcing them to quit you will be in serious trouble. I mean cut off completely, sent off to work in the city with no more than a shitty little apartment and no money. So, I have decided to give you one last chance. I’ve purchased a bodyguard to live in with you starting Sunday morning so you’re going to have to fend for yourself until then. I searched high and low for this one, apparently they specialise in poorly behaved brats like yourself — so I’m hoping if anything that will whip you into shape. You’ve been through five bodyguards this year and it’s February. I’m serious about my threats. Step a foot out of line and you’re done, your mother and I are deadly serious. I will be calling the new hire at the end of next week to check in on your behaviour. Do not let us down darling, you will regret it. Okay, that’s all. See you when I see you.’

You smile.

Oh, how sometimes things just worked out. A life of your own, with normality and struggle and freedom — no watchful eye breathing down your neck and no lack of purpose weighing down on you. Your father had presented you with the easiest task, piss off the new hire so that you’d be set free. A task you’d grown to perfect, having done so time and time again.

The crackle of wheels on the gravel path leading up to the mansion awakens you on the Sunday morning. You want to grumble, having gotten literally no sleep. You see, you were terribly afraid of the dark — and you couldn’t sleep without your guard having light the fire in the fireplace of your bedroom (The one use you found for the hired help.) You had no idea how to light it and didn’t trust yourself not to burn the house down — so you went without. Hence the awful nights sleep. Where were you? Yes, curious. Rudely awakened and curious.

Your short nightie does nothing to combat the cool morning chill as you get up from the bed, letting your bed covers slide off your body as you traipse over to your window. A black Range Rover, they’re all the same. All the same angry men that drive the same angry car, with the same angry build and the same angry face. You scoff at the memory of your fathers threat on the voice message, stating that this guard was to be anything you weren’t used to before. You knew it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

Except, you were caught off guard when the door opens. You watch a woman climb out the car, despite the vehicles spacious design she still seemed to unfold like she was inflatable as she climbed out — almost seeming too big for even a car like that. She was built, strong arms and chest, tree trunk thighs and veiny hands. You narrow your eyes at the black sunglasses perched on the bridge of her jagged nose, taking them off as she looks around with a serious expression. She was attractive, you’d admit — but in a way that made you cross. That stupid skin tight black t-shirt and black cargos and thick weighty belt around her waist told you everything you needed to know about her. The militant type, she was going to try and intimidate you with her seriousness. You smirk, seeing this as a challenge. She has no idea what she’s up against.

You rush down the spiral stairs at the sound of her lugging her bags inside. She flicks her braid over her shoulder to glance at you standing there analytically as she does so, biceps bulging as she lifts the heavy black cases into the centre of your foyer stood beneath the chandelier. She looked much too harsh for somewhere delicate like this.

“I take it you aren’t going to introduce yourself.” She speaks after a moment of sorting her bags, closing the front door to signify she was done bringing her things inside. You cling to the tall bannister, toeing the cold pristine marble floor, eyeing her and her things as if each bag had a bomb inside. She stands up to her full height, atleast breaching the 6ft margin and you squint, watching her stretch her arms to relieve herself from the weight of the bags. “Off to a great start already.” She retorts as you ignore her, her long legs stepping over a black duffle bag on the floor toward you.

“Why are your bags so heavy?” You ask quietly, less curious and more judgemental. Who did she think she was moving in here with all that stuff? She takes a long inhale, accenting the muscle in her chest as she places her hands on her hips. Her reply is calm and unbothered.

“I brought my weights with me, and lots of other things I need to stay in my condition. Do you have a name?” Her voice is velvety and more feminine than you expected. Your stomach gets hot and prickly at the sound.

“You know my name. I can bet anything my father told you everything about me infact.” You jut your chin up stubbornly. It’s her turn to analyse now, tilting her head a little to the side as she leans on her hip, eyeing you once over and then again.

“Yeah. Your dad was kind enough to tell me all about you and how you treated your past bodyguards. But when you first meet someone, you introduce yourself. So introduce yourself.” There is a slight bite to your tone and your eyes flutter a bit. You’re used to men being agitated with you, infact you thrive off it— but you’ve never had a woman guard before. Something about the harsh tone hurt you just that little more. Shit, maybe you just had mommy issues.

You mutter your name, eyes laser focused on her clinging to the last shred of dignity you had — but when she gives you a curt nod and an equally quiet ‘There you go’ it perishes in the wind like a dying leaf crumbling away for winter. She turns, looking around at her bags before reaching over for the smallest one. “I’m Abby. As you probably guessed, I’m your new bodyguard.” She walks over to you and holds out the bag. You look at her and then at the bag, and then back at her.

“What am I supposed to do with this, Abby?” You cross your arms with a raised brow.

“You’re gonna carry it to my new room for me. I’m a guest in your home.” She raises her eyebrows, waving the bag infront of you signally for you to take it.

You stare at her in disbelief, before laughing bitterly. “You’re right. You’re a guest in my home. So I’m not carrying shit.” You spin on your heel to stomp up the stairs, but she cuts you off by speaking calmly yet firmly.

“Then you can sleep in the dark.”

You turn back around slowly, wearing a frown that creases your brow. How did she know about that?

“I spoke to some previous guards of yours. Said you were terrified of the dark and needed a fire lit in your room every night. Y’wanna sleep in dark? Or you wanna help me carry my bags?”

You stare her down for a moment, weighing out your options. She’d already dominated the conversation by getting your name out of you so easily, and now she was winning again. However, you were exhausted just from one night of restlessly pacing with your light on — too afraid to turn it off and go to sleep. You needed your sleep. That being said, you scowl and snatch the bag from her hand, the leather of it slapping against your leg as you carry it up the spiral stairs.

“Atta girl.”

You clench your jaw.

The week begins, and as do your antics. Abby wasn’t easily wound up, but that only made you want to go ten times harder. She was a bodyguard, not a babysitter — but she was starting to feel like her duties were beginning to cross wires. She knew your game, knew you were aiming for something — she could see the determination in your eyes everytime you’d sass her back. So, she’d play you back. Not give into what you want.

Her first real duty came on a Wednesday when she was lounging in the living room watching some God awful 2000s police chase show, and in came you — tottering on little heels and a skirt so short and tight she could tell the colour of your thong beneath. Not that she was looking, of course.

She leant her arm on the back of the couch, eyes flitting over you as you rummage for the keys that you were sure had been left by the maid on the coffee table. “Going somewhere?” It comes out nearly as a scoff, smirk etched onto her face and it makes you roll your eyes.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Out with my friends. The ones that still talk to me.” You’re distracted, pulling your small handbag back up onto your shoulder when it slides off, free hand feeling around in a decorative bowl for the key set. Abby stares at you for a moment, which — okay, is a little indulgent. She wasn’t being a creep, she could just appreciate that you looked good. Before you could turn to throw a glare her way she was muttering an ‘alright’ and heaving her heavy, toned body up to stand and stretch.

You turn and look at her questioningly and she stops to return your gaze. “What? You think I’m just living here with you for fun? C’mon, if you wanna go let’s go.” She nods towards the door, but stops after a few steps when she hears you snicker.

“No thanks. I’m a big girl.”

She crosses her arms and the smirk that makes you wanna throw darts at her stupid face returns. “That right? You think daddy just hired me to hang out around the house, then?”

You stare at her, pursing your lips before exhaling through your nose wordlessly — walking towards the door in defeat. You just wanted to go out, it had been so long. You’re sure you could just ignore Abby.

She follows behind you, now swinging her car keys round her finger — so smug. “How were you planning on getting to the club? You live in the middle of nowhere.”

“Uber.”

It’s her turn to snicker, opening the front door for you and standing aside as you walk through. “Yeah. Okay. C’mon.”

Screw her. Because now, for some reason she was in your head.

Maybe you just had a few… weaknesses. You always liked your girls on the masc side, on the buff side — but that was a given. Who isn’t attracted to that, right? However, watching hot girls drive was something else, and Abby was being that something else. You know— hand on the back of your seat when she reverses, bicep bulging when she grips the wheel of her sleek car, the lights of the night time traffic illuminating the way her top lip curled upwards a little and bottom lip pouted. You felt a little relief, knowing it was one hundred percent the wine talking. The wine you’d probably drank a little too much of whilst you were getting ready, playing your music and singing along loudly just hoping it was annoying Abby (It wasn’t, she didn’t even hear.)

Ignoring her would start after the car journey you decided.

And you did, for the most part. Abby gave you your space, sitting a few seats away from your group whilst you had your fun — headache inducing squeals and brain numbing chatter over loud music and strong cocktails not quite interesting the blonde. She was driving, and working — so she couldn’t drink, just sat there all night bored out of her mind. She probably should have been monitoring how many drinks you’d had over the night, because soon you were stumbling off your seat to go and dance— and Abby’s hands were itching to pull your skirt down just a little, the hem climbing up to the swell where your thighs meet your ass. She sits back, just watching. She was here to protect you, not be your personal wardrobe malfunction manager — so that’s what she’d do. Sit back and protect.

God, did you always dance like this when you went out?

She felt her fist twitch on the table at the sight of your hips swirling, but she knew that was just a natural gay reaction. She should probably order you a glass of water, so you could sober up and tone down the sluttyness but she figured she’d let you have your fun for now— you may have been too far gone. Abby wished she was holding a beer or something whilst she stared across at the way you were grinding your ass into your friends crotch, the two of you giggling like idiots all hazy eyed from the liquor.

After a while you amble over to her, everything bouncing and spilling out but you clearly don’t give a fuck. Your guard is caught off guard when you come close, alcohol having decimated any concept of personal space as you lean over to speak to her where she’s sat, bent over with your hands splayed on her black jean clad thighs.

She tries to be subtle in the way she eyes you, her tongue peeping between her lips and eyes widening momentarily at the perfect shot of down your top. “I can’t hear you.” She yells over the music. You come closer and nearly topple onto her completely, Abby’s hands by nature resting on the back of your thighs as you now grip her shoulders. Briefly, she wonders if at a glance anyone thinks the two of you are a couple. She shakes it off ‘cos… you’re still a brat. Hot or not.

“I said, can I go to the bathroom or are you gonna follow me?” You pull back to make sure she’s seeing you attempt to pointedly raise an eyebrow at her, something you would have perfected usually if you were sober.

“Take a friend.” She nods to your most sober looking buddy and you shrug happily, pushing off her and grabbing your toilet partner and rushing off. She was kind of glad you were gonna be out of her sight for a moment, needing to cool off.

She wasn’t sure what happened after that. Abby was getting bored and tired, dropping the ball a little bit — and you must have been sneaking drinks from your friends when she wasn’t looking — because suddenly you were way too drunk, barely able to stand. Enough was enough when she watched you stumble over to the bar, heading to assumably get yourself another drink. Abby followed you, gently taking your arm and turning you around.

“Hey, no more. You’re blacked out.”

Your face screws up into this adorable little pout for a moment before the rage kicks in, brow creasing and fists clenching by your side.

“C’n dooo what I waant. Dompt tell meee what to do.” You thud her in the centre of her chest with your finger, slurring enough to the point where Abby was confident the bartender wouldn’t have served you anyway.

“No. Finish up, you need to go home.” She was stern, and as expected — this garnered the worst possible response, baring your teeth like a dog and digging your heels into the ground like you were about to pounce on her. You exploded into noise.

“Nnno! Fuck you you stupid securererty guard I can’t wait to get rid of youn’d be independent this is such buuullshi—” Your rampage was cut short by Abby sighing, squatting, and throwing you over her shoulder. Her free hand came up without thought, tugging your skirt down to not expose you to the world. You thrashed and yelled for a good ten seconds before giving in completely — by standers and your friends laughing as Abby marched you to the exit. You were asleep by the time she reached the car, and briefly woke up when she’d carried you to bed to demand her to light the fire place. The fear of the dark must have ran incredibly deep, interesting — she noted.

Abby thought that maybe you’d appreciate her cutting your drinks off and halting any further plans to embarrass yourself that night— but she came to learn that if she thought you were bad usually, you with a hangover was ten times worse. If waking up to the sounds of your loud upchuck wasn’t bad enough, you were a whiny, angry bitch relentlessly all day.

“I’m not your servant you know. Stop asking me to do things for you.” Abby walked in with a glass of water and Tylenol upon request, being met with a loud groan instead of a ‘thank you’.

“Do you have to fucking yell everything?” You complain, ironically — louder than her.

She was tired by the end of the day, beginning to wonder if the pay was enough to tolerate your brattiness. Abby had gained a reputation for dealing with difficult clients, perhaps diva-esque or ill-mannered, but often it wasn’t anything a stern talking to couldn’t fix, often intimidated by her height and build enough to shut them up after a few quips. You were effortlessly becoming one of, if not the most difficult and tiresome clients to crack, but she was determined. If Abby was anything, she wasn’t a quitter — which is why when your father called to check in on you, she told him you’d been good as gold, which earned her a glare from you when you’d overheard the whole thing on the way to the bathroom.

You were back to your regular level of shitty behaviour the next day, less whiny and more sarcastic and bitchy which she could tolerate. However, after a month had gone by Abby was finding the irritation harder and harder to control— especially since you had developed an ever so charming habit of putting on your headphones every single time Abby tried to tell you to do something or talk to you in general.

“Like I told you, I’m a bodyguard — not a babysitter. Stop leaving your—” She bounded into the room, stopping when she saw you look her in the eye and pull your headphones over your head, pressing play on your screen to start your music. Abby stares for a few seconds, taking a breath, telling herself to walk away. Be a bodyguard and nothing else. She ignores this, wound up— and moves to stand in front of you, clicking her fingers. Cheekily, you point to your headphones — mouthing a faux-apologetic ‘sorry!’. The blonde scoffs, wondering why she’s entertaining this in the first place and reaches up to yank the headphones off your head, but freezes at your sudden wide eyed yelp.

“Don’t touch me I’ll tell my dad and you’ll get fired!” It’s rambled out, fast and premeditated — like you’d thought of it already and had been waiting to put it to use. Abby glances down at your alight screen, noting the music as paused and wonders if you were ever playing music or was just doing this to bother her. She lowers her hand, because — well, she’s not an asshole — instead turning her palm upwards in gesture to hand them over.

“Headphones. Give them to me.”

“No.”

“Give them to me or I’m not lighting the fire in your room tonight.” She stares you down and you sulk, shoulders dropping and brows furrowing in devastation. Abby would have felt bad if you weren’t such a menace.

You stroppily yank the headphones off your head and hand them over, muttering profanities furiously under your breath as you turn away from her, sprawled on the couch. Your guard nods, disappearing to put them away before leaving you be — heading to the kitchen to make her afternoon smoothie. The sound of her chopping fruit sparked rage in you all over again at how at home she had made herself, and after a minute you were storming in again— bare feet slapping the cold tiles.

“Back for more?” Abby is calm now, content as she focuses on slicing into a banana.

“You can’t threaten me with my fears you know, that’s emotional and psychological abuse. You’re taking advantage of my fears to be in control like — like a coward. Trust me I studied psychology out of a book, I know my stuff.” You stand beside her ranting as she raises her eyebrows with a calm smile, nodding as she listens and finishes up chopping her fruit, beginning to load them into the— your blender.

“Oh? Smart girl then huh?” She teases and you huff, jutting your chin in the air confidently with an ‘mhm’ before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen island counter, deciding to stick around for a while to pester her.

“Very. You could probably learn a thing or two from me.”

Abby twists her body half around in amusement, a mocking expression of being impressed adorning her attractive face. She closes the lid to the blender, keeping one hand on it as she speaks.

“‘That so? Go ahead, tell me what possibly I could learn from you, smart girl.”

Ignoring how ‘smart girl’ made you feel in your underwear, you only a manage a “Well first of all—” before she’s turned the blender on, the loud whirring masking any sound coming from you despite your attempts to yell over it for a few seconds. She nods teasingly, as if she was listening to what you were saying and you huff, giving up. You were usually a master in being annoying, but Abby was giving you a run for your money.

You hop back off the counter, muttering a ‘Big blonde stupid asshole.’ as you storm out the room and Abby lets go of the blend button, snickering to herself and yelling out a non committal ‘I heard that!’ after you.

The following day she had taken you to buy groceries after you’d complained that you’d wanted to do it yourself — Abby, following you around as you loaded up your cart, every so often remembering your duty to annoy her and hitting her with something along the lines of ‘I want my headphones back.’ which would be met with a disinterested ‘Tough luck.’ on her end. You couldn’t believe that she’d been living in your home for one month and you still hadn’t gotten under her skin. Perhaps that’s why the next day you’d let your guard down.

It was the first sunny day of March, the grassy hills in which the mansion sat on still harbouring that frosty bite to the air from winter — but pink blossoms had began to spring on the bushes and trees and the sky was blue, which instantly lifted your mood just that little bit.

You were curled by the large window that morning, still in your pyjamas and holding a mug beneath your chin, gazing out at the bright grass. When Abby had entered the room, she was surprised to hear you gently comment that “The weathers nice today.” — a rare sentence that wasn’t defying or insulting her. Abby looked over to you, noting your peaceful demeanour and deciding to carefully toe the line.

“Do you wanna… go outside today?” She suggested, something the two of them could possibly do together. She almost grimaced, waiting for you to curse her out like usual but instead you paused quietly for a few seconds before responding.

“I can introduce you to the horses.” With that, you hopped off the window seat and disappeared to get dressed. When you returned, your hair was in tidier condition and you wore a dress made for summer with only a thick knit cardigan over the top. She itched to tell you it was still way too cold to dress like that, but figured she didn’t wanna aggravate you before you’ve even made it out the door. Today was the day Abby would get through to you.

You were quieter than usual, assumably worn out and in higher spirits due to the sunshine. You’d received the horses as a gift on your sixteenth birthday — but due to the cold weather and outright depression you hardly rode them anymore, instead making sure they lived a healthy and luxurious life on your land and fed the best foods by their handler (mainly out of guilt.) Abby could tell you’d regret your outfit choice as the two of you walked along the pathway through the lush greenery outside, pulling your cardigan tighter around your body, head tilted as you watched the birds fly over the pond.

“What are your horses names?” She conversed lightly, stuffing her large hands into the pockets of her black bomber jacket.

“Cinnamon and blondie.” You answer quietly, before speaking up a few moments later. “Don’t judge the lack of creativity I was sixteen when I picked the names out.”

The pair of you reach the barn and she huffs a quiet chuckle out her nose, watching you pick up a brush as you approached the brown and blonde horses. “Hey, I think those names are perfectly fitting.”

She wasn’t sure why she wanted you to like her so badly all of a sudden. She partially thought it was because if you did you’d make her life and her job easier — but… no, it was more personal than that. You’d deprived her of seeing your pretty smile so much that she felt almost awestruck at the sight of your peaceful and joyful expression as you gently combed Cinnamons mane. She caught herself smiling as she watched.

The two of you talked. Like actually talked without hurling insults or rolling eyes. You sat on the hay, watching as she fed Blondie a carrot. Abby’s teeth were always so white and perfect, perfecting an already perfect smile. Perhaps you were in a good mood, because the thought of calling her perfect didn’t quite irritate you as much as it usually would.

“Have you even ridden a horse?” You’re still bashful about making regular conversation as you pluck at the hay from the bale you sit on.

“Nah.” She shucks off her jacket, the air in the barn balmier and muggier than the outside. It’s hard to not let your eyes flicker down to her strong arms, so you don’t deny yourself.

“Not even as a little girl?” You question and she chuckles a little.

“I didn’t have horse money.” There’s a pitch of longing behind her tone and you tilt your head, wondering about her upbringing. She senses your inquisition and glances up at you as she continues to stroke the horse. “I didn’t have much money for pretty much my whole life. It was actually why I got into the bodyguard industry. Good pay.” She shrugs one shoulder like it was nothing.

“Did you get to go to public school? Like in the city?” You lean forward with your elbows on your knees, chin balanced on your palms in intrigue. The way you said it sparked some amusement in her, ‘get to go to public school’. Like to you it was some sort of luxury.

“Yep. Got the bus everyday too.” Her eyebrow twitches up with a smirk, turning to walk towards you with her jacket in her hand. Whilst she expects you to pick up on her playful tone and perhaps roll your eyes, you continue to stare up at her in awe— an air of innocent curiosity around you that made her suddenly fight the urge to run a thumb over your cheek. She stood over you, placing her jacket by your side and you preened a little at how big she looked above you like that. Part of you felt mad at yourself for having developed a crush, knowing it was interfering with your plans — but you were touch starved. Really touch starved, so you allowed yourself a little yearning for your strict but not so strict bodyguard.

You clear your throat before speaking quietly. “You’re so lucky.”

At this, she scoffs, dropping down to sit beside you. Your skin felt a little warmer when her thigh pressed up next to yours.

“I wouldn’t say that. Would have traded lives with you in a heartbeat.”

You turn to her with a frown. “My life was boring. I didn’t get to do sneaky, crazy teenager things. I went to a small private school and had my small group of friends there and… we couldn’t do anything without dumb bodyguards riding my coattail. The only time we got privacy was in the girls bathroom, and even then if we took too long they’d come knocking.” You complain, pushing your shoe into the gravel.

“Oh, I see. So you didn’t get to be a bratty teenager so you’re making up for lost years now.” She spoke it with a smile, but assumes she took it too far as along came your infamous eye roll, shuffling away from her on the seat as the irritation snuck back in.

“I am not a brat.”

“And I’m not your bodyguard.” She challenges gently with a smile, nudging her knee against yours. You look at her with a stubborn pout and her smile doesn’t falter. “You’re not really a brat. I can bet you’re a sweet girl that just wants attention so you’re acting out.” Didn’t your father say she was supposed to be tough? Please. You say nothing. Your heart races in your chest but you’re too stubborn to say a word. Maybe you’d let your guard down too much. Roll your eyes again, that’ll do it.

After a moment you look away, not because you were still mad but more so because you were flustered. Sweet girl rung around your head like church bells.

“I know you wanna get rid of me.” She begins and you tense up a little. Way to ruin a nice morning.

“And?”

“I know why. You think you wanna be independent and get away from your parents. You have this… idea of living on your own in the city. Am I right?”

You’re prideful, facing away from her with your chin up. “You’re not wrong.”

She sighs out a little chuckle, shaking her head as she leans forward with her elbows resting on her thighs, head turned towards your profile. “You don’t want that life. Trust me. I’ve lived it and it’s hard.”

“Whats hard is having no freedom, no social life, being followed constantly because no one trusts you to make sensible adult decisions.” You snap at her, turning to look her in the eye.

“So you talk to your dad, try and see eye to eye. Not just… pack up and move out like you’re running away to the circus.” She reasons, like it’s just that simple. Her eyes dart across your face as she sees the rage build, infuriated by the assumption that your father was at all the type to negotiate.

“Theres no just talking to my father, Abby. This is it. This is my life unless I get out of here. I can’t live this way forever.” You raise your voice a little, frustrated at her lack of understanding. “I don’t know what your parents are like, but I’m sure you wouldn’t get it.”

She smiles in that way that people smile when they’re mad or upset, tilting her head down to look at her hands for a moment as she inhaled, shaking her head with a speechless chuckle when she exhaled. “I never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was sixteen. I don’t have the luxury of arguing with my dad like you do. Sorry.” She sarks and your face drops, which sparks a little guilt in that secretly soft heart of hers — because truthfully there was no way you could have known, and she could tell by your face you were immediately mortified. You stumble for words after a moment.

“Look. I can’t forgive my father for practically imprisoning me. We… we have a complicated relationship and I think we always will. He says he cares and then does nothing but ruin my life. But… he’s still my dad. No one should ever have to go through losing their father, especially not at that age. I’m… I’m sorry Abby. I can’t imagine what that’s like.” You speak quietly and she listens, an unreadable expression on her face as she does so. When you finish, her eyebrows flicker up ever so slightly.

“Huh.” She breathes, quietly.

“What?” You furrow your brows, sympathetic expression lingering.

“So you are capable of basic empathy. I had no idea.” She let’s a smile slip and your face drops into one of deadpan.

“Bye.” You go to stand up but she laughs and grips your arm, her strong but somewhat affectionate hand not allowing you to leave her side. You sigh with an irritated pout, facing away from her again. When her chuckles die down, she speaks again, her hand staying wrapped around the flesh of your arm.

“So what’s your plan then. You inevitably get me fired, you move into the city by yourself and then what. Where are you gonna work? You won’t be able to afford living in an apartment by yourself so who are you gonna live with?” She fires at you, realising she’s still gripping your arm and letting her fingers trail down a little before leaving your skin all together. You hate how it leaves goosebumps in her wake.

“I’ll use my family name to get me a job somewhere. As for roommates I’m not too sure, I suppose I’ll have to start looking online.” You smirk, glancing at her out the corner of your eye. “Perhaps I’ll just find a girlfriend first who will let me move in with her.”

The mention of a girlfriend makes heat prickle behind Abby’s ears. She had a sixth sense for these kind of things, most of the time able to tell when someone preferred the company of the same sex — mainly down to her own preferences, and she could tell almost immediately with you. However, it was always pleasurable to get the confirmation that she was infact, once again correct.

“Oh yeah? You think anyone else is gonna put up with that princess attitude but me? You better start working on your game.” She jests, and the mention of her tolerating your princess ways caused you to bite down a little on your bottom lip.

“What, you’re saying you’re not charmed by me?” You joke back for once, turning to face her to bat your eyelashes. She chuckles softly, eyes lingering on you for a moment too long before looking away and pushing herself up to stand by pressing her hands into her knees with a quiet grunt.

“Can’t say the insults and tantrums did it for me. Good luck to you though.” She allows a smirk to flit back onto her pouty lips before she thrusts a hand out, allowing you to take it so she could help you up, once again proving to you both that she was actually more than happy to tolerate that princess attitude she speaks of so poorly.

By the next day, your head is back in the game. All this talk of moving out set you straight, and whilst bonding with Abby in the barn certainly set you multiple steps back — you were back to your old self in no time, dead set on getting her to budge so that you could be free’d from your fathers watchful eye.

You eye your search bar on Google, sprawled on your front on your bed with your laptop open infront of you, having just typed ‘Roommates for sale backspace Roommates in the city friendly and not weird’. As you scrolled through the unhelpful results, your door opened — Abby standing in your doorway.

“Jesus do you ever fucking knock?” You curse, glaring up at where she stands in the doorway wearing her usual tight black tshirt and thick belted cargos and boots.

“Good to see you’re back to your usual self.” She sarks with a dramatic eye roll as she leans on her hip, refocusing (which took an extra second because you’re just wearing a little skirt and top today and lying on your front is making her think things.) “I’ve gotta go get my car serviced so I’m dropping it off at the garage thirty minutes away. You think you can survive an hour without me here?”

You’re not looking at her, continuing to scroll as you wave her off with just a distracted mumble causing her to shake her head and tsk followed by a chuckle as she pushes off her feet, disappearing down the hallway. “I won’t be too long. Stay out of trouble, smart girl.” She calls to you, before you eventually heard the sound of the front door shutting and then her car rumbling around the fountain infront of the entrance and out of the large iron gates. Finally, some peace and quiet.

However, after around thirty-five minutes, you had to admit you’d grown bored. You were home alone, and the room-mate search was coming to just about nothing so you had given up all together for the time being. You flop onto your back on the bed, huffing. Where you’d usually get up with the boredom and go to bother Abby until she argues back — you couldn’t. So, you figured you’d turn to the next best thing, listening to music whilst you do a light work out.

You didn’t like working out when Abby was home, because — as if she were a moth to a flame, she couldn’t help herself from interjecting and gym-rat-splaining everything you’re doing wrong and how to improve. The last time she walked in on you doing pilates, you nearly chucked a weight at her head because she started dishing out unwarranted advice. You knew she did it just to bother you, wearing that shit eating grin on her face when she’d lift a bicep and flex it, stating that it was ‘living proof that you should listen to me.’

You thought also that maybe a workout would help burn off some of the… frustration you woke up with. Perhaps it was the tension ridden barn conversation the two of you shared yesterday, a reminder of your starvation for touch, maybe you just had a load of tempting dreams that you weren’t remembering — but you woke up with your cunt aching and hungry to be filled. You figured this was the real reason behind your bad mood returning with such a vigour, and you couldn’t get yourself off, not wanting to give Abby the satisfaction of walking in (without knocking, no doubt) on you with your legs splayed out and fingers deep inside your wanting hole, probably accidentally moaning her name— or whatever. You couldn’t say the thought of doing so didn’t make things worse though.

When you rolled off the bed and onto your feet, you took a moment to collect yourself at the frustration of remembering that Abby still had your God-damn headphones somewhere, having stashed it away due to you using it as a prop to taunt her. You cursed her out, and then cursed yourself out for getting your beloved headphones confiscated before sighing. If Abby wanted to invade your privacy by not knocking, and taking away your personal items — you could invade her privacy by going into her room and searching for them. Perhaps you could even return them before she was back.

It seemed like a sound plan, so you padded down the hallway until you were met with the door to the guest bedroom where she had been residing. You push the door open, for some reason your stomach twisting in excitement at the small thrill of being sneaky— something you rarely got to experience. The room was clean and tidy, and smelt like her. You push further into the room, looking around and spotting a few of the black shiny duffel bags she’d brought along with her — the rest of her things assumably packed away into the closets. You kneel, unzipping the first.

Your hand sticks inside, rustling about only to be met with metal plated weights and an exercise mat. You huff, zipping it back up and trying the next one. You spot them instantly inside, but tsk when you struggle to pull them out — the headband portion of the listening device tangled with something else. You pull them both out, pulling them apart as you do so and gasp when you realise what you’re holding. A strap on. A harness with a dildo attached.

You drop it, nearly falling onto your back like a spider had just leapt out at you— your eyes widening. Placing your headphones aside slowly, you lift it again — observing it. Why on Earth did she have that with her? Your heart jumped slightly in jealousy, wondering if she was planning on bringing someone over and using it on them. Was she fucking someone, just a few doors down from you? In a moment of sick depravity and curiosity, you slowly bring the shaft beneath your nose— inhaling to smell if there were any… remnants of usage, or at best cleaning products to signify it had been used and cleaned. Your face feels hot in shame as you do so, and it just smells like new plastic. It looked new too. You pull it back, looking at it. It hadn’t been used at all.

“God, Abby.” You whisper as you turn it side to side, harness tickling your leg as you grip the girth of it. It was black and shiny like everything else she owned, roughly 7 inches with veins and thick— just as you expected from the broad bodyguard. There were balls attached too, and you run your fingertips over them gently, lightly pressing down to feel it’s texture. As you do so, translucent white liquid gathers at the tip of the dildo, a small trail of it running down the side of the shaft obscenely. You gasp lightly again as your cunt clenches hard without warning. A breeding strap, now you had only ever seen those in porn videos from your phone screen late at night with a hand down your pyjama shorts.

You’d been fucked with a strap before, of course. You’d had been allowed romantic relationships in the past, and your parents of all things were surprisingly cool with the gay thing. Of course, your father had to background check them first and practically set up play dates with their family (Undoubtably another wealthy family) However, the times you’d experienced with them were all short lived, fumbly and overall incompatible. It was clear that you and your past two partners were there purely to experience some sort of relief from their sexual frustration — which resulted in just rolling around the bed whilst your parents dined together downstairs, them gliding their smaller strap in your tight pussy as you clumsily rut against eachother. The experiences were somewhat fun and naive, but you never got to cum or experience real pleasure and satisfaction.

Oh but Abby, you could tell she had to have experience. She had been out there in the world, seasoned and a few years older than you — and when you look like that, with that kind of body, there was no way she wasn’t having girls in and out her apartment door like some kind of cock carousel.

You felt your wet folds pulsing with need to be touched, and you bit your lip — wondering how much time you had as it seemed to have majorly escaped you. The idea of fucking yourself with your bodyguards strap without her knowing had you wetter than you cared to admit from just your own daydreams in your bed, and you’d decided fuck it, consider it pay back for putting a dent in your plans.

You were squatted on the ground still, but now your skirt and panties were draped messily on the sleek wooden flooring by your side — excitedly holding the strap by the dildo wearing just a tight little crop top and nothing else like you were Winnie the fucking Pooh. It was humiliating in the way that made you reach down, checking and confirming that your slick had gathered across your lower region— pent up and built up from the past few hours of general frustration.

You had no idea how that beast was meant to fit inside of you, but you’d grown desperate — eagerly pulling it downwards and hovering over it, smearing the pearly liquid from the tip around in your slick as the harness clattered against the floor. You let out a sigh, only to realise you were trembling from the adrenaline of doing something you shouldn’t. Biting back an excited grin, you push in slightly — the stretch making you wince, brows furrowing. You let out a harsh breath, whispering ‘Fuck’ to yourself as you do so, just the tip stretching you beyond what you’ve ever taken before. You balance on the flats of your feet, toes curling against the ground and eyes squeezing shut as you try and push in further, the thickness making you quietly cry out, unable to take it properly.

Tears sprung to your eyes, half at the stretch and half in frustration at the inability to fit it inside of you. “C’mon, please.” You whine quietly to no one, walls spasming around the plastic, which now was slick with your arousal dripping down it. You were beyond turned on, to the point where you were starting to feel a little pathetic. You tried to ease up, reaching down to rub your clit to help you along as you take a deep breath, mind trying to ease itself — visions of Abby touching you instead of your own hand, moaning quietly and frustratedly at the thought of her strapping you.

You try and push it deeper, and it seems like your walls are about to let up — but the door flies open and so do your eyes. Your world comes crumbling down in humiliation, your ears ringing and face burning hot; Abby stands before you, eyes wide and jaw slack with pink cheeks.

Your first thought is to pull the dildo out, and the size of it makes you let out a quiet pained whine as you do so. She’s frozen, and the rage takes over you. It’s the most comfortable emotion in a situation like this.

“I told you to knock!” You yell, grabbing your skirt and throwing the dildo to the ground.

“This— this is my room!” Her voice is high and defensive, still processing what she just saw as everything happened so quickly. You pull your skirt up and grab your panties off the floor and to make the embarrassment worse — you burst into tears before you’ve made it out the door, storming past her and slamming the door to your room. The final blow was realising you’d left the headphones behind.

Abby watches you until you’re out of sight before turning her head slowly back to the strap on laying abandoned on the floor, a single drip of what looks like your arousal beside it. Jesus, she thinks, letting out a long sigh and running her hand over her face as she enters the room fully — letting the door shut behind her. She slowly lowers herself into a squat, thick thighs bulging in her cargos as she inspects the scene. Abby lifts the harness, before grabbing the dildo by the suction end and sucking in a hitched breath at how you’d soaked it only a little way down. Your poor pussy, she thinks as her lower region warms guiltily at the imagery now the shock had worn off. “Was a good attempt.” She mutters to herself, tossing the dildo onto her bed and sighing, standing up and stroking beneath her chin in thought. She worries, wonders what you must have thought about her seeing that she’d brought a strap on into your home. You must’ve thought she was some kind of perv, right? How was she supposed to bring you back from this?

As you lay face down on your bed, crying embarrassed tears for an hour straight— you wonder if it would have been less embarrassing if Abby had followed you into your room rather than leaving you to storm off on your own. She probably didn’t want to see you, or speak to you for the matter of fact. You sit up, wiping your cheeks furiously — if that were the case, you had the right to be mad at her. It was her fault, she took your headphones which spiralled into this whole thing. Was it better to let things fizzle out and be awkward? You couldn’t think of anything worse, so you finally rose to your feet again, cleaning up your appearance with your jaw clenched before storming back down the hallway. You were going to finish this, and make her leave for good.

You didn’t bother to knock, because when did she bother? You pushed the door open so hard it bang loudly against the wall, and Abby turned around from her dresser — going through some envelopes, totally unphased.

“I’m taking my headphones!” You practically holler, an accusatory finger pointed right at her. She places the envelope aside as she leans against the dresser crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.

“Okay.”

“And my father will be receiving a call! Yes, I will call him and tell him that you’re rude, you push boundaries, and you don’t ever fucking knock on any door!” You raise your voice even louder, counting off your fingers as she stares at you.

“Again, this is my room and I didn’t know you were in here.” She explains slowly like you were stupid, which only enrages you more.

“This is my house!” You shriek, waving your hands and she pushes off the dresser, stepping towards you.

“Is it?” She frowns. “Do you even pay any rent?”

You falter for just a second, but it’s enough for her to see and nearly smile, which only builds your emotion. “This is my families house. On your very first day here you said that you were a guest in my house, so act like one. My. House.” You step closer to meet her in the centre of the room, eyes boring up into hers as she watched you, unimpressed, tongue in her cheek.

She couldn’t lie, you were hot when you were mad. Infuriating, sure. But hot. Hot in the way where she wanted to shut you up, make you cum until you weren’t fighting back — just babbling aimlessly, frown fully melted from your face. Fuck you until you learnt a lesson. The thought made her stand up a little straighter.

“Yeah?” She tilts her head daringly, and enraged you step up closer, bodies nearly touching just so you could yell in her face.

“My. Hou—” You go to repeat yourself for emphasis but you’re cut off by the feeling of her hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them. When she speaks, it’s calm and menacing. You stare up at her wide eyed.

“You’re not gonna talk to me like that. You’re embarrassed, sweet girl — and I feel for you, but don’t you ever yell in my face like that. You understand me?” She tilts her head further, eyes on you. You’re humiliated, knees knocking into eachother at her calling you sweet girl whilst berating you and you frown, still panting — all hot faced and furious. She uses your cheeks to make you nod and you groan. “Good. If you wanna talk about what happened, let’s talk. But before you come up here and start accusing me of shit, remember that you came in here searching, and you found that,” she turns your face so that you were looking at the strap on laying on the bed. She stays facing you, eyes browsing the side of your face now. Your eyes widen a little at the sight, the memory of using it replaying in your head. “And you decided to use it without asking me.” She steps back a little, eyeing you (not even bothering to hide the hunger anymore). “Okay. Say your piece.” She gestures with her hand and you collect yourself, pulling in a shaky breath.

You admit, the confidence from your tone had vanished. “I was just trying to look for my headphones. I wanted to work out.” You explain and she nods, encouraging you to go on. “You… you brought that into this house, why?” You point at the toy on the bed, the embarrassment starting to slip through again in your pathetic tone of voice.

“Its not your business what I bring with me in my own bag.” Her velvety voice was quick to answer and your brow creased, running out of reasons to shift the blame onto her.

“Well… you can’t bring things like that here it’s — it’s inappropriate.” You internally curse yourself out for stuttering.

“You didn’t seem to have any complaints an hour ago when you were trying to stuff it inside yourself.” She shrugs like she just couldn’t help it from leaving her mouth and in your embarrassment you turn to leave again, walking towards the door. She follows and reaches over your head and shuts it in front of you before you can, grabbing your arm and turning you around so that your back was pressed to it now as she looms over you. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Abby.” You go to complain, but it comes out as a weak whisper.

“Is that why you did it? Maybe you were trying to get caught so you’d have a reason to get all mad and go batshit crazy on me, huh? Still going ahead with that bullshit plan of yours to send me packing?” Abby theorises and you lower your gaze, head tilted towards the ground as you thought. It wasn’t that, you weren’t brave enough. You were genuinely just being disgusting and horny and got yourself caught — which to you was all the more shameful. She knocks your chin up with her knuckle, making you look up at her again. “Or maybe you wanted to get caught so you could be punished. Is that what you wanted? ‘That why you been such a fucking brat?”

“Not a brat.” You huff, though you couldn’t deny it any further than that.

“You know what a brat is? Girls like you,” She poked a finger into your chest. “Who wanna be put in their place so they act out. I’m starting to think that’s just what you need.”

You try and push off the door but she’s blocking you to do so, bodies too close. “Do you really think I’d come in here and yell at you just because I wanna get spanked or whatever?” You bite back, proud of the comeback until she roughly spins you around by the hips so your cheek was pressed to the wooden door, back a little arched. She takes a fist of your skirt and yanks it up, holding it to your lower back making you gasp — fully exposing your bare rear. She chuckles and you wanna die.

“I dunno, didn’t even bother putting on a new pair of panties before coming up in here. Seems to me like you knew what you were doing. Lost the bass in your voice too, smart girl. Where’d all that anger go?” Her hand is gentle when it cups your ass, feeling the meat of it in her hand. You could not believe this was happening. You were mortified. Soaked, but mortified.

You try to fight back with your words, but it’s coming out in little huffs and embarrassed pants at the feeling of her grabbing your ass. “I’m— m’gonna tell — gonna tell on—”

“You’re gonna tell on me?” She snickered. “Are you gonna tell the full story? What you were doing on the floor when I walked in?” She purs in your ear and you can hear her smiling. She’s sick.

You say nothing, because if you’re being honest you’re giving up on your resolve— the feeling of her hands on you just melting your anger away like ice. “No I didn’t think so.”

She gives your ass a light slap, just enough to jiggle it and make you whimper at the suddenness before turning you back around, eyes glancing between yours seriously. “You wanna know what I think?”

You sigh and nod, not trusting your voice at this point.

She gently takes you by the arm and walks you over to the foot of the bed, picking up the strap and holding it. “I think you need to clean my strap for me.”

The way she says it makes you feel hot and bothered, and you go to reach for it to shamefully disappear and wash it in the sink but she holds it out of your reach, raising her eyebrows playfully as she stares you down for a moment. “Not like that.”

She brings the strap down, stepping into the leg holes of the harness before pulling it up and adjusting it to fit her by the hoops at the hip. You watch, trembling — the sight of her standing there with a huge cock something you had only dreamt of, making you squeeze your thighs together. You hated yourself for how weak willed you’d become.

“You can clean it up that smart mouth of yours.” She smiles simply before placing both hands on your shoulders and pushing you down slowly to the ground. She sits too on the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs wide to accommodate to you between them. She wanted you to suck her off? Now that was just degrading. You pursed your lips, trying and failing to ignore the rush of slick seeping from you.

“Abby. Come on.” You whisper and she looks at you for a moment, making you shrink where you were kneeled before leaning forward, gently grasping your chin again, her face millimetres from yours.

“It’s the least you can do.” She threatens before leaning back on her hands, nodding towards her cock. She nearly folds and leans forward to kiss you when she sees the big, sweet, doe eyes you give her — so far removed from your usual glare. If she knew that all she had to do was dom the good girl out of you, her previous month would have been a lot easier.

You gingerly grip the shaft with your hand, bringing your face towards it. God, it smells like you still— to think that only an hour ago you were on the ground trying to shove it inside yourself. Your brows furrow as you kitten lick the top, before suckling on the top with a low moan in your throat gaining confidence. “Good girl.” She praises as you push down a little, sucking harder to the point where you can taste the breeding liquid. You’re not quite sure if it’s meant to be consumed but you don’t care, you don’t care about anything at this point.

You wanna push down further, but you’re struck with a thought and pull off her with a pop— glaring up at her with some of your leftover brattiness.

“What’s that face for?” She hums. You struggle to find your words.

“You… We’re…” You huff, sulkily and she watches the glimmer of longing pass over your face. “You’re making me suck you off and you haven’t even kissed me.” You finally get it out and she smirks, but not totally in a mean way — more so adoringly. Smushing your cheeks again with her hand, she pulls your face in, meeting you in the middle as her cock brushes against your chest as her lips meet yours. It’s a hard, wet, sloppy kiss with your cheeks smushed but it’ll do, and when she pulls off you with a loud smack she roughly rubs her thumb beneath your pouty bottom lip to remove the residual saliva. “Now get back to work.”

She holds back a giggle at the sight of your own pleased smile as you go back down, licking up the sides and cleaning off the plastic — groaning at the residual taste of you clinging to it. This was cruel, wicked even — and you were enjoying it.

“Thats it. Knew I’d be able to find better use for that mouth. Must be tired from running it so much.” Her voice is gentle despite the degradation and it fills your brain with a hazy, muddled fog — not sure how to feel anymore. You pull up for air after taking as much as you can, and as soon as your lips wrap around the dick again, Abby can’t help herself from pressing her hand down on the back of your head gently, muttering a “‘Can do better than that, pretty.” as you gag around her. This seemed to be the first straw in what broke the camels back.

It had dawned on you, half way through sucking her off that after this she was likely just to throw you out on your ass, back to your room to take care of yourself. Getting you on your knees infront of her was her way of winning once and for all, and this was only one last humiliation to shut you up completely. You hadn’t realised you were in your head until Abby was pulling her strap out your mouth, tilting your chin up to her as she leant forward once more. “Hey. Where’d you go just now?”

You try and break away, trying to catch her tip in your mouth again, jaw a little agape and tongue peeping out but she grips your chin more firmly, shaking you a little. “Hey. Look at me.”

“S’nothing Abby. Just lemme—”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head.

“Then what?”

You suck in a deep breath. “Are you gonna chuck me out after this? Are you… are you only doing this to embarrass me?” She stares at you in perplexity as she watched your mouth turn down, emotions catching up with you as you squeeze your eyes shut — two fat tears sliding down your tears.

“Hey, no.” She’s still a little confused, but she wipes your tears away with the back of her hand anyway. She sighs, pulling you up by the arm and sitting you on her thigh. “Okay. Maybe this kind of thing isn’t for you. That’s okay.”

You wipe your nose, a little calmer and clearer headed now. “I was enjoying it. I think I just… I feel like no one cares about me. It just caught up with me that’s all. We can get back to it.” You go to stand up off her but she holds you tighter, making you look at her.

“I care about you. I stupidly, really care about you.” She speaks sincerely, and you stare at her analytically before realising that she actually truly means it. Abby cares about you.

She pulls you in gently this time, lips locking against yours. It’s not mean, or sarky, or trying to tease you — it’s a real meaningful kiss and you just melt. All that anger, all that competitiveness just melts off you like ice cream on a hot and hazy day. You wrap your arms around her neck, letting her lick into your mouth and dominate your tongue with her own, pulling it in and sucking on it making you shift on her thigh and whimper. You think about grinding down on her thick, cargo covered thighs and how good that might feel after a month of staring at them — but before you can, she’s easing you to lay on your back on the bed.

“Can show you how much I care about you. Maybe we can start over, how’s that sound?” She whispers into the space below your ear, pressing a wet kiss there and you let out a shaky huff, nodding. “Gonna need your words though. That’s how this works, sweet girl.”

“Please show me.”

“Like that, good job.”

Her hands look large, but they feel even larger — especially when they’re beside eachother, running up beneath your top— fingertips brushing over your hard nipples as she tests the waters, smiling against your skin when your back arches up into her, a sensitive whine quietly passing your lips. She slowly drags up your top, pushing herself down your body to pepper kisses down the centre of your chest, letting out a quiet groan of her own when she grips your tit with her hand, massaging the plush flesh. “M—outh” You choke out in a pleasured haze and she chuckles, eyebrows jumping up in amusement as she adjusts her position.

“Should have known you’d know exactly what you want.” She teases before flattening her tongue over the bud of your nipple, pulling back to blow cold air on it to harden it making you wince sensitively. The smile barely leaves her when she dips down, wrapping her pouty pink lips around the bud and sucking, soothing her tongue over it and digging her teeth in ever so slightly, letting them scrape over your nipple when she pulls away. “Fuck, so pretty.” She grits her teeth, reaching up and grabbing it in her hand again letting it jiggle beneath her palm.

You buck your hips again, which directs her attention to your lower regions — forcing her to depart from your breast to continue her journey down your body. She sits up, both hands encasing your waist, rubbing thumbs into your lower ribs gently. “Anyone ever eat your pussy?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the bold question and your eyes flutter open, not quite remembering when you closed them. “No.”

She grins, like that was just the answer she was after and climbs back down— kissing your stomach and then flipping your skirt up so she could kiss your pubic mound. You shiver, a little insecure but filled with desire more than anything as her hands slide up between your legs. “Open these up for me.” She whispers, and her hot breath wafts over your needing cunt when she reveals it, pulling back to look at it.

You feel your chest and face get hot as she stares— dark eyed and hungry straight at your most private area. “So fucking pretty.” She whispers, thumbs sliding either side of your fat lips and pulling them apart, her brows furrowing. “You always get this wet? Jesus.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t quite have the guts to tell her that you don’t remember the last time someone had aroused you this much, to the point where it’s taken over your body and brain entirely.

She leans in, and you expect her tongue to dart out first — but she spits, directly on your clit making you jolt with a whimper, then chasing it up with the flat of her tongue as her thick arms wrap around your thighs, jaw practically unhinging as she starts eating you like her life depends on it.

You moan, loudly and with less shame as time passes now, grinding your hips up into her face — which she matches by pinning them back down to the bed, only pulling away to briefly grab a cushion from the bed and slot it beneath your hips to elevate you slightly — so fast and expertly you barely realise she’s done it before she’s back to mouthing at your crotch.

“Feels so good!” You whine and she chuckles against you, the vibration of which sends shockwaves through to your stomach. “Need you to fuck me.” You mutter, more to yourself but she acknowledges it anyway, the hands that were massaging your hips sliding between your thighs.

“If you want to take my cock I’m gonna need to prep you. You saw yourself, s’never gonna fit with how tight you are right now.”

With this new information, you feel her finger tips sliding through your soaked folds gently as she suckles on your clit relentlessly. You whine, trying your best not to clamp down when she slides in her finger, and then another. You were in heaven, panting up to the ceiling as she fingerfucks you, l your hand sliding down to encase itself in her golden hair — glowing from the sunset streaming in through the window.

She moans as she tastes you, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut like she could feel every movement of her tongue herself. “Gonna give you one more okay? Need to stretch you— still so fucking tight.” She speaks against you and all you can do is nod, in fact at that point you’d probably let her do anything she wanted to you. It was such a relief to drop the act, to just relax and let her take care of you.

A third finger prods at your entrance and you wince as she slowly slides it in, looking up at you to watch your expression — brows pinching and eye twitching at the feeling, walls wrapping tightly round her thick fingers. “There you go, pretty girl. Took that like a champ.” She kisses your hip bone before getting back to work, slowly and experimentally fucking her three fingers in and out, curling them up to grind against your upper gummy inner wall.

“Feel like I’m gonna cum, Abby it’s — it’s so much.” You shake, toes curled so hard they’d gone white and she hums kindly against you, pulling off your clit again with a loud spitty pop.

“I know baby, I know. Let it out.” She whispers, rushed and syrupy like she was too on the precipice of a moan. She moves her tongue in quick successions around your clit as you start to buck and ride against her fingers, a clammy sound matching this — your wetness creating music against her knuckles as you fuck against them. “Cum, smart girl, cum.”

You do, and you’re so full it’s like there’s nowhere for the cum to go — and therefore you feel like you might explode, suddenly letting out loud cries and whines as you shake and jerk on the bed, only to be held down by Abby’s strong arms. She moans too, because you’re dripping down her wrists and her chin — seeming to have a never ending quantity of cum as she laps it up. You taste exactly how she thought you would.

You can’t even tell she’s stopped because your legs are still violently shaking for a minute, coming down from your orgasm felt like it would never end— but you were grounded by the feeling of Abby’s lips on your cheek, sliding her hands under your back to hold you. “I know, it’s okay. Good job.” She cooes into your hair, silencing your nonsensical babbles. She doesn’t push you to move onto the next thing, just stroking your skin and pressing her lips to your skin until you were calm.

Abby feels tugging down below, and looks down between your bodies to see your hand wrapped around her shaft, tugging towards you as your legs fall open again limply. She winces like she can feel it, and she swears she can when you lazily run your thumb over the tip that had drizzled some of the pearlescent liquid out from all the movement. She watches you play with the spillage between your fingers, before bringing it to your puffy cunt, spreading it through your folds and whimpering at the sensitivity.

“Shit, babe.” She sighs out, the room feeling suddenly much warmer. “You wanna continue?”

“Mhm. Was prepping to take you, remember?” You brush the loose strand from her braid hanging over her cheek out of her face. The gesture is intimate, like two lovers who have been together for a while. You almost feel embarrassed again but she turns her cheek and kisses your palm.

She nestles the pads of her fingers into your folds again, sliding around in your arousal and you sigh out at the sensitivity, the urge to be filled returning from its brief satisfaction. “Well you’re definitely wet enough.” She smirks in disbelief, and you can’t believe that there was a time where you would have rolled your eyes at such comments — now only doe eyed and lip bitten as your legs fall open wider. Her fingers are replaced by her strap, sliding up and down — collecting your wetness along it, a whimper leaving you when the tip nudges against your swollen clit.

“Think you’re ready for me?” She asks and before she’s even finished the sentence you moan out a quick and desperate ‘yes!’ making her laugh, keeling into herself with her chin to her chest for a moment. She looks cute and you want to kiss her again. In due time, you think. “How long has it been since you last got fucked?” She continues sliding her strap up and down. Abby secretly thinks she’s stalling, because she wants this closeness to last.

You shake your head breathlessly, trying to clear the fog in order to answer her simple question. Why was she asking questions at a time like this?

“Like — nine months maybe a year?” You answer and she nods, understandingly.

“It’s no wonder you’re so tight. This is gonna be quite a squeeze, yeah?” She looks you deep in your eyes, like she did every time she wanted you to really listen.

“I know, s’okay.” You breathe, and at this she takes your hand in her larger one.

“S’gonna be big. You can squeeze my hand if you want. Deep breath in.” She instructs and you slowly inhale as she pushes in, your hand squeezing hers as you clench around her thick length.

The “Fuck” you let out in a breathy groan is obscene and borderline pornagraphic, which makes Abby fight the urge to bottom out completely and shove her cock inside you fully all at once, but she’s patient, her breath hitching as she reassures you.

“I know, I know.” is all she can say as she pushes in further.

“W—wait.” You tense up a little and she freezes with no hesitation, letting you adjust to the stretch as she drops kisses onto your jaw until you were ready. This happened a couple of times, and she’d oblige to your wishes each time you halt her until she was fully seated inside you.

You felt like the air had been punched out of you, Abby was so deep. “Hows that?” She whispers.

“So big.” You mewl.

“Taking it so well. See, we got it all in the end.” She praises, quiet and gleeful watching you blissed out beneath her.

“Y’not getting paid enough for this, he’s not paying you enough to deal with me.” You babble into her shoulder in regards to her deal with your father, legs trembling around her hips.

“You kidding me? He’s paying me to fuck his daughters pretty pussy, think I’ll be okay.” She scoffs into your neck, sucking wet kisses into the skin there, hips still not moving as you adjust.

“S’not why he’s paying you.” Your nose turns up and she chuckles before lifting her face to hover right above yours, lips occasionally brushing. She begins to move her hips and you both gasp at the feeling.

“How about… instead of arguing with me… you shut up and take my fucking strap.” She whispers temptingly and you go limp again, apart from your hips which twitch against her movements letting her grind her strap in and out of you slowly.

“Oh my god!” You cry, letting go of her hand to wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her into you to connect your lips. She lets you whimper against her and suck on her bottom lip whilst she concentrates on finding that angle. She knows she’s struck gold when your legs jerk around her before your heels dig into her ass.

“Faster please Abby, please faster!” You sound deranged, at the point she wanted you all along — cockdrunk and desperate without a care in the world. She clenches around nothing at the thought of just keeping you this dumb all the time.

She speeds up on command, hips smacking against you now as she pulls away to watch the way your tits bounce beneath her. “Oh baby, you’re fucking taking it.” She pants, impressed at how quickly you’ve allowed her to really go in on you. She reaches between you to rub your clit and you squeal, tears springing to your eyes. “Yeah? Want me to rub it? S’it that good, pretty girl?”

“Yes! Please! I— I can’t Abby it’s too — Abby please I wanna— need to cum!” Your hands are curled into her t-shirt adorably which only makes her go harder, practically punching the sounds out of you like a squeaky toy each time she thrusts. You feel yourself teetering over the edge once more, abused pussy relentlessly sucking her in with obscene wet noises attached. Before you can release, your hand reaches down to cup the balls of the strap. “Want it inside, please Ab— please want it inside me—” You ramble and she catches on, and as you tense up, letting out a pained whine as you cum, she slides her hand on top of yours, pressing down to empty the cum lube inside you. The feeling of the warm liquid spurting against your cervix makes you shake, sobbing uncontrollably suddenly as you ride it out.

“There you go, good fucking girl. You like that don’t you? Fuck, letting me breed you like this the first time we fuck? You dirty fucking girl. Such a pretty fucking girl.” She’s babbling too, unravelled by the beauty that was you cumming the way you did. She knew she was good at fucking, but to make someone cry like that was driving her insane.

You’re floating when she pulls out, the two of you breathless and fucked out. Effortlessly, she pushes her hands under your arms and drags you further up the bed until you’re laying against the pillow and she drops down besides you, pulling you into her chest, t-shirt slightly damp with sweat. You listen to her heart thundering in her chest, and it lulls you into a sleepy and relaxed zone, pulling your thigh up over her hip with her help, her thumb stroking the crease where your ass and thigh connects.

“Did so good. The sounds you make are so pretty.” She whispers like she was trying to lull you to sleep. You shift, breath stammering in your throat and nearly choking you when your used pussy glides over her shaft— the veins and ridges catching against your clit making your hips jerk on her, unable to stop yourself from slowly and feverishly rubbing down on her as you breathe heavily in the quiet room.

“Want more, sweet girl?” She cooes, hand running down the back of your head to cup it lovingly.

“Too sore.” It comes out muffled into her t-shirt, aimlessly rocking your hips.

“That’s alright. Just keep… keep doing this.” She relaxes into the bed, kissing your forehead and letting you please yourself, grinding into the mixture of your juices and the fake cum soaking the both of your lower halves. It was messy and bordering on gross, but made your needy clit throb all the more. You were truly insatiable. Had it really been that long?

She sighed in pleasure at the feeling of you grinding against her, the position making her harness press deliciously into her own clit, pleasing you both. Perhaps she too could get off from this.

The sun had gone in, and the room had grown dark. But this time, you weren’t afraid — infact the growing inkiness of the sky was the last thing on your mind— safe, warm and dumb in Abby’s strong arms.

Maybe you’d let her stick around.

#bodyguard!abby #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson au #abby tlou2 smut

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baddestbittyontheblock · 19 days

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lewis hamilton fic recs

✦ dividers by @graphicstorage, @chilumitos, @baexywth ✦

₊˚⊹ ᰔ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the lewis hamilton fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each incredible writer!! ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ

₊˚⊹ ᰔ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ if you’d like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 the hamilton girls by @starkwlkr dad!lewis hamilton x reader | fluff

-lewis hamilton was many things. a formula 1 driver, a seven time world champion, an idol, an inspiration to many young kids, but most of all, he was a husband and father to three girls. his family was everything to him. He enjoyed being a dad to his three precious gir

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 you'll be fine by ^ dad!lewis x reader | fluff

-the hamilton family had finally made it to australia.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 in my life (i love you more) by @viennakarma lewis hamilton x fem!reader | established relationship, ex-wife reader, reader is an architect, cheating, smut, pregnancy symptoms, pregnancy sex, fingering and oral sex, lactation kink (briefly), chilbirth (not descriptive), lots of fluff, open ending, happy ending, 8.3k

-navigating pregnancy is an adventure on its own, but doing it with your recently divorced ex-husband is on a whole new level. but maybe it's the perfect opportunity to find your kinship once again.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 say something (i'm giving up on you) by ^ lewis hamilton x fem!reader | established relationship, wife reader, reader is an architect, cheating, smut, mild somnophilia, mentions of pregnancy and children, very very angsty, no hea

-your husband tells you the truth about vegas, and it makes your perfect sandcastle crumble.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 wanna have your baby by @tomorrcwz lewis hamilton x reader | smut (+18), breeding kink, condoms have no need here but pls use them irl!!, also romantic

-he's lost in his feelings and lost in the desire to make a baby with you, his darling woman

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 let me answer by ^ lewis hamilton x reader | smut, sir kink, description of a female body, answering the phone during sex, piv, riding, possessiveness

-the possessiveness comes to the light when your ex won't stop calling you during sex

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 the best trophy by @lewisvinga lewis hamilton x fem!reader | mentions of sex, cursing

-as much as lewis loved his and y/n’s fwb , he couldn’t help but want more. all it took was one grand moment for him to finally reveal his feelings

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 west coast by ^ lewis hamilton x fem!reader | mentions of drinking

-y/n leaves lewis due to the feeling of being held back from consistently traveling to his races, only to realize how much she missed him.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 around the world by ^ lewis hamilton x fem! reader | fluff, 0.8k

-influencer y/n decides to do the trend of showing off her outfits with lewis as they traveled around the world.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 end of the road by @dilemmaontwolegs lewis hamilton x wife!reader | 18+ only, pregnancy, angst, fluff, 2.9k

-when you and your husband both have a surprise to share you find your plans for the future clashing

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 rosso corsa by @pucksandpower lewis hamilton x leclerc!reader | 18+ content

-lewis hamilton has been called the GOAT by many … after he becomes your brother’s new teammate, you learn firsthand that being the greatest of all time extends to quite a few other aspects of his life as well

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 what you do to me by @monzabee lewis hamilton x fwb!reader | angst, feelings, friends with benefits relationship, smut!, slight choking, unprotected sex (wrap your willy, don’t be silly!), slight manhandling?, pwp, minors dni!!, 3.4k

-the one where lewis returns home to you – the one thing he desperately wants, but won't let himself have completely.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 cuff it by @hopefulromantic1 lewis hamilton x reader | smut (18+), 3.5K

-lewis never wants to give up control but y/n is persistent in her request for a chance to take charge in the bedroom.

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jungkookschin · 1 year

Text

to err is to love

synopsis: planning your twins' mario theme bday party with your baby daddy/ex husband makes you start to feel weird things .. but no, you will not walk down that path again !!!

word count: 6k

pairing: dilf!jk /ex husband!jk / ceo!jk x afab reader

genre: fluff, angst, comedy, jk and oc's rich friends spoil their kids 🙄, guest appearance from g idle and enha

authors note: if u have any comments plss put it in the asks bc this is a secondary account😭ily all, this may be a part of a series if the feedback is good. i have winter break for the next three weeks so im popping these fics out very quickly!

read the first drabble here!

to err is to love masterlist

They say you find the purest love on earth by looking into your mother's eyes- and you've never really understood that until you had your own kids.

The pure adoration you have for your children is unimaginable, indescribable, unmeasurable. Your heart aches, is inter-permeated with the sweetest types of love when you think about your children. Menial tasks like simply waking them up for school in the morning, drool on the corner of their small mouths, have your very being beaming with captivation. Even the tiniest gesticulations have you enchanted, an absolute fool for your kids. It takes constant internal berating to remind yourself your kids need discipline, but it's instinctive of you to spoil them, which is precisely why you often find yourself begging your friends to join the three of you in a late night game of Among Us.

Your love for your children is also why you agreed to co habitat with your ex-husband Jungkook.

You and Jungkook were victims of a young pregnancy, one that had you ripping your hair out when you peed on that stupid stick. Though not a teenage pregnancy, getting pregnant at the tender age of 22 wasn't the most ideal of situations. Who knew that such a horrific time in your life would turn into the greatest of blessings?

Jungkook was your first boyfriend; you consider him your first love, basically the only man in the world you have been in a serious relationship with.

The night after your second anniversary date, Jungkook decided that you had him way too obsessed to just let you waltz back into your home, practically having his balls in the palm of your hand. So he insisted that you stay in his car a little bit longer; he then abused his power as son of Jeon Enterprises to take you to one of his dad's luxury hotel rooms. Jeon Enterprises runs Korea's largest and most popular chain of hotels and casinos, and surely his father the CEO was livid once he discovered what his son had done.

His father called him up to his office, and Jungkook was gnawing on the inside of his cheeks when he took that elevator forty stories up. Jungkook took the berating pretty well- after all he had the best night of his life with the girl of his dreams. That was the second most angry he's ever seen his father.

The most angry he's ever seen his father was when he broke the news to his dad that you were pregnant. That day he took a pretty harsh beating that left his ass sore for weeks .

Flash forward seven years his dad is absolutely enamored with his grandchildren, being the principle contributor to how spoiled his kids are- but flash forward seven years later he's also lost you.

A couple years after your children were born, you and Jungkook had your dream wedding in Paris at only twenty four years of age, and three years after that was the grim and ugly divorce.

A series of grievances and humilation that were a result of your relationship left you so broken, and you would never forgive yourself if you allowed yourself to stay with him. For the sake of your children did your relationship remain amicable and cordial; you refused to let them grow up in a broken home.

Your little babies were Haru and Hina, and may or may not be named after your and Jungkook's favorite anime characters; but that's what the younger versions of yourselves decided on and are the names you've chosen for their precious little faces. Your fraternal twins are objectively the cutest little kids you've ever seen, even though you may be a teensy bit biased. Nonetheless the twins wonderfully compliment each other like the perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwhich, which is sorta expected- they literally have the same DNA.

Time has flown by, with your kids entering first grade. Hina's a little clumsy, still falling over her own feet despite having fine tuned her motor skills for the past four years, but luckily Haru's always there to pick her up and wipe the dust from her knees. Even so, your kids are kids, and often bicker and quarrel with each other. Often did you find yourself dragging one twin to a corner of the house whilst Jungkook drags the other somewhere else, sitting them down and having that stern mom/dad talk which encouraged them to love and forgive each other (which may be hypocritical because their parents weren't even capable of doing so). A nasty fight had you and Jungkook almost violently tearing your kids away from each other when Haru dropped a banana right in front of Hina's cart in Mario Kart. just when she was about to get second place.

In fact, it had taken a whole week for Haru and Hina to agree on a shared birthday party theme for their sixth birthday. You were convinced that they would never come to a unaninmous agreement, and almost made the plan to go with the "beach" theme, which you really didn't want to do because that was boring. So you were absolutely delighted when they waddled towards you and Jungkook at the dining table and announced that they wanted a Nintendo theme birthday.

It's yours and Jungkook's deep and profound shared love for your children that have you working so hard to make this party a success. The clock reads 3:40 AM, T minus ten hours until the party starts. Albeit, it would have been so much easier to simply hire a professional party planner, but you both felt so much more accomplished doing it yourself. You and your ex husband Jungkook sit on the floor of your living room, systematically reviewing the checklist of tasks that need to be completed before the start of the party. A giant easel with a huge notepad stands in the middle of the room, and you use a fat ass sharpie to write everything down.

"You'll pick up the cake at ten?" you ask, words muffled from the sharpie cap in your mouth.

Jungkook shakes his head. "Namjoon hyung said he'll bring it, so I'm free to help set up the bouncy house when the guys arrive."

You nod, drawing a fat check mark next to the boxes that read 'cake' and 'bounce house'. You falter in your actions before pondering aloud. "Would it be fucked up to ask Jake and Heeseung to pick up the pizza?"

Jake and Heeseung were your kids' babysitters/tutors for when neither you or Jungkook could be home. Hey, your kids didn't have the new iPad 5's for no reason; work had to be accomplished. Jake and Heeseung were still college students, but a relationship based on courteous trust between you and them had flourished, so you and Jungkook both whole heartedly trusted them to watch over the twins. Jake and Heeseung love your kids, and your kids love them- maybe a little too much. Haru exposed Hina's crush on Heeseung, which made her dad have a splitting headache and Hina burst into tears while she rolled around on the carpet.

They are still broke college kids, so you did feel somewhat guilty asking them to participate in the preparations for the kids' party, hence why you're verbalizing the inquiry to Jungkook.

Jungkook's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Why would it be fucked up? We pay each of them fifty dollars an hour, so they better be willing to do us some favors every once in a while."

"You're right, and I know we can count on them. Can you ask them in the groupchat?"

Jungkook does so immediately, and you check off the box that reads 'pizza'. You skim over the other boxes, one reading 'costumes', which refers to the handmade Mario and Princess Peach costumes you ordered. You check the box off, the costumes sitting in a box at the corner of the room.

Face paint? Check. Your friend Miyeon said she was happy and willing to paint the kids' faces. You would just have to reimburse her for the price of the materials.

Yoshi and Bowser mascots? Check. Jungkook's friends Hobi and Jimin were forced agreed to put on the bulky costumes to entertain the kids.

Decorations? Check. You and Jungkook collaborated on a plethora of the cutest DIY decorations- and you were absolutely enthralled with how they turned out. You used old Amazon cardboard boxes to create the item boxes in Super Mario; you used little headbands from the dollar tree to create Mario and Luigi hats for all the guests. AndyYou were particularly proud of the turf you used to create a grass-esque backdrop for the photobooth.

Balloons? Check.

Bubble guns? Check

You plop down on your couch, sinking into the welcoming beige leather of the sofa. "I think we're ready," you mumble aloud, stretching out your poor back muscles that were aching from hunching over.

Before your children's father can even sneak a word in, you’re shifting your body so that your head rests on the armchair, yawning dramatically from the vexing lassitude. “G’night.”

Jungkook smiles bitterly to himself at the sweet sight of you drowsing off.

You're awake just enough to feel him gently lift you bridal style, as if you are as light as a feather before he tiptoes up the stairs, careful not to make any thumping sounds that would wake up the kids. This isn't out of the ordinary. Despite not being together, he found himself carrying you and your children back to your respective rooms quite often. Jungkook often returned home late at night. after a long day of work at Jeon Enterprises, to find you and your little twins asleep on the couch, the TV still playing reruns of Ninjago- the twins' favorite show. Quite frankly he's surprised that they didn't ask for a Ninjago or Lego theme party.

Seeing the way you had each twin snug to your sides, your chest rising and falling while light snores escaped your lips made his heart twist and turn in indescribable ways.

The situation at hand is no different. "Wanna sleep in my room tonight?" Jungkook inquires softly, makes you lazily shake your head. "Too intimate," you sleepily mumble. "We're not together anymore, Koo."

Jungkook bites back a response and silently acquiesces. He walks toward your bedroom instead of his, still with gentle steps to make sure his children don't abruptly wake from their sleep. He gently sets you down on your full sized bed, pulling your thick comforters over your body to shelter you from the cold.

Just as he's about to leave, your fingers are reaching out to tug onto the hem of his oversized black tee. "Just tonight," you murmur, eyes still closed.

Jungkook silently nods, slipping into the bed with you. His breath hitches in his throat when you roll over and lean your head in the crook of his armpit, your hand sneaking up to rest on his chest. The familiar and intoxicating scent of your vanilla body spray debilitates his senses and makes his head dizzy.

It takes him a while to fall asleep that night.

"What the fuck?!" the blaring screech of your voice rapidly pulls Jungkook from his slumber. He rubs the crust from his eyes with a fist before blinking at his panicking baby mama who is pacing around the room.

"Did we- did we sleep together?" you whisper yell, as if your previous scream didn't already wake the kids up.

Jungkook sighs at your overt reaction, knowing that it was too good to be true for you to ever warm up to him. "No," he groggily responds, sitting up and resting his back against the bed frame. "We just fell asleep next to each other," he clarifies, somewhat dejectedly.

You huff, a pointer finger and thumb coming up to massage your pounding temples. "We can't do stuff like that!" you hiss behind gritted teeth, your hands thrown down petulantly, an incredulous look on your face, which just makes Jungkook scoff.

Jungkook pushes the comforters aside, sitting on the edge of the bed where he just buries his face into his palms and groans. "Yes Y/N, this is the worst thing in the world! God forbid that you lie next to the father of your children!" he enunciates exasperatingly, irritated that you are so unnecessarily and dramatically pulling your hair out at the mere idea of falling asleep next to him! Like he hasn't seen you butt naked; like he wasn't front row at the birth of his children.

You shoot him a dirty look. "We are not fighting on the day of our children's birthday party," you say sternly, eyebrows creased to show him how serious you are.

"I wasn't the one that started it," is all he mumbles before exiting the room, shutting the door a teeny bit harder than usual, the echo of door slamming leaving you somewhat shaken up.

"Thank you so much for bringing the pizza," you smile warmly at Heeseung, one of your kids' babysitters, a stark contrast to when you violently snatch the pizza boxes out of his hand and scurry toward the dining room table to arrange the pizzas around the cake.

Heeseung and Jake awkwardly trail behind you, unsure of what to do when you're basically prancing around the house making sure everything is in order.

"The decorations look amazing Ms. L/N," Jake speaks up, marveling at the Nintendo theme party you've successfully put together. You really are satisfied with how everything turned out. From the giant blow up Mario water slide that cascades into the pool to the mini mushroom cake pops, everything is as pretty as planned. The dining table looks spectacular, the grass back drop you DIY-ed is behind a huge neon sign that reads Happy Birthday Haru and Hina! in the same font as the Super Mario logo.

The kids have yet to arrive, only your and Jungkook's friends are spread around the house; some sit at the coffee tables, others lounged around the couch, Hoseok and Jimin in the upstairs bathroom trying to squeeze themselves into their costumes.

"Thank you," you smile sweetly at the two boys. "Honestly I put so much into it I'm starting to feel like it's my party, but I'm really happy with how it turned out."

Heeseung and Jake politely chuckle along to your attempt of a cordial joke; they had to do stuff like that in order to kiss your ass. After all, you did bless them with a very generous fifty dollars per hour pay rate.

"We have a gift for the kids, by the way," Heeseung adds, holding up and presenting two identical chrome gift bags in his hands.

You shoot them a mother like smile. "Thank you so much, guys. The kids are so lucky to have you in their lives," your words trail off and your attention inevitably shifts to the contents of the gift bag. "May I ask what you got them?" you whisper, the side of your palm on the right end of your mouth so that no one would overhear the shamless inquiry.

"Oh, of course," Jake responds, polite as always. "Just a barbie doll for Hina and some pokemon cards for Haru," he elaborates, a gentleman-like smile on his lips.

"Sorry Ms. L/N, we know it's not much but-"

You don't mean to cut Heeseung off with your hasty actions, but you are just so relieved. All yours and Jungkook's friends are so insistent in spoiling the shit out of your kids. A humble and simple gift like the one from Heeseung and Jake is what you have been begging God for. Your kids are six years old for goodness' sake! There is no reason for them to have overtly luxurious and brand name items.

Before Heeseung can finish the sentence, you're grabbing the two boys' wrists and dragging them over to the mini bar, where Jungkook's friend Taehyung and your friend Soojin sit, leisurely chatting and taking sips out of Caprisuns that were perfectly arranged on the snack table. Your friends are certainly a spectacle, both dressed up as if they were attending a top class business meeting instead of a children's birthday party. Taehyung's wearing a suit and tie, Gucci shoes on his feet while Soojin's adorned in a pink blazer and mini skirt set. She looks impeccable, and had it been a normal day you would have complimented her, but it's not.

"You see this?" you hold up the gifts dangling from your fingers, waving it in Taehyung's face, the two of them owlishly blinking up at you. "Barbie dolls and pokemon cards are what my kids should be getting on their birthday, not a Chanel wallet or Gucci tie!" you hiss, gesticulating towards the Chanel and Gucci bags that idly sit on the gift table.

Taehyung smirks at you, raising a brow while he teasingly gnaws on the plump of hit bottom lip. Soojin just raises her eyebrows in amusement; their eyes meet each other before they both burst out into a fit of giggles.

"Y/N, you're such a cute mom," Soojin cooes, reaching out to pinch the apples of your cheeks. Taehyung mirrors her actions, standing up and gingerly patting you on the head.

"Relax, girly pop," he teases. "No one will even know that the wallet was three thousand dollars. Your kid's not even gonna use a fucking wallet. Just take it for yourself," he casually shrugs, his suggestion making you roll your eyes.

Taehyung randomly gestures to Heeseung and Jake, looking towards you quizzically to request an elaboration of who the two were. "Y/N, don't tell me you.." he postulates, giving you a look that can only be described as perverse, and you understand exactly what he's implying. "Does Jungkook know about this?"

"Kim Taehyung," you say sternly behind gritted teeth, your mom tone jumping out. You inhale, composing yourself before you continue. "These are Hina and Haru's babysitters. They're both business majors at SNU," you explain.

"Ah, business majors!" Soojin claps her hands in excitement. "Let me tell you about my investment firm," she suggests with a cheshire smile, gesturing for the boys to come closer to chat.

Taehyung makes a psshh sound with his lips. "Don't listen to her. Her shit's plummeting on the NYSE. Let me tell you about Kim Estates. We're a private company- actually we're looking for summer interns next year." He slyly pulls out his business card from his shirt pocket with two fingers.

And of course, Heeseung and Jake are oggling at the sight, internally celebrating that they got plugged into one of the top socialite circles in Korea.

You shake your head, somewhat annoyed and somewhat endeared at your friends' antics. You rush upstairs to check on your kids, who are supposed to be changing into their costumes: a Princess Peach dress for your babygirl, and a Mario costume for your baby boy.

You step into the master bathroom upstairs, absolutely enchanted with the sight in front of you. Haru looks absolutely adorable in his denim overalls, red long sleeve tee, and red Mario hat. The brightest of smiles lights up your face, and you immediately pick him up, peppering his face with sloppy mom kisses on his chubby little face. Thank goodness he's not at the age to be grossed out by his mom's affection, so he just giggles in response.

Your mother steps out of the closet, Hina in her arms. Your daughter looks like the loveliest girl alive in her Princess Peach dress, a golden crown adorned on her cute little head.

"Oh my!" you exclaim, rushing towards her. "My princess looks so beautiful!" you comment. You reach out to her with a vacant hand and enveloping her securely with a single arm, so you had one kid on each side of your body.

Hina wiggles in your arms, pouting at you. "Mommy, I told you I can walk all by myself!"she complains, pouting at you whilst she glares at you with a not-so intimidating glare.

You giggle, setting her down at your feet. "Sorry baby girl, I forgot that you're all grown up now!" you tease.

Haru who practically worships his sister follows her lead, wriggling out of your embrace before standing adjacent to Hina. You don't mind it. You're not the type of mother that lives in the past, the type that constantly reminisces over when the kids were babies. You live in the present, enjoying every moment before it passes.

Your mother kisses her teeth, making a tssk sound with her lips before she shakes her head. "These kids are getting too entitled," she grumbles, both of her hands coming down to gently slap both of the kids in the back of their heads.

"Mom!" you hiss, kneeling down and rubbing your hands on their heads to soothe the pain.

Both of your children remain tight lipped, knowing better than to talk back to their sometimes violent grandmother. The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, you suppose, deciding to relinquish any objection against your mom.

"So Heeseung and Jake are already here," you tenderly say, "Go downstairs and hang out until your friends get here."

Hina immediately crimsons, fidgeting in place at the mention of Heeseung, which elicits a snicker from her brother. "I'm going to tell Heeseung hyung you like him today," he mocks, an immature teasing tone in his voice, typical of a six year old.

Hina fumes, jumping down in place with her hands thrown down. "You better not!" she seethes before directing her attention towards you.

"Mommy, tell Haru that he's not allowed to tell Heeseung oppa I like him!" she cries, jumping up and down to prove a point.

You bite your tongue, briefly recalling when you yourself told Heeseung that your daughter harbored a little crush on him. "Haru," you say sternly, "You will not betray your sister. You guys are on the same team," you firmly instruct, eliciting a snobby look from your son.

"Now go downstairs and greet your friends, okay?"

"Okay, mommy!" they chant in unison before racing down the stairs.

Your mother crosses her arms before she lightly exhales. "They're growing up too fast, already knowing what crushes are," she sighs somewhat bitterly. You chuckle lightly, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Times change mom, kids aren't going to act like how I did when I was a kid."

Your mother simply makes the signature tssk sound with her mouth before vacating the restroom. On the way out, she bumps into your bumbling baby daddy, who politely greets her before stumbling into the restroom. When you lay your eyes on him your breath hitches in your throat, because he looks so good. Since the divorce you swore that you would never go back, but he looks so daddy in his white button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off the tattoos embellishing his forearms.

You're pulled out of your trance by his rambling. "Hina still has a crush on Heeseung?" he hisses, the most mortified haze on his face.

You just shrug, knowing how perplexed he gets at the mere thought of his daughter being romantically involved with somebody. Jungkook paces around the room, grumbling incoherent phrases to himself. "Y/N, should we get new babysitters?" he asks, to which you shoot him an incredulous look.

"No!"

"I just don't want Hina to start loving him more than she loves me, like what the fuck!" he grumbles exasperatingly, which makes you laugh a little.

The harmonious sound of your laughter pulls him from the wormhole of his thoughts. "So this is funny to you?" he satirizes, approaching you as you giggle.

"Yes," you curtly respond, making Jungkook playfully roll his eyes. A brief moment of silence washes over the situation, and you feel the urge to fill the void.

"Look Jungkook," you begin, trailing off a little while you lean against the bathroom counter. "I'm sorry for overreacting this morning. I guess we never really discussed boundaries," you continue, "And-and you are the father of my children so I guess sleeping next to each other shouldn't be that bad- I don't know." You begin rubbing your biceps with your palms, suddenly self conscious of yourself.

Your diffidence softens Jungkook, a familiar ache pounding in his chest. "Hey Y/N, it's okay," he quickly expresses to assuage any insecurities that are bubbling inside of you. He has always been a fool for you. "I think it would be productive to have a conversation about boundaries," he communicates, as polite and sweet as ever. You slowly nod, purposely not replying so that he would have to say something.

"So boundaries?" he ponders aloud, making his way towards you. "Can we hug?" he asks, opening his arms a little, making you pout at the ridiculous question. Nonetheless, you walk into his embrace and wrap your arms around his torso, only momentarily before you step back. "It would be weird if we didn't," you laugh, making him raise a brow.

"What about kissing?"

He asks the question with no particular tone in his voice; he looks serious as ever as he gazes you with his doe eyes, and it makes you gulp. His words have a profound effect on you, making it feel as if your guts are twisting up; you shoot him a firm look to disguise the butterflies bursting in your stomach.

"Jungkook, we can't do this."

"But why not? We live together, have kids together, why can't we?" his eyebrows are furrowed in desperation, and you have to rip your eyes away from the sight in front of you.

"No Jungkook," you calmly explain before inhaling deeply. "We tried before and It-it didn't work out. I don't want our kids to live in a household where their parents are constantly breaking up and getting back together."

Jungkook sighs, sitting on the ledge of the bathtub where he rests his elbows on his thighs. He purses his lips, attempting to conjure a redeemable response.

"Love," you blurt out. "Love. We can't do this because there's no love."

Jungkook slowly raises his head to peer at you. He does it so steadily that it becomes agonizing; you don't want to see the look on his face. When you see him, he just looks defeated. "Do you really feel that way?' he asks, despondency laced in his voice.

You falter momentarily before you look directly at him and nod. He purses his lips before bitterly nodding to himself. "Alright Y/N." And even if your words pierce through him like a bullet, he still speaks with composure and grace. "Let's go downstairs and wait for the twin's friends to arrive. I'll see you there, okay?" He gives you a polite tightlipped smile before walking out of the room.

Once he leaves, a relieving sigh leaves your lips. You know that no matter what Jungkook thinks he feels, his emotions just aren't a direct reflection of reality. You've been with him long tenough to understand that he's mistaking his attachment to you for love. It was only a matter of time for him to realize that the two of you aren't suitable for each other, that it was better for to remain co parents for the sake of your children.

Jumping back into a relationship would only complicate things and exacerbate the situation for the children. You will not let that happen. You recompose yourself, touching up your appearance in the mirror before rejoining the party.

Thankfully, the party goes exactly as planned. This would surely be one for the books, with the kids frolicking through the grass in the backyard with their water guns and Mario hats. Heeseung and Jake served as excellent chaperones/mood makers/life guards, with Hina on Heeseung's shoulders and Haru on Jake's shoulders whilst they sparred in an intense chicken fight. You swore you almost had a heart attack when Tyler, the baby brother of one of Haru's friends leaps into the damn pool. You jumped in with all your clothes on to pick him up and prevent him from drowning.

On top of that, you find Hina's incessant clinging to Heeseung a little excessive. She follows him around like a kicked little puppy, even waiting outside the bathroom while he takes a piss. Poor Heeseung doesn't have it in him to tell Hina to leave him alone, so you have to force Hina to revert her attention to her friends.

The kids absolutely ate the Yoshi and Bowser costumes up, tackling and climbing on poor Jimin and Hoseok as if they were playgrounds. Not to mention that it was absolutely suffocating and hot inside of the costumes.

"Heejoon! Get off poor Yoshi!" Heejoon's mother exclaims, rushing over to practically rip her kid off Hoseok's shoulders. She shoots you an apologetic look, making you laugh.

Towards the end of the party, Miyeon finally pulled out her face painting kit and painted the most beautiful designs on the kids' faces. Hina had a butterflies on the sides of her chubby cheeks, and Haru had the red Spiderman mask on his.

"Oh, try not to sneeze on me when you get your face painted, alright?" Miyeon captures everyone attention when she yells to the long line of children waiting to get her face painted. She wipes off some kid's saliva on her face and presents the kids with a faux smile, not like they'd be able to tell the difference anyways.

Another highlight of the party was when Jungkook's friend Namjoon showed up with his baby girl, Lauren. Unlike Hina and Haru, Lauren is actually a baby- only about five months old and she is the cutest baby you have ever seen in your life. (After Haru and Hina, of course). Lauren really turned out to be the star of the party, everybody crowding around her just to get a glimpse of the kid. You took plenty of photos of your kids with Lauren, pondering when all of Jungkook's other friends would finally have kids of their own. So far it was only Jungkook and Namjoon. You reckon Yoongi may be next since he recently married.

Once all the kids finally leave, you are spent, exhausted from the long and tiresome day that you just lived through. But hey, the all the kids went home in one piece and that's what matters. With much of your gratitude, your friends stick around to help clean up, but you ultimately decide that you would put the real deep cleaning off until tomorrow.

After showering your children and tucking them into bed, you and Jungkook are left sat in his bedroom with the plethora of multi colored gift bags surrounding you. Your friends and your kids' friends' rich parents have spoiled Haru and Hina so much that you the ground isn't even visible.

Jungkook looks equally spent, roughly tugging at the tie that was once neatly tied around his neck. He runs his hand through his hair, exposing his handsome forehead, and you have to force yourself to look away before you start having inappropriate thoughts.

He settles down besides you, leaning against the wall of his bedroom. He holds up a palm, gesturing you to give him a high five, which you gingerly comply to.

"Good job Y/N. You worked really hard today and the party turned out amazing." He offers his utmost kindness and support as he always does, and it's this cordial atmosphere that makes you think that you and he truly are better off as co parents.

You shoot him a confused look. "You did just as much work, Jungkook. Thanks for being such a great father," you grin at him, noticing how his features light up.

He chuckles lightly. "Well, it's our job," he shrugs.

You purse your lips before agreeing. "I think we're pretty good parents," you say half joking, which makes Jungkook laugh.

"Of course we are, the kids have manners, they're provided for, they're healthy- what else could they need?"

"I mean, you're right, but what if we somehow fuck up and cause them some unintentional childhood trauma?" you ponder aloud, which makes Jungkook shoot you a playfully incredulous look. "I highly doubt it," he says. "You're a great mom Y/N, truly. That's why I admire you so much."

His saccharine voice is laced with benignity, making you feel as if colors are bursting in your chest. Is it really necessary for him to be this sweet? He should have told you that you were a great mom and left it at that.

You turn your head just to see that he is already gazing at you with that sincere glimmer in his eyes. It's the same lovestruck look he had on his face at the wedding, honeymoon- the same look he gave you when he first laid eyes on his children. His adam's apple visibly bobs, drawing your attention to his thick neck.

Jeon Jungkook is and will most likely always be the most handsome man you have ever seen.

The thought terrifies you wholeheartedly, but the implication of it is so exciting- so intriguing that you can't help but want to be sucked back into Jeon Jungkook's world. The notion lights a fire in your heart, and your rationality ceases. Your eyes trail up to his eyes, then back down to his mouth, where you subconsciously lick your own lips.

A desperate haze is painted on his face; his eyes are following yours, ignited curiosity adjuring to know what's on your mind. Yet, he cannot bring himself to verbalize his thoughts, too entranced with how utterly beautiful you are.

He exhales slightly, his hot minty breath hitting your face, and that's when you decide fuck it, it wouldn't hurt to give in just once.

You close your eyes and lean in, gently kissing his bottom lip whilst his lips latch on to your top lip. His kisses are so sickeningly sweet, his tongue sneaking into your mouth to make contact with yours. His palm gently raises to cup your cheeks, cradling your face ever so softly while he bestows you with the most languid of kisses. His lips pull you in closer, the cold texture of the buttons on his shirt making you shudder.

You sigh into the kiss, prompting Jungkook to pull you into his lap, which he does with ease. Your legs sneak around his torso, your arms around his neck to be as close to him as possible.

His hands remain wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him. His embrace is so comforting- so secure and familiar that you want to stay in his arms forever.

To your surprise, you aren't nervous; you're eager as ever. You've succumb to the temptation that is Jungkook, and it feels perfect- it feels right, like you're finally home. The sensation of his lips against yours is so familiar, so comforting, so perfect- as if your lips were made to be against his. Despite it being two years since you've kissed him, the two of you make out as if you are professionals at eliciting the sweetest sounds from each other.

The sound of your phone ringing is what draws you away to him, your eyes glancing towards your phone that lights up. "I think Seojun's mother is here to pick up his iPad- he left it here," you explain to which Jungkook just nods.

"Do you want me to hand it to her?" Jungkook asks, slowly and steadily.

The atmosphere is confusing, because the two of you were just making out as if your lips were magnets and now you're speaking awkwardly to each other.

"No, it's okay- um- I can do it," you say, and then you're stumbling out of his lap and walking down the stairs.

find out why jk and oc divorced here!

#jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts jungkook drabbles #bts jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagines #jeongguk imagine #jeongguk scenarios #bts angst #bts fanfic #jeongguk fanfic

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 1 year

Text

Jake Seresin And The Unfortunate Hat Situation

jake seresin x fem!reader 3k words

summary: You’re visiting Jake’s family in Texas for the first time and so far, it’s been going well. Just that Jake may have forgotten to mention the hat rule.

another cowboy fic because i fucking can

disclaimer: strong allusions to smut. im not kidding. this is basically straight up dirty talk all the way through

a/n: i’m warning you once about all the inaccuracies in here and thats it. read at your own risk. i have literally no clue whatsoever about texas and/or cowboys and did not have it in me to research cowboy history for hours on end, like- i tried, okay? i really did try. i know facts about cowboy hats now that i never felt the need to know (though “dont sleep with your cowboy hat on”, um... yeah? thanks? i totally would have done that otherwise) but i still do not have the information to back this shit up lmao

top gun masterlist

(yes i did have to use an everybody wants some gif. during the past week ive rewatched this film more times than i can count and i will take every opportunity i get to talk about it)

“Enlighten me”, you chuckled, spreading your arms, a bottle of beer in your right hand. “Why are none of the cowboys wearing cowboy hats? Isn’t that kind of their thing?”

You were visiting Texas for the first time - a week off of work, away from the Navy and the Dagger Squad for a bit, to meet Jake’s friends and family back home. You’d talked to most every one of them over the phone whenever he had found the time to call, but you’d never actually met them in person before this. So it had been an adventure from the start: getting on a plane in San Diego to take you to Texas where Jake had grown up, being picked up at the airport by his mother, driving two hours to the farm they owned (”You grew up on a farm?”, you’d asked when he’d told you, wheezing at the mental image of teenage Jake herding sheep), meeting his dad, being surprised by both his sisters, getting to see his childhood bedroom.

And then, to top it off: the sound of his alarm at the crack of dawn this morning to go teach you how to ride a horse.

Needless to say that you’d been buzzing with nervous energy for the past few days. Not that you weren’t happy - it was just all a bit much at once.

After lunch he’d taken you into the city and you’d gone shopping for some real cowboy boots. He’d planned to take you to a bar in the evening, to introduce you to some friends. After all you only had a week here and neither of you felt like missing out on something.

When you’d wanted to try cowboy hats in the store too, Jake had snatched them from you and grabbed your hands, pulling you close to him, telling you that you’d get one when you’d become a real cowgirl. Since you doubted that would ever happen, you’d pouted and tried to convince him with kisses and, when that hadn’t worked, half-hearted threats, but he wouldn’t be persuaded even the slightest. He’d only looked down at you with raised eyebrows until you’d caved and satisfied yourself with cursing under your breath.

So here you were: Cowboy boots, jeans shorts and a button-up and no cowboy hat in sight.

Actually, there was one in sight. Jake was wearing his, in all his Texan glory, laughing with some of his friends at the bar. The thing was, he was the only guy wearing his hat. There were some cowboys strutting about with them on their heads, but most of them didn’t have one - hat hair, yes, but no hat. Hence your initial question: “Why are none of the cowboys wearing cowboy hats?”

“Shit, Jake didn’t tell you?”, Kendra - one of Jake’s only female friends here, who’d immediately decided she liked you and pulled you to one of the tables for some girl talk - let out a laugh. “No wonder it’s still on his head. We were getting worried already.”

It was pretty clear to everyone that you weren’t from around here, so you saw no reason to hide your confusion.

“Now you’ve lost me entirely. What?”, you asked, masking your frown with a laugh. You’d been here for hardly two days and you didn’t think you’d felt as embarrassed ever before. You knew about literally nothing. At least you’d done somewhat well at horseback riding, which could’ve been because of Jake’s arms around you and his hands over yours as you - he - held the reins, but either way you were proud of yourself for not falling off and landing on your ass.

“It’s like this: Ladies didn’t wear hats for a really long time. Cowboys wore the hats. So when you saw a lady with a cowboy hat on - that was her man’s. A sign that she belonged to him. Property shit and all.” She waved it off as if dismissing the concept. “Changed over the past few decades, of course. Better that way too. Ladies can wear whatever they want now. But the thought kind of stuck. You see a guy without a hat, he’s probably taken. You see a girl with a hat, that’s probably her man’s. And before you ever steal a hat, you should know the hat rule.”

You raised your eyebrows. Your stomach did weird little flips as she talked. Jake hadn’t explained any of this to you.

“The hat rule?”, you asked. Kendra grinned and leaned in, pretending to let out some big secret.

“You wear the hat”, she said and paused for a second for dramatic effect, “You wear the cowboy.”

You breathed out.

“Oh.”

Oh my ass, you thought.

Jake hadn’t let you buy your own hat for a reason. And then he’d gone ahead and not given you that reason. What the actual fuck.

You would’ve loved to wear his hat. You would’ve loved the thought of him claiming you like that, letting you wear his hat, showing everyone that yeah, you were Jake Seresin’s girl. But no. He’d left you completely in the dark, hadn’t let a single word slip. And he was still wearing that goddamn hat himself.

Like a single fucking guy, not a man in a loving relationship.

Somehow, now that you knew, you were more annoyed by the fact that he was wearing it than that he just hadn’t told you at all. God, he could’ve left it at home. He could’ve taken it off. He could’ve just put it on your head without telling you why if he didn’t want to.

And right there, that was the part you just didn’t understand. Why hadn’t he told you? He should have known you well enough by now to realise that you would absolutely adore wearing that hat. Not only because you wanted to wear a hat (which you did) but also because you wanted to wear his hat (which you did even more). After all, it wasn’t only him claiming you - it was you claiming him as well. And as horrible as the history of that hat rule was, in this present day you felt like it would only have been fair of him to tell you. You wanted to have that chance of showing him off. Of him showing you off, which he did so happily back in San Diego.

“Hey”, Kendra said, her expression a bit more serious as she put a hand to your arm and pulled you from your thoughts. “I’m sure Jake didn’t mean to hurt you. He may seem like a bastard, but he’s actually a real sweetheart.”

You snorted at her, nodding along.

“He is”, you agreed. “Which is kind of why it hurts even more. I don’t get why he wouldn’t just tell me. It’s not like he’s ever been scared I’d say no to him or something.”

Kendra smiled and squeezed your arm reassuringly.

“Try not to worry about it too much. Just ask him when you get home later, yeah? Communication is key.” Her smile turned into a grin. She winked at you. “And hey, you can always wear my hat if you’d like.”

You forced yourself to smile as well as you took a sip of your beer. “If I actually were single, I’d definitely take you up on that offer, but I’m not, and I don’t think Jake would like it much.”

Her grin only deepened. She had dimples, you realised, and the hat on her head matched her eye colour. You were glad to have her here with you. She was someone you were sure you could become good friends with over time.

“That makes it even better”, she said conspicuously. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her ankles over the edge of the table as she tipped her hat back. “He never told you about the hats. You don’t know anything in his eyes, honey. Use it against him.”

There was a twinkle in her gaze that told you she was looking for nothing short of mischief and you had the distinct feeling that she’d been the ‘bad influence’ on Jake in high school that he’d talked about so often. She seemed like a troublemaker. But she also seemed genuine. And she was right - in Jake’s eyes, you were getting to know one of his friends, talking about some girly stuff (which he probably assumed was himself), having a nice night. Not learning about cowboy customs that he’d just so forgotten to mention.

Jake usually didn’t get jealous. He trusted you the same way you trusted him. But he got possessive nonetheless - always with a hand on your back when you were talking to someone he thought was flirting with you, kissing you at the most inappropriate times, making sure that everyone knew you were his. Now he’d had the goddamn chance and hadn’t taken it. And you didn’t fucking know why.

But you were damn determined to find out.

Kendra slid the hat off her head and offered it to you. You took one deep breath before you reached for it.

You let your fingertips skip over the rim for a moment. Were you really about to do this? Then you put it on your head.

Alright. If Jake wasn’t going to tell you about the way this worked on his own accord, you’d make him tell you.

Kendra emptied her beer and you followed suit before the both of you got up. She grabbed both bottles in one hand, turning to you to send you another of those winks.

“I’ll bring these back to the bar and get us new ones. The dancefloor’s all yours.”

With a nervous smile, you adjusted your newly aqcuired hat and made your way onto the dancefloor. There was soft music playing in the background - country, of course, loud but not loud enough to disturb conversation. It wasn’t late enough for that just yet. Which was honestly a relief, since you had zero clue whatsoever about line dancing or whatever it was they did down here. This way there were only a few couples twirling each other back and forth and some people moving to the beat all on their own. You let out a breath and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to really feel the music: the guitar, the steady drums, the vocals.

Slowly, you started swaying - from one side to the other, turning, twirling, one step, then the next, heels here, toes there. A grin was making its way onto your face. The music grew, not as much in volume as in pace, and you didn’t know just when you had started to forget about everything except your movements (like the people watching, for example), but then the song changed and you gasped as you realised you knew it. Eyes fluttering open, hands coming together to clap, lips twisting into an actual laugh as you sang along, catching Kendra’s gaze and waving her over.

She joined you with a laugh, grabbed your hand to twirl you around, and god, her voice was heavenly. For just a split second you wondered how Jake hadn’t ended up falling for her. You certainly would have.

And speaking - more like thinking, but whatever - of the devil, you felt an all too familiar hand on your shoulder. You turned at the same time that Kendra let go of you, allowing you to admire your boyfriend in all his furious glory.

Not that he actually looked furious. Not to anyone but you, not with that facade he wore whenever anyone got under his skin. But you, well... You’d been with him long enough to understand that twitch of his jaw, that tension in his shoulders, that flicker in his eyes. And yet - the cowboy hat still sat on his head.

“I got it from here, Kendra”, he said, eyes fixed on yours, as you held your breath. She snorted, but still made to move away, muttering something under her breath that you didn’t catch. Then Jake spoke again. “Take your hat, Kendra.”

He grabbed it from where it rested on your head and threw it at her without looking away from you. She sucked in a breath.

“If you throw my hat again, I’ll kick your ass, Seresin”, she said and you could tell that even though they were friends, she wasn’t kidding. Shit, the people here were really fucking serious about their hats. Another reason why you were mad at Jake for not telling you about any of it.

“Next time, don’t set it on my girl’s head”, he growled - growled, really, you didn’t know what else to call it. She scoffed and walked off.

“How could she know I was your girl?”, you whispered, challenging him even though he already looked like you’d crossed some line that he’d drawn without telling you. “How could anyone?”

For a few moments, he kept quiet. You defiantly stared up at him. Should he think whatever he fucking wanted to, this was entirely his fault.

Then something changed in his expression.

“You found out about the hat rule”, he said, “And the first thing you did was go and put on somebody else’s.”

“Well if my boyfriend doesn’t want to have me wear his hat-”

You couldn’t react as quickly as Jake had gripped you by the waist and pulled you close to him, forcing you to tip your head back to keep looking at him. He was, in fact, so close now that you could just kiss him and honestly, you were tempted. Just as tempted as you’d been when he’d come out of the bathroom looking like that, just as tempted as you’d been when you’d left the house, just as tempted as you’d been in his truck. But you were also stubborn. And you had good reasons not to kiss him right now (even though they were getting harder and harder to remember by the second).

“Darling, I’d go wild for you with my hat on.”

You swallowed. Hard.

“So why am I not wearing it?”, you asked through gritted teeth. You couldn’t quite believe just how easily this whole situation was getting under your skin. But it seriously hurt your ego - and not just that. The fact that Jake hadn’t told you about something so important in his hometown, some, as ridiculous as it may be, piece of culture, something that would so clearly show everyone that you were dating him, really, actually, seriously dating him, stung more than you wanted to admit. It was like someone had asked him outright if he was taken and he’d said no.

“‘Cause I told you to wait”, he drawled, “Didn’t I? Wait ‘til you’re a real cowgirl.”

Curiosity and frustration were mixing in your stomach, a weird, dangerous combo. You grabbed for his collar, pulling on it just a bit too hard - nothing he couldn’t stand his ground against. You were feeling insulted by all this and you found that you should let him know.

“What’s a girl like me gotta do to become one in your eyes, hm, Hangman?”

Hangman. You only called him that when you meant business. It was like a mother using her child’s full name whenever it got in serious trouble. Jake stiffened, fingers digging into your hips so firmly that you were sure you’d be able to see the marks in the mirror later on. You’d hit a nerve. Always did when you called him by his callsign. No more Jake, no more baby, none of that.

“Behave”, he said, eyes fixed on yours, that one word carrying so much more meaning. You didn’t care. For once, you really didn’t fucking care. You wanted him riled up, wanted him furious, wanted him right at this breaking point. So you smiled.

“Like a dog?”

He’d smashed his lips on yours before you could react.

All teeth and tongue, decisive, possessive, angry. You didn’t want to give in as quickly as you did. But he hardly left you a choice - he was everywhere, arms wrapped so tightly around you, chest pressed so firmly against yours, not giving you the option to escape, to duck away, to tease him any further. So instead of doing that, instead of making him run after you more, you let him have the control. All of it. Instead of turning, instead of making him chase you, you pulled him close to you by his collar with all the force you could manage, pulled him into you, pulled him with you as you stumbled backwards from the sudden change of weight, put your entire trust in him to keep you upright. You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t want to if that meant letting go.

Not with how much emotion you were putting into this fucking kiss.

Jake was the one to break away first. Pupils blown, cheeks reddened (you were sure you looked even worse), panting. You loosened your grip on his collar and ran a hand through your hair instead.

Somewhere in the back of your head, you remembered that you were still in a bar, still in the middle of the dancefloor, still under the watchful eyes of his friends. A different part was screaming at you to fuck it and fuck him right here, right now.

“Shit”, he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. His hat let a shadow fall over both your faces. “You’re gon’ be the death of me someday.”

“Hopefully not too soon”, you teased, a smile playing on your lips as he pulled back just a bit. “I still gotta find out how to become a cowgirl after all.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up as well. He raised his eyebrows, examining you for a second.

“You really wanna know, sweetheart?”

You let out a laugh. “Fuck yeah.”

He leaned in close, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, and you had to swallow. This felt intimate, somehow.

“You’re gon’ be a cowgirl once you rode your cowboy.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He pulled back with a grin. Smug, you realised. He was so fucking proud of himself for this - for having caught you off guard like that. You couldn’t let him win that easily. Not with that already inflated ego.

“All of this just to get me into your bed?”, you chuckled. “Damn, Seresin. Lotta work for no reason, hm? I’m in it at the end of every day anyway.”

He shrugged - as best as he could with his hands still on your waist.

“What can I say? I aim to please.”

You couldn’t help but grin too. The angry, sizzling tension had dissolved into something much more pleasant, much more dizzying. Something that set your skin ablaze and your mind on fire. You grabbed one of his hands from your waist and intertwined your fingers with his.

“Want to get out of here?”, you asked. He leaned in and kissed you with a smile - slow and steady and sensual, wholly different from before.

When he pulled back, you were breathless again.

“Always.”

#top gun #x reader #top gun x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #cowboy fics

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amber-sekio · 3 months

Text

Relationship Headcanons

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

TW: none? I think?

DAZAI

I said it in my Soukoku fic, Dazai wouldn’t know affection if it slapped him in the face ten times

Like he might realize when someone is showing interest in a sexual kind

And he would probably notice if someone is crushing on him

But like, if he likes them back?

Man is blind

He’s too busy panicking over read denying his own thoughts and feelings over you to analyze your actions

He’s busy trying to think of anything but how pretty you are when he sees you -thank you very much

No joke though, this can be applied to pretty much anyone he cares about

I mean he practically had a heart attack when Atsushi gave him flowers

Anyways if he finally admits to himself that he likes you then I could see him trying to push you away if I’m being brutally honest

He doesn’t want to lose you and he believes that anything he wants that he obtains, will be striped from him sooner or later

But…, in a perfect world he would eventually work up the courage to ask you out

He would probably avoid directly asking you but this is Dazai so he could defiantly figure out some round-about way to ask

As for the relationship?

He would still be his teasing self

But he would tone it down

Not because he doesn’t want to annoy you but more so because he actually lets some of his masks down when alone with you

He defiantly is very clingy to you

Man has been touch starved for a long time and he fears attachment too much to be touchy with the ADA members

But now he has you, who not only tolerates him but has decided to stay with him?

Of course he’s not going to let this chance slip from his grasp before all this inevitably ends (he’s still in denial)

He never cared much for holidays like Christmas or Valentines

But now he wants to experience them, with you

He’s always thinking, plans and outcomes racing through his mind, what ifs and regrets

But like, if you ruffle his hair, his brain just stops.

Like no thoughts, he short circuits

When his brain returned to him the first time it happened he panicked

Like, who gave you that amount of control?

After that first time he continued to try and get you to do it without asking

He needed his brain to shut up every now and then, and now he has a reliable source

Anyways, he likes to be a spoiled princess

No one can change my mind

For all his predictions he will never be able to predict your love and kindness for him

CHUUYA

Someone give this poor man a hug

Ugh, my heart

I can‘t imagine him wanting to date a normal citizen, too much of a risk

So you’d probably have to work in the Mafia

Even then, dating you would still be placing a huge target on you

He would actually take you out on dates before asking you out

Dates with him would be romantic

Like dinner by candle light vibes

He’d be strategic on where you guys sit

No need to be precarious on what you order, it’s all on him

When he does ask you out he would be slightly flustered but it just makes him adorable

Say yes, he doesn’t deserve to be hurt any more

He would spoil you to no end

If you want it, you can have it

You’re the only one allowed to call him short

He might get flustered from PDA in the start but will gradually warm up to it

Nothing clingy, just hand holding, a hand around your waist, a quick kiss here or there

But if he sees some guy hitting on you?

Down right possessive, arm snug around your waist, shoulder to shoulder

And if he’s drunk? Even worse

Like he’s pulling you onto his lap just to make sure that asshole knows your taken

If you do work in the mafia with him, he likes going on easier missions with you

And while he knows that you can handle yourself just fine, he can’t help but imagine something bad happening to you when he isn’t there to save you

He’s lost too many people in his life, please, don’t leave him as well

He loves when you rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat

And while you do that he’ll run his fingers through your hair

Chuuya loves to spoil you rotten as I stated, it’s his love language

So sometimes he’ll just hand you his black card and let you go shopping with friends or something

In fact, he encourages you to buy what you want

FYODOR

Honestly? Where do I start with him?

Like congratulations if you meet him and make it out alive

I don’t know if I should congratulate him taking an interest in you though

I feel like he believe that the interest he had in you was purely innocent curiosity

But I also don’t think he would try to delude himself for as long as Dazai does

Eventually he would notice that something was different about his interest for you than usual

And while he would hesitate to put a name to it so quickly he would eventually give in after realizing there was no stoping this feeling from festering in him

After coming to terms with his romantic? Feelings and interest in you he would definitely begin to manipulate you into feeling the same way for him

If you don’t already that is

If you don’t confess then he’ll definitely do the same thing Dazai did

And when you agree, he of course knew you would, he makes you move in with him

He can’t let his dearest other slip from his finger now can he?

I feel like before ever getting into a relationship, you would have been made aware of his ‘work’

Please, make sure the man eats

And takes his iron pill

Nikolai is getting a little tired of that daily routine despite how much he loves to be around Fyodor

Anyways, dates aren’t a very common thing in fact, very, very rare

I mean… what did you expect?

Man’s a literal terrorist

That being said, from time to time he’ll leave his ‘lair’ to spend time with you

If you ask, he’ll gladly play the cello for you

If he snaps at you for ‘bothering him with pointless things’ when you bring him his iron pill or food just listen

Don’t bother him with such things

And then same thing the next day

And after some 4 or 5 days he’ll stumble from his room

Staggering as he tries not to collapse or faint from both his lack of energy and his iron deficiency

And when he walks into the kitchen trying to get the iron pill bottle open?

Let him stumble his way over to you and ask for help before you finally do as such

And he realizes just how dependent on you he’s become

It’ll happen again eventually

But as of that moment, it’ll at least be awhile before the cycle repeats

(That last part of Fyodor’s was based upon some fanfic I read for him. I'm not sure who it was by, but I’ll tag it if and when I do find it.)

A/N: anyways, believe it or not, I love Chuuya just as much as I do Fyodor and Dazai

I’m just not as confident in his character. Since I’m a lot like Dazai, he comes easy to me and by substitute, Fyodor does as well

But Chuuya? Despite him being one of my 5 favorites along with Dazai and Fyodor, I just don’t resonate personally enough with him to write him really well

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captain-hen · 2 months

Note

What do you think are the fandom ~~classic buddie fics?

i think this is a very subjective opinion, but i can tell you which fics i really love and constantly re-read—and which, in my opinion, should be read by everyone in the fandom :)

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by @hmslusitania Rated M | 44k | Completed Summary: An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances—and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts—a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

a bleeding sun on a silver screen by rarakiplin Rated M | 130k | Completed Summary: One day, Buck will tell an interviewer that he would be happy to make movies with Eddie Diaz until the day he dies. But first, years before that, he sees Eddie for the first time on the set of Chimney’s fifth movie. (or, the actors au)

i want your midnights by @littlespoonevan Rated T | 36k | Completed Summary: In which Eddie decides to rent out his spare room to help with mortgage repayments right around the time Buck decides to move out of Abby's place after some not so gentle prodding from Maddie. It's a coincidence. Or serendipity. Or maybe just really good timing.

maybe we'll make something by @buckactuallys Rated E | 76k | Completed Summary: On a road trip with Christopher, Buck and Eddie finally work through their various traumas, and Eddie faces his parents again.

what a heart can do by @bvckandeddie Rated T | 86k | Completed Summary: In which Buck becomes the guardian of the daughter he never knew he had. Together, they discover what happiness truly means to them.

Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston Rated T | 40k | Completed Summary: Eddie is the newest firefighter at the 118. Buck is the ghost haunting the 118. Unfortunately for both of them, Eddie's also a witch and needs to put Buck's spirit to rest, because that's what witches do. Turns out, Buck's spirit? Super not interested in being put to rest. Very interested, however, in flirting with Firefighter Diaz, who is just trying to survive his candidate year. (Also turns out, Buck? Super not dead.)

Both Blade and Branch by @cal-daisies-and-briars Rated M | 62k | Completed Summary: The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

we're not in love (but the sex is good) by elless Rated E | 15k | Completed Summary: Eddie is new to LA. Feeling lonely, he goes to a bar for a drink and meets a beautiful stranger that kisses like a dream. What starts as a one night stand quickly moves to frequent no strings sex. When circumstances lead to them spending time together out of bed, Eddie realizes he’s attached to Buck in a way he never planned for.

for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes Rated M | 113k | Work in Progress Summary: The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

things we shouldn't do by Ingu Rated T | 21k | Completed Summary: The one where Buck and Eddie accidentally get set up on a blind date with each other, and everything snowballs from there.

#i know there's probably a ton i'm missing but these are some really good ones to start with!#neethu answers #anon #fic rec #i read for all the haunts and homes of men recently and let me tell you. this fic. this goddamn fic. it made me cry like a baby.

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chrollohearttags · 4 months

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long winded ass post I contemplated not writing but did it anyways. read if you’d like or ignore lmao.

so I feel as though this kind of goes without saying but a lot has changed on tumblr and the vibe has shifted a lot, sadly, not for the better either :/ I thought about this for a while and although last week, I was not posting any new content due to the strike, I’ve decided to step away from writing in general after this month. I could sit here and go on a tangent about how it’s the ‘algorithm’ and ‘dying fandoms’ but to me, this boils down to the fact that I refuse to exhaust myself to be unappreciated + disrespected. That’s not to say I’m ungrateful to everyone who reblogs and comments on my works all the time because I am incredibly grateful! I love each of you and I look forward to reading your tags/thoughts. However, it’s not lost on me that the anime fandom in general is becoming shrouded in toxicity and many of us are being pushed away. We’re in an age where people are seen as content machines and not humans so others feel entitled to their art and feel no need to be kind, understanding or empathetic to that person’s feelings. I’m not wasting my time trying to teach people manners that they should’ve learned a long time ago. I refuse to share my craft with people like that. And to say the quietest part out loud: y’all don’t want black writers around, PERIOD. One scroll through the dash shows that much. As someone who’s written primarily for AOT (not changing btw) and specifically the black side of the fandom, it’s almost laughable at the extreme lengths that ppl have gone through to see it be erased. And I don’t mean getting fics hit with labels or reporting (that failed so they switched to plan B.) since I began back writing in 2020-21, it was obvious that it was the most popular among black girls and I remember ppl telling me to write for them. Hell, it’s the sole reason I even watched. Needless to say, I fell in love with the show and it holds a special place in my heart. However, I realized I didn’t need any of the original material. Not only that, in all the years I’ve been writing, it’s the first time I’ve seen so many black girls resonating and happy with a group of characters. It was the first and only time I’ve seen stories where I didn’t feel as though them being a black character was a hidden secret or toned down to appeal to others (no shade). It was in my face and proud, even if I didn’t personally resonate with the reader or concept of the story. It still felt good coming from a fandom where I was literally the ONLY black writer in it. Fast forward and I clearly see that now, it’s not welcomed. We could sit here and blame it on non-blk (yt) having the problems but that’s a load of bullshit and the only enemies we have are one another. It’s been other black writers who have littered the tags with discourse abt the same stupid topic to avoid new fics being seen. It’s been other black writers who have switched fandoms when they were no longer the ONLY ones bc coexisting is just too damn hard apparently. It’s been other black authors who have made it blatantly clear that they are only interested in seeing and creating stories that are palatable to other races so they won’t be perceived in a negative light or to be seen as one of the ‘good ones’. Even down to not using black reader tags or avoiding coded language. So much so, they are comfortable laughing at anti-black rhetoric being pushed on other apps so as long as their new favs are not the brunt of the joke.

I’m not here to tell anybody how or what to write. I’m not here to say you ONLY have to like one show but what I am saying is that i will NOT be spending hours and days agonizing over a fic for it to be minimized to a joke for a bitch on TikTok. I will not spend the little free time I have trying to crunch and finish a fic for it not do well but watch y’all pile in my mentions to argue over nonsense. And I won’t sit here and watch y’all purposely try to run other black writers away bc they don’t fit ur aesthetic. Fiction is fiction and whether you resonate with it or not, it’s expression. I’m a boring ass country bumpkin from the middle of nowhere, Florida who’s got social anxiety, chronically ill, neurodivergent and is in bed by 10:00. I don’t smoke, never had sex and I literally never leave the house unless I’m grocery shopping. I never have and never will live the life of any of my characters, even the most tame ones. But I write for EVERY black girl and want everyone of them to be seen. The one space where that seems to be allowed is obviously not welcomed anymore. Arguing and trying to defend ourselves against people who are committed to misunderstanding us is pointless. Minimizing us down to ‘baby mama’, ‘hoodrat’ fics, simply bc you no longer like certain characters (many of which you all were writing for not too long ago) is quite frankly clown and coon ass behavior. Watching y’all become enraged by tropes that are used by ever race, every fandom, etc but turning the blind eye bc it suits ur narrative is fucking hypocritical and laughable at best.

I’m not insecure in my writing. Never have been and never will be. I know I pour everything I have into creating the best work I can and it’s for that reason that I won’t allow it to be treated like trash. I have over 250 drafts in my Google docs and best believe, that’s where they’ll stay until I see fit. Although I know it’ll probably mean leaving the last place I have any sense of community and social interaction in general, it’s not worth coming on here angry everyday in defense mode. Its not worth getting out of my character over and I rather just not be around if it means I have to play mean girl. My mind may change and all of this will just have been me getting shit off my chest but as of right now, this account will be archived come February 28th. Thank you to everybody who’s supported me this far and gave me a safe space. I love all of you so very much and hope that we can enjoy the rest of this month together 🫶🏾 🤍

#cherry chats 🍒#tw rant #tw discourse #tw long post #happy black history month lmao #writing #fanfic writer

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mayhem24-7forever · 16 days

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Need You Tonight

Steve Harrington x Reader x Eddie Munson Fic

Author’s Note: IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER, THIS IS NOT FOR YOU, DO NOT INTERACT! This is dedicated to and inspired by the lovely Shan/ @bvcksmurdock. Hope you like the title as a cheeky little inside joke. Special thanks to Arne @lovearne for finding me the floor plan of Eddie’s trailer and to Ashley @likedovesinthewnd and Nina @chaseadrian for helping me get the pipe smoking correct since I have only done edibles lmao. Also huge thank you’s to Vee @a-reader-and-a-writer , Leah @ohtobeleah and Shelby @rhettabbotts for beta reading/editing/giving advice when I was lost. I made the executive decision to set this in late 1987 specifically so I could include a reference to the song that gave me the title, which means it’s set like a year after season 4 so uhhhhhhhh fix it fic I guess. fic dividers from @firefly-graphics

Content Warnings: not canon oops, fix it fic kinda, SMUT, smoking weed/doing drugs, drinking/getting drunk, getting crossfaded (high and drunk at the same time), explicit consent despite mind-altering substances but I was still advised to say dubious consent because of this, blacking out/passing out (not any of the main three), dirty talk, swearing/language, dirty talk (like absolutely filthy, including the word “cunt” and “slut”), Dom!Eddie, Switch!Steve, Sub!Reader, M/M/F threesome, oral sex (female receiving), oral sex (male receiving), handjobs, fingering, penis in vagina sex, anal sex, double penetration (penis in vagina and penis in asshole), bondage (handcuffs and rope), gags (cloth/bandana gag), light spanking, BDSM elements, dom/sub elements, masturbation, brief love triangle that is ended by a threesome (as most love triangles should end), Steve and Eddie are consent kings, all three are unbelievably horny, spanking as flirting, orgasming so many times you pass out, Eddie is currently in charge of the singular steddie brain cell, aftercare, usage of a ridiculous amount of pet names (Reader calls them “Eds” and “Stevie”, Steve calls them “baby” and “lover boy” and Eddie calls them “princess” and “big boy”), Robin awkwardly walking in and seeing something she shouldn’t have.

“I swear to god, if you put Cyndi Lauper in my cassette player, I’m throwing the tape out the window.” Eddie warned.

“Oh, come on! I love this album!” Y/N replied incredulously. “It has all my favorite songs!”

Eddie was leaning back against the wall casually, beer bottle in hand as Y/N stood at the player, shoebox of cassette tapes in hand. Nancy and Jonathan sat behind them on the couch and even with just four people, Eddie’s trailer was already beginning to feel a little crowded. Jonathan was smoking a joint, his arm around Nancy as they talked quietly, making lovey eyes at each other. Nancy was sipping on a can of soda, having decided to be his designated driver. The whole group was having a party, although Steve, Robin, and her girlfriend Vickie hadn’t arrived yet.

“Sorry, princess. This is a Lauper-free trailer. It’s out of my hands.” Eddie said, putting his hands up in a mock surrender with a shit-eating grin.

“Fine.” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Then I’m putting in ABBA.”

“Fuck no, you’re not!” Eddie said, pushing off the wall to get closer to her.

“God, you’re so picky Eds!” she scoffed, mildly annoyed. “Why’d you tell me to bring the music for the party if you’re not gonna let me play any of it?”

“Just let me see what else you have.” he said, walking over to her, taking the shoe box and immediately making a face as if the collection personally offended him.

“Oh, come on! I know it’s not heavy metal and rock ‘n roll but my taste in music is just as good as yours!” she exclaimed defensively.

“Queen, Billy Idol and Oingo Boingo are good, you can play those. Tears for Fears and Duran Duran are a stretch that I’ll allow because you’re so cute, but the rest of this pop shit is staying in this box the whole night.” Eddie said and her jaw went slack with shock.

She knew that they were just playing, it was just something she and Eddie did, like how she and Steve were very touchy with one another. Everyone in the friend group, except for her, knew that Eddie and Steve both had crushes on her and were engaged in a (mostly) friendly competition to get her attention. And everyone in the group, except for Steve and Eddie, knew that she was head over heels for both of them but couldn’t pick between them. Unbeknownst to the three, Robin had even been taking bets from as to which one of them is finally going to do something and when. Even in his weed-induced haze, Jonathan knew that the bickering and flirting was only going to get worse the longer it went on and he decided to speak up.

“Oh, come on Eddie! Just let her play her music!” Jonathan interjected from the couch and Y/N shook her head in agreement.

“See, Jonathan is fine with my music!” she said with a pleased smile.

“Jonathan is high as a kite, I could put on whale sounds and he’d think it was the greatest thing ever made.” Eddie replied.

“Hey!” Jonathan protested before Nancy spoke up.

“Eddie, it’s her turn to pick the music for the party, you don’t get to control it just because we’re having it at your place.” Nancy said.

Eddie looked back to Y/N. She put her bottom lip out in the most pitiful pout she could manage, batting her eyelashes for good measure. He stared at her for a moment, trying not to think about what those big pleading eyes would look like under him, begging for release.

“Fine, I yield, my lady.” Eddie finally said, giving a little bow and a flourish towards the cassette player, using the same medieval-style voice he used in D&D. It was a flirting tactic he used often because the character she played in his campaigns was a princess, and Eddie was nothing if not thoroughly dramatic.

“Oh, thank you Eds!” She squealed in joy, grinning from ear to ear as she pounced into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and placing a grateful kiss on his cheek.

He returned her embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist until he had to pull away so she wouldn’t feel a certain appendage of his that was rising to the occasion in his pants.

“I never can resist that lovely pouty face of yours.” he said with a charming smile and she blushed deeply before turning around to the cassette player.

She slipped a Hall & Oates tape in and hit play, the opening notes of “Maneater” booming from the speakers. She began to sway her hips to the beat, dancing as she smiled at Eddie, victorious. He shook his head, unable to stop himself from smiling. He took another swig of his beer as she danced, taking the opportunity to let his eyes rake over her body and thoroughly appreciate what he saw. She had taken off her heels almost as soon as she had arrived, preferring to traipse around the carpet of the trailer barefoot—not that Eddie minded in the slightest—as it allowed her to dance more freely. She was wearing a low cut blouse and a short skirt and as she moved around, her breasts bounced in her top, glimpses of her ass visible through the ruffles of her skirt. A knock on the door roused him from his thoughts of what she’d look like without all the clothes and he called out that it was unlocked, the door opened and Robin and Vickie coming in.

“We’re dancing already?” Robin exclaimed and pulled Vickie closer to the stereo, joining in as Y/N laughed.

“Thanks for the help Robin!” Steve said sarcastically as he stepped through the door, three pizza boxes with a few packs of beer on top in his arms, his sunglasses riding low on his nose.

“You’re welcome, Steve!” Robin responded with a laugh.

“Looking hot tonight, baby!” Steve said shifting the weight onto one arm so he could give Y/N’s ass a playful smack as her walked by her.

“Calm down, Stevie! You only just got here!” she giggled and Steve smirked as he entered the kitchen.

Eddie downed what was left of the almost empty bottle and put it down as he pushed off the wall to join Steve in the kitchen area. Steve put the pizza on the counter, took off his sunglasses, and was sticking the beers in the fridge when Eddie walked in.

“We need to talk, Harrington.” Eddie hissed lowly.

“Yes, her ass felt spectacular.” Steve replied with a smirk.

“No, Harrington. I’m serious.” Eddie shot back.

“Me too.” Steve said with a chuckle and Eddie grumbled, leaning in closer.

“Dude, I’m losing my fucking mind right now.” He said as Steve finished putting the beers in the fridge and stood up to look at Eddie properly. “If I watch her dance like that any longer, I’ll be cumming in my jeans. We have to do something.”

“Munson, we agreed that if anything with her is gonna happen for either of us, she’s gotta be the one to start it. We can flirt as much as we want, but no matter how sexy she is, or how much we want her, we can’t be the ones to make the first move. We agreed, man!” Steve replied, popping the top off of a beer bottle and taking a swig.

“Harrington, fucking look at her right now.” Eddie hissed, swiping the bottle from Steve’s hand and taking a large swig.

Steve sighed, grabbing another bottle and popping the top off before peeking his head around the kitchen cabinets to look into the living room.

He watched her dance for thirty seconds or so and then turned back to Eddie, adjusting the front of his pants awkwardly. “Yeah, we need to figure this out—and fast! I can’t look at her in that top all night and not ask her to fuck me. One of us needs to drop out.” The pair silently looked at one another, waiting for the other to just give up but neither of them said a word.

“Let’s just pull her aside together and tell her we both want her and see who she picks. It’s not the smoothest move but at least it’ll end this.” Steve finally suggested when it became abundantly clear that neither of them were ever going to volunteer to step out of the running. “She picks whoever she picks and the other one, probably you, just takes the loss like a man and moves on.”

“You seem very confident that she’ll pick either of us. We drop a bomb like this on her and ask her to make a choice and she’ll freak the fuck out.” Eddie said. “She’s never been able to make snap decisions, even for things she feels strongly about, so even if she’s already interested in one of us, she’s gonna get so overwhelmed that she’ll choose neither of us.”

“Well, what the fuck are we going to do then?” Steve asked. “Only one of us can have her… and that’s if she wants us after all.”

“Harrington, you just gave me an idea.” Eddie muttered, his face growing into a grin.

“Enlighten me then, Munson.” Steve huffed impatiently.

“We don’t ask her to choose.” Eddie said.

“I’m not following.” Steve replied.

“We tell her that we’re both interested in her and that we’d like to share a night with her. Together.” Eddie explained, Steve’s eyes widening in recognition.

“Are you suggesting a threesome?” Steve replied and let out a small laugh in disbelief as Eddie nodded.

“As long as we can get along and share, then she wouldn’t have to choose between us. If she says no, then at least she’ll know we’re both interested and she can act on that information later if she wants to.” he said.

“And if she says yes…” Steve trailed off as they grinned at one another. “Fuck, Munson, I could kiss you right now.”

“Save that energy for later, big boy.” Eddie joked with a wink, giving Steve a light slap on the ass as he walked out of the kitchen with a smirk.

Several hours and a pack of beer or two later, Nancy announced that she was going to take Jonathan home, the pair walking out the door to a chorus of ‘bye’ and ‘have fun fucking’. Less than thirty minutes later, Robin and Vickie had passed out, super drunk, cuddling on the couch together as Steve covered them with a blanket.

“And then there were three.” Y/N joked, lying on the floor with one of the couch pillows underneath her head.

“I’m gonna smoke, wanna join?” Eddie asked, his back leaning up against the wall as he sat on the floor.

“Drinking and smoking?” she asked, clutching a hand to her chest and pretending to be scandalized. “How positively devious of you!”

“Princess, I’m barely even tipsy.” Eddie replied.

“Fuck, me too. I could use some weed.” Steve said, sitting on the ground beside Eddie.

“That’s two. Princess, care to join us?” Eddie asked.

From their viewpoint, they could see the side profile of her body, her head turned towards them, one knee bent up in the air. They could see the swell of her breasts with every breath and part of her skirt had hiked up, providing a tantalizing tease of her panties. Every curve and dip of her body was on display like a statue of Aphrodite from a museum in the flesh. Her hair was fanned out on the ground and her eyelids just a touch hooded by alcohol, her wide pupils gazing at them through her lashes. Her lips were pursed slightly as she considered his proposition and the boys couldn’t help but imagine what they would look like wrapped around a cock. Eddie moved his beer bottle to cover the growing bulge in his pants and Steve tried to stifle a groan into a cough, both praying she wouldn’t notice.

“I want to Eds, but I’ve only done edibles.” she said with a shy smile. “I’ve never smoked, I don’t know how.”

“No time to learn like the present.” Eddie said and she glanced over at the sleeping girls.

“Won’t we bother them?” she asked.

“They’re out cold, nothing we do is gonna wake them up.” Steve assured her.

“Maybe we should move somewhere else, just in case. Eds, can we smoke in your bedroom?” she asked and the innocent tone in her voice made Steve stand straight up and pretend he was getting another slice of pizza, just so he could hide his boner from her as he tried to calm himself down.

“If that is what you desire, princess, then we shall make it so.” Eddie replied, getting up and moving to stand by her feet, trying to ignore the sexy way she looked laid out below him, like a spread from a porno mag come to life.

He lowered his hand to her and just as she took it, he hauled her up to her feet quickly and then over his shoulder in one swift motion. Steve took one look at her gorgeous ass on Eddie’s shoulder and bit his fist to stop from making noise, his eyes telegraphing to Eddie that if he kept this up, he wouldn’t last long. Eddie only smirked at him, very pleased with himself. When she realized what he’d done, she playfully slapped at his back, her legs kicking up a little in fake protest.

“Eds! I can walk to your room myself!” she laughed.

“But my lady, a princess requires a royal steed! Her royal feet must not touch the same ground as commoners such as us.” Eddie replied in his D&D voice and she giggled, rolling her eyes.

“Lead away then, stable boy.” she said.

“Stable boy?” Eddie said in mock offense. “I’m at least a coachman.”

“Are we going to smoke or just stand here arguing until the sun rises?” she said.

“Ooo, bossy tonight, huh?” Eddie replied, giving her ass a light pat before he started walking towards his room, her giggles filling the trailer as they went.

“Stevie, can you grab the boombox please?” she called as they passed through the doorway to Eddie’s room.

“Ye- uh yeah.” Steve croaked out, his voice cracking a little as he grabbed it and followed.

Eddie dropped her on to the bed and her body bounced once before coming to rest on the mattress, her breasts bouncing and her skirt flying up for a moment. With great difficulty, Eddie pulled himself away from staring at her jiggling tits so he could rummage through the drawers of his dresser for the metal tin he kept his weed in. The bed was in the corner of the messy room and Y/N sat up with her back on the wall, leaving room for Eddie and Steve on either side. Steve entered the room, setting the boombox on Eddie’s dresser before plopping down at the end of the bed against the wall next to her.

“Heads up Harrington!” Eddie called before he tossed the metal tin at Steve who caught it easily as Eddie headed over to pick a tape for the player.

Steve opened the tin up and began grabbing what he needed to roll some joints. Eddie put in an INXS tape he had just bought.

“Haven’t smoked to this album yet, it should be good.” he said as he turned around.

“What’s with all the handcuffs, Eds?” she asked with a smirk, gesturing at the hook on his wall where he kept a bunch of them.

“Oh, they can come in handy sometimes, no pun intended. The ladies seem to love them and I haven’t had any complaints from the guys either.” he said with a wink. It was an open secret within the group that both Eddie and Steve enjoyed men and women, although they were generally pretty quiet about it. “Why, princess? Are you curious?”

“Just asking.” she said casually.

“Well if you’d like to try them on to see how they feel, that can always be arranged.” he replied and she blushed.

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you, lover boy?” Steve muttered, trying to keep his tone sarcastic and playful instead of revealing the jealousy he was feeling.

The boys made tense eye contact for a second but she didn’t notice because she was too busy reaching into the tin and pulling out a pipe to look at it curiously.

“How does this work?” she asked and Steve chuckled.

“Just like a regular tobacco pipe, but with weed.” he replied.

“Can I try it?” she asked, looking over at Eddie with a smile.

“Whatever you want, princess.” he replied before walking to the bed and sitting next to her but with his back against the headboard so he could talk with her easily. “Steve and I are probably gonna share a joint though so we don’t have to keep repacking the bowl all the time.”

“My Stevie and my Eds playing nice and sharing something together? Voluntarily? Without trying to kill each other? Is the world coming to an end?” she questioned, surprised but pleased with their sudden cooperation.

“I think you’ll find that ‘Eds’ and I have recently realized our interests are aligned. We can play nice and share all sorts of things, baby.” Steve said, finishing rolling the joint and lit it, taking in a few puffs before passing it to Eddie.

To reach Eddie, he needed to lean over her. His head was near her chest as he stretched and she stopped breathing for a moment, just taking in his scent. He smelled faintly of hairspray, a scent that had become oddly comforting to her, lingering even as he pulled back. Eddie took a few puffs and then handed it back to Steve, leaning in as well. She could feel a few locks of his hair just barely grazing the bare skin on her chest and suppressed a shiver. His usual scent of cigarettes had invaded her senses and together with Steve’s hairspray were making it hard to think.

Eddie sat back as Steve put some weed into the spoon-like end at the end of the pipe, explaining that it was called “packing the bowl” and she tried to rouse her thoughts back to the present. Steve leaned in to hold the pipe up for her and press a flame from his lighter under the bowl and Eddie gave her instructions on when to suck the air in, when to hold it, and when to let go, his voice low in her ear.

As she blew out the last of the smoke, she heard him coo “There’s a good girl, you did it perfectly on your first try.”

She tried to ignore the way those two little words, just a simple “good girl” made her stomach flip, fanning the spark from deeper below until the desire was burning within her. She wondered if that was what his bedroom voice sounded like. They talked her through another one and as she exhaled, she heard Steve whisper in her ear, so low it was almost a growl.

“Doing so good, baby.” he said and she squeaked, trying to play it off as a cough.

Steve and Eddie knew exactly what they were doing to her, it was the same thing she had been doing to them all night, what she was still doing to them as she drew the phallic-looking pipe to her luscious lips and sucked in. Steve took another few hits of the joint and she watched as a single strand of his hair fell in front of his face, resting on his forehead. He leaned over again and passed it to Eddie, who brought it to his lips for a hit. He was taking a long drag when she found herself admiring how his mouth curled around the end and when he leaned his head back and let out a long exhaled cloud of smoke, she was struck by the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his neck stretched ever so slightly. She was still staring when he finished the breath and his eyes caught hers upon him, a smirk growing on his face.

“Like what you see, princess?” he asked and her mind just stopped.

Suddenly, it was like someone had taken her brain and stuck it in a blender, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to explain why she had been watching him like that. She couldn’t exactly tell him that she had been staring at him because being this close to him and Steve was making her unbelievably horny.

“I…umm, I just… I was just…I-” she stammered out and Eddie smiled.

“It’s alright princess, I don’t mind your pretty eyes watching me.” he told her, moving closer until his lips were only inches from her face. “Steve and I have been watching you all night.”

“You… you have?” she asked, barely a whisper.

“Baby, Eddie and I have been trying to get your attention for a while.” Steve whispered into her ear, now hovering just over her neck and she shivered.

“We were in a bit of a competition, both of us wanted you but neither of us seemed to be getting anywhere.” Eddie said, his fingers reaching under her chin to turn her head back towards him. “It’s been so frustrating, wanting you so bad, hoping we could make you want us before the other could. Tonight we decided to put our differences aside and come clean with you.”

“You want me?” she breathed out and Steve’s hot breath was back on her ear as her body instinctually leaned towards him.

“We do.” he said. “And we’re willing to share, if it’s what you want.”

Oh god, did she want it. Her mind was screaming at her to say something, to tell them just how long she had been waiting for one of them to make a move, how never in her wildest dreams had she imagined they’d both want her and especially not that they’d want her together. She wanted to tell them how many times she had collapsed into her pillows with her hand between her legs thinking of them. But her mind felt like jello and all she could do was suck in a breath. Steve’s fingers inched along the skin of her thigh, Eddie’s dancing lightly on her arm, only further scrambling her thoughts with the finger-light touches. She closed her eyes, unable to do anything but feel and want and burn.

“Come on princess, I know I’ve been thinking about it all night.” Eddie said, still so close that she could almost feel the tip of his nose on hers. “The tentpole in Steve’s jeans assures you he’s thinking the same thing. And the way you’re squeezing your legs together so hard they might turn red makes me pretty damn sure you’re thinking about it too.”

“If you don’t want this, we can leave and pretend it never even happened. Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to.” Steve said, lips ghosting over the skin of her neck. “But if you say the word, you can have us, baby. Whenever you want. Wherever you want. However you want. One at a time… at the same time…”

She gasped and her eyes shot open. She found herself staring straight into Eddie’s gorgeous brown eyes, darker than usual with lust.

“Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” he asked, smirking. “Want one of us buried deep in that tight, wet cunt of yours while the other fucks your pretty little mouth?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes, I do, I do…” she whispered and was rewarded with Steve’s lips on her neck, his hand finally finding hold on her thigh and she struggled to continue speaking as Steve attacked her neck with his skilled mouth. “Haven’t… done this… before. Not with… more than… one person.”

“That’s alright, princess.” Eddie assured her, his hand light on her cheek, his rings cool on her hot skin. “We can go slow. We’ll take real good care of you.”

Eddie’s lips crashed into hers just as Steve found the most sensitive spot on her neck and she gasped into Eddie’s mouth, quickly turning into a moan. She could feel Steve’s smile on her skin before he resumed to leaving a trail of hickeys on her neck and shoulder. One of his hands was gripping her thigh, the pressure keeping her grounded as the other hand splayed right in the middle of her back, pushing her closer to them. Eddie didn’t give up his assault on her lips, kissing her as if he needed it to breathe. One hand remained on her cheek, his thumb rubbing her cheekbone lovingly, a harsh juxtaposition of his mouth’s ferocity, his other hand resting on her chest, right on top of her heart.

“Wait.” She breathed out into Eddie’s mouth and suddenly their hands and lips disappeared from her skin, her body whining at their absence.

“If you don’t want to do this we can stop.” Steve said, his hazel eyes screaming his earnestness to her. “I told you we can pretend it never even happened if that’s what you want.”

“No! No, I really want to do this… but I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t know how to do it.” she said, breathing hard as she watched them both pant, devouring her with hungry eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll be any good.”

“Oh princess, you’re already good at it.” Eddie said with a smirk and she blushed, her self doubts and anxiety beginning to melt away.

“We want you to be sure this is what you want. That it’s your decision, even with the weed and alcohol in play.” Steve told her and neither of the boys were expecting the firm reply she gave.

“I had one beer a few hours ago, I’m not even buzzed. And as for the weed, I’m pretty damn sure I’m in my right mind.” she said and the boys smiled. “So how do we start?”

“Maybe Steve and I should show you what to expect.” Eddie said, turning to look at Steve.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Steve said. “Let’s get her a front row seat.”

Eddie smirked and got off the bed as Steve led her by the hand to sit in the chair that Eddie pulled up next to the bed.

“Don’t be afraid to ask questions.” Eddie said as he and Steve sat back on the bed, facing one another. “It’s an interactive presentation.”

The boys smiled at one another and leaned in, their lips meeting softly at first, then slowly building in intensity. Steve had one hand on Eddie’s cheek, the other on his waist as one of Eddie’s hands came up to cradle the side of Steve’s neck, the other surging downwards. Steve groaned into Eddie’s mouth as his hand found the bulge in his pants, pressing against it firmly. His hand continued to palm Steve’s junk as he began to suck on Steve’s neck with the same ferocity Steve had for hers. Steve’s head fell backwards and he moaned, his eyes closing in pleasure as Eddie left what would probably be a very large hickey on his neck.

It was the hottest thing she’d ever seen. Better than the dirty magazines she had found hidden under her mom’s bed, better than any scene in a porno, better than anything she had ever imagined about them. Her hands flew in between her legs, as if the pressure or the friction of rubbing up against her arms could relieve the fire in her loins. It only made it worse. Her eyes flicked to the handcuffs on the wall, considering all the delicious possibilities and when her eyes returned back to the boys, they met Steve’s eyes, smirking at her as Eddie continued his movements on his neck.

“She’s looking at the handcuffs, lover boy.” Steve informed him quietly with a smirk, his gaze never once leaving hers. “Maybe we should show her how they work.”

Eddie pulled back with a wicked smile and a glint in his eye as he looked to her. “A fantastic idea. Take your shirt off and sit against the headboard, big boy.” he ordered, and Steve obeyed.

Before he went to grab handcuffs, Eddie stopped to press a brief but hard kiss onto her lips. “Because you’re being such a good girl watching us. Don’t worry princess, it’s almost your turn.” he said as his hand cupped her cheek lightly, his thumb tracing her mouth teasingly before he returned to the bed.

“Got a safe-word, stud?” Eddie asked.

“Red.” Steve replied before Eddie advanced.

She could see only Eddie’s back for a moment, hearing the distinct clicks of the handcuffs locking but then he sat back on his haunches and she took in the delicious sight before her. Steve had a hand cuffed to both of the far posts of the headboard, stretching out his arms and putting his well-defined muscles on display. Steve looked at her and although he was the one handcuffed, she was the one who felt tied down by his intense gaze. He smiled at her and she felt her stomach flip once more.

“For my next trick, I’m going to need an audience volunteer.” Eddie announced dramatically before setting his eyes upon her. “How about you princess?”

She nodded and he smiled, reaching over and pulling her chair up against the bed in a swift motion. She was now close enough to touch them and she eyed the pair with anticipation, waiting for Eddie’s next order.

“Doesn’t he look so pretty? All spread out like this and just itching for us to touch him…” Eddie spoke lowly and she kept her gaze on Steve’s restrained torso. “Go ahead and touch him, princess.”

Hesitantly at first, she reached out towards the top of his chest, near his collarbones and when just the very tip of one finger had grazed his skin, Steve bucked against his chains, holding on to them so hard his knuckles were turning white. His reaction spurned her on, her touches growing more bold by the second as she explored his body.

Her fingers trailed down Steve’s toned chest and through the patch of dark hair she had seen before when they had gone to the pool together. His breath hitched when she slid a fingernail against his nipple, catching it between her fingers and she repeated the movement on both sides a few more times. When he put his head back and groaned, she gave him reprieve, continuing on with a small but pleased smile. She stopped at each of the scars on his chest from previous adventures gone wrong and took an extra moment to skate the tips of her fingertips over the raised skin.

“So beautiful…” she muttered, not even realizing she had said it aloud until she heard Eddie in her ear.

“I agree. You’re doing such a good job playing with him but it’s time we stop teasing him and get to the main event, don’t you think?” he said and she nodded. “Unbuckle his pants and get his cock out for me, princess.”

Her hands continued on their journey and finally made it all the way down to the waistband of his jeans. Steve’s breath hitched, his hips bucking slightly when her fingers stopped on the button. She carefully undid it and unzipped his fly, biting her lip as she reached to pull down the waistband of his boxers, letting him spring free.

She had often wondered what Steve’s dick would look like and she certainly wasn’t disappointed. She hadn’t seen too many dicks in person, mostly just in dirty magazines or the kinds of movies that were hidden behind a curtain in the rental store, but she knew enough to know Steve’s was larger than average, even only at half-mast. Steve had a smug and proud smile on his face and she looked to Eddie to find he was surprised but pleased by Steve’s cock.

“Not bad at all, big boy.” he complimented before leaning into her ear and whispering. “Get him hard for me, princess.”

She leaned over and pressed her lips to the head of his half-erect cock. Steve groaned, instinctively surging forwards before the cuffs pulled him back. She opened her mouth and let drool dribble down to coat his dick in a layer of slick spit. The tip of her tongue darted out and licked a bead of pre-cum off the tip of his cock.

“Oh, fuck!” Steve moaned and she smiled, continuing to rile him up by teasing just the head of his cock as his cock got harder and harder.

When he was fully erect, she carefully slid her hand down his length, moving so slowly and holding him so lightly that it was like torture, not allowing him the pleasure of release yet.

“Good girl.” Eddie whispered into her ear, his hand reaching out to guide her own in a few more slow and teasing movements. Steve bucked his hips desperately but Eddie simply pulled his hand and hers away completely. “Looks like he’s ready for me. Sit back and enjoy the show, princess.”

She followed his instructions and moved back to her chair although now she sat on the literal edge, as close to the bed as she could be. Eddie flashed a wicked smile before leaning down and pressing a feather light kiss to the tip of Steve’s cock.

“Fuck, please-” Steve choked out, rattling his chains, desperate for the torture to end. “Please, Eds I-” His plea was answered and cut off as Eddie began to take his length into his mouth.

She couldn’t see specifically what Eddie was doing with his mouth but from the lewd noises Steve was making, it apparently felt very good. Eddie raised his head up and Steve whined at the loss of his warm, wet mouth on his cock.

“Tell her how it feels, Steve.” Eddie ordered, in almost a growl. “Tell her what my mouth on your cock feels like. Tell her how it feels to have your hands cuffed to the bed and to be unable to do anything about it.”

“Fuck, it feels so good.” Steve whimpered, his words getting caught in his throat briefly when Eddie returned to his ministrations, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity like a dagger. “Oh baby, it feels so fucking good. I don’t have to be in control, I just have to trust Eds will take care of me. I love it, fuck, I love it.”

Steve was getting close, it wasn’t hard to tell. His hips bucked as much as Eddie’s hands would allow, the sounds of him pulling on the chains getting louder and more frantic as his cries grew louder too. He was begging Eddie over and over again, chanting “please let me cum, please, please, please Eds.”

“Cum for me, big boy.” Eddie moaned around around his cock and only seconds later Steve was screaming in pleasure as he came.

Eddie kept him there in his mouth, working him through the waves of ecstasy, milking his cock and swallowing every last drop. Steve was panting like he had run a marathon as Eddie pulled himself off of Steve with a wet pop. Steve leaned back against the head board, letting his body relax.

“Good boy.” Eddie purred as he reached up and unlocked the handcuffs, Steve’s arms falling to his side as he looked at her through hooded eyelids.

Eddie crooked a finger to her, beckoning her to join them on the bed. In one swift movement, he removed his shirt, throwing it onto the floor in a ball as her eyes raked over his body. He wasn’t as toned as Steve, he was more lean, and the only hair he had on his chest was a light treasure trail leading down into his pants. She knew that he and Steve had matching scars on their chests but seeing them at the same time only made it more clear just how identical they were. She also knew he had a lot of tattoos, she’d seen the ones on his hands and arms many times but this was the first time she got to see the ones on his chest more than just small bits peeking out of his shirt collar. He was beautiful and the colorful art dotting his skin only made him more attractive. He grinned when he saw her looking at him and let her hand trace the lines of ink for a minute.

“Alright princess…” he said lowly as he pulled her hand from his chest, his firm grip on her wrist. “It’s time to show Stevie how much you liked our little show. Go on and let him find out what it’s like to kiss and touch you. Put on a show for me now.”

She crawled up Steve’s body, his back still leaned against the headboard as she tentatively straddled his hips, hovering over his lap nervously. His hands instantly went to her waist and he pulled her down onto his lap, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. She had made out with people before but never with someone so hungry and deliciously rough. His hands moved her waist to roll a little, grinding his bare cock against her pantied pussy as her skirt rode up once more. The feel of his cock against her core, separated only by the thin fabric layer of her panties caused her to gasp against his lips, a moan quickly being smothered and swallowed by his mouth. Her hands hooked around his neck and into his hair, tugging lightly to earn a few pleased hums.

“Get that shirt off of her.” Eddie ordered calmly, and she could hear his belt being undone and his jeans being unzipped.

Steve obliged immediately, yanking her blouse above her head and throwing it across the room, so quickly and expertly that his lips barely left hers. Eddie spit into his hand before beginning to stroke himself, a groan slipping out as he moved his fist up and down his length. Steve continued to grind up into her, one hand snaking up her back to undo the clasp of her bra as the other found hold on the back of her head, tangling into her hair.

“I didn’t say to take off the bra, Steve.” Eddie warned and Steve’s hand disappeared from the clasp, making her whine into his mouth as it found purchase on her hip. “Patience, princess.”

Steve’s length dragged against her clit and she felt like she was on fire. She took a hand from around his neck and slipped it behind her, needing to free her aching nipples from their torturous confines. Just as her finger grazed the clasp, Steve’s hand on her hip shot up and grabbed her wrist. His large hand encircled her wrist tightly and held her arm against her back.

“Eddie told you to be patient…” Steve warned, pulling away from her to meet her eyes, a smirk when he saw the desperation in her features. “Don’t be a bad girl. You owe him an apology.”

“I- I’m sorry Eds!” she said quickly, glancing over her shoulder to gaze at him as his hand increased in speed in jerking himself off.

“For?” Steve prompted, applying an infinitesimal amount of pressure on both her wrist and the back of her neck.

“I’m sorry for being a bad girl and not listening!” she cried out, shivering when Eddie laughed darkly.

“It’s alright princess, it’s a learning experience. Just don’t do it again.” he warned, holding her gaze intensely before flickering to meet Steve’s gaze. “How wet is she?”

Steve’s hand released her wrist but stayed on her back, a silent warning not to try unclasping the bra again. Her hand returned to snake around his neck, once more finding and hold on his hair. Steve removed his hand from the back of her neck, dragging it down the valley between her breasts before slipping under her skirt and pushing aside her panties. As his fingers ran against her slick folds, she leaned forwards, burying her head in his neck with a pathetic whine.

“She’s fucking dripping.” Steve said before nipping teasingly at her ear, her face still nestled in the crook of his neck. “Aren’t you, baby?”

She nodded but this wasn’t good enough for Steve, his hand roughly cupping her pussy, his thumb tantalizingly close to her clit but not close enough to give her the release she sought.

“I said… aren’t you, baby?” he growled as she cried out in surprise.

“Yes! Yes! Oh god please, I need it so bad. Something, anything, please!” she pleaded and was surprised to feel a spurt of warm ropes on her back, Eddie groaning as he came onto her.

“Reward her with a finger, big boy.” Eddie ordered, panting as he came down from his high and within seconds one of Steve’s fingers slipped into her cunt.

Her walls clenched around it, desperate for more as he languidly pushed it in and out, curling it slightly to hit a spot that made her see stars. She vaguely registered Eddie wiping his cum off of her back with a piece of cloth, probably one of his many bandanas. She cried out and arched backwards, thrusting her tits into Steve’s face when suddenly she felt Eddie press his chest against her back. His breath was hot on her ear and she whimpered.

“Good girl.” he cooed and she keened into his touch as much as she could. “It’s my turn to play too now.”

She couldn’t see it but Eddie held up two fingers with a smirk and Steve grinned wickedly. A second finger penetrated her and she panted as he continued his torturously slow ministrations in and out. Eddie’s hands went to unclasp her bra, finally, and he tossed the offending garment to the side. Cool air teased her heated breasts for only a moment before Eddie’s hands clasped around them firmly. A lewd moan fell from her mouth as his fingers rolled and squeezed, kneading the flesh and teasing her nipples. His hands continued their assault on her breasts as his mouth began on on her neck, deftly finding the spot that made her cry out.

The sensations were all too much and yet not enough. Steve’s hands in her pussy, Eddie’s on her breasts, their mouths on her lips and neck, but no relief was given to her aching little bud, taunt with need. Steve was purposefully ignoring her clit, succeeding in making her more desperate for him to touch her there with every passing moment. Slowly, she slipped a hand down and was inches away from her fingers brushing against her clit when Eddie’s hands left her breasts and grabbed her wrists, wrenching them behind her back and away from where she wanted them. She whined and could feel Eddie’s smirk against her skin, shifting to whisper into her ear.

“Bad girl. Steve didn’t tell you that you could do that, did he?” Eddie asked lowly and when she didn’t respond, too overcome by the feeling of Steve’s fingers curling inside her, he moved her wrists to one hand, the other snaking around to the front of her neck and applying just a little pleasure, growling “I said, did he, princess?”

“No.” she moaned and his hand disappeared from her neck, moving somewhere behind her. “I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, she felt something cool against her wrist and a loud clicking noise. She gasped as she realized that Eddie had just cuffed one of her wrists with the handcuffs.

“This alright, princess?” Eddie asked, voice firm in his dominance yet with just the edge of softness as he checked in with her.

“God yes!” she moaned out and Eddie clicked the other cuff onto her other wrist.

“Oh, you like them that much, huh?” Steve asked, feeling her clench around his fingers at the sound of them locking.

“Yes, fuck, I love it.” she cried out, testing her bonds as Eddie let go of her wrists but they held fast.

With her hands trapped uselessly between her back and Eddie’s chest, she had to just feel them playing with her, their hands and mouths all over her body, bringing her closer to the edge but never all the way.

“What a dirty girl… a dirty girl who likes having her hands bound together like some kind of slut.” Eddie taunted and his words touched something deep inside of her.

“Fuck, Eds. She liked when you called her a slut, she squeezed my fucking fingers like a vice.” Steve groaned and Eddie chuckled.

“Give our slut another finger as a reward.” he ordered and Steve obeyed, smirking when she gasped at the stretch of another finger added to her wet, hot cunt.

“God, she feels so good Eds, I can’t even imagine what she would feel like on a cock.” Steve said through grunts as he continued thrusting up into her with his fingers.

“We won’t have to imagine pretty soon, big boy.” Eddie said. “If you’re a good girl and you ride Stevie’s fingers like a cock, Steve will play with that pretty little clit of yours and we’ll let you cum.”

She moaned at the challenge before bucking her hips, intent on riding Steve’s hand like a cowgirl on a bull at a rodeo. She put every bit of effort she could into moving her hips and she was rewarded when Steve placed his thumb on her clit. A few small swirls and she was on the edge, begging the boys to let her cum. Eddie gave her permission and suddenly she was coming, her walls clenching down on Steve’s fingers as she threw her head back onto Eddie’s shoulder and cried out in ecstasy. She continued riding him through the shockwaves of pleasure and felt a little disappointed when it ended. He removed his fingers from her cunt, bringing them to his mouth to taste her cum as she panted.

“She tastes delicious.” Steve said with a smirk that made her shiver before holding out his fingers to Eddie. “Want a taste?”

“Oh I do, but I think I’m gonna get it straight from the source.” Eddie replied, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“What are we gonna do with her now, lover boy?” Steve asked him as he brought his fingers to her mouth and slipped them inside for her to taste herself. “All tied up with no where to go, isn’t that right baby?”

She moaned a yes as best as she could with his fingers in her mouth, the taste of her own arousal only heightening the pleasure. The muffled sound went straight to their cocks and Eddie’s face lit up with an idea.

“What would you say to a gag, princess?” Eddie asked and Steve removed his fingers from her mouth. “Be honest if it’s not something you want.”

“What kind of gag?” she asked in anticipation.

“I have a ball gag around here somewhere but if thats too much for your first time we can just do a cloth gag. I have plenty of bandanas.” Eddie answered.

“Can we try the cloth gag?” she asked, her innocent yet intrigued tone making him smile (and making his cock twitch).

“Of course, princess. Steve, can you get her hair out of the way?” Eddie said as he pulled his favorite bandana from his back pocket and although it was phrased as a question, Steve knew it was an order.

“Yes, sir.” Steve said, gently brushing her hair from her neck and pulling it all up with one hand. “Open up, baby.”

She opened her mouth obediently and watched as Eddie slowly placed the bandana between her teeth and pulled the ends together at the back of her neck.

“Is that too tight?” Eddie asked and when she shook her head, he tied the ends off and Steve released her hair, covering it.

“You’re always beautiful but you look even more lovely like this.” Steve told her and she felt butterflies in her stomach.

“Alright Harrington, we need to huddle up and make a game plan.” Eddie said and she whined as he began to move away. “It’s just for a moment, princess.”

Once Eddie was clear, Steve carefully lifted her off of his lap and laid her down on the bed on her back. His weight disappeared from beside her and she turned her head to the side to see the two of them moving to the far end of the room, Steve tucking himself away. When they reached the far wall, they stopped and leaned into one another, whispering too low for her to hear, especially with the music still playing quietly and them so far from her. She watched them, both shirtless with only their jeans still on, a sight that made her press her legs together in need, despite having just orgasmed.

After what felt like an eternity of planning, they returned to the side of the bed, smirking down at her with her hands tied underneath her in only her skirt and panties and a bandana gagging her. Steve reached down and stroked the side of her face, chuckling when she leaned into his touch.

“Are you ready for the next part of the show?” he asked and she nodded vigorously. “Good girl.”

Eddie pulled her upper half off of the bed and held her up as Steve took his place sitting against the headboard again, taking his pants off so that he was only in his boxers. Steve pulled her from Eddie’s arms and nestled her to sit between his legs, leaning back on his chest. The way they handled her so nonchalantly yet still careful, like she was a precious doll, reignited the fire in her core. Eddie took off his pants to reveal his briefs before kneeling on the bed in front of her. He reached around and un-cuffed one of her wrists before pulling them both up over her head, re-cuffing them so her hands were bound behind his neck, stretching her out.

“Don’t pull on these too hard or you’ll hurt Stevie, alright princess?” Eddie asked and she nodded.

Steve lifted her hips up as Eddie pulled off the skirt and panties, leaving her completely naked, all of her bare for their hungry eyes. Eddie spread her legs and groaned at the sight of her pussy laid bare before him. Putting her head down in embarrassment as her cheeks heated, she tried to close her legs but was stopped by Eddie’s hands keeping her thighs spread.

“Are you shy, princess?” Eddie cooed and she nodded.

“Do you want us to stop?” Steve asked and she shook her head. “Can you knock on the wall behind us?” She answered with a few knocks on the wall. “If you want us to stop, knock on the wall in groups of three, alright?” She nodded.

“You’re so beautiful.” Eddie told her, fingers stroking her wet folds delicately.

She shifted against Steve’s chest and whined, trying once more to close her legs. Eddie gave a light smack to her inner thigh.

“Bad girl! Am I going to have to tie your ankles to my bedposts to get you to stay put?” he scolded and she looked away in embarrassment. “Oh that’s it, isn’t it? That’s what you want. Usually I wouldn’t reward bad behavior but this is a special circumstance.”

Eddie leaned over to a dresser drawer and pulled out two lengths of black rope. Carefully, he lifted one of her feet and tied the silky rope around her ankle. He pressed a light kiss to her calf before pulling her leg down to lay straight on the bed sheets between Steve’s spread legs. As Eddie secured the rope to the bed post and moved to repeat his actions with her other leg, Steve began to lazily drag his fingers across her breasts. He let his nails lightly rake on her nipples, teasing her in the same way she had teased him. She gasped through the gag and squirmed in his arms as he continued his ministrations. His lips moved to her ears and she shivered when she felt his hot breath against her skin.

“What, baby? You don’t like it when you get a taste of your own medicine?” He murmured in a low growl and she could practically hear his smirk. “Guess you can dish it out but can’t take it.”

Eddie finished her other leg and sat back on his haunches to admire his work, Steve stopping his teasing so she would be still for him. Her glistening cunt was laid bare before him and his eyes shone with excitement. Her cheeks heated under his attentive gaze and she averted her eyes away in embarrassment. She felt completely exposed with her legs spread wide open and the silky rope that wouldn’t relent to her tugging, she couldn’t close her legs to staunch the self-doubts that began to pop up. Eddie and Steve were far more experienced than her and had probably seen far prettier girls’ bodies. Every imperfection of her physique suddenly felt mortifyingly unattractive and for a moment she considered tapping out so she could throw on her clothes and run away in shame. She could feel the tears gathering in her eyes as she imagined how hideous she must look to them, every curve, line, and mark mocking her in her head. Suddenly she felt Eddie’s hand on her cheek, gently pulling her attention back to him.

“What’s wrong? Do you want to stop? There’s no shame in that, princess.” He said softly and her heart flipped at his earnestness.

She shook her head.

“Are you feeling self-conscious?” He asked, Steve’s fingers trailing comforting circles on her sides.

She nodded, eyes shimmering with vulnerability.

“Oh princess, you have nothing to be self-conscious about. You’re fucking stunning. I’ve never seen anyone who looks so beautiful naked as you, except for perhaps Steve.” Eddie assured her and she smiled, tears of comfort and joy pooling in her eyes as Steve chuckled behind her.

“I’ve been wondering what you would look like without clothes forever and never in my wildest dreams did I even come close to how gorgeous you are right now.” Steve said in her ear and she craned her neck up to look at him, admiration shining in his eyes. “So just lay back and let us worship you the way you deserve.”

As soon as he finished speaking, her attention was drawn back to Eddie gently stroking her folds with skilled fingers covered in those god-damned rings of his. He teased her for a minute or two, simply admiring her pussy as he hummed some rock song, paying no attention to her squirming or mewling. Her handcuffed hands right at the back of Steve’s neck grasped onto his hair and tugged on it in pure anticipation, needing to feel grounded to him as Eddie inspected her. When Eddie felt he had admired her cunt properly, he dove in and began to eat her out. She gasped out through the gag in relief and felt Steve’s chest rumble with a chuckle behind her, his hands roaming her skin until they found purchase teasing her breasts deliciously.

“Thought I wouldn’t get you back for that, did you?” He whispered in her ear and she keened, lost in the sensations caused by both boys. “Think you can tug my hair and play with my nipples and I won’t take advantage when I get the chance? Eddie may be in charge of the both of us tonight but right now, I’m in charge of you, baby.”

It didn’t take long for her to reach her second orgasm, not with Eddie’s lips on hers and his tongue coaxing her to the edge as Steve played with her tits like a violin and whispered dirty things into her ear. She came hard as Eddie looked up at her, grinning like a mischievous devil from between her thighs.

“Good girl.” Steve cooed in her ear as she rode out her pleasure, breathing hard through the gag until Steve removed it, tilted her chin up towards him and captured her mouth in a breathless kiss.

“Ready for the finale?” Eddie asked, pressing soft kisses to the inside of the thighs.

“So ready!” She replied with a wide smile.

A blur of movement later and her restraints were removed, Steve helping her stretch out her limbs as Eddie grabbed condoms and lube.

“Get on your knees.” Eddie ordered and she complied as the boys removed their underwear and she saw that they both had long cocks almost the same size except that Eddie’s was a smidge girthier.

“How do you wanna do this, baby?” Steve asked her, stroking his gorgeous cock. “Where do you want us?”

“I don’t think I’m ready to do anal, at least not yet, but I don’t have a preference for who goes where.” She replied, gazing hungrily at them.

“Dealer’s choice, then.” Eddie said with a smirk. “Steve, you’ve been such a good boy tonight following my instructions, I think you deserve to pick.”

“I want her pussy.” Steve said, smiling when she blushed and shivered under his intense gaze.

“Are you still sure you want this?” Eddie asked her as he passed a condom to Steve, who began to put it on.

“I’m sure, damn it! Just fuck me before I lose my mind!” She said before realizing herself an adding as an afterthought “…please.”

“Mouthy girl, such a brat.” Steve commented and Eddie chuckled as he stepped towards her, gently gripping her chin to look up at him

“Normally, I’d punish an attitude like that but you’ve been so good for us tonight and it’s a special occasion so I’m going to overlook it… for now.” He said, a dark and sexy look in his eyes as she nodded. “Hands and knees for the big finish, princess.”

She got into position as Eddie moved in front of her and Steve behind her, groaning when she wiggled her ass a little.

“Spank her if she does that again.” Eddie said, tapping her lips with his cock until she opened them and he slipped in.

She was so distracted by Eddie’s cock in her mouth that she almost forgot Steve was lining himself up until he slid into her wet cunt. Eddie chuckled when she moaned around his cock. It only took a few moments until they began to move, quickly setting a deliciously brutal pace. The boys were seemingly naturals at it and for a moment she wondered if they had ever actually shared a partner before with how practiced they seemed to be at anticipating one anothers moves. She-d never been fucked so fast and rough, bouncing between their cocks in a rhythm that made her feel better then she ever had before.

“Fuck, princess, suck just like that!” Eddie exclaimed, his fist wound around some of her hair just enough to be felt but not hard enough to hurt.

“You feel so good, baby.” Steve moaned, throwing his head back as his hands gripped her hips tighter allowing him to thrust into her even deeper. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

“You don’t come until she does so if you want it, you’d better help her along.” Eddie commanded and Steve moved one hand off of her hips and snaked it between her legs.

His fingertips quickly found her clit and it wasn’t long before she was clenching onto his cock with a loud moan as she came.

Steve and Eddie’s hands were the only things keeping her up, her body feeling like jelly as her orgasm hit. Eddie unraveled next, shooting his load into her throat and coaxing her through swallowing it.

“Good girl.” He panted and she felt her pussy clench around Steve’s cock, those two little words inadvertently causing her to help bring Steve to orgasm.

“Fuck, baby!” Steve groaned, his hips stilling against hers as he rode out his high, her pussy clenching around his as if to help milk every last drop.

They all stayed there for a moment, the boys catching their breath. Eddie was the first to pull out, wiping droplets of cum from around her mouth as she slumped forwards and he led her down to lay on the bed. She groaned as Steve carefully removed himself, disposing of the condom before helping her place her head on the pillow.

Very sated from orgasming three times in one night, she reached out and latched onto Steve, needing physical contact. She heard Eddie murmur something to Steve about caring for her but she couldn’t comprehend his words with how euphoric she felt. Steve laid down with her and held her, stroking her hair and whispering about how well she did while Eddie helped clean her up. Even in her haze, she felt something was missing.

“Stevie, I want Eds too…” She whined into Steve’s chest.

“You heard her, get over here.” Steve said, pulling both himself and her towards the edge of the bed to make room for him.

“What the princess wants, the princess gets.” Eddie replied, settling in on the other side of her.

“My boys…” She sighed contentedly, drifting off to sleep from her post-orgasmic haze nestled snugly between Steve and Eddie’s bodies.

She awoke the next morning with her head on Eddie’s chest and Steve spooning her, his arm draped around her waist and his hand on Eddie. She smiled, feeling truly happy there with her boys.

“Morning princess.” Eddie said, his voice gravelly with sleep.

“Morning Eds.” She said, unable to contain her smile.

“I take it you had a good time last night.” He commented with a smirk.

“I did.” She said simply, gathering the courage to ask the question on her mind. “Eds… do you think you and Stevie would be alright with doing it again sometime? I don’t want you to think I’m indecisive or selfish, I just really like both of you. A lot.”

“Steve and I were talking about it last night after you passed out and we came to the conclusion that we’re both so head over heels for you that we’re willing to share if that’s what you want.” Eddie said and she felt like a weight was lifted off her chest. “Besides, Steve and I may have something deeper than just competition going on, we’ve just been too distracted to see it for what it was.”

“So, the three of us against the world?” She asked.

“Always, princess.” Eddie replied, pulling the comforter up to cover the three of them more fully and placing a kiss on the top of her forehead.

They were almost back asleep when the door swung open, revealing a very sleepy and apparently hungover Robin who looked very surprised to see them. Her eyes went wide with realization and shock at Eddie and Y/N, not even noticing Steve as he was covered by the comforter.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I thought this was the bathroom door!” Robin exclaimed, shielding her eyes before adding with a huge grin “...but also this is fantastic, Dustin owes me so much money!”

With impeccable timing, Steve raised his head from behind Y/N’s body and sleepily said “I don’t think you’ll be making any money today.”

“I just learned way more about your love life than I ever needed or wanted too and now none of us are winning the bet.” Robin replied, a mix of shock and disappointment on her face as she turned to leave. “I’m going to go bleach my eyes… and my brain.”

She slammed the door behind her and all three inhabitants of the bed began to laugh. They sunk into a comfortable silence, content with each other’s quiet company.

“Robin was wrong.” Y/N said assuredly.

“Hmm?” Steve hummed in confusion.

“She said no one won the bet. But she’s wrong, the three of us won it.” She replied and Steve laughed.

“I agree, princess.” Eddie added with a fond smile, holding his two lovers close to him.

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