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caelesjjk · 1 year

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Wicked As They Come | myg

⟶ title: Wicked As They Come

⟶ pairing: vampire!yoongi x reporter! f reader

⟶ genres/aus: supernatural au, vampire au, fake dating au, ceo au, romance, smut

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ wc: 10.7k

⟶ warnings: Yoongi is a bit mean but 😏, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, threats, dirty talk, mentions of blood, biting, blood drinking, blood play, a cheesy staircase scene, a shower scene, smut in the forms of: oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

⟶ summary: you’ve been undercover at one of Min Yoongi’s many hotels in the city for the past week. you’re there because of the rumors that have been spreading regarding his vampire employees feeding off of his human guests. what you don’t expect to happen is Min Yoongi discovering your true intentions in his hotel and offering you a very interesting ultimatum: pretend to date the vampire CEO to help appeal to his human guests, or quickly find out just what kind of monster he can really be.

⟶ authors note: I know you all must be so surprised to see me posting since it’s been literal months lol. This fic is part of the To Love A Monster collab that I’m hosting with a bunch of really amazing writers. Please check out their fics as well! I have to give some big shoutouts here: M @here2bbtstrash, thank you for betaing what was obviously a mess and assuring me that it wasn’t complete trash, I so appreciate your help. Also to sav @jeonjcngkook who read it before it was even done to also assure me I wasn’t writing junk. And then to jai @gimmethatagustd for making this amazing banner all those months ago when I thought I wouldn’t procrastinate and get this done sooner lol.

I hope you all enjoy this, it’s mostly porn lol.

You have been sneaking around his hotel for a week trying to put any weight behind the rumors that were circulating.

Min Yoongi was a vampire and a very powerful one. He owns almost every luxury hotel within 500 miles of the city. He employs vampires and humans in his hotels and none of the humans you had been talking to seemed afraid to be here. So why are there rumors the vamps are feeding off humans in his hotels?

You have been unable to find any evidence of the unapproved blood drinking. There is, of course, plenty of approved blood drinking. Humans are paid handsomely to volunteer their blood to the vamps and Min Yoongi almost made a show of how much he paid them.

Your last night in the hotel is supposed to be spent at a masquerade party being held downstairs in the grand room, but ever curious you decided to take a small detour past the kitchens.

The dress you are wearing was sent to your hotel room with a note that simply stated “can’t wait to finally meet you tonight when you're wearing this.”

At first, you thought it was possibly delivered to your room by mistake. But the dress was exactly your size and fit like it had been made for you. You didn’t have a no clue who would have sent it, but you weren’t the type to turn down expensive gifts.

While taking your last minute detour past the kitchens, you hear something around the corner that quickly catches your attention.

“I don’t want you to if it’s going to hurt, Jimin.” A female voice says in a hushed whisper.

“I would never hurt you, princess. It’s going to feel so good,” a man with silver hair and a ridiculously pretty smile says to the female as you slowly peek around the corner. One of his hands strokes her cheek while the other holds her body against his.

“Do you promise?” Her voice trembles slightly and you’re immediately afraid for her.

“Of course.” He leans down to kiss her and she seems to melt into him.

There are two things you are absolutely sure about at this moment.

This man named Jimin is a vampire.

This girl is human and being coerced into letting this vampire bite her even though she is obviously terrified.

You watch as the vampire hikes up the girl's skirt, hitching her leg over his hip. You hadn’t noticed that he had removed his cock from his pants until you saw him slip inside the girl in front of him.

You can’t look away, but an even bigger part of you wants to see more. She moans his name and Jimin praises her for taking him so well.

Was this really what they had been talking about? Were they talking about fucking and not him drinking her blood?

But while you were distracted by the scene in front of you, watching tears roll down the girl's face when Jimin slammed her back to the wall, you hadn’t realized that someone else was watching you. A hand covers your mouth and an arm wraps around your waist and lifts you off the ground.

“You aren’t supposed to be down here,” a deep voice says against the shell of your ear. You try to scream to no avail, flailing your head around trying to hit them in the face, but they’re too quick.

You keep fighting against them, even as you feel a needle pierce the skin of your neck and a scream leave the mouth of that poor girl around the corner.

“Time to wake up.” You feel someone grip your face in their hand to keep your head up. Your mind feels like a fog has settled inside.

“You probably gave her too much, Namjoon,” a voice says.

“Impossible. I never miscalculate a dose.”

“Would you two please shut the fuck up,” a deep grumbly voice says from a little further away. “Open your eyes, little monster.”

You force them to flutter open, trying to focus on what’s in front of you through your blurry vision.

“Where…where am I?” You start to move your limbs; your legs move fine, but your arms are handcuffed behind the back of the chair you’re sitting in. “What the fuck?”

“We need to talk about why you’ve been snooping around my hotel for the past week. And I suggest you not lie to me or I’ll kill you now.” A man dressed in a very expensive suit comes around the front side of the desk he was sitting behind and leans against it.

“If you already know, what’s the point in me telling you anything?” Your vision clears more as you focus on his face: long black hair smoothed back off his forehead and eyes that could see through your soul.

“Humor me.” His voice is suddenly at your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Is this how you treat all of your guests? Cuffing them to chairs and letting your employees drink their blood even though they’re terrified?” You glare at him as you speak. It didn’t take you long to realize that this man is Min Yoongi.

He laughs before placing his hands on the arms of the chair, leaning down until his face is level with yours.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, little monster.” His voice is low and his smirk is maddening.

“I’m calling the cops as soon as I get the fuck out of here. This is kidnapping.” You struggle against the cuffs to no avail. Yoongi leans down closer, his nose coming down to skim your throat and cause your body to freeze.

“I can smell it on you…the fear. Your heart is pumping too hard. It’s fucking divine.” His tongue ghosts along your skin and no matter how hard you try not to react, goosebumps appear after you shiver. “Does that turn you on, little monster? Knowing I could kill you…bleed you dry on my tongue?”

It does. God it fucking does. It’s so fucked up, but pain…pushing limits…a little bit of fear…you fucking love it.

“No.” You seethe through clenched teeth.

“Liar.” His words are hot against your ear before his inhuman speed takes him back to the other side of his desk in an instant.

“Bastard.” You cross your legs tightly and slump against the chair.

“You have a choice to make, Ms. ______.” Yoongi sits down in his oversized leather chair and leans back with his eyes on you. “I’m in need of a partner. A human one. Someone to make appearances with me and make it look convincing. I need the humans to book my hotels more often. You can either help me do that or I can kill you.”

“Gee, so glad you’ve given me so many options here,” you scoff.

“What will it be then?” His hand cards through his long hair but his attention stays on you.

You realize that this may give you an extra in for your article. You could have insider information about what’s going on in these hotels if you agree. Maybe this isn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened.

“Fine. I agree.” You know the smile on your face probably isn’t as convincing as you want it to be.

“Meet me back here tomorrow night to sign the contract.” Yoongi nods towards the vampires who have been lingering near the door and one of them comes forward to undo your cuffs.

“Perfect.”

“What the hell? You’ve got an entire clause in this thing that says I can’t write any piece of journalism regarding what I see and hear at any time while or after the contract is up? That’s bullshit!” You toss the thick packet of paper back onto his desk.

“I’ll compensate you for any money your magazine would pay you for the article you were going to write about me.” Yoongi says, as if he’s bored to death as he scrolls his phone.

“How much compensation are we talking about here? Because the magazine I’m working for pays pretty decently for pieces like…” Your sentence is cut off by the sound of your phone dinging on the table. You pick it up to see Min Yoongi has deposited $20,000 into your bank account. You choke, almost throwing your phone when you see the number. “You can’t be serious.”

“Now that your compensation is dealt with, is there anything else in the terms you want to discuss?” Namjoon says, steam practically pouring out of his ears. He turns to his boss next. “Or is there any more money you would like to just throw around?”

You glare at Yoongi, his eyes never leaving you as you reach onto the table and pick the packet of papers back up. He smiles, poking the tip of his tongue against one of his fangs.

Flipping through the rest of the contract, it occurs to you that one thing was never mentioned throughout that ridiculously long document.

“There’s nothing about sex in here.” You skim through a few pages again and Namjoon nearly chokes.

“Should there be?” Yoongi says with amusement in his voice.

“I just assumed…”

“If you want me to fuck you, little monster, we don’t need a contract for it. Just say that’s what you want.” He leans over the desk, his elbows resting on it.

“Obviously I don’t.” You cross your legs and pretend to look through the contract more.

“Get out,” Yoongi says, black eyes still staring at you.

“Excuse me?” You’re about to go off before he cuts you off.

“Not you.” He turns his eyes to Namjoon who was apparently pretending there was something more interesting on his phone. “You. Get out of my office.”

“Asshole,” Namjoon mumbles as he shoves his chair back and, quicker than any human ever could, rushes out of the door and leaves it slamming behind him.

“What is your problem? Why did you tell him to leave?”

“My problem is that you’re lying to me. So I’ll give you one last chance to tell the truth. Do you want to be fucked?” He starts to loosen the tie around his neck while standing up slowly from his desk.

“Why do you assume that I want you to fuck me?” Your mouth feels dry as you grip the arms of your chair.

“Does your cunt usually get ridiculously wet when you don’t want to be fucked?” He stops in front of you, the silky black neck tie sliding between his long fingers.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? So if I got my fingers between your legs I wouldn’t find you dripping?”

“It wouldn’t be because of you.” You tighten your jaw and lift your nose slightly into the air in defiance. “Maybe I thought your lawyer was hot.”

Yoongi has never looked more wicked than he does at this moment. It’s like any kind of mask he was wearing to hide the monster has slipped away, his eyes suddenly the color of blood and fangs elongated while he grips the arms of the chair you’re sitting in, crushing them in his hands. The suddenness of it all makes you yelp in surprise.

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to with that smart fucking mouth, little monster.” One of Yoongi’s hands lifts from the rubble of the chair arms so he can drag a finger up your chest. Even without his inhuman abilities, you know he can hear your heart.

You should be terrified. You are terrified. But you should be trying to get away. Fight him off of you. But you just want more. Want him to bend you over his desk and show you the monster he can truly be.

His wandering finger makes its way over your pulse thrumming in your neck, making him groan low and deep in his chest. But he doesn’t stop there; he keeps his torturously slow pace until the finger is resting on your chin just beneath your lips.

“Open,” he demands, the red of his eyes slowly retreating back to their normal dark color.

You decide not to argue this time, parting your lips just enough for him to slip his finger into the hot cavern of your mouth.

“Suck, little monster, like it’s my cock I know you’re dying to choke on.” He presses the long digit against your tongue, tilting his head to the side as he watches your lips wrap around his finger.

You suck gently at first, running your tongue along its length until you can taste the metal of the very expensive ring on his finger. You lift your eyes to meet his, desperate to see how it’s affecting him.

“You can do better, can’t you, beautiful?” His other hand cups your chin and tilts it up more before he pulls his finger from your mouth. “Well?”

You watch as he leans against his desk, spreading his legs slightly as he presses his palms to the top of the dark wood.

It only takes you a moment to realize what he’s suggesting, and then you’re sliding from the leather chair you’re sitting in down to your knees on the floor in front of him. You can tell he’s half hard already when you come face to face with his crotch.

“This doesn’t mean anything.” Your voice sounds strained and unfamiliar. Yoongi smirks, a small laugh slipping out.

“Don’t worry, little monster. Out there you can be my well put together princess. But here, you’re my whore.” He growls the last part, one of his fangs poking into his bottom lip as he watches you undo his belt and zipper.

You hate how hard your pussy clenches at his words. How much you’re craving exactly what you’re getting. It’s stupid. So, so stupid.

Running your hands up his thighs, you slip your fingers into the band of his underwear and pants, sliding them down to free his waiting cock. And of course it’s perfect. His cocky demeanor is well backed up by the size of the dick in your face alone. Your mouth waters.

“There will be plenty of time for you to gawk, but right now you should really start sucking.” His fingers lace into your hair and lightly grip at the back of your head. You roll your eyes at him, but take his cock into your hand anyways.

His skin is cool to the touch but still flushed as you stroke him. A hum of approval comes from above you. You look up again, taking him into your mouth and making sure to hold eye contact as you do.

Your tongue swirls around him while your head bobs slowly up and down his long shaft. His grip in your hair tightens each time you take him a little deeper into your throat.

“Good girl, fuck,” Yoongi groans, grabbing the bottom of his button up shirt and pulling it up to his chest so that he can see everything that you’re doing.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you let your throat relax and take him all the way down until your nose presses against his lower stomach. The groan you receive in return is nothing short of delicious.

“I could tell from the moment I saw you watching Jimin fuck that girl downstairs that you were going to be the sweetest little slut.” He grips your hair hard, making you yelp around his cock. “And I was so fucking right.” Yoongi uses your hair as leverage to start rocking his hips and fucking into your mouth.

This is exactly what you want. You want him to use you and say dirty things. Your pussy has been clenching around nothing and dripping all over your thighs the entire time. You open your mouth as wide as you can and let him corrupt your throat, holding on to the backs of his thighs for dear life.

“How badly do you want my cum, little monster?” His voice is breathy and full of lust.

Unable to answer him with your mouth occupied, you slide your hands up to his ass cheeks and dig your nails in, making him jolt further down your throat. God you want it so badly.

“Fuck, that’s so good. So fucking good.” Yoongi releases his grip on your hair and lets you bob your head up and down him again to finish him off.

You bring a hand around to stroke him in tandem with your mouth, squeezing at the head on each upstroke. You watch above you as his head finally falls back with a loud moan, his hand on the back of your head to hold you down as he cums down your throat.

He didn’t have to hold you there, you were gladly going to take it all, but it’s obvious this vampire loves control. So you continue to suck softly until he’s finished and pulls his cock from your lips.

You take in a deep breath when he releases you, falling forward slightly but catching yourself on your hands.

“Let me see,” Yoongi grumbles.

“See what?” you say, out of breath. He doesn’t answer, simply grabs your chin and yanks you back up to look at him.

“Open your mouth,” he demands and you obey. “Good girl. I like to see that it’s all been swallowed down your perfect throat.” He releases your chin, extending his hand for you to take to help you up.

As you stand on wobbly legs, you’re surprised by the sudden gentleness from the man who was fucking your throat raw just moments ago. Yoongi helps you straighten your clothes and then moves on to his own, fixing his pants back into place as if the whole thing hadn’t just happened.

“Are you going to put sex in the contract now?” you ask, genuinely curious. Yoongi laughs quietly as he rounds the other side of his desk.

“If you’d prefer it be in writing I can have Namjoon add it in.”

“That…might be best.” You don’t know why. Maybe to give yourself the illusion that this isn’t something you’re more than willing to do.

“As you wish.” He sits back in his chair and watches as you head for his door. “And little monster?”

“Yes?” You almost jump at the sound of his voice again.

“A member of my staff will be taking you shopping and helping you get settled into my penthouse in the next few days.”

“Your penthouse? I don’t remember living together being in the contract.”

“We have to make this as believable as possible. And I want to keep you close.” He opens his laptop, ignoring the surprised look on your face.

“Possessive much?” You glare at him, arms crossing over your chest. He hums with a smirk.

“Only when it comes to things that are mine.” His words send a shiver down your spine, and in that moment you aren’t sure if it’s out of lust or fear.

You don’t respond further, slipping out of his office so that you can breathe again.

“Was all of this truly necessary?” you ask.

“Yoongi said you were to get everything you wanted.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders as he types into his phone.

Jungkook had come to your hotel room three days after you’d left Yoongi’s office. He’s apparently Yoongi’s assistant, and lucky for you, is much friendlier than his boss. He had other staff collect your things from your room and take them to Yoongi’s penthouse before rushing you out the door to shop.

“Yes, but you literally bought everything I even glanced at twice.” There are bags covering the entire floor of the elevator you’re riding up in, and the hotel attendants will be bringing tons more up from the car.

“Don’t overthink it. Just enjoy being the spoiled brat that you are for a few months,” Jungkook teases, making you roll your eyes with a laugh.

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival at the very top floor of the hotel. Your stomach twists as the thought of living here with Yoongi finally dawns on you. This is a ridiculous idea.

“Welcome home!” Jungkook shouts, scaring you for a moment.

You step out into the entryway of the penthouse, immediately overwhelmed by the beautiful set up. The entire far wall is windows, of course: it wouldn’t be a penthouse without ceiling to floor windows. But the way the sun is setting outside is breathtaking to see from this high up.

You move a little further inside, taking in the black leather couches and oversized fireplace in the living room area. Fur carpets cover the dark wood floors and abstract pieces of art sit on almost every table.

It’s an open concept, the kitchen taking up the other half of the first floor. Though you aren’t sure why a vampire would need a kitchen with their…special diet. It has lights that drop down low from the ceiling and a huge island with tons of seating. Does Min Yoongi enjoy entertaining guests? You can barely imagine it.

“Boss should be back soon. Want me to wait with you?” Jungkook says, still typing away into his phone. He’s rather sweet for a vampire.

“I’ll be fine, Jungkook.” You give him a small smile as you wrap your arms around yourself. “And thank you for today.”

“My pleasure. You’ve got my number, anything you need just give me a call.” He looks up at you, then inhumanly fast is out the door. How will you ever get used to that?

You decide to look a little closer at the kitchen, letting your fingertips ghost over the black marble countertops. Making your way to the fridge, you open its huge doors to find it fully stocked with food.

“What the fuck?” you mumble to yourself. Why did he need all of this food?

Before you close the doors, a bottle of wine on the top shelf catches your eye and you grab it before spinning around to face the kitchen island and search for a corkscrew.

What you don’t expect to see is Min Yoongi standing on the other side of the island, watching you carefully.

“Holy shit!” you screech, your heart lurching in your chest. “Can you please make some noise when you enter a room? Jesus.”

“Making yourself at home, little monster?” He smirks, likely loving the fact that you almost had a heart attack.

“I was just looking around.” You sit the bottle of wine down and lean over the counter, resting your elbows on the marble. “Is that okay?” You know that your cleavage is pushed up by the way you're bent over and you definitely did it on purpose.

“You’re welcome to look around.” He drums his long fingers against the countertop. “I’ve got nothing to hide from you.” You scoff.

“No bodies hidden in the closets? A coffin in your bedroom perhaps?” You reach up and carefully take a wine glass down from the rack hanging above the kitchen island.

“This isn’t the dark ages, little monster. The sun being a problem for vampires is something of the past.” He shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over the chair next to him.

“It seems vampires evolve very quickly.” You say it casually, hoping he will spill information that most humans don’t know; information that you can use when you write an article exposing everything about them.

“Curious little thing, aren’t you?” He loosens his tie while slowly stalking towards you around the counter.

“It’s my job to be curious.” You try to pretend that him coming closer doesn’t affect you by pouring the wine into the glass you retrieved.

“Do you think you’re going to find a loophole in my contract? Something that would allow you to write your article? Foolish…” Yoongi wraps his tie around his palm and continues his slow movements towards you. Your stomach tightens, wondering when he’s going to get sick of you and kill you where you stand.

“We don’t need to talk about the article. It’s obviously not happening.” You take a drink, the sweet white liquid enticing your taste buds.

“Your heart gives you away.”

“What?” You’re taken aback by his words, taking them in a way he didn’t mean.

“It’s picked up speed. Almost a thrum. You’re lying…but that’s okay. You want to be brave, then go ahead. But I’m not your enemy, little monster.” He moves too quickly for a moment, coming too close all at once, causing you to drop your wine glass on the floor.

The glass shatters against the tile floor, the wine spreading out and filling into the space between the tiles. You don’t even think about your next move, bending down and immediately starting to pick up the shards of glass.

“Sorry…” you start to say, nicking your palm on a piece of glass in your rush to scoop them up. “Fuck, that hurts. Could you hand me a rag?” You don’t look up at first, but when Yoongi doesn’t say anything, you get impatient.

What you see is the monster you know you shouldn’t want so desperately.

His eyes are red and raging as he grips the counter top with one of his hands, the marble starting to crumble between his fingers.

“Get the fuck up.” Yoongi struggles but manages to get the words out between gritted teeth.

“What?” You scoot back across the floor, trying to put space between you. You watch as his hands shove into his hair, pulling at the long black strands as he makes pained groaning noises at the floor.

With that inhuman speed, Yoongi leans down and grabs your wrist, blood still leaking from the cut on your palm. The grip on your wrist is so hard you’re afraid he might break your bones.

“Yoongi, you’re hurting me. Let go,” you practically whimper as he drags you up from the floor and shoves you against the side of the island. “Stop. Please don’t…”

You know that if he wanted to kill you, he would have by now. He could have drained you dry and no one would ever know to even look for you here. But the fear makes you feel alive. It makes your heart hammer and your pussy clench. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Yoongi grabs your wrist again, making you yelp in surprise. He stares at it for a moment, intently watching your blood slide down your skin. He closes his eyes before making his final decision.

You decide to close your eyes too, not sure if you want to see what could happen next.

To your surprise, what you feel is the warm, wet muscle of his tongue licking along the inside of your wrist up to your palm. Your eyes shoot open immediately, meeting his ruby colored orbs.

“I want to kill you,” he whispers against the skin of your wrist, lapping at the blood once more.

“I know,” you whisper back.

“Why does that make your pussy wet, little monster?” He smiles wickedly before his lips attach to the cut on your palm, sucking gently. You can’t help the moan that slips past your lips as you watch your blood coat his mouth and run down his chin.

“I…I don’t know.” You reach out with your other hand to grab onto his shirt and anchor yourself to something.

“All of that insolence seems to disappear when your pussy is getting what it wants.” He licks one more long stripe up your wrist before he pulls away, his eyes in the beginning stages of returning to their normal dark.

“You haven’t given me anything that I want.” You yank your wrist out of his hold, rubbing at the bruise marks already appearing. Yoongi rolls his eyes, grasping your shoulders and turning you around to walk you towards the sink. He turns on the water and motions for you to put your hand underneath it.

You turn your back to him, washing your hand under the warm water until it seems to stop bleeding heavily. You start to reach for a towel before you feel his chest against your back, his arms suddenly caging you against the counter in front of the sink.

“Why don’t you tell me what it is you want then, hm?” His breath against your ear sends a shiver down your spine. “I can smell every bit of desire between your legs.” His knee comes up between your legs, making you brace yourself on the counter at the sudden pressure he’s putting against your pussy.

“Touch me…and don’t stop.” Your body shakes in anticipation. Yoongi chuckles in your ear, his tongue finding the lobe.

“You’ll take what I give you…and you’ll be fucking grateful.” His sharp fangs nip at your ear and cause your ass to press harder into his crotch. You don’t care what he wants to give you at this point, you’re too desperate.

“Please,” you whine.

“I’m feeling benevolent this evening…you sucked my cock so well the other day that I may even let you cum.” He presses his cock against your ass before pulling away from you all together.

“Asshole.” You scowl as you turn around to face him. Yoongi merely looks amused.

“I’m still hungry, little monster. Get on the counter.” He pats the marble top with his hand while he undoes the top few buttons of his shirt with the other.

“Why?”

“Are you always going to ask so many questions or are you just going to fucking listen?” He cards a hand through his long raven colored hair and sighs, drenched in annoyance.

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, walking towards him where he stands by the kitchen island. Before you even have a chance to call him more names, he’s grabbing you by the hips and practically tossing you onto the counter. “Fuck, Yoongi, can you try not to break me?”

“Where's the fun in that?” He smirks, coming to stand between your thighs, your face just above his from this height. “I think you may even beg me for it.” His voice is low, a rumble in his chest as he watches your face.

You want to reach up and push some of the stray hairs away from his face. But that would mean you have some kind of affection towards this vampire and you can’t let that happen. It’s almost painful to keep your hands at your sides.

“Get on with it then.” Your lips just barely ghost his when you speak, yet another thing you have to keep yourself from wanting.

Too quickly, your back is suddenly pressed against the cold marble countertop when Yoongi grabs your thighs and pulls your ass to the edge. You yelp when his lips press to the inside of your thigh.

“Maybe the human men you’ve slept with like that smart mouth of yours, little monster.” He shoves your skirt up over your hips, long fingers immediately finding your slit over your panties. “But me? It makes me want to devour you.”

You moan and don’t hold back the sound, shivering when you feel his fangs pressing against your skin. He sucks a trail up your thigh, leaving small blossoms in his wake. When you feel his tongue languidly slide over the outside of your panties, you almost come undone right there.

“Please don’t tease me anymore. I’m so wet already.” He licks at you again before raising his head to look at you.

“Be a good girl and take what I give you.” His hand reaches between your thighs and, with no effort at all, rips your underwear from your body in a single motion.

You don’t have time to be snarky again before his face is buried in your pussy. Your back arches off the counter, fingers gripping at the marble to no avail.

The long muscle of his tongue swirls around your clit before expertly diving back down inside you, licking up every bit of wetness that leaks from you. The world feels as if it’s tilting on its axis, that feeling of falling clouding your mind when you start to feel the urge to cum after such a short period of time.

“You’re going to give me at least three, so stop holding back and let me have what’s mine.” The rough grumble of his voice vibrates straight to your core as the pad of his thumb strokes your clit and his tongue disappears back inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, chest heaving as your first orgasm wracks through you like a hurricane on a path of destruction with no end in sight.

“Your cum tastes almost as good as your blood, little monster. Again.” His long fingers slide inside you easily as your body shakes from being over-sensitive.

“Feels so good.” Your hands take on a mind of their own and make their way into the long, messy strands of his hair, gripping at the roots and pulling him closer.

“Greedy.” Yoongi sucks harshly on your clit, letting it pop from between his lips before he soothes it with his tongue.

“Asshole,” you moan, feeling your second orgasm hurtling towards you. Yoongi laughs quietly against the inside of your thigh.

“You like the pain. Stop pretending that you don’t.” He nips at your skin with his fangs, making you flinch. “You just gushed on my tongue.”

“I can’t go again, Yoongi. I need to stop.” You can feel sweat dripping from your forehead, your skin hot to the touch.

“You can and you will.” His arms wrap tightly around your thighs and yank you back to the edge of the counter, your sweaty skin squeaking across the surface.

Your body is telling you to scream. The pleasure and the discomfort are dancing a fine line and your head is absolutely swimming. You begin to think that you may not live through this when his mouth is back on your abused pussy.

Yoongi throws your legs over his shoulders and licks deeper than he had been before, the bottom half of his face drenched in everything leaking from you through the past two orgasms.

“Bite me,” you beg. You know if he bites you that it will intensify everything you feel, but also bring the possibility that the monster consuming your pussy kills you.

Yoongi practically rips himself from you, his breathing ragged and rushed.

“Don’t ask for things that you don’t understand.” His long fingers find your swollen clit while the other hand swipes across his mouth.

“Please…please I can’t cum again without it.” Tears start to slip down your face.

“I could kill you. It would be so fucking easy.” His eyes start to turn red, the crimson bleeding into his dark irises.

“It’s worth the risk, isn’t it? Please…” You’re so desperate you have no idea what you’re saying. Yoongi scoffs.

“You really are a little monster, aren’t you?” Yoongi smiles, his fangs elongating. Your heart beats so fast, somewhat with fear but mostly with the anticipation of what you’ll feel when he bites you.

In a flash, the vampire between legs is sinking his teeth into the inside of your thigh. You gasp, all the air leaving your lungs as your eyes fly open, the light fixtures on the ceiling blurring. You grab at your breasts when a sudden flood of heat starts to spread through your entire body.

Your body jolts when Yoongi takes the first long drag of your blood into his mouth. He moans at the taste, his hands gripping your hips in a bruising hold.

Another long pull of blood floods into his mouth and you start to see stars. Yoongi moves one hand back to your pussy, his fingers gathering wetness and spreading it up to your swollen clit.

“Yoongi…” You’re so light headed you aren’t sure if you can keep your eyes open much longer. Yoongi rips his mouth from your thigh, his chest heaving, blood dripping off his chin and down his neck where it stains the white collar of his shirt.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well, baby.” He pushes you back further onto the counter before climbing onto it himself.

You can feel the warmth of your blood coating your skin on your thigh, but the only other thing you’re desperately aware of is him. Him and the way he rips your dress off your body as if it wasn’t extremely expensive and brand new.

“I’m so close.” Everything between your legs aches but your greedy body still wants more.

“I’m going to keep you, little monster. You’re mine now.” He licks the inside of your thigh, dragging his tongue through the blood. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you sigh, his fingers gathering up the blood on your skin and spreading over one of your breasts.

“I’ll make you cum now, little monster. Good girls get what they need.” His sinful mouth attaches to your breast, licking and sucking the blood.

You arch up from the counter top, pushing your breast further into his mouth and spreading your legs wider when his fingers make their way back inside you, petting your walls and stroking your g-spot until he’s making you cum again.

Your cheeks are wet from tears and your body is weak from losing blood and orgasming a ridiculous amount of times. But somehow you manage to sit up on your elbows when Yoongi slides back off of the counter, wiping his mouth and licking his fingers clean of your juices and blood.

“You’re quite divine, even if you constantly test my patience.” He puts a hand out for you to take. When you do, he helps you down from the counter. “Let’s shower.”

“You want to shower with me?” Your legs wobble as you stand and Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“I need to make sure you don’t collapse while you’re in there. Don’t overthink it.” He looks around at the floor still covered in glass and the countertop covered in your blood. “I’ll have someone clean this up while we get you cleaned up.”

“Is it a normal occurrence for the cleaning staff to casually clean up blood?” You stumble a bit when you try to take a step. Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“So many questions.”

“You could’ve picked any human to be your fake girlfriend, I’m sure there are plenty of them that wouldn’t ask questions.” You take another wobbly step. Yoongi sighs behind you, moving too fast for your eyes as he scoops you up into his arms. Your eyes have no time to adjust before you’re in the bathroom.

“Don’t make me regret that decision, little monster,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, carefully sitting you down onto a chaise lounge chair.

“Why is this here?” you ask, hands sliding over the soft material.

“Perhaps I’ll show you some time.” He smiles wickedly, turning away from you to turn on the water inside the giant shower. Water pours down like a waterfall from the ceiling.

You take a moment to appreciate the incredible shower before your eyes find Yoongi again, his fingers still stained with your blood nimbly beginning to unbutton his shirt and revealing the smooth planes of his chest and stomach. It’s the first time you’ve really had a moment to appreciate the details of his body.

Your eyes fall on the crotch of his pants, still tented and tight.

“Do you want me to…” you motion towards his obvious hard on.

“No. Not tonight.” He holds out his hand for yours again. “Come here.” You let him wrap his fingers around yours, helping you to your feet. He makes sure that you’re steady before walking you into the shower.

Yoongi stands back, watching you walk under the steaming waterfall and removing his pants as he does. He commits the shape of your body to memory, eager to continue defiling it every chance that he gets.

You don’t hear him approach, your skin merely explodes in goosebumps when the cool skin of his hands and arms wraps around your torso from behind you. His face finds the crook of your neck, lips seeking out your throat and up to your jaw. It’s surprisingly…soft.

“Does it hurt?” he murmurs against your ear, fingers ghosting at your lower stomach. Cool lips kiss your shoulder.

“Just sore.” You turn your head and meet his eyes when he lifts his head. “I’ll be fine.”

Looking at him in that moment makes you suddenly realize that you’ve never kissed Yoongi. Maybe he wants it that way. Kissing is intimate and this is supposed to be an arrangement with no feelings involved.

He looks at you a moment longer before he clears his throat, his arms leaving your body as he kneels down in front of you.

“What are you doing?” Your eyes widen.

“Relax, little monster. I’m going to make it better. Hold onto my shoulders.” He waits until you do as he asks before he carefully lifts your legs, turning your inner thigh towards his face.

Blood still slowly seeps from the puncture wounds he left behind, bruises forming around them. Yoongi looks up to meet your eyes once more, holding them as he sticks out his tongue and presses it to your thigh, swiping up the blood before he drags it over the punctures.

Shivering at the feeling, you watch as the bite marks seal themselves closed and the bruising quickly fades from your skin. It’s as if nothing had ever happened.

“That trick must get a lot of attention at parties.” You try to laugh at your own joke, but you’re honestly so taken aback by what just happened in front of you. Yoongi smiles, a real one that you aren’t sure you’ve seen until now.

“Vampire venom has healing properties. I’m not a fan of the idea of you being uncomfortable in any way.” He presses a kiss to your thigh, then stands from the shower floor.

He helps you wash your body and hair, rubbing your scalp and shoulders until you almost fall asleep standing up.

“Come to bed.” You suddenly realize that you’re no longer in the shower, but in Yoongi’s bedroom, a fluffy black towel wrapped around your body.

“Why am I in your room?” you ask, confused.

“Because you’re sleeping in my bed. With me.” He throws back the comforter and pats the mattress. “In the bed, little monster.”

“Why am I sleeping in here? Surely you have spare rooms in this ridiculously big penthouse.” The idea of Yoongi wanting you to sleep in bed with him feels strange.

“Of course there are, but you’re staying in my room. Stop asking questions for the night, I beg you.” He rubs his temple as he walks towards his closet, reappearing a literal second later with sleep pants on. “Sleep in this if you want.” He tosses a tshirt towards you and you barely manage to catch it.

“But I don’t…” you start to protest again and Yoongi is suddenly in front of you, his hand covering your mouth.

“I want you to sleep in here. You’re mine and that’s all the explanation I’ll be giving you. No. More. Questions.” When you nod in understanding, he slowly moves his hand down and holds your jaw. “Get into bed.”

You nod again and he releases you, walking around to the other side of the bed. Yoongi settles with his back against the headboard, watching as you drop your towel and slip on the T-shirt he had given you.

“Are all vampires as possessive as you?” You glare at him playfully as you climb into the bed.

“What did I just say about questions, _____?” He throws his hands up in the air.

“Fine. Goodnight.” You dramatically grab the comforter and pull it over you, turning to face away from him. You hear him laugh quietly before the bed shifts once more and sleep grabs hold of you faster than it ever has.

Weeks go by.

The arrangement becomes easier and easier to do.

Yoongi brings you to parties and meetings and formal dances, dressing you up in the most gorgeous and expensive outfits. He gets you anything that you want and all you have to do is talk about how amazing he is to all of his human investors and guests.

He keeps you close, doesn’t let you wander too far. His cool hand is always at the small of your back.

The possessiveness is something you thought you would find annoying. He explained it’s just in a vampire's nature to be that way. But it’s easy to just let it happen when deep down, you love it.

God there really is something wrong with you.

Yoongi being possessive, however, is not the biggest problem you’ve had over the last few weeks. The problem is that he refuses to fuck you.

There’s plenty of other things to keep the edge off. Using his mouth to possess you in an entirely different way. He buries his face between your legs every chance that he gets. In his office…on top of his desk…in every dark corner he can find. You repay the favor when he lets you, letting him use your throat as his own personal fuck toy. But it isn’t enough, and he brushes you off every time you try to bring it up.

Tonight is an extremely important night. Yoongi is throwing a party to celebrate the grand opening of his newest hotel. There will be hundreds of people in attendance that need to be impressed.

“Are you almost ready?” Yoongi’s deep voice startles you as you stand in front of the vanity mirror in his bathroom.

“Just finishing up.” You pop in your second very large emerald earring before picking up the matching necklace. It’s the heaviest piece of jewelry you’ve ever felt.

“Can I help with that?” He comes to stand behind you, holding out his hand for the necklace.

“Thanks.” You carefully place it in his palm and turn back to the mirror, watching his face intently.

“You understand how important this night is, don’t you?” His breath tickles the back of your neck as he speaks. “How badly I need it to go well?”

“I know.” His eyes meet yours in the mirror as he carefully brings the chain around your throat.

“Good girl.” His lips meet your shoulder, pressing a too-soft kiss to your already heated skin.

“You’re going to have to talk eventually.” Your eyes fall shut when his hands come around and cup your breasts from behind.

“I find it amusing that you think I owe you any kind of explanation for what I do or don’t do to you, little monster.” He pinches your nipples through the thin material of your dress, making you hiss through your teeth and lean further into him.

“Just tell me why you won’t fuck me, Yoongi. It’s been weeks.” You grind your ass against his growing erection.

“We’ll discuss this later. The car is waiting downstairs.” A scrape of his fangs across your shoulder before the feeling of his body against your back is gone.

“Asshole,” you grumble, straightening your dress and smoothing any hair that may have moved out of place.

He waits for you at the top of the stairs, offering his hand to help you walk down them in your heels. You brush past him, taking on the challenge unassisted and making Yoongi scoff.

The universe has other plans for you though, not allowing you even a single moment of holding your head up high before you trip on the edge of one of the stairs. It happens so quickly that you don’t even have time to make a sound.

There are arms abruptly wrapped around you, too quick for your human eyes to make sense of. The next thing you know, your back is being shoved against the railing, bent, with a vampire looming over you, his nose pressing to yours while his lips ghost just above you.

“Do you have a death wish, little monster?” Yoongi whispers, his hold on you tightening.

“I’m sorry…that was so…” You can’t think straight, let alone comprehend what just happened.

“Stupid? Yes, so very stupid.” One of his hands leaves your back and makes its way into your hair, pulling the strands to make you look up at him. “Do not ever endanger yourself that way again. I can’t be around all the time to keep you alive.”

“Okay.” You nod, lips brushing his in the motion. You shudder at their cool sensation. But when you move to try and kiss him, he immediately pulls back.

“Come on. We’re late.” When he offers his hand this time, you take it, letting him usher you into the penthouse elevator and down to the lobby. His bodyguards get the two of you into the car in a blur.

Yoongi doesn’t say a word in the car. He doesn’t even look at you the entire way to the new hotel. It’s fucking infuriating.

Once inside the hotel, you immediately grab a glass of champagne off of a passing tray, downing it quickly before you feel the familiar pressure of Yoongi’s hand on your lower back.

“Easy, little monster,” he says lowly. You roll your eyes, plastering on a fake smile and joining him to talk to some very rich humans.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” A tall man in a pristine suit and glasses says when you join them. He is incredibly handsome.

“Taehyung, this is my girlfriend, Y\N. Y/N, Kim Taehyung. He’s giving me a hard time about investing in my hotels.” Yoongi’s fingers gently stroke your bare back exposed from your dress.

“Girlfriend? A human?” Taehyung asks curiously.

“100% human,” you laugh, nervously gesturing towards yourself.

“Wouldn’t have imagined such a pairing. Especially for you, Yoongi.” Taehyung sips his whiskey, his eyes staying on you even as he speaks to Yoongi. You’re too busy trying to laugh at everything he says to notice the way Yoongi’s jaw tightens.

“Yes, well, sometimes humans can be rather surprising. Tolerable even.” Yoongi looks at Taehyung like he wants to drain him, while everyone else standing there laughs at what Yoongi has said.

“Indeed.” Taehyung sips his whiskey again.

“We should make our rounds, baby.” Yoongi runs his finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to his. “Come,” he whispers, only loud enough for you to hear. You bite your bottom lip, nodding as you thread your fingers through his.

“I hope to see you again soon, _____,” Taehyung calls from behind the two of you. Yoongi starts to turn around but you pull him back.

“Don’t. He’s trying to get under your skin.”

“I could snap his neck…sever his throat…” Yoongi loosens his tie a little, pulling your hand to continue walking towards the outdoor balcony.

“You need him, don’t you? Just think about that.”

“He makes the best gambling games in the damn country, of course I need him.” He runs a hand through his long hair, the strands of it even longer now than they were when you had first met him all those weeks ago.

“So let it go,” you sigh, releasing his hand when the two of you are alone outside. “I don’t know why you care anyways.”

“I didn’t say I cared.”

“You were acting like a jealous prick back there. Seems like you might care a little.” You fold your arms over your chest, cool night air chilling your skin.

“I don’t, you ridiculously infuriating woman,” he half-laughs, pressing his palms to the stone wall that overlooks the hotel courtyard.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care about you either.” You’re practically pouting but you don’t care.

He groans, his fingers cracking the stone beneath them. You want to close the distance between the two of you, touch his chin and make him look at you.

“Why is it so hard for you to say?” you ask quietly.

“We’re talking about feelings here, little monster. I don’t do feelings,” he lies. You roll your eyes.

“Fine. I’ll go see if Taehyung wants to spin me around the dance floor a few…” you start to say, heading towards the door. You’re cut off by Yoongi grabbing the back of your neck and spinning you back around to face him. Your body presses to his, molding to the shape.

“You. Are. Mine,” he practically growls, a deep snarl on his face as he tries to keep the monster at bay.

But you aren’t afraid.

“Then act like it. Show me that you want me or let me walk away.” Your breaths come out rushed and uneven as the two of you stand there, nose to nose.

He thinks for a moment. Almost too long. But then he smirks, his grip on the back of your neck softening slightly.

“You’re not getting away that easily, little monster.” And then his mouth is crashing against yours, consuming, devouring.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to kiss Yoongi for weeks. You knew that you shouldn’t, but that didn’t stop you from imagining what he tasted like or how his lips felt.

The way he kisses you now is so incredibly unexpected, you have to remind yourself what planet you’re on.

It only takes a moment for you to respond, pulling him closer and molding your mouth to his, filling in the spaces with your tongues. It’s when your fingers find their way into his hair that you really begin to grasp that there’s no coming back from this. There’s no more pretending.

Your thoughts are shaken when his hands travel to the backs of your thighs, lifting you onto the stone wall of the balcony. You grip him tighter, afraid to look behind you and see the ground looming below.

“What’s wrong? You aren’t afraid of heights are you, little monster?” he teases, shoving himself between your legs and scooting you even closer to the edge of the wall.

“Anyone would be afraid of a two story drop.” You try to capture his lips again, anything to stop thinking about the possibility of falling, but he pulls back just enough to keep you wanting.

“As if I’d let you fall.” Yoongi whispers the words so quietly you barely hear them, his eyes staying on your lips.

“Maybe I already am.” You feel him stiffen, his body going rigid at your words.

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Why?”

“Stupid, stupid girl,” he sighs. “There’s too much good in you…too much humanity for you to be talking that way.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

He stares at you for what seems like hours, gauging what could really be going through that head of yours. Then he gently kisses you again, melting away any facade either of you were trying to keep playing.

“We’re leaving,” he says after a moment of soft kisses.

“But we just got here. What about all the schmoozing we need to be doing?”

“Screw the schmoozing. I want to fuck you.” He takes one of your hands and brings it between your bodies, helping you to cup his hardening dick through his pants. “This is what you want, isn’t it, little monster? So desperate to be filled with cock.”

You whimper, licking the seam of his lips with your tongue as you palm his cock, thoughts of literally anyone who looks out the window seeing the two of you out here turning you on even more.

“Take me home, please.” You’re no longer above begging.

“I’m going to leave you in ruins.” Yoongi means for it to be a threat, something to deter you from wanting this, but it only makes you wetter. The thrill and the danger and the possibility of devastation that making this choice could cause only make you want it more.

Yoongi grabs your wrist, walking with determination until you’re back inside the party where Namjoon immediately sees the two of you making your way through the crowd.

“Yoongi, what the fuck? There’s people looking for you.” Namjoon steps in front of Yoongi but it doesn’t stop him from his mission to get to the front door.

“Tell them I’m sick.” Yoongi opens the door, presses a kiss to the top of your hand and guides you outside. You can’t help the ridiculous smile that finds its way onto your face.

“Vampires don’t get sick.” Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you really going to do this to me?”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Yoongi guides you down the front steps of the hotel, your eyes landing on Jungkook at the bottom, leaning against the car and playing a game on his phone.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks, panic crossing his usually soft features.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. We just need the car.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly while Yoongi opens the door for you to settle into the passenger seat. You’re about to grab your seatbelt when he leans down into the car and kisses you. “What was that for?”

“It may be the last bit of sweetness you get from me tonight. Enjoy it while you can.” His teeth nip at your bottom lip.

“Who said I enjoy sweetness?” You make sure he sees the way you make your dress ride up your thighs. Yoongi groans.

“Perfect little monster,” he coos, taking one last look at your exposed thighs before he shuts the car door. You watch as Yoongi brushes off Jungkook and Namjoon’s protests of him leaving this important party and gets into the driver's seat.

His long fingers grip the steering wheel tightly as he immediately punches the gas. And while you’re not afraid of the vampire sitting next to you, his driving is an entirely different story.

Luckily the drive back to the main hotel is short and you find yourself pressed to the wall of the elevator before you can even think of scolding Yoongi for his driving.

“I’ve pictured thousands of ways I’ve wanted to fuck you.” He hikes your leg over his hip. “But this is going to be quick.”

The elevator dings for the penthouse floor and with his inhuman speed, Yoongi moves you into the entry way and through the apartment, his mouth devouring yours as he deposits you onto his bed.

“No foreplay. Please just fuck me.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he licks down the column of your throat.

“Are you ready for me already?” His breath tickles your skin.

“Yes.” You take his hand and move it between your legs, your dress bunching around your hips as you push it out of the way.

Yoongi takes your hint, his fingers delving into your underwear to find your soaking pussy. He groans, pushing his fingers inside to pet your walls.

“So you are.” He sits up on his knees between your legs, throwing his suit jacket off of his shoulders and tossing it across the room.

You sit up on your elbows, watching intently as he undoes the buttons of shirt and reveals the beautiful skin of his chest and stomach. The muscles are there, but he’s also unexpectedly soft as your fingers explore the planes.

You help him the rest of the way out of his shirt, leaning up further to kiss his chest. His hands grip your hair but he doesn’t move you away, letting you traverse his skin with your lips and tongue for a moment.

“Get this off of me.” You start to reach behind you for the zipper of the dress but Yoongi has other ideas.

He reaches down and grabs your hips, flipping your body over so that you’re on your stomach and face down on the bed.

“Allow me.” His mouth is on the exposed skin of your back, kissing a wet path down your spine as he unzips the dress. You can’t help the moan that escapes you, or the way your hips push back to try and find friction. “Greedy,” he mumbles against the small of your back.

“Please, Yoongi. Just hurry up.” You slide the sleeves off of your arms so that Yoongi can pull the dress the rest of the way off. It must’ve been expensive, but he still tosses it to the floor.

When you try to roll back over onto your back, he grabs your hips and holds you in place.

“No, I think I’ll have you just like this.” You hear him take off his belt and the mattress move slightly when he removes his pants. “Hold onto something, little monster.”

There’s no time to protest; you barely have time to grab the comforter before he’s sheathing his cock inside you in one fluid motion. You fall forward on your elbows, your face meeting the bed as you cry out from the intrusion.

“Fuck…” you whine, tightening your hold on the comforter as he starts to rock his hips, burying himself to hilt each time he pumps back into you.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? So desperate for cock that you’d let a vampire defile you.” His hands hold so tightly to your hips that you know there will be bruises immediately.

“Yes, I wanted it so bad.” You can feel drool begin to form at the corner of your mouth as he fucks you harder.

“Just remember, little monster, out there you’re the perfect princess for the public to see. But in here, in my bed, you’re my good little whore.” He thrusts particularly hard on the last word, shoving your top half flat against the bed when your arms give out.

“Yoongi…” It barely comes out a whisper, but you know he hears you.

“Come here,” he grunts, leaning over your body and wrapping his arms around your torso, pulling you up to press your back to his chest, his cock staying nestled inside you as he adjusts you the way he wants.

His thrusts stay deep, but slow down slightly. One hand grips your breast while the other spreads your legs wider over his lap.

“I’m going to cum…fuck I’m so close.” Your head flops back and rests on his shoulder, sweat coating your skin.

“You’re lucky that I want to feel this pretty pussy squeeze my cock, little monster. I’m going to let you cum.” Rough fingers find your clit, sloppy circles sending you into a frenzy as you chase your orgasm.

“Right there, yes yes, right there.” Your thighs start to shake as Yoongi pulls you down further on his cock, holding you there as you come apart, squeezing his cock just like he wanted.

“Good girl. Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” He swipes your hair away from your shoulder and suddenly sinks his fangs into your throat.

His bite only elongates your orgasm…it could have been two, maybe even three orgasms all chained together. Your sight blurs at the sheer force of the climax that rolls through you.

You’re barely coherent when you feel Yoongi release inside you, hot spurts filling you up and leaking down your thighs. He moans against your neck, taking two more long pulls of blood before he pulls off, hungrily licking at the trails of blood that trickle down your throat.

Your body is completely spent as Yoongi gently lowers you onto the bed, covering you with the comforter before he gets up off the bed.

You watch with hooded eyes as he goes into his bathroom and comes back with a cloth to clean you up.

“Let me see the mess you made, baby.” He moves the covers off of your legs and cleans you up, making you whine at the contact of anything touching you there so soon. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m fine, I promise.” You snuggle deeper into the covers.

“We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.” You feel him join you in the bed.

“Talk about what?” Your eyes are too heavy to stay open.

“The contract.” His cool body presses against your back and his arm falls over your waist.

“What about it?” you mumble.

“The next phase of it, of course.” You feel his finger swipe at the blood still on your neck, popping it into his mouth.

“Phase?”

“Engagement.”

#bangtansorciere #btshoneyhive #btswritersclub #bangtanarmynet #bangtantheatrenet #kvanity #thekpopuniverse #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #suga fic #bts fic #bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #suga smut #bts smut #vampire yoongi

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navybrat817 · 10 months

Text

Negotiations

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You meet with Andy to discuss the terms of your potential contract. Word Count: Over 4.2k Warnings: Slow burn, reader is broke (is that a warning?), sugar daddy offer, tension, slight insecurities, negotiations, inner monologue, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Header - yours truly A/N: Welcome back to my Terms and Conditions AU! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thanks!), but any and all mistakes are my own. ❤️ Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Work felt like the longest shift even though it was only a few hours. You saw the customers through a different set of eyes as you served them. You wondered how many of them struggled like you or what they would do if someone like Andy entered their lives. If you came to an agreement with him on everything, you weren't sure if you'd ever step foot in the diner again after you quit. Not because you were embarrassed.

It was merely time to look forward.

And look my best.

You turned to the side when you checked your reflection. Estelle had way too much fun picking out an outfit for you. After carefully searching and sneakily looking at the price tag so she didn’t splurge, you opted for a sleeveless, blazer style dress. Nothing over the top or too fancy. You still wanted to look like you while looking professional.

Though she insisted it was your birthday gift, along with the surprisingly comfortable black heels, you planned to pay her back. Whether from the money Andy gave you or once you got your paycheck months from now at your new job. If she refused, you’d tell her the only gift you needed was her support and she gave that to you. Like she knew you were thinking about it, she messaged you.

“Good luck! I know you look hot! Knock his socks and pants off! He better give you everything you deserve!”

You had to smile at her enthusiasm. “It’s his office. His pants are staying on.”

“You say that now, but he’s the boss. You’ll change your tune once he has his hands on you.”

Laughing as you tucked your phone away, you couldn’t completely disagree with her. Andy robbed you of your breath whenever you saw him and it surprised you that you could maintain logical thinking when he was close by. You had to maintain that rational headspace today. He was a man used to people telling him what he wanted to hear. As an ex-lawyer and businessman, he could sway things in his favor if you weren’t careful.

Considering what he was offering you, it didn’t once feel like he was taking advantage of your misfortunes.

You stopped yourself from messaging Andy that you were on your way. He was a busy man with more important stuff to deal with than a check-in from you. It would be one of the topics of discussion shortly anyhow. Would he want to know where you are at all times or would he be content with the occasional message?

How much control will he want over me? How much do I want to give him?

Thanking and paying the cab driver as you arrived at the building, you didn't feel as out of your element the way you did at the restaurant. The office setting was familiar. It was bittersweet going inside though for something that wasn't work or an interview. Maybe this was better.

You held your head high as if it was.

I can do this.

You handed your bag over for the security officer to check while he verified your identification. Satisfied once he double checked your name and ID, he handed you a guest badge and allowed you to go to the elevators. It comforted you that Andy and his employees were safe when they went into his building. You wondered how often you'd be here or if he'd keep you away from his office outside of functions.

You avoided looking at anyone as you got into the elevator, though you felt the eyes of a couple of men sweep over your body. It didn’t matter what they thought. Andy was the only one you wanted to look good for. As you passed by each floor, the more you worried about breaking into a sweat. You shifted back and forth until the door opened.

One step closer.

It took you a second to move your feet forward and turn down the hall. It seemed to stretch on for miles, the door at the end of it was large and daunting. It was like entering the lion’s den, but you weren't afraid. Even if you did pause again before you turned the handle and walked in.

An older woman, Irene according to the nameplate on her desk, sat outside of a set of double doors, giving you a kind smile as she looked up from her keyboard. You didn't let her appearance fool you. Anyone who worked for someone as powerful as Andy likely had thick skin and a "take no crap" attitude.

"How may I help you?"

"Hi. I'm here to see Andy Barber," you replied, giving her your name and inwardly wincing. Of course, she knew you were there to see him. Why else would you be there?

"Yes, Mr. Barber is expecting you," she smiled, pressing the intercom on her desk. "Mr. Barber, your 4pm is here."

"Send her in, please."

It isn't fair that he sounds sexy through a speaker box.

"May I get you anything to drink?" she asked.

"No, thank you," you smiled, following her as she opened the double doors.

This is it.

The office was just as you imagined, the walls lined with a mixture of art and accolades. A small table and chairs sat on one side with a couch on the other. It was elegant, but the man behind the desk drew your attention. Sunlight filtered in through the floor to ceiling windows behind Andy, casting a halo around him as he stood up. A symbol of power and authority in his black suit with the skyline behind him, you found it difficult to take your next breath.

He looks like he was born to be in charge.

"It's good to see you again," Andy smiled, walking around the desk and gesturing to the table. "Why don't we sit over here? Did Irene offer you a drink?"

"Of course, I did, Mr. Barber. And before you remind me, I know to hold your calls," she chastised him, which only made him chuckle before she smiled at you. "I'll be just outside if you need anything."

I knew it. Take no crap.

"Thank you," you said, giggling as you walked to the table. "I like her."

"I do, too. She keeps me on my toes," he said as he pulled out the chair for you. "How was your day?"

"Uneventful," you replied, setting your bag beside you. It was nice that he asked. "How are you?"

"My day was just fine," he said, taking a seat. He had a notepad waiting there, similar to yours.

"That's good."

He gave you a half smile and you debated whether or not to continue with small talk. "Nervous?"

“A little bit,” you said, refusing to lie to him. It wouldn’t start things off on the right foot if you did. “I didn’t have ‘Sugar Daddy Negotiations’ on my BINGO card this year.”

He chuckled, the sound beautiful in the large space. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t either," he joked. "And you don’t look nervous.”

“It actually does,” you smiled. “How do I look?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Oh,” you said, your cheeks growing warmer the longer he gazed at you. While you wanted that to be his reaction, it was somehow unexpected. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, by the way.”

“And I wasn’t taking the bait. I’m telling you what I see.”

“Thank you. This was a birthday gift from Estelle,” you said, smoothing out the dress even though you were sitting. Why you felt the need to tell him, you weren’t sure.

“It’s a beautiful dress, but I was talking about your smile,” he said, his lip tugging in a small smile of his own before he cleared his throat. “As much as I’d like to sit here and continue to shower you with praise, maybe we should save that for another time.”

Your throat went dry at the implication, but you didn't want to get ahead of yourself. “Of course."

"Today is about figuring out our terms and setting expectations. I plan to take notes as we go along, if you don't mind."

"That's fine because I plan to do the same," you explained as you took out your notepad. "I’ve made a list of things I believe we should discuss and agree on before moving forward."

“You’re prepared,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "And getting down to business like last time."

“I do what I can,” you said, glancing at the first item on your list. “First thing is the length of our contract. You mentioned Mr. Huffman’s merger could take a few months, but there’s no definitive timeframe. My proposal is six months or when the job becomes available, whichever comes sooner.”

He considered your words carefully. “I spoke with Scott again and a merger like this may take a minimum of six months due to the range of variables. I propose a year or when the job becomes available. It hopefully won’t take that long, but I’d feel more comfortable if we have more time as opposed to less.”

A year was a long time, but you understood his perspective. “Why don’t we meet in the middle? Nine months.”

“Nine months, but if the merger is still pending at that time, we can revisit the contract and extend it if needed,” he proposed.

“Agreed,” you said, jotting down your notes on your pad while he did the same. “My job. You said I would need to quit and I’d be unable to take another position while under contract. I have no objections to that, but I won’t flat-out quit the diner. I’ll put in my two week notice. If they tell me not to come back, that’s on them.”

“I think that’s the respectable thing to do,” he said, nodding to your pad. “I don’t know where living arrangements are on your list, but I’d like to discuss that next.”

You wanted to discuss your free time since you wouldn't have a job any longer, but you would circle back to that. “Okay. You said over lunch that you’re not comfortable with me staying in my current place.”

“I did and I stand by that. I understand that my building doesn’t guarantee complete safety over yours because anything could happen anywhere at any time, but knowing you’re close by would help put me at ease. I have a loft ready to go and you can treat it as your own place. If something isn’t to your liking, we can change it within reason.”

“Within reason?”

Andy smirked slightly. “I can’t exactly take a sledgehammer to the wall if you want to make the space bigger,” he said, taking out his phone and pulling up an image. “But it’s a nice place. Feel free to swipe through it.”

The photos were beautiful and the living room alone looked larger than your entire apartment. “Is spending time at your place an expectation?” you asked.

“I’d like it if you did for an occasional dinner, but I understand if you'd rather not. I'd also like to meet you once a month outside of contractual obligations to talk.”

Sounds like a date. Is it though?

“I agree to the loft, the occasional dinner, and meeting with you once a month," you agreed. It wasn't overwhelming or demanding. You'd still have a sense of independence. "But I’d like to keep my current apartment. If I take this job in the upcoming months, I can't expect you to cover the loft anymore and I doubt I could afford it even with a decent salary. I’ll need a place to go back to until I find something better.”

"I own it," he said. He wasn't bragging in your mind. He was stating a fact.

"I doubt I could afford your rent then. I keep my apartment."

“Done,” he said after a moment. You were glad he agreed. Your apartment was still yours. “Which is a good segway into expenses. As a reminder, I plan to cover the rent for your current apartment, along with any bills associated with it such as cable or internet. If you prefer to shut those off during the contract, we can. I’ll also cover your cell phone, insurance, credit card bills, student loans, any debt you pay on a monthly basis. Oh, and groceries.”

Tears filled your eyes as he opened his mouth to continue. The more you tried to compose yourself, the more your face scrunched up. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. You hadn't expected to get emotional, but actually hearing him say he’d cover your monthly bills and help you stay on top of everything was unreal. You'd sleep better at night knowing you had nothing to worry about.

I probably look ridiculous.

“Don’t be,” he said gently, handing you his handkerchief so you could dab your eyes.

“I’m just,” you stopped to take a breath. It was okay to be vulnerable. That was part of communicating. “I’ve carried this stress on my shoulders and knowing that you’re going to take some of that weight away is… I’m never going to be able to repay you for that or thank you enough.”

“I don’t expect a monetary repayment nor would I want that. I told you, honey. You're an honest and kind person. Your company is going to be more than enough.”

He sounds too good to be true.

“You say that now, but you'll grow tired of me,” you teased, holding out your hand to give him the handkerchief. “Thank you.”

He shook his head and refused to take it back. “Keep it. And considering I offered a year for this, I know I won't grow tired of your company,” he said, a bit of concern in his eyes as you sniffled. “Are you okay to continue? We can take a break.”

“I'm fine,” you promised, straightening up and feeling lighter, like the weight was already gone. “We were discussing expenses.”

“Yes,” he smiled, gesturing to your outfit. “I plan to take you shopping so you can have a few outfits, jewelry, shoes, make-up, and whatever else you need ready for the planned upcoming events, as well as some dressed down outfits so you’re comfortable when we travel and to spruce up your wardrobe if you’d like.”

Careful. You’re going to spoil me.

“I’m also going to deposit two thousand dollars into your account each month for your leisure,” he added, writing it on his pad as if that was the final say in the matter.

“Two thousand dollars?!” you nearly shouted. You weren’t trying to sound hysterical, but you failed. “I’m sorry, but who spends that much on clothes each month?!”

Andy looked like he was trying not to laugh at the incredulous look on your face. “You don’t have to spend it on clothes. It’s for you to use as you wish.”

“But you’re already buying me a whole new wardrobe AND covering all of my bills and expenses for nine months. I’m assuming you're covering travel expenses, too?”

“I will,” he confirmed.

“Then there’s no reason why I’d need that much money,” you said with a shake of your head. Estelle would probably tease you for not agreeing, but it was too much. “I can’t possibly need more than five hundred a month.”

“One thousand,” he said firmly as you narrowed your eyes. “Humor me, honey. Please?”

You tapped your pen against the pad as you thought it over. You really didn’t see a reason for that much, but you could put any leftover funds each month into savings. It would be good to pay Estelle back.

Plus, how could you argue when Andy gave you a sweet smile?

“Fine. One thousand each month,” you said, ignoring the look of satisfaction in his eyes. “Okay. We’ve discussed the length of the contract, my job, living arrangements, expenses, which includes traveling. How about traveling itself?”

“Is your passport current?” he asked.

“It is.”

“Good. Some of the traveling will require us to go out of the country and you’ll need it handy. We’ll need to coordinate our schedules so you can block off dates in your calendar. We’ll most likely share a suite for any non-local events, but I’m not going to make you share a bed with me. You have my word.”

You nodded as you wrote that down. It was a bit of a surprise that he didn’t expect you to sleep with him. “Thank you, Andy,” you said, pointing at him with your pen. “But I’m planning to tell Estelle about every function, big or small, so she knows where I am. I won’t budge on that.”

“You’re allowed to give her the details. You said you trust her and that she can be discreet.”

You could never picture Andy as a creep, but the confirmation that he wouldn't force you to sleep with him and that Estelle would know what's going on helped you relax. "If I'm not working or going to functions with you, what am I doing with the rest of my time?" you asked.

Does he expect me to be at his beck and call?

"I'm glad you asked. It's your time to do what you want. Relax, hang out with friends, pamper yourself. Minus the days you'll have blocked out in your calendar, the time is yours," he explained, lightly twirling his pen in his hand. The motion momentarily distracted you. "I only ask if you plan to leave the city to tell me, that way I know you're unavailable if anything last minute comes up."

You weren't sure what you were going to do with that extra time. While a nine month long vacation sounded nice, you didn't want it to be all leisure. You needed somewhat of a routine. Maybe you could take some self development courses to prepare for going back to the office.

"That's fair. I don't have any plans to leave the city, but I'll be sure to let you know if I do," you said, hoping you weren't missing anything as you looked over what you had written down. "What if I’m sick or there’s an emergency and I can't be with you?”

“Then you won’t go," he said as a matter of fact. "I’d never ask you to choose between this arrangement and your well-being or family. Depending on the situation, I could miss it to help you.”

That was unexpected. Andy shouldn't have to put you ahead of any of his obligations. The offer though, even if it never came to fruition, warmed your insides. "That's kind of you, Andy," you said softly before you cleared your throat. “The last topic I have written down is sex.”

“No,” he said, something unreadable in his eyes at the suggestion. “Sex is not on the table because I’m not going to pay you for that.”

“Oh,” you said, quickly scratching it off your list. It was admirable on his part, but also slightly disappointing. Clearly you misread some of the signals. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he assured you, placing his hand over yours before you could pull it away. “If I sounded harsh, I’m sorry. I understand sex is an expectation for some arrangements, but it isn’t for me and I would never want you to feel pressured to be physical with me. I also have no judgments against anyone who pays for sex. My preference regarding intimacy is for it to happen organically.”

“I appreciate the explanation,” you said. This was a business transaction to him. That much was clear. But knowing his reasoning behind it did help. “As far as being affectionate at functions, what’s your take on that? Or going on dates?”

“I may have my arm around you or keep you close to my side, but nothing more if you’re uncomfortable with that. If you are, please tell me and I’ll stop immediately,” he answered before a moment of silence stretched on. "You're asking if we're going to go on dates?"

"You mentioned meeting once a month. Is that a date?"

He waited a few seconds before he answered. "It's a chance for us to meet up and talk. I don't want to demand a title for those moments. That isn't fair to you."

It wasn't a "yes" or "no" answer. Maybe after his divorce and not knowing if people genuinely wanted to connect with him, he wasn't interested in the dating scene. "Okay."

He leaned back in his chair with a hum. “You deviated from the sex discussion quickly.”

“You said it wasn’t on the table,” you reminded him. You weren't about to make a fool of yourself by pushing.

“I said I wasn’t going to pay you for sex. I never said sex wasn’t on the table at all,” he pointed out. You jumped to the conclusion that he didn't want it because it wouldn't be part of the contract. “Any discussion we have regarding that, I’d prefer not to be in a contract form.”

“So if it does happen, we’ll work through it together naturally?” you asked, not wanting to get your hopes up.

His gaze softened considerably. “Yes, we would. And I’d hope you’d trust me enough to know I’d treat you well and take care of you.”

"I do," you said.

"But sex and a relationship aren't expectations of our agreement or outside of it," he said, taking his hand away from yours. "I want to make that clear."

Andy driving the point home was what you needed, as saddening as it was. At the end of the day, it was a contract. He was paying you for your company. Surely he didn't want anything else. "Thank you for reiterating that. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss that I missed?"

His expression remained neutral, but you imagined it disappointed him that you shifted the conversation back to business. Wishful thinking on your part. "Yeah. The only other thing I wanted to discuss is the possibility of you having a driver."

"A driver?" you asked. Wasn't that a bit much? "I don't mind taking cabs or Ubers."

"I understand that, but I'd prefer if you had a driver. If you have to meet me for an event and I can't escort you myself, they will know exactly where to go. You also won't have to pay for someone to drive you around if you want to go anywhere."

"But you're paying them," you said.

"My job is to cover your expenses," he shrugged, leaning his head back and reaching up to loosen his tie. You stared for far too long. "Told you I want to take care of you, honey."

You shifted in your seat, hoping he didn't take any notice. "I want to pick the driver," you said, a little more breathy than before.

That poor driver is likely going to be bored for the next three quarters of a year being my chauffeur.

"From a selection of my choosing. They're all trustworthy."

"I'm giving Estelle the details of that, too," you said.

"I expect nothing less," he smiled, catching your eye. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

"Not that I can think of," you said.

He tapped the notepad with his pen. "I'm going to have a contract drawn up, but I won't ask you to sign it for a week. This will give you time to back out if you need to and it will also give you a few days to contact me should you think of anything else."

"One week," you whispered. Could you wait that long? What if you did think of something else?

"Until then," he said, standing to walk back to his desk. He came back with a letter sized envelope. "So you know I'm serious."

Your eyebrows shot up when you opened the envelope. It was a cashier's check for two thousand dollars made out to you. He had it ready for you. "Andy, this-"

"I know we agreed on one thousand, but I was set on two thousand before we talked it over. Even if you decide not to move forward with this, I want you to take it."

Afraid you might cry again, you set the check down and stood up to hug him. He stiffened in your hold and you wondered if you overstepped before he exhaled and wrapped his arms around your back. You thanked him already with your words, so you wanted to do it again with a hug. The way he held you in return, it felt like was saying "you're welcome".

And that you weren't alone.

"I wish we could have that dinner tonight," he whispered, his mouth close to your ear. You shivered before you reluctantly pulled away. "Unfortunately, I have to get drinks with a few executives."

"That sounds terrible," you teased, drawing a chuckle out of him. "I should get going then."

"It is terrible," he agreed, making sure you had the check and your other things as he led you to the door. "I'll see you back here in a week at the same time."

"And I'll hopefully speak to you before then," you said, not wanting to sound clingy.

But the smile he gave you was a sign of hope. "I'd like that."

This is going to be the longest week ever.

I don't need to wait a week. I'm signing on the dotted line! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x female!reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #andy barber #sugar daddy!andy barber x reader #sugar daddy!andy barber #terms and conditions au #andy barber imagine #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber au #sugar daddy au #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x female!reader #chris evans x you #chris evans

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allysunny · 1 month

Note

Hi! Can I pls request dating headcanons for Bale Batman with a female reader who used to works as his assistant but now helps Alfred with batman related work? Like reader is not a superhero but helps Alfred with his duty? Also reader is a very sunshiny person, kind and loving? Thank you ❤️

Lover's Liaison

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 5.7k words

Warnings: Lots of fluff, workplace relationship, kissing and making out, lots of fluff, lots of pining, idiots in love, suggestive themes and one mention of oral sex but nothing too explicit, use of the word "Batmanning", this was written on the span of 3 weeks so I'm sorry if it sucks or isn't coherent?? Not proofread omg I'm so sorry! If I forgot anything, do let me know!!!

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Oh my god!!! I finally got around to write this one request that I got mixed up a few weeks ago!!!! I love this dynamic so much and want this man to be my boss only for me to bring him coffee and massage his shoulders omg...

As stated in the warnings though, I am in the middle of my final evaluations and exams, so this was written over the span of like,, 3 weeks. I apologise if some things are not coherent or repetitive, I am trying my best but uni is kicking my ass.

Anyway, I'm sorry it took so long anon!!!! I hope you enjoy this <3

Being Bruce Wayne’s assistant meant a lot of things.

It meant you sometimes pulled all-nighters when your boss decided 8 hours of work simply wasn’t enough.

“Ah, I'm so sorry, but I'm busy that day,” you said sheepishly after Mr. Rivers from Accountancy asked you out for dinner.

“Come on princess, can’t you tell your big boss to give you a free night? A pretty thing like you shouldn't have to work that much. C’mon, let me show you how a real man should treat you.” He said, cornering you against a desk and inching his hand closer and closer to your waist.

You looked away uncomfortably, silently praying for him to sense your discomfort and walk away. You didn't want to hurt his feelings or make him mad. You were afraid he’d take it out on you, or worse, on Bruce, by causing harm to his company - and you couldn't have that.

“Mr. Rivers, I – “

“Chet, please. Do call me Chet.”

“Mr. Rivers,” you repeated, pressing uncomfortably against the desk, not wanting the man’s hands on your body. “Please, this is hardly appropriate. I must go back to my office, and – and – “

“I’m sure your boss will understand. You can’t possibly tell me he’s hired you for your skills now, can you? He understands you’re a pretty girl. Surely, he should've known someone would snatch you up, hm?” Mr. Rivers’s grin was catlike, in the worst way possible. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and tears welled up in your eyes at his insinuation. Surely that was not all Mr. Wayne had hired you for, right? He complimented you on your choice of clothing, sure, and he’d once or twice gifted you pieces he said he knew you’d look lovely on. But he had also more than once commended your work ethic, thanked you for your efficiency and praised your skills. He valued you as an employee, not just someone he could look at. Right?

“Actually, Mr. Rivers, I employ all of my workers based on their skills,” a voice boomed behind the accountant, firm and unwavering. Chet Rivers turned around only to be met with Bruce Wayne’s hard, stony gaze. “And it seems I clearly must've made a mistake with you, because if I had known you’d be treating my employees like this – especially my personal assistant, I wouldn't have allowed you to set foot in Wayne Enterprises. You disgrace my father’s memory by engaging in this type of behaviour inside the company he built.”

Mr. Rivers scrambled to find a reply, only to stutter a few times and shake his head, at a complete loss for words.

“Out. Now. I want your office cleared by the end of the day.”

“But – But Mr. Wayne, I – I have been in this company for years, I – “

“If your office isn't cleared by the time the clock strikes five, I will personally ensure you will never land another job again and carry around a note claiming you are a known sexual harasser. Are we clear?” Bruce said, eyes darkening.

“I – Sir – “

“The clock is ticking. If I were you, I'd make quick work of packing.”

With a few more incoherent words, the now ex-employee was out the door, and Bruce was slowly walking up to you. He gave you enough space to walk away, should you want to, but kept at a friendly distance, should you want him.

“Are you okay?” He asked in that sweet voice reserved for his closest people – you.

You nodded quickly, rubbing your arm in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn't want it to come to this, to you firing him. It really was nothing – “

“Nonsense. He was harassing you. You told him you weren't interested and yet he still pursued you. He should've known ‘no’ is a complete sentence and left you alone. Understood?”

You nodded once again, looking at the floor. Bruce walked even closer and lifted your chin up with your fingers, forcing you to look at him – and yet his grip wasn't bruising. It was soft, feather-like. Bruce touched you as if he was afraid you’d vanish right before his eyes. Maybe he was.

“It’s not your fault that he acted like an ass. Got it?”

Another nod.

“Say it for me.”

Your heart would always follow Bruce Wayne. You couldn't refuse anything from him, and so you found yourself whispering a soft “It’s not my fault”, which earned a smile from him.

“And you’re an amazing worker. You’re efficient and smart, and extremely kind. You're the best personal assistant anyone could've asked for. I hired you for your skills, not your looks. You're extremely competent. The only competent worker around here.”

You chuckled, familiar with that line.

“Understood?”

Another curt nod – this one more confident.

“Say it for me. Please.”

“I’m extremely competent.”

“That’s my girl.”

He then seemed to snap back to reality and let go of your face, stepping back.

“I’ll be in my office for the rest of the afternoon. If you want to, you can have the rest of the day off.”

This caused you to shake your head and smile confidently at him.

“No need for that. Gotta make sure I do my job, right? Otherwise, who else will?”

Bruce chuckled at this, and it made your heart flutter. “Exactly.”

“You haven't eaten yet, so I thought…” you shrugged, handing him the plastic salad containers.

“What would I do without you?” He asked, looking up from his computer to be met with the most dazzling smile.

“I’m not sure. But I'm glad I can help.”

“You eaten yet?”

“No sir, not yet.”

“Join me.”

You didn't have to be asked twice. You found Bruce’s presence relaxing, calm. You liked to be around him. Lunch breaks, just like overtime, allowed you to truly meet the man behind the suit, and you cherish that time with all your heart. It also allowed you to take a good look at him, at his handsome features, his strong jaw and hard eyes that could turn soft within mere seconds. At his lips, so often pressed into a straight line, but also capable of saying the kindest of words.

Unbeknownst to you, he also took these moments as an opportunity to drink in your beauty. The lovely curve of your face, your sweet lips that managed to brighten up his days, be it with your words or your laughter, the eyes he always looked for when he was nervous, the body he so wished to pull close and worship.

He was completely whipped by you. And yet he had no idea how to go about it.

He couldn't just ask you to date him – he was Bruce Wayne. Whoever he dated would be dragged into the public light, and he didn't want people prying into your personal life the way they did to his. Worse than that, he was your boss. He didn't want to taint his company's image by appearing to be some sort of creep who harassed his workers into sleeping or being in relationships with him. He was the boss, of course, and could smother any and all rumours and make sure his company’s image remained the same as his father would have wanted it to be, but most of all, he wanted to protect you. From the scrutiny of coworkers and papers and crazy paparazzi.

Little did he know, you’d go through all that trouble for him.

“Be mine,” he said, forehead touching yours as you caught your breath. “Please, be mine. I’m crazy about you, and I can’t keep pretending I’m not. You’re such an incredible woman, so brilliant and bright,” he mumbled, fingers drawing patterns on your skin. “I’m crazy about you. I know I shouldn’t, because I’m your boss, but I just can’t stop thinking about you. I know that I’m asking a lot from you, and if you’re not interested, then you can just say no. We can forget this has ever happened, and it won’t change the way I see you at work. If you want to quit, you can also do so, and I’ll give your next employer the best of recommendations. But,” Bruce lifted his finger to brush a strand of hair away from your face, “I just had to let you know how I feel.”

Although only a few seconds had passed, your silence seemed to extend for hours, and Bruce was ready to carefully put you down on the ground and throw himself off his window, never to be seen again. But when you placed both your hands on his cheeks, gazing into his eyes with a tenderness he hadn’t had the privilege of experiencing in years, he felt hope blossom within him.

“I am yours,” you replied softly, afraid that words louder than those would burst the small bubble of happiness you were hiding in. “I’ve been yours since the day I stepped foot in here. You have my heart, Bruce Wayne. All of you. The smart you, the cheeky you, even the arrogant you that sometimes belittles subordinates over their incompetence – but quickly makes up for it with heartfelt apologies, because that is what your parents taught you. But most importantly, you. The real one. I’ve been yours since day one.”

Bruce offered you one of his beautiful smiles, the genuine ones that had your stomach flipping over itself and leaned over again. You welcomed his kiss with a sigh of content, and a soft sound that sounded awfully a lot like a moan, which had Bruce grip onto you tighter and kiss you a bit rougher. He was tugging at your pencil skirt, and you were just about to make quick work of his tie, when the door to his office burst open.

Without a second thought, Bruce quickly covered your legs with his arms, and hid your face so whoever had just walked in wouldn’t be able to look at you. It was the least he could do to protect you right now, but it was either that or nothing.

“I see you’re quite busy, Mr. Wayne,” Lucius Fox’s voice boomed through the office, a cheeky tilt to it making it known that the sight before him was amusing rather than scandalous. “I’ll return later, if you want me to? Or perhaps, not at all. What if I fax you?”

Bruce chuckled and nodded towards his employee. He could feel your quickened heart rate speed up under the gaze of someone else, and while he felt sorry you two had gotten caught, he couldn’t hide just how adorable you looked, clinging to him like that.

“That’d be perfect, Lucius.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne. Miss.” Lucius said your last name before leaving and closing the door behind him. When your boss took one good look at your face, he felt the heat on your cheeks and neck, and laughed before pressing a kiss below your ear.

“How come Lucius came in here without knocking? Where the hell is my assistant?”

You smiled sheepishly and ran your fingers through his hair – something you’d always wanted to do. “I don’t you,” you mumbled. “Bet she’s slacking off.”

“I must disagree,” Bruce quipped back, “She’s the most hardworking woman I’ve ever met. No way she’s slacking off.”

“Then she’s probably making out with her boss.”

“Only because he’s crazy about her.”

“She’s crazy about him too.”

Life was perfect ever since.

You couldn’t be seen together for obvious reasons, but that didn’t keep Bruce from stealing you once or twice. Extended lunch breaks, pre-company meetings meetings, post-company meeting meetings, you name it. You’d be on his lap, lazily kissing his frown upside down, next to him, helping him with contracts and files that had been sent incorrectly (and that he could easily fix by himself, but he loved having you near him, and you loved to help), and once or twice he’d had you on top of his desk with him kneeling before you, or sprawled on his couch with he laid on top of you, helping him with that he claimed to be a performance check.

After a few rumours broke out that you had slept your way to the top, you asked Bruce to quit the company. The women in the company, who faked their sympathy and niceness to you because they were utterly jealous of your position as Bruce Wayne’s assistant scowled once you walked past them, giggling and calling you names. You’d tried to ignore them at first, but after the fifty-second “Whore”, you were a sobbing mess, crying on Bruce’s shoulder and begging him to fire you so you wouldn’t have to deal with that any longer.

How typical of you, Bruce thought. Willing to lose your job so someone else won’t have to, even if that someone else’s behaviour is unacceptable. He knew your reasoning though, knew that if he were to fire said women, it’d backfire on him, and all the rumours would be confirmed.

It was a terrible idea really.

But he was also Bruce fucking Wayne, and such things did not matter to him. So instead of firing you, he made his intentions very clear in front of pretty much the entire company at a special anniversary dinner, by kissing your breath away. You were stunned to say the least, when he loudly introduced you to everyone as his lovely girlfriend and said that should anyone have a problem with either him or you, they should take it upon themselves to talk to Bruce personally.

Later that night, he held you tightly in his arms and kissed your forehead, promising that he would never hide you or your relationship from the world ever again. You, on your hand, promised to not listen to the tabloids and the paparazzi.

That was the first time you confessed your love for him, which he eagerly confessed back, before he was tugging at your clothes and his lips were pressed to your neck.

One night, as you were leaving a restaurant with your friends, you were pulled to a dark alleyway and held at gunpoint. The attacker, a man you did not recognise, told you to call your rich boyfriend and started going on about how much he wanted for you. Bruce did not pick up, which made you panic, and made the attacker get even angrier. But before he could do anything about it, a dark figure emerged from the rooftop above you two and knocked the man to the ground.

You’d never seen Batman up close, but he was as intimidating as everyone made him out to be. He tied the man up, called the Gotham Police Department, and you could make out his gruff voice saying something about a Chief Gordon. He then looked at you, and you felt so small, so vulnerable, so weak. Here you were, an insignificant nobody, being saved by Batman. Batman, of all people, who probably had more important things to do other than rescue nobodies like yourself.

But the gentleness in his voice as he asked, “Are you okay?” snapped you out of your trance. Gone was the intimidating vigilante. Before you, stood someone who seemed to care about you and your wellbeing. You nodded and told him you were a bit shook up. He asked you to tell him exactly what had happened, and so you did, carefully going over all the details. Once you mentioned your boyfriend’s name, Batman seemed to wince. You did not understand why.

He took you home, and although you couldn’t quite tell what, there was something in Batman’s presence that made you feel safe, cared for. It was familiar, comforting to be near him. Like you’d known him all your life.

Bruce, on his hand, was freaking out. You’d been targeted because of him. Him. Him. Him. You were going to get hurt because of him. And he’d pay whatever fortune he had to just to keep you safe, but if you’d gotten hurt, he would never be able to forgive himself.

He spent a few more minutes outside, to make it less suspicious, and tried to act surprised when you told him how Batman had saved you.

You hid the details from him though, simply saying you were going to get mugged. You didn’t want to worry him – he was too preoccupied about your life together as it was, trying not to track down whatever assholes wrote those nasty pieces about you in the morning papers, and trying to focus on you instead of the photographer three tables down whenever you went out for coffee.

The two of you were idiots, really, trying to protect each other at all costs.

It only took a few days after the assault for Bruce to break, though. He told you everything, spilled all his secrets about Batman as if he were a sinner in church confessing all his sins. You were shocked, to say the least, but it all clicked in your head quite quickly. The comforting presence, the gentleness in Batman’s voice, the safety – it was all Bruce. Of course it was.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, “Please forgive me. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been there…”

“But you were,” you took his hands in yours, gripping them tightly. “You saved me, Bruce, and that’s all that matters. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re going to be fine.”

“It’s not safe for you. If anyone finds out about me, they’ll use you, they’ll get to you, and – “

“You managed to keep your identity a secret all this time. I’m sure you’ll be able to keep doing it.” You leaned towards him and kissed him softly. Bruce responded in kind immediately, taking you in his arms and kissing you with the passion of a man madly in love. His hands roamed your body, fingers deftly remembering every curve and arch and every place that made you whimper against his lips and tighten your hold on him. Within minutes, you were laying on your back, fingers tugging at Bruce’s hair as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you, promising – no, swearing to keep you safe forever and ever, declaring his devotion for you.

Some weeks after, he popped a question. Not quite the question, but a very important one nevertheless.

“Quit your job.”

“What?”

“Quit your job at Wayne Enterprises. I can take care of you. I will take care of you. Everyone knows we’re together, and as much as I don’t care about the nasty rumours and petty comments, you’re way safer here.” Bruce took your hand across the couch and rubbed circles on the back of it, thumb brushing against your knuckles. “Alfred and I found out who the attacker was. Remember Chet Rivers?”

“The accountant?”

“To say he was angry would be an understatement. He went after you because he knew it would hurt me. I won’t have this happen again. I love you so much and I appreciate everything you have done and continue to do as my personal assistant, but if this job puts you in harm’s way again, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

You offered him a sympathetic smile. It was so like your boyfriend to put you first in every situation.

“And what would I do?”

“Anything, as long as it wasn’t too dangerous.”

“I think everyone in Gotham knows me by now, Bruce. And according to your paranoia, that’d pose a threat.”

Bruce rubbed his jaw pensively and you scooted over, sitting on his lap and facing him.

“You worry too much,” you mumbled, stroking his cheek.

“Is it so wrong if I want to keep the love of my life safe?”

“Not at all. But I also need to live, you know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just – I can’t stand the thought of losing you. You’re far too precious for that, and I’ve lost so many people – “

You interrupted him with a kiss, a tactic you found quite effective most of the times. He hummed and his breathing slowed as he relaxed.

“If it makes you feel better, then fine. I’ll quit.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I’ll find something else to do. Maybe I can even help Alfred around, you know. Be Batman’s personal assistant. You think he’s hiring?”

This earned a chuckle from Bruce, and a very tight hug.

“I’ll put in a good word for you.”

He did! And you got the job.

At first, you thought being Batman’s personal assistant (a title you wore proudly, even though it annoyed Bruce – after all, this had been achieved so you wouldn’t have to be anyone’s assistant, so you wouldn’t have to work) would be boring, but you quickly got the hang of it and, of course, excelled.

You tracked down which materials made his suit lighter, which ones made him faster, which ones weighed him down. You made lists of the combinations you and Bruce had come up with, to provide him with the perfect bland of speed and lightness, without making him too unprotected.

You took over Alfred’s position, giving the old man some respite as you communicated with Bruce through the intercoms, looking out for him, reminding him to take breaks and occasionally teasing him with the usual “Wanna guess what I’m wearing?” talk – Bruce would never admit this, but it made him patrol the streets quicker, eager to get home and find out just what you were wearing – or weren’t.

Most of the time, Bruce would beg you to go to sleep after he went on patrol. Most of the time, you wouldn’t hear any of it. You wanted to help your boyfriend wash the day off him, rub his sore muscles and kiss his forehead gently as he relaxed against your hold.

“What’re you still doing up?” he asked once, looking over at your figure on top of his bed. Instead of sleeping, you had your nose buried in some book you’d always wanted to read but had never found the time to.

“Waiting for you,” you mumbled, looking up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Shouldn’t have done that. It’s late.” Bruce walked over to you, and you smiled lazily, lifting your arms so he would scoot over next to you. He did so, clad in a pair of shorts, his batsuit (courtesy of his loving girlfriend) long discarded.

“Didn’t want you to come home to an empty house. Wanted you to come home to a smile.”

“Coming home to you is enough,” he chided, playfully touching your nose.

“Bath?”

“Please.”

You prepared a quick bubble bath and got in after him, sitting with your chest pressed against his back as you washed his hair, massaged his scalp, and rubbed his sore shoulders and back. Bruce groaned a few times, finding your touch something close to a miracle.

“On your right – fuck, right there.”

You giggled at how his words sounded out of context, and got your thigh pinched in return.

“Hey!”

“I can tell you’re being dirty. Stop it.”

“Not at all,” you replied, “’m super clean right now.”

After you were both cleaned, Bruce took it upon himself to rinse you and wrap you in your fluffiest of towels. You were nearly asleep to be honest, eyes darting close every few seconds. Thankfully, your boyfriend would not let go, helping you stand up straight and keeping you from falling to the side.

You were extremely exhausted, and Bruce blamed himself for that, but he couldn’t lie – seeing you wait up for him, to make sure he was safe and sound warmed his heart. He hadn’t felt loved like this in a long time, and every day he woke up and thanked whatever deity was looking over him that he got to wake up next to the woman he loved.

It was domestic, in a way.

And it wasn’t like anything had truly changed – after all, you were still taking care of Bruce Wayne, and he was still taking care of you. It was only your circumstances that had changed. Instead of an office, you worked from home, your new home, Wayne Manor. Instead of bringing him coffee, you’d help Alfred around with cooking and busied yourself with your hobbies during the day, so you could help your husband with his duties at night.

And on his hand, Bruce protected you by protecting Gotham.

Don’t get me or him wrong – he didn’t spend all his free time Batmanning. He spoiled you rotten, taking you out for coffee dates and strolls in the park. Often, you’d find little gifts on your bed, just like he used to do when you worked for him. Only this time, they were a bit more personal. Your favourite books and candles, bracelets with his initials, dresses that left a lot to the imagination, pieces of lingerie for his eyes only to see.

But most importantly, you loved each other. More than words could express. You were the light in Bruce’s light. The reason he got out of bed and downed expensive wool and linen suits during the day, and dark Kevlar ones at night. The reason he smiled more often, the reason he had began to believe in love again. Without you, the billionaire was sure he’d be lost in life. Surely, he must’ve done something great in a past one if he now had you in his arms, in his bed, in his life, in his heart.

These were the thoughts running through Bruce’s head as he held your hand. You were both sitting at a restaurant you’d wanted to try for years (“Bruce, please, I beg of you, just get us a reservation at Dorsia,” you’d whined one afternoon, trying to argue your case with a series of convincing kisses to his neck – and how could he deny you, with arguments like those?), having the time of your life as you told him about your day.

Bruce loved the sound of your voice. He’d let you speak for hours on end, about whatever topic you wanted, if it only meant he could listen to you.

In fact, he didn’t need to do any of the talking.

That night, he only had one question to ask of you, the weight of the small box inside his pocket filling him with both excitement and dread.

He only hoped you would say yes.

He needn’t worry.

If the smile on your face after he kneeled was any indication, your thoughts mirrored his.

You could not wait to spend forever together.

A/N: And that's it!!!! I hope you guys enjoyed this!!!! I'll also take this opportunity to warn y'all that this will be my last Bruce piece in a while! I have other requests pertaining other characters, and honestly, I feel like I'm getting a bit exhausted with all the writing I've been doing for him.

I don't want fanfiction writing to become a chore, so I'll be focusing on other characters for now in order not to lose this spark!!! I hope you guys enjoy those pieces as well <3

Stay safe and have a wonderful day ahead!!!!!!! <3<3<3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight fanfic #the dark knight fanfiction #nolanverse #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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bunnylove1 · 3 months

Text

.•His star•.

•.~Valentino x pornstar!reader

•.~WARNINGS: semi smut if you can even call it that, borderline toxicity, cuss words, small mentions of angsty stuff, fluff, mentions of blood and bruising a couple of times, and lastly Val being a dick head as always

•.~Love Val and thought this would be a fun idea!

Clips videos films photos shows, You were popular to the eyes and body’s of the male and female sinners, You didn’t mind all the attention it was your job, it kept you warm at night in a nice room at a somewhat nice apartment …, it wasn’t dirty, but it was sure busy and loud with other sinners making there print in the building

You worked for Valentino for about a year now , he was a hot headed bipolar mess but he treated you…different from his other employees, he was nicer more sweeter, gave you gifts often, he’d even reward you after shoots with a nice dinner, he’d call you whenever he was pissed, he’d have you sit on his lap and calm him down. He thought you were “The best at calming people down” it was true

The studio had tons of pornstars that would have panic attacks before and after shoots no matter if they were big or small and if they were violent or not, You were always the one to calm them down, you’ve seen some tuff shit at the studio but it was better then the streets.

Val sent you a text it read “Good morning cariño you’ve got along day a head of ya princess be prepared” knowing Val he was gonna have you working until your body gave out on him and you had to grab onto him to support yourself. You put your phone down not replying to him and just started to get ready, you never got all dressed up knowing that the studio would do that for you, the studio always had you dolled up just to get the makeup ruined and the clothes torn off

Putting your black sweats on with a regular white tank with a jacket that had your star name on it, it was a gift from Val. You headed your way to the studio, but not without making it past a couple of cat callers, you finally made it. Opening the doors of the studio you were hit with the smell of cheap alcohol and expensive sex, walking to your room at the studio setting your stuff down by your vanity, Val opened your door “Cariño! How lovely of you to make it” he said slinging his bottom arms on his hips letting his other set be crossed under his chest. “Hi val, what do you have planned for me today?” You sat down at the end of your silk bed, the moth took a long drag of his cigarette letting the pink smoke hit your face “You’ve got a shoot at 1, and another at 3, with a film shoot at 4, and another shoot with some guys at 10” you huffed at the sound of a long day.

“Don’t huff at me. You wanted this” he said turning his back away from you looking at your already exhausted face in the big mirror that was faced to your bed. You mumbled some shit under your breath ‘right cause I sooooo wanted my holes to be filled with random peoples cum’ you went to get up and start the long day, “What was that cariño?” You twitched an eye “Nothing sir just ready to start my day” you gave him a painted on smile “Good let’s go the staff is waiting with makeup and an outfit” he said putting a hand on your back guiding you to the place you already know your way too

After the staff had done your make up they gave you a shiny leather body suit with black shiny thighed boots and a chocker they gave you a few props as well as a gag with a white gag ball, a leash and some rope. “Perfect cariño, just like that, I couldn’t just eat you out~, don’t fucking move, perfect darling keeping being a good girl for me, I didn’t tell you to stop posing!” Val yells sitting from his Director chair his legs crossed and his hand under his chin.

After a long 2 shoots it was finally time for your film, Val told you what it was about, you must play a dumb girl who’s acted out while your partner played a dominate man who teaches you a lesson, how ‘fun’ you thought. Getting into position the film had started to roll, you were already done with the acting role play part and it was time for the actual thing. Your partner grabbed your hips and pulled you close stoping your face an inch away from his, he tightened his grip on you hips, this made you wince, he started to kiss you going down your neck bitting you, he hit a nerve while doing so causing you to jump back and wince at the blood that was dripping down your chest

“HEY! CUT, CUT, CUT THE FUCKIN CAMERAS!” he said spitting pink spit out of his mouth motioning to stop the film, he stomped over and pulled you to his side with one of his arms and having another over your fresh wound causing you to flinch at the pressure he put on it, “What the FUCK is wrong with you, I SPECIFICALLY told you not to make her bleed! Get. Off. This. Set. NOW!” He had this one rule with you that you were to never have wounds caused in films, he didn’t care if the others did but he didn’t want you to bleed or have bruises by these partners of yours, he was very pacific with that rule and told everyone of your partners, Val yelled at the actor and pushed him out of his Sight, “cariño, are you okay, let’s get you cleaned up yeah”. Val looked down at you, you went to go walk but your legs felt like jello, Val noticed and picked you up carrying your bridle style to his room your eyes felt heavy very heavy “it’s been a long day cariño~ take a rest” he stated petting your soft hair, you did as he said and rested your eyes

Once you smelt the sweet linger of smoke you could tell you were in Vals room, your eyes fluttered, taking in the pinks and purples and the smell of smoke, once you could halfway tell your surroundings you sat up, you noticed you were placed on Vals bed and that he wasn’t there, “Val….” You spoke your voice soft with a sleepy drag.

“cariño, your awake” Val stated sitting on his couch smoking his cigarette. He got up and put is cigarette out walking over to you, he placed a hand on your cheek caressing it, his touch was warm and his hands were soft, you almost forgot what happened in the studio. But not for long till the dickhead poked your wound. “OW VAL YOU FUCK” you jumped now fully awake smacking his hand away from the bit.

“Sorry cariño, I just need to look at it” he looked down at you his voice sweet, “looking at it, you mean by poking the shit out of it?” He chuckled “sweetheart just sit still baby~” he let the last word out smoothly like he was soothing your tense body trying to seduce it, you did as he said. You sat at the end of the bed facing him letting him take the bandages off and grabbing some type of oil, “what’s that” you looked up at him “well my curious conejita, it’s just a healing oil, till help the wound heal faster” he opened the oil putting the cap in his other hand and put some on the wound “SHIT VAL THAT BURNS!” You jumped back “stay still conejita, or else I’ll make it hurt worse” His words were stern as he gripped your shoulder tightly, your eyes light up and looked somewhat scared, you could feel them start to water.

I don’t blame you, your in a vulnerable state and your wound didn’t make it better, why wouldn’t you start to cry especially after he just put I mild threat towards you, “conejita, I didn’t mean it” he sighed sitting at the side of you now, he grabbed your side and put you on his lap, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck still sniffling some cry’s. “Shhhh conejita it’s okay, I’m sorry mi estrella, I didn’t mean to get so disgusting towards you” he patted your back leaving soothing circles as he went up and down, he had his other hand on your head petting your hair.

“It’s *sniffle* okay” he frowned at your sweet cry’s. His expressions turns into a smile “how about I treat you mi estrella how about a nice warm bath with me?” You ears pricked up and your slaty tears gone but still a residue left on your sweet face “that would be nice” he smiled and cradled you until you both meet the bathroom, he set you down on the counter of the bathroom sink, he started the bath letting it full up with bubbles, the sweet sent of roses and vanilla hit your nose, your face meet vals again.

“Here mi estrella” he stated wanting you to stand in front of him, you hoped off the counter and stood infront of him, he started to take the shirt you wore off and place it on the counter you couldn’t help but blush as he went to take your underwear off. “mi estrella” he grabbed you face “look at me cariño” you gave him a soft look at you obeyed him “good girl, let’s take a bath now shall we” he helped you in the tub, you sat down in a hot water as bubbles covered your body. He let your body get comfortable before he started to wash your hair, he let his finger tips reach your scalp not to hard to nip your scalp but just enough to make your hair soft with the conditioner.

Val finished washing you and got up to grab a towel and let you wrap yourself in it “wait there princess let me get you some clothes” he left you to stand in the middle of his room, he came back with one of his night shirts and boxers “here let’s get these on, then we’ll go to bed sound good baby” you nodded a sleepy yes to him, Val took your towel and threw it in the bathroom, “hands up cariño” you put your hands up at he put his shirt over your head, he grabbed your arms and pushed them threw the sleeves then getting to the boxers part, he lifted one of your legs then the other and slipped them the rest of the way up

You yawned and rubbed your eyes, Val couldn’t help but awe at your state “your so adorable cariño, come here” he picked you up and carried you to bed, laying you down he did the same pulling the covers over the both of you, he pulled you close setting your head on his chest. “Goodnight mi estrella, I love you” he spoke giving you a soft kiss on the top of your head.

conejita -bunny

mi Estrella - my star cariño-darling or sweetheart

YALL BETTER BE SO HAPPY CAUSE I HATE THIS HES SO OUT OF CHARACTER ITS NOT FUNNY

@snoozewritezz @camilaxmartin @chiiyuzz

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ivystoryweaver · 1 year

Text

We Shouldn’t

My Masterlist

Summary: Steven Grant is a museum gift shop employee. You are his boss’ boss. (More on this later if you like). You realllyy shouldn’t meet with him so frequently behind the closed door of your office. Especially if you can’t keep your mouth shut.

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader

Word count: 453

Warnings: MINORS GTFO, 18+ only, female reader, p in v, the rest is more implied than explicitly stated, some finger stuff, idk i’m new here, workplace shenanigans, be safe kids and get your work done. don’t be a bad boy like steven.

“Steven, oh god,” you whimpered, grasping his deceptively broad shoulders for leverage as you dragged your body back and forth across his lap.

Your skirt was bunched up around your waist, panties shoved roughly aside, blouse unbuttoned, breasts dragged free of the lace of your bra by Steven’s hot, hungry mouth.

“I know love,” he murmured, breathing hotly against your throat, fingertips digging into your hips as he dragged you forward, then back. Agonizingly slowly.

“Please, please.” You were begging and you didn’t care. You needed more friction. Something deeper. Faster.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered, punching the air out of your lungs with a deep, wet thrust. “Promise it’ll be good. Want to last for you, just a little bit longer.”

As if he hadn’t been inside you your entire lunch break. Who needed food anyway?

Dark curls tumbled carelessly across his forehead as he gazed down, admiring how you took him - in and out - nice and slow, and so soaking wet.

“Steven, it is good. So good,” you panted, your body electrified by the way his eyes darkened, watching himself sinking into you. He had mercilessly, agonizingly dragged you over the edge twice already, and still, his deep, possessive, slow thrusting hadn’t...ended. What did this man want from you?

“Look so pretty,” he encouraged, swiping his thumb between your folds, right where you needed it most. “Want to feel you so tight around me, love. Just one more time.” His voice was raw with want. But it was you begging.

“Steven,” you cried, your body betraying you as you liquified under his touch.

“Mmm, say it again, darling,” he lowly commanded, swiping and stroking faster, granting you the speed you wished to feel from his thrusts deep inside you.

“Steven. Yes...right there, oh god. Steven, please...please.”

“Good girl,” he breathed on your mouth, licking into it as you moaned. His fingers rubbed you frantically, his hips matching speed as he finally gave into your pleading, worshipping you with everything he had. “My goddess...”

You couldn’t even kiss him back, your panting, moaning mouth betraying the secret you were trying to keep - how often and loudly you fucked your employee during the work day.

The brief consideration to muffle your deep moans of pleasure tempted Steven to cover your mouth, but he couldn’t resist. He had wanted you since the moment you spoke his name.

The fact that you even talked to him, let alone wanted his friendship, befuddled him to this day. Then you were nice to him, and, he was shocked to discover, attracted to him.

Now, this had happened so often between you - a scandalous workplace secret - he had attuned himself to your every desire.

Now he knew how to make a goddess beg.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven Grant-Centric stories

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Main Masterlist

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#steven grant #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x fem!reader #moon knight ficlet #mcu #moon knight

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yoongifis · 2 years

Text

💌 “Mr. Min” | myg

where you work at the company that’s owned by your ex, but the tension between the two of you gets a little out of hand.

; pairing: ceo!yoongi x officeworker!female!reader

; warnings: ass grabbing, ass slapping, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, cock warming, thigh riding, usage of mature words, very jealous and possessive yoongi, exes to lovers, office sex.

; genre: smut (18+), angst, and fluff

; a/n: hii all!! in honor of hitting 400 followers, i decided to gift you guys this ceo yoongi fic!! heheh! i’ve had ceo yoongi stuck in my head for days and i just needed to have him written up in one of my writings. thank you so much for showing so much love to all my work! it makes me so happy to see that you guys enjoy reading them :’) luv you guys so much! <33

—

Life after college wasn’t anything extraordinary. You were just doing the same thing—except you’re working at a big girl job. You wake up, get ready, go to work, come back home, and repeat. It’s all the same.

In the beginning of your new adventures as a new grad, you worked small jobs here and there. You weren’t expecting to land the job right away, and that was alright with you. You were lucky enough after a year to score the job that you had been most excited for—working with one of the biggest companies in South Korea, Min Corporations. To be more specific, you worked in the department of data analysis and product management—figuring out what products are selling and what’s not and coming up with solutions to actually make those products sell.

Working here has been great. You’ve made new friends, everyone at work is pretty friendly, the workload isn’t too bad, and you genuinely enjoy doing the work.

…Until you ran into a little situation.

Just after working for nearly half a year, the chairman and CEO had finally appointed his step-son to become the new CEO. His son was working alongside him in the states, but had decided to take over the office in South Korea and let his step-dad handle the overseas business. Everyone was eager to see what he looked like the day he was said to visit. Considering that he’s the son of the chairman, everyone figured that he was probably quite young and were hoping that he’d be caring, nice, and handsome too.

It turned out, people's assumptions were nearly right—handsome, young, caring, but a little strict. During his visit, he actually took the time to come to each floor to personally introduce himself. When it came to your floor, everyone immediately stopped working and jumped up to greet him, getting ready to listen to the words he had to say. He spoke with a calm and cool tone, low voice slightly tingling the ears of many employees. His long, black hair pushed back, with a little strand of hair dangling in front of his forehead. His physique wasn’t extremely muscular—it was more toned, and it sure did look good with the business attire he had on: an all black suit with a black tie and white button up. He moved his head around while he spoke, making sure to make eye contact with everyone in the room. The two of you eventually made eye contact, allowing you to get a better look at him. From there, he only looked at you as he spoke.

And then it finally hit you.

Your new CEO was no one other than your ex boyfriend, Min Yoongi.

You had immediately hoped that he didn’t recognize you, but it became too late to wish for that. He began to randomly visit the floor you work on quite often just after being in the office for a week. He’d walk around pretending to be curious on how everyone is doing, and then he tries to spot you, make his way to you, and see what you’re up to—only for him to just pick apart your ideas. He’d call random huddles in your department and choose you to say a couple words, which always ends with you embarrassing yourself.

What’s funny is that none of you really acknowledged the fact that you guys had some history between the two of you. You both had always kept it professional (I mean at least you did. Yoongi? Doesn’t seem like it).

It all continued for about two weeks and now he has finally left you alone…at least you thought he did.

His new mission with you has been observing you from afar and trying to find any chances to talk one-on-one with you for some small talk. You, on the other hand, didn’t want anything to do with him. You always gave him short answers and even try to avoid him as best as you can. You were only focused on work and nothing else.

“Y/n, could you send me those files you were showing me earlier?”

“One second, Chae. I’ll send it over once I’m finished with this proposal!” Your eyes are glued onto your screen, but from your peripheral vision you could see your coworker standing up from their seat across from you. Your eyes move up to her for a split second before looking back down.

“Y/n, you need to slow down! That proposal isn’t even due till next week.”

“Yeah, and?”

She scoffs at you, rolling her eyes.

“You busy over the weekend or something? Is that why you’re trying to finish all your work?”

You ignore her for a few seconds, finishing up the final sentences of your work before hitting save.

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ at the end of the word, “just like to not be able to do work over the weekend!”

“You sure you don’t have a boyfriend or someone coming over? I mean that was quite a bit of work we were given and you just zoomed right through it.”

Before you could answer, you could hear someone clearing their throat from behind you. Your friend immediately sits back down pretending to work while you freeze in your tracks, realizing who it is.

“Ladies,” he hums, “talking about personal matters on the clock?”

You turn your chair to face the tall man who stood behind you, his arms crossed against his chest.

Heh, great.

“Well—uh, it was only for a couple minutes, Mr. Min.” And that’s the truth—we were not talking like this for the past hour.”

“Mm, isn’t it a bit distracting for the rest of your co-workers to hear about you two talking about your boyfriends and whatnot.”

You slightly scrunch your face at his words.

“Mr. Min, I can assure you that weren’t talking loud enough for everyone on the floor to hear. However, since it seems like I had distracted you from your work, I’d like to sincerely apologize.”

There was a tone to your voice that Yoongi was immediately able to identify. It had a big of a sassy and annoyed twinge to it. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional, but he knows it used to be something you did quite often whenever he teased you before. He liked it—it made you sound brattier.

A lazy, lopsided smirk slowly appears on his face as he stares at you. He brings his arms to his sides and stuffs his hands into his front pockets, leaning down to meet at the same eye level as you. He brings his head to the side of yours, being careful to not be super close.

“I’d like to see you in my office,” he says firmly, standing up straight before turning around and making his leave.

You huff, slowly getting up to follow him to the elevator, going up to the very top of this huge building.

—

He walks towards his desk, hands in his pockets as he turns around and leans against it. You walk closer to him, giving enough space between the two of you.

“It’s nice to see you again, y/n.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, scoffing at his words.

“Seems like you remember me, hm? But I can tell that you do try to avoid me, and I won’t let that continue.”

You roll your eyes, “Mr. Min, why are you calling me into your office?”

He smiles lazily again, chuckling lowly at your professionalism and the act you were putting on.

“C’mon, call me Yoongi like you used to.”

“Mr. Min, if there isn’t anything that needs to be discussed about, I’ll be leaving.”

As you were about to turn around, he speaks up again.

“Tell me about your little boyfriend.”

You face him again, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as your mind is trying to process his words.

“What?”

You were taken aback with his comment—I mean out of all the things he could’ve said in a workplace he chose that one? Was he an idiot or something?!

“You know—the guy you’re seeing right now.”

There was no one in your life that took that position. However since Yoongi was oddly interested in knowing who you were seeing, you decided to go along with it.

“It’s none of your business.”

He hums, “going out with them this weekend?”

“It’s still none of your business.”

“Does he work for me?”

You wait a little bit before responding, allowing the tension to grow.

“Didn’t you say we shouldn’t be talking about personal matters while on the clock?”

You got him there. Yoongi grows irritated by your snarkiness, clenching his jaw. He stands up, making his way around his desk to sit in his chair.

“You may leave, then.”

—

After that day, the rest of your week felt a bit off. First of all, Yoongi wasn’t showing up to your floor as often as before, which obviously didn’t bother you at all—you got to work comfortably without worrying about running into him or something. Second, your workload started to slowly increase a bit. You found yourself having more paperwork to do and look over, having to take on more projects because the team manager said that the ‘big boss’ (Min Yoongi) found you the “most qualified” out of everyone on the floor, which you thought was complete bullshit. You weren’t able to finish your work earlier than usual, so you started staying later at work, and now you have to work at home during the weekend. This went on for two weeks and you were starting to feel burned out.

“God, y/n—what’s going on with you?”

You look up to see it was Jimin, alongside Taehyung, the two of them staring at you as you were frustratingly running your hands through your hair. The bags under your eyes were a bit dark, they slightly droop more than usual, a clear sign that you weren’t getting enough sleep.

“I have so much work to finish, and I’m not done with even half of it yet! Mr. CEO keeps rejecting my work or tells me to review the projects or papers again every time I meet with him, which keeps pushing me back!” You’re fuming, it felt like steam was blowing out of your ears.

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder, gently massaging it.

“If you need help, you know that we’re here too. I don’t mind taking in some of the work,” a soft smile appears on the younger boy’s face.

Jimin immediately perks up, “—I didn’t agree to that! You know I have lots of work too—.” Before he could keep going, Taehyung elbows the boy on the side of his stomach. You laugh as Jimin rubs his side and winces in pain dramatically.

“Thanks guys, but Mr. Big Boss already yelled at Jungkook, Seokjin, and Namjoon when he caught them trying to help me. He specifically said he only wanted me to do the work—which is shitty!”

“That is pretty shitty,” Taehyung scoffs, biting the inside of his cheek as he tries to think of some sort of solution.

“Why don’t you tell him that you’re feeling tired and that he should cut you some slack? You always do your work, so I don’t see why he wouldn’t take it easy on you?” You look at Jimin, who was playing with thread on the end of his sleeve as he mumbles to you.

You had a couple ideas in your mind that led to Yoongi giving you all this work, but the main one you truly believe has to do with being his ex—a big abuse of his power, right?!

You chewed on your bottom lip, giving the idea some thought to it. ‘Fuck it’ is what you then thought, so you stood up from your seat and collected all the papers that you had scattered on your desk.

“I’ll let you guys know what happens when I come back, okay?” You walk past them, not even giving them a second of your time to hear what they wanted to say before you left.

You were on a mission. You wanted to give Yoongi a piece of your mind (while being professional, of course). You wanted to confront him and ask him why the hell is he trying to give you so much work now—as if you had all the free time in the world. You wanted to know why he keeps picking on you and why he keeps bugging you while you work. You wanted to know why he keeps popping up in your mind when you don’t want him to—why did that happen so much especially when you guys broke things off. You wanted to know why it’s been hard for you to sleep at night ever since you found out he works at the same job as you. You wanted to know why a part of you misses him so much but the other part of you wants to pretend he never existed in your life. You wanted to know why the thought of him trying to sneak glances, make small talk with you, or do anything just to be near you still gives you butterflies even though you pretend to hate it. Most importantly, you wanted to know the reason why he cheated on you…multiple times.

“Focus, y/n!” You mumble to yourself, giving yourself a gentle slap on the cheek to bring you back to reality. This wasn’t the time to bring that stuff up. The past is the past, and you shouldn’t be dwelling on it anymore. You guys are over, and there shouldn’t be anything between you two but being coworkers. He’s part of your past and he should just stay as just that.

You slightly jump from the sound of the elevator as you were stuck in your thoughts just moments ago. You exhale slowly, taking your time walking out and going down the hallway that led to his office. As you approach the door, you see his assistant Hoseok about to walk out. He looks up at you, confused as to why you’re here.

“Is Mr. Min in there? I’d like to speak with him.”

“Yes, he’s in there but I believe he’s only taking appointments right now since he’s very busy. I’ll let him know you stopped by right now.”

Damn it. So that’s just it? It all just ends here until I make an appointment with him?

“Thanks, Hoseok. I appreciate it,” you say with a small smile, turning your heels around to walk back where you started.

You were just about to hit the button to open the elevator doors until you heard your name being called out. You turn around just to be met with Hoseok again standing by the door. The both of you quickly meet halfway, standing awkwardly in front of each other.

“Mr. Min says he’ll allow for you to talk to him. I’ve left the doors slightly open for you, so there’s no need to knock.”

You nod your head, letting the boy leave first before you make your way back to the door. Before opening the door, you let out a shaky sigh. For some reason, you felt nervous to be doing this. But this is all for the sake of your sanity—you couldn’t handle doing all this work by yourself! Feeling a huge surge of confidence, you march right in with your head held high and your stack of papers in your arms.

The man was behind his desk, doing his work as you expected. His eyes never leave the screen until he hears the muffled tapping coming from your heels as you step in.

“Mr. Min.”

He’s smirking at you again. That stupid smirk that you want to rub off his face—what the hell is his problem?!

“Didn’t I tell you last time to call me Yoongi?” He’s leaning back in his chair, hands loosely clasped together and in his lap. He watches you carefully as you come closer to him and ignore his comment, tossing the stack of papers onto his desk.

“It’s quite unfair for you to hand me over such an excessive amount of work on top of the amount of work I usually get. I’m getting exhausted doing it, especially by myself since you won’t allow any of my coworkers to help me with it.”

You lift an eyebrow when you notice him lowly chuckling.

“Don’t have enough time on the weekends anymore, hm?”

You scrunch your face in confusion. What the hell was with this man?

“I’m not understanding what that has to do with what I was talking about.”

He’s getting up, making his way around his desk to lean against it like he did last time.

“Couple weeks ago I overheard you say that you try to finish your work earlier so that you can free up some time for the weekend. To spend more time with your boyfriend, I’m assuming?”

This again. Why does he keep bringing it up? It’s just another topic that doesn’t need to be discussed at work.

“Like I said, Mr. Min, my personal life is none of your business.”

He hums, “I’m for sure your boyfriend has to be working for me. However, it’s hard to tell who it is because you’ve got all these boys lining up for you every time I see you,” he’s chuckling again. “It pisses me off.”

His words throw you off guard, still not seeing where this conversation is going.

“None of that is any of your business, Mr. Min. And I don’t understand why we’re talking about this when clearly I’m here for—.”

“I hate the way you speak so formally with me,” he cuts you off, “can’t you just talk to me like how we used to, y/n?”

You roll your eyes at him, giving in to his request.

“Alright, fine. Yoongi will you quit giving me so much fucking work to do? I still don’t understand why you don’t want me having the weekend to myself or why you keep asking about my boyfriend. What’s your fucking deal?!”

God, was he confusing. This whole thing he’s doing to you is making you go insane.

He silently thinks to himself before responding to you.

“Is he better than me?”

Of course he would ask something like this.

“What are you even talking about?” You scoff, a little more annoyed than before.

“Your boyfriend. Does he know you like how I do?” His voice softens, but he seems to be genuinely curious about your so-called boyfriend. You decided to play along again and get him more riled up. You wanted to push his buttons even more, just like how he’s been doing with you.

“He is a lot better than you. More handsome, honest, faithful…No wonder why I get so excited when I leave work just to be at home with him.”

You glance over at Yoongi, observing his side profile. He was clenching his teeth again, and the tops of his knuckles that were gripping onto the desk were white. Your words had definitely turned a switch in him.

“I was always honest and faithful to you.”

You laugh at him. “Clearly, you weren’t.”

That does it for him.

He’s pushing himself off the desk, walking over to stand in front of you. With how tall he was compared to you, he uses that as a way to intimidate you, looking down at you so that you could feel small under him.

“Enough with the attitude.”

You get closer to him, giving him the best smile you’ve got.

“Why should I?”

“Should I shut you up myself?”

“Be my guest.”

He’s wrapping an arm around your waist, quickly pulling you close to close up the space between the two of you. Bringing his head closer to yours, his lips nearly touching yours.

“Gladly,” he says, his minty breath hitting your lips instantly. He brings his other hand and places it behind your neck, pushing you from behind to smash your lips against his. He was hungry—absolutely hungry for you. His lips moved quickly and in a feverish way, desperate to re-memorize every little inch of the shape of your lips. With a swipe of his tongue against the seam of your lips, you’re already complying to him. He’s pushing his tongue into your mouth, eliciting a groan from you—fuck, he loves that shit.

Yoongi explores your mouth, capturing your tongue in his mouth to suck on it. With the way your body was being pushed against his, the two of you couldn’t even tell who’s heart was racing the fastest and hardest. He’s releasing his hold on your tongue, kissing the side of your mouth before he starts leaving a trail of little kisses, stopping at your neck.

You extend your neck a bit, letting the man attack the exposed skin. He manages to easily find the one spot on your neck—that spot where if he puts enough pressure and sucks hard as he messily kisses it, it’s got you groaning in pleasure. You try to suppress your whimpers by biting down on your lip, but Yoongi wasn’t having it. His hands slide down from your waist to the curve of your ass, bringing a hand up and giving your ass a firm slap before he’s gently massaging the area. You let go of your bottom lip, letting your moans all out.

“Show your little boyfriend these marks, let him know you’re mine,” he mumbles against your skin, pulling back to see the damage he’s done.

“He’s already marked me in other places that you can’t see just by looking at me this way,” you teased, already knowing what you’re in for.

You can see his eyes turn dark, he’s poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

“Let me meet the little fucker. I want him to fuck off what’s mine. Matter of fact, if he works for me let’s call him up so he can watch me fuck you because only I know how to make you feel good, hm?” He’s separating your legs with one of his, your clothed crotch on his thigh. With his hands still on your ass, he’s pressing you down on him, encouraging you to move. It didn’t take you long to realize that you were rutting against him without any of his help. You move your hips at a rhythmic pace, your mouth slightly hanging open and tiny moans and whimpers slipping out.

“I’ve only kissed you so far and I can already feel how damp you are—you’re soaking my pants, baby,” he chuckles. “Can your little boyfriend do that?” He’s moving his head to snuggle against the side of your neck, pressing light kisses along it. “Speak up, baby,” he mumbles into your skin.

“N-no,” you whimper, eyes closed. God, it’s been way too long since you’ve done this. You haven’t done anything this intimate with anyone since Yoongi. It just never felt right to be doing this with someone that wasn’t him because he was your first for everything and you always thought he would be your last. You weren’t even able to pleasure yourself—it just always felt so much more different compared to being with Yoongi.

He’s removing his thigh from between your legs, earning a little whine from you. He’s spinning you around, bending you over his desk. You lay your head flat on the side as Yoongi takes both of your hands and hold them against the lower part of your back with one hand.

“As much as I love seeing you around work, it pisses me off that you wear these tight and short skirts,” he said, playing with the bottom of your skirt, feeling his fingers brush against the back of your thigh. “It gets all the boys in your department all bricked up—I can fucking tell. But I want them all to know that you’re off limits because you’re mine, no one else’s.” He hums, starting to push up the tight material of your skirt.

“Y-yoongi—wait!” You’re immediately shut up, whimpering when he rubs his clothed hard-on against your ass, only your tights and panties and his slacks separating the two of you.

“Fuck, baby. You have this effect on me too, can you help me take care of it?” His hand stays put, holding down your hands by the wrist against your back while the other hand grips and pulls on the skin of your ass.

“P-please Yoongi, just fuck me already,” you whine. You couldn’t handle it anymore. You were desperate to just be fucked by him. It’s been too long since you’ve had this type of pleasure and you knew that only he could fulfill it for you.

Usually those words would just send Yoongi into a frenzy, immediately taking orders. However, there was a slight shift in his demeanor, sort of hesitant to actually fuck you.

You lift your head up and look at him while he’s still behind you.

“I’m clean, Yoongi. I haven’t done anything with anyone after you,” you mumbled.

“What about your little boyfriend?”

“Heh, well—,” your voice goes high, “there isn’t a boyfriend. I just like messing with you.”

That does it. You got him pissed.

“Of course you would do that,” he snickers, releasing your hands from his hold, “you always liked it whenever I got rough with you after you teased me.”

He takes his free hand and places it onto the other side of your ass, pulling your tights apart, ripping it. The seam along your ass opens up, exposing your black thong.

“Yoongi—wait!” You squeal, finding one of his hands and holding onto it to stop him from continuing. “Are—um—are you clean?”

You watch his face soften, a small smile on his face. He’s leaning down, placing a quick peck on your lips before pulling back.

“There hasn’t been anyone after you, y/n. I’ve only wanted you and it's always going to be you.”

You swore that your heart swelled a hundred times its size. His words nearly make you want to cry. God, you’ve really missed him. You turn your head away out of being shy, laying your head down on the desk again but this time your forehead was pressed against your arms that were crossed and laid on top of each other on the desk. It’s funny how he still can manage to make your heart flutter when he’s got you in a position like this.

He lifts up a hand to slap your ass, massaging it right afterwards. You yelp, quickly looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and a pout on your face. He’s smiling at you, loving the face you made along with your pink airbrushed cheeks. His hand slides over to your panties, a finger following the material down to where it’s wet. You feel yourself clench around nothing once his finger is right on it, only being separated by the fabric.

“I’d love to tease you more, but fuck—I don’t know how long Hoseok will take doing those errands I told him to do.” He’s pulling your panties to the side, exposing your hole. Without a warning, he’s slowly sliding a finger in, causing you to mewl. “Just slid right in,” he chuckles, slowly pumping his finger in and out. “D’you mind if I fuck you already? Just like you asked me to earlier?” His head was next to yours, humming right into your ear. You start to squirm around when he slides in a second finger, his pace quickening.

“Y-yes—please—fuck,” you mumble breathlessly, “Yoongi, just fuck me already.”

Yoongi didn’t have any more patience to play around anymore. He’s already sliding his fingers out of you, muttering for you to lie down on your back with your legs spread out. You do as he says, loosely crossing your arms across your chest. It was slightly embarrassing—the way he was looking at you hungrily while your lower half was practically exposed to him.

He’s removing his blazer, a hand going up to loosen up his tie and removing it with ease. With him being left in his white button up, he rolls up the sleeves of it, only for you to notice the dark lines going everywhere on his arm. As you focus on his forearms, he’s moving his arms to his lower body, causing your vision to move down to his large, veiny hands. He’s trying to be quick with undoing his belt, but he seems to be fumbling a bit which makes you giggle. He undoes the button of his slacks, pulling out his cock from inside his pants. Yoongi watches your reaction as he holds it from the base, sliding his hand up to squeeze the top of it. You couldn’t remember how he was before, but you were sure that he’s most definitely gotten a lot bigger. His cock was on the thicker side, a decent length, as well. The mushroom-like tip of his cock was bright red and angry, precum oozing out of the slit.

Yoongi guides his cock to your hole, tugging your thong a little more to the side to get it out of his way. He drags just the tip of his cock along your wet folds, your essence coating him. You throw your head back at the feeling of his naked, hard member, your hole clenching around nothing again, impatient for his cock.

He removes himself from you, lining up his cock to your hole. You lift your head up to look back at him and his cock—you swore again that it definitely got bigger if it was even possible. He lets go of your hands, placing that hand back on your waist.

“Lemme know if you want to stop,” he mutters.

You nod your head, keeping eye contact with him until you feel him slowly pushing his tip in. You’re throwing your head back, eyes rolling back as your mouth slightly hangs open, airy moans immediately coming out of you. He’s watching you, making sure that you weren’t showing any signs of pain when he had himself completely in there. Eventually he starts to move, sliding in and out at a slow pace. His eyes keep moving from your scrunched up face to the way your pussy was swallowing him up.

God, he felt like he was going crazy. His hand and him just imagining you was never enough compared to actually being with you. He hasn’t felt you in years. You were tighter, more sensitive, and more vocal. He felt like he could just cum with the way you look right now.

“Fuck—,” he hisses. His speed quickens, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and pushing it up to expose your bra. He’s pushing it up as well, revealing your soft breasts. Yoongi is quick to latch onto one of your nipples, messily sucking on it. He’s brushing the flat of his tongue on it, using the tip of his tongue to circle around your areola before giving your hardened nipple a harsh suck. He tugs on your nipple that was gently in between his lips before he releases it, admiring how perky it looked. You were a mess underneath him, whimpering and moaning out his name all while he plays with you.

“These tits are mine,” he mumbles against your skin, moving onto the other nipple but making a quick stop on the side of your boob to suck and nibble on it, creating a faint mark.

He snaps his hips, the sound of skin hitting against each other filling the room.

“This pussy—also mine,” he grumbles.

“You—,” he snaps his hips again, earning a loud moan from you before he continues the speed he was at before, “—are also mine. Got it?”

Sentences and words weren’t able to formulate in your head and come out of your mouth. You did want to answer, but his cock was making you completely dumb in the head. He’s pulling away after giving your other nipple some attention, enjoying the way you looked while he fucked you on his desk.

“Yoongi—ah~,” you whine, feeling him rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your hands immediately go to his wrist, wrapping around it as your nails dug into his skin, trying to get him off.

“Too—too much!”

He’s quickening his pace, ignoring your comment.

“You’re taking me in so well, baby. Look at how you’re sucking me in—,” he grunts as he rams himself into you. He’s leaning into you, taking his other free hand to grab your face, squishing the sides of your cheeks. His actions cause you to pucker your lips, giving him the chance to plant a couple of quick kisses before he’s releasing his hold, the two of you immediately melting into each other.

“You’re mine,” he mumbles into your lips, “all mine.”

You’re pulling away from his lips, head turning to the side as you’re begging and repeatedly mumbling his name. He’s leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, dragging the tip of his tongue along your skin simultaneously, as he gropes one of your breasts, twisting your nipple with his index and thumb, and moves his thumb on your clit with more speed. The way you’re squeezing so tightly around him and how your moans got louder became motivation for him to be more aggressive with his thrusts.

Despite not being with each other for several years, he could still easily tell that you were at your limit, and so was he. He’s ramming himself with more force and speed than before, if that was even possible at this point, angling his hips a little better so that the tip of his cock was repeatedly hitting that one squishy and sensitive spot that has your fingernails digging further into the skin on his wrist that you continued to hold onto, and has you moaning even louder.

Yoongi pulls away, looking at you from above.

“So fucking pretty—just like always,” he mutters, “gonna fucking cum, princess?”

You didn’t bother to answer him, your mind was going blank and was spinning. The knot in you was about to snap.

“Cum for me already, baby.”

You moan out his name, releasing your hold from his wrist. Yoongi gives a couple thrusts, hips stuttering and rhythm becoming unstable before he’s groaning and releasing his warm load in you, coating your walls. He keeps himself in you, leaning forward so that he can press his body against yours, his head nuzzled against your neck. He’s slithering his arms underneath you, holding you.

The two of you lay there, heavily breathing. Just like before, you couldn’t tell who’s heartbeat was whose. It was one of the few things you could hear in the middle of this silence.

“Blind dates,” Yoongi mumbles, breaking the silence.

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, not understanding where this was going.

“My parents kept setting me up with blind dates.”

You scoff, “didn’t your parents already know about us?!”

“The parents you met before ended up getting divorced. I wanted to tell you that when I was ready to, but I never got the chance to.”

You went silent, a notion for him to keep talking:

“It was mainly my step-dad who kept setting me up on blind dates. I already told him all about you, but he insisted that I find someone else who could be more beneficial to the company. In other words, since I told him and my mom that I wanted to pursue music and that I didn’t see myself being in charge of his company in the future—who knew my mom ended up marrying some rich guy? He wanted me to be with someone who does know about dealing with business or whatever,” he sighs before continuing. “He told me to go on at least four dates—see if I end up liking any of them. I didn’t do anything with those women but sat in front of them while they just went on and talked away. I never developed any sort of feelings for any of them because all I wanted was you. How the fuck could I like any of those women if none of them are you? Was I not clear enough to my step-dad that I was crazy for you and still am?”

You felt your heart flutter again just from his words. You wanted to be mad at him like you were before but you just couldn’t. Yoongi carefully removes his arms from underneath you. He’s slowly pulling out from you, earning a whine from you from the empty feeling. He’s immediately pulling your thong back to its place, stopping any of his and your cum from leaking out. After tucking himself in, Yoongi helps pull down your skirt and get your bra and shirt back to how it was originally, keeping you from not being exposed anymore. You’re looking up at him, watching him look down at you with gentle eyes. He’s bringing a hand to the side of your face, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“I was going to tell you about the whole blind date thing and how I told my step-dad that I’d rather be the one pursuing business and have you as my girl for the rest of my life. The problem was that I had to go to university abroad instead of here. School would’ve been so god damn better if I had you there with me, long distance or not,” he’s bitterly chuckling to himself, reminiscing about his lonely days without you. “It was already too late to tell you about all that stuff because you completely cut me out of your life and didn’t give me the chance to explain myself. It made sense why you would do that, I think I would’ve done that if I was in your position too. Nevertheless, I graduated university, worked a little, and my step-dad wanted me to take his spot as CEO. I told them that I’d only take the position if I got to come back here to South Korea. My only reason for that was because I wanted to find you. I don’t know how, but somehow the world was on my side and led me right back to you.”

You could feel your eyes become a little wet, tears threatening to fall out. The feeling of relief, embarrassment, guilt, and some sort of happiness overwhelmingly took over your body. But god—you felt like an idiot. Why did your first instinct have to be cutting things off without saying anything? I mean, it does make sense to do it in that sort of scenario. But it was still Yoongi—the man who’s only had eyes for you since the beginning. How could you easily listen to people instead of directly asking Yoongi to explain himself?!

Y/n, you idiot!

The tears spill out, causing Yoongi to immediately detect it with his thumb on your cheek. He brings his other hand to the other side of your cheek, cupping your face.

“I—I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” you mumble, closing your eyes, “I’m such an asshole for just leaving you like that.”

“It’s okay, baby. Although I’m upset that we lost some time together, you could give me a half-assed apology and I’d still accept it in a heartbeat.” He hums, thumbs brushing the tears away, “I’m expecting you to make up for all of it though.”

You open your eyes to take a look at him, only to see that his eyes never left you. He’s wiggling his eyebrows a bit, puckering his lips for a second to give you hints on how he wants you to make things up to him. You roll your eyes, giggling softly at this man. He removes his hands from your face and places them on your waist to help you sit up, stopping that awkward position you were both in. Yoongi helps smooth down your hair with the palm of his hands, bringing his hands back to hold your waist. You’re quick to push him away, crossing your arms in front of your chest. He’s looking at you with confusion written all over his face.

“You know—I think you should also compensate for my all the pain I went through too. You could start by showing me what’s underneath your sleeve.”

Yoongi chuckles, a lazy smirk on his face when he realizes what you wanted. He’s unbuttoning his white top, eyes fixed on you. You couldn’t help but switch between looking at him in the eyes and looking at his large hands. He’s sliding off his top, holding the fabric all scrunched up in his hand. You look at his skin with big eyes, a small gasp escaping your mouth. Your hands immediately go to his right arm, fingertips softly tracing the lines all over his skin.

“What? Don’t like it?” He hums, smiling at the way you looked so amazed by his tattooed arm.

“I think I’m in trouble because if other girls in the office find out about you having a sleeve, they’ll all try to steal you away from me,” you joked. He laughs, shaking his head as he turns around, revealing his whole back—probably the largest piece of art he had on his body.

“Gosh, Yoongi—this is absolutely beautiful.” Your fingers glide across his skin, gently tickling him. His arms and back were somewhat muscular and fairly toned—an indication that he’s definitely been working out more often. No wonder why he’s even more good looking than before.

“Wouldn’t it be even prettier if it had your scratch marks on there?”

You lightly smack him on the back at his comment, scoffing at him. He’s laughing, turning around as he puts on his button-up again. Yoongi rests his hands on your thighs, gripping them slightly.

“As for you,” he hums, “I’ve got something in mind that can make up for everything.” He leans his head closer to yours, making his way to steal a kiss. You block him again by covering his mouth.

You clear your throat, looking at him with innocent eyes. “Mr. Min, I’ve got to go back and finish up all the work you’ve assigned to me. I think it’s about time that I take my leave.”

He rolls his eyes, pulling back away from you just to dig into the back of pocket and take his phone out. He’s dialing a number and putting the phone to his ear before mumbling ‘one second’ to you.

“Hoseok, cancel and reschedule all meetings and plans I have today. Something important came up and I’d like to put all my focus on it for today. Also, please place y/n on leave for today. She expressed how exhausted she is as I’ve been overworking her. I’d like for her to get some rest for today and that we stop giving her the extra work that I’ve been assigning her. Thank you.”

He’s already shoving his phone back into his pocket, his eyes going straight back to yours. You look at him with a raised eyebrow, clicking your tongue and slightly shaking your head at his actions.

“Mr. Min, I don’t think you should be abusing your powers like that.”

Yoongi laughs lowly, amused with the way you were teasing with him like that.

“You know I don’t like you calling me that, right baby?” He hums, bringing a hand up to twirl a piece of your hair around his finger. “I want to focus on you today and make up for all the years we lost together. And I’ve got a couple of things in mind that we can do.”

“Pffft—can’t believe you, Yoongi.”

He smiles at you, cupping your face with his hands again.

“I’m in love with you, you know that?”

“It seems pretty clear to me.” He’s leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips, you giggle against his lips during the process. Yoongi pulls away, looking at you with a face that’s waiting for certain words to come out of your mouth. You roll your eyes with a smile on your face, placing a hand on top of his and squeezing it gently. “I still love you and have always loved you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi smiles cheekily, the ends of his mouth reaching his ears. He was ecstatic to hear you say that to him, it’s all he’s been wanting to hear after all these years.

“Now that’s settled, I’d like to continue what we were doing here at my apartment.”

“Shouldn’t you be taking me on a date first? I mean technically we just started dating.”

He scoffs, “I’ll take you on all the dates you want, baby. But right now, all I want is you. I need more of you.”

Yoongi was desperate for another round, maybe even a couple more. You could tell that he was hungry for you just by the way he was looking at you. Once you accept his offer you already know that you’re in for it—you’re definitely going to be in lots of trouble.

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trickphotography2 · 10 months

Text

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 9

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 5.9k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 8 | Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 9

Working on base was a whole different beast. While you still dealt with cocky pilots and big personalities, the transitory nature of working with the military meant no one was entrenched in their positions. Orders came through every few years, so squadrons were rebuilt repeatedly. The GS folks tended to stay in place, but with everyone spread across the different squadrons, a majority of the communication was held over Teams with weekly in-person meetings. Only four of your coworkers were with you in the Bounty Hunter’s hanger - and it was nice that you weren’t the only woman on the team.

The higher-ups didn’t stand for any disrespect to the GS employees. Once, in a standing-room-only meeting, an Admiral had forced a Petty Officer out of his seat for you. You were never called ‘sweetheart’ or asked to get coffee for the meeting. Even though you asked them to call you by your first name, you were often addressed as Ma’am or by your last name.

It helped that you and Jake had hosted a misfit's Christmas party.

Your parents had a tradition of inviting any Airmen that didn’t have someone to spend the holidays with to their house. It had started with them as a young married couple away from their families for the first time, and later as Dad climbed the ranks and became an NCO, he wanted to take care of his guys. So when they visited for Christmas and Jake gave them a flight line tour, it just kind of happened. The get-together ballooned from the four of you and Javy to about 30 people at Jake’s place - pilots, WSOs, and a few of your coworkers. There were single folks and married couples. When one of Javy’s coworkers showed up with their newborn, Mom was more than happy to play grandma and ensure the new parents had time to eat and relax. Everyone had contributed a dish, and beer pong and cornhole games were set up in the backyard. You and Javy ruled the beer pong table for four rounds before finally losing to Jake and a WSO called Boondock.

For all his worry about meeting your parents, Jake had done phenomenally. Mom surprised him with a homemade stocking that matched yours, and he’d had to clear his throat a few times before thanking her. Dad gifted him an Air Force t-shirt and laughed when Jake thanked him for the rag to clean his truck tires.

December faded into January, and Jake drunkenly declared that he was going to marry you when you kissed in the new year.

Your first big fight was on January 3rd when your apartment’s 60-day lease renewal notice appeared on your front door. Jake wanted you to end your lease and move in. You wanted to keep your place - moving in 10 months into a relationship wasn’t part of the agreement, and you liked having your own space. He demanded to know what about your relationship made you question moving in. You tried to tell him that it wasn’t about not feeling stable in your relationship. It was about your comfort. He snapped that he wasn’t your ex trying to trap you. When he stormed out of the apartment, you refused to apologize. The stalemate went on for three days until you sent him a picture of your new short-term lease that would end in September - four months after your anniversary. Rent would be more expensive, but it was at least a compromise.

Your second fight was about communication when he showed up at your apartment the next day.

Happy Anniversary, darlin’. I wish I was with you, but we’ll celebrate when I get home. Love you so much - Jake

The flowers - the same arrangement that he’d bought you the first time he’d asked you out - had shown up on your desk first thing in the morning, and you’d endured some gentle teasing by the aviators, mechanics, and coworkers. And while you’d looked forward to celebrating one year with your boyfriend, unfortunately, he was deployed across the state with Javy.

What he didn’t know was that you planned on surprising him.

The late afternoon flight to Mirimar only took an hour. You left straight from the office, your weekend bag waiting in the trunk. You had a meeting with your old company to discuss a delayed delivery, and it had been so satisfying to see your old coworkers squirm when you asked them to explain the delay of services and the implementation of the penalties that had previously been negotiated. In preparation for the meeting, you’d decided to dress up a bit more than usual, anticipating getting to change before heading to the airport - traveling in a pencil skirt and button-down wasn’t the most comfortable. But the meeting had run long, and you’d had to speed to the airport only to find out your flight was delayed. And delayed again.

It was almost 6:00 PM when you landed, and you’d missed Jake’s after-work call. Quickly, you texted him that you were stuck at the office and would call him back. He made your life easy by saying he would be at the bar but would make sure to step out to answer. He’d already told you about the regular spot the pilots congregated at, so you had a good idea of where you could find him. If all else failed, you could text Javy.

Thankfully you were able to pick up your rental car relatively quickly. Since you were planning to spend time by the beach, you'd decided to splurge on a convertible. They gave you a newer Mustang, and you quickly snapped a picture to send to your dad.

The Hard Deck was a cute beachside bar and popular if the parking lot was anything to go by, especially for a Wednesday. After fixing your hair and freshening your lipstick, you hesitated a moment before undoing an extra button on your blouse. Leaning against the back of the car, you quickly swapped out your flats for a pair of stilettos that Jake loved, ignoring the looks of a few other patrons heading inside. With a final check to make sure your shirt was tucked in and your belt was straight, you headed inside.

80s music greeted you as you pushed open the door. Glancing up, you saw beer steins and replica planes hung on the ceiling and patches decorating the walls. Skirting the edge of the room, you kept your eyes peeled for your boyfriend.

After a week and a half, he was a sight for sore eyes, backlit by the setting sun as he lifted a beer bottle to his lips and watched a game of pool, checking his phone. Laughing to yourself, you texted him.

Leaving in five minutes. I’ll call you as soon as I’m off base.

He set his beer down and smiled at his phone. A minute later, yours vibrated in your hand.

Good thing we didn’t have plans tonight. Don’t forget to bring your flowers home.

Have I told you how much I love them? You texted back while making your way to the bar.

I hope so. Blew my entire flower budget on this cute GS contract admin. Smiling, you leaned against the bar and waited to order, eyes trained on Jake, who kept glancing at his phone.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“Hi - can I get a whiskey and Coke and whatever that gentleman over there is drinking?” She turned to look at where you were pointing. Her smile was slightly more sarcastic when she turned back.

“I wouldn’t waste your time, sweetie.”

“Thanks for the advice, but I’ll take my chances. Do you have drink runners?”

“Might as well save yourself the money,” the man beside you said. “Hangman’s not worth the trouble.” You glanced at him - he wore a flight suit, which seemed to be a pretty standard uniform at The Hard Deck.

“Is that so?” you replied, reading his name patch. Yale. As the bartender got the drinks, you turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yup. So how about we take those drinks and find a place to get to know one another.” His eyes flitted to your cleavage. When his gaze met yours again, you raised an eyebrow. You’d forgotten how cocky pilots were off base, surrounded by civilians. Anytime you were around them at home, the ones you interacted with either knew you from work or saw you with Jake and treated you with respect. The thought of putting him in his place made the corner of your mouth lift into a smirk.

“How do you feel about a friendly bet?” Yale faced you, arm draped across the bar so his fingers nearly brushed yours.

“What’s the bet?”

“Hangman - that’s what you called him? - leaves with me tonight.”

“And the terms?”

“If I’m right, you pay for our first round. But if you’re right, I'll pick up your tab for the night.”

“That’s more than two drinks - I’ve already paid for rounds for my friends.” You shrugged. “You pick up my tab and have a drink with me.”

“One that I would be paying for, presumably, since I’d pick up your tab?”

“A bet’s a bet.”

You paused, tapping your finger against your lower lip as though debating your response. “Two-for-one terms don’t work for me. If you want me to pick up your tab and have a drink with you, you’ll have to pay for all my drinks for the night. Plus his.”

“Done.” When he extended his hand, you reached for it but paused before shaking.

“You have to bring him the beer.” When he shrugged, you shook his hand, forcing yourself not to laugh. When he reached for the bottle in front of you, you stopped him. “Hang on. This too.” Grabbing a clean napkin and a pen from the bar, you quickly scribbled a note before folding the napkin in half and handing it to Yale.

“Thanks for the beers,” he smirked.

“We’ll see.” With a chuckle and wink, he walked back towards the pool table. You tracked him, sipping your cocktail before glancing over in time to see Javy spot you. His mouth opened in surprise, and you quickly pressed a finger to your lips, motioning him to be quiet. Yale handed Jake the beer just as Javy reached his side. He scowled at the napkin as Yale said something. Javy glanced over Jake’s shoulder and grinned at you when he unfolded it.

Jake said something to Yale before looking at the bar, gaze running over the other patrons. Finally, his green eyes landed on you. His frown faded, and your favorite crooked grin appeared. Turning to Yale, he nodded before lifting the beer to his mouth and taking a pull as he started towards you. Unerringly, his eyes found you as he navigated the crowd.

And then he was there, grinning down at you. “Working late, huh?”

“Something like that,” you laughed. Jake lifted the napkin and cocked an eyebrow.

“You’re stealing my moves, darlin’. Now, why exactly am I playing it cool?”

“Because I’m about to take care of our tab for the night.” Stepping closer, you placed one hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding under your palm, and arched an eyebrow. “I bet Yale that I could take Hangman home tonight.” Jake’s hand rested on your hip as he stepped closer, looming over you.

“And what’d he bet?”

“That I couldn’t, and I’d have a drink with him and pick up his tab.” His eyes left yours to dart over to where Yale and Javy stood. Both men watched your exchange, Javy grinning around his beer while Yale looked disappointed.

“Fuck the bet. I’ve got your drinks for the night,” he growled. His lips crashed into yours, hand sliding from your hip to your lower back and hauling you closer. He took advantage of your startled gasp and slipped his tongue into your mouth. Your hand slid up his chest to cup his jaw, thumb rasping against his stubble. When you finally broke apart, you lightly swept your thumb over his lower lip to wipe away your lipstick. “What are you doing here?” Jake asked softly.

“Well,” you smiled, “it’s important to hold negotiations face-to-face whenever possible.”

“That right?”

“Yup. So are you ready to discuss the contract, Lieutenant?” Placing his beer beside your glass, he unzipped one of his pockets and pulled out his wallet. Instead of pulling out his credit card, he handed you a folded piece of paper. Tears sprang to your eyes when you opened it.

It was your original contract.

“Ready whenever you are. Got a whole list of updates that I want.” You swayed closer and tilted your head back. Jake’s kiss was softer this time. “Love you, darlin’.”

“Love you too, babe.”

“Wanna get out of here?”

“You don’t want to introduce me to your friends?”

“Not if they’re gonna hit on you,” he scoffed. You laughed, refolding the paper and handing it back. He slipped it into his wallet.

“I want to say hi to Javy and finish my drink. Then we can go back to my hotel.” Grabbing your glass, you pushed off the bar and walked away. Jake dragged his eyes down your body, lingering on your legs, before following.

Javy met your halfway and pulled you in for a hug. “Couldn’t even go two weeks without his ugly mug. What are you gonna do when he’s on a longer deployment?”

“Well, first, let’s not put that into the universe,” you laughed. “And second, it’s only because it’s a special occasion.”

“Right. Not sure how you put up with him for a year.”

“You’ve put up with him longer than I have.”

“Alright, alright,” Jake huffed, tossing his arm across your shoulders and tugging you close.

“I checked on your place yesterday,” you told Javy. “Everything’s good - I brought in a bit of mail that didn’t get stopped.”

“You’re the best. How long are you here for?”

“I fly out Sunday morning. I have to work from the hotel tomorrow, but other than that I’m - ”

“Plenty of time to talk later, then,” Jake said, gently tugging you away. “Say bye to Coyote.”

“Pool later?” you asked, pointing at Javy, who chuckled and nodded as you were pulled towards the back door. As you passed Yale, Jake lifted his hand from your shoulder and flipped him off. You couldn’t help but laugh as you stepped onto the deck. He led you to the stairs and paused long enough for you to kick off your heels before walking towards the line of Adirondack chairs facing the ocean.

“C’mere,” he said as soon as he settled in one of the chairs, patting his thigh. You stood between his knees and dropped your shoes, placing your drink on the chair arm beside his beer.

“God,” you sighed, curling your toes in the sand, “it’s been forever since I’ve been to the beach.”

“Can’t believe you’re here,” Jake said, sitting up and wrapping his hands around your thighs, pushing the material further up your legs. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he guided you closer. “I love and hate this skirt.”

“Oh?”

“You look sexy as hell in it, but it’s too tight to let me touch you the way I want.”

“That’s probably a good thing since we’re in public and surrounded by your coworkers.” Leaning down, you rested one hand on his shoulder and ran your fingers through his hair. “Missed you, Seresin. Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary,” he echoed, tugging you down to straddle his knee. Your skirt was tight across your legs and ass, and the wood was uncomfortable on your knees, but it didn’t matter when Jake’s lips pressed against yours, licking into your mouth as his fingers dug into your waist. When the wind blew your hair into your faces, you laughed against his mouth. He chased your lips when you pulled away and groaned when you stood up. Turning, you settled on the chair between his legs and leaned back against his chest, your bare feet brushing against his boots.

“So, how was work today, Hangman?” you asked. The setting sun reflected off the ocean as you entwined your fingers together and rested them on your stomach.

“Good. Spent the day in the air working the training course.”

“For the mission you can’t tell me about, even though I have a top-secret clearance.”

"Yup.” His nose brushed your throat as you took a sip of your drink.

“Is it really dangerous?” His hesitation was the only answer you needed.

“They brought in the best. Which for some reason includes those idiots in there,” he said, squeezing your hand. You knew he was trying to lighten the mood.

“Well, not everyone’s a Seresin,” you shrugged.

“You could be.” You sputtered, a bit of your drink spilling onto your chest. Chuckling, Jake lifted his hand to wipe it from your breasts and licked his fingers clean. Setting your nearly empty glass on the chair arm, you turned to face him. “What?” he shrugged.

“Is that your opening position in the negotiations? Marriage?”

“It’s on the list.”

“You have a list?” Jake grinned, poking his tongue in his cheek as he raised an eyebrow.

“Are you tellin’ me that Ms. ‘I Negotiate for a Living’ doesn’t have a list of things ready for our contract negotiations?”

“I have a mental list. That’s what we’re talking about, right?”

“Sure, darlin’.”

“Jake, you don’t have an actual list, do you?”

Jake did have a list. Saved on his phone.

After giving Javy the keys to their rental car and stopping by the base dorms so he could grab enough clothes for the morning, you went to the hotel. He was reluctant to let you drive, but you reminded him that he wasn’t on the rental agreement and told him to enjoy being a passenger princess. The only time he could drive was when you had to go on base - even though you had your CAC card, you didn’t want to tempt fate with your civilian employee ID being rejected for going onto the wrong installation.

“I want this as our tradition,” you said from your spot on the corner of the king-sized bed. Jake set his burger on the hotel desk and wiped at his mouth, cocking an eyebrow as you ate another fry. He’d tied the top half of his flight suit around his waist, and his black t-shirt clung to his chest and arms.

“What? A hotel room?”

“No. I want us to get McDonald's for dinner.” He looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“You want fast food. Not a nice dinner, not a trip - McDonald’s.”

“This is what we had the first night we were together.”

“We can do this until we get married. Then we’re gonna have a nicer tradition.”

“According to you, we’ll only get to do this once more, then. Twice if we do a long engagement.”

“It’s not going to be a long engagement.” You rolled your eyes. Jake wanted to get married this year, but you’d gotten him to agree to get engaged in exchange for keeping his rental house for another two years before looking to buy your own home. He wasn’t sure when orders would come down for him to move since he’d been with the Vigilantes for two years already. He was pretty confident he could move to another squadron on Lemoore when the time came, but he was hesitant to purchase anything when you might have to move shortly after.

“I want to do this for our dating anniversary. We’ll discuss the wedding anniversary when we get to that point.”

“So you want two anniversaries?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Well, future Mrs. Seresin, since you want one that’s cheap, I guess I’m fine with it.”

“Sentimental, not cheap,” you corrected. Your face flushed when he stood and walked closer, plucking the fry container from your hands and placing it on the desk. Leaning over you, he tilted your head back.

“Sentimental it is, Mrs. Seresin.” You flushed under his heated gaze. Jake brushed his lips against your forehead and cheeks as you untied the sleeves of his flight suit and pushed it down his legs. “Love you, darlin’.”

“Love you, too.” Planting one hand on the bed, he slowly lowered you onto the mattress while kicking off his suit. He quickly stripped off his shirt before licking into your mouth. His dog tags rested in the hollow of your throat, and you wrapped your hand around them, using them to pull him closer.

“Wearin’ too many clothes,” he mumbled while working on the buttons of your blouse. Jake grumbled when you pushed against his shoulders until he stood up.

“Sit against the headboard.” He took the initiative to strip off his boxers, his cock flushed and resting on his stomach. Smiling coyly, you finished undoing your buttons and slid the shirt from your shoulders. Your belt and bra hit the floor, and you shimmied off your skirt and panties.

“Put the heels back on,” he said, voice rough with lust. “And get over here.” You did as you were told and crawled across the bed towards him, smiling as Jake’s fingers dug into your waist when you straddled him. “Fuckin’ missed you, darlin’.”

“Is that so, Lieutenant Seresin?” You ran your fingers through his hair and kissed the corner of his mouth. When he turned to chase your lips, you pulled away. Dragging your hand down his chest, you lifted his dog tags and traced his name. “You’re really ready to share your last name again?”

“I’d take you to the courthouse today if you’d let me.”

“I guess Javy can’t be too disappointed in you, since you waited longer than three months this time.”

“Darlin’, don’t talk about other men when you’re naked in my bed.” Smirking, you slid the ball chain over his head. His heated gaze watched as you put on the dog tags, the metal warmed from his skin, falling between your breasts.

“Technically, this is my bed since I rented the room.”

“Pretty sure the vows go ‘what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours’.”

“You’re jumping a few steps,” you scolded. “No agreements are binding until we sign the papers and you actually ask me to marry you, so you better behave, Hangman, or we’ll terminate the contract.”

“I’d like to see you try,” he chuckled, running his fingers along your core and smirking to find you already wet. Easing his middle and ring fingers into you, he pulled you down to whisper against your mouth, “Did you miss me?” At your hummed response, he nipped your lower lip. “Words, darlin’.”

“Yes.”

“Couldn’t wait for me to come home and take care of you the way you like, could you?”

“No.” He added a third finger, holding tightly to your hip when you moaned at the stretch. Jake crooked his fingers, using his thumb to circle your clit as you panted against his neck. When you’d adjusted to his thick fingers, you ran your tongue down his throat and nipped his shoulder before closing your lips around the hurt, flattening your tongue against it. He groaned when you dug your nails into his back. Calloused fingers trailed up your spine and wrapped around your hair, drawing you away.

“Careful, darlin’. Can’t have you damaging government property, now.” Your sarcastic retort was lost in a loud ah when he thrust his fingers hard while tugging your hair. Hips moving of their own accord, you leaned back to brace your hands on his thighs as you rode his fingers. He grinned and pulled your breast into his mouth, sucking hard. His tongue flicked over your nipple before his teeth dragged along your skin and tugged. Your fingers carded through his hair, holding him against you as you shuddered and came with a gasp.

Jake fucked you through your orgasm and slowly withdrew his fingers, the wet sound mingling with your heavy breaths, bringing them to your mouth. You opened for him and licked them clean, gagging slightly when he inched them toward the back of your throat, his Academy ring pressed against your stretched lips. “One. Now hold onto the headboard, baby.” Your stomach clenched when he wrapped his hand around your waist and encouraged you onto your knees, thighs shaking with the effort of holding yourself up. Grinning, he shifted down the mattress, his shoulders forcing your legs wider until your knees were beside his head. He’d wanted you to ride his face for a while, but you’d always hesitated. “Please, darlin’,” he said softly, arms wrapping around the back of your thighs.

“You’re sure?”

“So fuckin’ sure.” Biting your lower lip, you nodded. He grinned while pulling you closer, brushing lips to your inner thighs. When you hovered over him, he pulled you down onto his mouth, placing soft kisses against your core. The first pass of his tongue was light and teasing, trying to get you comfortable. His nose bumped your clit, and you inhaled sharply, shying away from his touch. The motion dragged your slit across Jake’s mouth, and he groaned. The vibration made you moan, and your hips rocked. “That’s it, baby,” he encouraged before dipping his tongue into you and sucking kisses up to your clit to run his tongue around it. Your knees slid along the sheets as your thighs struggled to hold you up.

Your grip on the headboard tightened, and you lowered your head, forcing your eyes open. Jake’s eyes were closed, clearly savoring the moment. Turning, you groaned at the sight of his cock, pink and dripping against his stomach, your black stilettos a stark contrast against his sunkissed skin. Reaching back, you dragged your finger through the precum pooling on his skin. His muscles jumped under your touch, and his pupils were blown wide when you turned to face him, sucking on your finger. “I want you in my mouth later.” Jake moaned against your pussy, and you yelped when he dragged you down to his mouth. All softness was gone as he attacked you, using every trick he knew to get you off. When you started to grind against him, he flattened his tongue and let you use him.

Collapsing backward onto the bed, you tried to catch your breath. Jake chuckled, dragging his knuckle along the leg still draped over his chest. When you lifted your head to meet his gaze, he winked, chin glistening with your wetness. “Two. We’re doin’ that again, darlin’.” Rolling your eyes, you moved your leg, lightly tapping his temple with the toe of your stiletto. His gaze followed you as you moved to lie on your stomach, cheek resting on his thigh and feet in the air, ankles crossed.

“That may be an anniversary treat.”

“Nope. Regular rotation.” Shaking your head, you lifted your hand to run your finger along the thick vein on his cock. “Put it in the contract.”

“Nope.”

“C’mon. You enjoyed it.”

“Not saying I didn’t,” you agreed, wrapping your hand around him and squeezing lightly. He grunted, eyes glued to yours as you shifted onto your elbow. “We’re not putting sex in the contract.” When he opened his mouth to reply, you dragged your fist up his length, stopping just under his flared head. “You were saying?” you teased.

“I - ” You closed your mouth over his tip, tongue darting into his slit. “Fuck.” You hummed, twirling your tongue around his head before swallowing him down, fist covering what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Tilting your head, you looked up at him so he could see the bulge of his dick in your cheek. His hips lifted, hitting the back of your throat. You gagged, tears springing to your eyes. Breathing through your nose, you swallowed around him.

Jake’s moans were so pretty.

With each pass, you took more of him, his hand on your head encouraging you. “So good, baby. Love your mouth. Feel so good,” he babbled. Your hand slipped between his legs to cup his balls, tugging gently. Your whined name and his hand pressing you down was the only warning he gave before his salty taste flooded your mouth. After swallowing and kitten licking his cock clean, you rolled onto your back and pulled off your heels, tossing them onto the floor. “Aw, darlin’, I wanted to fuck you with those on,” Jake whined.

“We’ve got all weekend,” you sighed.

You worked from the hotel on Thursday, periodically interrupted by Jake sending pictures. He’d clearly taken one while flying, and you reminded him exactly how much his plane cost and told him that he needed to be more careful. Later that night, he demonstrated just how careful and detail-oriented he was as he made you come four times.

The next morning, you presented him with the updated contract for his signature. After he signed, he’d written one more clause under your signatures. You reminded him that adding anything after signing wasn’t binding. He initialed both copies and made sure to show you just how little he cared when your cheek was pressed against the cold shower tiles as he fucked you from behind before leaving for work.

When you’d mentioned wanting to visit the USS Midway on your day off and offered to wait for him, Jake just shook his head and told you to enjoy - he saw enough of carriers during his deployments. So you spent the morning exploring the ship and surrounding statues, and sending him and your parents pictures. After grabbing a late lunch, you browsed the art galleries and stores in Seaport Village before heading back to the hotel for a nap.

On Saturday, you let Jake and Javy sleep in before dragging them to the zoo. As the day wore on, you saw the tension ease from their shoulders. By the time you left and they agreed to take advantage of the convertible to cruise down to the beach, both were singing along to Taylor Swift with you.

That night at The Hard Deck, you and Jake won a game of pool against Javy and another pilot named Payback. You met some of the other pilots on the special detachment - Jake made sure that you stayed away from Yale - including the infamous Bradshaw. As much as you wanted to give the pilot who cause Jake’s hangup with his callsign a piece of your mind, you held back. After all, that mustache and call sign - Rooster - were punishment enough.

Around midnight, you and Jake left the bar and went down to the beach. Walking along the shore, you held hands and enjoyed the lap of the waves washing over your feet. You didn’t go too far, knowing that you needed to leave soon so you could get some rest before going to the airport. But as you walked back up towards the bar to say goodnight to everyone, Jake pulled you to a stop when he heard the song playing. Tugging you into his arms, he slid his hands into the back pockets of your jeans and swayed with you as the Beach Boys crooned ‘Don’t Worry Baby’.

That night, Jake took his time to kiss every inch of your skin as you undressed. His fingers drifted over your curves as though to memorize them. And when he finally slid into you, he made sure you knew exactly how much he loved you.

You were reminded just how dangerous Jake’s job was on Tuesday. You were in a meeting when your phone chimed with his text.

Everyone’s okay. Will tell you more tonight.

He didn’t answer your call or text asking for clarification, and neither did Javy, but an hour later, there was a news blast saying there was a training accident and an F-18 had crashed into the desert. It was well after 8:00PM when Jake called. You could hear the fear in his voice when he told you about how three people almost burned in - how he’d almost lost his best friend and could do nothing but stand by the radio in the Ready Room and listen, praying that he snapped out of the G-LOC in time.

You stayed with him on the phone until he said he needed to shower. You whispered your love, promising to see one another soon.

As soon as you disconnected, you called Javy to check on him. He assured you he was okay, just had a headache. You made him promise to be careful and go get checked out if it got worse.

When you pulled out your laptop to check your email Wednesday morning, there was a notice for a requisition of a new F-18 for the Black Aces squadron.

Being underway meant had limited contact with Jake. He had access to his official military email address, so he sent you periodic messages, but calls were limited. He managed a video call once to let you know that he was on his way back. As happy as you were to see his face, a new weariness in his eyes made you wonder what had happened. He tried to assure you it was just because of how shitty he slept on the carrier.

When the six F-18s landed back on Lemoore, you ensured you were on the flight line to greet Jake and Javy. Both men looked tired but happy and quickly did their post-flight checks. You were able to drive them home but had to go back into the office after.

After work, you stopped to pick up dinner before heading to Jake’s house. When you walked inside, he was asleep in bed. Once you’d changed into your pajamas, you slid between the sheets.

Jake opened one eye and gave you a sleepy smile before moving closer, curling up on your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair until he fell back asleep, reveling in his weight pressing you into the mattress and knowing he was safe in your arms.

Dating Contract - One-Year Update

Following the annual “Dating” contract review, the two parties identified below agree that all clauses and conditions have been met. It is recommended that parties continue with the contract, maintaining an exclusive and monogamous relationship.

Recommend the following updates to the contract:

Strike three weeknight sleep-over policy. Parties agree not to set restrictions on the number of nights spent together.

Writer will move into the Contracting partner’s house following the termination of her lease in September. The Contracting partner will add the Writer to his lease.

Contracting partner agrees to allow the Writer to drink coffee in bed, and eat in bed on an ad hoc basis.

Parties agree not to walk out on arguments. Parties agree to request a ‘pause’ if necessary and will finish the discussion when cooler heads prevail.

Parties agree to acknowledge annual dating anniversary with dinner from McDonald’s

Parties agree to become engaged prior to the next annual review

Following the engagement, Parties agree to strike boyfriend/girlfriend and replace with fiancé/fiancée as appropriate

Parties will agree to a yearly review of the contract, with ad hoc meetings to discuss clauses and conditions as they arise.

More Sex - J.S.

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

Author's Note: I decided to give Harvard a break and make Yale the one who hit on Darlin'. I didn't want to spend too much time with them at TOPGUN since Jake would be focused on the mission, but they couldn't spend their anniversary apart! The contract had to be renegotiated!

Thanks for the patience with this chapter. I ended up scrapping what I'd written and restarting. Hopefully you liked the abbreviated holidays and meet the parents.

To the anon who asked if I'll be posting this to Ao3, I've decided that I will. Not sure if I'll get to it this weekend, but it'll be posted under my new pseud - TrickPhotography2

ALSO - @mayhemmanaged made these gorgeous Instagram posts of Darlin' and Jake that you should look at and love as much as I do.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Read Chapter 10

Tag list: @memeorydotcom; @alldaysdreamers; @kmc1989; @djs8891; @caitsymichelle13; @dempy; @midnightmagpiemama; @lovelyladymayyyy; @caidi-paris; @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby; @bellaireland1981; @lethargicluv; @mayhemmanaged; @tenderclio; @lucypaulette; @abaker74; @trhett21; @misshoneypaper; @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker; @eternallyvenus; @mavrellover91; @chloeforde; @thatbitcily

#hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman smut #hangman fic #D-Day fic #jake hangman seresin

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s4lv4tions · 5 months

Text

in the still of the night, i held you; nsfw

pairing; nanami kento x fem!reader summary; "so before the light, hold me again with all of your might, in the still of the night." - the five satins wc; 2.6k cw; smut (non-penetrative sex), cisfem!reader, mentions of misogyny, alcohol use an; HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! have some sweet husband material kento to take with you into 2024 :')

In your genkan, Kento kneels to undo the buckle of your heels. They’d been a gift from him not even a year ago — high-end and real leather and more comfortable than most heels, but still a pain in the ass when you've been wearing them for 8 hours. His hands are warm and soothing where they rub gently over your bare heels, setting each foot gently upon the ground afterwards. You’re stuffed from dinner and blinking sleepily, all pliable and softened by an evening of tireless socialisation and too much sake.

“That Yamada fellow,” Kento says. He stands again, brushing imaginary dirt from his suit. “I don’t like him.”

He takes the jacket from your hands, your handbag, too; hangs them up on the coat rack and then deals with his own coat, and you watch him all the while. Perhaps you had a little too much beer, because even as he speaks, you can only stare at him — the thickness of his forearms as he wrangles off his coat, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up to reveal veins and corded muscle; his handsome side-profile, his strong nose and furrowed brow and angular cheekbones… If you were more artistically inclined you have no doubt he’d be your muse. It seems especially criminal to think that Kento has never considered himself particularly attractive. Your head thuds back against the front door.

Blinking away your sudden haze — alcohol or fatigue, you don’t know —, you peer over at him, curious. “Oh?”

There's an answering hum. Neither of you move — still standing in the genkan, you in your summer dress and woollen jumper, makeup done to the nines, slumped against the door. Him in his khaki slacks and button up, handsome as ever, leaning against the wall. You're in a bubble, here — halfway between the izakaya you'd spent the evening at and your bed. It's timeless, quiet. The only thing to be heard is the distant sound of traffic through your living room windows, just around the corner.

You tilt your head in thought. “I mean, he’s a clown, but he’s harmless. Just stupid."

"I don't like the way he spoke to your friend," Kento says, nose wrinkling. Ah, yes — you knew it had bothered him. Yamada is what one would call dead from the neck up — an idiot. How he's stayed employed so long is a mystery to you, especially with the amount of complaints he's garnered from female employees. He's not a creep (mostly), just ignorant and annoying. Thinks women should quit their jobs when they get pregnant, thinks maternity leave is a scam, thinks women are too emotional for leadership positions. Tonight he'd made the mistake of ordering your friend to serve him a drink in front of Kento — not the worst thing he's ever said or done, but it irked Kento nonetheless. You'd seen your boyfriend's eyes narrow and quickly shooed Yamada away to another table with the allure of more alcohol, and hoped that was the end of it. Clearly not. "Does he speak to you like that?"

"Mm. Sometimes. I guess he didn't tonight because you were there. You're pretty scary, Ken."

He only watches you, frowning. Doesn't take the bait. "Nothing's been done about him?"

"Mm-mm. We used to report him a bunch, but it's more trouble than it's worth." Another beat of silence, and you shoot him a smile. "Don't worry about it, Ken-chan. It doesn't bother us anymore. It's like working with an overgrown child."

"A man like that shouldn't have a job in the first place."

Finally, you push yourself off of the door — stroll slowly to where he stands, arms raised to loop around his neck. His frustration is silent — it most often is — but he accepts your embrace easily. His hands plant themselves over your lower back, warm and calloused, and a deep sigh filters through his chest. His nose nudges against the crook of your neck. "Sorry. None of that is your fault."

"Mm. It's okay." Exhaling, you let your eyes flutter shut. The entirety of your weight rests on him at this point. The drunkenness is wearing off, leaving only a pervasive lethargy and meddling craving for something requiring far more energy than you have. "Hey, Ken. Wanna fuck?"

Kento's breath hitches in your ear, before he lets out a laugh. His hand brushes up your spine, and you don’t bother to suppress the shiver it sends through you. "You're so vulgar. And you're almost falling asleep, darling."

“Mm.” Nudging your nose against the side of his neck and revelling in the goosebumps that rise there, you press your chest harder against him. “I have enough in me for a quickie.”

"We're getting you to bed."

“Hm? No! The night’s not over yet, Ken…” And yet you barely fight as he urges you forward, still wound around each other like a ball of string. Through the darkened living room and past the shape of your kotatsu, down the hallway and past the pantry and bathroom until you reach the bedroom. The lights are flicked on, dimmed to something more palatable, and Kento nudges you towards the bed.

You collapse like a sack of potatoes. You realise quite suddenly that you’d expended most all of your energy for the day and were truly running on fumes — considering you can count the amount of coworkers you like on one hand, and alcohol cuts your temper short. Somehow you still have enough energy to prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as Kento stands in the doorway of the en suite, rifling through the cabinet until he comes away with some cotton pads and a bottle of micellar water.

You know you’re watching him like he’s hung the stars in the sky. You know your eyes are wide and glassy when he kneels by the bed and begins to wipe your makeup off, unfathomingly gentle — because he meets your gaze just once and laughs softly, all too fond, before returning to task. Swiping softly over your lips and under your eyes, all traces of mascara and eyeliner and concealer and whatever-else gone within a few cotton pads. Then he traces over your face with another one just to be sure — or perhaps just to map out your features under his fingers, indulgent and sweet. When he’s finished, he doesn’t leave, though — just stays and watches you in silence.

“Kento,” you say quietly.

“Mm?”

“I want you.”

His thumb nudges away a strand of hair tickling your temple. “You have me, darling.”

“Hm.” That’s not what you meant, and he knows it, but you’re too tired to actually have him, anyways. Your eyes flutter shut, heavy and sticky, and he takes that as his cue to continue — pulling down your tights from your legs, unzipping the side of your dress. Lifting it over your head and replacing it with a large t-shirt that you vaguely register as his; and then leaving you to deal with himself, presumably. You hear the rustling of fabric and the thud of them hitting the floor, the metallic clink of his belt buckle.

Still — a budding sort of heat warms your stomach; hides itself beneath your ribs and wriggles about in your mind. It’s annoying, pressing, unfaltering — flickering thoughts about how firm his biceps are; how big and warm his hands feel when they spread your legs and press your knees against your chest; how his body covers yours entirely in the throes of it all, hot and heavy and sweating with the heat of it all; the skill of his tongue, fuck, long laves of it against your—

“Asleep already?”

“Mm-mm.” You crack an eye open; glance up at him in all his glory, plaid flannel pants hanging low around his hips, a white t-shirt covering his chest. “You’re so unfair.”

As you close your eyes again, you feel him climb onto the bed beside you — the mattress dipping under his knee, the blankets rustling, and then a large hand plants itself upon your stomach. “Why’s that?”

You don’t say anything, only arching (perhaps a bit wantonly) into his hand.

“Ah. I see.” The hand smooths up and down, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin, and a deep exhale filters out of his chest. You can almost hear the fond smile in his voice when he bows his head towards you and says: “Do you really need an orgasm to sleep?”

“Are you—” Yawn— “Are you teasing me right now?”

“No.” His fingers twitch subtly against you.

“Because that would be mean, Ken-chan.”

“I’m never mean to you. In fact—” His fingers begin a slow descent downwards, bunching your t-shirt just under the curve of tour ribcage. They leave goosebumps in their wake on their path below the elasticated hem of your panties— “I’m far too lenient where you’re concerned.”

His fingers are almost icy cold in comparison to the sweltering heat between your thighs. At that first brush against you, you give out an embarrassingly high-pitched sigh, but you have no energy to feel any shame. It's not your usual reaction to such simple touch — not the wet mess between your legs, nor the noises that are being wrung from you — but between the alcohol and syrup-like lethargy… Needless to say, Kento’s fingers are thoroughly soaked within a few moments of practiced petting, gliding between your puffy lips to where you’re willing and weeping.

His fingers — those damned fingers, careful and practiced and just slightly calloused — dip momentarily into you, and you hear his breath hitch in time with yours. Your limbs are tense, now, no longer splayed every-which-way with little care; they’re coiled tightly, excitable pressure locked away in every joint, twitching with each mote of pleasure he gives you.

And oh, does he give. Your stomach goes rigid with it. He’s only tracing his fingers around your opening — watching you with eagle eyes when your stomach jumps every time he passes over a particularly sensitive patch of skin. It’s not enough to start those sparks of pleasure aflame in the pit of your chest, those involuntary contractions that make your mouth salivate — but it’s well more than enough to begin to kindle them. More than enough to get your back arching at the momentary entrance of a single finger.

“Hm.” Your sigh edges on a whimper, tapering out as you attempt to regain control of yourself. “That’s — that’s not gonna do very much, Ken.”

He doesn’t answer, at least not verbally. The finger pops back out — slickened and shiny — but there’s little time for complaint. Almost instantly his fingers dart up to your clit, circling the hardened bead in a pace you can only describe as indulgent. Indulgent for you or for him, you can’t tell, but you make a sound like the air’s been punched out of you regardless.

It’s just the start of it — you know, those tingles that begin in your clit and warm in your stomach, sent as shivers up your spine and your ribs, pooling in your nipples and fizzing in your fingertips. Just the start, but enough to have you squirming, pressing up to the few fingers that pleasure you. At your side, Kento huffs a laugh. He presses himself closer to you — dips his head so that his nose nudges against your jaw, hot air warming up your neck.

“Is that enough?” His voice is, somehow, more husky than usual — but still unerringly adoring.

“Uhm—” Then, hips jumping out into his touch — unconsciously, might you add— “Just — faster, please.”

“Greedy.” He means to admonish you, but Kento is no less indulgent than he usually is; pressing down harder, petting at you with wet sounds that reverberate through the room — shlikshlikshlik— even adding another finger to the mix, like he simply can’t hold himself back any further. It’s liable to drive you insane, the sheer sensuality of it all — the shivery, excitable pleasure that zips up and down your legs, the stuttering breath in your chest. When you gasp out, hardly able to hold your sounds in your throat, his breath comes out laboured. “There you go, darling. Take what you need.”

You’re humping into his hand like an excitable virgin, panting low in your chest as his fingers and palm grind against the slippery flesh of you. It should be embarrassing, the raw abandon you move with, but there’s nothing but fondness in Kento’s face, and your need burns you up from the inside. You’d push him onto his back and have your way with him if you had the strength — for now, you can only continue to flex your aching thighs up, shivering as the tell-tale shocks of your impending orgasm begin to creep along your spine. It's never usually this quick.

“Fuck— F-Fuck, Kento — oh, I’m—” Your mouth falls open, knuckles aching where they grasp at the sheets — your body tensing all over, waiting for the dam to break, for your body to lose complete control of itself — “Hah, I’m gonna cum — oh, I’m cumming, what the fuck, I’m—”

In seconds, Kento’s mouth is on yours — sloppy and messy, the way he only gets in the throes of passion when he cares more about your pussy squeezing his fingers than any sense of propriety. You’re not even lucid enough to kiss him back — your entire body, entire mind, is trembling with your orgasm; pussy squeezing uncontrollably around him, clit throbbing against his palm. Your toes curl and your legs kick out, frantic to ground yourself in some way, but—

“Mmf— God—” What feels like minutes later, gasping, you pull away from Kento’s lips, shuddering heavily as air filters back into your spent, pleasure-ridden body. Your entire lower half feels numb, staticky and half-dead; your head swims with a dizzying mix of endorphins and fatigue — the sudden hours of socialising and drinking hit you like a brick. If you had been sleepy before, you were bone-dead now.

You’re still twitching with the aftershocks of it all when Kento places a chaste kiss upon your forehead, slipping his fingers out of you — and, not even realising that your eyes had closed, you crack open one to peer at him.

Kento smiles, and pets his clean hand over your hair. A single strand of blond sits awry, drifting low over his forehead; between his legs, a large tent presses up against his pyjama pants. Other than that, he’s perfect — you’d never guess he just finger-blasted you to mars and back. “How are we doing?”

Limp and syrupy-soft, you blink up at him. “Hi.”

He watches as your eyes drift shut again, head flopping sideways to rest against the pillows. His question of “Bed time?” is a rhetorical one; nevertheless, you give him a half-baked semblance of a nod.

“Mhm.”

“Alright. I’m going to clean up.”

“Mmf.”

Chuckling to himself, he begins to shift to get off the bed — but your hand grasps his wrist just before he can get out of reach. He glances down at you. “Yes?”

“I’m gunna… give you… such… good head… in the morning…” A large snore follows your statement, and your hand falls to your side — and just like that, after almost an hour of bribing and convincing and urging, you’re dead to the world. Snoring your little head away and curled up towards his side of the bed, like you're waiting for him.

Kento shakes his head to himself all the way to the bathroom — off the bed, across the carpet, into the ensuite. As he stands in the bathroom, washing his hands under that cold, fluorescent light, he notices his smile hadn’t dimmed, not even once.

Never a dull moment, he supposes. He can stand to live with that.

#nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami fic #nanami x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fic #anime x reader #anime smut #anime fic #anime x you #nsft #kento x reader #kento smut #kento fic

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edgeray · 5 months

Text

Part 2: Sweeter Than Wine(Nico Robin x Fem! Reader)

Part I

A/N: A friend said I couldn't write fluff. I wrote this as a 'fuck you' to her. Never fucking doubt me again. Anyways, enjoy this 2.6k sequel.

Warnings: Reader uses female pronouns, Robin may be OOC, heavily implied sexual content (not actually there and not described detailedly, but still there), pet names, if there is more that needs to be added to this please feel free to tell me

Your body violently convulsed with a final guttural scream expelling from your lips and your arched back fell onto the soiled covers beneath you. An indecent, moist squelch followed shortly after, a hollowness now felt in your lower body, making you sigh disappointedly. The aftereffects of your indulgent activity had yet to pass: your limbs twitched at random intervals, an impossibly scorching heat coiled around your entire form, and your breathing matched your racing heartbeat. Your mind swam in an abyss of haziness, briefly toeing the boundaries between consciousness and subconsciousness. Time became an irrelevant concept as you floated in a sea of white. Gradually, reality returned to you, piecing back together both your memory and vision.

There was a dip in the mattress beside you and, with a lazy turn of your head, your drooping eyes traversed over the form of another person lying adjacent to you. Your lips turned to a soft smile at the recognition of the other woman who was sitting up on the mattress and she gifted back a sweet half-smirk on her temping lips as she viewed your exhausted and heaving figure. An extended hand reached down towards you, overshadowing your vision for a moment. Slender fingers entangled themselves in the nest of your locks, an instant wave of appreciated comfort washing over you from the ginger threading. You nudged your head against her palm, a wordless request for further engagement.

Your body ached for more of her contact, wishing to experience the naturalness of your bodies sliding against one another like you had minutes prior. Perhaps you were insatiable, or perhaps that was just how alluring the woman was. In any case, you were just content that she didn't leave your presence after she guided you through the gates of heaven, then to the depths of hell, then back, like the angelic devil she was. She tired your muscles and nerves to the point of ache, bruised and branded your skin with impurities and blessings, and ripped parts of your soul away with masterful hands–all while making you want more. As expected, of course, from the vice-president of the all-powerful Baroque Works.

“Thank you,” you found yourself whispering, more to yourself than her. For the unforgettable and inexplicable night she created, for an unmatched intimacy and pleasure that you’ve yet experienced until tonight, for gracing you with her presence and more than you had originally imagined. You didn’t say your inner monologue out loud, though it wasn’t necessary. It was apparent your gratitude reached her ears as she caressed your flushed cheeks with her knuckles in response and a sultry chuckle came from her.

“There’s no need to thank me,” Miss All Sunday answered alongside a slight shake of her head. “You were just as exquisite,” her fingers cascaded down to the side of your neck, its sensitivity compelling you to shiver from a faint brush, “as I’d hoped for.”

If your cheeks could redden more than they already were, you were sure you would resemble a tomato. Ignoring the inflammatory heat on your face, you etched her words on your mind before another greedy desire came to you. Your lips parted, a request on the tip of your tongue, but you quickly clamped down before any rash utterance came out of you. Now that she had already withdrawn from you, you two were no longer cosplaying as lovers.

When your lips first met with hers hours ago in the dainty little bar, the margin between boss and employee was quickly swept away just like your breath; forgotten just like the garments thrown carelessly across the inn room in each other’s haste to explore the other. When she had led you by hand, you followed compliantly with not even more than one step behind her. When she had pinned you against the wall the moment you two were behind locked doors, you welcomed every touch and sensation that came your way. When her hands slinked underneath your layers of fabric, yours roamed around the fringes of her skirt and the strings of her corset. When she peeled away layer by layer of fabric from your form, your fingers scrambled to unbutton and loosen every obstacle in her way. And when she coaxed you over the edge again and again, she had not done it as Miss All Sunday, and when you had surrounded your restraint to her, you had not done it as a Million. But now that both of your desires were sated, was there any need to practice this informality between you two for any longer?

Her keen gaze didn’t miss your hesitance, however. Curious sapphire gems locked with your eyes. “What is it?”

You wanted to feel more of her, but not in the fervent, animalistic manner the two of you had just participated in minutes ago. Somewhere amid the entanglement of limbs, the ardent exchange of kisses, and the wild passion that brimmed the room spawned more than just a sensual yearning for the woman beside you. You wanted her in the way you wanted to stay in her embrace for one second longer because her warmth melted away the cold reality of the world. In the way you wanted her to kiss you, leaving you senseless and gasping by the end of it and intoxicated off of her sweet wine-tasting lips. In the way you wanted to surrender your entire soul, body, and mind to her so long as she kept you close. But such desires were unobtainable and ridiculous, and so the most you coveted at the moment was to feel her arms around you again.

Your attention wandered over her form. She lounged adjacent to you, her plush thighs just a few inches away from brushing against your shoulders and her lanky legs crossed over one another. Even after the shared intimacy, her form always succeeded in wringing out the oxygen from your lungs. She looked so ethereal, then, and even more so now. This time, you weren’t observing her prior flawless skin. Instead, like yours, hers was littered with marks across her body; a bit of giddiness swelled inside you with the knowledge that those prints were your doing. Impulsively, your arm outstretched towards her, and your fingertips landed on one of the bite marks on her outer thigh, trailing over the shallow dents formed by teeth. However, the taller woman jerked from the contact and you swiftly retracted your finger.

“I'm sorry,” you apologized quickly in panic. “I shouldn't have-”

The vice president interrupted you with a shake of your head, and the continuous playful weaving of your hair dispelled your anxiety.

“You wanted to say something, am I correct?” While she still wore her attractive smile, her eyes darkened with just a bit of edge to them, reminding you of the power she possessed in her palm, a power that is mountainous compared to your meager status as a Million.

You averted your eyes from her glower and you chose your next words carefully. “I... I’m afraid I’ll offend you.”

“Speak.”

Her demand is met with hesitant silence. When it was clear you would not oblige, the hand in your hair trailed down your face and grasped your chin, forcing you to gaze up into her expression, which was hardened like stone and lacked its prior softness. That in itself made you shrink into yourself, a spasmodic ball of anxiety forming in the pit of your stomach. In the few hours you’ve familiarized yourself with the woman, you have never met with those turbulent, roaring ocean eyes until now.

“Darling,” she called out and the lack of adoration that usually accompanied your nickname made you succumb.

“I... I want to feel your embrace again,” you admitted feebly. A silence fell between you two again, and you wondered if you had just uttered your last words until a breathy laughter came from the other woman. The grip on your chin dissipated and her fingertips traced down your jaw before wandering up to stroking your cheeks. Your facial tissue laxed spontaneously and the warmth from her touch contaminated your cheeks.

“Good girl,” she praised you for obeying, and the nickname made you feel like putty in her hands again.

“You really are such a sweet little thing,” the woman purred archly. She shifted herself forward and then laid on the covers adjacent to you. A lanky arm curved around each side of your form, your hips cupped by both her hands, and sweltering heat pressed against your front as you were pulled into her body. The bare contact of her chest against yours made you gasp out loud, a bolt of ecstasy shooting through your body. Her chin tucked your head into her neck and an enticing floral scent wafted through your nostrils while you nuzzled into her skin. From the proximity of her chest to yours, through her skin you felt the faint thumping of her heart–and it was racing. You had that effect on her, her heart was racing just like yours for you. Your being was kindled ablaze with exhilaration, an untreatable fever befalling you as you ravenously absorbed her warmth like a sponge. Your palms linked behind her lower back, ensuring your bodies had as little distance between one another as possible.

“Was this what you wanted?” You felt her teasing words vibrate through her throat and you meekly nodded. One of the Miss’s hands left your hip to caress your nape, making you shudder from the sensitivity. The two of you laid comfortably in each other’s company, soaking in one another’s presence before you broke the silence.

“I wish that we didn’t have these codenames,” you thoughtlessly rambled, which piqued her attention. “I’d love to call you by your real name, Miss All Sunday.”

When Miss All Sunday didn’t reply, your shoulders deflated, but you weren’t yet discouraged. “I know it’s forbidden and that you won’t tell me. I won’t ask. But I think you’d have the prettiest name.”

It took several seconds for her to respond. “And how’d you come to that conclusion?”

One of your hands found themselves in Devil Fruit user’s silky black hair and you carded your fingers through her locks. A quick peck was placed on the taller woman's throat. “Just a feeling,” you sighed.

“R.”

“Hm?”

“That’s my first initial.”

You smiled into her skin, nuzzling your face further into the snug of her neck. “R..." you repeated her words with a whisper akin to a sacred prayer.

Maybe that was what Miss All Sunday was to you: a superior, a divine being, a deity–your goddess. Technically speaking, you answered to her and you did her bidding because she was your superior, a higher official in the criminal organization you found yourself a part of. Yet, you also worshipped her body, chanted and praised her name, sang melodic hymns for her satisfaction, and devoted yourself to her tonight. Wouldn’t that make you her devotee? You’d inscribe her touch and voice into your cerebrum, etching down every utterance articulated from her lips like a passage in your religious scripture, ensuring that you were faithful to her and her alone. And the first thing engraved in your newly converted religion’s scripture? A dedication to the letter ‘R’ on the opening page.

That thought would have amused her, you humored yourself.

You wanted to ask more about her. You wanted to ask about what amused her the most so that on the off chance of you two meeting again, you could drink in the dulcet chords of her laughter. You wanted to ask her what flower was the scent of her perfume so that you could indulge in the scent to remember her. You wanted to ask what made her eyes shine so brightly like the star you’ve found yourself orbiting. You wanted to ask her exactly why she chose you of all people, and why she decided to show you a compassion and vulnerability you doubted she shared with many people.

But you didn’t part your lips to utter any of those wonderings in fear that it would dismantle the pleasant atmosphere shared between the two of you. Miss All Sunday was a woman shrouded in mystery and secrecy; that much was obvious when you didn’t recognize her even as the vice president of Baroque Works. Any further prodding would do you no good.

Instead, you unburied your face from her neck and gazed up into her. You were met with warm azure pits and the smallest of smiles.

“Can I kiss you?” came your abrupt request.

Wordlessly, she obliged to your request without any stalling, leaning forward to press her pillowy lips against yours and you swore you were sampling heaven itself. Each kiss is just as succulent as the last, no matter the dozen times you’ve already indulged yourself in her, but this one distinguished itself from the rest: it was by far the most tender. Miss All Sunday relished you with a certain precision, you’d think she was framing the structure of your mouth with precise measurements. Her tongue caressed the plumpness of your lips with a matching meticulousness, a slowness to it that only signified her sincerity.

A muffled whimper left your throat as you were melting from the sensation of her. You closed your eyes to revel in Miss All Sunday unreservedly, accepting every movement of her mouth by replicating it back. Your body felt like liquid magma was poured all over it and every nerve of yours was ignited. Your heart was singing again, pitter-pattering joyously, and threatened to leap out of your throat. You grasped one of the other woman’s cheeks gently with your hands, intimately kneading the facial tissue like she had done for you. A small force was applied to the back of your head as Miss All Sunday made a futile attempt to push you impossibly nearer than you two already were.

Unfortunately, due to the necessity of oxygen, the two of you pulled away, and it was only then when you opened your eyes you realized the difficulty in that. A briefly forgotten fatigue made itself prominent by weighing down your bones and a stretched yawn was involuntarily extracted from you.

“You should rest, darling.”

Her suggestion was attractive–falling asleep in her embrace–but a fear crossed your thoughts before you allowed yourself to succumb. “Will you be there when I wake up?”

Her pursed lips already answered your question before she spoke. “I have something I need to do.”

A childish pout made its way onto your face, but it didn’t prevent the second yawn coming from you. Sleepiness overtook your form, coercing you to shut your eyes and yield to the comfort of Miss All Sunday’s hold.

“Go to sleep, my sweet thing. For me, if you will.”

The hold around you tightened and that brought you enough comfort to drift away.

“Sweet dreams, my dear.”

When you woke up, nude and alone on the bed, you should have felt a deep disappointment in your chest. Instead, excitement wormed its way into your heart and you grinned stupidly. When you woke up, you were met with blackness; something that was weighing over your face was blocking out the light from a nearby burning candle. Pulling it off revealed to you that it was a purple felt hat, and in an instant, you recognized it as Miss All Sunday’s.

In the hat was a note, reading:

‘Be a good girl for me, won’t you? Keep this until I find you again. Wait for me, my dear.

-Your 'R'’

---

Can you tell I'm in love? I love her.

#nico robin x reader #nico robin x you #nico robin x y/n #nico robin fic #one piece fic #one piece fanfiction #one piece nico robin #one piece x reader #op x reader #edgeray.writes #edgeray.blog

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oftenwantedafton · 2 months

Text

Kismet - Dave Miller/William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 3

Word Count - 4k

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - none for this chapter

Also available on AO3

The rain hasn’t stopped.

You listen to the sound of it drumming against the pavement outside the pizzeria, rattling along the grimy skylights above. The ice cradling your injured ankle is already melting, reverting to a liquid state. Your saturated clothing clings unpleasantly to your body. You shiver, not for the first time, and not just from your body temperature dropping because of the wet garments enshrouding you.

It’s him. Dave Miller. Making your body tremor. Quivering like the plucked string of an instrument.

The night shift employee hasn’t left your side. Seemingly unconcerned with the security cameras. Watching you intently. The condition of his damp uniform doesn’t seem to annoy him nearly as much as you’re bothered by the state of your own outfit. His dark hair is still quite wet and rather mussed from when he’d raked his fingers through it earlier. He’s edged his chair closer to yours, sliding out still another to rest his own feet on, ankles crossed, slouching down a bit with his neck cradled on the back of the seat until his long, lean form is draped languidly. It can’t be comfortable, and yet, he looks very relaxed, such a sharp contrast from your own nervous tension. Your hands are tucked between your thighs, your shoulders hunched in a defensive posture. You realize you’re staring again, and you look away hurriedly, refocusing your attention on the view outside the glass front doors.

“It hasn’t rained like this in years. Not since…” his voice trails off. Talking aloud, but not really directing the conversation towards you. Reminiscing. Lost in a memory. One index finger absently runs back and forth over the silver tie bar clipping the black strip of fabric in place. His pale eyes flick to meet yours. He’s caught you looking again. He gifts you a little smirk. “I think we’re going to have to reschedule our breakfast for another time. We should get you home so you can get changed into dry clothing and get some rest. I’ll drive your car. You’re not going to want to be pushing on a pedal with that ankle sprain for a bit.”

Of course it had been the joint of your right lower limb that had been compromised. You hadn��t even considered how challenging that would make operating a vehicle. You’d mainly been worrying about the potential difficulty of walking. “What about work? Guarding—”

“—I’m sure the owner will understand an urgent situation like this. Make an exception,” he interrupts smoothly. “The shift is nearly finished anyway. What floor is your apartment on? Is there an elevator in the building?”

”Third. Yes, there’s an elevator.” You lean forward and remove the bag of melted ice, tentatively trying to flex your right foot. Still painful. It doesn’t look any better, but it doesn’t look any worse, either. Walking around campus was definitely going to be a hassle. At least you could rest until Wednesday. You’ll have to call the animal shelter later and tell them you needed a couple of days off.

“How does it feel?”

“About the same.” You’re thinking of the distance to the car. Miller carrying you. Lifting you like you weighed absolutely nothing. He doesn’t look like he’d be strong with that willowy frame of his. But you’d felt it. The secret power he hides. In the arms clutching you. The muscles in his neck, in his back as you’d frantically clung to him, so startled.

You’re curious about the mysterious marks carved into his skin, visible even now, the damp white material blending to reveal the flesh beneath. Had he been in some sort of accident? Maybe on the motorcycle? He’d told you he’d had worse injuries than the ones you’d tended to that night at the shelter. Were these what he was referring to?

You glance at your canvas shoe with the ankle sock tucked inside resting on the seat near your bare foot. There’s no way you’re putting that soaked garment back on. You decide to shove it into your jeans pocket.

The man straightens in his seat, his Oxfords striking the linoleum as he swiftly shifts positions. He insists on helping you put on your sneaker. His fingers work gently. Unfolding your pants leg. Adjusting the tongue of the shoe. One of the laces has come loose from the grommet. He rethreads it, then ties the laces. Tucking a finger inside the ACE wrap to make sure it hasn’t become too tight. You’re struck again by his actions. Thinking about him in the caregiver role. A husband. A father. Had he been doting? Devoted? Did he help with chores around the house? Assist with homework? Take turns driving the children to sports practice and volunteering to make dinner, only to take the easy route out at the last minute and order take out, something crowd pleasing like pizza that everyone liked? Maybe the kids argued over toppings. Maybe they debated about what size slice should go to whom. Fighting over who would help with the dishes after. Arguing over the television remote. Good natured squabbling like in any family.

Dave’s head lifts as he finishes and his eyes meet yours. “What is it?”

You shake your head, feeling damp tendrils of hair striking your cheek as you chew your bottom lip. If you were ever going to pursue this, you were going to have to be bolder. “I was wondering. About your past experiences. When you mentioned your children earlier. Being married. What life was like.”

He remains silent. There is only the <i>tap tap tap</i> of the storm outside. Quieter now. The fury subsiding.

“I do want to get to know you.” You had agreed to it earlier without really considering all the ramifications. Dating someone so much older. Someone with a lot of potential emotional baggage. You were virtually a clean slate. An open book. No secrets to conceal. But this man. He was anything but. The complete opposite. How much would he reveal? How deep could you actually explore?

The older man nods. “Alright.”

You move your lower extremity and Dave drags the other chair you’d been using out of the way before you stand up slowly, wincing instantly when you apply some body weight onto the injured joint. The guard reaches to steady and support you, one arm curling around your waist while you clutch his shoulder.

“I’ll be alright. I just need to get used to walking on it and bearing weight.” You step forward. He moves with you. Again. Another step. Suddenly the front door seems very far away, the car even further.

“If it doesn’t get better in a couple of days, you should probably have it seen. In case it is more serious than I thought. I’ll bring you if you need me to.”

A sudden thought occurs to you. “What about your bike? How are you going to get home after you drop me off?”

“I’ll call a cab. Not a big deal. My bike will be safe enough inside the garage in back. It’s not really pleasant riding in this weather, anyway.”

You feel a twinge of guilt. It’s your fault this happened. It had just unnerved you so much. The way he had abruptly dragged you so close like that in the office earlier. And he’d known you’d been staring at his picture. Awkward, being confronted. Why didn’t you just flirt back? How difficult would it have been to hang out with him for a couple of hours? Go out to eat, get to know him better? Looking back now it seemed so foolish. Immature.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“For what?”

“Putting you through all this. Making you leave work early. Going out in a torrential downpour. Having to drive me home and take a taxi.”

Dave tucks his fingers under your chin, lifting your face slightly. “I forgive you.”

You think he might kiss you then. You’d thought he was going to earlier. In the office. And again, after he’d tended to your injury. Little moments here and there. It scares you a little.

It excites you a little, too.

No kiss this time, either. He instead goes to gather his jacket from the locker in the office before you can leave. You sit back down, waiting for him. Chairs are tucked back into place upon his return. You hand him your car keys. He spins them around on his index finger. Apartment key, car key, the short black kubaton for self defense completing a circuit. Then rotating them back again. He does this often, you think. Something in the gesture has the look of eased practice. That heavy keyring on his belt his customary target, maybe. You wonder not for the first time what all those keys open.

Dave hands you his leather jacket to hold over your head to shield your body from the inclement weather. The rest of his riding gear is still tucked away back in the security office, waiting for next time.

“You ready?”

You glance outside, considering. “Yes.”

“Lean on me as much as you want to. I can carry you again if need be.”

“I want to try to walk. It feels like it’s stiffening up.”

You wait for him to lock the building, leaning on its exterior for support until he finishes. You try to hold the jacket overhead for both of you. The height difference makes it tricky. It’s at an awkward slope, propped up by one of your hands and one of your tall companion’s so it tents over your heads. Largely ineffective but better than nothing. His other hand is back at your waist and yours clutches his shoulder again. You’re struggling between wanting to hurry to the car and managing your injury. You step into a puddle and the water splashes onto your legs. Soaked again. There was just no escaping it. The pair of you finally finish the trek to your automobile. Miller hurriedly unlocks the passenger side door and you settle inside, sighing with relief, grateful for the shelter.

Dave slides behind the wheel. His jacket is on the seat between you. He grabs it and tosses it in the back, inserting the key in the ignition but doesn’t turn it, looking over at you.

Soft drops patter on the roof of the car. Almost musical strikes against aluminum and steel and fiberglass. He blinks away the moisture from the elements. How long his lashes look. Dark, dewy clumped threads you can see in the pale gray light of the coming dawn. A drop of water slides free from his hairline, tracking across his forehead and nose and finally settling over the wedge of his bottom lip. Your eyes follow that path, lingering where it ends.

You’re not sure who leans first, only knowing there’s a soft collision somewhere above the center console as you partially move out of your seat and he shifts over from his, lips meeting. It’s gentle at first, like those fingers that had so gingerly assessed your ankle.

And then it’s nothing like gentle at all. It’s parted mouths and exploring tongues and a fire that ignites in your core. Your hands are back at the nape of his neck, threading in his hair. He tastes like the rain and slightly sweet and firey, like some candy he’d indulged in earlier, perhaps. Cinnamon. That wet drag of his tongue in your mouth makes your stomach flip over and over. His hand is on your cheek, thumb slotted beneath your jaw, trapping you in the most delicious way. The chill you’d felt earlier is completely forgotten. There’s just this, this warmth flooding you as that possessive, firm touch keeps you in place, the frenzy of kisses eventually softening into staccato touches between ragged gasps for air, then fainter huffed pants, his face finally drawing back to look at you.

You’d wondered for a fleeting moment if he’d been disappointed with the kisses at all. What his experience was. Had his wife been his high school sweetheart? The only love he’d known? Or had there been others? Before. After. You are an after.

But now, looking into that thin ring of dark ash that surrounds his blown pupils, you know the truth. He’s not disappointed at all. You needn’t feel inadequate. You don’t have to compare yourself to some memory. You’ve seen the kind of wonder there. Hunger. A reflection of you. You kiss until the rain ceases, until the sun peeks behind the clouds, until you’ve clouded the windows with condensation and heat and he finally says he’s taking you home.

***

Your anatomy textbook is in your lap.

A heavy weight that balances on your thighs as you rest sideways on the couch in your apartment with your legs stretched across the cushions.

You had woken up feeling very stiff that morning, the day after you’d hurt yourself in the decaying, overgrown parking lot of the pizzeria. Wondering if you could even manage by yourself. But you’d gritted your teeth and forced yourself to move. Hasty shower. Dressing, deciding pajamas were the best option. Then back to the couch with ice and your textbook. A detailed outline of the skeletal system taunting you. It was difficult to concentrate.

You’re thinking about Dave.

About kissing the older man, specifically. If anyone had told you that you’d be making out in your car in the parking lot of an abandoned restaurant with someone old enough to be your father a few weeks ago, you would have called them insane. But there you were. Doing that very thing.

The sound of his motorcycle outside has you hastily shutting the book and placing it on the coffee table. He’d promised to come check on you. He was going to take you to class tomorrow, too.

You limp over to the door, waiting for him to knock.

There it is, that soft rap of knuckles. He’s going to know you were right there waiting for him. The interval between his announcement and the door opening was far too scant. But you can’t help it.

The scent of leather permeates the air as the door opens. He’s got his helmet in one hand, fingers hooked underneath the opening of the bottom. That crooked little smirk of greeting you were starting to enjoy parts his lips. Those lips you’d just been fondly thinking about.

“Hey, come in.” You step back, willing your foot to cooperate as the security guard enters your living room, closing the door behind him.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. It was really stiff this morning, but it got better once I started moving around. How was work? Do you want something to drink?”

“Not now. Go sit down. Work was fine,” he says, setting the helmet on the counter. He removes his gloves and then unzips his jacket and that joins the pile. You sit back down and he settles at the other end of the couch. “Let me see it.”

You rest your bare foot in his lap and he runs his fingers over your ankle, lightly pressing here and there during his assessment. His gaze flickers to the bag of ice on the coffee table. “Keep up with the ice. And you should take an anti inflammatory if you need to. We definitely should wrap it before we leave tomorrow. I’m fairly certain there are still a set of crutches around the house somewhere. I’ll have a look later. Should make things easier. No bike riding yet for you. We’ll take my car. I think you’ll be okay skipping the ER, but I’ll bring you if you want.”

“Thank you. I trust you.”

The probing digits grow still and he looks at you, an unreadable expression on his features. “Do you?” He asks softly.

You nod. Wondering if he isn’t simply talking about his judgment regarding your injury. Beyond that. You’re trying to mentally recite the names of the bones in your leg when his fingers move again. Phalanges, metatarsals, tarsals, tibia, fibula, patella, femur. His palm slides upward, dipping beneath the loose flowing fabric of your pajama pants. Stopping mid shin. Rotating to the back of your calf. Lightly massaging. Another lick of flame along your core and you can no longer conjure any more of your anatomy knowledge.

Then his hand abruptly vanishes and there is a soft sound of disappointment that involuntarily escapes you.

“I’ll stay later another time, I promise. You need to study and I need to sleep. I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re doing alright.”

You nod and reluctantly shift positions, moving your lower extremities back to the rug. He stands and offers you a hand as you rise. You follow him back to the kitchen, watching him shrug into his jacket, shoving the gloves inside his pockets, the helmet tucked against one hip as he walks to the front door.

”Make sure you lock this behind me. Be safe. I heard about the attacker on the news again.”

You had, too. Another young female victim at your school. Still no leads. The man’s face always disguised by a mask, and not even the same one each time. A statement from the police pleading for help, looking for potential witnesses and urging caution.

Caution is something you’re not about to exercise right now. You rest a hand on the door knob. Still not opening it. Reaching for the zipper of Dave’s jacket with the other hand, tugging it down the rest of the way. Your joint aches. You ignore it. His unoccupied hand seats against the side of your neck, his lips moving to your throat. The helmet drops onto the carpet. He’s cupping the back of your thigh, lifting your sore leg and bracing it against his own, letting you rest your weight on him. He pushes you back against the door, the stiff leather creaking as the hard line of his body presses into your soft curves.

“Stay,” you implore. “Just for a little longer. I know you’re tired. I know I need to study for the exam. I just…”

“For a little longer,” he agrees before his mouth finds yours.

***

Dave Miller pulls into his garage an hour later.

He switches off the ignition and nudges the kickstand with his boot, letting the sport motorcycle incline at a slight angle, the front tire resting along one of the many oil stains on the cement foundation. Across from it rests the vintage sedan that had been his previous primary mode of transportation. He’s actually glad he has an excuse to take that for a drive tomorrow, before the consequences of inactivity and disuse started affecting the vehicle.

The tired looking man sets his helmet and gloves on the cluttered workbench nearby. Tools, sketches, journals, the blueprints of unfinished projects litter its surface. He’s made no progress on any of it lately, so occupied between guarding his restaurant and spending time with you.

How difficult it had been to leave you just now.

Strange how quickly his relationship with you had evolved. The casual acquaintance shifting to something else. Wanting you, and you wanting him in return. The sudden escalation of it. Unexpected.

He leaves his boots on the mat by the stairs leading into the house. He’s weary, but there’s an edge of excitement coursing through him. Little sparks leftover from seeing you. Touching you. Kissing you.

Intimacy was something he’d dismissed long ago as an unnecessary distraction. It surprises him how readily he’s fallen back into craving it. The isolation taking its toll. Succumbing to that great failing of all humanity, making itself so reliant on the satisfaction of interaction with others.

He wonders what he’s going to tell you about his past.

The questions will inevitably come. The flame of curiosity has already been ignited. The complete truth was impossible, of course. It would have to be snippets here and there, interspersed among the deception and lies and secrets.

Even if he gave a full confession, you’d never believe it.

Miller mulls the dilemma over in the shower, opting for the abbreviated version of cleansing even though he preferred the luxury of a soak in the tub. It’s too late for that. He’s really feeling it now. The lack of sleep makes his limbs drag, the earlier excited flare diminishing, subdued. He hastily combs his hair and brushes his teeth afterwards. A different flavor of mint than the one you use that he’d tasted earlier. His scars look very dark today in the reflection of the medicine cabinet’s mirror. Violet more than crimson. He still hasn’t forgotten the feeling of obtaining those marks. He would never forget, he thinks. Impossible.

Dave sinks into bed. A different one than he’d used when his family had lived here. Some memories he simply wasn’t willing to keep. A lot of the house is like that. The renovations done not merely out of the necessity borne of aging, but a desire for a change. A new living space to accompany his new identity, paid for by funds he had invested and squirreled away long ago. Fresh coats of paint and a recent acquisition of more modern furniture and a rearrangement of its placement within each room. Altered decor. Memories removed little by little. Things concealed. That dent his eldest son had put in the wall tossing a ball inside the house even though he’d been reprimanded not to countless times now patched and painted. The oven that had baked many years of treats for his middle child’s sweet tooth long gone. An ivory vanity with a matching velvet padded bench that he’d gifted his wife for one of their wedding anniversaries early on had been set on the curb, a free offering that was quickly snatched up by some random opportunist. The touch tone corded telephone with the list of commonly used numbers secured under a thin sheet of plastic on the cradle now slowly rotting in a landfill. Henry Emily’s number was at the top of the list of those featured numbers. Not that he didn’t have his former business partner’s number memorized, of course. Something else—someone else—he struggles and fails to obliterate from his mind.

The man turns over. One arms stretches out as if to embrace someone. But of course the other side of the mattress is unoccupied.

Someday he’ll bring you home with him. He’ll lure you into this bed. And he’ll see if he can erase more of the past.

Wiping it away with every kiss and touch.

#dave miller x you #william afton x reader #william afton x you #dave miller x reader

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