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the-oletus-parlor · 2 years

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Theater of Darkness♪

"What is it you're trying to see? You have no place in the outside world... not anymore... Gaze into my mirror and see yourselves anew. As one of them, an army under my command. If you'd like to fight back, go ahead. Throw the dice and see where it lands. Investigate this place to your hearts' content, and you'll find it's all the same. Complete darkness. There is no warmth here. Go on, be sure to put on a good show once you realize there's no escape." - Agents of Darkness

Opening Cast:

S Tier: Haunted Pink Disk♪

S Tier: Agents of Darkness

A Tier: Heart of the Night -> Midnight Phantom

A Tier: Hacker -> Sweet Dreams

A Tier: Spectral Viewer♪ -> Broadcaster

A Tier: Neon Lights -> Shooting Stars

B Tier: Musical Beats -> Song of Fate

B Tier: Broken Sign -> Party of the Dawn

---

Welcome back to lore! [part 2]

This time, we'll be talking about The Theater of Darkness, which is the second part of the Neon Essence's lore and the finale!

Our settings here are in the Theater of Darkness and The Neonized... 7 years after the events of the Neon Essence. Buckle up folks, you're in for a long one </3 /j/lh

I tried to stay less away from explaining every little thing and tried to put more focus on small story segments to help tell the narrative,,, I'll still try to explain some things though </3 I'll title the segments "Act X: Y" just cause I think it's neat. Hopefully, it also helps you guys get a better feel for the world of ToD and the characters stuck inside it. I may or may not get carried away in some parts,,, hehe,,,

---

Content Warning for descriptions of injury and death (especially in Act 4!), so please read at your own risk!

---

Act One: The Stage is Set... for its final story.

Darkness.

A total, all-consuming darkness, which swallowed any and all light greedily. Like a hungry beast consumes its prey, feasting upon their flesh.

Darkness as far as the eye could see, stretching far beyond what the four people could see.

Darkness.

"Where... where the fuck are we?" Heart of the Night, although severely injured, still glowed the brightest of the four people. He had lost all but the purple and teal glow in his hair and cracked, round sunglasses, as well as the dim light emitted by the brittle staff laying by his side.

"You think I know? Ugh... my watch's map is all messed up, it just keeps saying DATA NOT FOUND." Hacker, on the other hand, had lost all but the light that glowed within her gloves, which was nothing more than a dim, flickering mess. And even that was struggling to stay alive.

"This place... is dark. Very..." Spectral Viewer turned once. "...very..." And then, a second time. "...very..." And finally, she had turned a third time. "...dark." She whispered quietly. From her headphones, a weak, weak orange light fought for its right to be seen.

"Darkness as far as the eye can see..." Neon Lights placed his foot down, looking around. "The ground is flat... but hollow underneath our feet? Are we on top of some sort of structure?" He noted. Though his light had completely faded, his intellect stayed strong and intact.

"And now... now that the stage is set... it is time for your final acts... in this story." A voice echoed from the darkness, soft and alluring. It gripped their attention, demanding to be acknowledged. And from the darkness, she arose. To them, she looked to be nothing more than white scribbles floating around in the darkness, as if she were crudely scribbled in crayon by a small child. Her movements were graceful and fluid, however, as if she were floating across the floor. Behind her, existed three scales, with chains that spiraled up into the neverending darkness. both seemingly anchored to a ceiling of some kind, but also detached to the void around them, following the strange woman wherever she went. And in her hand, she held a small mirror. It, however, didn't seem to reflect light... but show neverending darkness instead. Heart of the Night could not even see a hint of himself in the mirror's surface, even though he knew they still shone bright enough to leave some evidence in the reflection of their presence. She reached up, slowly tapping on the mirror's surface, however it did not make a sound. Where the sound of her nail tapping against the glass's surface should have been... stood silence instead. "Oh... cue the lights, it's been a long time since I've had visitors this far down in the darkness..." Her voice echoed across the space, even though she never moved her mouth, still wearing that same, creepy closed-lip grin. "You're all fading... but you are all still intact... good. You will all make good vessels for the darkness." It spoke again, but its words left the four of them... rather perplexed.

"Vessels..? What the fuck are you on about?" Heart of the Night was the one who spoken up first, seemingly both confused and upset. "Yeah, what are you talking about? Are... are you the darkness?" Hacker added with a confused look. "If that thing is the Darkness... then we can't afford to stay here! If the Darkness gets us, there's no telling what will happen!" Neon Lights had interjected. Spectral Viewer simply looked on in horror at the creature, standing tall just feet in front of them. "Ahh, come on, answer us, bitch!" Heart of the Night snapped, seemingly irrate by the now silent, smiling figure.

And then... it happened. One by one, 4 doors appeared, guarded by 4 heavy locks. In front of the 4 doors, laid a blank television and a table with four bright, glowing keys. One red and blue, one orange and pink, one purple and teal, and one yellow and green. "Choose whichever door you'd like. You are free to explore as you see fit, for you will soon see that... there is no escape for you. And there is no tomorrow. Not anymore..." The figure spoke again, but this time, she held up her finger. "But only one door can be entered by one person at a time. The rest must stay... and watch. You may stand here..." The figure shifted to the side before gesturing back behind her. "Or you may take a seat in the audience, if you so wish." Behind her, from the darkness arose several hundred seats, similar to one you'd find in a theater. Almost every seat had been filled with decaying mechanical dolls with ribbons tied over their eyes and smiles plastered on their faces, strung to the chairs with a simple white string. Only two seats remained open and unoccupied.

"It's... it's like a theater. They're making a show out of us." Spectral Viewer whispered as she covered her mouth. "What do we do?" Hacked mumbled, nervousness edging her voice. "What else can we do? I doubt running from her is gonna do us any good..." Heart of the Night mumbled. "Besides... the battle against the darkness in The Neonized has me fuckin' beat... I'd love to sit down if I'm bein' honest." His knee connected with the ground with a soft click as he felt his legs give out underneath him. "But we can't just, comply with that... that thing! What if it's a trap?" Neon Lights grumbled angrily. "But what else can we do? I mean... we're not in our world anymore..." Spectral Viewer spoke softly. "We're... we're going to have to go into those doors, you guys." Hacker held her hands out nervously, moving them as she spoke. "Whether we want to or not... I don't think we have a choice..."

The strange figure only smiled in response. Unmoving. Only... smiling.

---

In the first "act" of the Theater of Darkness, the group of 4 is introduced to the Agents of Darkness! She's the big bad of the essence, of course. Here, she introduced them to four doors, four sets of locks, four keys [each key with one of the four's signature colors] and a set of seats, with all but two filled with horrifying displays. The two open seats are important, remember that. Also, the fist bump from the "Coming Soon" post is important too, so remember that too! Of course, I tried not to get too much into the details for the dolls themselves </3 those dolls in the audience are all of Yidhra's followers, her leech followers, to be exact.

---

Act Two: And then there were 3 left...

There was silence for a long while. Any type of conversation was useless for the four of them. Silence ruled the dark land...

And then, she spoke. "I'll open a door first." Spectral Viewer's voice was laced with hesitance and uncertainty. "Spect, you don't have to if you don't want to. I'll go-" Heart of the Night had started to protest, but it was too late. "No, it's... fine. You said you were tired, and that you wanted to sit down. So... please. Sit down, and let me go first. You don't always have to sacrifice yourself for the group, you know..." Spectral Viewer placed her hands on the shoulders of the taller, injured party member. "Maybe from my experience... you'll all be able to learn something useful." Spectral Viewer placed her hand over her quick-beating heart. "Maybe... with this... sacrifice, you'll all be able to taste the sweet feeling of victory." She smiled warmly, like a freshly baked good straight out of the oven. "Don't say that Spectral... we're all gonna make it out of this together, you hear me?" Hacker clasped her hands together tightly. "You're still gambling on a better end? Huh... typical of you, boss." Neon Lights mumbled in response. Spectral Viewer laughed slowly. "You guys are funny... I wish I could have gotten to know you all sooner..." Spectral Viewer smiled sadly. "If we do make it out of here... I'll bake you some nice pastries for us all to share, okay?" Spectral Viewer spoke softly as she made the offer. "You better!" Hacker said sternly. "We're all gonna make it out together, and then we're going to snack like kings, queens, and godDAMN royalty." She huffed energetically. Spectral Viewer giggled once more with a soft nod, while Neon Lights chuckled with a quick nod. And yet... Heart of the Night had made no effort to make a response.

And then... she had turned and gently scooped the yellow and pink key into her hands. It glowed softly, but it felt warm in her hands, as if she were holding a freshly baked cupcake in her hands. She then observed the four different doors, each with different colored chains. She hesitantly walked up to the third door, grabbing the lock with her right hand and holding the key with her left hand. She looked back once, seeing Heart of the Night and Hacker sitting in the audience, with Neon Lights standing by their side. She smiled, turned, then placed the key inside the lock, turning it until she hear a small click. The lock and key then dissolved in her hands, leaving a glowing yellow door in front of her. She took a deep breath, feeling as the doorknob turned in her hands. She pushed the door open... and suddenly, the world had shifted.

She stood inside an empty building, alone. In front of her was a table, with a tape rack with 10 slots, a tape player, and a monitor on it. "Hmm? 10 empty slots?" Spectral Viewer reached out, gently running her fingers along the empty rack. "Perhaps... I have to find those tapes..." Her eyes wandered to the tape player. "And play them on here..." Spectral Viewer mumbled something quietly to herself as she observed the room. To her right laid a glowing orange tape. She gently scooped the tape into her hands before hesitantly placing it into the tape player. However, the monitor remained off, and sound came... from somewhere else. Despite not being connected to anything, a soft voice emerged from her headphones, speaking in a low and hushed tone, as if trying to avoid alerting something...

And this went on for 8 more tapes. Spectral Viewer would look around for the tape, she would place it into the tape player, and then she would listen to the person through her headphones. The stories they told were... discombobulated and choppy, as if parts of it were missing. But... upon gaining the 10th tape, something was different. For the first time during her stay in the strange room, when she placed the tape inside the tape player, the monitor had finally turned on. "H-Huh?" Spectral Viewer had stepped closer to the monitor, carefully looking at what it was displaying. It was showing an aerial view of the room, as she could see herself looking at the monitor. And then, one final recording began to play.

"I tried to stop it... I really did... but now it's hungry... very hungry... it's looking for something to eat... something to feast... And I think... it's found something. I can hear it... crawling. Circling. I can hear it right above me... I think it's coming... and I think... that I am going to taste... delicious."

---

While the tape players, Spectral Viewer can hear something crawling above her, but it's too dark for her to see anything. But it begins to get louder... and louder... and louder. And then, it swings down, grabbing Spectral Viewer and dragging her up and into the darkness. There's a moment of silence before a loud crunch is heard and something falls to the floor from the darkness and the television in the theater shuts off.

So what happened is after Spectral Viewer listened to the first 9 tapes, which told the sad tale of a woman who had her work stolen by a big TV station and was refused to be given the credit she deserves, the 10th tape played the haunting last words of the woman, right before her death. And then, the thing that killed the woman swoops down and grabs Spectral Viewer. The "thing" that falls to the floor is actually her body... without her head attached. [That's why in her upgraded skin, Broadcaster, Beth's head is replaced by a TV! Don't ask me how that works it just does, okay :(]

---

Act Three: And then, there were two.

"Next person... please." The strange woman spoke again, but couldn't hear her. An eerie dreadfulness hung in the air at the conclusion of Spectral's door. But a painful conclusion soon arose. Spectral Viewer... was no more. Going through those doors... spelled out certain death. There was no doubt about it... not anymore. "Oh... oh my god... Spectral..." Hacker covered her mouth as tears rolled down her face. "N-No way that just happened... that can't be fuckin' real-" Even though he had been sitting down, Heart of the Night felt like he had all the breath knocked out of him as he gripped onto the armrest. Neon Lights was quiet, however, as he stared at the now blank TV screen. "Next person... please~." She spoke again with eerie enthusiasm. "I told you, didn't I? There's no way out, there is no escape... and there is no tomorrow. Not anymore..." She giggled for a moment, high in pitch. Her words rang through their ears. "Someone must go... or else someone will be forced to go." She spoke softly, words crashing over the remaining three like ocean waves crashing over a person inside of the sea. They were all silent for a long, long while... And then, she made her move.

"You've all taken too long to decide." She had announced. "So now... my followers shall choose someone for you all." She kept the same eerie smile as she spoke. "Fo...llow...ers?" Heart of the Night's voice was quiet as he spoke first, as if the words were stuck in his throat. She turned to look at the young man sitting down in the audience. "They are all around you... followers, it's time... to arise." She reached up, tapping her fingers against the glass mirror once, then twice, and finally, a third time. And then, one by one, the sound of thread snapping could be heard, which brought along a horrific scene. The dolls, which were previously sewn down to the chairs, had begun to move. Their movements were sharp and jerky, like that of an unoiled puppet. Some of them were tall and lanky while others were shorter and stubbier because they were all creepy and unnerving nonetheless. "Wha..." Hacker seemed to be taken aback by the sudden, overwhelming presence now in the dimly lit theater with them. They moved forward jerkily, pushing their way forward towards the three remaining doors. "H-Hey! No pushing!" "Get your fucking hands off me, you creepy pieces of shit!" "Let go!" But the dolls did not listen, nor do they pay the three protesters any mind, for though their movements were choppy, they still trudged forwards.

"Shittt man..." Heart of the Night groaned as he laid flat on his back. Hacker whimpered as she clung to the floor. "Did they really have to throw mee... I never want to let go of the floor again." Hacker sobbed. "Hey... where's Lights?" Heart of the Night winced as he held his head. "You don't think..." Hacker turned around slowly as she faced the three doors. The last door was unlocked. "No... Neon! NEON!" Hacker screamed out to her informant desperately, but it was far... far too late for that. "Hacker. Hacker stop! HACKER-"

"What the hell..?" Neon Lights grit his teeth as he stumbled to his feet. The setting was no longer that of the Theater, but rather... the streets of the Neonized? There was not a single light around, and the location reminded him a lot of his meeting spots when he would pass information onto Hacker.

...

Hacker. Where was she?

He turned once, then twice, looking around. Then he paused. "She's not here... and neither is that man, Heart. I... suppose that is a good thing. But... where am I then?" Neon Lights glanced around with a confused expression. "I shouldn't stay here long... this isn't really the Neonized, there's no telling what's lurking around the corners here." He mumbled to himself. He carefully made his way around the corner, with much caution. Any enemy waiting around the corner was no match for him, for he was too cautious with his movements and approaches. But no matter how hard he fought, they keep coming and coming, as if they came from an endless horde.

At the end of the long stretch of land laid a mirror, hung on the brick wall. His body ached from the fighting and continuous running, so the enemy-free stretch of land was suspicious... yet very relieving. The mirror looked similar to the one of the strange woman. However, a mirror in an open alleyway such as this was... suspicious. But the only other way he could go was back towards the hordes, so where else can he go? He was quiet as he approached the mirror slowly. He reached out, able to see himself in the reflection of the mirror. He gently reached toward the mirror, however, before he could touch it, he could see enemies approaching in the distance. He turned to face the hordes, however... nothing was there.

He turned back towards the mirror...

...but his reflection was not the same as him, holding the very same gun he had been using to protect himself the entire time against his chest with a sewn smile.

"Trust no one... not even yourself."

Even if the TV turned off before the ending could be revealed... what happened was clear.

---

Okay okay so. Basically, Neon Lights was shot by his reflection! Trust no one, not even yourself, as the reflection said. Who would have guessed your own reflection could be your enemy?

As for the mess earlier, what the followers did was basically they picked up the three remaining survivors, grabbed one of the keys, unlocked the door, and then threw the person associated with the door, inside of it! They then dropped the other two on the stage floor... or more, they dropped Hacker on the stage floor and threw HotN at the theater stairs. lol.

---

Act Four: Make me a promise, Hacker.

And with that, another one had been lost. Another life had been taken, right before their eyes. Another friend... claimed by the darkness they all had banded together to try and defeat.

"Why... why does this keep happening..." Hacker's voice was shaky as she choked back sobs. "Hacker... Hacker please, calm down..." But Hacker was inconsolable. "Why...? P-Please... Heart... why?" She had gripped the other remaining boy's shoulders as she struggled to choke back sobs. "...I don't know why. Things like this... they don't always have a reason why..." Heart of the Night reached over, placing his hand on the broken girl's shoulder. "Sometimes... terrible things happen to good people. Like Spectral. Like Neon. Sometimes... people get terribly sick... and they become weak... and they die because someone took advantage of their general unwellness. And people like us... there's nothing we can do to stop it." He frowned a bit as he quietly pushed Hacker's hair back. "But they're gone now. No amount of feeling sorry and feeling regret is going to change that." Hacker sniffled. "It's okay to cry... but if you linger on it too long... it'll consume you." Heart mumbled. "...Did you have someone... that you've lost to the darkness too?" Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, as if she was treading on forbidden territory. "...You're just now asking me this? Really? In the like, 4 months we've known each other-" Heart groaned in response, rubbing his forehead. "...yeah. I did. My daughters. They both died right in front of my eyes, with the younger mumbling 'papa... I don't wanna die... papa... papa please...' ... I couldn't protect either of them." He mumbled quietly, the remark leaving a stinging pain in Hacker's heart. "That... I..." Hacker squeezed her eyes tightly, sniffling. "I still see that scene every time I close my eyes. Although..." Heart's eyes shifted to the strange woman, who was always standing there, holding the mirror and smiling. "...I don't think I'll be seeing it much longer." He frowned. "... you're going through the door?" Hacker's voice was shaky as she asked her most dreaded question. "...Of course. Someone has to. Oh, come on, don't look at me like that." Heart noticed the growing frown forming on Hacker's face. "You can't! You're not in any shape to-" "Neither are you. Just look at yourself." "No! You CAN'T go! Please! You'll die... and I can't handle seeing another person I care about die... Heart, please..." "Hacker... I'm sorry, but if it's not me... it would have to be you. And if we take too long, what happened to Neon is going to happen to us." He tried to reason with the distraught girl, but his words went in one ear and out the other. "No! Can't we figure something out first?" She clasped her hands together with a pleading in her voice. "...I don't think we can. And I don't think... that you could stop me, even if you tried. Face it, Hacker. You can't help me. You can't even help yourself. Just give. it. up." His words felt like a slap to the face for the young coder, who refused to face defeat. Not like that. "At least... at least let me see the odds, you asshole. Even if it's a one-in-a-million chance I can stop you... at least let me take it..." Hacker sniffled. "You really do like pushing your luck, don't you? Do you realize that one day, the odds won't be in your favor? Whatever, try your luck with me if that's what you want..." He crossed his arms as he held his staff in his hands. "Come at with all you've got."

Even though he was injured, the fight was too easy, for a victor decided before it had truly begun. "You're too slow!" The remark was followed up by a twirl and strike of the sharp-pointed staff, tearing through the rabbit-themed hood, sending the young girl flying backward. "Ugh!" Hacker flew across the stage, colliding with the stage floor for the nth time, slamming into the ground and rolling from the sheer power and impact. Watching Hacker lay on the floor, Heart of the Night allowed his staff to quietly fall out of his hand and gently onto the ground. He let out strained breaths as he observed Hacker, on the floor, unmoving. "Shit... did I overdo it?" He stumbled to where Hacker lay, using the cupped handle of the staff to push Hacker's face up off the floor. Hacker sniffled softly. "O-Ow..." "Oh, good, you're still fine. Hate to say I told you so but..." Hacker tried to get up, but anything she still had going into the fight had been thoroughly beaten out of. "How the hell did you... even..." Hacker winced, whining. "You learn a lot working at a bar, you know. People get into fights all the time, drunk out of their minds... I just picked up on some of the more interesting beatdown techniques." He held his hand out, waiting for Hacker to take it. She had taken it after a moment, now kneeling on the stage floor. "Hey. Make me a promise, Hacker." Heart smiled sadly. "W-What kind of promise..?" Hacker looked up nervously at the older boy. "Oh, you know, the kind you try and keep." He joked. "...Promise me you'll take care of yourself. No more stupid in the heat of the moment decisions." He reached over, gently patting her on the head. "...I'll try. And you know... try to be careful in there yourself."

And, just like that, another door had been opened... and another person had been lost to the darkness. But even then... this time... something was... different.

Heart of the Night found himself in a rather familiar environment, facing the frozen-over lake that was located just 5 minutes away from his bar. "Wait a second... I know this place..." He turned, looking around before mumbling. "Killing me on my own home turf... that's kind of fucked up." In contrast to the other two doors, there were people all around, constantly walking past Heart and talking as if nothing was wrong. And yet... everything felt terribly off. It felt normal... too normal for Heart's taste. He found himself torn between going in the direction of his bar and going down towards the frozen-over lake. But, before he could decide for himself, a young girl with white and purple hair had bumped into him, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling down the cold, snow-covered hill. "!"

...

It felt like he was falling forever, and the cold hard crash landing on the frozen-over lake made everything even worse. He grit his teeth as he tried to stand up, but the slippery ice had even that a much, much harder task. "! Shit-" Heart winced as he slipped and fell backward, slamming his head against the ground in the process. His vision blurred from the number of times he had fallen and hit his head on something. "...clumsy old man on the icy lake... you don't see those every day, especially sober. clumsy old men. Are you okay?" Although he couldn't see the person clearly, he could hear the sound of ice skates getting ever closer. Through blurred vision, Heart of the Night could make out two main colors. Black... and silver. Not a single color in sight, other than their pale blue hair, which looked more white than blue in color. Someone who lost their light? That's the only explanation Heart of the Night could think of. "Hellllooo? Hit your head too many times on the way down?" The voice almost seemed to be circling him. "Are you dead?" "No... just dizzy."

---

Here, Heart of the Night is [once again] pushed by Yidhra and ends up falling down the hill and completely wiping out on the frozen-over lake lol, where he runs into a teenage girl [who's about 14 to 15yrs old] on ice skates, who happened to see HotN fall down the hill, going as far as to calling him a "clumsy old man" and wondering if he might have died on the fall down. Alas, it was not that easy as HotN [finally] responds to the strange girl.

What comes after is a rather long and lengthy interaction between the two [as well as a more detailed description of the girl] where halfway through a conversation of theirs, the ice suddenly cracks underneath HotN's feet and he falls into the freezing cold water.

---

It was so nice to talk to someone new that he momentarily forgot about the danger he was in.

"!" But nothing lasts forever. The water was so, so cold. His entire body went numb, he couldn't stop gasping. What was this feeling? He hated it. He had begun to hyperventilate, desperately grasping for anything to keep him afloat. "Huh? What are you gasping for- OH MY GOD-" The strange girl previously had skating with her back turned to Heart of the Night, but upon stopping, turning, and noticing Heart's situation, began to panic herself. "Wait, wait, don't panic, it's only going to make things harder if you panic." She had begun to softly coach the submerged Heart. Had she not known what to do... he may have drowned in the icy... icy cold water. With the coaching of the girl, Heart managed to get out of the water, but he still felt the worse was to come. "Okay okay, let's go... get you somewhere... warm?" "Y-Yeah..."

And then, once again, Heart of the Night ended up in a familiar place. "Hey... sit down on the stool... I'll go get you something dry to change into... I'm pretty sure Heart still has some clothes lying around in the back somewhere..." The strange girl then disappeared around the bar counter and into a backroom. One where he usually kept a spare work uniform or two for those days where drunk customers were... a little less than pleasant. Strange. He didn't remember having any employees with pale blue hair. Or ones who knew how to ice skate for that matter.

He could feel the room temperature dropping by the second, it was getting colder... why was it getting colder? Heart closed his eyes, coughing weakly. "W...why... is it... so... cold in..." He had begun to slur his words, gripping onto his wet clothes tightly. He stumbled as he shifted in the chair, bumping against the counter and stumbling onto the floor. "... why is..." his entire body felt heavy, he couldn't move it anymore. "...it so..." his vision began to fade to black. "cold..." the room had begun to freeze over. Heart then came to the sudden realization that he had been tricked by the darkness. Falling into the cold water at the lake and then being placed in a room that quickly got colder and colder, leading to his body temperature falling faster...

...

what a dirty trick to play.

But it didn't matter. Not anymore.

The cold had already taken over... and soon after, the darkness had too.

---

So, what happened is that Heart of the Night was initially thrown into the real world by Yidhra, and pushed towards the lake, where he was supposed to have fallen into the water and either a.) drown from the initial cold shock or b.) get impaled by a falling icicle. But, the one thing the Darkness wasn't expecting was someone to be ice skating at the lake and being able to help him. So, once the girl left to get the spare clothes, she swapped the realm, isolating Heart and accelerating the rate at which he'd suffer from hypothermia [until he eventually died from it]. For the girl, once she exited the backroom with the spare clothes and saw Heart of the Night was no longer there... she went out in a panic, looking for him.

Yidhra kind of fucked up but she managed to get things back on course later on. lol.

---

Act Five: "Who are you?"

Hacker was quiet as she sat in front of the now blank monitor. "What... was that?" She had gotten no answer from the grinning figure. But that did not matter to her, not anymore. It didn't change the fact that another one of her friends was gone. She was all alone, again. She stared at the key. The lone, glowing red and blue key, stared right back at her. "I guess... it's my turn to go in now?" She turned again to look at the grinning woman. "You would be right. Aren't you curious to see what kind of fate lies, just for you behind that door?" For the first time in a while, the woman had spoken. "...no... not really," Hacker mumbled as she picked up the key. "Do you not wonder about a single thing you've seen? Aside from the question 'why did this happen to them?'" Hacker paused as she fiddled with the key. "I mean..." "You've watched three fools in a row all meet their mortal ends, do you really not yearn for some kind of answer?" Hacker gripped her fist with bubbling anger. "They were all good people with families that loved them... they weren't fools." "Ah... but only fools will pick a fight they know they can't win. Though I suppose if anyone here is a fool... it would be you. Your childish display with the recently departed has shown me as much." The strange woman had moved her position by the stage's edge to directly next to the lone survivor. "It was fun to observe, seeing the way you moved around like a chicken with its head cut off. A delightfully pathetic display of powerlessness." Her words stung like a slap to the face as Hacker relived her last experience with Heart of the Night. She had promised him to no longer be so reckless and to take more care of herself... but she couldn't let her talk down about her friends that way. Not after all the shit she had done to them.

Her body moved without her realizing it. The momentarily silent theater was suddenly filled with a sharp and echoing sound, and the surface of her hand stung as she stared at the red mark on the face of the strange woman. But she had doubled down. "Shut up." Hacker huffed. "You don't know anything about them or anything about me." Hacker then turned towards the last locked door, quietly swallowing back her fear and unlocking the door to her doom. "Oh... perhaps you're braver than you act... But we'll see which of us will have the last laugh..."

The room was... dark. Dark and empty. Void of anything and everything. "What... is this?" Hacker turned in a 360 motion, but everywhere was the same. Total darkness. "HELLO?" Hacker screamed out, but her voice did not echo back. And only silence answered her back. She aimlessly wandered the darkness, but it made no difference. Everything looked and felt the same. Cold. Dark. Lonely. She had lost count of time, not as if she had any way to tell time before. How long had she been in there? How long had she been walking? She became lost in the darkness.

...

She sat in the darkness for a long, long time. So long, she thought she could see something, creeping along in the distance. A neon green fog-like substance, slowly moving across the floor.

"..?" Hacker narrowed her eyes as she stared at the incoming fog. As she looked further back, the fog became taller and thicker, to where she struggled to see anything within the fog. She had stood up, and approached the strange fog. It had soon enveloped her, shining in colors of teal, green, purple, yellow, orange, and pink. Colors so warm and familiar to her, yet sad and bitter at the same time. She had twirled and whirled around in the colorful fog, all while trying to observe the area. By doing so... she had missed the sight of the glowing purple and teal blade swinging her way, colliding with her back and slicing it open. The sheer force of the attack was enough to send Hacker crashing down to the cold, dark floor.

"Sweet Dreams... Hacker."

"AH- W-wait... what... wh..."

"Who... are... y...ou...?"

"That doesn't matter anymore... does it? It's okay..."

"You'll be one of us soon."

---

Hacker [after bitchslapping Yidhra] finally enters her door... only to find the area is completely empty... or, so she thought. But after a while of wandering, Hacker comes across a slowly creeping but brightly-colored fog, harboring the same colors as her recently departed friends. But within that fog, it had concealed something even more dangerous than Hacker could ever imagine... but she was too slow to see it coming.

talk about betrayal, sheesh-

"Are you lost, little girl? After all... bars are no place for kids like you, you know. Or... could it be, that we've finally, finally, found you at last? Just in the one place, that we hadn't expected you to be?" - Midnight Phantom

Act Six: "How should I start this conversation?"

"Long time no see? Or... Nice to meet you?"

...

For Party of the Dawn, weekends were far busier than weekdays were. Running a bar, especially at her age with her limited knowledge of general bar etiquette, was very difficult. Weekends were when the worst of the worst would crawl out from whatever opening of hell they could find, and they'd all flock to the one scenic bar in town and drink till they were purple. Dawn always found closing times to be the worst, drunk people would make it a hassle to close, and some would even become violent with the small owner. They would yell and scream, or start breaking things, and sometimes even try and get physical with her. And it became tiring, having that being her normal every day to day life.

Being the owner of the small, scenic bar, however, did have one small good thing about it. If there was one thing Dawn could count on hearing while mixing up drinks for people, it would be the town gossip. Dawn would hear all about what went down in the town, and while it was mostly silly things like who cheated on who or what stupid thing so-and-so had done, some things would prove to be rather useful for the teenager.

"Have you guys seen that strange teal fog? People say that those who enter the fog don't come out the same..." "I heard that some people don't come out of the fog at all, as if a phantom had whisked them away and made off into the night..." "I hear it's not just one person who appears in the fog, but four people. Each all acting in strange and unique ways..."

"Strange and unique ways? How?" Dawn couldn't help but ask as she served the gossipers their ordered drinks. "You really haven't heard? Their victims say that they're all very strange and weird looking. One of them has a TV for a head and no neck... while one of them was as pale as ghost... no, it's more like a phantom. And one has a hole where their heart is, but they're still alive... really scary stuff, kid. You should be careful out there once everything closes down for the night... or else this Midnight Phantom and his friends may get you next." Dawn chuckled as she served the drinks, listening to the claims. "That seems rather silly. A Midnight Phantom? Or a girl with a TV for a head, but no neck for the TV to balance on? Are you sure you're all not just trying to scare me?" Dawn placed her hand on her hip with a pout and a shake of her head. "No, no little bartender, people swear that they've really seen them in that fog, lurking around in the dead of night. And so many people have described them in detail too... can't be the figment of a drunkard's mind, no no." "So, you think they're real?" "If several people are saying the same things about it with similar details and the facts all seem to line up... who's to say they aren't real?" She had paused before nodding. "Well, I'll keep this in mind after I close up the bar. Thank you. Enjoy your drinks."

The idea had struck Dawn as odd. Teal fog that seemed to conceal some otherworldly identity, with the main topic of conversation being that of a "Midnight Phantom"? While it sounded like just the babbles of a drunkard who had too much to drink one night, Dawn couldn't help but think about how it may be... something else. She had gone around and collected more rumors on the fog and the beings associated with it, and more and more did it sound like the darkness that took everything away from her as a child. Her mother. Her father. Her best friend. Mister Heart and Miss Hacker and Sir Neon and Miss Viewer. Even Miss Mayor seemed... emptier inside after everything had gone down.

"So... if I understand this right... right after dusk to right before dawn, a thick, teal and purple fog rolls into the city and covers the ground and much of the open space, four strange individuals wander the city, attacking poor strangers who happen to be out at that time. Of the four individuals, the one that sticks out to most people is a tall, pale, and lanky man who they've dubbed the "Midnight Phantom". They claim of the four, he's the most dangerous and while many have supposedly run into this group, only a few of them actually make it out alive... And those who have survived claim the only way to survive is to outrun them until dawn, which is hard because the one with the TV for a head and someone who can hack into electronics and other objects powered by coding will try to stop you, as well as by broadcasting your location to the other two. The first one is someone who travels via mirrors or reflective surfaces armed with a gun and has a gunshot wound on his chest. The second one is the infamous Midnight Phantom, who usually is the one that takes chase, and it is armed with a staff that functions similar to that of a polearm... and you expect me to think that this isn't a drunkard's tale? Or a story meant to keep people inside during the nighttime?" The Mayor, similar to Dawn, could not believe the story. "I know, it sounds weird, very much like a drunkard's tale. But... I'd like to test it." Dawn had decided. "If these people are a part of the darkness like you think, then you'd be putting yourself in danger, sweetie... I made a promise to take care of you." Song of Fate had seemed worried at the very notion of Dawn investigating the matter, shaking her head with disapproval. "What if something happens to you? You know how disappointed Hacker and Heart would be for letting you get hurt...?" Dawn frowned at the mention of the two older adults. "They can't be disappointed in you. They're gone." Dawn shook her head disappointedly before looking at Fate. "If you're worried for me, why don't you come with me? We don't get to spend much time together like you promised me when I was younger..." She huffed a little as she spoke. "Come on... dusk is almost done..." Dawn clasped her hands together with a pleading look in her eyes. "...If we don't see anything within the first 15 minutes, then we're going inside and we'll... I dunno, maybe watch a movie together? No horror movies or slasher films, though!" "Sounds fair."

Dawn was aware that this... wasn't exactly her brightest idea from the moment she and her caretaker had stepped outside of the large estate and into the dense, teal and purple mist. Dawn could barely see her own hand in front of her, much least the taller mother figure standing next to her. "Woahhh, that's some intense fog... and look, it IS teal and purple in color..." Dawn gently ran her hands over the thick fog, laughing softly in amusement. "Dawn, sweetheart, please, take my hand so we don't get separated." "Okay, Miss Mayor." Dawn had reached her hand back without bothering to look for Fate's hand, knowing she wouldn't be able to see it, however, something about Fate's hand felt weird. Since when did Fate wear gloves? She looked back with a bewildered expression, following her eyes down her arm to look at the hand out of curiosity, but another sight awaited her instead. A tall, lanky, pale man with thick and truly black and white hair with teal and purple highlights had stood in front of her, wearing a mask, obscuring most of his face, other than his black eyes. And... on his hands, he wore black, leather gloves. And in those black leather gloves... was the right hand Dawn had extended trying to find Fate's hand. He had almost looked like a ghost. No... it was something more akin to a phantom. He had made a "shh" motion with his free hand, and while the mask made his expression unreadable... Dawn could sense a sort of mania coming from the man. She had made one sharp tug of her arm, and yet, neither she nor the man would be moved. She had then made a second tug, but it only resolved in a standstill between the two. "Dawn? Dawn, where are you?" Dawn wanted to yell, to scream, to make a scene, and yet in the presence of the strange man, she was frozen still. She wanted to make a sound but yet... all ability to had left her body.

So, why?

Why was she hearing her own voice?

"I'm over here, Miss Mayor!" That wasn't her speaking. No, her words were stuck in her throat. "Why are you so far over there?" No, they weren't that far apart.

Dawn could hear footsteps growing more distant. No, please, please don't go. Silent pleading made no difference. No matter what she tried to do to get away, it made no difference. The only thing that came out of her attempts was silent, unsuccessful struggles. And then... he had spoken, for the first time since he had appeared.

"How should I start this conversation?" He had finally let go of her, and yet the familiarity of his voice was now what had her paralyzed in fear. He walked around her, and suddenly, the entire scene had changed, and he had too. "Long time no see?" Why... why did he look like that? She recognized those purple and teal shades and stoic blue eyes, accompanied by messy black hair with bright purple and teal highlights and asymmetrical shirt, with one long sleeve, colored with golden stars and teal clouds, with one plain colored purple short sleeve. Around her was the frozen-over lake she had always loved skating on, the one where she had met that strange dull-colored man who had fallen into the ice and then disappeared without a trace as if he had never existed at all.

"Or..."

And just as quickly as he had changed, he had shifted back to the strange, masked man, back within the fog-devoured environment. "Nice to meet you?"

---

Act Seven: A new piece of information unveiled.

By the time Fate had reached the voice she thought was Dawn, she had come to the conclusion that she had made a grave... grave mistake. "You- You're not Dawn!" Fate had pointed at the strange woman with the TV for a head accusatorily before pausing. "...Where is she? What did you do to her?" The woman stood there for a moment, the static avatar staring back at Fate. And then, something appeared on the monitor of the screen. '...it's too late for her now... the Phantom has already found her. I'm afraid finding her may be impossible now. But... it is not too late for you to escape him too, Musical Beats.' Fate could not help but read that last line over and over again. "...What do you mean it's too late for Dawn? She's just a kid! And... how do you know that name... no one calls me that. Not anymore." Fate asked her questions in a calm and collected manner, but the shakiness of her body gave her fears away. '...There is no saving her, is what I mean. Not from him. Going after her now would be the equivalent of knowingly going towards your death... and... that is who you are to me. You are my old friend, Musical Beats... or do you go by something different now? I'll have to update my database if that's the case...' The little avatar initially displayed a look of sorry, but as the text went on, it displayed a look of confusion, and then deep thought. “…Who are you?” “That is a good question. Who do you think I am?” For the first time since their meeting in the fog, the person had spoken, and her voice was very familiar to Fate’s ears. So much so, that Fate couldn’t believe it. “Viewer? Is that… is that really you? But- But you went missing seven years ago… you and everyone else…” Viewer paused before mumbling. ‘So it’s been seven years since we were all taken by the darkness…? It feels like an eternity… has seven years really gone by?’ The little avatar displayed a look of sadness and confusion. And suddenly, a second avatar had appeared, made in Fate’s appearance. The first avatar grabbed the second avatar’s hands as if pleading for something with her. “…oh that’s so cute. Our little avatars are holding hands!” Fate clasped her hands together, giggling. “But… yeah, it’s been seven years. Well, at this point, it’s closer to eight years now… but why are you back now? What’s happening? And- And who is this Phantom you keep talking about?!” Fate seemed to be distraught by everything happening at once, which was reflected in her little avatar on the TV screen. The original avatar reached over, patting the new avatar on the head as if trying to comfort her. ‘It’s a long story… but one short answer I can give you is… that the Phantom is Heart of the Night… or at least, he was… before the cold and the darkness took over.’ The text appeared on the screen in the form of a text bubble from the orange avatar. “The cold and the darkness? You… you’re not making any sense, Viewer…” Fate placed her hand on her head in confusion. "And, Heart is the Phantom? This isn't making any sense, Viewer!" Viewer paused, then began to form another sentence. 'It's a long story... Heart is the Phantom... but the Phantom isn't Heart... I have an information file in my database that may help... if you wish to see it.' The text formed on the screen as Fate paused. "You have a database????"

---

Broadcaster Data Base ["So, they call you Broadcaster now? Ohh, because you can 'broadcast' people's locations if you know where they are- That's clever."]

…

Loading "Darkness Afflicted" Files… Please enter file passcode.

…

"Midnight Phantom"

Of the three alters, he seems the most hyperaware and most intuned with the world around him, and therefore the most manipulative and controlling of the three alter personalities. The people of the Neonized call him the Midnight Phantom due to his pale appearance (due to the hypothermia Heart experienced during his death) and his dark-colored appearance. He is able to manipulate things within the fog, ranging from manipulating his appearance and surroundings to creating false scenarios and phantom characters to incite panic and fear within those he targets.

Heart of the Night status: It's hard to pinpoint where exactly Heart is located within Phantom's heart, as it's always shifting and changing, that in case if someone somehow had found their way in, they'd be unable to find their way out or their way to anything specific within the space. Heart's specific status is labeled as dormant, unlikely to wake up and challenge Phantom for control… and even if he could, in his current frosted state, he would be unable to do much. Not without some kind of push...

"Sweet Dreams"

Of the three alters, she seems very quiet and reserved, and therefore the most easygoing and enjoyable to talk to. The people of the Neonized don't seem to have a name for her, but I've heard some refer to her as The Hacker due to her familiarity with electronics. Her main skills lie within opening access to locked things, such as locked doors, locked interfaces, and even locked hearts. But she doesn't help anyone for free.

Hacker status: Dreams has a weak hold on Hacker, and I often see Hacker drift in and out of control, even if it is subtle. Hacker's specific status is… weak, I suppose. Not strong enough to completely take back control but not weak enough to lose it completely.

"Shooting Stars"

Of the three alters, he gets into the most conflicts and acts the most competitive and disagreeable. He often gets into fights with Midnight and Dreams over the strangest things… The people of the Neonized call him the Sharpshooter for his incredible aim. He enjoys taking his shots and always makes the riskiest moves. I almost envy his carefree "I do what I want attitude"… His main strength lies in close-quarters chases, such as chases indoors or inside funhouses with many mirrors or reflective surfaces. He, however, isn't the best at noticing his surroundings and can often miss details. Not to mention he is very aggressive at all times which can mess up certain interactions and plans… this is the main power difference between him and Midnight, and why Midnight is considered more dangerous. If you can get your target to stay by your side… it makes the Darkness that much more dangerous.

Neon Lights status: If I had to say something about Neon's status, I'd say that he too was in a dormant state, unlikely to wake up and fight for control…

---

"...interesting. But this implies that they CAN be woken up... right?" Fate was silent for a while after asking the question. Viewer... no, Broadcaster, had then begun to type. 'It's still a working theory of mine but... I do believe that they are... still somewhere deep inside the darkness... and if they can challenge it and overcome it... they can stop the tragedies.' "... if it means we can see our old friends and save Dawn, then how would we do it?"

---

Act Eight: Follow the Plan.

"I... I don't wanna die... please... I'm scared... I'm so scared... I don't wanna die, Heart..." "It's okay... it's gonna be okay... you're not going to die, I promise..."

This is going to be mostly me explaining what goes down in this act instead of my awful writing/j because a lot happens at the same time and it can get confusing if I'm stupid about it and it would also happen to be a very VERY long act so you get ghost the plot knower instead/lh

So, basically in the first half of Act Eight (Follow the Plan), two main things happen at the same time. The first thing is a long showdown between Dawn and Phantom that consists of Dawn trying to get away from Phantom and back to Fate [with Phantom pulling out every trick in his book to make sure she stays lost, it's a lot of mind games and him taking advantage of her having to grow up too fast, always catching her on her more "childish" desires, like wanting to eat ice cream for breakfast or wanting to buy a doll to play with, a lot of things Dawn herself never got to do :( his main goal is to make her stay just long enough for him to be able to capture her.. and it almost works too- but what is it that almost gets her? Apple juice 😣] and eventually ends with a fight between Dawn and Phantom, where Phantom wins and takes her prisoner :( it leaves Dawn with a very nasty cut on her side and pretty bad injuries,,, poor girl, she isn't used to fighting and the baby can only run for so long </3 The other thing that happens during the first act is Fate and Broadcaster working together to free Shooting Stars and Sweet Dreams from the darkness by awakening their dormant friends within, with a little help from a certain Pink Disk who is revealed to have freed Broadcaster from the darkness, and had been watching ever since.

The second half of Act Eight involves finding Dawn and awakening Heart which is much harder than you'd think- it's a lot of heartbreaking scenes [including a reunion between Heart and Dawn that results in Dawn's near death but you know. you get to see Heart whoop ass which is. fun. Her near death is very similar to the way Heart's younger daughter died...] but also a lot of action [like Heart and Pink fighting Phantom together or Fate, Broadcaster, Stars, and Dreams absolutely whooping the ass of the followers who try to interfere... woooo] and funny moments where everyone gets to live a day in Heart's life [aka someone pushes them down a flight of stairs or down a hill or something stupid, lol] and more avatars. Broadcaster showing her plan through tiny avatar action, it's the cutest thing I promise.

---

Act Nine: Darkness's Finale

"We take the fight to her. She's taken things way too far this time." "Aww, it's nice to see you so energetic and empowered again after being so dead, Heart♪. Ahh, Heart? Phantom? You don't quite have a functioning heart anymore♪" "How have seven years supposedly passed and you still somehow manage to be as fucking annoying? And are you calling me heartless?!" "Being annoying is an art, I suppose♪" "There's nothing quite like old friends bickering, is there?"

Another me explaining rather than going storytelling style! Woo! This chapter would be real long otherwise, I'm sorry 🙇‍♀️ It's basically a rematch with the Agents of Darkness! Hacker and pals vs Agents of Darkness, whoop their asses!!! That's it that's the whole act. It's just aggressive violence. It's fun! Vengeance!!! They also defeat the darkness which is cool too

---

Act Ten: The many forms of love

Even after everything was said and done, and the real threat had been fully dealt with, some things in the Neonized remained unclear and uncertain. And yet, the young girl didn't seem to care as she holed herself up inside her new bedroom of her new home. It didn't really feel like home to her... but she was willing to wait and see if it ever would.

"What are you doing?" The young child looked up as she saw the bartender leaning against the doorway to her room. "I'm working on a school project... I don't really understand what I'm doing though..." She looked down at the many papers underneath her on the floor with a frustrated look. In recent months, Dawn had to deal with the concept of school and classes. She had never gone to school as a young kid, and being thrown in suddenly caused her many problems. She struggled with reading aloud and writing things down and often got frustrated due to her incapabilities. So it came as no surprise to Phantom to hear that she was struggling with yet another school-related item. "Well? What's it about? Come on, we can talk through this and solve it together." He had offered. "But, don't you have work today?" He paused at the question, then shook his head. "Na, Hacker's got it covered tonight. Come on, tell me what's up." Dawn was quiet as she scooped up the many papers on the floor. "The project is on the many forms of love, specifically storge, philia, eros, and agape... and then to draw examples of them in your real life..." Dawn whined as she placed her hand against her head. "But I don't... really understand it." Phantom paused as he thought for a moment. "Well... let's start with one at a time, okay?"

---

Storge - Love of family

"It's also known as familial love. When your parents and siblings love you, that's storge love. The love between a family, whether it's a found one or the one you're born in. The love I have for my found family is exactly that."

Philia - Love between friends

"Oh, this one's easy♪ it's the love between friends, and it's sort of like a very close friendship, where you bond and care for one another, no?"

Eros - Love of partner/Romantic love

"Oh, this one... when people think of love, this is what they usually think of. Romantic love, or the love you have for your significant other..."

Agape - Unconditional love

"Uhm... I guess you can say this is a timeless love that will never change. No matter what happens, no matter what goes down, this love is unconditional and can never be changed. It's eternal."

---

"And that's the 4 different forms of love. Easy, right?"

"... I still don't get it."

"Man, I thought I explained that really well. No matter, I'll try to explain it a different way. We'll take our time. You've got this."

---

END finally

#mod ghost #long post #lore post #theater of darkness #violence cw #death cw #murder cw #help #5 consecutive days of writing and now it's here folks. sobs.#fun fact. the 4 types of love could be 4 different sets of matching skins #although they represent the different dynamics found within the ToD [well maybe not eros? Unless you wanna count HotN's dead wife lol]#they could make fun matching skins as well #idv ocs #WAIT WAIT I GOTTA DO. the dreaded word count check #anyways. sobs. here it is it's finally here and I'm glad it is because it took WAYYY too long #i hope you enjoy the art dividers attached to it. drew them just for this.#some details and backstories i didn't go that much into but. everyone's got something lol/lh #FINAL WORD COUNT: 10.400 words #HELP LMAO IT'S 10k+ WORDS. screaming rn

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lokislytherin · 1 year

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#lookism #angel jay #jay hong #daniel park #janiel #jaeseok au #please help me #i need a title #i have the first section written #i’m splittign this into sections #i’m aiming for around 5-6 #so final word count maybe around 7k-10k?

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crybaby-bkg · 2 years

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a line from my crossover wip that I can’t stop laughing at:

“It could be worse, you tell yourself. Could’ve been some douchebag who just wanted a taste of you without ever really caring about your pleasure. Could’ve been too grabby Denki or premature ejaculator Kiri or cries-when-he-cums Sero. It could’ve been someone with terrible dick game to match their terrible attitude. Good thing Bakugou only had one.”

I’m buzzing to finish this atp aksjdkdjd

#NOT ME LAUGHING AT MY OWN WRITING ?/!.&:!;’dndm #no why does this have me dead omg #okay good news #I just finished a Toji wip I’ve had since November #and now I’m working on this crossover fic that I’ve had since September which is so crazy to me #I either write 10k words in one sitting or two hundred words over the course of a year #I think I’m gonna finish this either tonight or tomorrow #bc my head hurts since I’ve been staring at my computer for like 5 hours now lol #hopefully I finish #it shouldn’t be too long #just like two more slex scenes actually #idk why this took me so long to get to it’s not even a lot ajsjdkdjdj #—new treat in the streets! 🍫#does that ^ count as writing lmfao

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kyliafanfiction · 2 years

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Word Count 9-8-22

1817 Words. Holy shit where the fuck did this come from? On a Thursday?

#Kylia Does Word Count #This is actually another reason I can't quit Tumblr entirely bc I mean making these posts have done wonders for keeping myself accountable #to myself and writing every day #It's not the same to record it on paper and don't ask me why #oh hell yeah I'm gonna get this done by end of day Monday #unless like I end up adding another 10k words to what is already #6.2k #I don't think so tho #probably just another 4-5 thousand #6k at the most #I think.#Fingers crossed

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chameliyun · 28 days

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Fic Rec Friday: #29

Intro post | tag

Rec #29: it's a new craze - attheborder Fandom: Good Omens Rating: T Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley Word count: 5,541 Summary (copied from fic): Crowley and Aziraphale are very possibly the people least qualified, on the entire planet, to start up an advice podcast. But what else is there to do when the world isn’t ending anytime soon, you’re technically on indefinite sabbatical from your lifelong careers, and you need a plausible excuse to spend more time with your best friend who you’re definitely not, absolutely not, maybe just a little, actually maybe overwhelmingly in love with? Other notes: ngl I haven't actually read this yet, I've only listened to the podfic, the form in which I think it's probably best to experience it. but I don't think it matters because it's amazing either way!

#fic rec friday #fanfiction #ao3 #fandom: good omens #rating: t #pairing: ineffable husbands #word count: 5-10k

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aeyumicore · 2 months

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☾ .⭒˚ your fragrance ♡ rafayel x afab reader

⋆.˚ ☾ pairing: rafayel x afab!reader (very fem!reader)

☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, pwp, pwf

⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 10.4k (how?????)

☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, switch!raf (like he’s both sub and dom in this, if you don’t like that then this may not be for you), knee humping, standing sex, against the wall sex, sorta rough sex, references to rafayel’s lore (no more than what’s talked about the actual memory), dry humping, slightly aphrodisiac sex, dub con if you squint really really really hard, ejaculating in pants, panty ripping, pheromone kink, lots of teasing (calling raf a cat/kitty), cum play? kinda, nipple teasing, slight use of y/n, reader is mc, second person pov

⋆.˚ ☾ video link: absolutely not necessary to watch this to enjoy the fic/smut but it gives a lot of context and also a visual for the fic <3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vaxo4sxm0rc

☾ .⭒˚ a/n: the raf fic is here!! based off the 5* rafayel memory ‘your fragrance.’ the build up is realllllllly long on this one since i wanted to stay as true to the memory as possible. you can def just skip to the smut if you’d like!

i struggled to write raf a lot but enjoyed it so much like he’s so fun to write. i’m def a sub girly so i love writing dom partners, thankfully i hc raf as a switch. if you do not like fics where raf is a switch, then this may not be for you!

i can’t believe this fic ended up being 10k words too, i was thinking it would be a quick lil smut lol. i don’t even know how my zayne fic ended up being my shortest fic. enjoy my loves!

also this is dedicated to my bestie who is actually rafayel’s number one slut. follow her on x @/myusuchaa for so much good raf and other purple haired boy content. she is the master of rafayel lore, truly his wifey. a queen to us all.

⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾

you let out an exasperated sigh as your foot taps irritably against the protective painting tarp rafayel always has laid out on the ground of his makeshift art studio, stray paint brushes strewn about. impatiently, you waited for rafayel to finish changing on the couch behind you, careful not to peek.

somehow, being rafayel’s bodyguard also made you his keeper. and rafayel was not easy to keep. always dragging you with him on odd trips even if you had work, pestering you at all hours of the day and night, disappearing and unable to be contacted for days on end. this particular time it was the latter; rafayel had gone mia three days before his important collab launch party with a high end perfume brand. now, on the night of the party, rafayel was still unable to be reached.

thomas had called you, in a sheer panic, as he always did when he needed help wrangling rafayel. he knew you were the only one in this world that could level with rafayel. and he’d never told you this before, but you were also the only one who could bend rafayel’s unbreakable stubbornness; a perfect match for the purple-haired obstinate artist. and thus, thomas had personally designated you as rafayel’s keeper.

and so, you found yourself at rafayel’s massive house, in the most extravagant evening dress you owned, hauling him off to his own damn party.

his annoyingly alluring voice cuts into the silence of the studio, “you can turn around now and give me a hand with something else.” you snap around to be met with the sight of rafayel, irritatingly and devilishly handsome in his expensive white dress shirt and designer cardigan, leaning lazily against the sofa with the tie you’d previously used to tie his hands with, woven in between his fingers. he grins and holds it up to you expectantly, “put this on for me.”

“don’t you have hands?” you snap, but your feet have a mind of their own, and you’re already approaching him on the sofa.

“my hands are numb from being tied up by you for so long.” you roll your eyes, knowing he’s being dramatic. while he waits deceptively patiently for you to give in, he leisurely takes a wristwatch out of his pocket to put on, as if he’s got all the time in the world. “clock’s ticking, keep it up and we’ll be late at this rate.”

you gape at him. the sheer audacity of this man, as if you’re the reason he’d be late. he only smirks at you, and it just infuriates you all the more. how he could so easily annoy the hell out of you and look so beautiful doing it. but you keep your mouth shut, and exasperatedly lean down to put on his tie for him, doing your best not to strangle him with it. it feels strangely intimate, and the brief reprieve finally gives you an opportunity to speak to him.

“thomas said you have to be present for all parts of the event. there will be reporters at the entrance taking photos, and…” you rattle off, before you realize rafayel is being uncharacteristically silent, “are you even listening?”

you look up from the tie in your fingers to glance at rafayel’s face. he doesn’t look the least bit interested in your words, instead his eyes are fixated on your wrist. you tap his chest to get his attention but he remains still, eyes still on your hands atop his collarbones. you curiously wave your hand in front of his face, hoping to snap him out of his trance. fortunately you do, but unfortunately rafayel grabs your wrist suddenly and urgently.

“...what’s the matter?” the bewilderment is unmistakable in your voice. you’re used to rafayel’s erratic and quirky behavior, but this was alarming, even to you.

finally his gaze breaks away from your wrist and he speaks, “i heard you talking about the event…” but just as quickly as you’d diverted his attention, it's back on your wrist. his voice is unusually clouded, deeper than usual. his eyes are back on your wrist that’s enclosed in his fingers, as a strange expression crosses his face. it almost feels as if he’s trying to hold himself back, but you’re unsure from what.

“your hand…” he trails off, inexplicable emotions caught in his hoarse voice. he suddenly tugs you towards him by your wrist, and you stumble forward.

“rafayel?! wait!” as you fall forward, your feet run out of space and hit the bottom of the sofa, causing you to tumble on top of him. he catches you easily, sitting you on top of his lap while he brings your captured wrist right up to the side of his face. the awkward position forces you to settle your legs on either side of his thighs, straddling him against the designer couch. the half knotted tie comes undone and you’re left clutching the smooth material in your hands. if it weren’t for the compromising position you found you and rafayel in, you'd be slightly disappointed at seeing your hard work unraveled.

the grip on your wrist tightens impossibly, almost possessively, “hold still.” his command is not totally unusual; rafayel is always demanding things of you, his precious bodyguard. but his voice comes out in a strange and sensual husk, leaving you confused, nervous, and weirdly burning. his silky smooth dress pants shuffle under you, and you’re reminded of the expensive clothes you’re pressed up against, likely worth more than a month of your hunter salary.

“your suit! it’ll get wrinkled.”

“i don’t care…let me smell this…” he trails off, his voice sounding impossibly far away. you can feel the tickle of his inhale against your wrist and it makes you shiver, goosebumps forming under his touch.

“what is that?” he asks, mostly to himself, lost in his own little world, “it smells good. and smells familiar…”

it wasn’t at all uncommon for rafayel to be mysterious and even enigmatic, but this was a whole other level of confusion for you, “what…what’s wrong? did something happen?”

his behavior is starting to worry you. he’s unusually breathless, and you can see a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. the last thing you needed was him getting sick! you could already hear his needy whines in your head at the mere thought. demanding to be taken care of and waited on. you almost want to smile at the thought of it; you act constantly annoyed with rafayel but deep down you know you can’t live without his antics.

“no, i’m fine. very well, in fact,” but despite his words, rafayel sounds anything but. his voice, normally a bright and charming, albeit annoying, timbre, is now a hoarse and needy rasp. his ticklish touch on the inside of your wrist reminds you of where you got the perfume that he was so intoxicated by.

“come to think of it…i tried an unreleased fragrance in the back office of the exhibition hall. it was made with special ingredients,” you scratch your chin with your free hand, trying your best to recall the name of it.

“perfume? you spritzed the perfume sample on your wrist?”

you glance at him, concern and confusion written all over your face. isn’t that what you do with perfumes? rafayel shifts his gaze to your eyes, but his breath remains on the inside of your wrist. it’s deafeningly silent and you realize the scent of the perfume gradually grows stronger as your body temperature rises at the proximity of your body to rafayel’s. you’re suddenly reminded of the fact that you’re sitting on his lap, and his face is so very close to your own.

he’s still lost in his own thoughts as he murmurs, more to himself than you, “it’s a bit bitter like fermented plants…but very fragrant.”

“it could be a mixture of artificial chemical stuff. now, unhand me please,” you’re desperate to detach yourself from him, unsure if you can trust your body when it’s pressed so readily upon rafayel’s own hard and sturdy stature.

“no.”

your jaw drops at his audacity. but before you can berate him, he’s reaching his free hand to undo the buttons of his collar, as if the clothing is restricting him and making it hard to breath. his purple eyes are glazed over, and a beautiful faint blush paints his cheeks. his exposed collar and chest have you biting back your words, completely losing your train of thought. you squirm at the sight, but rafayel’s hand on your thighs grip you in place, not letting you move a single inch.

“i could’ve sworn i’ve smelled this fragrance before,” he presses your hand against his cheek as he continues to slowly inhale the scent by the mouthful. it wouldn’t be completely out of the question, the unreleased scent had been developed for his artworks for the collaboration, so it’s very likely he could’ve sampled it during production.

“we can worry about it later. let’s go. everyone is waiting” you urge, feeling yourself blush as he shifts slightly under you, brushing against your sensitive inner thighs. you pull your hand away from his cheek, only for rafayel to yank it back, like a child unwilling to share his favorite toy.

“let me smell it again,” his demand is meant to be gentle, but comes out rough and urgent. you sigh, letting him melt into your hand again. it’s almost endearing; you quite like being so intimate with rafayel.

“you know, for someone who hates cats, you sure are acting like one,” you tease, “a kitty that found some catnip to be exact.”

the mere mention of cats is usually enough to set rafayel off, pouting like a little baby that’s been teased. but instead, he just distractedly responds, “so then are you a cat? i am not a cat. and also, you’re not allowed to say that. i just couldn’t resist…”

you roll your eyes but can’t help but grin at his adorableness, tempted to just give in to his touch, savoring every moment you possibly can before the bubble bursts.

“what is this weird perfume…” he’s talking to himself again, inspecting your hand carefully. his jumbled thoughts have you worried for him again. although rafayel did often have energy that bordered on adhd, this was much more intense than that.

“are you alright?” you repeat, softly. he doesn’t respond, but leans his cheek into your touch, his lips turning so they’re practically kissing your palm. like this, he inhales the scent with his parted lips. his adam's apple bobs as he gulps, almost feverishly. his hand reaches to further loosen his collared shirt, pulling it open to let the cool air soothe his burning skin.

“it must be an allergic reaction. this isn’t perfume. how dare they use such underhanded methods to trap me…” his words both confuse and scare you. you’re growing increasingly worried about his flushed and sweaty complexion, his collarbones shining under the faint glow of the city lights through the massive windows. his words fill you with a terror you do not understand.

rafayel holds the area between the bridge of his nose and his forehead, like his head is pounding, before returning to grip the collar of his dress shirt. his hand that holds yours is shaky as he rocks slowly underneath you, inhaling as much of the perfume as he can. his lap brushes against yours and your brain short circuits at the feeling of him pressed against you.

“h-huh?” is the only thing you’re capable of getting out.

“who gave you the perfume? who sent it?” his questions are increasingly alarming you, but you do your best to keep calm. you can tell he’s nervous as well, and the sight makes your chest squeeze. wanting to comfort him, you cup his cheek in your palm and he leans into the touch so contentedly and groaning in satisfaction. truly like a cat.

you blushed despite yourself. it was so difficult to not be aroused in this compromising position. you’d long since had a crush on rafayel, always craving his silly antics and theatrics. missing him intensely when he’d disappear for days at a time.

“no one. um, why do you look like you’re drunk?” you try to deflect from the burning between your thighs, hoping he can’t notice how hot and bothered you’ve become.

“i’m not drunk. i just don’t like the scent,” he pouts, but nuzzles your hand against his cheek like a cat getting cheek scratches. he turns his lips back into your palm, opening his mouth until you can feel his teeth graze your skin. he groans as he continues to inhale the scent, making you bite back a moan of your own at his gentle nibbles.

“rafayel…you…” but you find yourself at a loss for words as he continues to breathe in your scent like it's the oxygen he needs to survive. your own breaths start to come out in shallow pants, and you squirm in his lap. rafayel moans softly into your palm, biting down gently to get you to stop.

“are you trying to run away again?” he asks, almost painfully, his eyes piercing into yours, so intense and searching. the glassy look in them reminds you of how much you’re worried about his current well being.

“rafayel, you don’t look so good. shouldnt you go to the doctor?” you use the hand rafayel isn’t gripping to take his face between your free fingers and inspect his beautiful and flushed features.

rafayel’s breath hitches at your touch, goose flesh littering the skin where your touch singes, “i’m not going anywhere.” and though he doesn’t say it, you can feel what’s left unsaid.

and neither are you.

but he continues, dazed, “you’re gonna lock me up again…you’re with them. i just know it. don’t think i’m unaware of what you’re about to do.” he has both your wrists in his hands now, gripping them on either side of his neck. “y/n, i won’t fall for it again. not this time.”

though his words scare the shit out of you, you’re unable to concentrate on anything but his eyes that are trained on your neck, where your pulse thrums erratically in anticipation. you’re suddenly hyper aware that your heart is beating so fast you can hardly hear him anymore, despite his face being mere inches from yours. your breath is close enough to mingle with his. it seems he notices too, because he inhales deeply and throws his head back, gasping.

it's then you realize it's not just the scent of the perfume that's setting rafayel off, but your own scent mingled with it.

“rafayel, snap out of it!” you beg. but rafayel can’t seem to hear you as his cold hand grips the side of your neck, where you’d also dabbed the perfume along. your breath catches in your throat at the icy touch, unsure of what to do.

rafayel senses your hesitation, “don’t worry. i’m not gonna do anything to you.” his voice is a throaty groan, and you’re honestly unsure if that’s even what you want. his body is almost on top of yours now, his breath deafening in your ear. and all you can think about is how you’d wish he’d press into you harder, until you’re suffocating, only able to breathe him in.

but you go with your better judgment, pushing him gently, putting some distance between the two of you. he glances up from your neck, eyes unfocused, and says nothing. he finds himself staring at your lips that are parted slightly to let out the short pants of breath you’re wheezing out. he leans in slowly so he can breathe in as much of you as he possibly can, just nearly closing the proximity between your lips.

suddenly, your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your little bubble with rafayel, “its thomas! he probably wants to remind us of the time. let's head out!” you shove your phone until rafayel’s hands, forcing him to take thomas’s call for you.

while he’s distracted, you slip out from beneath him and bolt to the nearest bathroom. as you move your legs, you’re made acutely aware of the slick that has formed in your panties. but you focus first on furiously washing off the scent from your wrists and neck. as you scrub, you glance up at the mirror in front of you. you swear at the site of yourself, unbelievably disheveled and undeniably aroused.

as you continue to adamantly scrub, you can faintly make out rafayel on the phone with thomas, just outside.

“no, we’re not going to make it. i need to take care of something urgent. don’t call again please, bye.” when you turn off the faucet, you go to lean against the wall adjacent to the sink, trying to steady yourself and collect your thoughts. you turn around and gently rest your forehead against the wall, sighing into the cool surface against your burning skin, willing the arousal between your legs to go away. you try to remind yourself of poor thomas all alone at the exhibition right now. your guilt is short lived as you hear the patter of rafayel’s feet approaching the bathroom.

“where are you going?” rafayel’s words are right behind you, and his hand presses against the bathroom wall that your forehead rests on. you whip around and find yourself trapped between rafayel’s hard body and the solid wall behind you. you back up instinctively, but find yourself hitting the cold surface before you even take a single step back.

“gotcha,” rafayel smirks softly, and you tremble at his proximity to you. his other hand grips a towel bar to your left, while his other hand leans against the wall to your right, so you’re utterly trapped against him. he’s so close, close enough that you can feel his rapid breaths fanning across your parted lips. as rafayel’s eyes roam all over you, from your lips to your heaving chest, you feel very much like a lamb caught in a lion’s den. except you don’t want to escape.

“rafayel…” you murmur using both your hands to gently push against his chest, unintentionally brushing against the exposed skin below his collar, under his unbuttoned dress shirt. you’re hoping he’ll have mercy and release you, afraid that the palpable sexual tension in the air would cloud your, and rafayel’s, judgment.

he shivers as your wet hands brush against his chest, knuckles turning white as they grip the towel bar next to you. his breath comes out in shallow pants, chest heaving up and down, with a light sheen of sweat painting his pale skin. the sight snaps you out of the moment, reminding you that rafayel seems like he might have a fever.

“let’s go to the hospital…i’m worried about you,” your hands shift to grip his open shirt, bringing the fabric together to cover him up. rafayel’s hand releases the towel bar to take both of your hands into his, trapping them against his chest.

“what will it take for you to believe that i’m okay? i’m exactly where i want to be,” his gruff voice invades all your senses while his eyes burn holes through your own. he presses himself further into you, until his forearm is resting against the wall above you, only your joined hands pressed against his chest separating the two of you. he leans down, his face now impossibly close to yours, and for a second you find yourself lost in his purple and blue cosmic eyes.

you take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself to reality, and remind yourself that rafayel’s actions are only fueled by the strange effects the perfume has on him. he’s not in his right mind, and you need to think for him.

you whisper, craning your neck up to look into his eyes, “you’re not yourself right now. let me help you, i can take you to the doctor.”

rafayel leans down, resting his chin in the crook of your neck. he breathes you in, the smell of the perfume, still potent despite the scrubbing, mixed with your pheromones invading his very being. slowly, almost like it pains him to do so, he lifts his head away from you. he releases your hands and uses that same hand that gripped them to lift your chin towards him.

“do you know the only thing you could do that would help me?” his hooded eyes lock yours in. his voice is the soft purr you know and love, slightly tinged with a rough and carnal desire that shakes you to your core.

“name it. i’ll do it for you.“ part of you knows that rafayel isn’t going to ask you for anything regarding his health but you can’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth. you’re stepping into very dangerous territory and you can’t hold yourself back.

“kiss me,” his voice is low, but the assertive demand in it is undeniable. his command makes you shift in between his legs against the wall, becoming hyper aware of how deeply your bodies pressed into each other. you know you want to, you’ve wanted to for some time now. but you can’t shake the idea that the strange effects of the perfume are clouding rafayel’s judgment and inhibitions.

“r-rafayel…” you stutter hesitantly. trembling ever so slightly, you lean in to peck his flushed cheek. you watch, slightly amused, as rafayel’s ears get even pinker.

“why must you always make me beg?” he whines. his lips stick out in a signature rafayel pout, one you’ve grown to absolutely adore, no matter how annoying it can be.

you can’t help but laugh breathlessly, your chin still in his grip, “i don’t make you. you just love to beg.“

with your face still in his grip, he sighs dramatically, “then i won’t beg anymore.” he brings his face to yours and captures your lips with his. he swallows your surprised squeak, which is quickly replaced by a throaty moan of longing and anticipation. rafayel absolutely devours your noises, his lips so commanding against your own, bending them to his every will. they’re so soft, and you can’t help but think they fit so perfectly slotted against your own.

though you can taste the urgency on him, rafayel takes his time with you, engraving the taste and feel of you in his mind forever. he takes it so tortuously and deliciously slow that you find yourself nibbling on his bottom lip, begging him to take you fully.

you can just feel his maddening smirk against your lips. instead of indulging you, rafayel laces his practiced fingers under your dress’s skirt and onto your thighs. only when you yelp in surprise does he finally slip his tongue into your mouth, always intentionally doing things to take you by surprise.

the new sensation of your tongues on each other seems to have rafayel equally feral, because you feel the unmistakable press of his erection into your stomach. needing to do something with your hands, you trace the outlines of his chest muscles, enjoying the feel of them finally against your fingers.

rafayel’s hands venture to your back, expertly undoing the zipper of your dress, and then your bra. gasping into his open mouth as his fingers return to the pebbling skin of your nipples. he gives a harsh flick to each, and your knees buckle against the sensitivity. you sink down against the wall, lips still attached to his for dear life, but rafayel shifts so that he catches you with his knee instead. the mid length black dress your wore rides up and serves as a sheer layer of protection between your dampening panties and his knee. the friction of his leg against your crotch is unbearable, forcing you to throw your head back in pleasure.

your reaction only serves to spur rafayel further, as he begins to knead his knee into your cunt slowly. your body turns to mush at the ecstasy of his knee against your most sensitive region, but rafayel holds you steady with his hands gripping you from the swell of your underboobs.

burying his face into the crook of your neck, he inhales again. unbeknownst to you, he practically comes undone at the smell of you alone, “you say i’m always whining but look at you.”

you whimper at his teasing words right against your ear, clutching the back of his neck for support as he continues to hump his knee into you.

suddenly, rafayel stops, letting his knee still against your increasingly damp cunt. you can’t help but whine as you look up into his amused eyes. there’s mischief in them as he grins, “i’m getting tired. you’re going to have to do the work.”

despite your lust clouded brain, you can still think coherently enough to see through his brattiness. you narrow your eyes at him, “you’re tired? let me take you to the hospital. i knew you weren’t feeling well.” you duck down to escape his arms that cage you in, but he only lowers them so that they now trap you at the waist instead.

“you’re so mean to me y/n,” he huffs, “can’t you tell how vulnerable i am right now?”

“because of the perfume? why does it affect you so much?” you murmur, squeezing his cheeks slightly.

from rafayel’s expression you can tell he’s unwilling to share too much information. and as annoying as that was, you trusted him wholeheartedly and knew better than to prod him too much. you would take what you could get.

he rests his head on your shoulder, unwilling to meet your stare. dusting your hair behind your ear, he sniffs you again, practically consuming the scent. you shiver at the slight breeze he creates at your exposed neck, “i-it’s not just the perfume. i’ve dealt with this scent before, and i’ve developed a tolerance to it.”

you hold his neck against your shoulder, and gently knead his damp skin, letting him inhale the smell like his life depended on it, “then why?”

rafayel sighs, releasing the wall behind you but instead trapping you by wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing your bodies together. you sigh in satisfaction as his erection presses warmly against you again, your pussy craving his touch

finally he speaks, but his voice is low and almost feels dangerous, “the marine plant the perfume is extracted from…on its own no longer does anything to me. but when it’s exposed to another scent that i cannot control myself around…the reaction it causes can be extremely potent.”

the sensations of his body pressed tightly against yours makes your brain practically non-functional, so you’re not following his train of thought, so you ask dumbly, “like the air?”

you can practically hear rafayel rolling his eyes in his voice, “i need air to survive but do you think i can’t control myself at all times of the day?”

“okay well i’m confused! and to be fair you do act like an idiot at all times of the day so how am i supposed to know?!” he ignores you, taking another lungfull of the scent on your skin into his body. this time, he growls through an intense shiver, his grip on your body tightening against him. as if the very smell of your skin drove him into a lust filled craze.

and that’s when you realize what he meant.

“o-oh,” is all you can squeak out. strangely enough, the idea that your scent is what is driving rafayel to madness makes you leak further into the puddle that had formed in your panties.

rafayel groans again, one his fists releasing your body to gently pound into the wall behind you, “i-i can smell the arousal in your scent. it’s driving me insane.”

knowing he can smell the dampness between your thighs is both utterly embarrassing and completely erotic. your heart lurches, wanting nothing but to take his discomfort away and make him feel good, “h-how can i help you?”

reluctantly, he removes his chin off your shoulder and turns to face you, gripping your biceps in his hands, almost to the point of pain, “do you mean that? because you can’t take it back.”

shivering at the implications of his words, you nod slowly but more sure than ever, “yes. let me help you. i want to help you”

“i-if you want to help me…” rafayel’s voice is doubtful, like he’s scared you will deny him before he’s even gotten the chance to put his request out. between your thighs, you feel his knee creeping its way back against your leaking cunt. the shock to your recovering clit causes you to clutch rafayel’s firm shoulders and throw your head back with a breathy moan. rafayel feeds off your pleasure, imagining what you would sound like when you were actually stuffed to the brim with him.

“i want…i need to see you cum all over me,” rafayels throaty plea makes you blush profusely. you almost want to smack him across the head for his shameless words, but the pout on his face reminds you that he’s absolutely serious that this will help him. that seeing you come undone for him will help take the edge off of the effect the perfume is having on him.

“o-okay.” you gulp, nodding. the relief on his face is mixed with unbridled excitement that makes you squirm in anticipation of what's to come. your feet shift, which causes you to grind down on his knee once more. unable to withstand the unintentional teasing any further, you languidly moan and grind your leaking cunt against him to relieve some of the pulsing tension in your gut.

your broken groans grace rafayel’s ears and you can actually see his eyes light up with pleasure while his ears burn an even deeper red. his breath is shaky as he dips his head back down, inhaling deeply and dusting a kiss to the pulse point on your neck. you shiver as he gently uses his tongue against your neck to soothe his raging desire.

his reaction intrigues you, and you can’t help but want to tease him further, just a little. peering at him through your eyelashes, you tip toe upwards so you can fan your bated breath across his face, letting him bask in your scent. your tongue reaches out to gently swipe across his bottom lip, all the while you continue to pleasure yourself using his thigh.

rafayel is unable to contain his excitement as he watches you use his body for your own gratification. he pants desperately into the crook of your neck, high off your pheromones invading all his senses. through both your whiny moans, you reach out to graze his cock through his dress pants.

rafayel hisses at the slightest contact, and his reaction ignites your confidence, provoking you further. you grip him through the silky smooth trousers, holding his throbbing erection in your hand, using your thumb to tease where you think his slit would be.

“fuck–hah, be gentle please baby. m’sensitive,” he whines through gritted teeth. your cunt clenches at his words, so teasing yet so endearing from rafayel’s lips. you can feel the coil in your gut tightening as you continue to hump into rafayel’s knee, using his body to chase your own high. your black dress has ridden up, and now the only barrier between rafayel’s knee and your sopping pussy is your equally soaked panties. you bite your lip and pray that rafayel doesn’t notice the moist streaks that are starting to appear on his expensive pants.

through your hooded eyes, you can see rafayel is enjoying this just as much, if not more, than you are. his eyes are thick with lust, and you can practically see the pulse of his neck pound against his delicate skin. he desperately gasps for air, or maybe he’s trying to breathe more of you in, as you near your earth shattering climax.

“touch yourself for me,” you purr at him, purposely jutting your bottom lip out in a pout. he obliges obediently, one hand quickly undoing his belt and slipping in to grab his unbelievably hard cock into his hands.

as you watch his face contort in pleasure, you’re filled with the need to grab him into your own hands. “can i touch you too?” you ask innocently with wide eyes, imagining just how smooth he will feel in your bare hands.

rafayel whines, still obediently pumping his cock in his hands, “yes please, i need you to touch me.” at his plea, you let your hands find their way to his hands, still diligently pumping up and down. you wrap your smaller hand over his and mimic his motions. you gasp at the sheer size of him, your fingers just barely able to wrap around his girth. you can feel his veins throbbing against your fingers, begging you to continue further. the sheer amount of pre cum that already coats his fingers, and now yours, makes you wonder how delicious his spend would feel inside you instead.

“you’re so dam beautiful when you – fuck – use me like this. dreamed about this for s’long,” he bites out, his hands finding your nipples once more. his long artist fingers tease you expertly, taking the peaks and rolling them gently.

his skilled hands and filthy words accelerate the intensity of your body’s peak quickly approaching you. his entire body is flushed and burns under the pumps of your fist, likely exacerbated by the effects of your scent. you respond to his endless stream of gasps and swears with breathless mewls of your own, whispering sweet words into his ear.

“let me cum rafayel, please. want to cum for you s’bad,” you beg against him, despite him having given you all the power already, knowing the begging will drive him insane.

rafayel drives his knee further into you as your core grinds into him like second nature. your wrists vigorously pump his leaking cock, the thick heat of it feeling absolutely unreal against your palm. with your free hand you thread your fingers through his long soft hair, gripping gently. with a strangled groan rafayel sinks his teeth into your neck, sucking at your pulse point as if he’s trying to devour your scent. reluctantly he pulls away, throwing his head back in pure pleasure once more.

“f-fuck you drive me fucking crazy y/n,” he pants, his thick length throbbing at your vigorous pumps along his shaft, almost as if his heart was beating inside it. the endless precum that falls from the tip coats your fingers, making a wet mess in rafayel’s pants and your palm.

he groans in disappointment when you release his erection, but his eyes are trained on your every movement. overcome with your aching need for the gorgeous purple haired man before you, you bring your soaked fingers to your lips and slowly insert your index and middle finger into your parted mouth. you make a show of letting your tongue lap up his essence from your digits, never letting your eyes break contact with his as you devour him off your fingers. you can’t help but let out a muffled moan at the taste of him, sweeter than you could have ever fathomed, so deliciously rafayel.

he nearly hyperventilates as you peer at him through the tears of pleasure that had beaded onto your eyelashes. “look at you, hah, like a fucking masterpiece,” his thumb caresses your lip as his breathless praises make you squirm against his knee. the pre cum on his thumb swipes onto your tongue, and you itch to taste him again. you shift yourself so that you can take his thumb into your mouth, using your tongue to swipe all the slick off his slender fingers.

rafayel shivers at your touch, his mind a mush of lust and adoration as he watches your eyes roll back at the taste of his cum on your lips.

“you’re going to be the death of me,” he murmurs, drunk off your pheromones invading his senses. you only smile at him and tip toe up to press your lips against his, wanting him to be able to taste himself on your tongue. he groans into your mouth at the odd sensation of being able to taste both himself and you all at once. both his hands come up to thread in your hair, pulling you as deeply into him as he possibly can. you can feel his exposed chest against your own, his heart pounding rapidly against the swell of your dress covered breasts. the proximity lets him control every twitch of his quads against your cunt and you cry into his mouth at the stimulation.

as you continue to fuck yourself onto his knee, you find yourself on the cusp of your orgasm, nearly blinded by the ecstasy of his leg wedged between your thighs and the salty taste of his slick on your tongue, “raf-rafayel, m’gonna cum.”

despite his furious blush, he smirks at you, as devilishly handsome as ever, “you gonna cum on my knee baby?”

if it weren’t for the cloud of pleasure fogging your every nerve you’d surely have a snarky retort to throw back at him, but the need to have him is so great you can’t think of a single thing. without even needing to enter you, rafayel has rendered you utterly fucked out.

so instead, you nod eagerly as your grinding against his knee becomes increasingly sloppy and erratic. rafayel, entranced by the utterly fucked bliss in your eyes can’t stop himself from falling deeper into the abyss that is you: your voice, your eyes, your smell, your soul. he finds himself realizing that, though he’s seen millions of dollars in once in a lifetime artworks, even creating some of his own to add to this infinite world, the entire universe pales in comparison to you. the thick haze of emotions overwhelms him and he finds himself begging, once again.

“p-please cum for me, my love. i need to see it,” rafayel begs into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. the sensation makes your entire body shiver, causing your cunt to quiver further into his soaked knee. you’re not used to his voice, normally teasing and bratty voice, being this needy and adoring. it’s all enough to shove you viciously into your orgasm. you cling onto rafayel as you release all over your panties and his leg, still languidly grinding into you.

you can’t stop the screams that rip out of your mouth, pure ecstasy and satisfaction laced into your very breath. rafayel holds you tightly against him, cooing into your ear, talking you through the waves of pleasure, as the excruciating ecstasy makes tears spill out of your eyes and onto your cheels.

rafayel eyes widen in pure awe as he watches every shiver and twitch of your orgasm against his leg. he throws his head back, swearing as your scent becomes exponentially more potent. the smell of your spend is thick in the air, mixing with your pheromones and the perfume until it overloads every nerve in his body. the throbbing in his cock grows unbearable even with nothing touching it, physically twitching uncontrollably as he explodes inside his slacks.

you cry out one last time when your thighs collapse from the intense climax, and rafayel catches you by your waist, holding you steady against him and the wall behind you. the movements against your cunt slow as you ride out the final waves of your orgasm. with nothing separating his thigh from your cunt but your soaked panties, rafayel can swear he feels your clit throb against him, the aftershocks of your climax wracking your body, just as the effects of his own orgasm sear through his.

you’re a panting and sobbing mess against his flushed chest. your legs are completely useless, supported solely by rafayel’s strong and safe arms around your waist and his knee still wedged between you. he rests his face in the mess of your hair, breathing you into him. unbeknownst to you, rafayel is reeling from his own climax as he holds you protectively against him, almost for dear life.

through the comfortable silence that has blanketed the bathroom, rafayel’s voice vibrates on the top of your head, “you smell so fucking good baby.”

you smile contentedly against rafayel’s chest, your hands reaching up to smooth his curly hair away from his sweaty forehead, “do you feel better?”

he smiles against your head, taking another deep breath of you into him. his voice is thick with satisfaction, but also unrelenting hunger, “yes, but…” you wait for him to finish his thought, but there’s only silence.

“rafayel?”

his reply comes out strangled and heavy against the top of your head, “i-i need more. i need you.”

you shift so you can look up at him. he doesn’t speak, but his hooded eyes tell you everything he’s thinking. maybe it’s the post orgasm haze, but you find yourself being unable to deny rafayel, wanting nothing more than to please him.

getting on your toes so you can reach him, you let your bottom lip brush against his, relishing in the way his breath catches in his throat, and whisper, “take me rafayel.”

“sh-shit,” he mumbles and presses his lips the rest of the short distance into yours. he tears into you with such torrid intensity that your knees buckle. as his palms hold your face in place, you cling onto his shoulders for support, the feeling of him enveloping you so overwhelmingly addicting. as your legs give out under the excruciating anticipation of what’s to come, you hook your knee into rafayel’s waist. he grips your thigh, lifting it to hook around his back. his hand kneads into your bare skin as he reluctantly tears his lips from yours.

“you can’t stand anymore?” his cocky grin contrasts the deep blush on his cheeks. before you can snap back at him, he hoists you up against the wall. instinctively you yelp, wrapping your other leg against his waist as he holds you securely against the cool tiles behind you and his solid abdomen.

his lips simultaneously find yours again, locking deeply with an unrelenting passion that quite literally takes your breath away. as your breath becomes his, your thighs clench at the crushing intensity of his lips, wanting him deeper, harder. his tongue explores every inch of you, and you whimper into him at the pure need that was manifesting in your gut once more.

feverishly, rafayel breaks away, like he cannot possibly wait another second. he doesn’t even break a sweat as he balances your squirming body with one hand, his other hand reaching down to pull off his belt that he’d undone earlier.

you want to ask rafayel if it’d be more comfortable to go to his bed or even the studio sofa, but you’re rendered speechless as he pulls his cock out of his slacks. you’d felt it in your hands earlier, but seeing it in all its glory under the light was a whole different story.

rafayel definitely took pride in how he presented himself, his hair, his clothes; everything about him was pristine and curated just how he wanted others to see him. and his manhood was no different. he stood absolutely proud against his naval, his impressive length erect enough to touch just below his belly button, curving straight up. he’s unsurprisinglt well groomed, but with a dusting of pubic hair along his happy trail to his glorious cock. like rafayel himself, it was nothing short of art.

but then you noticed that he has trails of white cream smeared all over his delicious length, matted into the hair along his pelvis. far too much to be just pre cum.

“d-did you cum earlier?” you can’t stop the grin that forms on your face as you realize rafayel had finished earlier just watching you pleasure yourself against him. literally came undone at the mere thought and sight of your pleasure.

rafayel averts his eyes, hiding under his tousled bangs, his face tomato red, “sh-shut up!” his reaction only makes you laugh and want to provoke him more.

“you’re such a bad boy rafayel, cumming without me touching you,” you coo, using one hand to scratch his hair soothingly, “just an eager little kitty for me.”

rafayel’s eyes narrow as his lips form his signature pouty grimace, “i am not a cat.”

you open your mouth to tease him more, but rafayel pushes you harder into the wall so he can free one hand to rub his thumb against your lips. you yelp at the feel of the stone cold wall being pressed further into your burning skin. with his finger on your mouth, his eyebrow raise at you pointedly. his eyes light up with an intense and burning warning, “i’m about to fucking ravage you. are you sure you want to keep teasing me?”

his words shut you up instantly. you shake your head vehemently and obediently, your cunt aching at his promises, needing nothing more than to be filled with him.

“good girl,” he murmurs, his hand moving off your lips to reach under your dress, hooking his finger into the waistband of your panties. you shiver at the feel of his palm on your waist, as he attempts to pull them off of you. but he quickly grows impatiently frustrated at the tangle of your bodies.

“i’ll buy you another pair, ‘kay?” you’re about to protest but rafayel wastes absolutely no time, bunching the delicate material in his fist and tearing it off you. you gape as the sound of fabric ripping sounds in the air and watch the lace material fall to the ground.

“r-rafayel! i liked that pair!” you scold, hitting his shoulder in a mixture of disbelief but also arousal at his primal urge. you know you should be more upset but you find yourself just melting into a puddle at his unabashed behavior. i mean honestly you wore those in hopes that he might see them anyways.

“i’ll buy you as many as you want, if you let me rip them off of you,” he grins in feigned apologeticness. at your expression he continues, this time earnestly, “m’sorry, just can’t wait anymore.” and with those words, rafayel sheaths himself into you. you yelp at the alarming stretch, his girth much more than you’re used to. even with the thick slick of your combined orgasms, it’s slightly painful to accommodate him.

simultaneously, rafayel cries out huskily as he enters you, your grip down there absolutely strangling his erection. the finish of your first climax thickly coats his cock, but it’s just barely enough to offset the stretch from how thick he is. his strong arms hold you securely in place as his pelvis slowly begins thrusting up into you, pushing you up the wall at every stroke.

the angle he has you in meant every single thrust hits your cervix, his cock unbelievably lengthy. the curvature causes every stroke to drag deliciously against your g spot which makes you cream uncontrollably at each thrust, a ring of white forming at the base of his cock that splashes into you with every vigorous stroke. your clit rubs roughly against his pelvis, his coarse happy trail rubbing against it with every movement, stimulating your body beyond belief.

“fuck you’re taking me so well baby,” rafayel moans into your ear, swallowing another mouthful of your aroma. you whimper as you feel him getting unbelievably harder at your scent alone, his solid flesh brushing against every single corner of your gummy walls. his veins throb inside of you as he twitches in pleasure. “so fucking tight, all for me yeah?”

“raf, s’big. feel s’good,” you slur, the haze of ecstasy starting to cloud your consciousness. his thrusts go harder, deeper, at your praises, and you cry out, unable to stop your thighs, and simultaneously your cunt, from tightening around him.

a strangled moan leaves his lips at your movements, his damp forehead pressing against yours as one of his hands leave your thighs to grip the wall next to you. “sh-shit are you always this tight or is this jus’ for me?”

before you can respond, rafayel is babbling huskily into your ear again, “wish you could see yourself right now. you look so beautiful, so fucked out, all for me huh?”

your eyes squeeze shut at his filthy words, and you can’t help but clench down on him again. your profuse arousal coats the hair along his pelvis, creating the most filthy and lewd noises as rafayel continues to bounce you onto his cock, his stamina absolutely unreal. your lips chant his name, over and over, your brain only filled with him.

“look at me y/n, need to see you,” rafayel begs into your neck, still absolutely inhaling your pheromones, getting harder at every intake, “jesus you smell so fucking good.”

you force your eyes open, fighting the ecstasy from taking over completely. as he shifts to stare into your eyes, he gives you the most gorgeous rafayel smile that threatens to short circuit your brain and stop your heart. there’s an overwhelming swirl of emotions in his purple-blue eyes: lust, mischief, adoration, respect, longing, and…so much love.

it’s all enough to make you want to confess the feelings you yourself had forced deep down, trying desperately to forget them for the sake of your friendship and working relationship. rafayel keeps staring into your eyes, straight into your soul, and you finally open your mouth to try and find the words, “i–”

but instead, he cuts you off, bending down so your lips brush against each other again, “i know.” with those words, he presses himself needily into your waiting mouth

grateful that he doesn’t need you to say the words, you return his kiss with equal fervor, doing your best to convey all the things you had wanted to say.

the bruisingly passionate kiss pushes you towards the edge as rafayel continues to bounce you ruthlessly onto his cock. you’re forced to pull away from his lips to let out a strangled cry of pleasure. through the overwhelming ecstasy, rafayel takes the opportunity to shove his hand in between your bodies, easily finding your clit. the stimulation forces you to scream out uncontrollably, your eyes and head rolling back into the wall.

“jesus look at how soaked you are y/n,” he mumbles in awe, eyes glued to where your bodies connected, “look, baby.”

at his urging, you force yourself to lift your head off the wall and glance down at his fervent ministrations. the sight you’re met is enough to make you finish all over him right then and there.

the veins in rafayel’s thick forearm bulge as he paws at your clit furiously, the slick glistening on his thick length and splatters as the force of his thrusts rattle you deliciously against the cold wall. as he pulls out of you entirely with each thrust, you can see the throb of each vein of his cock, aching to be thrust back inside you.

“raf-rafayel,” you gasp out, “i–”

“i-i know baby, i can feel it. squeezing the life out of me,” he groans, shifting your entire weight onto his right arm while his left forearm slams into the wall above your head, anchoring him and allowing him to fuck into you with a new mind numbing intensity.

his chin digs into your shoulder as he hammers into you relentlessly, “ffuuck baby, gonna make me cum all – shit – over you huh?”

the force of the orgasm that chases you is utterly blinding, and against your better judgment you plead with him, “p-please cum inside raf, i want to feel you.”

you can feel his panting breath hitch by your ear, and he whispers, “are you sure? don’t tease me y/n. y-you can’t take it back. please.”

“won’t take it b-back,” you wail as his thrusts bruise your walls, the painful pleasure edging you closer and closer to your undoing. “please rafayel, need you inside me s’badly.”

at your begging, rafayel goes absolutely insane. he slams you so vigorously against the wall that you can practically feel the entire house shake. every throbbing thrust pushes against your more sensitive spots, bullying right into your cervix. his breath becomes increasingly erratic and he sinks his teeth into your neck to contain his throaty moans.

the sudden sensation of his teeth against your pulse, so dangerously aggressive yet gently teasing, sends you barreling into your orgasm. “cumming, cumming, m’cumming raf,” you wail repeatedly, unable to form any other words as tears stream down your face and onto his ruined dress shirt.

your hand roughly tears at rafayel’s hair as he continues to ravage both your clit and your aching hole, finally sending your body into the mind numbing explosion of your climax. your cunt grips onto him for dear life, throbbing uncontrollably to the sloppy rhythm of his thrusts. you ride the endless waves of your orgasm, vision blurring as tears continue to spill from your eyes.

“raf, s’too much,” you whimper, fingers releasing his hair and reaching down to scratch at his back, trying to relieve any of the overwhelming pleasure that threatened to make you lose consciousness. you couldn’t bring yourself to care about how you were destroying rafayel’s expensive shirt under your nails. your legs tighten around his waist as he continues to pound you into the wall. you’re almost sure your body will be battered and bruise tomorrow, not that you’d complain.

“m’sorry,” he pants, but only thrusts harder and faster, “jus’ hold onto me love. m’so – ffuuck – so fucking close.” you nod obediently, still riding the last receeding waves of your own orgasm, pussy quivering around every ridge and vein on his shaft.

“jesus if you could feel how tight you’re squeezing me right now,” rafayel grits through clenched teeth, “you want me to cum inside you that bad? that you’re gonna force it out of me?”

your lids feel so heavy as the pleasure of your orgasm ebbs into exhausted satisfaction, and you murmur, “m’not doing anything raf, you jus’ feel so good. so deep.”

at your praises, rafayel lets out a strangled groan and comes undone inside of you. you cry out as the warmth of his spend fills you, soothing the ache from the ravaging your poor cunt just took. he shoots rope after rope of it into you, a never ending stream of him emptying inside of you.

rafayel rests his forehead against yours, his forearm still using the wall above your head to support him. you both pant into each other as the quivering of your cunt squeezes every last drop of him inside you. he shivers at the feeling of your womanhood throbbing around his softening member, completely spent.

rafayel does his best to keep himself, and you, upright. his arms shake slightly, the aftershocks of his own orgasm devastating every muscle in his body. you can feel his biceps trembling, you fight to keep your eyes open, “s’okay raf i can stand.”

“okay love,” he murmurs into your hair, taking in one last whiff of your scent, before pressing a gentle kiss onto your forehead. you whimper as he slips out of you, your sore hole still wanting nothing more to be filled by rafayel. you do your best to ignore the thick streaks of your collective spend dripping down your legs. as you unhook your thighs and let your feet touch the floor, your body gives out.

rafayel catches you before your knees can crash into the tiled bathroom floor. you don’t have to look at his face to know he’s smirking at you.

“need me to carry you baby?”

as you hold yourself up clutching his arm, you narrow your eyes at him, “no. shut up.”

rafayel chuckles, the smile in his eyes glowing brightly at you, “come on y/n, let me take care of you.”

your snappy refusal is cut off by your squeal as rafayel scoops you into his arms, like a princess. you wince at the feeling of the smearing of dampness between your thighs as rafayel hooks his arms under your thighs. you hadn't even noticed that he’d put his belt back on.

“always with the theatrics rafayel,” you grin, unable to stop yourself from burying your face into his chest. he smiles in response as he carries you through his home. you breathe in rafayel’s scent, an intoxicating blend of sea salt, cardamom, and arousal.

“you love me.”

you sigh to yourself, love him you absolutely did. but that was a conversation you two would need to have another day.

looking up, you find yourself in rafayel’s room, his white curtains billowing as the night time breeze cascades through them. as rafayel sets you down on his plush king sized bed, your phone rings from the inside of his pocket. you’d almost forgotten you’d given him your phone when thomas had called earlier.

the phone keeps ringing as rafayel sits besides where you lay, attention focused solely on you. you pat his thigh, “raf? can you pick up my phone?”

rafayel grimaces as he grabs your cell phone from his slack pockets. “it’s just thomas,” he grumbles like a child, “i told him not to call again.”

he takes one look at your unamused expression and sighs in defeat, “fine fine.”

rafayel picks up the phone, snapping, “what thomas?”

“speaker phone,” you mouth at him, only able to hear thomas’s erratic mumbles through the phone. he rolls his eyes, but puts the call on speaker, holding it up between you two.

“you guys better be half dead in a ditch or actually dead,” he threatens sulkily, “how could you guys not show up?”

“didn’t i say not to call again?” rafayel fires back, but his tone is teasing. you know rafayel cares about thomas a lot, even if he makes the agent’s life hell.

“thomas, i’m so sorry! i’ll make it up to you i swear,” you apologize, feeling horribly guilty. you could only imagine how many angry sponsors and reporters he had to deal with.

as rafayel holds the phone with one hand for you to speak into, he notices your black dress had ridden up to reveal glistening streaks pooling down your legs. he uses the index finger of his free hand to scoop up the spend that continues to drip down your thighs. your breath hitches as he smirks at you, his hand creeping up further, into your inner thigh.

“you owe me so many dinners,” thomas grumbles, but you have a difficult time paying attention to the rest of his words as rafayel’s hands venture further up, dangerously. you give him a warning look, but his fingers only trail up further to tease you, grazing against your bare slit.

“are you guys even listening to me?” thomas demands through the phone, his tone is as pouty as rafayel normally is.

“y-yes, i’m sorry,” you try to keep your voice as steady as possible, “i’ll uh, i’ll get you take out tomorrow!” you swat at rafayel’s lingering hands but he doesn’t budge. his ears are pink and you notice his breaths are coming out in short pants as he quietly climbs onto the bed at your feet. you do your best to keep your own moans from bursting uncontrollably out of your lips as his fingers relentlessly tease you.

“yes, and i want boba too. with extra – wait. what are you guys doing?” rafayel and your eyes snap to each other and then to the phone. you’re about to speak when thomas’s shrill voice cuts in again.

“you guys better not be doing what i think you’re doing! i swear to g–”

“‘kay gotta go bye bye thomas love you!” rafayel interrupts sheepishly, ending the call with his thumb. there’s a brief moment of disbelief and silence before you both burst out into laughter.

you clutch your stomach, trying to catch your breath as the uncontrollable giggles keep coming. but the thought of thomas makes you feel guilty again, “rafayel maybe we can still make it to the party if we hurry. we can’t just leave thomas –”

rafayel shushes you with his finger, his hair falling into his eyes as he leans over you, “i just got an idea for a painting and i have to start right now.”

you’re no stranger to rafayel’s spontaneous bouts of inspiration. in the past, he’d literally drag you to the oceanside and not ten minutes into the excursion, he’d race home needing to get started on an idea he had right then and there. and sometimes he’d forget you at the beach.

“right now? but we’re not in the studio,” you squirm as rafayel leans closer to your face, shifting his body so that he’s kneeling at your feet, in between your legs.

“oh. i meant a different kind of painting. maybe on your stomach,” your brows furrow in confusion at his words as he smirks mischievously at you. you squeak as he climbs to hover over you, his body pressed against your still sensitive areas. your body heats up again as the feel of his hardening cock against you.

his thumb presses against your bottom lip, the salty taste of him invading your senses once more, “or maybe…on your beautiful face.”

the implications of his words finally hits you all at once, and your face burns like a wildfire. you hit his shoulder weakly and unconvincingly, already succumbing to the arousal pooling back in your thighs as you watch the desperate need return to his eyes.

“r-rafayel!”

“then again you’re already a piece of art,” he murmurs, his voice groggy with desire. he presses a kiss to your parted lips, then to your exposed collarbone, and then to your covered breasts, “but you know me. i like to take my time with my art.”

oh you were utterly fucked.

taglist: @queenashen @kttriangle @lyssa-211 @jeikeun

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lanasblood · 11 months

Text

HOW DO I MAKE YOU LOVE ME | neteyam x reader

pairing: neteyam x f!omatikaya!reader (no mentions of y/n)

summary: you remember all of your attempts to make Neteyam fall in love with you, using various methods, experiencing numerous failures, and you finally come to a conclusion or the five times you failed to win neteyam’s affection and the one time you succeed.

word count: 10k (!!! damn)

warnings: actually none but let’s say hurt/comfort, reader is a simp, 5+1 prompt, confessing, mutual pining, mention of blood, requited/unrequited love, !!adult neteyam!!, flashbacks to childhood and teenager years

note: inspired by the five love languages and the weeknd’s song mentioned in the title.

* gif‘s not mine.

The soft rustling of the teal leaves falling silently to the ground, as light as an ikran feather, is one of the most soothing sounds heard on the still night. The wind touches them gently, as if caressing them, before whirling them up again in a powerful gust, starting the cycle all over again. The moons stand high in the sky, and the stars sparkle like little gems that can beautify anything. The night is quiet, and the soft breeze seems to calm everything down and lull it into a deep sleep. The bright light of the bioluminescent plants lays gently on the moist meadows, illuminating the darkness. It is like a magical tale, perfect and without blemish. Yet, there is one who can't sleep in this harmonic time: you. With your arms and legs stretched out, you lie on your back, feeling like hours have passed since you started staring at the night sky without moving a muscle. You have even decided to sleep outside your hammock to hear and feel the sound of the wind, hoping to finally sink into the dreamland. But, as you know, this has done little to help.

All because of him. You sigh in annoyance.

For as long as you can remember you've had this crush on the eldest son of the Olo'eyktan, you don't know when you developed it, let alone how it really started. You just know that it might have been cute at first – a nice girl from a small clan who has feelings for the older boy next door, but as time went by, it wasn't cute at all; on the contrary, it robs you of precious sleep and will most likely cause you to age prematurely.

Despite not knowing how and when exactly this crush thing has started, you know that it has gotten worse the more time has passed, and the more time passes, the more failed attempts to get his attention you have behind you. However, there's one event you categorize as time zero - the starting point of your attempts - that you remember vividly:

You were a mere child and couldn't take your eyes off Neteyam, who was only slightly older than you. Confidently clutching the stem of the rare flower you had been searching for days, you made your way through the lush forest, searching for Neteyam. As you thought about the plan you had concocted, your heart beat rapidly in your chest. You had heard from a reliable source that Neteyam was a lover of rare flora, and you hoped that this gift would make him see you in a different light.

When you spotted him in the distance, his tall figure was moving gracefully through the trees. Taking a deep breath, you approached him, holding out the flower to him.

"Hey, Neteyam," you said, trying to sound casual. "I found this and I thought you might like it."

Neteyam stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. You held out the flower a bit higher, hoping to see a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes.

"Thank you," he said simply, slowly taking the flower from your outstretched hand. Looking at the flower now in his hand, the corner of his lips turned upward, causing your heart to flutter.

You told him happily, "It's a very rare flower," beaming a bright smile at him.

And the next thing you knew, you were holding your breath as he bent slightly forward to your height and patted your head in praise, "It seems you're already a careful gatherer, baby neighbor. Keep it up!"

You felt your heart sink faster than a prey could run when he turned and continued on his way, leaving you standing there alone in the forest. You had hoped that your gesture would be enough to make him see you in a different light, but it seemed that it had made no difference at all, or even worse for he had called you the worst possible nickname to exist in all na'vihood.

As you made your way back to the village, you couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment and frustration settling in you, the deep frown on your face mirroring your inner world. You had tried so hard to get Neteyam to notice you, but it seemed that he was simply not interested.

How do I make you love me?

After a few cycles and many more failed attempts in between, you realized that your little crush was not so little after all. Especially after Neteyam passed his Iknimaya at such a young age, your admiration for him grew every day. The feeling was almost unbearable as you found yourself constantly near him but not receiving the acknowledgment you wished for.

That was until one day, you decided to change that because your hormonal teenager brain had this glorious idea to spend some alone time with Neteyam. You had observed that he enjoyed hunting during his free time when he wasn't bound by his duties as the Olo'eyktan's firstborn. This is why you eagerly joined him on his next hunt, determined to impress him with your own hunting and tracking skills. Looking back, you now realize that your confidence may have been misplaced for your skills were basically non-existent at that time, but back then you were convinced that you were able to hunt.

So, you followed Neteyam deep into the forest, crouching right beside him in the underbrush, watching the herd of talioang grazing in the distance. Their blue and orange skin glinted in the sunlight, and you could hear the low rumble of their voices as they communicated with each other.

"Do you thi—" Neteyam's hand swiftly covered your mouth, halting your words before they escaped, his touch gentle yet firm. It was electrifying, sending shivers down your spine. He motioned for you to be quiet and directed your attention towards the herd. As he removed his hand, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement in your blood. This was your chance to prove yourself.

Neteyam slowly and silently made his way towards the herd, you right on his track, moving from one piece of cover to another. Your eyes followed every movement of the muscles on his toned back, you felt your heart pounding in your chest, and your palms were slick with sweat. Even though you had never really hunted before, you were determined to succeed but Neteyam's captivating presence proved to be a distraction that made it difficult for you to concentrate on anything else.

As you got closer to the herd, you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Neteyam signaled for you to stop, and you froze, trying to make yourself as small as possible. He reached out and brushed a twig aside at your feet.

"Watch your steps," he whispered close to your ear, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart raced as you realized how close he was to you, and you wondered if he could hear it pounding in your chest. Longing to feel his lips against your skin, you couldn't help but turn your head slightly towards him, but you knew you couldn't let your desire distract you from the hunt.

"I do," you whispered back. Trying to calm your racing heart, you focused on the task at hand, scanning the ground for anything else that might make noise. But when you moved, you felt Neteyam's body shift slightly against yours, sending another jolt of electricity through you, and you wondered if he felt it too.

"No, you constantly step on something," he told you, still whispering, but voice stern.

Feeling caught because there was a high possibility that he was right for you hadn't paid attention to your surroundings in the last couple of minutes, too busy doting on him, you couldn't find arguments to defend yourself, "I do not."

Neteyam firmly pressed his finger on his own lips, signaling you to be quiet yet again. Your heart beat faster as you met his intense gaze, and you felt a rush of desire wash over you.

"Too much noise," he mouthed, his voice barely audible, and looked back at the herd. Following his gaze, you saw that the talioang had picked up on something, and they were starting to look nervous. You and Neteyam held your breaths, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Suddenly, Neteyam gave the signal, and sprang into action. You just weren't really ready when he gave the signal, so with the first step you took, you stumbled on something growing on the ground and fell over with a short cry. Neteyam who had darted towards the nearest talioang, already drawing his bow and arrow, stopped right in his track when he heard you fall. You looked up at him when he quickly turned to you and then back at the herd but it was too late, the animals already reared up in surprise, and scattered in all directions. However, you were too shocked by your fatal mistake to pay them any attention. You were frozen in place, lying in the dirt, watching Neteyam looking back at you with a slightly agape mouth. The blood rushed to your head and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears.

You ruined it.

Neteyam's disappointment was tangible. You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew that he was angry. You would be, too. Struggling to express your remorse, the words got caught in your throat as you attempted to apologize. The weight of disappointment were heavy on your shoulders, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of letting him down.

After a long, awkward silence, Neteyam turned to you with a deep sigh. "You need to be more careful," he said, "When you're hunting, you have to be aware of everything around you. One mistake can ruin the whole hunt."

You nodded, feeling ashamed, you were sure your face was as purple as a yovo fruit. You had wanted to impress Neteyam, but instead you had embarrassed yourself in front of him, had blown any chance to show him that you were capable.

How do I make you fall for me?

Over time, you learned from your previous mistakes. Wanting to impress him proved to be harder than anticipated, but having a conversation with him was easier than expected. You needed to show him how much you appreciated him for who he was. As a result, you began to pay closer attention to the way he interacted with others, especially his younger brother Lo'ak, and you started to incorporate some of those phrases into your conversations with him.

One bright day, you nervously approached Neteyam, hoping to strike up a conversation with him using your newfound knowledge:

"Hey, Neteyam," you greeted tentatively, "Whatcha doin'?"

You left out the bro on purpose, fearing it would be overkill. Even so, the words coming out of your mouth sounded strange to you, and for him apparently too, as he rapidly looked up from his task upon hearing your voice, and his otherwise neutral face looked at you with a slightly frowned forehead and attentive eyes, studying you for a moment before he was quick to collect himself and greeted you with a slight smile.

"Not much. Tuk asked me to repair this old basket for her," he said, motioning with his hands on the basket between his legs, "And I'm trying."

You nodded, trying not to seem too eager, "That's really kind of you. I bet she'll be thrilled once you finish it," you said with a smile.

Neteyam simply hummed in response and went back to his task, his concentration returning.

"I mean, I would, too. Tuk is very lucky, it must be nice to have a brother like you," you complimented him.

"But you do have a brother," Neteyam reminded you matter-of-factly, "We used to attend the same training sessions so many times."

"Yeah," you continued, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. "But, uh, he is not as skilled as you are." Good save. "And he never did such kind things for me when I was little. The only thing he did was teach me how to fight."

"That's a valuable skill," Neteyam commented.

"Well, what I mean is, he's an ordinary brother, while you are one of a kind, Neteyam. Your siblings are incredibly lucky to have you," you said, emphasizing your point.

Neteyam smiled to himself, his canines slightly showing, as he went back to working on the basket. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach at the thought of him noticing your flattery.

"I appreciate that," he said, acknowledging your compliment.

After a few minutes of silence, you took a deep breath and you mustered up the courage to ask him a question, "May I say something?"

He looked up at you again and nodded. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You decided to take the chance, "I just wanted to say that you always seem to know just what to do and say, and that's very impressive. You're responsible, always respectful, and very patient. Not just with me but with everyone in our clan. And I want you to know that I really appreciate it, Neteyam." I appreciate you.

Neteyam's expression softened as he listened to your words. "You have a kind heart to express that," he replied, a hint of a smile still playing at the corner of his lips.

You took a deep breath and continued, "I know you don't share much about your personal life, but if you ever feel comfortable talking about it I would love to learn more about you."

Neteyam's smile reached his eyes. "Thank you, I will keep that in mind."

You felt a warm glow of happiness in your chest as you realized that your words affected him. You were willing to put in the work to get to know him better.

Encouraged by his response, you asked, "So, do you have any concrete plans after your Uniltaron?"

Neteyam's expression faltered a bit upon hearing you mention his upcoming Dream Hunt, he seemed almost reserved all of a sudden. "I do have a few, but they are personal," he replied, "I prefer to keep them to myself."

You felt a pang of disappointment. "Oh, I understand," you said, trying to hide your dejection, "I'm sorry. It was not my place to ask."

"You don't have to apologize," he responded, "But some things are best kept within the family."

"Yeah, I get it," you smiled weakly, feeling like you had hit a wall, "Thanks for talking with me, Neteyam."

He nodded and went back to his task, leaving you feeling deflated and uncertain about how to get closer to him.

How do I make you want me?

The previous attempts to win Neteyam's attention had proven unsuccessful: The gifts you gave him didn't have the desired effect, your attempts to impress him by spending time with him backfired (you want to forget that memory of the hunt so badly), and the conversations you had with him remained superficial, never delving deeper into meaningful topics. It was clear that you needed a new approach, a fresh idea to capture his interest which brought you back to point zero.

You walked through the forest, scanning the undergrowth for any signs of the flowers you had been studying for quite some time – the kind you gifted Neteyam when you were little. It turns out that the rare flower wasn't that rare after all, it only bloomed a short time a cycle, which is what made it so valuable. However, if they were dried and powdered, very useful medicines could be made. At some point you had started collecting this flower, as well as other herbs and plants for Tsahìk, and in return she had taught you how to make rich creams and pastes from them. And you could also consume this flower in meals if you let it cook over the fire for a long time. Pondering if it would evoke nostalgia within Neteyam, while you plucked them carefully from the ground, you wondered if he ever remembered the day you gave him that flower in the first place.

Gathering a variety of edible flowers, aromatic herbs, and other nourishing ingredients from the village, you spent all morning helping the women in your clan prepare a wholesome and delicious meal for the warriors. In anticipation of Neteyam's training session, you decided to take this thoughtful approach to show your support and care.

As the aroma of freshly cooked food filled the air, you volunteered to bring the full basket of handmade food wraps and lovely cut fruits to the training area.

The warriors were engrossed in their practice, their movements fluid and powerful. You scanned the crowd, searching for Neteyam among them.

Spotting him in the midst of the intense training session, his lean muscles glistening with sweat under the warm sun, you couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration. His movements were powerful and precise, each strike displaying his skill as a warrior. His strength and determination did something to you, feeling a magnetic pull towards him.

Balancing the basket of food in your hands, you approached the outskirts of the training area, careful not to interrupt the warriors' focus. You set up a blanket and arranged the food on it attractively. Your intention was not only to impress Neteyam but to show your support for the entire group.

"I swear, Eywa send you here," you heard someone say next to you, a bit out of breath, while impatient hands reached into the basket and helped you place the food, "I'm starving!"

"Lo'ak, are you allowed to end your training like this?" You questioned, and turned your head in the direction of the warriors — the training was obviously still in full swing, but it was precisely then that you met Neteyam's gaze who was already looking over at you, a mixture of surprise and curiosity evident in his eyes.

"Not really but it smells so good, I'm ready to be skinned for these delici— Oh, I'm taking this one, yeah?" He started unwrapping one of the food wraps and hastily bit into it.

"Hey, wait for the others!" you admonished him, but his wrap was already half eaten.

"Mm, das bom!" you heard him smack loudly, "S'rusly, yur da best."

"I'm glad," you responded, suppressing a laugh. Lo'ak acted like he hadn't eaten in days.

Noticing the spread of food, the warriors collectively ended the training session, and the men started approaching the nourishing dishes, including freshly grilled meats, vibrant vegetables, and flavorful herbs.

Sensing an opportunity, you went towards Neteyam, a food wrap in your hand, and a warm smile gracing your lips. "I thought I would spare you the long way, in case you're starving like your brother," you joked, gesturing with your head towards Lo'ak behind you, who was taking two more food wraps and calling dips on the rawp.

Neteyam's gaze shifted from the feast you had prepared to the food in his hands and then at you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"That's thoughtful of you," he replied, his voice carrying a subtle warmth, "It's been an intense training session, and this is a welcome surprise."

You stepped back, allowing him to enjoy the meal with his fellow warriors. Observing from a distance, you noticed the camaraderie and laughter that emerged as they gathered around the spread of food, indulging in the flavors that were carefully crafted.

Throughout the meal, you found yourself drawn to Neteyam's presence. The way he spoke with passion about his experiences, the way he listened attentively to others, and the way his eyes sparkled with a hidden depth — all of it only fueled your growing attraction.

As the training session continued, you lingered nearby, engaging in conversations with other warriors, offering encouragement and companionship. While your initial intention was to impress Neteyam, you found joy in connecting with the community as a whole, so much you almost didn't realize that the day's training had come to an end.

"Thank you for the meal and your company," Neteyam said softly as he walked next to you back to the village, carrying the basket for you with a genuine smile gracing his face. "It meant a lot to all of us."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, "I didn't do much, the others—"

"You are here, that alone is more than enough."

You nodded, a sense of satisfaction washing over you. "I'm glad I could contribute," your voice was filled with sincerity, "Supporting you and the clan is important to me."

A surge of hope welled up inside you, but as the conversation continued, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Despite your efforts, the romantic tension you had hoped for seemed to elude you. The conversation remained pleasant yet distant, and it became clear that Neteyam saw you more as a friend than a potential partner. With a heavy heart, you realized that your attempt to catch his interest had once again fallen short.

And make it last eternally?

For quite some time now, you have firmly believed that you have left those days behind you, imprisoned in childhood memories, overlapped by numerous teenage embarrassments. After all, now you are an adult with serious duties and commitments to attend to, and there's neither time nor room for such childish infatuations. Crushing on the future Olo'eyktan. Please. Plus, once you found out how many other girls in your clan, both older and younger than you, adored him, you figured it is best to move on. You were frustrated at times, but you resolved to carry on, cherishing the friendship you shared with Neteyam while silently letting go of your unrequited feelings. At least, that's what you thought...

… until three eclipses ago.

Mere moments before the eclipse, the all-too-familiar soft light danced in the room, casting a golden hue that revealed the tiniest pollen floating around inside Tsahìk's crowded tent. It had been a long time since so many people had been injured at once, yet no one was ready to explain or report what had happened.

As two new figures entered the tent, one of them supporting the other, you heard a familiar voice speaking calmly, "Focus on not getting blood all over grandmother's tent rather than worrying about my wounds."

"Nah, I'm just- Ouch! Careful, bro!"

"Sorry, brother, but you have to cooperate with me here," Neteyam uttered while carefully helping Lo'ak onto the mat made of woven grasses that Kiri had prepared for them with blankets.

"I'm just saying—Ahh," Lo'ak hissed as Neteyam applied pressure to his open wound with his bare hands, while Kiri hastily tied together any available cloths for his wound care. "-it's not very mighty of you, you know."

"What is not very mighty of him?" Kiri wanted to know, now taking over and applying pressure to his wound as well to stop the bleeding. As you shifted to Kiri's side, you handed her more cloths that she could wrap around Lo'ak's leg.

"His wounds, of course," Lo'ak grinned when he saw you and gave his older brother another amused sideways glance, before continuing, "but I'm sure he will be in great hands now. Right, bro?"

Just a quick glance at Lo'ak was enough to see that he was far worse off than Neteyam. While his wounds did not appear to be life-threatening, he was bleeding profusely from his thigh.

Tsahìk had already rushed to the four of you, throwing a disapproving look at Lo'ak, "Oh, my boy, let me have a look." With her expertise, she quickly got the situation under control, ordering Kiri to get more cloths while you stood by her side to assist her.

"My child, attend to his wounds," Tsahìk instructed you, but to your surprise she nodded towards Neteyam instead of Lo'ak as she pushed a bowl of fresh water into your hands. "My granddaughter and I can handle this young clumsy man here." Her stern gaze was once again fixed on Lo'ak, who, in turn, only grinned at her.

"Grandmother," Neteyam began soothingly, ready to protest, "there is no need to—" but her piercing eyes silenced him, causing him to follow you wordlessly to the other side of the tent.

And that's how you found yourself sitting in front of Neteyam, tending to his wounds with the gentle touch of your hands, caring for each cut and bruise.

"You need to be more careful," you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence as you wrung the cloth in the water that had already turned a muddy reddish color.

"I'm content with the present circumstances," he replied, his voice laced with a touch of amusement. You gave him a sarcastic look, which he reciprocated with a warm smile.

"Well, I suppose then you'll be content with this as well." Pressing the damp cloth into his hand, you stood up and leisurely made your way to Tsahìk's supplies to fetch some healing ointments, and you took your time doing so.

Upon your return, Neteyam watched you attentively, his eyes tracing your every movement, and you wondered if he had been watching you the whole time. There was a newfound curiosity in his gaze, a glimmer of something more.

"My words came out wrong," he said when you sat back on the ground in front of him. The air was filled with a mix of anticipation and unspoken emotions, a subtle tension hanging between you. "You're right, I should be more careful. I always strive to be. It's just that there's little one can do in the face of an ambush."

"An ambush?" you asked with big eyes, "Oh, Great Mother! That's what everyone's been trying to conceal. And I was wondering the whole time what could've possibly happened to cause so many injuries."

"They probably didn't want to cause an uproar." You listened to his words, sensing the weight they carried. The mention of an ambush brought back memories of past dangers and harrowing encounters. The gravity of their lives was never far from their thoughts, and you understood the weight that rested on Neteyam's shoulders.

"You don't always have to be the strong one, Neteyam," you said softly, voice carrying reassurance, when you continued cleaning the cut on his chest, noticing that he tried not to wince under your touch, "It's alright to lean on others, to let them care for you."

A flicker of emotion danced across his face, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before he regained his composure. His hand reached out to touch yours resting on his chest above his heart, the contact gentle yet charged with unspoken emotions.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, and in that moment it felt like the boundaries between healer and wounded blurred, "Thank you for being here, for tending to me." His eyes locked with yours, an unspoken promise passing between you, turning your cheeks in a light purply color.

"Now," you cleared your throat with the intention of changing the subject, fervently hoping that he wouldn't notice your flushed cheeks, "here comes the actual healing part."

Gently, you dipped your fingers into the jar of ointment, scooping out a generous amount. With deliberate movements, you applied the soothing balm to his wounds, careful not to cause any further discomfort. The ointment glided smoothly, creating a soothing sensation that seemed to envelop him in a healing embrace.

"What I meant before is that I am glad that you are the one taking care of me," you smiled upon hearing those words, feeling his gaze on you as you concentrated on his upper body. A gentle warmth radiated from his wounds as your fingertips grazed his skin, mingling with the tender touch of your hands. The ointment possessed a subtle fragrance, hinting at the natural remedies it held within.

As you continued to apply the ointment, your fingers delicately tracing the contours of his chest, exploring the intricate landscape of his injuries, a comfortable silence settled between you. The rhythm of your ministrations became a quiet conversation, a wordless understanding of care and compassion. With every gentle caress, a subtle shiver passed through him, a reaction that spoke of both vulnerability and an underlying trust in your touch. There was a closeness in this shared moment, a connection forged through the tender act of healing.

Neteyam's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes revealing a depth of gratitude and something more profound. It was as if the vulnerability of his wounds had peeled away a layer, exposing a vulnerability of the heart. The strength he embodied as a warrior was softened in this vulnerable space, allowing a snippet into the depths of his mind and soul.

"It never stings when you patch me up, why?" Neteyam asked, his voice laced with wonder, tilting his head slightly.

"The secret is to mix yalnabark with 'omsyul," you replied, your voice gentle yet filled with a hint of playfulness.

"Care to share this secret with my grandmother? And Kiri, too?" Neteyam's request was teasing but also genuine, and you couldn't help but be touched by his thoughtfulness.

"Actually, Kiri is the one who taught me this," you admitted, a fondness in your voice.

Neteyam's forehead furrowed slightly, "Then why does it always burn when she patches me up?"

With a twinkle in your eyes, you playfully suggested, "Sibling love?"

A mischievous smile curved his lips. "Or perhaps your touch is blessed by Eywa?" His words hung in the air, filled with a newfound flirtation that took you by surprise.

"Oh, come on now, exaggerate much, do you?" you responded, attempting to brush off his words with a hint of irony, not fully realizing the impact they had on you.

Undeterred by your sarcastic retort, Neteyam looked deeply into your eyes, his voice filled with sincerity and a touch of vulnerability. "The caress of your hand weaves a tapestry of enchantment, casting a spell that captivates my very soul."

His words echoed in your mind, resonating with a blend of tender affection and longing. You wished he had said those words when you were younger and so in love with him, meaning every syllable coming from his kissable lips. What you would have given to hear him say it.

A blush spread across your cheeks as you struggled to find the right words to respond. The air around you seemed charged with electricity, the tension between you both palpable.

"You said I should exaggerate," Neteyam added, a witty glint in his eyes, as if to remind you of your earlier banter.

Your younger self would have etched his previous words into a tree to make them eternal — words you longed to hear from your crush, words that felt like a dream.

"Crush?" he asked with interest, and your eyes widened with the realization that you had spoken your thoughts aloud. "On whom?"

"Um," a jumble of thoughts flooded your mind at once, too late for an excuse, "You?"

Your confession left him momentarily speechless, and your heart pounded in your chest.

It's in the past, so it's okay to admit it, you told yourself, trying to calm down a bit.

"You have a crush on me?"

"Had," you corrected quickly.

"You had a crush on me?" he asked again, as if needing confirmation. It seemed to sweep him off his feet, a revelation he hadn't expected.

"Everyone did, everyone does," you confessed, trying to downplay the significance.

"Everyone except you?"

You shrugged, unsure how to answer, "I guess I'm… over it."

"Why?" he inquired.

"Come on, Neteyam," you sighed, trying to mask the bitterness in your voice, "don't act like you didn't know."

"I swear by Eywa this is news to me… I have never…" he hesitated briefly with his words, "It doesn't even make sense."

Make sense?

"Don't make me regret telling you," you said, your voice tinged with frustration, "It's not about making sense, and it's not a big deal either, don't you agree?"

"Yes, but I try to understand."

"What is there to understand?"

"Why would you even crush on me in the first place?"

Oh.

"You're right," you tightly gripped the cloth, forcing a smile, "why would I."

Even though you reluctantly admitted it, it hurt you and scratched at your ego. You were now more than grateful to have never openly communicated your feelings. As an adult, you could handle it, but you know exactly that this reaction would have devastated your childhood self. You were not accustomed to this insensitivity from Neteyam, considering he always maintained a noble and respectable demeanor. This showed you even more how repulsive the idea of having you by his side was to him.

"Also, I'm sorry," you turned around in a swing, your voice filled with sadness, disappointment, and above all, anger—anger at him for acting like a skxawng and anger at yourself for being a skxawng by confiding in him, "that the thought of me being attracted to you disgusts you so much. It won't happen again, rest your mind."

He seemed lost for words, blinking once, twice, and opening his mouth only to close it again, processing your words. Part of you yearned for him to say something, to prove you wrong, but nothing came. His gaze lingered on you for a long moment, altering between your eyes, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm needed elsewhere," you said, your voice tinged with resignation. You prepared to turn away, ready to retreat from the turmoil of the moment. But just as you began to pivot, a sudden, gentle grip on your arm stopped you in your tracks. It was Neteyam, his touch both unexpected and tender.

In that instant, conflicting emotions surged within you, caught between the instinct to push him away and the captivating gaze that held your attention. Without uttering a single word, he drew you closer, wrapping you in a tight embrace that left you completely defenseless, your body momentarily frozen in surprise against his bare skin.

Your initial response was to resist, your mind still reeling from the whirlwind of confusion. Yet, as his arms enveloped you, a scent as enchanting as the forest's vibrant essence and the serenity of sacred woods wafted into your consciousness. It was a harmonious blend that stirred your senses, mingling the fragrant allure of nature with the grounding whispers of sandalwood.

Inhaling deeply, the captivating aroma cast a spell upon you, dissolving the remnants of anger and frustration that had once consumed your thoughts like a distant memory as he held you firmly in his strong arms, the warmth of his body seeping into your very core.

In this suspended moment, time appeared to lose its grip as the only audible sounds were the rhythm of your synchronized breaths and the rhythmic beat of your hearts.

"I'm sorry too," you heard him whisper in your hair as he pulled away from you and left the tent, leaving you confused.

It was in that moment, surrounded by the fading light and the soft whispers of the forest outside the tent, that you realized the painful truth: nothing would be the same between you and Neteyam because

no matter what you did, you would never be able to make him love you.

And exactly this is the reason of your sleepless nights, which is why, in the middle of your melancholic nostalgia, you decided to take a little walk to the lake nearby to pass the time until daybreak which leads you to the lake. You currently sit on a mossy tree stump above the shimmering water allowing your feet to hang freely just above the glistening surface of the lake, instead of sleeping safe and sound like the rest of the village. The purples, greens, and yellows of the bioluminescent flora and fauna smile at you but you fail to smile back. Your heart heavy with a mix of emotions and your mind full of questions, you try not to think of more memories, each one feeling like a dagger, piercing your already fragile heart.

You try to understand, yet it's difficult for you.

After so many failed attempts and moments of acceptance in between, he still manages to confuse you with his mixed signals. The moment, when he hugged you, replays relentlessly in your thoughts as if burned in your mind, a vivid recollection that carries the weight of his proximity, the tempting linger of his scent, and the electric touch that ignited a fierce tension within you. It was an encounter that left an indelible mark, an irresistible dance between desire and restraint, etching itself into the deepest recesses of your longing soul.

You groan into your hands. You want to hate him. So much.

Three eclipses have come and gone since then, way too much time to think between that and the part where you made the decision to distance yourself from Neteyam. This time for real. You wake up earlier than everyone else, dedicating yourself to your work, skipping communal meals and shared gatherings entirely. You complete your tasks and retreat back to your home, like a ghost in the clan, yet living unscathed within your own space, seeking solace in the sanctuary of solitude.

Almost every hour, you find yourself battling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, you long to see him, to be in his presence, and to feel that familiar connection. But on the other hand, you remember his last words and the way he looked at you when he learned about your past feelings. Distance will be best for the both of you. The ache in your heart hasn't subsided, but you know the step is necessary for your own well-being, it's a shield you've built to preserve what little strength remains within you.

Yesterday, your changed behavior was noticed by Tsahik, so she confronted you directly, but she neither questioned you nor expected any form of explanation. Her words still echo in your mind, partly because forgetting the moment will be difficult with the way she looked at you with her kind eyes, as if understanding the depths of your heartache.

"My child," she laid her hand gently on your shoulder, her voice carrying the wisdom of the ages, "Sometimes the tides do not turn in the way we hope but that does not diminish the beauty of the love within your heart. Always remember that Eywa has woven the threads of affection and devotion. Thus, have trust that the stars will align one day, for love, in all its form, is a gift to cherish."

The words resonate deep within your soul, as you sit by the tranquil water, the soft glow of the plants casting an ethereal light around you, a gentle breeze rustles through the verdant foliage. In these moments of isolation, you reflect on the times you've spent with Neteyam, the moments that sparked the flame of attraction within you. You question whether those were genuine or merely figments of your imagination, the doubts swirling in your mind, clouding your judgment and feeding your insecurities.

The stars above seem to mirror the twinkle in your eyes, a bittersweet reminder of the unfulfilled desire for you can't comprehend why your heart continues to long for him despite your mind trying to move on. Your thoughts are deep in contemplation when—

"Can we talk?" The voice startles you, and you flinch sharply, almost letting out a scream. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, the fright taking hold of you. Quickly, you turn around, only to see that out of everyone, Neteyam approaches you, his figure blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," a crooked smile forms on his lips.

You look up, meeting his gaze with a guarded expression, unsure of what to expect from this encounter. His presence catches you off guard, causing your heart to skip another beat. The sight of him stirs a mix of emotions within you—longing, uncertainty, fear, but also a flicker of hope.

"You didn't," you lie, your voice tinged with coldness.

He nods his head towards the space beside you, "May I?"

Neteyam's eyes hold a certain earnestness, a silent plea for understanding. You just shrug your shoulders, and he interprets it as a yes. He takes a seat beside you, his movements graceful and measured, his tail gently swaying in the air, your shoulders and thighs nearly touching.

The silence between you is tense, charged with unspoken words and residual feelings. You let your feet dangle above the water. As you wiggle your toes, you feel a gentle coolness from the air mingling with the refreshing touch of the water below.

He clears his voice, "I've noticed your absence these past few days."

"Oh?" Your ears perk up with curiosity, surprised that he has noticed, "I was busy."

"You were missing from the meal servings as well," he notes, his words carrying a hint of concern.

"Yeah, I haven't had much of an appetite lately," you reply, sounding detached.

You aren't sure if you have misheard, but it seems like Neteyam has whispered softly to himself, "Me neither," although it can also be your mind playing tricks on you.

"You see, I, uh..." he pauses, seemingly struggling to find the right words which is so unusual for him, "Can I speak openly with you?"

"Don't you always?" Your voice still laced with a hint of coldness.

"Indeed," you noticed from the corner of your eye a brief tension in his hands that gradually relaxes, "I just wanted to let you know that there is no need for you to feel obligated to skip communal gatherings because of me."

You can't help but scoff at that, however, he remains undeterred by your reaction.

"It's okay if you don't want to see me — I will keep my distance if that is what you want, but, please, don't avoid the clan in an attempt to avoid me. Don't isolate yourself."

"Funny," you say bitterly, your gaze still on the water, "that you think you have that much power over me."

"That's not what I wanted to say, it's—"

"It's fine, Neteyam," you interrupt him, turning your head to him, your jaw clenched, "I get it. If the future Olo'eyktan says so, I'll comply. See you at the morning meal."

You attempt to get up, but he gently grasps your wrist, halting your movement.

"I can sense that something has changed between us, and it weighs heavily on my heart," his voice carries a hint of vulnerability.

"Things change," you respond as he loosens his grip, but you refrain from attempting to get up again, waiting for the conversation to end, "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," he shifts, causing your thighs to briefly brush against each other, "I've had time to reflect on our last conversation."

"Actually, let's not—" you try to interrupt him, but this time he doesn't let your words stop him.

"Let me say this one thing and after that you don't have to talk to me again."

You meet his gaze, which is filled with honesty and a touch of guilt. You nod and look at him, noticing how he rubs his hands on his thighs and takes a deep breath.

"I was caught off guard," he admits, his voice softer now, "When we talked, I mean; and when I learned that you used to feel an affection for me — I didn't handle it well. I'm sorry for the way I reacted and for the pain I may have caused you."

You remain silent for a few seconds remembering the unpleasant conversation from last time, before you speak, "We don't have to talk about it, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" You notice the tension in his muscles. "You see," he takes a deep breath, "I didn't understand why you would crush on me."

"You made that very clear," you remark.

"I regret my poor choice of words, and for any offense it may have caused. I immediately noticed that my words had an impact on you, but I was too overwhelmed to correct myself in the moment," he admits, a hint of regret in his voice, "Please know that the idea of you being attracted to me never has and never will disgust me," his eyes lock with yours as his voice gets quieter when he adds, "It scares me."

Upon hearing that, your features soften slightly, a flicker of empathy crossing your face, and the question leaves your mouth before you can think about it, "Why?"

Now he's the one shrugging, "Everyone has their own doubts and fears."

You're not satisfied with that response, and you want him to open up to you for which you are willing to meet him halfway. So you begin an attempt to make him elaborate on his statement, "I'm scared of many things." you watch him intently as you speak, "Accidentally plucking poisonous plants instead of the usual herbs, falling down the hallelujah mountains, being eaten alive by nantangs." And most of all, rejection. "I can't help but wonder what fears could reside within a mighty warrior like yourself."

His mouth twitches slightly upwards when you say that, but is quickly replaced by a neutral expression. "The possibility of someone seeing through my façade," Neteyam admits sighing, his voice laced with a mix of confusion and self-reflection, "Of someone truly knowing me," he holds your gaze, a certain vulnerability in them, "That terrifies me."

You are left speechless, completely caught off guard by his answer.

"But," you stammer, trying to find the right words to express your thoughts, "you're Neteyam, you're... perfect in everything you do. I never considered the possibility that you might have these thoughts."

He shakes his head, disagreeing. "No, definitely not, I am far off from being perfect. That's why I couldn't understand why you would have feelings for me," he confesses, vulnerability shining in his gaze. "Because I never saw myself the way you did. But maybe, just maybe, this is why I've been blind to the possibility of something more between us."

"If you're only here to make me feel better about myself..." you start, your voice trailing off.

"No," he groans in frustration. "That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

He chuckles at your reaction, "I get nervous when you look at me that way."

"What do you mean?" You are the one getting nervous because of his statement for he doesn't look nervous at all, on the contrary, he looks very relaxed and almost overconfident.

"Yeah, can't you tell my hands are all sweaty?" he lets you know with a smirk while he studies your face.

"Neteyam," you blink in confusion, "Are you okay?"

"You're not listening," he sighs, his smile dropping slightly.

"Then talk openly," you urge impatiently.

He takes a deep breath and looks you directly in the eyes. "I've come to realize that you mean more to me than just a friend."

Your features falter and your eyes widen, as the realization dawns upon you that your feelings have not been unrequited after all. "No."

"I have a crush on you, too," he whispers euphorically, confirming your thoughts.

"No, Neteyam, not now," you shake your head quickly, your mind filled with way too many thoughts and too much confusion. Instantly, you stand up as if stung by an insect, trying to maintain your composure.

"It didn't start now, it was always there," he admits, standing up as well, now towering over you and studying your face and your reaction again. "But I fear that I've missed my chance. And now, it seems like it's too late."

Ignoring his words entirely, you fixate your serious gaze on him, "You can't do this to me."

"What?" he blinks, seeming to comprehend your words, "Why?" his gaze momentarily shifts from one eye to the other with a swift glance, reflecting his confusion.

"Because all my life, I did everything to try to make you notice me. I went beyond my comfort zone, I did everything I could. But from you," You look at him, gesturing towards his entire figure as if the reason were obvious, "there was nothing. Not one single acknowledgment from you. I accepted it. I moved on. I made peace with the thought of just knowing you and supporting what is good for you," You find yourself almost breathless, your words tumbling out rapidly, but each one carries sincere meaning. "You can't come now, years later, and pretend that you have a crush on me. I can't go through that again."

He takes a step forward, clearly taken aback by your outburst. "I... I'm not pretending to—"

"And I'm so tired," you interrupt him, your voice faltering, "Now that I've finally let go of you, you can't say things like this."

"Let go?" he repeats, his voice filled with disbelief, "Of me?"

"Yes, Neteyam," you persist firmly. "Let go of you. I don't want you anymore."

The night air feels heavy with unspoken regrets and unfulfilled desires as the silence underlines the shared acknowledgment of the chasm that has opened between you. Neteyam's expression shifts from disappointment to determination, a flicker of hope dancing in his eyes. "How do I make you love me, then?"

It feels ironic that he's asking you that question, considering you used to be the one who always wondered how you could make him love you whenever you saw him. You groan in frustration, feeling overwhelmed by conflicting emotions.

"I worked so hard to accept things as they are. That is not fair, Neteyam." A mix of sadness and anger can be heard in your voice.

"Please listen," he pleads, reaching out to touch your arm. You close your eyes, turning your head away. "I've been blind to your feelings, consumed by my own worries and obligations, and I didn't see what was right in front of me, hurting you in the process. I'm sorry I caused you pain. If I had known sooner…"

"What then?" you interrupt, your voice filled with bitterness. "Do you think everything would magically change, and we'd be deeply in love with a family of our own by now?"

Neteyam pauses for a moment, processing your words, and a hopeful smile crosses his face. "Yes, that's a possibility."

You groan in exasperation and attempt to push him away, your frustration boiling over. "No, Neteyam. I can't keep living in this cycle of uncertainty."

As you push him away from you, your heart heavy, you walk away with determined steps, wanting to bring as much distance between him and you as possible.

"I love you!" he shouts after you, causing you to freeze in your tracks and turn around in utter shock. "I love you. And if that's not enough, then so be it. But I would rather be damned than let you go now, heading who knows where in the middle of the night. If you don't want me, I won't approach you, I won't come near. But don't run away from me."

Desperation visible in his voice, his words reach deep into your heart; the intensity echoing in the air, leaving a profound impact on both of you.

"I've been waiting for your love for far too long," you respond bitterly.

Taking cautious steps in your direction, trying to close the physical and emotional distance between you, he asks, "Why waste more time?" It feels as if an invisible force draws you together, intertwining your fates in this pivotal moment but you remain stubborn, too exhausted and clouded from the painful burn in your heart.

"I don't want you," you declare, the words slipping out uncertainly, as if trying to convince both him and yourself.

"Then look me in the eyes when you say those words," he challenges, his voice stern, gaze unwavering.

"I don't want you," you repeat, louder this time, trying to emphasize your resolve. However, instead of looking into his eyes, your gaze fixates on his face, tracing the patterns of his glowing freckles that your mind has memorized long ago.

The moonlight bathes the scene in a gentle gleam, and you both stare at each other in complete silence, the space between you filled with suffocating tension.

A knowing smile suddenly forms on his lips. "I don't believe you."

"I don't want you, Neteyam!" you exclaim, raising your voice even more, repeating the words over and over, in a desperate attempt to convince him, "I don't want you, I don't want you, I don't want you!"

He studies you intently for another moment, his eyes filled with hope.

"Your tail gives you away," he says triumphantly, his smile growing. And that's when you finally let go of your suppressed emotions. Your lower lip begins to tremble, and before you know it, you find yourself in his warm embrace, his strong arms pulling you impossibly closer to him.

"I want you," you confessed against his chest, your voice barely audible and filled with so much vulnerability, "After everything, I still want you."

"Shh, you have me," he whispers, his voice soothing and reassuring.

You sob, the weight of your emotions finally breaking free, and he tenderly pats your head, his fingers gliding through your hair. His touch brings a sense of calmness to your racing heart and gently dries your tears.

"I'll make up for all the time lost, I promise," his voice reaches your ear, soft and full of sincerity.

His words continue to soothe you, and at one point, he hums a faint melody that resonates deep within you, gradually bringing an end to your sobs.

"Do you recall the day you asked about my plans after my Dream Hunt, and I hesitated to provide an answer?" He asks after you calm down, his voice carrying an infinite sense of solace.

Your arms still around him, you nod against his chest, every word of that conversation etched into your mind.

"That day," he continues, "I have sworn to myself to admire your eternal beauty from afar, to cherish your body, mind, and soul until the end of my days," he whispers softly in your hair, "with the hope that one day I will hold you close and claim you as my very own."

You take a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed by his words and the emotions swirling within you. Slowly, you lift your head from his chest, your teary eyes meeting his with awe.

"I... I never imagined you felt this way," you whisper, your voice hoarse and fragile from your sobs. "To think that you've carried these feelings for me all this time, it's... I don't know what to say."

"Interesting," he comments, eyes with a gleam, lips playful, "You were just as oblivious to my feelings as I was to yours, so I guess that makes us even." A mischievous bunny-like smile plays across his face, transforming him into the youthful version of himself that you have fallen deeply in love with, no longer the mighty warrior following in the footsteps of the great Toruk Makto, but the young man who has captured your heart long ago.

You can feel tears welling up in your eyes again, overwhelmed by the weight of his words and the intensity of your own emotions. With a shaky breath, you reach to your waist, gently intertwining your fingers with his.

In the warmth of his arms, you find solace for your burning heart. His arms hold you tightly, offering a sense of intimate security that you've always wished for. But then, something shifts.

The intensity of your emotions begins to wane, and as you look up at him through tear-filled eyes, you see his gaze fixed upon you with unwavering love, trying to read you as he cups your face with his large hands. His thumb gently brushes away a lingering tear on your cheek, his touch delicate against your skin. A soft, affectionate smile graces his lips as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss against the place where your tear was mere seconds ago. The sweetness of the gesture stirs your heart, a silent affirmation of his loving nature. He continues to kiss away your tears, each touch a soothing balm to your wounded soul.

A powerful desire burns between you then, as his soft lips linger near yours. His eyes meet yours again, seeking permission, and you respond with a silent nod. Right then and there, the world around you fades into the background, and all that matters is the connection you share. With a surge of passion, his lips meet yours in a fervent kiss, the longing coming to an end, hearts intertwined.

The tender touch of his lips against yours feels like an electric jolt that sends shivers down your spine. You both pull back slowly from the passionate kiss, breathless yet connected. Your eyes meet, gazing into each other with a depth of love that words can never describe.

His eyes hold unwavering sincerity as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. "You've captured my heart in ways I can't fully express," he confesses, his voice filled with affection. "And if you'll allow me, I want to show you every day how deeply I love you."

A deep blue blush tints your cheeks as you struggle to find the right words to respond. He doesn't seem to mind as a soft smile spreads across his face. He leans in, his forehead resting against yours, adoring the tranquil moment between two souls.

Enjoying each other's presence and your newfound attraction and happiness, you spend the rest of the night hand in hand wandering around mindlessly, exchanging loving gazes, talking about everything and sweet nothing's at once like two fools in love.

"Do you remember that day?" You hear him ask cheerfully as his free hand wanders to the songcord attached to his loincloth. You follow his movement and your eyes widen as you recognize the dried petals, intricately woven into one of the beads. "It was so unconventional, going against tradition. Who has ever seen a girl giving a flower to a boy? No one. But you didn't care. You were true to yourself, and you gifted me your favorite flower, and it meant so much more than just a little gesture."

Taking aback by his words and the bittersweet memory you can't help but smile widely as you inspect his songcord but confusion grazes your face at the same time.

"Wait—What do you mean? Lo'ak told me it's your favorite flower."

"No, he told me it's your favorite."

"Well, it became my favorite after I learned that it's yours."

A boisterous laugh escapes him as he throws his head back, his chest almost vibrating, and it is so contagious that you can't help but join in, the air filled with heartfelt laughter.

"It's gonna cause quite a scandal, but Lo'ak definitely deserves a good punch when he wakes up." You laughed, knowing that he meant that half-heartedly.

He delicately cradles your hand back in his, your fingers intertwining as he brings them up, his lips softly brushing against your knuckles in a loving kiss. The touch sends a warmth through your body.

"Speaking of scandals," you say sheepishly as you reluctantly let go of his hand, "maybe it's better not to enter our village hand in hand just yet?"

He chuckles at your suggestion.

"Maybe," he agrees, his eyes filled with adoration, his face leaning slightly forward, "Can I have one last kiss before that?"

You look at him challengingly, he mirrors your expression, a playful glint in his eyes, coming closer to your face.

Your lips almost touching for the second time this night, you whisper, "Only if you catch me."

With that, you run off, your heart blooming with excitement, and his laughter follows you through the enchanting forest as the sun rises, casting its warm rays across the sky, and you know that the future holds nothing but love for the both of you.

for anyone asking, neteyam does in fact catch you and gets his kiss(es) <3 thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging 🤍 btw, what is your love language? 💕

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seek--rest · 7 months

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#seek speaks #fandom #fanfic #writing #Alyssa this is for u kiss kiss

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mp100ficrec · 1 year

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Defrost Setting by heartprince

Fic can be read HERE.

Family, Trans Girl Mob, Fluff, Post-Canon, Comedy. Completed. Rated: T. Word Count: 7714

Pairings: Suzuki Shou & Suzuki Touichirou, Kageyama Ritsu/Suzuki Shou, Kageyama ‘Mob’ Shigeo & Suzuki Touichirou

Trigger Warnings: None

“Ten years later, Shou extends an olive branch. A future in-law situation complicates things.”

#Mob Psycho 100 #mp100 fic recs #defrost setting #heartprince #suzuki shou & suzuki touichirou #kageyama ritsu/suzuki shou #ritshou #kageyama mob shigeo & suzuki touichirou #family #trans mob #trans character #fluff #post-canon #comedy #completed #rated: t #word count: 5 to 10k

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gurugirl · 3 months

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Can We Start Over? | Ch. 1 The Winter Ball

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 1. Summary: You meet Harry at your boss's retirement party and your night ends with a bang.

Word Count: 10k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, alcohol consumption, angst

Can We Start Over? masterlist

The winter ball was something Mr. Spector threw every year for his clients, colleagues, and other wealthy people he wanted to be seen with. This one was like the past three you’d attended, but unlike the others, this would be the last. Your boss, Mr. Spector was retiring, and he was moving to Italy. You were happy for him. Truly. He’d been good to you the past three and half years you spent working for him. You took on the duty of a personal assistant and friend. The friend part came naturally, of course. It wasn’t part of your job description but you honestly really liked Mr. Spector. He wasn’t nice to most people. But to you, he was kind of like the dad you never had. He was hard-nosed but he was fair and somehow you two just clicked.

You worked for one of the most elite household talent staffing companies out there. Your clients usually consisted of, not just wealthy people, but filthy rich and usually the kind that wanted to fly under the radar and needed the utmost discretion. In Mr. Spector’s case, he didn’t want his spiteful children to know how much he was really worth. Sure they were in the will, and they’d certainly do well upon his passing (that was all they seemed to care about), but they’d never see the real number of his assets until it was too late and everything was already doled out according to Mr. Spector’s wishes.

And so you helped him in any way you could to achieve this façade. You found a private accountant for him to move money about and helped him keep the appearance of not having the kind of money he actually did. You suggested, for example, that he not buy the Rolls Royce but that the Mercedes should be sufficient, and that rather than wearing a 31-million-dollar Patek Philippe, diamond-encrusted watch, he go with the more basic, 25-thousand-dollar stainless steel sports model Rolex instead. So he still maintained an air of wealth and prestige because there was no question to anyone that he was super rich. But you just helped him bring it down a notch.

And his winter ball was more like his retirement party this time around. He’d really gone all out. Despite your hesitation with some of his selections, you figured you’d give him this one. And you could admit that helping to plan his parties was one of your favorite tasks. You’d fly to venues all over the world seeking the best (once they’d been narrowed down of course) for him. Find the best chefs and mixologists, the perfect planners and decorators. You got to help select finishings, menus, and staff, right down to the types of linen and even the theme of the events.

And the theme of the night was A Secret Garden in the City. For this, you found a penthouse in Manhattan with full 360-degree views. The space was empty when you first arrived to look at it. You were told it wasn’t a place normally rented for parties but that the owner had intended to make it a fancy restaurant at some point. But it had been sitting for years, empty. And you found the place because Mr. Spector knew everyone. You had a number for a real estate agent to the wealthy in New York City and he gave you a bit of insider information. The penthouse space, he’d told you, could be negotiated by the owner to rent given the right price.

You had landscapers come in and make a garden of the space. Flowers, grass, trees, bushes, vines, even a lily pad pond… when everything was put together, it really did look like you were in a secret garden in the middle of Manhattan. Delicate string lights lit the space, the ceiling was painted a dark sky color so it felt as if you were outside. The table settings were like something out of a Hobbit’s Tale with knotty oak chairs with green silk cushions. The linens were of green satin silk with gold embroidery design and the napkins were gold satin. Centerpieces were potted leafy plants of all types, and moss was placed around the pots to give them that fairyland look. Tiny candles illuminated each table all around. Gold cutlery. Big golden lighted globes hung from the ceiling in various sizes between plants that cascaded down. It really was quite the spectacle.

You were proud of how it all turned out. And the 200 guests that Mr. Spector invited all appeared to be in awe of the space.

The stringed music playing for most of the event in the background was live. The musicians stood to the side of the room on a newly installed platform, trees lined the back of the stage. And now that the night was finally coming to an end, well, the main event had ended, it was time to drink and dance and let loose, the band was switched out for something rockier and more upbeat.

Mr. Spector kissed your cheek and gripped your arm, “My dear, you never cease to astonish me with your hard work. Thank you for this. I’ll see you in the morning okay?”

You tried to get him to stay and enjoy the after-party. And like every year before, he declined. He liked his private time. Liked reading and writing and the quiet. He preferred his guests to enjoy what he’d been able to give them. It was, after all, for them, he always said.

“Even though it’s your last event like this? You won’t get this again, sir. Are you sure?” You smiled at him and he nodded. You knew he’d decline to stay.

So, you ordered your second cocktail of the night once Mr. Spector left. Some type of green concoction with a blackberry-sized red flower floating atop. You didn’t know what was in it. All you knew was that it tasted delicious and it was going to get you into some trouble. But maybe that’s what you were looking for that evening. After all, this was your going away party as well. You’d be put back into the system as active again once you were officially out of Mr. Spector’s employ. It would be time to find your next role.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Many dancing, some sitting and chatting, others making their rounds to network and schmooze. You stayed at the edge of the dance area and let your body move to the rhythm. You kept your eyes on everyone. Even though you were trying to just enjoy yourself you still felt somewhat responsible for all the attendees. It was ingrained in you.

You definitely fit in with everyone, though. Your outfit was couture, high fashion like the rest of the guests. Mr. Spector had paid for everything for you, as always. You picked out a beautiful cowl neck, deep navy-blue velvet dress with a slit that went up to your mid-thigh. The back draped down tastefully but the drape at the front was dangerously low. Just like you wanted. You had red pumps with gold and ruby jewelry. It was always difficult finding things in your size that weren’t from a big box store but the hunt for the perfect dress and accessories was always worth it. And the dress? You felt absolutely sexy. From head to toe.

The song was swingy and fun. More people covered the dance floor and somehow you’d gotten pushed further in. You still had your drink in hand but now it was nearly empty so you were less worried about spilling any of the liquid on yourself.

A woman you recognized as a small IT business owner greeted you and you both chatted as you danced together. When the song changed Elsie pointed at your drink, “You’re low. So am I,” she lifted her glass to show you, “Should we grab more?”

The answer that night was yes. Yes to anything.

The bar that lined the wall opposite the band had people hovering, waiting for their drinks. You let Elsie take the lead in getting the attention of the bartender. She was a tall, slender blond with smooth shiny hair so you figured she’d do better at getting your drinks faster. And you were used to that. Being the fat one, you tended to get overlooked and ignored. When you were younger it hurt a lot more, but these days you learned to use it to your advantage.

It wasn’t that you thought you were ugly or unworthy. You just understood how most people perceived you, even if they were wrong. You were confident when it mattered and took good care of yourself. And you rarely ever mistook a man’s kindness for him flirting with you, which was nice in a way. You couldn’t ever wrap your mind around assuming every guy who was kind to you was flirting. A lot of your friends had that mentality. Any time a man would chat them up they’d automatically jump to thinking they were being sized up somehow. You couldn’t imagine feeling so confident that you thought a man having a conversation with you meant anything more.

So that’s why when the tall, gorgeous man with dark, soft curls, sharp green eyes, and an even sharper jawline leaned in and asked, “Are you having a good time?” You didn’t assume he was flirting with you.

“I definitely am. How about you?” You turned to look up at him. Deep pink lips, broad shoulders, a very expensive suit and shoes, cocky grin.

“Sure. But I had to fly out here to attend last minute. My assistant forgot to add the event to my calendar so I had to settle for this suit and here I am. I’ll deal with her later. Luckily Alfred always throws the biggest and best parties so it’s been worth it.”

You noted the tiny dig to his assistant in the back of your mind and nodded, “Yeah, Mr. Spector loves to go big. It’s turned out great I think.” You had planned on mentioning you were the man of the night’s assistant until Mr. Cocky complained about his own. So you’d keep that little detail to yourself.

He was drinking whisky, neat. And when Elsie finally returned to your spot at the edge of the bar she handed you your tasty green drink and you introduced her.

“Elsie, this is… uh… What was your name?”

“I’m Harry. Harry Styles,” he held his hand out, gaudy rings on most of his fingers toward the pretty blond and she nodded, “Elsie Powers. Nice to meet you.”

The pair got to talking the moment Elsie mentioned her company and so you decided to dip out. You didn’t need to stand around and watch them flirt, which is what you assumed was going on. They were both gorgeous so that seemed natural to you.

But before you could take even a step outside of the little bubble the three of you were in you felt Harry’s hand at your low back as he leaned down to speak into your ear, “Don’t go too far. I was hoping to ask you something.”

You looked down at his arm and back into his eyes, “Okay… I’ll be around. You can come find me.”

When his fingers slid off your back as you stepped away you still felt the heat of his skin where he’d touched you. You liked his touch, but you assumed it happened because you took up so much space. It was more likely, in your mind, that he hadn’t meant to touch you there at all.

After another cocktail and a bit more dancing by yourself, Harry did find you. You didn’t realize it was him at first. You felt a warm body dancing behind you, not touching, just near enough that the heat emanated from him to your back. But then you heard his voice, “Found you. Thought you left.”

You turned to look at him over your shoulder and spoke, “Was planning on staying til the end. Felt like I deserved to enjoy tonight.”

“And why’s that?” Harry’s hand brushed along your bare arm softly before he removed it. You felt the trail of where he’d touched your arm and it made you wonder if he’d done it on purpose.

“No reason. I just deserve it,” you kept swaying your hips and you felt Harry moving with you, standing over you. You could smell his cologne.

“You don’t mind me dancing with you, do you?” His voice was close to your neck as he spoke.

Shaking your head you turned your body to face him, swinging your hips softly, “Not at all.”

He grinned down at you and the dimple that appeared on his cheek had you taken aback. He was truly stunning.

“Good. Wanted to chat some with you. Find out more about you…” he took your hand in his and pulled you closer, shifting the mood a little as you both danced. You silently inhaled in surprise at his gesture.

“And what did you want to know, Mr. Styles?” You raised your brows and smirked at him. You weren’t sure at that point what he was doing. But he was certainly leading you to believe this was more than just a friendly chat.

“First, what’s your name?”

You laughed, “I’m Y/n. I guess I forgot to introduce myself.”

“Are you here alone, Y/n?” His free hand found a spot on your side over your hip.

“I am. What about you?” You weren’t used to receiving this kind of attention from anyone. Much less a wealthy handsome man.

“I’m here alone too,” he kept a cocky grin plastered to his face as he drew nearer and spoke lowly so only you could hear, “But was hoping I wouldn’t be leaving alone.”

It was at that moment you were truly surprised. Was he…? Couldn’t be. You’d surely misread this situation just in the way all your pretty girlfriends misread it every time a guy showed any friendliness. Maybe it was the three cocktails you’d drank and that had you wondering what was in them.

Harry's hand released yours and he brought his ringed fingers up to your shoulder where he brushed the side of your neck, drawing you in closer with his other hand at your hip, “What about you?”

You blinked your eyes and looked up at him in confusion, “What about me? What do you mean?”

Harry’s grin deepened as he looked down at your mouth and took a clear glance at your cleavage before responding, “Did you hope to leave with someone tonight?”

You scoffed and looked around the dance floor before looking back at him, still not quite believing the direction this conversation was headed, “I hadn’t imagined I would leave with anyone. Figured I’d just go back to my hotel room alone after.”

The ridiculously attractive man licked his lips and kept his gaze on yours, “Really? You don’t want someone to take you back to their room and help you out of this pretty dress tonight?”

You began to cough. You’d choked on your own saliva as you inhaled a sharp breath at the wrong moment. His words caught you off guard.

But now you were hacking and bent at the waist, red in the face like an idiot.

Harry patted your back and you heard him speak into your ear, “You okay, darling? Need some water?”

When you’d recovered you and Harry were standing at the edge of the dancefloor away from the crowd and he had a comforting hand on your back.

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened…” you wiped your face, which was moist from the tears you’d forced out from all the coughing.

Harry took your hand and led you to a free seat, pulling a chair out for you and then sitting next to you, his hand still on your back, “Do you feel better now?”

You nodded and smiled at him. You hadn’t forgotten what he said. But now you were sure whatever he was getting at was all but out the window after your little display.

“Come back with me to my room, Y/n.”

Well, that just blasted your little theory.

You sat up straight and your jaw dropped open wide, “Why?”

Harry laughed, “Because I don’t want to go back alone. Spend the night with me tonight.”

Were you in a dream? Had you drunk too much and were blacked out and hallucinating?

“I don’t… I’m not sure what you…” you were unable to put your thoughts together coherently. You hadn’t expected it. You assumed you weren’t his type. Too chunky for a man like him. Imagined he preferred a more modelesque figure on women he found attractive given his appearance.

“Look. I’ll just be very straightforward with you. I think you’re gorgeous and I’d like to have you in my bed tonight. Naked. How does that sound to you?”

You whispered the word naked back to him as if it were a word you’d never heard before. You took a deep breath and looked around the room.

“What are you drinking? I’ll go get us another so we can chat a bit before you make any decisions.”

Now this question was one you could actually answer, “The cocktail is one from the menu. Called the Grove.”

Harry got up and left you at the table by yourself. You sat back in the seat and sighed. What were you going to do? He was mouth-watering, which is why you choked on your spit in the first place. Your mouth was literally watering at his proximity on the dance floor. And now he was asking you to go back to his room to hook up. He couldn’t have made it clearer. There was no room for you to misinterpret what he meant.

And why should you say no? Why should you go back to your own room and sleep in that big bed all by yourself? Well, mostly because you were worried about getting attached. Sure you didn’t even know the guy but that’s just how you were. You weren’t built for casual hookups or one-night stands. And you were sure that’s all this would be. Could you handle it? Would you be able to have sex with someone and then move on from it?

When you saw Harry walking back toward you you’d made up your mind. You’d finish your drink and tell him your verdict. You needed one more drink, though. Just to really loosen up. If you were going to do this if you were going to take a risk and have sex with a stranger, one more drink would help you relax about the whole situation.

Harry handed you your cocktail and sat down with his whisky in hand. He brushed his fingers over your arm as he spoke about how he knew Mr. Spector, “His cousin was my boss years ago. Before I got started in my current line of business. And since then, Alfred’s been inviting me to his parties. I can’t usually go but I rarely miss the winter ball.”

“And what is your line of business?” You asked before taking another sip of your verdant drink.

Harry grinned and licked his lips, “Let’s not talk business.”

You frowned and looked down at your red-painted nails. It wasn’t always polite to ask people what they did for a living but you figured given the circumstances, those being that he’d just asked you to have sex with him, it was okay. Clearly, you’d misjudged.

Harry gripped your chin and pushed your head back up to look at him, “Don’t feel bad for asking. You were just curious. I think the less we know of one another the better. Besides, work talk is boring. Don’t you think?”

You blinked again, his intense gaze was really working its way under your skin.

“Okay. Sorry. You’re right.”

Harry shook his head, keeping his hand at your chin, “And don’t say you’re sorry. Wouldn’t you rather talk about anything but work right now?” He let go of your chin and sat back in his chair as he kept his eyes on yours.

“I guess. It’s just that everyone here is networking and I thought it was only natural.”

“You and I are not networking, Y/n.” Harry grinned.

By the time your drink was but a clear puddle of melted ice at the bottom of the glass, you could feel how hot your face was from the alcohol. Your neck and ears were burning and all of Harry’s soft touches were making you fuzzy. The way he was whispering in your ear…

“Okay. I’ll go with you to your room tonight,” you spat out quickly before you could change your mind.

Harry’s gaze lowered to your breasts again, his arrogant grin in place, “I know, darling. I was just waiting for you to admit it. You ready then?”

If he wasn’t so hot you’d have changed your mind at his cocky response. But god was he alluring. And somehow, his egotistical attitude was putting you at ease a bit. Because it would possibly be much easier to not get your feelings mixed up for a guy like him. It could just be a one-night stand. Like so many other people indulged in (which you always found absurd).

You both walked to the coat check to get your things before Harry led you, with his hand at your low back to the elevators.

You draped your wool coat over your shoulders and stood awkwardly in the elevator next to the man you were leaving with. You couldn’t believe yourself. You were 28 years old so it shouldn’t have felt like such a big deal but it was. You’d never done anything like it before.

“Are you nervous?”

You sighed and nodded as you looked up at the man, “A little. Haven’t ever done anything like this.”

Harry hummed and nodded, “I can tell. That’s okay. I’ll take the lead.”

There was a black car waiting for you at the curb as soon as you exited the building. A man who was standing near the car opened the back door and gestured for you to get in. You followed behind Harry and the door was shut, closing you off from the outside and loud noises of the city to the dark leather interior of the car. Harry’s hand slid up your exposed thigh the moment you’d settled into the seat, “We’re gonna have a lot of fun, me and you.”

You turned your head to look at him, “Are you always like this? So confident about everything?”

Harry laughed and squeezed at your thigh, “If I wasn’t confident I wouldn’t be as successful as I am.”

You guessed that made sense. You just found it so strange that he was so sure of himself even when he hardly knew you at all.

You felt Harry’s long, ringed fingers slide upward over your plushy thighs in search of your panties most likely. And when he leaned over you and took your jaw with his free hand and smushed his mouth against yours it felt like crystalized water beginning to melt and drip and pool onto the ground.

He pulled your hand onto his lap and pressed your palm over his crotch, to which you felt as he grew harder and harder as the seconds passed with your lips connected.

When he was satisfied that you would be keeping your hand in place as you pressed down harder he raised his hand to your breast, his palm placed over the soft velvet before he lowered his mouth to your neck causing you to lean back the slightest for his access.

The car ride ended before you even realized you’d been moving through the city streets when the door you were sitting next to opened and the driver looked in at you two all disheveled and mid-kiss with his hand out for you to take.

Harry walked you into the hotel, which happened to be the same one you had a room at (how convenient you thought). The elevator ride up to his room was not unlike the car ride where you’d lost track of time and space when his lips were on yours and his tongue softly swiped at your mouth. You’d never had a man act this way with you before. It almost felt like desperation. Like he couldn’t keep his hands off you.

Guiding you off the elevator and to his room, you felt buzzy and your heart was bouncing around in your chest wildly. His hand was at the back of your neck, his long fingers gently ghosting over your skin.

The moment you were pushed into his room Harry stood over you and began to loosen his tie, “Take your dress off. God, I need to see you.”

You were already worked up as you panted, keeping your eyes on his, slowly unzipping the back of your dress and stepping out. You had forgotten that you were wearing a nude shapewear slip that kept your tummy rolls in place and your breasts pert. The back of the slip was low cut to accommodate your dress. You looked down over yourself and stuck your fingers into the fabric to pull it down and as your breasts were revealed Harry groaned and leaned down to wrap his pink lips over your nipple. You watched his tongue drag over your plump flesh and his fingers dig into your heavy tits as he worked his way around both sides.

You were pressed against the wall as he pinned your arms back and kissed his way up your tits to your neck and then he found your lips.

Finally, he backed away, giving you space to finish the reveal of your body to him as he continued removing his own clothes.

You watched tattoos appear on his skin and the more buttons he undid the more you saw of him. He was strong and muscular. His pecs were impressive and he had a soft six-pack hidden under the fabric that you only saw once he tossed his shirt off. Tattoos on his arms scattered over his skin.

Tugging at your slip to get it off you knew Harry’s eyes were on your body. But you weren’t going to stop now. Even if you were slightly embarrassed. This was happening and you knew he wanted it. Sometimes you worried about the logistics of sex being as heavy as you were, especially when it came to being with a guy who was not at all. But Harry’s build was masculine and broad and he was clearly going to be able to handle you.

When his pants were off and he was down to his underwear you knew he was enjoying the view of all your bits based on the thick lump under the fabric. You were left standing in your silky black panties when he stood over you and smoothed his hands up your arms and palmed over your tits, “Jesus fucking Christ look at you. Get on the bed for me.”

You swallowed and stepped toward the area of the room where the bed was and sat at the edge, watching as he stalked after you. His eyes were dark as he crawled over you and nudged you with him into the middle of the perfectly made bed, soft and luxurious feeling under your skin.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he smoothed his lips against yours as he palmed over your skin down to your thigh, pinching at the fleshy insides as he pushed your legs open, putting his knees down into the mattress to keep you spread with his thighs.

He kept his lips working over yours, his tongue smearing against your tongue wetly as you felt his fingers dip down to your panties and then to the wet patch at your center. You could tell you were wet before he even touched you. He’d turned you on with ease. His voice, his body, his eyes, his confidence…

You felt him smile against your lips when he dredged his fingers up and down over your wet panties, right where your labia was. Soft strokes of his fingers pushed the fabric of your panties between your pussylips until he dragged a finger up and found your clit and you gasped. He circled over your clit, pressing the wet fabric into you.

When he lowered himself, using his lips and his tongue down your body as he went he looked up at your face after dotting kisses over your fleshy tummy, “You’re gorgeous and you smell so good. Such a dirty girl, though, aren’t you?” He dabbed more warm kisses down your stomach to just above your panties, “All wet for me like you’re desperate for cock,” he licked along the band of your panties and looked up at you again as he adjusted himself between your legs, “Are you desperate for cock, Y/n? Need me to take care of you tonight?”

You nodded, “Oh my god…” your words came out as a whisper, “Yes, Harry.”

When you felt his tongue glide up your crease over your wet panties your mouth dropped open wide. He was not holding back with the foreplay so far. You were usually disappointed in sex, the few times you’d had it. Foreplay was an afterthought. And only a handful of times did you ever receive any kind of mouth-to-pussy action, which you assumed was due to your size.

But Harry was having no trouble treating you like some kind of irresistible sex pot. He pushed your thighs harder and raked his tongue up and down over you until you’d bucked upward just a bit.

Harry’s fingers pulled at the waistband of your panties, “Taking these off because I need more.”

You felt your panties being moved down your legs then Harry returned with enthusiasm, his lips all over your cunt, sliding his tongue through your folds and his fingers pinching into your flesh before he poked the tip of his wet muscle to your clit and began to lick all around it, lapping you up and teasing you to the point you were shaking and whining, proving him right about how desperate you were.

When he finally stopped his teasing licks he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. You gasped loudly and moaned, to which Harry moaned into your pussy.

His shoulders were against the back of your thighs as he masterfully licked you out and kissed your clit until you were reaching down with one hand to slide your fingers into his thick curls.

And that only seemed to stir something more ravenous in him. He growled when he felt you pulling at his roots and suddenly you felt his fingertips at your entrance before he pushed them in slowly, the metal of his rings being nudged in the slightest. You were in an alternate universe. Somewhere that only existed you and Harry and the bed you were on as you laid spread out for him to pleasure.

He was good with his tongue. He used it over your clit like he understood what you needed, putting pressure where it was vital and then slurping you into his mouth making your entire body quiver in ecstasy. His repeated movements, soft tonguing, pulling at your clit, the bump of his fingers through your walls and into your delicate warmth, the precipice of your orgasm was taunting you.

“Harry!” You yelped when he sucked your clit in especially roughly and his fingers dug in deep making your pussy squelch.

He smiled and lifted his mouth, speaking against your cunt, hot breath coating your labia and clit, “Feels good, Y/n? You gonna let me give you an orgasm?”

You moaned pitifully and nodded to yourself as you scrunched your face when he attached his wet lips back to your clit and curled his fingers just right, “Yes! Oh my god…”

You had never felt anything like it before. Like Harry. And maybe it wasn’t that he was all that good at cunnilingus (he was), but perhaps it was the way he was handling you. The way he was so eager to make you feel good. The way he wasn’t worried about his own throbbing cock between his legs, growing heavier by the minute as he sucked and licked and kissed your cunt.

His focus was on you completely and you felt that. You felt his attention and his devotion to your pleasure before his. And that was what did it for you. It was the care and thoughtfulness of it all. It wasn’t like anything you’d experienced with any man before and it pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm rolled out of you in waves as you writhed under him and cried curses and nonsense into the room. He held you down with one hand as well as he could so he could lavish you with his mouth until you were done with your unraveling. His fingers stroked your insides as you pulsed around them and felt the tingle of your clit being overwhelmed by his lips. You gasped and laughed at the way he continued ravaging you well past what was necessary.

Releasing his hair you pushed yourself up by your elbows to see his face still between your legs, his eyes closed like he was enjoying it just as much as you had. It might have been the hottest thing you’d ever seen in your life. But that could have been all those feel-good chemicals being released in your brain post-orgasm.

You pushed at his forehead to indicate you were done, “Okay!” You tried closing your legs but Harry pulled his fingers from your pussy and pressed you down as he licked up and up and up. Until finally he opened his eyes and looked at you, lips still making out with your pussy as you laughed and tried pulling away.

“It’s too much!” You giggled and moved your hips under him.

Finally, he parted from your labia and pushed himself up over you, caging you in as he hovered, “Good?” He raised his brows.

You rolled your eyes, “Obviously.” You laughed as you spoke.

Harry grinned and you watched him move away from you, pulling his underwear down and exposing his weighty cock, thick and long. Yes. He’d be able to handle you just fine.

He grasped it in his hand and moved next to you. You sat up and reached out to feel him, velvety and warm under your palm before getting to your knees and looking up at him as you lowered your lips to his shaft. You wanted to feel it on your mouth and in your mouth.

Dragging your wetted lips down until you reached the base you gripped him and tongued your way up to his tip and heard a shallow gasp from his chest. Licking around his crown you pulled at his skin and wrapped your lips around just the very tip of his head before slipping your tongue around him and sucking softly.

A beautiful deep moan was music to your ears. He was enjoying it. So you indulgently lowered yourself down a bit more, feeling the width of him take up space inside your mouth and on your tongue. Gentle strokes of your lips over the top part of his shaft and over his swollen head felt good for you. You hadn’t given head in a long time. And you could tell Harry was into it.

He smelled good. Nice and clean and warm. You used your hand to pull at the base of his shaft up to your parted lips as you sucked on him and lapped around his skin.

When Harry’s moans turned into a rhythmic panting you felt his hand at your jaw, nudging you up until your lips were pulled away from his pretty cock, “You are desperate for cock. Sucking me like that? If I didn’t want fuck you so bad I’d let you finish me off with that gorgeous mouth.”

You shifted back as Harry leaned over you and pressed his mouth against yours, his hand at your neck pushing you down into the mattress. His mouth was wet and smelled like you as he smeared his lips on yours. You moaned when he parted from you and got off the bed.

You could hear the crinkling of the wrapper from the condom as he sorted himself out and then crawled back next to you, taking your hand, “How’s that sound, Y/n? Want my cock inside your soft pussy? Hmm?”

Looking down at his hard length, covered in a condom, and back into his eyes you nodded, “Yeah,” you were breathless.

The grin on Harry’s face as he moved between your legs, his eyes on yours was like someone who’d just gotten the best news they’d heard all day. He thread his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hand down into the mattress near your head.

The front of his strong thighs pushed against the inside of yours as he positioned himself over you. His cock heavy on your belly before he moved back, letting go of your hand to grasp himself.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good. I want to hear how good it makes you feel, okay?” His tip dragged through your wet labia, up and down, “Just lie there like the pretty little thing you are, and let me fuck you deep.”

You nodded as you watched his eyes. He was looking down at where his cock was brushing over your wet and puffy pussylips, his lips parted as he bumped into your clit and then smacked his girth down over you.

The sound of his cock dragging through your arousal made you feel like a different person. No man had ever taken the time to indulge the way Harry was. It was clear by the look on his face that he liked everything he saw and even how soaked you were.

You felt the tip of his broad head nudge into your entrance as he looked at you with dark pupils. He pulled his brows together as he savored the feel of you and gently pushed through the ring of your wet muscle. Just knowing that you were making him feel like that had you moaning with your eyes locked on his.

“Feel that, Y/n?” He slowly dipped in and pulled back, wetting the condom as he went, pushing in deeper on each thrust forward.

“I feel it…” your words came out shaky as his length was forced through your slick walls, spreading your insides apart slowly.

Harry inhaled a breath and let out a deep moan when his cock reached as far as he could take it, “Taking my cock so good,” he pulled back and looked down at the scene between your legs. All wet and puffy, his cock coated in your creamy arousal. He loved the way your pussy gripped him and your labia stretched around his cock, “Gonna be dreaming of this,” he pressed his thumb over the space where his cock was moving into your entrance and then up to your clit to rub circles softly, wet and warm.

“Ohhh…” you whimpered when his thumb pressed into your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your entire body was boiling and buzzing as Harry rocked into you, his balls thwacking slowly into your ass.

“Yeah? Tell me how you like it, pretty girl.”

How could you answer this man with his dick lodged so deep in your tummy? How did he expect you to make a coherent sentence with the way his thumb was stroking your clit back and forth? How could your brain form any sort of response when his cock was dragging through your insides and pressing into all your bits, hitting your hidden spots like his shape was made just for you?

“I want it… Mmm… like that…” was all you could bear to squeak out when he smacked into you in one harsh thud.

“Harder? Softer?” His thumb never ceased the yummy caressing of your fleshy pearl.

“Fuck!” You gasped when he smacked into you again, causing your body to jolt upward from the force.

“Like that? Need it a little rougher, Y/n? Need my cock to split you in half?” Again, a harsh thrust into your guts that had you gurgling and falling apart too soon.

“Oh she wants it a little rough, I can tell. Your cute pussy likes a good pounding doesn’t she?”

You held your breath when you felt him angle over you and sink down into you until it hurt. Until his long cock was buried in so deep his balls were tucked against your ass as he ground himself in, “Pussy like this needs a lot of attention. Lots of care…” he moaned when you clenched around him, “Want me to take care of you? Want to feel what my cock can do to this pretty little pussy?”

“Yes, please, Harry!” You grasped onto his forearm as he rolled solidly into you, deep and slow, slushy and sopping between your thighs.

“Yeah? Gonna stuff myself so far into you that you can’t breathe. Gonna make you come so hard you’ll never want another cock again.”

You moaned and felt his crushing weight over you as he continued grinding his hips against yours but then suddenly he was pulling out and you felt a sting on your thigh when he smacked you, “Get on all fours.”

You were blurry and floaty as you rolled over and pushed yourself up to do as he asked. Your pussy puffy and begging for more of his cock.

His hands gripped the side of your hips tight and you smushed your face down to the mattress before you felt his cock rip into you in one punishing stroke. You cried out and he did it again. And again. His cock pummeled into you repeatedly, punching the air from your lungs and giving your pussy the best fucking of its life.

You did like it hard. A little rough. Nothing wild, just something that you could feel for a couple of days. Something that made you gasp and brace for more.

“Holy fuck…” Harry gritted as he fucked into you, watching his dick disappear repeatedly. Your pretty round bottom bouncing and wiggling at each plunge. He dug his fingers into your ample flesh and spread you out so he could watch as you gripped him exactly like he loved. The little noises you were making had him reeling.

It was his favorite. A beautiful woman with her ass in the air as he railed her deep. But especially when it was a nice big ass. He loved to be able to grip something in his hands. To squeeze and smack. It always felt so much better to have something to hold on to. Not that he didn’t love slender women. He certainly did. But there was nothing like the feminine physique of a woman with meat on her bones, wide hips, a big tummy, and extra bits to touch and run his fingers over. It was fucking sexy.

You could feel him as he worked you open. He buried in deep and then pulled back until his thick tip was being pushed through your entrance again and again. He was long and every inch of him pulled and pushed through your walls, sliding along all your bits and ridges making your skin heat up.

Then you felt his chest against your back and his cock was angled so far inside of you that your eyes nearly crossed, “Love your little gurgles and moans, Y/n. Feels good on my cock?” He rolled into you, keeping himself stuffed to the hilt.

“Yes! Fuck, Harry!” You turned your head to speak so he could hear you and then you felt his lips on your back as he kept rocking into you languidly, never pulling back, only dipping into you, swiveling his hips to ensure you could feel every part of his cock moving through you.

You felt a tear drip from your eye as he reached down for your hand and moved it toward your pussy, “Rub that wet clit, sweet girl. Want to see you quivering under me again.”

The moment your fingertips came into contact with your puffy nub you moaned and all you could feel was Harry’s warmth and his big cock and your clit being worked just how you liked.

He began to rut into you with unforgiving strength. Your body was being smacked into and your skin was beginning to burn where his hips were striking your ass. It felt incredible. It felt like a man who knew what he was doing.

“Yes! Yes!” You shakily cried out. Harry’s long shaft was gliding in and out and you could feel him every time your fingertips moved back the slightest. His heavy cock slipping into your pussy vigorously as you ran your fingers back and forth, up and down on your clit.

Harry put a hand on your low back and settled his thumb into the top of your crack as he watched your cunt swallow him on each thrust. He bit his lip at the gorgeous sight and lowered his other hand to your right cheek, pulling at your flesh to give himself a better look at how you were taking him. How perfect you were for his cock.

When he noticed your moans growing louder and more desperate and then saw your thighs shaking he pounded into you with deliberate, long strokes so you could really feel him inside of you.

And feel him you did. His length filled you up and pulled back, before pressing back in until your world began to spin and your pussy was powerless to your orgasm. You reared yourself back onto his cock and cried out pathetically as Harry breathed heavily and felt your cunt sucking him in and spasming around him.

“Oh, baby…” he moaned and watched more cream coat his cock from your pussy. You were coming hard, lips wide open as you cried out and gasped, and the way you were clenching around his cock felt like the best thing he’d ever experienced during sex. You were fucking sexy.

When your voice lowered and your body stopped quivering Harry halted his movements and ran his hands on your back gently and down to your bum, keeping his cock lodged inside of you, “Creamed all over my cock, Y/n,” swiped his thumb around the area where you two were connected and lifted it to his mouth to taste.

You panted and smiled into the blanket when he suddenly pulled out and popped your bottom with his palm, “On your back. Want to see that pretty face again.”

You were on the verge of being completely wiped out. You knew he hadn’t come yet, though, and you felt like he deserved it with how fucking good he was. Two orgasms already. That was unheard of for you.

Harry helped you situate and he fit himself between your thighs. You looked down at his cock and noted he was right about you creaming all over him. White gobs of your arousal at his shaft and in the thatch of dark, trimmed hair at his base. God his cock was good.

“You feel so good on my cock, Y/n. You know that?” He pressed his tip inside of you, making you drop your mouth open and he gasped. The way he stretched you apart was insane. It felt incredible.

“Fuck… your pussy needs my cock inside of her. Yeah? I could fuck this sweet cunt all day and never get tired of it. Fuck, baby…” he moaned his words as he thrust into you, his hips dragging against you and your clit being pushed into with each plunge.

You took your breasts in your palms and kneaded at them as you watched Harry’s face twist up in rapturous despair. Every roll of his hips was torture for him. His body wanted to come but he had planned on you having one more orgasm. Wanted to feel you squeezing and pulsing around him as he came with you. The decadence of being able to feel your pussy coming around him as he was pouring into you would be bliss.

The edge of his hairline was wet with sweat. You knew he was working hard to give you his cock the way you needed it. His arms were flexing as he held himself up over you, back and thighs clenching and stretching as his muscles exerted, loosening and tightening.

Now there was no slap of skin or the sound of thuds filling the room, it was only hot breaths and gasps and wet pussy being fucked. The occasional distant sound of people moving past his suite on their way to their own.

Deeper and deeper he stuffed himself as he kept his radiant green eyes locked on your face. Your insides were bowing and tensing and vibrating with delight. It was the best you’d ever gotten and his handsome face watching you had your head spinning and your body melting under him. He was too good. The way he was tugging his cock inside of you and stroking your walls and fitting himself deep into your guts like he was trying to reach up into your spine and your lungs under your ribcage… it was going to stick with you for a long time. And he was probably right. You’d be dreaming of his cock. You were sure of it.

His pacing was perfect; smooth, wet thrusts and a satisfying angle that had your whole body resonating with sex and electric crackles like you’d never felt. His undulating hips kissing your clit each time he ground into you.

“Look at your tits jiggling, Y/n. Fucking so hot…” he panted his words like he was out of breath, “Damn baby,” he moaned as he slowed his stride for a moment to collect himself. His balls were already tightening against his body, ready to release too soon.

He leaned over you and pressed his lips against yours and it made your skin and pores and nerves spark and convect. Little by little your pulse accelerated until you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. His tongue inside your mouth and his perfect cock inside of your tummy, the smell of him and of you and the soft bed beneath your back- it had you nearly going up in flames.

When he finally began to move again, when he’d steadied his composure so he could last a little longer you gasped into his mouth.

Now his long strokes were thick and stunted, his shaft inching in and in and in until you couldn’t breathe. His nose pressed into yours and his lips moved around your lips, smearing saliva over your warm, plush mouth with his tongue. It was filthy, the way he kissed. Wet, aching. Like he was fucking your lips with his tongue at the same time he was filling your pussy with his cock.

You felt his muscles begin to shake as he parted from your mouth and looked down at you. Blown-out pupils, pink parted lips, and a flushed face. He was about to come and you could see it on his face and in the way he was panting and getting louder with each jerk of his hips. It was delicious.

“You gonna come, baby? Gonna milk my cock with your cunt, squeeze around me, and drain me?”

Grabbing onto his forearms you nodded and feebly whimpered, “Yes… oh my god…”

Harry groaned as he canted his hips sloppily and his thrusts grew erratic as he held back to wait for you to come first.

You’d always heard of the mythical concept of a cock fitting together perfectly with the right pussy and how it could make women come from penetration alone when they’d never been able to before. You’d never experienced it and thought it was just a made-up fantasy. A wild fable.

But you were wrong. Harry’s cock proved you wrong. He was nudging into things inside of you that even your vibrator missed and as shocking as it was to know you were about to come, yet again, you were of no mind to think too much about that because your body was submitting to the way he was handling you and your pussy was already beginning to flutter around him and pulse as you gasped and dropped your mouth wide.

Yes, you were having one of those kinds of orgasms that you could feel from the inside out. That made your ears feel stuffy and your vision go white as you cried out loudly.

Harry choked out a gasp as soon as he felt your walls gripping him and you tossed your head back, moaning his name over and over again like you needed the room to know who was making you fall apart.

Your pussy wrapped around him so perfectly and he looked down from your perfect tits to your face and he lost it. His own cry of your name was loud as he threw his head back and throbbed, releasing into his condom, his come filling the tip full as you milked him with your pulsing orgasm.

Divine. Complete and utter perfection. He hadn’t come so hard in years and the way you responded to him only coaxed him deeper into his own ecstasy.

When his cock stopped pumping and twitching he opened his eyes and looked down at you looking all fucked out and satisfied. Exactly what he had hoped for when he brought you to his room. Better even.

When your gaze finally found his he smiled down at you. He figured it would be nice to have you again in the morning if you were up for it because he certainly didn’t want to have you leave. Not yet. Maybe he’d order room service and you two could talk some more. Maybe another round or perhaps you’d both just crash after that marathon. But he knew he’d want to give you a parting gift in the morning at the very least. One of those soft and lazy morning fucks before kissing you and sending you off so he could catch his flight the following afternoon.

Yeah. That sounded nice to him.

But the sudden sound of his phone buzzing had him turning to look at the nightstand. You’d barely recovered from your scorching orgasm when he rolled off of you and quickly picked up the phone, his back to you, “Hello?”

You inhaled deeply. You still couldn’t believe you’d just done that. With a stranger nonetheless.

“No, I’m okay. Just ran to grab the phone is all.” He was panting just enough that whoever was on the line had wondered what he’d been doing. You turned your head to look at him. His back was to you.

“Sure, babe. See you then.”

You sat up quickly. Babe?

Harry stood from the bed and picked up his pants, “I’m sure you can get your clothes on and be on your way quickly. Yeah?”

You instinctively covered your chest with your mouth dropped open, “What?!” Harry paused before putting his shirt on and looked at you with an unamused expression, “I said you need to leave.” He raised his voice a notch as if the reason you asked him what was because you hadn’t heard.

You shook your head and slid off the bed feeling dirty and shameful, reaching to the ground for your discarded dress, “I know what you said. I was surprised that you were… never mind.”

The sudden change in his attitude toward you was a shock. He’d been so attentive and affectionate and now he was cold. Inconsiderate. You struggled to keep up with the abrupt shift in his temperament.

Harry walked to the window as you shimmied into your dress and attempted zipping it up, “Fuck…” you mumbled under your dress. The last thing you wanted to do was ask this asshole to help you but really didn’t want to walk out of his room with your dress half unzipped and your ass crack hanging out.

“Can you please help?” You sighed and looked over at him. God, you hated how attractive he was, especially now that he was being so cold to you suddenly.

Harry silently shook his head to himself as he tucked his shirt in and walked toward you as if it were some terrible chore to help you.

“There. Now I really need you to go. Quickly.”

You hadn’t even had the chance to wipe up in the bathroom or pee. You were stunned at his behavior.

You gave him your dirtiest scowl, scooped up your underwear, and grabbed your small purse, stuffing your bra and panties inside. The slip you had to carry in your hands. As you pulled your shoes back on your feet one at a time, Harry was plucking the condom off the floor and looking around the room in a slight panic.

“Fuck you, Harry. This is rude. You didn’t have to treat me like garbage. Not like I was gonna fall for you or something you prick.” When your feet were securely in your shoes Harry walked across the room toward you as you tried to make your way to the door to leave.

“Y/n?”

You turned to look at him.

“Can you toss this in the garbage near the elevator for me? Thanks,” he pressed the used condom that was stuffed into a tissue into your hand and you nearly lost it. Nearly fucking karate chopped his ass to the ground and stomped on his face. But then you realized something. He was in a hurry to get you out of his room because he had someone coming up to see him. Someone he wanted to hide the condom from. A lover? Girlfriend? Wife?

Instead of responding verbally you flipped him off and slammed the door behind yourself. But before you walked away from the door you pulled the condom from the tissue and put it over his doorknob, nice and tight. The used rubber was still heavy with his come and you smiled as you dropped the tissue onto the floor and pulled out a cocktail napkin and pen from your purse, pressed your lips into it to leave it lightly stained with your leftover lipstick, and then wrote Thank you, Harry xx. You balanced the napkin right over the condom on the doorknob and then grinned to yourself as you walked down the hallway to the elevator. You sure were glad your room was in the same hotel. When the elevator doors opened a pretty blonde stepped off and rushed past you, headed in the direction of Harry’s room. She barely even glanced your way before you stepped onto the elevator and pressed 2 for your floor.

So maybe it wasn’t a terrible ending to the night after all.

Part 2

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yeonghosins · 10 months

Text

daydreaming (m) – s.jn

pairing: aged up!johnny seo x highschool senior!reader

summary: “you do realize i’m nearly twice your age, right?” he says, placing his hands low on his hips. he sighs. you take your bottom lip between your teeth.

“… yes.”

word count: 10k (oops)

warnings: large age gap, dilf johnny, smut!!!! lmk if there's anything else i should add

a/n: it's back!! sorry for the wait, ik this one's the one u guys were waiting for. i'm reuploading old works!

“what do you wanna work on?” donghyuck, your groupmate, asks. you don’t know him very well, only that he’s a friend of a friend of a friend and is one of the thirteen other people that live on your street. you only switched to english literature at the start of the term (and only moved to this neighborhood at the start of the year), and the first time you’d seen his face was when he performed at the school-wide christmas showcase this year.

“hm?” you ask. “i don’t know, i’m fine with anything.”

donghyuck ponders to himself. he bounces his leg and it vibrates the table you’re both seated at. “well, it’s our final long-term project. it’s gotta be easy but only enough that it still seems like we made use of the month we’re given. we could just do a video report on hamlet. we don’t even have to voice it, we just have to compile information and put it in a worded video. sound okay?”

you nod. “yeah. like i said, i’m fine with anything.”

“cool,” donghyuck smiles. “listen, it’s really cool that we’re paired together. jeno says that renjun says you’re a good student, so I knew that I was fine when ms. kim called out our names.”

you smile back. he reminds you of a personified ball of sunshine. “thanks, donghyuck. i can’t wait to work with you too.”

“so, uh, d’you wanna meet at my house this saturday around, say, twelve? to work on the project?” he asks, still smiling. “it’s just me and my dad at home, so don’t worry about annoying siblings.”

you shrug, then nod. “sure, i’d love to.”

“alright! i’ll get your number during dismissal. i have chem now, so see you then,” he waves as the bell rings. he picks up his books and his bag, slings it over his shoulder, and walks out of the classroom, not before giving you one last cheery grin.

donghyuck’s house turns out to be three houses down from the house across from yours. the door is a sweet baby blue, which contrasts with the rest of the stark-white suburban-style home. it’s different from the rest of the houses on your street. it was built more recently, compared to your own which had stood the test of time and housed many families for nearly 5 decades. it’s simple yet modern. whoever built it had taste.

there’s a small row of potters with plants on spikes. cherry tomatoes, basil. the grass in the front lawn is freshly cut. there’s the sound of flowing water coming from the backyard.

“my dad’s gonna be home from work soon, he just picked up some things from the grocery. we can settle in and just chill and stuff before he comes back and starts cooking lunch,” donghyuck says as he opens the front door and holds it for you while he kicks his sneakers off and leaves them on the shoe rack.

you do the same, neatly placing your shoes on the top rack. you note the leather work shoes and size eleven sneakers, and the space between them that you decide to place your own shoes in.

“nice place,” you say, taking note of the home-y atmosphere and well decorated walls. most of the images framed and hung up are of solely donghyuck and his father, from what you can see from where you stand.

“thanks! my dad takes a lot of pride in making the place look nice. he built it, y’know?” he smiles.

“really?” you ask.

“yeah! well, not, like, with his bare hands or anything. he’s an architect.” he responds.

you’re greeted by a staircase that leads to the upstairs, a living room to the right, a dining room through an opening to the left, and what you presume to be the kitchen connecting both rooms at the back. you catch a glimpse of a pool out the backyard.

donghyuck leads you up the staircase, and down a hallway.

“that’s the bathroom,” he points to one door, “that’s my dad’s room,” he points to the door diagonal to the bathroom, “that’s his office,” he points to the next door, “and mine’s that door at the end.”

you nod, taking in what he tells you as you make your way down the hall.

donghyuck’s room is soft and simple. the walls are painted a dusty lavender and posters of artists are tacked to the wall. a bulletin board rests on the wall adjacent to his desk, scattered with notes, movie tickets, and pictures of his friends. from what you’ve gathered he’s quite friendly, so it’s unsurprising to you that he’s amassed such a large group of friends of his own. you quickly settle in, sitting comfortably on the floor by donghyuck’s desk, soft music playing from his speakers as you discuss characters and plotlines.

donghyuck is nice. he’s relatively easy to talk to, nor is he boring in any sort of way. every time he opens his mouth a mischievous glint shines in his eyes. he’s fun. a kind of friend you’d want around.

you spend the first few minutes of your time in his room talking, getting to know each other. the tension of being in a new friend’s home is eased when donghyuck starts talking about video games he likes, music he listens to, and the people he’s grown up with. your friends renjun and jaemin being two of them.

in return, you share your life before moving into town. old boyfriends, your old cat who ran away, even pulling out your phone to show him pictures of friends you’re still in touch with. you tell him about your mother’s job, which brought you into town in the first place, and about the things you like doing. you pass a compliment to him on his holiday showcase performance, which he blushes at but proudly accepts anyway.

donghyuck lowers the volume when he hears the sound of a car entering his driveway.

“oh, that should be my dad. wanna come down with me to help him?” donghyuck asks, setting his laptop down next to him and standing up. “oh, and so i can introduce you. he’s really nice, don’t worry.”

you nod. you don’t know much of donghyuck and his family, but your friends — mainly renjun — tell you that his father’s a nice person. and with the way donghyuck’s been treating you, it’s clear he’d passed that trait down to his son.

donghyuck waits for you to get up and makes his way down the hall, letting you trail behind him.

he hops down the staircase and slips on a pair of house slippers, the action natural to him.

“dad?” he says, opening the front door.

on the other side stands a tall man, towering a decent six foot-one at least. “hey, kiddo,” the man says, moving his suitcase to his other hand (which holds a bag from the grocery store) to ruffle at your classmate’s hair.

“dad, this is (y/n). she’s my groupmate for the english project? (y/n), this is my dad.” donghyuck says as he opens the door wider and takes his father’s grocery bag, letting the taller man enter.

donghyuck must take after his mother’s physical appearance, is all you can think to yourself as his father places his suitcase down against the armrest of the living room couch—and you’re probably right—because donghyuck’s father is nothing like you imagined him. he’s tall. much taller than you expected. his hair is dark brown, except for the grey strands of hair that grow from his temples. his features are sharp, his eyes are piercing despite the tired circles that show on his eyelids. his eyebrows are straight-angled—and his lips, dear god, his lips are the shade of primrose, perfectly plump with defined corners that make them look so—god, you cringe as the thought comes to you but—kissable! you note how especially well-built the elder man is, as well as the fact that he’s probably pushing forty and you shouldn’t be feeling this way about a man nearly twice your age, yet you’re starstruck and flustered where you stand.

he adjusts the collar of his button-down cloth shirt (which is, to your convenience, rolled up to his elbows) and turns to you and smiles, extending a hand. “hi,” he says. warmth runs up your cheeks. “donghyuck’s told me about you. he’s always excited to have someone here, since it’s usually just me and him at home. it’s nice to meet you. i’m johnny. or mr. seo, if you want to keep it formal.”

god, you think to yourself. of all the people in the world to be attracted to —

“it’s a pleasure to meet you, too, mr seo.”

— it had to be your classmate’s fucking dad.

he lets go of your hand and you watch has he tucks both into the pockets of his slacks.

“d’you guys wanna keep working or d’you want to keep me company while i cook lunch?” he asks. “we’d have to get the groceries first, though. hyuckie?” he turns to his son.

“yeah, yeah,” donghyuck waves, opening the door and walking over to his dad’s car. “don’t call me hyuckie in front of my friends.” he’s bashful when he says it.

mr. seo scoffs and watches his son as he opens the car’s trunk and begins picking up bags of groceries. he turns to you, and raises a brow. “wanna come to the kitchen?”

his voice is richer than pure honey. he smiles like an old hollywood movie star. he’s a good father. he’s polite.

jesus, take the wheel.

donghyuck’s dynamic with his father is sweet. it’s just hard not to see past that when donghyuck’s father is as godly as he seems to you. he’s now chopping away at some vegetables on a cutting board while he and his son exchange in conversation about donghyuck’s childhood.

they tell you about their lives so far, and you give them as much as you can muster.

mr. seo is 38 years old. he works at an architecture firm, building houses around the city. he’s raised donghyuck for all his life, as donghyuck’s mother passed away shortly after childbirth.

“don’t worry about it. it’s been, what, eighteen years?” mr. seo reassures with a kind nod after seeing your mood dampen at the mention of what had happened.

“yeah,” donghyuck agrees. “dad’s getting kind of emotional ‘cause i’ve sent out my college applications,” he adds, a teasing grin on his face.

mr. seo shakes his head and huffs. “what, me? emotional? no way, kiddo. i could never,” he feigns. “so,” he turns to you and your attention sharpens as his eyes meet yours, changing the subject. “how old are you now?”

he leaves the pan of sizzling vegetables to open the fridge. you’ve never struggled more to tell someone your age.

“u-uh, i just turned eighteen,” you manage, taking in a deep breath in hopes that donghyuck doesn’t realize you’re blushing. “a couple months ago.”

“good,” he says, pulling out three beers. “do you drink?”

you stammer. it’s the longest he’s maintained eye contact and you honestly don’t know if you can stay upright any longer.

“c’mon, don’t be scared, i’ve raised this kid,” he points to donghyuck, “for eighteen years, don’t think i haven’t learned how to live a little. his friends come and drink all the time. you don’t have to be scared about me fessing up to your parents or anything. i don’t tell what people don’t want me to tell.”

“thank you, but, u-um, i’ll just have water, please.”

“responsible,” he notes, returning one beer can into the fridge. “you sure you don’t want anything else to drink?”

“uh, yes, sir,” you say once more, and mr. seo concedes.

“alright,” he smile and brings his focus back to the pan on the stove. “just let me know if you need anything.” he turns the heat off and starts to plate whatever he’s cooked, and all you do is stare on at his tall figure. you swear, for a split second, that he makes eye contact with you and gives you a small, inconspicuous smile, but then quickly averts his gaze. your cheeks burn up even more, your heart is practically pounding, and to top it off, you’ve never been more aroused in your life — by a thirty eight year old man, at that.

he could quite literally be the death of you, you’re sure if it.

your lunch continues in the same fashion. stories of donghyuck’s childhood, followed by banter and laughter. after lunch, you and donghyuck return to his room to work on the project. it’s only hours later that you realize how much time truly passes.

“hey, donghyuck, i should get going. my mom told me to be home by five. it’s four-fifty,” you sigh as you shut your phone.

donghyuck looks up at you from his laptop. “oh, sure, yeah,” he says, shutting his laptop and setting it on the foot of his bed. “d’you want me to walk you out?”

“oh, no, it’s okay, i got it,” you smile. “thanks for inviting me. just text me if you need anything, yeah?”

“you got it,” he smiles back.

“thanks, i really appreciate your hospitality.” you say as you step out of the room.

“it’s no problem. see you in school!” he gives as a final wave.

“see you!” you say as you shut his door, gripping your laptop and your bag tightly in your hands.

the first thing you notice is that the door to mr. seo’s office is left open, wide enough for you to see that he’s inside, working. he’s sketching away at some blueprint, clearly immersed in his work.

it’s wrong, you tell yourself. you shouldn’t be feeling this way.

“mr. seo?”you mutter meekly, like a mouse, as you peer round the corner

“hmm?” he hums, turning his head to face you. “oh! (y/n). leaving already?”

your heartbeat quickens.

“yeah,” you laugh nervously. “just came to say goodbye. and thanks.”

he stands, something you don’t expect, and walks over to you. god, he’s so tall. he smiles—just enough where it’s only the corners of his lips that lift themselves. he’s still in the clothes he was wearing when he arrived. he stops just a few feet in front of you. closer, closer, closer—

“you’re very welcome,” he says. his voice is deep after probable hours of not being used. one of his hands is in one front pocket of his slacks, the other runs through his dark brown hair, showing the wisps of grey that hide under his darker layers.

you let go of your bottom lip the second you realize you’ve had it between your teeth since he stood up.

“donghyuck told me that it’s a long-term project, so please, feel welcome to come over any time. he appreciates any sort of company,” he says, nodding. “so do i.”

“i’ll be back, mr. seo. you’re fun company to be around.” you choke a little at the connotation your words might have. “both you and donghyuck,” you add quickly enough for it to not sound awkward.

mr. seo doesn’t seem to notice your slip-up. thank god. “good, that’s good,” he smiles. the thought seems to linger in his head, as he catches his own eyes wandering over your figure for a moment too long.

“anyway, i’ll let you go, now,” mr. seo continues abruptly. it seems as though he’s shaking himself out of some day dream, and he begins to pace back to his seat behind his desk. “i’ll see you soon, (y/n).”

“see you soon, mr. seo,” you wave, shutting the door.

you redirect yourself and take in a sharp breath. you open your phone’s messaging app and immediately open your last opened chatroom as you hastily slip your shoes onto your feet. you start typing and hit send as quickly as you can, making your way up the street.

you:

rrnjun, jaem, u won’t fuckibg believe the afternopn ive had!!!1111!!

“mr. seo?!” one of your friends’ voices rings through your ears from the speakers of your laptop. “you and everyone else, dude.”

“what do you mean?” you sit up, looking renjun in the face, which he cups with his palms. you wrap your comforter closer around you.

“i can’t believe you never knew. everyone knows donghyuck’s dad is the hottest shit, (y/n). and hyuck’s completely oblivious to everyone’s obvious attraction to his father.” jaemin’s face comes closer to the camera, right next to the box that shows renjun’s face. you scoff. as if it’s information you were supposed to know.

“as if that’s information i was supposed to know, jaem,” you sigh. “he’s just—“

“really fucking hot, according to everybody,” renjun huffs, holding the mic of his earphones against his mouth. you and jaemin wince at the distortion of sound. “we know.”

“it’s just — weird. i’ve literally never felt any sort of attraction for anybody more than ten years my senior, and now,” you gesture vaguely to the air with your hands. “this?”

“it’s fine, everyone goes through some phase where they have a complete shift in their type. i think.” jaemin mumbles. “besides, this is really fine for you, ‘cause since he’s older, you won’t really feel pressured to get him to like you back. it’d be kind of absurd if he liked you back, ‘cause he’s, y’know, thirty eight.”

“yeah,” you reply blankly. “i don’t think i could go back to that house, guys.”

“if i were you, i wouldn’t, but you have to, or else you’d have to come up with excuses to tell donghyuck,” jaemin shrugs. he’s suddenly found a pack of gummy bears to munch on.

you nibble on your bottom lip in thought. you then let out a frustrated groan. “i can’t stop thinking about him.”

“ew,” renjun fake-gags. “let’s keep the horny-for-my-friend’s-dad-level at a zero when we’re talking to jaemin and renjun.”

“sorry, sorry,” you laugh. “i just can’t. it’s such a weird feeling. and it’s sad, he’s right there but i can’t go for him because it’d be such a big… problem.”

the conversation comes to a lull. jaemin picks up his phone after getting a notification and his eyes widen at whatever it is he’s seen.

“what?” you ask, attempting to snap him from his daze.

“your parents are going to visit your grandparents over the summer, right? when?”he asks instead of answers, a smile threatening to spread across his face.

“second week of june ‘till, like, the twenty ninth,” you reply. “why?”

jaemin pulls out his phone. “donghyuck just texted me. the senior dance team’s trip to LA for that dance workshop — as, like, a last ‘thing’ together as a club — is gonna be from the thirteenth to the twenty eighth of june.”

you ponder for a moment. “okay… and?”

renjun gasps. “dude! for two weeks, you’ll be alone — without parents — or supervision,” he says, making hand gestures in the air in attempts to make you understand better. “and—“

“for two weeks, mr. seo’ll be home alone,” you add, you jaw nearly dropping. “without donghyuck — and any other responsibilities besides his own.”

renjun smiles mischievously. “for two weeks, you literally have a chance to make mr. seo’s only priority be you.”

you smile back with a huff. you hear jaemin exclaim and laugh loudly in excitement. “this is so wrong, guys,” you laugh, throwing yourself backwards on your bed and covering your face with one of your pillows.

“you said it yourself,” jaemin shrugs. “you’re eighteen. the only thing wrong about it is that you’re going to be trying to fuck your classmate’s dad for a month ‘till your parents leave. but your classmate nor your parents have to know. i’ll keep donghyuck as distracted as possible if you need me to.”

you remember what mr. seo told you earlier. “you don’t have to be scared about me fessing up to your parents or anything. i don’t tell what people don’t want me to tell.”

you hope that—good or bad the outcome—mr. seo is a man of his word.

you unlock your phone, immediately opening your messaging app.

send to: donghyuck seo

hey, donghyuck! could i come by your place next week to work on the project again?

you and donghyuck grow close with the passage of time. you feel guilty that it’s partially to get to his dad, but he’s starting to become friendlier and more comfortable with you.

you start visiting twice a week, often times not to do work (you do plenty during actual english literature periods) but just to spend time with them and donghyuck’s friends.

you try your best to act indifferent to mr. seo, like you don’t care, but you always catch yourself staring far too often at his lips, or his arms, or his — or him. you’re sure he’s caught your drift at this point, too. it’s a strange “middle”, where you’re constantly seeking his presence and his company, and he’s constantly switching in and out of a state where he’s either active around the house with you and donghyuck’s friends or he’s locked up in his office all day. he might be staying away for your own safety, he probably realizes that you’re into him and doesn’t want to get you into trouble. when he comes down to say hello, often times he looks at you for a moment too long, just enough for you to notice but not for others to find it strange.

you don’t speak to him much - in fact, the only conversation you’ve had was on the first day you met him.

the looks you send him from across the living room; or the glances you share over the dining table — where you look up from your plate to meet his gaze, and all he does is look back momentarily, only to look to the side or at his own food, then clench his jaw and take a deep breath through his nose; should be evident of his knowledge of your infatuation towards him — and are often times enough to send bubbling heat straight to your core.

you learn over time that he’s just so effortlessly attractive. the way he carries himself is enough to make you lose your mind. oftentimes you don’t even have to go to donghyuck’s house to see him, you see him watering the front lawn garden from your bedroom window, and as the weather warms, he starts wearing tank tops, or white tees with his blue swimming trunks. it’s difficult to leave the house without the image of mr. seo’s toned arms or his tanned skin or his deepened voice being the only presence clouding your mind.

it gets to a point that getting him to notice your quick glances or the changes in your body language is a goal. you don’t understand where the newfound confidence comes from, but you find yourself openly gazing over him more, you let your touches linger on his skin, in hopes that he takes notice.

it’s one night, nearly two weeks after you and donghyuck have finished your project and a day before your graduation, things escalate into something more tense.

donghyuck invites you to his house for a pre-graduation get together with his other friends, and you go, staying ‘till around eleven-thirty in the evening.

“this has been fun, but i’ve got to get going. i still have to get ready tomorrow and i have stuff to prepare tonight,” you sigh, getting up on your feet.

the five boys seated on the floor groan and pout.

“donghyuck just said we’d be playing uno!” yangyang whines, holding up his deck of uno playing cards.

“bet you’re just scared to lose, you suck at uno,” renjun teases as he holds a pillow to his chest.

you scoff. “jeno sucks at uno, probably more than me. if i had the choice to stay, i would, just to beat this motherfucker,” you say as you roughly ruffle jeno’s hair. he makes a sound of discomfort.

“let’s play overwatch, see how it feels,” he mutters under his breath with an over-exaggerated scowl.

“just let me go, my mom’s gonna get mad at me if i get home late,” you whine. “i have to go!”

“let her go, jesus,” jaemin laughs. “see you tomorrow, hot stuff,” he jokes with a wave. you roll your eyes and say goodbye, grabbing your phone and your bag as you exit donghyuck’s room.

it’s halfway through your walk down the hall that you notice that mr. seo is in his office again. you take slow steps, and you don’t know if it’s to see if he catches a glimpse of you or if it’s to stay as quiet as possible so as not to be noticed by him.

you pass the doorframe to his office and you think you’re in the clear, you’re just about to begin climbing down the staircase when—

“(y/n).”

shit.

you quickly pace back to the door to mr. seo’s office and open it slightly, letting your head and your upper torso peek into the room.

“oh, um, good evening, mr. seo,” you say. you hope you aren’t overdoing it with the innocent tone. “i was just about to lea—“

“i wanted to talk to you,” he says, leaning back in his desk chair and interlocking his fingers in front of him. he presses his thumbs underneath his chin before pushing himself onto his feet. “come in.”

you can’t seem to calm your heart whenever you’re around him. it pounds in your chest harder than ever before, you can feel it in your ears. your hands get clammy and you feel heat rising to your face, and the ever-prevalent bubbling in your stomach finds its way back to you. you step inside at a slow pace. you make sure to shut the door behind you. you can still hear donghyuck and his friends shouting and laughing from here.

mr. seo now dons a blue sweater tucked into black jeans. it’s the first time you’ve seen him the whole day. he looks down at the rolex on his wrist and pinches his nose bridge with his thumb and index finger.

“what is it, mr. seo?” you ask. you try your best to maintain composure.

mr. seo swallows and tilts his head in thought. “i know what you’re trying to do, (y/n).” oh god. “you don’t think i notice the way you look at me?”

you’re not quick to come up with an answer. you tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear. “m-mr. seo, i don’t—“

“you do realize i’m nearly twice your age, right?” he says, placing his hands low on his hips. he sighs. you take your bottom lip between your teeth.

“… yes.”

he shuts his eyes tight and lets out a sharp breath. he runs the side of his hand over his brow bone and lets his arm fall to his side. “listen, (y/n), i’m sorry to turn you down, but i know — and — you must know that what you’re doing is inappropriate and frankly, wrong. i know that you’re young and there are only so many things that can run through your mind at this age, believe me, i know firsthand. all i wanted to do at your age was — well, anything and everything, if you get me. i just don’t want the way you feel for me to get in the way of your friendship with donghyuck and the way you or i live our lives. i’m turning you down because if i let this continue, we’ll both be hurting ourselves. i’ll be hurting you especially. i’m sorry.”

“i bet you like it though.”

he pauses, confused. “pardon me?”

did you just do that?

his face goes stern, eyes piercing and his eyebrows only slightly raised. he purses his lips.

“i bet you like it — the way i look at you,” you continue. there’s a shake in your voice but you hope it’s drowned out by the sudden wave of confidence that rushes over you. “you’re only turning me down ‘cause you know that it’s wrong, and you’re stuck — but you don’t hate it, because if you did, you would’ve told donghyuck that you were concerned and told me to leave the second you suspected something from me. you could’ve kicked me out, or told donghyuck you thought i was a bad influence or something. you could’ve. but you didn’t. you like it, don’t you, mr. seo?”

you have no idea how you could be so strongly confrontational. you fold your arms in front of your chest. you heartbeat has never gone faster, and you pray it calms itself before you faint, or something. mr. seo is silent. he faces away from you in subtle humiliation, suddenly finding interest in the various books placed on his shelf. he has his hands in his back pockets. he gives you no answer, but the silence is telling of what he hides from you.

“i have to go,” you say, already walking out of his office. “goodnight, johnny.”

mr. seo waits till you shut the door. he stays where he stands until he hears the front door open and close, marking your departure.

he presses both his hands over his face in frustration as he sighs tiredly. he sits down roughly on his desk chair, letting his body fall onto it, propping his elbows on the surface of his desk as he threads his hands in his hair and tugs sharply. he knits his eyebrows and squeezes his eyes shut, letting out an exasperated groan.

he lets go of his hair, now running his hands from his temples, flattening his hair with his palms. he pauses halfway across the crown of his head and opens his eyes, seeing only the image of you standing in front of him, the image of your hand on his arm, the image of you, in a way he’s been trying to suppress since he realized what you were trying to do to him. not her, not her, not her, is all he can run through his mind in a weak attempt to get you out of it.

she’s donghyuck’s friend, she’s donghyuck’s friend, he repeats as he closes his eyes once more. the images of you grow more and more corrupted and perverted in his mind each and every time he shuts and opens his eyes. he sees you lifting your shirt off of yourself, he sees your legs spread, he sees —

“fuck!” he loudly exclaims, slamming a fist against the hardwood of his desk and throwing himself against the backrest of his chair. he takes deep breaths as he stares at the ceiling with glassy eyes.

“god,” he sighs. “of all the people to be attracted to—”

he hears laughter come from donghyuck’s room, a reminder for him to stay quiet.

— it had to be you.

mr. seo avoids you throughout the entire graduation, only going to exchange congratulations with your parents. he avoids you all throughout the graduation dinner hosted at a nearby restaurant, eyes averted and body tense whenever you’re brought up or whenever you contribute to the conversation.

two weeks pass, and it’s the day donghyuck and jaemin are to leave for los angeles. you, your parents, and few others on your street surround the seo’s driveway as donghyuck, jaemin, and a few more of their friends gather around a van that’s supposed to take them to the airport.

“i’ll miss you!” you say, pulling both jaemin and donghyuck in for a hug. “don’t forget to text me, or yangyang, or jeno, or renjun, okay?”

jaemin smiles. “you got it.”

“bring me something from universal studios, too,” you add, and donghyuck nods.

you hug them both tightly one last time. jaemin, ever-affectionate and not afraid to show it, presses a rather aggressive kiss to your cheek. “see you in two weeks, hot stuff,” he says, rather loudly, making a few parents raise their eyebrows, mr. seo being one of the parents in that group.

you catch him in the corner of your eye. his eyebrow is raised and his eyes are squinted only slightly. you smile at his attempt to hide his… jealousy?

“calm down, ma, i call everyone names like that,” jaemin rolls his eyes as he goes to hug his parents.

donghyuck laughs and lets go of you to hug his father. he practically slams into his chest, wrapping his arms around mr. seo’s torso.

“bye, dad,” he smiles. mr. seo laughs softly and brings his hand to the back of his son’s head.

“bye, kiddo. be safe,” mr. seo says as he gently pinches at donghyuck’s cheek.

donghyuck pokes mr. seo’s cheek. “you too, dad.”

mr. seo moves donghyuck’s hand from his cheek with a soft chuckle. “go on, you have to go.”

donghyuck smiles as he pulls away, climbing into the van. “love you, dad!” he shouts from inside.

“love you, hyuckie!” mr. seo shouts, his hands cupped around his mouth.

the van drives off once donghyuck and his dance club settle properly, and people begin dispersing.

“safe travels for your kid, john,” your parents say after giving the same greeting to jaemin’s parents. “we’ve got to go and finish packing our own bags, so we’ll be heading in now. our flight’s at six in the morning.”

mr. seo’s eyes seem to light up. “oh? where are you three headed?”

“oh, no, just the two of us,” your mom gestures to herself and your father. “we have to visit my parents and siblings, and since (y/n)’s gotta start getting used to living on her own soon, we thought that she could start learning now. she’s got the hang of it, right honey?”

your mom excitedly squeezes your cheek. “yeah, mom,” you say with a forced laugh.

“and, anyways, if you’re ever bored, i guess mr. seo would be, too!” your mother smiles. “john, you wouldn’t mind if (y/n) spent some time with you some days while we’re gone, right? well, it’s alright if she can’t, but—“

“no, i don’t mind at all,” mr. seo interjects. “well, i always say that anyone’s welcome in my place, and (y/n) is no exception.”

“oh, wonderful! i was so scared that she’d be all alone for the next too weeks,” your mother says. a pause. “well! we’ve got to get going now. thank you, so much, john.”

mr. seo looks lost in thought as he nods. “ah, well,” he mutters. “it’s no problem. and safe travels to you, too.”

“aw, thank you! always such a nice man,” your mom says.

mr. seo waves as your parents both say their goodbyes.

“say goodbye to mr. seo,” your father says.

you bite your bottom lip and let out a breath through your nose.

“goodbye, mr. seo,” you say, with half a smile and the same amount of a wave.

you look across the street once you reach the front porch of your own home. you lock eyes with mr. seo, and it’s only then that he decides to enter his home once more.

tomorrow. you tell yourself. you’ll talk to him tomorrow.

it’s been several hours, maybe six, since your parents left, and only now does the summer heat creep up on you dangerously fast.

it’s either that or the thought of going to mr. seo’s house sometime in the day to talk to him is getting to you.

you fold up the piece of paper with a groan and toss it onto your side desk.

“i can’t,” you say as you press the heels of your palms over your closed eyes. “this is wrong.”

whatever spirit inside of you that convinced you to try and seduce the father of your classmate seems to have diminished completely.

you let out another frustrated groan. you have to apologize, is all you think to yourself. no matter how you feel, you have to apologize. you have to stop.

you set yourself upright and huff, hurriedly slipping your feet into your flip flops. you check yourself in the mirror to make sure you don’t look that much of a mess. you’re sure workout shorts and a thin cropped tee would work out fine for you. you’ve worn things like this a bunch of times when visiting donghyuck.

you shrug and make your way out and down the street.

your heart’s beating so fast, you swear you could throw up, but the front door opens too quickly to a white t-shirt and swim trunks-clad mr. seo for you to do anything of the sort.

he looks just as shocked as you are, though you don’t know what you’re expecting.

it’s mr. seo.

he lives here.

“(y/n),” he says as he straightens his posture. “what’s — what are you doing here?”

you fumble with your hands and nibble on your bottom lip, suddenly losing any and all confidence. god, how could his mere presence make you feel so… so vulnerable?

“mr. seo,” you begin, struggling to look him in the eyes. “mr. seo, i’m sorry. for that night. i have no excuses, and i honestly have no idea why i said what i said, but i guess my mind jumped to the conclusion that that was the best way i was to handle how i felt about you. clearly, it wasn’t. and i’m sorry if i said things that were too forward, or if i hurt you or made you feel uncomfortable around me. i’m… i hate using this as an excuse, but i’m still young. i hope you understand that i’m still learning how to handle things and do things correctly and that night was just a slip-up. i do like you, mr. seo, a lot, but i shouldn’t have done what i did that night.”

mr. seo’s face changes — his brows dip down and his lips purse. his eyes are full of sympathy. “do you want to come inside? it’s pretty warm out.”

you step inside and leave your flip-flops by the shoerack.

“could we just leave it in the past? forget about it and stuff?” you ask point-blank to continue the conversation. your cheeks burn up.

mr. seo doesn’t reply for a moment, instead gets lost in thought, his eyes distant and wandering. he leads you into the kitchen and starts pouring two glasses of water.

“are you sure you want to do that?” he finally says. your ears perk up and your eyes widen.

is this seriously happening? is all you can ask yourself. “what do you mean? you’re donghyuck’s dad, and i’m his classmate — no matter what, mr. seo, like you said it’s… i mean, it’s wrong.”

“i realize that, (y/n) — but, i’ve gone the last three weeks or so spending most of my time thinking about you. you’ve been all that’s on my goddamn mind. i never said anything that night because i wasn’t even sure about how i felt for you, especially since you’re my son’s friend, but these past weeks have made it clear. i want you.”

it’s all so unbearably hot, both literally and figuratively — the afternoon sun drowns the kitchen in warmth and your cheeks are redder than they ever could be. your heartbeat quickens and your breath hitches as mr. seo brings his hand to cup your jaw. he leans forward, closer to you. you’re leaning against the kitchen counter, clutching the edge of it. your heart rate increases rapidly, and you suck in a deep breath in through your nose. he’s so close, he’s so close, he’s so goddamn cl—

“do you want me, too?” he says under his breath.

“mr. seo—“

your voice is interrupted by the feeling of mr. seo’s lips finally pressing against yours and you feel something rising in the pit of your stomach as return his actions, the feeling of his lips against yours and the warmth of his body pressing against you like heaven — it’s something you’ve only ever dreamed of. it’s too short of a moment, however. mr. seo pulls away before you let the kiss deepen. his face is still inches from yours, and he smiles as he watches you subconsciously chase his lips when he leans away from you.

“was that okay?” he asks softly, leaning away and pulling his hands from you to let you know you still had a chance to say no.

you don’t let another moment pass as you bring yourself to your tip-toes, kissing him again. his hands find your waist and yours find the sides of his neck, weeks of want and desire evident in the way you both pull each other closer.

mr. seo gently squeezes the flesh at your waist and you arch into his touch, and all you can feel is him. the way he presses against you, the way you’re kissing each other like it’s all you’ve wanted all your lives, the feeling of his lips, his body, it’s all so much better than you could’ve fantasized. it’s when his hand travels down the curve of your ass that you moan into the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip inside your mouth. it’s wet, and warm, and you’re practically intoxicated by the sensation. you pull him closer, relishing in the feeling of your bodies pressed so closely together.

the whole situation is so absurd, you’re sure it’s the plot of many a crude porno.

you pull away, taking a deep breath in the process. he looks down at you, his tall frame encapsulating your smaller one. his hands settle against the surface of the counter, leaving you in the space between them.

“m-mr. seo—“

“christ, let’s drop that. we’re here already, just call me johnny, alright?” he laughs, having begun mouthing at the skin of your jaw and upper neck, pulling you closer, his hands tugging at your hips.

“j-johnny,” you respond, the sound of his first name leaving your lips still unfamiliar to you.

“mm?” he hums against your neck, his thumbs rubbing circles against your hips. the feeling of his lips on your skin is so new and strange, but every second he spends attached to your neck or your jaw sends butterflies straight to your core.

“c-could we go upstairs? t-to your room?” you ask, whispering.

johnny pulls back, and without a word, takes your hand and begins leading you upstairs.

it’s strangely empty, you’re used to having at least one room upstairs be booming with music and laughter.

johnny leads you into his bedroom, and shuts the door. his eyes are blown, lust dripping from them like blood from an open wound. it’s when he presses against you that you realize he’s half hard, but you’re not given enough time to process anything, since he’s already pulling you in for another kiss, this one being much more passionate and driven by want than any of the previous ones.

he spends time sucking hickeys onto whatever exposed skin is available to him, making sure that he doesn’t move to a different place on your neck unless the red marks of a blooming bruise appear on your skin.

it’s while you’re kissing that he lowers you onto the bed, your back pressed against the mattress and johnny’s chest pressed against yours. he focuses on peppering your neck and collarbone with kisses once more, simultaneously bringing his hands to the hem of your shirt lifting it up halfway to expose your chest. he lets out a low groan at the sight of your bare torso, and you prop yourself up to let him lift the shirt off of you completely. he tosses it backwards, wherever it lands unimportant to you.

“god, baby, you’re perfect,” he says, pressing you down into the mattress once more and leading his kisses to the peak of one of your breasts, enclosing his lips around the nipple and swirling his tongue over it, his free hand moving to massage your other breast, thumb flicking at your nipple, making you whine out his name. your back arches, pushing your chest further against his lips. you feel like you’re in ecstasy, johnny’s so unbelievably good, you can’t believe he’s real.

he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your swollen nipple, moving to suck on your other breast, the amount of wetness that drips out of your pussy and onto the cloth of your underwear being embarrassing. your cheeks redden once you feel it against your thigh.

he pulls back again, to strip himself of his white t-shirt, and you whine at the loss of warmth as cool air fans over your exposed tits.

the feeling of absence is short-lived, however, as the feeling of pure arousal that rushes through you when your eyes meet johnny’s bare torso trumps it.

you wish you were given a warning on his six-pack beforehand.

he smiles rather confidently when he notices your slack-jawed expression and immediately brings himself back to hovering over your exposed upper body.

his hands first go to your hips, to tug the garter of your shorts down. you bend your legs, letting johnny take your shorts off of you.

you jerk when the tips of his index and ring finger brush over the soaked cloth of your underwear. embarrassing. you rub your thighs together instinctually, shutting your eyes.

“cute,” he smiles as his palms push against your knees, spreading your legs open.

you whine when his fingers return to circling the spot where you’re most sensitive, his touch torturously light.

“you’re so wet, baby,” he muses under his breath. his eyes are still locked on yours.

the movement of his fingers over the cloth of your underwear is slow, painfully so, and it’s driving you crazy—everything spins, you can’t take your focus off of the feeling of his fingers brushing over your clit, and the more you think about it, the more the sensation intensifies.

“johnny, johnny, p-please,” you whine, arching your back. “s-stop teasing.”

“’s too fun, princess,” he says, and you involuntarily let out a high pitched whimper at the pet name.

“johnny,” you drawl, bringing your hands to cover your eyes.

“patient, baby,” he hums, caressing your inner thighs in an effort to get you to spread your legs further.

you lift your hips as he strips you of your underwear, the last piece of clothing keeping you from being completely vulnerable in johnny’s presence.

“gonna finger you, princess,” he says lowly, his thumb circling against the skin of your inner thigh. “god, you’re so fucking pretty.”

you don’t register his index finger being inserted into your hole, instead feeling a sudden rush of heat throughout your body when he begins to pump in and out, curving the single digit inside of you.

you let out a moan at the sudden insertion, involuntarily bucking your hips up to chase his movements. his free hand comes to squeeze at your waist and pull you towards him and down against the mattress. you let out a whine at the feeling of being manhandled, subsequently letting out a fucked-out half-voluntary, half-involuntary “daddy,” just as johnny inserts a second finger, increasing the pace.

“fuck, baby, don’t do that to me,” he huffs out, a low groan escaping his lips as you do nothing but whine and whimper and moan under him. “gonna make me lose it.”

“daddy,” you say again, this time in a shaky, breathy whine as the pace he’s set his fingers to increases.

he smiles, clenches his jaw, as if to say i can’t believe you. “i’m going to ruin you,” he mutters, in a tone so sternly calm that it’s hard to believe he’s fucking you with his fingers—only two, mind you—at a pace that’s sure to drive you insane. “daddy’s gonna ruin you, princess.”

you realize you’re close as a third finger is added, the sound of his digits pumping in and out of you are so lewd and pornographic that you can’t believe they’re sounds you’re making.

your moans and whines reach a point where they’re high-pitched and hiccupy, and the feeling of your orgasm building up is more evident than ever.

“j-jo—daddy, daddy, m’ gonna—gonna come,” you ramble, your hips bucking and raising themselves to fuck yourself onto his fingers as best as you can. “shit, i’m gonna—“

“—come? gonna come just on my fingers, baby?” johnny goads, his curved digits pumping relentlessly inside your pussy. “fuck, come on, princess. come for me.”

with his words, the cord inside you snaps, and you let out a loud moan, slowing the movement of your hips. your orgasm washes over you hard, the feeling of johnny’s fingers inside of you becoming so much more intense. by the time johnny pulls his fingers out of you, you’ve turned into a shaking, overstimulated, post-orgasm mess—and you’re left wanting more, so much more.

“so good for me,” johnny says, sucking your come from his fingers—an action that would’ve grossed you out if it were done by anyone other than him—then pressing kisses against the skin of your thighs.

“daddy?” you say, your voice suddenly an octave higher.

you feel your heart skip a beat when johnny tenses at the name, giving you only a hum in acknowledgment.

“i want to suck you off,” you say, point-blank. johnny looks as if he’s about to combust.

he chuckles—well, it’s more like a huff and a disbelieving smile—at your demand. “angel, how can i say no?”

he gets off the mattress, standing at the foot of the bed. you crawl over to the edge of the mattress, legs and thighs still shaky from the high of your previous orgasm. he’s so much taller than you at this angle, where he looks down at you and your kneeling body from where he stands. you face the evident bulge in his swimming trunks, and all you can think of is getting the annoying piece of cloth off of him.

he’s just about to pull his shorts down, but your index finger hooks under the waistband of his swim trunks a moment sooner. he sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth as he watches you tentatively strip him of the remaining piece of clothing.

you tug the garment off of him completely, letting it pool at his ankles, and you’re too distracted by his cock to note that he’s kicked them off of him completely.

jesus, fuck, does johnny’s cock exceed your expectations. it smacks his abdomen once his swimming trunks fall to his ankles, precome leaking down the back of it from the tip, which is flushed red. his cock is long and thick, you don’t know if you could fit more than half of it in your mouth.

he hisses at the cold air that meets his cock, bringing his hand to provide him with enough friction.

you crawl backward slightly when he moves forward, resting on the edge of the mattress with his knees.

“gonna suck my cock, princess?” he asks, snapping you out of your daze. he hums a “yeah?” when you nod and move forward, folding your legs and sitting on the heels of your feet, grabbing the bottom of his shaft—your hand unable to fully wrap around it.

you open your mouth, letting your tongue out, looking up at him as you let your saliva drip down onto the head of his cock. you take the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the tip. a hand tangles into your hair and johnny hisses then lets out a low groan.

his cock is heavy and warm on your tongue, and all you want is more, more, more.

you’re only able to take him a little past halfway down his cock, so you use your hands to take care of the remaining length.

“ffffuck,” he hisses, running circles against your scalp with his thumb. “so good, baby.”

never in your life did you imagine you’d be sucking the cock of your classmate’s dad. ever.

tears well in your eyes, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat every so often, the weight and the foreign feeling of him in your mouth sending heat to bubble in your stomach—you moan, the vibrations at the back of your throat hitting the clit of johnny’s cock, and he lets out a deep groan, all that races in his mind is he’s gonna cum, he’s gonna cum—

johnny pulls you off of his cock with a gentle tug of your hair, just as he feels the knot in his abdomen tighten. you whine at the loss of the weight on your tongue, and he chuckles, saying, “shit, gotta fuck you, now, baby. ‘m a bit older than you, and i wanna make this count, okay? lie back, for me?” you do so. “good girl.”

you spread your legs involuntarily, and johnny leans over to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “stay put, alright?” he says. he walks over to his bedside table, pulling out a condom from the second drawer.

he unwraps the foil packaging, and you watch as he rolls it down his cock. all you can do is squirm where you lay, suddenly unable to find the right words to say.

“daddy,” you say as he steps between your legs, unable to contain your impatience.

“you’re so pretty, baby. you gonna let me fuck you?” he says lowly, spreading your legs apart further. “gonna let me fill you up with my cock, hm? you want that?”

you whine and nod a pathetic “yes, daddy,” and you’re washed over with the feeling of vulnerability and humiliating exposure, the position of your body and the eagerness of your voice not helping your case whatsoever. “fill me up so good, all i feel is you.”

he lines up his cock with your entrance, and it’s just as full as you thought it’d feel, possibly even more so. the stretch, however, is new. it feels like his cock could split you in half. he’s so thick, you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock against your walls. the more he pushes into you, the more your moans intensify, the more your sensitivity increases, and it burns, frankly; but only temporarily, since by the time he bottoms out, all you feel is full.

you’ve never felt filthier, with your legs folded up against your chest, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and mr. seo’s cock deep inside you.

“you okay, princess?” johnny asks.

“s-so full,” you breathe out. “you’re so—so big.”

“yeah?” he asks as he slowly begins to thrust in and out.

“y-yeah,” you whimper, the feeling of his cock sending you into a frenzy. “s-so good.”

“yeah,” he repeats, increasing the pace. “you’re so tight, baby, you take my cock so fucking well.”

once he feels like you’re stretched enough, he thrusts back, nearly pulling out, and thrusts right back in, the sound of skin against skin resonating in your ears—as well as the loud moan that escapes your lips.

his thrusts quicken, and you rotate your hips to further fuck yourself on his cock in time with his thrusts. the way he fucks you has you practically wailing at this point, johnny having your torso pressed at an angle to fuck you the way both of you want it—it has you gripping aimlessly at his biceps, his shoulder blades—it has you wrapping your arms around his neck, and pulling him close, it has you doing anything at this point to keep you from losing any remaining sense of reality.

his cock is so thick, so long, each thrust makes you cry out in pleasure. it feels—insanely good, so fucking much that it has you rambling strings of incoherent words in an effort to egg him on. he’s fulfilling your request—all you feel is his cock, his thrusts, his lips, his skin, his teeth, his hands, his body—the way he’s fucking you into oblivion has you feeling only one thing, and it’s johnny, johnny, johnny, johnny—

“such a pretty baby,” johnny mutters. “you want more?”

“yes, yes, fu-uck,” you hiccup. “h-harder, harder, fill me up m-more, i wa-ant your cock, want your cock—“

“want my—god, baby, you’re so cute when you beg,” he nearly whines for you, fucking into you faster, harder—you can only cry out in response.

“feels so good, feels so fucking good,” you moan, johnny leaning in to bite at your neck. “daddy, more, more—“

you’re cut off when johnny leans away and sits up, still thrusting relentlessly into you, as he grabs hold of your hips, pulling you away and towards his cock in time with each thrust—you want more, johnny’s giving it to you.

“god, such a little slut—can’t get enough, huh?” johnny groans, and you’re pushed closer to the edge, the unexpected degradation sending you somewhere else. “’s that why you wanted to fuck me? hm? boys you were fucking just—shit—just weren’t enough?”

“no, t-they—they weren’t,” you cry, tears welling in your eyes out of pleasure. “o-only you.”

he growls a low, “that’s right,” before fucking into you harder, your moans cutting off in time with the way his skin slaps against yours.

“g-gonna come, gonna come, gonna come,” you whimper, your nails digging so hard into his shoulders you’d be surprised if you haven’t broken skin yet. “daddy.”

“wanna come? then come, baby. come all over daddy’s cock,” he groans, and brings his hands to rub and twist at your already swollen nipples.

the action sends you over the edge, and not even a moment passes until you find yourself coming for the second time tonight, johnny fucking into you through the high of orgasm.

it’s at this point where you’re practically jelly, and johnny grips your hips tightly like he’s done previously in order to chase his own orgasm, and he feels it coming close.

you wail in the feeling of immense overstimulation—you feel, hear, and see only johnny, johnny, johnny, and it’s so painfully, torturously, good, the way his cock feels to your sensitive pussy, the way his thrusts make you putty in his hands—you can’t see yourself wanting to stop.

“gonna come, baby,” he says in a rough whisper, his thrusts growing more and more erratic.

“daddy,” you whine between moans, the image of you all fucked out and dazed, your body sprawled under johnny sending him closer and closer to completion.

“fuck,” he groans, and your hoarse voice moaning strings of daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, along with the erratic clenches of your walls around his cock finally, finally, bring him to snap his hips up into you harshly once, his cock twitching inside of you, a low moan escaping his lips as he comes. he rocks into you slowly, fucking the both of you out of your aftershocks and the post-orgasm sensitivities. he peppers your skin with open mouthed, lazy kisses, along with whispers of good girl, so fucking good for me, you did so well.

he pulls out, tugs the condom off, ties it, and throws it into the trash. he leaves the room momentarily, whispering a soft “i’ll be back.” he returns with a damp towel and some wet wipes and sits next to you, wiping any mess on your face or between your legs. it’s a strange position, since you’re sitting up, leaning on his shoulder, as he cleans dried come from your skin, but it’s surprisingly comfortable.

“you’re perfect,” he says, voice hoarse, his hands gently spreading your legs apart as he wipes away at your inner thighs. “fuck, you’re perfect.”

you blush, pressing your face into his bare shoulder. “i really liked that.”

“seemed like it,” he hums as he swipes a single wet wipe to your cheek. “am i as good as you thought?”

“better,” you say, bashful. “am i?”

“better,” he repeats with a smile.

“i can’t believe—i can’t believe we did that.”

“neither can i,” he laughs. “i didn’t know i could.”

you giggle, relishing in the feeling of his warmth against your skin, only half listening when johnny speaks again, telling you to—

“—go home, grab some clothes, then come back, okay? we’ll go for a swim or watch TV or something.”

you look at him with big doe eyes, clearly having been spaced out. he blushes at the sudden eye contact, the action too obvious for you to miss.

“what, did you forget? you’re allowed to stay with me while your parents are gone, remember?”

right.

he hands you the white shirt he was wearing previously. “i’ll put your clothes in the wash. just wear this, i’m sure it’s big enough.”

you get dressed, and it’s just when you’re about to leave his bedroom that he stops you.

“we’re not telling anyone about this, right?”

you nod. “yeah. i’m not.”

he smiles, humming. he starts dressing himself, having found his discarded swim trunks. “good. hurry up and come back, before the sun passes the poolside. i’ll get the jacuzzi started.”

#finally #ik u guys have been waiting 😭#nct #nct smut #johnny suh smut #johnny seo smut #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh #nct 127 #smut #nct dream #wayv #johnny

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 7 months

Text

Rooster At 5, Bradley At Night

Bradley Bradshaw x Penny’s niece!reader 10k words (.....yes. 10k. i know)

summary: You've been hooking up with Bradley for three weeks now. You're also hooking up with him tonight.

a/n: this is pure smut. honestly pure smut. 18+ i will now list all the things that you have to look out for. first and foremost i have NEVER written smut before dont kill me pls im trying my best. ok so

name kink, rank kink, choking, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyve had the conversation nothing bad will happen), oral sex!fem receiving, dom bradley, some "good girl" because i am a sucker for that, in general a lot of talking because bradley is A TALKER!!!!!!, a little strength kink? is that a thing? and a shit ton of begging

this can be read as a stand-alone most definitely, but is set in the same universe as "Tuesday Night" and “Not A Coincidence” and "Take Me On A Joyride" so maybe give those a read too?

top gun masterlist

You were behind the bar this evening, a rag in your hands as you wiped down the sticky wooden top for the bazillionth time and hummed along to the music coming from the jukebox. You were behind the bar most evenings, pouring beer and rum and whiskey and mixing cocktails (occasionally taking some sips of your own), smiling and laughing and flirting with customers left and right.

For the past few months now, the most regular of those costumers had been the Dagger squad.

They'd shown up here one random evening and hadn't left since. And it didn't seem like any of them would any time soon.

Not that you wanted them to, oh no. You had grown so close in so little time that it was scary at this point.

"Settle a bet for us, Junior."

Jake slid up to the bar as if it was second nature, putting an empty bottle of beer in front of him and resting one elbow next to it. You looked up at him and smiled, threw your rag over your shoulder and grabbed the bottle, condensation dripping down onto your fingertips. Rooster came up right behind him and your smile deepened even further.

"Hit me, Bagman", you challenged, set two full bottles on the bar top and then rested your forearms against the edge.

Jake grinned at you as he raised his beer in a toast.

"If you had to get with one of us tonight, who'd you get with?"

You didn't even flinch.

"Bradshaw", you said, quick like a shot, and watched Jake's face fall like he'd expected a different answer with just a tiny bit of amusement. You glanced at Rooster, who had already been looking at you, and whose only reaction to the fact that you were literally talking about sleeping with him was a small quirk of his lips.

"Bradshaw? Are you kidding? You- I'll give you a second to think about it, Junior. Don't you wanna think about it for a second?", Jake asked, regaining his facade, letting a tinge of his accent slip as he leaned in and winked at you. "You know, actually think about it. Imagine it. Picture it. Visualise it."

You decided to give him the satisfaction. So you pushed back from the bar top, crossed your arms, raised your eyebrows and eyed the two of them up and down - just because you could, just for the fun of it. Jake was in his usual jeans and shirt, leaning in with a self-assured grin and his hand wrapped around his beer bottle. Bradley was wearing one of those Hawaiian shirts that fit snugly on his bicep, his sunglasses tucked into the collar of the white top underneath, hair on the practically perfect side of unruly and his eyes fixed on yours so intensely that you had to bite down on your tongue for a moment there.

You counted to five.

"Bradshaw", you said again, dropped your arms and grabbed the rag from your shoulder. Jake's lips parted and a betrayed sort of gasp left his mouth before he started complaining - you shook your head and stepped over to the next customer and only allowed yourself to grin when you'd turned away, out of his sight.

You wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

You still didn't know whether to be surprised at this "bet" the both of them had made. You were pretty sure anyway that Jake had been the driving force in that. You knew the two of them well enough by now to not only be aware of their.... you could only call it a rivalry, really, but also of Jake's weird, warped sense of mischief. Maybe he had some narcissism problem or maybe some old trauma response. Who cared? Not you. It made for entertainment every night you were behind the bar. And also every night you were in front of the bar, drinking and dancing with the squad. You loved him, you really did. But definitely not enough to not put a stop to his ego whenever you could.

And if that way was by flaunting how very platonically you felt about him (because he was a self-named womanizer and couldn't understand how anyone could possibly not be attracted to him), you would.

...

It was 2am when Penny told you to pack your things and go. Most of the bar was empty already, except for three or four small groups of people, but those she could manage alone. Usually, maybe, you'd have declined, but tonight....

Well.

Jake had found someone to hook up with after his earlier disappointment and the rest of the squad had left at some point during the last hour too - the rest of the squad except for a particular pornstache guy.

Rooster had said goodbye to Fanboy and Payback ten minutes ago, had assured them he didn't need a ride home, he'd order another drink and then take an uber, had sat down on a bar stool, nursed his beer and watched you clean up and then pack your things. You'd sneaked glances at him now and then, so you knew that he'd watched you.

When you stepped out from behind the bar, he sat up and followed you out of the Hard Deck wordlessly. Armed with a purse, fumbling for your car keys, fighting down the smile on your lips and the bubbling anticipation in your stomach, you took a second outside to close your eyes and breathe in the mild evening air.

Then two arms sneaked around your waist. You let out a sigh as warm breath hit your neck.

"So you'd rather get with me than Bagman, hm, Junior?"

You chuckled, pushing back a little, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to relax for the first time tonight.

"I think you know very well that I'd rather get with you than Bagman, Rooster", you muttered, running your hands up his, up his arms, up naked skin until you could slide your fingertips underneath his shirt, up his shoulders... "I'd rather get with you than anyone."

He pressed a kiss right below your earlobe, bit down softly on the same patch of skin, soothed it again with a kiss.

"Oh, I know", he laughed quietly into your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. You settled even further into his arms. "I'd rather get with you than Bagman, too."

You had to laugh as well - the image of Hangman and Rooster was truly funny. But it was difficult to keep laughing when Bradley pressed more and more kisses to your neck, trailing a line of them down to the hemline of your shirt, nuzzling his nose in there when he couldn't go further. You tilted your head back a little to rest it against his shoulder, a pleasant flush rising up within - a comfortable warmth, the knowledge that you were safe, secure, protected. The way he always made you feel.

"Just to be clear - I do get to get with you tonight, right?", you asked, a grin on your lips because you knew the answer very, very well. Rooster chuckled into your ear and let out a hum.

"What do you think?", he muttered, one last, open-mouthed kiss pressed against your skin before he pulled away, pulled at your hand to twirl you around, pulled a squeal from your lips, one that conjured a smile on his face every time. "Take me home?"

...

The ride home was silent except for the radio in the background, but you were pretty much tuning that out. The steering wheel was sturdy in your hands, the night lights bright and blinding and your concentration on the streets and the car was waning ever so slowly, ever so steadily because Rooster's hand was slowly, steadily inching up your thigh. He'd put it innocently just above your knee when you'd strapped yourself in, his thumb sweeping in circles over the fabric of your jeans, but by now he'd brushed so far up that you were finding it hard to direct your thoughts back to driving.

Luckily, the drive back home only took ten minutes.

You weren't sure you'd have survived even a second more. He squeezed your thigh one last time as you turned the ignition off, then unbuckled his seat belt, opened his door and got out and you were left alone in pure silence for exactly two seconds. You took a deep breath in and out. One day, and you knew that, Bradley would be the death of you. He could get you all riled up with so very little that you felt like you were going mad sometimes. In a very good way, of course.

And just as you were lamenting on the bubbling anticipation in your stomach, on the images your brain conjured whenever you were close to him, whenever you were touching him, whenever-

"Madam", Rooster smiled, leaning one arm on the opened car door and reaching the other hand out for you to take. "Would you do me the honours?"

You could only shake your head and grin at him, giddiness making you squirm in your seat as you pulled your hands away from the steering wheel and put one of them in his.

"I could never deny you any of your wishes, kind sir", you said, allowing him to pull you out of the car and into his arms instead. He hugged you close, tilted his head down to nuzzle your nose with his - you had to put your head back to be able to look into his eyes when you stood this close in front of him, nevermind kissing him.

"Really?", he smiled, his fingertips dancing along your side, hooking into your belt loops, pulling your hips flush to his. You grabbed at his biceps to steady yourself. Or maybe just because you could. "Any of my wishes?"

You let out a sort of agreeable hum and grinned up at him.

"Whatever you want", you nodded.

It was the truth, simple and just. You'd do anything. You'd let him do anything. You trusted him like you'd never trusted anyone before and up until now, you'd only ever been rewarded for putting that kind of trust in him. Something about this felt right. Something about him felt right.

"What if I wanted to spend the rest of the night between your legs?", he muttered, eyes flicking down to your lips as your breath hitched.

"Well", you whispered, because whispering was the only thing you still knew how to do. "As I said, I won't deny you anything."

His eyes met yours and his lip quirked up and then, before you could do anything more, he'd dropped down, wrapped an arm around your legs and hauled you up. You let out a gasp and crossed your arms behind his neck in reflex, a soft, shocked "Rooster!" falling from your lips. Bradley only chuckled, closed the car door with his hip and started carrying you to your front door with seemingly no problem whatsoever.

Gods. Sometimes you forgot just how strong he really was.

But then, in moments like these, he picked you up and threw you onto your bed or pushed you up against a wall and you remembered. And you felt that sting in your stomach that had you press your legs together every time.

Now you didn't even have to remember. Now you were dangling safely from his arms, your hands linked behind his neck, your fingertips buried in his hair, your eyes wide as you watched him, as you tried to steady your irregular breathing because shit, this was happening. This was happening like it had been happening for over three weeks now.

He sat you down carefully in front of the door, but you were in such a trance that you needed to take a moment (or two or three) to stare at him, at this man, this fairytale prince, this god. Your man, your fairytale prince, your god.

"You need to unlock the door, honey", he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and turning you so you were facing the door, his chest pressed to your back, his breath fanning the exposed skin of your neck and right, right, right, the door! The door. The lock. The key. The key in your purse! That key. The key for your door. Right. Key, key, key.... Where the hell was that goddamn key? You were sure it was somewhere there in your purse. You'd put it in there like you always put it in there. Key, Key, Rooster, Rooster's arms around you, Rooster's hands brushing over your skin, Rooster's breath on your ear, Rooster between your legs, Rooster- Key! Key, key, key---

There.

At the very bottom of your purse, finally! There it was. You pulled it out with an almost triumphant sound, unlocked your door to Rooster's soft laughter behind you and stumbled into the dark hallway in a half-intoxicated way that shouldn't have been possible because you hadn't drunk anything tonight.

You threw your purse to the side and switched on the light and turned to Rooster just in time for him to have closed the door behind him and reached for you, his hands on your hips - so big, splayed so wide, his fingers so long - crowding you against the wall, his breath fanning over your mouth and then, finally, his lips on yours.

For the first time today, you were kissing him. He was so wide, so tall, so huge, everywhere all around you, his arms, his hands, his chest, his shoulders, his neck, his chin and his cheeks and his lips and his hair. Your hands sunk into that hair, tugging at the roots and grabbing his head as though your life depended on it, depended on keeping him safely, steadily right on front of you, right here, pushing you against the wall and leaving you practically no room to breathe, to touch, to feel anything other than him.

You wanted him.

With every fibre of your body, your soul, every particle, every cell, you wanted him. You wanted him everywhere all at once and you wanted him now.

So you bit down on his lip and allowed his tongue in and brushed your hands down his shoulders, down his chest to pull off that god-awful Hawaiian shirt that you admittedly found very attractive, but that was so incredibly, annoyingly in the way right now. You tugged it off his chest and down his arms and didn't care when it fell to the floor - that was where it should be, that was where it belonged.

You reached for the top then, for his waist to brush your fingertips below its hem, pushed it up, up, up until you could feel bare skin, washboard abs against your palms. That satisfied you for a moment - for a moment of running your fingers along the sharp edges of his stomach, for a moment of feeling his body heat, for a moment of being closer.

Luckily, Rooster had always been quite in-tune with you. He noticed the very second that your satisfaction turned to impatience, that your roaming, wandering hands weren't exploring, weren't enjoying anymore but were searching, longing for more - for more skin to touch, more, more, more.

He pulled away from your lips to get rid of his top, leaving you a panting, wide-eyed mess and by god, he'd only just gotten started. He hadn't even touched you. How were you already so wound up?

You blamed the fact that you'd had to stare at him from a distance for the past five days (you'd had late night shifts, he'd had early training days) and decided not to think about it further.

Especially not as his top joined his shirt on the floor, as he looked up at you with red smudged on his chin, kiss-swollen lips and unruly hair. His chest was heaving, his breath coming shorter than usual and his pupils had grown so dark you had to swallow hard.

Without thinking, you reached out and tried to wipe your lipstick off his skin.

That made him grin a little.

"Rooster?", you muttered, looking him right in the eyes. He let out a hum as he stared, a bit lost in thought it seemed and still quite shamelessly, only further at your lips. "Either take me to the bedroom or take a step back so I can get on my knees."

He let out a chuckle then and met your eyes, digging his fingers through your belt loops and pulling you a few inches away from the wall.

"I think you may have forgot something, honey", he said. "What about that wish I made?"

You let out a shuddering breath as you tried not to let your imagination run wild.

Rooster only grinned, and it seemed that your expression showed him just how much you didn't mind his wish at all, because he reached around you, grabbed the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, so effortlessly that it made you blush a little. You didn't even have to hold onto him, only had to wrap your legs loosely around his hips as he carried you through the hallway and into the bedroom.

That allowed you to focus all of your attention on pressing your lips to his skin.

He was warm. So warm. You trailed your lips all over his jaw, his throat, his shoulders, his bicep, and then, when you couldn't go any further down, Rooster had already found the light switch in your room and was dropping you onto your bed, pulling a surprised gasp from you.

The mattress was soft and bouncy as you landed on it, heat in your cheeks and your throat tightening at the sight in front of you - Bradley Rooster Bradshaw standing at the foot of of your bed, half-naked, sweaty, breathing heavy and looking down at you like he was a predator and you were his prey, like he wanted to devour you whole.

Which he did.

You raised yourself up onto your elbows at the same time that he advanced - pounding on you, almost, with a grin on his lips that set ablaze the slumbering flame in your abdomen. You didn't know which one of you got rid of your shirt, only that a few seconds later his lips were on yours, his hands reaching for your bra clasp and your shirt discarded somewhere on your floor.

You breathed hard against his mouth as his fingertips brushed along your back, along your bra, then slowly slid it off your shoulders, down your arms...

Cold air hit your breasts just as Rooster pulled away from you to fling your bra away to join your shirt on the floor, leaving you cold and panting, your eyes closing and opening again and staring at him as he stared at you, as he admired you, all bare, soft skin right there, right in front of him, just for him and nobody else.

You felt his palms against your ribcage then, pushing you down onto your back, onto the mattress, your breath hitching and your eyes closing in anticipation. He dropped a kiss onto your collarbone. Another just above your cleavage. Another onto the top of your breasts. His thumbs brushed right below them.

You wanted more. You always wanted more. You needed more.

But he was just trailing kisses along your breasts, never lingering for long enough, never biting or sucking or licking and as much as you were enjoying this... You needed more.

"Rooster", you sighed, dragging your hands through his hair because you needed more. He hummed against your skin. You could feel the vibration all over. "Roos, please."

He grinned - against your skin at first, before he looked up and right at you. "What was that?"

You bit down on your lip. God damn him. He always did this. Every single time, he did this. And the worst part was: You didn't even mind. You didn't mind begging, you didn't mind pleading, you didn't mind doing so much of it that you couldn't do, couldn't say anything else anymore. So you did just that.

"Please", you repeated, a little breathlessly. Rooster's grin widened.

And then he pulled away completely.

You could have screamed. You honestly thought, just for a second, that he would leave you lying there - panting and begging for him, with a bare chest and arousal heating up every part of you. But of course not. Of course not. This was Bradley fucking Bradshaw. He didn't leave you unsatisfied.

No.

Rooster got up from the bed only to grab you by the waist, to pull you down to the edge and kneel down on the floor. You swallowed hard. He fiddled with your shoes first, loosening the laces and taking them off, tugging down your socks and your pants and oh dear lord, you couldn't concentrate on anything he was doing.

He was kneeling in front of your bed. You bit back a moan from that alone.

Any and all forms of Bradley Bradshaw were jaw-droppingly gorgeous, but to you, nothing would ever top the sight of him on his knees for you.

You tuned back in when your jeans thumped to the floor, when his fingertips danced softly, teasingly up your calves, up your knees, up your thighs. You clenched your jaw when he reached your underwear, when his eyes met yours again in one final reassurance that this was what the both of you wanted, and then he pulled it down your legs too and hooked his hands behind your thighs.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You took a deep breath - one, two, one, two.

One, two.

You frowned and blinked open your eyes again.

Rooster was staring at you, blatantly staring at you with a knowing smirk plastered on his lips and his fingers digging into your hips, sure to hold you in place, not allowing you to push even an inch closer to him.

"Roos", you whined, for what already felt like the dozenth time tonight, your hand sinking into his hair, splaying out, tugging at the strands, trying your hardest to pull him in. He didn't move.

"Yes?", he asked, with that grin just deepening, telling you he knew exactly what he was doing.

Of course he did. Of course he'd make you- God, of course, of course, of course! It had been his idea. It had been his plan, his wish, his goddamn idea and now he was making you-

"Fuck", you grumbled, teeth digging into your bottom lip. You didn't want to do this. You didn't want to do this because he hadn't even had you lying here for five minutes and he already wanted you to do this. "Roos, just-"

He bit down softly on the skin of your thigh then, pulling a surprised gasp from you, leaving your sentence hanging half-finished in mid air. You had to tilt your head back, had to throw a hand over your face because gods, you couldn't look at him now! Not with his breath meeting your thigh, with the feeling of his moustache against your skin, not with that grin on his lips. If you did, you'd melt in less than a heartbeat. You weren't about to give in that easily.

At least that was what you told yourself. You repeated it in your head like a mantra - he had barely touched you, he was the one who'd wished for this, you wouldn't... you weren't... you hadn't...

Fuck!

"C'mon honey", he encouraged, pressing a kiss high up on your thigh. You let out a shaky breath. He was close, so close now and he had you wound so tightly, so incredibly tightly that you felt like you were burning up from inside and-

"Bradley", you gave in, the word falling, tumbling from your lips in almost a moan. "Please, Bradley, please."

He was on you in a heartbeat. Licking a stripe up your slit, tongue flattened and you cried out, digging your fingers deeper into his hair, pulling, pushing, back arching off the bed as he finally, finally gave you what you wanted, what you needed. He dove in like a starved man, licking, pushing, tasting you, devoured and ravaged you, took everything and gave everything at the same time.

Bradley was a god. You'd never had a man eat you out like this until you met him.

His hands pressing against your hips to hold you down, to keep you right there for him, not letting you move an inch from him, only letting you push impossibly closer, your mind, your body screaming more. More, more, more. More of him. More from him. More him.

His tongue found your clit. You cried his name into the vast nothingness of your bedroom, eyes squeezing close and hand cramping into the sheets next to your head, thighs clamping around his head, caging him in, his palms forcing your back still on the mattress.

You could faintly make out your own moans, your own voice as his tongue circled, traced and dipped -

More.

He drew your clit into his mouth. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten, send a shiver through your body, make your legs twitch.

Please.

He sunk his tongue into you, brushed your clit, up and down and everywhere.

Bradley.

You were coming close. Close, so close. Every inch of your skin was tensing in anticipation, clenching, clutching. You babbled something of the sort, not listening to yourself, not able to, not starting or stopping, controlling none of your words, none of the sounds falling from your lips. Bradley loosened one of his palms from your hips and immediately you were pushing, arching up, held down a heartbeat later as he pinned his arm down again, his tongue working you, not faltering once and-

pressure.

His thumb on your clit.

You screamed out his name.

Your nails dug into his scalp. Your heels clasped around his back. Every single nerve in your body was on fire. And Bradley didn't stop.

He worked you right through your high, circling his thumb on your clit and sinking his tongue into you, holding you down, holding you close until you were panting, gasping, your legs unclasping from his head, your fingers loosening in his hair, loosening from the bedsheets, your eyes fluttering open, meeting his and only then did he relent. He pulled back softly, stilling his thumb and pressing a kiss to your thigh, watching you as you slowly came back to reality, back to him.

You blinked once. Twice.

He pulled his thumb from you as he rose up from the floor, running his hands along your sides instead, along your ribs, your breasts, your throat, studying the irregular rise and fall of your chest, mapping out your body beneath his. You watched with parted lips as he brought both his hands steadily down next to your head, as he leaned down to meet you in a kiss - heavy and heady and intense and full of all the right emotions. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

But before you could do any more, press yourself up or pull him down, he was gone again, hot breath meeting your lips and that familiar smile crawling back up onto his face.

"Enjoying yourself?", he asked, tilting his head to the side a little, catching the light of the overhead lamp. Wetness glistened on his moustache. You bit down on your bottom lip, doing your hardest to conceal the smile that was fighting to get to the surface.

Instead, you let out an agreeable hum and brought your hand up to his stache to wipe at it, to wipe some of you off him and admittedly, you already knew that wouldn't do much - but the simple act of innocently cleaning him off like that, fingers brushing above his mouth, just caressing his skin, it made something in your stomach churn.

"How about you? Now that we've checked one wish off your list... Any more?", you muttered, trailing your fingers along his cheek, down his scars, following those lines of skin you knew so well, burning them into your mind, burning him into your mind. You'd never seen anyone as beautiful. You didn't think there was anyone as beautiful out there. Your breath hitched, fingertips catching on a birthmark, before you snapped your eyes back up to his. "Any more wishes at all, Bradley?"

A sort of grunt left him as you did your best not to grin - you knew just what buttons to push, didn't you?

"You know", he muttered, dropping his head, brushing his nose down the sensitive skin of your throat. "I could think of a few more things."

"Yeah?", you asked, just on the right side of breathless again, skin tingling wherever he decided to place a few deliberate, almost chaste kisses. "Like what?"

He'd worked his way down to your breasts again, still holding himself up with both his hands.

"I could fuck you nice and slow, just like you deserve it", he said softly, the words flowing from him as easily as if he were talking about breakfast the next day. Rational, sober, collected. You, on the other hand, could feel the wetness pooling in between your legs again. You couldn't believe how reasonable, how practical, how composed he could stay while he said things like that - how he'd fuck you, how he'd eat you out, how he'd pull every single thought from your mind with his fingers and his mouth and his cock.

"Or", he went on, completely unbothered still, stopping in between words to drop kisses onto your breasts. "I could fuck you hard and fast, because that's what you want, right?"

A moan tumbled from your lips all of its own accord, your eyes fluttering shut again. He was conjuring visuals in your mind that had you clenching your legs together, hands clawing their way back up into his hair - you needed something to keep you here and now, to keep you grounded.

"I'm right, honey, aren't I?", he muttered, obviously satisfied with himself. "You want me to fuck you rough, don't you?"

You were sure you'd crossed some border into heaven and just hadn't realised it. This man would truly be the death of you one day.

"Yes", you breathed, scratching at his scalp, tugging at the roots of his hair. "Yes, please, Bradley."

You could feel his grin against your bare skin.

"You look so pretty begging for me, honey", he smiled, raising himself up and before you could complain much about it, before you could as much as open your eyes again, he was dropping a kiss to your lips, long and longing, parted lips pressed against each other, breathing each other in.

Then he pulled away from you completely and you did let a whine fall from your lips after all, raising yourself up onto your elbows to blindly follow after him as he straightened up and then bent down to pull off his shoes, his socks, to fumble with his belt - all in fucking slow motion apparently, that's how long it took, two hours just to take off his goddamn socks and you were just sitting there, staring, blinking, hazy mind clearing up the way it always had to after you'd been so close to him, watching, staring, watching, staring...

An eternity, it seemed, until you grew too impatient and decided to take matters into your own hands. Quite literally.

You pushed yourself up, reached for his belt yourself, pulled it from its buckle, unhooked it, opened it finally, finally, finally! and blinked up at him again, all wide eyes and smudged lipstick and swollen lips and Bradley felt pretty sure he died a little just then - this had to be heaven, you had to be heaven. You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and your tongue ran along your lips and he had to swallow hard.

His jeans fell to the floor, chased quickly by his boxer briefs and you took a deep breath as you looked at him, leaning forward, leaning in to reach for him-

He took both your hands in his and pushed you down on the mattress again, another of those pathetic whines dropping from your lips at being denied the feeling of him.

"Fuck, Roos, please", you begged, sounding pitiful to your own ears by now, pleading for something you knew he'd give to you anyway, just so goddamn impatient that you couldn't even help the words rolling off your tongue.

He let go of your hands, reached for your waist instead to pull you up, to tug you firmly farther up the mattress until he could follow after safely, until he could nudge your knees apart and trail a line of kisses up your shoulder, his hands finding their usual spot next to your head.

"What was that, honey?", he grinned against your skin, holding himself up above you to look you right in the eyes.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled a moan from yourself and a similar groan from him, squeezed your eyes shut and had immediately forgotten what it'd been you'd said before. What it'd been he was asking about.

He brought one hand down to your thigh, squeezing tight, holding you even tighter to him, and pressed his hips down into the mattress, pulling another moan from you and, again, a similar groan from himself, making sure that you couldn't move against him on your own, that you were completely at his mercy.

As always.

"Please", you whined, desperate now, trying to rock your hips against his and not succeeding, not succeeding because he was holding you still, holding you down, holding you helpless and defenseless, withholding the one goddamn thing you wanted from him right now. And after all that talk too! "Roos, please, Bradley, do something."

You were far from whining now, breathless and moaning and sobbing basically, hands clawing at his shoulders and nails digging into his skin, begging and pleading and he was just holding still, doing nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing and you wanted more, you wanted something, anything.

"Look at me", he panted then - the only sign at all that he was somehow affected by this as well. "Look at me, honey, open your eyes."

And what else were you supposed to do but follow that command, grant him that wish?

So you forced your eyes open, forced yourself to look at him.

A thin layer of sweat gleaned on his skin. His stare was fixed on you and you alone. And his pupils had dilated so far that his usually hazel eyes were practically black now. You sucked in an unsteady breath.

"Good girl", he praised and you were done for.

You could have come from that alone.

Those two words, breathed into the nothingness of the room, onto your lips, onto your naked skin, sent a shiver down your spine, down your back and your hips and your legs, a shiver so violent that it pulled a moan right with it, a string of them. You barely heard Bradley's groan above you before he pulled away just the slightest bit, pulled away to brush his hand down your side, down your chest, down your hips, between your bodies, to reach for himself and stroke his tip through the wetness between your legs, your back arching off the mattress, into him, into more of him and-

"Wait", you panted.

Bradley froze immediately. His expression shifted to worry in the span of half a second, furrowing his brows and pulling away from you.

"What's wrong?", he asked, still breathless. You closed your eyes and took a breath, tensing, forcing yourself to keep down on the mattress, even as cold settled on your skin now that he wasn't warming you up anymore - inches away from you again. Considerate idiot.

"Just-", you stopped, opened your eyes, looked right at him. "Do you think Jake suspects anything?"

Bradley kept still for a few seconds. A shallow breath and another, your chest rising and falling and you had a hard time thinking, even now that he was barely touching you anymore. You were wound tightly, and you'd been so close, and now...

"You're not seriously thinking about Jake right now", Bradley said, almost accusingly.

You had to admit, it was a bit strange - you were naked, panting, your legs wrapped around his hips, and still you were thinking about Jake, about the bet, about what you'd said hours ago at the bar. You hadn't even been thinking about it, really. It had just come to you, overwhelming you, and you... you had needed to get it out. Still, you did have to admit, it was absurd.

So you bit down on your lip to conceal a smile, a grin, trailed your hands to his hair to brush it behind his ears, almost innocently (but just almost).

"I'm sorry, I just...", you whispered, stroking your hands down his scalp. "We've kept this between us for three weeks now. I don't want to have ruined that."

Bradley shook his head at you, dropped it to his chin, his curls brushing your nose, your cheeks, and sighed onto the skin of your throat.

"You're unbelievable", he muttered, dropping a kiss between your breasts now that he knew you weren't uncomfortable or afraid or anything of the sort in the slightest. Your breath hitched again. You didn't want to talk about this. You wanted him inside you, wanted him to make good on his promise from before. But you knew you had to, because otherwise the thought wouldn't leave you alone, even though the coil in your stomach, the heat in your body screamed bloody murder at you for it.

He looked back up, raised his chin again to meet your eyes.

"Don't worry about Jake", he reassured, one hand starting to softly, just so very softly, brush up and down your side. You had to swallow. "He won't even remember tomorrow."

He dropped another kiss onto your skin, a little further down, that grin, that moustache against your ribs.

"And I'll make sure you won't remember either, pretty girl. Alright?"

You nodded so quickly you almost got a head rush, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, head tilting back just the slightest, your fingers digging into his hair as his lips trailed down your skin, the covers rustling as he settled further back, as his breath ghosted over your center again.

"Need to hear you say it, honey. Say it for me."

"Please", you babbled instantly, not even thinking, not even close, not when Bradley was giving you such easy instructions to follow. "Please, Roos, please."

You could feel him shake his head, obviously unsatisfied, breathing hard, hands travelling up and down your thighs and nothing more, leaving you in some state of being touched but not really being touched and you felt like going insane again.

"Try again, honey", he tutted, and you were already about to plead, to beg even more when he went on - "Look at me, baby, look at me and try again."

You blinked open your eyes, tilted your head down to look at him, all pretty and wide-eyed, just like he'd asked, your fingers cramping in his hair.

"Please, Roos-"

He raised his eyebrows and you knew then, you knew where your mistake had been - you should've known before, you should've-

"Bradley", you moaned. "Please, Bradley, I want you. I need you."

He grinned at that, dropped a kiss to your thigh before flattening his tongue against your folds again, drawing another moan from you. Your eyes stayed fixed on his, but only because you knew he wanted you to, only because you knew he needed you to. His palms splayed out against the backs of your thighs, keeping them still, as always.

His tongue drew a circle on your clit and you arched off the bed, into him, a whine tumbling from your lips, followed by his name. He pulled back much too quickly, much too easily, with a much too satisfied grin on his lips, looking up at you for just a second before he leaned down to drop a kiss to your hip.

"Bradley", you complained, cut off by your own moan when you felt his fingers trail through your wetness instead of his tongue, all soft and slow and you rocked your hips against his hand - more friction, more touch, more, more, more.

You hadn't been kidding when you'd said that you wanted him. That you needed him.

Bradley chuckled, kissing his way up your body again, one hand next to your head to hold himself up just the way he'd done before, but his fingers brushing, stroking, his thumb on your clit, moan after moan spilling from you. You needed more. More.

You tried to shift closer, tried to cant your hips into his palm for more, blinking up at him and whimpering and fuck, Bradley was just human after all, how could he deny you anything if you looked at him like that? So he started drawing little circles with his thumb, little circles on your clit, and pushed a finger into you.

You rewarded him with the soft sound of his name rolling off your tongue, your hands reaching for his arms, clawing at his biceps. You had needed this, had needed him and now... Now you needed more. More, even as he pulled his finger from you and pushed in again, starting in a slow, easy rhythm, drawing little moans, quiet whimpers from you. You rocked your hips back onto him, pushed for more. More.

"More", you voiced your thoughts, begging, pleading again - you weren't getting what you wanted, you weren't getting what you wanted, you weren't getting what you wanted! And you'd been so close, you'd been so goddamn close, but now he was just lazily pushing his finger into you, with one of those grins on his lips that told you he knew what he was doing incredibly well too. He was a tease, a goddamn tease, and you-

"More what, honey?", Bradley asked, interrupting your thoughts, your spiraling thoughts as his finger moved ever so slowly, teasing, playing.

You let out a whine as he stilled completely, his finger nestled inside you, touching you but not touching you enough, not nearly enough and he'd make you go crazy one day, he would! You tried to push your hips into his hand. Not that it did anything.

"More what?", Bradley asked again, looked at you as you refocused on his face, his eyes because you knew he'd want you to. He always wanted you to look at him.

"Please", you whispered. "Bradley."

His smile deepened, but he didn't move.

"Nice try, baby", he chuckled. "But that wasn't the question."

You grumbled and tilted your head back, squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. You wanted more. And he was making you say exactly what.

Putting the power in your hands, it seemed - but you knew it wasn't that. He'd already promised you to do just what you wanted, had said it so easily, so soberly that he'd left you dazed. And now he was asking you to do the same.

You couldn't. He knew you couldn't.

So you let out a small whimper, let your head fall to the side to look at him again, eyes wide and teeth digging into your bottom lip and kept still as best as you could, even as the desire, the need to fuck yourself on his finger grew with every passing breath - trying to make sure that he wouldn't tease you further. He'd done that before already, you knew that he could and he would.

He seemed to have realised it too, your legs, your hips calm now, your eyes fixed on his.

"Please fuck me, Bradley", you said softly, only a little breathlessly, a little nervous around the edges, doing your best not to let your restraint show. You weren't used to just saying stuff like that out loud. It was different, somehow, to say it, and to say it right to his face too.

But as much as you tried to hide it, your body still had the same reaction - breath coming shorter, heat shooting straight to your cheeks, the coil in your stomach tightening again.

Bradley's eyes on yours didn't make it any better.

Neither did his grin as he pulled his finger from you, pulled a moan from your lips right with it, as he brushed it through your folds, up and down before his fingertip stopped on your clit.

"Fuck you how, honey?", he asked. He wanted you to lose your mind, you were sure of that. You bit down on your lip, furrowed your brows, forced yourself to think, to keep thinking even though he was drawing circles on your clit now, bringing you back to the endless loop of more, more, more in your mind.

"Fuck me-", you panted, starting and stopping, closing your eyes. "Rough, please, Bradley. Please."

He pulled his fingers from you entirely, chuckling as you mewled and blinked up at him again, as you watched him raise his hand to your lips. You parted them in reflex, let him push his fingers into your mouth, rest them on your tongue. This, finally, was something you felt much less nervous about. So you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked his fingers clean.

Bradley had you well acquainted with the taste of yourself by now. Not that you minded.

You made sure to keep your eyes fixed on his as you brushed your tongue along his fingertips. He let out some sort of sound caught between a moan and a groan and a curse and, maybe, your name, and you had a hard time keeping your grin concealed as you sucked, spurred on not only the fire in your own abdomen, but in Bradley's as well, red heating up your cheeks and your legs growing restless.

You were getting impatient again. You needed more.

Luckily, it seemed that Bradley had about enough of this as well.

He pulled his fingers from you with a pop, shook his head with a grin, trailed a line of your spit around your breasts, around your nipples.

"You look sinful", he muttered, dropping a kiss to your lips before you could even begin to think about a response, all open mouth and breathing each other in, the taste of you on both your tongues. "Tell me again how you want me to fuck you rough, honey. Just once more. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, nodded without thinking, panting a bit now, pressing your legs together at his voice, at the look in his eyes, at... at him, at everything about him. You needed him. You'd do anything he asked.

"Fuck me rough, Bradley. Please."

His eyes darkened further. He brought his lips down on yours again, firmer now, heavier now, claiming your mouth, your tongue, your lips, claiming you, back to the familiar, thrilling predator and prey game that the two of you had abandoned at some point along the way.

"Good girl", he rasped.

You let out a pitiful moan. God, this man would absolutely be the death of you.

Good girl.

You couldn't press your legs together any further, couldn't possibly get any more friction, could only whine and whimper and moan and wait, wait as Bradley reached between your bodies and finally, finally, finally pushed into you.

You'd been waiting for this for the past five days.

You let out some pathetic sounding sob of his name as he pressed his hips snugly to yours, stretching you out in the best of possible ways, dropping his lips to your throat, to your neck. You clawed at his arms, at his shoulders, pulled him close to you, even closer. Eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, breath hitching.

Bradley gave you the entirety of half a second to adjust to him, half a second in which you could barely get past the moan of his name before he was moving, thrusting, his cock sliding in and out of you, drawing sounds you'd have been embarrassed about in any other situation.

But you could barely hear them.

You could barely do anything other than moan, anything other than scratch, hold, claw at him, anything other than let him wrap your legs around his waist and push in, pull out, push in again, his hold on your thigh so firm you'd see the marks tomorrow.

He fucked you with a relentlessness that reduced you to a mess of numb limbs, that pulled every last thought from you, one by one - with a rhythm, unfaltering, unwavering, with soft grunts and moans rolling off his tongue, with his mouth moving against your skin, working his way up to yours.

You met his lips in a frenzy, your hands tangled somewhere in his hair, your nails scratching somewhere down his back, your legs wrapped around his hips, your lips parted, your moans swallowed, his cock sliding in and out of you, the delicious drag of him building, setting alight the coil in your stomach.

You'd been waiting for this for too long. You wouldn't last much longer, not after he'd already pulled the first orgasm from you. Not after he'd been building you up for so long.

"Bradley", you moaned against his lips. "More."

He pulled back an inch and you blinked your eyes open, focused on him, on the blush on his cheeks and the rise and the fall of his chest as he slowed down a bit, drawing another whine from you, feeling different now, slower yes, but more deliberate maybe, more teasing maybe, hitting other spots, dragging it out, feeling more and less intense all the same and - most importantly - letting your close, so close grow weaker and weaker and weaker.

"You know-", Bradley panted, letting his thumb brush over the skin of your thigh, loosening his grip just the slightest. "You know how to ask, pretty girl."

A sob made its way past your lips. You wanted more, you needed more - you'd be good for him, you wanted to be good for him, but you forgot, you brushed right past it when he had you like this. So wasn't it his fault, really?

"Fuck me harder, Bradley", you whimpered - you'd lost the ability to feel embarrassed somewhere along the way. You didn't care anymore, not with his cock so slowly sliding in and out of you, not with his eyes on yours, not with... no, not anymore, you needed more now and you were desperate to get it, already rocking your hips back onto him in search of more - more friction, more touch, more him.

He pressed his lips to yours again, back to claiming you, back to firm, back to teeth and tongue before pulling away, pulling out, pulling another wail from you as he sat back on his ankles, hard and panting.

Then his hands clasped around your waist and you had no time to react before he had turned you over, your face smushed into the pillow, fingers reaching up to dig into the sheets.

He thrust back into you in one swift motion.

And you screamed.

You didn't know how he did it - you didn't want to know, really - but he hit that sensitive spot inside of you instantly, the new position allowing new depth, allowing new touches, new feelings, new and more and you couldn't think, could only touch, only feel.

Only touch, only feel him.

The drag of him, the push of him, the way he hit all those spots he needed to hit to have you up there, to have you close within seconds again.

He trailed his fingertips along your spine, sent a shiver through your body as he fucked you rough, just like you'd asked of him so very, very nicely. He reached your neck, reached around to your throat and when his fingers brushed along your jaw, he clasped his hand around it and pulled. Pulled you up, right to his chest, sweat sticking to your skin as you moaned his name.

You let your head drop back onto his shoulder, gave him more skin to touch, more of your body to claim, more of you to make his as he thrust relentlessly into you, as his other hand brushed between your legs, up your thighs until his fingers met your clit, pushed down and pulled an even louder moan of his name from you.

His hand closed around your throat at the same time.

You choked back a gasp, breath hitching, back arching off him and into him both, more and less clashing in your mind because this was what you wanted, this was what you'd begged him for, but all of it so suddenly, following each other so closely - too much, not enough.

You clenched around him.

Bradley let out a moan - his lips against your ear, the sound of it in every fibre of your body, of your mind, of your soul. And that was it for you.

You came with another cry of his name - a scream, a sob, maybe, or none of it, you weren't sure - maybe you let out no sound at all, rendered silent for once. The world was white for a second, your mouth dry, your throat hoarse, pleasure coarsing through every vein, every limb, every muscle, every bone.

You went slack against him. Your legs gave out, your eyes fell shut, your arms, your hands loose at your sides, and the only reason you didn't fall back onto your mattress were Bradley's arms around you - on your throat, around your hips. His fingertips circling your clit still, his hips snug to yours as he bit down on your shoulder, as he reached his own high, his moustache scratching deliciously against your skin, grounding you as your breath slowly came back to normal, as you won back the feeling in your legs.

You stayed still for a minute - just catching your breath, allowing yourself to take whatever time you needed to come back to yourself, to really notice the way Bradley held you up all on his own, the way his chest felt against your back, the way he had his lips pressed to the skin of your shoulder, the way his thumbs brushed ever so softly up and down, one along your throat, one along your stomach.

You never wanted this to end.

You were warm and safe and satisfied in his arms.

A slow smile spread on your face. Bradley's breath fanned softly over the shell of your ear. You could feel your own heart beat in your chest.

"Satisfied now, honey?", Bradley rasped, voice rough in all the right ways, his lips ghosting over your neck. You let out a soft hum in agreement. He chuckled against your skin.

"I'm gonna let go of you now, princess", he cautioned (you could just so push back the whine that wanted to escape) before ever so slowly, ever so carefully pulling his hand from your throat, pulling his arm from around you - softly pushing down on your back instead, hands wrapped around your hips again, laying you back down on the mattress and then turning you over. The bed was cold in comparison to him. Cold and lonely.

He had to pull out as he lay you down and that whine left your lips after all - you were empty and cold and lonely now and you wanted him, more of him, all of him again. Your legs were mushy and your mind still reeling, but you didn't have to think much anyway, not when you knew just what you wanted. You reached out, arms, hands in mid air as you tried to grab him, any of him.

He was sitting back on his ankles, running his hands through his hair, meeting your eyes as he saw you reach out for him. He looked positively exhausted.

You got hold of his hands and pulled him down, onto you. He brought them - and yours right with them - down next to your head in reflex, effectively pinning you down, and though neither of you had planned that, you still had to fight back a smile.

You were breathless, chest still heaving with the sticky intoxication of the moment, sweaty and hot and satisfied, truly, and you wanted him to wrap you up in his arms now and let you fall asleep on his chest.

Instead, he leaned in with a grin and kissed you. Kissed you with all the fiery passion fading into heady contentment, slow and deliberate, because he had all the time in the world now - it was the middle of the night and both of you were growing tired, your bones heavy, your muscles aching deliciously, your thoughts quiet, lazy almost. The middle of the night where romance could now dominate what had before been lust's reign.

That was what this felt like, Bradley's body on yours, his skin sticky with sweat, his fingers intertwined with yours, pushing down into the mattress. This felt like golden honey dripping down onto the reality of the moment, like gods' ichor flowing in your veins, like unnecessarily long and flowery metaphors for a feeling you felt too afraid to name this early on.

Bradley pulled away, let go of your hands and sat back once more - you followed him on some invisible kind of string, pushing up onto your palms, blinking at him in confusion.

He dropped another quick kiss onto your lips with a chuckle.

"Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?", he asked, a grin playing on his lips, his hands brushing over your ribcage, your stomach as though he, too, had some carnal need to keep touching you, to keep his fingertips moving over your skin at all times.

You closed your eyes, allowed the smile on your face to grow as wide as it wanted, and nodded at him.

"Yes, please, Roos", you mumbled, bathing in the yellow light of your bedroom lamp, in the soft buzzing of the ac, in the rhythmic tic-toc of your kitchen clock. In all these daily-life things, because they weren't daily-life right now. Right now, Bradley had just fucked you, right now, Bradley was sitting in front of you, right now, Bradley had his hands on your body, right now... Right now, you were happy, happy and satisfied, content with the world.

"Back to Rooster, are we?", he asked, drew his hands back from you and got up. Your smile deepened.

"I thought you liked your callsign", you quipped back innocently, eyes opening again as he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off of your mattress, into the air, just because he could, just because you wanted him to. You didn't think you'd ever possibly get tired of his strength. He was a bit like your own, personally crafted superhero.

"I do", he muttered. You crossed your arms behind his neck, pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. "But the entire squad uses it."

"Oh", you said, exactly like that, because oh, indeed. "So when I say Rooster..."

"I think of work."

You pulled back a bit to look at him, even as his eyes were focused on the wall, trying to find the light switch for the bathroom.

"And you don't like that", you concluded, teeth digging into your bottom lip as a thought struck you. "You don't like thinking of work, Lieutenant?"

Bradley froze.

Bullseye.

"What did you say?"

His eyes focused on you, fixated on you, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed. You did your best try at an innocent smile, at a doe-eyed look somehow, but you doubted you achieved anything even remotely close.

"Lieutenant", you muttered again, heat pooling in your lap once more simply at the look on his face. You'd uncovered another one of his layers and you were already anticipating the consequences. "Do you want me to beg again?"

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