Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Assistant!Female Reader
Summary: You saw the picture, you looked at the pairing, we all know why you're here. But, incase it's not obvious...
As the assistant to CEO Bucky Barnes of Alpine Industries, you're tasked with helping keep his life on track. As CEO of Alpine Industries, Bucky Barnes is meant to be running a multimillion dollar corporation. Not fantasizing about his assistant.
Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, porn literally zero plot, like...none. daddy kink (but are we surprised?). age gap. power imbalance. ceo!bucky is kind of a perv, but itâs fine. ceo!bucky talks you through it, oral f!receiving. spitting. unprotected p in v (i'm not even going to bother telling you to wrap it, i'd baby trap him too idc). no use of y/n. no descriptors for reader at all. the pictures in the mood board are just for the aesthetic <3
Word Count: 4k
Chirps: I don't even know y'all. I blacked out and somehow this (and...other things) were on my screen. I swear it must've been the wind. Sebastian if you're seeing this, 1. Please DO NOT click read more. 2. I really do need to work on my kinkmas fics so if you can just not make an appearance until the end of November that'd be great. you're really getting me off track my guy. Not betaâd or proofread, if you see mistakes no ya donât. Iâm so sorry yâall have to witness me being a whore.
DT: @barnes-babydoll and @sassandscribbles who caught me being horny on main
Masterlist | AO3
Now, Alexa, play Freak by Doja Cat
Bucky Barnes, CEO of Alpine Industries, had a problem. And it wasn't one he could get rid of by money or negotiation like any other issue in his life.
It was you. His much younger assistant that had shown so much intellectual promise when you completed your internship with his company. He offered you the job as soon as you graduated college; contributing to furthering your education if you wanted and all but promising you whatever position at the company you desired once there was an opening.
And yes, while you did make everything in his life better and easier, you had him questioning every single moral fiber in his body and testing his restraint at every turn.
Encouraging you to call him 'sir' was a giant mistake. One that cost him his sanity every damn day. Because every time those three god damn letters slipped past those perfect lips of yours he could feel the tension rising in his body and the blood rushing to his cock.
Eventually all he imagined when he looked at you was how he could easily bend you over whatever piece of furniture you were closest to while you shuddered and clenched around him. Your mouth parted, eyes rolling back in your head while you gasped nonsense. Until he would lightly tap your cheek and make sure you said 'sir' just as âŠ
"Mr. Barnes?" you called sweetly, pushing into his office with a file in your hand. It's lucky your eyes were preoccupied so he could situate his lap further under his desk.
You seeing how hard he was at the mere idea of claiming you would not have been appropriate.
"Bucky," he corrected you. Hearing his last name slip between your lips was almost as bad as 'sir'.
"Oh! Right, sorry sir, Bucky," you continued entirely unperturbed and oblivious to his current predicament. "Here's the forms I need you to sign, plus I have your schedule for the charity gala tomorrow."
You leaned over the desk using two freshly manicured fingers to slide the paperwork towards him. Your other hand had wrapped along the edge of the desk for balance. Bucky briefly had a vision of what your hand would look wrapped around something else entirely while you begged him toâŠ
His thoughts were cut short as you held a pen in his vision. His eyes snapped up to your small saccharine smileâŠand then they betrayed him by dipping to the v-neck of your blouse where your perfect tits were sitting so elegantly in what he could only assume was a pushup bra designed for temptation. Your necklace disappearing between the valley of your breasts was basically begging for him to lift a finger and pluck it free.
He really needed to enforce a dress code. Maybe full length nun robes may quell these flashes of desire.
"Thank you, sir," you said, gathering the now signed forms.
"I'd like for you to attend the gala as well," Bucky suddenly found himself saying. The schedule looked dreadfully boring, as they all were, and at least your company would preoccupy his mind during whatever long winded speeches the other benefactors would give.
Your eyes turned wide as you adjusted the papers in your arms. Oh what he wouldn't give to see you with that expression on your knees with your mouth open andâŠ
"I don't, uhâŠI didn't prepare to attend so I don't have anything appropriate to wear," you stuttered out, dragging Bucky's attention back to reality. Your posture going rigid when you realized you failed to meet an expectation.
So eager to please, here you were endearingly nervous at the mere thought of disappointing him.
Bucky produced a sleek black card from his wallet holding it in the space between you. "Go get yourself something."
Your fingers reached out hesitantly, plucking the card from his grasp. In doing so, you grant him the rare pleasure of feeling your smooth skin as your hand brushes his. You take a step back, heels clicking on the tile floor unsteadily. Your thumb is brushing along the black metal when Bucky can tell you're about to protest.
He shut it down before you could even start. "Just say thank you and go shopping. I trust you not to get too carried away."
Your mouth snaps shut, teeth dragging across your bottom lip before you whisper a quiet, "thank you, sir." You turn slowly and make your way back out of his office. He's momentarily entranced by the subtle sway of your hips in that damn skirt you just insisted on wearing, the only thing breaking him from the hypnotic spell is when the door clicks and you're on the other side of it.
At this point he's sure you're some kind of temptress disguised as the picture of innocence. Because he just handed over his no limit American Express card without hesitation, his dick was still achingly hard, and all you had to do was get a little flustered and bat your eyelashes.
He scrubbed a hand down his face, tapping his fingers along his jaw as he glanced back at the door. "Fuck it," he grumbled, undoing his belt and palming his erection.
He wasn't going to be able to focus on his next conference call if all he could think about was replacing his cock with that damned necklace of yours.
The following afternoon, the tailor pulled a pinstriped three-piece suit from a garment bag. âThis is the one, Mr. Barnes.â
His name didn't sound as good coming from the elderly man as it did from youâŠ
Speaking of you, once he dressed, he snapped a picture and sent it off. You had orchestrated the fitting after all, and he wasn't even sure if this is what you had chosen.
'Does this look right?'
Your phone buzzed just as you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup. In a chain reaction of events you certianly weren't prepared for when you picked your boss's outfit out months ago, your mouth went dry, the brush in your hand went clattering into the sink, and your knees threatened to give out.
Did it look right, you scoffed internally. In theory yes, that was the correct suit. In all actuality, you had several other answers lined up.
It would look better on the floor.
That tie would look great around your wrists.
His hand would look better wrapped around your throat instead of that phone.
You rolled your shoulders back, the heat already rising in your body did not bode well for the fact that you were about to spend the rest of the night next to him. No matter, you could let your imagination run wild when you got home still smelling of his cologne.
You quickly typed back 'yes, sir' and went back to the task at hand: making yourself presentable enough to spend a night surrounded by glitz and glamour.
The phone nearly dropped from his grip when he saw your response. SurelyâŠsurely you had made a mistake. A typo somehow.
But what an error for it to be.
The words 'yes, daddy' were branded across the screen in response to his question.
It should not have felt like you poured gasoline on the fire simmering under his veins. But nowâŠnow Bucky's imagination was running faster with those eight letters, wondering how you would sound saying them in the throes of pleasure while pressed into a mattress. Your breasts bouncing with each thrust while he held your thighs open, your back arching as your pussyâŠ
"Is that the correct suit, sir?"
Bucky cleared his throat, nodding his thanks. When was he ever going to get to finish a thought around here?
He looked back down at his phone to make sure he hadn't imagined the words. And he hadn't. Which meant he had two choices. Leave it be for you to realize and handle the situation somehow, or him to draw attention to it.
His brain told him what the rational option was. Too bad his cock seemed to be calling for him to rectify this situation louder.
Bucky arrived to your apartment in a sleek, black town car, looking entirely out of place among your modest neighborhood. Once he got over the initial jolt of desire, he had decided to just let it go. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass you, and drawing attention to your little faux pas would make for an embarrassing evening. It was better to just leave it.
But then you opened the door.
His credit card had seemingly delivered the final test of temptation on a silver platter, in the form of a deep red satin dress that hugged your curves in all of the right places. The strapless sweetheart neckline pushed the supple flesh of your breasts up in a tantalizing way that made it hard for Bucky to not to want to bury his face between them.
The A line skirt accentuated your waist and hips, pouring down your body like molten lava that matched the rising temperature in his very being. A daringly high slit was cut in the fabric, showing off more of your leg than he'd ever seen before.
"Is it not okay?" your voice sounded panicked as your hands timidly smoothed over the bodice.
It was perfect. So perfect, Bucky was having a hard time not saying fuck it to the charity gala, pushing you back into your apartment, and ripping it off of you with his teeth.
But he couldn't say that.
"It'sâŠno, you look great," Bucky cleared his throat offering his arm.
You ducked your head, but he didn't miss that proud smile at the compliment as he led you to the waiting car. Nodding politely at the driver, he held the door open and watched you gracefully slide in.
The car pulled away from the curb when you were both situated. Bucky hit a small button causing a dark privacy partition to slowly slide up, separating the both of you from the driver and isolating you in a bubble of heat and Italian leather.
Working beside him and coming into his office was vastly different than sitting here in an enclosed space. And you were sure you were just imagining the heat behind his gaze as he glanced over at you while city lights flickered past your features.
You reached for your phone, needing something to preoccupy your hands and mind. Instead of pulling up an app or going over his schedule, your heart stopped and what felt like ice flooded your veins.
Right there, encased in pixels under his name in the messages app: "Yes, daddy."
Not "sir." Not "Mr. Barnes." Hell, not even "Bucky." Daddy.
Something you really only called him in your private daydreams or nighttime rituals. There was no talking yourself out of this one.
You were sure you were fired and would likely have to pay for this dress from your last paycheck. How humiliating. You'd be out of a job, and have nothing to show for it except a red satin reminder of your Freudian fuck-up. Your hand scrambled for the car door handle, desperate to put space between you and the shame that was slowly filling the car.
But just as you were about to push the door open at a stop light, Bucky moved faster. Caging you against the sleek leather seats as his arm grabbed the door and held it closed.
He wasn't even sure what he was about to do, just that he was not about to let you run away when you looked like the embodiment of every single sinful thought he'd have had.
"You have daddy issues, sweetheart?" Voice low and amused. Almost dangerous underneath the tone that always made your thighs clench involuntarily.
You blink up at him, first surprised at the sheer power rolling from his frame, then at the pet name that had warmth flooding into your lower belly, then the fact that he clocked you so easily. He didn't look angry. He lookedâŠcurious.
Lamely all you could do was nod, because yeah, your dad not being present in your life had kind of fucked up any relationship you'd ever had with older men with any sort of authority over you. To your surprise Bucky's mouth quirked up into a teasing grin before he leaned in closer so his mouth was right by your ear.
"Do you want me to help you work through those issues?" his voice was a rough whisper, a shadow caressing along every dark thought in the deepest corners of your mind. The intent in his words dripping with honeyed lust.
Your breath hitched feeling the stubble of his beard skate across your skin, sending even more want through your body.
This was so wrong. You shouldn't want this; sleeping with your boss who was nearly double your age couldn't end well. The fact that it was happening after some subconscious slip of a nickname you'd never called any man before, let out alone your own father, was just morally reprehensible. So why was your body aching like you had already said yes?
There was a brief blink and you'd miss it moment where you debated saying no. But then his hand drifted from the door to your thigh. Heat and electricity traveled through the fabric of your dress, settling low in your belly until you found yourself drifting towards it. And then you realize this very may well be your only chance to see if he's as skilled as your fantasies about him are.
You meet his gaze finally, seeing the bold hunger in those blue irises that are almost swallowed by the black of his pupils. Your heart skips every other beat while you lean into the warmth of his touch.
All you can really do is nod, not trusting your voice to come out as anything more than a strangled noise.
He smiles like a wolf who has finally cornered its prey. And you were ready to be devoured.
His lips claim yours, soft at first, while his fingers slipped under the slit of your dress, warm and exploratory traveling directly for what he had been dreaming about since he hired you. You sigh into it, letting shaky hands drift up his chest and under the suit coat.
A hand came up to cup your jaw, a commanding thumb unhinging it so he could deepen the kiss. His tongue slid in, greedy and hungry, leaving you whimpering and completely at his mercy.
"You always take such good care of me, sweetheart, always know what I need," he murmured, when he pulled away just enough for his lips to brush yours with every word.
Your heart leapt into your throat, the mind melting realization that oh, he does indeed talk you through it had your legs parting on instinct to make room for his large body.
He took the invitation, turning you gently in the cramped space of the backseat. The cool window kissed your shoulder as you settled back on the door, the red material of your dress bunching around your hips as Bucky wrapped your thigh around his waist.
Just as he commanded a boardroom, he didn't ask for permission. He just started to claim. Hands already traveling up your bare thigh until they reached the lace edge of your panties that were doing very little to conceal the pool of your desire.
"Fuck you're soaked, sweetheart," he growled against your neck as his thumb swiped along your clothed center. The light touch sent sparks through every limb, your fingers scrambled to hold onto the expensive leather seats, hoping something would ground you against the way he was already pulling you apart.
"I haven't even properly touched you and you're trembling."
He pushed the lace fabric aside as his mouth continued its assault on your neck and shoulder. Two large fingers stroked one long swipe through your arousal before settling into an easy circular rhythm on your clit.
Your mouth fell open on a moan, nails clawing into the leather as heat built in your belly with every slow stroke.
"There you go," he hummed in approval, pulling back to watch pleasure crest over your features. "Does that feel good?"
"Yes sir," you managed to breath out, just as a finger pressed past your entrance. The stretch had you arching into his touch, body begging for more before you had a chance to think about it.
You were so fucking perfect. So pliable under his touch. And he hadn't even needed to ask you to call him that. You just did it.
"Such a good girl, always knowing exactly what I need," he cooed, adding in a second finger. "You know what I need right now? Need you to let me taste that pussy and see if it's as sweet as you are."
Your eyes flew open just in time to see him already ducking his head, using the hand that wasn't already preoccupied he pushed your skirt out of the way. He withdrew enough to slide the ruined lace down your legs, a whimper leaving your throat at the sudden absence.
"Such a pretty little thing," Bucky mumbled against your inner thighs as he settled between your legs. "I'm going to fucking ruin you."
His tongue ran one broad swipe between your folds just as his fingers had, a deep groan vibrating against your core as he finally tasted what he'd been dreaming about for months.
His movements were precise; circling the bundle of nerves, laying his tongue flat until it curled and sucked your clit between his lips.
Your hips jerked at the sensation, thighs clamping around his head as a moan that may have been his name spilled from your mouth. Even as the car rounded a corner, he held you steady in the small space, not even reacting to the movement. It seemed he was solely intent on seeing just how loud he could get you to moan his name.
Your back arched off the leather, fingers tangling in his hair that had once been perfectly coifed as another shaky whine broke from your throat. Loud and shameless, you could only hope the partition was also soundproof or you'd never be able to look the driver in the eye for awhile after this.
"That's it, let me have it baby," Bucky groaned against your cunt. "Be a good girl and come for me."
The coil in your belly snapped, pushing you over the edge, and you came with a brutal shudder and his name on your lips.
Bucky pulled back, his salt and pepper beard messy with the evidence of your ruin. He moved to hover over your body again, confident and steady, hair mussed from where your fingers had been.
"Taste," he ordered âtilting your mouth open with his thumb on your chin. You didn't have time to react before he spat in your mouth, your slick mixing with his saliva in a cocktail that had you drunk before you swallowed it.
"Good girl," he praised. Smoothly, he sat back against the seat, hands guiding your hips to follow until you were straddling his waist.
"You have no fuckin' idea how often I jerked off in my office to the thought of burying myself in your tight cunt. Always bet myself you would feel like heaven," he directed your arms to hold onto his shoulders before he moved to his belt, freeing his thick and flushed cock. "Let's see if I can fuck my way past the pearly gates."
You weren't sure if you were rendered more speechless from the sight of his length; hard and leaking just for you, the words he was saying over the steady hum of the car around you, or the way he was already lifting you and positioning the tip at your entrance like he owned you.
"Tell me what you want sweet girl," he said, letting you sink down slowly, eyes locked on your face as he split you open. "Want me to fuck those issues right outta you?"
"Yes," you moaned, wanton and undiscerning, tears pricking at your eyes, the stretch almost too much.
"Yes, what?"
Your throat worked around another stuttering noise of pleasure once you were fully seated. "Yes daddy."
"Christ," Bucky whispered, cock already twitching against your tight walls. Your grip only constricted as you moved on instinct, hips rolling in a languid pace as he let you take control for once.
His hands roamed along your body, wishing he could see what else this dress was hiding. He'd have to settle for the delicate way the tops of your breasts bounced as you fucked yourself on him. No matter, he'd rip the dress off you as soon as this damn event was over and he got you alone again.
He settled his grip on your waist, not wanting to ruin your hair more than it already was. "Just needed a real man to take care of you, didn't you baby?"
You nod as your movements become messier, chasing the drag of his cock against every nerve ending.
"Gonna take real good care of you, don't you worry." His hands slid down to your hips, taking over. He thrust up into your tight heat, your muscles clenching hard around him every time he tried to pull out.
"C'mon sweet girl, we're almost at the gala and I need to fill this perfect pussy up so you can feel me dripping out of you until I can have you again."
Your head fell forward, burying your nose in the crook of his neck while you let him move your body how he needed. "Harder," you managed to whimper. The scent of his expensive cologne coupled with the feeling of a suit worth thousands of dollars had a deep seated want to be completely ruined bubbling to the surface.
"Ask me like I know you want to," Bucky growled, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist, one holding the nape of your neck steady as he slowed down. Like he was going to deny you until you gave him what he wanted. And after all, this all started for one reason.
"Harder daddy, please," you breathed into his ear, already bracing a hand against the head rests. They creaked against the stress as his thrusts got rougher, more desperate, angling your body so his cock nudged impossibly deeper.
"That what you wanted, angel? Want me to make you forget how to walk and have you stumbling around all cockdrunk at this damn thing?"
"Yes, sir."
You were rewarded with his thumb going to where you were joined; rubbing quick and practiced circles along your clit. Your orgasm came crashing down not a second later, the sensations too much on nerve endings that had already been wrecked by his mouth.
"That's my girl," Bucky groaned, and with one final thrust up you felt his release spilling from his pulsating cock; covering your still fluttering walls.
In a stark contrast to how roughly he just manhandled you, he ever so gently lifted you off his lap and into the seat next to him. The car pulled up to the hotel the gala was in not a moment later.
"Pull yourself together, sweetheart, can't let everyone know how hard I ruined you." His thumb gently swiped at where your lipstick was smudged as the door opened.
You smoothed your dress as best you could, kicking your ruined panties off your legs and stepped onto the curb with his assistance. "Yes, sir."
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After Chirps: OH, you're still here? Well, how'd you enjoy the porn? Good? Bad? Don't tell me, keep your secrets. Either way, I don't know when this became a WHORE HOUSE yet here we are. Now that this is outta my system, I can focus on Mentor!Bucky...as long as there are no more distractions. êšïž
Series masterlist
Pairing: Spencer Reid x femBAU!reader
Category: smut 18+ MDNI, angst
Summary: Attending Rossi's wedding while nursing the betrayal of your boyfriend, you find solace (and revenge) in the arms of Dr. Spencer Reid. Â
Content: 7.7k porn with a plot. Mentions of smoking and drinking, reader wears a dress, heels, and make up, and cheats on her shitty bf, semi-public sex, oral (m and f receiving), softdom!Spencer, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, reader is called naughty girl and good girl, very slight degradation, lots of praise, big dick!Spencer, size kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, rumination and references to sin and Eve and religion in general, probably blasphemous, Jeid mention, unhealthy coping mechanisms, this is kinda toxic but it's sexy I swear (I HOPE; yell at me nicely if i missed anything)Â
A/N: this fic had been MARINATING for more than a month. Probably overwritten and self-indulgent, years of Catholic trauma rlly just spilled onto my docs ya know. Tried very very hard to make the smut worth it because there's so much build up and I'd hate for the smut to be meh. Lost the plot multiple times. Reached the point of iâm sick of this fic pls let it end but ultimately it's a piece that Iâm actually proud of. Dedicated to user @notlongtolove for the yap fest and brainstorming, iykyk!!! Pls enjoy while I rejoice; this mammoth is finally over. Special request to leave a comment so I feel accomplished, pretty please tyyyy.
Rossi's wedding had been your opportunity to introduce your new boyfriend to the team. You've taken great pains to keep your relationship private, a feat that makes you proud because the amount of things that gets past Penelope Garcia is next to nothing. But somehow, in the past four months, you've managed. You've passed the threshold, the personal rule of three months of privacy, of keeping things on the down low, and you had been excited to stroll up to Rossi's fourth wedding in the arms of Cameron, your boyfriend of nearly five months.Â
Unfortunately, you'd caught another woman's underwear in his car nearly a week before the day of the wedding. He still hasn't admitted to his betrayal, no matter how many times you've pleaded and talked to him. You already know, anyway. It's easy enough to tell from his body language. The twitch of his lips he does whenever he's nervous, the way he overuses the phrase come on, every single one of his tells point to his infidelity. You've used every trick in the profiler handbookâ interrogation, an attempt to seduce, angerâ none has worked.Â
Your pathetic boyfriend would only repeat that he loves you so much, why are you acting like this?Â
So you're a depressing cloud on Rossi's big day. You hide it behind a big smile, which would normally be unconvincing, but everyone is too wrapped up in the festivities to look too closely at your hastily erected facade.Â
And itâs worked, for the most part. You know itâs not because of your acting skills, but more because thereâs too much going on to pay attention to you. And disappearing as part of the crowd allows you to observe and stew in your betrayal, fingertips tingling with the desire to get even somehow.
You wish you could say heâd tempted you. Pursued you with gentle brushes of his hands on the exposed skin of your back, bewitched you with his dimpled smile, so inhumanly beautiful you just couldnât say no. How could you resist temptation when it is being presented to you by someone who looks like heâs been carved by the hands of God himself?Â
Because Spencer Reid has always been something akin to divinity, at least to you. As the BAU's newest recruitâ appointed and transferred by the infamous Linda Barnes herselfâyou've had to fight tooth and nail to earn the team's trust.Â
Now, Linda Barnes is gone, you have a spot on the team, and Spencer Reid remains elusive.Â
His reputation preceded him, of course, one of the smartest active agents, incarcerated for something he didn't do. He's kind in the moments you've spent with him, with a bumbling earnestness that you've found endearing.Â
He's also incredibly beautiful.Â
So who could blame you if you did give in to his advances? People stronger than you have succumbed, after all, and you, in your vulnerable, lovelorn glory, would not have been responsible if you decided to take a bite from the forbidden apple, right? Giving in to temptation is the lesser sin, more forgivable, would absolve you of guilt especially after the betrayal you've gone through.Â
Except Spencer Reid hadnât pursued you. The meeting had been accidental, at least thatâs what you tell yourself. Youâd seen him leave towards the end of the ceremony. Of course you did, you had been watching him all night. Sometime towards the end of the ceremony, while the minister was talking about the importance of second chances, heâd slipped away.
You had been the one to go after him. In your defense, youâve been itching to get your hands on a cigarette since you got here. Weddings have always made you giddy, excited. Itâs a celebration of love, after all, a declaration of two peopleâs commitment to each other. In sickness and health. But Cameron's infidelity weighs heavily upon your shoulders, and though you've borne more than thisâyou're a BAU agent, after all, you face horrors on a daily basisâit's still difficult to set aside the burn when you're surrounded by happy couples.Â
 So youâd put your focus on Dr. Reid: handsome in his suit, but something about him seemed distracted. Perhaps he'd been banking upon the wedding as a distraction, just like you had been. Everyone is too busy with the happy couple to pay attention to two lonely souls.Â
But he's wrong. You've got your eye on him, and you see something in his amber irises that reflect your own.Â
Loneliness.Â
Why is Spencer Reid lonely?Â
Itâs the intrigue that ultimately leads you out into the hallways. And when you stumble upon his brooding form, your excuse is truthful, âI'm trying to find the bathroom.â
He kindly escorts you to the correct wing, making small talk. Something about wedding dresses not being white historically. You smile and nod, thanking him graciously as you slip into the ladies room. When you leave the bathroom after basically inhaling a stick of cigarette, heâs still lingering outside. Waiting by the wall, smiling upon your return.
âOh,â you return his smile, âYouâre still here.â
âFigured we could walk back together.â his nose wrinkled a little as you stepped closer, the smell of your cigarette apparently not sufficiently disguised.
You're smile becomes sheepish, shaking your head, âI thought I was being slick by spraying perfume, but apparently not.â
He laughs. It reminds you of the church bells that rang for the wedding. Rich and lilting.Â
âNot to judge, but why the need for a smoke break?â
âWhy should there be a reason?â
âYou've told me you only smoke when you're stressed out.â Fuck. âWhy are you stressed out?â
âJust having a bad day.â
It's the wrong answer, because his gaze zeroes in on you, oozing with an intense curiosity. âOn Rossi's wedding?â
âNot because of it,â You laugh airily, but in the quiet of the hallway, it's much more difficult to pretend that everything is okay. Two can play at this game though. âWhy are you out here?â
He averts his gaze to his shoes, brows furrowing in a way that makes you blood spike. Heâs hiding something.Â
âI just needed some fresh air.â he pushes his hands deep into his pockets, lifting his gaze from the floor and dragging it through your form, taking in your appearance in the cocktail dress youâve donned for the wedding. His voice is strangled when he speaks again,, âYou look lovely. I donât think Iâve had the chance to tell you yet.â
âThank you. You look very dashing too.â A pause stretches between you. In that quiet moment, it seems like the universe has presented the perfect way of retaliation for you. The nicotine had made you bold, audacious. And if youâd read him correctly, then heâs in need of relief as much as you are, the kind of relief a simple cigarette wouldnât fix. You step closer, looking straight into his eyes, âTruth be told, Iâm not in any hurry to go back.â
You see his jaw clench, the beautiful brain of his going a thousand miles per minute, likely computing every possible meaning of your words. His eyes flicker to your lips, and you decide to help him out, taking another step forward and tilting your head up.
When you kissed him, he didnât even hesitate to kiss you back. Mouth parting, fingers tightly clenched at your waist, pulling you closer and closer until space felt like a foreign concept altogether. He is an insistent kisser, leaning his whole weight into you as his lips opened and sucked at yours.Â
The dark corner isnât ideal, but it was the closest space at your disposal. Neither of you are willing to spend more time looking for somewhere to hide, not when you could spend that time running your hands and lips in places undiscovered. Your lips across the strong angle of his jaw, his stubble tickling your skin. Spencer tonguing the space beneath your ear, fragrant with traces of your perfume. Your hand massaging him into an erection through the fabric of his pants. Â
He lets out the prettiest moan when you drop to your knees in front of him.Â
You donât miss the irony of it as you tugged and undid his belt and zipper, fully conscious of the act youâre about to commit. Kneeling in a chapel, for all the wrong reasons.Â
âAre you sure?â the words spill from his lips so sweetly, as if he isn't standing before you with his erection only inches from your face. Long and thick and already leaking precum at the tip.Â
You take him into your mouth as an answer, condemning yourself to your fate. Spencer is beautiful like the devil, and youâre Eve succumbing to the first sin.Â
Two wrongs do not make a right. You know this. Everyone does. A lesson as old as time itself, written in languages you canât comprehend. Even mathematics dictates that adding two negative integers does not cancel them outâthe negative value merely increases. You should not retaliate on your boyfriend by committing the very sin that hurt you in the first place. By all accounts, nothing good should come from it.
Yet here you are, on your knees for a man as pretty as the devil himself. A man very much not your boyfriend.
Even fucking worse, your coworker.Â
Tucked in some dark cornerânot even given the dignity of a dusty closet. That at least would have given you complete privacy. No, youâre on your knees in some seemingly abandoned hallway, half hidden by a combination of the dim lights, and ostentatious pillars, and him. His lean body shields you from general view as your lips stretched around his throbbing length.
You learn that he is a contradiction. A large hand gathers your perfectly styled curls, holding them at the crown of your head. Gentle, careful. The other rests just beneath your jaw, holding your head still as he slowly pushes his hips forward. Your nails grip his pants as your mouth stretches around his girth. The fabric wrinkles under your clutches as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, then begins to push beyond it.
Only half of his length in and you're already choking.Â
Wide, panicked eyes dart up to meet his deceptively honeyed ones. You consider pulling back, just to catch your breath but you canât; his hands are holding you steady. Oddly enough, the look in his eyes helps you relax. Thereâs something inherently trustworthy about those ochre irises, despite the fact that his pupils have blown up so much and nearly eclipsed them. Maybe youâre too used to indifference from Cameron, too used to sex being so clinical and borderline perfunctory, that the unbridled lust in his gaze excites you instead of scare you away.Â
Still, it doesnât help the little choking issue youâre currently having.
âBreathe through your nose,â he murmurs. You blink back the tears that have gathered at your lashes, still maintaining eye contact with him. Spencer sighs, pulls his cock out. Mercy. It's not something you deserve, but you take advantage of the moment wisely, following his instructions and breathing through your nose.Â
The stench of sin is musky and stale. You fill your lungs with it all the same, just as he rams his cock back down your throat and fills your mouth. He hisses when you gag around him lightly, but doesnât stop. You realize that youâd probably chase after him if he does anyway.Â
His thumb caresses your cheek, âThatâs it, good girl. You can take it.â
Well fuck.
Itâs a little too much, balancing on your knees like this while he uses your mouth and throat, but you push through because he says you can. You fancied yourself the seductress, but somehow, the tides have turned and youâre little more than putty in his hands.Â
His cock glides in and out of your mouth with ease, painting chapped red marks from your lipstick along the veined length with every push of his hips. Finding your balance, you wrap a hand around the base of his cock, stroking up what you can't fit into your mouth. After a few clumsy attempts, you manage to match the rhythm of his hips.Â
What a pretty figure you make, on your knees, looking up at him with fluttering lashes. You moan around his length, sending vibrations up his spine, and are rewarded by his mouth falling open, a wordless expression of pleasure. He continues to fuck your mouth, never breaking eye contact as he eases his cock deeper with each thrust. Tears gather at your lash line every time he goes down your throat.Â
Youâre sure your throat is distending in order to accommodate his girth, and it makes your own pussy clench at the idea. What would it be like to have such a large cock inside your walls, filling you? It makes you moan again, and Spencerâs hand tightens at your hair. His pace quickens, and you hollow your cheeks, urging him to continue.
You hear his undoing before you feel it, strained groans tumbling from trembling lips, before his hips thrust forward and suddenly your nose is pressed to his crotch, and thereâs an explosion at the back of your throat. He holds you there, eyes watering, drool spilling from the corners of your ruined mouth as he blows his load deep in your throat.Â
Yeah, he definitely needed that.
You swallow what you can, but thatâs difficult when thereâs a huge cock obstructing your throat.
It ends up being a mess, combination of your saliva and his cum dripping out of your mouth and onto the floor. How fitting. In the back of your mind, youâre just happy that only a few drops landed on your dress. Easy enough to clean. Miraculously. Your conscience, however, is an entirely different story.
Still, some part of you canât even begin to feel bad. Cameron had cheated first, heâd broken the bounds of your relationship first.Â
Sure, this is still wrong. You have no moral ascendency to stand on, but who cares about any of that when Spencer Reid is kneeling before you with gentle hands and even gentler eyes?Â
âAre you all right?â he murmurs, his voice slow and sensual like dripping honey.
Somehow, your voice does not betray you, coming out clear and far more confident than youâre actually feeling. âYeah, Iâm good.â
He smiles, thumbs wiping away some of the residue off your lips, âAre you sure? You look a little dazed.â
You laugh, âI mean, yeah, but I just need to catch my breath.â
He takes your hand, helps you stand back up. âI think another trip to the bathroom is in order.â he says as he guides you to the bathroom again.
When you get there, you are a wreck of the highest order, curls dishevelled despite his attempts to be careful, lipstick smudged around your mouth. Your chin is still a little moist from the drool and cum that had dripped down. Tear tracks drag down your cheeks, but thankfully your eye makeup and foundation are only a little smudged. Nothing a little dab of a napkin wonât fix.
You fix what you canâquick spray of perfume, reapplication of lipstick. Hands steady as you work. You aren't sure if this is a sign of guilt, or lack of it. You don't really care. He's gone when you leave the bathroom now, and the soft, treacherous side of your heart fills with disappointment. You remind yourself that it's better this way, less conspicuous, if he returns to the wedding before you.Â
Still, swallowing his load with an obstructed throat somehow had been easier than swallowing the bitter disappointment that builds in the back of your tongue.
The ceremony is just about to end when you return to the makeshift chapel, people standing and clapping as David and Krystall Rossi share the sweetest kisses. A celebration of love and second chances. After what you've done with Spencer, you know this is out of your cards now. You've fallen far beyond redemption, shot the remnants of your relationship with Cameron after kneeling in service of another man.
You catch sight of Spencer, standing in the midst of other agents. Clapping like everyone else, but his eyes are trained upon something else. Curiosity gets the best of you and you follow his gaze, trying to approximate what he's looking at.
Or ratherâ whom.Â
If you're correct, then he's looking at someone.
Oh.
Blonde hair, a slim frame in a beautiful red dress that perfectly accentuates the long, muscled lines of her arms and legs. Beside her, a man with salt and pepper hair and kind blue eyes. His arm at her waist. Your coworker and her husband. JJ and Will.Â
Oh.
Your gaze returns to Spencer, and despite your attempts not to dig deep, not to learn why he's looking so forlorn, itâs easy to put the pieces together. Whether or not this is a full blown affair isnât important; all you know is he wants her, and she's married to another man.
Is this connected to the previous case? You recall the last case, the hostage situation in LA. He and JJ had been in there for a long time, but neither really shared what exactly happened. Nobody knows except for the two of them, the unsub, and the victims. You arenât about to pull rank and ask traumatized people about the drama between your coworkers. Youâre better than that.
Are you?
Yes. You donât hold much sacred, but your job is important. It is above you. You arenât about to jeopardize it over some workplace drama.
But still, the curiosity gnaws at you no matter how much you attempt to tamp it down. Does he have feelings for JJ? Does she, for him? She couldnât possibly; she has a husband, two beautiful kids. Easy enough to deduce that itâs probably Spencer, then, who is pining after her.
As though he feels your stare, Spencer looks over at you. Hurriedly, you avert your eyes, heart pounding faster than you would like it to.
Was he thinking about JJ while he used your mouth?Â
The thought knocks the wind out of your lungs, and you banish it to the deepest crevices of your mind. It shouldn't matter.Â
It doesn't. It doesn't.Â
You donât have any room to judge, anyway. Youâve dragged Spencer into your own messy relationship by sucking him off in the middle of the wedding. A relationship he doesnât even know about. So, with a smile, you clap for the new couple, and follow the crowd to the reception.Â
Joy and excitement are nearly palpable in the room. A small, intimate crowd of smiling faces surrounded by the tastefully extravagant decor, obviously paid for by the wealthy groom. The air is filled with that soft, electric energy that often occurs when people are happy and sufficiently buzzed with some drinks.Â
The only thing on your mind is him.
How can it not be, when you can still remember the little tryst you'd had prior. The weight of him in your mouth, the fetid mess of skin and cum and the lingering nicotine. Â
It passes by in a blur. The food is delicious, you gush to Portia, you look so beautiful; congratulations, to the new couple. None of it is fake, but you are possessed by a single, irrevocable urge to watch Spencer. That glance at JJ has intrigued you more than you should be. What sort of web had you stumbled upon? And instead of trying to get out, you're eager to spin more.
Bringing the champagne flute to your lips, you pretend to sip, allowing the glass to obscure some parts of your face while you continue to watch them. Theyâve met up at the bar now, deep in conversation, hands clasped together in a way thatâs far too intimate to be just friends. You can't tear your eyes away as JJ leaves, returning to the embrace of her husband, and you watch with an almost sick sense of fascination as Spencer lingers by the bar. Longing, pure and unmistakable, is etched upon every line on his face.
Before you can stop yourself, your feet are moving, gliding across the floor until you're beside him. He startles, brows lifting as he gazes at you. Your name slips through his lips with an exhale. Â
âYou don't have to act like I'm a ghost, Spencer.â your lips quirk up in a teasing grin as the bartender refills your glass of champagne.
He looks chagrined, the implications of your words hitting him like a brick. âIâm not, you just seemed like you were having fun with Garcia.â he says, leaning on the counter. His eyes travel down the length of you again.
âYouâre right, but you were looking a little lonely,â you take a sip from your champagne, letting the bubbly drink fizzle in your mouth and wash away the taste of him. âSo, what was that with JJ?â
He sputters, eyes wide as his gaze darts back to your blonde coworkerânow currently wrapped up in her husbandâs arms.
âNothing!â
âHolding hands when youâre a known germaphobe doesnât seem like nothing.â
âIâm not that bad,â he protests, shaking his head, âIâd hold your hand too, but thatâs besides the point.â
âIt is,â you agree, tilting your head innocently, as your voice lowers, âJust wanted to know who you were imaging in place of me.â
He looks horrified to be reminded of your little quickie from before, âNo one. Itâs notâI wasnât using you toâgod, itâs not like that.â
âIâm not judging you if it was,â Itâs true. Itâs exactly what youâre doing with him, using him to forget about Cameron, to get back at him. Poor Spencer just doesnât know about your secrets. Your amused look only makes him fluster even more.
âIt isnât,â he insists, âI just ââ
âListen, itâs okay,â you interrupt gently, fighting the urge to rest a reassuring hand on his forearm. The words are true anyway; you donât wish to unearth whatever secrets he wants to keep buried. You have your own, anyway; itâs only fair heâs allowed his secrecy. Your reasons for approaching him are entirely different, and perhaps a little self serving. But youâve already condemned yourself to being the bearer of temptation, you might as well take full advantage of it.
âDonât look so ashamed,â you grin as you lift the recently refilled glass to your lips, âYou know I have a room for the night⊠in case you want to blow off more steam.âÂ
The invitation makes his eyes darken in a way thatâs becoming increasingly familiar. âYouâreâwe shouldnât.â
âWho would know?â you quirk a brow in response, âBesides, itâs pretty much tradition for people to hook up at a wedding. Why shouldnât it be us?â Please, say yes.
âWeâre coworkers.â
âWeâre adults.â you deliberately donât say single adults, âItâs fine. Listen, I booked a room because I didnât want to deal with the traffic, so if you want, itâs 309B. Completely up to you.â with a smile, you leave him at the bar and Spencer Reid is forced to watch a woman walk away from him for the second time.
That night, there's knocking at your hotel doorâthree sharp, no nonsense knocks that seem to mean businessâechoes in your room minutes before midnight. You donât bother looking through the peephole to confirm whoâs on the other side. The moment you open the door, thereâs not a lot of build up.Â
Heâs shed his suit jacket; wearing only the white button down, slightly rumpled from the dayâs events. His crown of light brown curls, carefully pushed back earlier, had fallen all over his forehead, messy tendrils tumbling across his face.Â
He takes one look at youâstill in your lavender dress, but devoid of makeup and no more heels to add inches to your height. In the dimness of the room, you are diminutive, stripped of the ethereal mystique you bore from earlier. Human.
God, he wants you.Â
Not even as someone to help him forget about JJ. No, he wants you in your entirety, to possess you even for one night.Â
He kisses you again, but thereâs no rush to his movements now. The previous rendezvous had been hasty in every sense of the word, made within minutes in an attempt to alleviate the desperate need all while staying safely hidden and inconspicuous.
Now, you have the entire night. He intends to make full use of it. He kicks the door closed behind him, one hand reaching back to lock it as the other tilts your face up so he can kiss you deeper. Your own arms snake around his neck, hands burying into those messy curls. Thereâs no more public reception to worry about; you can tug and twist and mess with it as much as you want.
Spencer groans into your mouth, hands tight at your hips, before pulling back slightly, âJump.â he mumbles against your lips.
Your body reacts as if itâs wired to obey him, launching off the balls of your feet. His hands help to hoist you up, and you wrap your legs around his hips.
âYou smell so good,â He whispers as he noses through your neck, before his teeth close around your earlobe. You giggle, urging him on by craning your neck to the side. His teeth tug on your earlobe playfully as he crosses the room to your bed. He toes off his shoes and lays you down carefully, his body hovering above yours while his kisses travel down your neck. Soft and sloppy and wet, they mark you like a brand.Â
Long, eager fingers hike your dress up, bunching it up your thighs, past your hips, and you hear him groan when your bare pussy is exposed to his darkened gaze.Â
âNo panties?â he runs a finger up your folds, gathering your slick, âDonât tell me youâre been going around like this all day?â
âMaybe I have,â you grin, legs parting even more to accommodate him. You havenâtâyouâd just been touching yourself to the thought of him as you waited, but youâre not about to tell him that.Â
âNaughty girl,â he mumbles, one long finger pushing past your entrance and curling into you, âAnd so wet, too. You get off on being this dirty, or am I just lucky?â
A breathy laugh escapes your lips, âWhich one would you prefer?â you ask, because tonight, youâre not yourself. Not really. Youâre whoever he needs to be, the same way heâs exactly what you need right now. A body to which you can lose yourself.Â
âIâd like to think this is all just for me,â he adds another finger, the pace languorous and teasing.
âIt is,â you gasp as he curls his fingers, then withdraws. Torturously slow, he fucks you with two lengthy fingers, hitting the spot inside you with ease. Your toes curl into the bed, sinking into the soft mattress, âFaster.â
âSo needy,â he murmurs, shaking his head as he takes you in. Thereâs something addictive in the way you look in this moment, spread out beneath him like something unreal and sublime.
Your hips buck up. Something volatile simmers beneath your skin, desperate for more, âPlease.â
Spencer chuckles as he watches you, fingers stilling inside your fluttering walls. Hovering above you with soft brown curls framing his face, he looks every bit an angel come to life. The laughter continues, his lips twisting into a sneer as you push your hips up desperately.Â
âSo, so needy.â he repeats, but he acquiesces to your plea. More than that, he sinks a third finger inside you and speeds up. A cry of surprise and pleasure falls from your lips, head thrown back as he works his fingers inside you, âOh, youâre taking it so well.â
Shame unfurls in your chest. What are you doing? Begging another man to fuck you with his fingers? Enjoying it? Is this truly what youâve come to?
Itâs not something you can dwell on, as Spencer begins to curl his fingers inside you while his thumb finds your clit. It circles the nub slowly, adding a layer of stimulation that has your thighs trembling. With a squeal, you writhe, moving to close your legs as the sensations become red-hot, building up closer and closer to a crescendo.
Spencer tuts teasingly, one leg pressing down on your thighs, and his other hand coming to grip your hip and hold you in place. âNo, no, darling, I want to see you coming undone on my fingers.â he says, continuing to make come hither motions inside you.Â
âGodâoh, Iâm soâah!â words trip over one another as you approach your climax, the world coming down into one point of focus. âSpencer!â
âThatâs it, good girl,â he murmurs, laying his body over you as his fingers help you through your orgasm, âThere you go.â
Youâre thankful for the weight of him; it is a grounding presence in the midst of all the flurry. Youâve come undone at the hands of another manâliterally. Never mind that Cameron had betrayed your trust first; you are no better than him.Â
But if sin felt as good as Spencer Reidâs kisses, then you have no qualms indulging.Â
His lips are upon you again, traveling down your collarbone and nipping at the skin there. You whine and wrap your legs around his waist, sensitive but still eager for more. He laughs against your skin with a tenderness that takes you by surprise.
âAre you always this needy?â
âNo,â youâve had a taste of the forbidden fruit earlier. Thrown out of Eden, youâre already past the point of no return. Might as well succumb and have one hell of a time. âOnly for you.âÂ
He hums, pushing your dress up again. It gets caught somewhere around your chest and thereâs a brief moment of awkward laughter as he tries to tug at it, force it up and off you.Â
âZipper,â you gasp when your brain finally works. Lifting yourself up on your elbows allows him to slide his hands to your back, find the dangling piece of metal and ease it down. The dress loosens across your shoulders and chest, and heâs finally able to pull it off altogether.
âBeautiful,â he sighs, descending upon you once again, âSo beautiful.âÂ
His words have you preening, and you wonder how something so insignificant as the word beautiful could make you feel so heavy. You used to associate delight with weightlessness, floating and light, but everything about Spencer is lumbering and grounded especially after he came back from prison.
You feel his lips and tongue making their way down, kissing every inch of your body. He tugs your bra down, not even bothering to take it off completely, your breast spilling forth and free for his touch. He takes one nipple and sucks, while his thumb circles and gently tugs the other. Every single act has you gasping, and you wonder when and where the hell did Spencer Reid ever learn how to do this? You shouldnât question it though.
When his mouth lands upon your hips, you jerk. âSpencer,â you gasp, looking down on him, but thereâs no more teasing from him now, no hesitation. Before you can even formulate what to say nextâyou donât have to, Iâve already cum, Iâm still so sensitiveâhis mouth is at your core, tongue lapping up what remains of your previous orgasm and all evidence of your arousal.
âFuck!â you are not responsible for your actions anymore, not responsible for the way your fingers find his russet curls and tug hard, the way your thighs try to clamp shut around his head. He chuckles against you, the sound sending tingling vibrations that travel from your pussy to the tips of your toes and fingers.
âSettle down,â laughter drips from his gentle admonishment, âOr Iâll stop.â
âPlease donât.â youâre past the point of shame and guilt, eager to beg and obey as much as he wants. The positions have turned since the tryst in the hallway. No longer are you on your knees for him, no longer the one servicing him and choking around his length, yet somehow youâre still at his mercy. âDonât stop, please, so good.â
He laughs, and you feel something sliding past your entrance. You clench around it involuntarily, as if you can tell what it is from the mere feeling, but then his mouth wraps around your clit and youâre reeling into oblivion once again.Â
âSpencer!â you thrash against the pillows, overwhelmed and sensitive but still eager to take more, âSpencer, oh my god, Spencer!â you lose count of how many times youâve uttered his name from your lips. It has simultaneously lost every meaning, yet retained all of it. An invocation of fervent desire from a lowly, undeserving sinner. Thankfully, your god is merciful and giving, because Spencer wraps his arms around your thighs to hold you down, sucks at your clit harshly and thrusts into you againâfingers, you now realize, all three spreading you open and curling deep inside you.
With everything going on, your climax comes as no surprise. You and Spencer are both expecting it, youâre so worked up after all. What makes you both pause is the fact that something gushes out of you as you arch off the bed and cry out his name.Â
His movement stills for a split second, before he continues and helps you through your orgasm, tongue lapping at the mess between your legs as your body is wracked with the aftershocks, trembling beneath him. After a few moments, he stops, resting his head at your hip.Â
Looking at him feels like a risk. Fear keeps your eyes squeezed shut, afraid of what youâll find. More teasing? Disgust? Doesnât seem like it, from the way his fingertips are trailing over your thighs. You lift your lids again, eyes meeting his own hazy ones. They are nearly black, but what pulls your attention are his lips and chin. Glistening with slickness.Â
Your slick.
âOh god,â your words are half groan, half laugh when the reality hits you, âDid I really?â
He laughs again, light and tender. âI believe you did.âÂ
âIâm sorry.â you mutter, feeling utterly mortified that you just squirted all over your coworkerâs face.Â
Spencerâs expression is one of mischief, but his eyes gleam with something darker. âWhat for?â
âDonât make me say it.â
Another laugh, âBut I wanna hear it,â he coos, pressing his lips to your hip bone, âCome on, darling, what are you sorry for?â
When you donât answer, he nips at your skin playfully, slowly moving back to your center. Your pussy throbs both in anticipation and overstimulation.Â
âSpencer.â
âMhm?â
âToo sensitive.â you try to squirm out of his grip. It only tightens, presses you deeper into the mattress.Â
A lick, teasing and light. âTell me why youâre sorry.â
âSpencer!â
âCome on,â He's grinning, the bastard, âWhy are you sorry?â
âBecause I squirted in your face.â
He bites your inner thigh with more force than usual, âYou shouldn't be.â
âHm?â
âI loved it,â He murmurs, soothing the bite with a flick of his tongue, âWanna see you do it again.â
You shudder, though youâre unsure whether itâs from his moistened tongue, or his words. âYeah?â
âMhm,â he drags himself up, kissing along your body as he does so, âThink you can be a good girl and do it again for me?â
âI think thatâs entirely dependent on how well you do.âÂ
Soft, dewy lips curl into a smirk at your challenge, and suddenly heâs sin incarnate, a devil about to pounce. Once again, how are you to deny this man of anything? How could you resist temptation when someone who looks like heâs been carved by the hands of God himself is looking at you as though you were the masterpiece? Liquid gold irises take you in, inspecting every inch of your body with unabashed want, and youâre reminded of the fact that heâs fully clothed, cock straining through his pants, and youâre in nothing but your flimsy bra thatâs been pulled down your chest itâs not even covering anything anymore.
You fight the urge to squirm under his gaze, but then his hands come up your sides, ghost over your ribs and your back until he finds the hook of your bra.
âNot really fair,â you say as the last strip of your clothing falls away, your chest heaving from the sheer weight of his gaze, âI want to see you too.â with that, you reach for him, deft fingers quickly undoing the buttons of his shirt.Â
He doesnât fight it, doesnât help, only continues to regard you with quiet intensity.Â
Once his clothes are off, he meets your lips again. His kisses are slower this time, an almost dreamy tangle of tongue and teeth, but his body is hot and slick with sweat even as he holds himself on his elbows above you. His cock rests upon your lower abdomen, its heft reminding you of how much your mouth had to stretch to accommodate him earlier. How the length and girth had all but blocked your airways as he thrusted into your throat.
You clench around nothing at the idea of that same cock filling your pussy.Â
His kisses move down your jaw, down the column of your throat, being careful not to suck too hard on the skin and leave marks. You never know when you might be called in for a case, and he doesnât want any trouble.
âLast chance to back out,â he murmurs, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, positioning the tip at your entrance.
You grin and shake your head, âNo, I want to see if you can make me squirt again, or if that last one was just beginnerâs luck.â
Laughter. Youâre beginning to find sex with Spencer enjoyable on more than just the physical aspect. He drags the tip of his cock over your folds, combining his precum and your arousal into a heady, natural lubrication. Heâs big, you already know that, but right now, youâre so pleasure drunk that you have no problem opening up to him.Â
You can tell heâs being careful, pushing his tip in slowly, and your entrance flutters, stretches around him. Thereâs a slight burn, but itâs accompanied by awe, overtaken by pleasure. You marvel at how his cock sinks into your slick, velvety heat, the way every slight thrust makes your body conform to his own as he carves out a space for himself.Â
As if he belongs there.Â
As if youâre his.Â
Every single memory about your cheating boyfriend is expelled from your mind with every thrust of his hips. You moan and clench around him at the thought.
âFuck,â he groans, hips stilling. His cock is only halfway through, and you already look so fucked out, âCareful with that, darling, or this is gonna end sooner than weâd like.â
Your lower lip trembles, but you nod, spreading your thighs apart even further. âSorry.â
He kisses that expression away, âDonât be sorry,â two large hands hold your thighs in place, keeping you spread for him as he sinks in another inch. And then another. Youâre so wet, and heâs done such a great job stretching you out that your walls engulf him easily.
âOh god!â you gasp, eyes squeezing shut as he fills you. You hear a chuckle, before he retreats, pulls out almost all the way, and once again youâre clenching around his length as though youâre trying to convince him to stay buried inside you.Â
âStop clenching.â
âCanât help it!â
âFuck, youâre so tight.â With a soft hiss, he thrusts back inside, still slow and steady. The curse makes you gasp; youâve never heard him curse before, somehow itâs even more jarring than when heâs murmuring filth into your ears. When you open your eyes, heâs staring at you, unblinking and focused, watching your every reaction. âYou okay?â
âFuck yes,â you gasp as his thrusts grow steady. The world seems to disappear around you, the only point of importance is where your bodies are coming together repeatedly. You reach up, hands seeking for something to ground you, and finding purchase at his tangled curls, âOh god, yes!â
Itâs funny, crying out for a god you donât really believe in. Crying out for a god when youâre in the midst of sin, carnal pleasure and infidelity and who knows what else, you were never religious to begin with. You wonder if this is what religion is, this free fall, the blind surrender. But faith as you know it believes in something unseen, the conviction to the intangible and unexplained.Â
Spencer is very much here, and you can feel him between your thighs, his very existence present in the stretch of your walls around his cock, the soft curls youâve woven around your fingers. He keeps his thrusts slow but deep, letting your walls feel every single vein and ridge on his cock.Â
âSpencer,â you moan, one hand falling to his face, soft palm on the stubble at his jaw, âFeels so good.â
âYou too,â he turns his face, pressing his lips to the warmth of your hand. Heâs very tender, his movements measured to ensure your comfort, âGod, youâre taking me so well.â
Your walls tighten around him in response.
Something seems to ignite in his brain, his hand catching your wrist, pulling it from his face and pinning it to the bed. âYou like that, my pretty girl? Like knowing youâre doing a good job for me?â
Fuck. The same rush of heat from when heâd had you on your knees fills your stomach. The heat that compels you to do whatever he wants, take whatever heâll give in order to hear more of his praise. Like a devoted servant, at the service of a benevolent god.
âYes,â you gasp, hooking one leg around his hips, while the other is bent at an angle, foot pressed to the mattress in order to allow you some leverage to meet his thrusts. Itâs sloppy at first, your body not entirely in your control right now.
âThatâs it, my darling, you can do it.â he mutters encouragingly, pausing to allow you to join in this tangled, exhilarating dance. When youâve gotten steadier, he resumes his thrusts, and youâre finally able to buck your hips up to meet them.
The action sends his entire length buried deep inside you, something heâs been very careful to avoid in fear of hurting you. But instead, you let out a cry of pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head, âYes!â
âRight there?â he grunts. Youâve never heard him before, voice low and strained as he slams his hips into yours, again and again. The mattress begins to creak from the force of his actions.Â
âMhm hmm!â You meet him thrust for thrust, the impact hitting spots deep inside you that youâve never felt before. Toes curling in on themselves, one hand buried in his hair, the other pinned by his strong grip, âOh, god, Spencer, yes!â
 He loosens his grip on your wrist, intertwines your fingers together, âGood girl. Look at you, so pretty while you take me.â
No words come from your mouth, only his name, repeated over and over that it begins to sound made up, unreal. Perhaps he is divine. Nothing human can make you feel this way, surely.Â
He shifts, his free arm wrapping around your hips to elevate you slightly, and the new angle has you keening, every single muscle in your body tightly wound and white-hot as he pounds into you. Itâs obscene how easily your body accepts every single inch of him, the way your pussy flutters and yields to the throbbing length of his cock.Â
âMy god, you feel like heaven,â he groans, and thatâs it, those words have you screaming so loud he starts to laugh and kiss you just to swallow the sound. Youâre shuddering beneath him, crying, the pleasure coiling and building until it bursts and snaps, cascading over you with such fervor he has to wrap both his arms around your limp body to help you calm down.Â
Somehow, your hazy mind registers the wetness between your thighs, the loud, nearly pornographic squelching of his body plunging into yours. Heâd done his goal; heâs made you squirt again. You are boneless in his arms as he fucks you through your orgasm, and chases his own. You only regain agency when he tenses, groaning into your ear.
âGonna cum,â he says, moving his hips to drag his length out. Heâs so long youâre able to wrap your legs around his waist before heâs pulled his cock out all the way.
âNo, please, do it inside.â
His body stutters, head falling to the crook of your neck as he ruts his hips into you, not even bothering to argue or ask you if youâre sure. He thrusts into your sensitive pussy erratically, mouth open and groaning into your neck, âOh my god, oh my â ah!â
Spencer holds onto you, breathing heavily into your ear as you both come down from your high. You feel simultaneously weightless and heavy, melting into your mattress with sweet, glassy eyes.Â
âThat was incredible,â you whisper against his hair. Heâs already half asleep on top of you, mumbling incoherently against your shoulder. You donât bother to move, letting his still hard cock stay buried inside your pussy as you both drift off into dreamland.
Morning comes with a delicious ache in your lower belly. Spencer has you tucked to his chest, his arm around your waist. The air is heavy with the lingering smell of sweat and sex, but also oddly light with the knowledge of a new day. You shift in his arms, yawning as you will your body to wake up and shake off the sluggish feeling clinging to your bones.
He wakes slowly, groaning into your hair, âMorning.â he mumbles.
âMorning,â you reply, but before either of you can say any more, your phone rings. Mindlessly, you reach for it, not even bothering to hide the screen from Spencer, whoâs nosing at your temple sweetly.
Cameron â€ïž
Your heart sinks. Before you can hit the ignore button, Spencer turns his head, still half asleep as he catches sight of your screen. The name, the heart emoji, the multiple missed calls shakes off every single sleepy cell in his body.
âWhoâs Cameron?â
more size kink fics in the BUD Chronicles.Â
Forehead smooches to the many people who witnessed the conception of this fic and patiently listened and helped me as I crashed out and went screaming crying throwing up, hey nachos, @mggslover (who also proofread ty) @beenreidingaboutyou @reidingandallthat @burymagdalene and @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat good god there's so many, my need for reassurance is actually extremely bothersome and embarrassing but ily guys.
SUMMARY: One always craves what is out of reach. Like the forbidden fruit that lingers just beyond grasp, tempting with its sweetness. Joel became the townâs greatest sinner, and you, his best friendâs daughter, are the tantalizing temptation he knows he should never indulge in. Your very existence marks the path to his ruin. He can't help but follow it.
WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. joelâs POV. a lot of introspection. mentions of alcohol. miscommunication. no outbreak. dbf!joel. age gap (25 and 56). petnames. religious imagery. car sex. oral sex (f!receiving). fingering. unprotected p in v. riding. missionary. doggy style. orgasm denial. crying. hair pulling. thumb/finger sucking. cum shot. creampie. reader sits on joelâs lap and has hair. moodboard for aesthetic purposes only.
A/N: the fact this idea has been sitting on my drafts for over a year is just crazy. i finally found the time to put into words, and i know iâm a little late to the whole dbf!joel trope, but iâm a real sucker for it... hope you like this one! <3
No one couldâve ever said Joel was a great best friend.
For one, he was terrible at remembering important dates. His mind just didnât catch hold of details like thatânever had, really. He wasnât the sentimental type, either. At best, heâd manage a pat on the back or a firm handshake, maybe even a call on Christmas if he remembered. Emotional displays werenât in his nature, far too used to keeping things at armâs length.
Luckily for him, Stephen never seemed to care much about these things. Theyâd been friends for over forty yearsâwhich is, well, a hell of a long time, especially considering each had gone off to carve out his own life. Theyâd trudged through both primary and secondary school side by side, and Joel felt Stephenâs absence like a hollow ache the day his friend left for university in another state.
Technology eventually offered them more ways to connect, but it didnât make keeping up any simpler. The years had tested them, and somehow, theyâd held on to the quiet strength of their friendshipâa bond theyâd forged across decades and distance, held steady like the roots of an old tree.
Stephen was the laid-back type, always down for anything as long as a cold beer was part of the deal. It was rare for him to lose his temper, having a way of letting nuisances slide. Joel could bend every rule, yet Stephenâs patience never wavered. He was unflappable, hardly bothered by Joelâs mood swings, which was what made them a match made in heaven. Nothing could throw him off.
Though Joel doubts Stephen would stay so calm if he knew what heâd done to his daughter. As mentioned, Joelâs not exactly what youâd call a good friendâparticularly considering heâs slept with his best friendâs daughter. Just once, to be fair. One ephemeral, impulsive encounter. Right here, in this very house, exactly three hundred and sixty-five days ago.
His gaze drifts across the room, settling on you at a smaller table a few meters away, surrounded by your younger cousins, ages five to fifteen. He watches as you scroll absent-mindedly on your phone, your brow furrowed in concentration, only tearing your eyes away from the screen when one of the kids hurls a handful of salty peanuts at you.
You press your palms flat against the tablecloth, eyes narrowing as you scowl playfully at the child, a mischievous glint in your expression. âYouâve got ten seconds to run,â you utter in a tone meant to sound ominous, tickling his sides until he erupts in laughter, his giggles filling the dining room with raw joy.
Joelâs been here for over two hours, but he canât recall a single detail about the nightâs events. All he knows is youâheâs studied your every movement, following the shape of your silhouette through the crowd. Heâs accepted a few drinks, engaged in shallow conversation with your relatives, trying his best to play the part of a man with nothing to hide. But despite his efforts, despite every attempt to appear unaffected, he feels a slow burn kindling in the pit of his stomach, an ache that curls through him in a deliciously destructive way.
Itâs when you look up, locking eyes with him, that he nearly mutilates the chicken breast on his plate, the knife skittering over porcelain with a screech. He quickly mutters an apology, excusing his clumsiness and blaming it on one too many drinks. Meanwhile, you donât quit glaring at him, a hint of a challenge dancing in your stare.
This shouldnât feel the way it does, this hazardous, risky game youâre playing. At one time, he mightâve thought this was something only seen in movies, something imagined and unreal. But here you are, and here he is, and the indisputable hunger in your eyes is as real as anything heâs ever known.
Suddenly, his memories drift back to a year ago, to your grandmotherâs 84th birthdayâthe night it all began.
Stephen had left Austin when he was eighteen to pursue a college degree. Thatâs how heâd ended up in New York, and from that point on, he never came back. Itâd been amazing to see him as an equal when they were teenagers, but as they grew older, the only things they shared were the white hairs scattered all over their beards and the memories of much better days.
Whenever they got in touchâwhich didnât happen oftenâyour dad would talk about you. You were just a name without a face, an empty canvas. Close to graduating, with only a few subjects and finals left. Psychology was your majorâwerenât you smart? Joel remembers typing back with a string of exclamation marks to show his contentment. His best friendâs daughter was a success; how could he not be happy?
One random day, Joelâs phone buzzed late in the afternoon, flashing with Stephenâs name. It was rare for them to talk outside the usual birthdays and holidays, so seeing his name on the screen sent a small jolt through him. A dozen scenarios raced through his mind as he picked up, each one edging between concern and curiosity.
Just like that, Stephen dropped the news without any preamble. âIâm moving back to Austin,â His voice came in clear, and there was something unusual about it, brisk but almost nostalgic. Joel gripped the phone a little tighter, processing the words. âIn fact, Iâm filling up the gas tank as we speak. Thereâs someone at home who wants to see you.â
That someone had been your grandmother. With a twinkle in her eye, sheâd insisted on inviting Joel to her 84th birthday. âItâs the perfect chance for you two to reconnect,â sheâd declared, her tone laced with warmth and hope. She adored Joel, practically worshipping the ground he walked on, often reminiscing about the vibrant young man he had once been.
Who could deny anything to an elderly person, especially one as cherished as her? He was strong, physically imposing, but not strong enough to resist her wishes.
The reunion was going as well as it could, given the circumstances. After all, it was a strange kind of delight, seeing his best friend for the first time in decades. Joel thought theyâd do what friends doâsit back, drink, smoke, and trade stories about the good old days.Â
Then you walked into the room, absolutely gorgeous and with a smile that was all teeth, and you reached out to shake Joelâs hand as you introduced yourself. The contrast hit him instantlyâyour skin was satin-like against his, smooth where his was rough and calloused from years of handling concrete and steel. A subtle heat bloomed where your fingers touched, the chill of the rings on your hand sending a shiver through him, as if his senses had sharpened in that brief instant.
You pulled away, taking a step back, your eyes flicking between him and your dad. Joelâs arm fell back to his side, his hand forming a tight fist, the bite of his nails embedded into his palm to keep him grounded. But he couldnât stop himself from scrutinizing youâevery detail of your face, the curve of your smile, the effortless way you carried yourself. Your beauty was at fault, not him. You were completely out of reach, yet close enough to marvel at. He was no more than a man, bound to notice the charm of a pretty girl like you.
That you happened to be the daughter of his best friendâthat was just a cruel stroke of fate.Â
âOh, sweetie. Iâm glad you got to meet Joel at last!â Stephenâs voice cut through his thoughts, an arm draping across Joelâs shoulders, pulling him into an affectionate embrace. âHeâs that friend from school Iâve been telling you about.â
Stephen looked so at ease, so utterly pleased, that Joel could only swallow back the lump in his throat. What kind of sick joke was this? What could he have possibly done to deserve this twist of the knife?
With a soft laugh, you folded your hands behind your back, tilting your head to the right. âMy father wouldnât shut up about you,â you said, light and melodic, drawing him in like a lure. Joel found himself adrift in the sweet cadence of your voice, entranced by the delicate chain glinting at your throat, resting just above the neckline of your shirt, the v-cut hinting at a world of temptation.
He blinked owlishly, fighting the images clawing behind his eyelids. âWell, heâs a good man, your father,â Joel managed, his smile strained. Not because it wasnât true, but because there was a blaring alarm in his head, warning him to get a fucking grip. He knew himself well enough to read the signs, the underlying meaning beneath these nerves, the quickened pulse, the quiet, undeniable urge to reach out and feel you.
He was gone already. He fancied you, and his mind raced with thoughts he knew he had no right to entertain. He imagined what youâd taste like, the way you might sound if he were between your legs, encouraging you to gasp his name. Yet, he was aware that these fantasies were as treacherous as they were forbidden, even more with you standing right in front of him. And your father, just inches away.
From the kitchen, someone called out to Stephen, and with a weary sigh, he unhooked himself from Joelâs shoulder. âComing!â he shouted back, already angling himself toward the door. He glanced back at the two of you, half-smiling while rubbing his temples. âI forgot how exhausting it is to host a family birthday party. Iâll be right back. You two go ahead and chat without me.â
Fuck, no, Joel thought to himself. Donât leave me here. Where the hell are you going?
Joel resorted to remaining silent, choosing instead to take a long sip of his beer to avoid the occasion of sin. He refused to look in your direction, fixing his gaze on anything that didnât involve your bare legsâthe same legs heâd just been eyeing in those damn denim shorts, which exquisitely hugged your thighs. But, then again, he shouldnât even be noticing that.
As he peered down at the carpet, he couldnât ignore the movement of your shoes as you stepped closer. He observed your fingers playing idly with the frayed edges of your shorts, your body inching nearer, and he braced himself in anticipation of whatever you might say next. When his eyes landed on yours, he was met with an aura of expectancy, a cocky smirk pulling at your lips.
âItâs a pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh, Mr. Miller,â you murmured, watching his Adamâs apple bob as he swallowed with effort. Letting your hand linger beside your face, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, glancing at him through your lashes. âIâve heard so much about you.â
Joel felt the flush rise to his cheeks, and there was no mistaking itâyou were doing this on purpose. Were you trying to push him off balance, to see how far heâd bend before snapping? Was this just a game for you, a bit of mischief to spice up a family gathering? The idea irritated him, but he couldnât entirely ignore the thrill woven into the discomfort. A quarter of his mind itched to play along, but the rest of him screamed to find the nearest exit.
âYâcan just call me Joel. No needa be so formal,â he mumbled, lifting the beer bottle to his lips once again, the bitterness spreading across his tongue.
âBut I like Mr. Miller better.â
His mind conjured all those images of fire and damnation, of being dragged to some dark, smoldering pit. Rotting in hell, he could already see himself within the flames. Tugging at the collar of his flannel, now too tight and hot, he gave a rough, clearing cough. âMâgonnaâgo find your dad.â
He was glad you didnât try to approach him in public again. For a few hours, he felt something close to tranquillityânot fully, though, as he could still hear echoes of your voice in the silences. Every so often, out of the corner of his eye, heâd catch you orbiting near him, lurking in his peripheral vision, even though you sat at a different table.
Later in the night, he wandered upstairs in search of the bathroom, instead stumbling upon your fatherâs childhood bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and he took the liberty to enter it, a familiar scent filling the room. He ran his fingers over the walls, still papered with posters he recognized well. It was as if time had paused thereâeverything remained as it had the last time heâd been in this very room. The framed portraits, the worn bedspread, and Stephenâs desk, scattered with foreign bills under a layer of glass, each one a memento from the different countries he had visited.
It was only a matter of time before you found him, a light knock on the open door drawing his attention. Joel turned on his heels, catching sight of you, acknowledging your presence with a slight bow of his head. You ambled toward him, curiosity alight in your steps, twisting the chain of your necklace, a restless gesture that betrayed the energy simmering beneath your calm exterior.
He scratched the back of his head, offering a half-hearted smile. âThis isnât the bathroom, right?â he joked, attempting a casual tone. The joke was a weak one, admittedly, but you laughed anyway, a nonchalant sound that showed the gleam of your teeth.
âNo, I donât think it is,â you replied, sliding onto the edge of the desk with an effortless ease. âWhat brought you here?â
âBirthday parties can be a bit overwhelmin', dontcha think?âÂ
âTotally.â
And then you went back to watching him, your eyes tracing his features with an almost stubborn intensity.Â
âYou gonna stop doin' that?â he asked, the words coming out sharper than he meant, though they didn't make you flinch.
âDoing what, exactly?â
âLookin' at me all doe-eyed.â His voice didnât waver, but he advanced in your direction. His knees nearly brushed against yours, the weathered denim grazing your bare skin, and only then did a flicker of uncertainty soften your confident stance. âWhatever it is youâre after, itâs not gonna happen. So quit tryinâ.â
You drew in a slow breath, pushing yourself to your feet. âYou sure about that?â Before he had the time to react, you were standing inches from him, your chest pressing against his, just close enough for him to feel the soft weight of your breasts. âShould I pretend, then, that I havenât noticed youâve been half-hard all night?â
Joel's jaw tightened, his teeth gritting almost painfully. His fists flexed by his sides, his entire body feeling heavier, muscles pulled taut by some invisible thread. "Watch your mouth.â
âOr what?â You hooked a finger inside his belt loop, tugging him that much closer. Your breath, fresh and minty, mingled with the faint scent of your perfume, and he inhaled both, heady on the mix. âYouâre gonna teach me a lesson?â
There was only so much patience a man like him could summon, and you were a thorn in his flesh, determined and unyielding. He leaned in, voice gruff as he uttered three words that made your brows knit together. âClose the door.â You stayed frozen, lips parting in surprise. âDid yâhear me? Mânot into exhibitionism. Close. The. Door.â
You did as he asked, obliging, stepping back to close the door before returning to your place. Without warning, he turned you around, pressing your palms flat against the cool glass of the desk, a sharp chill that made you yelp. His hand settled firmly on your back, guiding you down until your chest was flush against the surface as well. In one swift motion, your shorts were gone, followed by your soaked panties, a damp spot where your arousal had begun to seep through.
He slipped his fingers inside you first, his hand covering your mouth to stifle the needy whimpers escaping your lips. The roughness of his beard grazed your cheek as he hovered over you, his breath hot in your ear as he spoke. âBeinâ too fuckinâ loud, doll.â Matching the rhythm of the slow drag of his fingers, his hips pressed forward, grinding against the curve of your ass, each movement making his mouth go dry. âYâwant this cock that bad?â He nipped at your throat, and you, against his sweaty palm, mumbled what could have only been a muffled Yes. âThen I need yâto keep real quiet for me, alright?â
His jeans and boxers hung around his knees, his cock leaking and throbbing at the tip. Joel realized what true desperation felt like, dangerously close to busting his load at any given moment before even getting the chance to be fully inside you. On top of the desk, your body trembled, and you reached back, pulling your top higher up to bare more of yourself to him. He unclasped your bra with one hand, while his other guided him to your entrance, his lips pressing reverently against your spine as he pushed inside, savoring the heat of your walls wrapping around him for the first time. It certainly didnât feel like anything heâd ever experienced in his fifty-six years of life.
It had been short, and harsh, and fast. Borderline animalistic, what experts would label as a quick fuck. The moment he breached your entrance, you begged for more, fucking yourself back onto him until his thighs met your skin. You acted as if possessed by a greater entity, diabolic, though Joel didnât mind it. He relished it, welcomed it. But he couldnât let you take the reins. He asserted his dominance, snapping his hips forward with a force that drew moans from the depths of your lungs. He was the one in control, driving himself deeper and deeper within you. Suffice it to say you seemed to love it, if the sounds he elicited from you were anything to go by.
It was what you wanted, what you needed. One way or another, heâd caught onto what those lingering glances throughout the party had signified. Every glance youâd thrown his way had been leading to thisâa silent promise that whatever was happening had been destined to be the nightâs climax.
You bit down on his palm as you reached your peak, tightening around him, and perhaps it was the thrill of it all, the knowledge that heâd need far more time to become well acquainted with your body, that had him chasing after you. Holding back until you came had been a feat, pulling out seconds prior to his release, stroking his length once before painting your skin with his seed. A low, primal groan escaped him as he slid his length between your cheeks, prolonging his high, each heated pulse marking you in a way that felt undeniably his.
As he regained his composure, he watched you swirl your thumb along your lower back, collecting a trace of his release, and bringing it to your lips to have a taste of him. You softly laughed when he cursed under his breath, turning your face lazily to the side. âDamn minx yâare,â he rasped, closing the gap between your mouths, his claiming yours in an urgent kiss. Your mewls faded beneath the insistent press of his mouth as he sought to suppress the strange pull in his guts, reluctant to confront the unfamiliar sensations churning within him.
Things wrapped up quickly after that. You both returned to your places, resuming the roles youâd stepped out of briefly: Joel had been in the bathroom; you had been on the phone with a friend. When he reappeared downstairs minutes after you, no one thought twice about his slightly damp hair.
For the remainder of the party, the two of you exchanged no further words. The time for him to leave came, and he offered only a nod of his head across the packed living room. It was a farewell only Joel would give, a subtle acknowledgment that left you wondering about its meaning. There were no explanations, no parting words.
The next time he saw your father, the mere thought of seeing you again terrified him. If itâd happened once, then the temptation would still remain undiminished, strong enough to awaken the lust and the longing veiled in silence. But you werenât there anymoreâback in New York, focused on finishing your semester at college. The surprise must have been evident on Joelâs face, a bewilderment that prompted Stephen to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. âRemember I told you she hasnât graduated yet?â
âYeah, yeah. I remember now,â he said, wishing to convince both your father and himself.
You were out of the picture, no longer around. Yet, the two of you now shared a secret. You still do, to this day. Heâs no stranger to the notion that some things never seem to change. After all, heâs a creature of habitâsame breakfast every morning, same brand of bread heâs been buying for years. Like all his other preferences, heâs come to realize he likes his women a certain way. And though he hates to admit it, you fit the bill perfectly.
Betty, Stephenâs mother, was turning eighty-five tonight. A seat with Joelâs name was saved at the big table; they wanted him there, his best friend and his best friendâs mother. How nice it was to actually feel wanted. He liked that feeling. Still, heâd had to bite his tongue when your father mentioned youâd be there, too. You had graduated at long last, with your birthday having been just a couple of weeks ago.
âCanât believe sheâs twenty-five already,â Stephen muttered with a chuckle, taking a long drag from his cigarette.
Sitting beside him, Joel gripped the arm of his chair, sinking his nails into it. âMe neither, man.â
His choices had led him to this moment. The clinking of glasses rings in his ears, blending with laughter and the rich aroma of food that fills the air. None of it manages to distract him. He can't help but track you down, eyes scanning the room, relentless in their pursuit of yours. The need to see you goes beyond any shred of restraint he might have faked to have. Joel canât muster the decorum to feign indifferenceâGod, not when youâre near, when the pull toward you feels like gravity itself. Heâs keenly, almost painfully aware, that heâs not even pretending to be indifferent, his interest etched plainly in the way his gaze persists, refusing to pull away.
Itâs his first time seeing you in a year. A lot can change in that span of time. He canât help but be amazed, because you look just the same as you did back then. Only your hairâs a touch shorter. He wonders if itâs even noticeable, or if heâs just spent so long memorizing your features that heâs losing his sanity. He bets itâs the latter.
A light pressure on his shoulder makes Joel jump, breaking down his reverie. He turns quickly, eyes widening. "Betty," he exhales, patting his chest with a smile, eyebrows lifted. "Jeez. Yâscared me."
âYâalright, Joely? Yâlook a bit pale.â The older woman reaches up, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead with a gentle familiarity. Through her lens, heâs still young. âDoesnât seem like youâve got a fever, though.â
"Thatâs âcause Iâm not sick." Joel takes her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Howâs everythinâ goinâ so far? Got all these people together just tâcelebrate yaâ."
"Itâs a wonderful night, sweetheart. So happy yâfound the time tâbe here," she replies, pinching his cheek in that affectionate way that earns her a quiet laugh from him. Her eyes then catch sight of a familiar figure. "Oh, look who's here. If it isnât my beautiful granddaughter."
He stops smiling. In fact, he thinks he even stops breathing for a second as you intrude yourself into the scene, settling yourself beside your grandmother, flashing him a knowing grin. âI was getting kind of bored with the little ones.âÂ
âYâknow Joel, right, dear?â
âYes.â A pause, a beat you draw out between breaths. âYes, I do.â
Betty leans his way, her warm hand still on him. âHave yâheard the latest news? This young lady just graduated.â
âStephen told me,â he answers, looking up at you with a reserved nod. âCongrats, kid.â
âThank you, Mr. Miller.â
Thereâs that damn name again. Were he alone with you, heâd laugh in your face, but he canât. Under the scrutiny of family and friends, he knows heâs cornered. Joelâs starting to believe you think youâre untouchable, that there are no consequences to your actions. You might look the same, maybe a little older, but that teasing, provocative spark in your eye hasnât changed a bit.
âAlways so polite, my child,â Betty says, cupping your cheek with a light pinch, a grandmotherly gesture perfected over the years which she seems to repeat often. âAny boyfriends back in New York?â
This would, without a doubt, be the perfect moment for him to excuse himself and stand upâa conversation heâd rather not be privy to. But with you positioned right in front of him, escape isnât an option. âStill single, grandma,â you respond unfazed, as if you know exactly what youâre doing. âNo one to worry about. Better like this, anyway.â
âBut whatâs the problem? There arenât any boys yâlike?â
He doesnât even know what makes him say itâsome impulse, some hidden tension surfacingâbut he jumps in, his voice carrying a slight, sardonic edge. âBoys are more foolish than ever these days, Betty. Surely yâwouldnât want her to settle for the first idiot who crosses her path.â
Betty clutches his arm, shaking her head in feigned shock. âOh, not at all! Itâs all about waitinâ for the right person. Thereâs no rush, for either of you. Youâre still on your own, Joely?â
Time to drink again. He drains the last drops of alcohol remaining in his glass, feeling your eyes on him, intense and searing, and then he clears his throat, swallowing down the words heâd rather say. âAffirmative.â
âWell,â she sighs contentedly, patting each of your hands as though binding you both with some invisible thread. âJust means yâtwo have to wait a bit longer, right? Time has its way.â She chuckles, eyes soft with memory, turning to you. âDarlinâ, this man here was quite the heartbreaker in his day. He and your dad would find all kinds of trouble with the ladies!â
âHow so?â You cross your arms, playfully tilting your chin up. âJoel Miller, the charmer of the town?â
âGuess Iâve been known tâmake a fool of myself,â he shoots back, silently cursing the moment he missed his chance to slip away. âStephen got more fans than I did, though.â
âI did what?â Joel feels an elbow nudging his back, and thereâs his friend, grinning in his usual easy way.
Joel's luck in life had been more bruised than blessed, a string of hardships that seemed amplified compared to what most people experienced. Being drawn in by youâin which category did that fall? Good luck or bad? He couldn't decide. Every glance and delicate smile you aimed his way stirred something reckless within him. Was it pure thrill, or a warning?
He laughs every time Stephen cracks a joke, but heâs barely listening, his mind half-tethered to the present. Itâs like heâs watching himself from afar, observing his reactions as if he were an outsider. He isnât stoned or drunk, just acutely mindful of your presence. He catches himself peeking up at you from where he sits, jaw tight, his brow creased. You meet his gaze with a slight squint, a polite look that hides something far more dangerous.
Boys are more foolish than ever these days. Heâs sure of that much. Theyâre young, untested. But what about him? Heâs no model of virtue, either. Heâs made his share of mistakes, left good women behindâwomen who were willing to love him in spite of his flaws. Theyâd seen through the layers he wore like armor, and yet, in the end, he couldnât hold on to any of them. He carried the ghosts of every past life, fragments of who heâd been and what heâd left behind, and he knew those shadows werenât for everyone.
A thought pierces through him, sharp and sobering: what would Sarah think? His lovely daughter, grown and settled into her own life, would likely be mortified to know her fatherâs infatuation with a twenty-something. The weight of that realization sinks into his chest, and that seems to be his last straw.
He canât possibly take it anymore. Rising from his chair, he mutters something to Stephen about needing fresh air and makes his way to the backyard door, exhaling deeply and gripping his car keys. The cool night air hits him, stepping outside, a temporary relief as he heads toward his truck.
Just as heâs about to open the door, he hears your voice. You call his name, your tone soft but distinct. He doesnât turn, only lets out a long, weary sigh. âWhat?â
âWhere are you going?â You stop a few steps behind him, watching the way his shoulders visibly tense. âAre you mad at me?â
âWhat?â He faces you, almost snapping his neck in his rush to look at you. âWhy would I beâIâm not mad at yaâ.â
âThen whatâs wrong? Why are you leaving so early?âÂ
He scrubs a hand over his nape, fingers pressing into the tension gathered there. âWould yâlike me tâbreak it down for yaâ, how messed up this is?â His gaze drops to the ground, unable to meet yours. âIâm riskinâ the only real friendship Iâve had here for⊠for somethinâ that I canât even wrap my head âround. This isnât okay, no matter which way I look at it.â
In that moment, itâs as if reality pulls you under. The mask of subtle, practiced arrogance falls apart, scattering in fragments around you. He watches, waiting for you to gather them up, to hide behind that composed veneer again. But you donât move. You leave the pieces where they lie. Instead, you confront his gaze, unguarded, and ask, âDo you regret what happened between us?â
Another question. You seem to be full of them. They just keep coming, one after the other, as if you already had them prepared. I donât, he thinks to himself, but would it do you any good if you knew it? âDonâ start with those mental games.â
âThen come back inside.â
âI know myself well enough to know whatâs gonna happen if I do that, darlinâ.â
Neither of you breaks the silence thatâs settled between you, thick as the night air. You slip your hands into the pockets of your jacket, shoulders slightly hunched, head hanging. Once again, like all those times before, heâs struck by how young you are compared to him. The difference stretches between you like a chasm, bridged only by these stolen moments. The weight of his years presses down on him, the choices heâs madeâthe mistakes and the half-hearted attempts to mend them. Heâs got decades on you, three of them to be precise.
Joel never thought of himself as an ever-lasting free spirit, the kind of man who clings to youth or pretends to be something heâs not. Right now, with you here, he feels reckless, like a boy again. Stupid, impulsive, like the foolish young men he used to shake his head atâthe very ones heâd warned your grandmother about.
âYou left without even saying goodbye last time,â you mumble, low but clear, as you scuff the toe of your shoe against the grass. âAnd now youâre doing it again.â
He inhales sharply, clenching his keys, feeling the edges of the brass biting into his palm. For a moment, he thinks the sharpness will give him something to hold onto, but he knows the sting is nothing more than a weak anchor. âYouâre a smart girl. Donâ need me to spell this out.â
âI know exactly what you mean, trust me. I get it.â
âThen why do you keep pushing?â His pent-up exasperation slips through despite himself, and he can see the hurt flicker across your face, the way your forehead barely puckers as his words hit harder than intended.
Even as you look away, a trace of that hurt fading, you stand firm. You shake your head after a beat, seemingly trying to brush off your doubts and confusion. Joel canât decipher if youâre feigning innocenceâif you are, he thinks, you could be one hell of an actress. âI donât know. I guess I want to see how far this can go.â
You take a small step forward, testing the waters. Your feet move cautiously, not aiming to scare him off. Each step draws you nearer until thereâs only a whisper of space between you, close enough for him to catch your scent, and he has to force himself to peer down to meet your eyes. They hold a quiet intensity: pleading, wide and earnest, already trained on him. Gleaming like two lone stars cutting through a moonless, empty sky.Â
It baffles him, the question forming unbidden in his mind. He goes even further, canât help but wonder: why him? What is it that you see in him? What makes you keep coming back for more? Youâve already had a taste, a story you could tuck away, a secret to be shared with your friends someday around a campfire. So why, he would like to know, are you still here, seeking something from a man like him?
âI like you,â you blurt out, fingers drifting to skim over the worn fabric of his flannel, almost hesitantly. That tentative gesture sparks something raw in him, a low rumble of desire that feels like itâs been lying dormant for too long. Heat pulses through him, hot blood racing through his veins, awakening every nerve, each beat of his heart more insistent than the last one. âI think you like me, too.â
âYouâre insufferable,â he bites out through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching so hard it nearly hurts. He closes his eyes, half hoping youâll disappear, that heâll find some reason, any reason, to call this off. Though when he opens them, youâre still there, waiting, unshaken. âI wish I knew how to stop this. How to walk away.â
âThatâs not what you want.â
âWe donâ always get what we want, kid. Youâll figure that out soon enough.â He means it as a warning, but even he hears the way his voice falters, his defenses crumbling in the face of your unflinching state.
You let out a slow sigh, your arms falling to your sides, eyes roaming over his features as if youâre memorizing every line. Your focus dips to his mouth. âMaybe,â you murmur, and he feels the warmth of your breath against his skin. âBut some things are worth fighting for. And sometimes, those who donât give up⊠get the best in the end.â
With a gentleness that stuns him, you lean in, bringing your lips to his in a featherlight kiss. You pull away, and he helplessly notices the way your lips part, how your breath hitches, and for a split second, the guilt becomes palpable, the significance of wanting a woman he knows he shouldnât. You stand there, chest rising and falling, skin tingling, a faint trail of goosebumps visible where your neckline meets your chest.Â
Apart from the glint in your eyes, he catches the persistent, quiet ache of want. He isnât sure if itâs just physical attraction, if it runs deeper, or if thatâs all it is for him, either. He doesnât need to know. The simplicity of it all is a short-lived relief. Itâs an easy escape, though, this bare minimum of understandingâyou want him, he wants you. Let it be enough for one more moment, for tonight, just another memory heâll have to lock away. Yet heâs aware, deep down, of his own pattern: promises broken just as easily as theyâre made. Heâs only fooling himself. The part of him that knows this isnât something heâll let go of so easily sits there, silently taunting him, daring him to make another compromise he wonât keep.
From where you remain frozen, heâs certain you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighs every possible outcome. âItâs gonna happen, isnât it?â Your voice is barely above a whisper, and before you can react, his arm slides around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and turning you toward the car door. The cool metal pressing against your back startles a gasp out of you, but the suddenness only heightens everythingâthe heat of his body, the toughness of his hold.Â
He doesnât waste time with words, having always been a man of action. His hand cradles your face, inspecting your features to later crush his mouth against yours. Your tongue finds his without hesitation, seeking him out, hungry and unrestrained. He savors your eagerness, the way your hands roam over him, clutching at his shirt, tugging him closer by the belt until your lower halves are pressed tightly. The taste of beer and mint clings to your lips, and a husky groan rumbles from him as your fingers find their place in the longer strands at the nape of his neck, twisting and pulling him impossibly closer.Â
He could lose himself in this, the simple, electric thrill of kissing you, how you fit so perfectly against him. Hours could slip by, and he wouldnât mind, but then reality pulls him back; itâs too exposed here, right outside his truck where anyone could stumble upon you. âGet in the car,â he rasps, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, fumbling to unlock the door. It takes him three tries, and he chuckles, feeling the warmth of your laughter beside him as you tease him.
Once inside, his mouth finds yours again, this time more urgently, his hand pressing against your back, tracing the line of your spine through the clothes. âTell me yâwant this,â he breathes, his kisses trailing down your throat, latching onto the tender skin there. âCâmon, baby. Tell me yâwant it. Tell me yâwant me.â
A soft, breathy sound escapes you as his mouth fixates on that sensitive spot just below your ear. You tilt your hips instinctively, craving contact in search of relief, and he shifts you onto his lap, guiding your thighs to settle over his. Desperately working to undo the buttons of his shirt, yearning to uncover him, you pant against his cheek. âJ-Jesus Christ, I need you. Please, touch me. Anything will do. Justââ
Heâs silently grateful for your choice of a dress tonight. It makes things easier for him, and he gets right to it, bunching the fabric around your waist, hands roaming over the soft skin of your hips before moving his fingers lower, tracing teasing lines over your clothed center. He canât fully make out the murmured words you breathe into his ear, but your voice drives him like a lighthouse guides a sinking ship, and he adjusts his movements, pressing with more intention. The only sounds filling the car are his ragged breaths and your gasping moans, and he holds you close to his chest, cooing softly as you start to rock into his hand, asking for more.Â
His fingers find their rhythm, circling your clit in deliberate flicks. Joel watches as you unravel, trembling in his arms, a hint of drool spreading over his shoulder from your parted lips on his skin. His grip tightens as he tugs your underwear down your legs, grinning when you kick them impatiently to the floor of the car. Now, as he strokes his digits up and down your folds, you turn to putty on his lap. In another world, heâd have you laid out in his bed, enjoying each inch of your body. But here, in the cramped, dim backseat, he keeps the lights off. He knows itâs reckless, yet that barely slows him down. His cock throbs at the very risk of getting caught, at the edge heâs walking just to have you like this.
âGoddamn, youâre soaked, arenât yaâ?â He doesnât expect you to answer, at least not in any coherent way. He sinks his middle finger into your bare heat, searching your face in the dark, contemplating the fluttering of your lashes. His hand weaves into your hair, a firm tug guiding your gaze to his. Your head tips back, a moan spilling from your lips at the new sensation, rolling your hips into his palm with earnestness. âItâs gonna be a tight fit, huh? If this is how youâre grippinâ my fingers, I canât imagine what that cuntâs gonna feel like wrapped âround me.â
Studies suggest that in those final, fleeting moments of life, memories flood the human mindâa last journey through a personâs years before crossing over. If he were to die after tonight, he knows your face would be there, etched into his last breath. He can almost picture it: struggling for air, teetering on the edge, with that reddish, towering figure of mortality looming over him. But even then, heâd find solace in the thought of you, thrown into oblivion. Youâd grant him a last-minute reprieve, easing the ache. Youâd be the one whoâd hold back the shadows. This constitutes the apex of his life, and he knows he should be worried, yet intellectual dominance doesnât stand much of a chance when confronting the heart of a man. Not when that heart, so long starved of its pulse, has finally found someone worth remembering.
He makes space for himself, thrusting his long fingers into you until heâs got your slick coating his palm. One hand settles firmly at the small of your back, guiding your movements, while he feels his collected composure faltering. You mouth at the rough stubble along his jawline when you start to get close, breathless whimpers clouding his thoughts. âJoel,â you call out to him, as if that alone would make wonders. âOh, fuck. Please, I waited a whole year. I need to come.â
A whole year. You were his once a year, and he was yours, a bittersweet ritual bound by time. He never wouldâve thought this party could bring him such pleasure, though he canât pretend heâs against it. Last time, he hadnât taken the chance to pull you under and make you fall apart as many times as heâd wanted. Heâs intent on making up for that missed opportunity, determined to make you enjoy every moment.
He withdraws his fingers abruptly, and a sharp laugh nearly escapes him at your reaction. You reach instinctively, grabbing for his hand, trying to guide him back to where he belongs between your legs. But heâs already moving, maneuvering you down until youâre lying on your back, fully under his command. He lowers himself, replacing his fingers with the warm insistence of his mouth. The sound that escapes your lips as his mouth presses against your center is nothing short of a screamâa wild cry that fills the space around you. Heâs grateful he parked far from the other guests, because that sound would turn more than a few heads.Â
Joel laps at your arousal as if it's the fountain of youth, the very essence of everything pure and precious in the world. He presses down on your thighs until they rest on either side of him, unclamping your legs from around his head. The suppleness of your skin feels divine under his fingertips, and he brushes his thumbs over your trembling form, coaxing you into calmness, to let him have his way with you at his own pace. It's an absurd paradoxâaiming to soothe you while his mouth continues its fervent worship, tracing intricate patterns against your most sensitive flesh. His beard, streaked with gray and freshly trimmed, glistens with your slick, and Joel smolders with all-consuming passion.
When his friends had told him to go out more, maybe find someone to date, he's certain they didn't mean this. The smart choice (scratch that: the correct one) would have been to pursue a woman his own age. But fuck itâhe's spent a lifetime doing what's right. Every road he might've taken would've led him here, to this moment, with you. Part of him believes he must still have something left, some spark of appeal. To have a pretty little thing like you, so eager, so willing, offering yourself to him? He has to have something. His knees ache from where he kneels on the unforgiving surface, but the burn is inconsequential, and heâll endure anything to be what you need.
Joel trails his hand up your body, over the curve of your breast, before gently groping it, his palm covering yours in a shared grip. He runs the tip of his tongue along your folds, his saliva mingling with your wetness, aquiline nose grazing your sensitive bud. âYouâre tellinâ me youâre this tight âcause youâve been savinâ yourself for me? You do know what tâsay tâmake a man happy.â He spreads you open slowly, his gaze lingering on the way your cunt glistens, a sense of satisfaction rippling through him. You remain silent, your breath shallow. âStill with me, sugar?â
âItâs just thatâIâm so close.â You bite back a moan, nails digging into the soft leather of the seat. Joel hums in response, his lips closing around your clit. Agitation flickers across your face as you try to grind your hips against his mouth. âFuck, fuck, fuckââ
The pressure is gone as he notices your thighs quivering again, his movements halting immediately.
âNo, Joel. Pleaseââ
âYouâll come when I tell yaâ.â
Heâs having the time of his life. Damn right he is.
He suddenly realizes he's still dressed from head to toes, the heat building in his body becoming too much to ignore. With a frustrated grunt, he undoes his belt, yanking the metal zipper down, longing to rid himself of the constricting denim. A strangled noise escapes him as you suck on his neck, fisting his base, giving him a few purposeful tugs.
âNow, youâre gonna ride me,â he murmurs, making a pause to shrug his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor of the car, âand youâre gonna like it. Donâ want you tâhold back this time, understood?â
His back ends up against one of the fogged-up windows. The air is thick with the apparent scent of sexâa phrase heâd only ever heard in movies, but now, itâs undeniably real. Joel holds his cock, aligning the tip with your entrance as his lips crash against yours in a hungry kiss. A deep groan escapes him, vibrating over your mouth, nipping at your lower lip. The sensation intensifies when your wet interior welcomes him, velvet walls molding to his size. Your brows scrunch together at the stretch, a choked whimper catching in your throat. As your hips sink fully, your ass flush against his thighs, your body clenches around him, that abrupt tightness drawing a stuttering gasp from him.
âFor Godâs sake,â he exhales, the words rough as his forehead bumps into yours. His hand splays over your ribcage, fingers curling slightly. âSweetheart, youâreâkillinâ me here.â
âI can feel you everywhere,â you huff, your arms looping around his neck to pull him closer, holding your breath. He takes the moment to capture your nipple between his swollen lips, leaving a shiny trail of spit in his wake. You lift yourself, the motion teasing, before sinking back down onto his lap, taking him in fully. âCan feel you in my stomach.â
When you begin to move, Joel loses track of everything else. Time seems to stretch, bending and reshaping itself each time his tip finds some hidden place inside you. Heâs fifty-six years old, yet in this moment, his soul feels infinite. Invincible. He brings his hand to your lips, thumb grazing over them before slipping inside. Your warm tongue envelopes it, and when you start to suck dutifully, muffling your moans, his body jerks in response. His eyes drift to your glistening chest, where a sheen of sweat makes your skin glow in the dim light. Youâre the most captivating woman heâs ever seen, and he knows heâll never look at anyone the same again. He canât tear his gaze away, mesmerized by the way your body merges with his, the way you undulate your hips on top of him.
You move back and forth, and he drives into you, filling you to the brim with every calculated thrust. He thrusts upward, stealing the air from your lungs, the sharp motion making you sputter as your body struggles to keep up with his.
âThatâs it.â His voice is a husky growl as he wraps his arms tightly around your back, your chests sticking together with sweat. His pace quickens, the rhythm becoming more insistent. âTakinâ it like a good girl. You feel exquisite, baby. Makinâ me lose my fuckinâ mind.â
âSo big inside me,â you pant, your own pace faltering as you surrender to Joelâs unforgiving tempo. His hooded eyes flicker to yours, catching the way your pupils have swallowed up your irises, dark and blown wide with desire. A shiver runs through him as your fingers dig into his shoulders, your grip leaving faint crescents in his skin. âMissed your cock so much, Mr. Miller.â
Fuck, not that shit. If itâs possible, he grows impossibly harder. He pounds into you with renewed intensity this time, his singular goal to leave you speechless, boneless, completely undone. He wants you limp and shuddering, with nothing left to give. âEnough of that.â His hands find their place on the soft globes of your ass, molding and squeezing until the pressure has you mewling, the sweet sound shooting straight through him. His lips ghost over the shell of your ear. âResponsive everywhere, honey. Have any idea how much fun Iâm gonna have with yaâ?â
Who wouldâve believed him back then? It proves this isnât some once-in-a-lifetime fluke. It happened before, and now itâs happening again. He might as well surrender to itâaccept his fate and move through the motions like a man resigned to whatâs already written.
Thereâs a moment when your moans sharpen, turning high-pitched and dazed, and the way you constrict him sends his eyes rolling to the back of his skull, a guttural noise tearing from his chest. His movements still, clutching your waist to pin you in place, denying you the chance to move, to bounce on him.
Then you break. A sob wracks your body, tears spilling over and tracing hot paths down your cheeks. They gather, fusing together as they slide along your throat and pool in the hollow of your jaw before disappearing lower. âAsshole,â you hiss, the word fragile as you push your face into the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in his embrace.
âSorry? Couldnât catch that.â He makes sure to keep you securely tucked under his chin, tilting his lower half upward. âIf you want me tâstop, just say the world and I will.â
Heâs messing with you, plain and simple. He doesnât actually expect you to take his words at face value. But you do, grinding down harder, impaling yourself further on the length of his cock, and your arousal trickles down, slicking the coarse hair of his thighs. âPlease.â
âPlease what?â
âPlease fuck me.â Slotting your mouth over his, you attempt to move, chasing any sort of friction against your clit. Sadly, pleasure doesnât come on its ownâitâs Joel who can make you feel good, and heâs not obliging. His hand seizes your hair in a rough grasp, tugging sharply. Eyes fluttering shut, you hunch forward, submitting to the sharp edge of his control.
âWhat an impatient little thing yâare.â Joel grabs your thighs and turns you over, your back pressed against the leather seat. The brusque shift pulls him out of you, the cool air a cruel tease before he taps his head against your swollen folds, then fills you again in one powerful thrust, kissing your cervix in the process. A deep moan rips from your lungs, deep and guttural, as your legs tremble uncontrollably on either side of him. Your ankles dig into his back, fervent to keep him close. His balls rest heavy against your skin, full and aching for release. âGonna give yaâ what yâwant, okay? Youâve been on your best behavior,â he mumbles with his lips stuck to your forehead. âThatâs a good girl. Think she deserves to come after all.â
Only then does he find his rhythm again, ramming into your drooling hole. For the third time tonight, heâs captivated by how you teeter on the edge of overwhelming pleasure. He has you eating out of his hand, taking all that he offers, and you do so willingly. He knows he could ask you for anything, and in exchange for an orgasm coaxed by him, you'd comply without thinking twice. In many ways, heâs not so different. He gathers some of your saliva, using it to moisten his fingers before slipping them between your bodies, rubbing your clit as he continues to hit your bundle of nerves. Where his stamina comes from, he has no clue, though heâs determined to keep pushing.
Your face becomes a living poem, each cry of yours adding to its verse. Your head nearly reaches the door, but he cradles it with his arm, ensuring you donât hurt yourself. âClose,â you whine, struggling to keep your eyes from falling shut. âJoel, please. Let meââ
âGive it to me, darlinâ.â Another thrust, another moan. âDrench me, câmon. Thatâs what yâwant, isnât it? To come all over this cock?â
The way heâs worked you up has its rewards, leading to a release that feels like an eruption. You bite down on his shoulder, your cries growing louder, chanting his name without pause. It loses all meaning after being chanted so many times, but the way you say it still has an undeniable weight. He doesnât mind it one bit, not when heâs finishing right after you plead him to fill you. His jaw hangs open as ropes of his seed spill inside you, and he sags against your frame, giving short thrusts to push his cum deeper into your warmth, your pussy milking him dry.
âOh, GodâŠâ he groans, fumbling with one of your breasts, holding onto something for dear life. âJesus Christ.âÂ
âDonât pull out yet,â you say, grinning when you feel him twitch. âStay a little longer.â
Too personal. Too intimateâdangerous in his books. Normally, he'd tuck himself back into his briefs, drive the woman heâs slept with home, and that would be the end of it. No happy endings in his story. So heâs surprised when he supports his weight on his forearms, claiming your lips in a voracious encounter of tongues and teeth. He caresses your cheek, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, and you sigh contentedly.
The two of you lapse into a heavy silence after that. He clears his throat, and says: âI shouldâve asked you for your number that one time.â In the heat of the act, heâs being too honest. Regret will come knocking on his door once his excitement fades. His eyes bore into yours, dubious. âMâsorry for that.â
âWell, you could ask me for it now,â you admit from beneath him, and Joel pulls away for a moment, trying to gauge if youâre serious. He doesnât think youâre joking. âTo make up for lost time.â
This must be the onset of something else. He can't quite put it into words, but he feels it in his chest, in every place where your skin merges with his. He's no fortune teller, and there's no way for him to know where this path will take him, whether it leads to ruin or salvation. Though in this moment, he doesn't careânot now, at least.
At last, Joel blindly reaches for the pocket of his jeans with one arm. âHow long are you stayinâ in Austin?â
Warnings/tags: smut, p in v, we are going raw (due to the circumstances), no use of y/n, age gap, this one is for my girls who love getting called pet names, bit of dom/sub dynamics but not really idk?, aftercare
Summary: After a week of mess and backlash on the internet, the producers decide to hop on the wave of hype and call you and Jamie in to make the season 2 poster. This time, seeing Jamie has a totally different pull to it, and well, you give into the temptation.
A/N: FIRST OF ALL MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES FOR THE WAIT I had my finals this week and was basically writing whenever i had time. oh also sorry for the messy pacing of the chapter yk i was all over the place bc of thatÂ
Other than that it was also my first time writing smut so once again feel free to leave any kinds of feedback i appreciate it<3
The past week has been anything but boring. Jamie Campbell Bower flirting with you was one thing, but the internet shipping you two like it was a full-time job was another. The buzz from the media and everyone else was already unbearable and this only made it worse.Â
You have spent the entire week hiding under your blankets and watching fan edits you definitely werenât supposed to enjoy. But then again, aren't we all a little narcissistic at the end of the day?
So, despite how much you loved avoiding official statements by lurking on social media from your secret account, it was finally time to get up and do something about it. The day before, youâd received a call from the director, asking you to turn in for the season two poster photoshoot, since it's now officially confirmed and set to go into production in three months.
Getting ready that morning took longer than it should have. You changed outfits twice, fixed your hair, then fixed it again, and maybe even changed your outfit once more, far too aware of your reflection. Seeing the rest of the cast felt exciting, grounding even, but the thought of seeing Jamie again sat heavy in the chest, a quiet knot of anticipation and nerves. A week wasnât long, yet it felt like a long, boring January that just never seems to end, just ruining your life day by day that never run out. You told yourself to get a grip, that it was just work, another casual day on set doing what you love.Â
Your heart didnât seem convinced though.
By the time you arrived, the familiar buzz of the studio wrapped around you almost instantly. Crew members moved around with purpose, voices overlapping, equipment rolling past. It felt comforting, like slipping back into something well-known. Like home. And for a moment, as you stepped inside and took it all in, you almost forgot why your pulse was still racing.
The wardrobe team had you changing quickly, slipping into the photoshoot outfit with practiced ease. The look was sharp, leather, black tank top that complimented your figure, fitted lines, black high boots, and to crown it off leather thigh harness. It gave off something edgy, unintentionally already putting you into your on-screen character.
You twirled around in the mirror a couple of times before walking out back to the set, making sure you looked good and finally focusing on your character.
As you stepped out, others were already posing for their individual promo shots. Cameras clicked, lights shifted, and for a while, you forgot about everything else. When it was finally your turn for promo shots, everything started off easy. You slipped into position effortlessly, shoulders back, chin lifted, confidence settling into place like muscle memory. The photographer hummed approvingly behind the camera, praising you, the way you moved without needing much direction.
âBeautiful,â he said. âYou are doing great hun.â
Then he paused, adjusting his lens.
âAlright,â he added, tone shifting slightly, ânow give me something sexier.â
You faltered.
Just for a fraction.Â
Your body stayed in place, but your expression didnât quite land. You tried again, forcing something that felt unnatural, a little too deliberate. The camera clicked, but the silence that followed told you it wasnât it.
And then you noticed it.
A shadow behind the cameras. Standing still. Hungry.
Jamie stood just off to the side, watching. His gaze was unapologetic, slow, dark with amusement, a familiar smirk playing at his lips as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Heat crawled up your spine before you could stop it, your expression shifting on instinct rather than thought.
The camera clicked again.
âYes,â the photographer said immediately, pleased. âJust like that, love. Just like that. Hold the pose.â
And you did.
God, that man will make you go insane.
When your set wrapped, you stepped aside, breath steadying as you slipped back into the quiet professionalism youâd mastered so well. That was when Jamie took your place in front of the camera.
You told yourself not to watch.
You failed almost immediately.
He moved with an ease that felt unfair, settling into poses like he belonged there, like the camera had been waiting for him. The photographer praised him too, laughter and encouragement filling the space, but Jamieâs attention drifted, just briefly, back to you. His eyes met yours, sharp and knowing, and something in his mouth tilted like he was amused by the fact that you hadnât looked away.
Neither had he.
It only lasted a second before assistants stepped in, adjusting lights, calling positions, breaking whatever that moment had been. Soon enough, everyone was ushered back together for the group shot. You fell into place beside others like it was routine, posing as you were told and it didn't take long for it to be over.
Or so you thought.
After the group shot wrapped, the room slowly thinned out. A few of the other actors were pulled away for interviews, press stills, and short video promos, assistants calling names as schedules shifted. The buzz faded into something quieter.
You were already half-expecting to be dismissed too, gathering your things, when the photographer glanced up from his camera.
âActually,â he said, gesturing between you and Jamie, âweâre gonna need one more shot. Just the two of you.â
The room stilled, not empty, but suddenly smaller.Â
Has this room always been so suffocating?Â
You exchanged a look with him, brief and unreadable, before stepping back into position.Â
Two assistants rolled out a tall black chair and positioned it directly in front of the camera, adjusting it until the photographer nodded in approval. Jamie was guided into the seat first, settling back with an easy confidence, sitting down as instructed, carelessly manspreading.
You were placed next.
Your left thigh slid between his, while your right leg hooked onto the armrest to keep your balance, very close, but not quite touching him. Your right hand reached up, fingers stretching along the tall back of the chair as high as they would go, arm taut. They gave a knife into your left hand, blade reversed and angled outward, more symbolic than threatening.
âTurn your head back to camera,â the photographer instructed.
You did, chin tilted just enough, face serious and threatening.
Jamie leaned slightly to his right, elbow resting against the chair, gaze lifting to meet the lens. Calm. Looking completely untroubled as the villain.
The room went quiet as the camera shutter clicked.
âPerfect,â the photographer murmured. âDonât move.â
Neither of you dared.
You were practically in his lap, not touching, but close enough that the line between restraint and temptation felt thinner than it should have.
There were many things in life you wanted to do. Turning your head just enough to meet Jamieâs gaze and closing the distance was one of them. However you held yourself together, clinging to professionalism with everything you had, even while practically sitting in his lap. It was impressive, all things considered.
The pose stretched on longer than necessary. Every adjustment,lights shifting, the photographer circling, assistants murmuring, only heightened the awareness between you. Jamie stayed still beneath you, solid and infuriatingly calm, yet you could feel him there in every possible way. Every breath was loud, even if others couldn't hear.
âAlright,â the photographer finally said, âThatâs it. Weâve got it.â
You stepped away the moment you were allowed to, composure snapping neatly back into place as if nothing had happened at all. The room slowly returned to normal, people moving again, equipment being packed up, conversations overlapping. Whatever had been hanging between you and Jamie was tucked away, even though it felt more like a comma than a period.
By the time the set began to empty, the clock edging closer to ten, the day officially wrapped.
And somehow, the quiet that followed felt heavier than all the noise before it.
The whole cast was long gone, and most of the crew too, leaving only a couple of people on different floors as the only proof that the building wasnât abandoned.
You changed back into your clothes and walked to the elevator, head buried in your phone, when you heard steps behind you.
You looked back and saw him.
Of course, you can't take an elevator without a whole ass rollercoaster now, can you?
You didnât say anything to each other while waiting for the elevator, the silence and glances stretching between you. But as soon as you heard the familiar ding, Jamie was the first to speak.
âLadies first,â he said in his raspy voice, demonstratively holding the door on censors for you.
You smiled, a quite warmth blooming in your chest. He has this boyish appeal that just screams I-am-grown-only-on-papers-not-in-real-life that makes you grin like a Cheshire cat and you can't even help it.Â
As you stepped inside, you leaned against the wall, tipping your head back as you watched him follow, a soft smirk playing on your lips. The doors slid shut behind him. He leaned against the wall across from you, and for the first minute or two, neither of you said a word â just stood there, smiling like idiots and looking at each other.
He broke eye contact, glancing down at his phone to check the time, then he sighed and spoke again.Â
âI was thinking wââÂ
Before he could finish the sentence, the elevator jolted to a stop with a sudden creaking sound. The overhead lights went out, leaving only a small battery-powered gleam as the only source of light in the space.
Uh-oh.
This is no good.
âFuckâ you cussed before you could contain it. Â
With a concerned physiognomy, Jamie was already squatting before the buttons desperately trying to call the dispatcher.Â
âIt's not working!â The blond claimed, looking back at you.
âOh god, move!â you murmured, kneeling beside him trying your luck with buttons.
After five minutes of unsuccessfully picking those buttons apart and laying on the floor, you start acting on plan B.
âHeeeeelp! We are stuck here!â You yelled at the ceiling at least six times.
That's when Jamie picked it up too.
âHelp!â He shouted in his vecna voice and the most serious face he could make.Â
That's when you lost it.
The laughter filled the room, breaking the ice and tension between you two. Your hand instinctively landed on his shoulder as you were uncontrollably laughing at this absurd situation you got into.Â
Only then did it hit you.
You are locked up in an elevator with the guy you like, and this is the most cliche thing you can even think of.
âAre we seriously stuck in a fucking elevator with no way out?!â You asked, your mouth forming that nervous smile that is contagious.
âYeah,â His hand darted up to his forehead, his expression mirroring yours, âYes we are.â
The laughter faded into something quieter, softer. The elevator hummed faintly around you, the small emergency light casting shadows that made everything feel closer than it should have. Jamie shifted his weight, arms brushing yours, and neither of you moved away this time.
âWell,â he said after a moment, voice lower now, calmer, âCouldâve been worse.â
You huffed a weak laugh. âYeah. Guess this week wasnât dramatic enough already.â
That earned a smile, knowing. His eyes stayed on yours a second too long, and you felt it again, that pull youâd been pretending not to notice all day. Your hand was still on his shoulder. You hadnât realized youâd left it there.
âHey,â he said quietly, not teasing now. âYou okay?â
You nodded, even though your heart was doing something reckless. âYeah. I justââ
You stopped. So did he.
The quiet settled again, heavier this time. The elevator felt impossibly small, the air warm, close. Jamie shifted, just enough that his knee brushed yours, and you felt it everywhere.
âThis is..â You exhaled, shaking your head slightly. âThis is probably a bad idea.â
His eyes flicked down to your mouth, then back up, honest in a way that made your chest tighten.
âI know,â he said softly.
Neither of you moved. That was the worst part.
Your breath hitched, chest tightening, and for one terrible, perfect second, the only thing in the universe was him, the tilt of his head, the heat of his skin, the dangerous pull that had been simmering all week.
You couldnât stop yourself. He couldnât either.
The first kiss was slow, teasing, testing boundaries, but there was nothing tentative in the heat that followed. Every brush, every press of lips, spoke of all the weeks of tension youâd been bottling up. The elevator was too small, the light too dim, and neither of you cared.
He shifted closer, the elevator wall cool against your back as his hand found your waist, steady and deliberate. His mouth left yours only to trail along your jaw, unhurried, like he knew exactly what he was doing. When his lips brushed your neck, your breath caught again, soft at first, almost innocent, before he lingered just long enough to make it impossible to think straight.Â
He pulled back just enough to look at you, uncertainty flickering across his face. âAre you sure about this? âCauseââ
You cut him off without hesitation, fingers curling into his collar as you pulled him back in, kissing him like the answer had been obvious all along.
Your hand slid into his hair without thinking, fingers tangling there as if that was exactly where they were meant to be. He made a soft sound against your mouth, barely there, and it only made you pull him closer. Your other hand moved on instinct, slipping under his shirt, warm skin meeting your palm, and he stiffened for just a second before melting right back into you.
The way his grip tightened at your waist told you everything you needed to know. Stuck elevator or not, neither of you was backing down now.
He broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, forehead resting against yours, both of you smiling like you had been caught doing something you absolutely werenât sorry about. His thumb brushed absentmindedly along your side, slow, grounding.
âYouâre trouble,â he whispered into your lips, but the way he said it made it clear he didnât mean it at all.
âYou like it though, don't you?â You teased, eyes half-lidded, lips still swollen from his kisses, daring him to deny it.
Instead of giving you a proper answer, he cupped your chin, making you look at him while his other hand started undoing your pants.
âLook at me, darling,â he whispered into your ear, and thatâs when you let out a pathetic whine.
His hand grazed over your soaked panties, finally sliding them off.
âYou are soaked, my love,â he chuckled. âThat excited, huh?â
You were about to protest when he slipped his finger in, turning your attempted argument into a whiny, desperate moan.Â
âShhh⊠calm down, bunny,â he murmured, his finger easing inside you.
You hissed his name, gripping his hand, and thatâs when he slowly added a second finger, making your back arch without you even realizing it.
You pushed him closer, pressing your thigh against his growing bulge, and he groaned low in response.
âEager, arenât we, sweetheart?â he whispered, barely containing a moan. Thatâs when he added a third finger, sending a shiver straight through you.
The heat pooled in your lower abdomen, desperate and hungry for more. It was like he could read your mindâhis thumb finally found your clit while his other three fingers stretched you out, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.
You muffled your moan against his shoulder, heart racing, terrified that anyone might hear.
âPleaââ you tried to speak, but he cut you off, teasing your nerves again.
âPlease what, darling?â he asked, smirking as he sped up. âUse your words.â
âPlease⊠stop teasing,â you finally muttered, face flushed and breath uneven.
He finally looked at you, practically pausing, his thumb still circling as he asked,
âYou have a condom?â
âIâm on birth control,â you replied.
âPerfect.â That was all he needed before unbuckling his pants and lifting you against the wall.
âIâll take it slow, okay?â he murmured. You nodded, and he pressed himself against you.
Thatâs when you truly started appreciating the preparation.Â
He moved slowly at first, letting every inch of him sink in, giving you time to adjust, your back pressed to the cool elevator wall. Every tilt, every subtle thrust made your knees wobble and your breath hitch. You clung to his shoulders, nails digging lightly into him as he whispered little encouragements against your ear, low murmurs that made your heart race even faster.
âJust like that,â he murmured, thumb still teasing you, his voice a mix of command and care. Your moans were muffled against his shoulder again, your body betraying you despite your best attempts at control. The elevator seemed to shrink around the two of you, every sound feeling impossibly loud, every touch impossibly intimate.
You arched into him, shivering, pressing against him without thinking. His hands gripped your waist tight, holding you there, and every little sound you made seemed louder, sharper.
âGod⊠youâre incredible,â he whispered, low and rough. Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping lightly, and he groaned, pressing closer like he couldnât get enough of you.
Your breaths collided, short and desperate. He leaned his forehead to yours, lips brushing your ear, whispering your name, and it made your stomach twist. You squirmed slightly, teasing him back with subtle movements.
Every tilt, every slow movement, made your knees wobble. You pressed your thigh against him, making him groan, and it made you want more. Your hands roamed, memorizing every inch of him. His thumb circled over you, making soft whines spill from your lips, and he smiled against your skin.
Then, finally, a wave of release, a shared, dizzying moment that left you both breathless. Your body pressed into his, still trembling, as you clung to each other, hearts racing, chests heaving. For a long moment, all that existed was the two of you, the quiet aftermath filled with whispered names, soft kisses, and a warmth that lingered between you.
He held you close, lips brushing your temple, murmuring soft praises and kisses into your hair. You let your head rest against his shoulder, letting the aftershocks settle, a quiet, intimate warmth radiating through both of you.Â
Eventually, you both got dressed again, clothes a little wrinkled, hair messy, a few strands sticking out at odd angles. He tugged you down onto the floor beside him, and you curled up against his side, legs tangling with his, chest pressed to his like you didnât want to let go.
He draped an arm over you, pulling you closer, thumb brushing over your side lazily. You nuzzled into him, resting your cheek against his chest, breathing in his scent â warm, familiar, comforting. A small, tired sigh escaped you.
âYouâre ridiculous,â he murmured, voice low, fingers lightly tracing circles on your arm.
âMm,â you hummed, smirking just a little, pressing your lips to the curve of his shoulder before moving up to kiss his neck. He shivered, and you grinned against him.
He tilted his head toward you, and you leaned in, letting your lips meet his in a slow, messy kiss. Soft and lingering. Your fingers tangled in his hair, his hand threaded through yours, and for a moment, you didnât care about the world outside the elevator, the building, outside anything.
When you finally pulled back slightly, foreheads touching, both of you breathing heavier than necessary, you let a lazy smile curl over your lips. âWell, I will see you in the library?â
A/N AGAIN: THE ENDDD
at first i hated this so much i really was thinking about deleting ts but ig it could serve as smut at least lmaoaoa
taglist: @dearvecna @its-always-that-deep @sp1dersgf @cuverale @harrystylesgirlie @cannibalcoyote @cerenneatss @weallhaveadestiny @sthefanywilson7305 @aloracreel
i just tagged everyone in the comment section hope you dont mind :))
CW: Somnophilia (consensual). P in V sex. Oral. đMDNIđ
Repost from my old account (Applecaviar)
No matter how much Xavier tried, he couldnt go back to sleep. So he watches you sleep, captivated by the way your chest gently rises and falls, soft breaths slipping through your slightly parted lips. In this peaceful state, your face looked serene a big contrast to the vibrant energy that usually lights up your features.
But then his eyes drift lower, past the curve of your chin and the column of your neck, to where the blankets have slipped down, unveiling the soft expanse of your breasts. He stares, unabashedly, at the way your nipples have pebbled in the chill of the room. They stand at attention, pointing slightly to the sides, skin contrasting beautifully with the darker hues of your areolas, as if beckoning him to touch, to lick...
He knows he should let you sleep but the temptation is just too great, so he reaches out, fingertips grazing the skin of your breast, feeling it yield beneath his touch. A soft breath escapes your lips, and he grins, knowing that even in sleep, your body responds to his presence.
He leans down, breath ghosting over the peak of your nipple, watching it tighten even further as the cool air meets the heated flesh. Then, ever so gently, he takes it into his mouth, his soft wet tongue swirling around the hardened bud, coaxing a breathless moan from your throat.
He gets out of bed only to climb back into it at your feet. Gently he pulls the covers away from your body, revealing your bare skin bit by bit. He silently thanks his lucky stars for your habit of sleeping naked, making his desires much easier to act on.
His hands find your ankles, gently grasping them as he parts your legs, watching the flesh of your inner thighs come into view. He trails his fingers higher, up the backs of your knees, feeling your skin prickle under his touch. Your legs fall open and he takes a deep breath, the sweet scent of your arousal already beginning to fill the space around him.
Unable to hold back he moves in closer, his nose brushing against the soft hairs that cover your pussy. Heâs captivated, noticing how your legs twitch and your breathing becomes heavier. He takes his time, running a single finger up your thigh, higher and higher until he reaches the apex of your thighs, tracing the delicate folds with the utmost gentleness.
A soft moan, almost inaudible yet filled with desire, slips your lips as his finger glides over your slit all the way up to your clit. Hearing your reaction, he swaps the teasing brush of his finger for the warmth of his mouth, parting your folds with a long lick and then sucking your clit softly into his mouth.
He takes his time, savoring the arousal pooling in his mouth, letting it coat his taste buds before swallowing it down greedily.
Not happy with just teasing your clit and entrance, he seals his lips around your entire pussy, your folds disappearing into his mouth as he sucks on them, cheeks hollowing with the force of his suction.
Your body begins to stir, hips moving instinctively into his mouth as your subconscious recognizes the pleasure. He glances up at you, taking in the beautiful sight before him. Your lips are parted, a trickle of drool escapes the corner of your mouth, glistening in the moonlight as it trails down your cheek.
His hands move to grasp your thighs, holding you open while he moves up your body. With a sudden thrust of his hips, he sinks inside you soooo deep your eyes fly open, hazy and sleepy but unmistakably awake as you gaze up at him with surprise and pleasure.
"Xavie?"
"Stay just like this, bunny" his hands hold your thighs tighter, spreading your legs wider, pinning you down with his weight, the fat tip of his cock hitting your cervix with every thrust.
"Ughh...Xav...'so deep" you hips roll instinctively to meet his thrusts. Your gummy walls clamping down on him tightly.
âGuess it wasnât only me that wanted this, huh? God, I love how fucking tight you get when you're close"
Your clit throbs at his words "Fuck...im gonna...mmmmng"
He chuckles, his breath hot and heavy against your face as he hovers over you, a cocky grin stretching across his face. Your lungs burn, fighting to catch your breath, each gasping inhale punctuated by the slick, obscene sound of your skin slapping against his.
"I'm so close, baby" you hiss, voice ragged and desperate, hips bucking wildly beneath him, chasing that elusive peak
"Just like that," he groans, feeling your sweet cunt flutter around his girthy cock.
A scream of his name tears from your throat, cutting off abruptly as your lungs seize, vision exploding into blinding white oblivion. He shudders and jerks above you, each spurt of his cum painting your insides.
His body goes limp above you with the last tremors of his release still coursing through his body. With a sigh, he carefully pulls out of you, his softening dick slipping free with a gush of your combined release. He watches with a satisfied smirk, as you lie there boneless, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath.
Placing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth he whispers "Good morning pretty bunny"
âO Prophet, giver of life and source of freedom, all we have received is from Your hand. You call us to be stewards of Your abundance, the caretakers of all You have entrusted to us. Help us to always use Your gifts wisely and teach us to share them generously. May our faithful stewardship bear witness to the love of The Prophet in our lives.â
đ NIGHT THIRTEEN ~ ot13!svt x fem!reader
đž wc ~ 10k ~ our kinktober masterlist
êšïž warnings ~ spoilers ahead! lots and lots of sex, this is blasphemous, You are a God, oral (both), p in v, extremely unprotected, light dom/sub themes, slapping, threesomes, fivesomes, major orgy, if we missed anything please let us know so we can add it here!
our first collab... we hope you enjoy. xo
All Hallows Eve.
Lee Chan stood tall, draped in sheer lace with nothing but poise beneath it to succumb the room to tranquility, for one who believes in himself shall condemn others to believe in him as well.Â
Twelve disciples kneeled on pallets of chestnut wood, woven lambs wool beneath their bare knees, patient, waiting, heads hung in quiet song, a harmony cascading up into the high ceiling adorned with splashes of watercolor deities and gold and silver metals. Onyx lace, in solidarity with Lee Chan, laid over their heads of unruly hair, bodies naked, an act of reverence, submitting themselves before their everlasting love, having given themselves to Her habitually.
You.
Their saving grace, their Prophet, a woman in pure white lace laid out on a red velvet chaise, temptation upon the marble staircase, candelabras hanging from the walls, the ceilings, washing You in flickers of warm yellows, fighting off shadows that would otherwise frighten Lee Chan as he waited at the end of the aisle. His entrance filled the room with desire, each disciple withstanding their hunger, famished beyond their years, Lee Chan wielding the power in his tongue, his fingers, to end their fast.
To please You.
For if he fails, You, their prophet, their almighty saviour, shall condemn Lee Chan and the disciples of Seveen to two months of abstinence.
October first, their fast began, strictly set commandments to follow, to endure, to execute. Some reigning thirty days strong, others falling short, in turn dropping to Your feet, brokenhearted, confessing their sins, the greed coursing through their bodies, the need for release, reclamation.
They shall not give in to their desires, whether the urge becomes too great. They shall not indulge in themselves, in other disciples, they must practice celibacy, refrain from pleasure, from losing oneself in the warmth of another.
Torturous for beings who spend their days, their nights, curled beside their lover, beside You, beside themselves, committing themselves to Seveen, to You, their Prophet, for eternity. A month of a certain emptiness they once felt before initiation, that clouded over Lee Chan now, trembling at the foot of salvation, the knowledge that fulfillment lay before him in white easing any lingering doubts he harbored the night heâd been given a bed in the disciples chamber.Â
The knowledge that the Twelve, for thirty days, thirty nights, couldnât wrap themselves around their lover or another, slip into them and relish in nirvana, rut into something tight, grind against a sweet song that ignited their fire, swap spit and sweat in the heat of the night, cum onto a tongue with a pretty face drenched by the tears of hedonism, terrified Lee Chan.
Twelve sets of eyes watching, studying, attempting to articulate whether or not this one would make it through, whether or not Your body would accept him, or else theyâd live out the year in suffering. Twelve mouths whispering, to one another, not to Lee Chan, forbidden from slipping him secrets, forbidden from sharing with him what it took to bring You to deliverance, for he had to do it alone.
That didnât stop them from sharing daily life. Bringing Lee Chan into their home, into their chambers, taking the time to ensure he knew what his life would become shall he be blessed, a life devoted to You, to the disciples, to Seveen. Twelve stories he heard of initiation, twelve stories he heard of who had paired with another, each disciple seemingly belonging to another though their true devotion lied with You.
Lee Chan made the Twelve, Thirteen.
Withstanding thirty days, thirty nights, gentle nods amidst the marble stoned halls grew hungry. Delighted browns drew famished. As Lee Chan took to his duties, learning his way around, earning his position amongst the disciples before facing You, he began to understand the weight of what waited.Â
He also understood that once his task had been fulfilled, once he succeeded, if he succeeded, that there were twelve beautiful men starved eager to pounce upon fresh meat, a body without the stamina to compete, to last.Â
The bottom of the food chain.Â
A lamb thrown to wolves.
Mingyu had done it in two minutes.
Seungcheol, the leader of the disciples, took more pleasure out of the act, barely a task for him to conquer, but one to enjoy.Â
SoonYoung, attempted to break the rules, tried to touch You anywhere and everywhere, a mischievous grin on his face, so eager to fuck You, to win, to celebrate, that Junhui, the last initiate before him had been ordered to hold him down, hands clamped to his wrists, secured behind his back so tight that SoonYoung had Junhuiâs fingers branded into his skin for days to come.
Junhui who succeeded in quiet, focused concentration much like Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Minghao, the four competitive in a sense that there had been no room for failure, only completion, their blessing a relief, falling into the arms of the disciples in celebration just before sinking into You with satisfaction.
Joshua, Seokmin, Seungkwan, Hansol, the four who took their initiation into their own hands, barely swayed by others' stories, mere legends they kept from tangling with the worries plaguing their minds, they moved on their own. Following every rule to the book, they worked, they persevered, and though each one different, Seokmin and Seungkwan loud, torturing everyone in the chamber, while Joshua and Vernon let out but mere hums of praise, struggle was unbeknownst to the four.
Jeonghan, whom Lee Chan learned belonged to Seungcheol, the second initiate had only the leader at his beck and call. Thirty days and thirty nights spent together, alone, long days side by side blending into nights slipping into separate rooms. Jeonghan succeeded, but of course he did. Jeonghan pledged his life to You, his Prophet, he worshipped only You, he devoted himself to You, however, he spent his days beneath Seungcheolâs arm. In Seungcheol's presence. Answering to Seungcheol.
Lee Chan stood before You, but he also stood before an established hierarchy, a family, one he, hopefully, would blend into once he took a step forward down the aisle.
Chants echoed, quiet, the notes ricocheting off of stone, reverberation resonating like a breeze over bare skin, the chamber awash in all things Holy, in all things sacred. The Twelve sang in harmony, differing riffs fueling the persistence residing in Lee Chan's gut, the determination residing in Yours.
A gorgeous boy, one with hair black as night, a jaw strong as stone, eyes feline and alluring, Lee Chan was the perfect initiate.Â
A tantalizing addition.Â
Seungcheol would spend many nights beside You for this finding, this discovery of this broad shouldered, toned, confident boy eyeing You from the floor. If Lee Chan were to succeed as expected, You may allow Jeonghan to join You and Seungcheol, possibly Jihoon as well, the three utterly vulgar when brought together, put to work.
One bare foot step at a time, Lee Chan inched closer.
Head held high, lace patterned on his cheekbones, he paced himself to the hums of Your disciples, eyes locked on Yours, jaw set in place. A picture of perfection.
Unmoving, analyzing his every move, You tipped Your lips up in a soft smile, an invitation, one that told him to ascend the marble staircase, one that reflected each flicker of light, every shadow bouncing about the chamber. Taking a deep breath, one he pushed down into his stomach, his naked body a work of art, Lee Chan peered to his left, Seungcheol kneeling, on Your right.
The leader eyed him.
Truly on his own, Lee Chan had one chance. If he failed, heâd never have another opportunity for Your blessing, ever again. Seungcheolâs heavy gaze spoke to him, but didnât plead, never a beggar. The man wide, shoulders to his hips, with large, strong hands that gripped his thighs where he knelt, his full, pouty lips moving with the hymn the disciples forced into the air, he told Lee Chan through swirls of chocolate, that if he were responsible for an end of year drought, he wouldnât leave unmarked.
The room cast in shadows of autumn warmth, contoured in crimson, swallowed Lee Chan whole when the lace adorning his body dropped to the floor behind him as he approached the pallet of chestnut wood before You. He can barely hear his own short breaths as the hymn seemed to grow louder, Twelve beautiful voices in his ears, they urged him to succeed, suffocating him, no room for failure.Â
Seeing You, up close, Your imperishable beauty, Lee Chan can see Your heart. Soft, smooth legs crossed over the red velvet chaise, an arm thrown over the back of it, Your smile warmer than the candles heating the Sanctuary. Lee Chan can feel You, Your compassion, Your unconditional love, he wants nothing more than to trust You, please You, to devote his life to You. Â
He barely feels the lack of fabric touching his skin, Lee Chan doesnât feel naked at all. He bowed, deeply, body bending ninety degrees, arms tight to his flushed torso, feet firmly planted in the floor beneath him. He stays there, bowed in adoration and praise for what felt like an eternity, but not long enough. Forever with You isnât long enough.Â
âYou may rise,â Your voice, a sweet command. Soft like the velvet You lay upon, authoritative in a way that had him upright in a blink. Your grin had spread wider, satisfied, eyes curious as they danced to take in his build, hungry as You relished in the sight of him.Â
Lee Chan swallowed, fingers fidgeting at his sides. His eyes dropped to the pallet below him for a millisecond before they burned into Your gaze once more, âMay I pray?â
Your small nod had his knees cracking as they hit the lambs wool, barely a comfort, chestnut wood beneath it cutting through the flimsy fluff, penance for the sinful life he lived before You. Lee Chan bowed his head, elbows bent to press his palms together, thumbs kissing the crease between his pecs, the room quieted when You moved.Â
He caught Seungcheol out of his peripherals, his head bowed, his palms pressed together. When one disciple prayed, they all prayed, in reverence to their Prophet. You.Â
âLee Chan,â Your voice powerful, his name rolled off Your sweet lips like You awarded him salvation, he saw Your supple legs crossed before him, painted fingernails laid on Your thighs. He keeps his head bowed. âWhatever You ask in prayer, believe that You have received it, and it will be Yours.âÂ
Lee Chanâs head dropped lower. âOne thing I shall ask of the Prophet, that I will seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Prophet all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Prophet and to inquire in Her Sanctuary.âÂ
âI believe that, if I confess my sins, You are faithful and just to forgive, and to cleanse me from all unrighteousness. One Prophet, one faith, one baptism, I am to be cleansed by Your holy water, Her Spirit.â Lee Chan lifted his head, to gaze into Your eyes, to see Your beauty before him.Â
âYou shall drink from the fountain, Lee Chan,â You stood before him, looking down at him through Your brows, âI baptize You with water for repentance.â
Lee Chan jumped when the congregation behind him sang in chorus, âAmen.â
Seungcheol stood on Your right, his shoulders squared, jaw locked in an attempt to hide the starvation heâs endured for thirty-one days. His voice bellowed through Her Sanctuary, âWe pray for Lee Chan. Set him free from sin, make him a temple of Her glory, and send Her Holy Spirit to dwell with him. We ask this through our Prophet.â
The chorus sang again, âAmen.â
You smiled down at him, teeth exposed, eyes glowing with anticipation, âStand, Lee Chan.â
He stood with the rest of the congregation, the low groan of wood bounced off stone walls, body mere inches from Yours, drinking in the heat which radiated off of You. Never taking Your eyes off his, You sang, âRecite the Rites, Seungcheol.â
Seungcheol, stepping forward, his voice matched the strength his body displayed. âDo You renounce temptation?â
Lee Chan kept his eyes on Yours, âI do.â
âDo You believe in our Prophet, Her word, Her everlasting love?â
âDo You believe in Her Spirit, Her Sanctuary, its disciples, Her forgiveness of sins?â
âDo You believe that to be taken into Her Sanctuary, You must complete the initiation alone, without the touch of others, without thy own wandering hands, only touching the Prophet where She is Sacred?â
âDo You believe You will become a new creation after clothing Yourself in Her robes, which in Her white garment lay the outward sign of Your dignity?â
Lee Chan nodded, lost in Your eyes, his new life that lived behind them. His words slipped out low after every question, escaping from freshly-licked lips, âI do.â
âOur Prophet, the all-powerful Mother who has given us new life by Her water, Her Spirit, and forgiven all our sins. May he keep faithful to our Prophet for the rest of his days.â
After taking a step back, Lee Chan bowed deeply, palms pressed together in prayer, âAmen.âÂ
Once Lee Chan had risen, You bid Seungcheol a glance, in which he bent down and slid the chestnut wood pallet closer to Your cathedra. You sat back on the red velvet chaise, arms stretched behind You, knees still knitted together, and the congregation knelt on their lambs wool once more.Â
Lee Chan swallowed.Â
âConfess to me Your sins, Lee Chan.â Legs spreading, head falling backward, Your chin tipped up with a sigh. âLet My water save You.â
Lee Chanâs eyes widened, pupils dilating at the sight before him, his first glimpse of Heaven was between Your thighs. He moved on command, the crunch of his knees against wood was nonexistent as he knelt upon the lambs wool, lips parted and wet. He wanted to thank You, even for the sight, if he was expelled right now without as much as a taste heâd still be eternally grateful for Your humble gift.Â
He dragged his eyes from Heaven to meet Your eye for a split second, adrenaline swimming through his veins when he saw the hunger, the passion behind them, You wanted him to succeed. You wanted to save him, You wanted him as Your disciple, Your pupil, You wanted him in Your Sanctuary.Â
Lee Chan has never known such ambition before he stepped foot in this room.Â
Wet, dripping, beauty he never could have imagined lay before him, waiting to be ravaged, ready to be devoured by Lee Chanâs tongue. He would not let a moment of second-guessing cloud his mind, he could do this, he would do this. He wanted to worship You, everlasting life at Your side.
He leaned forward, tongue poking between his lips to drag the muscle up Your folds in one swipe, collecting Your water, eyes rolling back as the feeling of absolution warms his bare body. Sweet, slightly acidic, You, Lee Chan moaned at Your taste, how his tongue felt between Your folds, as if he was born for this very moment. Born for Seungcheol to find, a paragon to a prophecy, his ultimate destiny.
Lips swirling around Your swollen clit, he hums in pleasure, this has never felt so good before. Giving another person euphoria, itâs never drilled such quick pressure into his cock, his bent knees flexing as his cock hardens, growing against his clenched stomach. His nails claw into his thighs, tongue lapping at Your folds, drinking up every ounce of Your water because nothing has ever quenched his thirst like You.Â
The first moan that slipped from Your lips made his kneeling legs spread wider. A sound so beautiful, so intoxicating, spiritual, the note played from Your lips at such frequency had his mind whirling. He needed to hear it again, and again, and again.
His tongue flicked at Your clit and one of Your hands dug into his hair, fingers sinking into his roots, to be touched by You⊠Lee Chan felt he was already saved.Â
Your hips bucked into him, lifting from the chaise, and his mouth followed Your every move. Licking, sucking, tongue slipping inside Your hole, he wanted everything.Â
How long has it been? Has it been two minutes?
He lifted his right hand from his thigh, lips swirling around Your clit while one finger swiped through Your folds, collecting his own saliva, Your water that wouldnât stop pouring, he supposed he had much to be cleansed. Sinking one finger inside You, he curled it towards himself and the sound that left Your lips was angelic, Lee Chan groaned, eyelids fluttering as pleasure consumed him head-to-toe.Â
Tirelessly, movements filled with determination, Lee Chan added another finger, working them against the front of Your walls, the spot inside You that was spongy, edible. He wanted to taste it with his tongue. Your fingers curled into his hair, head tipping backward, Your chest glowing with a sheen of sweat, Lee Chan wanted to lick that up, too.Â
Minutes, hours, years had gone byâ Lee Chan would spend forever between Your thighs, but would You let him? Did Your salvation have a timeframe?Â
Where his resolve was strong, his body wasnât as strong as his mind. Pads of his fingers working in tandem with his tongue, Lee Chan kept his rhythm, waiting to feel You clench around him, any sign that what he was doing was bringing You closer to the edge. Closer to Your fountain anointing him into Your Sanctuary.Â
His cheeks grew hot. His fingers slowed. The pressure in his tongue weakened.
Is this what damnation feels like?
Mingyu had done it in two minutes.Â
Seungcheol had done it without issue.Â
Legends sat behind him, waiting like starved dogs that could smell their meal from where they knelt. Could Lee Chan satisfy their hunger? Could Lee Chan receive the blessing that would end their drought?
Disciples humming, a vibration off the walls seeping into his skin, traveling up into Your body, he curled his fingers thrice, he twisted his tongue though it yearned to rest, he curled his brow, determination hurtling toward frustration. Twelve mouths before him. Twelve tongues Youâve accepted into Your heat. Twelve triumphant loyal disciplesâ Perhaps his expectations were too great.
Perhaps Seungcheol hadnât properly chosen the right damned fool to fulfill their succession.
Your song began to quiet. Fingers curling into his hair, they lost their vigor. Your body, though relaxed, remained unsatisfied.
Lee Chan took a breath.
And then another.
His eyes flickered behind You, Your participatory sighs flipping his stomach. Seungcheol, unmoving, he stared. He watched. He studied. He analyzed. He spoke, his eyes relaying a thousand things his lips wouldnât dare, not here. Not now. Not in front of You, in Your presence, at Your most holy hour.
Youâre failing, Lee Chan.
A most disappointing performance.
And to think we thought You worthy of trying.
Maybe he made it up himself.
Seungcheols straightened brow and tense shoulders moved, briskly, disappearing from sight. Gentle hums seemed to lessen, the air growing thicker around Lee Chan, disciples quieting, a shuffling occurring behind him, down the marble, wood creaking, deep voices exchanging solemn whispersâŠ
Eyes squeezing shut, pulling his mouth from You, he pressed the tip of his nose to Your clit and twisted his fingers within You, scissoring them outâ
âAh.â
A rough hand dug against his scalp, fingertips lacing through his locks, rearing his head backward without a sound. Standing behind him, above him, looking down at Lee Chan with brown pointed brows shadowed by lace, Hansol.Â
A breath racked through his chest. He remembered SoonYoung and Junhui, the latter needing to assist in holding the tiger back, one too wild, too eager.Â
Hansol ripped him away from You.
He glared down at Lee Chan, jaw firm, set into place.
Your hands slipped over Your body, over Your sacred lace, and in one fluid motion You rose, sitting forward, meeting Hansol with a smile, knees pulling backward, legs spread. You knew he could smell You, the memory of his own initiation but two years passed.Â
You crooned, âHansol.â
He knew better than to speak.
Eyes dropping to Chanâs desperate gaze locked onto his predecessor, all of his pent up determination, frustration, his anguish, seeping from his pores like the tears that threatened his feline eyes, Your smile softened.
You wanted him.
You needed him.
The hungry eyes from the floor whispered to You, they needed him, too.
Taking a breath deep into Your belly, releasing a sigh, You sprawled onto the velvet. âHansol, please.â
Chanâs teeth chattered behind closed lips, he trembled beneath the knot Hansol wove atop his head, he gasped aloud as the disciples palm cracked across his cheek, quick, hard, piercing. Chin knocked to the left, he gulped. Pressing his eyes shut, he prayed off tears.
Positioning himself in front of You, Hansolâs fingers poisoned in apathy, Chan shuddered. Blinking but three times, he whispered to Hansol, âAgain.â
He had no room to make demands, to ask for favors, to plead for any help, that when the word slipped from his lips he cursed himself for eternity, that is until he watched Hansol pull his back his arm, gentle muscle flexing in his bicep, a sight to make Lee Chanâs mouth water before his eyes blurred with a water he wished had been Yours.
A crack rang in the air, and Chan groaned, his mouth dropping open to penetrate the air with the sound that drilled up into You, disgustingly erotic and all the more enticing.
You havenât had a disciple enjoy this since Minghao, yet alone have one beg for more.
Hansolâs palm seemed to read all of Your secrets, the way Chan dipped his head back between Your thighs with fervor, a newfound hunger in his eyes when he looked up at You through wet lashes. You moaned the moment his wet lips made contact, face scrunching together in awe as a singular tear dipped past his waterline, swimming down his beautiful, rosy skin.
âChan,â You whispered his name like You were writing it in Your missal, Your fingers joining Hansolâs in his onyx locks, a featherlight touch, one encouraging, one pleased, compared to Hansolâs demanding grip, pushing, holding.Â
Two fingers plunged inside You, curling, pressing, his tongue flicking over Your clit, You felt his desperation in his lips. Tears poured down his cheeks, dampening Your thighs as they squeezed around his head, Your head tipped backward in ecstasy. A third finger, he added, before Your eyesight grew hazy, thick fingers pressing so hard along Your walls it was as if You had his cock inside You, despite the clear sight of it red and leaking against his abdomen.Â
Your hips rocked against him, Your chest a hymnal, jaw slack and lips wet with enough spit drool might slip past. Your disciples loved when You were messy, thoughtless, lost within the pleasure they gave You, they revered it a blessing, propitiation, each one of them moaned as they licked up every drop.Â
When his teeth grazed Your clit Your eyes flew backward into darkness, fingers knotting in his hair, hips bucking into his fingers, You could taste it. On the cusp of exaltation, Lee Chan could taste it too, how he followed Your hipsâ movements, never breaking rhythm, eyes still glued to You and each one of Your reactions, he was enraptured, You could hear him in Your mind, praying for it.
A Prophet benevolent, You heard his prayer, and answered it.Â
One gush into his mouth until he broke away with a proud grin, two with a loud cry from Your lips, three with his fingers still working You open, milking You of every last drop. Greed personified, now two deadly sins of seven, You absolved him with each swallow, You forgave when his tongue met Your folds again, licking You clean.Â
Hansolâs grip in his hair pulled him backward, his eyes low-lidded, lips curled upward in satisfaction, he looked at You with love in his eyes. Hansol bent down, voice strained, one hungry, âLet us pray, then we can feast.â
Chanâs chest continued to heave as Hansol took his spot in the precession, knelt onto lambs wool, while Seungcheol quickly rose to his feet, bowing before You in reverence.Â
âO Holy Prophet, You gift us grace through sacrament, with Your holy water we are baptized into Your Sanctuary, the wellspring of all holiness.â
He stands, shoulders back, head straight, one out of Thirteen who hides his famine best.
Long strides around the chaise, he stands behind Your cathedra, âBy water and the Holy Spirit, he is to receive the gift of new life from the Prophet, who is Love.â
He met Chanâs eye over Your head, thick fingers laid over Your shoulders, tucked into the lace adorning Your body. He lifted it off Your body slowly, praying, âThe Prophet has freed You from sin, given You a new birth by Her water, and has welcomed You into Her Sanctuary. She now anoints You with the chrism of salvation.â
You helped him by shimmying the lace off Your body, sinking into the chaise once Seungcheol had the lace in his hold, watching as his body, draped in black, sauntered before You once more.Â
You smiled, eyes low, âStand, Lee Chan.â
Seungcheol, dwarfing Chan as he stands, held the white lace robe as if it were made of glass, open and ready for Chan to sink his arms into. Slowly, Chan slipped his arms through the lace, Seungcheolâs fingers lingering on his body, his muscle, the only sign of his hunger.
âYou have become a new creation, and have clothed Yourself in white. See in this garment the outward sign of Your faith, and with the help of Your family, those of the Sanctuary, by word and example, bring that dignity unstained into the everlasting life of paradise.â
âChan.â
His eyes fell to You, Your parted lips drinking in air like it fueled the lust in Your gaze, his name uttered, a sweet beg, a gentle whine. Legs spread, chin tipped backward with desire, You welcomed him upon the chaise with the smallest nod of Your head, lashes brushing Your cheeks in a beguiling sweep.
He gulped. He was truly ravishing in white. âProphet,â he whispered, strong jaw, neck and chest glistening with remnants of You.
Seungcheol narrowed his eyes, famished beyond belief. âDo not keep Her waiting.â
Turning Your chin, grinning upward at Your liege, You teased, âDonât keep you waiting, Cheol, is that right?â He simply tipped the corner of his mouth, allowing You in to see the famine in his stare. âYou can have him when Iâm finished.â
âYou keep every promise,â he whispered, his need slipping through his lips as much as it raged beneath his hips.Â
Your smile melted, smirking. âEvery promise.â Facing Your newest disciple, a newfound greed soaking the velvet between Your legs, leaking from Chanâs tip, You beckoned him toward You with one finger, releasing a sigh as he knelt onto the cushion, Your ankles hooking behind his back, around Your lace that now caressed his smooth skin.
Soft to the touch, now that You could feel him, You pressed Your palms to his cheeks, Your fingertips brushing his dark hair. Thumbs dancing over his cheekbones, admiring his features up close, You smiled. Chan settled his hands over Your shoulders on the velvet, breathing like one in a race, one ready for it to end, to accept his reward. Head dropping down, Yours moving in tandem, open mouths whispered secrets, lips just touching enough for him to see within You, enough to appease the curiosity that had grown.
This was only the beginning.
Lee Chan had much to learn, much to experience.
But, tonight⊠Tonight he was to be celebrated.
Nudging the tip of his nose with Your own, warm, sticky breath intoxicating, You thrusted him forward with a pull of Your ankles, one swift lift of Your hips allowing him to slip into Your heat.
Thirty-one days untouched, fulfilled.
Thirty-one days without release, fulfilled.
Thirty-one days without the stretch of another to bring You to fruition, fulfilled.
At the sound of Your moan ripping from the back of Your throat, the toss of Your head onto the red velvet, Chanâs teeth sinking into the plush of Your neckâ Seungcheol called out, âBrothersâŠâ His eyes drew toward Jeonghah. âLovers. May the feast⊠commence.â
Chan dropped on top of You, smothering You entirely, his greed now unabashed. Pressing into You, his tongue dragging up Your neck, along Your jaw, his lips hungrily smacking against Your skin, he thrust himself deep into You and groaned aloud, the chamber filling with a song of utmost ecstasy.
Jeonghan, wrapping himself around Seungcheol from behind, pressed kisses to his shoulder blade, two hands sliding down his now bare middle, the marble floor draped in onyx lace, littered with naked bodies that stumbled closer to the altar, their Prophet.Â
The noises amidst the air warmed You, powered You, fed You more than the boy stuffing You full of him. With Your hands clawing into his hair, keeping him caged to Your chest, Your neck, Your lips, You writhed as the beautiful chaos unfolded around You.
Your disciples, Your loyal believers, Your Thirteen delectable men taking part in and losing themselves in harmonious copulation.
Hands slid into Your hair. Tilting backward, plastering Chan and his filthy lips to Your skin blooming reds and purples, You met Seungcheolâs heavy gaze, his heavy cock, Jeonghanâs slender fingers wrapping around him, his tip a burning red contrasting with sweet cream colored Jeonghan.
Jaw falling open, Seungcheol groaned as Jeonghan squeezed, his lips baring his teeth, dragging them down his elders bicep. Jeonghan gazed down upon You, drifting to where Your body met Chanâs, his eyes fluttering shut with a most beautiful moan. Rutting against Seungcheolâs back, his sounds bordering on whimpers, he muttered something against the leader's thick skin, not to be heard over Chan's desperate pleas for release as he pistoled into You.
Body heaving, sweaty, sticky with penance, unknowing that You focused on the two behind You, Chan took what he desired. All of You. With the knowledge that eyes were on his back, on You, this new life of his entirely erotic, but all the more binding, full of love, family, everlasting lifeâŠ
âSeungcheol,â You whispered, lips curving into a smile, Your body rocking with every one of Chanâs steady, heady thrusts.Â
Licking Your lips, Your eyes softened as You parted them, moaning in delight when Seungcheolâs strong hands slipped from Your hair and wrapped around the back of Your throat. Lowering himself on one knee onto the chaise, Jeonghan taking both hands to his leader's hips, Seungcheol rounded his back and slid himself through Your slick lips, holding You by the neck, his tip nudging the back of Your throat.Â
They both thrust into You as one, Your body arching at the middle, both boys holding onto You, holding You down. Muffled moans, the slick slip of Seungcheol in Your throatâ Chan threw his head back, his eyes wide, his composure hanging on by a thread.
âFuck,â he sighed, looking up at Seungcheol and his furrowed brow.Â
Taking in the perfect body using Your throat, Chanâs belly tightened. Jeonghan smiled at the boy, his hands palming at Seungcheolâs tight skin, one slipping behind him. He sucked on his middle finger, his eyes glued to Chan, and as his hand disappeared behind Seungcheol, Chan watched in awe as the leader groaned louder than them all. Head thrown back, he screwed his eyes shut and snapped his hips relentlessly, Your smothered moans lost in the chorus of the Thirteen.
The smirk growing on Jeonghanâs lips as he stared at ChanâŠ
Nirvana shot through him. Choking on a moan, his hips stuttered into You, his top half collapsing back down unto Your chest, he emptied within You, filling You with his promise, gifting unto You his commitment, his loyalty, his forever.
Jeonghan, one hand wrapped around his length, the other grasping Seungcheol by the chest, he looked down upon Chan and grinned wickedly. âQuick trigger,â he uttered, and Seungcheol lowered his chin to glower at the boy. Jeonghan teased Seungcheol before pressing into him, slowly, the leader's eyes rolling back, his own body almost folding on top of You. âWeâll have to spend some time practicing with You,â Jeonghan said to Chan, his skin smacking against Seungcheol's, the two thrusting at once, the leader's cock still buried in Your throat.
Behind them, the other Ten, a whirlwind of passion and lust and reverence detonated upon the Sanctuary. Couples, pairings, a haze of hunger, cloudy lust, they gravitated toward each other as if it were rule, a commandment in Your book.
Wonwoo, teeth grazing Mingyuâs jaw, callused palms pushing the lace off his shoulders, every muscle in Mingyuâs chiseled body clenched at the feel of the older manâs hands on him. Mingyuâs neck flexed, dark eyes dragging back up the marble steps to where Chan kept drilling into You, Seungcheolâs cock repeatedly hitting the back of Your throat.Â
Mingyu groaned at the sight, the feeling of Wonwooâs rough palm tugging at his cock, his vision blurring as he was finally given relief. He needed more, needed to feel full, he wanted You, most of all.Â
âNot your turn yet,â Wonwoo growled, low under his breath, as if he was reading his thoughts, as if he said them out loud. Mingyuâs face twisted together, ripping his eyes away from You back to the dark haired man whose face was too close for him not to devour whole.Â
Wonwoo pumped his length faster, Mingyuâs hands traveling down his honey skin to grab at his length, and Wonwooâs cry of relief was immediate. The two, wrapped up in each other, they both knew in the back of their minds the real relief would be pushing into Your warmth.Â
Across the aisle the marble tiled floors were already biting into Minghaoâs knees, Junhuiâs hands knotted in the roots of his hair. âThatâs it,â Junhuiâs voice was soft, encouraging, even if the hands in Minghaoâs hair were pulling tight. âYou can take it deeper, baby.â
Soonyoungâs palms were painted onto Junhuiâs back, meticulously clean nails cutting crescents into his bronzy skin as Jihoon carved space for himself in Soonyoungâs ass. Wet cheeks pressed into the lace still adorning Junhuiâs body, Soongyoung was a crying, whimpering mess.Â
âJi, please,â he whined into Junhuiâs back, which was a wall of strength, an anchor for Soonyoungâs already shaking body. âHarder, faster, more, anything, please.â
Minghaoâs cries were muffled around Junhuiâs cock as his fingers tightened in Minghaoâs scalp, the wicked smile on his pretty pink lips was nothing short of sinful. Minghao took him deeper as the pain seared into pleasure, throat contracting around his cock, gagging as tears spilled from his waterline down his splotchy cheeks, his eyes barely open, too lost in the way Junhui played into his kinks easily.
Jihoonâs focus was barely on the way his cock disappeared into Soonyoung, his neck craned to watch You taking Seungcheolâs cock down Your throat, his mouth watered imagining the things he wanted to do to You. With You. He loved You open, dripping wet, free for him to do as he pleased, You loved Jihoon when he was worked up, when he took You like he owned Youâ Even though you both knew he worshiped You.
He landed a harsh smack on Soonyoungâs ass and Junhui hissed when Soonyoungâs nails dug into him harder, heâd have to confess his pride with You later, make it up to You tenfold. Right now, this pride, pleasuring Soonyoung and having Junhui feel it, Jihoon felt on top of the world.Â
At the altar, on top of You, worshipping You, Jeonghan's hands pressed into red velvet, his eyes locked on where he sunk into You, thrust into You, a heaving, wild mess of moans. Your hands caressed his cheeks, Your own whimpers of praise tangling within his, the tips of Your fingers brushing tears that poured down his porcelain skin, Your second disciple, one bound to the man that thrust his cock into him, beautiful. Onyx hair framing his cheeks, his gleaming wide brown eyes gazing down upon you, the name of his lover stuck in his throatâ Seongcheol slid a hand around Jeonghanâs neck and squeezed, rendering his lover thoughtless.
Eyes rolling back, jaw falling open, Jeonghanâs pushes into You were fueled by the snap of Seungcheolâs hips behind him. As the eldest thrust into his lover, he thrust him into You. Bodies glowing, the heat too much to bear, the pleasure entirely overwhelming, Jeonghan lost his composure and collapsed over you, catching himself on his elbows, careful to not harm You in anyway as he shook, spilling into you, filling you with a piece of himself as the two before him did. A gentle whine escaped through his lips as a crystal tear slid down his cheek and onto your chest.
âThank you, Prophet.â
Lifting your head, your lips brushed over his chiseled cheekbone. âMy love for you is eternal.â
You wrapped your legs around Seungcheolâs back, around his hips that worked mercilessly into the round of Jeonghan who hadnât taken himself out of you yet. Lips twitching into a smile, you met Seungcheolâs eyes over his lover's shoulder and told him with the curve of your smile to not stop.Â
Jeonghan winced. Seungcheol groaned. The sound of skin smacking skin and high pitched whimpers surrounded the three of you, drowning Chan who unbeknownst to You sat on the floor of Your altar, beside You, his lustrous gaze locked onto Seungcheol and the power he appeared to bestow.Â
Paying no mind to the chorus of erotica around them, the three boys lost themselves again. Seungcheol pumping Jeonghan impossibly full, Jeonghan releasing nothing into you, Chan cumming onto his stomach untouched, cock pulsing as his hands tried to dig into the marble of the floor.
Thick fingers grabbed onto the plush of Seungcheolâs waist, your third, ravishing his way through several bodies, a hunger in his piercing doe eyes. Accepting his dismissal with grace, Seungcheol wrapped himself around Jeonghan and picked him up, lifting him off of you and over to Chan, the three escaping nearby.Â
âMine.â The soft lilt in his tone, the song he sang each time his lips parted, Joshua curled around you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
âJisoo,â you whispered, sliding your arms around his back, nails grazing his olive skin with tenacity.Â
Eager, a man starved, his lover dropping to his knees behind him, Joshua laid your head in his palms, holding your thighs open with his elbows. Sliding into your warmth, the purest of moans ripped from his throat, his eyes fluttering closed as he dropped his head unto your chest. His cock, stretching you open, his heart, thundering in his chest, the snap of his hips, restless, unsettled, unsatisfied.
Seokmin slid his hands around Joshuaâs ankles, his lips pressing to his lover's thighs, taking his time. Hands smoothing over his skin, he cupped the round of his ass and bared his teeth, sinking them into the curve of his beloved, allowing one hand to slip between his thighs to cup Joshua where heâs most sensitive, turning the passion in his thrusts to mere humps. Gentle spears of himself into you while whimpers escape him.
âMine,â he uttered again, parting his lips to suck at the skin on your neck, âMine, mine, mineâŠâ
Dragging your hands up his back and into his hair, you tugged at the strands, sighing heavily, âCareful, Jisoo.â
Joshua, crying out as Seokmin spread him open and drug his tongue daintily over his hole, he threw his head backward with a sharp yell, âMine!â
Seokmin pulled a hand back to smack his lover where he knew itâd sting. âGreed.â
You pulled at his hair, eliciting another cry out of him. âYour hunger, it overwhelms you, Jisoo,â you said through pants, heavy air but dirty whispers, your eyes welling with tears at the pressure building between your hips. âI donât belong to you. You donât own me.â
He whimpered and Seokmin smacked him again, rising to his feet. âI ought to pull you away Jisoo,â he uttered, dropping his lace to the floor, his gaze beholding you like you were made of gold, âYou speak of nonsense.â
Gifting Seokmin a smile, you pressed your lips to Joshuaâs ear and drug your tongue over his lobe. âFill me with your adoration, then tend to your lover. I am not yours, you are not mine. Give me your gift, release yourself of this frustration you harbor, Jisoo, I am yours to confide in, give it to me.â
The room shook.
âInside,â Minghaoâs cry could be heard throughout the Sanctuary, but no one lifted their head, everyone too engrossed with where their cocks were buried.Â
Junhui bit his lip as his eyes drifted back up to Your cathedra, his palms spreading Minghaoâs ass before him, he glanced back and forth twice before he noticed Joshuaâs shoulders shake in the way they only do when he orgasms. Mumbling a curse under his breath, he squeezed his ass once, âLater, promise.â
Junhuiâs legs brought him up Your stairs until he was bowing deeply before You, taking Joshuaâs place between your legs. Your cheeks reddened and wet, eyes half-lidded and gone, oh how Junhui loved You like this. Not quite spent, but definitely not fresh.Â
âJun,â you whispered, a smile on Your pretty lips as Your arms stretched outward to cup his cheeks, Junhui melted.
âProphet,â he responded, leaning into Your touch, he bent forward just enough to press his lips to Yours. Blazing, a heat spreading throughout every limb, every vein, Junhui was consumed with such gratitude, immediately he fell to his knees.Â
You gasped as his hands spread Your thighs, tongue slipping from his lips to lap up every ounce of release from You, Joshua, Jeonghan, the newest member of their Thirteen, Chan. Junhuiâs eyes rolled back at the taste, spirituality in the form of splendor, he ascended as Your thighs caged him in.Â
Hands on his back, on his head, on your thighs, spreading them further, Minghaoâs caramel knees a stunning comparison to the red velvet of the chaise. âProphet,â Minghao whispered, almost a whine, a needy, deprived sound.Â
âCome here, sweet thing,â Your tenth, usually one of the last to rise upon Your cathedra, his face twisted up, splotchy, bleeding at the seamsâ he needed it. He needed You, the sight summoned a wide grin, a nasty smirk on Your swollen lips.Â
âMissed you,â his breath staggered, his body shaking, as much as it consumed you with love, You knew Your tenth well.Â
Kneeling beside Your chest, Your hands landed on his thighs, his length caught between white knuckles, Your mouth watered. âMissed you, my love,â You smiled despite Your brows furrowing together at Junhuiâs tongue slipping inside you, curling to massage your walls.Â
You replaced Minghaoâs hand with your own only to slightly satiate his endless hunger, he was usually well behaved after a fast, this was different. Your Thirteen surprising You was few and far between, as your disciples, You knew them better than they knew themselves. As You believed You should, being their Prophet.Â
His head knocked backward at Your touch, a long, languid moan dripping past his lips, his hips bucking into Your hand. Junhui followed Your hips as they jerked into him, Your eyes fluttering, receiving pleasure and providing it, there was no better offering, no better gift you could give.Â
âYou want to cum?â You ask Your tenth, squeezing his length tighter, eyes watching closely as his face contorts somewhere between pleasure and pain.
He nods first, hips thrusting into Your hand, âPlease, please, Prophet. Itâd be mercy.â
âAh, mercy?â You pop a brow, involuntarily gasping as Junhuiâs tongue flicks over your clit. Your head turns, eyes swimming down the aisle, catching on each one of Your disciples lost in euphoria. Landing on Soonyoung, his dark brown eyes swimming with tears already as Jihoon lost himself behind him, You gave him a look that said Come.Â
Minghao pouts, bottom lip jutting out, You give his cock one last tug before You smile, âJunhui, give Minghao his mercy.â
Within a second they peeled off Your body, only from the growl that left Junhuiâs mouth could you tell that Junhui would be punishing Minghao himself. Junhuiâs turn, yet over the years, the silver-haired man had become Junhuiâs pair, his partner, the one responsible for Minghao. The thought crosses your mind of who would become Lee Chanâsâ as Soonyoung excitedly walks past Minghao and Jun upon the marble tiled steps, your eyes drift to where Seungcheol and Jeonghan were with the boy, and you realize maybe Lee Chan would never have just one partner.
Soonyoung, flushed and heaving, presents himself before you with Jihoon on his heel. Soonyoung bows deeply, âMy Prophet, wherever You will have me.â
You grin, sitting up straighter, body sticky and spent but still buzzing with need, adrenaline sizzling your skin hotter when You take in the two men before You. Eyes drifting to Jihoon, seeing the spark of mischief in his eye, Your lips curl into a shit-eating grin.Â
âSit,â is all You respond, patting the spot beside You. Soonyoung straightens on command, sitting beside You in a flash, and You crawl over his lap to line Yourself up with his length. Eyes drifting over Your shoulder to Jihoon, âBehind.â
With something between a nod and bow of his head Jihoon wears a lazy grin on his cheeks, and as You sink Yourself onto Soonyoungâs length, Jihoon presses into You from behind, the three of you filling the Sanctuary with the most beautiful hymn of pleasure. Soonyoung, lips parted, hands heavy on Your hips, Jihoonâs chin on Your shoulder keeps You tucked into his chest.Â
Softer strokes at first, easing the three of you into a rhythm, until the stretch turns to burning hot pleasure and the true nature of Your fifth and seventh awakens. Jihoon, a hand stretched around Your stomach, the other clasped around Your throat, rocks into You as Soonyoung pulls out, the older manâs feet planted into red velvet, fucking up into You like You were nothing but a toy.Â
Despite how they used Your body, how You loved them doing so, the two didnât stop speaking sticky sweet praise into your ears.Â
âMy beloved, youâre so beautiful.â
âI was born to adore You, my Prophet.â
âThe most holy sacrament, You are s-so generous, thank You, Prophet.â
âMm, fuck, so warm, You are Heaven.â
It wasnât long until a blazing hot pit of pleasure sat heavy in Your gut, knees aching, body shaking with pleasure. Jihoonâs hand fell from Your stomach to trace circles on Your clit, his voice hot on the shell of Your ear, âCum, cum for me, for us. Let us know weâre adoring You properly, my Prophet.âÂ
Another hand on Your cheek, someone else, palm rough, hot, he squeezed Your jaw and it was enough to send you hurling over the edge.Â
âYou make her cum so beautifully, Ji.â Wonwoo.Â
Your skin heats up all over again, the curl in Your stomach restarted as if You hadnât just had an earth-shattering orgasm. Mingyuâs golden, bronzed, muscular back blocks Your sight of Soonyoung, but his cock stays buried inside You.Â
Your head falls to his shoulder, kissing the skin of Your ninth, while Your sixth is lost in Jihoonâs heat. Turning Your head, Wonwoo behind Jihoon, Your mind goes fuzzy as Jihoonâs face contorts in pleasure as he pushes inside.Â
Mingyu, before You, slides his cock into Soonyoungâs mouth at the same time. The two men pause inside You, buried to the hilt, and all You can do is cry out in pleasure, fingernails clawing at Mingyuâs back, forehead falling to his damp, sweaty skin.Â
The five of you falling into one rhythm, one dance of nirvana, You can hear Soonyoungâs gurgled cries, Mingyuâs harsh breath, Jihoonâs whimpers, Wonwooâs grunts. Overwhelming but not enough, so consumed by love, appreciating, You canât help but verbalize it.Â
âIââ Your head falls back onto Jihoonâs shoulder again, Wonwoo takes the opportunity to kiss Your forehead. âI love you.â
In unison they respond, like a mantra, theyâre all Yours.Â
Another orgasm rocks through You with force and itâs one they can all feel, Soonyoungâs strangled cry, his cock stiffening inside You, he fills You up before Mingyu finishes down his throat.Â
Behind You, Wonwoo rocks Jihoon into You faster, harder, mumbling filth into his ears, âIâm not done with you yet, donât you dare finish. Hold it.â
You double over to where Mingyu left You space, hands planting onto Soonyoungâs broad chest, fingers curling into his skin. He hasnât pulled out yetâ still whimpering, whining, tears falling down his cheeks from overstimulation, where Jihoon fucks into You he can feel.Â
Another surprise, Wonwoo fucking Jihoon into submission, You supposed this fast had left your Thirteen broken. Your mind drifts back to Minghaoâ denying him pleasure because of his hunger, where now you fed the four.Â
Somewhere in the Sanctuary you hear his moans, his whimpers, Junhuiâs slaps against his skin. Youâd properly reward him for his efforts later.Â
âOne more time,â Jihoon whimpers and Your gut curls at the sound, he pulls You back into him by Your hips, the same hand sliding to Your clit. Ignoring Your hiss of overstimulation, he praises, âI need to feel You cum around me once more, my beloved, my Prophet. Your pleasure is my absolution.âÂ
One of Your hands flew up to cup his wet cheek, âYes, Jihoon, ah, yes.â
Wonwooâs hand lands on Your other hip and You snap, âCummingâ Cumming!â
âCum, Ji,â Wonwooâs deep voice commands to the younger one and as You tighten around his length he spills inside You, forehead landing heavy on Your shoulder, and Wonwoo groans as he fills Jihoon up all the same.Â
Dizzy. Fuzzy. Full of warmth. Full of their love⊠Youâre transitioned into arms, solitude, a firm grasp wrapping around your waist, holding onto you tight. Mingyu returned to Wonwoo, the two curling up on lambswool together, Jihoon and Soonyoung taking their place as well, drying each others tears with swift brushes of their lips, Jeonghan and Seungcheol fucked back and forth like bunnies, and Chan⊠Chan wandered down the aisle of marble, hands tangled on his abdomen, dazed eyes darting back and forth, seeking companionship from lovers already paired off.
Blinking in the candlelight, gripping firm onto Seokminâs shoulders as he sunk you down onto him, you pointed toward Chan, splaying yourself over your eighthâs chest.Â
âHeâs⊠HeâsâŠâ
Seokmin gulped. Hands gripping your curves, he fucked you onto him, moving your body for you. âHeâs searching for his place.â
Head bobbing in delusional pleasure, your voice breaking, you touched Seokminâs cheek and whispered, âHe wonât find one, not now.â
He gazed at you, his eyes heavy with lust, love, respect. âHe will eventually.â
âYou donât know how it feels, Seokmin,â Joshua spoke from behind you, his tone rough, different from his claim over You. His lover glared over your shoulder. âTo come into a place where relationships are so obviously established. You became mine, did you not?â
Seokmin bit his bottom lip, fucking up into you. âI did.â
âWhen? When did you become mine?â
Your incoherent babbles went ignored. Glancing behind You, You reached for Joshua, but he only took Your hand in his, he didnât dare touch You anywhere else. Heâd already had his fill.
âAfter,â Seokmin groaned, gritting his teeth.
Joshua smiled. âAfter, when?â
âInitiaiton,â his lover spat.
âAh,â he nodded, your thirdâs smirk growing as he glanced down to where Seokmin fucked you and you leaked around him, âImmediately after She accepted you. You became mine. My night? I came here with Seungcheol with Jeonghan clearly devoted to him, with no chance of either of them becoming someone else's. Jun arrived, I thought heâd be mine. And he was, for some time, until Soonyoung.â
Seokmin bared his teeth and dug them into your shoulder, his thrusts growing sloppier. âMine, you keep saying it. Mine.â
Whining, unable to hold yourself up properly, you squeezed Joshuaâs hand. âJisoo. Control yourself. You are Seokminâs. He is yours. He loves you. I love you.â
Joshua pulled his hand back, eyes searing into Your own, into Seokminâs. Your third, the poor thing, having been thrown from one boy to another as the pairings took place, as they figured themselves out. He took it to heart, having been the one to be passed aroundâ heâs had a taste of them all, and not in the way that he craved.
Parting his lips to say more, he didnât. With a snap of his jaw he whirled himself around to barrel down the stairs, his hands reaching out for Chan, the boyâs eyes going wide as Joshua presented himself to him.Â
Planting Your hands over Seokminâs cheeks, you squished them with a moan, your body rocking against his. âYour lover, heâs-â
âExceptional,â he sighed, dipping his chin toward you to kiss your lips.
From behind, body heat engulfed You, engulfed Seokmin. Hands slid down your arms, the nails on these slender hands painted, a careful design that took time. Patience. A lesson learned. Silent, he pressed his fingers into Your skin, pressed his lips to Your shoulder and slid himself inside of You, a cry ringing in the air as You took them both at once.
Jun appeared behind the chaise, behind Seokmin. Kneeling to the floor, his gaze peering over the velvet, he smiled at Minghao who clung to your back, rutting into you like itâd be the last thing heâd ever do. âGood boy,â he whispered.
âFuck,â Seokmin groaned, pushing into you to the hilt, throwing his head back onto Junâs arms as he released into You.Â
Jun kneaded his fingers in your eighthâs dark, tousled hair. âI was talking to Hao.â
Seokminâs lips twitched into a smile. âWas good enough for me.â
With a click of his tongue, Jun swatted at his head. âOut of the way.â
âNo wonder he loved you,â he whispered before slipping out of Your heat. Giving You to Minghao, Your tenth pushing You chest first into the velvet, Seokmin rose to his feet and stumbled, eyes scouring the floor for Joshua who had ended up balls deep in Chan with the newest disciple pushed face first into lambs wool. âProphet help me,â he mumbled, disappearing down the marble.
Junâs gaze held Minghaoâs, the boy desperately fucking into you, mumbling incoherently into your ear as his lover talked him through it. âTake from Her, receive forgiveness, fill Her womb with your gratitude⊠Cum, my love. You deserve it.â
On command, the two intertwined as one, Minghao, as fucked out as You, his all mighty saving grace, he swallowed Junâs words and came inside of you, the sound obscene. Full, too full, yet not full enough, you leaked around him, onto him, a mess made, one lapped up immediately as Minghao slipped out of you, a tongue dragging between your folds.
Hands gripped your thighs, pushing them open, their warm tongue dipping inside of You, the disgusting slurp and smack of lips followingâ Two. Two tongues. One over your clit, the other inside of You.
Minghao wrapped himself around Jun, appearing before You, the two losing themselves in a heated kiss, leaving You to Your own pleasure and the last of Your disciples having found You after having indulged in one another more than once.
Their tongues lapped into your heat, and then they met another's, swapping spit, cum, arousal, before itâd be spat back onto You and drunk up once more. Mumbles of, âDelicious, so sweet, thank you, thank you, thank you,â heard between Your mewls, both Seungkwan and Hansol high on euphoria and Your taste, the taste of every disciple before them.
The youngest of Your Twelve now turned Thirteen, the night of Hansolâs initiation, Seungkwan became his. Your eleventhâs eyes ate him up where he stood patiently waiting beneath onyx lace, he claimed him before heâd even begun.Â
But still, as the rest of the Thirteen, they remained Yours.Â
âMine,â You whispered, hands laced in hair, soft as silk, blonde or dark, you couldnât tell. Both of them, between Your thighs, tongues dancing together, pleasuring You. Moans and whimpers bounced off Your skin from below as if You were touching them, as if they were inside You, to please You was pleasure enough to Your youngest.
Hands caressed Your skin, soft touches, the sweetest two of Your Thirteen taking their time to stake their claim, glorifying their worship over You, their almighty saviour. Always slower, Your youngest used less haste, as if their fast had not panged them unlike the rest of Your Thirteen.Â
Hansol, hair like a chocolate mareâs mane, You recognized his clean cut, manicured nails clawed around Your right thigh where Seungkwanâs daintier, feminine hands held Your left open with soft pressure. Seungkwanâs hair, golden as the sun, peeked above the patch of deep hair above Your mound, they ate like they touched You, two sides of a coin.Â
A soft sigh leaves Your parted lips, head falling back upon the red velvet chaise, lolling to the side to see Your Thirteen gathered at the base of Your cathedra. Knelt upon tile, Chan at the center, five men flanking him to his left, another on his right, eleven pairs of dilated eyes stared upon You, at the two men devouring You, what was left of themselves inside You.
Your hands found Your chest when they began speaking, the final prayer of the night, for Your last orgasm. Brows knitting together, You kept each one of their eyes as they spoke:
âProphet of all goodness and grace, receive the gifts we offer and grant that our whole life may give You glory and praise.â
Hips bucking into the two between Your legs, one flicked his tongue over Your clit, the other curling inside You, bending around the spot on the front of Your walls. Your moans laid over their prayer like a blanket, as if You were accepting them immediately, answering them, performing a miracle in the heart of Your Sanctuary.Â
âO Prophet, giver of life and source of freedom, all we have received is from Your hand. You call us to be stewards of Your abundance, the caretakers of all You have entrusted to us. Help us to always use Your gifts wisely and teach us to share them generously. May our faithful stewardship bear witness to the love of The Prophet in our lives.â
Seungkwan and Hansolâs rhythm paced quicker, harsher, knowing movements, putting You at the cusp of yet another orgasm. A fire pooling in Your belly, head shooting backward, chest heaving, Your bones locked at the finishing word of their prayer, the word enough to push You over the edge.
đŠ a/n: hiii loves!! Itâs been a while huh? I missed you so much đ„ș My goodness I did not plan for my break to be this long đ„Č. Life has been life-ing. Iâm a little rusty so please forgive me if this isnât as good as my other writing. Iâm hoping my writing voice comes back again! As always hope you enjoy <33
s.w.a.k đ: @babextoken @rat-that-writes @confusedgeek @javdery @fruitsandcheese @ghostinthehallwaygrinning @dominuslunae @goosepond69 @cptknt @okoatmeal @liviailes @whatsthecommand @little--sunshine @dugiioh @temptation-waits @glitterghost @jeriiicho @canopies-of-gold-and-evergreen @s1eept0ken @wolftoken (let me know if youâd like for me to tag you in any future fics âš)
Warnings/tags: bestfriend!iii x fem!reader, slow burn, friends to lovers, making out, both are a bit bratty - great banter tho đ, iii is love sick for you, smut, vaping, p in v (unprotected), missionary (yay!), oral (F recieving), his fingers in your mouth, his hand around your throat (no choking), âlet me show you how bad Iâve wanted you all of this timeâ ahh vibe.
You needed a night out - badly. Everything had been piling up and you desperately wanted to let off some steam. Youâd been begging your best friend, iii, to come out with you for weeks. Finally, he caved. God was he difficult to get out of the house but you knew he could never say no to you.
The second you stepped out in that dress making your way to the uber, his eyes were glued on you. He just couldnât help them wanderingâŠtaking you in.
Breathtaking, thatâs all he could think about. Was how breathingtakingly beautiful you are. But fuck, it felt wrong to look at his best friend the way he was right now. How could he not though? He wanted to let his mind continue to wander, to continue to fantasise so badly. The internal struggle of wanting to see that dress bunched up at your hips while he ate you out while also knowing he shouldnât be having these thoughts danced around in his mind. Nonchalance thatâs what we will choose for this evening, he thought to himself. ButâŠwas he making too much eye contact? Too little? He was beginning to fidget. And it was becoming harder to ignore the tightening in his pants as he watched you scooch into the car next to him. Complete adoration came so much easier to him who was he kidding.
iii lovedâŠno..adored that dress on you. Your perfume was intoxicating enveloping his every sense as you kissed him on the cheek hello, as always. The way you would always say âhello handsomeâ would make smile, and his cock hard, but this time it absolutely melted iii to the core. A slight blush crept over him. Thank god it was dark out. Youâd said it so many times before but this time..this time it felt different for him. Tempting. Alluring. In ways he had pushed down for so long. For years. Were you flirting with him?
He felt himself staring but he couldnât help it. Your hair was styled up, your soft neck just begging to be kissed he would give anything to bury his face in it. Why did you have to wear your hair the way he loved it?
âHi beautiful,â he finally said under his breath. So soft you didnât even hear it. You were hypnotising to him. Always had been. It was your world and he was just happy to be living in it as your best friend. So loveable. You made friends with every person you came in contact with. And you proved him right in this very moment. You were practically friends with the uber driver by the time you reached the club. And he loved that about you. You know in the way a best friend would.
âFor fucks sake,â he muttered to himself, as he watched you walk ahead of him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
âCome on just have one shot with me,â you insisted, dragging him through the crowd to the bar.
He couldnât help but drape his arms over your shoulders, his tall height towering over you from behind. He found himself cursing under his breath as you leant forward slightly, yelling over the loud music to tell the bartender your order, your ass brushing up against him.
His hands instinctively fell to your waist. And for a second he revelled in how natural it felt to be with you this way, how perfectly you fit against him, how perfectly he would fit between your-
âGet on your knees, you giant.â
And for a second you swear you saw his brain short circuit. âMy..my what?,â he stood there frozen staring down at you.
âYou heard me. On your knees. Youâre so bloody tall and this shot has to go into there,â you teased tapping your finger lightly on his lips.
For a second he hesitated his eyes meeting yours, before wrapping his hand around your wrist gently removing your hand, slowly sinking to his knees. What a delicious sight.
âYouâre such a smartass you know that?â
âSays you, now shh,â you tilted his stubbled jaw up and instinctively his lips parted. What a nice place to sit. The thought clouded your mind, uninvited but impossible to ignore. You smiled down at him hesitantly as your pulse raced and your breath deepened watching the liquid pool between his parted lips.
Your core throbbed at the thought of straddling his perfect face. Your fingers in his hair. The noises he would make. The noises he would pull from you.
A single drop escaped his perfect lips, trailing down the corner of his mouth and every part of you wanted to lean in and lick it off.
You both stayed like that for a heartbeat staring at one another before he slowly got up his height more noticeable than usual. His cologne becoming intoxicating. Keep it together, you thought to yourself.
You stood there watching him wipe the drop from his chin licking the liquid off his thumb. His dorky expression looking down at you.
âYou okay love?â his hand brushed over your flushed cheek.
Your stomach tightened. God, those hands. Those ridiculously big hands.
Your mind continued to race. Your friendiversary was next week. 3 years. 3 years of stupid inside jokes, late night calls, comforting each other through breakups, and telling yourself it was just friendship. With him being this close to you, looking at you like that, you couldnât lie to yourself anymore.
Youâd thought about him, sure. But everyoneâs does. Right? I mean look at him.
It was suddenly feeling warm. Hot. Uncomfortable.
âI need to leave,â you blurted out bolting for the exit.
âWhat?!â he called after you making his way through the crowd running after you.
The night air hit your skin like a shock, cool and damp against the heat simmering under your cheeks. You inhaled a lungful exhaling slowly as you walked down the sidewalk, finding yourself settled against the brick wall needing something solid to hold you up.
It didnât take long before iii caught up to you. Stupid long legs. His breath heaved as he came to a halt.
âYouâre fucking mad you know that?!â his breath clouded around him as he heaved in the cold air. âBeen shouting your name like an idiot. Itâs bloody freezing out here.â
You stared up at him as his warm hands instinctively wrapped around yours rubbing them together before draping his jacket over your shoulders. The heat of it and him sank straight into your skin. Comfort washed over you.
âHi,â you sighed as you met his gaze.
âThatâs all Iâm getting? A hi?â he chuckled.
His voice softened. âBabe, talk to me. Whatâs goinâ on in that head of yours?â
You hesitated, watching him shove his hands into his pockets before pulling out his vape, exhaling the vapor into the cold night air beside him. You watched hypnotised as the cloud rose and vanished just like your train of thought.
âI thought you quit,â you attempted to divert.
But iii saw straight through you. âNope. Also youâre dodging.â He took a step closer, his presence warming up the air between you both. âWhyâd you run love, hm?â
And in true you-and-iii fashion you continued your push and pull.
âCan I have a hit?â another poor attempt at diverting.
âYou donât vape. Iâve know you for 3 years and I havenât seen you smoke or vape once. Donât change the subject,â he said curtly, making it clear he wasnât going to budge.
âMaybe I wanna try,â you provoked.
âYou wanna try hm?â he smirked, stepping closer.
âScared Iâll get my cooties on it?â you teased both of you breaking out into laughter.
âYouâre so ridiculous, I swear. Canât be serious for one second can you?â he laughed.
God you loved his laugh. It warmed you to the core knowing only you could make him laugh like that.
His hand reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Barely a touch, but enough that it made your thighs instinctively squeeze together the suddenly apparent throbbing between them becoming unbearable.
âYouâre so annoying, I swearâ you murmured, but the words lost their bite as his hand grazed your hip, tentative, testing, your eyes fixed on his lips.
The cold air turned warm as your breath mingled between one another, both inching closer unsure and searching each otherâs face for permission, making sure you werenât crossing a line that either of you wanted to keep. A line that you both knew you could never come back to.
Instinctively your hands snaked around his neck pulling him closer your noses gently brushing against one another your lips barely touching. His lips met yours in a soft short kiss a smile washing over both of you.
âYeah?â he asked softly against your lips.
âYeah,â you nodded.
It was the only confirmation you needed, and the only words you could both get out you before finally melting into one another. It felt electric. Perfect. Soft. Sweet. Hot as fuck. Even better than you imagined. And you quickly realised why so many before you had fallen for your best friend.
You so desperately needed him. All of him. And judging by how hard he felt against you, as he picked you up, he needed you just as badly. You instinctively rubbed your now soaked panties against his clothed cock earning a delicious low groan from him. Oh god you needed to hear that again. You swear you would have gladly taken him right there and then in that alleyway if he hadnât insisted on taking you home.
The drive home was a blur of you and him making out in the back of an uber like you were making up for lost time. His hands wandering close to where you were desperate for him to fill you. Yours running through his hair.
iii unlocked your apartment door with his spare key. âCompletely forgot you have a set of keys to my place,â you laughed.
âWell I am your best friend.â
Silence filled the room. Yes you were but do all friends want to climb their bestie like a tree? Do friends want to rip each others clothes off and make each other cum a million times? Do friends want to memorise the feeling of the otherâs lips against their skin?
âGlad I remembered them,â he said clearing his voice, as he stepped inside.
You leaned against the wall, watching him kick the door shut. âWhat, planning a break-in?â
He took a slow step closer. âMore likeâŠmaking sure I donât waste time knocking.â
Your pulse raced as you watched him unbuckle his belt, throwing his jacket on your couch. âImpatient, huh?â
His eyes dragged over you, deliberate and hungry. âYou have no idea.â
âCâmere then,â you said softly.
No more time was wasted. Youâd waited long enough already, a second more would have felt like hell. And his lips were heaven. He was heaven. How perfect his hands felt on your ass and thighs as he lifted you up, the slight friction of your already soaked panties against his lower tummy making you moan against his lips and your legs tighten around his waist.
The second your naked back met the mattress his lips were on your neck. Sweet words of affection were whispered against your neck butterflies filling your tummy. Your breath hitched as he kissed along your soft stomach his eyes filled with both adoration and hunger watching your every reaction. iiiâs fingers hooked into the waistband of your mesh panties, not before leaving an open mouth kiss to your inner thigh, your clit, your core.
âiii please,â you repeatedly begged lifting your hips for him to slide the fabric down.
The sound of your heartbeat filled your ears as you looked down at your best friend licking a long stripe up your core to your clit. Over and over. His lips glistened with your arousal as he purposefully and perfectly devoured you his moustache adding the perfect friction against the softness of his tongue and lips. His hand never left yours, delicately intertwined grounding you into the moment while the other pushed and curled in and out of you almost immediately bringing you to climax.
âIâve got you baby, thatâs my girl,â he praised breathlessly in awe of you. He was so hard watching the girl he secretly adored for so long come undone for him. Because of him. He wanted this moment burned into his brain forever. The way your lips parted, your brows furrowed, how his name sounded falling from your lips like a prayer, how your hips lifted, your chest heaved, your pussy clenched and flooded around his fingers. He couldnât help but groan at the sight of you. He needed to taste you again.
His fingers continued slowly pumping in and out of you working you through your orgasm his lips gently kissing your clit.
âNeed you,â you panted pulling him up to taste yourself on his lips. Breaking away, his fingers replaced his lips pushing past your parted lips, remembering the drunken confession you told him months ago that youâve always fantasised about exactly this. It made him feel dizzy and rock hard feeling your tongue swirl and suck on his fingers pushing them in further along your soft tongue.
Everything felt hazy..fuzzy..warm. You were undeniably soaked. Unbelievably aroused sticking your tongue out for him to watch his fingers glide over it knowing he was wishing it was his cock. Removing his fingers, his tongue licked across yours before once again melting against each otherâs lips.
There was no coming back from this. Not anymore. Your best friend of 3 years just ate you out and not only did he just eat you out but he did so better than anyone youâd ever been with before. And you wanted more. More of him. All of him.
âYou ok love?â
âYeah,â you sighed lost in him wrapping your legs around his waist.
âYeah?â he smirked rubbing his nose against yours.
âYou got a little somethingâŠwell a bit of me..â you giggled swiping your thumb over his glistening moustache. His hand caught yours licking your thumb. His eyes softened watching your lips part your other hand running through his hair, down his back, his chest to his waistband.
âI need you so bad,â he pleaded.
âI know, I know. You got me,â you reassured sliding off his boxers immediately stroking him. His hand wrapped around yours showing you how he liked it.
âOh god, fuck..yeah,â he groaned his brows furrowing his eyes pleading.
Oh he was so delicious. So big in your hand. The feeling of his around yours guiding you up and down his shaft making your pussy drip. Guiding him through your soaked folds had both of you moaning and cursing against one anotherâs lips.
âNeed you to stretch me out and fill my-â your words replaced with moans as he perfectly sunk into you. His forehead pressed against yours as he dragged himself in and out of you.
âLike this baby? Hmm? Feel good? You feel so fucking good around me.â
You swirled your hips as he pushed his cock all the way in, needing to feel every inch of his perfect cock stretching your walls. He pressed your legs back, allowing him to go deeper, the sound of him moaning your name making you clench around him. Your clit rubbed against him as he fucked you at a delicious pace.
âWanted you for so long. Need you. Always,â he confessed his fingers rubbing soft circles around your clit. You guided his other to wrap around your throat desperate to feel him everywhere. The bed frame rocked repeatedly against the wall behind you as he fucked you at a steady pace hitting that spot inside you like no one had before. Like you needed. Like you deserved.
He looked so perfect above you. His hair flopped over, his skin glistening with sweat, his furrowed brows. And it was all because of you. You watched between you as his long fingers rubbed soft circles over your clit his cock pumping in and out of you his hand on your throat now rolling your nipple between his fingers sending you over the edge.
âFuck. Please,â is all you could say as you squeezed around him your orgasm washing over you his own not far behind.
âOh fuck, gonna fill you up baby. Can I?â
âPlease,â you said softly, lovingly, your legs locking around him pulling him down into a kiss. He rocked his cock into you his head falling into the side of your neck as he filled you up with his cum riding out his high. His soft moans and whimpers against your neck made you want to never let him go.
âYou okay my sweet boy?â You searched his face brushing the hair out of his face. He was so blissed out. His hands rubbed up and down over your chest to your throat tilting your head to the side kissing along your jaw up to your ear.
âNever better,â he said softly kissing just behind your ear.
âNo oneâs ever made me feel like that. Itâs like you just knew exactly what I needed,â you confessed biting your lip your hand running down his chest.
âWell I am your best friend,â he smirked.
âYouâre so cheeky, you know that?â you laughed swatting at his chest.
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | âSelf Awareâ Series | LaDS Masterlist
mdni / nsfw (manipulation, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, semi-public deepthroating, somnophilia, cnc?, !darkRafayel)
!Dark!Self-aware Rafayel! knew he was egocentric, what artist wasnât, but you just had to learn to deal with it, he didnât care! You knew the kind of man he was, youâve known him far longer than heâs known you. You acted nothing like he imagined when you woke up with the ring on your finger. You took it off immediately and handed it back to him like it offended you.
!Dark!Self-aware Rafayel! was pissed, how could you do this to him? One minute your rose him on cloud nine only to plummet him into the depths of hell the next. He refused to take the ring back, throwing a tantrum, he didnât want to hear your reasons, no answer of yours could justify such actions towards him. You hurt him greatly and he made sure you knew it. He left you in his bed and he locked himself in his art studio.
!Dark!Self-aware Rafayel! was torn, maybe heâd over reacted, but heâd waited long enough, he didnât want to wait any longer to spend the rest of his life with you. He knew it was just a stupid piece of paper, but he longed to hear your vows. He went back to his bedroom only to find that you had left, he was crestfallen. He called you but you wouldnât pick up, so he flooded you with dozens of text messages and voicemails pleading for you to come back, he couldnât breathe without you, he was dying.
!Dark!Self-aware Rafayel! was relieved when you answered (finally!) and agreed to meet up later. You came back wearing the ring and he couldnât be more pleased. You reluctantly accepted, though you kept underlining that it was happening too fast and too soon, but it all fell on deaf ears. All he cared about was that you said yes, all your other worries were meaningless (oh boy). He set up an interview to announce to the whole world that the great artist Rafayel was getting married. He had already hired a wedding coordinator (even before your answer), it was going to be a grand event, he was going to give you the wedding of your dreams! (his dreams lol)
!Dark!Self-aware Rafayel! moaned and pouted when you said you wanted a small private wedding, another tantrum insured. He accused you of wanting to hide the fact that he was your husband and you kept reassuring him that that wasnât the case, you just didnât want to be out in the public eye, but he was hearing none of it, that was just something you would have to get used to. You begrudgingly gave up, there was no winning when Rafayel set his mind to something. You realized you might be in over your head.
!Dark!Self-aware Rafayel! started complaining that your job was keeping you away from him, insisting that he already made more than enough for the both of you, but you didnât want to become dependent on him. He dismissed your feelings again, it was becoming a nasty habit of his, so what if you depended on him a little, he was your doting husband after all. He was greedy, he wanted all of you to himself, he refused to share even a tiny bit of you with anyone else.
!Dark!Self-aware Rafayel! was a selfish bastard, he knew, but he couldnât help himself, it was all your fault. You got him addicted. Poor little fishie was weak in the presence of you. Just a small whiff of you, a small glance in his direction, a glimpse of your creamy skin and he was hard as a rock. He couldnât stop rutting into you like a starved animal all around the house. You unleashed a dormant beast inside him and you didnât even know it.
!Dark!Self-aware Rafayel! couldnât even begin to explain the depths of his lust for you, silly girl. You appeared to him even in his dreams, taunting him, seducing him and he was but a helpless soul, how could he resist such temptation, you succubus! (uh oh) Thatâs why you were currently bent over the kitchen table, ass up, standing on your tippy toes as he fucked his nâth load into your welcoming pussy. A pool of cum and squirt was staining the carpet below, oh well, heâll just have sent it to the cleaners later.
!Dark!Self-aware Rafayel! didnât care about the time and place, he wasnât to blame that you showed up in such a revealing dress (he chose it for you) at his exhibition. You didnât expect him to go around talking to potential clients with a bulge in his pants, no? It was a wifeâs duty to take care of her husband, even if that meant taking his cock down your throat in the bathroom of the gallery. Youâre such a slutty girl, you knew he wouldnât be able to resist, you did it on purpose, didnât you? (again, he chose the dress) You wanted to choke on his dick, you loved when he reduced you down to a dumb cocksleeve whoâs only purpose was to be his cumdump. (boy is lost in his fantasy)
!Dark!Self-aware Rafayel! did in fact get you hooked on pleasure, your body was literally conditioned to respond to him at this point. One of these days you were gonna end up cumming untouched while he throat fucked you. To say the man was insatiable would be an understatement, but it was difficult to be mad at him when he rendered you stupid with pleasure. He liked to give just as much as he got, getting your eyes to roll in the back of your skull was his favorite pastime.
!Dark!Self-aware Rafayel! liked to start his day with his head between your thighs, burring his face in your puffy cunny, inhaling your scent deeply though his nose, sharing languid kisses with your fluttering hole, you were still deep asleep, but it didnât matter, youâd wake up eventually, when he stuffed you full of his fat cock. He moved to hover over you between your spread thighs, lazily pumping his length. You looked so beautiful like this, pliant, when you didnât mouth off back to him, a perfect little doll, all his to play with. He moaned softly when your slutty cunny greedily swallowed his girthy cock, he thrust slowly, careful not to wake up, he wanted to fuck at least one load into you before you opened your eyes and bitched at him for not wearing a condom.
!Dark!Self-aware Rafayel! loathed having any kind of barrier between you, he wanted to feel all of you all the time. If it was up to him, heâd have you walking around naked. He didnât understand what the big deal was, you were on birth control anyway and he already had a vasectomy! So what if you got pregnant? You could just get rid of it. Rafayel wasnât going to share you with anyone, so a baby was out of a question. Not like you wanted kids anyway, you had your plate full already with the big baby at home.
!Dark!Self-aware Rafayel! absolutely loved watching his seed drip down your thighs, smelling of him, if only it would deter any other male from approaching you. Maybe he was an animal, so what, he could be your cuddly little pet, anything as long as he had your undivided attention. Real pets was was a taboo topic, he scoffed at you when you mentioned it one day. Puhlease as if he would let anything or anyone encroach and mark his territory.
