summary: looking for a decent job, you stumbled upon jungkook’s job posting on instagram, what could go wrong?
warnings: playfuldom!jungkook x fem reader, explicit sexual content, clit rubbing, pussy eating, edging, spitting, degradation, dirty talk, multiple positions, detailed smut, jk is very playful in a degrading way, oral sex, camera sex, pussy slapping, choking, praising, usage of slut, cum eating, marking, multiple orgasms, rough sex, crying, overstimulation, fingering, nipple spitting, penetrative sex, creampie.
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“How about being a barista again? There’s a job opening at Moonlit Cafe down the street,” Hari suggested while you sat hunched over your laptop, endlessly browsing through job postings.
You were still a student, graduating next year with bills clawing at your throat. When college started, you wanted independence so badly it ached beneath your skin. An apartment near the university. Your own keys. Your own groceries. Your own life.
Your parents had offered to cover everything without hesitation, gentle and loving as always, but guilt settled heavily in your chest whenever you thought about it. They were already paying your tuition fees. You wanted them to live comfortably too, without worrying about whether their daughter had enough money for rent or food. So you smiled and told them not to worry, drained your savings account for the apartment, and picked up multiple part-time jobs just to prove to yourself that you could survive on your own.
And for a while, you did.
The first two years of college went smoothly enough. You found decent jobs, saved enough money to live comfortably, and even bought yourself a flat-screen TV after months of careful budgeting. Your days blurred into exhausting routines—classes in the morning, shifts at the coffee shop at night, and weekends spent organizing shelves as a bookstore assistant.
You were tired all the time, but it was a satisfying kind of tired. The kind that made you feel accomplished.
Independent. Adult.
Until the coffee shop let you go.
Budget cuts, they said apologetically, avoiding your eyes while handing you the notice. Part-time workers were the first to go.
You still had the bookstore job, but the pay barely stretched far enough to cover groceries, let alone rent, electricity, and university expenses. Asking your parents for help would’ve been easy—too easy—but stubbornness rooted itself deep inside you. There were thousands of job postings online. Surely one of them would take you.
Only they never called back.
Two months had passed, and your savings were bleeding out faster than you could stop them. Every day followed the same suffocating routine: school, assignments, cheap instant dinners, and hours of doom-scrolling through applications until your vision blurred from the brightness of your screen.
You groaned quietly, rubbing your tired eyes before glancing over at Hari, who sat cross-legged beside you on the couch with a milk tea in hand. She had shown up at your apartment earlier carrying takeout bags and your favorite boba, worry written plainly across her face after noticing how little you’d been eating lately.
“I already applied there,” you muttered with a pout, dragging your gaze back to the laptop. “But they want someone full-time.”
Hari sighed dramatically, setting her drink down on the coffee table. “You seriously need to rest. You’ve been staring at that thing for hours.”
Before you could protest, she grabbed your boba and pushed it into your hands. The cold plastic pressed against your palms pleasantly.
“Drink,” she ordered. “And let me do the scrolling before you spiral into another existential crisis.”
A laugh bubbled out of her as she pulled the laptop from your lap, and despite the anxiety twisting endlessly inside your chest, you felt your shoulders loosen just a little.
You pouted lightly, sipping your boba while Hari busied herself with your laptop. Your brows slowly furrowed when you noticed her opening tab after tab with alarming confidence.
“Why are you on Facebook?” you asked with a quiet chuckle, watching her click somewhere else before another page loaded. “And now Twitter? Instagram too?”
Hari rolled her eyes dramatically, her face illuminated by the screen’s pale glow. “Because the jobs on LinkedIn are painfully boring,” she scoffed. “There are tons of part-time job offers on social media. I swear I saw one yesterday.”
She narrowed her eyes at the laptop suspiciously, scrolling with the intensity of a detective solving a murder case.
A laugh escaped you as you leaned against her shoulder, chewing on the tapioca pearls you had missed more than you cared to admit. You’d been saving every spare dollar lately, cutting out small comforts one by one until even buying boba started to feel irresponsible.
“But you don’t even know if those are legit,” you pointed out, tilting your head at her. “The sites I applied to are safer from scams and stuff.”
“I know,” Hari replied instantly. “That’s why we’re looking for jobs with a pay-first policy if it’s online.” She clicked onto another account before adding casually, “And if it’s onsite, we’ll bring a gun in case things go wrong or something.”
You burst out laughing at that, nearly choking on your drink.
“Hari!”
“What?” she laughed too, grinning shamelessly. “I’m just being prepared.”
You shook your head at her usual nonsense, warmth blooming faintly in your chest despite the stress that had been suffocating you for weeks now. Hari always had a way of dragging you out of your own head, even if only for a little while.
The apartment suddenly felt less heavy with her around.
You were honestly relieved that semester break had finally arrived. One whole month without classes. No early morning lectures. No deadlines. No professors piling work onto your shoulders.
But instead of resting like a normal person, you had thrown yourself deeper into job hunting.
Hari hated that.
As your closest friend, she had spent the last week trying to convince you to take a break—to go shopping with the girls, take an out-of-town trip, do literally anything that didn’t involve staring at job applications until three in the morning.
You declined every single invitation.
Your friends understood your situation, but they also thought you were driving yourself insane. Which, honestly, you probably were.
That was exactly why Hari showed up tonight carrying your favorite food and overpriced boba tea, determined to drag you away from your spiral. She kept trying to tempt you into going on a girls’ trip with them, insisting that one weekend away wouldn’t kill you.
But every time you thought about relaxing, all you could picture were your bills piling quietly on the kitchen counter. So instead, you stayed curled up on the couch beside her, stubbornly searching for a job you desperately needed.
Hari was beginning to look almost as desperate as you. Maybe not for herself, but for you—for the way your shoulders had slowly grown heavier these past few months, for the exhaustion permanently shadowing your eyes. She wanted you to land a job already so you could finally breathe again without worrying about rent and unpaid bills swallowing you whole.
Which was exactly why she was now doom-scrolling through Twitter with frightening determination.
“I really don’t think you’re gonna find a job there,” you muttered skeptically, watching her open an alarming amount of random threads. “Most of those look like scams.”
“Wait, wait—look at this!”
Hari suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to the screen, quickly setting her milk tea down beside her like she was preparing for something serious.
Her eyes widened.
“Okay, this one actually looks promising.”
You leaned in slightly as she read aloud.
mnijungkook on ig posted: i’m looking for someone who can take insanely good videos and photos [of me]. i’ll somehow figure out the equipment myself..! please somehow reach out to me! lol, looking for someone to film for me, seriously. and if you’re good at editing too? let’s go on tour together
“There are so many likes and retweets,” Hari said immediately, already opening another tab to search for the original Instagram post. “This has to be legit.”
The second you recognized the username, you nearly choked on your drink.
Laughter burst out of you uncontrollably, your shoulders shaking as you clutched the cup tighter. Hari blinked at you in confusion while your eyes watered from laughing too hard.
“Hari,” you wheezed out, “That’s Jungkook.”
She stared blankly. “Huh? The boss?”
Another laugh escaped you.
Hari genuinely knew almost nothing about K-pop or Korean artists in general, and moments like this always reminded you just how different the two of you were.
Meanwhile, you had once been painfully obsessed.
You used to stay up until dawn watching livestreams, memorizing lyrics, collecting photocards you definitely couldn’t afford, and keeping up with every tiny update posted online. Back then, being a fan felt like a second full-time job.
But life eventually became busier.
School consumed your mornings, work consumed your nights, and somewhere in between surviving deadlines and paying bills, your fangirl phase quietly faded into the background. You still listened to their music almost daily, still smiled whenever one of their songs shuffled into your playlist, but you no longer kept up with every post or appearance the way you once did.
You guessed you had simply grown up.
Even so, seeing Jungkook casually asking for a videographer and editor on Instagram felt surreal enough to make you laugh all over again.
Not updated enough to know that Jungkook was apparently posting job offers on Instagram now. Or that he was even on tour.
“No,” you laughed, shaking your head as you finally calmed down a little. “That’s Jungkook. From BTS. They’re, like… insanely famous, Hari. This is probably some kind of joke or publicity thing.”
Hari’s brows knitted together in confusion before realization slowly dawned across her face. She clicked onto the Instagram profile, eyes widening at the blue verification check and the terrifying number of followers sitting beneath his username.
Nearly thirty million.
“Ohhh, BTS,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Wait—I think I’ve seen him before.” She squinted at one of the photos. “Wasn’t he in a Calvin Klein ad or something?”
You snorted. “Yeah. That’s him.”
Honestly, you expected her to laugh it off after realizing who posted it. Maybe call the idea ridiculous and move on to another job listing.
Instead, Hari clicked onto his Instagram story again with alarming seriousness.
“That means…” she trailed off.
“It’s probably a joke,” you interrupted immediately.
“This is good pay,” she said at the exact same time, eyes practically glittering now.
Before you could stop her, she pressed the reply button beneath the story.
Your lips parted slightly. You genuinely couldn’t tell if she was being serious or completely delusional right now. Probably both. But either way, you let her continue typing because there was absolutely no chance Jungkook himself would ever see it.
He probably received thousands of messages every minute. Millions, even.
The thought alone felt ridiculous.
“Whatever,” you muttered with a helpless chuckle, giving up entirely. “I’m heating up the rice bowl.”
Hari waved you off distractedly, already multitasking between your laptop and her phone like this had suddenly become her personal mission.
You shook your head fondly before standing from the couch, grabbing the takeout container she bought earlier. The apartment filled with the quiet hum of the microwave a moment later, warm light spilling across the tiny kitchen while Hari continued aggressively applying for a job that definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent was never going to happen.
-
You woke up to the shrill sound of your alarm, already preparing yourself for another long day of job hunting.
Hari went home late last night after spending an absurd amount of time DMing Jungkook and scrolling through social media for more “opportunities,” as she called them. Somewhere between laughing at ridiculous job listings and sharing takeout on your couch, the two of you ended up watching an old Disney movie to help you relax.
She still tried convincing you to go on the girls’ out-of-town trip. You still refused.
No matter how badly you wanted a break, your priorities were painfully clear right now. You needed stability first. A stable paycheck. A stable life. Then maybe you could afford to breathe.
After showering, you made yourself a decent cup of coffee and opened your laptop with a tired sigh, mentally preparing to send out another batch of applications that probably wouldn’t get answered.
Then your phone buzzed beside you. An Instagram notification lit up the screen.
You snorted softly to yourself. “This must be Jungkook,” you joked under your breath, absentmindedly opening the app.
What the fuck.
Your heart nearly stopped when you saw the message sitting in your inbox. The coffee suddenly tasted bitter in your mouth.
What the actual fuck?
“Hari!” you practically shrieked the second she answered your call. “Fuck! I don’t even edit videos! I only know basic stuff! I can’t even record properly without my hands shaking!”
You paced around your apartment while panicking into the phone, one hand gripping your hair as you reread the messages over and over again in disbelief.
Sometime after you went to the kitchen last night, Hari had apparently taken it upon herself to completely ruin your life.
She sent Jungkook your entire curriculum vitae.
Not only that—she also wrote and attached a full cover letter explaining why he should hire you.
The realization alone nearly made you pass out.
And when you discovered she had changed your insta profile picture into a formal-looking one while you weren’t paying attention?
You almost laughed and cried at the same time.
It genuinely looked like you had desperately prepared for this opportunity your entire life.
Your eyes skimmed through the cover letter again, horror slowly mixing with something embarrassingly emotional. Hari had written your entire backstory in there—about struggling financially, balancing school and work, trying to stay independent despite everything.
And then she started lying. Blatantly.
Apparently, according to Hari, you were “highly skilled in video editing” with “experience in cinematography.”
Cinematography my ass.
“Hehe… well,” Hari giggled shamelessly through the phone, completely unbothered by your spiraling. Noise echoed behind her, voices and music blending together enough for you to realize she was already with the girls on their trip. “You have to fake a few things to get accepted sometimes, right?”
“Ugh, I can’t do this!” you cried dramatically, pacing back and forth around your apartment while gripping your phone tightly. “I literally don’t know anything about filming! And what if he sues me for faking my skills? He’s famous and influential, Hari!”
Your eyes darted back toward your laptop sitting open on the table, Jungkook’s message glowing on the screen like a ticking time bomb ready to ruin your entire life.
Hari only laughed harder through the call.
“Girl, just try!” she said between giggles. “Watch a tutorial on YouTube or something. Besides…” her tone suddenly turned suspiciously persuasive, “It’s really good pay.”
“Hari!” you screamed again, horrified.
“God, I still can’t believe he actually replied to you,” she continued teasingly. “You must’ve impressed him with your amazing cinematography skills.”
You groaned so loudly you nearly scared yourself.
The worst part was that she wasn’t wrong about the pay.
Your eyes had nearly bulged out of your skull when you saw the amount attached to the offer. There were so many zeros that your brain genuinely short-circuited for a moment.
That was exactly why you couldn’t let it go.
Out of everyone who probably replied to his story, Jungkook somehow answered you.
You. The probability alone felt absurd.
Thousands of people would kill for this opportunity right now, and meanwhile you were pacing around your apartment like you were preparing for a court trial instead of a job offer.
At first, the teenage fangirl buried deep inside you nearly exploded from excitement. The situation dragged you back to years ago—staying up until four in the morning streaming music videos, binge-watching funny compilations, memorizing choreography you could never actually dance, spending money you absolutely shouldn’t have spent on albums and photocards.
Back then, BTS had practically consumed your life. But time passed.
Somewhere between work shifts, college deadlines, and trying to survive adulthood, you slowly stopped keeping up with them. You still listened to the music, of course, but you no longer knew where they were, what they were doing, or how much they had changed over the years.
Curiosity eventually got the better of you. So you stalked Jungkook’s Instagram a little.
And oh.
Oh, he had changed.
A full sleeve of tattoos now wrapped around his right arm, dark ink decorating skin that used to be bare. Silver piercings glinted against his face in ways that somehow suited him unfairly well. His frame had broadened too, shoulders stronger, body lean and built with the kind of maturity that made him almost unrecognizable from the boy you remembered.
You were used to soft brown hair, oversized hoodies, black skinny jeans, clean arms, and those wide doe-like eyes that made the entire internet lose their minds.
Now he looked mature. Sharper. More dangerous somehow.
A man instead of a boy. And annoyingly enough, it looked really good on him.
“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, finally realizing you’d been staring at a motorcycle video he posted for far too long.
You immediately locked your phone and pressed it dramatically against your forehead.
“I cannot fangirl right now or I’m seriously gonna lose it.”
Hari kept telling you to just go for it. “You literally have a whole month off from school,” she argued over the phone while you spiraled for the hundredth time. “This is basically the perfect sideline job.”
Sideline job. As if working for Jungkook of BTS was equivalent to tutoring kids after class.
Your stomach twisted anxiously as you stared at the message again. Every second that passed made you feel like the opportunity was slipping farther away. With the amount of people probably flooding his inbox right now, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t change his mind the moment someone actually qualified replied to him.
Your eyes skimmed over his message again, pulse quickening embarrassingly fast.
mnijungkook: hey, i saw your cv ㅎㅎ you really didn’t have to explain everything, but i’m glad you did. i can tell you’re being genuine about this. even without samples, the way you talked about cinematography/editing made me feel like you actually care about it and pay attention to details. sometimes that matters more to me than someone trying too hard to look “professional”
also i get the whole semester break thing. a month is still enough time to try something fun and see if we work well together
don’t stress too much about equipment either because i barely know what i’m doing there yet lol
for payment, don’t worry. if you end up coming with me, i’ll make sure you’re paid well — probably around $20-30k usd for the month depending on the schedule + travel and hotel covered.
send me your contact info? we can talk more properly :))
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“I am not passionate about cinematography,” you nearly whimpered to yourself, dropping your face into your hands. “To hell with cinematography.”
The amount of lies in Hari’s cover letter was genuinely evil.
And now Jungkook thought you were some hidden creative genius with an artistic eye and a deep love for filmmaking when in reality you barely knew how to stabilize a phone camera.
You felt sick.
But then your eyes drifted back to the payment offer. Twenty to thirty thousand dollars. Travel covered. Hotels covered. Your bank account practically screamed at you to shut up and take the opportunity.
So with trembling fingers and the overwhelming sensation that you were actively ruining your own life, you began typing a reply. A reply that dug your grave even deeper.
You agreed with him. You agreed that you were a “good editor.”
You added your contact details while simultaneously praying that YouTube tutorials could somehow transform you into a professional videographer overnight.
Your fingers hovered above the send button before you forced yourself to press it.
You: thank you so much for even considering me :D i really do believe i’m a good editor, especially when it comes to making things feel natural and cinematic instead of overdone.
i’d genuinely love to work for you if you’ll have me. i’m willing to learn fast, adjust to whatever style you want, and work hard during the whole month of my semester break.
my contact details are below, thank you so much!
The message was sent instantly.
You stared at the screen in silence afterward, horror slowly settling into every inch of your body.
Yeah. You were doomed.
-
“Wow, what the hell.” Your eyes widened the second you stepped into the hotel room Jungkook had booked for you.
The past few days had moved so fast it almost gave you whiplash. After you sent your contact details, Jungkook immediately messaged you about schedules, filming dates, locations, and travel arrangements as if hiring strangers from Instagram was a completely normal thing for him to do.
Everything had already been prepared before you could even panic properly.
Your plane ticket? Booked.
Hotel room? Paid for.
Transportation? Arranged.
Food allowance? Included.
All you had to do was pack your bags and somehow learn how to film and edit professionally before embarrassing yourself on an international scale.
Easy.
“I am so spoiled,” you muttered in disbelief, slowly stepping farther into the room. It was huge.
Bigger than huge, honestly. The hotel suite looked almost the size of your apartment back home, warm lighting spilling across polished floors and neatly arranged furniture that looked far too expensive for you to even breathe near.
Then your attention landed on the large table sitting near the windows. And your soul nearly left your body.
Equipment. So much fucking equipment.
Two massive black cameras rested neatly beside a smaller handheld one. There was an iPad, a laptop, tripods, microphones, chargers, lighting equipment, and cables so intimidating they looked like they belonged inside a spaceship instead of a filming setup.
Your luggage slipped from your fingers onto the floor with a dull thud as you walked toward the table cautiously, like the devices might explode if you touched them incorrectly.
Your eyes widened even more.
For the past several days, you have been desperately teaching yourself how to edit videos and film cinematic shots. Watching tutorials until sunrise. Memorizing transitions. Learning random camera terms you barely understood.
But you had been practicing with your phone. Your fucking phone.
Meanwhile these cameras looked expensive enough to pay your rent for the next ten years.
You carefully picked one up with both hands, terrified you’d somehow damage it through sheer incompetence alone.
Honestly, you were still shocked Jungkook never asked for samples of your work.
If he had, your career would’ve ended immediately.
The only thing you could’ve shown him was a mediocre CapCut edit with dramatic black-and-white filters slapped over it to make it look “cinematic.”
You groaned loudly, dropping your forehead against the edge of the table.
“Oh my God,” you whispered into the expensive wood. “I’m actually a fraud.”
You nearly lost balance holding the enormous camera in your hands, quickly tightening your grip before your entire future shattered onto the hotel floor in high definition. “Woah, this is heavy.”
Your eyes stayed locked on the equipment nervously as you adjusted the strap around your wrist, trying your best to look like someone who actually knew what they were doing. Because if Jungkook realized how painfully inexperienced you were, he might personally send you back to your country on the next available flight.
You wouldn’t even blame him. The past few nights had been brutal.
You barely slept at all, surviving almost entirely on instant noodles, caffeine, and pure fear while desperately teaching yourself editing techniques through YouTube tutorials. Your laptop had become an extension of your body at this point, constantly running sample footage you filmed around your apartment just so you could practice transitions, lighting adjustments, stabilization, and color grading.
You even studied Jungkook’s editing style specifically.
The pacing of his vlogs.
The soft cinematic filters.
The random zoom-ins.
The casual, natural feeling of the clips.
You analyzed everything like your life depended on it because technically, your rent kind of did. You were getting paid for this. A ridiculous amount, too.
And there was absolutely no way you could afford getting exposed now.
“Okay…” you muttered slowly while fiddling with the camera settings. “This is kinda… easy?”
You said it more like a question than a statement. Still, you forced yourself to keep going.
You searched up tutorials for the exact camera model, watched setup guides, practiced adjusting focus and lighting, and filmed random clips around the room like an aspiring film student fighting for survival.
At some point, you even started taking artistic shots of your coffee cup near the hotel window. For practice, obviously.
Tomorrow was your first official filming day.
According to the schedule Jungkook emailed you earlier, you’d be accompanying him to a golf activity before the concert. He wanted behind-the-scenes footage for the fans—small moments throughout the day, casual interactions, preparations before performing.
And apparently that was only the beginning. Over the next few days, you’d also be filming soundchecks, backstage moments, errands, workouts, rehearsals, and random snippets of his daily routine while on tour.
Basically, your entire existence now revolves around documenting Jungkook’s life aesthetically.
No pressure.
You used his latest vlog as your main reference while practicing, pausing every few seconds to study angles and editing choices carefully. Honestly, the style itself wasn’t impossible to recreate. It leaned more natural than overly polished, which helped calm your nerves slightly.
The problem was you. You weren’t skilled.
And the more you thought about his expectations, the more your stomach twisted itself into knots.
But backing out wasn’t an option anymore.
Not after the cover letter.
Not after the hotel.
Not after the plane ticket.
Definitely not after seeing the paycheck.
So instead of panicking yourself into quitting, you threw every ounce of energy into learning. Practicing. Training.
Like you were preparing for the Olympics instead of secretly faking your way into being Jungkook’s videographer.
You almost had a heart attack when your phone suddenly buzzed while you were testing the cameras.
The heavy device nearly slipped straight out of your hands as Jungkook’s name flashed across the screen.
Your pulse instantly skyrocketed.
Jungkook: hey, i left all the equipment on the table in your hotel room because i had to leave early for rehearsal. camera batteries are charging already, memory cards are inside the small black case, and i think i accidentally tangled all the wires together so… good luck with that honestly ㅎㅎ
there’s also a pass hanging on the chair for backstage access. don’t lose it or my manager’s gonna kill me lol
take your time checking everything first before we head out tomorrow. and if anything’s confusing just call me :))
You stared at the message for a moment longer than necessary, a smile unconsciously pulling at your lips.
His personality somehow translated perfectly even through text messages alone—easygoing, playful, ridiculously approachable despite being one of the biggest celebrities in the world.
It reminded you exactly why he used to be your ultimate bias years ago. There was something naturally charming about him. Something warm.
You quickly typed a reply before you could overthink it too much.
You: yes! i am checking them out hehe.. the batteries are currently charging, the cards are safe, and i’m currently fighting for my life trying to untangle these wires hahaha
good luck with rehearsal!! see you tomorrow!
The second you pressed send, immediate regret flooded your body. You stared at your message in horror.
Why did I sound like that?
Your cheeks burned violently as you reread the multiple “hehe’s” and unnecessary laughter typed into the conversation like a teenager texting her crush for the first time.
You physically covered your face with your hands.
“Oh my God,” you groaned into your palms. It wasn’t like you were trying to flirt.
Or maybe… just a little bit.
Which honestly made the situation infinitely worse.
You used to be an incredibly dedicated ARMY once upon a time, and frankly, this entire situation was making your heart malfunction.
Working for Jungkook.
Texting Jungkook.
Meeting Jungkook.
It all felt unreal in the most dangerous way possible.
But you forced yourself to set the fangirl part aside before it completely consumed you. You needed to stay professional. Calm. Composed.
Otherwise, you were genuinely convinced you’d suffer a stroke before filming a single decent piece of content for him.
So instead of spiraling, you spent the entire night practicing.
Testing the cameras.
Learning the settings.
Adjusting lighting.
Checking the microphones repeatedly to make sure the audio sounded clean.
You edited random sample clips until your eyes burned from exhaustion, determined to familiarize yourself with the equipment enough to at least fake confidence tomorrow.
And somehow, by pure fear-driven determination alone, morning arrived faster than expected.
You woke up early to practice filming one last time before leaving, moving around the hotel room with nervous energy buzzing beneath your skin. You were oddly dedicated now—almost desperate—to prove that hiring you wasn’t a mistake.
After showering, you dressed carefully in clothes that screamed “professional videographer” despite the fact that you absolutely were not one.
A black long-sleeved polo, dark slacks and black shoes. You even tied your hair back neatly, staring at yourself in the mirror afterward like you were about to infiltrate the FBI instead of filming golf content.
A knock sounded at your hotel door.
“Good day, Ms. Y/N. Are you ready?”
You immediately straightened up before opening it, greeted by one of the bodyguards Jungkook assigned to escort you. His black shades reflected your visibly nervous expression back at you.
“Yes,” you answered quickly, trying to sound more confident than you felt.
Before leaving, you double-checked everything one last time—the batteries, memory cards, laptop, chargers—making sure nothing important was missing before following the bodyguard downstairs.
Outside, a sleek black car waited for you.
Your heartbeat quickened the moment you stepped inside.
You were scheduled to arrive an hour earlier than Jungkook so you could prepare the equipment and set everything up properly before filming started. Which meant you had an entire hour alone to panic in peace.
The ride itself was painfully quiet. Only the soft hum of the air conditioner filled the car while city lights blurred past the tinted windows. Your hands rested stiffly over your bag, fingers nervously tapping against the expensive camera inside while your thoughts spiraled endlessly.
You swallowed hard. “I can do this,” you whispered quietly to yourself.
Though honestly, you sounded unconvinced. The moment the golf course entrance came into view, your stomach twisted so violently you almost gagged.
Oh God. This was actually happening.
The bodyguard escorted you inside shortly after, guiding you toward the smaller private golf area before leaving you alone to prepare your setup.
The silence that followed felt enormous.
You slowly placed the equipment down, inhaling deeply as the morning breeze brushed against your face. The golf course stretched beautifully beneath the early sunlight, calm and expensive and intimidating all at once.
And somewhere in the middle of unpacking tripods with trembling hands, one horrifying realization settled heavily into your chest.
Soon, Jungkook was going to arrive.
You looked around quietly, taking in the golf course while trying to calm the violent beating of your heart.
The place felt tucked away from the rest of the world somehow—small, peaceful, almost unreal in its stillness. Unlike the massive championship courses you usually saw online, this one felt more intimate. The holes were laid out closer together across smooth fairways trimmed so perfectly they looked like green velvet beneath the morning sun.
Small sand bunkers curved around the landscape, soft hills rolling gently beneath clean white flags planted in the distance.
No screaming crowds. No cameras flashing endlessly. Just the distant rustling of trees, the muted hum of golf carts somewhere farther away, and every now and then, the satisfying thunk of a golf club striking a ball cleanly through the air.
Though, it would’ve been relaxing if you weren’t moments away from throwing up from anxiety.
Your hands were already sweaty as you unpacked the equipment carefully, trying not to look like you had absolutely no clue what you were doing. You adjusted the camera repeatedly, searching for decent angles while silently thanking every higher power possible that there weren’t many people around.
Only a few locals occupied the course, minding their own business.
Good.
Less witnesses for your downfall.
You became so focused on testing camera movements and practicing steady shots that you completely failed to notice someone approaching behind you.
It wasn’t until you angled the camera upward during practice that your soul nearly exited your body.
Jungkook stood directly in frame, smiling right into the lens. Your heart stopped.
“Hi,” he greeted warmly, amusement flickering across his face as he glanced at the camera in your hands. “Looks like you’re having fun already.”
A black sports bag rested beside your equipment now, meaning he must’ve walked over while you were too busy pretending to be a professional filmmaker to notice.
Your eyes widened instantly. “Oh my God—”
You almost tripped over your own feet while hurriedly lowering the camera, panic rushing through your body all at once.
“I was just, um—checking the angles,” you explained nervously, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so awkward. “Nice to meet you! I’m Y/N.”
You quickly wiped your damp palms against your slacks before offering your hand to him politely.
Up close, he somehow looked even more unreal. Tall, broad-shouldered, with beautiful tattoos curling around his arm, silver piercings catching the sunlight softly whenever he smiled.
And unfortunately for your sanity, he was even more handsome in person. Ridiculously so. The kind of handsome that made it difficult to think properly when he looked at you for too long.
He chuckled softly before taking your hand in his. His grip was warm.
Your brain short-circuited immediately.
Dressed in a fitted white polo shirt and black Nike shorts, a black cap resting low over his dark hair in a way that somehow made him look both ridiculously expensive and effortlessly casual at the same time.
The shirt did absolutely nothing to hide how built he was.
You could see the outline of his muscles beneath the fabric every time he moved, his shoulders broad enough to almost completely block the sunlight from where you stood.
“Hello,” he said warmly, shaking your hand once. “I’m Jungkook. Nice to meet you too.” Your cheeks instantly burned.
Seeing him through a screen was one thing. Seeing him in person felt entirely different.
He was so much more charismatic up close it almost irritated you. His bunny teeth peeked out whenever he smiled, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners while he spoke in that easy, friendly tone that made it impossible not to relax around him.
His entire aura felt bright somehow. Light. Dangerously charming.
You were absolutely screwed.
“I’ll leave the filming techniques up to you,” he continued casually, walking over toward the cooler nearby. “Feel free to film me however you want. No pressure.”
No pressure.
As if your nervous system wasn’t already collapsing in on itself.
He grabbed a cold bottle of water before offering another one toward you naturally, like this entire situation wasn’t surreal at all.
“Thank you,” you answered quickly, taking the bottle before immediately setting it aside again. “Uh—I’ll start filming now!”
You lifted the camera again with almost aggressive determination, eager to gather as much footage as possible. More clips meant more editing options later. More editing options meant a smaller chance of exposing yourself as a complete fraud.
Jungkook raised an amused brow at your sudden seriousness, his gaze briefly traveled over your outfit before returning to your face.
“You sure?” he asked lightly. “You don’t wanna eat first? I still have to stretch and stuff anyway.”
You shook your head immediately. “Nope.”
Your grip tightened around the camera slightly. “I wanna include behind-the-scenes snippets too, so…” you explained, trying your best to sound professional despite your racing heart. “This would actually be good footage.”
The determination in your voice made Jungkook smile again. And for some reason, that tiny look of approval made your stomach flip harder than it should have.
Jungkook chuckled softly. “Alright,” he said easily. “Just tell me if you need specific details or angles.”
Then he walked toward the side of the golf course to begin stretching.
You immediately followed after him with the camera clutched in your hands exactly the way you practiced all night, quickly pressing record before your nerves could stop you.
At first, things seemed to be going surprisingly well. You filmed everything.
His warm-ups were slow, deliberate—like he was already in control of everything around him.
The way he adjusted his gloves with quiet precision. The subtle flex of his arms as he set up his iron, muscles shifting beneath fabric like something effortless and practiced. The clean, confident swing of the club cutting through air before striking the ball with a sharp, satisfying sound. The soft crunch of grass beneath his shoes as he shifted his stance, grounding himself between each shot.
Then the stillness between it all.
Him sitting down beneath the shade, momentarily retreating from the sun. Him lifting a bottle of water to his lips, throat moving as he drank, the back of his hand brushing sweat away from his neck without much thought.
You practically documented his entire existence.
At one point, you even almost followed him toward the restroom before your brain caught up with your body at the last second.
You genuinely thought you were doing an amazing job.
From your perspective, more footage meant more options later during editing. You didn’t want to miss a single moment that could potentially look cinematic or useful.
But from Jungkook’s perspective… It was a little concerning.
At first, he simply watched quietly. He noticed the small mistakes immediately—the way you held the camera too stiffly sometimes, the awkward adjustments of the lens, the shaky transitions between movements.
Still, he tried convincing himself that maybe you were just getting comfortable with the equipment. Maybe you simply needed time.
But as the day continued, realization slowly settled in. Especially when he caught you aggressively zooming into completely unnecessary details before quickly rotating the lens too fast, creating footage that would probably look dizzying when played back.
Beginner.
The word settled into his thoughts almost instantly. You followed him everywhere with unwavering focus, constantly checking the framing, adjusting settings, filming from different angles even when your hands visibly started struggling beneath the camera’s weight.
By the time he returned from the restroom later that afternoon, he paused slightly at the sight of you near the equipment table.
You were rotating your shoulders carefully with a tired grimace, trying to ease the soreness from carrying the camera all day. Sweat clung lightly against your forehead beneath the heat of the sun, and your fingers looked faintly red from gripping the equipment for hours.
Still, the moment you noticed him approaching again, you instinctively reached for the camera.
“I think you have enough footage for today,” Jungkook said quietly before you could pick it up again.
His voice carried something firmer now. Your hands froze mid-motion.
You blinked at him in confusion. “Huh?” you asked, adjusting your grip on the camera. “But you’re not done yet.”
He was still in the middle of playing. There were still shots left, more footage you could take, more angles you could practice.
But instead of continuing, Jungkook simply placed the iron back onto the rack with a quiet sigh.
Something about his body language had changed. Subtle, but noticeable.
The playful brightness from earlier dimmed slightly, exhaustion settling into the slope of his shoulders as he rubbed the back of his neck.
And suddenly, anxiety crept beneath your skin.
Was he disappointed?
The answer was yes. Not angry—he wasn’t angry. But disappointed enough to realize the truth little by little throughout the day.
You don’t have any clue on what you were doing.
The way you handled the camera, the inconsistent framing, the random zoom-ins, the awkward adjustments every few seconds—it was painfully obvious that you were inexperienced.
And for a brief moment, ugly thoughts crossed his mind despite himself.
He trusted you.
Even without polished sample reels or impressive portfolios, he still chose to trust you. Your cover letter had been painfully sincere, especially the part about wanting independence. Wanting to do things on your own so you wouldn’t burden your parents. Wanting to make them proud. Wanting to stand on your own feet.
That part stayed with him longer than it should have.
A lot of people sent him impressive applications. High-quality edits. Cinematic videos. Professional portfolios crafted carefully to catch his attention. Thousands of direct messages flooded his account constantly, most of them blending together into meaningless noise after a while.
But yours stood out somehow.
Maybe it was the formal profile picture that made him laugh- looked strangely earnest among the endless stream of unserious messages. Maybe it was the desperation hidden between your carefully written sentences. Or maybe it was simply because your letter resonated with him more than he expected it to.
He understood that kind of desperation.
That overwhelming need to prove yourself to the world.
He had been independent from a young age too, forced to grow up far earlier than most people ever had to. He knew what it felt like to carry pressure so heavy it started shaping the person you became.
But still—
Maybe you lied just to get close to him.
Maybe you wanted the money.
Maybe you were just another person trying to take advantage of him somehow.
God knew he had already met far too many people like that.
But every time those thoughts surfaced, they disappeared almost instantly the second he looked at you again.
Because you were trying so hard. Too hard, honestly.
The determination written across your face all day felt painfully genuine, from the way you followed him around with aching arms to the sweat gathering near your forehead while you forced yourself to keep filming despite your obvious exhaustion.
You looked less like a manipulative opportunist and more like someone desperately trying not to fail.
Still, disappointment lingered quietly beneath his ribs. A dull ache he couldn’t quite shake away no matter how sincere you looked trying to impress him.
And instead of sending you home immediately, another thought slowly crept into his mind.
Something dangerous.
Something mean.
Something dirty enough to make his pulse slow.
He wanted to punish you for it.
Not enough to truly hurt you—never that—but enough to make you understand exactly what happened when you lied to him. Enough to leave you breathless beneath the weight of his attention, overwhelmed by the consequences of trying to fool him so boldly.
Jungkook had always been competitive for a reason.
He hated losing, hated being made a fool of.
And now that you had managed to slip past his guard so easily, there was no way he was letting you walk away untouched by it.
Oh, he was going to have so much fun with you.
“I wanna film something,” he finally said instead, voice quieter now. More serious.
Your breath caught slightly at the sudden change in tone. The warmth from earlier had faded into something calmer. Harder to read.
“Oh,” you answered softly, momentarily caught off guard. “Okay! What kind of content?”
You quickly stood up and began fixing the equipment into your bags, noticing him grab his car keys from beside his sports bag.
“You’ll see,” he said simply, before turning toward the exit.
Your own brows furrowed in confusion. The schedule he sent clearly stated golf content for today. Nothing else.
Still, you followed him quietly anyway. When he told you to ride with him instead of the escort vehicle, your confusion deepened even more, though you didn’t question it aloud. Maybe he wanted driving footage or some cinematic clips for the vlog.
That had to be it.
Your heart thumped nervously as you climbed into his car beside him, immediately noticing how sleek and absurdly expensive the interior looked. The soft scent of fresh mint lingered in the air, clean and comforting somehow.
The realization that you were sitting inside Jungkook’s car with Jungkook himself nearly made your soul leave your body.
Your hands instinctively reached toward the camera bag.
“No,” Jungkook chuckled softly the moment he noticed. “You’re not gonna film here, pretty girl.”
Pretty girl.
Your entire brain stopped functioning. Heat rushed violently into your cheeks as you slowly pulled your hands away from the bag.
“Oh,” you answered weakly. “Okay…”
You bit your lip afterward, turning slightly toward the window to hide your expression while curiosity twisted tighter inside your chest.
Where exactly was he taking you?
The moment you saw the familiar hotel building come into view through the windshield, confusion settled deeper into your chest.
You followed Jungkook quietly through the lobby, nerves buzzing beneath your skin with every step.
He had gone strangely quiet after golf. Still calm, still composed—but not as bright as before. The easy smiles disappeared, replaced by something heavier lingering beneath his expression, and it made your stomach tighten painfully.
“Uhm…” you started carefully while standing beside him inside the elevator. “Are you gonna get a few more cameras or something?”
The elevator doors slid shut. Jungkook glanced at you briefly, his doe eyes half-lidded in a way that made your throat suddenly feel dry.
“Take a guess.”
Your heartbeat stumbled. Something about his tone made nervousness crawl violently through your body. And when the elevator finally opened onto your floor, Jungkook grabbed your wrist without warning.
You gasped softly, he dragged you out impatiently, long strides carrying the two of you quickly down the hallway toward your hotel room. His grip wasn’t painful, but firm enough to make your pulse race uncontrollably beneath your skin.
By the time you stopped in front of your door, your mind was already spiraling. Jungkook looked down at you expectantly, his pupils dilated, still holding your wrist while waiting for you to unlock the room.
Did he figure it out? The thought struck so hard your chest physically tightened.
Your fingers trembled slightly while pulling out the keycard. Guilt flooded your system all at once, thick and suffocating.
You were scared.
Scared he’d yell at you. Scared he’d confiscate the equipment. Scared he’d have you booked on the next flight home before you even had a chance to explain yourself.
Completely unaware of the way his dark, playful mind worked. Completely unaware of how badly he wanted to punish you.
“Jungkook, I—”
But the words died immediately when he walked past you instead.
He took the camera bag from your hands and moved straight toward the table, pulling out the camera you used earlier before checking the rest of the equipment you left behind.
You blinked in confusion. Huh?
Jungkook grabbed another camera calmly before setting up one of the tripods with practiced ease. The way his fingers moved across the equipment was fast and precise, adjusting settings effortlessly while rotating the camera into position like second nature. His shoulders flexed beneath the white polo each time he lifted the tripod, veins bulging faintly along his tattooed forearms while he fixed the lighting behind it.
Your lips parted slightly without meaning to. He looked ridiculously good doing something as simple as setting up cameras.
“W-What are you doing?” you stammered, confused.
Jungkook glanced back at you over his shoulder while tightening something near the tripod head.
“Sit on the bed for me.”
Your stomach flipped violently. “H-Huh? I mean okay,” you answered quietly, swallowing hard before slowly moving toward the bed.
You sat carefully near the edge while watching him continue adjusting the setup.
With one hand alone, Jungkook lifted the heavy tripod effortlessly and positioned it directly in front of the bed, angling the camera downward toward where you sat.
The veins along his arms flexed again beneath the strain.
Your throat went completely dry. The room suddenly felt much smaller than before.
Hotter too.
You watched silently as he grabbed another tripod, this time placing it to the right side of the bed. Both cameras pointed directly at you now. And for some reason, the sight made your heartbeat pound harder than ever before.
He looked through the camera lens carefully, head tilting slightly as he adjusted the angle. “Lay down on the bed.”
Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “What—”
“Lay down.” he commanded sharply.
This time, his tone came out firmer. Serious. Leaving absolutely no room for argument.
And somehow, the way he looked at you through the camera lens sent a sharp shiver crawling down your spine.
To your own horror, excitement slowly started mixing with the fear curling inside your stomach.
You almost wanted to slap yourself for it.
You swallowed hard before slowly slipping your shoes off, awkwardly climbing farther onto the bed until your back rested against the headboard.
Every movement suddenly felt painfully self-aware beneath the cameras pointed directly at you.
Jungkook poked the inside of his cheek thoughtfully while studying the frame through the viewfinder, eventually stepping forward again to move the tripod closer.
Before you could shift yourself lower against the mattress, he suddenly walked toward you instead. Your breath hitched the second he crouched down in front of you holding the clip-on microphone.
He leaned in close enough for you to catch the faint scent of mint lingering on him.
“You forgot these earlier,” he said lightly, though there was something mocking beneath the softness of his voice now.
“Oh,” you answered weakly. “Uhm… I was in a rush, so…” Your cheeks burned instantly from embarrassment.
Of course you forgot the microphones!
Jungkook raised a brow slowly. “You were in a rush?” he repeated with a quiet chuckle before standing back up again.
Then he walked toward the table and grabbed the smaller digital camcorder, casually aiming it toward you.
The amount of cameras pointed at you now made your stomach twist uncomfortably. Instinctively, you tried sitting up straighter, but Jungkook stopped you immediately.
“Stay still,” he said calmly. “I wanna test the cameras.”
“Test the cameras?”
“I think you need a little demo, baby.” Your heartbeat stopped. “You weren’t doing a very good job earlier.” The teasing mockery in his tone hit you like a truck.
And suddenly everything crashed down at once. Your eyes widened in horror.
Fuck.
He knew.
Of course he knew!
Heat rushed violently into your face and neck, humiliation crawling across your entire body so intensely it almost hurt. Your chest tightened painfully while tears burned behind your eyes before you could stop them.
You looked away instinctively, shame flooding every inch of you.
God, this was so embarrassing.
“J-Jungkook, please,” you stammered quickly, panic slipping into your voice. “I’m not trying to scam you or anything, it’s just that—”
He stepped closer until his knees brushed against the edge of the bed.
And somehow, that almost satisfied look on his face made your stomach twist even more.
You looked so shy. So cornered. Like a poor little thing unknowingly walking straight into his hands.
His gaze lingered on you with dangerous amusement, as though you had already become his favorite test subject for the cameras.
Dark lazy eyes dragged slowly across your body, taking their time, shamelessly roaming over every inch of you while his imagination sparked vividly to life. You could almost see the thoughts forming behind his eyes—every filthy thing he wanted to do to you, every position he wanted to bend you into, every sound he wanted to force out of your mouth while the cameras kept recording.
And somehow, what excited him even more was the thought of filming it all. Editing it afterward. Watching you fall apart for him frame by frame.
“Shh,” he murmured softly. “It’s okay.”
Your watery eyes lifted toward him immediately. “I’ll teach you how to film, hmm?” he said mockingly.
“W-What?” Your lips parted in disbelief.
Jungkook tilted his head slightly, dark eyes fixed on yours with an unreadable expression.
“Gonna show you the right angles, baby,” he cooed. “What do you think?” He smiled without humor.
The contrast made you shiver. “B-But…”
“Will you cooperate with me?” he asked, voice smooth and almost condescending, like he was speaking to a child. His fingers tapped lightly against one of the cameras beside him. “We wouldn’t want these cameras to go to waste, would we?”
Your throat tightened. Part of you wanted to disappear completely. To book the next flight home, apologize profusely, and somehow repay every expense he wasted on you.
But another part of you—the younger version buried deep inside your chest, the girl who once stayed up all night watching his videos and smiling at her screen—couldn’t let go of this moment.
Because despite everything, Jungkook still hadn’t thrown you out.
He wasn’t yelling at you.
He was giving you another chance.
And maybe that meant you still had an opportunity to prove yourself.
Thousands of people probably wanted your position right now. Yet somehow, he was still here. Patient enough to teach you himself.
Completely unaware of how dangerous that patience actually was.
Because the lessons Jungkook had in mind were nothing like the ones you were expecting.
So slowly, you nodded.
Hope flickered weakly beneath your embarrassment while your thoughts tangled themselves around one desperate need: to impress him somehow.
“Okay,” you whispered nervously. “I—I learn fast when someone’s teaching me and…”
Jungkook raised a thick brow at you. “Pretty girl’s a fast learner, huh?”
Your cheeks immediately reddened again. You nodded shyly despite the obvious teasing in his tone, unconsciously pouting a little from embarrassment.
His eyes went down to your lips, eyes darkening. “Can you count the cameras for me?” he asked a bit impatiently.
You glanced around quickly toward the setup.
The two cameras mounted on tripods.
The camcorder in his hand.
“There’s three,” you answered softly.
Jungkook chuckled under his breath. “Good job, baby.” he slowly lifted the camcorder higher, zooming the lens closer toward your face.
“Now look here.”
You shyly looked into the camera lens, your cheeks dusted with pink beneath the warm lights.
The way Jungkook stared at you through the camcorder made you shrink into yourself slightly, suddenly aware of every little movement you made on the bed.
He tilted his head slowly. “So pretty.”
Your breath caught in your throat. Heat crawled up your neck as you shifted uncomfortably against the mattress, fingers curling slightly into the sheets. The entire situation suddenly felt strangely intimate, and for a second your thoughts drifted somewhere dangerous before you quickly forced yourself to focus again.
This is just a demo.
He’s teaching you.
Nothing else.
“Open the first few buttons of your top,” he said, voice quieter now as he continued looking at you through the camcorder.
Your eyes widened instantly.
Did I hear that right?
“W-What?” you nearly choked out, pulse quickening embarrassingly fast despite how badly this entire situation could end for you.
And somehow, against all logic, excitement started curling through your stomach.
“Need you to cooperate, baby,” he answered smoothly. “Come on, do a nice show for me.”
The teasing edge in his tone made your stomach twist nervously.
You hesitated for a moment before slowly bringing your shaky fingers toward your top, feeling painfully aware of the cameras pointed at you from different angles.
Jungkook watched carefully through the lens, adjusting the focus ring slightly while observing the framing.
“That’s it.” he encouraged.
You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, fingers trembling as you slowly undid the first few buttons of your blouse. Heat crawled up the back of your neck, burning the tips of your ears as the reality of the situation settled deeper beneath your skin.
He’s filming a sex tape.
You were so fucking stupid because instead of panicking properly, instead of running or completely losing your mind, you were following him blindly. Worse—you were getting excited.
Fuck, you should’ve been crashing out right now.
But the way he looked at you— God.
It felt like he wanted to devour you whole. His dark eyes dragged over every inch of exposed skin with quiet hunger, liquid heat pulsed embarrassingly between the gap of your thighs before you could stop it.
“Open your eyes baby, stare at the camera.” he said firmly, an obvious edge underneath it.
You slowly opened your eyes. Your cheeks were already burning, breath uneven as you finished unbuttoning the last one, revealing just enough of your chest to make your thoughts scatter. The camera lens felt heavier now, more invasive, like it was watching you breathe, waiting for you to make the wrong move.
“Hmm…touch your breasts baby, give it a nice squeeze for me.” he whispered, still holding the camcorder, directing it with the ease of someone who knew exactly what every angle captured.
Completely under his control, you obeyed, your hands moving hesitantly at first before you held yourself through the fabric, giving a light squeeze that made your breath hitch. You bit down on your lower lip, trying to stay steady, trying to keep your eyes locked on the camera like he told you, even as your vision softened at the edges and your body betrayed your focus.
The room felt smaller now. Heavier.
You were getting so wet.
Jungkook let out a low groan, eyes still fixed through the lens.
“Remove your top, wanna see your pretty nipples.”
Your ears burned red at the filthy undertone. With shaky hands, you slowly pulled your top off, revealing the white lace bra beneath. The delicate fabric hugged the soft swell of your breasts perfectly, and the moment Jungkook’s eyes settled on them through the camera lens, another wave of heat rushed through your body.
You slowly tugged at the first strap, then the second, freeing your breasts as your nipples hardened, flushed and sensitive against the cool air.
“That’s it,” he instructed, voice steady. “Roll those pretty nipples for me.”
You obeyed, pinching them gently before rolling them between your fingers. Your lips parted at the rush of sensation that followed, breath catching as your panties got more stickier with your arousal.
When your gaze dropped, you noticed the strain in his black shorts—the obvious tent pressing against the fabric. A shiver ran down your spine at the realization that despite his composed, professional expression as he filmed you, he wasn’t unaffected.
He groaned, zooming in on how you were rolling and pinching your nipples, his cock throbbing at the sight, precum leaking from its mushroom tip.
“Bring your hand to your mouth,” he ordered, directing the camera at your face. “Now, spit on it.”
You whimpered. Like a good girl, you gathered your saliva and spat thickly onto your palms, showing it to him after.
He bit his lower lip, his cock getting so hard from your submissiveness. “Good girl, now rub it on your nipples—make it nice and wet for me,” he rasped.
You rubbed the spit on your breast, the warm, sticky fluid on your nipples feeling so raw and dirty, spreading the saliva messily as he watched you through the lens with hooded eyes.
You were getting so horny, the dirty act turning you on so much that you could feel your panties sticking to your core.
“Look at you,” he chuckled, slowly reaching toward you. “I bet you’re so wet right now.”
You looked so pretty—your neatly done hair now slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed from all the things he’d been instructing you to do, pebbled nipples glistening under the camera lights. Your legs trembled slightly, aching to be touched, your lips parting every now and then as your breath turned uneven, eyes hazy and unfocused.
The sight made Jungkook’s cock throb painfully hard.
His pretty little doll.
He handed you the camcorder. “Hold this, baby. Show them who’s making you this wet.”
With shaky hands and glossy eyes, you took the camera and tried to point it toward him, your eyes rolling back when he removed his white polo shirt and black shorts, leaving him in his gray Calvin Klein boxers.
You whimpered as you could see the outline of his huge cock, precum leaking at the tip, wetting the center of the cloth.
“Your angle is wrong,” he raised a brow, noticing how your shaky hands were failing a bit at holding the camera properly.
You panicked. “I’m sorry,” you rushed out, trying to straighten it, ignoring the painful pulses between your legs—your body begging to be touched.
He chuckled, leaning over you. “It’s okay, baby. That’s why we have another camera.”
His hands came up to your cheeks, gently holding and angling your face to the right so you could look toward the second camera set up by the side of the bed. “I bet you’d look so good getting fucked from that angle,” he whispered.
His grip on your cheeks tightened slightly, squishing them just enough as the camera captured everything—the way your eyes fluttered, the way your nipples hardened under his gaze, the way your legs shifted restlessly, searching for any kind of friction.
You gasped loudly when his free hand went down to cup your pussy through your pants, your eyes rolling back as he felt the wetness through the fabric.
“Fuck, let me see how wet you are, yeah?”
With one hand, he unzipped your pants, pulling them down in one forceful motion while his other hand remained on your cheeks, keeping your gaze fixed on the camera. Your other hand trembled as it tried to capture what he was doing below.
“Capture this, baby,” he breathed, guiding your hand holding the camcorder to angle it downward, towards your wet pussy.
You almost dropped the camera when he suddenly slapped your cunt, your panties nearly see-through from how wet they were with your arousal.
“Jungkook~” you whimpered.
He sat up and held both of your legs, spreading them wider until your ankles were almost on either side of the bed.
“You’re so wet, I can see your cute little slit through your panties baby.” He chuckled, leaning down and hollowing his cheeks to spit right above your clothed clit, making it even messier.
You whimpered, your toes curling at the sensation, gripping the camcorder tightly as you felt him crouch down, spreading his spit over your panties. His warm tongue then licked along your pussy through the fabric, slotting between your folds, the wet material pressing inside your slit.
“Make sure the camera can see how good I’m gonna eat this pussy.” He whispered while looking at you, flipping your panties to the side and groaning when he saw how wet and pink you were, his jaw slackening as he took almost your whole pussy into his warm mouth.
It was so wet and messy, and you could see him through the mini screen of the camcorder, maintaining direct eye contact with the lens while eating you out, making sure to pull back your hood so the camera could capture how his lips would wrapped around your swollen clit.
He suctioned around it, spreading more spit, sucking as if his life depended on it, then moved down to gather your juices before sliding his hot tongue inside you, coaxing more from you. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, showing you how he drank every bit of your wetness.
“That feels so g-good.” You moaned, trying to zoom in on how his tongue played with your folds.
He hummed, the vibrations making you twitch in pleasure.
“Yeah? This feels good?” he asked, sucking harshly on your clit as your eyes rolled back, your release building up fast. Your pussy throbbed, your clit growing more sensitive with every passing second.
“I’m gonna-’’
You moaned loudly when he buried his face deeper, never letting go of your throbbing clit, his head moving from side to side as he groaned low against you. When he finally let go of your clit, you gasped as he gathered a thick amount of saliva, hollowing his cheeks to spit harshly down on you, then leaning back in with his tongue out to spread it in slow, kitten-like licks.
When he looked up again at the lens, you exploded, your orgasm so intense you could feel your pussy pulsating so hard you almost saw stars.
‘’Stop, please!” You whined, overstimulated as he kept licking your cunt, your legs shaking from the oversensitivity.
His chin and nose were soaked, his lips slightly red and pouty, his dark locks messy, and his pupils dilated. You gasped when he suddenly removed his boxers; his cock was hard and pretty, curving slightly upward, decorated with thick veins and a red, swollen mushroom tip.
Jungkook took the camera and angled it towards you, wide glossy eyes looking up at him weakly.
“Say… thank you for making me cum, Jungkook.” He breathed, his other hand gripping his cock as he spread the precum along his shaft.
“Thank you for m-making me cum, Jungkook.” You croaked, your legs still trembling from your intense orgasm.
He smiled proudly. “My smart girl, very good at following instructions,” he praised, placing the camcorder down beside you and angling it so it could capture how his mouth leaned down to suck your nipples, while his free hand squeezed and rolled the other bud between his fingers.
“Jungkook—” you moaned as his tongue twirled and sucked around your breast, just like he had done to your clit—messy and pouty with saliva.
He bit your nipple playfully, earning a soft whimper from you, his tattooed hand reaching down to cup your swollen pussy.
You gasped when he inserted his middle finger, your walls tightening around the intrusion.
“You’re so tight and warm.” He murmured against your nipple, letting it go with a soft pop before moving to suck on the other one.
You whimpered, your pussy growing wetter from the way he sucked and played with your nipples, the pad of his middle finger brushing against your spongy spot, making you writhe in pleasure.
“Please- too much.” You moaned, his middle finger going so deep that his knuckles were hitting your ass, his finger curling in a “come here” motion inside you, rubbing your spot deliciously as your tight hole produced more juices, the feeling of your previous release being pushed inside you making you tremble.
He let go of your nipple and leaned in immediately, pouty lips capturing yours in a hungry kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, messy and demanding, tangling with yours as the kiss deepened and turned overwhelming.
At the same time, his other hand moved up to your throat, fingers wrapping gently around the column of your neck, giving it a light squeeze as he held you in place.
Your lips parted in response, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue deeper, exploring every corner of your mouth, sucking on your tongue and swallowing your whines and protests.
His hard cock pressed against your inner thigh, impossibly close to your wet pussy, grinding lightly as he shifted. You could feel his precum, warm and slick, and the firm pressure of his mushroom tip against your skin made you bite back a shaky breath, a mix of pleasure and nerves twisting together inside you.
Your walls tightened around his finger, making it almost impossible for him to move it from how tightly your pussy gripped him.
He groaned, biting your lip and nudging your thighs wider with his legs, inserting another finger and making you gasp from the mix of pain and pleasure. He swallowed your moans, almost bruising your tongue from the way he was kissing you, the air in your lungs growing limited every time he squeezed your throat.
“Shh, behave for the camera.” he whispered, his thumb caressing your throat while his middle and ring fingers rubbed your spongy spot in slow circles.
Tears fell from your eyes, the overstimulation and edging making you cry from pain. You had already come, but you wanted to cum again so badly, your pussy aching and throbbing for another release, his fingers brushing your g-spot in a teasing, ticklish way, making you shake and move your legs in protest.
“Let me cum again, please, please…” you pleaded, fat tears rolling down your flushed cheeks.
He gripped your throat a little tighter, making you gasp for air. “Aww, you wanna come again?” he cooed.
You nodded desperately, moving your hips to meet his fingers. “Yes, please.”
He chuckled at you. “So polite.” he said, lazily grabbing the camcorder from the side and angling it down towards your spent pussy. “Spread wide, baby.”
You immediately held your ankles, making yourself completely open for him, desperate for release, your body aching from denied pleasure.
He angled the camera at your twitching hole, filming how your wetness dripped down the sheets. He held his hard cock, spitting down onto his shaft and pumping it a few times before angling himself towards your wet cunt.
You gasped loudly when his blunt head entered your hole, biting your lip harshly at the foreign intrusion, the stretch nearly overwhelming you from his swollen mushroom tip alone.
“So big…” you whimpered, holding your ankles tightly as a new wave of tears gathered in your eyes.
Your breath hitched, trembling as you tried to adjust, the sensation stealing every coherent thought from your mind.
Jungkook cursed under his breath, zooming in on your wet cunt to capture how your walls were sucking him in.
“Your pussy looks so good on camera baby, so tight and pretty.” He grunted, pushing halfway in and earning a loud moan from you.
His bangs stuck to his forehead, his lip ring catching the light as he bit down on his lower lip. His broad chest rose and fell heavily, veins tracing along his neck, flushed and taut with effort. Even like this, he held the camera with unnerving steadiness, like nothing about the moment could shake his focus.
So steady and professional at producing sex tapes.
When he bottomed out, you almost fainted, the stretch overwhelming—painful yet intoxicating—as he pressed fully against you. His balls settled deep, his pelvis flush with yours, the soft trim of hair brushing your clit each time he rolled his hips.
He groaned harshly. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, his jaw clenching as your walls enveloped him.
“Relax, baby—you’re gripping me,” he groaned weakly, this time angling the camera toward your face.
You whimpered, trying to cover your face with your small hands, but he caught both of your wrists and pinned them above your head. His sudden hard thrusts made your body bounce slightly with every movement, leaving you breathless.
“Don’t be shy, baby—show your pretty face to the camera,” he drawled lazily, angling it towards your flushed expression.
“Show them how good I’m making you feel.” He grunted, rolling his hips against you. The curve of his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly, buried so deep that he barely pulled out at all—only circling his hips, grinding in a way that made it feel like he wanted to push even further. The sensation drew a sharp arch through your back.
His gaze stayed locked on you through the screen, lips parted, breath uneven—like he was caught between control and losing it. The way your pussy gripped him made his cock throb, his expression darkening with something possessive and unspoken.
“Look at you, whimpering like a pretty little slut.” he said in a condescending tone.
“I-I’m not a slut.” You pouted, your walls tightening around him at his degrading tone.
He raised a brow. “Oh really? You think a lot of people won’t agree once I upload this?”
Your eyes widened, panic flashing across your flushed face as his thrusts turned harsher and sloppier, the rhythm giving away how close he was getting. You were almost impressed that he was still managing to keep the camera steady.
“N-No, you are not gonna do that,” you panicked, your eyes wide and glossy, your small hands trying to push the camera away.
He grunted, his cock throbbing as he felt your pussy tighten around him. He shifted just enough to avoid the camera when you reached for it, tightening his grip around both your wrists so you couldn’t move.
“You like that, huh? Come on, pretty—let me film you properly.” He snapped his hips harder, angling the lens toward you while your bodies met in sharp, rhythmic collisions.
The friction made your breath hitch, your clit brushing against his pubic hair in a way that sent jolts of pleasure racing through your body. His grip tightened around the camcorder, breathing uneven as he watched you come apart through the screen, completely drunk on the sounds you were making for him.
“Moan louder.” he commanded.
You moaned loudly, your chest rising and falling as his harsh movements made your body react against him. His eyes rolled back slightly from the way you kept pulsating around him, every drag sending him deeper into overstimulation.
He bit his lip. “My dirty girl, getting fucked on film.” he rasped.
Then, abruptly, he let go of the camcorder and set it aside.
A soft sound escaped him as he pulled out, the sudden emptiness making you whimper. Before you could fully register it, he was already moving you—pulling your body forward and repositioning you in front of him.
He settled behind you, guiding you into place so that you were now facing the cameras on the tripod, your body fully on display while his broad chest and hard cock pressed close from behind.
“You see those two cameras baby?’’ he whispered behind your ear, spreading your legs wide.
“Yes.” you replied weakly.
You gasped loudly when he entered you from behind, your body settling against his lap as his thighs kept your legs spread wide, positioning you so the camera could clearly capture the way he entered you.
“Smile for them baby, need some footage from this angle.’’ He cooed softly, thrusting his hips upward while his other arm circled around your waist to keep you steady.
You moaned, trembling so badly when you saw how the lights caught both of your bodies—the glittering sheen of sweat, your smudged makeup, and his tattooed colored arms all captured in high definition under the harsh glow.
"My pretty pretty girl, should I post this? show them how I fuck?" he murmured against your skin before pressing a kiss to your cheek, his tongue brushing lightly over the dampness left behind by your earlier tears.
The tenderness of it contrasted so badly with the hunger in his voice that it made your breath hitch. His hand cradled your face carefully, thumb stroking beneath your eye as though he was soothing you and provoking you at the same time, and the way he looked at you through half-lidded eyes made heat rush straight to your chest.
He suddenly grabbed the clip-on mic from your necklace, your eyes widening as you realized he was angling it downward—towards where his cock met your pussy.
“Need to test the mic baby, let the viewers hear how much of a nasty slut you are.”
The mic was so close that every sound was picked up clearly—the wet, obscene squelches echoing as he pushed and pulled inside you, the way he dragged against your tight heat sounding even more intense through the recording. The noise alone felt almost sinful in how loud and wet it was.
“I bet they can hear how tight your pussy is.” he grunted, putting the mic closer to your cunt.
He could feel how slick everything had become, wetting his balls each time he pushed, your arousal makes each movement messier.
“Gonna cum, oh gosh.” You moaned, your body growing hypersensitive as your clit throbbed with the pressure of an approaching orgasm.
He grabbed both of your cheeks when he noticed your head starting to fall back from pleasure, forcing you to look straight at the camera in front of you. “Be a good girl and look at the lens, don’t want my content to be bad quality.’’
His other hand clipped the mic back onto your necklace before sliding down again, rubbing slow circles over your clit. You moaned loudly, your back arching as your orgasm edged closer and closer.
“Cum for me baby, show them your cute little juices.”
Your legs were shaking when you finally reached your orgasm, your clit throbbing so intensely, your limbs giving out as your body hit its peak. Your swollen bud pulsed uncontrollably in fast, erratic heart beats, your walls clenching around his cock as he was still thrusting inside you.
Your eyes rolled back into your head when you felt your orgasm stretch further from his deep thrusts, his mushroom tip brushing against your g-spot and dragging you straight into another wave. You came again, consecutively, your body twitching as overstimulation took over, your legs instinctively trying to close.
"J-Jungkook I can't anymore."
Jungkook forced your legs to stay open, his index and middle fingers spreading your pussy lips apart for the camera, showing how your clit pulsed beneath the warm lights while his cock remained buried deep inside you.
''Mhm.. spit on your clit baby, make it extra wet before I use you." he whispered.
You squirmed, obediently leaning down as his fingers kept you spread open. With trembling breaths, you gathered saliva on your tongue before letting it drip down onto your clit, both cameras capturing the filthy sight in sharp detail.
A low curse slipped past Jungkook’s lips at the view, his grip tightening instinctively as he watched you, completely consumed by the way you willingly put yourself on display for him.
He quickly flipped your body down to chase his own pleasure, entering you again and sloppily thrusting into your wet used walls, pushing your cum deeper and deeper inside you. You were so weak, your heart still racing as you weakly reached for the camcorder to film him.
When he saw what you were doing, he groaned harshly, his grip on your hips tightening so hard it bordered on bruising as he held you down.
“My smart girl, you learned well huh?” He praised you, thrusting fast and hard, the camcorder shaking in your grip as you tried to capture his deep strokes.
"Your little brain functioning well with my cock deep inside you.'' he muttered darkly, thumb brushing against your cheek as he watched your expression unravel for him.
“A-Am I doing a good job?” you asked softly, biting your lip as you adjusted the camera to capture his face this time.
He let out a low growl in response, movements losing their rhythm slightly as pleasure started pulling him apart at the edges. “Uh-huh,” he breathed heavily. “You can be my personal little porn star. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
A loud moan escaped you at the thought, heat rushing instantly to your cheeks as you tightened your grip on the camcorder, suddenly far too eager to keep filming him.
“Gonna fuck you anytime I want,” he breathed, dilated eyes locked on you through the lens. “Film it however I like.”
With a harsh final thrust, he came inside you, grunting as he pushed through the last of it, staying buried as he finished, his body still tense with the release. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, warm cum spilling and pooling, some of it leaking out and staining the sheets beneath you while he stayed balls deep.
The camcorder slipped from your grip, forgotten as you breathed heavily beneath him. You were completely spent, still sensitive as his hips gave a few slow, instinctive movements, as if trying to push his cum deeper despite his softening cock.
“Jungkook?” you asked weakly, fingers absentmindedly playing with the soft ruffles of his hair.
“Hmm?” he hummed against your neck, lips pressing lazy kisses there, his cock still buried deep inside you. The red recording lights on the cameras kept blinking steadily in the background.
“A-Are you really gonna post this?” you bit your lip, glancing back at the two large cameras perched on the tripod.
Jungkook let out a quiet chuckle, teeth grazing your skin in a teasing bite. “Mhm. I still need to edit it though.”
“Jungkook!” you squealed, panicking again.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and sharp with need, still carrying that lingering haze of desire. “Do you even know how to edit?” he asked, eyes squinting in playful doubt.
Your eyes widened. “I can edit,” you insisted quickly. “I learned a few things… I kinda know the basics.” Your voice softened at the end, almost uncertain.
A small smile tugged at his lips as he slowly pulled out, earning a shaky breath from you before he reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness.
“Hmm. Okay…” he murmured softly, lifting the camcorder slightly between you. “Edit this video for me, then.”
“What, r-really?” you blinked, surprised that he was letting you work for him.
“Uh-huh,” he said casually. “Then we’ll see if I have to keep you or not.”
You pouted instantly at that, but he was already shifting away from you, looking at the camcorder and checking the footage with the ease of someone far too experienced at this.
The screen’s glow reflected faintly against his handsome face as he replayed a few clips, brows slightly furrowed in concentration. Even now, completely relaxed, he somehow still looked annoyingly professional.
“Okay…” you mumbled softly, a little disappointment slipping into your voice before you could hide it.
He noticed immediately. Of course he did.
A smirk pulled at his lips as he lifted the camcorder slightly, teasing you with it. “Make sure you include your pretty moans, baby,” he drawled. “Or else we’ll have to retake this again.”
He stood up then, completely unbothered, removing the cameras from their tripods like the decision had already been made long before you realized it.
munch!jason who starts every act of intimacy with some form of teasing, whether it's ghosting his fingertips over your skin, whispering in your ear, or breathing heavily on your panties to see how worked up he can get you before undressing.
munch!jason who sucks light hickeys on your inner thighs first to "appreciate his meal" & will gently bite down on your flesh whenever you start moaning before he "even does anything real."
munch!jason who plucks the elastic of your panties and feigns shock at the sight of you already dripping for him, cooing that his pretty girl is "just so happy to see me!" Before giving a teasing lick over your clit.
munch!jason who always groans when he latches his lips onto you, falling into place, sucking and slurping like his life depends on making you cum.
munch!jason who drives himself crazy trying to draw out the little moans & gasps you make, hooking his arms around your thighs and moaning against you whenever you tangle your fingers in his hair.
munch!jason who tends to intertwine one of your hands with his when you start moaning his name, eyes flicking up to meet yours as he rolls his tongue over your clit, almost teasingly slow, attempting to coax out his name again.
munch!jason who loves watching your face twist in pleasure, moaning against you every few minutes to see you shudder & feel your thighs tighten around his head.
munch!jason whose hips roll against the mattress whenever you start pulling his hair, begging him to keep going, eyes fluttering as he struggles to focus on anything but your touch.
munch!jason goes crazy when he feels you start tensing up, tongue flicking your nub relentlessly, pressing his face flush against your trembling cunt, & he almost creams his boxers at the feeling of you releasing all over his face.
munch!jason who licks you clean after you cum, almost driving you to a second orgasm before pulling back to show off the juices clinging to his lips and chin, wiping them off slowly while maintaining eye contact.
munch!jason kisses you quickly. Letting you taste yourself on his lips before rolling you on top of him and whispering how he'd love it if you let him eat it again, with you on top this time.
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : go read bae's muncher tim fic fr. Nora's smut fics should be required reading.
assistance (requested! + nsfw)
jason todd x fem!reader
mentions: 1k event, friends to lovers, jason having a crush on reader, riding, protected p in v, praises, words of encouragement, pet names, slight friend-zoning idk, blah blah, will add more later its almost midnight help
(we got three drinks left oh fuck i rlly locked in for this event LMAOAO i had this planned out in my head for a week so this was ez pz to write)
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three years, thats how long jason todd has had a crush on you
it felt wrong, considering that you were one of his closest friends he’s ever had. but at the same time, it was pathetic, knowing that it’s been going on for three years
jason can’t remember when or how he fell in love with you, but his best bet was ever since he’s laid eyes on you. it wasn’t just your beauty that always made jason almost sigh dreamily; it was everything. from your eyes to the way your nose scrunches when you laugh, it was enough for jason to know that he fell hard for you
so when you went to him and expressed your nervousness about your upcoming date and how it's been a while since you’ve had sex, jason decided to be of some assistance
and that meant having you on top of his lap with his cock deeply snug in you and his hands on your waist
been a while, my ass. your pussy was taking him better than he could imagine — literally— that jason had to remind himself that this wasn't a dream, that you really were on top of him, that soft moans of his name were leaving your lips, that your warm body was making contact with his, that it was your gummy walls clenching around him instead of his hand
“uh huh, just-- ” jason let out a moan from the slight arch of your back— exactly what he was gonna point out. his lips were slightly parted and his eyes were glued to how your boobs slightly bounced from each thrust of your hips.
and your walls— god, they molded perfectly around his cock, taking his size in and pulsing around him that made him convinced you were going to squeeze the life out of him
“fuuuuck you’re a natural at this.” thank god jason had a condom on him or otherwise he’d cum way sooner
his words entered and left your ears, focusing more on his cock that was stuffing you so full instead. jason was by far the biggest you’ve ever had, stretching your pussy out so good it made you wonder how better it would have felt if he went in raw. god, you wouldn’t believe that the best dick you’ve ever gotten was from your best friend
“j-jay— shit” you tried to get words out, but it was impossible to when jason was balls deep in you, his touch not missing every part of your body— and his warmth was driving you insane
“takin’ it like a champ, sweetheart” the pet name rolled with ease in jason’s tongue but both of you were too dazed out to care as he continued letting out murmurs mixed with moans
“uh huh, keep your pace”
“spread your legs a little more”
“juuuust like that— shit”
poor man forgot that he was supposed to be helping you, not just drilling his cock so deep in your pussy that it was making both him and you breathless.
jason’s cock started to twitch in the condom, his breath getting shallower. his hands slid from your waist to your ass, squeezing your cheeks before taking charge and slamming your hips more onto his.
that made a startled gasp leave your lips before a moan trailed out. he was thrusting his cock deeper than he already was, feeling the tip repeatedly abuse your cervix
“f-fuck jay— oh my god jason” you gasped, burying your face into the crook of his neck as your hands gripped onto his shoulders for dear life, that all too familiar feeling slowly building up in you
“i know baby, i know” jason panted, lifting up his hips for a deeper angle. “i have you, just— fuck — let go for me.” mentally, he was praying to god he didn’t cum before you because at this rate, he was about to
this was risky, fucking each other with the label of ‘friends’ hanging over both your heads. was this going to change the outcome of your relationship? yes, but could you two give a flying fuck about it? fuck no
and that knot finally snapped, a whine leaving your lips before your orgasm soon washed out all over jason’s cock. small murmurs of his name kept leaving your lips, euphoria at your sight from how life-changing that orgasm was
that was enough for jason to soon join you, his grip on your ass slowing down along with his thrusts before letting out a moan, feeling the thick loads of his cum slowly fill up the condom. oh how he would have given to fill you up
soon, he came to a complete stop and slowly pulled out of you with a grunt. you slowly pulled your face from his neck, both of you panting and looking at each other with those blown-out eyes that felt the buzz travel around their bodies
“cancel it” jason panted, and that made you blink. but before you could answer after catching your breath, he was already continuing. “cancel the date and block the bastard”
“huh?” was the only thing you were able to say, your brain still a little fuzzy. jason’s hands slipped back up to your waist and smoothly moved you, making you let out a startled yelp of his name
now, it was jason that was on top and you under him. and before you could ask him what he was doing, his lips silenced yours, the kiss slow yet passionate. one hand moved to hook your thigh to his hip while the other moved to rest on your hip
“not bad” jason murmured in the kiss before slowly breaking it and resting his forehead on yours, already lining himself back in again. “but there’s still more work to be done”
what a nice friend he was
—————————————————————————
masterlist! ⤷ 1k event !
(a/n: THANK YOU SM FOR 1.5K?? WHAT???? im literally almost done with my 1k event and now i gotta prepare for another one LMAOAOA ily all smsmsmsmsms <3333)
smut | praise | watching thru the mirror | “use your words”
when he wants to be, jason todd can be filthy.
you’re laying on your stomach, drooling all over the pillow case while he punctuates every single thrust with a moan. his hips moves slow and precise against yours because he’s memorized how it makes you whine and clench. gasping his name while he grinds his thrusts in its deep, deep rigour. you moan something incoherent when he circles his hips and he drops his weight over you to whisper in your ear.
“what was that baby?” every word delicate and breathy against the shell of your ear.
blissed out on him, all you can manage is a elongated mmmhf into the pillow before jason pulls you up by your shoulders. he keeps your weight on his while he remains sheathed inside.
“you gotta use your words pretty girl,” nibbling at your ear to watch you squirm, “say that again.”
practically sobbing with how deep he was and how you’d came for the nth time already tonight, you shakes your head.
“it’s too much,” gasping as he grinds his hips just enough to feel the drag against your walls.
he hums, “you want me to stop?”
immediately pushing back into him, you let out a sharp, “no!”
jason chuckles against your neck while he maneuvers you onto your knees while he’s mounting you from behind. nipping at the nape of your neck while he kisses your cervix and you drop your head backwards to rest on his shoulder. an idea crosses his mind while you make broken sounds into the empty air. arms wrapping around your middle, he turns you to face your full length mirror with your makeup bag still sitting in front of it on the ground. pushing back into you while his hand snakes up to squeeze your breasts and coaxs another gasp.
almost like it’s involuntarily, he kneads with his fingers and moans your name, “is this okay?” when you nod he tsks, “what’d i say about words ma?”
you grab at his hand as you jolt, “yes, it’s perfect,” struggling to speak but he just groans against your neck again.
the sound vibrating across your skin and sending shivers down your spine until you push back into him.
“look,” he pants between measured thrusts, “look at you.”
biting your lip, you lift your head to look at the lewd sight in the mirror.
he had you arched against him on the bed, both of you on your knees as he grinds slowly into you. “you’re so beautiful. my pretty, pretty girl.” smiling to himself at your blissed out state while he pulls you back into him.
embarrassed, you shut your eyes and try to turn your head when his hand comes up higher to make you face the mirror again. murmuring dirty words in your ear again.
“nah, you gotta watch us, hah? don’t we look so good together?” his voice as sensual as ever as he reaches places that only he could.
watching as his hips slam a little harder, you nod, “yes, yes, so good jay.”
humming in agreement, he coos, “good ma, now say it.”
“say it?” hiccuping as you question him.
“call yourself pretty. say i’m beautiful hmm? go on.” breathing by your ear.
you arch further as he grinds deeper, “but that’s so embarrassing.”
“what? how’s being my beautiful wife embarrassing?” pulling you up a little higher so you’re barely holding yourself up, “look at that body, god, could make a grown man cry.”
caressing from the inside with his slow and deep ministrations, you gasp again, “jay—”
“she’s gripping me so tight too, pretty and—nghh, so so beautiful.” a thin layer of sweat on his skin making it glisten beautifully under your bedroom light, “say it, come on please baby?”
coaxing with another sharp thrust, you nearly cry out, “pretty, ‘m so pretty.”
he laughs again, turning your head enough to kiss him over your shoulder while he progressively moves faster. hips meeting yours in pace that was bringing you dangerously close again. moaning loudly into his mouth, he groans right back, then swallows the sound down. you pull away to breathe and he immediately makes you turn to watch again. ministrations making your tits bounce and voice falter. grabbing his hand at your chest, you bring it lower and lower til the message is so clear to him that he’s mad he didn’t think of it first.
fingers meeting that sensitive nub, he rubs tight circles as he feels you clench. the sound you make has his mouth wide and he returns it with something you hadn’t heard either. the peak was threatening his own as you flutter around him.
you whine his name while he shushes you, “i know baby, you can let go for me. you just keep making those pretty sounds yeah.”
his fingers rub your clit faster and you nearly collapse forward. though he holds you up with one strong arm across your midriff.
“i love you so, so much baby,” voice a little more frantic and his hips sloppier, “i need it. i need to feel you baby please.”
tears slip down your face as it crashes over you and you clamp around him. he’d been waiting for you to let go first and makes two harsh thrusts before spilling inside. he’s continuing to push his hips despite the overstimulation to seal that lock of himself inside of you like a brand. grinding his hips into yours while your legs give out entirely like jelly. he doesn’t let you fall over and uses his last bit of strength to pull you backwards to collapse onto his chest. your back to his chest while you try to catch your breath and he’s already pressing kisses to your sweaty hair while he remains buried deep.
you slide onto your side and he turns you, groaning when he slips out with a slick sound.
you snuggle into him immediately and he buries his nose in your hair just to breathe you in, “mmm, i love you,” he murmurs over and over, “i love you, i love you, i love—”
“that tickles,” you giggle as his breath ghosts over your skin again.
“tickles huh? maybe you should say it back or i’ll really tickle you.” laughing as he already drags his hands to you sides and wiggles them til you squirm and laugh that pretty sound again.
“okay, i love you. i love you too,” you pant between laughs, “quit it todd.”
watching his face flush and his fingers stop, you smile at how easily you can fluster him even when he’d been inside you moments ago. you lean in to kiss his perfect face again and he melts into it immediately, cradling the back of your head. slipping his tongue inside your mouth while your legs automatically wrap around his waist. you can feel yourself getting worked up all over again as his softened length just twitches like he were ready to go. you smile against his lips and pull back, watching him chase after you til you put a hand to his chest.
“i do love you jason. a lot.”
his eyes twists over your face and his brows knit. then he’s leaning down to kiss your forehead and pull you into another tight hug.
“i love you more pretty girl. now we gotta sleep before i get you pregnant.” saying the last part more to himself than to you.
despite how spent you are, you lift your head like a dog with a bone, “well, that sounds kinda—”
“don’t tempt me,” he practically groans and pulls your head right back into his chest, “sleep ma.”
a/n: @starr-jazz i lowkey got carried away with this request but you made me wake up like a sleeper agent.
Jason’s body feels heavy on top of yours as he bottoms out inside you over and over in that deep rhythm you both love, his forehead damp against yours. Your hands roam his muscled back, your nails scratching lightly at the scarred skin. He shivers at the sensations, letting out a strangled whine.
"S'good, Jay," you whisper between soft sighs. He always feels so delicious like this, rutting into you slowly with his thick arms hooked under your legs. His cock hits every sensitive spot in your fluttering cunt, covering his length in your slick.
He lets out another whine, his eyes squeezing shut. His deep thrusts get more desperate and his body starts to tremble, his whimpers getting shaky. Tears start to gather at the corners of his closed eyes.
You notice. You always do when this happens. Your hands gently drag up his back to his shoulder before moving to cup his flushed cheeks.
His eyes flutter open, his dark lashes clumped together and catching salty droplets before they can fall onto your face. The dark green of his irises sparkles, pupils wide and adoring.
He's so beautiful like this. His cheeks are rosy and tear stained, his glossy green eyes looking down at you like you're the entire world and more. You are.
"Love you so much... so fuckin' much," he pants, hot tears dripping down onto your own cheeks. His cock throbs inside you with every thrust, making you gush around him even more. "Already gonna—fuck—come."
You move your hands from his cheeks, threading one through his hair and cradling his head while the other wraps around his torso. "Come f'me. Fill me up, Jay," you whisper, earnestly looking up into his teary eyes.
Your words of encouragement are all it takes. His balls tighten as he thrusts into you one last time. He comes with a shuddering moan, spilling hot ropes inside you.
He collapses on top of you, body going limp as he tries to catch his breath. His cock twitches inside of you along with the rest of his body as he comes down from his high. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in.
"I love you so much," he repeats with a murmur, voice all drowsy and fucked out.
VICTIM #1 : jason peter todd. you saw him, you wanted him. quiet boy in the back of the library, too built for a guy with his nose shoved in a battered copy of jane eyre. he thought he knew girls like you, the same shaking tactic worked every time. not this time, you weren’t the girls who tried to win him over with batted lashes. you just had a stronger will than them.
WATCH OUT .ᐟ smut, MANEATER!READER, glasses!jason todd, booksmart!jason todd, he thinks he’s capable of resisting maneater!reader but noooo, riding, marking, thighsman!jason, he also low-key is a tits man, reader chews bubble gum, rich!reader, munch!jason, shy!jason, yes, reader is a player but she really wants jay, body rolls because we all have them and this is size-inclusive, we’re not all skinny bitches, phone sex??? kinda, dirty talk, switch!jay, canonically bi!reader, genius!literate!reader, she's smart, y'all, chance encounters, jason really wants that cookie, glasses kink (reader’s side), panties kink!jason, m.masturbation, seduction, shameless!reader, he quickly becomes obsessed with reader in a sexy way, dw, whimperer!jason, we love a reader who’s a bad person
ADDITIONALS : bad girls (m.i.a)
The librarian took an eyeful of your ass when you walked in. She was on the phone with her loving boyfriend.
You didn't mind one bit. You'd come in for a copy of Sense and Sensibility so you could scoff at the characters, but it wasn't like you'd dress for the occasion. Even if you stuck out like a sore thumb in tiny denim shorts.
The library was pretty much a hunting ground. More often than not you found the best fuck from the boys and girls with their heads in a book. Bars had been filled with men who think they're more well endowed than they are, but the three inch dicks spoke for themselves.
A nerd you had sex with last week sidled up to you, rubbing the back of his neck. The vomit green sweater he had on almost made you retch. Some guys had such terrible fashion choices. "Hey." He murmured, side-glancing you, your nose almost wrinkled. "Remember me? You said you'd call me."
You almost laughed. "I did, didn't I? I guess the bad sex just put me off."
"You said it was amazing." He mumbled, his face flushing. You didn't miss his glance to your tits.
You actually laughed this time, snapping your fingers in his face. "Eyes up here." You smirked, looking him over. Your hand ran down the coarse fibres of his sweater. "Practice how to fuck a girl, then I'll call you." A six foot two hunk of something walked through the shelves behind the guy you were currently talking to.
This guy had your attention. He'd settled himself at a table with Jane Eyre, pushing his glasses up his nose as he opened the book, perusing the front page. Huh. Graphic tee, leather jacket, worn jeans and this guy was musing over a classic.
Your eyes swept him, the lip bite was involuntary but he just triggered that. His jaw was begging for some purple marks, you could lick up that popping vein in his neck. Leather creaked and strained against his biceps— mm, what you wouldn't give to ride those. The pretty flush on his cheeks, they'd bloom a deep scarlet when you get him under you. Not if, when.
Who's this? And did he know he was making your panties wet?
"Bitch." The guy beside you — Mark, or something boring like that — grunted as he walked off.
"This bitch made you call her mommy." You clapped back, eyes still on the fine man across the room. His lips were rosy, you just knew this man ate pussy.
Your heels thunked on the carpet as you strutted over. "Have we met before?" You asked, drawing his attention away from the book. "Could've sworn I've seen you from somewhere." Yeah, the line was overused. That was the point.
"Uh, no, we haven't." Jason replied awkwardly, even more so as your palms rested on the table. He got a full view of you. Your skin had the glow of body oil, your gloss put a magnifying glass to your lips, crisp eyeliner, sunglasses perched on your head — who the fuck wore those to be indoors — chain dangling from your neck. Following the metal led to a clear view of your chest hidden by the lace of a bra peeking over a leopard print cami. You looked like you'd walked out of a Y2K magazine, like all the girls who’d shoved their tits in his face. He wasn’t dealing with that again. "Can I... help you with something?" He had pretty eyes. Where does a man get off, having those eyes?
You pointed to the book about American history beside him. “Can you pass me that?” Of all the god-awful flirting tactics that usually worked, it didn’t this time. He just muttered “sure” and passed you the book, going back to Jane Eyre.
What the fuck? How thick was his skull?
You walked out with frustration bubbling under heated skin. That was the first time a man didn’t stutter at the sight of you. He’d just acted like a book was more interesting than your lips. Fuck him for being that sexy and playing hard to get.
You’d missed his flush when his eyes fixed on your thighs as you exited.
Your stupid Carerra Cabriolet had broken down on the side of the road, when it was fucking boiling out. At least you’d chosen another tank today, it made things a little easier for you when you had your tools out, bent under the bonnet of the car, trying to figure out the problem.
The roar of a bike almost deafened you, until it stopped right beside you. Your eyes locked on faded Levis, biker boots, but those arms were unmistakeable. The tip of your tongue traced the outline of your canine, lips stretching the longer you recognised that build, those god-gifted hands that were tracing the pages of a book just a few days ago.
Would you look at that. The library hottie.
He lifted his helmet off, ruffling his flattened hair so it’d stick up. The black fell in front of mossy green eyes, which took you in. You were the same girl from the library, the one who he accidentally checked out when you walked away. The sun kissed your thighs from its perch in the sky, his gaze trailed up, up, tracing, memorising the black lace of panties peeking above the waistband of your shorts like they did again with your tank top. You seemed to be a fan of that. Your chest rose and fell with every laboured breath. He caught the tongue tracing your canine. Maybe he shouldn’t have stopped.
“Car trouble?” He asked, hooking his helmet on the handlebars of his bike. “That’s some great luck, in this heat.” His eyes followed a bead of sweat trailing down your neck. His tongue ached— fuck, why was it doing that?
“I sure am lucky.” You replied, velvet voice making something in his fingers twitch. And somewhere else that he wouldn’t mention right now. “D’you know your way around cars? I could use some help here.”
He should say no. He should say he didn’t know shit then drive off in his bike, but he wasn’t a liar and he wasn’t gonna strand you out here in high heats. So, yeah, he took his swelteringly hot jacket off — fashion over comfort if he wasn’t Red Hood — slinging it over your car’s trunk. “Yeah. Yeah, I can help.” He was so going to regret this.
Your eyes were still on him. The black highlighting your eyes only making warmth creep up his spine and making its way to his ears, but you didn’t budge. You just stared. His hands hovered by either sides of your waist, eyes tracing the curves, the rolls of your stomach as you bent a little towards him. A soft “fuck” was at the tip of his tongue.
His hands gripped your waist, moving you gently— shit, the callouses on his hands. They were rough on your skin; you weren’t afraid to somehow into that. Maybe all the men who overuse hand cream sensitised you to the guys who actually used their hands. “Sorry, can I just…”
He was keeping talking to a minimum. It made you smile, especially as his black tank brushed your back and his fingers pressed into the skin where your tank rode up. “Sorry.” He mumbled again, looking under the bonnet. His eyes caught the spark plug. “Here.” He gestured to your spark plug. “You’ve got a worn spark plug. Got a spare?”
“Yeah, I do.” You bent down, you felt his eyes slide over your ass, greedy, and down your legs, stopping at your high-heeled boots. Ripping his eyes away from you as you stood up, crisp wing striking again. He didn’t miss the glint in your irises when he took the plug from you, manicured nails scraping his fingers. His soft muttered “thanks” punctuated the replacement of the spark plug, and without another word, he backed off to his bike. Hoping to get away before his brain betrayed him.
“Can I get your number?” Your voice stopped him in his tracks. He tried not to look at your lips, your moving jaw as you chewed on spearmint gum that burned the back of his throat. “In case this kinda thing happens again. I could use a guy who’s good with his hands.” You really would use him.
“I, um, ok.” He swallowed, putting out his hand for your phone. You gave it to him, the freakishly soft pads of your fingers caressing his knuckles this time. He was fucked. But he keyed in his phone number, pressing the ‘save contact’ button and giving it back to you. You read the contact name.
“Jason.” His name slid over your tongue, through his veins, straight to his dick. What was it about you? He swore he was better than this. “Can finally put a name to the face.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t.” He regretted that as soon as it left his mouth. Now he couldn’t avoid making a connection, treating you like you actually meant something in his life. If he let you mean something, you’d distract him, he knew your type.
Oh, he didn’t know shit about you.
Your laugh shot up his spine, your name rang a million times in his brain when you gave it. It rang in the daydream of you on top of him, clothed pussy moving slow, languid, over his cock. It rang every time he moaned your name in that fucked up image. He— he had to stop that. Now. “See you.” He almost tripped over his words, swinging a leg to mount his bike. Your smile was fresh in his head. Your tongue, your teeth that and caught your bottom lip as you watched him drive away.
You’d have him. One way or another.
Your name lit up his phone one random Friday afternoon. A text, a simple one. Your shower stopped working suddenly and you needed his help.
“M’not a fucking plumber,” He muttered, but it was pathetic how quickly he stood up and got his jacket on. Pathetic was how fast his index hooked his keys like he was, line and sinker. Maybe he was your plumber. And mechanic. He could be anything you wanted him to be.
This was either the start of a really bad joke, or highly erotic pornography.
He hesitated before knocking on your door. Ignoring how he’d spent the last five minutes driving above the speed limit. Denial was one of five stages of grief, or its distant cousin: horniness.
He waited. One minute second, two minutes seconds, three— the door swung open.
A silk robe was wrapped around your body. Tied in a knot. Damp hair plastered to your cheeks, valley of your tits covered with cascading droplets that disappeared down the V of the fabric. Very… flimsy fabric that was covering you. Barely. Your no-gloss smile still stole his gaze. How were your lashes curled with no mascara? Your leg peeked out from beneath the silk. His breath hitched. His face flushed. “You came.” You purred.
“You called.” He replied stiffly, stepping in. Kicking off his shoes by the door. Your apartment was… luxurious, but he wasn’t expecting less. He was almost expecting a brothel. But that was stereotyping, he wasn’t a big fan of that. “So, your shower just stopped working?”
“Out of the blue.”
“What makes you think I know how to fix it?”
“A hunch.” The grin you had on made him feel like he ate shit. The defeatist sigh was his white flag.
“Your hunch would be right.” You notched the win on your robe’s belt. You watched his ass as he disappeared into your bathroom. Bingo.
It wasn’t like you were lying about the shower, it had stopped right before you were about to put on a hair mask. It just gave you a very good excuse to call your pet project over.
“Looks like it’s a pipe issue, I got it.” He called over his shoulder. This bathtub was bigger than his single bed. But then again it attested to the difference between la bourgeoisie and la pété thune. Draped over a radiator was your loungewear. Tiny things— rib-knit cami, sleep shorts that probably stopped just short of your ass, matching white panties. In a row, right there.
The panties caught his eye. They were soft, lace at the trim, satin otherwise, fuckin’ gorgeous. You wore those. Just to sleep, you wore those. What the fuck. Why the fuck. Why the fuck was his mouth watering? His tongue heavy? Aching? Begging to circle your clit over the fabric with his tongue just so he could watch the fabric dampen, drench, cling to your cunt? He had to get out of here. Drive off. Start a new life, maybe crash at Dick’s place in Blüdhaven. He’d be safer there.
He found the pipe problem. He fixed it, it was backed up. The panties called his name; since when was he susceptible to that?
“Those were a gift from Victoria’s Secret.” He hadn’t noticed his gaze was fixed on the white fabric draped on the radiator. It snapped back to you. You were leaning against the doorframe, tongue back on your canine. Now that he looked again, he realised it was pointy, like a vampire.
Now that he looked again, he wanted it to drag up his neck.
He looked back at the panties, back to you, tripping over his tongue. “I—I didn’t mean to—” He still stood up, ready to plead guilty and for forgiveness, but your hum stopped his train of thoughts.
You pointed at the panties, tilting your head. “You can keep those.” His brain almost short-circuited. Huh? “I don’t mind.” This was… if you were sane, you’d kick him out. Scream. Maybe get a restraining order.
“I—” Words caught in his throat, “you—”
“Keep them.” You insisted softly, picking up the panties, finger hooking into his belt loops. A sharp tug brought him close, too close for his dick to be comfortable in his jeans. Your fingers slipped into his front pocket of his Levis, tucking the satin panties into them. Never breaking eye contact. Your spearmint breath fanning across his lips. “Never gave you a proper thank you. For saving me twice.”
“You don’t need to do that.” He almost leaned in himself. To get a taste of whatever was on your tongue, to satiate himself while he didn’t have access to your pussy.
Your lips tugged. Into a smile that burned his insides. “Sure?”
“No.” He breathed, and his whole body melted before your lips even captured his. More like devoured. That was a better word for the nasty smack of lips on lips and how your nails carded into his hair. How you pushed your saliva into his mouth with your tongue, forcing his lips apart with a sharp tug to the hair at his nape.
He couldn’t stop the moan. The whine. His hands helplessly grabbed at your thighs, silk bunching up, itching to undo the robe, lips attaching to your jugular, sloppy, open-mouthed, greedy kisses stamped onto your skin.
You got him.
You’d got him, but you pulled him off your neck by the collar of his shirt. “Another time, sweetie.” His head followed the drag of your finger down his jaw, pressing into your finger as it trailed down his chest. “Gotta finish my shower.”
“When?” He rasped, pupils blown. Dick hard. Breath laboured after you pulled all the oxygen he had from his lungs.
You paused, pouting as you mused. “I’ll call you.”
Fuck.
He wished it was you riding him. He had to settle for your panties instead.
The fabric was soft against his palms, even more so against his dick as he fisted it. This wasn't even a measured affair, his sweats were haphazardly pulled down so the waistband collected around his upper thigh. Same went for his boxers, sheets only covering him from the knees down. Everything was silent, too still, save for his frantic breaths, whimpers and faint thwaps of his hand moving up and down his cock.
He needed your cunt to drag up his dick and make it wet, he needed your pussy to suck in his dick, to use it, use him, he needed your mouth by his ear telling him how good he made you feel. He was incomplete without it.
"Fuck, ma, please," He didn't know why he was begging, when you couldn't hear him. You were in your apartment, you couldn't hear him calling out your name to God knows who. Maybe worshipping at your altar was enough to grant him permission to, y'know, come.
Some sick part of him wanted to call you up. Ask you whether he could finally have an orgasm he'd been chasing for the last thirty minutes, it was a twisted thought, but his hand scrambled for his phone on his bedside table. Almost knocking it over amidst his moans.
He’d put you on speed dial at some point. He’d blacked out when he did, apparently, he couldn’t remember when. Sometime between fantasising you on top of him and picturing eating your pussy. The two weren’t mutually exclusive.
His thumb frantically tapped on the green button, knowing it was an ungodly hour of the morning. Knowing you said you’d call him when you wanted to fuck. He just wasn’t pressed to wait.
But you knew it’d happen. You’d been ticking off the hours in your head, laying on your king-size, for when this six-two hunk of a man would crack and call you, desperate for your permission. You’d played the waiting game before.
So you waited again.
Let the phone ring for ten seconds, really dragging it out, letting him delay himself that tiny bit more for an ego trip. He stared at your caller ID the longer his moans grew louder. His hand slowed down because he hadn’t heard your voice yet, he hadn’t asked you—
“Hello?” Your voice, sickly sweet, rang out from the phone. He put you off speaker, slamming the phone to his ear, so close, so ready, whining into the microphone. Your lips curled on the other end.
You could only hear his breathing. His paced up puffs of breath punctuated by needy whines which had your panties soaking through. Gosh, this really was something. “Speak up, Jason.” You sing-songed, prompting a low groan from him.
“Need t’come, ma.” He couldn’t recognise his own voice. Raspy, hoarse, from all the broken sounds he’d been letting out for god knows how long. “Can I—? Please — shiiiit — please lemme, m’so close.”
Your laugh was taunting. It only shot a shiver up his spine. “Oh, Jay,” He could practically hear your smirk through the phone, “you really need my pussy, huh?”
“Fuck, yeah, I do.” He nodded frantically, hand picking up the pace around his cock. Satin dragging against his skin. “Wanna — haah— feel that fuckin’ pussy around my cock, wanna— wanna taste it, m’gonna eat you so good, ma—”
Huh. You’d managed to break this guy in a matter of a week, an incredible feat, even for your standards. Here he was, babbling about going down on you. Your index crept down to circle your clit over your shorts. Your long sigh soothed his ear. “Mhm, Jay, I know, baby— come f’me?” The sugar talking earned you a deep moan from the other end, the shallow breaths and whimper of your name telling you he’d definitely come. His head thudded back against the pillows, covering his dick with your panties so they caught every thick rope of come. He felt so dirty. “Sounded so good, sweetie." That made it feel better. Less pervy.
There was a pause as he caught his breath and composure. “Fuck, ma, when m’I gonna see you?”
You'd never felt like this before.
Jason's tongue dragged over your cunt, almost folding you in half in the effort to make your thighs clamp around his head. His face was buried in your pussy, slurping whatever you had to give him, so much so that saliva mixed with your dripping arousal. He was moaning, moaning, against your clit, bumping it with his nose.
He was too fucked out to be methodical. Too fucked out from fucking his fist with your satin panties for a week when "I'll call you" was a long time coming. You'd finally told him to come over, after seven tortuous days.
He'd narrowly avoided getting a speeding ticket.
He rolled his hips, humping the bed so his dick would get some friction, pads of his fingers sure-fire bruising your skin, they'd be visible for days. You'd be walking around with his fingerprints blooming just under the hem of your shorts. That was hot.
Obscene slurping sounds had you gripping his hair harder as his thumb flicked and teased your clit, two fingers filling you up. "Oh, shiit, Jay," Your eyes rolled back at the intrusion. You were keeping him, for sure.
His fingers were long. Thick. Crooked from being broken one too many times. They instantly brushed your g-spot, he curled them just right, you couldn't help the moan that came when his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. Stacking one thing on top of another so he could make you feel as good as he did over the phone.
"Look at this—" He stopped to whine against your pussy, vibrations sending your head knocking back against your headboard, "this pretty fuckin' pussy, huh?" He was just babbling at this point, trailing off into incoherence the longer he licked you clean. "Kept me waiting so long, ma, jus' wanna make you feel good."
He'd never felt this bliss before.
Your clit dragged on the base of his cock every time you lifted yourself up and dropped back down. Hard slaps of skin on skin was the soundtrack to Jason grabbing your thighs in a frenzy, pupils blown, unable to look away while letting out the most lascivious moans you'd ever heard in your life as his glasses tilted with every bounce of you on his cock.
This was either the start of a really bad joke or highly erotic pornography.
That question got answered real quick.
He propped himself up, to be able to fuck up into you but also kiss the tits that had been taunting him for ages, sucking your nipple into his mouth like it owed him rent. You couldn't help the grab onto the strands of his hair that desperately needed a trim as he sucked insistently, one hand sliding between your thighs so he could rub his name onto your clit with two fingers. You'd spelled out your name in hickeys that spanned his neck and chest. Lipstick prints spanned his jaw and scarlet smeared over his lips.
His green eyes were desperate, looking up at you. "Fuuuck, ma, s'good," He mumbled incoherently, releasing your tits with a slick pop to run aimless kisses over your neck, "s'warm, feels fuckin'—" The smacks of his hips against yours, the smacks of his lips on your skin, they sent you barrelling to a new high.
Your hand messed up his hair, other leaving red trails across his back. Scarlet that any girl would look at and realise that this man belonged to someone. If they didn't get the hint from the smudged lipstick and hickeys. "Yeah, Jay, you're so good, huh?" You praised, his hips picked up the pace. Your head tilted back, clamping down on him, he swore into the crook of your neck. "I'm— m'coming, baby, come with me, yeah?"
"Uh-huh — shit, I — haah —" It was a wave submerging him that reached you too. A cry of each other's names that would end up with a noise complaint at your door the next morning, considering the headboard had been knocking the wall for the past two hours. He'd come inside you, warmth filling you till you felt it in your throat, hand stroking his hair as his breath shuddered against your neck. You were keeping him, for sure.
He lifted his head from your neck, you reached out to wipe the sweat from his flushed temple. His head followed your hand like it held his will to live.
pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson
summary: it's new year's eve, and reader, jason, and dick head to a party at her father's place. there's already tension with the impending deadline on their contracts. will being in the lion's den only make things worse or will they find a way to resolve their feelings?
cw: series tags apply, otherwise nothing new
wc: 11k
a/n: hi everyone... jason and dick are back, and as always thank you so much for your patience. i have really mixed feelings about this chapter which is why it took me so long to finish. i'd love to know your thoughts. i'm sorry if it's a little boring, but i promise the next two are gonna be fun. i can't believe there's only two left till the end :,) thanks for reading this far. as always reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3
series masterlist
For the last two and a half weeks, Jason had been watching you a lot. More than he was contractually-obligated to as your bodyguard, and more than he even wanted to as man attracted to you.
His constant gaze upon you wasn’t lustful. It wasn’t protective either. It was something closer to an examination. Like he was studying every facet of your existence. Like you were a training exercise he’d yet to master. He’d stare as you strutted a few paces ahead of him and Dick down corridors, as you typed at lightning-speed on your phone, as you sat a few cushions away on the couch. He’d watch as you ate, as you slept, as he made you cum.
It was probably heading into the territory of obsession, this fixation of his. He tried to keep it concealed from both you and Dick. One, because he didn’t want to deal with any jokes or teasing. But also, because more than that, he didn’t want you to know that you had an advantage on him in this one specific area — romance.
Jason didn’t know how to be a boyfriend. And that was because he never really wanted to be one.
He could flirt. Going back and forth was easy. It had a rhythm just like fighting. Energy flowed between two parties until it charged up enough to elicit something more extreme. That was no problem. But keeping up with a relationship? It was something he’d never been able to figure out.
He understood the appeal in theory. Ideally, that kind of bond would mean a connection like no other, a person who he could rely on, who he could trust with the ugliest parts of his heart, who would understand him in the way he wanted to be understood. But that wasn’t reality. In the real world, people were selfish. They were shallow and cruel. The one relationship he’d had when he was younger was brief for those reasons on both sides. He’d never been able to be like Dick, to have girlfriends or hold consistent dates. And even further, to have those women happy with him, not expecting more, not constantly prying for something deeper they assumed he kept hidden.
When he looked at you and Dick, he saw those ideals brought to life. The two of you were so effortless together. Dick made you laugh and smile like it was as easy as breathing. He never made you cry, never made you feel like you weren’t good enough. You never sat in the tub choking on words about how you thought he would leave you and never look back.
Making the comparison at all made Jason feel absolutely pathetic. He refused to call it jealousy, and truly it wasn’t. There was nothing in him that took aim at Dick. He couldn’t blame him for his failings with you. As pitiful as his mind could be, he couldn’t feed himself a lie like that.
It wouldn’t erase the familiar ache of insecurity, the gnawing feeling constantly reminding him that if he could just be better, then this wouldn’t be so hard. You wouldn’t feel so tied into knots, he wouldn’t feel so guilty. None of this would be a thing. He could leave, go to another job, and not feel something inside longing for his place at your side.
As things stood, if he did leave in another few weeks, he doubted you’d give him any serious flack. He could see it now — your forced smile, stiff limbs as you waved goodbye for the last time, so desperate to appear unbothered.
But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be domesticated either, but as much as he hated to admit it, he’d grown attached.
There was no explanation for it. You weren’t anything like that ideal relationship he pictured. For one, you had a connection with Dick that possibly surpassed the one between you and him. Two, he had failed to trust you with the vulnerable parts of himself. And three, you didn’t really understand him. He couldn’t say he was that shocked though. All his life, he’d never been able to get away from things that fed into his never-ending struggle to prove himself.
A sigh left him as he gazed at you now with all these thoughts running through his head.
You, him, and Dick were sitting in the living room. Darkness surrounded your trio since the ceiling lights were off and there was nothing but the night sky beyond the windows. The tv glowed with an old movie you’d put on, a favorite from when you were younger that you wanted to show them.
The three of you had been watching movies for hours. Just whatever you could find in your old collection of DVDs. Despite your excitement about this one though, you’d fallen asleep barely halfway through. You laid across the couch now with your head in Jason’s lap and your sock-covered feet on top of Dick’s thighs.
Jason’s hand rubbed your shoulder gently.
You still never brought up those concerns to him. He’d waited after that day he overheard you in the tub for you to seek him out and ask. To talk it out with him so he could figure out himself what he would do when the invisible timer on the contract finally ran out.
But that moment never came. Since that day, you’d acted the same as you always did, totally teasing and light-hearted. He went along with it because he didn’t know what else to do. How could he interrogate your feelings when he barely understood his own?
“You alright?” Dick’s voice cut through the whirlwind of thoughts in Jason’s mind. He almost jumped, his eyes casting over to the man a few feet away from him.
He nodded. “Yeah. ‘m fine.”
“You sure? You looked like you were staring straight through her.” As usual, Dick’s voice was weightless. His concern was masked by the gentleness of a smile. It would be so easy to just tell him. Dick could help. He could take Jason out of the chaos of his head just like he did for you.
But Jason just shook his head. This didn’t have to be another thing he needed Dick’s help with. Knowing he trailed behind him with this too was bad enough. He didn’t need any proof.
“No, really. It’s nothing. Just zoned out I guess.”
He sunk back into the couch a bit, his hand still on your shoulder. Dick’s eyes stayed on him though. He could feel it.
The tv continued to flash from scene to scene. This film really was an older one. The brightness of technicolor did its best to lighten the mood in the living room as the characters glided across the screen. It wasn’t enough to keep Jason’s attention though.
He looked back at Dick.
“Maybe we should move upstairs? She’s out for the night,” he said quietly.
Dick nodded, easy-going as usual. “Sounds like a plan.”
He gently pushed your feet from his lap before standing up and stretching. Jason moved with the same amount of care, going slow to ensure you didn’t wake as he slid out from underneath you. He took on the task of carrying you. One strong arm tucked around your back while the other scooped behind your knees.
With a click of the remote, Dick shut the tv off. The muted tones of red and blue vanished, leaving the penthouse in darkness. Jason felt you stir slightly in his arms. He shifted you closer, as if the feeling of him would be enough to keep you fast asleep.
“Jay?” you mumbled, your hand grazing the collar of his shirt.
“Right here,” he whispered. He started towards the staircase. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You hummed in dazed acknowledgement. Those words rumbled to your drowsy ears combined with the rhythm of him walking up each step seemingly rendered you powerless to the pull of sleep. But just as he reached the top, he heard one more quiet sigh.
A little mumble followed it. “Good. Don’t leave me down there.”
A violent ache spawned in his chest at the simple plea. It sat there between his ribs for a moment before clawing its way everywhere else, down into the pit of his stomach and upwards to form a lump in his throat. He coughed quietly at the top of the stairs to try and scare it back into that dark cavern from which it came.
It wasn’t enough. That gnawing, ugly feeling stayed spread throughout his abdomen. Maybe he should be glad you hadn’t confronted him yet. He could only imagine how much worse his reaction would be if you said something like that while fully lucid, looking him the eye all sad and needy and with the intention of keeping him…
He stood there for a moment under the guise of readjusting his grip. Dick’s footsteps were trailing behind though, so he forced his legs to move across the walkway.
Using your dangling foot, he nudged the doorway open. The same darkness from downstairs cloaked your bedroom. Sparkling stars outside peeked through the large windows. Jason walked in and stood at the edge of the bed, waiting for Dick to catch up so he could pull the blankets back. It was still freezing in here even with the power running fine.
Seconds later, the door shut behind Jason, and Dick came round the bed to stand at the other side. Almost like a practiced routine, he pulled your puffy duvet back and waited for Jason to lay you down in the center.
This got more of a reaction from you than being lifted did. Your eyes fluttered and your body twitched a bit, subconsciously seeking out the warmth you had lost. You mumbled again, but it actually was unintelligible now.
It didn’t matter though. Before you could wake, Jason was ducking down to kiss your forehead. His palm cupped your cheek, thumb stroking soothing stripes onto your face.
“You’re fine, princess. We’re still here,” he whispered.
His knees hit the mattress with the intention to join you under the covers. But in the midst of sliding into place, his eyes caught on Dick, still standing beside the bed, watching the two of you. The lack of lighting prevented Jason from making out his exact expression, but he’d known Dick long enough to feel that stare.
“Don’t start,” Jason grumbled, lowering himself beside you and pulling the duvet into place.
But Dick just tsked while climbing into bed himself. “It’s really no wonder you two fought so much at first. You’re like two sides of the same emotionally-stunted coin.”
Jason rolled his eyes. The bedroom was so dark he couldn’t really see how Dick settled. He could only feel his weight shifting the mattress a foot or two away. It didn’t matter. Things were quiet enough for him to drop the issue all together.
Instead he let his fingers run up and down your forearm. His fingertips took in the feeling of your silken skin in lazy patterns. Even with the movement, it wasn’t long before his eyes began to droop. After all this time together, he found you put him at ease.
He just had to figure out how to do the same for you.
“This sucks. One of you should have sat in the backseat,” you huffed, complaining about this specific issue for the third time in the fifteen minutes you’d been in the car.
Dick glanced at your pouty reflection in the rear view mirror. “Backseat’s the safest spot in the car,” he teased.
“Plus, you’re the one who wanted to rock-paper-scissors for it.” Jason shrugged. “You lost fair and square.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah- ooh!” You cut yourself off. “Turn this up. I love this song.”
With a low chuckle, Jason reached for the dial and cranked up the volume a few notches. High-pitched, melodic singing filled the car’s interior. The beat reverberated through the frame his arm leaned against. You hummed along from behind them, spouting off the chorus in time with the music.
He didn’t dare look back at you. Your voice was so sweet. He could picture the pretty smile on your face, the way your body bobbed around ridiculously to the music. But he didn’t dare look back. Maintaining eye contact with you was becoming harder and harder. Every time he looked at your face he felt that urge swelling up in his chest, the one that wanted to hear you say you knew. That you understood.
So instead he looked out the window. Gotham was covered in snow as it usually was this time of year. The drive to your father’s place had taken the three of you away from icy sidewalks and flickering street lamps. Now it was hills and fields covered in white. Leafless trees lined the road that led out to your old house.
Both Dick and Jason had been surprised to hear your plans for New Years. They’d expected a loud, crammed party filled with a sea of girls who dressed like you and guys who dressed like people they’d be keeping you from. Neither of them expected you to tell them you’d be going to your parents’ home.
It was especially odd because you didn’t seem particularly happy about it. You’d told them the plan last week with the same amount of enthusiasm you gave to all plans regarding your parents.
Dick, always the problem-solver, had suggested staying in. It’d still be snowing, you could blame the weather or feign an illness. You just shook your head it though and dismissed it with a shrug and mumbled “It’s tradition.”
Jason didn’t bother saying anything else. He’d kind of hoped to avoid anymore awkward encounters with Mommy and Daddy Dearest, but at the end of the day, this was still a job. As odd as it might feel to remind himself of that sometimes.
The three of you had already been driving for a good forty minutes, and another fifteen went by before houses started popping up. They sprawled along the land, yards and yards in between each of them.
“So… this is where you grew up?” Jason asked. “Guess you didn’t play with the neighbors too much.”
“No I didn’t grow up out here. We moved when I was fifteen. Before that we were closer to the city,” you said.
He just hummed as a response. That was another odd thing. He knew you so intimately, knew so much of your thoughts and how your emotions worked. He knew your body like it was his personal instrument. But pieces of information like that were still a mystery to him.
Soon enough the GPS showed that the next turn was yours. Dick maneuvered the car down the long driveway, through a set of gates and up to the house. It was almost exactly what each of them had imagined it to look like — a large white exterior with rounded pillars and tall windows, plants everywhere bordered by ornate stone patterns.
At the base of the stairs that led up to the house, there were two men passing a cigarette back and forth. They looked to be a couple years younger than Dick and Jason. When the car got close enough to the walkway the one not currently holding the cigarette started to head towards it.
“Oh they’re the sons of one of my dad’s friends. He’s probably paying them to be like valet or whatever cause no one knows how to park right on the driveway on their own,” you chimed in.
Dick’s lips turned upwards slightly at your little declaration. He put the car in park and then opened up the door to hand this guy the keys. Dick was gracious as ever. You watched as he thanked him with that magazine-cover smile, sliding a tip between their palms.
You and Jason just shuffled over to the pavement. Your arms folded over one another. Even with the coat you had on over your dress, you were freezing out here. The wind was light, but it nipped at you as harsh as if it was blustering. You shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for Dick to join the two of you.
The tires began to crackle against the gravel just as he made it. His arm brushed yours, extended for you to take. For a second, you hesitated. There were other people here. This wasn’t like the penthouse where you could drape yourself across them at will or slide your hand beneath their clothes just for the sake of it. Out here, among your father and his colleagues, they were contractors employed to watch over you.
With a small shaky breath though, you looped your arm around Dick’s. You stuck out your other one for Jason to take too, which to your surprise, he did without complaint.
Upon slipping through the entryway, the air switched from frigid to stuffy in an instant. Sounds of a party came from the room just beyond the foyer. Music played over the swaths of people talking. Glasses clanked against one another. Laughter echoed too obnoxious for anything that was said.
The entryway was fairly dim. A large rounded staircase occupied one side of the hall while the other led to an archway. Through it you could see where the party was. There was a table of food set up, people crossing every few seconds with champagne glasses in hand.
Like a shark to blood in the water, your mother happened to be one of those people a few seconds later. She spotted you before you had the chance to dash up the stairs or dart back out the door or… do literally anything else to get away from her.
She strutted over to the three of you, her pointy heels clicking against the hardwood flooring. You quietly dropped your arms away from the men at both your sides.
“There you are,” she said. She took a sip of her drink as her palm met the softness of your coat.
You nodded with a quiet “hi, mom.”
“You’re late.” She was already guiding you down the hall. Not a second to breathe. “You know how your father feels about you being late.”
“He can argue with the snow then. Being late is better than skidding off the road,” you huffed. You dragged your feet a little, reluctant to actually reach the party or the man in question.
She just shook your head. “It leaves him to nag at me. As if I have any way of getting you here on time. You listen to me less than you listen to him.”
You pursed your lips. “Mother-”
She looked back at you. Her eyes flitted past each of your shoulders at the two men trailing behind you. “At least you brought your handsome friends again.”
Heat flared up your neck into your face. Your body went a little stiff. It was different than the annoyance you felt last time. This felt more… vulnerable. The word ‘friends’ still bothered you, but not in the way it had at the fundraiser.
“Mom just wait,” you said, but she kept going. She must have been drunk or on her way to it. She always got like this when she’d been drinking. Chattery. Overly-familiar like the two of you had a relationship beyond the one forced by blood.
“Oh, you’re still wearing your coat. You should take that off before everyone else sees you. Would one of you take that for her? You can put it in the room that’s in the hall to the right, just off the staircase.” Her eyes went to Dick and Jason. They might as well have been one entity with the way she spoke.
Your feet stopped in their tracks. “I can do it myself. I’m going to put it upstairs. I have to get something up there anyways,” you cut in.
She pursed her lips; almost identical to the way you had. “Fine, go ahead. But don’t hide away up there all night. You’re not sixteen anymore.”
Her glass met her lips again as she turned and left you in the hall with Dick and Jason. You let out a deep breath before turning to walk the other direction.
“She was excited to see you,” Dick said with a small smirk.
“She’s been drinking,” you corrected.
You snatched both of their hands again giving them a tug back towards the stairs.
Dick followed behind on your left side while Jason stayed on your right. The upstairs was completely dark spare one stray lamp in the corner. It didn’t matter though. You navigated the space with them in tow like you lived here only yesterday.
Your bedroom door creaked as it opened. The space was still exactly as it was the last time you’d lived in here, almost five years ago. After you left they’d never changed it. You weren’t naive enough to believe that was for sentimental reasons. There was just enough space here that they didn’t need to encroach on this room for anything. Or they didn’t even do enough at the house that they would need to.
Either way, you walked inside and shrugged your coat off, tossing it onto your old bed in the corner. You glanced at the mirror that sat a few feet away from it.
Dick went in right behind you, but Jason lingered near the door way. His eyes darted around, taking in the layout and all the little details of your old space. You knew he did that for most rooms, but this time it wasn’t about exits or blind spots. You waited for the inevitable jab about how pink and girlish everything was, about how your style looked exactly the same, about how clearly spoiled rotten you’d been.
But it didn’t come. Instead his eyes went to yours with a simple question.
“So what is it you need up here?”
You blinked.
“Nothing. I just wanted a break,” you said while fidgeting with your hair.
Dick laughed softly. He made his way to your desk and plopped down in the pink chair. The rotating seat spun in a lazy circle. “We just got here.”
“Yeah, and you saw how she was. It’s gonna be a long night.”
“Oh come on, she wasn’t so bad.” His grin widened a bit. “She likes us.”
“She doesn’t even know you. She likes looking at you and saying it to me cause she knows it gets on my nerves,” you huffed, turning to face them once more.
Dick laughed again and wheeled the chair closer to you. He took your hand in his, fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist. With a good tug, you landed in his lap. The sleek fabric of your dress rode up as your thighs parted across his.
“It gets on your nerves to know other people are looking at us? Are you jealous?” he teased.
“More like I’m repulsed because she’s my mother. In case you forgot,” you said.
He chuckled. A kiss landed on your cheek. “You look cute while repulsed.”
Your muscles loosened up under his touch. His hands rested at your waist while another kiss hit your jaw.
Jason stood a couple feet away, just watching. You looked so at home on Dick’s lap. Every part of you fit together. He was here too though, and he was part of that fit, he reminded himself. He just had to slide into place.
You didn’t notice the sound of his feet moving across the plush carpet. However his hands landing on your shoulders startled you slightly. You jumped just a little bit before your head tilted back. Your eyes linked at that inverse angle.
He lifted a hand and ran his thumb along the unoccupied side of your face. “We can head back any time you want, you know. I’m sure one of us can come up with an excuse,” he said.
The last part came out with a hint of his usual dry demeanor, but he could tell from the tiny furrow in your brow that his sudden amicable temperament wasn’t coming off as natural as he intended.
“It’s alright,” you said, your soft fingers covering his rough ones. “It’d be a bigger issue in the long run if I ducked out early.”
He nodded. His hand slid downwards, back to your shoulder. He toyed with the strap of your dress.
“Jason…” you started, eyes casting down. “We can’t stay up here.”
“That’s right. No hiding, remember?” Dick added.
“Yeah, yeah.” Jason’s hands squeezed the curves of your shoulders before he leaned down to be level with the two of you. He kissed your cheek like Dick had before moving to your neck.
“But you’re not sixteen anymore either, remember? You don’t have to go somewhere just because she, or your father, or anyone told you to,” he said softly.
Your surprise at that coming from him was nearly audible. He internally grimaced. Had that been too heavy-handed? Was it out of place? Bad timing? How was he supposed to know how to do this?
“I know…” you replied, just as quiet. Your lips went to his cheek and then Dick’s. “It’s not like that this time. It’s just… I can survive a couple hours.”
Jason still wasn’t convinced you wanted to be here, but he wasn’t going to argue with you about your own feelings. That’d be worse than ignoring them all together.
Instead, he nodded again. “If that’s what you want,” he murmured.
He backed off so Dick had the space to give you a boost to your feet. Your back bumped into Jason’s chest. He slid his arm around your front, hooking his hand over your shoulder.
Your hands came up to his forearm, more an instinctive movement than anything else. You looked up at him once more with an inquisitive glint in your eyes. You weren’t asking out loud though, so he wasn’t going to answer that way.
“You ready to go back then?” he asked.
“Mhm,” you hummed. “Just… don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
With that, you pulled free of his grasp. You headed towards the door, assuming they’d follow right behind. “Don’t forget to take off your coats too,” you called over your shoulder.
Jason stood there for a moment before slowly shrugging the leather from his shoulders. Dick had already discarded his gray jacket onto the bed with yours.
“I wasn’t worrying,” Jason scoffed.
“Oh yeah?” Dick said, amused he felt the need to defend himself. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it in a bad way. You know how she is.”
“You’re the one who worries about her. I was just saying-” Jason continued as the two of them made their way to the door.
“Your insistence kinda makes it seem like you are worried,” Dick teased. He patted Jason on the shoulder. “She’ll be fine tonight. Just relax.”
“I know she’ll be fine, that was my point.” Jason rubbed the space between his brows. A sigh came from him. He realized this conversation was useless because he’d never say anything close to what he actually meant. He didn’t doubt you could handle yourself. He doubted that you knew he believed that.
Luckily when you entered the main room of the party, your father was completely occupied by a conversation with a group of men in suits. You slipped into the festivities relatively unnoticed, making your way to the refreshments table and then over to stand by the fireplace.
From your spot next to the grand fixture, you sipped on a flute of champagne and observed the selection of people invited as they chatted and mingled around. There were your father’s colleagues and your mother’s friends of course. Their children who looked like thinner, bitchier versions of them. Some of his campaign staff was here too, along with the neighbors and everyone’s plus ones. You spotted a few people you’d gone to high school with. They nodded at you before lifting their glass in a silent toast. You’d flash them the smile you gave everyone at these things.
However, nobody who came over to talk to you never actually kept their gaze on you for long. After a few seconds, their pupils always went to the guard dogs at your sides.
Everyone wanted to know who Dick and Jason were, why these new handsome faces had slid into your family’s social fabric. You got so many coy “why don’t you introduce me to your friends…” or tipsy “can I have a turn when you’re done with them?” At first you fake laughed and kept that smile strong across your face. They were just jokes no matter how unfunny. And plus you did get a little bit of satisfaction being envied. But there was only so many times you could introduce them as just your bodyguards — something that left them totally open for the taking — without feeling annoyed.
Eventually, you rolled your eyes and tugged on Dick’s arm.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” you said.
He picked up on the unspoken request, nodding and sliding a hand to the small of your back to guide you through the crowd. From a couple of feet over, Jason caught sight of the two of you walking away. He went to follow, but before the three of you reached the archway, your father’s voice boomed across the room.
“Jason!” He raised his hand up to wave him over. “There you are. I was wondering when you’d get here. I forgot you’re on my daughter’s time.”
You rolled your eyes impossibly hard. A sharp retort crept up on your tongue, but before you could say anything, Jason had on his work voice, greeting your dad and making his way over to shake hands.
There was no use protesting. At least it wasn’t you being summoned to that circle of Hell. With your father’s attention occupied, you moved without reservation. You dropped you hand to Dick’s and clasped your fingers around his palm. He gave you a light squeeze back, following you out of the room.
The two of you made your way down the hall. Your shoulders visibly dropped a few inches, all the tension oozing out now that there was some distance between you and that crowd.
Dick’s fingers weaved free of your hand. The smooth digits slid up to your wrist and gave you a quick tug backwards. You almost stumbled. The tall heels you had on didn’t do you any favors as you spun to face him, but he didn’t let you fall.
His other hand landed at your waist.
“You don’t really have to go, do you? Just needed another break?” he checked, his usual smirk already starting to form.
You gave him a small scoff before smiling in return. “Yeah.”
He chuckled. “I could tell. You had that look on your face.”
His hand dipped down again. Soft fingers slid over your palm. A little wave of chills went through you. The contact felt so much more pronounced in the hallway with just you and him. His digits laced through yours once more before he brought your hands up in the position two dancers would take.
You looked down at your feet for a moment. “You know, people don’t really dance at these things.”
“Not even when they’re with a girl as pretty as you?” he asked, giving you a small tug to redirect your focus upwards.
You rolled your eyes. “Shut up. God, you’re like so corny.”
He swayed a little with you in his grasp, a smaller version of dances performed at more formal events than this one. Leaning a little closer, your noses nearly brushed.
“And you’re such a liar, pretending you don’t like it.” His warm breath coasted your face.
You could never resist that tone. The soft one he’d use when it was just you. The one that always calmed you down and made you feel shielded from everything in the world. You tried your best to keep a completely composed face, to not show him how he easily he could affect you. But based on the growing amusement flickering in his eyes, you failed.
He stepped to the side and then back, twirling the two of you slowly. On the way around, you caught a sliver of the room you’d left. Beyond the half-wall at the front there was a group of men, including your father and Jason. It was easy to spot him. If his broad shoulders and built frame weren’t enough, he was probably the tallest guy at this party.
You bit your lip and leaned closer to Dick even more, placing your head against his chest.
“Do you think Jason’s being weird?” you asked softly.
He shrugged. “Not really.”
“Are you sure?” You glanced up at him. “He seems different but I can’t figure out why… It’s like he’s guilty or something.”
“Maybe you should ask him about that,” Dick said. It wasn’t meant as a dig. Dick wasn’t passive aggressive like you were. He wasn’t skittish about feelings like Jason.
You huffed. “He won’t tell me anything.”
“Just like you wouldn’t tell him anything when you were upset,” he teased. His hand on your waist rubbed the small of your back a little. It was affectionate enough to soften the confrontation his words placed before you.
“You’re right… I guess.”
He stepped back from you and then pulled you close once again. “Isn’t that how it usually is? You should’ve figured it out by now, smart girl.”
“Shut up.” The tip of your heel lightly kicked his ankle.
“Hey, hey,” he laughed, stepping back entirely.
You planned on going for another attack, but a bell rang from the other room. Your mother’s voice followed. She called everyone to dinner with shrill slightly-slurred words. She hadn’t prepared it of course, but that was just as well. She wasn’t a very good cook.
“Guess we have to go back…” you said, reluctant in your step towards the main room.
“It won’t be so bad.” He looked at his watch. “There was only three hours left till midnight.”
Inside you groaned but all that came out was a sigh. Three hours might as well have been three days in this place.
Fortunately, Dick was somewhat correct. Dinner wasn’t that bad. It definitely wasn’t horrible. Still, it wasn’t good either.
Anxiety filled your stomach when you first entered the dining room. You kept your palms pressed to your sides to hide how your hands shook. Jason had found the two of you when you re-entered the room. Him and Dick flanked your sides as you walked past the other guests. You didn’t have to look at the tags sitting atop the plates to know your spot. It was up towards the head of the table. Close enough that your father could see you, but far enough that there was no need for conversation.
Dread struck you when your hand landed on the mahogany backing of the seat. For a split-second, you realized there might not be spots for Dick and Jason. In your father’s eyes, they were employees, plain and simple. And the staff at these things usually didn’t eat with the guests.
Your heart rate picked up. It crossed your mind that this level of attachment would come across as pathetic to many, suspicious to your parents. But in that moment, you really didn’t care. You needed them beside you.
You wouldn’t necessarily throw a fit if the labels displayed someone else’s name, but you might have to find your dad and stamp your foot a bit.
As luck would have it however, your dignity was spared. Maybe your parents really did like them. The card on your left read Jason Todd and the one on your right Richard Grayson.
You laughed under your breath and shot him a look. “Richard?”
He shook his head, ears turning a little pink among his silky black hair. “You didn’t make any jokes about ‘Dick’ but Richard gets you?”
“Sounds like an old man’s name,” you teased.
“Ha ha,” he deadpanned. “Well I’m older than you, young lady. So sit down.” He gave you a pat on the hip to go with the words.
It was risky in the crowded room, but that only made you like it more. A grin spread across your lips, the most genuine look of joy you’d had all night.
“Yes, sir,” you nodded. You took your seat and let him push it in for you.
Jason was quiet on your other side as he sat down. You slid your hand onto his thigh beneath the table and squeezed. The muscle tensed beneath your fingers. He looked over at you with the best poker face in the world.
“What were you talking about with my dad?” you asked, voice light and lilted to keep accusation far from your tone.
“Work stuff,” he said. Under the guise of folding his napkin on his lap, he grasped your hand and took it into his. He kept your fingers from being able to rub his leg.
You huffed at the vague answer. “Was it good work stuff? Or bad?”
His fingers spread yours out and then slid between them, a more forceful method than Dick used to take your hand.
“Just plain work stuff. He was introducing me to a few potential clients. Nothing that should worry you, ok?” he said gently.
“I wasn’t worried,” you corrected.
“Good. Then neither of us are.”
You rolled your eyes and tried to slide your hand free to grab something more severe than his leg, but his grip held firm. He gave your wrist a firm squeeze and leaned a little closer.
“Behave yourself, princess. I know you know how.”
When he leaned back, you could see traces of amusement at the corners of his mouth.
“Whatever,” you mumbled in spite of the heat blooming in your chest.
You took your hand back and folded your napkin as well. Most everyone had taken their seats by now. You never really understood the point of having a real dinner at the New Year’s Eve party, but it was your father’s tradition. If this was how he wanted it, this was how it went.
Food came out course by course. You occupied yourself most of the time by talking to either of the men at your sides. No matter how much other people tried to siphon their attention away, you had visible top priority. They’d break from you once in a while to answer a question or speak to your father across a few guests. For the most part, however, your conversation stayed between the three of you.
So simple, yet it made this party feel so much less miserable than those in years past. No longer were you sat here with people you were supposed to like. No longer did you sit on your hands and stare at your food. No longer did you daydream of another life where you had people like Dick and Jason with you.
It was really as your mother had said. No longer were you sixteen.
Before you knew it, things in the dining room were wrapping up. You took a sip of champagne, surveying the other members of this gathering. They’d begun to scatter. Some stayed seated to talk, others headed back into the other room with the music and the television showcasing the ball drop.
Your teeth scraped over your bottom lip as you placed the glass on the lacy tablecloth once more. On your right, Dick’s thumbs tapped against his phone screen in a hurry, dealing with something that pertained to work, you assumed.
You glanced over at Jason too. The knife at the right of his plate had caught his attention. He ran his finger along the handle lazily, twisting it in his grasp a few times. His eyes appeared distant, moreso than usual.
Dick’s words from before rang through your mind. Ask him. And with Dick somewhat occupied for now, it seemed you had a chance.
You poked Jason’s forearm, his skin dimpling beneath the light pressure. Those green eyes went to you. A muted curiosity glimmered over the irises.
If it wasn’t for your father sitting only a couple yards away, you would have grasped his hand, forced the knife from his palm with a move similar to the one he used on you earlier. But eyes were everywhere, so you don’t. Instead you kicked his ankle under the table.
“Can I show you something?”
He raised a brow.
“Show me the way.”
Jason’s nerves lit up as you led him through the kitchen out the backdoor. He glanced over his shoulder as the door clicked shut behind the both of you, checking the windows and if there was anyone beyond them that would see the two of you alone out here. While your father didn’t strike him to be the shotgun-toting type, he’d still like to avoid a scene or getting fired.
You walked a few paces ahead without the same worry. Your heels clacked against the wooden porch in a gentle rhythm.
The cold made his hands tingle. He rubbed them together, seeking some warmth from the contact. Normally, a moment like this with you wouldn’t have him so out of sorts. But with the anxiety that had been simmering inside him for the past two weeks? He could smell the confrontation coming, the very one he wished for, and it had him on edge.
Your destination wasn’t too far from the backdoor itself. You only led him to the right side of the porch before turning to face him again. Your hands were tucked behind your back as you shifted from foot to foot. A swing hung behind you, wide enough for three people. It looked to be wooden but had a coat of rustic white paint over it.
“My room wasn’t the only place I hid away during these things…” you started. Your voice was soft. There was a trace of nerves there too. That put him at ease. If you were both close to losing composure, that was ok. He just couldn’t be the only one.
His head bobbed in a nod. The response felt dumb for the situation, but it was all he could muster. Even though he knew where this was headed, he had know idea how you’d get it there.
“I used to come out here if it wasn’t too cold,” you continued and took a seat on the swing. The chains supporting it creaked while the seat swayed a little bit.
He followed your steps, standing before you. “It’s cold now,” he said quietly.
“Yeah… but you already saw my room. You were asking me questions earlier about growing up and everything… I thought you might like seeing this too.”
He nodded again and sat down beside you. His gaze lingered on the flooring, then drifted to the darkness all around the house. The structure itself seemed to glow out here, being the only source of light for a while. He looked at your face in the yellowy luster. Your features appeared softer than normal, almost like when you slept.
“I used to sneak off during things like this too,” he said quietly.
“Really?” you asked. “Why?”
He smiled just a little at the confusion in your words. “Probably for the same reasons you did. Things get overwhelming faster when it feels like you don’t fit.”
Now it was your turn to nod. “With work or…?” The word family remained unspoken on your lips. Jason hadn’t really ever talked about any type of family. He’d mentioned a few things. Like that the mentor him and Dick shared at their old firm was the closest thing to a father he had. And that his childhood didn’t have any stories worth sharing.
“Work events and things like that,” he confirmed before you could spiral into imagining anything else. “Dick has always been the talker between us. It’s why he interviewed with your dad even though I was the one assigned to you.”
“You seem good at it now,” you replied. “My dad like loves you I’m pretty sure. Every time he’s seen you he steals your attention for half the time…”
He huffed a small sound that resembled a laugh. “I’m on the job right now. It’s different. It’s easy to put on a mask.”
A little crease formed between your brows. Immediately he realized that was probably exactly what you didn’t want to hear, that he kept himself separate from his work. He struck the sore spot he’d been trying to soothe for weeks. Way to go, he thought.
He expected something passive aggressive in return. Maybe a huff or an eye roll. Something snarky. But your eyes stayed on him, true and genuine. You even scooted a little closer. He swallowed, the contraction in his throat audible in the quiet of the porch.
“Jason, I… I wanted to ask you something,” you said softly.
Fuck. Here it came. Wasn’t this what he’d been wishing for? Well now it was here, and he didn’t know what he was gonna say. He didn’t even know what you were gonna ask. How could he rehearse an answer when he couldn’t even anticipate the question? But really, he didn’t want you to ask anything. He wanted you to say it. To tell him that you knew. That you trusted him. That you lov-
“I’m not gonna leave without looking back.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them.
You blinked. “What?”
Jason’s ears burned. God, why him? Nausea churned in his stomach. He felt like a fucking teenager. He knew Dick had a point in calling him emotionally stunted, but not to this degree. Was this really what he’d been reduced to? Did he really have such little capability to handle himself in the face of vulnerability?
He cleared his throat, tried to stiffen himself up a bit. “I just don’t want you thinking that. I can tell you’re nervous about it. You get all quiet whenever stuff like that comes up…” He hesitated, pondering whether to leave it there or disclose all that he knew. But in the spirit of honesty, in the spirit of being an adult, he decided to keep talking. “I heard you crying that day.”
His breath puffed before his lips into the cold night air as the words hit your ears. Worry filled your eyes.
“Jason, I- I didn’t-”
“I know,” he whispered. It was just the two of you out here, but he needed the conversation to be even more private than that. “I don’t blame you for thinking it, ok? That’s not- I’m not accusing you.”
Your warm fingers slid onto his cold hand. He let out a shaky breath. His posture slumped the slightest bit. He looked from his lap and then back to you again.
“I thought I told you that you meant more to me?”
“You did.” You were whispering too now.
“Then, don’t. Don’t worry about that stuff. Please just- I need you to-”
The backdoor swung open, and you flung yourself away from Jason at light speed. You sat against the edge of the swing, stiff as a corpse. Jason sat up straight too, but he relaxed once more when he caught sight of Dick grinning at the two of you.
“Don’t look so guilty,” he said, stepping out onto the back porch. “Imagine if I’d been someone else.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “What?” he said flatly.
Dick’s eyes went to you. “Your dad’s looking for you.”
“Oh- thanks,” you said. You stood from the swing, smoothing out the skirt of your dress before heading back to the door.
Dick watched you go. He then headed over to the swing and sat down in your spot. His head turned to face Jason.
“You back to taking smoke breaks?” Dick smirked.
Jason sighed. “If only.”
Inside, it seemed like there were even more people than before. The room buzzed with a low hum of excitement. It was 10:30 now. Only an hour and a half until the new year.
You had to weave your way through conversations to try and find your father. He wasn’t near the fireplace or the windows or sat near the television. You could only imagine what he needed if he didn’t even make it clear where you should go.
Over in the corner near the tall lamp, you caught sight of your mother. Your dress blew back a little with the pace in which you headed to her. Before you could even ask about your father’s whereabouts, her mouth opened.
“There you are. Your father’s in his office getting the keys for the apartment in D.C.” She swallowed down some more of her drink.
You didn’t bother responding, only giving a vague nod before you took the hallway that lead to his office. Anxiety fizzled through your veins. This was a familiar route, but not one you were fond of. The old house had been the happier one. It was the one where childhood lived in your head. This hallway, this office, were the places that trapped you. They were the walls you walked between while grounded for sneaking out or after a lecture for lashing out. It was where things went dim.
Your palm pressed against the cool surface of the door, nudging it open. He was sat at his desk. Soft lamplight lit the room, a warm glow coating every surface. The drawer to his right hung open. His hand faltered around between the papers inside for that key.
“Didn’t you always tell me it was rude to leave your guests at a party?” you asked quietly as you approached the other side.
Nothing about this room had changed since you moved out. The same painting of mountains hung on the wall. The same burgundy curtains framed the window. His chair still squeaked when he moved. And that same picture of you at nine years old beamed up at anyone who should come to visit his desk.
His hand slid free of the drawer, golden key now dangling from his index finger.
“I wouldn’t have needed to leave if you’d picked these up last week like I asked you to,” he said, arm extending to hand you that small token of the future.
“I told you I was busy.” You swiped them quick, not giving him a chance to withhold and drag this out.
He hummed, though it wasn’t clear to you whether he believed the excuse or not. For once, you couldn’t blame him. It wouldn’t have been the first time you lied in this exact spot.
The drawer shut with a muted thud. “You’re going down there next week to look at that place though. That isn’t up for debate,” he said.
“I know.” You twirled the key around your finger.
“Good.” He rose from his desk with a sigh. “I told you already, but if you want this job, you have to take it seriously. No one there will take ‘I’m busy’ as a reason for being blown off.”
Your lips pursed. Was he really going to lecture?
“I know, dad.”
“I would come with you to view it, but I’ll be busy with a few things here.”
Thank God. The last thing you needed was him nitpicking every little detail about this place. He always did that even though they were his selections. It annoyed you beyond belief, the constant questions about locks and ventilation and rental agreements.
On the brink of voicing your relief, he stopped you short.
“I assume Dick and Jason will be fine to accompany you?”
Internally, you paused. There was something different about the way he said it, something you didn’t like.
“Um… yeah. Why wouldn’t they? You’re the one who hired them to do just that.”
He rounded his desk, now standing on the same side as you. The position made you uncomfortable. It was unfamiliar territory. In the past when he lectured, he always sat in his chair the whole time. You stood here, wishing you could melt into the carpet.
“I was just checking,” he said. “You know I like to know what’s going on with you.”
You looked over at him. “I know.”
“You don’t seem as opposed to them as you did in the beginning.”
Tension crept up your spine. Did he know? Was he going to accuse you in the middle of this party? It didn’t seem like him, but hey, it was new years so maybe he was trying a fresh method of interrogation.
“What are you talking about?” You crossed your arms. “I’ve gotten used to them. So what? That doesn’t mean I suddenly think it was a good idea to hire them.”
“There’s no reason to be defensive, sweetheart.” Though his eyes said otherwise. “I just couldn’t help but notice you seem... close to them. I mean, you’ve barely given anyone else a look all night. It seems like you enjoy their company.”
“Well we’re around each other all day. Of course, I’m gonna feel comfortable talking to them.”
You waited for it — some kind of accusation. I know how ‘attached’ you’ve become to them. I know what you’ve done with the money I put into protecting you. I don’t know why I haven’t disowned you yet.
His brows shrugged and a faint smile came over his lips. He turned away from you to face the window looking out at the night.
“You always got attached so easily… Do you remember that family of rabbits we found living under the porch steps? You cried for days when your mother had the gardener take them away. It broke my heart.”
Your frame softened, shoulders slumping as some of that trepidation melted away. That wasn’t exactly accusatory. It didn’t give you much room to keep being defensive. Instead, a kind of melancholic nostalgia took over.
He continued on. “When we first moved out here, I thought you’d need medication or something. God, you were so upset about leaving the old house and your school.”
His words grew quiet, traced with the same feeling overwhelming you. You gripped the flesh of your own arms tighter, eyes dropping to the floor. Why was he doing this? Was it some ploy to get you to confess your sins all on your own?
“Do you have a point or can I leave you to reminisce alone?” You had intended to sound annoyed, bitter even. But your voice only came out quietly hurt.
He turned around to face you once more, taking a step closer. His hand came out again to land on your shoulder this time. You didn’t recoil from the touch.
“My point is that you’re an adult now,” he said softly. “I want you to remember that. You live in the real world. Things end and people leave. I can’t buy you a puppy to replace the rabbits this time.”
You could extend the the rabbits’ contracts, a small voice in your head said. You suppressed it immediately. While your father technically could do that, you knew it wouldn’t be a real solution. It would only prolong this blissful version of purgatory you had in the penthouse. Under contract, nothing with Jason or Dick could become real, nothing could progress. It would be a bind that stopped them from leaving but that would be all.
“You’re not gonna force a new guard on me in D.C.? It’s not like you to change your mind,” you said, willing your voice not to shake.
He huffed — an older, deeper version of a sound you made all the time. “I know you think I only do things to make you miserable, darling, but I do want the best for you. I don’t want you to feel alienated without the two of them when you settle in Washington.”
If he didn’t seem so compassionate right now, you might have rolled your eyes. But he’d done a good enough job of softening you up.
“I’ll be ok, dad,” you said and looked down.
“A few years ago, I would’ve had to replace those two already. You would have run them off in a matter of weeks. But they’re still here.” His hand squeezed your shoulder before falling away. “You’ve grown up, right before my eyes without me even seeing. I don’t know how. I don’t know why it’s taken me this long to catch up.”
Your eyes drifted back up only to look at him like a stranger. The man before you looked like your father. He spoke like your father. But you wouldn’t have expected these words to leave your father’s lips in a million years. You couldn’t remember a conversation like this between the two of you. One that wasn’t wrought with frustration, bogged down by two butting heads. It had been at least a decade since you felt so at ease in front of him.
“In Washington, you’ll be working in my office,” he continued. He stood a little straighter as his mind went back to work. “But I can see you’ve learned to command respect as well as anyone there can. I’m not worried about you working with the team anymore.”
Guilt prodded at you for a moment. Your poor father, thinking respect was all you’d commanded from Dick and Jason. It didn’t last too long though. The sappy relief building inside was much more powerful. Plus, if that was what he believed, there was no harm in letting the illusion last. Maybe you should count yourself lucky he had such a high opinion of them. Without him deeming them so respectable, he’d probably have seen the truth.
You nodded your head. “I’ll be fine, dad.”
“I know you will be. Just please, remember to be at the new apartment next Friday at 1.”
Traces of a genuine smile appeared on your face. “I will be,” you said.
“Good. We should get back to the party then. It’s rude to leave people unattended, isn’t it?”
You nodded, though you couldn’t have cared less about his guests. You had two of your own to attend to.
Jason and Dick had migrated back into the house not long after you left to speak to your father. They stood against a wall in the living room now, a few paces away from the fireplace. Dick sipped on a soda while Jason watched the space before them.
He didn’t see you, which was probably for the best. Having you out of sight gave his nerves a chance to calm down and return to their resting state. The conversation had gone fine he told himself. There was no reason to hold onto anymore stress about it. You were fine and he was fine and everything was fine. Right?
Your father came back into the room first. He inserted himself back into the festivities seamlessly. Jason watched him closely, silently wondering what you’d been called away for. Nothing bad he hoped. He didn’t want you to spend the first minutes of the new year sulking.
But moments later, you appeared in the archway leading out towards the hall. You wore a big smile on your face, not stressed like before or newly upset. Hey, maybe he’d been right. Maybe everything was fine.
You summoned the two of them over with a quick wave, glancing around as if to make sure no one would take notice.
Jason nudged Dick’s arm. Perceptive as ever though, Dick was already heading your direction. Jason walked in step with him. They slid around a few groups of people drinking and talking. They barely looked at them though. Their eyes stayed on you.
Once they were in reach, you grabbed each of their wrists.
Dick gave you a quick once over. “You alright?” he asked.
You nodded. There wasn’t a hint of sadness on your face. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
The stark shift in the plan visibly shocked them both. Jason’s brows shot up. “You wanna leave?” he asked as the two of them began trailing behind you. “I thought you said it was easier to stick out the night.”
“Don’t worry about that. It’ll be more fun if it’s just the three of us,” you said while guiding them down the hall.
Hesitance kept Jason’s footsteps slow at first, but he was quick to shake it off. This was… nice. You didn’t look like you were forcing it anymore. You were smiling and walking with a bounce in your step that seemed true. It reminded him of when he first started, when it was just you and him and you hadn’t cared about his opinion.
Your trio went down the hall towards the front door. You were almost out and free when Dick chuckled softly. “I’m fine with leaving, but,” he said and came to a stop at the base of the stairs, “don’t forget your coat.”
“Oh good catch,” you said. You were quick to prance around him and Jason. They let you go upstairs alone to get the coats.
He glanced over towards Dick. “Must have been a good talk.”
Dick huffed out a laugh. “Guess so.”
Jason wondered if it pertained to the two of them in anyway, if you were gonna drop a surprise on them as soon as you were locked in the car together. He couldn’t find it in himself to truly care though. You were happy, and he wasn’t going to ruin that. There was no way he was going into the new year on your bad side.
You trotted back down the stairs with your coat slung round your shoulders and each of theirs on an arm.
“Now we’re ready,” you said, sliding the garments to their owners. You clasped their hands fully before taking off out the front door.
The drive back to the penthouse felt much quicker than the one out to your parents. Your great mood kept up all the way down the dark winding roads and back onto the highway towards the city.
It was 11:54 when Dick put the car in park. Not wanting to waste one of the scant minutes until the clock struck twelve, you were out of the car before it even shut off.
Jason stepped out next. He shut his door quickly before following after you to the building. Dick was right behind him. Inside the elevator, you took their hands once more. The surface of your skin was cool, but the warmth of your pulse beat through your tight grip.
“I don’t know how good we’ll be able to see the fireworks from the balcony but…” you said and looked between them, “we can find out together.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Dick said with a squeeze to your palm. “It’s not like we could get much higher than your place.”
That was proven by the elevator taking its sweet time getting to your floor. The ride seemed never ending while on a time crunch. The little ding chimed just as the number switched over. A second later the doors were open, and you were tearing off down the hall.
The microwave read 11:56 when the three of you walked through the kitchen. You went right in there to grab the tequila you had on hand. Dick helped you out by getting three glasses, and Jason opened the door to the balcony. Things ran smoothly with the three of you all working in tandem.
It wasn’t snowing on your balcony like it had been out at your parents’ place. It was just as cold though. You shivered as you popped open the bottle and poured it sloppily between the three cups. A little dribbled onto the table but that was fine. There was still a minute or two to spare.
You walked over to the railing, the same spot Jason had gone to get away from you. He watched you from behind before drifting to your side, his new usual spot. Dick came up on your other one, his bicep brushing your own.
There wasn’t a clock out here, but that didn’t matter. The first loud pop of a firework marked the switchover. As soon as the sky lit up with pinks and blues and reds, you took their hands once again. You brought them both to your lips, kissing each where they lined up against one another at the same time. Your eyes fluttered shut with the gentle touch, that newfound security poured into it.
You let them fall away when the first round of fireworks had ended. In the few seconds of quiet, you looked between them.
Jason smirked and leaned closer.
“You don’t think that really counts as a new year’s kiss do you?” he asked playfully.
A small laugh came from your lips. You shut your eyes as he kissed you for real. Dick’s arm looped around your waist. You felt his breaths on your ear as he ducked to join.
“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he whispered before you felt his mouth land just below your earlobe.
You turned your head to catch him in a real kiss too. Under the flashing ever-changing lights above, the three of you stumbled back to the table where the drinks were, mouths not leaving one another.
For the first few moments of this year, nothing else mattered. Nothing else even existed. Just you and the two of them and your want for each other. That invisible timer was gone entirely. The chain your father had you on had disappeared too. No one had control over anything right now. It was just the three of you.
Dick grabbed his drink from the table and downed some as another loud boom echoed through the sky. You glanced over at Jason.
“Happy New Year,” you said quietly to him.
“It’s gonna be a good one,” he replied at the same hushed volume.
And with that simple statement, the little worry you had left in your heart drained away. In that moment, you could feel it. You knew.
Summary: You and Jason have been dating for five months now and you still haven’t had sex. Of course he’s been nothing if not respectful about it but you’re starting to wonder whether he’s actually okay with it. So you ask him.
Warnings and A/N: smut smut smut!! fem reader, established relationship. porn with SOME plot. basically reader is afraid of intercourse. they have had oral sex but no penetration! whether you consider reader a virgin in this case is up to you. smut tags/tw: A LOT of oral sex (fem receiving), outercourse, NO intercourse, groping (??) and above the clothes action. Jason MAY cum in his pants👀. also a bit of body worship? and you’re kinda freaky in the middle of this but meh. also, humping and face riding:)
Words: 2.4k
You keep flexing the paperback in your hands, rubbing the already worn-out pages between your fingertips. Over and over again you read the same paragraph, your mind simply won’t focus on what you want it to. Still trying not to be too obvious with your uneasiness you look up at Jason.
He’s sitting across from you on the sofa, legs bent in front of him and linked with yours. His arm is resting on the headrest while he holds a copy of Wuthering Heights with his free hand. For a moment you get lost in his scrunched up features, in his gaze that softly caresses the pages and in the ups-and-downs of his chest.
He turns the page and you remember where you are. You’re in his apartment. It’s Friday night. Date night. Your sweetheart of a boyfriend invited you into his home, cooked you dinner and suggested a quiet evening reading together. It’s not anything new; you read your books separately and every once in a while you interrupt each other to make a comment or to share a thought.
Yet you hadn’t said a word since you sat down. Jason must have noticed by now. Mr Batman-Is-My-Father-And-Mentor must have noticed you haven’t turned a page all evening.
Your initial intentions really were of reading but lately there’s only been one thought on your mind: sex. Okay, well, not like that. More like the lack thereof. You’ve been dating for little over five months now and it’s not like you haven’t done anything. Some fooling around, some oral on both sides but nothing more than that and honestly, you can’t but wonder if he’s getting bored of that. He’s been nothing if not patient and understanding (as one should be of course) but that doesn’t mean he can’t have desires.
Logically you know he won’t lose interest because you’re not ready for “traditional sex” but that little voice inside your head haunts you. It feels like you’re just waiting for him to get tired of you and your issues.
You should talk to him about it, you know you should.
You look up, his eyes are still fixated on his book. You bite your lip and take a trembling breath. You nudge his foot with yours. “Jay?”
His eyes immediately shoot up and that incessant gaze now lingers on you. “Mh?”
“Does it bother you that we haven’t had sex yet?”
He closes his book and arches an eyebrow. “I don’t know where you’ve been babe but we’ve been having sex.”
You huff and a faint smile tugs at your lips but you quickly suppress it.
“No, I mean- yes, we have been having sex. But I mean like, traditional sex. Intercourse.”
His eyebrows pinch slightly and he hums in acknowledgement. “Does that bother you?”
Not expecting your question to be repeated back you just stare at him wordless, thinking. Then he scoots over closer to you and his hand starts caressing your knee.
“I mean, no, but aren’t you bothered? Don’t you want to?”
“I want to do whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Now you feel bad because no matter how sweet he’s being you can’t help but get frustrated.
“But aren’t you fed up by now?” Your voice starts to raise without wanting to and your eyes sting with self-doubt. “Having to wait for me, hearing no from me over and over again? Getting rejected every time? I know you’d never do something I didn’t want but-”.
His hands come up to cup your face and his gaze is the only thing that makes you stop talking.
“Now, I want you to listen to me carefully, okay?” You nod. “I love you. Not because of what you do for me but because you’re you,” he pauses and licks his lips as if to help him find the words, “I’m grateful every time you say no to me because that means you trust me to respect your no.”
Worry pours from his eyes as he looks over your face, trying to decipher what you’re thinking. Your teary and distressed expression really isn’t helping his state of mind.
“Fuck sweetheart, I don’t even know how to begin to explain to you how wrong you are,” you chuckle and he feels a weight being lifted from his chest, “You could tell me right now that you’ll never want to have traditional sex, as you put it, and that’d be a hundred percent okay.”
You look at him in doubt. “Babe that’s-”
“Ah! You’re not allowed to disagree with me.” He says pressing his index finger to your lips. Through your sniffles you bite back a grin at his theatrics and you push his side playfully.
“Come on, I’m being serious Jay. I don’t want you to miss out on anything because of me.”
Jason huffs at you but his calloused hands never leave yours. “Fine, I’ll entertain you,” he rolls his eyes playfully, “let’s say I’m devastated about getting to eat you out for the rest of my days,” you snort, “I’ll still be the luckiest motherfucker around. You wanna know why?”
You nod.
“Because I’ve got you.” He then lowers to kiss your knuckles while his eyes never leave yours; and just like that you feel as giddy as you did five months ago when you first started dating.
“Ugh God, you’re so corny.” You laugh and Jason falls for you all over again.
You both start laughing now and the air feels light again. Gently you smile and come to rest against him, head in the crook of his neck and your hands playing with his.
“Thank you,” you say, “for, you know… being here.”
“Thank you for sharing your feelings with me. Please tell me if you ever feel like that again.”
You nod softly against his skin and he kisses the top of your head. Minutes of comfortable silence pass by, one of Jason’s hands is caressing your spine and playing with your hair.
“Jay?”
“Yeah sweetheart?”
“How wrong is it that I’m horny right now?”
He stills and then huffs a chuckle. “Well it does mildly concern me that you’re turned on by your boundaries being respected but I certainly won’t leave my girl wanting.” He grins.
His fingertips reach for your waistband and he looks back up at you.
“May I?”
“Yes please.” You start to rub your thighs together in anticipation. He groans.
“It’s insane how you still think you have to beg me to touch you.” With that Jason pulls your pants down, leaving you in your panties and (his) t-shirt. He plays with the hem of your top as he leaves wet kisses on your neck.
“Can I take this off sweets?” You nod and mumble some approving words. The t-shirt comes off swiftly and along does Jason’s.
A trail of longing kisses is left on your collarbones and just above your tits, Jason’s hands move by your sides and shivers take over you.
“I swear to fucking God you get prettier and prettier every goddam day.”
He dips lower and kisses down your stomach, moving ever-so-slowly; reaching your panties he leaves a kiss on them. Without any warning he moves downward and starts licking your panty-clad pussy, leaving his saliva everywhere. You gasp in pleasure and yank his hair in surprise.
“Fuck- Jason! A fucking warning next time?” He responds with a grin and you feel your pussy throb. He moves back onto you, sliding himself off the sofa and on his knees in front of you. Before you know it he’s soaking your underwear with his spit, his tongue putting extra pressure right on your clit. You buck your hips against his face and he groans into your pussy and you swear you see him hump the air.
His hands hold your hips still as he devours you like a man starved.
Your hands now reach for your panties, trying uselessly to slide them off.
“Not yet.” He states and you whine at him.
“Fuckin’ hell you taste amazing even with your panties on lovely.”
Your hands reach to hold onto the blanket underneath you as Jason wets your underwear even more. His index now slips under the soaked cloth and in a torturous slow motion he takes it off you.
He then latches his lips on your clit and sucks gently. By now your sight is going blank and your legs have gone numb meanwhile Jason still isn’t relenting. His fingers now reach your core; with his thumb he teases your clit so his tongue can focus on sucking the juices directly out of you.
“Jay- mh, Jay please Jay I’m so close ugh please-”
Nothing other than a broken string of moans and whines comes out of you. Your pussy is throbbing and clenching on nothing as Jason’s tongue works endlessly to get you over the edge.
“You can cum baby, please cum on my face, please-” his words come out muffled but his message gets across because not five seconds later you’re cumming with your hands still pulling at Jason’s hair.
Your mind’s gone blank and you’re seeing spots. Jason’s hands are softly caressing your sides and with his lips he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs. After some moments his head comes to rest on your leg; looking down you can see him looking back with what could only be described as love in his eyes.
“How are you feeling?” His words slip out of his mouth like honey.
You adjust yourself on the sofa wincing. “Like you just sucked the brain out of my pussy.”
He barks a laugh. “I try.”
You smile at him. “Your turn now, come on!”
You start moving towards the floor to take his place but his hands at your hips stop you.
“Nuh uh! This was about you!”
“But babe-”
“Nope!”
You pause to look at him with an eyebrow raised.
“You came in your pants didn’t you?”
He gapes indignantly, “Excuse me? How dare you! I- I-” your gaze remains unfazed, “-maybe.”
Your lips break into a smile. “Aaww you’re so cute, let me see!”
“Let you- you must be mad-” you giggle at him and he flushes, “I am not showing you my soft damp dick babe.”
Still smiling, you huff an okay. Now that you’ve settled you invite him back onto the sofa with you; as he sits he yanks you on top of him. At your yelp he smiles and drags you closer.
“I love you.” He says before catching your lower lip between his. You smile into the kiss.
“I love you too.”
More kisses are shared, his right hand resting on the back of your head and his left is placed kindly on your thigh. Your lips start to chase each other, minds foggy with love. Without even noticing your hips start to buck against his and his against yours. You can feel the wet patch from his cum underneath you and it only serves as a reminder of your previous endeavours.
“Fuck gorgeous.” His hips sync up with yours, movements calculated to stimulate you just where you need it. Your whines just incite him. Jason now holds you by your lower back, helping you move with him. You can’t help but feel his length grow beneath you.
You place your palms onto his chest and start grinding harder onto him.
“Christ love, I- I’m so sensitive fuck- nhg-” Jason’s pants are going straight to your brain. It’s then that he stops you.
“Wait- wait.” His hands hold you still and he scrunches his eyes up, panting.
“What’s wrong, are you okay? Did I do something? We can st-”
“No, no gorgeous, you’re fine. Absolutely fine. I’m just… I don’t think I can cum anymore.”
“Oh- oh, that’s alright. We can just keep cuddling.”
“That’s- yeah, yeah but not exactly what I had in mind.” You pinch your eyebrows.
“How do you feel about riding my face?”
That stills you. You’ve only ever done it once with Jason and while one could say it went certainly well you’re still somewhat new to it.
“Yes. I mean, yeah, that sounds great. Are you up to it though?” He smiles at you.
“You don’t have to worry about me pretty, I’ll be fine.” And just like that he lifts you up and sliding down he places you on top of his chest.
“Whenever you’re ready babe.”
Holding yourself up with the armrest you move on top of his face, then you steadily lower yourself. Jason feels like a kid in a candy store. As soon as you get close enough he spreads his tongue flat and licks you over. You involuntarily buck your hips and nearly lose your balance; you matter a small apology but he completely ignores it, rather he grasps you by the ass and pushes you closer to his mouth.
You start whining once he starts drinking the juices from you as his nose bridge stimulates your clit just right.
“Fuck fuck mmh Jay I’m so sensitiv-” without warning Jason’s fingers reach for your tits and start teasing your nipples. Your previous orgasm united with the intensity of Jason’s stimulation drives you over the edge and you quickly come again.
As you come down from your high Jason lays you down on the sofa and grabbing a tissue nearby he cleans you up from any and all bodily fluids. As you catch your breath your boyfriend places sweet ticklish kisses all over your face.
“You alright? You need anything? Food, shower, cuddles?”
You nod sleepily. “Cuddles.”
Jason chuckles fondly. “Cuddles it is.” He maneuvers you guys to both fit on the sofa and hugs you tight to his chest. His free hand cradles your face, his thumb caressing your skin. He can see your eyes flutter with sleep.
“How about a nap, mh?” Again you nod.
“Good, good. I’ll wake you up in a bit, alright sweetheart? You don’t need to worry about anything right now.” He then leaves a kiss on your forehead. You nod.
“Jay?”
“Mh?”
“I love you.”
Jason bites back a smile. “I love you too lovely. So fucking much.”
whipped!dick grayson who sheds literal tears during sex. he swears he's on cloud nine when he's buried deep inside you.
whipped!dick grayson who begs on his hands and knees to eat you out. he's convinced your pussy bewitched his taste buds. he craves and daydreams about your taste all day every day.
whipped!dick grayson who can't go one day without squeezing your boobs. showering together? he's gotta squeeze them. you're riding him? oh he's most definitely gotta squeeze them. you're doing the dishes? he's behind you squeezing them. no questions asked.
whipped!dick grayson who sometimes has to close his eyes during his sex. one hundred percent convinced that if he keeps them open and sees the sight of you unraveling underneath (or on top) him, he'd come on the spot.
whipped!dick grayson who doesn't care how loud or needy he sounds when he's making love to you. he's far too lost in in the moment to even understand what's leaving his mouth.
The air in Jason’s apartment is thick with the familiar, comforting scent of old paper, gun oil, and the faint, clean leather of his jacket slung over the back of a chair. But tonight, that familiar scent is laced with something else—the sharp, electric tang of anticipation, the warm, musky promise of his skin. You’re standing before him, his hands on your hips, his gaze a physical weight as he looks up at you from where he’s sprawled on the worn-out couch.
“C’mere,” he rasps, his voice a low gravelly hum that vibrates through you. He doesn’t wait for you to comply, his hands tightening on your hips as he guides you forward, manoeuvring you until you’re standing over him, one foot on the couch cushion on either side of his head. The position is dominant, almost clinical, but the look in his eyes is anything but. It’s dark and hungry, a primal fire that promises to consume you whole.
“Don’t be shy,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, sending shivers racing up your spine. “Sit.”
You lower yourself slowly, your breath catching in your throat as you feel the first hot puff of his breath against your slick, waiting folds. You’re already soaked; you have been since he gave you that look across the room, the one that promised you’d be screaming his name before the night was through. You settle your weight on him, your knees sinking into the worn cushions, and the first contact is electric. It’s a soft, wet brush of his lips against your clit, and a jolt of pure pleasure shoots through you, so intense it makes you gasp.
He groans, the sound a deep, guttural noise of pure appreciation that’s muffled by your flesh. He’s not teasing, not anymore. He’s devouring you. His tongue is a masterful instrument, a broad, flat stroke that goes from your weeping entrance all the way up to your pulsing clit, collecting your arousal like a connoisseur. He’s tasting you, learning you, memorising the very essence of you.
Your hands fly out, gripping the back of the couch for support as your legs begin to tremble. The sight is obscene in the best possible way. You look down and see his dark head, the messy black strands of his hair tickling your inner thighs. You see the way his jaw works as he eats you out with a focused, almost desperate hunger, like a man who’s been starved for far too long and has just been presented with a feast.
His hands slide up from your thighs to grip your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, pulling you down, grinding you against his mouth. He’s taking control now, setting the pace. He shifts, angling his head, and then his tongue is delving into your entrance, fucking you with it in slow, deliberate thrusts that mimic the act itself. You can hear the wet, lewd sounds of his mouth on you, the sounds of your own slickness, and it’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard.
“Jason… oh fuck, Jason! ", you whimper, your hips starting to move in a slow, rocking rhythm, instinctively riding his face. You can’t help it. The pleasure is too good, too overwhelming.
He hums in response, the vibration sending a jolt of pure ecstasy straight to your clit. He pulls back for a moment, just long enough to speak. “That’s it,” he grunts, his voice thick and husky. “Ride my face. Use me.” His words are a lit match to gasoline. They’re filthy, degrading in the most glorious way, and they unleash something primal inside you.
He shifts one of his hands, bringing it around to your front. His fingers find your clit, and he starts to rub it in tight, fast circles, in perfect time with the movements of his tongue. The dual stimulation is a sensory overload. Your thighs start to shake uncontrollably, your movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. You’re no longer in control; you’re just a vessel for the pleasure he’s giving you.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice muffled but laced with an undeniable authority. You force your heavy eyelids open, looking down the length of your body at him. His face is buried between your thighs, his eyes locked on yours, and the sight is so incredibly hot, so intensely intimate, it makes your pussy clench hard. You see the raw, unadulterated hunger in his gaze, the sheer joy he takes in your pleasure. He’s not just doing this for you; he’s doing this for him, too.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” he groans, his words slurred. “All spread out for me. So fucking wet.”
He redoubles his efforts, his tongue and fingers working in a relentless, perfect harmony. He’s pushing you, driving you higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge. The coil of pleasure in your stomach is tightening, a hot, heavy weight that’s about to snap. You can feel the orgasm building, a tidal wave of sensation that’s about to crash over you.
“Don’t stop, ngh,” you gasp, your voice a breathy plea. “Please, Jason, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bundle of nerves while his fingers continue their merciless assault. That’s all it takes. The orgasm tears through you, violent and all-consuming. Your back arches, your head thrown back, a silent scream caught in your throat as wave after wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy washes over you. Your body convulses, your thighs clamping around his head as you grind against his face, riding out the intense pleasure.
He doesn’t stop, his tongue lapping up your juices, prolonging your orgasm until you’re a boneless, trembling mess above him, completely and utterly spent. You collapse forward, your forehead resting against the cool leather of the couch back, your body limp and pliant.
He gently eases you off of him, his hands supporting your hips as you settle back onto his chest. You’re breathing heavily, your heart hammering against your ribs. He’s grinning, a smug, triumphant look on his face, his chin and mouth glistening with your arousal. He looks proud, like he’s just conquered a small country.
He leans up and captures your lips in a deep, possessive kiss, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s a filthy, intimate taste, a heady combination of you and him, and you moan into his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair.
“You taste so fucking good,” he growls against your lips, his hands roaming your body, squeezing your ass, pulling you closer. “But I think you can give me more.”
Your eyes fly open, and you see the wicked glint in his. He’s not done with you. Not by a long shot.
“Again”, he commands, his voice a low, dominant rumble. “This time, I want you to fuck my face. "Hard."
He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You straddle him again, this time with a newfound confidence, a newfound hunger. You lower yourself onto his waiting mouth, and this time, you don’t hesitate. You take what you want, grinding down against his tongue, riding his face with a wild abandon. He meets you thrust for thrust, his mouth and tongue working in a frenzied rhythm. The second orgasm builds faster, a sharp, intense peak that has you crying out his name, your body shaking with the force of it.
You collapse against him, completely and utterly spent. He holds you, his arms wrapped around you, his body a warm, solid presence. You can feel his heart beating against your chest, a steady, reassuring rhythm.
“You’re amazing,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely fucking amazing.”
You close your eyes, a contented sigh escaping your lips. But just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, you feel him shift. You open your eyes to find him looking at you, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face.
“Rest up,” he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Because we’re not done yet. Not even close.”
𑣲 likes, reblogs, comments, and follows are always appreciated and really motivate me
he’s so fucking big. that’s the first thing you always think when he’s on top of you like this, straddling your hips, thighs bracketing your waist while his huge body hunches over you, trembling, mouth locked around your nipple like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.
he’s so fucking big but he’s shaking. so needy he’s dripping on your stomach, smearing slick across your belly as he jerks himself with one big, desperate fist, moaning into your tits like they’re the ones making him cum.
“fuck—fuck, baby, please,” he gasps, voice muffled, nose smushed against the swell of your breast as he sucks messily at the peak, tongue laving, greedy little licks between slurps that make your toes curl. “need it, need you, gonna—shit—gonna fuckin’ lose it, i can’t—”
you hum low, dragging your fingers through his hair just the way he likes—nails scratching soft, tugging just enough to make him twitch. he whines. literally whines. hips stuttering as he thrusts into his own fist like he’s imagining it’s your pussy clenching around him instead, wet and hot and needy as he is.
“feels good, baby?” you croon, thumb brushing the sweat-damp hair from his forehead, watching him melt like you’re feeding him straight from your chest.
he nods, frenzied, mouth never leaving your tit, slurping around it like he’s starving, like he’s never tasted anything better. every sound he makes is soaked in wet heat—slick spit, labored panting, the obscene slap of his cock against your stomach when his grip slips and he whimpers into your skin.
he’s so messy. so far gone. his chest is heaving and he’s still trying to suck harder, still trying to rut faster, chasing his high like he’s been edged for days and your tits are the only reward he wants.
“just like that,” you whisper, hand cradling the back of his head. “you’re doing so good, baby.”
he lets out the prettiest noise you’ve ever heard. almost a sob. and then he cums, just like that—hips jerking, cock throbbing in his fist, hot ropes painting your stomach and tits and even his own abs as he shudders through it, mouth never leaving your skin, still mouthing at your nipple while he moans and whines and leaks all over both of you.
when it’s over, he collapses forward. still holding your tit in his mouth like a pacifier. you keep stroking his hair. press a kiss to the crown of his head.
The only sounds in the room are Nancy Sinatra drifting from the vinyl player in the corner and the occasional whisper of a turning page from whatever book Jason's absorbed in. You’re sat pretty in his lap, his cock nestled deep inside you, filling you whole. There's no movement, no rhythm besides the steady throb of his length and the reassuring beat of his heart against your ear where you rest against his chest. His thick arms are wrapped securely around you, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety, his chin resting on your shoulder as he attempts to continue reading over it.
The idea was pretty simple: he'd stay stuffed inside you, just resting there while you both relaxed. But you can feel his restraint beginning to crack. His hips buck involuntarily, just a small movement accompanied by a quiet whimper that vibrates through his chest. The sound makes you let out a soft sigh of your own, and the gentle exhale causes your body to shift just enough that his cock twitches inside you with unmistakable need.
"'m sorry sweetheart," he mumbles, his voice rough and whiny. The book’s forgotten now, pages falling closed as he fully wraps both arms around you and buries his face into the space between your neck and shoulder. His hips rut into you again, another needy sound escaping his mouth, muffled by the fabric of your sweater. “S’warm...”
His hold on you tightens as he starts to move more deliberately now, though his movements are still small, almost pathetic in their desperation as he chases any friction, any sensation. The wet sounds of your gushing cunt make his eyes flutter closed, his whines getting more constant.
"Love having you wrapped 'round me," he mumbles between flustered noises, his words barely coherent. He's barely moving inside of you, just those small, needy ruts, but you can tell from the tension in his body and the pitch of his sounds that he's already close. He's so frustrated it makes you hum in contentment, satisfaction blooming in your chest. The sound and the feeling make your cunt flutter around him in arousal, your walls clenching his cock.
That's all it takes.
His release crashes over him suddenly. It would be humiliating if he didn't feel so fucking right now. Hot spurts of cum fill your pussy as his arms hold you even tighter, pulling you impossibly closer as his hips still desperately rut upwards, trying to ride out every wave of his high. The sounds of his whimpers and pants fill the room, mixing with mumbled repetitions of thank you.
You didn't even do anything. Just sat there, let him feel you. But he's thanking you like you've given him everything.
in which, BAT-MAN catches his informant in a moment of intimacy-- and can't bring himself to stop watching.
‧₊˚✩彡
includes: bruce wayne x fem!reader, mature content (17+), pwp, voyeurism, exhibitionism, non-consensual recording (initially), degradation, praise, spit, biting, glove kink, bat-suit stays on, reader doesn't know bat-man's identity, light breath play, light impact play (pussy slapping), manhandling, possessiveness, authority kink, size kink, panty ripping, dirty-talk, finger sucking, orgasm control, count-down, brief overstimulation, reverse cow-girl [but not? idk smth similar], 5.4k words.
‧₊˚✩彡
kinktober masterlist.
HIS SURVELLIENCE was supposed to be routine. clinical. detached in a way that pleaded thoroughness with no other intention; like the future of gotham and her citizens depended on it, because more often than not-- it did.
bruce's fingers dashed across his batcave's computer system with a practiced ease; you and him had done this before, a well thought-out and organized affair meant only for your eyes. the trading of information; a win-win situation for both parties. batman, as you only knew him by, got tip-offs about gangs and rookie drugs and whatever else batman cared about-- and you?
well, you were an easier woman to please than the bat had originally thought. expensive gifts beyond your wildest dreams appeared at your doorstep the morning following your late-night meets with the vigilante, always signed B.
as superficial as it was, you hadn't minded-- being normal, blending in with the rest of gotham; it was pathetically easy to learn about the crime and the disgust and the rage that ran rampant underneath the city. anyone, if they had really wanted, could find themselves intertwined within the gotham crime scene in less than a few hours.
you tended to stray from the real grit of it all-- away from the guns, the blood, the guilt-- running hands up in the direction of scandal, because what more did you enjoy than getting tangled up in other people's business?
maybe diamond earrings, you had thought to yourself that morning, staring down at two magnificent jewels sitting comfortably in a red satin box. it had arrived in a more traditional crate-- plain, cardboard, brown-- apparent to anyone else as junk. not to you though, as a simple initial carved its way into the side of the package: 'B.'
beneath it, another box-- no, case-- glistened up at you. there were no identifiers that spoiled its contents, you observed, tilting the case gently back and forth within your hands with ease. it was light-- and, with a few tries (some sort of advanced technology would have deterred thieves), you had managed to pry it open. within it, contact lenses.
they looked... painfully normal.
crafted to your exact iris color, the lenses sat delicately in each respective eye-slot; your teeth had caught your bottom lip, deep in thought, before your eyes flickered to the underside of the case. a message, printed neatly in times new roman, beamed up at you.
'wear these to the iceberg tonight. i need info on penguin, you know what to do. we'll connect the following night. - B'
creeping up on the time allotted to your departure towards the iceberg lounge, you had slid them into your eyes with a few damp blinks. focusing your vision, everything looked... again, painfully normal. no alterations to either your appearance or your surroundings. shrugging, you had sauntered out of your apartment like everything was normal-- like it was a normal night to the club and like you wouldn't have to meet with the batman the next day. like you didn't have to be on your best behavior, watching-- listening-- to whispers of gotham's next dirty little secret through waves of drunken conversation.
like you weren't affiliated with criminals, even if just through rumor.
(you had ignored the slight flicker at the edge of your vision. who cared about what these weird eye-contacts were anyways? you'd be rewarded tenfold, you were sure of it.)
and bruce had intended to reward you. he had glanced down at his wrist-watch-- a quarter to three in the morning-- and figured you would have turned in for the night. whatever footage you would have unknowingly recorded for him would have been already uploaded, and bruce could get to doing what he does best; though a few clicks had proven that this hadn't been the case. sitting now in desk chair, eyes squinting at the sizeable screen in front of him-- the bat-cave suddenly seemed uncomfortably silent.
view live footage.
a simple sentence had bruce's eyebrows quirking upwards. normally, you were efficient in your information gathering when it came to batman's reports. he knew this from nights a plenty of watching you, observing how you work-- methodical and precise, whispering where you wanted, remaining silent where you should. it was awe-inspiring, though bruce would keel over and die before he ever admitted it out loud.
so the link allowing him access to the live footage provided by the contact lenses may have rocked bruce to the core.
it was just the iceberg lounge, he thought concerningly. how messy could things have gotten for you to have not turned in yet?
bruce's fingers worked faster than his brain. clicking the link-- god, he was supposed to be professional.
the entire thing was supposed to be routine. clinical. detached.
so the sight of your right hand dipping into your pussy, working at a pornographic pace, knocked the wind straight out of bruce's lungs.
your fingers, so delicate and long and sturdy, rolled your clit deliciously. back and forth, over and over and over, right there--! bruce watched your thighs tremble slightly; your left hand coming to your chest to flick at a stiffened nipple repeatedly. as you moaned (no, he couldn't hear it-- but he could see it; the way your back arched, legs shook, fingers crooked juuust right), bruce felt his pants become embarrassingly tight. the tilt of your hips was beyond sensual, each movement perfected to your pleasure.
your pleasure.
bruce was watching you get off. he was watching you finger yourself stupid-- grinding the heel of your palm against your clit while your fingers pumped vigorously in and out of your cunt. he was watching you squeeze and caress your tits as if the movements gave you life-- he was watching you, and you had no idea!
the sound of bruce's belt buckle coming undone filled the disturbingly loud silence of the bat-cave, before he paused.
what was he doing?
bruce was supposed to be a respectful gentleman-- and he had unintentionally caught you in a moment of pure intimacy-- a moment not meant for anyone's eyes but your own. his fingers twitched, palm coming up to his mouse to click off of the video footage. guilt almost began to pool deep in his gut, because god he just felt so bad suddenly and--!
bruce swallowed tensely as you brought your fingers, the same ones coated in your slick, to your lips. he watched as you sucked and drooled over them, before sticking them back into your wet pussy.
shit.
the sound of bruce's belt buckle being undone fully clanked throughout the bat-cave loudly, the leather falling to the floor easily.
✩✩✩
gotham's winds were nothing short of harsh in the early murmurs of october; frost barely nipping at your nose as you stood in the alleyway behind pauli's diner, waiting.
the only thing that had kept you still was knowing that batman never liked to keep you waiting. there was something endearing about his care for you-- despite the fact that it was most likely a half-assed result of wanting to know more, needing to know more.
a soft piercing sound, hissing of a zip-line, bounced off of the old brick that surrounded you; only followed by silence. you turned, head tilting to the side. "batsy," you uttered, grinning crookedly. "took you long enough."
there was something different about him. the air around his figure seemed to shrink, and his eyes-- cold blue irises popping against the black of the eye-shadow meant to better camouflage the man into his costume-- looked heavy. not the normal heavy they often adorned-- no, something you couldn't place.
(lust. bruce's eyes were practically drowning in lust; not that you had known that.)
when he spoke, it was purposeful; like he didn't have breath to waste, every word and every syllable more expensive than you would believe. "do you trust me?"
your face scrunched up, eyebrows furrowing. "trust you?"
batman nodded once. absolute. sure.
"...i do," you answered eventually (truthfully), wrapping your arms around your frame tightly. gotham's wind barked at you now, the chill seeping into your bones.
for the first time since you had known him, you watched batman hesitate. there was a falter in his movements, a reluctance to carry through with whatever plan he had constructed within his mind. "i need to bring you back to my base."
your face scrunched impossibly further. "what? why?"
"there's... footage, you need to see. from last night," batman swallowed, though his face remained stoic.
you paused, examining what little of his face you could see. his jaw ticked, teeth grinding shut. desperation.
"alright," your mouth worked faster than your brain. "we should go then; i know gotham's knight doesn't like to be kept waiting."
batman's face didn't relax at your quip, and something began to stir within your core. his jaw tensed again, before the loud roar of an exhaust bellowed throughout the alley-way.
"come." the man's voice was tight, layered with an array of things you could not place.
you were given little time to protest-- batman's grasp on your forearm like steel-- hot, scalding steel-- dragging you towards the bat-mobile with a certain urgency that radiated from his soul.
"you're in a rush," you gasp out lightly, trying to soften the suddenly heavy mood.
"it can't really wait," batman grumbled, opening the passenger door and aiding you in getting into the vehicle. "i can't really wait."
✩✩✩
the tinted windows of the bat-mobile did little in supporting your sense of direction; you understood, on some level, that you were now on the out-skirts of gotham-- trapsing on her border's licked with sea-salt and alert winds. batman had been silent, more or less, the entire drive. his knuckles tensed at the wheel, leather gloves pulling taunt against the backside of his hands. every so often, blown pupils would dart over to your direction-- giving you a once-over (as if every second that passed where bruce's lips were not exploring your skin was torture)-- before flickering back to the road.
rolling into his base had been quiet and calculated; batman sure to leave not even a minute wasted, leading you into the depths of his cave as if he had rehearsed this interaction millions of times in his head.
"look," he grumbled now, index finger pointing towards the large computer screens located on the expanse of the sizeable wall in front of you.
the comfortable desk chair you sat in-- so neatly, one leg folded beneath the other-- squeaked as he placed a palm on its headrest, tilting your frame towards the dead center of the screen. "what am i supposed to be looking at?" you questioned, an eyebrow quirking upwards.
"blue-prints. design plans." batman answered shortly.
irises squinted at the screen, your voice was unsteady as the words fell from your lips. "for..." you read the title of one of the blue-prints, "camera contact-lenses?"
the small case you had been gifted only a few days prior flashed within your mind. you had thought they were normal! never had you expected such advanced technology from such measly looking contacts. you opened your mouth to speak, but batman beat you to it.
"yes." he answered simply. "obviously you know i sent you into the lounge to gather information on penguin; he's been quite... trigger-happy, as of late though, so i decided to give you a little extra-protection."
"you didn't tell me you could see everything," you frowned softly. "don't you trust me?"
"i do, but extra help didn't hurt." even underneath his full suit, you could see his adam's apple bob as the man swallowed. nervously, you thought briefly. "in any case, i just wanted to make sure nothing happened to you."
"i'm here now," your head shook softly as you scoffed. "i can clearly handle myself."
batman's eyes flicked down to your face; he watched you intensely again, gaze unrelenting. "never said you couldn't."
"right, so--" your protests died in your throat as you watched him click a few buttons; the entire night you had lived flashing in front of your face on the screen.
leaving your apartment, getting to the iceberg lounge, rubbing up on some drunk asshole to get information about penguin-- all of it.
"when did it stop recording?" the question falls from your lips as you watch your past-self get into a taxi to go home. the rest of your evening vaguely clouded your mind; getting home, going to your room, undressing and-- touching yourself.
batman didn't reply. his finger kept pressing down on his keyboard, fast-forwarding the drive home-- the reflection of gotham whirling past your eyes hazily in the footage.
"hello?" you try again, slightly agitated as his lack of a response. your stomach stormed anxiously, the sound of your moans and gasps and whines echoing throughout your mind. "bats, when did it stop--"
"not until you took them out." the footage slowed to a regular pace, and the sight of you peeling off your heels flickering against the screen.
that shut you up. hot shame crawled up your neck, along with something else, enveloping your mind. "batman." you swallowed.
"just b." he interrupted, his eyes glued to the computer. "just call me b."
"b," you corrected, inwardly rolling your eyes. "i didn't take them out until--"
"after." he said shortly. "i know."
"you know?"
"mhm." he grunted softly, chin jerking forwards toward the screen. you watched yourself-- god, this was humiliating beyond words-- drunkenly peel your skirt and top off, plopping down onto your mattress. bruce paused the footage, gaze burning into the side of your face. he was silent in his words; but loud in his stare.
do you want to stop? we can stop if you'd like, pretend this never happened. i'll take you home, thank you for helping me, and we won't speak of this ever again. all of these things, screamed at you from his survey.
something seared within your gut.
wordlessly, you moved your hand over top of his own on the keyboard, pressing down just enough to un-pause the video.
don't stop. watch me.
you heard the man inhale-- sharp, static-- before his eyes returned to the computer screen. his frame was closer to your own now, as he leaned down slightly. his cologne-- something all-encompassing, like oak and cedar and surprisingly fresh (mint, perhaps) swarmed your senses.
"look." he whispered against the shell of your ear. in the video, your fingers trailed down your stomach, stopping momentarily at the hem of your panties; on your back, your thighs slowly spread, before your palm dipped low and into your cunt.
sitting now and watching yourself, they clenched together shamefully. bruce's gloved hand came up to your chin, keeping your face fixed on the footage, before he spun the desk chair to face his body.
you watched your fingers circle your clit lightly, hips bucking against the air desperately at the sudden stimulation. you throat went dry, bottom lip caught in-between your teeth. "look at how you touch yourself," his voice was low, vibrating, against your neck.
your pried your eyes from the screen, looking directly at the man in front of you. the little exposed skin of his face that he had was flushed. "b, i can't watch--"
"what did i say?" he asked sharply, ignoring your plea, grasp tightening against the underside of your jaw; he forced your face back to the screen. "don't look at me, look at how--" bruce swallowed, "gorgeous, you were."
a sound from deep in your throat escaped from your lips, the you on screen dipping her fingers into your wet cunt smoothly.
"so desperate," bruce groaned, lips suddenly meeting the skin of your neck-- right below your ear. you felt his eyelashes flutter against your throat as he flicked his vision back to the screen. your back was arched off of the mattress as you finger-fucked yourself. "so wet."
against what little preservation you had left-- your legs uncrossed on the chair, falling open, inviting gotham's knight to touch you.
bruce's free-hand found the plush of your thigh with ease, giving it a good squeeze. molding and groping the skin, he licked at your neck-- tastebuds drowning in the salt of your sweat eagerly. "you're wet now, aren't you?" he asked.
you moaned softly in reply, tilting your hips upwards and off the chair fervently.
"answer me properly." his whispers stung against your skin, ringing in your ears. "you're wet, and i haven't even done anything-- right? all you've done is watch yourself play with this dripping cunt,"
you gasped, feeling his fingers tighten around the flesh of your thigh closest to your pussy. "m-mhm," you stuttered, overwhelmed in the feeling of his large frame encasing your own, overwhelmed in the sight of you fingering yourself-- overwhelmed in the remembrance of your pleasure.
"or maybe," his palm came down onto your clothed pussy with a soft smack! "maybe it's me; forcing you to come undone all over these pretty fingers," bruce's own hooked into the waistband of your pants, forcing them down your hips. "maybe you were wet at the thought of me."
the you on screen used her free hand to fondle your breast, yanking down the fabric of your bra to twist at your nipple. you whined, one of your hands now palming at yourself-- palming at bruce, impatiently yearning for him to do more than taunt you with his words.
"that's it, isn't it?" he asked, running a finger up and down your panties teasingly, "what were you thinking about last night? when you touched yourself."
"i--" the words caught in your throat as the sound of fabric ripping screeched throughout the cave. without a second thought, bruce had torn your panties; allowing him access to your most intimate place. you felt your face heat up immediately. "it was you, b."
bruce hummed, and the feeling of leather lightly meeting your clit had your hips jerking upwards. leaning forward, you felt his lips meet your jaw again, trailing up the side of your face. the ghost of a smile etched itself onto your cheek, and his words burned. "it was me." he repeated, lowly, "so fucking horny for me. pathetic."
you nodded, feeling his grip loosen ever so slightly against your jaw.
"and you didn't even know i was watching you," he tutted, mouthing at your pulse-point greedily. "how much would you have liked it if you had known i was watching you get off?"
back arched, you whined desperately as you felt his covered fingers leave your cunt. "it would've been so good, fuck," you mutter mindlessly, palms practically choking the arm-rests of his chair.
he pulled back, examining your form longingly. eyes blown wide, sweat pooling at your temple, skin hot with need-- you have got to be the most beautiful thing bruce has ever seen. "yeah? you like the idea of me watching you masturbate?"
"yeah," you reply back instantly.
"go on, then." bruce whispers. "touch yourself for me exactly like how you're touching yourself up there."
his palm leaves your chin. slowly, you turn your head away from the screen to look at the man standing in front of you. his chest is heaving, metal glistening slightly underneath the glow of his computer screen. your eyes lower, and you can see the outline of his erection practically pulsing beneath his suit.
"c'mon," he urges, catching your wrist in his hand. guiding it towards your bare cunt, his breath fans over your lips, ragged. "want you to play with this pussy for me."
your cunt clenches around nothing at his words, and there's little thought behind your actions as your fingers delve into your cunt.
you're embarrassingly wet. shame, however, does not find you as your index and middle finger find your clit-- eager circles against it sending shocks up your spine. "shit," you whine softly.
bruce's hands cross over his chest, vision alternating between the footage and your frame-- both exuding filth. stormy blue irises meet your weeping cunt, and the man hums. "that's it," he coaxes, "make yourself feel good."
and you do just that-- pressing two fingers inside, your mouth falls open into an 'o' shape. your moans bounce off of the cave walls, and your hips keep stuttering against your hand with zero restraint.
suddenly bruce moves. you have little time to react as he picks you up, sits down in your place, and then yanks you down into his lap. you gasp, sure, but you're movements don't let up. "keep going," he whispers against the nape of your neck, using his feet to position you both towards the screen again. "watch--" he says urgently. "fuck, i like this part-- look at you, look at the way your grinding against your hand."
the combination of bruce's words, the sight of your former-self humping her hand like a dog in heat, and the feeling of your fingers drilling your pussy-- it's all almost too much. your moans are growing in decibels easily, back curved so sluttily against bruce's chest.
"such a good girl," bruce murmurs, cock straining against his thigh-- your ass presses into it, eyes rolling into the back of your skull. "when you had your fingers in your cunt last night," bruce swallows, "was it enough? or did you need these ones instead?" the question makes your cunt flutter-- especially as he presses two gloved fingers to your lips, waiting for you to take them in your mouth.
you're drooling all over him-- your spit coats his fingers, sloppily dripping down your chin; your pussy drools all over his lap too. it throbs for more, the curling and pressing and rolling of your digits suddenly not enough.
"b," you gasp out, words muffled against his hand. "need you in me."
a sharp exhale-- the bones of a laugh-- exits the man. his fingers press deeper, further, into your mouth; and you gag. "you want me in you?"
you're nodding before you can think about it-- the thought of his fingers, his mouth, his cock-- suddenly all-consuming. "please,"
"i know you can beg better than that." bruce hums, lips scorching against the back of your neck; his fingers pressing meanly against your tongue, which flattens and sucks. "i've seen how needy you can be," he groans into your skin, chin jutting towards the screen, "show me." frame by frame, your body twitches and pulses as you on screen continues to fuck yourself stupid, thighs spreading impossibly wide on the bed.
your moans are rippling from your throat needily, as your hips begin to rut down on his lap-- grinding down on both your palm and his bulge. back and forth, over and over, as if there's no thought in your head that isn't the man sitting beneath you. as if you don't have any shame, as if you know the true identity of the man behind the cowl, and as if there are zero inhibitions left in your body. the sound of your voice vibrates bruce's spit-coated fingers, and he messily tears them from your mouth to smear your saliva across your plump lips and flushed face. his hips raise, pushing his outline deeper into the fat of your ass, before he suddenly pushes you off of him.
your neck cranes as you hover just above his frame now, and you watch him peel the lower half of his armor downwards. about a quarter of his thick thighs are exposed now, along with the sharpened flesh of his lower stomach-- an enticing v-line-- glazed with a sheen layer of sweat. he yanks his boxers down just far enough, to release his heavy, throbbing cock from its restraints.
your mouth waters at the sight-- his tip is a burning shade of pink, glossed over with pearly pre-cum; thick veins pulse up its sides, and you watch intently-- whoreishly-- as he gives himself a few pumps.
bruce exhales out through his nose. "sit back down," he orders, letting his tongue dart across his lips, "your back to my chest."
you do as he says without question, aligning his tip with your sobbing hole-- face contorting ever so slightly as you sink down onto the length of his cock. it's a slow stretch, a delightful burn, as he opens you wide. his hands, still gloved, immediately rest on your waist, thumbs rubbing circles into the flesh of your back.
both of your moans fall in from your mouths in-sync as he bottoms out, your ass flush against his hips once again. your eyes are squeezed shut, and your breathing is deep as you try and regulate yourself to the absolute streeetch of him within your cunt; the feeling of being full, being full of him, entirely ravishing.
"good girl," he speaks lowly, his hands leaving their position on your waist, trailing down the fat of your thighs. his words are coated in false-sweetness; especially as he suddenly grabs your thighs, lifting them ever so slightly, only to grab the back of your knees and bring your legs up and open, to your head. you're gasping at the motion, feeling his hips slip down slightly, just to make it easier for him to fuck up into you. "take it."
"oh--! holy shit!" you cry out, hands reaching forwards to rest on top of his own, where they grip your legs tightly. on screen, your body flashes messily as you being to convulse-- on-video you cumming your brains out.
"see that?" bruce questions, breath hot against your neck, "that's what you're going to do-- fuck-- on my cock." he groans deeply into your ear, tongue licking against the salty flesh every so often.
his thrusts are hard, deep, and fast; the tip of his dick ramming into you at a pace that steals the breath from your lungs. every vein pulses repeatedly as he fucks into your pussy, the tightness and warmth making his eyes roll backwards. the intensity of him-- all at once, not enough, too much-- feels like he's been waiting for this.
"i- i've always thought you were beautiful," bruce gasps out, bottoming out within you only to grind his hips deeper, further, needier. "but- but you're such an.. an eloquent young woman, i couldn't-- haah-- i couldn't muster up the courage to ask you out; especially not as y-your business partner," his cock head brushes your cervix gently as he rocks into you. "seeing you touch yourself, though," you feel his chin rest on your shoulder; tilting your head allows you to see the way his dark lashes flutter against his cheek, blinking hazily at the video on his computer screen.
he watches your nipples stiffen, legs shake, and the soft jerk of the camera lenses towards the ceiling indicates the rolling of your eyes into your skull-- and bruce groans.
"seeing you cum, i-- oh fuck-- i had to have you." his thrusts start back up again, pulling the majority of his cock out out of your dampened pussy, only to ram it back in.
your moans and whimpers only challenge bruce to fuck you harder; faster, deeper. "you cum in about two minutes from now," he speaks shakily, biting into the junction between your neck and shoulder; you know he's talking about the video, except you aren't aware because you've seen the footage-- but because you remember your orgasm crashing over you intensely. "you're going to cum on my cock at the same time."
his words barely bleed into your conscience as he continues to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you-- your cunt squelching against his cock like there's no tomorrow. "i-- i can't wait that long," you confess, tears beginning to swarm in your eyes.
"i don't care if you can't, you will." he grits out, groaning as dick pulses within you; you feel his chest press into your back hard, and his face suddenly is over your shoulder as he leans forward. before you can question what he's doing, you watch him spit onto your cunt, right where his dick thrusts in and out of you. his saliva mixes with your slick easily, and he moans softly at the sight; like that's one of his ways of marking you.
bruce leans back down again, and his thrusts are slowly becoming more erratic-- less rhthym, more carnal desire, to find both of your orgasms.
"b," your legs are twitching, and you have no choice but to moan his name, eyes fighting to stay locked onto the video in front.
he ignores your pleas, only tightening his grip further on your legs. "you've got a minute left," bruce huffs, sweat pooling at his brow-bone underneath his cowl. "don't cum yet."
your chest was heaving-- arms thrashing, legs shaking-- impossibly full of the batman. "shiiit," your sobs go straight to bruce's cock, the appendage hardening impossibly within your soaking cunt.
"i know," he coos, though he uses his strength to open you wider than before. it's salacious. "y-you were so needy, n' now you're getting what you want," his lips brush over your pulse-point for the millionth time this evening, "the least you could do is wait to cum until i tell you you can."
your head bobs as you nod, and the lighting from the screen in front of both of you highlights the sweat that coats your face. you recognize the carelessness that takes over your body in the video-- the way your thumb messily circles and rubs at your clit, the way your twisting and pinching at your nipples with no pattern-- you're close.
"i'm going to cum," you exhale sharply, feeling the low simmering within your gut begin to grow rapidly. "please, please let me cum,"
bruce groans, feeling your cunt practically strangle his dick-- pulsing and twitching in preparation for your orgasm. his cock mirrors your body's anxiousness, the tip thrumming repeatedly against your g-spot.
the bat would be a liar if he said he wasn't close too-- in fact, his own orgasm teetered dangerously close as he felt your pussy suck him in, desperately deeper. his thrusts were unpredictable now; deeper, then shallow, faster, then slooower. his pace quickened now, balls becoming unbearably tight.
"fuck." he spat, groaning and huffing against the shell of your ear. "five," he murmured.
through your cock-drunken haze, your eyebrows scrunched up. you were unsure of what he was doing-- his dick still pounding into your sopping pussy, unrelenting in its wake.
"four," bruce continued, and then it clicked; on screen, your body twitched violently, the sight of you cumming taking up every fibre of your being. his cock jumped within you, and he ground his hips into the plush of your ass.
"ooh fuck batsy--!" you moaned, head lolling backwards as pleasure began to erupt from your core. your pussy spasmed; it was becoming terribly difficult for you to suppress the intensity of your orgasm.
"t-three," he groaned, hips stuttering and cock pulsing. "two,"
your eyes screwed shut-- the image of yourself on the screen cumming was far too much, and the feeling of bruce's cock twitching within you, filling you up more than you thought possible-- sent you over the edge. mouth falling open, your entire body shuttered-- a silent crescendo racking your entire soul, ecstasy coursing through your veins and stirring your cunt to life.
"one." bruce could barely will the word past his lips, his cock beginning to spill loads of cum deep into your pussy. he moaned, a deep sound slipping past his tongue from the back of his throat, face buried into the solitude of your neck. he kept coming, and coming, and coming-- cock heavy and balls tensing wildly.
you were gasping for air; hips thrashing at the overstimulation of bruce continuing to fuck you through your orgasm-- milking you for all you had left. "oh! fuuck, b, it's too much,"
bruce was unrelenting; even when his dick slipped out of you, and the footage had long ended on screen, his fingers still danced their way over your swollen cunt. your body jerked away from his palms, and in return, he brought a hand down onto your pussy, gently. tilting your head, you watched bruce examine the way his cum spilled out of your cunt and onto his lap, his chair, his suit; it dripped down slowly onto the metallic of a small bat-symbol etched into the iron of his costume, and bruce did nothing to stop it.
his eyes were clearer than before, though still hazed over. blue irises flicked towards your own, and his voice was jagged as he spoke. "keep the contacts," he whispered against your skin, giving your thighs a good squeeze once again, "i'll be watching."
PLUVOiA 25’ ® - masterlist
loren's thots: happy kinktober sluuuts ily ! this was totally written w battinson in mind like... his voice is js so....... yeah u tell me what to do king ima listen. like that scene where he tells selina "look at me." FUUUCK busted.
roommate!jason who moves in at first cause it’s convenient. he responds to an ad you put up looking for someone to live with you because rent was going up. he didn’t want to live with bruce, so when he saw your post, he responded quick. from all the weirdos and the psychos in town, jason’s only problem being that he was a smoker, didn’t bother you too much. he doesn’t have much to move into your place. most of his belongings were heavy boxes that he insisted he didn’t need help with.
roommate!jason who is insanely attractive. so when you’re sitting on the couch in a big comfy shirt, pretending to watch tv and eating popcorn, he’s unloading his life into your newly shared space. while he moves around, lugging his boxes with minimal effort, you couldn’t help how your eyes fell on his flexing biceps even through his sweater. the popcorn stops being chewed when he comes back out of his room with just his compression shirt on, smirking slightly without meeting your gaze like he knew your thoughts as he brought another box inside.
roommate!jason who fills up the bookshelves you didn’t complete quite yet. somehow having the books you wanted to read or the missing ones from your collection. he likes physical media a lot so he adds new CD’d with worn out covers too. he listens to a lot of stone temple pilots and soundgarden.
roommate!jason who doesn’t last long keeping his vigilante identity from you. he comes into the apartment only a week into moving in, hand clutched over his stomach. leather jacket loosely thrown over his shoulder. he babbled on about being fine and tried moving alone, raising his hand to shoo you away but you’ve already gotten into his room.
you follow him to his bed and plop next to him, medical kit already being opened. he tries to hide his body from showing, tries not to show that he doesn’t get treatment like this from others. muttering a quiet thanks when you finish wrapping his wounds and giving you a soft smile that lets you know that you were already chipping at his walls.
roommate!jason who is both intelligent and considerate. he always does things without needing to be told to do them but after a bad day, he washes your laundry and makes your favourite dinner. he cleans the apartment without you even asking. he gives back massages when you complain about chronic pain and brews tea that helps with inflammation. he even fills the bathtub with warm water and essential oils (that he bought just for this occasion) and insists that you relax while he cleans up.
roommate!jason who makes a mental note of your habits and insists on cooking home-cooked meals for both of you. he knows he doesn’t have the best eating habits, so when he sees that you mirror him in some respect, he decides to change that for both of you.
he genuinely tries to learn new recipes, watching cooking shows while he cleans his guns, grunting softly about their lack of sauce and tweaking the recipes to his taste. jason likes to watch how you react to his dishes, tilting his head when the fork slides out from between your lips and slowly smiling when you tell him how delicious it was. he follows your dietary restrictions and eventually makes them become part of his own.
roommate!jason who, despite being the hottest guy you’d ever met, sucks at flirting. instead, he does acts of service and settles for the soft brush of your skin when you pass him something, shivering like that touch was enough jolt throughout his body.
you try your best to show you’re interested, making sly comments, touching his biceps. but jason has got zero game, especially around someone as pretty as you. he’s a stuttering mess when you touch him, smiling nervously and putting a pillow on his lap to cover his growing bulge when you both sit to watch television.
roommate!jason who is afraid to make the first move so you have to. watching his eyes flicker to your lips and smiling in acknowledgment. you guide his shaky hands to your hips and whisper in his ear as his grip slowly tightens and he gives in to temptation. your noses kiss first before he’s crashing his lips into yours. you’re tasting the mint on his tongue from after he smoked because he didn’t want his breath to bother you (also in hopes of finally kissing you.)
roommate!jason who has a complicated relationship with intimacy. he struggles to really touch you the way you want him to, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know how to forget his past. jason knows what his hands have done and what has been done to him throughout his life, so touch is hard to navigate.
roommate!jason who silently pleads with his eyes. he craves everything he doesn’t know how to articulate at the moment, quietly asking for more. he asks for permission but still hesitates. you keep guiding him through it, letting him know it’s okay. touching fingertips and watching him graze them across your soft skin. dragging the fabric of your shirt up so slowly, like he’s afraid of breaking you. you let him explore you at his own pace, watching how he unfolds before you. letting him relearn what connection means.
roommate!jason who finally gets you in his bed, hands grazing your sides to send shivers up and lips aching over your throat. he whispers in your ear about how beautiful you are, how badly he has wanted you. he tells you how soft your skin is and how thankful he is to be this close to you. telling you of how unworthy he is to be treated so nicely.
you quickly shut him down by straddling his lap, showing him how much you wanted this. revelling in the way his breath caught in his throat and slowly watching as his restraint begins to slip, eyes melting into lustful admiration.
boyfriend!jason who literally goes weak in the knees when you’re around him. he’s not used to being loved like this. he can’t fathom the fact that you actually like him enough to let him have you like this. enough to let him place impossibly gentle kisses down the curve of your breasts and down the plane of your stomach. heart fluttering as you give him a dazed smile begging him sweetly that you can take it.
boyfriend!jason who is insatiable when it comes to you. the scent of your shampoo lingers in his thoughts and the way you say his name, even so innocently, he stores it in the folds of his mind. he can’t believe you love him so he convinced himself that he has to learn you inside and out. noting everything that seems to make you feel good and being sure to do them again and again, knowing he’s already addicted to you.
boyfriend!jason who is a munch through and through. once you finally got together, you guys didn’t have sex until he ate you out. and he didn’t just finger fuck you like your exes or flick his tongue a little. no. jason devoured like his life depended on it. slurping and slobbering, moaning into you like your essence was the drink of life.
before you had sex, he’d always pull multiple orgasms out of you, waiting to see you slick and overstimulated. you’re whining beneath him and telling him to slow down, telling him to breathe, but he’s a man possessed and he begs you to smother him with your thighs.
boyfriend!jason who puts all of that unresolved energy into fucking you dumb. watching your face contort in pleasure like it was giving him life. smiling like this was the best thing to ever happen to him. starting off slow but inevitably shoving his fat length so deep that you claw at his traps. pumping himself harder when you pushed back into him and slower when you cried out. kisses the edge of your mouth in the sweetest way while you fell apart for him, begging you to do it again just for him. encouraging you and bringing you there again, just with his honeyed words that get progressively dirtier.
boyfriend!jason who has a mean breeding kink. shushing you with a sloppy kiss and a sharp thrust, swallowing your weak moans. jason loves to watch you writhe beneath him after taking load after load, keeping you open to watch it gush around him. he won’t pull out until he knows your full and dripping with him. but the truth is he could cum inside you a thousand times and he won’t be satisfied until it takes. so he says to take it and take it. over and over.
boyfriend!jason who outfreaks you. he’d eat you out after creampieing you, tasting the concoction that was the both of you mixing on his tongue and rutting himself into the mattress. working himself up before fucking you again, more passionate this time if it were possible. he licks the salty tears off your face and kisses you through your broken moans.
gently maneuvering you into different positions, tasting every inch of skin and prolonging the experience. but he’s sweet about it too, whispering soft words in your ear, telling you how good you are for him, how tight you feel around him. breathlessly moaning, yes baby yes. his needy moans are enough to make you fall over the edge while he promises to ruin you, even though he already has.
boyfriend!jason who loves like his life depends on it because when he met you, he finally knew what it felt like to be alive. watching your chest rise and fall while you sleep just to make sure you’re breathing. to ensure that you’re real. listening to your sleepy mumbles like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
in which you move into a new apartment, only to find yourself at war with the neighbour next door. he’s insufferably arrogant as he is handsome. but between settling in and dealing with the jerk next door, what happens if you find out that the jerk next door is the guy you’ve been sexting online?
pairing : neighbour!jk x onlyfans!oc
warnings : unprotected and protected sex, dom jungkook, big dick jk, cocky jk, creampie, sexting, masturbation, literally pwp, blowjob, handjob, eating out, literally pure filth tbfh.
chapter 01 :
the luxury of your new apartment building feels a lot less luxurious when you’re struggling to balance a leaking box of kitchen supplies while kicking your front door shut.
you’re exhausted, your hair is stuck to your forehead, and you’re wearing your favorite white tank top. which was a mistake, considering how much dust is in this hallway.
you turn around to head back to the elevator for the last load, but you don't even get two steps before you slam into a solid chest.
the impact is loud. there’s a splash, a gasp, and suddenly you’re drenched. cold water soaks through your white tank top instantly, turning the fabric transparent, and the box in your arms takes the brunt of the spill, the cardboard turning into a soggy mess.
fucking great. your first day here and you’ve yet to even make it into your apartment and you’re already drenched.
"oh, god—i’m so sorry," a voice says. it’s deep, genuinely startled.
you look up, dripping, to see a guy holding a reusable water bottle, his eyes wide with concern. he looks like he was about to offer you a hand, his face soft with an apologetic wince.
"i wasn't looking where i was going, let me help you with—"
"oh, wow," you cut him off, your voice vibrating with pure irritation as you look down at your ruined, see-through shirt and the wet box.
"thank you so much. i was actually hoping to start my first day here looking like i just fell into a pool. really great for the aesthetic."
the guy stops mid-reach. the apology on his face vanishes. his posture shifts, the genuine concern hardening into something much colder and way more arrogant.
"right," he says, his voice now flat and dripping with sarcasm. he pulls his hand back and crosses his arms, leaning his weight onto one leg.
"my bad. i forgot that the hallway is your personal runway. i'll make sure to clear the area next time your majesty decides to carry a soggy box."
"excuse you? you literally drenched me," you snap, gesturing to your shirt.
you finally get a good look at his figure. holy fuck was he hot.
he was wearing a white tank top just like you were, and a pair of baggy grey sweatpants that rested comfortably around his petite waist. a sleeve of sick tattoos and a lip piercing punctured near the corner of his lip.
just lets his eyes trail down to your soaked tank top for a split second before looking back up with a bored smirk.
"it’s just water. it’ll dry. or don’t dry it, i don’t really care," he says, stepping around you with a shrug.
he eyes you up and down before speaking again.
“you’re the new tenant yeah?” he asks, a rhetorically.
"welcome to 4b. try to watch where you’re going, or don't. but maybe stop yelling, some of us actually live here."
he walks to the door directly next to yours, unlocks it without looking back, and shuts it with a firm, final click.
you don’t even get to say anything back, you watch the door shut firmly. the gesture of the door being firmly shut made your hair blow back slightly.
“did that just happen? god, what a fucking jerk.” you scoff, picking back up your box on the floor, not before flipping him off behind his door.
the next morning, you wake up with a sore back and an even worse mood. the sun is hitting your face through the windows you haven't bought curtains for yet, and all you can think about is the guy in 4a.
you’re sitting on your floor in a white sports bra and white shorts. surrounded by half-unpacked boxes, sipping a coffee that’s already gone cold. you need to vent. naturally, you reach for your phone and open your onlyfans.
you’ve been doing onlyfans for quite some time now. at first you were hesitant, afraid that maybe someone you knew in real life would somehow find you on there. but eventually you decided to make an account, knowing that the extra money would help you out alot.
you post a quick, blurry photo of your coffee cup in hand and the arch of your body visible.
@internetgirll: officially moved in. view is great, but the neighbor? a literal nightmare. I can’t lie he’s hot though, but the biggest & most arrogant asshole ever. men are exhausting. need a distraction.
within seconds, your phone pings. it’s a direct message from your top spender, @ian97.
ever since you started your onlyfans account, @ian97 has always been there. he’d always send you huge tips and worship you like you were some sort of goddess. I mean you are, obviously.
it got to a point where you guys started privately texting, and after awhile, things escalated. you guys were sort of friends with benefits, although you’ve never actually met in real life.
@ian97: rough start, princess?
you lean back against the wall, a small smile finally tugging at your lips. at least someone appreciates you.
@internetgirll: you have no idea. he was so rude. total ego complex. he’s lucky he’s cute or i would’ve thrown the box at his head.
@ian97: cute? is that so.. maybe you should focus on smth else then.
@internetgirll: oh yeah? and what should i focus on?
@ian97: me.
@ian97: been thinking ab you all day baby. care to help out?
@internetgirll : [ photo ] thinking ab you too xx
@ian97: holy fuck
@ian97: fuck, you’re so hot. look at those tits, fuck wanna burry my face in them so badly cupcake.
@ian97: you’re a goddess.
@internetgirll: stoppp. I’ll cry 😞 crying from both holes fr.. jokes!
@internetgirll: your turn xx
@ian97: [ photo ]
@ian97: might cum js from u speaking like that. @ian97: u needa take full responsibility for what you’ve caused, cupcake.
@internetgirll: my god.
@internetgirll: you’re so big wtf. need you in me so bad fuckkk.
@internetgirll: I wish u were here rn :(
@ian97: me too, cupcake. fuck the things I’d do to you. you have no idea.
@internetgirll: what would u do? tell me.
@internetgirll: please.
*@ian97 is offline.*
oh? you frown slightly, maybe his phone died. or maybe he got a phone call.
@internetgirll: where’d u go? :(
you were contemplating double texting when the voices of multiple guys outside your door shifted your attention.
your head snapped towards your door, as you hear muffled voices coming from outside. you hear like 5? maybe 6. different voices yelling, and that’s when you hear a few of them shout.
“JK! missed you man!” “hey kook, what’s up!” and “yo jungkook, is that a new watch?”
you tip toe towards your door, and carefully look into the peephole. you manage to see that your jerk of neighbour’s door was open, and half his figure was visible. you see a few people give him a handshake before walking into his apartment.
so the asshole has a name, and friends. shocker.
your eyes let out a roll, now registering that his name was jungkook.
you pull back from the peephole, leaning your head against the cool wood of the door.
“jungkook, huh?”
the name feels a little too heavy and attractive for someone who was so incredibly rude to you earlier.
you head back to your couch, and try to catch up on some uni work that you’ve been meaning to finish.
everything goes smooth for awhile, you barely even remember what happened yesterday, but of course. life has failed you again.
because the apartment walls are apparently made of paper. you can hear the bass of a speaker thumping, the clink of glass bottles, and the energy of six guys who clearly don't believe in "quiet hours."
for an hour, you try to ignore it. you try to scroll through your feed, and do your work. but every time you hear sudden yells due to them losing a game, or that same windshield like laughter coming from the same guy, you find yourself gritting your teeth.
finally, when it sounds like they’re literally wrestling against the shared wall, you’ve had enough.
you don't even check the mirror. you just stomp over to your door, throw it open, and pound on 4a.
the door swings open almost instantly, and there he is. jungkook. he’s holding a beer, his hair a little more tousled than before, and he looks like he’s in the middle of a joke until he sees you.
"oh, look who it is," he says, his voice a dry, effortless drawl. he leans against the doorframe, looking you up and down with that annoying, slow smirk. "did you come over to complain about yesterday, or are you just obsessed with me?"
"i’m 'obsessed' with the fact that i can hear your friends’ entire conversation from my living room," you snap, crossing your arms.
"it’s eleven p.m. some of us actually have a life that doesn't involve screaming over video games."
"a life?" he scoffs, taking a sip of his drink.
"is that what you call it? because by the looks of your messy hair and dark eyebags, it looks like you’ve either been doom scrolling, or you’re a workaholic. maybe if you actually joined the real world, a little noise wouldn't bother you so much."
"you're unbelievable," you huff. "just lower the—"
"jk! what's the hold up? did the pizza get here?"
a guy with a mop of blond hair and a smile that practically glows pushes his way into the doorway.
he stops when he sees you, his eyes widening in a way that is actually... sweet. completely unlike the jerk standing next to him.
"oh," he says, his voice softening instantly. "hello."
jungkook doesn't move, but you see his jaw tighten as he feels his friend’s presence. "it’s not the pizza, jimin. go back inside."
jimin ignores him entirely, nudging jungkook to the side with his elbow so he can get a better look at you.
“don't listen to him, he’s grumpy because he’s losing at mario kart. i'm jimin. do you live in 4b? i haven't seen you around before."
the contrast is so sharp it’s almost comical. you feel your shoulders relax as you look at jimin. "hi, jimin. i’m y/n. i just moved in yesterday. and yeah, 4b is me."
"y/n," jimin repeats, his head tilting slightly as he gives you a sweet, genuine smile.
"that’s a pretty name. welcome to the building! sorry it’s so loud tonight. these guys get way too competitive. did you come over to join us? we have plenty of beer, even if jk is being a gatekeeper."
you can feel jungkook’s gaze burning into the side of your head. you give jimin a small, appreciative smile.
"that’s really nice of you, jimin. but actually, i just came over to ask if you guys could maybe keep it down a little? the walls are... kind of thin."
jimin’s eyes go wide with a look of pure apology. "oh, no! i’m so sorry. we really didn’t realize. we’ll turn the music down right now, i promise. don't be too mad at us, okay?"
"thank you, jimin. i appreciate that," you say, casting a pointed, sarcastic look at jungkook. "at least someone in this apartment knows how to talk to people."
jimin chuckles, giving you a friendly little wave as he starts to head back in. "nice meeting you, y/n! see you around!"
as soon as jimin is out of earshot, the air between you and jungkook turns heavy and sharp. jungkook leans closer, his shadow falling over you.
"happy now?" he asks, his voice low and dripping with a new kind of annoyance. "you and jimin are best friends now! maybe i should give him your number so you can complain to him instead of knocking on my door."
"maybe i should," you retort, matching his energy.
"at least he’s lovely. it’s honestly a miracle you have friends like that when you’re... well, you. do they know you’re a total prick to everyone else, or do you just save that for me?"
jungkook’s eyes narrow, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before snapping back to your eyes. "save it for you? princess, you’re not that special. you’re just the only one loud enough to get under my skin."
"good," you snap, turning on your heel. "hope it stays there. keep it quiet, jungkook." you turn around to walk away, but before you fully do.
you turn back, “and don’t call me princess.” you smile sarcastically, before picking up your mail on the mat, and pushing your door open.
as you go to set your mail down on the counter, a stray envelope slips out from between your magazines.
you pick it up, ready to toss it aside, until the name catches your eye: jeon jungkook.
could this day get any worse.
but it’s not just the name. tucked in the corner of the return address is a small, hand-drawn doodle, a stylized "jk" with a little crown.
your eyebrows knit slightly, finding the crown slightly familiar.
“where have I seen this before..”
whatever. you think, sighing as you place the mail back down onto the coffee table. deciding that you’ll leave the problem of passing him his mail for tomorrow.
jungkook shut the door with a little more force than necessary, the click of the lock echoing the annoyance thumping in his chest. he leaned his back against the wood for a second, huffing out a breath that still tasted like the cold beer in his hand.
"wow," jimin’s voice drifted from the kitchen, sounding far too amused. "so that’s the new neighbor? you failed to mention she looks like that, jk."
jungkook straightened up, tossing his head back to get his hair out of his eyes as he walked back toward the living room.
"looks like what? a headache in a tank top? yeah, she’s great."
"don't be a liar," taehyung chimed in from the couch, not even looking up from his controller but wearing a boxy grin. "i saw her through the hallway when the door was open. she’s exactly your type. big eyes, bratty attitude, looks like she’d ruin your life and you’d thank her for it."
jungkook rolled his eyes, sinking into his armchair and taking a long swig of his drink. "she’s not my type. she’s loud, she’s demanding, and she’s been on my case since the second she moved in because i accidentally spilled a little water on her."
"didn’t you say you drenched her? i saw the wet cardboard in the hall, I’d be pretty pissed too to be honest with ya." jimin teased, leaning against the counter.
"and she’s not just 'loud.' she’s gorgeous. and she actually seems like a nice person, plus she’s mouthy, don’t you like that shit? it’s different from all the girls you’ve been with. maybe get to know her? and apologise for being such a jackass." jimin says.
jungkook didn't answer right away. he couldn't.
because the truth was, his brain was currently replaying the way she looked just now—flushed from anger, her hair a little messy, her eyes sparking with pure defiance. she was beautiful.
frustratingly so.
and jimin wasn't wrong, the way her mouth moved when she was hurling insults at him was... distracting. he liked that shit. he liked that she didn't back down.
but he’d sooner die than admit that to the guys.
"she’s a brat," jungkook finally muttered, staring down at his beer.
"her mouth is completely uncontrollable. she needs to learn that the world doesn't revolve around her just because she has a pretty face."
"uh-huh," jimin hummed, exchanging a look with taehyung. "well, if you’re not interested, maybe i’ll go over tomorrow and ask if she needs help with those boxes. she seemed to like me well enough."
jungkook’s grip tightened on his bottle, a sudden, sharp spike of irritation flared in his gut that had nothing to do with noise complaints.
"don't. she’s probably busy. and she’s... not looking for company."
"how do you know?" taehyung asked, finally looking up with a smirk.
"i just do," jungkook snapped, standing up to head toward his room. "i’m going to my room. keep the noise down or the 'headache' will be back, and i’m not answering the door next time."
he disappeared into his bedroom and shut the door.
he flopped onto his bed and pulled his phone out, his thumb instinctively hovering over the onlyfans app.
he needed to clear his head. he needed someone who actually liked him, and whom he liked back. someone like @internetgirll.
he opened their chat, his expression softening as he scrolled through her earlier messages.
he started typing, his mind still flickering between the girl he was talking to online and the girl living three feet away.
@ian97: hey cupcake. I’m sorry, something came up. i missed you, princess. tell me you’re still awake.
the next morning comes far too early. you’re standing in your kitchen, wearing a pair of tiny gray sweatshorts and a camisole, staring at the envelope on your coffee table.
jeon jungkook.
you know you should just slide it under his door and run, but your pride won't let you be that cowardly. unfortunatelyy.
you grab the envelope, take a deep breath, move to his door and you knock, firmly.
it takes a minute. when the door finally opens, you’re met with a version of jungkook that is unfortunately even more attractive than the "jerk" version.
his hair is a mess, his eyes look heavy, and he’s shirtless, wearing nothing but low black joggers.
he blinks at you, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. his gaze travels slowly down to your bare legs, then back up to your face.
"you again," he mumbles, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. "it’s nine a.m. did the sun rise too loudly for you this morning?"
"this was stuck to my mail. i figured you’d want your bank statement back before the wind carried it away. clearly, you’re as organized with your mail as you are with your hobbies."
jungkook’s eyes drop to the envelope. he freezes for a fraction of a second when he sees the "jk" doodle in the corner. he snatches it from your hand a bit too quickly, his posture straightening.
"where was this?" he asks, his voice losing the sleepy edge and turning sharp.
"i told you. it was stuck to my stuff," you say, crossing your arms. "who even doodles on their own mail? a little self-absorbed, don't you think?"
jungkook’s jaw tightens. he looks at the doodle, then back at you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of recognition. he seems tense. nervous? which is a look you’ve never seen on him before.
"it's just a habit," he mutters, shoving the envelope behind his back. "thanks. for... bringing it over."
"you're welcome," you say, lingering for a moment.
"and for the record, your friends were right. you are much grumpier when you’re losing at games. jimin seemed to have a much better handle on his emotions."
he frowns slightly, eyebrows knitting as he responds.
"since you like jimin so much, maybe i should have him come over and thank you instead," he says, his voice dropping an octave. "would that make your morning, princess?"
"it would definitely be an upgrade," you retort, though your voice is slightly breathier than you intended.
jungkook’s gaze drops to your mouth again, a smug, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "go back to your apartment, y/n. before i start thinking you're looking for reasons to see me without a shirt on."
"in your dreams, jungkook," you huff, turning away so he won't see the red creeping up your neck.
you hear his door shut, and you practically scramble back into your own place. you lean against your door, heart thumping. "he is so... infuriating," you whisper.
your phone pings on the counter. you grab it, your fingers shaking slightly.
@ian97: just woke up. thinking about our conversation last night... i'm in a mood today. i wanna see you. you still in bed?
@internetgirll: not in bed anymore, unfortunately. had a "visitor" early this morning who ruined the mood.
you wait, watching the typing bubbles appear almost instantly. you set your phone down to
@ian97: a visitor? should i be jealous?
@internetgirll: trust me, no. just my annoying neighbor again. he’s lucky he’s pretty to look at, otherwise i might have actually lost it on him today.
@ian97: so he’s pretty, huh? you’re killing me, princess. I dont know how I feel about sharing your attention…
@internetgirll: you’re the only one who has my attention, ian :( he’s just a distraction. a very loud, shirtless distraction.
the reply from ian comes back faster this time, and you can almost imagine the smirk behind the screen.
@ian97: shirtless? sounds like he’s trying too hard. if i were there, i wouldn't need to show off. i’d just make sure you couldn't look at anyone else.
@internetgirll: is that a promise?
@ian97: it’s a guarantee. but since i’m stuck at work and can't get to you yet... send me a photo of what you're wearing right now. i wanna see what that neighbor of yours got to see this morning.
you look down at your tiny gray shorts and the thin camisole. it’s casual, but the way it clings to you makes you feel a sudden rush of heat. you stand up, posing in front of your bedroom mirror, making sure your face is out of the frame but your silhouette is clear.
you hit send.
suddenly, you hear a loud thud. like a phone being dropped — followed by a string of curses coming from the room next to you.
your eyes roll, “must he always be so loud, god.”
your phone vibrates.
@ian97: fuck. those shorts should be illegal.
@ian97: that top looks familiar. looks good on you though, cupcake.
@ian97: you’re a goddess.
@internetgirll: familiar? alot of girls send you pictures of them then?
@ian97: what? fuck no.
@ian97: just you. only you.
@ian97: it just looked like I’ve seen it before, that’s all cupcake.
@internetgirll: hmm, okay.
later that evening, just as you’re considering ordering takeout and calling it a night, a soft, polite knock echoes through your door.
it’s a stark contrast to the aggressive pounding jungkook usually favors.
you open the door to find jimin. he’s wearing a soft knit sweater and that same warm, eye-crinkling smile.
"hey, y/n," he says brightly.
“oh, jimin! right? what brings you by?”
"the guys are over at jk’s again, but i felt bad about the noise yesterday. we’re just hanging out, having some drinks, would you want to come over? it’s better than sitting in here listening to us through the wall, right?"
you hesitate, glancing back at your unpacked boxes. "i don't know, jimin. i don't think your host is exactly my biggest fan."
"oh, ignore him," jimin says, waving a hand dismissively. "he’s just moody. the rest of us really want to meet you. come on, just for one drink?"
you bite your lip. the idea of seeing jungkook’s face when you walk in is too tempting to pass up. "fine. let me just grab a sweater."
when jimin leads you into 4a, the apartment is a mess of pizza boxes and game controllers. the music is low this time, and you see four other guys conversing on the black couch.
jungkook is standing by the kitchen island, mid-sentence, when his eyes land on you. he nearly chokes on his drink. "what is she doing here?"
"i invited her," jimin says smoothly, heading for the fridge.
“yeah, no.” jungkook says, flat.
"don't be a brat, jk."
“you didn’t think to ask ME, if she could come over to MY apartment.” jungkook says.
“nope. and frankly, I don’t care.” jimin says, smiling sweetly. and you see jungkook simply roll his eyes.
"nice to see you too, jungkook," you say, giving him a sweet, fake smile as you wave to the rest of the room. "hope i'm not interrupting your... whatever this is."
"everyone, this is y/n," jimin says, guiding you in.
"y/n, meet namjoon, jin, hoseok, taehyung and yoongi."
"hi!" hoseok beams, giving you a literal wave.
"ignore jungkook's face. he just looks like that because he’s losing."
"i am not losing," jungkook grumbles. he stands up, shoving his hands into his pockets. "i just didn't realize we were running a community center tonight."
"shutup, kook," jin says, flashing you a smile. "sit down, y/n. make yourself comfortable!"
you spend quite awhile engaging in conversations with his friends, they’re actually…nice? and quite fun to be around. you’d think an asshole like jungkook would have friends that are so outgoing and friendly.
at some point, the guys get into a heated debate about which delivery place has the best wings. taking advantage of whatever… was going on, you slip away to find the bathroom.
you take a wrong turn down the hallway and find yourself standing in front of a door that's slightly ajar.
your curiosity wins. you nudge it open.
it’s jungkook’s room, you think. it’s dark, illuminated only by the neon blue glow from his dual-monitor gaming setup. the bed is huge, unmade, and the smell of him is everywhere.
you walk over to his desk, looking at the professional grade microphone and the high end headset. you scoff slightly to yourself
“wealthy jerk.” you mutter under your breath, a small smirk playing on your lips.
"you know, usually people wait for an invitation before they start appraising my furniture."
you jump so hard your hip knocks against the edge of the desk. you whirl around to find jungkook leaning against the doorframe, his silhouette framed by the light from the hallway. he has his arms crossed, his biceps on display.
curse that black tank top.
he doesn't look angry, though, he looks amused, a lazy, lopsided smirk tugging at his mouth.
"i got lost," you say, trying to recover your dignity. "your hallway is like a maze."
"it's a straight line, y/n, but nice try. I’m starting to think you’re interested in me."
you scoff, "don’t flatter yourself. i just needed a break from the ego in that room. turns out, the source of it is in here."
jungkook stops just a foot away, the neon blue light from the monitors casting sharp, handsome shadows across his face. he smells like rain and something warm, like vanilla. you hated it.
"so you break into my room? i didn't think you had it in you."
"don't get ahead of yourself. i was just looking for the bathroom," you say, though you don't move an inch away from him.
"the bathroom is two doors down. you’ve been standing in my bedroom for three minutes staring at my microphone," he says, his voice dropping into a lower, more intimate register.
he leans in slightly, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your throat dry. "admit it. you’re curious about me."
"i'm curious why you're such a prick to me in the hall but you let jimin invite me over for drinks," your chin tilting upwards. "it's like you have two different personalities."
jungkook’s gaze flickers down to your lips for a heartbeat before snapping back to your eyes. he reaches out, his hand hovering near your waist before he rests it on the edge of the desk, effectively pinning you between his body and the computer setup.
"maybe i just like seeing how far i can push you before you snap," he murmurs, his thumb tracing a slow circle on the wood of the desk, dangerously close to your hip.
"you're fun when you're mad. your eyes do this little spark thing. it’s... interesting."
"interesting?" you breathe out, your hand instinctively coming up to rest on his forearm to steady yourself.
"that's a very polite word for someone who calls me a headache."
"well, you are a headache," he says, a ghost of a flirtatious smile appearing. "but you're also the first person in this building who doesn't just put up with my shit. i kind of like that."
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
the air in the room feels thick, heavy with the sound of your shared breathing and the hum of his computer. just as he begins to lean in, his chest nearly brushing against yours, a frantic pounding starts on the door.
"jk! move it! namjoon accidentally reset the router and we need the password again! also, taehyung is eating your portion of the wings!"
jungkook closes his eyes, letting out a long, frustrated exhale through his nose. he forehead rests against yours for a fleeting second, a touch so brief you almost think you imagined it.
"duty calls," he mutters, pulling back just enough to give you space, though his eyes remain dark and focused on you. "stay here and keep snooping, or come back out and fight taehyung for a wing. your choice, cupcake."
a flicker of confusion mirrors in your eyes as you stare at him. the choice of nickname made your brain stop for a second. isn’t that…?
your eyebrows knit together, your heart skipping a beat that has nothing to do with the proximity. is it just a common nickname? you wonder, your gaze searching his face for any sign of a double meaning.
he turns and heads for the door, but stops with his hand on the knob, looking back over his shoulder. "and y/n? the bathroom literally is two doors down. try not to end up in the closet."
and once he speaks sarcastically again, your face relaxes. there’s no way. ian is attentive, generous, and sweet. jungkook is... well, jungkook. he probably just picked a random, mocking pet name to get under your skin.
"find the bathroom?" jimin asks with a knowing tilt of his head, seeing the both of you walk out from the same direction.
"eventually," you say, trying to sound bored as you grab a napkin to fiddle with. "your friend just has a very confusing layout."
"hey, ian, you coming or what? the lobby is almost full!" taehyung shouts from across the room, his eyes glued to his TV. "hop on, man, we're gonna lose our spot!"
jungkook’s fingers stutter on his controller for a split second. "shut up, tae," he grunts, his voice sharp. "i told you not to call me that."
the air in your lungs suddenly feels very thin. your head snaps up, eyes wide as you stare at the back of jungkook’s head. ian.
you’re convinced you’re hearing things. because what the actual fuc—
"who’s ian?" you turn to jimin, trying to keep your voice casual despite the fact that your heart is now thumping against your ribs.
jimin lets out a soft, airy chuckle, leaning his chin on his hand.
"oh, that? it’s just an old thing. jungkook used to be obsessed with the name back in high school, thought it sounded 'cool' or whatever, he used it for all his gamer tags and social media handles for years. the guys still use it to mess with him because they know it makes him cringe now."
"oh," you say, your voice small. you force a stiff nod, your brain racing at a hundred miles an hour. "so it's just... a username."
jimin hums, reaching for a wing. "why?"
"no, just... it's a common name," you lie quickly, shaking your head and forcing a laugh. "i think i had a cousin named ian. just caught me off guard."
you turn your gaze back to jungkook. he’s focused on the game now, his jaw set, his brow furrowed in concentration.
it's just a coincidence, you tell yourself. a massive, weird, terrifying coincidence. there are probably thousands of 'ian97's on the internet. just because he used the name in high school and called you a common pet name doesn't mean he's the man who pays your rent and tells you what he wants to do to you in the middle of the night, right?
but as you watch him lean into the screen, his shoulder muscles tensing as he clicks his mouse, you can't help but notice the way his hand moves. exactly how ian’s hands would look every time he sent you a picture of him stroking his length.
it’s been about an hour and you can’t seem to get that thought out of your head, so you pull your phone out of your pocket, your hands trembling slightly as you open the familiar chat interface.
@internetgirll: i miss you. wish you were here right now.
you hit send. your eyes immediately lock onto the coffee table. sitting right next to jungkook’s elbow is a sleek black phone.
ding.
a notification light pulses on the screen. jungkook doesn't flinch, his eyes narrowed as he yells something to namjoon.
nobody else notices. the sound was subtle, but to you, it sounded like a bomb going off.
it’s a coincidence, you tell yourself, your chest tightening. everyone has that notification sound.
you swallow hard and type again.
@internetgirll: ian? are you there? i need you.
this time, the game reaches a lull. jungkook exhales a sharp breath, leaning back in his chair as his character respawns. the ding of the second message is unmistakable. he reaches out, his large hand wrapping around the phone you’d been watching.
you watch his fingers fly across the glass. a second later, your phone vibrates in your palm.
@ian97: always here for you, princess. what's wrong? you sound lonely.
your heart is hammering against your ribs so hard it hurts. you feel dizzy, the room spinning as you stare at the back of his head. no. it can’t be. the jerk from 4a is the man who...
you decide to end the denial. you type one last thing, your fingers nearly tripping over the keyboard.
@internetgirll: i'm just bored. watchu doing? and watchu wearinggg?
you hold your breath, your eyes fixed on jungkook’s back. you see him pause. he types a quick response and sets the phone back down, sliding his headset back on.
your phone vibrates.
@ian97: nth much, just hanging with some friends. i’m wearing a black tank and sweats but i'd rather be wearing nothing at all if it meant you were here.
oh.
it's him.
you swear everybody stopped talking from how silent the room just went in your head.
jeon jungkook is @ian97.
and you? you’re freaking the fuck out.
a/n : eeekk its out! this took me a dreadful 3+ weeks to write mainly because i was holding it off alot and a teeeeeny bit unmotivated. but I knew I loved the plot of this story so much so I had to finish it right away! i’m not super good with writing smut & freaky talk so if anything sounded a lil weird i ask ever so kindly of you to brush past that 😞 anyways! lmk your thoughts <33 part two soon hehe!
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