#taking a few more steps to survive | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goldenhourology · 2 months ago

Text

SAVE THE DATE.

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader

genre: smut, fluff, angst, frenemies to lovers

summary: 5 weddings in one year. 5 dates you saved for you and your boyfriend to attend — before he cheated. and now, you had to force your best friend, vernon, to go with you. but after losing a bet, mingyu agrees to take vernon’s place and be your date. this wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go, but you guess you could settle going with your only one-night-stand from college.

warnings: oral (f!recieving), fingering, 69ing, unprotected sex, reader on top, praise, mingyu has boyfriend dick<3, sub-ish!mingyu, also power bottom!mingyu 👍, multiple sex scenes, marijuana smoking/shotgunning, marijuana-induced horniness lol, one bed trope, forced proximity, miscommunication, HEAVY mutual pining. nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).

word count: 19.9k

note: first things first, APOLOGIESSSSS for this taking so long. I've had a lot going on (which I know just about everyone says) and I was lowkey struggling to write this, even tho I was so amped for it. nevertheless, I'm so glad I was able to focus and finish it, because I care so much for these two and I desperately wanted to share their story with you 💓 per usual, please expect angst with your smut, and if you cry, I will not judge you and honestly would love to hear it lol. enjoy friends! (taglist posted at the bottom.)

in rotation: bmf, sza / mona lisa, mxmtoon / gorgeous, taylor swift / moonstruck, enhypen / finally // beautiful stranger, halsey

Your mom had told you that the friends you make in your first year of college stay with you for life, but you didn’t expect that when you met Vernon. He had been shy, refusing to speak to anyone in your orientation group, but knowing glances turned into sitting next to each other, which then had you both whispering jokes back and forth, until finally, he told you his name. Hansol Chwe to be exact, but he insisted on “just Vernon.” By the second semester of freshman year, you both had become inseparable. He was your best friend, been with you through some of the toughest moments of your adult life, and you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Vernon’s friendship survived through many of your boyfriends, and you knew he’d outlast many more. He experienced some of the worst ones – a.k.a. the men who refused to believe you two were just friends – and also the boring ones – the one guy who used you to get to him. But none of them had pissed him off more than your most current breakup: the man who was three years your senior and cheated on you with a 22-year-old. You assumed by age 27, you’d know how to pick ‘em, but that was clearly wrong.

Now you were left to your own devices with five weddings to attend this year. In retrospect, maybe there was a few you could’ve skipped, but you hated saying no in situations like this. You had agreed to go to all of them with your now ex-boyfriend in mind, placing a 2 on the invite’s attending line. Per usual, Vernon had stepped up and begrudgingly offered himself to be your date.

So why were you now meeting up with Kim Mingyu to discuss the dates of said five weddings?

You first met Mingyu when Vernon joined a fraternity in sophomore year to make more friends. “I can’t just have you. I need to have at least some friends that are dudes,” he said, which made you reply, “That’s the toxic masculinity talking.” And boy, had Mingyu been the epitome of that statement. Him and Vernon had connected instantly, sharing the same major and an affinity for art girls. You had never really gotten along with him like Vernon had hoped, but he was … attractive, to say the least.

Okay, maybe you had a crush on him. You had eyes.

But it was college and you both were on the cusp of 20. It was so hard to confess feelings back then, especially to someone like Kim Mingyu. Who you didn’t particularly enjoy talking to in the first place. However … he was probably one of the hottest men you’d ever seen; made in a lab for every young girl’s fantasy. Sometimes you couldn’t help but just stare at him, admiring his perfect teeth or the way his honey-gold skin shined in the afternoon sunlight. (You thanked your lucky stars that Vernon joined the college football team alongside Mingyu, just so you could secretly ogle him during practice.)

Suffice to say, you did eventually hook up. In the most cliche way possible, you had both gotten a little too tipsy at the first frat party of senior year and wound up in Mingyu’s dorm, locking out his roommate for the entire night. It almost felt weird, realizing your attraction had been reciprocated, but he hardly said a word to you come morning. In fact, he never mentioned it again, period, choosing to avoid you except in group settings with Vernon. You weren’t a fool; you were quick to realize it meant nothing to him, just another notch on his bedpost.

Mingyu was every girl’s dream, but Mingyu was also uncommitted.

And he was walking towards you right now.

You looked up from your phone after stalking – looking through Mingyu’s Instagram. You never followed him, never checked in on him after graduation, but you knew how close he still was with Vernon. He even posted a picture with him recently. You rolled your eyes. Despite his long hair, you recognized Mingyu instantly as he went up to the barista and ordered a coffee. You studied him for a moment, noticing that there was a curl to his hair and the way those dark stands hung around his eyes. His skin was as perfect as ever and – goddamn, did he get bigger? He was wearing a jacket over his t-shirt and you could still tell how big his muscles were.

When he finally looked over his shoulder and your eyes connected, his face remained unchanged, if not a little awkward. He walked up to you, rubbing at the back of his neck, and said your name as if it were a question. “Yeah. Hi, Mingyu,” you replied with a wave. “It’s been a while.”

“Five years since graduation,” he added, pulling out the chair across from you and plopping down. “So you stopped putting those blonde highlights in your hair?”

Your eye twitched. Before you could spit out a response, a cute, dark-haired barista came over and set a fresh mug of coffee in front of him, completely ignoring that your own was practically empty. Mingyu flashed her a smile, showing off his pretty canines as she walked away. You frowned.

Vernon had told you last night that Mingyu wasn’t the same guy you knew in college, but you begged to differ.

Turning back to you, he took a sip from his mug and asked, “Why did you want to meet up again?”

“Because my best friend is an asshole and you lost a bet.”

“Oh, yeah. That.” He nodded.

You almost didn’t believe Vernon when he told you. You knew he didn’t exactly want to be your date to all these weddings and probably felt like he had to, but he did offer so you didn’t think much of it. Until he told you last week that he put all his guest invites on the line while playing a drinking game with Mingyu, which the latter lost. So now Kim Mingyu, your college one-night-stand that was scared of commitment, was committing to being your date to several weddings this year.

Kill me now, you thought.

“I thought drinking games and making silly bets like this didn’t happen once your frontal lobe formed,” you said, and his dark eyes flickered up to yours.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he cleared his throat and set the mug down again. “Men never really grow up.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and sat back in your chair. “Apparently,” you muttered under your breath. “How do you have the time to actually commit to this? Don’t you have a girlfriend or something?”

“One,” he held up a single finger, “I take bets very seriously and I’m not a sore loser. It’s only removing five weekends out of the year for me. No biggie. And two,” he lifted another finger, “No.”

You raised a brow. “Well, I guess that answers all my questions.”

Mingyu stared at you for a moment, running those two fingers over his bottom lip. You suddenly had a flashback to that night, remembering his hands all over you, remembering his fingers plunging inside and curling –

Not the time.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend? Why put down two people on these RSVPs you sent back and then force just anybody to be your date?” He fought the urge to smile, trying to dig a little deeper into you. You weren’t falling for it this time. “I love the guy, but I know Vernon wasn’t your first choice to accompany you.”

“My ex and I broke up,” you replied. “Not much to it.”

Intrigued, he sipped his coffee again. “Why?”

“It’s none of your business, Mingyu.”

“Well, as your new date –”

“Drop it,” you said, voice taking on a new tone. “I’m serious.”

Mingyu raised his hand in surrender, and you shook off your anger. This was supposed to be a friendly, quick conversation, but it was seemingly moving off the rails. A sigh escaped your mouth before you asked, “So you said this is only taking five weekends out of the year. What do you do with your time? Are you working?”

“I thought I answered all your questions.”

You narrowed your eyes.

He chuckled softly, exposing those canines once again. His smile was so … ugh, you needed to stop getting distracted. “I work at a restaurant four days a week as a cook, and then teach flag football at a rec facility the rest of the time. I’ve been trying to save up to open my own restaurant for years, but I got the time to be a makeshift wedding date.”

You knew Mingyu had always loved to cook – you remembered when he’d been the resident chef at the fraternity – but to hear he was still passionate almost … melted you a little. Almost. You were dedicated to not being too swayed by Mingyu’s pretty words. This was a deal and that was the end of it.

“I see,” you nodded, uncrossing your arms to play with the handle of your still empty mug. “I’ve been working at the same marketing agency since college. Pays the bills, you know?”

Mingyu gave you a knowing look before running a hand through the long strands. “Always so committed.”

Your lips pursed. “One of us has to be.”

“Speaking of commitment,” he said without missing a beat, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “What are the dates for those weddings again?”

Save the Date for the wedding of Choi Seungcheol and Holland Levine: February 28th

It was a rainy Sunday in February. Your coworker, Choi Seungcheol, was getting married today at a local venue on the outskirts. His girlfriend, Holland – otherwise known as, Hinge Holland, when he met her on the dating app 3 years ago – was a little kooky and asked for them to be eloped that morning. Seungcheol was too in love to say no; he’d do anything she asked. They were married early morning, and lucky for you and Mingyu, all you had to attend was a reception. It was a nice way to test the waters of this deal before anything got too crazy.

Mingyu had picked you up in his truck, and together struggled to help lift you inside with your dress and heels on. As he drove away from the city and into a more rural area, he commented, “Your coworker must be real whipped to agree to a reception here.”

“What are you talking about?” You looked through your phone for the address Seungcheol had sent you months ago. “I thought the reception was at some small venue.”

Mingyu said your name, and you glanced over, seeing the smile on his face. “It’s a VFW owned by someone in his girlfriend’s family.”

You realized just how right he was when he pulled up to a spot in a VFW parking lot, seeing a crowd of Holland’s family pour into the post. You knew what the inside of a VFW looked like; you had your sweet 16 at one. But going to a wedding reception at one was a whole different story. Were the walls so old that they’d crumble once the DJ dared to play Dancing Queen?

Rain pounded from the sky, making the cold February wind even more chilly. Mingyu rounded the truck and opened your door, making sure to hold an umbrella above your head as you slid out of the seat. He looked … okay, he looked extremely handsome in his suit, tailored exactly to his body. You were in an old, off-the-shoulder black dress with mesh sleeves that were doing nothing in this wet cold. This wedding had crept up on you, and before you knew it, you remembered you didn’t have any new dresses to wear. And while it looked nice, the dress just barely zipped and you had to keep pulling up the neckline. Clearly, you had grown a bit since the last time you worn this. Probably in college.

Mingyu was staring at you now, letting his eyes wander down, and you were yanking at the neckline again. He didn’t deserve to see more of your cleavage. He whispered, “You look …”

“Just come on,” you cut him off, tugging him in the direction of the VFW. He struggled to keep up for a moment, rushing to hold the umbrella above both of you.

As soon as you both walked inside, you realized just how dressed up you were compared to the place. The building looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 1990s. There was, at least, a huge buffet-style food setup in the corner and a man so old that he probably had one foot in the grave behind the bar. A sign in front of him said, OPEN BAR, written in thick sharpie. Various family members were congregating at tables, while the DJ – who looked like a Pitbull impersonator – was setting up at the head of the room.

Seungcheol ran over the second he saw you meandering through tables. He had the biggest smile on his face, tugging his new wife over to introduce her to you before wiggling his eyebrows at you when he noticed Mingyu on your arm. Even Holland couldn’t help but ogle him. Seungcheol was one of your closest coworkers, so it wasn’t weird when he asked, “Who’s the beefcake?”

Mingyu was too busy dealing with Holland’s questions to hear you reply, “Don’t ask. I’ve cycled through many options before I was forced to bring him.”

“I’m sure it was quite difficult for you,” he snorted, before carefully pulling his wife’s hand off of Mingyu’s and introducing himself. Not long after, he was ushering her away to start making speeches.

You and Mingyu found your seat quickly, and luckily enough, you were sat with most of your coworkers. Every single one was looking at Mingyu like he was a piece of meat, but he didn’t seem to notice as he had a friendly conversation with each of them. You struggled to not roll your eyes. How was he perfect with everyone? Maybe your dislike of him was irrational and unwarranted, maybe he did change. But … ugh, could he fuck up for once?

Your coworker, Minghao, sat to your left, watching Mingyu converse with the young assistant – Amelia, right? – who was very clearly batting her eyes at him. Leaning towards you, Minghao whispered, “I thought you were bringing Vernon?”

Minghao was one of the few people you told about your breakup, as well as Vernon and of course, your girlfriends. It wasn’t like you to go around everywhere and post on social media about your breakup; it wasn’t anyone’s business. But Minghao gave great advice, and he was one of the first people that helped you get over the heartbreak. He wasn’t just a coworker. He became a trusted friend.

Turning your head, you said, “Would you believe me if I told you that he lost a bet?”

“Considering who you ended up with,” he chuckled, “I’d say it’s a win in your favor.”

“He’s not that great.”

“Then you might want to pull Amelia off of him before she starts sucking his face.”

The reception ended at an early hour thankfully. Most of the elderly guests were falling asleep anyway. Mingyu was a class act, per usual, trying to get you up and out of your seat to dance with him, but the last thing you wanted to do was dance to Toxic by Britney Spears in front of your boss at the marketing agency. Instead, he took the lead to asking Seungcheol’s mom to dance, and made Amelia’s day when he asked her to join. Minghao only continued to laugh when you rejected each of Mingyu’s advances.

Once 10 PM rolled around and you both were exiting the doors of the aging VFW, you noticed the rain hadn’t let up. In fact, it seemed to have gotten even worst. You had to run to Mingyu’s truck with him holding the umbrella above both of you and almost trip over your dress as you hopped up inside the cab. Assuming it would be fine to drive, just a few minutes in the rain left you both realizing that it might be extremely unsafe to drive back to the city in this weather. You really couldn’t argue with Mingyu when he suggested you stay the night at a motel right down the road.

The woman behind the front desk at the motel was chewing so loud that you thought the wad of bubblegum between her teeth might be larger than your palm. She informed you both that the only rooms available were ones with a single queen-sized bed. As much as you desperately wanted two, you’d take what you could get. She started grabbing both of your informations to check in when a loud bolt of lightning cracked, followed by a crash of thunder. You instantly gripped Mingyu’s arm, and he paused signing his name to look down at you.

“Are you scared of thunder?” He asked playfully.

Realizing how tight you were holding on, you quickly removed your hand. “No, I’m … it’s fine.”

His bicep felt so much harder than anticipated. All muscle.

Stop that.

The front desk attendant gave you an actual metal key to open your room, the number dangling from a kitschy pendant. This was the kind of motel where you needed to venture outside to get to your room, and with your arms locked together, Mingyu led you both through the pouring rain to the right building. He shoved the key in the lock, immediately opening the door and allowing you to walk inside first.

The room was smaller than expected. The heat was hardly circulating and you were still shivering. A queen-sized bed was situated in front of an old RCA TV, decorated with a comforter that looked strangely similar to the one from the 80s that your mom had given you when you first moved out. The room smelled like bleach and all you could hear was the rain on the roof. Noticing you shiver, Mingyu walked over to the thermostat and adjusted the heat.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you said, hugging your arms around yourself.

Mingyu pointed to the large window by the door. “I can’t drive in that. It takes an hour to get back to the city and I can hardly see the road.”

“Okay, well –”

Lightning struck again, painting the window white, and you jumped. Mingyu shook his head and walked over, closing the shades over the glass. He looked down at you, and you were acutely aware that he was the kind of person who could say everything just with his eyes. “Better?” He asked, a smile playing at his pink lips.

He was so close that you could smell his cologne and – god dammit, you were such a sucker for men that smelled good. He smelled like violets mixed with smokey sandalwood, spicy and musky. Whatever you were going to quip back died on your tongue, leaving you to reply, “I can’t sleep in my dress. I have nothing to wear to bed.”

Walking over to the tiny closet, Mingyu spotted a robe hanging up next to the vintage ironing board. He placed it in your arms and remarked, “Take a shower and put this on.”

“Are you saying I smell?”

He laughed. “No, you’re shivering and it’ll help warm you up.”

You nodded, heading off to the bathroom and shutting the door. As you slipped off your dress and let it pool onto the tile, you realized how antagonizing you were being for no reason. Mingyu had been nothing but nice to you, but you were suspecting him to switch-up at any moment. Maybe Vernon was right, or maybe you just needed to take a chill pill.

Mingyu was helping you out, after all.

After taking the warmest shower of your life and probably using all of the hot water in the motel, you walked out into the room with your robe tied firmly around your waist. The cotton smelled like mothballs and you hardly left an inch of skin showing. Granted you weren’t naked underneath, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your underwear. Again. After five years.

He was wearing only a tank top and boxers while setting up a makeshift bed on the floor. You struggled to maintain focus with him looking … well, like that, and eventually spoke up, “What are you doing?”

He hardly jumped at hearing your voice. “I figured it would just be easier if I slept on the floor. Trust me, I’ve slept in far worse places.”

“Mingyu, you don’t have to do that,” you sighed, pulling back the covers and tossing the mismatching throw pillows on the floor.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“I know, but it’s just –”

Thunder clashed outside, sounding like pots and pans clanging together, rattling your bones.

Your eyes connected with Mingyu’s, and you pointed to the empty side of the bed. “Sleep in this bed right now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You both agreed – more like, you told Mingyu and he listened – to place a wall of pillows between you two, leaving you on the edges of the bed. You curled up into yourself, your spine facing him, as Mingyu laid on his back and pinched the bridge of his nose. The rain was so loud. The thunder was deafening. You considered plugging your fingers in your ears as you slept.

Mingyu was shifting on the small sliver of mattress he had, wishing internally that he brought a joint or two with him. This bed was so uncomfortable that he probably wouldn’t sleep. But hopefully, you would. Although that was seeming highly unlikely from the way your back tensed with every boom of thunder.

He watched you from the corner of his eye, and eventually, you did stop shaking. Soft snores filled the room, replacing the sound of the rain. And then Mingyu felt himself relax, swiftly falling asleep with his arm thrown above his head.

Despite the pillow wall you built, you woke up with your head on his chest.

Mingyu had wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked that day, but he couldn’t find the courage to finish his sentence.

Save the Date for the wedding of Lee Chan and Adrianna Olson: April 4th

Tapping your freshly manicured nails on your bare arm, you leaned against the passenger side door of your car and huffed. You uncrossed your arms, beginning to pace outside Mingyu’s apartment building. The ceremony today started in two hours and you were about ninety minutes from the venue. Not to mention, there was only a matter of time before one of his neighbors showed up, forcibly removing you from the parking spot in front of the building you definitely did not live in. What the hell was Mingyu doing anyway? He said he’d be down ten minutes ago.

You tugged off your heels, realizing they’d be a bitch to drive in, and pulled your sneakers from the back seat. Your floral, strapless sundress blew in the Spring breeze. Your curls – that looked like they could’ve been done by a toddler – whisked off your bare shoulders as you stepped into your favorite Nikes.

“Sorry.”

Popping your head up, you halted while shoving the back door closed. You blinked, assuming your eyes were deceiving you, but there he was, sprinting down the front steps of his building with freshly chopped hair.

Mingyu was quickly walking over to shove his duffle in your backseat, pulling at his tie, when you leaned in and placed your hand on his head. Yep, that was his real hair. Those long locks that had reached his chin were gone, replaced by a hairstyle that was similar to how he looked in college.

“I know we’re running late,” he apologized, letting your fingers sink into the strands for a moment, “but do you have to –”

“This is not about that.” You removed your hand, leveling a look at him. “You cut your hair.”

Mingyu raised a brow. “It was getting long.”

You paused, blinking at him. “Why didn’t you warn me of your new look?”

“I didn’t think I had to?” He shrugged, genuinely confused as to why you were questioning him. “My hair had gotten even longer since February, so I just thought I’d freshen up for you –”

You completely missed his words – for you, he’d freshened up for you – because you were already interrupting him. “Well, it’s just – it might look weird in pictures because my hair is up and your hair is so short. And I’m already going to have so many people looking at us wondering why my ex, who’s name I put on the invite, isn’t here. And I just want to eliminate as much attention as possible. And, well – and –”

Mingyu placed both hands on your shoulders. His palms were large, practically burning into your exposed skin. “Are you overthinking?”

“No, I …”

When your voice trailed off, Mingyu hesitated for a moment longer and then slid his hands off. “Vernon told me that you dated the groom. Chan, right?”

Of-fucking-course, Vernon told him. Your lips pursed before you replied, “We were friends before that, and we only dated for like a couple months in college. I introduced him to the woman he’s marrying.”

“Then why are you so nervous?”

“I think I have a lot of reasons to be nervous these days.” You continued to stare at him, waiting for him to come up with another quippy remark, but it seemed he contested and shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit. The same tailored suit he wore to the wedding in February, a few loose threads at the seams. “Let’s get going. We’ll be in the car for a while,” you said, rounding your car and hopping inside the driver’s seat.

As Mingyu dealt with finding room for his duffle in your trunk, you took this small second to text Vernon.

You: your friend is infuriating

You: also I’m never going to forgive you for telling him that I dated chan

Vernon: you’ll get over it lol

Vernon: is that the only reason why he’s infuriating?

You: HAIRCUT

Vernon: oh I probably should’ve told you about that when I saw him last week

Vernon: sorry :/

You closed your texts when Mingyu hopped in the passenger seat, turning on your music to drown out your thoughts. The drive was long and you were lucky that you got to the venue with ten minutes to spare. You parked the car in a haste, running to your back seat and quickly tugging your heels back on. You chucked your sneakers onto the car floor, almost hitting Mingyu in the face when he went to grab his phone from the same area. Locking your car, you grabbed his arm and yanked, both of you running towards the venue attached to a pretty hotel. Mingyu, even with his long legs, was struggling to keep up. He was also slightly impressed that you could run so fast in heels, and that was definitely the only reason why he was staring at your legs. He wasn’t admiring how long they looked when the wind lifted your skirt and he got a flash of your calf.

Even from your seat in the back of the ceremony, you could see Chan’s face light up as Adrianna was escorted down the aisle. She was wearing a vintage wedding dress, the veil sheer enough to see how beautiful she was underneath, and Chan was eager enough to lift it as soon as they said, “I do.” Adrianna looked like she hadn’t aged a day since school, and you could probably say the same for Chan. But he did manage to finally remove the earrings he got six years ago, which made you giggle to yourself.

Mingyu pretended not to notice.

Most of the people at the wedding were old friends from undergrad, even a few Mingyu knew in passing. Every time you were approached, you prepared yourself for the same question: “Where is He Who Will Not Be Named?” Or, for those that actually knew Mingyu: “Since when did you know Gyu?” You weren’t sure how much longer you could fake a smile and laugh, pretend that your heart still wasn’t sore from the breakup, rehash the same words over and over again. It was tiring; you were tired.

Same explanation. Same heartbreak. You wouldn’t be surprised if the whole planet knew of your breakup by now. You didn’t announce it anywhere, besides telling your family and close friends. It was natural for people to be curious; you had been with your ex for a couple years, enough for your family to assume that he’d propose. But then he cheated, and you found out, and you were left in pieces, tied to Kim Mingyu as your date for a full year of weddings.

You just didn’t want to keep on doing this, explaining yourself ten times over, realizing that everyone was looking at you with interest. Maybe a second glass of champagne would be a good distraction …

“Wanna dance?”

You looked up from the rim of your empty glass. Mingyu had knocked you out of your daze, laying out a hand for you to take. The reception was lively with family and friends mingling on the dance floor, but Mingyu had still noticed you alone at the table, lost in your thoughts. Had he always been this attentive, or was he just prone to watching you?

Ignoring your internal monologue, you took his hand, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor. Just as Mingyu was about to place his hand on your waist, the song changed, switching to a more upbeat track you used to blast in college. You immediately started laughing at all the older folks trying to follow the beat, and then found Chan with his wife, shimmying on the dance floor. Mingyu pinched the bridge of his nose, but found himself beaming when he finally saw the smile grace your features. He didn’t let go of your hand, let you twirl him to the song that took you back to the musty basement of a frat party.

Chan, at some point, had managed to dance over in your direction, bumping into you with a big grin. “I knew all the alumni here would love this,” he shouted over the music. “Do you remember when you puked outside a window once at some party and you said that it was this song that induced it?”

You were surprised when Mingyu said, “Yes,” at the same time as you. Both you and Chan glanced at him, eyebrows raised, until he added, “That was at one of my parties. I cleaned your vomit off the windowsill!”

The four of you erupted in laughter. Even Adrianna remembered that party, considering that was the night you drunkenly introduced her to Chan. She eventually pulled you away from Mingyu, leading you towards her group of bridesmaids so you all could dance together. But your eyes couldn’t help but find Mingyu’s across the floor, and then he was looking at you, and – god dammit, staring at him felt like a crime you’d consider going to jail for.

Everyone was looking at him, but he was looking at you.

Actually, Mingyu couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you. Not once.

He stared at you as if it was just you two, as if you were stripped bare before him, just for his eyes to see. You could tell from the way he bit his lip while smiling. He looked at you as if you were naked.

Soon enough, you were slipping through the crowd and by his side once again. He was now leaning against the wall by the open bar, nursing a scotch. The party was winding down; all the older family members had left, leaving Chan and Adrianna – plus a few other young couples – swaying to a classic Ed Sheeran song. It wouldn’t be long until they ended the night with Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley. The time war nearing 11 PM.

Slinking beside him, he offered the glass to you and you took a sip, wincing at the burn. You stuck out your tongue. “How can you drink that so smoothly?”

“Years of practice,” he replied, and then flicked your nose in a way that shouldn’t make you blush. But you definitely did.

You blinked up at him, admiring how pretty he was in the faint, yellow light. Actually, he was pretty in every light, but you liked to find any excuse to admire him. Even if you denied it.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked then, digging your nails into your palms. So afraid of rejection after all these years, even though he agreed to be here. “I think the reception is going to end soon anyway.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” He set his half empty glass on a random table and straightened his back before adding, “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

God, you needed to get it together. Those words were the bare minimum, but when he said them in that slightly muffled voice, it made your nails pinch the inside of your hands harder.

You both stood on opposite sides of the elevator, dragging up, up, up to your room on the seventeenth floor. Your eyes connected. A smile played at his lips. An unspoken tension brewing between the two of you. A feeling you didn’t want to be there in the first place, but something you couldn’t simply ignore.

This couldn’t be happening. Not today. Not tonight. Not ever again.

He opened the door for you, allowing you to slip inside and grab your bag. While he rifled through his duffle, you brought your bag into the bathroom and leaned against the sink. You allowed yourself a moment to just breathe. Maybe if you kept exhaling like this, you would release all the tension from your body. You knew how silly it sounded, but desperate times called for desperate measures. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, turning your face from side to side. Was it the makeup that made him look at you that way sometimes? Perhaps he still had a fondness for lipgloss, like he did back in the day.

When you finally stopped studying your appearance, you wiped off your makeup and tugged on a pair of loose pajamas. Wearing these would be so much more comfortable – and less awkward – than the robe you wore after the last wedding. You still had nightmares about that. Carefully tiptoeing out of the bathroom, you expected to find Mingyu already in one of the two full size beds, scrolling through his phone and ignoring the noise you naturally made. But he was on the deck just outside your room, smoke billowing from his mouth.

You stood near the unoccupied bed, balancing on the balls of your feet, as you debated your options. A smart person would go right to sleep, leave him to his business. You chewed on your bottom lip nervously.

Despite the slight warmth to the air, you threw on a hoodie, scared of the possibility of your nipples showing through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. You slid open the door and immediately closed it, preventing any smoke from getting into the room. He didn’t turn; he knew exactly who was behind him. His back muscles flexed underneath his suit jacket, the joint dangling between his lips as he prayed for his lighter to work again.

“You probably shouldn’t be smoking in this suit,” you said, saddling up beside him.

He chuckled, finally taking a long drag. “I promise to get it dry cleaned before our next adventure.”

Before our next adventure. You bit the inside of your cheek.

Your eyes didn’t leave the joint now sitting between two of his fingers. (Jeez, were they always that big?) He let more smoke filter from his lips and into the open air, clouding up the starry night sky. Without even looking at you, he asked, “Why are you staring?” His words hung in the silence for a moment. “Have you ever smoked before?”

You shrugged. “Only once or twice with Vernon. Probably as freshmen.”

“You want me to show you how?”

Blinking at him, all you could do was dumbly nod. Mingyu laughed under his breath, fighting with his lighter again, before eventually holding the flame to the end. He then cautiously passed the joint over to you, allowing the filter to brush your lips. “Take it in your mouth,” he instructed, “now inhale.”

When you did as he asked, you must’ve inhaled far too deeply, or just didn’t exhale at the right time. Because then you were coughing, doubling over as you tried to catch your breath. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, concern etched in his tone, and patted your back as you hacked up what felt like your left lung. His voice was soft, soothing, but you could hardly hear it through the ringing in your ears.

“Yeah,” you sighed, voice hoarse, “I’m definitely out of practice.”

As you stood up, his hand stayed on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing patterns. Your breath stilled as you looked up at him. Playing with the joint between his lips, he said, “Let me show you an easier way.”

“Okay,” you agreed, before your conscious could stop you.

You watched as he took a long pull from the joint, sucking it all in until you could see his eyes get a little pinker, and then moved closer to you. Instinctively, your eyes closed and your lips parted, welcoming the scent of him. His lips only lightly grazed yours as he exhaled the smoke into your mouth, letting it engulf your very being, and you felt yourself start to relax. He craned back, grinning down at you, and it took everything within you to not ask for another hit right then.

In the moonlight, you could see why you fell hard for Mingyu. He had only gotten more handsome since college. Light, in any form, was so kind to him, but with the stars hanging above his head … it allowed his dark hair to shine, casting a slightly blueish tone to his warm features. You could see the twinkling stars reflecting in his eyes, especially when he leaned back in, expelling more smoke into your mouth.

This felt too intimate. This felt like fucking.

Once you both were so high you could do nothing but laugh, Mingyu stubbed out the joint and you stumbled back into the room. You both were finally going to have a good sleep at one of these, especially since there were two beds. Rolling into your bed, you immediately burrowed under the covers as Mingyu took off his suit in the bathroom.

The last thing you expected was to feel him plop down in your bed. He was wearing so little that it made your thighs press together, or maybe that was just the weed talking. He was disoriented, laying halfway off the edge of your bed, staring at you as if you were the Mona Lisa. You huffed, “Mingyuuu. You need to get in your own bed.”

“Do you really want that though?”

His words made your eyes immediately snap open. A grin was tugging at his mouth again, his teeth sinking into that plush bottom lip. Oh, so also wanted … Oh.

You tried to sound cool and nonchalant, “Considering this is a full size bed, yeah.”

Even in the darkness, even with his back to the moonlight streaming through the glass door – his presence was making you nervous. His eyes weren’t leaving yours. You felt your hand inch over, your pinky curling around his.

“If I can be so honest with you,” he whispered, licking at the corners of his lips, “you are so beautiful that I want to kill any guy that has done you wrong.”

You exhaled, “Mingyu …”

He leaned in, smiling like he knew he caught you in his trap. “Yes?”

You were pretty sure that you knew Kim Mingyu by now. You knew that this would be just another night that meant nothing to him. No matter how much he “changed” in Vernon’s eyes, it was very clear to you that he remained uncommitted. But fuck it, your heart was still burning from the breakup, stinging from the memory of people uttering your ex’s name tonight. It was only going to be a kiss. Just something to soothe the pain.

He was so much closer now, invading your space, his hand completely eclipsing yours. He smelled like marijuana and lingering cologne. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, but you didn’t. You let him kiss you, and god, it would be so much easier to dislike Mingyu if he didn’t kiss so well.

It wasn’t long before his tongue was pushing into your mouth, his large body looming over yours as he pressed you into the mattress a little more. And you’re desperate for it; you couldn’t stop. This was supposed to be simple – just a kiss – but you could feel yourself falling under his spell, feel how his palms burned against your skin as they dragged down your torso. He explored your mouth like it was the first time, parting your legs to make room for himself on top of you. When his lips left yours, you almost let out a whine, but he helped take off your hoodie before reattaching his mouth to your neck. Those large hands snake under your shirt – up, up, and up – until he was cupping your breasts and you can feel how hard he is against your thigh.

Mingyu looked up at you as he kissed down your torso, his spit soaking through the thin fabric of the t-shirt you were still wearing. He lifted one of your legs, adjusting it so your thigh could rest comfortably on his shoulder and – shit, you knew where this was going. Reaching the waistband of your panties, he begged, “Let me go down on you.”

You mulled over his words. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No,” he grinned against your skin, meeting your eyes from between your legs. “But that’s a tomorrow problem. Please?” His head tilted. “Do I have to beg? I’m willing.”

You bit your tongue, egging him on a little as he nipped at the inside of your thigh. He bucked his hips once, them twice, trying to get the smallest bit of friction on his cock that was currently throbbing in his boxers. He grunted softly against your skin.

“And if I say, ‘No?’” You asked with a raised brow.

He lifted his head and pouted his lips. After all these years, he still managed the perfect puppy dog eyes that could make just about anyone weak. “Don’t be mean,” he pleaded, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“You like when I’m mean,” you quipped, giving him permission by helping him shimmy your panties off. He adjusted your legs again, presenting you like a meal.

“I do,” he chuckled, his breath ghosting over your pretty, pink folds. “Especially, when you act like you didn’t want me here in the first place.”

Before you can rebuttal, he’s pressing his face between your thighs, dragging his tongue up your slit to collect the wetness that gathered there. Just the small amount of attention had you keening, your hips jumping for more of him, and Mingyu was happy enough to oblige. His tongue flicked at your clit as he slid one single finger inside of you, testing your limits. Those puppy dog eyes lifted from between your thighs, wanting to see you crumble, knowing that it was him who made you like this. You sighed out his name, your hand coming down to tangle in his hair. And god, if Mingyu didn’t love that … he’d be a dead man. He groaned when he felt you tug at the strands, beginning to swirl his tongue in a circle around your puffy clit.

You couldn’t even prepare yourself when he shoved another finger inside, pumping them in and out at an unreasonably fast pace. But you were bucking into him, tears pricking at your eyes as you whimpered for him. It was too much but almost too little at the same time. You could practically feel him smile as he devoured you. The bed rattled against the wall when he ground his erection against the frame, so needy and aching. His plump lips suckled on your clit, your slick smearing over his face, but he didn’t want to miss a drop of you. He needed more of you, so he started curling three fingers inside of you, teasing that sweet spot.

This wasn’t your first rodeo with Mingyu. He knew what you could take.

“Mingyu,” you whined, and he glanced up at you again with the most fucked-out eyes imaginable. And still, he didn’t stop. “You’re gonna … I’m gonna cum so fast.”

He moaned into you, then begged, “Please. Need to taste you.”

He was so determined, so desperate to feel you shake and moan and cry until he was completely spent on the taste of you. And it wasn’t long before he got his wish: as he shoved those three fingers into you, grazing your g-spot while lapping at you like you were his last meal on death row. You unraveled on his tongue, muffling your cries for the rest of the people sleeping on your floor. Biting into your hand, you had physically restrain your body from shaking as your orgasm rocked through you, but Mingyu held you down with a gentle hand on your stomach. He was staring at you again and you were staring at him and fuck, his half-closed eyes made him look like he was drunk on you. You could feel him smirking into your pussy as he collected every last drop of you, knowing that he did a good job. He sighed with relief when he could finally taste you again and again and again.

Once your body settled, you felt him start to tug at your shirt and kiss up your stomach. The thought of now having him inside you made your hands clench with excitement, but dear god, he just knocked the wind out of you and you weren’t sure how you could last. You were spent, tired, probably could just fall asleep right now.

You weren’t feeling his lips on your skin anymore, so you opened your eyes. The moonlight gave you just enough to see that, despite the raging boner he probably had, Mingyu was now snoring softly with his head resting on your hips. Brows raised, you almost couldn’t believe that this was the moment he decided to fall asleep, but you couldn’t deny that you had been on the verge of doing the same.

Untangling yourself from him, you quickly cleaned yourself up and wiped his face clean with a washcloth. You sighed, using all the brute strength you had to haul him up on what was supposed to be your bed, and wrapped the covers around him. You admired him for a moment, your hand coming up to smooth back his dark hair. Somehow, this felt even more intimate than you cumming in his mouth. So you quickly moved away and slipped under the sheets of the other bed, using his snores as white noise.

The next morning, neither of you spoke of what happened.

Mingyu had wanted to tell you that he had a crush on you the moment Vernon introduced you two all those years ago, even when you disliked him. And slowly but surely, he was starting to realize it never truly went away.

Save the Date for the wedding of Joshua Hong and Jordan Lo: June 20th

Two months passed and the spring air turned sweltering. It was on days like this when you rolled the windows down and wasted gas just to get an overpriced iced coffee that you reminisced. You were taken back to a time when you waited by the curb as Vernon appeared from football practice, and even though he was sweaty, you still always agreed to drive him back to his dorm on the other side of campus. You would watch him say goodbye to his teammates and – shit, the light would catch, and suddenly you were looking at Mingyu wipe the sweat off his face while laughing with the quarterback and –

Now you were thinking about Mingyu again.

You had been thinking about him since April.

All of this felt so silly, like stupid games young 20-somethings played. You knew it wasn’t good for you in engage in – well, anything with Mingyu. He had always been perfectly uncommitted with women, and he was clearly obsessed with his work, posting his new recipes or pictures of him and his flag football team on his Instagram stories. You could handle this. You could be an adult and have a functional acquaintanceship with someone you found attractive.

So you kept your distance. On the off chance that Mingyu was free and asked if you wanted to get together (which was a shock in itself), you declined. Even if you wanted to. Even if you desperately wondered what would come of it. The next wedding wasn’t until the end of June and you were already biting you lip at the thought of seeing him in a suit again.

The only person you could finally blabber to about this was Minghao, and in typical fashion, he laughed. Not that you expected anything less.

“You’re overthinking the entire situation,” he said over drinks. “It’s completely normal for you to have a little fun, especially while healing from a breakup. That’s what being single is all about, my friend.”

He was right. Of course, he was right. But what if Mingyu rejected you yet again, like he did in college? You wanted to talk to Vernon about this. He always gave you the best advice with this stuff, but this was his friend. The last thing you wanted was to make his friendship with Mingyu weird.

You attempted to ignore him. You redownloaded some dating apps as a distraction. You deleted them just as fast.

On the morning of June 20th, your cousin, Jordan, was marrying her longtime boyfriend, Joshua Hong. You had only met Josh on a number of occasions, but considering that they had been together for almost twelve years, you trusted him enough to take care of her. You felt lucky to be chosen as a bridesmaid and you’d never make a fuss, but dear god, the dark blue of this dress clashed with just about everything. The color was so dark and the dress was clinging to just about all of you and Mingyu’s tie was the wrong shade of blue –

Damn, did he look handsome though.

Jordan had made you both get to the venue early for a rehearsal dinner, and then once the morning came, you were whisked off to hair and makeup. You had barely said a word to Mingyu, too scared to give him anything besides small talk, but you couldn’t help but compliment the new suit he bought for the last few weddings. “Figured I’d cave and invest in one that wasn’t from Goodwill,” he explained, “for you.”

For you. For you. For you.

Your heels were hurting your feet halfway through the wedding, and despite how hard you were trying to focus on Josh’s vows, you couldn’t help but find Mingyu’s eyes in the crowd. He wasn’t paying attention to anyone else, his stare burning into yours to let you know his intent. You swallowed hard. Would anyone notice if you hid your blush behind the bouquet in your hands? It felt like torture having him look at you like this, as if there wasn’t an extravagant wedding happening around them, as if he wasn’t Kim Mingyu.

It wasn’t until the reception that you could finally get a word in with your cousin, some much needed alone time after what was surely going to be the craziest wedding you went to this year. You both parked yourself near the open bar, ignoring the guests on the dance floor that were screaming for another round of the Cha Cha Slide. Tucking a strand behind your ear, Jordan said, “I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me. Jeez, I really didn’t think when I was three and met you a couple weeks after you were born that we’d be here. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You grinned, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” The bartender handed you a new glass of wine and you took a sip. “Besides, these days all I do is work or go to weddings. The life of being a permanent wedding guest, I supposed.”

“Speaking of guests …” Jordan turned her head slightly, ogling Mingyu from where he was standing up and trying to decline your great aunt’s advances to dance. Your cousin giggled. “He isn’t the older guy I thought you’d bring.”

“Circumstances change.” You shrugged, and she gave you a look. “I’d rather not get into it.”

Jordan’s brow raised. “You guys are having sex though, right?”

You almost choked while taking another sip of your wine. “Absolutely not.”

“You sure?”

“Well, I –” You sighed, and then decided to suck down the rest of the glass in one go. Jordan whistled. “We did at one point. Very long time ago. But he’s Vernon’s friend and … it’s a long story.”

“Sounds like it,” she snorted, eyes flickering around the reception until they landed somewhere behind you. “Well, if you’re not having sex with him, my friend just might tonight.”

Your expression muddled, until she pointed over your shoulder. Turning around, you found Jordan’s Maid of Honor chatting up Mingyu near the stairs that lead to the restrooms. Her hand was inching up his sleeve and he was blushing at what you could only assume was a compliment coming from her lips. He was clearly enjoying the conversation, despite the intimate looks he was giving you earlier.

Classic fucking Kim Mingyu, you thought.

A pang of jealousy surfaced that you couldn’t control. It was probably best for everyone if you walked away and took a breather. After Joshua pulled his wife onto the dance floor, you adjusted the tight silk of your dress and headed for the bathrooms. You walked past them, your perfume wafting past Mingyu’s nostrils, a scent he would know anywhere.

Instead of going inside the bathroom, you decide to stand in the empty hall connected to the venue and brace your back against the cool wall. You sighed, gathering yourself, completely unaware it wasn’t just you here until you heard the squeak of someone else’s shoes.

“I noticed you were empty,” Mingyu muttered as a way of greeting. He was holding two glasses of rosé between his fingers, stepping down the small staircase to get to you.

It was just you two now, and he was handing you the glass while standing so close that you could smell his cologne. Had this dress always felt that tight, or could you just not breathe right now? You watched the way his eyes flickered to your mouth, and it took everything in you not to yank him closer by the tie. Instead, you took a big gulp of rosé.

“You didn’t have to come after me,” you remarked, and then nodded your head in the direction of the Maid of Honor now on the dance floor. “You looked like you were having fun.”

Mingyu simply tilted his head to the side, studying you carefully.

“She’s pretty. Don’t stop on my account, but please be aware that we are sharing a room so you can’t bring anyone back there.”

Mingyu’s lips slowly curved into a grin. “Are you jealous?”

You scoffed, “No. I’m just … being realistic.”

Taking your half empty glass from your hand, he set them both down on a side table right near the women’s restroom. Your mouth opened, but the words died as soon as he placed a hand beside your head on the wall. He was so tall that he towered over you, even in heels, leaning into your space with pretty, half-opened eyes as he stared at your glossy lips.

“Can I be realistic with you?” He didn’t give you a moment to answer. “I cannot stop thinking about our last night together. I know you probably thought it happened because of the weed, but I … these past two months, it’s all I’ve been thinking about. And it’s killing me that I’ve been trying to be normal this whole night when all I’ve wanted to do is drag you away and make you cum again.”

Your breath hitched slightly at his words. He leaned in then, grazing his nose over the side of your face, desperate to be in your orbit. You took your bottom lip between your teeth and tried to control your heart rate, but how was that even possible when Mingyu’s other hand was brushing up and down your side, tangled in the silk.

“Well, that …” You swallowed hard. “That wouldn’t be a good idea considering all my family is here.”

He tsked under his breath. “Obviously, it wouldn’t be, but …” You felt his nose at your jaw, inhaling the scent of your perfume again, the one that made him crazy. And he damn near groaned in your ear.

“Mingyu, you … you –”

“Fuck, how could you think I’m looking at anyone else here when you look this good in your dress?” His voice had taken on that needy tone he always got when he was horny. It almost felt like a reward to be able to hear it again. “I’ve been half-hard this entire reception just from looking at you, remembering the way you tasted …” He muttered another curse.

This was how he always acted. Mingyu could be so desperate and pleading when he wanted to get someone in bed, needy to the point he would do anything just to please you, but god – you couldn’t deny how much you liked it. He was reeling you in. You were like fish to bait.

Slowly, he laced your dominant hand with his and moved it from his belt buckle to his groin. You could barely breathe when you felt him harden under your touch, and then you remembered you were still in a public hallway, where just about anyone could walk by.

Your eyes met his half-lidded ones as he murmured, “Look what you’re doing to me.”

And god help you, because you whimpered at the sound of his voice, slick starting to gather between your thighs.

“Okay, Mingyu, just …” You sighed, composing yourself because you knew he wasn’t going to any time soon. Your hand slipped away from his and he huffed, his forehead falling to rest on your shoulder. “Go to our room and let me make my rounds. I’ll meet you up there.”

He stood up. For a moment, he was almost tempted to drag you into the bathroom and bury his face between your legs, too hungry to let you get away now. But one of your uncles was walking down the hall, and you separated quickly. With a nod, you walked back to the reception and said goodbye to your family that you didn’t get to talk to for too long prior. Jordan gave you a look when you mentioned about going to bed early, and even Josh told you how weird you were being, but your cousin shut him up and sent you a wink.

You exhaled heavily and headed back to hotel on the other side of the venue. Slipping your heels off once you were inside the elevator, you debated if giving into Mingyu this easily was the smart thing to do. Smart? Definitely not. But would it be enjoyable? You didn’t need to answer that question. Mingyu knew what he was doing.

As you unlocked the door to your hotel room, you began to wonder if you were just setting yourself up to be hurt again. He didn’t come back to you like this in college, but what’s stopping him from telling you that he’s “just not that into you” at the next wedding? Or what if he just thought of you as an easy hookup that would get his dick wet every 2 months? Well, you hadn’t done that yet –

Yet. Yet. Yet.

The word repeated in your head like a melody, because when you threw your purse down and saw Mingyu walking out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower and dressed in only a towel around his waist, you realized that you were most definitely getting his dick wet tonight. Whether it was in your mouth or somewhere deeper, you were salivating for it.

He was smiling at you and you were smiling at him and Jesus, he was so goddamn handsome that you couldn’t believe that he was the one desperate for you. Droplets of water trickled down his tan skin and that towel around his waist was just barely holding on. His torso was chiseled and his arms – fuck, his biceps were bigger than you remembered. He was something out of a dream – some horny, fucked-up dream that you only had after masturbating before bed.

He was on you instantly, pushing you against the wall and kissing you hard. Sighing into the kiss, your hands fist into the towel to yank him closer, but it only makes the flimsy fabric fall. You break away for a moment to mutter, “Oh, shit,” but his lips can’t stay away from yours for long. And he’s laughing, like you did exactly what he wanted. You were too hypnotized by the scent of his body wash to care.

Dragging his lips down your neck, he sucked at the spot that he knew made your thighs press together, grinning proudly against your skin when you moaned. His fingers gripped the soft silk of your dress, slowly pulling the fabric up to feel you that much closer. But it wasn’t enough. No matter how much he liked you in this dress – and god, did he like you in this dress – he needed you out of it. Now.

Mingyu unzipped your dress with precision, setting it down on one of the two beds in the room, and both of you were suddenly wishingthere was only one. His hands smoothed down your sides, his breath hot against your mouth. He just wanted to feel you everywhere. He almost didn’t want to step away, afraid you’ll slip through his fingers like sand. When you two had hooked up in college, it was quick and explosive, letting out the tension that had been building for years. There was so much territory for him to cover now, so many ways for him to find out what made you whine and sigh with pleasure. But, if he were being honest, all he wanted right now was for you to –

“Sit on my face,” he begged, caging you into the wall, pressing his hard cock against your stomach. So desperate for just an ounce of friction, so hungry for another taste of you. He could literally start drooling at the thought of it. He was mesmerized by you; he’d do anything you asked just to have your pussy on his tongue again.

But you seemed to be debating your options, biting you lip again, and he wished that didn’t turn him on even more. You were just so pretty, and the way your face scrunched as you decided on something was a sight he couldn’t help but think about when he touched himself, even all those years ago. It was just you. You.

Eventually, your face relaxed, and you replied, “Well, you don’t have to beg me.”

Mingyu’s lips pulled into a smile, and he laughed while pulling you down onto the nearest bed. Despite his request, you continued to straddle his torso and kiss him for just a little while longer. He was needy, moaning into your mouth whenever his cock bumped against your ass, but all you wanted to feel his lips on yours, tangle your tongue with his, even if it was just for another minute.

You forgot Mingyu was stronger than you, though. It wasn’t much longer before he was yanking your body up and turning you around so you knelt just above his face. He inhaled the scent of your pussy and almost breathed a sigh of relief, but instead muttered, “Such a tease sometimes.”

Now that you were hovering above him, you were suddenly self conscious about how excited you were and if your arousal was seeping onto his face. You couldn’t even see if he was thrilled or not, since he had turned you to face away from him, but the way his cock jumped in front of your eyes told you enough. His hands gripped your thighs tight. “I don’t want to crush you,” you said nervously.

“You could suffocate me and I wouldn’t have a problem with it."

You chewed on your bottom lip. His tone was firm, probably the most serious you’d ever heard from him. But you were embarrassed and this was crazy and you still so wet. With flushed cheeks, you asked, “Mingyu, are you –”

“Yes,” he answered before pulling you down onto his face.

He wasn’t teasing you tonight. He was devouring you without even letting you catch your breath. His tongue swiping at your clit before he sucked on it – hard. So hard that you let you a sound that was a mixture of a yelp and a moan. Gripping you roughly, he spread you wider, drinking more of you in. Your hips moved on their own, grinding against his face, which made him groan into your pussy. The vibration in his voice spread throughout your entire body, goosebumps lining your flesh. “Mingyuuu,” you whined, begging for more, and you could practically feel him smirk as he flicked at your swollen clit.

Leaning forward, you turned your head up and noticed again just how hard he was. His cock had always been perfect: the perfect size, dark pink at the tip, veins etched into the shaft. Precum beaded at the head, sliding down every so slowly, as he throbbed and ached and – god, his hips were almost thrusting into the air now. You didn’t doubt he could get off for hours on this, but that didn’t mean he needed to be unsatisfied.

Besides, you wanted something to do with your mouth anyway.

Mingyu whimpered as you shifted slightly to reach his cock. Your body stretched, your mouth at the perfect angle as you flicked the head with your tongue. He pulled you back towards his mouth, shoving his tongue inside your tight hole and making you gasp at the same time you licked a stripe up his shaft. His tongue worked you open while you swirled your own along the tip, and then finally took him into your mouth.

The grunt he released should’ve caused an earthquake.

You bobbed your head up and down his shaft, choking when he bucked into your mouth. You could hardly breathe, taking every opportunity to inhale through your nose, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. God forbid, you have a hobby like wanting Kim Mingyu’s cock in your mouth. He took the liberty of grinding you against his face with his own hands, wrapping his lips around your clit again, eager to taste your climax. And to be honest, he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last if you kept sucking on his tip like that. He groaned each time, feeling your tongue circle his head before going back down, taking as much as you could, as if you were rewarding him. And he just couldn’t help but whine along with you.

Your lips pulled off him to kitten lick the veins along the sides of his shaft, and you breathily asked, “Are you close?”

His only response was a moan straight into your pussy.

You nodded, even if he couldn’t see it, before your mouth opened like second nature. You spit on his cock and stuffed him down your throat once again. Head moving faster, you were slobbering on him like a dog in heat, trying not to gag and failing. Your free hand snaked up to cup one of his balls, and the sound he released was deafening. His tongue flicked and sucked at your clit like he had nothing left to live for, hungry for every last drop of your essence.

But then you were cumming, and he was too not long after.

You cried, choking on his cock as you came all over his face. White blurred in your vision, and you were a mess of sweat and spit and so much cum. He exploded in your mouth a moment later, hot seed running down your throat, and you consumed all of it. Neither of you wanted to miss out on the taste of each other. It was filthy, intoxicating, how much you liked this. How much you could suck him off over and over again, and not get tired of him.

You didn’t know it at the time, but Mingyu would say the same about you. If not worse.

He could spend all day between your thighs and never want to leave.

When you both finally angled off each other, spent and exhausted, your breathing was heavy and off by two seconds. Mingyu was glancing over at you before you could even process, a smile playing at his swollen lips. He brushed away a strand of hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

“Mingyu,” you finally said, “has anyone ever told you that you have boyfriend dick?”

Mingyu had wanted to tell you how much he’d been dreaming of that moment, how much you had haunted his dreams and left him waking up so hard that he felt he was going through puberty again. Sometimes he dreamed of how good it would feel when he finally slipped into you, inch by inch. You’d feel like home.

Save the Date for the wedding of Lee Seokmin and Quinn Song: July 31st

You couldn’t go a day without talking to Mingyu. Whether it be through text or over the phone, you were joking with him, telling him about your day, and vice versa. Just a month prior, you had tried keeping your distance, but now … you simply couldn’t help yourself. It was like there was a voice inside your head telling you to contact him, to send him a funny video you saw that day, to tell him about the show you were currently watching. And on nights when you had too much to drink, that voice made you text him that you missed him. He always said he missed you too.

Mingyu: I’m watching that show you recommended

Mingyu: kinda wish you were watching it with me

Mingyu: but I’m still content here and I can see why you like it so much

You: right?? I knew you’d like it!

You couldn’t help but giggle at your phone when his texts came through. And you answered them immediately, like you always did.

Mingyu: what are you doing right now?

You: wouldn’t you like to know

Neither of you made the effort to go on an actual date. It was all just flirty texts with a TikTok mixed in every once in a while. Promises about going back to that coffee shop someday, but never planning the day. To be honest, this was one of those moments where you were glad Mingyu was so uncommitted. If you started going on dates that didn’t include a vow exchange in between, it would be so easy to fall for him again, and then be let down when he eventually didn’t want to see you after wedding season.

Mingyu: I mean that’s why I asked

You: I’m hanging out with

A pillow was suddenly thrown at your head. “Ow!” You shouted, head shooting up from your phone to glare at Vernon sitting on the other side of the couch. “What the hell was that for?”

“Anakin is literally burning alive and all you can do is look at your phone!” Vernon scoffed, turning Revenge of the Sith back on. You set your phone down on your lap as he muttered, “Kinda wish I never won that bet.”

Vernon, obviously, was becoming increasingly annoyed that you and Mingyu had rekindled … whatever this was. Sometimes you wondered if you were talking to Mingyu more than your best friend, but given the way Vernon was acting, that was probably the case. You probably shouldn’t even be texting Mingyu while hanging out with Vernon. Bad friend move; happens to the best of us.

You apologized to Vernon in the best way possible: you bought him fried chicken from his favorite spot.

As summer came along, so did Seokmin and Quinn’s wedding at the end of the month, an invitation that was barely hanging on by an old Britney Spears magnet on your fridge. Quinn Song had been your first ever roommate out of college. You both had met on a Facebook group to find roommates in the area and quickly hit it off. She had been your roommate up until last year actually, when her now-fiancé Lee Seokmin asked her to move in with him. It was at that point that you finally decided to live alone, besides the few days out of the week that Vernon crashed at your apartment.

The wedding was being held on a pretty island in the northeast, nestled on the expansive grounds of a bed and breakfast in the area. The spot felt warm and lived in, the exact kind of place you imagined Quinn would get married at.

Meeting Mingyu at the airport had been awkward, but at the very least, you two were sitting in different rows of the plane. Maybe it shouldn’t have been as cringe-worthy as it was, given the fact that you two had been talking nonstop, but it was the memory that the last time you did see each other in person, you were sitting on his face and his cock was so far down your throat –

Mingyu had found your eyes a couple rows behind him on the plane. Even he was blushing now, as if he could read your thoughts.

You had rented a car once you reached your destination and threw him the keys, letting him drive the convertible down the coast while the summer breeze whipped through your hair. You tried not to notice the way his hand twitched on the gear shift, like he was itching to place his palm on your thigh, to ground himself to your presence. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Especially when all you could do was stare out the window with a big smile on your face.

Unfortunately, you had to book a room at a small hotel near the bed and breakfast since all the rooms were used for the wedding party. The hotel was quaint, but definitely old and smelled like the Febreze scent your mom used to love when you were a kid. Your room was tinier than the pictures implied, but it was on the first floor and had a screen door that opened to a pretty view of the ocean. You didn’t have much time to enjoy it though, considering that the ceremony was in a few hours and the reception would probably carry on until way past midnight.

You decided to rewear the floral sundress that made a previous appearance at Chan and Adrianna’s wedding. It wasn’t like anyone here was at that event, and honestly, you didn’t care. Throwing your hair up into a perfectly messy updo, you curled a few pieces and took your time with your diligent makeup routine. Mingyu was in his suit before you could even blink, biding his time while you got ready by watching past game recordings of the flag football team he taught and trying to identify key moves they missed out on. As you finished up and clumsily slipped on your shoes, the perfume you sprayed seemed to beckon him like a siren song, and suddenly, he was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

Your brows shot up. “Done with your flag football research?”

“You’re beautiful,” he replied.

You turned, unable to stop your lips from pulling into a soft smile. His expression was so warm, cheeks tinged slightly pink either from embarrassment or a nasty sunburn. He was beautiful. In ways you couldn’t even comprehend.

Holding out your necklace to him, you asked, “Can you help me put this on?”

He nodded, plucking the dainty chain from your palm. You moved back to the mirror as he struggled to open the clasp with his thick fingers, but he got it eventually. Placing the thin, gold chain around your neck, you watched the small, star-shaped pendant sit so delicately under your collarbones. He fixed the clasp on your neck, his fingers brushing the top of your spine, and you watched him lean forward in the mirror.

His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, breath hot and making the hairs on your neck stand up. “I meant it, by the way,” he whispered, and then placed the softest of kisses behind your ear.

Your breath hitched, and you were unable to form a single coherent thought. For the first time in a while, he was catching you by surprise. He was moving back, and you noticed him smirk in the mirror, knowing exactly how he was affecting you. That annoying asshole –

“Ready to head out?” He asked, grabbing his wallet from the desk.

You huffed and tugged the strap of your purse onto your shoulder. “Of course.”

The grounds of the bed and breakfast were bigger than you assumed, enough to fit an extremely large tent and hardwood floor for all the guests to congregate. The ceremony was held near the shoreline of the ocean, and it was so, unapologetically Quinn to have a few seashell pins in her veil as she walked towards her husband. You had known Seokmin as long as Quinn had been your roommate, but you had never seen this kind of smile on his face until now. He completely lit up at the sight of her, and he didn’t waste a second to say, “I do,” once his time came.

As the guests crowded into the tent for the reception, Mingyu seemed to hold onto you like a toddler with it’s parent. His arm was locked around yours, letting you lead him through the crowd, even though he was tall enough to see over the tops of everyone’s heads. His palm was so warm on your wrist, and then his fingers were so easily lacing through yours, and you squeezed because you simply couldn’t help yourself.

You were able to find your table easily, but you didn’t recognize the other people already there. They introduced themselves as Seokmin’s friends, and you remembered seeing one or two of them at a bar. You still couldn’t get a read on these people, and found yourself swiftly growing silent around their shared camaraderie. But Mingyu was suddenly so talkative, catching along with their jokes just as quickly, so you stood and whispered in his ear, “Do you want a drink?”

He leaned back to meet your eyes, and you swore time stopped for a moment. His hand reached down, squeezing your wrist, as he said, “You know what I like.”

Jesus. Fuck. Since whendid he have you this wrapped around his finger?

(Probably since sophomore year of college.)

You nodded, swinging your head in the direction of the bar, and your feet had started to head there when you halted in place. It almost felt like your heels were glued to the floor as you found the face of the last person you expected to be here. The only face that could make all the noise drown out around you.

Your ex.

He still had that same curl that always got in his eyes. He was wearing the same suit he wore to your mother’s engagement party last year. The same watch on his wrist; the same cufflinks. Same. Same. Same. And now, he was meeting your eyes across the room. Bodies formed in clusters under the tent – some hugging, some stumbling into each other – but he was unable to look away.

Until a head popped up in front of him, standing from her chair at the table. Her wedge sandals almost made her taller than him, and her dress looked expensive enough that he probably bought it. You didn’t know her, but you knew of her. Well, at least, you knew what the back of her head looked like, and that was her right there.

You couldn’t forget the night even if you tried. Exhaustion had your shoulders sagging as you unlocked the door to your boyfriend’s apartment. He didn’t typically keep it locked, but you had a key anyway. You remembered how quiet the place was, except for the soft sounds echoing from his bedroom. At first, you thought he was just masturbating, and to be honest, you were too tired to engage in anything tonight. But a voice in your head had urged you to move, to go, go, go towards his room. And you were slowly pushing open the door, only to find your boyfriend fucking your 22-year-old neighbor from behind, yanking on her short hair like a leash. You had been too scared to move, too scared to breathe, but eventually, you had started wailing. His eyes had found yours – exactly like in this moment – and he screamed, slipping away completely as your back slid to the floor. He had tried explaining, tried to yell at the young girl, but everything had drowned away in that moment, and all you could hear was the ringing in your ears –

Your breathing was growing rapid, just like that day at his apartment. Sprinting to the inside of the bed and breakfast, you tried to act normal and say hello to whoever you knew mingling by the bathroom. But something was clearly very wrong. It was evident in your eyes, the way tears were pricking at the sides. You almost thought the universe was pulling a cruel prank on you, but then you remembered that it was Quinn who had introduced you two in the first place, that he had been a friend of a friend.

Climbing up the staircase in the lobby, you plopped yourself down on the middle step and let your face fall into your hands. You began to count your breaths – one, two, three, one, two, three – anything to make you get a semblance of control. But you could feel your brain spinning, and your heart was beating too fast. Was this what it felt like to die? Was your cheating ex going to be the last face you saw before you completely slumped against this staircase? Vernon always said you had a flair for the dramatic. What a fitting way to end.

You felt a weight sink into the plush carpet next to you, and you lifted your head, tears brimming your eyes.

“You do realize that this isn’t your party. You can’t cry if you want to,” Mingyu joked, reaching out and swiping the tear at your lash line. His eyes softened then, looking at you like you were something fragile, like a baby bird. “What’s wrong?” His voice was hardly about a whisper.

You sniffled, dabbing at the corners of your eyes with your knuckles. The last thing you needed was your makeup messed up. “This is so embarrassing. I’m crying over something so …” Your words trailed off, noticing that he was leveling a look at you. You sighed before admitting, “I forgot that the bride, Quinn, might invite my ex because they were friends. Somewhat.”

“Your ex? As in that ex?” His brow shot up, and you nodded. “Did he come alone?”

You looked down at your hands in your lap, and after a moment, you watched his large palm slowly envelope one of yours. The rough pads of his fingers – the hands of a cook – brushed over your knuckles, and his touch was so warm that it could burn.

His voice was soft in your ear as he said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

You chuckled a little, turning to look at him again. “Then we’d be sitting on this staircase forever.”

He smiled at you and stretched out his long legs. “That’s fine with me.”

Your lips pursed, and you found him staring at them for a moment. A sigh escaped, and you glanced down at your laced hands. How perfectly they fit together, how he held you with such a fierce softness. His thumb grazed the scar on your knuckle that you got the first time you fell off your bike. Finally, you answered, “He came here with the girl he cheated on me with.”

Mingyu didn’t speak, but you did hear him do a sharp intake.

“She’s twenty-two. She didn’t – she doesn’t know any better. He’s in his early thirties and he’ll do it again,” you continued, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. “I found them in his apartment after I came home from a late meeting at work. It was … messy. Walking in on them, the fallout, now this … everything about that breakup has felt like one big mess. And now, I have to see him here and be reminded of it all–fucking–over again.”

You didn’t even dare to meet his eyes as the next words tumbled out of your mouth, already feeling your voice start to break again. “It didn’t just hurt because I found them. It hurt because … I never wanted to become my mother. I love her. I really do. But the last thing I ever wanted was to become her. Be in the same situation as her. And yet, there I was, witnessing yet another infidelity that would affect my life for what seems like forever.” You rubbed at your running nose. “I found my father cheating too. It wasn’t exactly the same. I found him kissing my best friend’s mom in my parent’s bedroom one night when my mother stayed at work too late. The sentiment still stands, and history was always bound to repeat itself. Daughters always become their mothers and I always have to bear witness to another man not choosing to stick around –”

Mingyu stopped you by turning your face towards his, one hand cupping your cheek. His thumb skimmed the tears running through your blush. He didn’t say anything; his eyes let you know that he was here. That he was sticking around. Despite everything you thought of him, despite your past – Mingyu was here.

He held you for as long as you needed, gathering you in his arms and cradling your head against his shoulder. He let your tears soak into the fabric of his expensive suit, promising he’d get it dry-cleaned, which made you laugh. Your fingers clutched his lapels and you almost considered not letting go. You would give anything to stay in this bubble, to sit on this staircase in his embrace forever.

“I meant what I said all those months ago,” he said, his voice muffled from his lips at the crown of your head. “I would kill any guy that has done you wrong. Do you want me to kill him?”

You chuckled and raised your head from his shoulder. “What are you gonna kill him with? A butter knife?” You shook your head. “No chef is gonna let you in that kitchen tonight to grab a weapon. You of all people should know that.”

Mingyu grimaced. “This conversation is getting morbid.”

Another laugh bubbled at your lips. “You brought it up!”

“And you’re smiling again,” he said, making your hands hold onto him tighter. “That’s all I could ask for.”

Such simple words could take your breath away, especially when they came from his mouth. You searched his eyes for a moment, your fingers now smoothing out the creases in his lapel. Eventually, you whispered, “I don’t know if I can survive this whole reception. I hate the awkward tension, but I should stay for Quinn.”

“Trust me, I know,” he snickered, and his hand covered over yours as an anchor. “I say we stay at the reception for as long as your comfortable. Then we go to bed early. Whatever works for you.”

Your smile was so kind as you nodded along with his plan. After touching up your makeup, you took his hand and let him lead you back to the reception. Once you saw Quinn in her short, after party dress and looking at Seokmin with stars in her eyes, you instantly felt more at ease. This was her day; you wouldn’t let one person sour it. And Mingyu, clearly, wasn’t going to let your own nerves sour it either. Anytime you locked eyes with your ex, there Mingyu was, distracting you by whispering in your ear how pretty you looked or asking you about your best memories while living with Quinn. There was one moment where you saw your ex heading in your direction, assuming he was finally going to talk to you, and Mingyu stood up to whisk you onto the dance floor. His large arms enveloped you, holding you close, as you swayed to one of your favorite songs. Everything about him felt safe, secure, and he even let you stand on his feet when you told him you had never been that good at dancing. And when you looked at him, you noticed that he was staring at you like how Quinn looked at Seokmin during her speech. Even when you had cried, had let him in, see parts of you that not even Vernon touched … he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

You stayed at the reception far longer than anticipated. When you told Mingyu that you were too tired to stay any longer, he didn’t question it. He simply grabbed your purse and jacket before taking your arm in his, walking the short distance back to your Febreze-ridden hotel. The first thing you did once you were back in your room was take off your heels. They were only a kitten heel, but your feet were already blistering, and you winced as you went to the bathroom to wash off your makeup. Mingyu had set your stuff down on the small desk before walking out onto the deck connected to your room. You craned your neck out, assuming he was going to smoke a joint, but he was just staring at the ocean, noticing how loud the waves crashed against the shore.

You padded out of the bathroom and leaned against the door frame for a moment, admiring him in the dim light. It almost left in you in disbelief how you had roped Kim Mingyu, one of the most attractive men you’d ever met and probably one of the longest crushes you’d ever had in your life, into being your wedding date for an entire year. He had a lost a bet, but he really didn’t have to be here. He didn’t have to invest in a new suit. He didn’t have take the time off from his two jobs. He didn’t have to listen to your trauma, or look at you like you were this painting to be worshipped, this Mona Lisa of sorts. Mingyu could’ve said no.

But he didn’t.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you finally informed him, and he turned to meet you eyes. “Can you help me out of my dress?”

He nodded diligently, following you to the bathroom. You pulled your hair up with one hand, and with deft fingers, he slid the zipper down your back. Typically, you would hold the dress to your chest until he left the bathroom, out of respect, but you were letting it pool at your feet tonight. You stepped out of it, your gaze locking with his as you turned on the shower. You were giving him this look and he was still standing there in his half-buttoned dress shirt, hands forming into fists as he fought the urge touch you. Waiting for a sign. Waiting for your permission.

But you didn’t even have to say anything. Your eyes said the words for you. As you climbed into the standing shower, he took his time removing his suit, pretending as if he wasn’t fucking dying to have his hands on you, and then he was behind you, the hard panes of his chest flush against your back. He closed the shower door as the glass began to fog up.

The water was scalding as it rained down on your head, steam forming around the small bathroom. You could still feel the dried tears on your face, imprinted underneath your makeup all night, and you did your best to wash them away. Mingyu noticed the way your shoulders sagged, the way you sighed while you were lost in thought, and as much as wanted touch you in places that made those sweet sounds fall from your lips, he held himself back. Instead, he let his hands comb through your wet hair before scrubbing shampoo into the strands. You relaxed against him, closing your eyes as he washed your hair.

It was so domestic that you could cry.

(Again.)

The last person you ever thought could be capable of this kind of care was Mingyu. You both had known each other for eight years, and not once had he displayed this kind of person around you. Or maybe you just weren’t paying attention, too lost in your own perception of him. Even now, you couldn’t help but remind yourself of when he avoided you after the hookup in senior year. He really isn’t the same guy, Vernon’s voice echoed in your head. Give him a chance. You had never trusted those words, but in this moment … you realized where you had went wrong.

The water began to get cold when it came time to wash his own hair and you could tell he was struggling to rush. His mannerisms made you giggle, and even though the steam began to dissipate from the room, you still turned to his front and rested your forehead on his chest, letting the lukewarm water beat down your neck.

When you walked out of the shower, you had never felt more fresh and at ease. Your body was all warm and you had brought the comfiest pajamas for summer weather. The breeze wafting off the ocean blew through your room from the open screen door, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore could lull you to sleep.

But right now, it seemed like neither of you were keen on the subject. As you slipped under the covers next to each other, you were grateful that there was only one bed: one large, king-sized bed that both of you could be using to spread out. Instead, you were huddled close, hair still wet from the shower, and his arms locked around you like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. Your hands cupped his face, studying parts of him that you didn’t think of in your previous lust-induced hazes. Fingers traced his lips, brushed over the tip of his nose – where his tiny mole was stamped – before you skimmed the shell of his ear.

You almost didn’t recognize your own voice as you whispered, “Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime,” he smiled.

A beat of silence. Hands stilled. Lips pursed.

“Mingyu?”

“Yeah?”

“Please, kiss me.”

His mouth was on yours before you could even finish the sentence, but he still took his time exploring new ways to make you moan into the kiss. He kept one hand splayed on your back, pressing you further into him, while the other played with the hem of your loose t-shirt. Your hands knotted into his hair as he kissed you slow, savoring you like a fine meal. And you simply let him. You were like molten lava, melting in the palm of his calloused hands.

You felt his fingers prod at the waistband of your shorts, and it was game over. Slipping them under, he practically whined into your mouth when he realized you hadn’t put any panties on after the shower. His mouth disconnected from yours, fingers sliding between your slick folds. “Are you trying to kill me?” He breathed against your lips.

“In my defense,” you chuckled softly, “I forgot to bring them to the bathroom.”

He laughed with you, and you were debating on crying again because he was so kind and good and definitely just as obsessed with you as you were with him. No matter how many times you didn’t want to admit it, you had somehow fallen into Kim Mingyu’s trap once again.

He kissed you again, hungrier this time, as he spread you open with his fingers. You whimpered, but he swallowed it with his tongue and began to rub tight circles on your clit. Your leg lifted, hooking onto his waist, and you bucked against his hand. Your body felt like it was on fire, but Mingyu was careful, plucking your strings like a guitar, and you needed moremoremore. Pushing two fingers inside of you, his kiss was like a sound barrier as he consumed all your sweet sounds, as if that would allow him to hear them forever.

It was only when you came apart that he dragged his lips to your neck, wanting to focus on your moans as he fucked you with his fingers. He felt you shake, your pussy squeezing his thick fingers, and he kept rubbing your clit through it, wanting to prolong your orgasm as much as possible. If not for you, then for him, just so he could hear you. He would make you cum as many times as you wanted if it meant he could hear his name falling from your lips.

Neither of you wanted to stop; all fumbling hands and shaky limbs as he finally tugged your shorts off. It was a lot more difficult to take off his boxers without separating from you, but you laughed and you were so pretty that he almost forgot what he was doing in the first place. Once he was situated, you rolled on top of him, straddling his lap. You held his face in your hands, and for a moment, you could almost see reflections of the dark ocean outside in his starry gaze. Your palms drifted down, fingertips tracing the hard panes of his chest. He was all muscle, sculpted like your very own David statue; his complexion so similar to golden hour personified.

You lifted your t-shirt off and tossed it onto the floor. Mingyu was already so hard that it hurt, but he took a few more seconds to stare at you. He wanted to remember this moment forever: the sight of you on top of him, naked and vulnerable, hair wet and a faint blush on your cheeks.

Sitting up on your knees, you positioned yourself right over his cock and gripped the shaft to get the perfect angle inside of you. You were looking at him and he was looking at you as you lowered yourself slightly, grazing his tip against your wet slit, still dripping from your previous orgasm. Mingyu groaned at the sensitivity, throwing his head back against the pillow and muttering, “This is so mean.”

“You like when I’m mean,” you giggled, repeating the same words you uttered that fateful night after Chan’s wedding, when Mingyu’s face was buried between your thighs.

And Mingyu recognized it too, a grin making it’s way to his lips. But that was soon replaced by look of complete bliss as you finally sunk down onto his cock. He was the perfect size, filling you just right but never uncomfortable. He gave you a moment to adjust, but you could tell from his white-knuckled grip on your hips that he was damn near fighting the urge to thrust up into you. He didn’t though. He was patient and perfect and all yours.

You anchored yourself to him with one hand on his shoulder, beginning to rock into him at a snail’s pace. Your eyes connected, and even as he moaned underneath you, he was unable to stop smiling. Mingyu let you set the pace, and you took your time, getting to know what speed had him pulling your hips harder. The angle had him buried so deep inside that you could practically feel him in your stomach, and you sighed each time as you moved against him.

“Fuck,” he whined, shifting to sit up against the headboard. “I’ve needed you so bad.”

“I know, I know,” you confessed in a breathy whimper. “Me too.”

He was digging his fingers into your hips so hard that you were sure there’d be marks, but you didn’t care right now. You just wanted him, wanted this. Wanted to be this connected to him and feel him this deep and cum together as the waves crashed against the shore outside. He began to move you on his own accord, bouncing you on his cock as he leaned forward to nip and suck at your neck. “So pretty,” he mused against your skin, breath stuttering as your walls tightened. “So pretty sitting on my cock.”

You were the one whining now, raking your fingers into his dark strands as your thigh muscles burned. Your breasts jumped with each slam of his hips against yours, and he planted hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, dipping his tongue into your collarbone, before latching his mouth around one of your nipples.

Your hands pulled at his hair. “Mingyu, please,” you cooed, not exactly sure what you were begging for. Just moremoremore.

His eyes lifted to yours and you watched him fucking smile while tugging at your nipple. You were melting like putty, and he was able to still move you with one hand, using his free one to cup your other breast and run his thumb over that nipple. Tears pricked at your eyes, feeling him pulse inside you with each pass. And when he started to thrust up into you, you were pretty sure that you were close to seeing stars.

“Wanna cum with you,” he rasped while switching breasts and flicking his tongue over your other nipple. “Please, wanna cum inside you.”

You nodded, too cock drunk to say anything besides, “Yesyesyes.”

He was rolling your hips now, practically rutting into you as he lifted his head from your chest, leaving a trail of spit. You leaned down and let his lips ghost over yours. Moans slipped from your mouth into his, and he was bouncing you on his cock so fast you almost couldn’t register to breathe. His breath was hot against your lips, so close he could feel his body shaking, but he needed you to be closer, needed to feel you tightened around him and milk him for everything he was worth.

Snaking a hand between your bodies, he found your clit easily, knowing your body better than anyone ever had. All you could hear in that moment was the sound of the ocean through your screen door and skin slapping against skin. You were so wet and warm and – shit, you were starting to clench around him. He rolled your clit between two fingers, and a whimper slipped out of his mouth when he felt your pussy clamp around his throbbing cock.

He needed to cum and so did you and – fuck, he could feel it, feel you, feel how deep he was inside.

He would do this forever if you asked.

“Fuck, Mingyu, oh my god, right there, right there –” You pleaded in his ear, feeling yourself tip right over that edge –

Then you were cumming.

And so was he.

You moaned his name like it was a prayer, shattering as you came undone. Your walls were squeezing him like a vice, and he was unable to hold himself back anymore, burying himself to the hilt before painting your insides white with his orgasm. Hips jerked, bodies went taunt. You felt your whole being dissolve into nothing but pleasure, molding yourself to him in his arms. When the rush of warmth started to fade and he felt your combined releases seep from between your thighs, he breathed out a sigh of relief, brushing kisses over your jaw.

You weren’t sure you were in your right mind. Everything was so hazy. But you didn’t want to move away just yet. Even when his cock started to go soft inside of you, you stayed connected to him, pushing his hair back from his forehead and whispering praises in his ear like, “You were so good … So good to me … My Mingyu … I’ve always been yours …” You could feel him smiling against your skin, his hands tracing circles on your lower back.

But as time seemed to stop and you felt peace for the first time in a while, you realized just how deep you had fallen. You were drowning in him.

Mingyu had wanted to tell you that it felt exactly like his dreams. If you were drowning in him, he had already sunk to the bottom a long time ago.

Save the Date for the wedding of Nathan Chaney and Your Mother: September 5th

Your mother was remarrying. Her and Nathan had been together since you went off to college, and then got engaged just a year after you graduated. They decided on a long engagement, choosing to plan out a destination wedding in the Caribbean. You thought it was crazy at first, but then your mother said, “If this is going to be my last wedding – and it is – I want to go out with a bang.” You couldn’t exactly blame her. After your dad had cheated and the divorce was finalized, you knew your mother deserved something like this. She deserved the world.

When she had called you just a week before the wedding, babbling on about who you were possibly bringing now that your ex was completely out of the picture, you paused. Holding the phone to your ear and watering one of your half-dead plants with the other, you said, “I’m … I’m going with Mingyu.”

“Vernon?” She asked, not believing what you said.

“Mingyu.”

“Like … the Mingyu from university? The football player?”

You sighed, playing with the dead leaves on the plant. “He was also – and still is – one of Vernon’s good friends.”

“Oh,” your mother said, more surprised than anything. “Well, you better watch for Nathan’s sister. If Mingyu looks anything like how I remember from Family Day, she will go buck wild over him.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” you chuckled.

The truth was … you weren’t exactly sure how this wedding was going to go. Ever since the last one, you had been progressively putting more distance between you and Mingyu. Once again. Your last night together had been so real … too real, and you wanted to save yourself from the heartbreak after this wedding when you never saw him again. As much as you hated to admit it, feelings were now involved, seeping into your bloodstream, until your heart thrummed like the sound of his name on your tongue.

Slowly pushing him away … it hurt, but it was better this way. Pain was temporary and so was your arrangement. You knew that going into it, so how did you end up in this mess? You remembered what had happened after Chan’s wedding, the way Mingyu looked at you as he was shotgunning smoke into your mouth and – yeah, you knew exactly how you ended up here.

If you kept telling yourself this was for the better, maybe you’d start believing it. Maybe your feelings would drift like smoke and your mother’s wedding would be a final farewell before you two went your separate ways.

But you had been doing that for a month now.

And those feelings refused to fade.

You had an early morning flight the day of your mother’s wedding. Typically, you wouldn’t be getting to a destination wedding on such short notice, but the ceremony was small. So small your mother refused to have a rehearsal dinner and no bridal party. It was about her and Nathan, and you had to respect that she was doing things her way this time around.

You had waited at your gate right before doors closed for Mingyu, since you were on the same flight. But he was clearly running late and you were much too awkward around him now to text him. So you finally got on the plane and found your seat, noticing the one seat in the back still left unoccupied. Once you had landed five hours later, you quickly headed to the hotel that Nathan had booked for the ceremony and reception. Your phone lit up as you hailed a ride.

Mingyu: I’m sorry, I got a new flight

Mingyu: I’ll be there just 2 hours after you land

Mingyu: I’ll make it for the ceremony. I promise

Feeling his anxiety radiate through your phone, you believed him, and then wondered if maybe this was a blessing in disguise. You were rewarded a few more hours of alone time before you had your last hurrah with Mingyu. Maybe if you buried your feelings deep enough, you wouldn’t tense up the second you saw his face. Maybe if you didn’t look into his eyes, you wouldn’t have the urge to kiss him. Or let him hold your hand. Or spread your legs to welcome him inside –

You dropped your lipgloss onto the bathroom counter, sick of your own thoughts. Your square-neck, baby blue dress was clinging to every curve, but you felt like you were being suffocated by the fabric. You had just finished doing your hair and makeup, but you couldn’t quite keep your thoughts at bay. Nerves batted against your skull, making your hands shake slightly. What would you do once Mingyu walked in? Would you avoid his stare? Would you tell him immediately how much you liked him and how this wouldn’t work out and you knew you set yourself up for heartbreak –

Maybe you needed a walk.

Grabbing a spare pair of sandals, you headed outside to walk the beach just along the grounds of the hotel. There was still an hour before the ceremony, and you could just see the planners putting finishing touches on the decorations laid out on the shore, where your mother wanted it to take place. Couples were still walking through the water. Kids were making sand castles. The sun was slowly beginning to set and the breeze was whipping your hair off your shoulders.

And you smiled, despite everything you were feeling. Because where there was an end, there would always be a new beginning.

“HEY!”

You spun around, your sandals sinking into the sand. Although you recognized his voice, the last thing you expected to see was Kim Mingyu running towards you in his pristine black tux, his tie loose around his neck and blowing in the breeze. It was like something out of a movie, the kind of movie where there was supposed to be a happy ending, but you knew you weren’t afforded luck like that in real life.

He stopped in front of you, running a hand through his hair. Sand sprinkled down the tops of his shoes.

“When did you get here?” You raised a brow.

“About twenty minutes ago. I flew in my tux because I figured I wouldn’t have enough time to change. But now it just kind of smells like …” He lifted the sleeve to his nose and inhaled. “Like peanuts and old plastic.”

You giggled, holding a hand to your mouth and just … staring at him. He was smiling at you, fangs poking out from under his top lip. His skin was even prettier in the sunset. His hair, despite the messy texture, was effortless and perfect. He embodied sunshine in its purest form.

“Well, you …” You looked to the water, your hands flexing at your sides. “You didn’t need to come find me out here.”

His voice was sweet, soft, like fresh sheets, when he replied, “Yes, I did.” His hand reached out a little, attempting to lace your fingers together, but he stuffed them in his pockets instead. “When I was wondering where you’d be, I remembered something you said to me in college … Do you remember Move-In Day of junior year when we had that bonfire with Vernon and a few other people? You really didn’t enjoy my company back then, but I sat next to you because you agreed to sharing that god awful cheap vodka we used to like.” He laughed when you grimaced. “We got to talking and I asked you, ‘If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?’ And you said something like, ‘I want to be walking on a beach. I’ve always felt the most calm with my toes in wet sand.’”

You blinked, wondering if you had heard him right. He … how did he … “You remember that?”

“I remember a lot of things.”

And there he was, reaching out again and brave enough to brush his fingers over your knuckles. You looked down, watching his hand interlock with yours, and his palms were balmy and calloused. They felt familiar, like home. And you simply couldn’t believe that you had deprived yourself of this.

“Did you mean it when you said, ‘I’ve always been yours?’”

Your head snapped up, tsking under your breath. Hand still intertwined with his, you pushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “You came all the way out here to ask me that?” You asked, flustered and agitated.

His brow shot up. “So that’s a yes then?”

Your mouth opened, but then closed when you realized that he caught you.

He added, his voice like velvet again, “Then why are you avoiding me? I can sense it.”

“Well, if you’re that sensitive to other people’s feelings than I guess that –” You paused, taking a deep breath as you gathered yourself. Your ears reddened. “Look, I think it’s pretty obvious that I’ve … I like you. A lot. But having feelings for you would be so messy. The last time I went through this, we hooked up and you hardly spoke to me after.”

Mingyu’s brow furrowed. “That was years ago.”

“You know how uncommitted you’ve always been,” you quickly remarked, even though you didn’t fully believe those words anymore. “Weren’t you the one that told me at the start of this that men never really grow up?”

His eyes narrowed a little. “Are you playing psychological warfare with me right now?”

Slipping your fingers away from his, you shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I’ve been your date to five weddings this year. It wasn’t just about losing some bet. I did it for you.” He stared at you incredulously. “Are you really going to hold me to a mistake I made six years ago? When I was a shitty 22-year-old that was terrified to tell the girl I liked for years that I was interested in her?”

“I never … I never thought you liked me back then.”

Mingyu’s gaze softened, and he tucked another curl behind your ear that blew in the wind. “I made you believe that I didn’t because it was easier than admitting my feelings. I was terrified of rejection. And an idiot.”

You couldn’t help but snort at his comment, but you knew this conversation was far from over. “Well, I …” You rubbed at your nose and turned away from him, facing the water that looked almost sapphire in color. The waves sparkled under the setting sun. “Wedding season is over after this and we can both go back to our normal lives. Vernon won’t flip a lid when he sees me texting you all the time and everything will be back to the way it was. I always prepared for you to just forget about me after this anyway.”

“I love Vernon, but this isn’t about him.” Mingyu stepped forward into your line of vision. “What if I don’t want to go back to the way things were?”

Your eyes flickered to his, and it was his turn to step closer again. His large palm cupped your cheek, his skin always so cozy and inviting that you just had to lean into him. Fingertips traced your brow bone as his gaze lingered on your lips.

“I don’t want to forget about you or never see you again. I want to be around you,” he confessed. “I … want to go on more dates with you. I want to be your date to more than just weddings.”

You hesitated, unraveling and dissecting each word in your head, before you came to the conclusion that … oh, my god, he had feelings for you too. Had you always been this much of an absolute moron?

Getting on your tiptoes, you closed the distance between you two, your lips crashing onto his like the water against the shoreline. Your body almost suctioned to his, bringing him even closer when your arms wound around his neck. He kept that one hand on your cheek, the other splaying on your lower back, like how he always did when he was nervous. But he had nothing to be nervous about, because you liked him and he liked you. The world felt like it was spinning, but also just right, and his tongue was licking into your mouth enough to make you feel breathless. You could do this forever, be this relaxed in his arms, kiss him as if it was only you two in your own world. And as he tugged on your bottom lip to make your breathing heavy, you decided that your dream had become a reality.

When you broke the kiss, your cheeks were definitely flushed, even under the layer of blush you put on. Mingyu grinned, tilting his head as he whispered, “So you have always been mine then?”

“Such a tease sometimes,” you repeated his fateful words from June.

You turned, tugging on his hand playfully as the waves begin to lick at the sand near your feet. “C’mon,” you chuckled. “If we’re late to this wedding, my mom will kill me before I can even think about calling you my boyfriend.”

Mingyu had wanted to ask you to marry him only two years later, and thank god, he finally found the words.

tag list: @syluslittlecrows @yeosayang @eisaspresso @healingmv @nightshadeblooming @dmstoyangyang @amaraeofsunshine @thepoopdokyeomtouched @reiofsuns2001 @tigerhoshii @yoongznme @nerdycheol @gyuguys @ninixgyu4eva @tokitosun @wooyugta @dawn-iscozy @thecowboy7 @wonu-won @whoisbaek15 @alexie-blog

4K notes · View notes

tobeholyistobeempty · 4 months ago

Text

joel miller • be quiet, or i’ll make you

“Tightest pussy I ever had. Goddamn. You wanna feel good, huh? I’ll make you feel good. Just lemme’ have it nice n’ deep, and I’ll get you back later. Let you sit on my face for hours. Make you cum till’ you’re cryin.”

WARNINGS - smut smut smut mdni, porn with some plot, forced proximity, feral!joel, risky/secret sex, brutal sex, size!kink, dubcon if you squint but mostly a mutual want situation, reader and joel have an unspoken relationship, copious amounts of dirty talk, piv, creampie, daddy dom joel.

The world ended in disaster.

You’ve lived with that knowledge for years now, and you think you’ve finally come to terms with the kind of things you’ll get from it. Pain. Loss. Destruction. The same chaos, day in day out, just in different forms.

You know that at this point you’ll be lucky if you survive until tomorrow; so you take it in stride.

And it’s with that thought that you find yourself following Joel into the city, your steps just as reluctant as he was to agree to this. You don’t particularly want to be out here — and neither does he — but you’ve been wanting to look for more medical supplies for a while now and Joel wasn’t about to let you go alone. Despite how much bitchin’ he did beforehand.

You can’t tell which is more depressing; the streets covered in broken glass and littered with remnants of a life long gone, or the buildings that are nearly crumbling to the ground. Neither are very pleasant to look at, but not many things are these days, so you keep moving. You have a job to do, and you don’t have too much time to do it — the sun won’t be up much longer, and you want to get the fuck out of here before the real dangerous kinds of people come out lookin’ for their next meal.

Or, whatever Joel had said earlier. Mostly just in attempt to scare you.

Minutes feel like hours as you keep your gaze pointed forward, and when you pass a shattered window belonging to some old broken down building, you don’t dare look inside.

You’d rather not know what lingers inside death eaten walls.

But it’s while you’re doing that, keeping your gaze ahead, that you miss the fact that Joel has stopped walking. When it finally registers that the world around you has gotten quieter - and when you finally do turn around - you’re surprised for two reasons.

The first being that he even stopped at all, and the second being the fucking look on his face.

“You alright?” You ask as you edge closer, glancing at the abandoned building that’s in front of him. It doesn’t look like anything remarkable, but there’s definitely something in the way he stares at it. “Joel, you still with me?”

He isn’t saying anything, his expression is rather blank — but you know him well enough to know that he’s not just seeing what’s right in front of him. He’s seeing something else entirely. He snaps back to attention faster than you would have expected at the sound of your voice, and when his eyes land down on yours - there’s something inside them that makes your heart sink.

“Somethin’s wrong.” Is all he says before he’s grabbing your wrist, and yanking you inside.

Your heart starts pounding faster, but you try your best to stay calm. He isn’t the kind of man who would panic without cause, so you know he must have seen something - or heard something - and you’re doing your best not to let that scare you.

“Joel—shit—what the hell—“ you stumble over rubble and pieces of broken furniture. “What’re you—“

He’s pulling you deeper into the building, not giving you a chance to stand still long enough to say more. When you get to a staircase he yanks you down a few steps, waiting for the sound of the door shutting behind you before shoving your shoulders back against the wall.

“You listen to me—“ he’s panting, words spat through grit teeth. “You’re gonna’ shut up, and you’re gonna’ stay quiet. Can you do that for me?”

The tone of his voice alone forces you to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from talking. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve seen him this serious. You’d almost forgotten that he was capable of producing this kind of tension - the kind that’s so palpable it could be cut with a knife.

So, you just nod, lips pressed into a thin line, and you hope that it’s enough.

“Alright.” He doesn’t seem certain of your answer, but he nods anyway, reaching for your wrist again and dragging you down the remaining stairs.

When you get to the bottom, he opens the door slowly, eyes darting around until they land on a nearby closet - and it’s only after the first step you take towards it that you hear noises on the floor above you.

Footsteps.

And way too fucking many for you to be comfortable.

The kind of heavy, laden-boot marching you’d dread to hear on good days - nevermind while you’re out in dangerous territory, trying your damnest to flee unseen. It’s only seconds before the steps grow louder, and you can feel your heart rate speeding up again - while Joel is staring at the ceiling with such intensity you think that he might just be able to will it to break if he so much as blinked at it.

Then, in a flash, he snaps out of it - dragging you toward the closet and shoving you inside before you can even think about protesting.

And god, is it fucking cramped.

The closet is small. Small enough that you have to force yourself closer to the wall so that he has space to squeeze inside behind you. And it’s within the first second that he shuts the door, and the darkness swallows you both whole - in which you realize you have a new problem altogether.

“Joel—“ you choke out as a heavy palm snakes around your waist, pressing tight against your belly. He’s a solid wall behind you, his front flush against your back, and all you can fucking feel is his hot breath against your ear - his stubble tickling your cheek. “What’s—“

“No talking.” And then he brings his free hand up to cover your mouth, and you have to stifle a noise that threatens to explode in your chest. “Not a fuckin’ word.”

You take solace in the fact that he can’t see how flushed your face becomes, but your stupid brain is working overtime - overanalyzing the feeling of his calloused palm against your lips, the heat of his mouth way too fucking close to your ear, his free hand that seems to be sliding lower down your abdomen—

“Stop squirming.” He whispers, all heat as his fingers press a little harder against your lower stomach.

You long to bark at him. I can’t control it.

But you can’t. So instead you try to focus on the sounds of the people upstairs. You try to pay more attention to the way your heart is threatening to break free through your sternum. Anything to try and take your mind off of the way he’s touching you - but he makes it so, so hard.

You’re certain you would have a better fighting chance if you were to try and move mountains.

Without even thinking, your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, and it’s then that his lips curve into a smile against your ear. And when the realization comes crashing down - the realization that he’s fully aware of what’s happening to you - you think you may just collapse.

Oh, god, this is torture.

If it were anyone else, you’d think this was a joke. You’d think that perhaps the way he’s touching you was some kind of attempt at making the terrifying just a little more tolerable, a little more exhilarating for different reasons - but this isn’t just anyone. This is Joel. And you know his mind never works like what. Instead, he simply acts on instinct - in ways that usually leave you reeling and your thoughts in a whirlwind.

You’ve been through this a million times with him.

Unsurprisingly, this time is no different.

And as you try to focus on the footsteps above you - desperately searching for a thought, a train of any kind to follow - his hand moves again, fingertips tracing the waistband of your dirt covered cargos - barely dipping between fabric and skin.

It’s slow, teasing, but it’s enough. And you don’t currently have enough control over yourself to stop your back from arching, pressing directly against the bulge in his jeans that’s growing impatiently despite himself.

And it’s the way he exhales in your ear, the way you hear him inhale right after before his nose brushes the shell of your ear — before his hand dips lower to trace the zipper of your fly — that you find yourself fighting for your life to swallow the moan that threatens to spill because the people on the second floor are now shouting and hollering, and the whole floor seems to quake under the force of their heavy boots.

A second passes. Then two, and then ten — there’s silence. You’re pretty sure the steps are now heading away from where you’re hiding, and you think Joel must agree because he slips his hand from your mouth, sliding it down your jaw.

“Joel—“ you choke out, the last syllables of his name sounding desperate. “I-we—“

And yet again, you aren’t able to finish, because he has a habit of taking the words you think you want to say straight from your chest. You aren’t able to process it until a moment later - when his mouth finds your neck, fingers slipping into your now unzipped cargo pants.

This isn’t what you meant.

You don’t have the chance to tell him that. You don’t have the cognitive ability to push the idea that this isn’t the time. You don’t even have enough room in your head to acknowledge how this could go so badly, so quickly. You’re too drunk on the high of his touch to think straight.

And when his fingers drag the lace of your underwear to the side - all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and pray to a God you’re sure you’ve never actually believed in that you’ll survive this without the shame over how fucking soaked you are eating you alive first.

His fingers find your clit, making slow, small circles. Just enough to make you keen. Just enough to make you forget who you are, and what you’re doing. You think if he keeps it up for any longer, the sounds trapped behind your teeth are going to jailbreak before you can get a handle on them. He knows it too - because it’s only a split second after that thought enters your mind, that he whispers gravel in your ear again.

“If y’can’t stay quiet, I’ll make you.” And it’s said with enough sternness to let you know that it isn’t a threat, it’s a promise. “Be good f’me.”

You don’t know if you can. You don’t know if you can possibly keep yourself silent. Not when his lips are teasing your burning flesh, not when his fingers are rolling your clit, not when he’s whispering promises of heaven in your ear.

But it’s then, that you hear the floorboards creak, and you know then, that you have no choice.

Either find a way to stay silent, or throw yourself headfirst into danger.

“Mm.” He hums as his fingers slip lower, sliding along your slit until they find your embarrassingly wet heat - to which you find yourself widening your feet despite yourself.

And this time, the noise that slips isn’t audible. Not to him anyway. But you can feel the sound vibrate the back of your throat. You can feel the way it glides over your tongue - and when you have the wherewithal, you bite down on your bottom lip, hard enough that it’s almost painful. He doesn’t seem to notice, and you’re glad because you know he’d only find it funny.

He pushes a finger into you, and holy fuck—

“Oh—“ the sound gets out of your mouth before you can stop it, involuntarily defying his direct order to shut the fuck up.

You hope, foolishly, it was quiet enough for him to not hear.

It isn’t, and as a result the hand that had been sitting lazily around your jaw slips firm over your mouth again, yanking your head back against his shoulder. You feel his fingers tighten as if to let you know that it’ll only get harder as his finger pushes deeper, and then retreats, pumping into you slow and steady.

“F-fuck—“ your whine is smothered against his palm, and you somehow have half the mind to realize the footsteps have stopped. Vanished. “J-joel.”

You’re expecting some type of response, some biting be quiet — but instead, all you get is a deep grunt in your ear and a roll of his hips against your ass as he slides another finger into your cunt, thumb brushing your clit.

And there’s almost no fight in you left to resist this - to resist the pleasure he’s pouring into your veins. You’d curse him if you could, if you could put more than four coherent words together to do it - but all there seems to be left in your mind is his name, which he’s using against you like he always does.

“Good girl.” He praises between slow, steady thrusts and you have to wonder what kind of game he’s playing to get you like this - to get you so undone you don’t even remember your own goddamn name.

Then again, you know better than to think there’s a game, at all. There are no games with Joel. He does what he wants and you’re either the benefit of it, or you’re the object of his ire.

But when a third finger slips into you, stretching and stuffing your cunt wider than you were mentally prepared for - you forget about any of that as you bite down on his hand as hard as you dare because it’s just too fucking much.

“J-joel—“ you try again, shaking your head. The footsteps haven’t returned. You have to believe they’re gone. You know Joel knows it too. “P-please—“

And like someone struck a match in a room full of gasoline, he seems to have decided that you’ve waited long enough. In the blink of an eye, you feel his palm leave your mouth, and move to the limited space between you. He’s unbuckling his belt.

“What’s the matter, huh?” He all but growls in your ear, still pumping his fingers deep. “Three too much for you? How d’ya think you’re gonna’ take my cock if you can’t even take my fuckin’ fingers.”

God. His voice is deep, dripping like sin. It goes straight to the center of your chest and you feel like the walls of your rib cage are cracking open. You have no idea how you’re going to be able to take him like this - especially when he’s so far gone it’s like he’s forgotten himself.

“I-I don’t know—“ and it’s the truth. You have no concept of how you’ll take a single drop of him in this state. But he’s already shifted himself free, pulling his fingers out to yank your pants down and slide his throbbing shaft into the slick space between your thighs. “F-fuck. You’re crazy.”

“Worse.” And you already know what he’s going to tell you just by the way the word drips into your ear. “M’insane.”

Truer words.

You never imagined that you’d ever find the thought of Joel Miller going insane so enticing. You imagine all kinds of ways you would have pictured it if someone had told you back when you first met - but somehow, this was never one of the things that came to mind.

“What does that make me?” You hiss as his fingers find your clit again, as he kicks your legs a little wider to slide his leaking tip against your slit.

“A goddamned fool.” He answers as he sinks into you, and there’s never been a more divine connection in the world. He groans into your ear, and you have to bite your lip again until you’re sure you might draw blood. “But you already knew that.”

And somehow, even still - you do.

Yeah. You do. He isn’t the type of man someone can ever know fully. He’s got walls and barriers built high - a fortress, impenetrable and vast - but somehow, you still manage to squeeze your way through it. It isn’t lost on you that you’re the only one who has.

“J-joel—go fuckin’ easy, please—“ you’re grabbing at the wall infront of you as he splits you open without so much as giving you a chance for breath. “It’s—been a while—“

And that stops him for a beat - but not for long, and not long enough. He still doesn’t go easy, still thrusts right to the hilt with the kind of power you’d associate with a man half his age - a man who (if the world hadn’t gone to hell) would be so close to retiring that he could taste the future on the back of his tongue - but you wouldn’t want him to anyway.

“I know, babygirl. I know. Just take it nice n’ deep, f’me. Just take it.”

And then he grabs a handful of your hair, pulling you back so he can get even deeper, your spine arching just enough.

Fucking hell.

The sound that’s almost impossible not to make threatens to rip from the pit of your chest, but you bite down in time and it turns into something between a strangled cry and an elongated whimper. You know you’re going to be walking funny tomorrow - but right now, there’s no such thing as being able to imagine tomorrow.

“You—fuck.” It’s a whisper so pained someone might think you’re actually being impaled. In some ways you are. “Oh, god, Joel. Ohmygod you’re deep—“

“There she is.” He all but growls into your ear. “There’s the tough woman I know.” If he wasn’t holding you so tightly you might’d fall at the way he suddenly slams into you. “Tightest pussy I ever had. Goddamn. You wanna feel good, huh? I’ll make you feel good. Just lemme’ have it nice n’ deep, and I’ll get you back later. Let you sit on my face for hours. Make you cum till’ you’re cryin.”

You almost bite your tongue in half at the very thought of him doing that. Your mind is a wasteland of icoherent thought - and it’s then that you know with all the certainty in the world that you’d been done for the moment he came into your life. He always had a rough edge to him - but back then, when you first met, you thought it was just the product of a shitty life. But now, you know better - now, you know he’s just a good-natured person with an innate drive to protect - and you’d go to your grave knowing that you’d go there loving him for it.

Even though, right now, it feels a lot more like he’s trying to kill you rather than protect you.

“Ohhh, fuck—“ you hiss through grit teeth as he pulls out, dragging slow at tight, wet walls. “M’close to cryin’ now.”

“Mmm.” He all but purrs. “That’ll mean I’m doin’ my job right.” There’s heat in the way he speaks that you swear would burn even the toughest person. But then again, that’s always been something you’d only ever been able to say about Joel. “M’not gonna’ be gentle. You know you ain’t deserving of it right now.”

Another time, you’d tell him he was wrong. Another time, you would have argued that you hadn’t done a single thing wrong - but right now, your thoughts are just as lost as your voice.

Still, you try your best. “W-why? Because I—mmf—dragged you outta’ bed?”

“Wrong.” You can’t see it, but you’re sure there’s a smirk on his face. “You really wanna get into it? Wanna’ make a list?”

You don’t, but you have the horrible feeling that this is going to happen either way.

“Do I have a choice?” You ask with what little breath you can find.

“No.” The word sounds so simple - but in that moment, it might as well have been a dagger. “You don’t.”

He pulls out just so he can drive back into you harder, hand sliding from your hair and back over your mouth.

“First, you dragged me outta’ bed. That right there? Shoulda been spanked for it. Next, you got yourself pinned in a goddamn closet with me after raiders chased us down. Almost got us killed.” Another painfully slow draw out, followed by a hard drive back in - smacking your cervix. “An’ for what? Cause’ you don’t wanna’ listen when I say it’s too dangerous to be out here.”

There are a million retorts you could have - most of them have something to do with you being able to take care of yourself - but none of them even find the beginning of your tongue.

He’ll take that win. Just like he takes everything else.

“Not t’mention you’ve kept this perfect ass from me for far too long.” He’s fucking you hard now, head kissing your cervix with each long thrust and you’re crying out under his palm but the sound doesn’t escape. He makes sure of it. “Mmm, yeah. Far. Too. Long.”

You want to tell him to shut up - that he’s being an ass - but you’re two broken breaths from wailing at the sting on your cervix and the pressure he’s now swirling on your clit. The only thing that’s left for you to do is the only thing you can do.

Take it.

You roll your hips, shoving back against him with every thrust just to have him hit that much deeper - and if he has something to say about it, he doesn’t say it. But he seems satisfied with just that, and suddenly, you think he’s just as close as you are.

“That’s it.” His voice is tight. “Good girl. Just like that.”

His hips snap against your ass so hard you think you might end up bruised tomorrow, but the thought only adds to the haze in your mind.

“Ffffffuck—Joel—“ you mewl, pathetic desperate and needy as a whore, against his palm. His fingers speed up against your clit. “Oh!”

“Take it, baby. Make me fuckin’ proud.” He hisses in your ear, a groan slipping out between it. “So good. Pussy feels so good.”

“Gonna’ make me cum.” You try to speak - maybe another time you’d be embarrassed by how desperate you sound, but this isn’t that time and it’s not the time to be anything other than truthful. “Mmm—gonna cum J-joel—“

“Yeah you are.” He grunts, the rhythm of his thrusts stuttering just a little. “Squeezing my cock so goddamn tight. Fuckin’ cum on it, babygirl. Wanna’ feel you.”

The sound that pushes past his palm at just the last moment doesn’t sound like you - but you know it is. It's the sound of the kind of pleasure that you’ve never experienced before that makes your entire body feel like a rubber band that’s too tight, and you have the vaguest sense of your walls squeezing the life out of him but there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening at all - becuase your climax hits you like a goddamn freight train and its run you over hard.

You think he’s saying something - you know he is - but you can’t hear anything aside from the blood racing in your ears. Even still, you know exactly what happens next, because you’ve experienced it so many times. The way he loses himself, like he forgets every bit of control he prides himself for having and the need to empty himself inside you takes over.

He spills into you hard - and you love every second of it for the simplicity of the comedown.

It’s the kind of feeling that washes you in warmth. It’s the kind of feeling that tells you that the world is going to be okay, so long as you’ve got him and he’s got you. He groans and his hands come out to brace against the wall infront of you to hold himself up as he shoots hot jets of cum deep inside your cunt - and you can’t remember the last time you’d heard him breathe this hard. Though, truth be told, you can’t remember the last time you heard yourself breathe this hard, either.

Your mouth feels dry, your mind feels hazy, and your legs feel weak - and as he leans over you, he can surely tell all three - but he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he drags his mouth over your ear with an inhale.

“Mmhmm.” He grumbles as he presses a kiss to your jaw. “Look what you made me to do ya.” Your cheek gets the same treatment, and a breath later as he turns your head slightly, your lips do too. “Gonna’ have my cum leakin’ out of ya all the way back to camp.”

The sound you make doesn’t even seem human, but it’s muffled before it even comes - because he’s kissing you. And it isn’t a hard kiss like you’d expect - it’s slow and steady, and you know he’s doing it in a way to say sorry, as if he realizes he might’ve gone a little too far.

You smile into it, and he does too.

“You really are insane.” You whisper as he pulls back slightly. “My cervix gonna’ need a week vacation after that.”

“M’not a good man, darlin'. If I was, I’d say sorry for that.” He whispers with a small kiss against your lips. “But I ain’t. So, I’ll just tell you I’ll take care of you later as much as you like. That good enough for now?”

There’s only one answer for you. Only one that’s ever been the answer with him.

“Always.” There is a beat of silence, and you smile in the dark. “I love you.”

He pulls out of you, finally, leaving the part of himself behind that tells you how much he loves you too without verbalizing it. Soon as he fixes his jeans, he helps you fix yours.

“And I love you.” He whispers, calloused palm finding your own. “Let’s get outta’ here. The sooner we’re back, the better.”

And that, you can’t agree more with.

6K notes · View notes

kedreeva · 5 months ago

Text

I discovered the ability to play on "hardcore" mode in Minecraft, which is where the difficulty is set to hard and if you die, that's it. Which is weirdly enticing, so I gave it a shot.

The first time I tried it, I pretty immediately died. Like, I did not last an entire hour.

But, I recently had a world where I survived over 100 days, and almost all of those day were spent in a Dark Oak Forest biome, which is one of the more dangerous ones. I built a 3-story house with a greenhouse, a wine cellar, a mine shaft, agriculture and livestock farming and more. I was slowly exploring the verdant cave below my home. I stepped backward into lava and couldn't get out again, while I was on the phone with a friend. Don't chat and play, I suppose lol

I restarted on a random seed, and there were several nice biomes within view (jungle, flower, desert, badlands, birch forest). I could see a village in the distance, so I headed that way first and found a massive abandoned mine just outside of town. I didn't go too far in, but there were some chests of goodies near some of the entrances. I tamed a few wolves and a cat, and I just took off into the distance. I spent the first 20+ days just kind of wandering the wilderness with my dogs, camping out at night. I picked a random nice spot in a broad Birch Forest to toss down my stuff and build a home, mostly because my hands were full.

I'm close to 50 "days" in, and I've spent most of it out gallivanting. I went out to find a village to tame a second cat, so I could have more at-will, and to find a Striped Wolf out in those badlands (successful). I spent days looking for a Spotted Dog in the savannas that looked like plateaus (unsuccessful, and I lost my cat and had to go BACK and get ANOTHER one). I finally returned home and this is the view from my front windows, just before I logged for the evening.

Something about only having one life makes the game a little more charming than usual. I mean, it's always charming, but I've been taking more time to look around at the worlds I won't be returning to when I finally bite it. Making sure I take a minute to appreciate the views, pat the doggos, look in the nooks and crannies for things I might like, since I won't get to come back. I mean, I can come back but I can't Come Back, y'know?

The same is true of real life, obviously. There are an increasing number of things that want us dead, but there are still sunsets out the window, and doggos to be pat, and little treasures to be found if we're looking for them. I think that's worth sticking around as long as I can.

#minecraft #personal #stories about ked's life #good things

4K notes · View notes

miryum · 5 months ago

Text

Simon Riley who, when you moved in with him, also had to adjust to your little dog. He loved dogs, as evident by Riley, but your dog was not like Riley. Riley was a war-hardened German Shepard that could sniff out bombs and had survived a bullet wound. Your dog looked like it would pee on the helicopter that was sent to rescue it and bark at the medic before rolling over for belly rubs.

Your dog was all bark and no bite. They were a small, fluffy little thing who you spoiled more than Simon. It took them a while to adjust to Simon, but when they realised that Simon laid heavily on the couch after deployment and was willing to be their personal pillow, your little dog reluctantly accepted him.

As for the dynamic between Riley and your dog, your little pupper was insistent that they were the boss of the house. They barked at Riley when first introduced as Riley just sat there, waiting for it to be over. Soon enough, though, your dog was curled up with Riley, cuddling. That always made you coo and take pictures of the pair, though Simon grumped that he’d rather have you pay attention to him.

Speaking of attention not on Simon, when the hell did your shared bed also become the dogs’ bed? When it was just Simon and Riley, Riley had his own bed and kennel in the living room. And Simon loved you so much. He was so fucking happy when you moved in. Hell, he was happy just to have you in his bed. Waking up with you tucked into his side, protected by him, was something he adored. It was better than heaven. But that heaven was usually interrupted by your scrappy little dog wiggling its way in between you two. He would turn around when you started petting and baby-talking the dog, only to see Riley at the foot of the bed, staring up at him. That’s how both dogs began sleeping in your shared bed.

You adored Riley just as much as you adored your own dog. You loved going on walks with Simon, the dogs on their leashes. Riley was a perfect walker, next to Simon the entire time with such military precision that you doubted the canine even needed a leash. Your dog on the other hand… they weaved all over the path, pausing to sniff and pee every half block. Simon wanted to train your dog like he had trained Riley, but you refused. “Oh, shush. Look at that little face! Perfect already, Si.” Of course, he could never say no to you.

Speaking of Riley’s training, however, Simon could tell that his dog was slowly slipping farther and farther from his strict regimen. With the excessive treats that you slipped Riley, the dog was gaining some chonkiness, just as his owner. As his deployments got further and further apart and his retirement got more and more likely (perhaps because of the ring in his dresser drawer), he allowed himself to stay in bed longer with you rather than getting up to exercise in the wee hours of the morning. You didn’t mind, obviously. You liked the softness that Simon was acquiring and he was always a big man to begin with. Just because his tummy was becoming more squishy didn’t mean that he still couldn’t throw his weight around if someone was bothering you.

Simon, combined with Riley, allowed for ‘scary dog privileges.’ There was a time when a creepy man began following you when Simon was on deployment and you were walking Riley. Your own little dog was getting their hair cut, so it was just you and Riley. You noticed something was wrong when Riley’s ears perked up and his movements got a bit more robotic. You glanced around, knowing Riley’s instincts were never wrong. After seeing the man, you decided to head back towards the edge of the park, where more people were. When the man didn’t give up, though, and got even closer, Riley went full guarddog. He stepped closer to you and turned around to face the man. After a few loud, thundering barks that drew the attention of everyone around, the man scuttled away. Later that month when Simon was back home, both dogs cuddled up to you on the bed, he didn’t know whether to be mad that you didn’t tell him immediately (though he could never get mad at you) or to be proud that Riley protected you so fiercely. Anxiety and fear rushed through Simon, but you calmed him with a small kiss and Riley set his head on Simon’s stomach. Riley definitely earned the scratches behind the ears that he got.

Most dog owners took their dogs out for one last pee before bedtime and Simon was no exception. You always made Simon take the dogs out because you were usually cuddled up in bed or in the blankets all cosy. He never once complained, either tugging on his jacket if it was windy out, or pulling on a hat if it was raining. He would do anything for you, even if it meant braving thick snow that crept into his boots. Riley always went quickly, even though both owner and dog knew that he could withstand the freezing temperatures. Your little idiot, on the other hand, would take their merry time, sniffing and trailing around the yard (which you had asked for when you and Simon moved out of his apartment and into a real house on the outskirts of the city). There were even times when another dog would be walking by and your canine would bark and run after them. Simon was always quick to jog after and scoop the dog up. Once in a while, Riley would give a deep bark as well, as if telling off your dog. Simon would then trudge back into the house, muttering curses under his breath, your dog under his arm.

But, as much as he pretended to hate your dog, there was always a soft spot there. Soon enough, “my girlfriend’s” dog became “my wife’s” dog and then “our” dog.

4K notes · View notes

thephantomsdream · 8 months ago

Text

"If you keep staring at me like that, I'll have to ask you what are we?" Imagine being the witness of a serious crime, but the team thought you were involved somehow and needed to rule you out. Cue to big, scary, mysterious, masked Ghost trying to intimidate you by existing near you.

Soap snorts and pats Ghost on the back, which earns a glare from him, all after the man blinked confused. He had pretty eyes. Gaz moves to a corner to smile way too much, and Price sighs loudly.

After a few more minutes of explaining that you were just on your way to your shitty job and that they needed to wrap this up before you are to inevitably getting fired, Ghost still looks straight into your soul, now with more intensity somehow.

At this point, you grit your teeth. You might legit not have a job after this, since you're already half an hour late, and this (weirdly cute) fucker is trying to read your thoughts.

"Oh, you're really into me, aren't you?" He blinks seemingly uninterested and you raise a brow at him, starting a staring contest until Price (as he previously introduced himself) got in between you two.

"I don't think you understand the situation that you're in." It took all of your will to not groan like a child and roll your eyes at him.

Cue to another round of you doubling down and explaining that you're extremely lame but a good person, all while Gaz still looks you up.

"She might be telling the truth, boss." He whispered to Price in the corner of the abandoned shop they broke onto to have some privacy. The man has been trying to confirm your identity all this time, meanwhile you looked up at your number one fan to say "I told you so" and gave him an exasperated sigh when you already caught him intensely staring into your eyes.

"Seriously..." You mutter and you almost believe seeing a crinkle of amusement in his eyes. Your eyes almost twitched. "I pronounce us husband and wife." You say, rolling your eyes at him. Yeah, take that, fuck-face. You childishly thought, absolutely thriving at his slow, surprised blink. Soap cackled and tried to hide it with a cough.

Long story (not) short, you were indeed let go after Gaz confirmed you're broke, lame and basic. No secret villain or anything. After they kinda apologized, Price basically tried to gaslight you into thinking everything is fine then tried to dip his toes into mansplaining the importance of greater things beyond you, he nodded to himself and patted you on the back before barking an order to his soldiers to move. Pretty brown eyes stayed glued onto your soul until you were pretty much skipping away out of sight, rushing to your job incredibly annoyed.

You couldn't really explain your absence to your boss and he didn't care much either, he told you to get to work.

Surprise, surprise, though, because at the end of your shift, he sugarly informed you that you're fired. He gave you the pay he owed you and there you were. Jobless. And probably homeless in a month's time.

A week later and some intense job hunting done, you're at your wit's end, truly. Job market is shit and nobody is looking to hire. As you enter your ratty apartment, you sigh and almost want to cry in frustration. You've been cursing the terrorists, soldiers and any motherfucker involved in last week's incident, entering your kitchen to grab a drink and eat some air since you needed to save money, when you froze in place.

In the middle of your tiny living room stood a massive dark frame, the outside lights shining through the balcony door behind him made the man unrecognizable. You were getting robbed. You just caught a dude right in the middle of robbing you. As if it was the cherry on top, every frustration you felt erupted out of you, and while you were still terrified by the massive frame, you growled a "Get the fuck out of my house."

A deep chuckle was your only response and you felt dread.

"You got spunk. And a shit survival instinct." He stepped closer. You stepped back immediately, calculating your route to the door, hoping he wouldn't be able to catch you. Denial. You knew. But you froze again in surprise. You knew that mask.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" It came more of a whisper, thinking you'd never meet those people again. Even standing up in front of him, he's massive. Maybe he came back for those dumbass comments you made. Oh, this is revenge, isn't it? He's built, he can legit destroy you with a punch. Oh, God, you're fucking dead. They still think you're a terrorist or some shit and he's here to destroy you out of existence.

Your mind rambled until he moved, and when he did, you tensed, mind blank. The man, the Ghost took a couple of steps towards you and placed his large hand on the back of your neck, pulling you close. Oh, you're gonna fucking die for sure. He leaned down to your eye level, making you stare into his dark eyes as he studied you.

"Came back to take care of my wife." He said. It was your turn to slowly blink at him. What?

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

4K notes · View notes

starcrossedxwriter · 2 months ago

Text

Still Standing Part 1 (Smoke x Black Reader)

Warnings: attempted assault, depictions of violence

A/N: idk how this became two parts yall 😭 I need self control. But this is just everything I love about Smoke in one fic lol enjoy!

***

With enough focus, Smoke could filter out every distraction except his target. And tonight? His target was you. His wife. Who had no business in a place like this by yourself. He made a note to chastise you about that after you cussed him out for his near decade disappearing act. He braced himself for that the entire train ride.

Eight years.

And now analyzing you from a distance, his body felt every painstaking moment of every single moment without you.

He supposed if you were going to be tending bar anywhere, it was safest at your Aunt Hattie’s, where he would have trusted your brothers to maintain a watchful eye. Though, at the moment, their eyes were doing more wandering than watching.

You could handle your own, you always could. He just wished every problem was not always on you. His eyes followed your movements as you charmed every patron with a smile that held all the warmth of the Delta. You continued to be the town’s favorite amongst the Williams family. Your wit, your charm, your grandmama’s healing gifts were traits every person in the town gravitated toward, shielding you from the troubles your brothers got into.

Grace shared that you still worked out of the house he built for you, off the beaten path. How you spent most of your time taking care of everyone in town without slowing down or caring for yourself. He imagined that was why you were even here now. Eight years ago, you barely liked to step foot into Hatties unless you could hold onto him. But now, you worked the bar as if you’d done it your entire life.

That dazzling smile that made him fight for every sunrise to get back to you, the gentle and sensual sway of your hips that made him want to grab hold of your ass and hold you against him, your sweet giggle that somehow rose above the jazz melody straight to his ear. A sound that had long started to fade in his mind. But now, it felt like the first stroke of warmth against his heart since he last saw you.

Mere moments back in you proximity caused all his safeguards to crumble into pure ash. The true extent of his everlasting love for you filled his being, a rush of everything he pushed deeply inside to survive in Chicago. He felt the burning flame in his heart he forced himself to reduce to a simmer, the rushing waterfall he slowed with a fortified dam.

“Just go n talk to her, nigga. Know you want to. Sulkin’ over here like you scared or some shit,” Stack muttered, both their hats dipped low enough to further obscure their identity and presence.

“Ain’t never been scared,” Smoke muttered back. Which was a half truth. He had been scared in his life, but it was too long ago to remember.

His inability to approach you yet had little to do with fear. He knew there would be anger, resentment. And it would be righteous. He would accept his licks like a man, apologize for abandoning you as he did, do whatever it took to earn your trust again.

But what you two shared? He had to believe there would be forgiveness once you said your piece. A belief only solidified by the ring dangling from your neck as you leaned over. His mother’s ring.

More than anything, he wanted to simply watch you. See if the you that danced through his dreams every single night was still… you.

His hand twitched toward his revolver more than once as niggas’ hands touched your body, even just to shove a few coins into your hands or shift around you. He was always ready to move but he found that he did not need to. You artfully dodged touches that lingered beyond acceptability, letting the men who vied for your attention down with the perfect balance of kindness and finality.

He was surprised at how long he and Stack were able to go unnoticed in the dim corner. The few who recognized them kept it to themselves, giving the twins a wide berth. The poor lighting provided the perfect cover. He could study you and you did not seem to know he was there. But you were always the perceptive sort, could always sense his presence somehow. So he was not shocked that, every once in a while, he noticed your eyes lingering amongst the crowd as if you were searching for someone but could not find them.

Occasionally, your honey smooth voice caught his ear again, healing some of the wounds he gained while away. All the intricacies and oddities he fell in love with at 14. seeing you brought it all rushing back into sharper focus.

He still remembered the moment he realized he was in love with you. Decades ago but it was as fresh as if it were yesterday in his mind.

Stack’s body had been a heavy weight to support all the way to Mama Mabel’s. But his father had done a number on him and the little bit of ointment and bandages he had left wouldn’t cut it this time. And it was far faster to take him to her than run there and back. And… it got them away from him.

So he walked a mile with his arm around Stack’s back, heaving his weight along as his feet tried to maintain his own weight.

“I can walk, Elijah.”

Smoke did not let go of his hold, knowing his brother just didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

He glanced up at Mama Mabel’s porch, unsurprised to find Miss Evie sweeping. She only looked at them once, noting the panicked look on his face, before immediately discarding her task.

“Mama! Twins here.” She called over her shoulder before rushing out of the shade to help him the last few feet. “Let me help you, boy.”

“I got em.”

“Yo pa?”

“Passed out. Drank so much, he won’t wake up till tomorrow.” His voice was matter of fact, no emotion. He didn’t know if he even had any left these days. “Worst day so far.”

She nodded, grabbing Stack’s other arm, though Elijah was reluctant to yield any of his weight to her.

He had him. He always did.

She helped Elias lay down on the cot in Mama Mabel’s shop, the sharp smells of her brews hitting his nose. He looked down at his brother, his usual slick smile diminished, his thin body bruised and bloodied from their father’s blows.

“Ran outta what I gave you already?” Mama Mabel emerged from her back room. However, when she took in Elias’ state, she simply bowed her head, cursing under her breath. She threw the damp towel in her hand to her daughter who took charge of dapping the sweat from the walk off his brow.

“Some men don’t deserve the blessin’ of life. Ole drunk,” Miss Evie muttered to her mother in irritation, quiet enough that Elijah shouldn’t have heard them. But he did.

“Hush now, girl. Sayin’ that in front of them.”

But it wasn’t something he didn’t think about every single day himself when he laid down at night.

“Yall gon’ stay here tonight.”

Elijah immediately shook his head. “We don’t wanna be no burden. Just didn’t have enough to bandage him up.”

“Well I’ll bandage him up n you’ll stay the night.”

He opened his mouth to argue but corrected himself. He knew arguing with Mama Mabel was futile.

He leaned against the wall in the corner, his body relaxing ever so slightly with every cut and bruise she tended to with such care. Some minute part of him envied receiving that, the healing touch of a mother. He did not know what that felt like anymore, what it felt like to be cared for. He supposed he would never know either.

The only thing guaranteed in life was suffering and the end. He didn’t expect much else.

“Go out there for me n see what’s takin’ that gal so long. Head always in the damn clouds when I need her workin’,” She called over to the teen watching her every move with precision.

He glanced out the open back window, a young woman kneeling in the soul of their garden with a woven basket by her side. The wind swayed the plaits falling down her back as she faced away from the house. Y/N kneeling in front of her garden with a basket.

He glanced back at Elias before she waved him along.

“He safe with us. Promise. Helpin’ Y/N will help me help him.”

And with that, he trudged out the back door and toward the garden where you sat.

Your voice reached him first, the soft humming you used to occupy yourself in the peace of your garden. It was soft, like a sweet melody. He liked it. So he did not interrupt at first, he just stood a few feet behind you, watching.

Your humming ceased as you sensed the silent presence of another. “I know, Granny. Movin’ too slow, I’m comin’” You turned, dusting off your knees. “Oh. E-Elijah. S-sorry, thought you were my...”

Your words fell off awkwardly as you teetered on your heels. His face twisted up in surprise. No one could truly tell them apart unless they were side by side. When they were separate, it always took a few minutes for someone to know who was who.

“Elias stay showin those teeth of his, always talkin. He easy to spot. Everythin’ alright? You ok?”

“Mama Mabel asked me to come check on you. See what’s takin’ so long.”

His eyes focused on your near empty basket, you shyly grinned, your eyes glancing at him with a childlike guilt in them.

“I was doin’ it. Promise. But I noticed some weeds n… Granny say I spend too much time tendin’ to the garden when I should be pickin’. Head always in the clouds. But I told her, “ain’t that where all the spirits and ancestors you teachin’ me bout are?’ Mama popped me in the mouth for that one.”

His lips curled into a rare half smile, which made your smile grow even brighter.

Shit.

Your smile felt like pure exhilaration. He considered it to be the most beautiful thing he had laid eyes on and there was God-given beauty all across the Delta. But it all paled in comparison to your sweet smile that held the warmth of the Sun.

“So you do smile… never thought I’d see the day. You should do it more,” you offered, your voice quieter as if the thought was more for yourself than him. Umm yea, tell her I’ll pick it up. Be in soon.”

He glanced around before rolling up his sleeves and dropping to his knees to help her.

“Oh you ain’t gotta-“

“I know. But then you can tend to your garden n I can pick for you. Mama Mabel won’t know the difference.”

Your smile became softer as if you were not used to help. But he knew the young people in any house were the help, there was no rest for able bodies.

“Thank you, Elijah.”

You quietly hummed This Little Light of Mine as you two worked, you taking care of the roots and soil while Elijah picked what you directed.

“How you doin?”

“Elias needed Mama.”

“Didn’t ask about Elias… know yo daddy, know how he doin if you brought him here. I asked about you.”

Elijah found that he still did not know how to answer that. So he lamely just answered, “Well, he ain’t hit me.”

“Don’t mean he ain’t hurtin’ you. Makin’ you watch it. Don’t mean you ain’t wounded or hurt just cause he the one in there. Hearts hurt just like a black eye. Just can’t see it n it don’t heal as fast.”

His movements stilled, your words an emotional gut punch he had not expected while gardening. He tried not to think about it, when their father hit them. The emotional agony it caused to watch Elias be subjected to the brunt of their father’s drunken rage. Some was due to his smart mouth, though it still never seemed to warrant the vitriol his father directed toward Elias. But Elijah knew that his father also recognized one unfortunate truth. Punches had no effect on Elijah. He offered no reaction, no anything. But hurting his brother did. So Elias often bore the brunt of their punishments.

And he hated his father for it.

“I have somethin’ that’ll help?”

“Don’t know if anythin’ help except…”

Your mother’s words cycled through his mind, a sentiment he felt more often than not when his father hit them. To just end his sorry existence so they could be free of him.

“Try. For me?” You asked, sweetly. “You gave me a smile… can’t give me one more thing?”

I want to give you the world, a small voice whispered in his head. An uncomfortable warmth spread in his chest and his stomach that had nothing to do with the sweltering Delta heat.

“Besides, can’t make you feel worse if it don’t work.”

Your eyes remained on his, inviting him to break a few rules with you, as your feet moved backward toward your family’s live oak tree in the distance. He didn’t immediately follow, torn between his intrigue with this perfect angel who captivated his being with one smile and his desire to stay close to his brother.

“Don’t worry. We ain’t goin’ far. Somethin’ happens, we can still hear them callin. Trust me, Elijah.”

His name on your lips sounded like every beautiful thing, the river bank by their shack, the sunrise on a new day, the calm of a rain storm sweeping the horizon. He’d pray for every sunrise to hear you say his name again.

And with that, you took off running toward the giant tree off in the distance. And he immediately took off after you, abandoning his task of helping you pick herbs faster.

Your running turned into a race as he caught up to you in seconds. Your laughter blended with the wind whipping past his ears, the sweetest melody he had ever heard. He only felt this relaxed, this free when he and Stack ran to the river to escape their father. Just pure exhilaration and freedom for a brief moment.

It had always been the rarest, fleeting air. One he thought he could only feel with his brother, his other half. But he could feel it here with you.

You both needed a moment to catch your breath once you were under the cool shade of your family tree, generations buried in the soul surrounding it.

“Granny brings me out here. Says healers need a place to heal themselves, release the pain we confront every day. Started makin’ me come out here when she started trainin’ me. It’s a good spot to feel it all.”

He glanced around. “What do you do?”

You shrugged as your body leaned against one of the low sweeping branches. “Whatever you wanna do. Cry, scream, just sit. Whatever feels like what you need. Whatever fills your spirit so you can take care of him n yourself tomorrow.”

You slid down onto the soft soil, your skirt billowing out into the grass, closed your eyes. He did not know if he believed this would accomplish anything but he also didn’t want to walk away. Not from you.

He plopped down unceremoniously next to you, both your backs pressed against the tree.

He remembered just sitting there, staring at your house in the distance. He didn’t even realize how you both unconsciously shifted closer and closer to each other until your small shoulder brushed against his.

He watched you mutter prayers under your breath, caught his and his brother’s names in your prayer for safety and protection. Then quiet. Stillness.

You slouched a bit so you could rest your head on his shoulder.

His entire body tensed beneath you. Not from fear but something else he couldn’t recognize. Like the action stole his breath away. The tenderness you offered was so unlike all he knew, all he remembered in his life. The last woman to hold him tenderly died shortly after giving birth to them. And then touch became a danger to combat, not a comfort to lean into.

You seemed to not even realize what you’d done, immediately popping up, a guilty look on your face.

“Sorry. Touch is… important to me. But I should know it ain’t for everybody.”

“Nah nah… it was… fine,” he offered lamely. “My shoulder’s all yours if you need it. Want it.”

You grinned, resting your head back where it was. Something in him settled again with your weight against him.

“A smile and your shoulder? I think that means we friends now.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Ain’t too good at friends.”

“I gotta feelin’ you’d be good to me.”

His head rested on yours and you just sat, in utter silence. Elijah sniffled as he felt a tear fall as he sat. He tried to lift his arm to whisk it away discreetly but you rested a hand on his arm.

“Nobody gon see you out here. N no one will hear it from me. Rest, Elijah. Let em fall if you need it. I’m here.”

And there, under the weighing branches of your tree, he rested. He allowed himself to feel all the pain he bottled up day after day to survive in their corner of the world, to survive in his own home.

It hit him in peaks and every time he felt himself wanting to clam up, close himself off again, you just grabbed his hand. And when he heard your sniffles, saw your tears, he just returned the favor.

He didn’t know how much time passed, he found that with you, he didn’t care about the time. And you only moved when you both heard your mama calling for dinner.

You both sighed, a sadness at the end of your quiet moment feeling like more of a sharp pain than anything else. He didn’t want this to end. But he needed to check on Elias.

“Granny’s gon’ kill me,” you muttered as you scooped up the only half filled basket Elijah discarded once you were back in the yard.

And while she didn’t kill you, thankfully in Elijah’s opinion, she did cuss you seven times to Sunday for wasting an afternoon and taking your time when there was work to do. And after dinner, instead of getting to go to sleep, you were tasked with cleaning up her shop and restocking her brews when she finished them - whatever time that would be. Since “you already rested enough for the day.”

You were quiet the rest of the day, forlorn and despondent through dinner, so you didn’t say much to him as night fell and everyone in the house prepared to rest.

Everyone except you two.

When your grandma finally went to sleep herself, leaving you to your task that would take the rest of the night, Elijah finally came inside from the porch. Your back was to the door but you sensed him yet again, how your hand stilled over the giant pot of whatever your grandmother brewed.

“Sorry. Don’t mean to get you in trouble, takin’ care of me.”

You shook your head and abandoned your task to close the space between them. Peace. It disappeared when they left their spot under the tree. But he felt it when you were close.

“Don’t. Knew what trouble I was bringing myself when I did it. But if it helped you, it was worth it.” She paused, chewing her lip as she timidly asked. “Did it? Help?”

He found himself nodding. “It did. You got a gift, Y/N.”

“Good. Then one night of lost sleep ain’t a thing. Now you go to sleep, brought that out for you.” She pointed toward a small cot and pillow situated beside his brothers. “I’ll keep an eye on em.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

He slid into bed as he tried to quiet the litany of confusing thoughts racing through his head. He had never felt this way before. But when he should be worried about his slumbering brother or determine how to free them from their father, there was only one thing at the center of the tornado in his head.

You.

“I’ll be good to you, Y/N. A good friend to you, I promise.”

The words were so quiet, he was not confident you heard him. But then he heard the faintest sniffle, saw hastily turn to wipe away a falling tear before turning back to him with a smile that said more than words ever could.

“And I’ll be good to you, Elijah. I promise. Get some sleep.”

He chuckled, turning over so he wouldn’t get distracted by examining you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

But even as he buried himself in his pillow on his cot, one that smelled so perfectly of you, he knew that he didn’t want to be your friend. He wanted to be so much more.

His love sick walk down memory lane ended as swiftly as it sparked when he noticed a man lingering at the bar chatting with you, even after finishing his drink.

He tilted his head slightly toward Stack. His brother never forgot a face.

“You don’t remember that nigga? Red. Grew up down the road, Ms. Sally took him in after his mama died. Daddy probably dead now too. Damn drunk. Ran off Nawlins the first chance he got. You know half the niggas in town had a thing for Y/N."

Smoke studied the terrain, realizing that he could not shoot this man across a crowded barn, though that was the simplest option. But he always knew that patience and opportunity were the key to strike. Never too early, never too late. Besides, Red knew exactly whose you were. And only a man desperate to meet their maker would touch what belonged to Smoke Moore.

Stack let out a deadly chuckle as Red grabbed your hand unexpectedly, your face twisting up in shock for the briefest second before you smiled and discreetly tore your hand from his grasp.

“You gon’ take care of that?” Stack asked, gesturing toward you.

Smoke let his discreet loading of his revolver answer that question for him. The man clearly had a death wish. Smoke was more than happy to ensure it came true.

“Shame. Liked that Red. Never knew what was good for him tho,” Stack mumbled.

He continued to watch, waiting for his moment to strike, to remind everyone in the room who Smoke Moore was when you yelled something over your shoulder in your aunt’s direction and stepped from behind the bar.

You still didn’t see him, even as you navigated the sweaty, teeming dance floor to reach the back storage room. Smoke did not even try to hide in the shadows this time, you were just that preoccupied with your own thoughts. So preoccupied he realized that you didn’t notice how Red waited long enough to drink his shot before following after you.

Smoke knew what that meant. What that always meant. Smoke was not even the jealous twin. But Red made a choice. To make you visibly uncomfortable. To pursue his woman in front of half the town. He toyed, briefly, with the idea that you and Red were… more. And that this was simply part of that. But then he realized that he did not particularly care. Whether or not this was your choice was fairly irrelevant to him.

If this man was courting you, he’d kill him.

If this man was trying to cause you harm, he’d kill him.

Mercy was your tool… but it had never been his. he had considered just shooting Red in the hand to prove a point originally. However, now? The die had been cast.

He had a reminder to issue: whatever happened while he was gone was over. He was back and no one would touch what belonged to him and live to tell the tale.

He cocked his gun before moving in your direction. He had been gone too long and people had clearly forgotten who the fuck he was.

Judge.

Jury.

But most importantly… Executioner.

***

“Come on, sweetness. Gimme a smile.”

“Done smillin’ for you, Red. Get on so I can get a payin’ customer up here.”

You had grown weary from Red’s tired advances long ago. He tried, week after week, coming to your home with ailments and aches just so you would patch him up. Since his wife ran off with another man a few years back, you tried to be there for him. After all, you were, unfortunately, the town’s expert on disappearing spouses. You understood the depths of his grief, to lose the person you loved because their spirit demanded something else of them. Whether for love, greed, power, or something more righteous. The one left behind was left broken and alone all the same.

But Red mistook your kindness for affection. And sadness, desperation, and liquor were an unfortunate combination. The more he drank, the more relentless he became. Hattie helped remind some folks whose last name you carried but some… like Red were often too drunk to listen or care.

And on Saturdays at Hattie’s, he was his drunkest.

“But I’m your favorite customer, ain’t I, Y/N?”

You ain’t

“It’s bad for business to have favorites,” you offered with an awkward smile.

“Get me another,” he demanded.

You knew it would be a long night if you were already about to pour his fifth glass. He already smelled like someone swapped his blood out with a bottle of what you were pouring.

“N while you at it, tell me, why aint you spoken for?”

You used your apron to quickly dab the beads of sweat off your forehead before you grabbed a glass.

“You know damn well I’m spoken for, Red.”

He threw his head back in exuberant laughter.

You knew one person who would not find it as hilarious. Your husband. Wherever in the world he might be right now.

Elijah “Smoke” Moore.

Though only you and his brother knew him as Elijah. Everyone else? Smoke. And his chilling reputation far out lasted his presence in their small town. Seven years later and most still get a bit more jumpy when someone mentions the twins.

While you never agreed with his way, you could not deny it served you well. For the most part, no one caused you trouble. Why would anyone want to be on your list of grievances should Smoke ever come back into town?

You always prayed he would return but you knew it was foolish to hope for it. You whispered his name along the evening breeze in your nightly prayers, merely hopeful for that moment that your comfort reached him in his corner of the world.

While you were not waiting on his return, you also had not “moved on.” You tried, Lord knows you tried. You thought it would heal you, satisfy you to be close to someone again. But the high it gave you was impermanent. It vanished from your grasp like literal smoke.

Because of Smoke.

It was a crushing discovery to realize that the itch you needed to scratch would never be satiated by anyone else.

Your need was to be healed. And only one person could do that. Because Smoke was the first man in your life who tended to you first and foremost.

You spent your days since childhood caring for everyone else. It was your calling and you were grateful to the ancestors for it. But it left no time for you. But in Smoke’s arms? He cared for you, allowed you to feel all the pain and pleasure of the world, allowed you to fall apart and be vulnerable. His touch methodically healed the aches, pains, and sufferings that no one else saw.

And that’s what you desired, craved in the loneliness of the night. Not a warm body or a tryst in Red’s barn. Not fucking that was over before it began for you. You yearned for the other half of your heart. To be tended to and loved on. And the man who had your heart was hundreds of miles away. So you grieved that part of your life. If it could not be that, if it couldn’t be him… it was not worth giving more of your spirit.

And you made peace with what was lost when he left. You were heavy hearted, broken, but you found it difficult to even conjure up rage toward him after a few days. Because you understood that he would never choose you and the quiet life you desired over him.

You knew Elijah loved you with everything. That was never in question. But if you were half of his heart, Stack was the other half of his soul. One could not survive, not fully, without the other. And Stack needed more than their town could offer. And Smoke needed Stack.

Despite your fear that you’d laid eyes on him for the last time, you made no effort to share that with your neighbors or stop being Smoke’s woman. A woman without a man was one without protection, you knew that much. So you relied on whatever kept you safe: your prayers and his threats. You counted both as help, both as a blessing.

“By who? One of them crazy Moore twins? Haven’t seen that nigga or the other one twin here no where to speak for nobody. Seems like you free to do what you want. You could give me a dance, sweetness.”

His hand grasped yours as you pushed the glass his way. His grip was firm so it took you a moment before you could rip your hand out of his embrace.

“Well I ain’t seen him round neither but I’m still spoken for. If you knew what was good for you, you’ll take that drink ’n get the hell on, Red,” you warned, your voice losing some of its sweetness.

“Need a couple more bottles, Y/N.”

You didn’t need to turn around to recognize the sharp voice of your aunt, Hattie Mae.

Your grandfather opened this joint twenty years ago and it was still standing. "Weathered and worn but still standing," he'd say. Your aunt took over when he died and you started helping her a few months ago after she hurt herself. Your brothers were useless at the bar and Hattie said it helps to have a pretty face serving up the drinks. So you helped out where you could on the weekends. You always found Hattie’s to be overwhelming, preferring to stay glued to Smoke’s arm when you went together. But you found peace behind the bar, being able to watch the hustle and bustle from afar. The extra money did not hurt.

You’d typically demand one of your brothers carry the heavy bottles for your aunt but you’d welcome any excuse to escape Red’s leering eye.

“I got it, Auntie Mae.”

You used the walk to dry your hands, both were sweaty and clammy from the heat of the Delta mixed with all the bodies and dancing.

You pushed through your exhaustion, the aches and pains in your limbs more pronounced without the distractions of people and music. You had been feeling it more lately as you leaned for a moment against a shelf. You were just like this joint. Weathered and worn. Sadder than you once were. But you were still standing too. Was there any other choice?

You balanced four bottles in your arms before determining that it was your limit. However, you almost dropped every last one of them when you turned to find Red waiting in the door frame.

“God almighty, Red! You scared me! You gon’ stand there blockin’ the door or let me get these back out to Hattie?”

He was as immobile as a tree as you tried to go around him. He did not answer you or speak, the silence putting you on edge. You loved a man like that, whose silence was a weapon, his greatest tool. You gravitated toward his silence.

But Red was not him. His silence unsettled you, forced your eyes to search for a path that would lead you away from him.

“Red. This ain’t funny. Get outta my way. You know how Hattie gets. I gotta get back to the bar.”

“Lord knows I’ve been thinkin’ bout you ever since my wife left.”

You typically didn’t feel fear. There was no need with generations of ancestors watching over you. But as his hand closed the door and the screech of the latch hit your ear. You felt it like a tiny seed sprouting in your belly.

Fear.

You immediately retreated as he advanced.

“I’m married, Red. You too. ’N you drunk as a skunk. Now let me outta here.”

“My wife gone, your husband been gone. Dead in a ditch somewhere knowin’ that nigga. You got the entire town ‘fraid to dance withchu cause of him? But see… I ain’t afraid of no dead man, Y/N. Aint scared of no ghost story. Don’t act like you don’t want me too, sweetheart.”

“Red… I d-don’t want you o-or anyone. We can forget about this tomorrow, just let me go.”

“After I waited years for this? Nahhh, baby. Ain’t ever lettin’ you go now. You’re mine. Helpin’ me night after night. Checkin’ on me after that bitch ran off. You’re the light of my days, sweetheart.”

This could only be described as irony in its cruelest form. A forced reflection on your own naiveté, you supposed. You remembered something you said to your husband once, early in your courtship, when he asked you why you never called him Smoke.

“Because everyone else needs you to be Smoke. Here I… just want you to be Elijah.”

And he bowed his head, shaking it as his hand gripped the meat of your thigh.

“You need Smoke too, baby. No one is ever gon’ hurt my family. I’m here to protect you. You need him. Everybody do.”

Elijah had always been… heavy. Weighed down by all the things he had done, from such a young age, to protect the people he loved. And as much as you adored being loved by him, you did not want to be another person who burdened his soul with more. More suffering, more pain. His life was in service of keeping everyone else safe. And he cared nothing of the cost to his soul to do so. But you cared because you knew it would only get heavier.

“Stack need Smoke. The fools you run with need Smoke. Hell, this town might even need Smoke. But me? I don’t need Smoke. I need Elijah, the boy who picked herbs for me. The one who holds me close to his chest durin’ storms. Smoke is… He ain’t the Elijah I know.”

But as your back pressed against the rough wood panels, Red’s body boxing you in, you realized, for the first time, you needed Smoke.

Not the threat of him.

Him. And all his silent fury.

And every bit of trouble that came along with him to get out of this.

“R-Red, I was just tryin’ to help. Just tryin’-”

He grabbed your chin roughly, the shock causing every bottle in your arms to crash down at your feet. The sharp scent of liquor swarmed you both like a cloud as the liquid seeped into your shoes and splattered along the bottom of your dress.

His other hand gripped your wrist as he kissed you roughly.

“S-Stop! R-Red.”

“I bet you just need a good fuckin’. Been years since that sorry nigga left, left this good pussy. Nigga should’ve known better than to leave a sweet pussy like this unclaimed. Think it’s my turn now. Bet I can fuck you bett-”

Your eardrums could have exploded from the cacophony of pure noise cutting of Red’s drunken ranting.

Your head spun as you tried to locate the sudden shrill scream filling the tiny storage room. You did not even realize Red was no longer pressing his weight against you until you saw him clutching his knee, on the floor as crimson blood slid down his leg.

You clutched your chest for a moment, your heart pounding loudly in your ears, your eyes trained on Red’s writhing frame in a giant puddle of moonshine. Your brain felt sluggish and slow, several steps behind whatever just happened. You forced your eyes away from Red to understand. Did you need to protect yourself? Was the threat to you too? Who even shot him? That was one answer your vision could find immediately. However, your survey ended within a millisecond, your eyes landing on him.

“Smoke.” A grateful sob of relief escaped as your body sagged into the wall.

His eyes softened at the sound of your voice, the mixture of fear, panic, gratitude, and pure love.

“Y/N. Y/N!” His voice snapped you out of the chaos of the last few minutes.

He focused you. A light in dense fog.

His voice softened once your eyes flickered to his.

“You good, baby. We got you. Step over here to Stack.”

Another version of him stepped from around the corner. He pulled his hat off his head and tipped it toward you, a deadly smirk painted on his lips.

Stack.

Your brain sought to obey him, to listen to the man you loved. But your legs did not feel strong enough to move, strong enough to carry you the few steps across the room to him and Stack.

How did this happen?

How were they even here?

Why were they here?

So you simply stared at him, not fully believing they were real. Your eyes clouded with everything flooding you that demanded to be made sense of before you could move forward. There was no calm in this, leaving you paralyzed.

“Nigga just shook her up. He ain’t goin’ no where. Give her a second.”

“We ain’t got a second.” Smoke turned his attention back to you. “Y/N. Darlin’. I need you to move.”

A command. The softness in his tone disappeared as he snapped you out of your stupor. Your feet moved instinctively, scurrying around Red to reach Stack. You felt Smoke’s hand brush your hip as you got behind him. The touch simply communicated what your body and soul instinctively knew: you were safe.

Stack put a protective arm around your waist as soon as you were in his reach.

“She good, Smoke.”

“Take her. Wait outside.”

You pushed against Stack’s arm trying to drag you along as his words settled in your brain. While you were grateful Red was unable to carry out whatever plot his drunk mind concocted, you did not want him murdered for it.

In fact, you considered being shot in the kneecap a satisfactory punishment for what Red attempted, what he would not even likely remember doing in the morning. He learned his lesson and now would live with a limp for the rest of his life to show for it. Wasn’t that enough?

“W-wait, wait, wait, Smoke. He got your point. I’m okay. Let him go.”

But even as you spoke those words, you knew they did not shift his position. The murderous glimmer in his eye, his coldness, reminded you while Elijah softened for you, Smoke was not a man who bent nor one who could be softened. His decision was cast and Red’s death was as certain as sunrise the next morning. But you would not be you if you did not try. Would not be the woman he loved if you did not ask him to try something different.

You tried to push Stack’s arm off you to go to Smoke’s side but he refused to loosen his grip.

“Smoke, h-he’s just a lonely ole drunk. You gave em a limp. That's enough."

Stack chuckled. "Niggas get a limp for stealin'. This shit tho? Puttin' his hands on you?" he shook his head. "Every nigga in here know what that means."

"But it ain’t worth it. He ain't worth it. Trust me, he's just drunk... harmless. He won't bother me again."

“I am! Harmless, Smoke. You know I ain’t mean nothin’ by it. I'll leave the bitch alone for good, I swear 'fore God.”

Stack's head fell back as his barking laugh ricocheted around the room. Smoke still had not said a single word. Just fired his warning shot.

“I told you that nigga ain’t know what was good for him, Smoke. Let’s go, Y/N.”

His arm tightened around your waist to drag you out the door, clearly tired of the man’s pleas which were only serving to make his end more painful.

“Let me go, Stack!”

“So he can shoot me too? Nah girl. Unlike this nigga, I like bein’ able to fuckin' walk. Can't be a pimp like me with no a damn limp. This grown men’s business now n I know you don’t wanna see this shit. Let’s go.”

You glared at him, raising an eyebrow in a challenge, still refusing to make this easy on him.

Stack glanced at his brother for a brief moment, their silent conversation passing before Stack turned back to you.

He leaned over, whispering in your ear, “Ain’t nothin’ you say gon’ change what’s about to happen. He was dead the moment he laid a hand on you. Accept that shit, aight? Ain’t no sense in feelin’ guilty bout it either. Ain’t the first man he threw to bottom of the Mississippi for you, won’t be the last. Now come on. If it’ll help, saw some flowers on the way in. You can pick some for his homegoing’,” he offered the last bit sarcastically.

He could never hold a serious moment for long.

But you heard the empathy hiding in his harshness. A reminder that as crazy as he was, Stack still understood you and he understood Smoke, and the chasm that sometimes existed when you were confronted with the violence they perpetuated. Particularly in your name.

You spent your life attempting to mend what violence broke, what it destroyed, what often felt like inevitabilities. But you could not stop this. And he knew that as soon as he glanced at his brother. And in your heart, he knew you knew it too. And like his brother, he was trying to protect you, in his own slick talking way, absolve you from the guilt he already knew was rushing to your shores.

That was the Elias you grew up with. And as much as you two bickered like true siblings, you knew there was nothing Stack would not do for you because you loved his brother and his brother loved you.

Your eyes settled on Smoke’s profile, his eyes trained on the invisible line connecting the barrel of his gun to the space between Red’s eyes. He tore them away for one moment to look at you. Your eyes communicated a fear you’d never admit in front of Stack. You accepted Red’s fate but there was another fear, one that made it impossible to stop resisting Stack’s force.

“I’m right behind you, darlin’. I promise. Get out or he'll drag you out.”

You didn’t speak, a shaky exhale communicating everything you needed him to know. You were grateful that you had not had to ask, that he simply saw what truly ailed you. More than trying to save the life of a man who did not deserve your mercy, you were terrified to let him out of your sight. You feared that if you stepped out of this room, even for a moment, he’d disappear like smoke in the air for another eight years.

Uninterested in being hauled over the shoulder of the second most infamous man in town, you acquiesced to Stack’s firm hand on your waist, allowing him to push you out the door.

“Red, I’d say enjoy your last moments but I know my brother and… I think he gon’ enjoy ‘em a hell of a lot more than you.”

However, before he closed the door, you heard Smoke’s low voice.

“Just so we clear, this me speakin’.”

“N-No, no, no, no! Smo-”

Stack dragged you just far enough away to not to hear what you knew came next.

***

Stay tuned for part two!

A/N: No tags because it was a fight to get this up and I'm exhausted LOL but there is a part two with reader and Smoke's private reunion when they get home. Hope you enjoyed it! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought or if you'd like to be tagged in part 2!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #sinners #sinners fanfiction #smoke Moore x reader #Smoke x reader #fic: still standing

2K notes · View notes

capricornlevi · 8 months ago

Text

nanami x reader - w.c 3k, marraige of convenience, mentions of societal pressure but everything is consensual!, nsfw, mdni!

without even meeting him, you agreed to marry nanami kento without any expectations of future love, romantic or otherwise.

the pairing is advantageous for the both of you; you get access to the impressive nanami family fortune that has grown substantially now that kento is managing it, while he gets to enjoy a close association with your prestigious family and the subsequent educational opportunities that your children will benefit from. it's sensible and by far the best option you'd been presented with.

you've exchanged letters with him, polite and concise. you can read between the lines and see that he shares a disillusioned view of jujutsu society, but is more than willing to step up for the good of his family.

you weren't coerced by anyone. far from it -- your mother and father had sat you down and asked if you were sure, that they would understand if you wanted to take more time or to choose a different path for yourself altogether.

but you know the rest of society would not be so kind or understanding. marriage between two sorcerers, as antiquated as it seems, is how you survive amongst all of these competitive, power-hungry families.

from what you've read and heard about him, nanami will provide stability. he's progressive in his thinking, and so wont expect anything from you that he wouldn't be willing to do as well. you've learned that he's a teacher at tokyo tech, and has received glowing reviews; he'll be a good father.

and so on this misty thursday morning, you lay eyes on your fiancé for the first time as he slips a ring on your finger and promises to stay by your side forever.

the ceremony is as bare-bones as your reputation will allow. the guest list doesn't hit the triple digits, a huge departure from society norms, but representatives from the major houses sit in floral-clad wooden chairs to watch you repeat the words that the officiant speaks in your direction.

nanami takes your hands in his. they're warm, which is nice. this dress isn't designed for November weather, but it's an heirloom -- and truthfully, you're glad to be wearing it. you'd never given much thought to a wedding, but it makes your mother and grandmother very happy.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't relieved to discover how handsome nanami is. you were previously shown a few polaroids of him -- staff pictures, mostly, but some with the rest of his family -- and had known he wasn't bad-looking, but the pictures weren't clear enough to give you a proper understanding of his looks.

his blond hair is styled neatly, not a hair out of place. he has nice features, strong jawline and cheekbones, and soft eyes, a good combination. you know his gaze can be piercing when he wants it to be, but now, he looks at you gently.

you know you made the right decision.

more vows, a kiss, and you're married.

___

the reception goes mercifully smoothly. the mix of guests -- powerful sorcerer family heads, rich businesspeople, and just a few of your personal friends -- didn't appear to gel too well on paper, but they mostly stick to their own factions. you greet them all until your vocal cords grow tired.

a meal is served on plates so ornate it makes you feel awkward eating off them. you nurse a glass of wine for most of the evening and nanami does the same, politely waving off the servers who approach to refill his glass.

a promising sign that he doesn't feel the need to drown his sorrows. this is a marriage of convenience, yes, but you'd like to be able to get along reasonably well with your spouse.

and, to his credit, he's been making light conversation with you all evening. he doesn't dip into deep or uncomfortable topics like your marriage or future plans, figuring that's best saved for later, but he asks you questions about yourself. by the end of the evening, you feel safe enough to allude to your desire for a future somewhat outside society's norms -- "I've always wanted to travel, honestly. maybe ... spend a few years abroad" -- and, to your pleasant surprise, he doesn't rebuff them. if anything, he seems somewhat pleased.

you have another glass of wine and before you know it, it's the early hours of the morning. you're nowhere near tipsy but feel ready for bed, ready to wipe off this makeup and slip into something more comfortable; thankfully, guests have started to slip out one by one, with only immediate family remaining.

your unpleasant and friendless older cousin makes a joke about you needing to say your goodbyes to 'go please your husband', and nanami's face sours for the first time all evening. your cousin notices and sheepishly takes a drink, mumbling something about it being his time to leave too.

with some final hugs to your respective families, it's time to leave with ...

... with your husband.

in his last letter before the wedding, nanami agreed that your city-centre apartment would be the best place to live in the first few weeks of your marriage, until you find somewhere more permanent that suits you both, and so that's where you go.

you show him around each room, including some storage space where his luggage had been delivered this morning. interspersed with some more small talk, you explain that although it's small, it's well placed for both of you to get to work. he smiles and nods, thanking you with a warmth that doesn't feel forced.

you offer him some tea or whiskey; he says he's fine.

you yawn. he loosens his tie, clearly exhausted himself.

the last room you show him is your bedroom, and it becomes harder and harder not to address the elephant in the room. there's very clearly no second bed, no room for him to stay that wouldn't necessitate a lot of closeness between the two of you.

the silence hangs heavy and loaded, both of you waiting for the other to speak.

well. this is one issue you hadn't covered before the ceremony.

you have no issue with a sexual relationship -- in fact, you're somewhat looking forward to it, having spent the evening admiring the way nanami's shirt hugs his strong arms and chest. but you're not sure if tonight, the first night you've ever met, is the best night to start.

sure, the concept of the wedding night speaks for itself, but it's not as black-and-white in your situation. he might want to spend some time settling in, first. he might not even be that interested in you.

"want me to take the couch?" he asks quietly, with no hint of resentment or offence in his voice. he makes the offer with a sincerity you haven't heard from a man in a long time.

you don't break your silence, but not because you're uncomfortable or anything of the sort -- you're just assessing your options.

"there's nothing i expect from you, just so you know," he continues, and you turn your head to face him, seeing his eyes scan your face for any sign of unease. "the last thing i want is for you to do ... this ... out of obligation or pressure. we have a lifetime to get to know each other, to reach that point -- i want you to be comfortable around me."

your upbringing has made you a sceptic, a pessimist at times, but for some reason, you believe him. maybe it's the look in his eyes, or the fact that he's taken your hand in his own, interlocking your fingers, but there's something about him that sets him aside from normal sorcerers.

he seems real. he seems as though, powers and fortunes and family names aside, he has some substance about him.

"do you want to?" you ask then, voice almost inaudible quiet from a day spent conversing with guests at your wedding.

he doesn't hear you, so he dips his head in your direction; you repeat yourself and wait, hoping you hadn't pressed the issue.

his composure doesn't crack, but something flashes in his eyes as he processes your question. he has such control over the movements of his features, over every expression in his body, except for his eyes, you think.

maybe you just happen to be good at reading him.

he mulls it over for a second, his grip on your hand never slacking.

"i want to," he finally admits. "i've wanted to for a while, truthfully. I've spent a lot of late nights picturing how it would feel to be inside you, to hear what my name sounds like when you say it. but i only want that if you want it too."

you smile without meaning to. "you imagined that from just reading a few letters?"

"yes, and it's a testament to my trust in my new wife that I'm telling you that," he replies, still polite but tinged with amusement.

it feels strange standing at your bedroom doorway, hand in hand with this almost-stranger, imagining what it would be like to indulge in these thoughts you've both been having, spending your first night together tangled up in the sheets and allowing some of the indulgence you've long denied yourself.

duty gets tiring. for a long time, you've been unsure what it feels like to genuinely want something.

now, you're pretty sure it feels something like this. it's organic and unforced, a natural desire that sends heat curling in the pit of your stomach.

wordlessly, you guide nanami into your room, closing the door behind you. there's a hint of a smile on his lips as you ask him for help to untie your wedding dress, the intricate pattern of buttons trailing up your spine proving too technical for your own hands. he's methodical in his work, careful to not damage the delicate clasps.

soon your dress is loose around your hips, your chest covered by the thin slip you wore underneath. you set the garment carefully aside before returning the favour and starting to undo nanami's shirt, avoiding eye contact as your hands expose more and more of his bare chest.

you want to do this, you know that for sure, but that doesn't mean you won't feel a bit of awkwardness at the start. you're not well practiced, having had too busy a life for romantic relationships until now. you hope that instinct will kick in sooner than later, but you've no doubt nanami will help you along the way.

when you finally build up the nerve to glance up at him as he shrugs off the shirt, he's looking at you as though you're the only person he ever wants touching him.

you hear the soft clink of metal and realise he's undoing his belt.

"are you sure?" he asks one more time.

that one question, and the earnestness with which he speaks, erases the last shred of doubt you had. you place your trust in him for the second time today.

you nod and reach across to his belt in the same breath, helping him pull it free from the loops to be tossed by the armchair near your desk.

you move as though controlled by something other than yourself, the decisions coming so naturally it feels as though you've been imagining it for weeks as well.

and maybe you have, you think to yourself, as you confidently guide him back slowly until he's sitting down on the plush armchair, his suit pants still on as you crawl onto his lap, pressing your chest against his. the thin fabric of your slip means you can feel the heat of his body against your skin, nipples hardening as they graze against his muscles.

you've just about balanced yourself, carefully perched on his lap when you feel his hand on the nape of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that has you grinding against his thighs before you can even catch your breath.

you've never been kissed like this. the few kisses you've had before have been with partners who see you as a means to an end, be it for your family name, your reputation, or just for sex. you've never been kissed by someone who seems to get more from your pleasure than from his own.

you now know he meant it when he said he's been picturing this.

you kiss him for as long as you can, and you're not sure if it's for seconds, minutes, hours. you kiss him until there's a heat burning between your thighs you can no longer stand, that you need to have satiated by the visible, prominent bulge in the front of his suit pants.

when you finally break away, lips numb and kiss-slick, nanami's hair is touselled - you don't remember running your hands through them, but you must have at some point - and he reaches up to run his fingers under the straps of your slip, asking with his eyes if he can guide them off your shoulders.

you nod, and your chest is exposed to the cool night air for a split second before nanami's mouth is on one of your nipples, tongue circling the sensitive skin and making you cry out.

one of the words you moan must be his name, because you feel him smile as he turns his attention towards the other nipple, hands now at the small of your back to keep you close to him.

you can't take it much longer. you need to be touched so badly, you didn't even think you were capable of wanting it this much -- and you only want him to do it, now and maybe forever.

maybe he can read your mind or maybe you babbled out the request, but nanami finally takes pity on you, giving your nipple one final lick before resting his shoulders back against the cushion of the armrest and sliding his hands up your thighs, hooking your underwear with his fingers -- you lift your hips up to let him slip them off.

his composure slips further when he finally touches you between your legs, feeling how wet you've gotten for him, seeing how you react when he slips his index finger inside.

your head falls back and you hold a breath, focusing all of your attention on the sensation of him inside you, on the way he curls the digit ever-so-slightly before pulling it out and fucking you with two this time, almost -- almost -- tipping you over the edge.

"such a pretty wife," he mumbles almost under his breath, voice and gaze reverent as he watches you rock yourself against his hand. "my beautiful, perfect wife, aren't you?"

you want to answer him but can't, lungs feeling near-empty as you fumble with the buttons of his pants.

"i will never be able to think of anything else but you, i think," he muses, half-smiling. "you in my lap ... you making those pretty little noises ... i might be a ruined man, you know. and I'm glad of it."

he only stops speaking when you finally get your hand on his clothed cock, his breath catching in his throat as you trace it with your fingers.

you want tonight, the first of many times together, to start with you cumming on your husband's cock.

nanami just watches as you finally pull him out of his underwear, his length thick and hard in your hand as you give it a few messy strokes. it's all the both of you can manage before you need to have it inside you -- you shift your hips to sit on it, nanami's eyes fixed on the site of the head slipping inside.

it's a stretch, as you expected, but one you've been craving since you closed the bedroom door. you take him inch by inch, lowering yourself down as his breath quickens, clearly battling the urge to thrust up inside you.

but he's careful with you, and doesn't want to hurt you. his wife.

you lift yourself up too much and his cock slips out, slapping aginst his stomach and you nearly cry at the sudden emptiness, eager and clumsy as you guide him back inside you.

he kisses you when you sink down next, tongue massaging your own until the feeling of almost-too-full turns to a perfect, satisfying heat in your core.

eventually you're ready to quicken the pace, bouncing on his cock before long, your mind working too fast for you to keep up as you see nanami's cheekbones flush pink, his pupils dark as you ride him until your thighs ache.

you power through the sensation, nanami helping you along by meeting your hips with his, his thumb tracing uneven circles on your puffy clit. he calls you perfect and other beautiful words; you don't say anything besides more, more and, soon after, nearly there, nearly there, please, please, I'm so close --

your entire body lights up with the most wonderful sensation, hitting you like a wave and sweeping you away in its warm glow, with nanami's hands now on your hips, guiding your movements in exactly the way you need it -- not too hard, not too slow, not too fast.

you're still pulsing around him when you feel his body stiffen, his strong thighs tensing as he groans through gritted teeth. he pulls you in for a crushing kiss as he finishes, filling you up and thrusting as deep as he can until oversensitivity takes over.

the afterglow has you a contented and exhausted mess, muscles aching but satisfied in a way you'll spend forever seeking.

reluctantly, you slip off his cock to retake your place on his lap, marvelling at how undone you both have become, a far cry from your perfect wedding appearance.

you look perfect to him, though, you know as much from the kiss he presses to your sweaty forehead and the way his arm wraps around your shoulders.

"we didn't even make it to the bed," you observe, eyebrows raising as you finally return to your own body. "i ... wasn't expecting that."

"we have a lifetime to spend in bed," he replies, a smile in his voice.

and once again, for reasons you still don't understand, you believe him.

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #need him so bad it makes me look silly #may tries to write #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento smut #nanami kento fluff #nanami smut #nanami fluff #nanami kento x you #nanami fic #nanami fanfic #nanami x fem!reader #marriage of convenience #husband nanami

5K notes · View notes

sp0o0kylights · 9 days ago

Text

Eddie was terrifying.

Elliot had known the guy for a few years now, ever since Eddie had stepped into the Spellbound Bar with big eyes and a wild grin. The guy hailed from some small ass town in Indiana, but it was clear to see that he hadn’t hidden much of himself over there.

So many kids blew into California freshly freed from their families, still dressed in clothes their old life had forced them to wear. They always had a sort of fragile, reborn look to them that made all the elder queers reach out their hands, welcome them in.

Eddie, whose last name changed on a daily basis (his drivers license listed it as ‘Henderson’ but there were rumors that it too, was fake) had too large of a wardrobe for all of it to be recently purchased, and moved too comfortably in clothes for them to be new to him.

The guy wasn’t mean. His temperment wasn’t why he was terrifying, really, though the constant high energy he whirlwinded around the bar with often grew too much for some of their quieter regulars.

No it was all the shit he casually talked about. How he took things in stride, and said he had to, given he used to be the president of a D&D club he named Hellfire.

(Hellfire. In small town America. The sheer fucking balls on this dude.)

He regaled them all with tales of his lost sheep and the fights he had with his high school principal long before Angel, the bar owner, agreed to take him on as a busboy--then bar back, then bartender, all in rapid succession.

Always winking as he spun a story about how he was caught flagging once from an out of towner stopping by for gas, the story somehow darkly hilarious.

A lot of people didn’t like southern California, or rather, not the way they thought they would at least, but Eddie took to it like a duck to water. There was no denying the man belonged here, in a way he hadn’t truly belonged anywhere else.

Elliot had been the one to help him find a local metal band. He himself was one of those quieter regulars (and not a musician let alone a metalhead) but he knew people. Could make some connections.

It helped that Elliot did play D&D, and was quick to pull Eddie into his orbit that way. Get him connected to others who loved the game like the metalhead clearly did.

And damn, could Eddie DM.

It was here though, that Elliot first picked up that Eddie’s bluster wasn’t just that.

Watched as his new friend's eyes went hard and flat when the Vecna campaign was mentioned, shut it down with such force that it left the table briefly stunned by the sheer venom in his voice.

How he flinched once, hands reaching for the bat he’d hammered nails into under the bar when electricity had stuttered in a heatwave, lights flickering in the bar.

(The bat itself, and the way Eddie had simply looked at the one Spellbound had as their only defense measure and declared it “fucking useless” had not helped the rough, survivalistic story they were all putting together.)

Winter rolled back round to spring and then summer and whispers about his home life, about how he had to survive with all the rural cow farmers looking and acting like he did, how he obviously knew how to fight was practically old news by the time he first showed up in a cropped shirt.

The scars that decorated his stomach still caught the attention of everyone at the bar, and more than once their little D&D group had tried to map out the shape of them, if only to figure out what the hell could cause such a dramatic injury.

No one ever quite succeeded, but then, no one was brave enough to ask the man himself.

What it did do, was cement the idea in everyone’s heads.

Eddie Henderson/Buckley/Sinclair/Wheeler/and one time even Walmart--was a great guy, and one who could absolutely beat the shit out of almost everyone in the bar, hands down.

Nothing he did over the years ever challenged that. If anything, Eddie only cemented it further, which is the only reason Elliot didn’t bolt the second the two of them came home from a shift and found a stranger in front of their door.

Elliot, 5’4, formerly named Eleanor and still not on T despite making every clawing attempt towards it, wasn’t much of a match for an enraged, pissed off jock.

But Eddie was.

xXx

The jock was the straightest looking man Elliot had ever laid eyes on.

Bruises covered half his face and one eye, and he sported a nose that had clearly been recently bloodied. Judging from the scrapes on the back of his hands he hadn’t gotten them willingly--or maybe was just giving as good as he got.

He was walking wildly back and forth in front of their garage, hands opening and closing, a look in his eyes that spoke of someone not entirely in control as he muttered audibly to himself.

Given the preppy polo shirt, expensive looking shorts and shoes that practically shined, they were so new, he was comically out of place, even with the entire homicidal aura he had going on.

(Given the descriptions of the assholes who had attacked Angel only four nights ago on their walk home, Elliot could only see the man as a monster preparing to attack.)

He slammed to a stop, breath in his throat, entirely unsure of what to do.

Thankfully, Eddie was right behind him.

Eddie, who could probably beat this guy and six others bloody. Eddie who carried a knife. Eddie who terrified Elliot sometimes, but not the same way the idea of getting hate crimed did, Eddie who--

Who was coming up besides Elliot, looking both alarmed and confused and not at all challenging the homicidal rich boy.

“Steve!?” Eddie said, voice high and surprised.

They both watched as the figure spun to face them, crazed look crumbling down to something Elliot couldn’t read.

“Hey.” The supposed Steve said, rather miserably, shoulders hunched right before Eddie shot forward, hands hovering in the air like he wanted to touch but didn’t know where to start.

“What the hell Harrington--did you lose another fight!?”

“I don’t lose every fight you know.” Steve snarked back, sounding exactly like every rich snob Elliot’s ever encountered.

It’d get his back up, except Steve’s entire body was curving towards Eddie in obvious relief. “Henderson exaggerates.”

Which was doubly confusing, given Eddie was supposedly a Henderson.

“Sorry for dropping by like this. Wasn’t close to anyone else, so I didn't know where else to go.” Steve continued, as Eddie finally stopped waving his hands around and instead began herding Steve through the door and to the kitchen.

Confused, Elliot followed.

(What the fuck else was he supposed to do?)

“I thought you were on a cruise?” Eddie challenged, sounding more and more normal as he and Steve traded banter.

“I was. Clearly, I’m not anymore.”

“Steve.” Eddie said, voice almost pleading as he patted the only empty spot on their counter, before turning to fish a bag of peas out of the fridge.

(Had Elliot ever heard him plead like that? Had he thought Eddie even capable?)

Steve jumped up on it like a dog that had been asked to perform a trick, while Elliot hovered in the living room, watching it all go down across the little half wall that separated the two spaces.

“Did I just see pop tarts in your freezer?” Steve asked instead of answering.

“Don’t distract me, you dick. Put this on your face.”

And so they went, instantly and immediately comfortable, two people who clearly had known each other for a long time trading insults and catching up while Eddie tried unsuccessfully to pull what happened out of Steve via an increasing number of ridiculous nicknames.

He’d worked his way past ‘Stevie’ and was well on his way to calling the stranger things like ‘big boy’ by the time Anders came home from her shift at the record store.

Swaned through various other, mildly incriminating nicknames until he saw something that made him start cursing, at which point he rapidly fell down the nickname rabbit hole, landing at a final;

“Come on Sweetheart, you look like someone tried to kill you! Just tell me what happened!”

Jake, who had just waltzed in the front door, blinked wildly.

“Eddie has a guest.” Anders informed him, handing their roommate an open beer from the pile she’d put on the floor as he slammed to a halt.

Took in their intruder so starkly out of place on the kitchen counter, nestled between twin pride flags and a poster for Eddie’s band like a misplaced catalog model.

“I don’t understand what’s happening.” Jake said flatly, as Steve grumbled something lowly at their fearless DM, and Eddie flicked his nose in retaliation.

"He's from Indiana," Elliot offered, the closest thing to an explanation he had. "Same town as Eddie."

He hesitated, then added, "I think."

It was all he’d managed to piece together, the conversation had been all over the place.

“Steven Madonna Harrington,” Eddie snapped finally, spinning to pin his guest with a glare, “you either tell me what happened or I’m calling Robin.”

‘Madonna?’ Anders mouthed at Elliot, as if that was the weirdest part of this entire situation.

Steve kicked at Eddie lightly. “She has finals this week you jerk.”

Eddie slammed both his hands down on the counter, one on either side of Steve’s hips, staring up challengingly.

It put him almost directly in between Steve’s legs, bringing their faces intimately close together.

“And she’s gonna lose her shit when she finds out her platonic with a capital P soulmate ditched off that family cruise he’s been dreading for months, looking like he decided to take up backyard boxing, and then came to my place instead of calling her first--”

“Fine! Fine, you underhanded asshole. Tommy was on that stupid Alaska cruise. Decided he wanted to reconnect.”

“Hagan did all this!?”

“Oh no, this is from my dad.” Steve motioned to himself, a grim sort of amusement curling around the words. “He caught me and Tommy making out. Decided to have a little chat about how he disapproved.”

“That is awful and we are returning to it immediately but first--Steve. Babe.” Eddie stared at him in clear dismay. “Tommy Hagan?”

Another eye roll, this one earning a wince from Steve as it agitated his bruises. “Not the time Mun--”

Eddie coughed loudly right over the rest of whatever Steve was about to say, getting a weird look from everyone around him.

“Henderson.” Eddie corrected softly. “They changed it to Henderson after all the uh.” He paused, as though trying to recall the word he wanted. Went with; “Earthquake.”

That got some glee out of Steve.

“You picked Dustin’s last name? Does he know?”

“Fuck no dude, he’d never shut up about it.” Eddie put a hand on Steve’s thigh, jostling it lightly. “We’re not talking about me right now though. Your dad disowned you?”

“Supposedly.” Steve shrugged, like this was normal and not a huge ordeal. “I’ll check on my credit cards tomorrow, see if he’s serious.”

Eddie’s stare was growing flat, fast. “Even if he isn’t, he beat the shit out of you.”

“Yeah, well, everyone kinda does, I guess it was just his turn.”

“Steve.”

“I’m kidding!” Then, in a far more serious tone; ‘I am sorry about crashing in like this. I can get out of your hair.”

Eddie was already waiving a hand dismissively, head shaking, but Steve plowed forward anyway.

“I mean it. The cruise stopped at a port near here and I needed to get off it before my dad decided disowning me and throwing all my shit over the rails weren’t enough.”

Steve finally looked up, taking in all the people who were watching this play out like a TV sitcom. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your game night.”

“There’s no game, they all live here.” He turned and glared, and got one embarrassed face and two entirely unapologetic ones in return. “They’re just enjoying the show.

‘It’s getting a five star rating so far.” Anders snarked at him. “Might lose a star, if one of the main actors keeps breaking the fourth wall, though.”

Eddie flipped her off.

“You’re not going anywhere looking like this. You are at minimum, staying here for the rest of the weekend.”

“If you’re sure.” Steve said hesitantly. To the group at large, he added; “And no one minds me taking the couch.”

“The couch is a shared communal space.” Eddie shot back instantly, before anyone else could protest. “You’re staying in my room.”

“Oh.” Steve said, like he’d half expected, wanted even, Eddie to make that offer. “Okay.”

“I am so confused right now.” Anders muttered, and Elliot could only nod along because, well.

Yeah.

Him too.

“Come on, let’s get your stuff, I’ll show you around. Keep the peas on your face.”

“Eds, man, I don’t have any stuff. I was lucky to escape with my wallet.” Steve vollied, but hopped off the counter anyway, following Eddie as he was led up the stairs, towards the metalheads room.

“This is the weirdest day of my life.” Jake announced when they’d disappeared.

“It’s not over yet.” Anders said, cracking open another beer. “Give it a bit.”

“How on earth could this get any weirder?” Elliot muttered.

“Well thanks Elliot.” Anders told him flatly. ‘If it wasn’t guaranteed before, it is now.”

“How!?”

“She’s right bud, you challenged the fates.” Jake responded. “We’re in for it now.”

(Given Steve never moved back out, they absolutely were.)

Bonus

“You know.” Eddie said, and his voice was quiet but the house was fucking ancient and not in the best of shape, and thus Elliot heard him loud and clear through their shared wall. “I kiss a lot better than Tommy Hagan.”

“Not letting that one go anytime soon, huh?” Steve rumbled back.

“I’m just saying! If you’re going to get disowned for a kiss, it should be a damn good one and not whatever limp noodle bullshit Hagan does. I saw him with Carol, he kisses like a puffer fish.”

A low snicker, followed by; “He did kinda kiss like a fish.”

“See!?” Vindicated, Eddie grew louder in volume. “I could give you a kiss that would actually be worth all this shit! A proper kiss!”

“You offering, Munson?”

“Well if the good knight Sir Harrington doth allow it--”

An ‘mmph!’ noise that took a moment for Elliot to translate as Steve kissing Eddie, which made this entire fucking day suddenly make a whole lot more sense.

“If you stop all the nerd talk we can take it beyond a kiss.”

“I can do that.” Eddie said, voice breathless. “I can definitely do that.”

“Good.”

Elliot snorted in amusement, before reality of their paper thin shared wall and the fact he was going to hear fucking everything asserted itself.

He decided to go sleep on the couch.

#steddie #like #actual steddie #they kiss and everything #outsider pov #I am annoyed #I needed a cardboard box character to use as a ride vehicle for all of us to witness the steddie #and the asshole had to go “excuse me I have a personality”#the audacity #eddie munson #steve harrington #0o0 fanfics #stranger things #beat to shit steve harrington #I didnt know where else to go trope #TW getting disowned #sort of #mentions of hate crimes and such #mentioned tommy/steve

1K notes · View notes

lowrisemiller · 2 months ago

Text

ꜱɴᴏᴡʙᴏᴜɴᴅ ⋆⁺₊❅。

summary- you & joel are the only ones left from your group and struggling to get through the harsh winter. until you stumble across an abandoned cabin and decide to stay there the whole winter…what could possibly happen ? ❅

HE KEEPS looking at you while walking, yet he remains silent. It’s one of the harshest winters he has faced since the outbreak, and you appear more like a porcelain doll that ought to be kept safe in a box, rather than a survivor in the wilderness. There were six people at the start of the journey, but now it’s merely the two of you. He has already had to bid farewell too many times in his life. It would be unfortunate to attempt to forget your pretty face as well.

You were shivering despite the many layers you had as you tried to keep up with Joel.

He sighs before he stops and turns around to face you. You can see in his gaze the concern he feels for you.

"You're freezing." He says, stepping towards you.

“N-No shit,” you said through chattering teeth.

He simply huffs at your protest, gently wrapping the coat around you. He then looks down at you, his gaze softens slightly.

“N-No Joel you need it.”

"I'll manage. You're smaller and freezing. Now shut your pretty little mouth and keep warm, okay?"

“O-Okay Joel, T-Thank you,” you said, still shivering but his coat helped.

He nods, a small smirk on his lips. It seems like your compliance has earned his grudging respect.

"You're welcome.”

He starts walking again, but this time at a slightly slower pace so you can keep up with him.

THE CABIN

After walking in the blinding white snow for what seems like forever, Joel's gaze catches a small cabin in the distance. He halts, his eyes focused on the structure. He lets out a small hum, seeming to consider something.

"Looks like we might get some rest."

“D-Do you think it’s safe?”

He looks at you, his expression is a mix of consideration and caution.

"Hard to say for sure. But it's our best shot for now."

He approaches the cabin cautiously, his hand on his revolver as he checks the surroundings.

“O-Okay.”

He nods at you, still wary. He arrives at the cabin's door and presses his ear against it, listening for any sounds inside.

He then gives the doorknob a few experimental twists, but it doesn't budge. He takes a couple of steps back and prepares to kick the door open, but pauses.

"Stay behind me."

You nodded.

Joel gives you one last glance, making sure you're behind him, before he slams his booted foot against the door. It creaks and eventually gives way, opening fully. Joel steps inside, revolver raised and trained on every corner and shadowed spot.

You also took your gun out just in case.

The cabin is empty, which comes as a relief to Joel. He lowers his revolver, letting out a sigh.

"Looks clear."

He steps further into the cabin, quickly checking every corner and hiding place for any sign of danger. After a few moments, he decides it's safe.

"You can come in."

You all but ran in there, desperate to seek any warmth and put my gun back in my pack.

He lets out an amused snort as he watches you rush into the cabin.

"In a hurry, aren't we?"

He shuts the door behind you, locking it to add an extra layer of security. He then gazes around the cabin, his eyes roaming over the tattered furniture and bare walls.

“It was fuckin freezing,” you said, already settling into the place.

He chuckles, his gaze meeting yours. He takes in your shivering form and sighs.

"I can tell.”

He walks over to the fireplace, which is thankfully already stocked with firewood. He starts working to build a fire, his large hands moving swiftly.

You couldn’t help but look at his hands as you helped him with the wood.

He glances at you a few times as you help, taking note of your silent observations. His hands, rough and calloused from a lifetime of survival, move with surprising grace and precision as he arranges the firewood into a neat pile.

After a few moments, the fire roars to life, its flames casting an inviting warmth over the cabin.

As you were warming up you shrugged off his jacket and gave it back to Joel.

He takes the jacket, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. He shrugs it back on, the fabric a little damp from your body heat and the snowflakes that had melted on it.

He settles on the floor near the fireplace, leaning against the wall. He pats the space next to him, a weary but somewhat inviting gesture.

"Come sit."

You nodded and let out a simple “alright,” and sat next to him.

He watches as you take a seat beside him, the firelight dancing across your face. He remains silent for a moment, his gaze drifting back to the fire, but he can feel your presence next to him and it's oddly comfortable. It's been a while since he's had someone by his side.

“This is nice.”

He glances at you, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I guess it is."

He stretches out his legs slightly, the tension from their journey showing in his movements.

"It's been a while since I've had a moment of peace like this. Been non-stop moving since the outbreak."

“Yeah tell me about it,” you chucked.

He lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes still fixed on the dancing flames.

"Yeah, it's a goddamn nightmare out there."

He pauses for a moment, his expression growing serious.

"I can't remember the last time I slept in a bed and didn't have to keep one eye open. And finding shelter like this...it's a small miracle."

“Yeah it’s a cute cabin, I uh actually meant to bring this up but…” You averted your gaze to the wooden floor.

He turns his head to face you, his gaze curious and a bit wary. He cocks an eyebrow, silently urging you to continue.

“Uh I was looking around the place and there’s only one bedroom with one bed…”

He freezes for a fraction of a second, his expression unreadable. He then lets out a scoff, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, that is something to talk about."

He eyes the single bed across the room, then looks back at you. He's trying to act nonchalant, but your observation has clearly caught him off guard.

“I mean I’m fine with it. I think we both deserve to sleep in a bed and we’re both adults it’s okay… unless you’re not comfortable with it—”

You sputtered out quickly.

He cuts you off, his tone firm but not cold.

"No, no it's fine."

He lets out a sigh, running a hand over his face. He's trying to conceal his discomfort. Of course, they were both adults, but sharing a single bed was...intimate. Something he hadn't done in a very long time. But he quickly pushes that thought aside, refusing to show any vulnerability.

"We both need rest. It's just for one night."

“Right. Yeah…Yeah.”

He nods, his gaze returning to the fire, a mix of resignation and exhaustion in his eyes. Despite his attempt to act cool about the situation, he's clearly not used to sharing personal space with anyone.

There's a long, heavy silence as both of you sit there, the crackling of the fire providing the only background noise.

“Do you think… Could we stay here longer? Not just a night?”

You said, breaking the silence.

He considers your question, his eyes distant as he stares into the flames. He runs a hand over his face, a weary gesture.

"I suppose we could...for a few days, at least."

He finally looks over at you, a hint of skepticism in his gaze.

"But it's risky. We can't stay in one place too long. We could get ambushed, supplies could run out."

“Joel c’mon there’s nothin for miles, we could stay here for winter.”

His expression darkens at your words, his jaw clenching briefly. He knows you have a point – the cabin is secluded, and they're surrounded by miles of isolated wilderness during this heavy winter. But that thought alone makes him uneasy.

“Winter? That's months, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah and? All we do is slowly die when we’re walking in the snow. Nothing changes, it's just dreadful and cold,” You said, finally looking back at him again.

He scoffs at your words, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"And what, stay here and wait it out? What if someone finds us? Or if we run out of supplies?"

He shakes his head, his whole body tense. He's not used to being told what to do, let alone by a pretty girl half his age.

“We kill them and we find more supplies, you’re good at that stuff why are you afraid all of a sudden?”

"I'm not afraid."

He snaps, his voice gruff. He's irritated by your insistence and the fact you seem to have no fear.

"I'm being cautious. We can't rely on blind luck forever."

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration clear in every line of his face. Your casual attitude is beginning to wear on his nerves.

“But we should bask in it for a while, c'mon you said it yourself. You need some peace.”

You said in a matter of fact tone.

He can't argue with your logic, and that makes it even more frustrating. He lets out a weary sigh, his gaze returning to the fire.

"Fine. We'll stay here for the winter. But the moment it becomes dangerous, we're out of here, got it? No arguments."

“Yes sir,” You said with a mock salute.

He rolls his eyes at your sarcastic tone, a hint of annoyance on his face.

"Watch it, sweetheart."

He's trying to sound irritated, but there's a hint of amusement in his voice. He's actually a little entertained by your feistiness.

⋆꙳•❅*• •*❆ ₊ ⋆꙳•❅*• •*❆ ₊⋆꙳•❅*• •*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*• •*❆

A few days have passed since the decision to stay at the cabin. Despite the initial tension, the two of you have settled into a somewhat comfortable routine. The cabin is still relatively barren, but it has become a makeshift home of sorts.

Joel sits by the fireplace, sharpening one of his knives. The repetitive scrape of the blade against the stone is the only sound in the room. He glances over at you.

You were sitting in the corner of the worn down sofa reading one of the books in the abandoned bookshelf.

He continues sharpening his knife, but his attention drifts towards you. You seem engrossed in the book, the fire casting a cozy glow on your face. He watches you for a moment, his mind seemingly elsewhere.

Eventually, he breaks the silence.

"What're you reading?"

You turned the book over showing him the cover.

“The Da Vinci Code”

He raises an eyebrow at the title, a hint of surprise on his face. He didn't take you for a Da Vinci Code fan.

“Ah, the Da Vinci Code. Heard about it but never read it myself.”

He sets his knife and sharpening stone aside, turning his attention fully towards you.

“Is it any good?”

“So far yeah, just a bunch of history.”

You shrugged.

He lets out a soft, almost amused chuckle.

"Surprised you're into history."

He's not trying to be condescending, just making an observation. History isn't something he associates with women your age, nor something he usually finds particularly interesting.

“Just somethin’ to read.”

"Fair enough."

He leans back against the wall, crossing his arms. The silence stretches for a few moments, but it isn't uncomfortable. It's the kind of silence that comes with familiarity and shared space. He continues to watch you, his expression a bit softer than usual.

You tried your hardest to move my eyes away from joel and back onto the words on the yellow pages. But joel just looked good like this. Like he wasn’t looking behind his back constantly, warm and domestic even.

Unaware of your thoughts, Joel continues to gaze at you. It's as if he's seeing you in a different light. You're so young, and yet here you are, braving the horrors of this world without breaking. He feels a strange sense of protectiveness towards you, even though he knows you can take care of yourself. He tries to ignore this feeling, but it gnaws at him, like a stubborn itch he can't scratch.

Hours have passed, and the sky outside has grown dark. The only source of light in the cabin is the flickering fire, casting dancing shadows across the room.

Joel is still leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. He looks like he might have been dozing off, but he suddenly stirs, his eyes snapping open. He glances around the room, his gaze finally settling on you.

You fell asleep on the couch with the book on your rising and falling stomach.

He raises an eyebrow at the sight of you, a soft chuckle escaping him. You look so peaceful in your sleep, despite the harsh world outside.

He stands and silently crosses the room towards you. Crouching beside the couch, he carefully lifts the book off your stomach and sets it aside. He covers you with a coarse blanket, his touch surprisingly gentle.

You stirred in your sleep, reaching out for Joel.

He freezes as you reach out, his heart skipping a beat. For a moment, he's torn between pulling away or giving in to the strange urge to move closer. He doesn't understand why the sight of you, half-asleep and grabbing for him, affects him so deeply.

Eventually, he decides to give in to the impulse. He gently takes your hand in his, his rough fingers closing around yours.

“Stay,” you whispered.

His breath hitches in his throat as he hears your whispered request. He was not prepared to hear those simple yet impactful words from your lips. His gaze softens as he looks down at you, your hand still clasped in his.

“I...I'll stay.”

He responds, his voice unusually quiet, almost intimate. He gently squeezes your hand in reassurance, a gesture of comfort and perhaps something more.

You moved to make room for him on the couch.

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes locked onto the empty space beside you on the couch. But he ultimately decides to give in, easing himself down next to you, careful not to disturb your sleep.

His body is stiff at first, the unfamiliar closeness making him feel vulnerable. But slowly, he relaxes as he feels the warmth of your body next to his. He lets out a quiet sigh, his hand still holding yours, as he closes his eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of your breath.

You burrowed yourself more into his warmth.

Despite his initial tension, Joel finds himself responding to your nearness, his body betraying him. He wraps his arm around you, carefully pulling you closer, as if trying to shield you from the world outside.

He breathes in your scent, a mixture of the subtle fragrance of your skin and the slight musk of the wilderness. It feels oddly soothing, grounding him in this moment, this bubble of quiet intimacy.

He can feel your heartbeat against his chest, a gentle rhythm that calms his racing thoughts. For a while, he just lies there, lost in his own musings and the unfamiliar sensations coursing through him. He remembers the days when he rarely let himself get close to anyone, the days when he was so closed off that physical contact felt foreign to him. And here he is now, his arm around a girl half his age, and it doesn't feel wrong. It feels...safe.

You felt very safe in his arms as you drifted off back to sleep.

He feels you relax further in his arms, your breathing slowing as you fall back into a deeper slumber. For a long moment, he continues to lie there, simply holding you close, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against his. Then, he gently shifts onto his side, pulling you even closer, his arm tightening protectively around you.

The pale morning light streams through the lone window of the cabin, illuminating the small space. Joel slowly opens his eyes, bleary and disoriented.

For a moment, he forgets where he is. But then he feels the weight of you in his arms, your head on his chest, and everything comes rushing back. He tenses for a second, reality hitting hard, but he quickly adjusts to the situation.

He glances down at you, his gaze softens as he watches you sleep peacefully.

He realizes that he's still holding you, his arm wrapped around your waist, your leg draped across his, the blanket tangled around both of you. He can feel the warmth of your body against his, the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe. It dawns on him that, for the first time in a long while, he actually slept through the night.

He doesn't move, not wanting to disturb your rest. He simply lies there, contemplating the strange intimacy that has developed between the two of you.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He's getting too comfortable, too vulnerable. But he can't lie to himself - holding you feels good. It feels safe. And that thought scares him more than anything he's faced in this god-forsaken world.

You began to stir a little.

He feels you start to move against him, and he reflexively tightens his hold on you, his protective instincts kicking in. He watches you closely, his gaze fixed on your face as he waits for you to fully awake.

“Mmh you’re warm,” you said, clearly still half-asleep.

A faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he hears your sleepy grumble. He relaxes a little, his grip on you loosening slightly, but his arm remains wrapped around you.

“And you're surprisingly clingy,” he replies, his voice teasing but a hint of affection in it.

You blushed and turned around in his hold.

He chuckles softly as you turn around, facing him. Your sudden closeness creates an intimate moment, and his initial teasing comment seems to have backfired on him. He can see the slight flush on your cheeks, and it does something to him. His arm instinctively tightens again, as if he can't bear the thought of letting you go.

He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure, but he can't find the right words. He just stares at you, the early morning light illuminating your face, making you look soft and vulnerable. He can feel his heart racing, his mind filled with a whirl of conflicting emotions.

You stirred more this time, definitely waking up.

He watches as you continue to stir, slowly coming to wakefulness. He knows that whatever moment they were just sharing is about to end. He loosens his grip on you a bit, not wanting to come across as too possessive.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but there's a hint of huskiness in his voice.

“Hi,” you spoke from his shoulder.

He feels a shiver run down his spine as he hears your voice, muffled against his shoulder. The sound of it, sleepy and unguarded, does something to him, and he has to fight the urge to pull you closer.

"Sleep well?" He asks, clearing his throat again to mask the unexpected effect you have on him.

“Hm don’t let it get to your head but that might’ve been the best sleep I’ve ever had.”

He can't help the smirk that forms on his lips at your comment, the pride he feels in knowing that he was a part of your peaceful slumber. He gives you a light nudge with his shoulder.

"Oh, trust me, it's already getting to my head, sweetheart."

You pushed at his chest and laughed.

God your laughter, it was one of the sweetest things Joel has ever heard.

He laughs along with you, surprised at how easily you make him laugh. It's a sound he hasn't made in a long time. When you push at his chest, he feigns being hurt, clutching at his heart.

“Hey, careful there. I'm an old man, you know.”

“Oh right I forgot I was dealing with a senior citizen.”

He narrows his eyes at you, the smirk returning to his face. He can't help but find your playful banter entertaining.

“Watch it, sweetheart. It's disrespectful to speak to your elders like that. I might have to teach you a lesson.”

He says this with mock seriousness, his hand coming to rest on your waist.

He catches the shift in your laughter, the tension suddenly palpable. His hand stills on your waist, fingers gently tracing circles on your skin, almost involuntarily. He looks at you, studying your reaction, his expression a mixture of amusement and something deeper.

“Something wrong?” He asks, his tone low and gruff.

“N-No of course not.”

He can see the slight flush on your cheeks, the way your eyes dart away from his gaze. It makes him curious, it makes him want to push you further.

“You're not a good liar, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hand trailing higher on your waist, his touch becoming more deliberate.

“Wasn’t lyin—”

He notices your breath hitching, a smirk tugging at his lips. He knows he's getting a rise out of you, and he can't help but enjoy it.

“Really? Your face says otherwise.”

He takes a chance, leaning in a little closer, his other hand coming up to graze your jawline.

“Joel…”

Hearing his name come from your lips, so soft and breathy, has an effect on him he hadn't expected. He swallows hard, his gaze locked on you. He can't help but close the distance between you a little more, his hand still on your waist.

“Yes?” He asks, his voice gruff and low.

His gaze darkens, and his grip on your waist tightens a fraction.

“I want you. All of you.”

He says it with a quiet intensity, as if the admission is both a confession and a realization. The last remnants of his composure are slipping away, leaving only raw desire in their wake.

You blushed and put your softer smaller hands over Joel’s big rough ones.

The simple gesture of your hands covering his, so innocent and yet so intimate, nearly undoes him. He lets out a ragged breath, his gaze locked on you, his whole being consumed by the need to be closer to you. He tugs you closer, his arm around your waist sliding down to your hip, pulling you onto his lap so you're straddling him.

You gasped at the sudden change in position. The grogginess from your sleep is now gone.

Your gasp sends a thrill down Joel’s spine, and he watches your eyes widen as you settle over him. His hands stay firm on your hips, grounding you, keeping you close. There’s something almost reverent in the way he looks at you—like you’re something he’s been craving for longer than he’d care to admit.

“You good?” he murmurs, eyes scanning your face, even as his thumbs stroke slow, lazy circles into your skin.

You nod, breathless. “Y-Yeah…”

That’s all he needs.

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours—not quite a kiss yet, just a tease, a promise. You chase his mouth instinctively, and he grins into it, finally closing the distance and capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow and deep and filled with heat. There’s nothing rushed about it—Joel kisses you like he wants to memorize you, like he wants to make it last.

Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently, and he groans into your mouth. That sound vibrates through you, making your core tighten, your body arch into his. He shifts his hips beneath you, and the friction pulls a soft moan from your lips. You feel him—hard and warm beneath the thin barrier of clothes—and it only heightens the growing ache inside you.

“You feel what you do to me, baby?” he whispers against your lips, his voice thick and gravelly. “Every damn time I’m near you…”

His mouth moves to your neck, kissing a line up to just below your ear, sucking lightly on the spot that makes your hips twitch. His hands trail up under your shirt, calloused palms brushing up your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Take this off,” he growls softly, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You lift your arms and let him pull it over your head, and the moment your chest is bare to him, he curses under his breath.

“Christ…” His hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples until they pebble under his touch. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

Your head falls back when he leans down and takes one into his mouth, sucking gently while his hand keeps working the other. The pleasure blooms fast, hot and dizzying, and you can’t stop the sounds you’re making—needy, breathless gasps that make Joel’s grip on you tighten.

You grind down against him instinctively, and the way he growls low in his throat makes you feel powerful and small all at once.

“You gonna let me have you, sweetheart?” he rasps, pulling back just enough to look up at you—his pupils blown wide, his chest rising fast beneath you.

“You already do,” you whisper, hips rolling against his once more.

His lips crash into yours again, hungrier now, more urgent. One hand slides into the waistband of your shorts, slipping inside to find the heat waiting there.

“Fuck… you’re soaked,” he murmurs, rubbing slow, tight circles over your clit with his fingers. “You want me this bad already?”

You can’t even form words—you just nod, whimpering when he presses a thick finger inside you, then another. He works you open slowly, watching your face the entire time, learning what makes you tremble, what makes you gasp.

And then he’s pulling his fingers out, tugging his shirt over his head and shoving his sweats down just enough to free himself. Your eyes drop, and you suck in a breath—he’s big, thick, and already leaking at the tip.

“You sure?” he asks, voice wrecked and barely holding on. “Tell me now if you’re not.”

“I’m sure,” you breathe, bracing your hands on his chest.

He guides you down onto him inch by inch, the stretch making your breath catch, your nails dig into his skin. Joel groans, low and deep, as he sinks all the way into you.

Once you’re seated fully, he stills, letting you adjust, his hands holding your hips tight. Your forehead rests against his as you both breathe through the heat coiling tight between you.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

You meet his eyes, and then you move—slow, grinding circles with your hips that make both of you moan. Joel’s hands help you set a rhythm, and soon you’re moving together, your bodies rocking in sync, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the quiet room.

Every thrust, every grind, builds the pressure in your belly higher, tighter. He kisses you again, messy and deep, and then trails his lips down your throat.

“That’s it, baby… come for me,” he growls. “Come on my cock.”

His words send you over the edge, your body trembling as pleasure crashes through you, and Joel follows with a guttural groan, spilling into you as he buries his face in your neck.

You collapse against him, both of you breathless, skin sticky with sweat and heat. He holds you close, fingers drawing lazy shapes on your back.

“Yeah,” he murmurs after a beat. “Definitely the best sleep you’ve ever had.”

You laugh softly, chest still rising fast. “And the best wake-up.”

“Damn right,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “But just so you know… I ain’t done with you yet.”

The fire was down to glowing embers when you finally slipped out of bed, the heavy chill in the air biting at your bare skin. You tugged on one of Joel’s flannels and some thick socks, the scent of him still clinging to the fabric. Joel sat on the edge of the bed lacing up his boots, his brow furrowed in that familiar, quiet determination.

“Where are you going?” you asked, voice still a little hoarse from sleep and everything else.

He looked up, softening a little at the sight of you bundled in his shirt. “Out to check the traps. Might be somethin’ in ‘em. We’re down to one can of beans and a bag of rice.”

You frowned, arms crossing tightly over your chest. “It’s freezing out there. Can’t we do it later? Or… I’ll come with you.”

He shook his head, already shrugging on his jacket. “I won’t be long. Just a loop around the ridge. No sense in both of us freezin’ our asses off.”

“You always say that, Joel, but it’s been getting colder every day. What if you slip on the ice or—”

He stopped lacing, looked up at you with that patient-but-firm look that made your stomach twist with frustration and affection.

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Done this kinda thing more times than I can count.” He stood and crossed the room, cupping your cheek with a warm, calloused hand. “I just need you to keep the fire goin’ and maybe have some coffee ready for when I’m back.”

You leaned into his touch despite yourself. “I hate it when you leave.”

“I know.” He brushed his lips over your forehead, then your mouth—slow and sweet, like a promise. “I’ll be back before you miss me too much.”

And just like that, he was gone, boots crunching through the snow, axe slung over his shoulder.

The hours passed slowly.

You kept the fire fed, stacked kindling, reheated what little food you had. Every time the wind howled against the cabin walls, you peeked out the frosted window, searching for his shape.

But true to his word, Joel returned just as the sun began to dip, cheeks red from the cold, a rabbit slung over his shoulder and a small proud smirk on his face.

“Told you,” he said, shaking the snow from his jacket at the door. “Still in one piece.”

You rolled your eyes and threw your arms around him anyway, burying your face in his chest. “Took you long enough.”

He held you tight, his body radiating warmth, and nuzzled into your hair.

“Missed me already, huh?”

You mumbled against him, “I always do.”

He kissed you again, this one a little hungrier, hands cold on your waist but body warm and solid, the rabbit forgotten on the floor.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, breath hot against your cheek, “I’m gonna have to earn my coffee another way.”

Joel’s arms tightened around you, the weight of his return finally settling in your chest. He was always gone longer than he said he’d be—always underestimating the cold, or the time, or maybe just how anxious you got when you were left alone in this empty cabin with nothing but the wind and your own thoughts.

You stayed wrapped around him for another few moments, breathing him in. Snow and pine and faint sweat. That leather smell of his jacket, the scratch of his beard against your temple.

“You’re freezing,” you murmured.

“Snow’s gettin’ thicker out by the ridge. Almost lost the trail twice.” His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, thawing through the layers. “Traps were half-buried. I dug ’em out.”

You pulled back enough to glance up at him, your fingers brushing over his beard where the tips of it still glittered with frost. “You didn’t fall, did you?”

Joel huffed. “No. Took it slow. Careful, like I promised.”

That earned him a quiet smile, but the worry hadn’t fully left your chest. “You really found something?”

He nodded and gestured toward the rabbit lying just inside the door on a patch of burlap. “One little guy, but he’s good-sized. That’ll stretch us a few meals if we ration it.”

Your stomach gave a quiet gurgle in agreement. He caught it and grinned.

“Why don’t you sit?” you said, stepping back toward the hearth. “I’ll heat up water. Your hands are like ice.”

Joel sat with a soft grunt, joints stiff from the cold and the work, and stripped off his jacket and gloves. You poured water into the tin pot and set it near the fire, watching him from the corner of your eye as he rolled his shoulders and rubbed at his hands.

They were raw and red, the backs of them weather-beaten and scarred from years of hard work, and you found yourself crossing back to him with the little tin of balm you kept on the shelf.

“Give me your hands,” you said gently.

Joel blinked at you. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

With a quiet sigh, he surrendered them, holding them out palms-up as you dipped your fingers into the salve and began working it gently into the rough skin. He didn’t speak at first, just watched you. Watch how your brows furrowed in concentration, how careful you were with him.

“You got good hands,” he said softly. “Real gentle.”

You glanced up, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “I’ve had a lot of practice taking care of stubborn men.”

He chuckled low in his chest, but it faded quickly, replaced by something quieter.

“I’m not used to this,” he admitted after a moment. “Comin’ back to someone. Feels good. But it's strange.”

You paused, fingers still curled around him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes searched yours for a long, heavy beat. “I know.”

The fire popped softly behind you, filling the quiet that followed. You finished tending to his hands, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist, just where his pulse beat steadily. He watched you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“Alright,” you said, breaking the spell before it got too thick between you. “Let’s clean that rabbit.”

Joel stood slowly, groaning like the old man he always claimed to be, and retrieved the burlap sack. You helped him set up on the back table near the door where it was cooler, handing him his blade while you gathered bowls and cloths. The two of you worked in sync, the process methodical—Joel skinning and cleaning the meat with quiet skill, you preparing a small stew pot to simmer bones and scraps.

“You ever butcher anything before?” he asked, glancing at you.

“Nope. I just pretend to know what I’m doing.”

He smirked. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re more helpful than most I’ve known.”

You shrugged. “You bring home the food, I make it last. Fair deal.”

You caught him watching you again—like he was tucking the image away for later. The pot clanged softly as you set it over the fire, steam already curling upward as the fat began to melt.

Soon the little cabin filled with the smell of meat and rosemary—leftover from a stash you’d found in a forgotten spice cabinet. The mix of warmth, firelight, and the comforting aroma created a bubble against the harsh world just outside the frosted windows.

As the stew simmered, you both settled by the fire again. Joel sat with his back to the hearth, legs stretched out, while you leaned into his side, your head resting on his shoulder. He pulled a blanket over the two of you and settled his arm around you like it was second nature.

Outside, the wind howled, snow sweeping past the windows in swirling white ribbons, but here it was warm. Safe.

Your eyes slipped shut as his hand idly traced up and down your spine, the rhythm of it as steady as his breathing.

“Still cold?” he murmured.

You shook your head against him. “Not with you here.”

Joel didn’t answer, but you felt the way he held you tighter.

The worst of the cold had finally loosened its grip.

It didn’t vanish overnight, of course. Winter in this part of the country never did. But there were signs—tiny, quiet things. The way the wind didn’t scream quite as hard through the cracks in the cabin walls. The longer stretch of golden light that filtered through the windows in the late afternoon. The sound of dripping icicles on the porch roof, melting slow and steady. A promise, almost.

You and Joel had settled into something unspoken but good. A rhythm. A way of moving around each other that felt easy. Reliable. Like the creak of the cabin’s floorboards or the hiss of the kettle heating on the stove.

Mornings came quietly now. Not with desperate shivers or the panic of dwindling rations, but with small moments of peace. Joel always rose first—he’d stoke the fire, make coffee, and sometimes if he was feeling generous, dig out some of the dried fruit you both had been hoarding. You’d wake to the sound of the tin cups clinking or the soft hum of him stirring oatmeal. And sometimes, if he thought you were still asleep, he’d mutter a tune under his breath—something old and Southern and low enough that it blended with the wind outside.

You didn’t call him out for it. Just smiled quietly against the pillow and pretended to sleep a little longer.

You’d help him with the chores after that. He’d go check the traps while you swept the floor, tidied the shelves, boiled snow for drinking water. When he came back, you’d help him skin whatever he’d caught—rabbit, mostly, sometimes a squirrel if he was lucky. You never liked the mess, but he’d watch your hands, always patient, always ready to nudge you through it.

“You’ve got a stronger stomach than you think,” he told you once, rinsing blood from his hands in the snow. “Just takes gettin’ used to.”

And maybe he was right, because none of it felt so jarring anymore. None of it felt wrong.

In the evenings, you’d sit by the fire together, sharing whatever meal you managed that day. There was rarely enough for full seconds, but neither of you complained. Joel would whittle sometimes—little pieces of wood that he shaped into animals or stars or once, a crooked little bird you kept on the mantel. He’d pass it to you without a word, and you’d accept it like a gift, because it was.

You didn’t talk about what came next. Neither of you brought up spring in the way that people do when they’re planning to move on. You didn’t make maps or speak of the nearest settlement. No talk of returning to the road, or of going back to the people who might be waiting somewhere.

You just stayed.

It was one of those days when the snow was soft instead of sharp, when the sky outside the cabin glowed with pale light and the chill inside wasn’t unbearable. You’d both been inside most of the day, tending to little things—patching a tear in your coat, organizing the few supplies in your pack. Joel had been quiet, more than usual, but not distant.

After dinner, the fire had been roaring strong. You were sitting on the floor in front of it, your knees tucked under you, Joel behind you on the edge of the mattress. You’d pulled your hair back, neck bare, as you rubbed balm into the dry skin on your hands. His gaze had been on you for a while—unspoken, steady.

“C’mere,” he said, voice low.

You looked up. “What?”

“Come here.”

You stood slowly and moved toward him. When you stopped in front of him, his hands came to your hips, slow and careful. He looked up at you like you were something that had crept quietly into his chest and refused to leave.

“You cold?” he murmured.

You shook your head. “Not right now.”

“Good,” he said, and his hands slid up under your sweater.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. The firelight made his eyes look darker, and his touch was soft—just fingertips tracing the curve of your waist, up your ribs, over the hem of your worn shirt. You inhaled quietly, and Joel watched the movement of your chest, eyes flickering there, then back to yours.

“I think about this all the time,” he admitted. “How you look. How you feel. What it’d be like.”

You licked your lips, heat coiling low in your stomach. “You already know what I feel like.”

He pulled you gently down, guiding you into his lap, his knees spreading so you could straddle him. Your legs settled around his hips, your hands going to his shoulders for balance. It felt natural. Like this wasn’t the first time, even though it was.

“But not like this,” he said, eyes roaming your face. “Not slow. Not how you deserve.”

You reached down and ran your fingers through his hair, brushing your thumbs along the curve of his jaw. “Then show me.”

That was all it took.

Joel’s mouth was on yours, slow but sure. Not tentative—he didn’t kiss like a man unsure of himself. But there was care in it. Patience. The kind of kiss that made your hands shake a little and your chest ache. He held your waist while you kissed him back, your body flush against his. You could feel him getting harder beneath you, feel the quiet groan he let out against your lips when your hips shifted instinctively.

“You feel good,” he muttered against your skin, lips brushing along your jaw, your throat. “So fuckin’ good, sweetheart.”

Your sweater was pulled over your head in a smooth motion, and Joel’s hands were on you—exploring like he was memorizing. No rush. He didn’t just grab; he held. Palmed the curve of your back. Let his rough fingers ghost over your chest, your stomach, leaving heat in their wake.

When you pulled his shirt off, you took your time too. Traced the line of his collarbone, the faded scars along his ribs. He let you. Watched you.

The mattress creaked quietly beneath you as he lowered you down, blanketing you with his body, the fire crackling behind him. And when he finally pressed into you—slow, thick, deep—you felt the air leave your lungs in one long breath.

“Joel,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the stretch, the heat, the way he filled you so completely.

His head dropped to your shoulder, his breath ragged. “You’re alright,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

You moved together slowly. No frantic pace. Just the kind of rhythm that came from knowing each other—really knowing. Joel’s forehead pressed to yours, his hand laced with yours above your head, your other palm resting over his thudding heart.

You didn’t say much. Just soft gasps, whispered names, the occasional curse when the pleasure overwhelmed you both.

When it was over, Joel didn’t pull away.

He stayed on top of you, warm and heavy and safe, his nose pressed into your neck. Your fingers played lazily with the hair at the nape of his neck, your leg curled around his.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he said, voice low and hoarse.

“I know,” you whispered.

And you meant it.

One month bled into another one. Joel started teaching you how to shoot—slow, careful lessons with his old pistol in the clearing out back. He’d stand behind you, one hand steady on your shoulder, the other adjusting your grip.

“You’re a good learner,” he said once, after you hit the bottle dead center. “Better shot than me when I was your age.”

You’d laughed, breath fogging in the cold. “You were probably wild and reckless.”

“Still am,” he teased, nudging your side. “But now I know how to aim.”

That night you cleaned the pistol together on the table, Joel’s flannel draped over your shoulders as you sat beside him. He handed you the cloth and watched you move with the same focus he gave to every task. No distractions. Just the work. Just you.

There were no declarations. No sudden confessions. But the way he touched your back before bed, or the way he pulled you closer under the blankets without a word—those were his language. That was how Joel said stay.

And you did.

Every morning, you woke to the quiet weight of him beside you. Sometimes his hand brushed against your hip. Sometimes your legs tangled under the blanket. Sometimes you’d wake in the middle of the night, and he’d already be awake, watching the dying fire like it held all his thoughts.

He never said what haunted him, and you never asked. You just leaned into him, warm and soft, and his arm would come around you like it always did—steady, grounding.

You never had a moment of decision. No single conversation. But one morning you woke to the sound of birds—actual birds—and Joel handed you a mug of coffee with a faint smile and said, “Spring’s comin’.”

And instead of saying anything about leaving, you just sipped your drink, leaned your head on his shoulder, and nodded.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “It is.”

tags: @yuskitty @moonshapedflan @xodilfluvr @annulmaelae @zevrra @alidiggory92

2K notes · View notes

bunnis-monsters · 1 month ago

Note

What do you think that the queen would do if she found few of her baby bees sleeping in flowers after they have tried convincing her that they are now big bees that can do work, and they just sleep in the flower cause they’re too tired from not flying that much (I am literally crying it’s so cute)

note: baby bee hybrid sticker sheets are for sale in my kofi shop!!

Your baby bees had been begging to go out on their own for weeks. It was scary, being a new mother to such fluffy, sensitive little bee hybrids.

A part of you was terrified that your little ones would go out and never return. They meant the world to you, and letting them go out into the cold, unforgiving world was hard to do.

Eventually though, the hive slowly soothed your fears. “My queen, you just let them explore. They’re more than old enough, you mushy coddle them.”

So you gathered them in your arms and kissed each of their little heads as they prepared to leave.

“You be safe, okay? And don’t forget you can call for mama and I’ll come get you.”

“Yes, mama!”

Your little ones took flight, and after bumping into the glass door a few times, one of your attendants opened it and they flew off.

The first hour you spent pacing the halls, your hive abuzz with anxiety due to your conflicting emotions.

You felt proud of your little ones for facing the world and working to gather nectar for the hive, but you were also worried they might be attacked by a rival give or a bear hybrid!

You could picture their chubby little bodies, all fluffy and afraid…

They began returning that afternoon, all cos Ted in pollen and proudly showing off the nectar they collected. You cooed over them, giving your sweet babies praise as they beamed and clung to you.

Counting them, you realized that you were one short. “Hey, have any of you seen Flower?”

They all shook their heads, trying to use their little brains to remember. “Flower said we could go home.”

Flower was your firstborn son, the only one that survived your original clutch. His wings were deformed, and he couldn’t fly!

“I’m going out!”

The bee hybrids followed behind you nervously. “My queen, you aren’t supposed to leave the hive-“

“One of my babies are out there and I’m going to go find them!”

Some of the bee hybrids shivered when you yelled, enjoying when you were stern with them. “W-well, if you must go, please let one of the royal guards accompany you.”

One of the buff and fluffy guards stepped forward, opening his arms.

“… well, I guess I’ll cover more ground if we fly.”

You searched through the fields of flowers, nearly losing hope… until you spotted a fuzzy pair of legs sticking out of a tulips.

You landed next to the giant flower, your guard setting you down before you ran over. Inside the tulip was your little prince, snoring as pollen flew around him.

He must have gotten tired from walking all the way home and decided to take a quick nap inside that flower.

You gathered up your little one, sneezing and sniffling as his pollen covered you. Despite that, you didn’t let him go for a second as you were escorted home.

Now, all baby bees are required to have a buddy when they go out, and there haven’t been anymore incidents.

1K notes · View notes

cherrygirlfriend · 1 month ago

Text

─── AEROPHOBIA ✈︎

✈︎ pairing: ceo!rafe x housewife!reader

✈︎ summary: rafe has an idea for how he can distract you from your fear of flying.

✈︎ warnings / tags: fluff, smut, pet names, fingering, oral (fem. receiving), orgasm denial, unprotected piv, breeding kink, praise, rafe being a wife guy but also dumb <3, prescribed medication, MDNI! WC: 3K

✈︎ author's note: this is the longest smut i've written,, NEE-NAW NEE-NAW WARNING! freakrina is defrosting for hot girl summer. hide your mans, hide your minge and hide your gals. don’t say i didn’t warn ya!! for the person who wanted airplane sex with rafe <3

HOUSEWIFE MASTERLIST ♥︎ RAFE MASTERLIST

you'd never been good when it came to flying; every time you knew you'd be faced with the displeasure of having to step on a plane, you popped a xanax you'd been prescribed with an hour before you'd fly, the pill being the only thing that had a somewhat calming effect on you. you really didn't know what caused the terrible pit in your stomach whenever you felt the plane start to ascend, lasting all throughout the flight and even a few hours after it had landed.

but rafe knew you weren't used to flying, knew it stressed you out so much you couldn't sleep for the night before you were supposed to get on a plane. your sweet, utterly clueless husband had thought he was doing you a favor by surprising you with a nice getaway. with a ten-hour flight.

but the moment your driver had pulled up to the airstrip where rafe's company's private jet stood, you burst into laughter. he had to be joking? turns out that he wasn't. and after thirty minutes of you arguing about how much you didn't want to do it, and your husband arguing that you'll be fine, that he'd be right there with you, you reluctantly agreed.

"this freaks me the hell out." you whispered sharply, buckling your seatbelt and gripping onto it, already feeling your stomach starting to churn. one would think that flying private would actually make an aerophobe feel more relieved, but it had the opposite effect. private jets are 30x more likely to crash than commercial plane. you'd looked it up when rafe had mentioned going away for a business trip on the jet you were currently on board of.

besides, if you were to crash in the wilderness, regular airplanes would have multiple people on board. strength in numbers. however, this jet had five people in it, including you and rafe.

it would drive anyone insane to have to spend an extended amount of time with five people, but to have to do that after having to endure something as traumatic as a plane crash, and if there was no food except whatever food the plane has on board, everyone would slowly start to starve to death. and with the statistics on how many men leave their wives when they discover they have a terminal illness, how far-fetched is it to say that if it comes to a man's survival over his own wife's- no.

you took in a deep breath. you felt rafe gently peel your hand away from the seatbelt that had started digging into the skin of your palm. you looked at him with doe-eyes, your husband looking back at you with a kind smile as he uncurled your fist, bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss there and intertwining your fingers together.

"i didn't even get to take anything..." you mumbled quietly, your lips turned down in a frown. your husband let out a breathy chuckle, making your pout even more pronounced in confusion. he pressed his thumb onto button on the side, and soon, a woman's voice sounded out in the speakers above you, making your eyes widen slightly, "yes, mr. cameron?" "could we get a glass of the macallan, 25, as well as a glass of château d’yquem?" "right away, mr. cameron." rafe let go of the button, turning back to face your confused gaze.

soon, a flight attendant brought over a tray of drinks. "here you go, mr. and mrs. cameron." she said with a kind smile, handing rafe a glass of whiskey and handing you a glass of wine, and you thanked her sheepishly, the woman going leaving you two alone again. you looked at the golden-yellow liquid with suspicion, "this is one of those fancy wines again, isn't it?" you narrowed your eyes at him, "i've told you i don't like it when you spend money on something as frivolous as wine for me-" "just try it."

you stuck your tongue out at rafe playfully for a moment before taking a tentative sip of the drink, your eyes widening in surprise at the taste, your husband taking a sip of his own whiskey with a slight grin, "don't get cocky." you nudged him softly.

"stop stroking my ego so much." rafe brought his hand to your jaw, and you automatically followed his touch as he brought your face closer to his, your lips connecting, the sweetness of your wine mingling with the smokiness of his whiskey as rafe's tongue pushed into your mouth. the pit in your stomach feeling lighter and warmer, the entire world muting around you, the only thing you could hear being your own heartbeat and the sounds of your lips joining.

rafe's hand tangled into your hair, and you let out a muffled moan into your husband's mouth, your hand going to rest on his cheek, feeling the warmth in your stomach starting to slowly turn into a flame as he kissed you like he was starving and you were the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted, only for your husband to pull away from the kiss, leaving you breathless with your pupils blown wide and lips swollen, some of the lipstick having gotten onto his lips, "why'd-" "i knew i could find a way to distract you." rafe smiled softly, making you furrow your brows.

and only then did you notice that the engine was humming, and that you were actually in the air. "did you just... oh, you play dirty." you shake your head, feigning offense. your husband simply grins, before pulling something out of his pocket. rafe takes hold of your hand, placing a small tin box onto the palm of your hand, "what's this?" "you think i don't know my own wife?"

you opened the lid of the small tin box, seeing two xanax bars inside, and you turn to look at him with an appreciative smile. "you remembered." "yeah, i remembered. i also remember the time you forgot to take one and had a panic attack in mid air." rafe tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. you rolled your eyes at him affectionately, popping the pill into your mouth and washing it down with the wine rafe had gotten you earlier.

"the thing is, though..." you purse your lips, "it takes around an hour to take effect..." you brought your manicured finger to the base of his jaw, glancing down at rafe's lips, hearing the slow intake of breath as you slowly trailed you finger down his jaw, looking back up at his eyes, "we should come up with something to distract me." you stuck out your bottom lip in a sultry pout, leaning into him as your finger arrived at his chin, your thumb taking hold of it, "i mean, what if i get anxious?"

rafe didn't need to be told twice.

your husband's head was between your legs, your shirt long gone, your nipples straining against the white lace of your bra, your skirt bunched up over your hips, matching lacy panties in the back pocket of rafe's back pocket. one of rafe's muscular arms was wrapped around your thigh as they rested on his shoulders, his button-up shirt unbuttoned, the sleeves pulled up to his elbows in a way that showed of the slightly bulging veins, "oh, fuck!" you moan, your hand tugging on his hair, bringing his face closer and closer to your bare sex.

he'd been on his knees in front of you for what felt like forever, and every time you'd felt like you'd been close, rafe would pull his fingers out of you and pull his face away from between your legs and look up at you, his lips coated in your arousal as he grinned up at you, enjoying the desperate whines you were letting out, "thought you wanted to be distracted, sweetheart."

but now you felt his middle finger and ring finger curling inside of you, the coldness of his wedding ring inside your tight, warm walls a contrast that caused shivers to run up your spine, his tongue switching between teasing your clit by rolling the throbbing bud in his mouth and sucking it in a way that made you gasp each time,

"please don't stop..." you pleaded, your eyes squeezed close, rafe letting out a hum of a laughter against your clit that made you shiver. you felt his fingers starting to scissor inside of you, stretching you out in a way his cock always did, your manicured nails tugging on his hair harder.

rafe's lips attached them onto your clit now, making you arch into his mouth, his mouth responding to your hard tugs by sucking on the poor bud harder, his long digits curling inside of you, hitting that sweet, spongy spot inside of you each time, unashamed moans leaving your lips.

"please, don't stop, please..." you begged, "please, 'm so close..." you cried out, practically grinding your pussy against his face, your walls slowly starting to clench around his fingers, your husband only picking up his pace, heavy breaths and moans escaped you as you were starting to feel it, the heat in your abdomen threatening to break the dam building inside of you, and the flick of rafe's tongue against your clit was the breaking point.

you cried out your husband's name as you started clenching more rapidly around his fingers, rafe's affections slowing down as he helped you get down from your orgasm, the high slowly turning into relaxation, rafe pulling his fingers out of you with a squelch, his head becoming back into visibility as he pulled back and grinned at you, both fingers and mouth covered in your slick, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"baby..." rafe chuckled, pulling his fingers apart yet they still were connected by your arousal. "you're like a fucking faucet. i think we're really gonna have to get these seats reupholstered." you felt your face grow hot at his words, only for your husband to bring his fingers to your mouth, "clean these up for me, won't you?"

you obeyed, pulling your lips apart, rafe slowly pushing his fingers into your mouth, and you automatically sucked on them, tasting yourself on his fingers. "that's a good little wife..." he cooed, slowly pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

rafe rose to his feet, and you watched with hunger as he grinned down at you, casually shrugging his shirt off and showing off his muscular chest, your bottom lip catching between your teeth. you watched as his ringed hands started working on his belt buckle, a visible bulge in the front of his pants, until they were in his ankles, the bulge even now more visible through his black calvin kleins.

you squealed when rafe picked you up by your thighs, your arms automatically locking around his neck. he then sat down on the seat you'd just thoroughly soaked, making you straddle him, "i think it's fair that you do all the job. since i spent, what," rafe's eyes flicked to the watch on his wrist, making him let out a grumbled chuckle, "forty minutes between your pretty little legs."

"i think that's only fair." you said, grinding down your soaked pussy against the bulge in his boxers, making rafe throw his head back slightly. "and i also think," he brought his hand to your pebbled nipple, pinching them through the flimsy lace of your bra, "this should come off."

with one hand, rafe unclasped your bra, and you let it slide off onto the ground, rafe letting out a groan, his hips bucking up into you, the friction of his hard-on against your pussy making you shiver, "you see how hard you get me?" he mumbled, his hands attaching onto your breasts, kneading the soft flesh while his thumbs pressed against your nipples, worshipping your tits as if this was his first time seeing them.

after a moment, he let go of your tits, moving them to your back as he pulled your body to him, twirling his tongue around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, the sharp nip he gave to the gorgeous thing causing you to let out an equally sharp gasp as you threw your head back, rafe relieving the slight sting with his tongue.

"please, rafe..." you whined, your hands in the back of his head, "don't... don't tease me... i need you..." at your words, rafe let go of your nipple with a pop! the man shuffling slightly underneath you as he took his cock out of his boxers, holding onto the shaft with a grin on his lips, precum leaking from the pink head of his cock.

"yeah?" he chuckled breathily, "you need me?" rafe slowly rubbed the head of his cock against your obscenely wet slit, making you whine with desperation, "how much, gorgeous?"

"so much..." you mumbled out a gasp when you felt rafe slot the tip of his cock against your painfully needy clit, circling it slightly, "please, rafe." you tugged the back of his hair. he let out a chuckle, guiding his cock over your slit again until it got to your entrance, your walls clenching around nothing, "damn, so that's how much you want it, huh? well, i guess i gotta give my good little wife what she deserves..."

rafe's hands went to your hips, guiding you down so the head of his cock slid into your warm pussy, a gasp of relief leaving your lips at the contact. he let out a grunt as he felt you sinking down some of his length slowly, your walls accommodating yet squeezing him in a way that made him certain you and your pretty pussy were made for just for him.

you couldn't help it, you finally let yourself sink down on him fully, a mix of a gasp and a moan leaving your lips while a grunt left rafe's. "fuck, sweetie..." he groaned, "you feel so fucking good..." he began to move you up and down on his cock, every inch of him stretching you out as he thrust his hips into you, hitting that sweet, spongy spot inside of you. but his pace was too slow.

you took control, starting to move yourself at a quicker pace. "harder..." you whimpered, rafe's lips on your neck as he started meeting your movement with his own thrusts into you, "you want harder, hm? i'll give you harder." he sucked on your neck slightly, biting down on the soft skin as he thrust into you in harder, faster strokes.

one of rafe's hands trailed down to your pussy, the pad of his thumb finding your clit, making you gasp as he started drawing delicious circles over it. "rafe..." you moaned, tugging on his hair while your other hand dug into the flesh on his shoulder. "fuck!" he hissed out out, his hips thrusting into you even harder.

it was like he knew everything your body needed, everything it craved, everything you wanted, the passenger area of the jet filled with the slap of your skin against his along with the heavy breaths, grunts, and moans that left your lips. "rafe, i'm..." you whimpered, "i'm so close..."

"yeah, you close?" rafe started drawing quicker circles on your clit, "me too, sweets... fuck, you're so tight..." your husband groans, "you gonna make me cum in you, huh?" he grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head so you were looking down at him, "gonna make me put a baby in you?"

"yeah..." you mumbled, picking up your pace, once again starting to feel the fire inside of you starting to spread, "you want me to make you a mom so badly, dontcha?" you could simply nod your head intently as you felt the dam inside of you starting to break once again. "gonna fill you with my babies..."

you threw your head back when you finally felt yourself let go, when you felt every part of your body be filled with the bliss that had been trapped in your abdomen, a moan of your husband's name leaving your lips as he continued to thrust up into you even though your walls were gripping onto him tightly, clenching around him.

"gonna..." grunt, "get..." grunt, "you..." grunt, "pregnant..."

with one final thrust, you felt rafe's cock twitch inside of you and spill his warm load inside of you, painting your walls white as he stilled inside of you, the two of you slowly starting to get down from your climaxes, heavy breaths filling the jet, until they finally slowed down.

rafe was still inside of you, looking up at you, and even though he was starting to soften, he didn't want to pull out of you. he wanted to feel connected to you. your husband tucked a stray hair behind your ear, a small grin on his lips.

"what are you grinning at?" you ask, lifting your brows in amusement.

"just about the fact that i have a whole week with no work that i can spend to get you pregnant." rafe brought his hand to your stomach, making you giggle, "over and over again."

"can't wait."

TAGLIST: @raahosh @purpleplumpudding @rafesheaven @esotericcangel @mattyskies @nemesyaaa @dollyfiles @bakugouswaif @littlelamy @izumis-salty-penis @nonietosay @my-name-is-baby @cameronsbabydoll @tinythebunni @inbred-eater

2K notes · View notes

onlymingyus · 2 months ago

Text

Let Me Hear You Say...

pairing; kim mingyu x f reader

genre; smut (minor dni), heavy angst, fluff, toxic, ranch au, brothers best friend au

summary; Your brother calls you home and you quickly remember why you left the ranch in the first place. At least the scenery got a lot more handsome with the ranch foreman, Kim Mingyu at his side.

content warnings; death of a family member, family trauma, older brother!seungcheol, lawyer!reader, ranch hand/foreman!mingyu, ranch hands – jun/soonyoung/chan, arguing, crying, toxic family relationship, eating/drinking, rich reader & seungcheol, physical fight, blood, bruises. i know nothing about how an estate actually works and that shows but i did my best. (Patreon has it’s own warnings)

smut warnings; unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, oral (f receiving), mingyu is able to carry the reader (strength kink), pet names.

w/c; 28.8k and some change (including Patreon bonus)

a/n; thank you to my june for proofreading. i love you sugar butt. i hope you guys like this one. its very much self serving. i mean come on… it’s mingyu and its ranch au (im as southern as southern can be). thank you for reading my loves!

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“She’s here for how long?”

Lifting two of the suitcases, Mingyu grunts at the weight of the one in his left hand before tilting his head in disbelief as Seungcheol takes out two more suitcases from the back of his SUV.

“Uh… I don’t know. A couple weeks? Maybe longer. However long it takes to work through the paperwork and shit.”

Mingyu had never met you, but he had heard plenty of stories about the infamous baby Choi. While Seungcheol had stayed home and learned the ropes from your father—eventually taking on the ranch—you had other plans.

Leaving Montana in your rearview mirror, you headed for New York, went to school, got your law degree, and were on your way to making partner at one of the most elite practices in the city. Everything got put on hold with a single phone call from your brother asking you to come home, sorrow in his voice as he struggled through having to tell you the news both of you had been dreading for a while—your father had passed away. That had been a few months ago. You both had survived the funeral but now the hard stuff was keeping you both from moving on so you found yourself back.

“Put your back into it, Gyu. They can’t be that heavy. You throw hay daily, and now you’re whining over a suitcase?”

Mocking Seungcheol’s teasing, Mingyu follows behind him with a grunt as he lifts your bags, making his way into the large main house where you already were. "Yeah, well, hay weighs less than this shi—” Feeling his words get caught in his throat as he moves into the living room, meeting your eyes for the first time, Mingyu swallows hard and watches as Seungcheol puts what he was carrying down before moving to pull you into a tight hug. God, you were pretty. Mingyu didn’t know what he had been expecting. He had seen pictures of you, of course, but that was different than being in the same damn room as you.

“Hey, squirt. How was the flight?”

As much as you weren’t looking forward to being home, the comfort of a tight hug from your big brother was just what the doctor had ordered. Burying your face against his jacket, you sigh softly before taking in a breath, letting the warmth of his embrace wash over you before you finally take a step back and shrug, meeting Seungcheol’s eyes and feeling another set lingering on you. “Exhausting. Not even business class could make a five-hour flight bearable.” Finally looking past your brother, when you hear a set of heavier bags hitting the hardwood floor, you lift your brow, meeting the eyes of the other man curiously. “That’s Louis Vuitton.”

Unsure if you are speaking directly to him, Mingyu glances behind him before lifting his hand to touch his chest and shaking his head. “Nah, Kim Mingyu.”

Scoffing under your breath, you hear your brother chuckle before he shakes his head and gestures back to the man who had just introduced himself.

“As the idiot said, he’s Kim Mingyu. He’s smarter than he seems, I promise. He just isn’t used to all your fancy shit, Y/N.”

Forcing yourself to not roll your eyes, you move past your brother and towards Mingyu, who visibly takes a deep breath watching you lean down to your luggage. “Clearly. It rolls, Kim Mingyu, and Louis Vuitton is the name of the brand that made this luggage.” Pushing on the button to extend the handle, you let out a soft sigh on your breath as you stand back to your full height in front of Mingyu, meeting his eyes once again. “Thanks for bringing it in. Are you, like, my brother’s bestie or something?”

You didn’t fit in at all. If it wasn’t for some family resemblance, Mingyu wouldn’t even know that you and Seungcheol were siblings. For one, you were gorgeous, and Seungcheol was Seungcheol, and for two, you were saying shit that was going over Mingyu’s head, making him smile like an idiot. “Bestie? Uh… I mean sure. We’re close, but I work here, Miss Choi.”

A smirk pulls at your lips when you hear your brother curse under his breath in disbelief; meanwhile, Mingyu has sparked your interest in several ways. “You do? What do you do?”

Realizing you hadn’t corrected him, calling you Miss Choi, Mingyu swallows hard, his smile fading only slightly as he puts on a confident facade, not wanting to let you get the better of him. “Yeah, um—all kinds of things. I’m the ranch foreman so I’m in charge of all the other ranch hands. Make sure they do their jobs—”

“So then what does Cheollie do?”

“Alright, that’s enough. Gyu, the boys should be back from fixing that fence up on the ridge. Make sure Chan puts shit back where it belongs.” Seungcheol had seen this song and dance with you before with other ranch hands when you lived at home or when you would come home during the summer. You had broken a few hearts and got yours broken a few times in the process. You were too important, and what Seungcheol needed you home for was too necessary for you to be mixed up with someone who didn’t know what they were getting themselves into.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll talk to you later.” Nodding his head towards Seungcheol, Mingyu smiles softly before meeting your eyes and nodding his head again politely. “Ma’am.”

Waving as Mingyu closes the large wooden door, you laugh under your breath hearing Seungcheol let out another exasperated sigh. “What? He’s cute.”

“Leave him alone. He’s busy and he’s not used to girls like you.”

Feigning shock, you pull the heavy bag behind you as Seungcheol lifts two of your bags, heading down the hall towards your bedroom. “Girls like me? What the fuck does that mean, Choi Seungcheol?”

Your bedroom was much like it had been before you had left for university. You had changed things here and there, giving it a more grown-up feel, and yet every time you were back here, it felt like you were a teenager again. Watching Seungcheol put your bags at the end of your large bed, you narrow your eyes at him as he shakes his head to your question, finally turning to meet your eyes.

“I don’t mean it bad. You are just... a lot. You never plan on sticking around so you tend to fuck with their heads. Can’t we just—” Sighing, Seungcheol moves towards you, putting his hands on your biceps as he offers you a smile. “Let’s just focus on getting the paperwork all worked out. Get this will shit out of the way and you can get back to doing whatever it is that you do.”

Whatever it is that you do. Nodding along with Seungcheol’s words, you sigh before returning his smile, only strained. This was another reason you hated coming home. Seungcheol and your father had never understood why you had left home and done something different. You weren’t a ranch girl. You had a brain and you wanted to do something with it. It felt like to you that they only appreciated it when they needed it—like now.

“Sure, whatever, Cheol. I’ll get it figured out for you, then get back to whatever it is that I do.”

Mingyu enjoyed early mornings on the ranch. In his opinion, Montana sunrises were the prettiest thing that anyone could experience; at least they had been until he had seen you. There were things to get done—a literal laundry list of tasks that he had set in front of him for the day and yet as Mingyu walked with one of the horses next to him on a lead rope, he could only stare at you behind his sunglasses as you sipped your coffee on the patio while the sun rose behind you. This was his new favorite thing.

One thing you had missed about being home was the quiet. The city, especially New York City, was anything but quiet. Leaning back in the chair, you sigh happily, feeling the coffee warm you from the inside out as you just enjoy the gentle breeze and silence.

There weren’t too many people on the ranch to be up at this time. You had always been an early bird, usually beating your father and Seungcheol by an hour every day, but it seemed that the ranch foreman had a similar schedule as you. Lifting your hand from your coffee, you smile behind the cup when you catch Mingyu staring at you. It’s so obvious that he thinks that his sunglasses are hiding where he is looking when he looks startled by your sudden attention, turning his head back towards the horse stumbling over seemingly nothing in front of him. “Jesus… he is cute.”

Clearing his throat, Mingyu opens the gate, unhooking the rope from the horse and patting on her side, guiding her inside the fenced-in area. He could almost feel your eyes on him still. You were brighter than the sun that was slowly rising and he knew he was going to have a hard time keeping his distance despite what Seungcheol had told him.

‘She’s not here for long, Mingyu. ‘Sides… that’s my little sister, so clearly… off limits.’

You didn’t look so much like somebody’s little sister and it would be rude of Mingyu to avoid you the entire time you were home. Turning back towards the house, he lifts his hand in turn, waving back at you and watching a pretty smile spread across your face. God, he was in trouble. “Mornin’, Miss Choi.”

Crossing your legs from one side to the other as you get more comfortable in the chair, you tilt your head, setting your coffee on the side table beside you as Mingyu makes his way towards you, wiping his hands off on his jeans. The ranch foremen in the past had never looked like this. They had always been grumpy old men picked by your father for their ability to keep the other hands in line, but clearly your brother had other things in mind when he picked Kim Mingyu for the job, and you weren’t complaining. He had to be what Taylor Swift was writing about when she won Grammys, as he strutted up in his tight blue jeans and tucked in a white t-shirt.

“Good morning. You get started early. Coffee?” Gesturing to the glass carafe on the tray. You watch as Mingyu’s brows furrow behind his glasses before he nods, leaning to pick it up and study it as if it’s a complex piece of technology he’s never seen before.

“Uh, yeah, sure. You pour your coffee into another pot before you drink it? That’s some fancy shit.”

Unable to stop yourself from laughing, you offer Mingyu one of the extra cups from the tray as you shake your head, sitting back in your chair. “No, what are you talking about? Have you never had pour-over coffee before, Mingyu?”

“Pour-over coffee? Can’t say I have, ma’am. I’ve had drip, gas station, and diner. They’ve never done me wrong.” Bringing the cup to his lips as he carefully sets the delicate glass pot back on the tray, Mingyu makes a bit of a face at the taste of the coffee before tilting his head as he sits down near you. “None of it quite tasted like this, though.”

He was cute and funny. You had woken up dreading the day, but so far the company and the sky as the sun rose just behind you were worth the trip. “Yeah? That means you like it?”

“It ain’t half bad. It sure ain’t gonna keep me going—not strong enough for that, but it tastes good.”

Ain’ts and gonnas. You had forgotten how people talked here. Shaking your head, you try to hide your smile by rubbing your lips together but it’s impossible as Mingyu takes another sip of his coffee, letting out a happy sigh. He was almost infectious to be around already. You could understand from just the few minutes of being around him why your brother liked him. “How long have you been working for, Cheol?”

Oh, so you were going to get right down to it with the questions. Clearing his throat, Mingyu shifts on the chair, going from resting his elbows on his knees so that his back is bent in a curve to sitting up straight, his back against the chair like it was intended to be used. “Uh, well—roundabout three years. He and I met back in school; of course he graduated a couple years before me, but we kept in touch. Then when your dad—when Mr. Choi started to get sick... " Mingyu knew it was a touchy subject; he could see the way your lips turned down at the mention of your father. There was history there that he didn’t know about and that he might never understand, but it made him sad to see your light fade so quickly. “Um, I—yeah, that’s when your brother hired me on. He needed an extra hand.”

Nodding along with Mingyu as he speaks, you pick up your own cup, taking a sip of coffee as he stumbles through his explanation. You knew why he was timid about it. Everyone was timid when they talked about your father. He had been a strong and resilient man. He had made you and Seungcheol who you both were today, and yet where your brother idolized him, you felt like a disappointment now more than ever. You hadn’t been at his bedside when he took his last breath; that had been Seungcheol. He was the filial son and you were the rebellious daughter.

“I see. Well, I’m sure they both appreciated having you around. I mean, I’m sure Cheol still appreciates it.” Sighing against the lip of your cup, you furrow your brows, feeling Mingyu’s eyes moving over your face, studying you. “It’s a big ranch for one person to handle. Dad knew that all too well.”

Mingyu found himself half wondering if you were skipping around what you really wanted to say or if you meant what you were saying, but in the end right now it didn’t matter. You looked sad and it made his chest hurt. “I—yeah. It’s a lotta work. Seungcheol’s got the smarts for it though and I’ve not got any plans on leaving him high and dry anytime soon. The other guys are good ones too. Promise they will help him keep it up.” Furrowing his brows as he watches you nod again, looking down at your coffee resting your arms on your legs, Mingyu considers his words before looking around for anyone else, then back to you. "But—look, I know it ain’t my place, and I don’t know you from Adam, but... if you ever just wanna talk about what’s going on, you know with everything from your side of it... my door’s always open to ya.”

That was a dangerous thing to offer to someone you barely knew and yet it made your shoulders and brow relax as a smile pulled at your lips. “I must look really shitty for you to offer that, huh?”

“Wha—no! You look beautifu—I mean, what? I just… You know I’m just—this ain’t comin’ out right.” Mingyu could feel his neck, face, and ears getting hotter; the more he tried to back petal the more words that came out of his mouth. Finally closing his eyes, hearing you laugh under your breath, he sighs and opens one eye slightly to watch you run your fingers along your neck as you shake your head, clearly amused with him. “Words ain’t really my strong point.”

“That’s obvious, but it’s cute. I’ll think about it.”

Leaning against the door frame leading out to the patio, Seungcheol narrows his eyes at what is in front of him. It isn’t even just that you and Mingyu are sitting there together sharing coffee; it’s the laughing and how you are talking to him. It was already too flirty for Seungcheol’s liking. Mingyu was a nice guy and gave off a certain vibe from the getgo no matter who he was talking to, but you put him in front of a pretty girl and it’s game over. Seungcheol knew you were pretty. The genes in his family were too good for you not to get attention and God had you over the years and it had caused him headache after headache. This was not a headache he wanted to deal with—not now.

“What are we thinking about?”

Shifting suddenly to the sound of Seungcheol’s voice, Mingyu clears his throat, taking a bigger sip of the coffee as his eyes follow his best friend on to the patio. You had less of a reaction and looked more annoyed than anything, simply crossing your legs from one side to the other and then crossing your arm over your stomach as you shake your head and sip your coffee.

“Nothing. Have some coffee, Cheol.”

It was more than nothing; that was clear from your closed-up body language and Mingyu’s deer in the headlights routine, but Seungcheol wasn’t going to push it when his presence was enough to stop the conversation. “Don’t mind if I do.” Picking up one of the cups, Seungcheol makes a face at the coffee carafe and rolls his eyes as he pours himself a cup, glancing from his task to you and back. “Couldn’t just use a normal ass coffee maker?”

“Didn’t want just normal ass gross coffee, so no. Why does it matter? I didn’t ask you to make it.”

It had been a bit awkward just sitting and talking to you, but with both you and Seungcheol here... Mingyu couldn’t help the way his eyes went from one person to the other as you bickered over something as simple as the coffee.

“Yeah, well… Coffee is coffee, squirt. Right, Gyu?” Scoffing under his breath when Mingyu shakes his head, refusing to take a side, Seungcheol finally takes a sip of the coffee and curses under his breath at how good it is, not willing to tell you out loud. “Whatever, we got shit to today. Need to get Jun and Soonyoung to separate the calves out and let Chan start deworming them.”

God, you really were home. Making a face, hearing what your brother was asking Mingyu to do, you slip out of your seat, bringing your cup with you before offering to take Mingyu’s empty one.

“Uh, yeah—oh, thanks, Miss Choi. I could’a got it; yours too in a few minutes.”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes and sigh loudly, moving past Seungcheol as he smirks at your reaction. Finally, you were tired of the Miss Choi bullshit.

“Just call me Y/N, and it seems like you all have plenty to do besides washing cups, Mingyu.”

Your name was pretty and Mingyu couldn’t stop himself from grinning a bit to himself as he nodded along with your words. “I—yeah, busy day, it seems. Thanks, Y/N.”

“Uh huh, don’t worry about it. Cheol? Is the paperwork in the study?”

That was Mingyu’s cue to get up and get moving. He could see the look on his friend’s face change at the mention of the paperwork and he didn’t really want to be present for this conversation. Offering you both a quick nod, he glances back towards you one last time before making his way back down towards the barns, leaving you and Seungcheol alone.

Sighing under the sound of the water running, Seungcheol looks down at the cup in his hands for a few seconds before pushing up from the chair he had sat down on to move into the kitchen with you. He hadn’t forgotten why you were home, but it still didn’t make it any easier. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to get through this process. He knew how it was going to end so to speak, but the end meant his father really was gone and never coming home. He had watched his father take his last breath and he had shed many a tear, but it still never really felt real. Not as real as knowing his name was on all of those papers saying all this responsibility was his now. “Yeah, all in a folder on the desk. I didn’t mess with it after Dad’s attorney handed it off to give it to you. I don’t know what any of it means anyway. You know I’m not the brains.”

Putting both cups into the dish-drying rack, you listen to Seungcheol moving behind you around the island. You knew he was apprehensive about this part of the process and you also knew that perhaps you should be, but you felt that there was nothing for you inside of that folder anyway. You weren’t the golden child. You were the disappointment. You were doing this for your brother and that was why you would put on a professional face and help him through it. “Why you got me then, huh? I’ll take care of the hard stuff and you can play with the cows and horses.”

Seungcheol knew that tone of voice and yet he didn’t want to say anything that might scare you away, so instead he just nodded along, offering you a smile as he scratched the back of his head. “Ye—yeah you’re right. I’ll get outta your hair. Gotta help Mingyu and the boys anyway. If you need me for anything, just call my cell, alright?”

Pulling your cardigan around you a bit tighter, you mimic Seungcheol’s smile before nodding in return and watching him head for the patio door, leaving you alone in the house. It had been a long time since you had been inside your childhood home alone.

When you were a kid, you loved this house. It was a sense of pride. You got to live in a big house with your parents and your big brother. There were always animals inside and outside of the house, but then your mother left and you grew up. By the time you were a teenager, the relationship between you and your father was strained. You knew it wasn’t his fault that your mother had chosen to leave, especially when she decided that none of you were worth her time anymore, but you still blamed him. It was easier than blaming her. You reminded him of her. You reminded everyone of her. That was why Seungcheol’s words cut you so deep, even if you pretended that they hadn’t.

Moving through the house, you look over the pictures on the mantle and sigh to yourself, realizing that it is your fault that the last family portrait was from before you had left for university. Your father had begged you to take one after your graduation, but you had refused—looking back on it now, you could remember the disappointment in his face.

It was easier for you to refuse and lash out at him or at Seungcheol when you looked back and remembered being told you were wasting your time and energy on going to the city—your family needed you here. What about what you needed? The thought makes your chest feel tight as you clutch your cardigan a bit harder in your hand at your heart, tearing your eyes away from your father’s face in the portrait and feeling them follow you towards the hall.

The inside of your father’s study—Seungcheol’s study—was just as it had always been. Dark wood, rich leather, and books lining numerous bookshelves and end tables around the room, not to mention the large desk in front of the window. The desk—your father’s desk—looked the same that it always had with papers covering it, pens not put back in the organizer right in front of where they lay, but the main difference was the large dark brown legal envelope in the center.

You had a good idea of what all was inside that envelope. This wouldn’t be the first time that you had assisted someone in the estate administration process, but this was the first time you were doing it for your family. You had told yourself it would be easy. Inside that envelope you’d find the will, a few debts that would possibly need to be settled, possibly medical in nature—that was common—and then all the deeds and paperwork that had been collected for everything that your father had. It should be simple. Seungcheol’s name should already be listed as co-owner or signer of 90% of the paperwork and he would be named the executor, giving him assets and ownership of the rest. All you would need to do was make sure the I’s were dotted and the T’s were crossed.

Sliding into the leather chair behind the desk, you tense up to the feeling—how small you feel in your father’s chair and behind his desk—before trying to push that away and reach for the envelope, undoing the string keeping it tightly closed. This would be easier if you put away your personal feelings and regrets, allowing you to focus on what was in front of you. That would be how you could get this done quickly and get back to your own life—whatever it is that you do.

The air felt thicker around you as you cleared off a place on the desk before carefully removing the paperwork from the envelope and laying it in a neat stack in front of you. The top was just a letter from your father’s attorney—nothing unexpected, a sympathy note really and nothing more, but it was what was next that made you feel like the walls were closing in around you.

I hereby nominate, constitute, and appoint Choi Y/N as executor of my will and estate.

It would be fine. A bit more work than you had anticipated. You would have to stay for a bit longer than you thought, but—

I bequeath unto the persons named below, if he or she survives me by 30 (thirty) days, all of my property, assets, and belongings:

Name:Choi Seungcheol

Relationship: Son

Name: Choi Y/N

Relationship: Daughter

Attempting to take a deep breath, you fail as your eyes continue to scan your father’s will, feeling your heart in your throat.

Special Requests

I direct that on my death my remains shall be cremated and all cremation expenses shall be paid out of my estate. Any and all debts shall be paid out of my estate. Any and all other property, real estate, assets, and belongings will be owned and split equally by my children as my executor sees fit.

Placing the will back on top of the stack of papers, you rest your head in your hands, feeling anxiety pulsing from your head to your toes. He put everything on you and while Seungcheol was in fact getting everything, so were you. This wasn’t as easy as handing your brother the keys to the palace, so to speak, and taking your small percentage; this would take cooperation and time to sort through.

“Oh fuck—” One last cruel joke from your father, or at least that’s how it felt at the moment as you lean your head back, glancing towards the bar cart under the window facing out towards the back of the ranch.

You needed a drink; it wasn’t even 9 am and you were already on your feet, pouring yourself a glass of your father’s 30-year-old whiskey that you had never been allowed to touch. Letting out a breath into the glass, you look out at Seungcheol leaning over the gate as he talks to the ranch hands as they work calves through the cattle chute one at a time. It was almost amusing now, feeling the warm liquor coating your throat as you thought back to the papers that changed your life and his, as he went about his day with no idea as to what you had just found out.

Glancing towards the house, Mingyu furrows his brows, hearing Seungcheol raise his voice for probably the fifth time in the last half hour. It had just started to get dark and they were making their way through the last of the chores for the day when the fussing had started.

This wasn’t something that he or the other boys on the ranch were used to. Every once in a while, Seungcheol and his dad would get into a bit of a quarrel but nothing like this. This sounded personal and there had been a couple of times when your voice had reached a peak that Mingyu wondered if he should intervene, only to get a sharp look from Jun reminding him that this was family business and as much as they might all feel like it, none of them were really family.

“Yeah? Well, fuck you, Y/N. I’ll do what I want. This is bullshit…”

Leaning his head down towards the gate as he pushes it closed, Mingyu sighs loudly, looking towards the house again, knowing this time he wasn’t the only one doing it. Seungcheol was on the patio now, a cigarette between his lips as he muttered under his breath, his brows knitted together tightly. For as long as Mingyu had known Seungcheol, he rarely smoked. This had to be bad if he was stressed enough to pull out a new pack of cigarettes and start pacing.

“Maybe I shou—”

“Should what? Get yelled at because you stick your nose in some shit that don’t concern any of us?” While his words were sharp, Jun’s eyes said something else. He was concerned and he didn’t want Mingyu’s big heart to cause him to be the punching bag. “If Cheol wants to talk to us about it, he’ll find us. Come on, it’s time for dinner anyhow and you said you’d cook.”

That brought a bit of a smile to Mingyu’s face, but one more look back towards the house and seeing you standing in the window of the living room wiping tears from your cheeks made his feet feel like they were stuck in concrete.

“Gyu! Come on! Move your ass.”

God what Mingyu would do to fix this. He wasn’t even sure how or what was the real problem, but he hated this. Hanging his hat up next to the door in the house that the three ranch hands called their temporary home, Mingyu lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding when the door shuts behind him. He had spent many a summer inside this house with other ranch hands; there were plenty of fond and less than fond memories hidden in the walls.

“What you think they’re bitchin’ ‘bout anyways? I don’t think I’ve seen Cheol that wound up in a while.”

Sitting down at the table in the middle of the room, Soonyoung yawns into his words, starting to put his feet up on the table when Jun pushes them back into the floor, pulling the chair out next to him to sit down, his eyes following Mingyu as he opens the fridge. “None of our business, but seeing as how it involves his sister... I’d say it’s ‘bout Mr. Choi’s stuff. Just going out on a limb.”

Wasn’t much of a limb to go out on now that Mingyu thought about it; Jun was probably right. Furrowing his brow tightly in thought, Mingyu uses the toe of his shoe to open the cabinet next to the fridge. Putting the ingredients in his hands down on the countertop, he leans to take out the pots and pans he would need for dinner as he listens to the boys talk behind him.

“She’s pretty enough, and I mean damn pretty, but Seungcheol didn’t need more headache.” Lifting his hands from the table, Chan tries to keep the peace, seeing the looks from not only Jun and Soonyoung but also the sudden glance over the shoulder from Mingyu. “No, wait—hear me out, alright. The old man was always saying something or another about how Y/N wasn’t doing this or that—she wouldn’t come home for Thanksgiving or he was having to pay for tuition again—”

“And? He was proud as fuck that she graduated from that school, Chan, and you know it. He wouldn’t stop telling everybody who’d listen that his daughter was a fancy lawyer now.” Scoffing as he drops the hamburger meat into the bottom of the pot, Mingyu clicks his tongue against his teeth, trying to keep himself from getting too riled up in your defense. There was no reason for him to feel so protective of you and yet he couldn’t help it. He had seen that look in your eye this morning and then again at the window. “Jun’s right, ain’t none of this our fuckin’ business.”

You had expected Seungcheol to react poorly to your father’s will, but you hadn’t expected him to explode the way he had. The look on his face was almost one of betrayal when he read the words on the page before tossing it down on the desk, muttering that it was bullshit over and over again before finally meeting your eyes.

“Look… Cheol, I know it’s not ideal—”

“The fuck, like you know a damn thing, Y/N. You think you know everything. That’s your fuckin’ problem.”

You had started to follow your brother out of the room, but his words had frozen you in place momentarily. It had been a long time since he had spoken to you like this. You were used to the Seungcheol that had greeted you the day prior. You were used to fake pleasantries and brief moments of time when you wished that it could be a real relationship between the two of you—but this was real.

“That’s not fair.” Shaking your head, your voice quiet at first, you push your hands off the desk and manage to follow behind Seungcheol, speaking louder this time. “That’s not fucking fair, Seungcheol! You don’t get to—”

“Fuck off. No, seriously, Y/N. Fuck you!” Seungcheol could see how you recoiled at his words; deep down he knew that you were right; he wasn’t being fair, but all he could truly see was red, and all he could feel right now was pain. “You didn’t do anything to help him. You didn’t even give a shit when he got sick. You didn’t come home or even call! It’s not about what he’s—fuck!” Punching the wall next to him, Seungcheol closes his eyes to keep back his tears even as he hears you yelp in surprise before he continues. “You weren’t even fucking here when he died, Y/N. You are that goddamn selfish, and you still get everything you want.”

Swallowing hard, you blink through your tears as you bite on your lips, listening to Seungcheol even though you want to scream at him and tell him to stop. Even though there was truth to what he was saying, there was so much more that he didn’t know or understand. Taking a step closer to him, you hold your cardigan tightly in your fist against your chest before gathering your courage to speak up. “Ples—Cheol, please stop. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t tell him to write it out like that. It’s not like I didn’t want to be here when he—”

Not letting you finish what you were going to say once again, Seungcheol slaps the wall next to where his fist had made contact, watching you jump in place. “No. You don’t get to cry and give me that look, then expect me to just believe whatever bullshit comes out of your mouth.”

Whining, you move closer to Seungcheol, getting frustrated when he turns his back to you, walking towards the kitchen, opening the cabinet to take out a new pack of cigarettes. “You gotta be kidding me! Don’t smoke, Cheol. You said you stopped. This isn’t worth that.”

Scoffing under his breath as he angrily pulls the plastic from around the outside of the cigarettes, Seungcheol rolls his eyes at you, barely giving you a second glance as he pulls open the patio door, his voice full of malice. “Yeah? Well, fuck you, Y/N. I��ll do what I want. This is bullshit…”

It had been over a year since Seungcheol had smoked a cigarette and he really hadn’t had any intention of ever picking another one up, but then you had walked right back into his life and set it on fire so what was a little lung damage compared to that? He hated this part of his and your relationship. He was supposed to be your big brother, your protector. You were supposed to be his sweet little sister who looked to him for everything, and yet none of that was true for either of you.

Looking out over the fields and towards the smaller house just a stone's throw from the main house, Seungcheol sighs, letting out a deep breath of smoke from his lungs, watching Mingyu take up the rear as the rest of the ranch hands head in for the evening. How much had they heard? It wasn’t like he had been subtle; hell, neither had you, but still, Seungcheol hated the idea that the boys might think differently of him because of this.

You felt like your heart was trying to beat out of your chest with every deep breath you took in an attempt to calm yourself down as you stood in front of the large window overlooking the back of the house. It had been a long time since anyone had made you feel as shitty as you did in that moment. Seungcheol had managed to tear you down completely when he was supposed to be the one protecting you. Still, you knew that this wasn’t him—not really. He was angry and hurt, and you were the punching bag. You were just tired of being the punching bag.

Wiping the tears from your face, you look away when Mingyu’s eye catches yours as he follows behind the rest of the ranch hands. God, this was devastating. Not only had you had one of the most brutal fights with your brother in your entire life, but now you were crying like a baby for Mingyu to see. It shouldn’t matter.

You didn’t matter to him or anyone here. That was obvious. It didn’t matter how much things had changed or what had been said between yourself and your father; you had never meant for any of this to happen. Would any of this be worth it if it lost you what you had left of your family in the end?

Mingyu was usually the first person to wake up on the ranch, and he was usually the last to head to bed. He never minded it, and there was usually something that needed to be done that someone had forgotten to do. Tonight wasn’t the exception.

Sighing as he wraps the rope around his hand to his elbow, Mingyu rocks his head from left to right, trying to release some of the tension from his neck. It had been a long day, and not even the quiet peeps from the frogs in the creek nor the bright stars in the sky were keeping his mind from what he had heard earlier in the night.

“Knew I’d find you here…”

The sudden sound of Seungcheol’s voice is almost enough to cause Mingyu to drop the rope from his grasp. Turning around from the barn door to look at the other man, he moves through the smaller mudroom entrance closer to the main house. “I—yeah, well.” Lifting the lead rope on his arm, Mingyu laughs under his breath before gesturing with his head down at the gear that Chan had forgotten to put up after riding out to check on the cattle further out on the property. “He means well; he just gets lost in his head.”

Picking up the bit and headstall that had been used, Seungcheol smiles, moving to put them away as he nods. “It’s alright. I—listen. I wanted to talk about earlier.”

The night air was alright, a bit warm, but with Seungcheol’s words, Mingyu felt it get thick and muggy with his nerves. “Oh? Earlier? Like the calves?”

Seungcheol knew that Mingyu would pretend like he hadn’t heard the argument, and while he appreciated the act of normalcy, he also didn’t need that as much as he needed to talk to his friend. “No, and you know it. I’m sorry ‘bout all the yellin’ that you and the boys heard. Just—it’s just some shit—fuck... I know you aren’t involved in this, but, Gyu, I’m drownin’.”

Swallowing hard at Seungcheol’s words, his confession on how he feels, Mingyu’s lips turn down as he hears his best friend’s voice shake. Seungcheol had always been strong. He had been raised by a tough-as-nails man, and he was a mirror image, but right now he was more fragile than Mingyu had ever seen him. “Hey, Cheol… Man, I’m here. I’ll listen; don’t matter if I’m involved or not.”

Mingyu watches as Seungcheol moves to lean against the workbench, his hands wringing together out of nerves as he tries to keep his emotions at bay. He had known Seungcheol long enough to know when he was holding back, and despite telling Mingyu that he needed help, he was still having a hard time going through with it. “Ju—just start from the beginnin’, maybe?”

And so Seungcheol did—from the point when his father had first gotten sick to the argument that everyone had heard bits and pieces of. Though it was just from his side, Seungcheol felt like he was being fair and thorough, explaining how you had, in his eyes, abandoned him and your father to do something so meaningless. Lowering his head, Mingyu nods along, only offering small encouraging words to keep Seungcheol moving along with his words, but he never adds his own opinion, just an open mind and a friendly ear. It’s only when things are quiet for a good minute that he sighs, lifting his hand to wipe at his mouth, trying to formulate his words in the right way and order.

“Can I play devil’s advocate and you not rip my head off?”

Scoffing at Mingyu’s words, Seungcheol lifts his hands for him to continue, willing to hear anything. You weren’t talking to him now, not that Seungcheol was sure he wanted to talk to you. There was just a lot of doors slamming and remembering what it was like when you were a teenager at home.

It was clear that Seungcheol wanted one thing, but Mingyu wasn’t just his friend. There were friends who would tell you exactly what you wanted to hear and stroke your ego, and then there were the ones who would take a bullet for you. Those friends were there to stay and it didn’t matter if they agreed with every single word you said or every thought in your head—they were family.

“Hear her out. Don’t sound like you did much of that.” Hearing Seungcheol take a sharp breath out of anger, Mingyu tilts his head and lifts his own hands, showing he doesn’t want to fight. “You were both raised strong-willed. You and your dad wanted her back here; now she’s here. She’s clearly smart as hell if she understand the words on that paperwork and I swear, Cheol…” Not meeting Seungcheol’s eyes this time, Mingyu scoffs under his breath into his words. “I just don’t think she’s here to fuck with you over this. You’ve whined for months… hell, years about wanting her home and she’s here. Don’t push her out the damn door on day two.”

Taking a deep breath, Seungcheol looks away from Mingyu completely and towards the house through the open door, seeing the lights still on. You hadn’t told him what you were doing, but you had slammed your bedroom door after seeing him in the hall about an hour ago, so he had figured you were going to bed. While he didn’t agree with what Mingyu was saying, and you had pissed him off in more ways than one, Seungcheol also didn’t want this to ruin what little relationship the two of you had left. “Yeah, I—shit, I know. Just fuckin’ sucks, man. She just—she gets under my skin and just knows—”

The look on Mingyu’s face was enough to get Seungcheol to take another breath and to stop himself from continuing. He was doing it again. He could feel the pressure rising in his chest and his fists were tight at his sides. “Sorry. Sorry, I don’t know why she pisses me off so much.” Laughing on a breath out, he shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “Nah, you know what, I do. She’s this perfect little princess who hasn’t had to work a hard day in her goddamn life. Dad gave her whatever she wanted when he was here and he’s still doing it. She’s never respected him as much as I have.”

“That’s how you see it, Cheol.” Mingyu knew it was bold to speak up when Seungcheol looked like he wanted to put his fist through something and that something might end up being him, but he was spiraling again. “Listen, your dad and I talked some when you weren’t around, right? He talked a lot about you both. ‘Bout how proud he was of both of y’all. Proud of you and proud of Y/N.”

Mingyu waits for Seungcheol’s brows to soften before he continues, reaching over to pat his shoulder, a smile pulling at his lips. “Said you were a hell of a good man, and you are. Knew you’d take care of this ranch. But he talked a lot ‘bout her too. ‘Bout all the shit she was doing and how she was so smart and how he knew she didn’t get it from him or some shit like that. Just sayin’ cut her some slack?”

Swallowing hard, Seungcheol pushes his thumb against his palm as his brows knit together listening to what Mingyu has to say. He wasn’t wrong. He had heard his father say much of the same, even if he didn’t want to remember it. His father had gotten more sentimental near the end, talking about you and him more—about the good times, when you both were young. He’d bring up childhood memories and then suddenly talk about your college graduation and how much pride he had that day. Seungcheol had that pride too. You looked like a million bucks walking across that stage with all those fancy honor cords draped around your neck.

“Yeah—yeah, you’re right, Gyu. He wouldn’t want me acting like this. He’d be pissed off at me for—” Groaning under his breath, feeling pressure behind his eyes as his father floods his memories, Seungcheol can almost hear his voice in his head. It’s almost too much and the tears sit right on the rims of his eyes as he leans his head back to stop them from falling. “He’d hate that I made her cry so fuckin’ much today. I—I’ll fix it.”

Staring at your bedroom door, you bite at your thumbnail, dreading the idea of going out of the safety of your room and into the house where Seungcheol might be. You knew you were being childish, but you were still angry with him, and your head and chest hurt just remembering him screaming at you the day before. It wasn’t like you blamed him completely. You had yelled back a few times, but nothing like he had. It was serious for him and you were just defending yourself—Seungcheol had gone for blood and struck gold.

The house seemed quiet. Seungcheol’s door was open, his bed was made, but you could smell food drawing you closer towards the kitchen. Bracing yourself to see your brother, you wince then stop in your tracks when you see someone else at the stove, his back to you. “Mingyu? Wh—what are you doing in here?”

Mingyu had hoped to have food done and ready for you to eat by the time you woke up, but you had beaten him to the punch. Letting out a soft, surprised sound under his breath, he glances at you over his shoulder, noticing how you wrap your cardigan around you a bit tighter. It was the same one you had on yesterday—must be your favorite. Turning his attention back to the pan in front of him, he sighs into his words, carefully turning the omelette, making sure he doesn’t break the surface of the eggs. “Uh, Cheol—Cheol went into town this mornin’, and he asked if I might make you somethin’ to eat. He wanted to make sure you had somethin’ more than coffee and a protein bar.”

Scoffing under your breath, you move towards the island, pulling out one of the barstools and sitting with a huff. “Like he cares…” The moment the words leave your lips, you feel bad for saying them. Mingyu’s brows knit together slightly and you shake your head, muttering an apology as you pick at your cardigan sleeve, seeing him move out of the corner of your eye.

“Don’t gotta apologize to me. Hell, you ain’t even gotta apologize to him. Truth is he knows he fucked up. We talked about it last night.” Taking a plate from the cabinet, Mingyu turns towards the island, giving you a once-over before he slides the omelette onto the plate and pushes it towards you. “Eat up. You want coffee or juice. ‘Fraid I don’t know how to make your fancy coffee.”

You can’t stop the way your lips pull up at the corners when Mingyu turns back towards the stove, cracking a couple more eggs into the pan. The gentle sizzle makes you feel warmer, just like his voice, as you pick up the fork left next to your plate and examine the food in front of you. “Juice is fine, but what do you mean, you and Cheol talked about it last night? You two talked about our—” Unsure how to phrase your next words, you stop short and furrow your brows, causing Mingyu to glance back at you and nod.

“Your squabble, yeah.” Leaving the spatula in the pan, Mingyu opens the fridge, taking out the pitcher of orange juice as he feels your eyes following him every step of the way. “Know it’s not much my business, but I think Cheol was lookin’ for an outside perspective. He just—well, you know how he is. He gets caught up on the bigger picture and doesn’t stop to think about what he’s sayin’ and how it sounds.” Meeting your eyes as he tips the pitcher towards the glass in front of your plate, Mingyu watches how your lips turn down in a frown. He hates that look on your face. You’re too damn pretty to be so sad and tense. All he can think about is how much he wants to fix it.

“And yet he couldn’t say any of this to me himself.”

Tilting his head once your glass is almost full of juice, Mingyu smirks a bit to himself and your words before turning back towards the stove and his eggs. “My fault, I suppose. Told him to let you cool off. Figured you could use a moment without seeing each other after some of the shit I heard ya’ll yelling back and forth at each other yesterday.”

You watch as Mingyu cuts the stove off and picks up a fork, turning to lean against the countertop as he eats the eggs he’s cooked straight out of the pan. It was so different from what he had made you and how he had presented it to you. Shaking your head, you cut off another bite of your omelette, sighing as you chew, your eyes meeting Mingyu’s even as he gives you that stupidly attractive half smirk while eating his eggs. “Yeah, whatever. Probably for the best, you’re right. I have so much to do today anyway and I’d rather not fight with Seungcheol. Makes me feel sick to my stomach.”

Mingyu nods, taking the last bite of his food before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Mmhm, what all you gotta do? Anything me or the boys can help with to ease your mind?”

Smiling, you shake your head, pushing around the last bits of your food as Mingyu works to clean up, splitting his attention with you and the task in front of him. He was almost too good to be true, but your brother’s words echo in your mind. ‘Leave him alone; he isn’t used to girls like you.’ You clear your throat then swallow hard. “Uh… Nope. I’ll be just fine on my own. What I’m used to.” Pushing your plate towards Mingyu, you fake your smile this time and sigh into your words as you slide off the stool. “Thanks for the breakfast, Mingyu.”

Feeling the shift in your mood, Mingyu just nods, taking your plate as he watches you move back through the house towards your bedroom and hearing your door shut. Had he said something wrong? Did you not like the breakfast? You were an enigma that he just couldn’t solve and it was driving him insane. One minute you were smiling, almost flirting with him and the next you were giving him the cold shoulder. “Don’t make a lick of sense…”

It was only 9am and Seungcheol was already exhausted from running the errands that Mingyu had given him. Sighing loudly, he moves through the living room, dropping the shopping bags on the couch before making his way into the kitchen, hearing Mingyu muttering to himself. “The hell you mumblin’ to yourself about?” You weren’t there and there wasn’t any breakfast left; maybe you hadn’t been up yet, or maybe you had already come and gone. Seungcheol hoped for the latter. Glancing back towards the hallway and your room, he furrows his brows and huffs out a breath before looking back towards Mingyu. “Is—did Y/N eat somethin’?”

Tossing the towel he had been using to dry the dishes over his shoulder, Mingyu leans against the island and nods a few times, looking in the direction of your room. “Nothin’ important. And she did. Made her an omelette. She ate most of it and said she had stuff to do. She wasn’t much for talkin’. I—you think she’s—maybe she just don’t like me much?”

Seungcheol knew that wasn’t the case. If anything, you probably liked Mingyu too much, or at least you liked looking at him too much, but that wasn’t any of his business. Shaking his head, he rolls his eyes and shrugs. “She don’t like much of nothin’ round here, Gyu. What I’ve been tellin’ you. Don’t get attached. I’m gonna smooth things over, but you know she ain’t stayin’ anyhow. She’s got her job back east and she’s too good for us and this place.”

Maybe Seungcheol was right. Hell, Mingyu knew he was. You were way too good for him. You talked nice and used words he didn’t understand. You drank fancy things and probably ate even better things. You had expensive clothes and bags—you didn’t want some man covered in mud to cheapen your brand. “Yeah—yeah, maybe you’re right. I’mma get outside and get the boys started on shit. Yoller if you need me.”

“It’s an inventory of assets and property, Seungcheol. I’m not calling you or Daddy a liar. I don’t know why you’d even—” Sighing, you close your eyes, feeling your blood pressure rising as you tighten your hands around the iPad in your hands. Things had been going better. Seungcheol had apologized for being an asshole and you had done the same, but then you had started trying to check off one thing from your to-do list and he saw red.

“I’m not callin’ you a fuckin’ liar, Y/N! Why do you always jump to conclusions? I’m just askin’ why you gotta go through all of his shit! It’s—Sis! I don’t want anyone moving it around. Not even you! I ain’t ready!”

You could see the panic dripping off of your brother as he paced in the middle of your father’s office, his voice an octave higher than usual. The veins in his neck were visible and you could almost see his heartbeat through them with each step he took. All you had done was take the items from your father’s desk and organize them into piles so you could inventory them properly, and Seungcheol had begun to spiral.

“Cheollie… You gotta calm down.” Reaching out to take his hand in yours, you feel him start to jerk away before he meets your eyes, seeing the compassion you have for him in your gaze. “Please? Come on… I won’t move anything else. I’ll inventory it without touching it, I swear. But you gotta—Cheollie, look at me.” When Seungcheol’s eyes dart away from you and back to the piles of papers and supplies on the floor, you hold your iPad under your arm and use your free hand to turn his face back towards you to keep his attention. “You gotta trust me.”

Seungcheol swallows hard, feeling his heartbeats in every inch of his body as the panic attack that had started to take over him begins to subside with your help. He watches you take a deep breath and mimics you, earning a smile from you at his effort. Anxiety had always been a difficult topic for Seungcheol, but the day that your mother had left was the day that he had experienced his first full-blown panic attack. There was little that could calm him down—medicine, therapy, smoking. None of his vices helped as much as watching you take a deep breath and following along. That was why it hurt so much when you left him. You had taken away his safety net, though Seungcheol doubted you knew that.

“There you go. Better?”

Nodding, Seungcheol closes his eyes and leans against your palm, willing his tears back. He had missed you so much but he wasn’t willing to tell you that or to beg you not to leave home again. He had spent so much time pushing you away in order to make it easier to live without you for his sake and for your father’s sake. Having you home now was a temptation of something Seungcheol knew he could never have. His family died with his father. You were temporary and in passing. A brief moment of comfort, but in this exact moment Seungcheol wished he hated you more because as you moved to hug him, his heart ached.

“Good. I love you, Cheollie, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Keeping you close so that you can’t see the tears on his cheeks, Seungcheol sighs softly and shakes his head. “It’s alright, Squirt. I love you too. I’m sorry I got so worked up. I gotta back off and let you get this shit done.”

It had been a week since you had started going through the paperwork for your father’s estate. Most of the inventory of property had been completed within the main house and you had been able to speed your way through the smaller barns within a day. It was today that you found yourself standing in front of the main barn and one of the largest tasks on your list.

Sighing to yourself, you whine under your breath and wrinkle your nose at the smell of manure. You knew that inside of this barn there were several stalls where your father—now Seungcheol—kept horses. You remembered a time when you were younger when you loved coming to this particular barn and to your own horse, but those days were long gone.

Sidestepping a pile of manure, you grimace and push your sunglasses up your nose before pushing open one of the smaller doors to the barn, getting hit with a strong scent of hay and horse. You were thankful that this was your father’s ranch. This barn in particular was temperature controlled, so unlike the heat that was assaulting you outside, you feel relief even as chill bumps spread along your skin from the change in temperature.

Just like the inside of the house, not much had changed in the barn either. Seungcheol was afraid of change and you could see where things that your father had hung during your childhood remained to this day. If you were honest, there were things that could use updates, if anything repairs, but after the conversation the two of you had just days before, you weren’t in any rush to have it again.

Mingyu had sent off the rest of the boys to do various things around the property. Jun was repairing a fence with Chan out by the road while Soonyoung was working with a stallion that had been delivered earlier in the morning. For him it had been a quiet day and that was rare. Seungcheol was taking care of things on the business side and that left normal chores for him. Mingyu never minded the mundane tasks. They gave him time to think and get lost in those thoughts. He hadn’t noticed you were in the barn until he heard muttering to yourself, looking around and then down at your iPad in your hands. Clearly you didn’t realize he was there; you were lost in your own thoughts.

For a few minutes, Mingyu just watched you with a small smile on his face. You were beautiful, and when you were concentrating, you got this cute little scowl on your face. Mingyu could remember your father doing the same thing—muttering to himself and scowling; Seungcheol did it too. When the sound of the horse that Mingyu's brushing blows out its breath makes you look in his direction, he lowers his eyes and grins to himself. “Didn’t wanna bother you. You looked awful interested in whatever it is you’re lookin’ at.”

Heat spreads across your cheeks as you clear your throat, realizing you hadn’t been alone in the barn. Mingyu had been so quiet. You had thought that everyone was gone, at least somewhere else on the ranch, but clearly you had been wrong. “Sorry, I just—I’m working on stuff for the estate. I’m not trying to be in your way.”

“Ain’t in my way. Just cleanin’ stalls and takin’ care of the girls.” Glancing around the barn and then back to you, Mingyu smirks a bit to himself as he runs the brush along the side of the horse. “What sorta stuff you gotta do in here? If you don’t mind me askin’?”

Laughing under your breath moving closer to Mingyu, you lift one hand to run your fingers along the horse’s forehead and down her muzzle as she nudges towards you. “Uh, just like an inventory of the estate and the barns is part of it. I have to make, like, a basic outline for the bank and their attorneys so that they can sign off on it all.”

Mingyu nods along, even if most of what you’re saying goes over his head. It wasn’t so much that the words didn’t make sense, but the reasoning behind it was beyond him. “Uh huh, sure. Lotta red tape they are making you and Cheol jump through for something your dad already left y’all.”

He wasn’t wrong, but you were used to this. You had done this for others, so doing it for yourself—for your family—wasn’t anything new. “Yeah, they like to, uh—when there is a certain amount of money or property involved, the bank likes to “hold on to it” for as long as they can. Make sure their investment is passed to heirs properly.” Rolling your eyes, you scratch the horse's muzzle once more before meeting Mingyu’s eyes and shrugging. “Not that it’s even theirs now. They just like to pretend for a little bit. I’ll get all this to them by the end of the week, hopefully, and it’ll be settled.”

It was nice seeing you like this. You seemed more relaxed than the last time that Mingyu had seen you and you weren’t actively avoiding him. Glancing around the barn with you, he grins to himself, stepping away from the horse and heading towards you with his cleaning supplies in hand. “‘Scuse me. I don’t wanna get any of this mess on you. You need to take note of these too?”

Stepping back out of Mingyu’s way, you shake your head at his antics as he leans his broom against the wall before leaning back into the stall to grab the rest of his stuff. “I mean—yeah, I have to take note of it all no matter how insignificant it might seem.”

“Well, this here is a manure fork and that’s a broom…”

“I know what they are, Mingyu. I’m not stupid.”

Furrowing your brows, you meet Mingyu’s eyes as he opens his mouth in surprise at your accusation. Lifting his hands, he laughs and shakes his head before reaching back in the stall one more time for his bucket of brushes. “Hey now… I never said that. Don’t be puttin’ words in my mouth, missy. I just figured you wouldn’t know what they were based on how you’re a city gal and all. I’m tryin’ to be helpful.”

Before you even realize what look you are giving him, Mingyu laughs again seeing the contempt in your eyes. “What? Why you lookin’ at me like that? Like I kicked your puppy. You ain’t even got one, do ya?”

“No… But you are digging yourself a hole, Kim Mingyu. Are you forgetting that I literally grew up here?” Gesturing to the ground you are standing on, you lift your brows, trying to get your point across. “On this ranch. My daddy was your boss and now my brother. Who the hell do you think I am?”

He knew you were trying to sound mad and that maybe he should back off, not get his fingers bit, but you were just too cute. “A damn spitfire is what you are. Hell, woman… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring out the claws, but can’t lie and say I didn’t like it a little bit.” Winking at you as he moves into the next stall, Mingyu puts down the bucket and pats the horse's side as she stomps the ground clearly aggravated with the tension. “Shh, everything’s fine, Lucy. That’s a good girl.”

You were frustrated, but as you kept your eyes on Mingyu and listened to him with the horse, you felt yourself starting to calm down. Your blood had stopped boiling and you had to remind yourself that you were the one in the family who was better at controlling their emotions. “You’re nicer to the horse than you are to me.”

Having moved the rest of his supplies into the stall, Mingyu smirks at your accusation, lifting his head to meet your eyes for a moment before picking up the manure fork getting to work. “Yeah? I don’t think that’s true. I think I’m pretty nice in general. Don’t you agree, Luce?” Feeling the horse knock into him, Mingyu glances up towards her and laughs under his breath. “Don’t go takin’ her side just ‘cause she’s pretty, now. Thought you was my girl?”

You had to admit Mingyu was adorable as he talked to Lucy and worked. Leaning your arms on the stall door, you rest your chin on your arm and smile at the interaction, finding it and him endearing. “I’m pretty, but Lucy the horse is your girl?” Keeping your iPad in one hand, you reach out, letting Lucy nuzzle against your free hand as Mingyu stands to his full height with a laughing sigh.

“Is that judgment I hear in your voice, Miss Choi? Two things can be true at the same time.” Lifting his hand to gesture at you, Mingyu bites his bottom lip quickly, getting back to work, not seeing your reaction and how you have to look away from him, feeling your stomach tighten. The same thing had happened when he had praised the horse. He wasn’t even praising you and yet you were affected by it.

“Well, it seems like ‘your girl’ likes me.”

That was something that Mingyu had already noticed. The horses were drawn to you, much like he was and everyone else around you that gave you a chance. You were magnetic. “Yeah, she’s a good judge of character. Seems like you might just be a country girl after all.”

Scoffing, you tilt your head, seeing how Mingyu smiles up at you. Moving away from the door, you find a safe place for your iPad before making your way back over and into the stall. It had been a long time since you had tried to do any of this—taking care of a horse or cleaning up after one—but you weren’t someone who backed down from a challenge. Carefully sliding your hand along Lucy’s shoulder to her flank, you put your hand out towards Mingyu, finding his brows raised for a moment before he finally puts one of the brushes in your hand.

“You—I mean, go with…never mind, you know what you’re doing, clearly.” Mingyu had wanted to help you, teach you how to use the brush, but the moment you had it in your hand, it was as if you had done this a thousand times. That’s when it dawned on Mingyu; you probably had. You had said it yourself; you were raised here. You probably had horses of your own at one point or another, and despite the way you looked, talked, or acted now, this was in your blood.

“Yeah, Daddy taught me how to take care of horses when I asked for one of my own when I was little. He said I’d need to know how to do this first. If I was going to be big enough to have one, I had to be big enough to take care of one.” Leaning your head back away from the dust coming from Lucy as you brush her, you think briefly about the clothes you are wearing and how they aren’t made for this situation before shrugging to yourself and stepping closer to continue your task. Clothes could be washed. Nothing couldn’t be replaced. “I used to love doing this. It was calming. Just me and Bella for an hour or so…”

Bella. Smiling as he leans on the broom, almost forgetting what he is supposed to be doing, Mingyu has to force himself not to fixate on you for too long. He could get lost in you and what you were saying. He liked learning about you and more than just the lawyer version of you. There was stuff that was buried deeper that he wanted to pull out of you and learn about if you’d let him. “So you used to ride? You still know how?”

Shaking your head, you meet Mingyu’s eyes as he finally goes back to sweeping. You weren’t sure anyone forgot how to ride a horse once they learned, but then again you had never really learned how; you were just put on a horse and took off. The same had been true about Seungcheol. Your dad had told you both that you were born to be on a ranch. As you got older, you grew to resent that statement, but when you were little, you remembered having so much pride over it as you’d lace your fingers into Bella’s mane and ride through the fields. You had been so rebellious even then, choosing to ride bareback, hearing Seungcheol racing behind you, telling you that you were going to fall off, but you never did.

“Of course I do. I haven’t in a really long time, but it’s—I don’t think I could forget that.”

There was something about how you spoke when you answered his question that made Mingyu curious and eager. Glancing towards the open window, he sighs under his breath and purses his lips. This was probably a bad idea, but life was full of decisions and Mingyu was tired of seeing his life pass by without taking any chances—especially when you were involved. “Yo—you wanna go for a ride with me?”

Seungcheol had gotten back from town and the house was quiet. He figured that you were still working on estate paperwork somewhere on the property, but it was starting to get later in the afternoon. You were pushing yourself when it came to this and he knew it was his fault. He knew that you were trying to get as much done as quickly as possible so that he wouldn’t be stressed out, and by doing that, you were stressing yourself out. Seungcheol felt horrible about that, but he still felt a sense of relief that you were going about things the way you were. Things had been left where they belonged for now.

Moving through the house towards the kitchen and the large doors leading towards the patio, Seungcheol stretches and yawns only for the sound to get caught in his throat at the sight in front of him. Furrowing his brows, he lowers his arms and moves out onto the large patio, following the two horses heading out from the barn towards the fence line. You and Mingyu.

Seungcheol’s first thought is how nice it is to see you riding again. It had been years since he had even seen you near a horse, let alone riding one, but this wasn’t the way he wanted that to happen. You were out with Mingyu and that didn’t sit well with Seungcheol. It could be innocent, but knowing you and knowing Mingyu, it wasn’t. There was something too close about it all that made Seungcheol’s ‘brother’ instincts go on high alert.

He knew that he could easily get on one of the 4 wheelers and head out after the two of you—see what you were up to and tell you to get your ass back to the house. He could saddle up his own horse and go about it that way… But instead, Seungcheol stuck his tongue against his cheek and scowled at the two of you heading towards the trees before turning back towards the house. You’d have to come home at some point.

The ride with Mingyu was quiet for the most part. You enjoyed the peaceful, easy silence as the warm afternoon air gently moved past you. This was nice. There was no rush to be anywhere. No sounds of traffic or yelling like you had gotten used to in New York. It didn’t matter where you were in the city; there were always sirens and cars honking horns. You could always hear someone screaming at someone else. Out here there were just the sounds of the birds, peep frogs starting to come out, and crickets chirping.

Mingyu liked happy on you. You had seemed so uptight since you had gotten to Montana. At first he thought that was just your personality but it quickly became apparent that that was how you had been living. He wasn’t used to that. Out here you lived with nature, not against it. Nature was calm for the most part and it didn’t rush you or expect you to do anything you couldn’t. Now that you were finally giving in to that way of living again, Mingyu could almost see the stress starting to slide off of you.

“There’s a creek up the hill. We can stop up there and let the girls get somethin’ to drink and take a rest.”

Nodding along with Mingyu’s words, you glance over at him, adjusting the reins in your hand as he gestures with his head forward, clicking his tongue, getting his horse to move a bit quicker. You smile, doing the same, feeling Lucy pick up speed with ease, following behind Mingyu. You had offered to ride another horse, to leave ‘his girl’ for him, but Mingyu insisted that you ride Lucy, saying she was the best of the girls. You had to admit he was on to something with that. She was the kind of horse that made you want to do this every day. “Good girl. Just a bit further.”

Slowing down to a stop, Mingyu easily slides off his saddle before turning towards you, tilting his head, and lifting his hands up to help you.

“I can do it…”

“Yeah, I know, but I can help too.”

He was incredibly frustrating and devastatingly handsome. Rolling your eyes, you swing your leg over the saddle and arch your back, slipping off and into Mingyu’s arms, taking a sharp breath when you realize you are face-to-face with him. “I—”

While this hadn’t been Mingyu’s intention, having you this close and feeling your breath against his face wasn’t something that he hated. Lowering you to the ground, Mingyu clears his throat, feeling his cheeks burn slightly, though he tries to cover the feeling with a half smirk. “Sorry…”

You heard his apology, but he didn’t really seem sorry, and you weren’t sure you wanted him to be. Furrowing your brows, you wait a moment to see if he’s going to step back. You feel Lucy move towards the creek, but when Mingyu doesn’t move, you meet his eyes, feeling the tension growing thicker. You find yourself wishing he would just kiss you if he’s going to look at you like that, and as if reading your mind, Mingyu sighs your name, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

The moment seems to last forever. Your fingers bunch up his shirt against his stomach and Mingyu’s hands grip your hips firmly as his lips move over yours like he’s made for you. After a few minutes, you finally smile against his lips and lean your head back, feeling Mingyu chase your lips before he opens his eyes, searching yours for answers.

“We should—” Licking your lips, you almost hate yourself for having to say what you know is true. You can feel the knots forming in your stomach as Mingyu’s thumbs trace the hint of your skin between your jeans and shirt. “We should go back to the house. It’s getting late.”

Shaking his head, Mingyu glances up at the sky, noting where the sun is. It wasn’t that late; he knew that the sun would start to set in an hour or so, but it wasn’t anything to run from. You weren’t running from the setting sun; you were running from him. Tightening his grip on you, Mingyu whines your name, feeling you slide your hands over his chest towards his shoulders to gently push him back from you.

“Seungcheol would be so—he’d be pissed if he knew this happened.”

Mingyu knew you probably weren’t wrong, but it still didn’t make it any easier to hear and it also didn’t make you pushing him away easier to handle. Reaching for your hand, Mingyu groans under his breath when you let him catch the end of your fingers on his. “I—I why? This ain’t got nothin’ to do with him, Y/N.”

Easing your fingers from Mingyu, you frown slightly and shake your head. “He told me to leave you alone. He’s already been so mad at me, Mingyu. I—this would just be one more thing he’d hate me for.”

There was a lot for Mingyu to process and he did his best thinking while riding. Watching you in front of him, he moves his eyes along the back of your head and down your body before sighing to himself, thinking back on the kiss. It had been perfect. It wasn’t like Mingyu had never dated anybody. Hell, he was a ladies man if you asked any of the other boys on the ranch, but lately he had been wanting more than just a bed for the night. The kiss with you had meant more than any of the one-night stands he had experienced in the past year and the kiss had lasted less than five minutes.

Helping you guide Lucy back into her stall, Mingyu searches your face as you praise the horse and thank her for letting you ride her and for the evening. You were a good person. So many people misjudged you without getting to know you. Mingyu had done it the first time he saw you and the others had done it without so much as talking to you for more than ten minutes. Your own brother judged you harshly, but now that Mingyu had taken the time to try to get to know you, he was seeing how sweet you were. He wanted to know you better and he wanted you in his life. He wanted that kiss back.

“Thanks for taking me out there, Mingyu. It was fun.” You were almost free of the tension. You had felt Mingyu’s eyes on you from the moment that you had left the creek and headed back to the barn. You knew he wasn’t happy with what you had told him, but that was being an adult. Things happened that you weren’t going to enjoy and you had to suffer through not getting what you wanted. You had gotten used to that and good at accepting it.

With one hand on the barn door, you gasp, feeling an arm around your waist pulling you back suddenly. You can see the desperation in Mingyu’s eyes. He wasn’t good at accepting things like you were and he made you want to be like him—to chase after what you wanted but that was dangerous. Whining his name, you shake your head as Mingyu gently pushes you against the wall, taking a step closer to you and leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. “We can’t do this. Cheol—”

“I don’t care, Y/N. I just care about you.” This time Mingyu’s kiss is more urgent and he hopes that it speaks in volumes that he isn’t able to. He relishes in your little whines, your moans as he nips at your lips, feeling you arch your body against his. It’s almost overwhelming and the entire thing has his body on fire. You make him want to throw you over his shoulder and find the closest soft surface so he can show you exactly how he feels, but that’s too fast. You were too fucking important for him to act with his dick instead of his brain.

Even though your brain is screaming for you to stop this and that Seungcheol is going to kill you—you can’t stop kissing Mingyu. It feels too good. Not just the action of kissing him, but the way it makes your lips feel tingly and your legs like jello. The kiss also makes your stomach feel like it’s full of butterflies and your chest feels like it's going to explode with how hard your heart is beating. You’ve felt this before but never like this. You were falling for this man and that was terrifying and exciting.

Placing one last kiss on your lips, feeling you chase his lips this time, Mingyu grins gently, stroking your cheek with his calloused thumb as he looks down at you, seeing the hazy look in your eyes. That was how he wanted you to look all the time. You should always look like a woman who had been kissed stupid. If he had his way, he’d have you spoiled rotten and fucked dumb daily—but that was too fast. “So fuckin’ beautiful. I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, darlin’.”

You find yourself biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning at Mingyu’s words and his seemingly innocent touches as he strokes your cheek and wrist before pulling away completely. You could get used to that. There was something to be said about a southern boy and how they could treat a woman, and yet it scared the hell out of you how much you wanted him as you watched Mingyu walk away. “Goodnight, Gyu…”

The smell of coffee drags you to the kitchen more than your will to move. You had forgotten how much of your muscles that riding a horse actually used. Grumbling a good morning to Seungcheol, you grab your favorite mug down from the cabinet and reach for the pot of coffee he is already nursing, not really feeling how his eyes follow you.

“You look like shit.”

Scoffing as you lean to open the fridge and take out your creamer, you glare in your brother’s direction before shrugging. “You say the nicest things to me, Cheol. I’m so glad I’m—”

“How was your ride? This is what happens when you don’t do it for a decade… ‘Course I would’a asked you to go on a ride with me earlier, but… I ain’t Mingyu now, am I?” The look on your face was more than enough to tell Seungcheol all he needed to know. Your poker face had never been great and being caught off guard left you with no time to prepare your reaction.

“Wh—it—” Shaking your head, you swallow hard, putting the creamer back in the fridge. Closing it, you let your hand linger on the door for a moment longer than necessary before turning back towards Seungcheol. “It was fine. Not a huge deal.” You weren’t going to let Seungcheol get the better of you when it came to this. He didn’t know anything more than you had gone for a ride with Mingyu. That was innocent. Hell, you hadn’t done anything wrong anyway. “We can go for ride anytime you—”

“Don’t start this, Y/N. I told you I didn’t want you messin’ around with him.”

Not only had Seungcheol cut you off mid-sentence but now he was lecturing you on your sex life once again. Scoffing after swallowing a sip of your coffee, you nod and furrow your brows, though the look on your face clearly shows how unamused you are—how unseriously you are taking your brother’s words. “Oh, yes, sir. I remember.” Gesturing to your temple, you pout at Seungcheol, watching his eyes narrow at your attitude. “Ingrained right in here, Dad.”

“Shut the fuck up. Don’t be such a bi—” Stopping short, Seungcheol shakes his head and runs his hand over his mouth when you press your tongue against your cheek. “I didn’t mean that. Y/N, listen to me, alright? It wouldn’t end well for either of you. So quit your shit before I quit it for you.”

Your blood was boiling, but you didn’t want to fight with Seungcheol today. You had done plenty of that over the past couple of weeks to last you for the rest of your life at this point. Shaking your head, you tip your cup over the sink pouring out the rest of your coffee as you hear him sigh your name under his breath. “Fine, Cheol. I didn’t do anything, and I’m not gonna do anything. Just really fucking sucks you can’t trust me, even just a little bit.”

Your words change the look on Seungcheol’s face as he watches you move back around the island. As you start to move past him and out of the kitchen, Seungcheol frowns and reaches out to grab your wrist loosely, pulling you back towards him slightly. “Hey… I’m sorry. I trust you. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

Guilt bites at you when you meet Seungcheol’s eyes. While you were hurt by his words, it didn’t make lying to him feel any better. You knew that it wasn’t the end of the world that you and Mingyu had kissed. It didn’t have to happen again and no one had to know about it. “Sure. I’m alright, Cheollie. I’m gonna get ready and work on more of the paperwork.”

You hadn’t lied to Seungcheol. While you were trying to get away from the conversation surrounding Mingyu, you did have more of the paperwork to attend to. There were still two buildings left on the property for you to look over and today it was the ranch hand’s quarters. Now that you were inside said building, you were almost wishing that you could have that conversation again.

It wasn’t hard to tell that some of the ranch hands weren’t sure how to feel about you. There was one in particular, Chan, who couldn’t seem to control his face no matter how many times you smiled at him. He didn’t seem impressed by you and you were trying to work quickly and get out of everyone’s hair but especially his. “Um, so—”

“That’s my bunk. All that shit is mine.”

Swallowing hard, you meet Chan’s eyes as another man, this one blonde and with much kinder eyes, whispers for him to shut up under his voice. You liked him better; his name was Soonyoung.

“No, man. She said she needed to make note of things that belong to the ranch. Well, none of the shit on my bunk belongs to the ranch.”

It had been a long time since you had felt this uncomfortable around people. Clearly they had heard something about you, and perhaps Seungcheol had shared his feelings about you when it came to the ranch in general. You couldn’t blame them—blame Chan—for being upset with you. “I’m not going to disturb your belongings, Chan. I honestly don’t need anything in this ro—”

“Then what the hell are you—”

“‘Cause it’s her goddamn property, Chan. The fuck you being so disrespectful for?” Hanging his hat on a hook next to the door, Mingyu furrows his brows tightly, feeling the tension in the house as he looks around at each person. It’s only when his eyes land back on Chan that his nose flairs with displeasure. “And get your damn feet off the table. How many times do I gotta tell you this is a house and not the goddamn barn?”

You could hear Mingyu and Chan arguing behind you, their volume a bit quieter as if trying to keep it from you as you turn your back to give them space. It wasn’t as if you were that far away, but you could put up the guise as if you were actually focused on your task. Licking your lips, you look down at your iPad and glance around the room before moving towards the living space and jotting down a couple of notes, feeling eyes hot on your back.

Slapping the back of Chan’s head, Mingyu’s eyes burn as he glances towards you and mouths, ‘Now!’ causing the younger man to recoil from his hand, afraid he will get hit again. “I—Miss Choi? Ma’am… I apologize for being such an ass. Know it don’t make up for it, but—”

You hadn’t expected Chan to apologize to you; in fact, you didn’t feel like you deserved one. You were invading their space. While, yes, this was your family’s property, you didn’t feel like there was much room for you to lay claim no matter what the paperwork had stated. Beyond that, you felt that the ranch hand’s quarters were theirs; if it hadn’t been for the inventory you were required to make, you wouldn’t have ever bothered them. Shaking your head, you offer Chan another soft smile before meeting Mingyu’s eyes, watching his hand slowly relax on the other man’s shoulder. “It’s not a problem. I’m alright. I’ll be out of your hair in just a couple of minutes. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.”

Mingyu’s stomach was in knots as he watched you finish your list. You seemed different today. You seemed meeker than you had the day before. You had avoided his eyes a few times already and declined anything to drink or eat even as he cooked for the rest of the boys. “I make more than enough for you and Seungcheol.”

“And while I’m sure that’s true, I’ve bothered you all plenty. Have a good evening.” Tapping your nails against the door frame, you lower your head respectfully, feeling four sets of eyes lingering on you until you close the door behind you. It had been hard to breathe around Mingyu even with the buffer of all the other ranch hands, but finally you were able to take in a deep breath of fresh air.

“I admit it… She’s not a bitch.”

Rolling his eyes at Chan, Jun sighs, leaning back in his chair, letting his eyes move over to Mingyu as he finishes up the stew he had decided to make. “Figured she wasn’t; you’re just a dick, Chan. Mingyu likes her, so she’s gotta be good people.” The way that Mingyu flinches at the accusation of him liking you tells Jun everything he needs to know.

“And she’s fuckin’ gorgeous. I don’t know how you could yell at her to begin with. I’d rather get on my knees and beg for her to yell at me or somethin’.”

Soonyoung, more often than not, thought with his dick more than his brain, but rarely did it get him in too much trouble. This time, however, it caused Mingyu’s shoulders to square and for him to toss down the wooden spoon that he had been stirring the stew with. “Don’t talk like that, ya got me? Finish the food, ya fuckin’ selves. I got shit to do.”

Watching Mingyu open the door and slam it shut, Soonyoung feels like he has whiplash. Jun is the only one who moves to the stove to take Mingyu’s place and he’s the only one who smiles.

“I—the fuck was that about? I didn’t do anythin’ wrong did I? He’s said worse ‘bout women before…”

Adjusting the heat on the stove, Jun shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. “You are just clueless. Ain’t your fault that your brain don’t work fast enough sometimes.” Bringing the spoon to his lips, Jun nods approvingly of the taste of the stew before reaching up to the cabinet to bring down three bowls as he tries to explain the situation in a way that Soonyoung and Chan will understand. “Mingyu likes her. Chan was being a dick so that pissed him off and then you had the balls to say—”

“Ah, fuck! Why didn’t he just say he liked her? I wouldn’ta said nothin’ ‘bout her like that—least not in front of him! You think he’s gonna kick my ass?”

That was something Jun didn’t have the answer to, so instead he just gave Soonyoung a pity pat on the shoulder as he handed him a bowl of Mingyu’s stew.

Mingyu had hoped that you would still be outside when he left, but instead of finding you waiting for him, he only saw the sky beginning to change colors as the sun started to get lower on the horizon. He knew that you had been working on your list again all day; you had gone from spot to spot on the ranch so maybe you were heading back towards the main house.

Jogging to catch up with you, Mingyu calls your name in such a pleading tone that it almost wills you to stop and wait on him. When he does finally catch up with you, he leans over, resting his hands on his thighs, taking a deep breath. “Fuck… I don’t run like I used’ta.”

You knew you should keep going—tell him that you needed to get something done so you didn’t have time to talk. But, as you watched Mingyu, his brows lifting as he smiled at you still catching his breath, you couldn’t make your feet move. “You saying you’re out of shape, Kim Mingyu?”

Licking his lips, feeling the drier air starting to dry them out, Mingyu squints at you before standing up. “No. I work out. Hell, woman… you know I throw hay almost every damn day. Shit… are you out of shape? I should—” You were laughing at him. Mingyu wasn’t sure what he should feel, but what washed over him was fondness as your cheeks filled up slightly with your smile. God, you were so pretty it hurt his heart. It had hurt him to say goodnight to you and it hurt him to just look at you now and not kiss you. “I—I wanted to see if you wanted to meet me later.”

Your smile fading, you lower your eyes and scrunch your nose, trying to think how to answer Mingyu’s question. There was how you wanted to answer it and how you knew you should answer it. “Hmm… I can’t. Cheol—uh, Cheol, he knows we went on the ride yesterday. He was pretty mad about it, so it’d be a bad idea.”

It’s so clear to Mingyu that what you are saying and what you want aren’t one and the same. Sighing under his breath, Mingyu glances around before reaching for your hand, hearing you whisper his name, but you don’t pull back from him. “What? Ain’t allowed to hold your hand?”

Now he was being willfully ignorant. Glancing towards the house, you whine under your breath. Even though it's a decent distance away from you and Mingyu, you know that if Seungcheol came looking for you, he’d see you both clearly from the windows or the patio. So instead of standing in the middle of the dirt path that leads back from the barns and the ranch hand quarters, you turn towards the barn, bringing Mingyu with you.

Once you are more hidden by the large barn, you meet Mingyu’s eyes and work your fingers from his, feeling him cling to you, a whine slipping from his lips. “I already told you. Cheol, he—”

“He what? He ain’t here right now, Y/N.” When you look away from him, Mingyu reaches up to gently turn your face towards him, feeling you take a step back towards the barn. With each step back, he takes a step forward until your back is against the door and he is inches from you. “I like you.”

“No, you don’t.” Your rebuttal on Mingyu’s confession leaves your mouth so quick that you watch his eyes search for meaning in yours before he laughs, causing you to knock your head back against the wooden door. “You like the idea of me. I don’t want to fuck up your life and your friendship with my brother.”

Sliding his hand along the inside of your forearm, Mingyu shakes his head and furrows his brows. If you had been any other woman, he might have let it go, not chased so hard, but there was something about you that had him whipped. He had kissed you twice and already he was struggling to breathe, wanting another one. “First of all, you don’t get to say who I like and who I don’t. I don’t just like some idea of you. That’s some philosophy bullshit and I don’t believe in it.” Watching you roll your eyes at him, Mingyu grins, stepping one step closer so that his knee rests against your inner thigh. “Second, you ain’t fuckin’ up a damn thing, darlin’. I—if you don’t want him to know, he ain’t gotta know. Just don’t run from me.”

Darlin’. Closing your eyes to the pet name, you curse your body for how it betrays you. Everything that Mingyu was doing was right. His hand on your skin had chill bumps erupting under his touch. His knee on your thigh had you almost willing to settle on his leg, but worst of all it was that fucking pet name. You wanted to run, but right now you wanted to run to him and not away. “He’ll hate me—”

“Nah, he won’t. Don’t talk ‘bout him anymore.” Brushing his fingers up your arm, Mingyu tilts his head as he takes your bag from your shoulder, putting it on the ground and meets your eyes, really looking at you this close. You were breaking his damn heart by just existing. How had he lived 27 years without you in his life? Sliding his hand along your hip, Mingyu grunts when you gasp his name and it’s like a siren call pulling his lips to yours.

The kiss is heated, but not rushed. Mingyu didn’t wanna rush a damn thing with you and yet he didn’t want to let you go either, so when you cling to his shirt and your knees start to buckle, he does what’s best. Hands slide under your ass to the back of your thighs as Mingyu lets you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling your fingers thread into the back of his hair. This was heaven. The sun was warm as it set on his back and you were a dream come true.

You were warm in his arms. Your lips were soft, and your moans were going straight to his cock as he tried to keep himself from getting hard in vain. It really wasn’t possible, especially with how good it felt to be between your legs even like this. Rocking his hips against yours, Mingyu furrows his brows and grunts into the kiss when you nip at his bottom lip, enjoying the feeling of him against you.

“Fuck…” Mingyu couldn’t remember the last time he had done something like this. High school maybe? College? The backseat of some car where he could barely move enough to drag his clothed cock between some girl’s legs. You were different. This was different. Mingyu felt desperate. He was practically rutting his hips to meet the way you were rolling yours down over him as you kissed the life out of him. He was so close, right on that edge when you whimpered his name and leaned your head back away from him.

“This—this is—we can’t do this right now.” You didn’t even believe the words you were saying. You didn’t want to say them. You could feel your panties sticking to your folds uncomfortably as Mingyu took shallow breaths against your jaw. “I’m sorry—”

“No, hey, no apologizing to me. Nuh-uh, darlin’.” Taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, Mingyu tilts your head back towards him so he can place a sweet kiss on your lips before he helps you stand on your own and leans to pick up your bag for you.

Though Mingyu was saying one thing, your anxiety was telling you another. Adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder, you furrow your brows as Mingyu adjusts his jeans and smiles at you sweetly.

“Go on now, beautiful. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

This was the furthest you had traveled from the main house and the last of the property that would need to be inventoried. From what you remembered about the old farmhouse on the edge of the property, it was falling apart—one swift wind from being knocked over, as your father had always put it—but standing in front of it now, you were stunned. The once derelict house was very much standing and it was clear that someone had been working on repairing it for some time now.

Moving up the steps, you run your fingers over the stair railing. The wood is smooth, as if a lot of care had gone into sanding it down to perfection. Climbing the few stairs up to the porch, you listen carefully for anyone inside the house before knocking lightly, feeling it push forward. “Oh… Um, hello? Is there anyone here?”

You are met with silence as you step inside of the house. Your eyes search for anyone else, a clue as to who might be fixing up the house, but instead you find yourself overwhelmed with how beautiful the inside already is. When you and Seungcheol had been younger, you would sneak out to this house and run through the halls as your brother would jump over broken furniture and holes in the floor—this wasn’t the same house.

Wiping his hands off on his jeans, Mingyu furrows his brows at what sounds like someone’s voice. Taking the earbud out of his ear, he licks his lips and puts the pencil in his other hand behind his ear before heading towards the stairs. It was rare that he got evenings like this. Working on a ranch was hard. It was sunrise to sundown almost every day, but for a ranch foreman, it felt like he worked 24/7. When he did get a few hours to himself, Mingyu was always here—working on the house, rebuilding it from the ground up, making it his.

No one really came this far out on the property. That was one of the reasons Mingyu loved it so much. The ranch was quiet in its own way, but out here, this was peace. So seeing you wandering through the living room not only confused him but also brought a smile to his face as well. While Mingyu didn’t mind guests, he preferred to be alone in times like this—but you were becoming an exception.

“Y/N?”

Hearing your name, you jump, having not expected to hear anything after the few minutes of welcomed silence. With your hand on your chest over your heart, you turn to meet Mingyu, seeing the surprise in his eyes as well as the smile on his face. “Hi. I—uh, hi. Why are—what are you doing all the way out here?”

You were devastatingly beautiful and the way the words slipped off your tongue, even while you were flustered, caused Mingyu to chuckle under his breath as he moved into the room with you glancing around. “Well, I—darlin’, I live here. What are you doin’ all the way out here?”

Shaking your head, you look around quickly again, ashamed that you hadn’t realized that someone was living in the house. Of course you had noticed that someone was remodelling it, but looking closer, you could see little signs of life among the slight chaos. “Oh! I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Mingyu. I shouldn’t have just walked inside like—”

While you spiraled, Mingyu just smiled fondly and moved closer to you until he could slide his hands over yours, pulling you closer to him. “‘Course you should. How were you supposed to know? Not like we’ve talked about where I live anyhow.”

Feeling your cheeks heat up as Mingyu presses his thumbs into your palms in small circles, you tilt your head trying to feign confidence. “I—well, no, we didn’t. But, I didn’t expect here. This house has been falling down for years. God, for decades.”

“I know. I like a project. ‘Sides, your dad gave it to me and told me to take care of it. What I aim to do. Think I’m doin’ an alright job.” Swinging your hands along with his at your hips, Mingyu smiles as he looks around the room, pleased with his progress. There was still a ways to go but for doing it mostly on his own, he had come far in a short amount of time. “You wanna see the rest of the house?”

Mingyu’s enthusiasm about something he cared about—something he loved—was infectious. You find yourself matching his smile as he laces his fingers with yours when you nod, agreeing to the tour. “As long as it’s safe. Last time I was here with Cheol he broke his arm on the stairs trying to help me when I fell through them…”

Shock is evident on Mingyu’s face as he leads you out of the room only to stop, opening his mouth and closing it once before taking a deep breath. “Ain’t nobody fallin’ through the stairs anymore. I repaired them and the floor. That was the first thing I did besides replacing the rotten wood in the support underneath the house.” Gesturing forward, Mingyu squeezes your hand tighter as if not willing to let you go as he leads you through to the dining room. “Replaced all the windows on both floors and what hardwood I was able to salvage, I did. It’s a pity to get rid of all the original floors if I don’t gotta.”

Letting Mingyu lead you through a few other rooms, you don’t realize how much you are smiling until he shows you the staircase and you meet his eyes. “Looks a hundred thousand times safer than it did. You put so much work into this, Gyu…”

His name shortened on your lips is almost as nice as hearing you call him a pet name. Mingyu’s neck, cheeks, and ears heat up, a slight tinge of red at the tips of his ears as he stutters through his words and helps you up the stairs by moving his hand from yours to your lower back. “I—well, yeah! I ju—just wanna put my heart into whatever I do. No reason to half ass the place you’re gonna call home.” Gesturing with his free hand to the right, Mingyu lowers his head with another shy smile when you practically coo at him and his words. “Stop it… Jus—I ain’t done much to the two bedrooms on this side, but the master bedroom is ‘bout done and I finished the bathroom.”

God, you want to kiss him. It’s dangerous how much you are falling for this man as he scratches the back of his neck and smiles at you like you are holding the sun in your hands. He reminds you of the stability that you knew you had with your dad and with Seungcheol. The stability you ran away from when it got smothering—the stability you long for but don’t feel like you deserve. He’s perfect and it’s terrifying.

Humming under your breath, you step away from Mingyu and move into the master bedroom, looking around with an approving nod before moving into the bathroom taking a deep breath. It was more than the fact that it was beautiful, every piece of furniture planned out perfectly; it was that everywhere Mingyu surrounded you. In the bathroom his body wash and cologne overwhelmed your senses, causing your knees to feel weak. In the bedroom the sense of comfort made you want to beg to stay—and yet you didn’t. Begging to stay would be admitting how much you were falling in love with him. “It’s so nice, Gyu. I, uh—I was supposed to do the inventory thing here, but honestly none of this belongs to the ranch anymore so—”

Watching you gesture around the room as if you are talking about the entire house, Mingyu nods along with you even as his brows furrow. He could tell that something was bothering you. It didn’t matter what words were coming out of your mouth; they didn’t quite match the way you were saying them. They didn’t line up with how you were acting. “Oh, right. I—uh, I mean, technically the house is still y’all’s. I mean, yeah, your dad verbally said it was min—”

“Then it’s yours. I’m not taking that from you or him. Daddy never did anything without a reason. You were—you are important. This is yours. I’ll make sure that’s solidified in the paperwork, alright?” Sliding your fingers over Mingyu’s wrist, you feel your breath get caught in your throat when he whispers your name and holds your fingers in his. “I should get back. Cheol will start wondering where I am.”

You weren’t wrong, but Mingyu wished he could convince you to stay. Here felt safe with you. There wasn’t any expectations and all Mingyu wanted to do was to hold you and tell you how much he was falling in love with you. Lacing his fingers with yours once more, Mingyu nods his head towards the hallway as he clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, then I can walk you out. You—uh, you want me to walk you back up to the house?”

Staying at Mingyu’s side, the sadness in his voice makes your heart beat quicker as you both start down the stairs. You start to tell him no, that you can make it back home just fine on your own, but you make the mistake of meeting his eyes. “Mingyu…”

You don’t mean to whine his name the way you do. It’s almost pitiful how upset you sound—how needy you sound, causing him to stop in his tracks to catch his breath. There’s no more time for overthinking. Mingyu just reacts almost instantly, turning back up the stairs pulling you towards him, feeling your legs wrap around his waist.

Lying over you on the bed, Mingyu slides his hand along your side, feeling your teeth catch his bottom lip. It feels like a fever dream having you here on his bed. It’s what he wants for the rest of his life—your hands tracing his shoulders, arms, and back as you whine his name so breathlessly. “I’ll give you everything, darlin’...”

The promise laced in Mingyu’s words simultaneously breaks your heart and excites you. Tears threaten to spill over the rims of your eyes as you lean your head back against the bed, feeling his lips brushing over your skin, leaving chillbumps as a reminder of where he has been. It feels so unfair to want someone and something so badly when you know it’s unattainable. You know you should run away—spare yourself and especially Mingyu the pain of what would come after this, but selfishness takes hold of you.

Pushing your shirt up your torso, Mingyu groans under his breath at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He could feel your pretty eyes on him and he had a point to prove. No one could love you like him. No one would ever make you feel this way again, not if he had anything to say about it.

Every kiss earns him a sweet moan from you and urges Mingyu to move quicker. Soon your shirt is discarded on the floor along with his while his fingers carefully work open the clasp of your jeans. “You are so pretty. So damn perfect.” Mingyu knew he was whining; it was almost painful to speak instead of kissing you, but you needed to know how he felt. “I got you, baby.”

Holding tightly to the comforter, you lift your hips and muffle your moan behind your bitten lips when Mingyu keeps muttering his soft praises against your skin. Tears were fresh on your cheeks and you wanted to hate him for making you want this, but even you couldn’t lie to yourself that well. You were upset because this was love. You loved feeling Mingyu’s hands and lips on you. He was like the sun, keeping you impossibly warm as you tried to cling to the winter frost in your heart. “Mingyu—”

“Yeah, baby?” Meeting your eyes as he kisses his way back up your legs, Mingyu smiles against your skin and hums happily when you smile back at him. “I’m gonna love the hell outta you if you’ll let me. Lift your hips again for me.”

Lifting from the bed once more as Mingyu slides your panties from your hips and down your legs, you swallow hard at the way his words make you feel. He hadn’t said he loved you but it was close enough. It was keeping you in his bed, letting you hold on to this dream for a little bit longer. “Now, you…”

“I was gonna… I’m just lookin’ at you.” Dropping the last of your clothes onto the floor, Mingyu shakes his head and runs his hand over his lips to keep himself from groaning as his cock throbs in his pants. When you whine his name again in an attempt to keep him focused, he grins before moving to his feet, finally doing what you want.

You watch as Mingyu quickly undoes his jeans and pushes them down with his boxers before kicking them from his feet. “I—” Laughing as your words get caught in your throat, you find Mingyu tilts his head at you, his brows furrowed as he moves back towards you and the bed. “Just—I expected you to be a little sexier about it.”

“Ain’t got patience to be sexy ‘bout takin’ off my pants right now when I got you on my bed. Hell, woman… we should be happy I even got them off without fallin’.” Gesturing towards you before sliding his hands along your legs, silencing your laugh when you bite at your lips, enjoying his touch. “Have you seen yourself? Hm? Like this, I mean? I’ll never get tired of it.”

A moan slips from your lips and Mingyu captures it with his own immediately when his thumb brushes over your nipple, feeling it harden instantly. Speaking on your lips, he smiles between kisses, his fingers moving almost torturously slow over your breast, enjoying how soft you are. “No? Then one day I should put you in front of a mirror while I make love to you. Let you see what I see for a bit.”

Before you are able to speak or argue with him, Mingyu silences you with a kiss that takes your breath away. Arching your back from the bed, you scratch lightly at Mingyu’s shoulder, rolling your hips down over his thigh, begging in your own way for him to do something, anything, before you combust.

While Mingyu seemed confident and focused on the surface, each time your hips rocked over his thigh, he was losing his mind. You were so wet and soft. Mingyu wasn’t sure if you even knew what you were doing to him with your sweet little moans and whines. He knew that you wanted more and he was struggling to not move too quickly and regret it later. This mattered to him; it had to matter more than some quick hookup. That wasn’t what this was to Mingyu. That wasn’t what you were to him. He was holding forever in his arms if you’d let him. “Shh, baby… I got you. I promise…”

More promises and yet this time you weren’t letting yourself be afraid. Your mind was racing as Mingyu’s lips once again moved lower. He took his time trying to kiss every mole and scar from your neck to your chest, but it was when he reached your stomach that you couldn’t stop yourself from squirming under him. “Ah—Gyu! You’re driving me crazy. Please? Please do something!”

You didn’t have to wait long to get what you wanted when Mingyu smiled against your hip and traced the line of your thigh to your knee, helping you put your leg over his shoulder. “Impatient…” Mingyu hears the complaint on your lips just as he hears it get lost in your moan when he traces your wet folds with his warm tongue. He had known you were going to taste good. There was no way you wouldn’t, but what he hadn’t expected was how addicted he would feel after just one taste.

Furrowing his brows, Mingyu groans your name and wraps his arm around your hip, pulling you down in the bed towards him so you are closer to his mouth. He would do this every day and night if you’d let him. He’d be your alarm clock, gently waking you up with his lips wrapped around your clit so he could feel your fingers tug at his hair. He would happily help you settle down for the night by doing the same thing only to feel you cum on his tongue as your heel dug into his back and you whined his name like a prayer.

“So good… Oh, fuck! Please… Please don’t stop.” It seemed that you didn’t even need to ask that of Mingyu. He was determined and talented with his mouth. You felt him all over your body with how quickly he was pushing you over the edge. He was racing through your blood and in your lungs with every deep breath that you struggled to take. Crying out his name once more, you tighten your thighs around his head and fall back on the bed feeling boneless.

If Mingyu hadn’t had more restraint, he would have cum right when your thighs closed around his head. You were trembling under him all while whispering his name. This was heaven. You were heaven and his goddess. Mingyu had never been a religious man, but in this bed you had made him a believer.

Licking his lips, Mingyu glances up from between your legs to watch you come down from your high. That was better than any sunrise or sunset he had ever seen. Your lips were parted softly as you took deep breaths, causing your soft breasts to rise and fall, enticing him up the bed.

“You are so fuckin’ beautiful. I can’t stand it…” Mingyu’s voice was soft but you could still hear the way he was having to restrain himself laced in it. Strong and calloused fingers move along your body as he moves up in the bed to lay over you, his lips brushing over yours carefully. “Wanna be inside of you so bad.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Smiling into the kiss, Mingyu pulls back just enough to nudge his nose against yours before he sighs. “You sure? We don’t gotta—”

“Kim Mingyu, if you don’t put your fucking cock in—”

“Woah, alright. Hell fire… I’m just tryin’ to be a gentleman.” Muttering under his breath, Mingyu smiles even as he complains about your dirty mouth and how he needs to clean it up. Just when you start to tell him that you don’t need him to do anything more than fuck you, the words get caught in your throat. With one hand holding your knee to his hip, Mingyu uses his other to carefully line himself up with your needy entrance before very slowly easing his cock into you.

The stretch is intense. You find yourself wishing you had asked him to use his fingers first, but soon the painful stretch becomes a welcomed one. Gasping for a deep breath, you throw your head back against the bed, feeling Mingyu’s eyes on you as you get overwhelmed with the feeling of being full. “Shit. Oh, my god, Gyu… Move.”

Mingyu had managed to get most of his cock in you, but you were clenching around him like a vice. You had him gritting his teeth and digging his nails into the meatiest part of your thigh when you finally asked him to move. He was thanking god or whoever was listening that you had let him move when you did, he wasn’t going to last long. You felt too good. You were warm, soft, and wet. Every thrust he got deeper, you were able to take more of his cock and it was driving Mingyu insane. “Fuck, baby. You are so good. Holy shit… you’re made for me.” Groaning against your jaw, Mingyu thrusts deep and hard, hearing you moan loudly, matching how he felt. “Made for my cock, huh? Never leaving my bed.”

You were seeing stars with every hard thrust. Mingyu was by far the biggest man you had been with in more ways than one and your body was not only adjusting to it, but learning to crave it. You find yourself trying to imagine being in bed with someone else, wanting to separate yourself from the moment and knowing that Mingyu is the one making you feel this good, but you are reminded by his words that it’s only him. There is no one else and even you know there will be no one else. No one had ever made you feel like this. You were floating. There were no bones in your body. There was just you and Mingyu. No thoughts. No today or tomorrow. Just you and Mingyu.

“I can tell you’re close.” Muttering against the shell of your ear, Mingyu groans, feeling you clench around him tighter. There was no way you weren’t going to cum for him. He could almost feel your orgasm rolling through you as he rocked his hips to meet yours, hearing you sob his name. “Cum for me, baby.” Burying his face against your shoulder, Mingyu bites down and furrows his brows tightly when you do fall over that edge. Your orgasm is so intense that it takes everything in him not to cum right then. He has to force himself to wait a moment longer so he can ease himself out of you; only then does he paint your thighs and lower stomach with his cum.

Feeling suddenly empty, you pout, keeping your eyes closed even as Mingyu tries to catch his breath beside you. As if he can sense your sadness, the loneliness creeping into you, Mingyu kisses your shoulder, and his fingers trace your lips. Instead of sadness, you get overwhelmed with anxiety and worry, turning to meet his eyes and seeing only love in his.

“I lo—”

“I should head back home, Gyu.”

Swallowing his words, Mingyu tries not to let your sudden shift in mood scare him, but it's impossible. He had wanted to tell you something, but clearly you weren’t ready to hear it. He didn’t want you to leave, but looking in the direction of the window with you, Mingyu just sighs as you move to sit up beside him.

“It’s gonna get dark soon and Cheol—” Shaking your head, you feel your heart beat quicker as the panic really starts to set in. Even when Mingyu’s fingers wrap around your wrist trying to get you to calm down, to not rush off, you pull your arm away and slide off the bed to gather your clothes, obviously shaking. “Cheol might come looking for me. That would be really fucking bad for both of us.”

The idea of Seungcheol coming to look for you here didn’t scare Mingyu. He’d tell your brother exactly how he felt about you. He didn’t understand why you were so scared of this or why Seungcheol would be so mad about it, but the fear in your voice made Mingyu sit up and help you finish getting dressed before he did the same.

Walking hand in hand with you to the door, Mingyu swallows hard when you finally pull your hand from his. There is so much he wants to say to you, but the look on your face tells him that you aren’t ready to hear it. Instead of speaking, Mingyu just smiles sadly and reaches up to brush his thumb over your cheek, happy when you don’t pull away. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

Tears bite at your eyes the entire walk home. You fight them and the pain in your chest until you are inside your house and meet an annoyed Seungcheol sitting at the kitchen island.

“Where the hell have you been? I tried callin’ you. I was worried ‘bout you, Y/N. I was fixin’ to have the boys get with me and start lookin’...”

Thinking on your feet, you force a smile and a laugh, rolling your eyes as you take out your iPad and gesture to it. “Just finishing up the last of the property list, Cheollie. You are so fucking dramatic. I guess my phone died…”

“Died? How—how the fuck do you let your phone die?”

It was clear that Seungcheol wasn’t buying your story completely, but you weren’t going to fold. Taking your phone out of your purse, you show it to him and luckily for you, it hadn’t been a lie. Trying to power the phone on, you are just met with a notice to charge your phone and an annoyed look on your brother’s face. “See… I must have forgotten to plug it up last night. Everyone makes mistakes, Seungcheol.” Showing him the iPad once more, you gesture towards the living room and sigh. “I have to finish up a few more things.”

Following you out of the room, Seungcheol narrows his eyes and sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Give me your phone. I’ll go plug it in. Seriously, don’t do that shit again. I was freakin’ the hell out.”

You had managed to sit down on the couch and put your purse on the floor before Seungcheol had made it to you. He was hovering and it was reminding you why you enjoyed your own space in the city. Giving him an annoyed look, you tilt your head and lean over to pick up your purse, not realizing your shirt has slipped down your shoulder until you offer Seungcheol your phone and feel his eyes burning a hole into your skin. “Wha—take it. Why are yo—”

“Your phone died?” Watching you nod and try to offer you the phone again, Seungcheol looks from your face back to your shoulder and the hickey starting to form. He wasn’t as fucking stupid as you clearly thought he was. “Kim fuckin’ Mingyu.”

Shocked to hear Mingyu’s name on your brother’s lips, you sit up a bit straighter and watch as your brother wipes his hand over his lips, his eyes full of anger. It’s then that you realize what he is looking at and use your phone’s reflection to see what he is seeing. “I—no, Cheol. It’s just a bruise.”

“I’m so goddamn tired of your lying! I’m gonna kill him.”

You barely have time to react before Seungcheol has turned on his heels and is heading for the door. Rushing to your feet, you adjust your shirt and chase after him, calling his name in a panic, feeling your blood run cold.

The house was too quiet now. Mingyu had liked it before, but that was before you had been there and made him realize how alone he was. Sighing into his beer, Mingyu furrows his brows as he sits on the top step looking out over the field leading back towards the ranch and to you. He wished you’d come back; he could almost picture you running back towards him and back into his arms. He’d explain how much he loved you and how he didn’t want you to leave him again. Shaking his head, Mingyu takes a long drink of his beer and leans his head back only to furrow his brows, wondering if he’s hearing things when he does hear someone shout his name.

“Kim Mingyu!” Seungcheol was seeing red and he was out for blood. He had tried to trust you and he thought he could trust his best friend, but clearly he had been an idiot for trying to do either of those things. Seeing the porch light in the distance, Seungcheol ignores your panicked whines of his name as you run behind him trying to keep up. All Seungcheol could see now was Mingyu moving to his feet in front of him.

“Hey, Cheol?”

That was all that Seungcheol let the man get out of his mouth before his fist made contact with it. He had never hit his best friend before, but then again, his best friend had never fucked his sister after being told to stay the hell away from her. Why could neither of you listen?

“Choi Seungcheol! Stop it!”

Mingyu’s jaw was on fire; he could taste blood and he felt like he was seeing double as he shook his head and met Seungcheol’s eyes. He could hear you screaming Seungcheol’s name but all he could see was the man’s fury as he clenched his fist and swung again. This time Mingyu knew what was coming and moved quickly enough to not get hit. That only seemed to make Seungcheol more angry and more determined to fight.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, Mingyu! What did I tell you?!” Pointing his finger towards Mingyu, Seungcheol growls out his words before you grab his arm and try to pull it down in an attempt to stop your brother. This, just like Mingyu dodging his last punch, only makes Seungcheol more furious and causes him to push back against you hard, sending you to the ground with a painful thud.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Seungcheol?” Now Mingyu was seeing red too. He would have been more willing to hear Seungcheol out if he hadn’t seen you fall to the ground, but your pitiful whine sent his head spinning and had him rushing towards his best friend.

You watch in horror, trying to get to your feet quickly enough as Mingyu manages to land a painful blow to Seungcheol’s stomach. This was your worst nightmare. You had always managed to fuck up things at home, but never this badly. It was one thing for you to fight with your father or your brother, but causing your brother and his best friend to physically fight—this was a different low. Screaming at the top of your lungs for them to stop, you force your way between the two men, feeling Mingyu take a step back first, not willing to hurt you even as Seungcheol pushes against you, trying to finish this. “Please! Stop! I’m sorry! Cheol!”

Stumbling backwards when your panicked screams finally seem to get through to him, Seungcheol glares first at you and then at Mingyu before pointing at him. “Get the fuck off my property. You're fired.” Turning his attention back to you, Seungcheol reaches for your arm, pulling you towards him hard. “And you get the hell back to the house!”

You weren’t fighting for yourself anymore, even if Seungcheol’s grip hurt—you were mad that he was trying to force Mingyu out of his home. Slapping at your brother’s chest and finally his face, you meet his eyes with tears streaming down your face. “No! I will leave! Do you hear me? This is my fault. He isn’t going anywhere. Daddy gave him the house, Seungcheol! It isn’t yours to take.” Shaking your head as he starts to complain, you push him back again further away from Mingyu. “This is my fucking fault! I did this! Not Mingyu. I’ll leave in the morning.”

“Y/N…”

Hearing Mingyu’s voice, you turn towards him and shake your head before grabbing Seungcheol’s hand, trying to pull him with you. Mingyu watches you, feeling his heart break as you mutter for Seungcheol to come on, urging him back towards the ranch. Wiping the blood from his lips, he leans his head back and sighs loudly, drawing Seungcheol's and your attention back towards him.

“You’re wrong, Cheol, and you know it.” Watching you shake your head, Mingyu just nods at you and meets Seungcheol’s eyes even as he glares at him. “She ain’t done nothin’ wrong and I—fuck I ain’t either. She shouldn’t have to leave. This is her home.” Gesturing behind him, Mingyu scoffs, though the pain is evident in his voice. “I’ll leave if that’s really what you want.”

Tugging his hand from yours, Seungcheol shakes his head before running his fingers through his hair. He could already feel his ribs starting to hurt. He was going to be bruised and he was getting a headache. “I don’t give a fuck what you do, Mingyu. Clearly neither of you gives a shit about what I care about.”

Trying to grab Seungcheol’s arm again, you whine when he keeps it from you again. “Cheollie…” Tears drip from your cheeks and on to your shirt as you start to walk back with him, but not before meeting Mingyu’s eyes and shaking your head. “Don’t go anywhere. That’s your house; I told you before.” You could see the pain in his eyes, the way he was almost begging you to stay there with him, but you couldn’t. You had to follow your family this time even if he hated you.

Sniffling back your tears even as you move through the living room with Seungcheol, you watch as he pours himself a drink and sits down hard on the couch. He hadn’t spoken to you once on the walk back to the house. He had kept his eyes forward and no matter how many times you tried to whisper your apology, he ignored it. Even now as you watched him stare at the wall, you could feel the anger rippling off of him.

“Cheol…” Your voice was meek and full of regret as you moved closer to your brother, finally moving to your knees near him on the couch. You couldn’t make him look at you, but you knew he could hear you. “I’m so fucking sorry. I know I lied. I—I disappoint you all the time. I ruined your friendship with Mingyu. I know you hate me and I don’t blame you.” Wiping tears from your cheeks as Seungcheol continues to seemingly ignore you, you whine into your words, feeling your heart being crushed. “I’m sorry. I love you and I know I fucked this up. I—I’ll go pack. I’ll leave in the morning. I swear.”

Sniffing hard, Seungcheol takes another sip of his drink and puts it on the arm of the sofa, still not looking at you. “Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. You ain’t leavin’.” Daring to look at you finally, Seungcheol has to force himself to stay stoic when your tears cause his heart to ache. “I’m so fuckin’ pissed off at you, Y/N. You lied to me over and over again. It’s all you do—”

“I’m sorry Cheollie! I—I’m not trying to lie to you. That wasn’t what I was tryin—”

“Stop it. You say this shit. You always get my hopes up and then you do this.” Gesturing around him like you are supposed to see what he’s telling you, Seungcheol sighs and leans his head back. “You get back in my heart or in someone else’s, and you run.”

A sob gets caught in your throat when you feel Seungcheol’s pain in his words. His anger had subsided and gotten replaced with something worse and it was eating you alive. “I—I’m not trying to hurt you or anyone else, Cheol. I—that—that’s why I…”

Shaking his head, Seungcheol looks up at the ceiling to stop the tears in his eyes from falling when you try to explain yourself. He didn’t want your excuses. “Yeah, well, it’s what you’re good at and I just wish that once, just fuckin’ once, you weren’t.”

It was as if the sky was as upset as Mingyu felt. From the moment that he had woken up, the storms had started. There had been few moments in the day when he could wander out during a dry spell and work on a task to keep his mind from lingering on you. You were all he wanted to think about and it seemed as if you were avoiding him as much as he was avoiding Seungcheol.

Last night had not ended in the way that Mingyu would have hoped. He could still feel the pain in his lip and jaw. The bruise was already starting to turn an ugly color where his lip had split angrily, but at least he had stopped bleeding. That pain was nothing compared to what he felt in his chest when he watched you turn away from him every time you saw him come near. It wasn’t like he blamed you. He should leave you alone, but that was easier said than done when his heart ached from just thinking about you.

The rain now was a perfect reminder of how he felt. It came in waves, soaking the ground and keeping him secluded—or so he thought. Mingyu hadn’t expected to see you again and he certainly hadn’t expected to see you watching the rain from the large barn door entrance. You looked too perfect just standing there. It felt wrong to just admire you for as long as Mingyu did, but he found himself afraid if he said anything too soon you might fly off like a bird towards the gray sky. It was only when it was unbearable to just watch that Mingyu moved closer and whispered your name just loud enough to be heard over the rain.

You had thought that you were alone. The storms made it easy for you to think that. Everything was loud when the rain started to fall on the tin roofs of the barns. You had been trying to make it back to the house when the rain started to come down in sheets, pushing you into the barn for shelter. All day long the storms had come and gone quickly, but this one seemed to be holding on like it held a grudge—but when you hear your name, you realize that maybe that idea wasn’t as crazy as it seemed.

Closing your eyes, you sigh and lower your head at Mingyu’s voice. There was no slipping away from him this time. No pretending like you didn’t hear him or that he didn’t see you standing where you were… You could feel your heart tightening as his fingers brushed over yours and he sighed your name once more, almost begging you without any other words to talk to him.

“Mingyu, please stop…” You hear him start to speak again, but before he can try to plead his case, you bite the bullet, lifting your eyes to meet his sad ones. “Jus—just don’t, okay? Don’t do this.” Watching him shake his head, hurt and confusion in his gaze, you stay calm, keeping your own tears at bay as you force the words out. “I’m leaving soon. I’m gonna go back to the city. I mean… Let’s be serious, Mingyu… I’m not good for anyone.”

It was clear what you were trying to do. Mingyu wasn’t an idiot. He could see the look on your face. See the tears sitting on the rims of your eyes even if you wouldn’t let them fall. You were doing your best to push him away and it wasn’t going to happen. Not while he was breathing. Scoffing, Mingyu slides his fingers against yours, taking your hand in his even as you whine his name and close your eyes as if trying to will yourself away from him and your feelings. “Tell me why? Huh?”

Exasperated, you start to look away from Mingyu as you open your eyes, only for him to turn your face back towards him carefully. “Stop. Why are you doing this? I told you, I am leaving.”

“And I asked why? Why do you gotta go? Answer that.”

It seems like such a simple question, one that you should know the answer to as easy as breathing, but you falter. Shaking your head, you open your mouth and close it for a moment before taking a breath and gesturing towards him and then out at the ranch. “Because, Gyu! That’s where my life is. That’s where my job is.”

Nodding along with your words, Mingyu tries to tighten his grip on your hand when you pull it away, causing him to sigh into his words. “Baby… Why can’t that be here? Huh? You got a life here—”

“Don’t…” The tears that you had been keeping at bay finally fall onto your cheeks as you take a step back. “Don’t call me that.”

Following you step by step without trying to push you away from him, Mingyu fights the urge to pull you into his arms and comfort you. The tears on your cheeks break his heart but also tell him that he’s right. “Why not?”

You try to keep walking away from Mingyu, wanting to put more distance between what you want and what you know you can’t have when you feel the door of the barn against your back stopping you. A soft sob slips from between your lips, causing your words to soften. “Because… it hurts.”

Giving into his need to touch you, to keep you safe as your voice shakes, Mingyu holds your wrists loosely, happy when you don’t pull away. “Why, baby?” You don’t answer right away; instead, you turn your head to the side, more tears slipping down your cheeks as he uses the pet name again, causing your heart to tighten in your chest. “Why does it hurt?”

Mingyu watches you shake your head, your brows furrowing as you fight the urge to tell him the truth and if you should run away instead. “Is it ‘cause you might love me?” He knew it was bold of him to say and even bolder to assume, but he felt it when you kissed him. He could see it in your eyes even as you looked for your escape plan.

Knocking your head back against the door, you shake your head and avoid Mingyu’s eyes for as long as you can until he wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Shut up.” You had never been afraid to tell men that you loved them in the past. The truth was that you had never meant it often. Those three words had been for the most part, just part of the routine. You’d meet a nice guy, move in for a while, say the words, and then get bored, but then Mingyu. The words weren’t just routine. They weren’t just words.

Not hiding the way the corners of his lips pull up into a smile, Mingyu nods before leaning to brush his nose against yours, testing the waters. Would you pull away? Tell him to get the hell away from you. When you do neither of those things, your hands moving slide over his stomach, Mingyu bites his lips, letting out a slow breath once again and biting a bullet. “It’s alright, baby. I might just love you too.”

The rain had gotten harder, but so had your tears. Shaking your head, you finally pull away, stepping out from the barn and feeling the rain begin to soak through your clothing as it washes away your tears. The idea that Mingyu loved you was overwhelming and it changed too much. If you ran away—did what you always did—you couldn’t get hurt, and you couldn’t hurt anyone else, only this time someone wasn’t letting you.

It didn’t matter to Mingyu that he was getting soaked from the rain. He couldn’t stand the idea of you leaving him. He had seen that look on your face. He knew it in his heart how you felt even if you couldn’t say it yet. Licking the rain from his lips, Mingyu grabs your hand and meets your eyes when you whine his name. He can tell what is rain and what is your tears, but that doesn’t matter as his hand wipes it all from your cheeks so his lips can meet yours, hopefully saying everything you need to hear.

Water drips from both you and Mingyu as he carries you into his house, letting the screen door slam close behind him. There wasn’t a single thing else on his mind than you in his arms at the moment with your lips on his. If it weren’t for the fact that he could feel you starting to shiver against him, Mingyu would have put you against the wall right against the front door and taken you right there.

You hadn’t planned to end up back here, but then again you hadn’t planned on any of this. How could you have foreseen Kim Mingyu? How could you have imagined how one man would turn your entire life upside down and leave you so completely breathless with just a kiss or his strong hands keeping you secure in his arms? You had never been the type of woman to want to be carried or manhandled, but that also had changed when you had met Mingyu because now you found yourself being carried up the stairs and into his bathroom. “Gyu… put me down. I can walk…”

“I know what you can do, baby.” Giving you his most blinding grin, Mingyu shakes his head as he sits you on the bathroom counter so he can slide his hands up your thighs under your wet dress. “And I know what I can do for you. Why the hell would I make you walk when I can do it for you?” Tsking as if it’s simple addition, he steps between your legs, urging you to lift your hips, letting him slip the dress further up your body and over your head. “Now I’m gettin’ you out of these wet clothes and into a warm shower.”

Leaning back against the mirror, you bite at your bottom lip, letting your eyes move over Mingyu as he stands in front of you. “Yeah? I’m not the only one in wet clothes.” The rain had soaked you both to your skin. Mingyu’s white t-shirt clung to his chest, leaving little to your imagination, while water dripped from his hair.

“Is that your way of askin’ me to join you?”

Goosebumps were covering your skin, even as the steam had started to fill the room, making the air around you both warmer; it wasn’t enough to hide the effect Mingyu had on you. “What do you think? You gonna make me shower alone? After bringing me all the way here?”

Mingyu had been good at keeping the confident facade up until that point. He was head over heels for you. You ask him to get on his knees and beg to shower with you at that point and he’d do it without so much as a question. Tugging his shirt over his head, he drops it on the floor next to your dress, meeting your eyes once again before tugging you to the end of the counter so that he can get his lips back on yours, speaking against them. “I’ll never make you do a single fuckin’ thing alone again, baby.”

You wanted to give in to Mingyu, believe that you could have what he was promising. While a tiny voice inside your head told you to run, your heart was too lost on the moment. Furrowing your brows, you give into the kiss and melt into Mingyu’s touch. For once in a long time, you give yourself completely to the moment and to someone else, hoping they will catch you when you fall—and he does.

It doesn’t take too much longer for Mingyu to have the rest of your clothes and his discarded on the floor or for him to have your back against the wall of the shower. Moaning into his mouth, you keep your legs tight around his waist, enjoying the overwhelming feeling of Mingyu pinned against you. “Please…”

“Please?” Nudging his nose against your jaw, Mingyu grins and licks the water from his lips when you whine his name. “What? I’m just tryin’ to understand what you want from me, darlin’. I got you where I said I would…”

He was frustrating in all the best ways. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing as Mingyu’s cock rested between your body and his. It wouldn’t take much for him to slide right into you and get you as full as he had the day before, but he was being coy. Two could play that game. Knocking your head back against the tile wall, you pout at Mingyu before rolling your hips towards him, watching his mouth fall open in a silent groan. “You did, but if this is all you’re gonna do… You might as well put me down and let me actually take a shower.”

Scoffing, Mingyu presses you tighter against the wall, his smirk lifting at his lips once again when you gasp. You were soft and wet against him. It was more than what was left over from the rain and the water from the shower—this was you leaking between your legs as you teased him. “You’re so full of shit, baby.”

You start to give some witty comeback about how at least you are full of something since it’s not him when Mingyu renders you speechless. The pressure of his cock bullying its way into your tight pussy causes a breath to get stuck in your throat that you only let go of when his hips are flush with yours. The first deep thrust has you seeing stars. You had been full of Mingyu before, but this felt different. He was determined and you could do nothing but cling to him and moan as your walls tightened around him even further, begging him for more.

“Fuck, baby. You feel like heaven.” Mingyu was whining into every single groan as he fucked you slowly but deeply against the shower wall. He could feel every time your pussy clenched around him. He could tell you were close by how your smooth walls were holding him like your life depended on keeping him close. “God, I—I love you, Y/N. I know it ain’t fair to say it right now, but dammit, baby, it’s true.”

Closing your eyes so tight that you force the tears from them, you hold back your sob as Mingyu buries his face against your neck. You know what you want to say in return—you love him too, but the words don’t leave your mouth. You instead find your escape when Mingyu quietly begs you to cum for him, telling you that he can’t wait—that he needs you to let go for him. Unable to hold yourself back anymore, you gasp for a deep breath, unable to take it when your orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave with one of Mingyu’s hard thrusts.

“Oh, fuck…” The word is drawn out. Mingyu’s vision goes white as he bites at his lips, trying to stop himself from following you immediately, knowing he needs to restrain himself. It’s when he tries to separate himself from you, his climax so close that he can taste it, that you sob his name and tell him to stay. Meeting your eyes, Mingyu thinks he could pass out or die right then and there. It isn’t the smartest or safest thing in the world to do, but he nods, his hand sliding along yours to pin your wrist to the wall as he buries himself inside of you as deeply as possible, spilling his cum into you with a loud, drawn-out groan.

The water from the shower had started to go cold. If this had been your apartment, you would find that annoying, but in Mingyu’s arms as he held you back against his chest, working soap over your body, you didn’t care. There was a lot left unsaid, especially by you, but the brush of Mingyu’s lips over your ear and your fingers walking along his forearm said plenty—just not enough.

“I love you, baby.” Closing your eyes again, you turn your head away from Mingyu’s lips, hearing him sigh against your head. “It’s alright. You ain’t gotta say it back right now… But I sure as hell ain’t gonna stop tellin’ you.”

“I know, Gyu…” Your voice is quiet even as the water is cut off and Mingyu helps you out of the shower wrapping a towel around you. “I—I’m selfish. I don’t want you to stop telling me.”

Shaking his head, Mingyu smiles softly, his head tilted as he uses the towel to wipe some water from your cheek before rubbing his hands along your arms over the towel. “That ain’t selfish.” Taking a deep breath, he wraps a towel around his waist before returning his attention to you and helping you dry off slowly. “Just means you’ll tell me when you’re ready. I’m patient.”

Furrowing his brows at the light making its way through his blinds, Mingyu sighs, sliding his hand along the bed to reach out for you. It had been a dream come true to sleep with you in his arms, and it seemed like that dream was over. The other side of his bed was cold now. Forcing his eyes open, Mingyu frowns, seeing the reality of what he knew—you weren’t there. In the place where you had slept, there was just a daisy lying on your pillow.

You hadn’t given him a real answer last night and now, as Mingyu looked at the flower between his fingers, he still didn’t know what you wanted. You had taken the time to wander around the house and out of it to pick a flower next to the porch before bringing it back upstairs to him and yet you hadn’t said goodbye. It felt final and made Mingyu’s stomach feel like it was full of stones.

It had been a couple of hours since you had gotten back to the house. You had managed to get there before Seungcheol had thankfully even considered waking up and now you were pushing around breakfast on a plate. The smell of the food alone was enough to turn your stomach as you listened to the sound of footsteps shuffling into the room and Seungcheol’s rough greeting as he slumped down into a chair.

You looked like you hadn’t slept at all. There was a sad look on your face and you barely whispered a good morning to him as your brother studied you. There was something wrong. You would barely look up from the papers in front of you. “Uh—is uh, the inventory shit done? You alright?” Sliding a mug closer to him, Seungcheol starts to pour himself a cup of coffee when you nod and sigh out of your nose, finally meeting his eyes. You have been crying. Seungcheol can see the makeup under your eyes, but no matter how much you try to hide it, he knows what it looks like when you cry.

“Yep. All good. It’s done and just needs you to sign a couple of things.” Blinking a few times feeling Seungcheol’s heavy gaze, you look back down at the paperwork, putting a pen on top of a stack of papers and sliding them towards him. “Those are for the bank. Basically just what was in the will and estate.”

Nodding along with your words, Seungcheol picks up the pen, glancing over the papers before signing his name below yours on each sheet of paper. It’s only when he reaches the last one, where his name is above yours, that he stops, his brows furrowing. “What the fuck is this one? I haven’t seen—” Muttering under his breath, he reads aloud a few words loud enough for you to hear as you shift uncomfortably, waiting for him to just get it over with. “Liquidation of Miss Choi’s half of assets and property… No. No, Y/N. I won’t sign this shit.”

You have to force yourself to meet Seungcheol’s eyes as he shakes his head, pushing the papers back towards you so hard that most of them scatter. “Cheol! Please listen to me. I’m doing this beca—”

“Fuck you! You don’t get to do this again!” With tears on the rims of his eyes, Seungcheol pushes back on his chair hard, causing it to fall back on the floor as he comes to a stand. “Do you hate me that fuckin’ much?” Instead of getting an answer from you, Seungcheol is met with silence and tears on your cheeks. “Wow, Y/N…”

The silence is deafening as Seungcheol walks out of the room. The only sound you hear is the slam of the door as he goes outside, leaving you alone in the house with your thoughts that make you feel like you are drowning.

Mingyu isn’t sure what he expected to find when he reached the main house. He had hoped that maybe you would be waiting for him or that maybe you’d come running out to meet him and jump into his arms. None of that happened; he instead finds Seungcheol sitting on the porch with a cigarette between his lips and tears on his cheeks. “What—” Looking between him and the house, Mingyu swallows hard as his brows furrow at the sight of his best friend so broken in front of him. “What happened?”

There wasn’t anything to say and there was no way that Seungcheol was going to explain all of this to Mingyu right now. The anger was still too fresh. Barely meeting Mingyu’s eyes, Seungcheol simply gestures back towards the house where you are without saying a word.

The sound of footsteps once again has your stomach in knots. You try to pull yourself together, wiping the tears from your cheeks, readying to defend yourself to Seungcheol once again when you look up to see Mingyu instead. Of course it would be worse. You find yourself playing the morning back, laying next to him as the sun started to rise and running your fingertip over the bridge of his nose before fear ripped through you so you ran away. Now he stood in front of you looking at the papers spread out on the table. “Mingyu…”

“I was—well, I was coming to see why you left, but Cheol—” Shaking his head, unable to finish what he is saying as his brows furrow at the paperwork in front of him, Mingyu picks up one of the papers before sighing your name. “You really wanna leave?”

Sighing, fresh tears falling onto your cheeks, you gesture around you as a scoff slips from your lips as if it should be obvious. “I fuck everything up, Mingyu. No one needs me here!” Pushing back from the table like Seungcheol had before, you start to walk away when a hand on yours stops you.

“Who says? Who gets to decide that, baby?” Shaking his head, Mingyu takes a step towards you, dropping the paper back onto the table as you whine his name and try to pull your hand from his. “You are always runnin’ away. I ain’t like the rest that just let you, dammit!”

Mingyu’s words cut at you deep. It was obvious that you were always running away and he was calling you out on it. Shaking your head to disagree with logic, you tug at his hand only to be pulled towards him, feeling his other hand gently wipe at your tears.

“Now, I love you, and I want you to stay with me.” Even as you close your eyes, Mingyu just sighs and continues, knowing you can still hear him, the tears rolling down your cheeks for him to wipe away. “Baby, I know that Cheol wants you to stay.”

No matter how tightly you close your eyes and try to run away, to will this all away where you can’t hurt Mingyu or Seungcheol, when you open your eyes Mingyu is still standing in front of you. He’s still there holding you and begging you to admit that you love him. Leaning your head forward, you rest it against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers running over the back of your head soothingly as you mutter softly. “What if I fuck this up?”

Shrugging, Mingyu smiles against your head before kissing the same place gently. “Then I’ll fix it. I’ll fix you.”

The words and the idea of them make you laugh, but you know he isn’t lying. Pouting, you finally look up at Mingyu so he can cup your cheek and brush his lips against yours. Finally, after fighting it for days, the words make it past your lips and to his ears. “I love you, Mingyu.”

You feel his lips pull up against yours, his smile infectious, causing you to smile in return before his arms hold you to him for a few more moments.

“Say it again.”

Sighing softly, you nod. “I love you.”

The words are like music to Mingyu’s ears and more than that, they feel like a promise he’s been dying to hear. Taking a step back, he brushed his thumb against your bottom lip before looking back to the table, picking up the piece of paper that had caused so much hurt today. You watch as he furrows his brows, his eyes quickly looking over the words before he hands it to you, letting you decide what you are going to do.

It feels like minutes, maybe hours, as you hold the paper in your hands before you finally do what you should have done from the beginning—you rip it in half. With the two halves of the paper falling to the ground, you feel the anxiety in your chest lift as Mingyu pulls you back against him, and he welcomes you home.

READ THE BONUS NOW

#mingyu smut #seventeen smut #svthub #mingyu angst #seventeen angst #mingyu fluff #seventeen fluff #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #svt angst #svt fluff

1K notes · View notes