#GIVE THAT MAN HIS MEMORIES BACK and a good railing too thanks

[leejenowrld]

ghostin’ (two)

pairing na jaemin x y/n (fem)

word count 17k

genre smut, fluff, angst, situationship vibes, college au

chapter summary you and jaemin grow closer, the sex is really fucking good and everyone finds out. you begin trusting him more than you ever thought you would but amidst the bliss, you wonder: is it too good to be true?

one | two | three | four

chapter warnings jaemin and reader moments, so many jaem and reader moments, jaemin aftercare, hot and mature jaemin, jaemin fingers reader under the table, jaemin obbession with readers thighs, jaemin cockwarming moments, personal talks, jaemin fucks you doggy style against the railings and everyone sees. you ride jaemin in his car, nevertheless inspired lollipop kiss, reader x jeno x haerin sexual moments, girl moments🫶, jeno and reader moments, soft jaemin, soft reader, please they’re literally in love, appearances from other '00 liners, explicit language, swearing, mention of drugs, smoking and alcohol, getting high, ass slapping, dirty talk, big cock jaemin, soft dom jaemin, introverted, chill, emotionally intelligent, laid back, mysterious jaemin, jaemin with a darker side, a very sexy jaemin, black haired jaemin, jaemin who has no flaws

author note this chapter is heavily inspired by the friends episode ‘the one where everyone finds out’ keep that in mind! also a massive thank you to @siordior for her help with smut scenes and just a few scenes in general 🥰 she was a massive help.

1/6 of the campus heartbreaker series, read here

“This isn’t your bed.” Jaemin whispers, his voice a deep, resonant hum that sends vibrations against your skin, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth.

“Um– yeah. It’s Haerin’s. You reply, your consciousness surfacing slowly, pulling you out of the remnants of sleep. As sobriety dawns, fragments of the previous night cascade through your mind, each memory vivid and startling.

The shock of realizing that you, after firmly vowing to allow yourself to heal and to avoid intimacy with another man, had found yourself with Na Jaemin of all people, hits you like a wave. Yet, as you lie there, wrapped in his arms, a sense of comfort envelops you. Despite the surprise and the internal promises you’ve made, being here, in this embrace, just feels inexplicably right.

You remain naked and on top of him, cuddled within the circle of his arms with your head comfortably resting against his chest. Gently, he kisses your forehead. With a smooth motion, he turns the two of you around, his arms enveloping you protectively. He gives you a sweet smile, and there’s something in his eyes, in the way he looks at you, that makes you melt.

He gently removes his cock away from you inside of you. There’s a moment filled with heavy sighs and the soft sound of breathing, a testament to the intensity just shared. Your mouth waters as you see all the juices and all the sticky residue, you’re still so wet and Haerin’s bed sheets are stained. He’s got cum all over him and you’re sure you do too.

“Why do you let me fuck you on Haerin’s bed?” He inquires with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You respond with a casual shrug, “I couldn’t be bothered to take the extra steps. Besides, Haerin and Jeno have pretty much done it in every corner of my room.”

“Same here.” He chuckles. Changing the subject, he adds more thoughtfully, “Anyway, I need to get you cleaned up. I’m sorry I didn’t do it last night, you just fell asleep in seconds and my dick was still inside of you so—”

You nod, cheeks warm with a shy redness, murmuring, “Okay, yeah, thanks.” He steps away, promising to return soon. Alone, you gaze upwards, lost in the patterns above. In this quiet moment, you think about what you’ve just done and how you feel better than you would’ve thought.

You hear the sound of running water, signalling his return. He enters.

The sight of him takes your breath away. He’s naked and you truly can’t deal with the sight. He’s sexy. His cock looks insane and massive, you can’t believe it was inside you for the whole night. His shirtless form reveals a toned chest. The soft light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours of his physique. His strong shoulders and defined abs speak of strength, yet there’s a gentleness in the way he moves. You find yourself captivated, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, feeling a warmth spread through you. The memory of your shared night makes your heart race.

He feels you staring and responds with a playful smirk. “Can you walk?”

You shake your head, your thighs still weak and your pussy still burning. Suddenly, he leans down and scoops you up in his arms, eliciting a surprised yelp from you.

“Let me put clothes on first!” You protest, feeling a bit shy in his embrace.

He chuckles lightly, “But we’re about to have a bath, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, but –”

He cuts you off playfully. “You’re really shy about me seeing you naked when I pounded into your ass the whole night long, spanked you, spit in you and choked you?”

You blush, memories of the passionate night flooding back. As he carries you to the shower, you feel his strong grip on your ass and it is so tight. You could swear that his hand was gripping your ass in your sleep.

Gently, he sets you down in the warm bath, the water soothing against your skin. You look up at him, and for a second, the world pauses. There’s something in the way he looks at you, a tenderness in his eyes that makes your heart flutter. His kindness, so evident in his every action, overwhelms you.

You’re not sure what this emotion is, but it compels you. With a soft whine, you reach up, your hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him towards you. Your fingers find the cool metal of his chain, drawing him even closer. When your lips meet, it’s a fiery, passionate kiss, full of the emotions swirling within you both.

Sensing your desire, he joins you in the bath, the water rippling around you. You move to sit on his lap, facing him. You’re now close enough to see every detail in his face—the soft hue of his skin, a stark contrast against the dark hair that frames his features. His eyes, like pools of enigma, shadowed and deep, hold a glimmer of playfulness. His jawline is sharp, giving him a chiselled look.

There’s a comfort in his embrace, his arms encircling you gently, making you feel cherished and safe. The water laps quietly against you both but you smirk as you feel something prod against your thigh. “Really?” You question, his hardness makes you feel heat.

“Yeah.” He responds nonchalantly. “There’s a hot naked girl sitting on my thighs and you don’t think I’ll be hard?” He questions, his voice a low whisper as you shake your head and jab his chest, your cheeks burning into the pinkiest of shades

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” He offers in a voice soft as the steam around you.

“Please.” You reply, feeling the warmth of anticipation.

His fingers are tender as they brush through your hair, handling each strand with care and a precision that speaks of his attentiveness. You can’t resist teasing, “I bet I’m not the first girl’s hair you’ve washed.”

He just shakes his head, a knowing smirk on his lips, as he continues with his gentle ministrations.

Then, with a delicate touch, he begins to wash your skin, lathering it with scented body wash that fills the air with a fragrant blend. His hands move with purpose, massaging your joints, easing away any tension. Softly wiping away the residue inside your folds and on your thighs. His lips find your neck and cheek, kissing you softly, as sweet whispers escape him, blending with the steam and water.

After the bath, he wraps you in the softness of one of his shirts. The fabric smells of him, a captivating blend of woodsy and citrus notes. Standing there, you both exchange awkward glances, the air charged with the electricity of unspoken words.

The sides of his lips curve up in a smirk as he revels in the silence. “You wanna ride my cock again?” His voice is a low rumble, eyes searching yours for an answer.

“I should get going.” You reply, nearly choking on your words. “And you should too.”

“Thank you for tonight.” You say, a note of sincerity in your words. As he turns to leave, you suddenly grasp his hand, pulling him back. His eyes narrow in confusion just before you roughly push him away.

“Haerin, Hana and Jeno are home.” You whisper urgently, their loud voices echoing up the walls. “They cannot know about this. Do not make a noise.”

“Y/N!” Haerin’s voice cuts through the silence, her fists pounding on the door.

How did she know you were home? You press a finger to your lips, hoping silence will dispel her suspicion. Relief washes over you for the locked door, yet her knocking persists, each thud a hammer to your calm.

“Open up! I know you’re in here.” She insists.

You finally yield, opening the door to Haerin’s wide eyes, Jeno’s unusual silence, and Hana’s evident fatigue. “What the hell are you doing in my room? Did you sleep here all night?” Haerin’s eyebrow arches accusingly.

“I – um – yeah.” You admit, each syllable heavy with a truth you couldn’t cloak. Deception has never been your strong suit, especially not with them.

“Why?” She probes, her suspicion a tangible force that seemed to push the walls of the room closer.

“I missed you guys.”’ You manage to say, the lie smooth but tasting of ash on your tongue.

Hana’s eyes widen, a playful note to her voice as she coos. “Aw, did you masturbate?”

The question catches you off guard, and you nearly cough. “No?” Your answer is more of a question, an ineffectual attempt to deflect.

Her gaze sharpens, the intensity in her eyes almost accusatory. “You sure… you have that afterglow. Wait, holy shit did you fuck —”

Before she can finish, you cut in, a bit too sharply, “I spent the night alone, got myself off, okay?” The words are a barricade, hastily erected to keep their probing eyes from the truth.

“In my bed?” Haerin’s frown deepens, her scepticism a heavy cloak around her shoulders.

“I was drunk…” Your defense is a whisper, dissolving like mist in the growing light.

Jeno’s voice, unexpectedly, cuts through. “It smells like Jaemin in here. Isn’t that his shirt?” His observation is astute, his smirk a silent challenge to your crumbling façade.

Your heart stutters, racing to keep up with the lies. “He gave it to me at the party after I spilled a drink,” you say, hoping the half-truth is convincing.

“Hmm, sure.” Jeno drawls, unconvinced.

“And you have bruises on your legs.” Haerin adds, her gaze slicing through your defenses like a blade.

“I fell in the shower.” You repeat, grateful that your hair covered the hickies he had left on your neck and chest.

They finally leave you alone a moment later. Their departure brings a reprieve, a moment to breathe. Jaemin’s smirk reappears, as if he knows the weight of the secret you both carry. His hands, warm and reassuring, cup your face. “Will I see you again?” He asks, his voice a low murmur filled with promise.

“Yeah.” You whisper, your smile a mix of complicity and hope. His kiss is a seal, passionate and deep—a silent vow that speaks of future encounters as he reluctantly parts from you.

Jaemin's smirk softens into a tender smile as he reaches out, his hands gently cradling your face. The contact is soft, his touch a soothing warmth against your skin, a silent promise of care.

The kiss concludes, leaving a lingering sense of longing as he steps back, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer. There's a silent exchange of emotion, a shared anticipation for what's to come. Then, with a final, soft look, he turns and walks away

SCENE 2

You find yourself at a bar for the night, ‘REPLAY127,’ commonly known as ‘127.’ It was a popular social hotspot for the students of Neo Tech University, who drank away all of their academic stress and relationship worries. It was always a scene with buzzed with chaos and drunk energy.

All of your friends are here and they’re all so loved up. There’s couples and love all around, smooching noises everywhere. Eric and Hana are in their own bubble. His arm around her as he whispers something into her ear, she lights up with a grin that speaks volumes about their feelings. You had thought their relationship was just a fling, but the depth of their connection is undeniable. You mentally remind yourself to check in with Hana later.

Xiaojun is unmistakably the player tonight, especially noticeable as he gets more drunk. Wandering around the bar, he’s openly flirting with girls and anyone willing to engage with him. His approach is direct and confident, marked by a clear intention to find someone’s bed to get in.

Your gaze shifts to Yangyang, Soobin, and Yeonjun, What’s going on with them? They’re all being overly affectionate with each other. Yeonjun was sitting in Soobins lap and making out with him and now he’s leaning over and making out with Yangyang as Soobin (you’re pretty sure) is fingering Yeonjun.

Nearby, Shotaro and Chaewon are holding hands, an unexpected sight. Wonbin, sitting by himself, nurses his drink with a solemn expression. His distant gaze and the tight grip on his glass indicate he’s not in the best of moods.

In one corner, Haerin is engrossed in her assignments, her fingers flying over the laptop keyboard, ignoring everything and everyone around her. Her manager keeps complaining about her to anyone who will listen. (yeah, she works here) According to Taeyong, “she’s lazy, doesn’t turn up on time, doesn’t know what she’s doing, makes a mess of everything” Haerin’s only response is a dismissive gesture in his direction and Jeno just stays by her side, smirking and drinking. He’s just happy to be here.

At least there’s Donghyuck, someone who can join you in the lonely hearts club. In stark contrast to the love around, he’s the loner of your group. He sits by himself, lost in his thoughts, with a joint in hand. He’s silent, a lone figure amidst the bustling energy of the bar.

Well you and Donghyuck aren’t completely alone in the lonely hearts club, there’s a third member, Jaemin.

Captured in the understated glow of the bar’s ambiance, he exudes a quiet magnetism. His hair, tousled to a perfect degree, frames a face that carries an expression of both concentration and alluring detachment. Sharp jawline and high cheekbones give his face a sculptural quality, softened only by the slight pout of his lips. His eyes, pensive and deep-set, seem to hold volumes of untold stories, inviting a second glance to unravel their mysteries. His hotness is not loud but lingering, like a whispered secret.

He’s sitting across from you, wearing that fucking grin, It’s subtle, just a slight upward curve of his lips, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. His eyes hold a mischievous gleam, amused as he’s fingering you under the table.

It started off fairly innocent. His hand ventures under your skirt, a light brush at first. His fingers start to explore, tenderly caressing your thighs, occasionally squeezing gently. The cold metal of his rings creates a delightful contrast against the warmth of your skin, sending tingles up your spine.

You can’t help but smile back at him. The pretty little skirt you chose now feels like a perfect decision, especially seeing the way his eyes lit up when you first joined the table. His gaze was intense, filled with a dark passion that left you wondering about his thoughts, about what he might do to you next, about the unspoken promises lingering in his deep, enigmatic eyes.

Suddenly his fingers glide into your clit. It’s done so subtly, so casually, it’s almost imperceptible. His face remains nonchalant, perfectly composed. He’s fully engaged in the conversation around the table, acting as if he’s not finger fucking you.

Your walls tighten around him and you clench but his expression still remains unchanged, all he does is raise his eyebrow at you. It’s not fast at all, he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he rubs in small circles. His eyes, intense and captivating, hold your gaze. It’s hard to look away; his presence is magnetic, drawing you in despite your attempts to focus elsewhere.

Just when you feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, he abruptly stops, pulling his hand back. His eyes never leave yours, and there’s a hint of mystery in them. In a bold yet quiet gesture, he brings his finger, which are covered in your cum, to his lips and he licks them.

Your back arches slightly and your eyes roll back, you cannot believe how incredibly sexy this is. Caught off guard, a soft and involuntary moan escapes your lips, louder than intended. The noise momentarily attracts the attention of your friends at the table, and you feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, embarrassed but also exhilarated by the boldness of it all.

An immediate silence follows. Your friends' eyes are wide, filled with concern, as they all turn to look at you. All except for Jeno, who sports a proud smile, a reaction you find oddly out of place in the moment and wish you didn’t overlook it.

"Someone fuck my girl right now.” Haerin declares emphatically. Xiaojun volunteers without hesitation, nodding with a confident grin, rubbing his bulge and leaning up from the table, his hand held high.

You let out a laugh and shake your head at Xiaojun, the sound bright and clear against the quiet of the moment. As the laughter fades, you suddenly become aware of Jaemin’s gaze fixed on you, intense and singular. It washes over you like a spotlight, turning your laughter into a shy retreat. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and you instinctively try to hide it, looking down to escape the weight of his stare.

You glance away, seeking solace in the familiar faces around the table, but the heat of his gaze lingers, a silent echo of the connection you're both aware of. With a self-conscious smile, you gather your things, the laughter still hanging in the air as you stand.

“I’m gonna head out.” You announce to your friends, feeling the weight of the evening’s events.

“You’re not even drunk.” Hana whines, her words slurred from the alcohol. She’s visibly wasted, her usual vibrant energy replaced by a drunken lull. “If you go, I go.” She adds, trying to steady her speech.

You pause, contemplating staying a bit longer. Hana’s state makes you hesitant to leave; ensuring she gets home safely is important to you. As you weigh your options, Eric steps in, he shakes his head with a soft, understanding smile. “It’s okay, I’ve got her.” He assures you as he wraps his arms around Hana, pulling her close. He plants a gentle kiss on her forehead, a gesture full of affection and responsibility.

You can’t help but smile at the scene, a sense of relief washing over you. With Eric there, you know Hana is in good hands, her drunkenness safely managed. It’s comforting to see how well he takes care of her, a testament to the depth of their connection. With that assurance, you feel at ease to leave, knowing your friend is safe and cared for.

"I'll drive you.” Xiaojun offers first, flashing a smile in your direction.

"You can't even drive.” Yangyang retorts, casting a doubtful look at him.

Xiaojun scratches his neck, seemingly questioning his own state. How high was he? The conversation, however, takes a swift turn as Jaemin stands up. His gaze locks with yours, intense and unwavering, sending an unexpected shiver through you. "It's fine, I got you.” He says confidently.

The silence that travels around the table is palpable. “I got it.” He claims he meant.

But Xiaojun persists only for Jaemin to shake his head. “Bro, it's fine, keep trying to fuck Yunjin.” He says with a chuckle.

"It's just a 5-minute walk, I can go myself –" You start to protest, but the chorus of objections from your friends drowns you out.

They all yell at you, so many voices rise in unison, effectively cutting off your protests. Jeno bluntly tells you to stop talking, while Xiaojun calls you an idiot for even considering walking alone so late. Donghyuck, who usually maintains a ghostly silence, surprises you by chiming in with a disapproving tut and a sharp remark, moving out of his seat to flick your forehead with his finger. You wince, holding the area with a pout. Your eyes widen in surprise at their unanimous concern. Realizing there's no winning this argument, you accept their decision with a resigned sigh.

You widen your eyes and huff, admitting defeat, you see no point in arguing further. Jaemin is smirking at the sight of you, his gaze briefly dropping to your legs. You notice the way his eyes linger there, he smirks at the cum that drips down your thighs, you’re sighing at his touch.

Resigned to the fact that Jaemin will be escorting you, you gather your belongings, ready to leave the warmth and noise of the bar for the quiet of the night, accompanied by someone who seems to stir a myriad of emotions within you.

As Jaemin’s hand brushes against your back, a shiver runs through you, and your breath hitches in response. His voice, a low and deep whisper close to your ear, is barely audible over the din of the bar. “I’m bringing the car, stay at the front.” He instructed quietly.

You nod subtly, and as you turn to leave, you catch Hana’s eyes briefly peeking up, but she’s too caught up in her own world to give it much thought. A wave of relief washes over you, grateful that your friends, immersed in their own drunken revelries, haven’t noticed the discreet exchanges between you and Jaemin.

Standing near the entrance, you wait, lost in your thoughts about the night and the subtle interactions with Jaemin. Suddenly, you’re brought back to the present as Haerin and Jeno approach. Haerin, with a bright, infectious smile, latches onto your arm in a friendly embrace.

"Me and Jeno are going to that rooftop sushi restaurant." She announces. "Come with us!!!" She urges, her enthusiasm evident.

"No…" You shake your head immediately, already having made up your mind. "I’m going home, Jaemin’s gonna drive me.”

"Just come!!!" The plea comes again, more insistent this time.

You turn to them, opting for honesty. "I don’t like hanging out with you guys. Last time, you both just sat munching on each other while I was there just munching on my sushi.” You explain with a light-hearted tone, trying to convey your point without sounding too harsh. Your words are met with a mix of laughter and mock offense, but they convey your desire for a quiet end to the evening.

"Come on, baby.” Jeno whispers softly, extending his hand to Haerin. They start heading towards the exit, their exit unhindered even as Haerin’s manager, Taeyong, calls out to her. He scolds her, reminding her that her shift isn't over, his tone stern and warning. Taeyong even goes as far as to mention that this could be her last chance before he considers firing her. But Haerin and Jeno don’t seem deterred; they continue on their way, leaving Taeyong's warnings behind.

You wave goodbye to them, a small smile on your face, but then they abruptly stop and turn back towards you. Confusion furrows your brow as you narrow your eyes, trying to figure out what's going on. It takes you a moment, but then it dawns on you why they've stopped.

“Y/N.” Comes the voice, unmistakably his.

The moment you hear it, your heart skips a beat, then seems to stop altogether. It’s a voice that, despite time and distance, still holds power over you, a power that unsettles the very core of your being. Time feels like it grinds to a halt, each second stretching out interminably.

You turn, feeling a wave of anxiety surging through you. His eyes meet yours, and there's an unmistakable cockiness in his gaze, a stark contrast to the sadness that fills your own. He looks at you with an air of overconfidence, as if the past, with all its pain and turmoil he caused, was just a trivial chapter in his life.

As he looks into your eyes, you feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, as if his gaze alone has the power to make you feel small and insignificant. There, with him, are Yeeun, Yeji, and Mia, a sight that leaves you baffled and reeling.

What strikes you most is the casualness with which Mia kisses his neck, right there in front of you, as he maintains eye contact. The sight of hickies marking his skin only adds to the surreal nature of the encounter. "How have you been?" He asks with a smile that, despite everything, still manages to stir the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

Words fail you, your throat dry and constricted. Inside, you're grappling with a whirlwind of emotions - disbelief, hurt, confusion. It's hard to focus, hard to think straight, your breath shallow and your head spinning. The situation feels unreal, almost dreamlike in its absurdity.

"Have you missed me? Do you wanna stay with us tonight? We’re gonna drink and then –" Hyunjin continues, smiling as if oblivious to the impact of his words. Your mouth falls open in shock. How could he be so nonchalant, so insensitive? He's surrounded by three girls and he’s asking you this? You feel sick as you see his arm casually draped around Mia's waist, while Yeji continues to be affectionate with him.

You glance at Yeeun and notice she’s keeping her distance, her expression unreadable. The complexity of the situation, the brazenness of his invitation, and the hurt it evokes in you, all combine to leave you feeling sick to your stomach. It's a moment that starkly highlights the difference between your worlds now - his, seemingly carefree and indulgent; yours, weighed down by the remnants of a past that refuses to fully let go.

Instinctively, you turn around and almost jump when you see Jaemin. He arrived quietly, almost blending into the background, his presence as subtle as a shadow. You wonder how and when he got there. His eyes are only fixed in one direction.

Yeeun and Jaemin are locked in an intense gaze, their eyes communicating a storm of unspoken words and emotions. It's a connection so deep and palpable that it makes you feel like an outsider, intruding on a private moment. The intensity in Jaemin's eyes is still and profound, conveying a depth of shared history and understanding with Yeeun that is foreign to you.

Hyunjin's voice pulls you back, "Baby? Is that a yes? I know you missed it. Remember when we were together, we’d have more sex than everyone, we’d have more threesomes than -'' His words are crude, stirring a mix of anger and hurt within you.

"Don't you fucking dare.” You whisper, barely audible. Your voice is a mix of defiance and vulnerability, and you're not even sure he heard you.

Why do you feel this urge to nod in agreement, to say yes, to gravitate towards him despite the fact you know he’s gonna break your heart again? It’s a stark reminder of the complex, tangled feelings you still harbour for him. This internal struggle is a vivid reflection of how deeply you’ve been affected, how the remnants of what once was still hold a powerful sway over you. It’s frustrating and confusing, this pull towards someone who has caused you so much pain.

In a swift, protective gesture, Jeno steps forward, positioning himself between you and Hyunjin. He reaches out, his touch firm yet reassuring on your arm, as he gently pulls you behind him, ensuring you're out of harm's way. Then, with equal care, he tightens his grip on Haerin's hand, guiding her to stand behind him as well, forming a human shield with his body.

"What the fuck?" Jeno's voice cuts through the tension, his words loud and filled with genuine readiness to confront Hyunjin. "I’m gonna count to 10 and then –" He warns, his tone indicating he's serious and prepared to escalate if needed.

Hyunjin, however, just laughs in response, seemingly unfazed by Jeno's protective stance or his threats. The laughter is dismissive, a clear sign that Jeno's words aren't intimidating him or causing him to reconsider his actions. "Y/N –" Hyunjin calls out again, extending his arms towards you, as if expecting you to come to him willingly.

However before you can even think, Jaemin steps forward and his arm wraps around your back with a surprising gentleness. There's an immediate sense of security that envelops you. Your previously racing heartbeat begins to steady, syncing with the calm assurance emanating from him. When you look into his eyes, there's a depth of trust and understanding reflected back at you, a silent promise that he's there for you.

Your breathing, which had been shallow and uneven, gradually relaxes. The tension that had gripped you slowly ebbs away, replaced by a comforting ease. A soft smile forms on both your faces, a shared moment of relief and connection amidst the chaos. You find yourself naturally leaning into him, drawn by the warmth and safety of his presence. The eye contact between you is intense yet intimate.

But it's unexpected – this protective side of Jaemin, especially towards you. The intensity in his gaze as he stares down Hyunjin is unmistakable, and there's something undeniably compelling about it. It's as if in this moment, he's shedding layers of his usual composure, revealing a fiercer, more protective side that you hadn’t seen before.

"Come on, Y/N, let's go.” Jaemin says, his voice steady and resolute. His eyes lock onto yours, a silent assurance in their depths, as he takes your hand in his. With a gentle but firm grip, he guides you away, deliberately turning both of your backs to Hyunjin, dismissing him without a word.

In this simple action, Jaemin makes a statement – he's not interested in giving Hyunjin any more attention or power in this situation. His focus is solely on you, ensuring your well-being and comfort.

SCENE 3

You shuffle in his lap, finding a comfortable position with your legs on either side. His hands rest gently on your thighs. Your lips meet his in a soft, tender kiss. As the kiss continues, it grows in intensity, each of you responding to the other’s rhythm. Your breathing becomes heavier. Open mouthed kisses which are a mix of tenderness and a growing sense of urgency.

The kiss deepens, a messy exploration of each other's tongues that leaves you panting and wanting more. You can hear the soft click as he locks the car, ensuring your privacy and safety. He then adjusts his seat back slightly, creating more space for you both.

"Just wanna get high and fuck you.” You murmur, the words muffled against his lips. Both of you speak between kisses, your words interspersed with passionate, eager kisses that convey your impatience.

He smirks in response, a playful glint in his eyes. "So desperate for me, baby? Couldn't wait five minutes until we were in the house?" His tone teases, laced with affection. His kisses trailing down to your neck.

The second you sat in the car, you were so incredibly horny. You were pressing soft kisses to his neck and whispering to him about how sexy he was and how much he turned you on. The only appropriate reaction after Jaemin’s display in front of Hyunjin. All he did was chuckle and tell you to be patient.

You obviously weren't patient as now you’re gonna ride his cock in the car.

He’s got a condom now.

Your eyes widen and you pout. “It felt good when we fucked without it.”

He just laughs and shakes his head, putting it over his cock.

“You know I literally don’t get pregnant, me and Hyunjin – well you know, we used to do it without protection all the time.” You ramble and he sighs, smashing his lips against yours, quite literally kissing you to get you to shut up. His hands find their way underneath your skirt and he’s rubbing your thighs in small circles.

With a heavy moan, you sit down on his cock and begin fucking yourself on his cock, you begin a steady rise and fall, his hands tight on your hips which guides you. You’re pressed against his chest, your lip biting and eyes screwing in pleasure as you move up and down his cock, pretty noises spilling from your mouth.

You quite simply fuck yourself dumb on his cock. you ride him at such a rapid and fast pace, it has him in awe. Heavy breathing and moans fill the car, his mouth is wide open as he admires the view above him. your screwing your face in pleasure, the steady rise and fall on his cock, how tight your pussy feels. It's driving him crazy.

"Ahhh, fuck, feels - feels soooo good," you pant in Jaemin's ear, your voice laced with pleasure as he continues to drive you wild with desire.

His cock reaches a spot that makes you whine, his cock driving deeper and deeper inside your walls. “You’re so fucking tight.” He hisses in your ear, teeth gritted and eyes screwing in pleasure

You start getting tired, your body becoming heavy with desire as Jaemin continues his sensual assault. Your legs feel weak, and you begin to lose the strength to hold yourself up. Sensing your fatigue, he continues, he doesn't want to stop. He shifts his position slightly, taking more of your weight, and begins thrusting into you with even more determination.

“Baby, you were so eager to ride my cock, and now you can't even ride it properly?" he teases in a husky voice, his fingers digging into your hips as he continues his relentless pace, his voice dripping with desire.

SCENE 4, STUDYING, COCKWARMING + OPENING UP

You find yourself sitting on his cock, a lot.

Jaemin tends to always be buried in his university assignments and projects, his attention riveted to the screen, seemingly oblivious to the world around him, to you. You, craving his attention, couldn’t help but voice your dissatisfaction, a whine escaping you about his apparent neglect.

“Sit on my lap.” He suggested, without looking up from his work, his voice calm yet firm, a surprising solution to your complaint.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and shyness. It was an unexpected invitation, one that caught you off guard. Yet, he didn’t waver, repeating himself more clearly, his voice taking on an irresistibly attractive and sexy edge, “Come and sit on my lap then. Don’t just sit there being needy, do something about it.”

His words sent a thrill through you, a mix of anticipation and excitement. You found yourself biting your bottom lip, a smile creeping onto your face despite the fluttering in your stomach. With a casual ease, he pushed his chair back further with his feet, creating space, and patted his lap as a clear invitation.

Standing up, you prepared to close the distance between you but as you took a step forward, your breath hitched audibly. Jaemin began to unbuckle his belt and unbutton a few buttons from his shirt. It froze you in your tracks. His eyes, intense and unwavering, never left yours, their depth pulling you in, making you squirm under his gaze. There you stood, momentarily paralyzed by the intensity of the moment, He smirks up at you, knowing and slightly teasing.

His cock is literally out, he’s running his hands up and down the length and he’s smiling at you so prettily, you hold the eye contact and give him a shy smile but when you look down, you see a monster length staring at you so the contrast slaps you in the face like whiplash.

"Sit down then, pretty girl.” He urged softly, almost whispering, his words imbued with an affectionate warmth that made your heart flutter.

You nod slowly, anticipation bubbling within as Jaemin's hands find their way to the delicate skin under your skirt, you let out a small whimper when he grips your hips gently yet securely. He pulls your underwear down slightly and then carefully pulls you closer, situating you on his cock.

You don’t know what this was but you didn’t expect this, to be sitting on him, on his cock, just staying still, there was no movement, just the warmth of being close. Your walls just sucked his cock in and it was such a tight, warm fit.

His focus returned to his studies, but now with hums of concentration and satisfaction. You sitting there on his cock, so prettily, clearly helped him with his work

As you watch Jaemin type away, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration, you're struck by the captivating intensity of his focus. He's the epitome of handsome, with sharp, defined features that are softened by the gentle curve of his lips, concentrated into a line of determination. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, now reflect the deep pools of his thoughts, flickering under long, dark lashes with every word he commits to the screen. The way his hair falls slightly over his forehead, just a bit tousled, adds a boyish charm to his otherwise structured appearance. The ambient light casts shadows that accentuate his strong jawline and the thoughtful crease between his brows, making him look like he’s been carved from marble, yet animated with the warm flush of life.

That’s when it dawns on you; despite the time you've spent together, there’s so much you don’t know about him. The basics, like what he studies, his favourite color, his favourite tv show. Sure, you knew his favourite sex position and kinks but that was completely different. You didn’t know him on a personal level.

He notices your intense gaze, the way your eyes are fixed on his features, not missing a single detail. There's a flicker of something in his eyes, a mixture of amusement and curiosity, as he meets your stare. It's as if he's inviting you to look deeper, beyond the surface, to discover the layers that make up who he truly is.

“You want something, baby?” You feel his voice vibrate against your chest, a low hum that makes you make the smallest movement on his cock but he just groan and shakes his head at you, his hands gripping your thighs and making you stay still.

Your hands play with his earrings, signalling your growing curiosity. "I’m just curious… about you.” You admit, looking for a deeper connection.

He laughs softly, open and encouraging. "Yeah? What do you wanna know?"

“What’s your major?” You start off, realising how crazy this sounds, you spend your days getting your back blown by him but you don’t even know what he studies. He's always engrossed in his university work so you assume he’s a dedicated and top student.

He looks away from his work to focus on you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I’m doing a double major, criminology and fine arts. It’s more photography-based, but it's a lot more complex than just that." His explanation flows effortlessly, a clear indication of his passion. "I've always been fascinated by criminology, the complexity of it, and the deeper understanding it offers. It’s a field where I can communicate the way I want to, I don’t need to talk much, it’s all mostly through visuals. A photo says a thousand words, right?"

His eyes light up with the mention of his work, reflecting a depth you're eager to explore. "This degree teaches me to notice the overlooked details, to create something that might challenge perceptions or bring new insights. I want to make a difference, especially in the criminal justice world."

His passion is palpable, and you find yourself drawn in by his dedication. "Combining criminology with fine arts isn’t common, but that uniqueness is what I think can be my strength." His voice carries a confidence that only adds to his allure.

"There’s a certain beauty in understanding the complexities of crime and human behaviour, and even more so in capturing the emotions and stories behind them through art. I want to find and share that beauty."

You can’t help it. you moan. There's just something so sexy hearing about a man so dedicated to his interests, so complex and multifaceted. Seeing his passions and dedications made you understand him more, or atleast feel like you understand him more.

You realize how perfectly his degree mirrors his personality: mysterious, intellectually deep, and emotionally intelligent. His artistic pursuits show a creative soul that sees the world through a unique lens, combining a sensitivity and appreciation for beauty with a bold, unconventional approach to his studies. This blend of social awareness, empathy, and deep thinking not only makes him fascinating but deeply attractive.

Listening to him, you understand that Jaemin is not just another student; he's someone who truly wants to leave a mark on the world, using his unique perspective and talents. His confidence and individuality shine through, making you admire him all the more.

He’s a captivating blend of social awareness and empathy, driven by a deep concern for societal issues. His studies reflect a profound desire to understand and improve the world, grounding him in compassion and thoughtfulness. As a reflective and insightful thinker, he engages in intellectually stimulating conversations, showcasing his subtle boldness and confidence. Unafraid to deviate from traditional academic paths, Jaemin's unique approach and individuality make him irresistibly appealing.

As you absorb the depth and breadth of Jaemin's ambitions, a spontaneous sound escapes you, a moan of admiration and something more, something deeper. His confusion is immediate, eyebrows arching in a silent question as he pauses, turning to face you fully. His voice, a deep and breathy lull, wraps around you like a warm blanket in the cool air of the room. "Why are you moaning?" He whispers, the words vibrating directly into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You’re – you’re just really hot.” You confess, the words tumbling out in a blend of awe and sincerity. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You lean in to kiss his forehead, a gesture so intimate and tender, Jaemin reacts in a way that sends your heart soaring. His eyes close for a moment, savouring the touch, a soft, content sigh escaping him. When he opens them again, they're alight with a giddy, infectious smile, the kind that makes his whole face glow, the kind that's impossible not to return. His breathing, low and steady, syncs with yours, a harmonious rhythm that seems to pull you even closer together.

“You work hard. Well done.” Your words are an affirmation, a gentle reminder of the faith you have in his efforts and the future they’re building towards. This will become something of a personal mission for you—to always remind him that his dedication will be worth it. You’ve never been so close to someone so motivated, so deeply attuned to their aspirations.

“This is why I'm being so good, just letting you study without distracting you. I've been a good girl and just sat here, on your cock, without moving when all I wanna do is ride your cock. you can feel how wet I am, right?”

He tuts. “I don't call bouncing up and down being a ‘good girl?’”

You moan, smashing his lips against his. Your lips move with an urgency that speaks volumes of pent-up desire. He kisses you back with intensity, punctuated by the soft sounds of mutual moans that vibrate through the connection of mouths. Your hand finds its way into his hair, fingers tangling, pulling gently to bring him even closer, ensuring no space remains. His arms wrap securely around your waist, pulling you against him as you grind onto him, your hips making soft motions as your ass meets his thighs, his cock thrusting deeper and deeper into you.

THE ONE WHERE HE EATS YOU OUT

“Do you want me to eat you out, baby? You want me to take your stress away?” Before you can even answer he dives into you, sweet eyes looking up at you with a soft smile, pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs before pulling you lace panties down.

He dove into your pussy, forcing your legs open, his tongue lapping at your pussy and your folds, sucking and licking all the wetness and juice with one long stripe. You moan out heavily, wrapping your legs around his neck and caging him there, your hands fisted in his hair.

He leaves mouthy and wet kisses on your clit, sucking and sucking on the skin and making you moan over and over. Your orgasm was coming close and you’re about to scream out his name but then you fucking hear the front door open.

Hana drops her bag upon seeing you, her eyes widening in surprise. You realise there's no time to hide the situation. Thankfully, she has no way of knowing it's Jaemin due to the way he's positioned and the sofa's arrangement. In a supportive and enthusiastic manner, Hana puts her thumb up to you and mouths her congratulations, seemingly unaware of the true situation

You find yourself wondering why she still stands there, a grin playing on her lips as she nods enthusiastically. Her eyes are fixed on you with a sense of pride that seems to radiate from her, a pride that's uniquely her own and difficult to put into words.

Jaemin, like the menace that he is, continues eating you out even though he’s aware there’s an audience. He’s lapping at your folds more roughly, biting and spitting on your pussy in hopes to make you scream his name, he’s trying to make you scream his name. His tongue delves deeper and deeper as he thrusts his fingers in and out. Your eyes roll back, his name was this close to slipping from your tongue.

Jaemin smirks at how you try to conceal your sounds. His breath was a whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His voice, barely above a murmur, resonates with a depth that you can hardly hear—you feel it, a tangible vibration against your skin. “If you were gonna end up silent anyway then we should've fucked infront of them.”

Jaemin startles you as he raises his head slightly. You quickly guide his head back down, but then he attempts to rise again, wearing a smirk. His eyes intensify with desire as he gazes up at you, giving you the slyest grin. Despite the slightly perverse and twisted nature of the situation, he finds pleasure in your heightened state of arousal due to his actions. Even though it's kind of sick and twisted he loves seeing you so scared because of his doing

THE ONE WHERE YOU’RE FUCKING ON THE BALCONY

You’re wearing the mini skirt, it’s slutty, it’s sexy.

It’s too slutty to be yours, it’s Haerin’s.

She beamed with a glow when you asked for her help, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and delight. Without hesitation, she dives into her closet and emerges with the boldest piece she owns—a mini skirt that's daring in every sense of the word. It's the kind of outfit that blurs the lines between outrageously sexy and boldly confident.

Your eyes widen at the sight of it. The material is sheer, leaving little to the imagination, a bold statement piece that's as see-through as it is alluring. Slipping it on, you can't help but marvel at the transformation. The skirt clings in all the right places, its risqué charm amplified by its translucency and the way it perfectly hugs your curves. It's a far cry from your usual style, but in this moment, it feels just right.

To match the daring vibe of the skirt, you opt for a top that's equally provocative. The ensemble comes together in a daring display of confidence, each piece complementing the other to create a look that's undeniably hot. Your makeup and hair are styled to perfection, each detail adding to the allure of the outfit.

Thoughts of Jaemin flutter through your mind, sending waves of giddy anticipation coursing through you. You hope he’ll find you pretty. As you give yourself one final look in the mirror, confidence surges within you.

Jeno's arrival to pick up you and Haerin was expected, but Jaemin's presence alongside him was a pleasant surprise that sent a jolt of excitement through you.

The moment Haerin and Jeno greeted each other with a kiss, a sense of awkwardness washed over you. You stood slightly apart, an observer to their easy display of affection, feeling a mix of happiness for them and a silent yearning for a similar connection with Jaemin. Your situation with him was a closely guarded secret, one that you weren't ready to unveil.

As you felt the pull towards Jaemin, something shifted within you. With a newfound boldness, you clasped your hands together and rest them by your side, a gesture of anticipation, and subtly leaned his way. Your head tilted, a silent invitation, as your lips curved into a smile, a confident and alluring display.

As Jaemin's gaze intensely sweeps over you, a wave of heat rushes through your body, so palpable that the two of you almost moan out loud. The tension between you both was electric, you’re so happy Haerin and Jeno are too absorbed in each other to notice.

His eyes, dark and focused, scrutinize every detail with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. You catch him biting his bottom lip, a silent yet unmistakable sign of his approval, as he takes in the sight of you. The outfit you've chosen for the evening accentuates your figure perfectly, hugging you in just the right places to showcase your curves in the most flattering light.

Suddenly, Jeno's attention shifts towards you, breaking the electric tension. With an enthusiastic whistle, he grabs your hand, lifting it above your head to spin you around in a playful showcase. "Look at you.” He smiles, his voice filled with a mix of pride and admiration, the pitch of his whistle echoing his excitement. He's always been your biggest supporter, and tonight is no exception.

Meanwhile, Jaemin remains a silent observer, his expression unreadable yet intensely focused on you. Despite his quiet, his eyes communicate volumes, locked on your form with a clarity that's both thrilling and a little intimidating. His nonchalant demeanor contrasts sharply with the keen interest evident in his gaze.

Jeno drives back to his house which marks the start of an interesting evening.

Jeno's backyard was buzzing with life, lit up by string lights that added a cozy glow to the evening. It was the perfect spot for a barbecue, with everyone gathered around, enjoying the inviting green space. The smell of food on the grill filled the air, hinting at the fun and laughter that was to come.

In one corner, Hana and Eric had cocooned themselves into a couple's chair, their world reduced to the space between them as they shared kisses, seemingly oblivious to the buzz around them. Donghyuck, on the other hand, embraced solitude on the outskirts, content with his crisps, his presence a quiet testament to the diversity of the group's dynamics. Meanwhile, Shotaro and Wonbin, having recently bridged the gap of a misunderstanding, were lost in their own bubble, their laughter and shared glances lighting up the space around them.

Near the grill, stood Jeno and Jaemin, they were cooking all the meat. You watched, perhaps for the first time with true attention, as their interaction unfolded—a symphony of small laughs, shared tasks, and an easy silence that spoke volumes of their bond. The way they moved together, anticipating each other's needs and sharing the workload with an unspoken understanding, was evidence enough of the deep-rooted friendship they shared. The small, almost imperceptible exchanges—a nod here, a chuckle there, the passing of a spatula or a beer without a word — seeing their bond warmed your heart. They did truly love each other.

While Haerin and you engaged in gossip, standing across from Jeno and Jaemin, an attempt to help with the barbecue was dismissed by Jeno, he just told you both to go, citing he didn't want his garden to catch fire.

You’re being slutty on purpose. You boobs were out. You bend down intentionally in front of him, which drew a sigh from him. He tried to brush it off as a reaction to accidentally burning his hand on the grill, which actually did happen, a mishap resulting from his distraction by you rather than the task at hand. Jeno, his fucking nurse, quickly stepped in to care for him, wrapping the wound and even kissing his palm in a comforting gesture. He rolls his eyes and Haerin brings her palm out and expects him to do the same for her even though she wasn’t hurt.

The food is ready, and as everyone gathers around, you can't help but admire Jeno's attentiveness. With a careful diligence, he ensures that everyone is served before even thinking of his own plate. He moves among you, distributing plates and customizing each serving according to personal preferences. When he reaches you, there's a soft pat on your head and a smile that warms you from the inside out, especially when you see he's remembered exactly how you like your burger—with extra cheese and no gherkins. It's these small acts of care that make the moment special.

Jeno then turns his attention to Jaemin, who has been somewhat neglectful of his plate. He silently places a chicken wing directly into his mouth. Haerin, too, receives a tender moment of attention when she chokes on her burger. Jeno is quick to offer her water through a straw, pressing a kiss to her forehead in reassurance. Her embarrassment at the mess she's made is met with his gentle coo and shake of his head, assuring her of her beauty despite the sauce smeared around her mouth. He cleans it up with his thumb, a gesture so intimate and affectionate, followed by a soft kiss that seems to say everything words cannot.

You haven’t been drinking yet you feel high, euphoric. You’re completely sober and that’s the best part of it all. A few months ago you would’ve never thought you’d reach such happiness without being drunk but here you are, with your best friend, smiling until your cheeks ache.

The joy that fills you is genuine, a kind of happiness that’s both new and exhilarating. Despite not having touched a drop of alcohol, you find yourself riding a wave of euphoria, the kind that only true contentment can bring. It’s a realisation that hits you with the force of a revelation—once, the thought of achieving such a state of bliss without the aid of drinks would have seemed impossible. Yet, here you are, basking in the warmth of genuine happiness, sharing moments of laughter and connection with your best friend. The smiles that stretch across your faces, so wide that they make your cheeks ache, are a testament to the pure, unadulterated joy of the moment.

You an i’m d Haerin are dancing sexily, slut drops, touching each other closely, hands on tits, ass, giggling, you were kissing. You’re vaguely aware of the attention you’re attracting, particularly from Jeno and Jaemin.

Jaemin’s expression is hard to read, always enigmatic, giving nothing away. He watches with his usual cool, detached air, adding to his mysterious aura. Jeno’s gaze, on the other hand, is intense, you’re not sure whether he wanted to join in or punish you, leaving you guessing about his thoughts.

He clearly makes up his mind as suddenly, he comes along and the three of you are dancing closely, they’re both so wasted, that’s why the three of you grind on each other, hands touching all places, hot breath fanning over each other’s faces, you’re sure Jeno was slapping both of your asses at one point.

The atmosphere is a bit surreal, and you can't help but wonder how you've found yourself in this situation. Jeno, surprisingly, is dividing his attention between you and Haerin, and it's an unexpected turn of events. He starts by placing his hands on both of your shoulders, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

Slowly, he pivots Haerin around and lets his hands glide down to her hips, making sure you can still feel his touch as he pulls her closer to him. The sensation is electrifying, and you're not sure where this is leading. Then, with a playful assertiveness, he gives her ass a cheeky slap.

Before you know it, Jeno positions himself between both of you, sandwiched between you and Haerin, letting the two of you grind into him. She's right in front of him, arching her neck as he leaves open mouthed kisses, not completely neglecting you though, his fingers move to caress your thighs.

Passions ignite in the room as tongues entwine and hands explore. You sensually slide your hand down Jeno's body, your fingers dancing down to his crotch. The chemistry is palpable, and you can't help but feel your own heart racing.

Haerin and you share a passionate kiss while Jeno moans in pleasure, his eyes locked on the erotic display before him. His hand rubs his bulge through his pants, and the intensity in the room continues to build.

Jeno's desire reaches its peak as he tightly fists your hair, pulling you back roughly to grant him access to Haerin's eager lips. Their mouths collide, exchanging a torrent of saliva and heated kisses. It's a frenzied scene filled with raw desire and longing.

But then, Haerin moves away from Jeno and turns her attention to you, planting sweet pecks on your lips, the two of you giggling and giving each other giddy eyes. The contrast between the intense passion and the soft, affectionate moments is a tantalizing blend of sensations that leaves you breathless.

You and Haerin had playfully shared your desires about making out with each other before, acknowledging each other's attractiveness, you both found each other hot! This moment feels different. It's serious and intense.

Now, you find yourselves on the couch, straddling each other. You’re on top, and your lips meet in a fiery, passionate kiss. The sensation of her tongue, soft lips, and electric chemistry between you leaves you captivated. You can understand why Jeno is so enamored with her.

But suddenly, you're yanked away, and Jeno takes your place. He grabs Haerin's neck harshly, eliciting a loud moan from her,, his kisses were passionate and forceful. Smooching noises fill the room as Jeno dominates the moment, leaning over and caging her against the plush cushions, his legs either side of her and he’s not holding back on being rough.

Haerin senses your hesitation and quickly pulls you onto Jeno's lap while still engaging in a heated make-out session with him. Together, they shower you with affection, covering you in passionate kisses and leaving hickeys on your skin. Jeno, driven by intense desire, unzips his pants, his length ready as he runs it through his hands.

Before Jeno can even do anything with his cock, the room is abruptly pierced by a voice that commands immediate attention. Jaemin, who until now had remained silent, suddenly asserts himself with a firm, "Not on this couch!!" His intervention is swift and decisive, drawing the eyes of everyone present.

Your gaze meets Jaemin, and the intensity you find in his eyes is startling. There's something about the way he looks at you—commanding, and undeniably attractive—that sends a thrill through you. The mixture of authority in his voice and the dark promise in his gaze stirs something deep within you, amplifying your already heightened arousal.

The realisation that Jaemin has been observing this whole time makes you moan. His attention, previously undetected, now feels like a spotlight. His gaze, heavy with an unspoken challenge, leaves you pondering his thoughts and the nature of his interest in the dynamics at play.

You decide to head to the bathroom to freshen up, trying to regain your composure. You smooth out your hair and touch up your makeup, attempting to collect your thoughts. But as you open the bathroom door, you're met with the dark and piercing gaze of Jaemin.

His expression isn't one of happiness. Instead, a certain intensity emanates from his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. The look in his eyes makes your insides throb with desire for him, overpowering any other thoughts. He had been on your mind all night, and now, being in such close proximity to him, your longing for Jaemin becomes undeniable and overwhelming. You only want him. The tension in the bathroom seems to escalate, the steaminess of the situation too palpable to ignore.

Your lips crash together in a searing, insatiable kiss, tongues tangling in a fervent dance. His hands roam your body, gripping and squeezing, while your nails dig into his back, pulling him impossibly closer.

With legs wrapped around his waist, you grind against each other, feeling his arousal hard and insistent against your core. Every touch, every bite, every growl against your lips sends shivers of pleasure down your spine.

Jaemin's mouth trails down your neck, nipping and sucking, marking you as his own, covering the marks that Haerin and Jeno had left on you and. Tutting in your ear, Jaemin's voice drips with desire and dominance. "Gonna act like a slut like that again, baby? Hm? You’ll see what I do to you." His words send shivers down your spine as he presses his body closer, asserting his control.

Your breaths grow heavy, matching the rhythm of your bodies moving against each other. His fingers find their way under your clothes, tracing lines of fire along your skin, making you gasp and moan. He’s spanking your ass as you moan into his mouth, the wetness between your thighs becoming palpable.

Locked in a heated gaze, your eyes reveal the raw hunger within. Bodies pressed together, the friction only intensifies the pulsating need between you. You feel consumed by a wild, untamed passion, surrendering to the magnetic pull of desire.

"Trying to flaunt your sweet pussy to everyone else?" Jaemin's voice oozes dark desire as he speaks close to your ear. He cages your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "Answer me."

You shake your head, your eyes wide, and your lips trembling with a whimper and a pout.

“I don't believe you."

Jaemin's intentions become unmistakably clear as he manhandles you, forcefully guiding you until you're pressed against the balcony railing. You glance around and realise that you're on the balcony overlooking the garden, he positions you exactly how he desires, and you surrender willingly to his commands.

Coming up behind you, he arches your neck and presses passionate kisses upon your skin, leaving a trail of fiery sensation in his wake. His desire is palpable, and the mask he's worn for so long begins to slip away, revealing the raw, passionate intensity beneath

Jaemin makes quick work of removing your clothes, his hand delivering sharp slaps to your ass in rapid succession. The mixture of pleasure and pain sends shivers down your spine.

"You want everyone to see what a fucking slut you are? Now they will.” He whispers in your ear, sending a thrilling jolt through your body. The audaciousness of this encounter only makes it more arousing, and you can't believe how turned on you are right now. Is he really this brazen? Fucking you in a place where you could easily be caught, even though your situationship is a secret?

That’s hot.

Your moan betrays your excitement, your body burning with desire as Jaemin's cock thrusts relentlessly into you. He's pounding you on the balcony, your front pressed against the railings, and he ensures your arms are held above your head without even having to use physical force. You remember his earlier warning: no moving allowed, and you obediently comply like the good girl you are, relishing your role as the willing submissive.

With one of your legs held up by Jaemin, you're pinned against the balcony's railings, your body entirely at his mercy. “Such a whore, acting like this all night in front of everyone.”

Jaemin revels in taking you from behind, the sight of your ass bouncing against his throbbing erection driving him wild. With one hand gripping your hair, he pulls your head back, arching your back sensually. The other hand firmly presses against your lower back, guiding you to meet his every thrust.

He forcefully drags your head forward, fistful of your hair in his grip as he forces you to position there, you hold back a moan as you see everyone in the garden downstairs, your friends are below you. All of them still in the garden and if they look up they'd see you and him fucking, they’ll see his hands that slap your titties and his dick plunging in and out of you.

“Doll, you have to stay quiet, you don't want our friends to know our little secret.” His voice, usually low and commanding, becomes a seductive whisper, sending shivers down your spine. There’s a hint of a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he savors the effect of his words on you.

Yet, despite the need for secrecy, Jaemin's primal desire overcomes any semblance of restraint. He thrusts into you even harder, igniting a fire of arousal that burns hotter with every passing moment. The walls of your body tighten around him as pleasure intensifies, and the possibility of being discovered fuels the urgency of your passionate connection.

You get off on the fact that you could be caught anytime, you and Jaemin love the thrill. As he whispers in your ear, urging you to make more noise, he maintains his firm grip on your throat.

As the intensity between you and Jaemin reaches its peak, he relentlessly continues, thrusting into you with a determination that over-stimulates your senses. Your ass bounces against his cock, creating a rhythm that leaves you utterly spent and breathless. He's fucking you with such intensity that it's as if he's driving you to the brink of euphoria, making you feel high from his touch alone.

With every plunge of his cock, your snug walls grip him tighter, as if unwilling to let go of the pleasure he provides. Jaemin's playful cooing adds an exhilarating layer to the experience, igniting a fiery passion within you. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, accompanied by heavy moans and growls of raw desire, making it abundantly clear that this encounter is driven by an insatiable hunger for each other.

He continues to overstimulate you. He's driving you to the brink, making you feel intoxicated with desire. His cock plunges in and out, your cum dripping down your thighs and making a mess. With a hint of teasing in his voice, he asks. "Can't you take it?"

In the heat of the moment, you're completely absorbed, unaware that your friends below have fallen silent. Little do you know, they're fully aware of what's happening on the balcony, and their cheers of encouragement fill the air. Despite their enthusiasm, they remain oblivious to the identity of the mystery man who's fucking you, failing to connect the dots as you and Jaemin are the only ones missing from the gathering.

As your friends look up, Jaemin drags you inside and to the floor, and before they can see anything, he fucks you there instead. “Shut the fuck up, slut.” Jaemin slaps your ass as you squirt all over him

He holds you close, cooing softly in your ear as you come down from your high. His gentle kisses and tender touch help soothe you. He wipes away the remaining tears and ensures you're comfortable and clean.

Moments later, you make your way down to the garden, a slight flush on your cheeks. You enter with an air of casual composure, trying to act as if nothing out of the ordinary has occurred. Both you and Jaemin make an effort to maintain your cool, not arriving together to avoid any unnecessary attention.

It's quite evident that you've had your back blown out, with the afterglow still lingering on you. As you walk in, the cheers from your friends greet you, and Haerin plants a friendly kiss on your cheek. Hana attempts to lead you three away for some girls' talk, but the guys are being insufferable. Their taunting and teasing know no bounds, with even Shotaro mimicking your moans, and Donghyuck giving you an overly friendly pat on the back.

Among the crowd, two individuals stand out for their unusual behaviour. Jaemin remains nonchalant and seemingly unbothered, standing away from the chaos as if he hadn't just fucked you dumb. You envy him, how is he standing there like nothing intense had happened just mere moments ago? You also can't help but be suspicious of Jeno. He's typically the one to lead the teasing, but instead, he gazes at you with a proud smirk that leaves you questioning his intentions.

The air is thick with curiosity as your friends huddle together, each one throwing out guesses about the mysterious man's identity. Among the murmurs, Shotaro speaks up—sweet, innocent Shotaro. You adore him, yet there's a part of you wishing for his silence in this moment.

"Hey, Jaemin disappeared when we heard Y/N up there.” He remarks, pointing out Jaemin's absence just as your fucking had begun. The room falls into a tense silence, anticipation hanging in the air as everyone seems on the cusp of laughter or teasing, their faces a mix of shock and amusement.

Your eyes dart to Jaemin, panic flickering within you. But Jaemin, ever composed, manages his emotions with a tight control. He never slips. He subtly shakes his head at you, a silent reassurance not to worry. His gaze then shifts to Jeno, exchanging a brief nod—a moment of silent communication that leaves you more baffled than ever.

Jeno, with his impeccable timing, chimes in, "Jaem couldn’t have been the guy; around that time, I sent him out to buy some more potatoes for those chips you guys gobbled up." It's a smooth save. Everyone seems to accept Jeno's explanation without hesitation. And truly, who wouldn't? He has always had a way with words, his ability to weave believable stories making him a convincing, smooth talker.

You let out a sigh of relief, though the knot in your stomach only tightens. You know it's only a matter of time before the truth might come out, and the thought sends waves of anxiety through you. For now, though, Jeno's quick thinking has steered the suspicion away, granting you a temporary reprieve from the spotlight.

THE ONE WHERE EVERYONE FINDS OUT (ONE)

“Is it Xiaojun?”

You shake your head, not paying much attention to the girls who are growing increasingly curious and persistent in their questioning. Instead, your focus remains fixed on your phone screen as you type away. It was Jaemin on the other end, if you weren’t being fucked by him then you were always sexting, you had become obbessed with each other.

“Who is it then?” Haerin’s voice carries a hint of frustration as she cries out, They’re so goddamn nosy. They’re trying to figure out who you’re seeing, clearly growing exasperated with your evasive responses.

They know you’re seeing someone as you’ve been caught several times but luckily they don’t know that it’s Jaemin. You’re intent on maintaining this privacy until you and Jaemin can figure out your situation. Staying discreet with Jaemin seems like the best course of action, avoiding drama and unwanted attention.

It’s your mistake to relish and sigh in their silence and accept it as peace. “Who’s fucking dick is that?????” Hana's voice escalates into a scream and Haerin's eyes nearly bulge out of its eye sockets, you realise that somehow, they've stumbled upon a photo of Jaemin on your phone, although his face wasn’t in it. It was his cock.

Haerin is full on moaning and asking you “how can you handle all that?”

So why is that photo on your phone? You had many photos of his cock on your phone but this particular one had an explanation. The truth is, Jaemin had sent you that photo while he was in a lecture, fully aware of your desires, and he decided to engage in some sexting to tease and please you. The real mistake was indulging in it while sitting on the same sofa as Haerin and Hana.

You let out a yelp in panic, blurting out, "I'm just looking at porn!" in an attempt to deflect their suspicions. However, Haerin and Hana remain skeptical, shaking their heads and exchanging knowing looks.

Hana wears a mischievous smile as she responds, "We will find out." It seems like they're not buying your excuse and are determined to get to the bottom of the situation.

THE ONE WHERE EVERYONE FINDS OUT (TWO)

Hana turns to Jeno, her face a canvas of confusion and suspicion. "Where the hell is Y/N?" she demands, expecting answers.

Jeno shrugs off the question with a casual "I dunno." Yeah he does. He knows that you’re getting your back blown out by Jaemin. He's known this whole time. He’s known since the very first time.

Hana, still in the dark and growing more perplexed by the minute, continues to probe. "She's being really suspicious, don't you think? She never hides anything from us, so why isn't she telling us who she's seeing?" She questions, her voice filled with confusion.

Jeno, attempting to divert the conversation, mumbles, "It's probably a social experiment.” His comment unexpectedly draws laughter from Hana, though she hadn't intended to find humor in the situation.

Just as Hana ponders Jeno's words, her attention is suddenly captured by a sight through the sliding doors that connect the outdoor garden to the kitchen. She waves frantically, trying to get someone's attention, and before she can even begin to question why you are here, in Jeno's house, without any apparent reason, she lets out a loud scream, her hands flying up to cover her face in shock. "Y/N and Jaemin? What are they doing? AHHHH! AHHHHHH!"

“My eyes… my eyes!!!!!” She screams, unable to believe her eyes.

"Jaemin and Y/N? Why is he touching her like that? What the HELL?" Hana exclaims, her voice rising in disbelief and shock.

"I know! I know!" Jeno repeats, trying to calm Hana down, mindful that Haerin is upstairs and oblivious to the unfolding drama.

"You know?" Hana shrieks, her voice piercing the air.

"Yes, I know! And now you know. Obviously, Jaemin and Y/N... but Haerin doesn't, neither does anyone else in the group, so please, you have to stop screaming." Jeno implores, his tone serious. "You need to keep this a secret. He adds, stressing the importance of discretion in this unexpected and delicate situation.

Hana, feeling a sense of urgency, breathes frantically and expresses her needs. “I need to tell Eric.”

Jeno, wanting to keep her calm, suggests. “Just pretend I’m Eric, I literally look like Eric.”

Hana nods in agreement and begins speaking as if she’s addressing Eric. Her confession takes an unexpected turn as she admits. “You do look like Eric, and it freaking creeps me out. Sometimes it makes me wanna make out with you.” Her voice drops to a low whisper, and she realizes too late that she’s voiced her thoughts aloud.

Jeno, raising his eyebrows in surprise, awkwardly coughs in response. Hana quickly regrets her words and mumbles, “Yeah, just forget I said that.” Jeno nods in agreement, and the two of them part ways.

THE ONE WHERE EVERYONE FINDS OUT (THREE, FIN)

Hana and Jeno share a smirk and shake their heads at the noise coming from upstairs. To them, you sound like a bitch in heat, you and Jaemin were so incredibly loud.

There's a moment of silence as Hana and Jeno exchange amused glances, reveling in the audacity of your and Jaemin's fucking. Then, Haerin enters through the front door, dropping a kiss on Jeno's forehead and bringing a bag of food just for herself.

Curious about your whereabouts, Haerin asks, "Where's Y/N?"

Jeno mumbles casually, leaning back in his seat. “You can’t hear her, baby? She’s upstairs, fucking Jaem.”

Hana, with her boba straw poised at her lips, widens her eyes in surprise and nearly chokes on her drink. “I thought it was a secret—”

Jeno, still with that nonchalant demeanour, interrupts her. “I’m sick of it.”

“Sick of them?” Hana questions, genuinely curious.

Jeno clarifies his annoyance, his tone filled with humor, “Sick of losing sleep because of them. Hopefully, now they can just get it on in public instead of when I’m trying to to go bed.”

Hana adds teasingly, “Please, don’t act as if you and Haerin, and Jaem and Y/N don’t have a competition to see who can be the loudest.”

Jeno retorts, a playful glint in his eye, “And you’re forgetting you and Eric? You two are the loudest!”

Hana and Jeno fall silent in their playful bickering when they hear the unmistakable sounds of screaming coming from upstairs. It's not just any scream; it's you and Haerin.

Hana chuckles and remarks, "Seems like Haerin is copying Y/N."

Jeno and Hana share a laugh as they make their way upstairs, curiosity piqued by the unexpected commotion unfolding in your room. The sight that greets them is nothing short of comical. Haerin lets out an audible scream, her disbelief apparent on her face.

You are equally shocked. Why is everyone in your room? You had a heart attack, Jaemin’s dick was plunging in and out of you and then suddenly the door opened with a loud scream. As your friends stare at you and Jaemin, you realize that there's no way to hide or explain the situation. The truth is out, and you can feel the weight of their gazes on you.

As Jeno gives Jaemin a kiss on the head, you finally connect the dots, a realisation dawning upon you. An epiphany hits you like a ton of bricks, and a light bulb goes off in your head. You jab Jaemin's chest, your voice incredulous as you exclaim. Jeno had known all along. It makes so much sense now.

"Jaem!! You told him!!"

Jaemin, taken aback by your accusation, hastily defends himself. "I swear I didn't!"

“I was the one who planted this idea in your heads and you thought I wouldn’t know?” Jeno smirks, an immense pride in him as he looks at the two of you.

(That wasn’t true though, Jaemin had told Jeno early on, just like he tells Jeno everything.)

Haerin's eyes light up, and she moves to the bed to hug you tightly in her arms, placing sloppy kisses on your head and Jaemin's. "So you're dating????" She squeals excitedly, clapping her hands. But suddenly, her enthusiasm dies down, replaced by confusion.

You and Jaemin choke on your words, shaking your heads and immediately denying it. Haerin's mouth widens in disbelief, and she struggles to find the right words. Hana steps in, voicing her confusion. "I don't get it? I thought you guys were — Jeno told me you guys were dating."

Jeno, not wanting to get involved, quickly defends his name. "I said nothing."

Hana and Haerin share a look that fills you with unease; their silence is unsettling. They suddenly leave the room, only to return a few moments later. You groan and palm your head when you see Haerin holding an 'intervention' banner in her hand.

THE INTERVENTION

You find yourself awkwardly seated in the center of the room, suddenly the focal point of everyone's attention. This unsolicited spotlight wasn't something you chose; rather, it's the result of an impromptu intervention masterminded by Hana. She, with a flair for drama, unveils a handmade sign that declares ‘intervention’ in bold, uneven letters. With a mix of persuasion and sheer force of will, she and Haerin manage to get Jaemin and Jeno to hang the sign, although it dangles crookedly above you.

Hana and Haerin stand before you, their arms crossed in an attempt to convey seriousness. You press your lips together, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, feeling a bizarre mix of annoyance and fondness for their concern.

"Do not laugh." Haerin commands, her voice sharp, it immediately makes your lips fall flat.

However, this facade quickly dissolves the moment your gaze locks with Jaemin’s. The curve of his eyes and the subtle smirk tugging at his lips are the triggers that unleash your laughter. The sound of your combined laughter echoes off the walls. Jaemin's expression is a perfect blend of amusement and complicity, his attractiveness magnified in the moment. He looks effortlessly handsome, his casual posture and the slight smirk playing on his lips adding to his allure.

Hana prepares to dive into the heart of the matter, her expression serious yet tinged with concern. She shakes her head and clears her throat, signaling the start of what promises to be an in-depth interrogation. “So, what is this?” She probes, her gaze shifting between you and Jaemin, accompanied with her hand moving back and forth.

“An intervention.” Jaemin responds unusually, he normally wouldn’t say a word but he catches on to your reaction and he realises it’s worth it. The room is filled with the sound of your laughter, and it’s the cutest thing Jaemin has heard in a while. Your laughter lights up the space, your mouth forming a beautiful smile as you giggle. The sweetness of the moment warms Jaemin’s heart, and he can’t help but cherish it. As he watches you, he can’t deny the growing affection he feels for you. He adores you more with each passing moment, silently falling for you in the most unexpected of times.

“We have too many interventions.” You say once your laughter has subsided but Hana and Haerin will not allow you to shift the focus once more.

“I’ll ask again, what are you guys?”

The room feels charged, the anticipation building. When neither of you responds immediately, Hana’s impatience shows with a disapproving tut. Deciding to cut to the chase, she bluntly asks, “Are you guys fucking?” Her directness catches you off guard and you suddenly start choking on your tongue.

Jaemin, ever the embodiment of calm under pressure, answers with his characteristic dry wit. “Obviously, did you not walk in on me pounding into her like 5 minutes ago?” His nonchalance is both infuriating and disarming.

Haerin, picking up where Hana left off, wears a hopeful smile, her eyes alight with curiosity. “So, you’re dating?” She ventures, her optimism palpable. Her eyes light up and she breaks out into a grin, a reaction you quite simply do not understand as she knows you’re not dating.

The question sends you and Jaemin into a fit of awkward chuckles, a symphony of refusals and denials echoing around the room, you’d keep denying it until they believed you. You try to convince, almost too vehemently, that dating isn’t on the cards. “Hold on.” You interject, laughter breaking through the tension. “Just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean we’re dating. Don’t be crazy.”

Your attempt at humour does little to appease Hana and Haerin. They both launch into a series of scolding and telling off, their words a mix of worry. They warn you that you’re being reckless in your actions and that heartache will follow. They plead you to think this through. Meanwhile, Jeno sits quietly to the side, observing the proceedings with a silent chuckle, his laid-back demeanour a stark contrast to the animated energy of Hana and Haerin.

"So, what are you guys? Friends with benefits?" Haerin asks, her hope running out. The question hangs in the air, prompting immediate reactions from both you and Jaemin. You both shake your heads quickly, clearly unsettled by the label. The very thought seems off-putting to you both.

"We were never even friends.” You clarify, laying down the stark reality of your relationship with Jaemin.

He softly added, "More like strangers with benefits.”

You shake your head, quick to counter. "No.” You say to him simply and plainly. You didn’t like the idea of only being of use to him for your body. Friends with benefits wasn’t something you ever wanted to engage in.

The room falls silent at Hana's next question, "So what are you?" Hana's question leaves you speechless, a silence enveloping you as the words hang heavily in the air. What are we? The thought echoes in your mind, a question without an easy answer. As you glance over at Jaemin, searching for any sign of clarity in his expression, you're met with the same uncertainty. The ambiguity of your relationship, undefined and unlabeled, looms large between you. It's confusing. You're both aware of the lack of clear communication between you, yet the good sex keeps bringing you back to each other.

Faced with Hana's probing gaze, you deflect, turning the spotlight back onto her. "What are you and Eric?" you ask, hoping to shift the focus away from the complexity of your situation. The question hangs between you, a momentary distraction from the undefined nature of your relationship with Jaemin.

“He’s my boyfriend.” She reveals nonchalantly, as if the declaration is the most natural thing in the world. You didn’t expect it, you had known that they’d gotten close but you didn’t expect them to actually label their love. This was the first time she had told you.

At her words, the room erupts into excitement. You and Haerin can’t contain your joy, squealing and rushing to embrace her. An unexpected wave of emotion washes over you, and you find yourself fighting back tears. The depth of your reaction surprises even you, but deep down, you understand its source. Hana is not just a friend; she’s your best friend, someone whose happiness means the world to you. Seeing her find joy and fulfilment in a relationship with Eric, someone who has been in love with her since childhood, fills you with an overwhelming sense of relief and contentment.

In the midst of your collective excitement and joy for Hana, the moment becomes even more intimate when she turns to you, her gaze filled with softness and genuine concern. "I just don't want you to get hurt.” She whispers, her voice a tender echo of past conversations. The sincerity in her eyes reflects the depth of your friendship, her worry stemming from the memory of your last heartbreak. That memory isn't just yours; it's shared in the collective heart of your friendship, a reminder of pain endured and the resilience that followed.

Jaemin, who until now has been a quiet observer of the emotional exchange, lets out a light chuckle. It's clear he's ready to leap to his own defence but you're quicker. "Jaem isn't gonna hurt me.” You assert confidently, your voice steady and strong. There's no hesitation, no faltering in your statement—a testament to the unwavering belief you hold in him.

This isn't a mere assertion; it's a declaration of trust, a trust that has been carefully built and nurtured over time. In your heart, you feel the solidity of this trust,

Jaemin's reaction to your words is subtle yet profound. There's a flash of something deeper in his eyes, a mixture of appreciation and a solemn promise. It's as if your words have not only affirmed your trust in him but also reinforced his commitment to honor and cherish that trust.

Jeno, unexpectedly quiet until now, says, "Yeah, he won’t." Jeno's sudden input surprises you, given his silence throughout the intervention. He’s normally active in discussions like these, his quietness up to this point was out of character.

"He’s a good guy.” Jeno reiterates, his voice imbued with a depth of trust and admiration. His words about Jaemin are not just spoken; they're felt, radiating a heartfelt sincerity that envelops the room.

In that instance, you and Jeno share an exchange so profoundly sweet, it transcends words. Smiles bloom on your faces, a silent nod sealing this moment of mutual understanding and respect.

Then, Jeno’s gaze finds yours, carrying a depth of knowledge and insight that puzzles you. It's a look filled with layers you can't quite decipher, leaving you curious about his thoughts and emotions. This moment of uncertainty stirs a mix of confusion and curiosity within you, prompting questions you yearn to ask.

Yet, the moment's simple beauty holds you back, urging you to just live in it, to appreciate the connection you share without overanalyzing. Jeno’s response is a smile, so broad and genuine, it encapsulates the essence of your friendship—a bond that thrives on unspoken understanding and shared moments just like this.

Hana smiled and shook her head. "Fine, but you guys should create rules for whatever kind of 'situationship' this is." You and Jaemin exchanged a look, and you realized that she was right.

"Can we have some privacy?" You asked, but you were immediately met with a chorus of "no's." You rolled your eyes, realizing that your friend group was just too open with each other. The closeness was a bit frightening at times, was it normal that you had seen them all naked on multiple occasions?

As he closes the distance, Jaemin's arm draped gently around your shoulder, he looked into your eyes with a sense of warmth and concern. "Are you okay?" He asked softly, his voice laced with genuine care.

You smiled at him, your fingers tenderly brushing over his eyebrow before cupping his cheek, drawing him into a gentle, heartfelt kiss. It was a quiet moment shared between just the two of you, a silent reassurance of your connection.

"So, what are you thinking?" You inquired, your fingers now finding his hand and intertwining with his. You took a deep breath, your gaze fixed on his, and continued, "I was thinking that communication is the key here. We should always be honest with each other about everything. For example, if you've found someone else, it would be better if you told me the truth so I can handle it better and..."

Before you could finish, Jaemin cut you off, his eyes unwavering as he affirmed, "I'm not going to find anyone else. I don't want anyone else." His words carried a deep sincerity that sent a warm shiver down your spine, reaffirming the bond you shared.

You nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed by your emotions. "Oh.” Was all you managed to say.

Jaemin's eyes held a gentle understanding as you continued, "And I think things like dates and gifts are okay. I mean, not like official dates, but if we want to go out, we don't need to be weird about it. I don't mean it like a date-date, but..."

"I know what you mean.” He said, voice filled with affection.

"Do you want to suggest something?" You asked, your arms wrapping around his neck as you gazed into his eyes.

Jaemin's smile is soft, filled with an unwavering patience and acceptance. "I just want whatever you want. Just tell me what you want, and if it's what you're comfortable with, then I want it too."

You nodded and then brought up another important point. "Um, also, can we continue keeping this private? I just... I don't want the attention, and I don't want Hyunjin to know. He's going to... he's just... I..."

The room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the emotional weight of the moment pressing down on you. As you fight back tears, a sense of vulnerability washes over you, compelling you to look away in embarrassment. Around you, the concern is palpable, your friends frown at the sight of your distress.

Jaemin's response is immediate and tender, his voice a soft balm in the tense atmosphere. "Hey, baby.” He murmurs, his words wrapping around you with a warmth that feels like a gentle embrace. The softness of his kiss is a promise, a silent assurance that you're not alone in this. He moves your face gently in his arms so you’re looking at him and only him.

"Of course we can keep it private.” He says, his commitment to your comfort and peace of mind clear in his tone. In that moment, You find yourself nodding, a smile breaking through the uncertainty as you lean in for another kiss, his soft lips making you ache for more.

You hesitated for a moment before bringing up one more concern. "Last one, if you ever find yourself catching feelings for another girl, then..."

Jaemin didn't let you finish your sentence. He interrupted with a passionate declaration, "I don't want that. Did I not make myself clear when I said that I don't want anyone who's not you? You're the only one I want."

The room fell silent, with even Haerin moaning at his words. You have to acknowledge, deep down, that this feeling is somewhat foreign to you. The sensation of being prioritised, of sharing space with someone who genuinely cherishes and respects your feelings to the extent that Jaemin does, is new and disarming. Reflecting on the past, you realize Hyunjin never offered you this kind of emotional security and consideration. The contrast between then and now is stark, stirring a mix of relief and a poignant sense of what you had long been missing. It's an emotional revelation, understanding for the first time the depth of care you truly deserve and are finally receiving.

A wave of emotions crashed over you, leaving you momentarily breathless. Before you could process his words, he bridged the gap between you, his actions speaking louder than any promise could. His lips met yours with a fervor that conveyed the depth of his sincerity, igniting a spark that quickly turned into a blazing fire.

The kiss was passionate, yet carried a tenderness that enveloped you in warmth and security. His lips moved against yours with a precision that spoke of his deep desire and commitment, each motion reinforcing his declaration. The intensity of the kiss deepened as if each touch, each melding of lips, was a seal over his vow, binding him to you and you alone.

The physical connection was overwhelming, sending ripples of heat through your body. His hands, firm yet gentle, cradled your face, pulling you closer into the kiss, leaving no space for doubts or fears. The world around you faded, leaving only the sensation of being wholly desired and cherished.

You were left with a lingering sense of being deeply connected, not just physically but emotionally. The assurance in Jaemin's kiss, the fervent way his lips claimed yours, left no room for uncertainty. In that moment, you felt a profound reassurance that his heart aligned with his words.

As the intensity of Jaemin's kiss enveloped you, a surge of boldness took over. Your hands found their way to the hem of his shirt. With a shared breath, a silent agreement passed between you, and you began to lift his shirt upwards. Jaemin's response was to pause the kiss momentarily, allowing you just enough space to pull the fabric over his head.

His shirt discarded, you were met with the warmth of his skin, the contours of his muscles under your fingertips, you began tracing the lines and warmth of his back, Jaemin's lips found yours again as you kissed him until you couldn’t breathe. It felt like kissing him was easier than breathing.

THE ONE WITH JAEMIN AND JENO

Jeno’s laughter breaks through, a sound mingled with relief and disbelief. “You can finally stop hiding around with her.” He chuckles, his gaze locking on Jaemin.

Jaemin responds with a breathy, “Thank fuck,.” His relief palpable, a tension he hadn’t realised he was holding released with those words.

Jeno continues, half in jest, half in admonishment. “You weren’t doing a good job at it though, fucking on the balcony above us, really? I had to pull my cover for you guys out of my literal ass. I don’t know how the others bought it.” Despite the humour, there’s an undercurrent of sincerity in his critique, a nod to the lengths he’d go to protect you and him.

Jaemin, feeling a swell of gratitude towards Jeno, turns to him. His shake of the head conveys more than words could—a silent thank you for the cover, for the understanding, for always being there.

Then, Jeno’s tone shifts, the mood turning serious as he changes the direction of the conversation. “Take care of her.” He says, his voice steady, eyes locking onto Jaemin with a depth of concern that’s rare to see.

The sudden seriousness catches Jaemin off guard, but his response is immediate and unwavering. “You know I will.”

Jeno’s next words are heavier, laden with worry. “You know I worry about her.” He confesses, revealing a protective side often hidden beneath his lighthearted exterior.

Jeno’s tone takes on a sombre note, his words heavy with concern and a touch of anger. “Do you know how fucked she got after that dick fucked her over?” He asks, his voice laden with seriousness. “She got high every single night.” He continues, the worry evident in his expression.

Then, he shares something even graver, a fact that underscores the depth of her despair. “She overdosed and ended up in the hospital.” He reveals, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

Jeno’s frown deepens as he recalls the nights filled with your cries, a testament to the pain you endured. The memory of it brings a heavy sigh from him, the kind that echoes with the weight of unspoken words and shared heartaches. “Her room is next to Haerin’s, and I’d just hear her cry every night.” He says, his voice tinged with a sorrow that speaks volumes of the nights spent in worry for you.

Jaemin listens, a storm of emotions playing across his features— he wants to deal with Hyunjin. He feels shock, anger, and an undeniable resolve to protect you. “I’m taking care of her.”

Jaemin understands the heartache of a breakup all too well, having recently navigated the end of his relationship with Yeeun. In the aftermath, he found himself caught in a mess of emotions. He struggled a lot. Time, however, has a way of soothing the sharpest sorrows, and gradually, he felt himself healing, the pieces of his fractured heart beginning to realign. It's in this journey of recovery that he found himself drawn to you, a beacon of hope and a promise of new beginnings.

Or is that what he’s made himself believe?

“She hasn’t gotten high since she’s been with me. I take care of her, I make sure she doesn’t. Jaemin continues, his determination clear. “All I wanna do is make her happy.”

Jeno’s response is a grin, a gesture that reflects his recognition and approval. “Yeah. You are.” He agrees, acknowledging the positive shift he’s witnessed in you. Your friends have noticed the change, seen the light return to your eyes, and watched as your health and spirits lifted. They’ve seen the laughter replace the tears, the strength replace the fragility, all under Jaemin’s tender care.

Jaemin, new to your life, may not have known the depth of your struggles, the lows that once defined your days. Yet, his presence has woven a new narrative, one where happiness fill the spaces that pain once occupied. In the quiet moments, in the soft touches and shared smiles, there’s an intimacy and warmth that envelops you both.

EVERYONE KNOWS NOW

Now, the secret's out—at least among your circle of friends. Shotaro, ever observant, claims he pieced it together during the barbecue, asserting he always knew Jaemin was your mystery man on the balcony. Donghyuck remains unfazed and isolated, lost in thought over his coffee and not making eye contact with anyone, while Yangyang teases you playfully, calling you a "nasty girl." Xiaojun, however, is notably silent, a quiet observer which was odd.

Walking into the campus café, where your friends have gathered, you immediately lock eyes with Jaemin. There's an unspoken conversation in that glance, a connection that speaks volumes, highlighted by your shared smiles. The crowded space leaves no chair for you, but Jaemin easily solves the dilemma, inviting you to sit on his lap with a welcoming gesture. You happily oblige like the good girl you are, you settle into the comfort of his embrace.

The moment you're in his arms, his lips gently press against yours, capturing them in a delicate kiss. His fingers softly caress your thighs under your skirt, coos of affection whispered in your ear. Together, you share smiles, gentle caresses, and tender kisses.

Engrossed in this bubble with Jaemin, you barely register Xiaojun's reaction. His quietness and frown might have caught your attention any other day, but today, the relief of no longer hiding overshadows everything else.

"Did you eat?" Jaemin's voice, low and caring, breaks the spell of your intimate moment. You respond with a shake of your head, and he takes it upon himself to feed you, his actions tender and attentive.

You and Jaemin said your goodbyes to your friends and you’re now walking side by side with him on campus, you find solace in his presence. Words are unnecessary; the silence between you isn't oppressive but rather comforting, a testament to the ease and understanding you share. You're aware of the curious glances directed your way, yet they don't unsettle you. Jaemin seems unfazed as well, his demeanor calm and reassuring.

The thought crosses your mind that you're under scrutiny, possibly judged, yet it doesn't disturb your peace. You recognize that there's nothing wrong in seeking happiness, in reveling in the warmth of Jaemin's hand in yours. However, the shadow of a past fear looms at the edge of your consciousness—the concern about Hyunjin's reaction, a person whose gaze alone might shatter your newfound tranquility.

You had your reasons for keeping your relationship with Jaemin a secret, predominantly due to apprehensions about Hyunjin's influence over your emotions and well-being. The thought of his control over your happiness scares you deeply. But fuck him. You refuse to allow him any power over your current joy.

Hand in hand with Jaemin, each step on the campus grounds feels like a declaration, a step towards what feels right. Despite the past fears and the potential judgement from Hyunjin or anyone else, this moment with Jaemin feels like where you're meant to be—free, unburdened, and genuinely happy.

In a moment that feels suspended in time, you and Jaemin come to a halt amidst the hum of campus life, now rendered inconsequential. The backdrop fades as he gently presses your back against the cool facade of a campus building, his gaze capturing yours with an intensity that's both mysterious and compelling.

Jaemin, with a slow, intentional movement, retrieves a blueberry lollipop from his pocket. The act of unwrapping it, taking a moment to savor its flavor, all the while holding your gaze, adds a layer of anticipation to the already charged atmosphere between you. The tension mounts, every gesture laden with unvoiced promises.

As he closes the distance, the air around you seems to thicken. When your lips finally meet, the kiss is not just an ordinary one—it's a fusion of sensations, the sweetness of the lollipop blending seamlessly with the moment's warmth. This kiss is a discovery, an intimate exploration that goes beyond the physical.

The initial surprise quickly gives way to a mutual passion, your response mirroring his intensity. Your hands find their way into his hair, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss. The flavor of blueberry envelops you, enhancing the experience, making it something entirely unique.

Suddenly, aware of the setting, you gently push him back, a whisper escaping your lips, "Everyone is gonna see us."

His response is a carefree shrug, the words almost a caress in themselves, "When a pretty girl asks me the flavor of my lollipop, should I say no?" His words, teasing yet sincere, dissolve any hesitation, reaffirming the connection between you.

Eager to reclaim the moment, your lips find his once more, reconnecting with an urgency that speaks volumes. This kiss is deeper, fueled by the brief pause, a blend of rebellion and affirmation of your bond. It's a declaration made without words, a shared understanding that what you have is worth the exposure, worth every risk. The sweet taste of the lollipop, now a symbol of your shared secret, lingers as a testament to the complex, beautiful dynamic you share with Jaemin.

The kiss, intense and filled with unspoken emotions, was Jaemin’s way of saying goodbye—a sweet, lingering farewell as he had classes for the rest of the day. You’re left with a smile on your lips, your cheeks burning with a flush that you try to hide by covering them with your hands. Waving goodbye, you watch Jaemin until he disappears from view, the memory of the kiss still vivid in your mind.

But the moment he’s out of sight, a shift occurs. Turning around, you’re confronted with the piercing gaze of Jang Yeeun, her eyes fixed on you with an intensity that feels like a cold shock in contrast to the warmth you just experienced. Her words cut through the air, sharp and accusatory: “So you’re the reason why Jaemin’s been ignoring all of my calls.”

liked it??? send me an ask please <333 please get back at me. give feedback and share your thoughts it would mean the world to me

comment to be added to the tag list for part 2!! (will be a 4 part series)

taglist - @sexygrass @tywritesstuff @666-aiko @leep0ems @kyuuniversee @daegalfangirl @side-effects @kgneptun @thecaffeinatedfangirl @i6renj @hcaeh @buns-inhiding @pinknjm @nominsgirl @liliansun @nominsgirl@ itserylyn1 @carelessshootanonymous @scarredrose25 @kuntyswife @siordior

[lychniis]

❝ i know who i am when i'm alone, i'm something else when i see you. you don't understand, you should never know, how easy you are to need. ❞

HOZIER , IT WILL COME BACK

WELCOME TO ATTAR

the perfumery shall open shortly. please register here [ taglist ], to book an appointment. CLICK HERE TO VIEW UPDATES.

fandoms : genshin impact, honkai star rail

i. WITH THE COMING OF OCTOBER, it's time to set forth kinktober '23! i really appreciate the amount of support i have received from you guys over the past year spent in this blog and i've decided to dip my toes into posting some mature content alongside my usual sfw works!

ii. LET MONSTERS AND HORROR serve our theme, where i hope to entice you with smut ( that has too much plot *shivers in qinxing in the mountain* ), all presented with an array of perfumes to chose from. many thanks to @crystalflygeo for prompt ideas kjhgvbhnj.

iii. PLEASE NOTE THAT THE SCHEDULE IS NOT A FIXED DATE. due to my own projects and college hounding me, the fics will be posted at my own time, though i will endeavor to try and keep them within the constraints of october. they might end up far longer than i would have originally intended.

COMING SOON ON OCTOBER

( note ) : the content linked below is unsuitable for minors. by clicking 'view more', you are verifying yourself as a consenting adult. if you are not of consenting age, then please dni with this post.

SCENT ONE : ( GARDENIA ) ❝ ARARE LITUS ❞ feat. neuvillette.

people round the port have gone missing in the recent weeks, their bodies found by the beaches, clearly having drowned to their miserable ends. neuvillette questions the motives of the person behind it, till he notices the presence of an inquisitive oceanfolk beneath the waters.

⚠︎ CW : mermaid ! reader, dragon ! neuvillete, mentioned murder, reader being very naïve in terms of how humans work, angst / hurt / comfort, fluff domesticity, give these guys a hug, canon compliant, first time, lingerie, temperature play, gentle sex, mutual masturbation, body worship, overstimulation.

SCENT TWO : ( PEONY ) ❝ RARA AVIS IN TERRUS ❞ feat. zhongli.

the world was a dangerous place, for one like you. as the hunters draw close, you seek refuge in a dragon's lair, hoping to find a way to live. the dragon in question lingers close and tolerates your presence. you wonder when he'd demand for more. birds, after all, were so easily torn apart by claws and fangs.

⚠︎ CW : bird hybrid ! reader, dragon ! zhongli, monsterfucking, trafficking and hunting, reader had a pretty rough past prior to this, angst / hurt / comfort, fluff, some attempts at world building, canon divergent / au, mating cycles / heat, breeding kink, orgasm denial, size kink, biting / scratching, bondage, sensory deprivation.

SCENT THREE : ( ORCHID ) ❝ TANQUAM EX UNGUE LEONEM ❞ feat. jing yuan

you try to live your life the best you can. you try to be a good person despite the world wearing you down. however, upon stumbling into abcast away angel with liquid madness running through his veins, the loneliness your four walls bring is replaced with something else. meanwhile jing yuan learns of human fragility and how simple it is, for memories to fade away.

⚠︎ CW : canon divergent, angel ! jing yuan, mara plays a part here, talks about mortality and existentialism, reader is terrified and touchstarved, angst and tragedy, bittersweet ending i suppose, sacrifices, face sitting, electrostimulation, strip tease, mirror sex, praise kink, blindfolds, dom / sub.

SCENT FOUR : ( HYDRANGEA ) ❝ ABYSSUS ABYSSUM INVOCAT ❞ feat. childe

you needed to run, run far away lest the monster beneath your bed devours you whole. childe, however, keeps the chase, for he hungers. he was a charming man, that you could agree with; but the demon he hides away scares you and his undying loyalty to the tsaritsa shall be your undoing.

⚠︎ CW : canon compliant, slight foul legacy ! childe, angst and betrayal, bittersweet ending, reader and childe are childhood friends, making a choice, self sacrifice, breath play, masochism, bruises, predator / prey, against a wall, rough sex, dry humping.

taglist — @silentmoths @crystalflygeo @moraxsthrone @hiraethsdesires @dustofthedailylife @celestewritestoomuch @genshinboys @kaelily @ofoceansandtombsanew

AINE | 2023. do no plagiarize, repost or rework this piece.

[fluffysucker]

Epilogue

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)

A/N: Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.

I'm very thankful for all of you who have read this story and shared their thoughts and opinions. It really means so much to me.

Let me know if any of you want to stay in my taglist. Also I do take requests if you want. And my inbox is always open

Thank you so much♡♡♡♡

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

You stood in front of the stairs, glaring at them. If looks could kill, they would be on fire. They are your worst enemy right now. You took a deep breath, refusing to let them win. You held onto the railings for dear life, taking very slow steps down. One by one. You almost screamed in victory once you finished the stairs. You moved to the kitchen when you could already hear the chaos happening.

"Good morning, my babies." You made your presence known in the kitchen with your cheerful greeting, also declaring that you were in a good mood. There was no need to avoid you.

A mix of "Good morning, mommy" filled your ears as you moved to give each of your kids a kiss. You turned to your husband, who looked like he, too, expected a good morning kiss. But you turned to get a bottle of water from the fridge. The audacity. Like he hasn't done enough.

You sat in between your children, where Bucky put your plates filled with your favourite food. You thanked him reluctantly and kept on talking to Theo and Lily. It wasn't long before you heard the honk of the school bus. Bucky helped them out as you wished them a good day.

"So the silent treatment is only for me?" Bucky asked as he walked back into the kitchen.

"I think it's the least you deserve." You replied, eating your food.

"C'mon. It's going to be fun." Daggers shot from your eyes at your husband. Only for giggles to fill the place.

"See, Sam agrees with me." Bucky was grateful he could find someone to help him.

"No, he is laughing at how stupid his dad is." You turned to look at your smiling toddler in his chair.

"Isn't that right, sweetie?" You asked as you fed the toddler a spoonful of his food.

Your year and a half old baby, who was named after his Uncle Sam as a thank you for his help and support, was fully laughing. A laugh that warmed your heart.

You got up to get some juices out of the fridge. You opened the cupboard to get a cup, but you couldn't reach it. Somehow, you got shorter this time. There was no explanation for this.

"C'mon, doll. You can't blame me for making sure you never leave me." Bucky said as he handed you your favourite cup at the moment.

"Who is known for leaving who, Barnes?" An offended gasp left Bucky's mouth at your words.

"Cheap shot, doll." Bucky said as he added more food to Sam's plate. And your favourite vegetables chopped into yours.

"And I think you should keep it in your pants or get a vasectomy because I can't do this again." You got back to your place, resting your hand on your swallowing belly.

"But I already bought a car big enough for a football team." You threw the piece of toast at him. God, he was so annoying. But you were his to annoy.

"Plus, don't act like you didn't enjoy it. I'm pretty sure that one is all your fault." Bucky came to sit next to you.

"How so?" You asked as you fed your toddler, who was having so much fun watching his parents bicker.

"You seduced me. What exactly were you expecting when you wore that dress on my birthday? A man can handle so much." A smirk formed on his face at the memory of the day.

"So you made sure I could never look good again." You pointed to your six-month-pregnant belly.

"Nothing can ever make this true. You are always going to be the most beautiful and prettiest woman ever." Bucky wasn't just saying this to boast about your confidence, which had been lacking lately, but because he truly believed. In his eyes, you only get prettier by the day.

"You are unbelievable." You woke up to get some water. That baby was dehydrating you like a desert.

As you closed the fridge, you felt Bucky's hand around your baby bump, and you instantly relaxed into his touch.

"Okay, one more baby. Then we can see. But I'm not getting a vasectomy." Bucky kept laying small kisses on your neck until you turned to look at him.

Maybe if he stopped looking at you like you were his world, you could resist. Maybe if he didn't shower you with affection and love, you would be able to keep it together. Maybe if he wasn't always there for you, you would have something to say.

You gave up and smiled at him. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a soft kiss that didn't last as long as he wanted.

"You will be the death of me, Bucky Barnes."

Taglist: @lethallyprotected @almosttoopizza @ragingrainbowshipl @dexter99 @xdarkcreaturex @nash-dara @paarthurnax59 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @unaxv @missmielyhoran @wintermischief @kandis-mom @aboobie @ozwriterchick @pattiemac1 @noahspickettfence @a--1--1--3 @elsie-bells

[pix3lplays]

Hello, 🌌 Anon here! I'm enjoying too much of your works—can't stop laughing FR omg 😭

I hope you don't mind this request, since it's going to be an angst one:

Mentor!Reader w/ Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan & Luocha, where Reader dies protecting them for the last time.

Before they die, they say with a smile, "Come give your mentor one final hug...yeah?" And this ends up with Reader shielding them from a huge attack as they die.

I hope you're having a good day/night! Be sure to take care of yourself! Tysm for making me smile—your posts always make my day :)

Hi 🌌 anon! I’m so happy you’ve been enjoying my works oh my gosh I’ve been having a blast writing hehe~

Yes let’s do this Angst request oh my gosh yay

I’ll try to take care of myself, thank you so much!

You’re so nice oh my gosh, thank you, I’m so glad my posts can make your day😭😭😭😭

prepare for some ANGST

Cw: violence, blood

-Honkai Star Rail men with a mentor!reader who dies protecting them-

Dan Heng: Dan Heng desperately tries to avoid what you’re about to do. Tries to push you away from him, out of the way, but it’s too late, you’re determined to take the blow for him. He watches in horror for a second as your body crumples to the floor, and he dispatches the enemy swiftly before he returns to your dying body, kneeling next to you. Once he realizes your dead, he doesn’t know WHAT to do. The Astral Express crew hold a very special funeral for you, and he spends his time locked in the archives, reading over and adding to your files, missing you so much. He treasures your lessons, writes them out and updates the archives on you. Soon you’re the most interesting file in the archive. And he’s glad when others read your story. But he doesn’t like to talk about what happened to you. It’s another one of his closely guarded secrets. He feels ashamed he couldn’t save you, and that his beloved mentor had to die.

Gepard Landau: Gepard knows what’s happening. He knows what’s coming but he can’t stop it. He just has to witness the horror as your life is ripped away in front of him. He holds your dying body, asking, pleading for a reason, why you would sacrifice yourself for him? You can’t answer. You die before you can. And he is left all alone in this world. The Silvermane guards and Supreme Guardian Bronya all honor your sacrifice at your funeral. Gepard gives the funeral speech, with a shaky voice, but he is determined to honor you and your life story. He’s a little lost without you. A little quieter, more stern, and he throws himself into his work to distract himself from your death. Not the healthiest, but it’s how he copes. And he has Serval there to help him cope too.

Jing Yuan: Jing Yuan can’t believe he’s losing another mentor figure. You hugged him and he had to feel the sensation of your life being ripped away from you, and now he’s on the ground, cradling your bleeding body, asking why you did it, not that you could answer him now. It’s happening again. AGAIN. He doesn’t know what to do, he gathers his nerves and avenges you, and then holds a grand funeral on the Luofu for you, attended by many many people. He doesn’t know what to do without you, but he knows he has to move on. He passes your teachings down onto Yanqing, and tells your story, honors your memory. You’re hailed as a hero on the Luofu, and the anniversary of your death is commemorated by many.

Luocha: as soon as the attack hits and you crumple in his arms, you know this man is DESPERATELY using every healing technique he knows, even the forbidden ones. He’s doing anything he can to bring you back, but you’re too far gone, your wounds are too deep. He can’t save you. For the first time, you see Luocha begin to cry a little bit as the life fades from your body. He remains with your body for a long while, trying every healing art, anything that might work even though he Knows you’re gone. He never surrenders you though. You become the next coffin he carries around, and if anyone asks he can warmly tell them that you were his beloved mentor, who died…protecting him.

[fluff-n-cookies]

You may call me crow anon

Idk how any of this worls as i recently joined tumblr

But can i pls ask for platonic dabi who comes looking for sister reader after she moved out years ago from the todorkoi house and only keeps contat with fyumi, natsuo and occasionally rei?

Idl man

HI I don't know Either but WELCOME TO TUMBLR, I hope you enjoy your stay. I will add you to my anon list on my rules for requests page and. I hope to hear from you again, and fun fact you are my first EVER anon so thank you, It's my pleasure.

ANNNNDD for the sake of the story the reader has pink hair.

warnings Dabi tries to commit suicide. and some swearing.

RUN. do nothing but RUN.

RUN to find her. RUN to safety. RUN AWAY from the police.

Dabi's Inner monologue rang loud, louder than any other, louder than the sound of the police and the hero's trying to catch him. so, damn, loud.

Panting, the young 15 year old Dabi, who somehow managed to dye his hair and steal food for 2 years of his life, turned a swift corner into the alley way before jumping up to climb the fire shoot, it was now when it occurred to him.

(y/n) would not be happy to see the man you have become.

he froze for a second, scared, he did his best, he tried so hard to be a hero, a hero for his older sister, for she who believed in him when none else would, but it wasn't until the scorching pain of blood polling at his eye bags that he started to move again.

oh how he admired her, and her dreams of becoming rich, dreams of being someone other than their father daughter.

too bad they were broken down and beaten everyday.

too bad that Touya had to sit there and watch his darling sister, his one and only light, be dimmed and overshadowed.

it was worse he couldn't do anything.

it was worse he just could watch.

it was painful. even more so when at 16 she told him she'll be back soon, hugged their mom good bye, handed him a sheet of paper with the Words "We'll meet again" written in shabby hand writing, took the car and never cam back again, it wasn't for 4 hours at Touya realized something was wrong, it took Rei 1 day to notice something was wrong, it took 6 days for endeavor to notice, and 3 months before he actually started to care... that his car was gone. Fuyumi asked where "big sister" went, Enji never told her, and every time she would ask Rei, Rei would just burst into tears, eventually, Fuyumi stopped asking, Natsuo thought she was still at school, and Shoto simply forgot she existed. that year was the same year he faked his death, that was the year Touya Todoroki died, the day Dabi was born.

eventually he grew tired, the police had lost him, so had the heroes so why run when you're not being chased?

Dabi came to a stop, looking around before lighting a cigarette he stole from a convenience store sighing out the smoke, the hot smoke a huge contrast to the cool summer breeze, like you her kindness was a huge contrast to the rest of the family.

no one really acted right in the Todoroki household, their they were cold and brash, or had mental issues, most had daddy issues, and all should really go to therapy, she on the other hand was softer, kinder, a soul who needed helping but put the needs of other before herself. soft words, soft pink hair (a mix of white and red, odd since no-one else had pink hair.) and the most welcoming smile you ever saw.

she was always like that,

always such an angel.

Dabi leaned on the railing of the short building, smoking, reminiscing on memories of the past.

leaning too hard, and falling.

at this point it was intentional, how one to endure such horrors, who is the deity was cruel enough to taunt him by giving him the soul he adored the most and then ripping it right out of his hands?

it was a short fall, just as it was a short building, but he didn't land on concrete instead he landed on the dumpster.

greeted by the smell of dog shit, and the feel of soggy cardboard and black plastic garbage bags.

"the hell?" he whispered a sort of surprise that came to him as he realized this was not hell, but a smaller, stinkier, hell.

he was even more surprised when he realized he was not alone.

"oh dear! sir are you alright?!" a gentle voice yelled out, she was wearing a soft (favorite color) dress, and had the kindest eyes, that was the only way to describe her.

she helped him out of the dumpster, not even looking at his face.

just like (y/n) would

"hey, stay with me, we'll go to my apartment, just hold on tight."

she didn't even mind the smell of smoke on his T-shirt.

all he remembers after that is fighting, fight to stay awake, fight to thank the angel that is his savior.

then he remembers sinking into the soft cushions of a warm red or orange couch.

like fall, her favorite season. (sorry if you don't like fall)

then the angel came back, now is when she noticed the purple scorches, the piercing blue eyes, and the little white segments near the roots.

he was sure she was going to scream, he was sure she was going to run and flee, and call the police, but instead she carried on, gave him an ice pack, checked his temperature, check for any major wounds gave him some water.

nervously, she asked "I'm sorry to be asking this but are you by any chance a endeavor hater."

Dabi chuckled fighting back the blood from reaching his eyes this was her alright.

"(y/n), big sis," blood threatened to trickle down what was left of his cheeks.

poor girl, choked out a sob, scared to even embrace him scared he'll drift away like she drifted away from him, salty tears prickled the edges of her eyes.

"To-Touya," she gulped "I-"

she pulled him right toward her, holding him tight, just like she would when they were younger and Dabi had a nightmare and was scared, except now, Dabi was truly scared, sacred of both himself and the future, scared you would poof into vapor his arms if he hugged you too tight.

"I"M SORRY" she yelled out, letting her own tears fall.

that night was spent in a shabby apartment, that night was spent together, that bight Dabi promised himself.

I'm never letting you go, ever.

I TRIED MY BEST BUT IT WAS SHITTY ANYWAYS BYYEEEE

[hypersonic04]

ross and teacher running into an ex and the other one getting kinda jealous 😮‍💨

Omg I love this idea SO much. As I mentioned before, jealous Ross >>>

I know I said that maybe you’d been a bit awkward at school and not really been in proper relationships, but I do think there was someone at university. It wasn’t very serious, you were young and it was just a bit of fun (that did ultimately leave you heartbroken lol). Anyways, you’re just out running some errands, Ross needs a new shirt for an event at school, so you’re just in a department store helping him pick things out. You’ve had a lovely day - gone for some lunch, he’s treat you to a few bits (which you were adamant not to let him do, but you’re his girl! how can he not?), and now you’re just having a little wander, hand in hand.

You’re just stood looking at some of the clothes, looking for Ross’ size in a sweater, when you feel a tap on your shoulder - it’s your old kind-of-boyfriend!

“Y/n?”

“Oh my goodness!” You smile and accept the hug he offers. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen each other, and the memories of being 19 come flooding back. As stressed as you felt at uni, there were more good memories than bad, and it was a lovely time in your life.

“It’s been ages! You look great! How’ve you been?” He’s definitely a bit too smiley and a bit too enthusiastic, and his hand on your shoulder makes you uncomfortable.

“Yeah, I’m good, thank you! How are you?” As you speak, you’re discreetly looking around for Ross, and you spot him as he’s making his way over to you. There’s a slight crease in his brow, the kind that only you would notice. As he meets your eye line, he raises his eyebrows a bit, almost telepathically asking you who he is.

“I’m good, yeah, thank you-“ his voice trails off a bit when Ross comes over, plastering a sweet smile on his face and standing beside you.

“Y’alright, mate? I’m Ross, y/n’s boyfriend.” They shake hands but you can see the tension in Ross’ face.

“Ross, this is Ben, we went out in uni.” You look between both, and you’d be lying if you said Ross’ jealousy wasn’t very attractive. He raises his eyebrows at you again as you nod in an attempt to diffuse the tension.

“It’s been lovely to see you again, y/n. I should probably go, need to get back to work, but you should message me! Maybe we could meet up for a drink or something?”

“It was nice to see you too!” You smile with a nod, giving him a wave as he walks off.

You turn back to the rail of jumpers and can feel Ross’ eyes on you.

“Everything okay?” You glance at him, pretending not to see the way his mouth forms a straight line and his eyes are arguably a shade darker than usual.

“Ben, hm?” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, Ben.” You frown a little, grabbing his size in the jumper. “Just an ex-boyfriend.”

“You’ve never told me about Ben.” The way he says his name makes you unsure whether to giggle or be intimidated.

“He’s never come up. It was nothing, just a fling at uni.”

“He clearly didn’t think it was nothing.” He scoffs as he follows you to the tills.

“Ross, we went out for about two months, haven’t seen him in years.”

He’s a bit quiet as you leave, heading back to the car.

“What’s wrong?” You turn to him as he turns to look through the rear window, one hand on the wheel.

“Nothing.” He says a bit too quickly.

“Is it about earlier?”

“What happened earlier?”

“Oh, give it a rest.” You scoff, looking at him as he keeps his eyes on the road. “With Ben. Are you annoyed about earlier?”

“No, I’m not annoyed.” He shrugs a bit. “I don’t know, I just…”

You don’t say anything, watching his face like you can see the cogs turning in his head, figuring out the right way to word his feelings.

“I just don’t like the idea of someone else, another man, knowing you like I do.”

It takes you aback, how open he is with you. He glances at you like he’s worried he’s said the wrong thing, but the way the corners of your mouth dare to curve upwards keeps him talking.

“I don’t know. You never really talk about your exes. In my head, I’m the only person in the world that knows you like that. It’s like I can read your mind sometimes, and the thought of someone else having the privilege of that… I don’t know. I guess it makes me jealous.”

He swallows heavily and flexes his hands slightly on the wheel, glancing at you.

“You’re right, Ross. You are the only person in the world that can read my mind.” You pull his free hand into your lap over the console, watching as his shoulders ease at your touch. “I promise, I’ve never had anything like this in my life.”

He brings the back of your hand to his lips and presses a kiss there, visibly more relaxed as you ease his worries.

“Although, seeing you all jealous was very hot.” You mumble, looking down at your lap.

“Oh, really?” He laughs a bit, raising his eyebrows at you.

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: THEM -Danny Words: 1,956 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'If It Wasn't (For You)' -by Jacob Noah

XXIX: Emotionally Repressed by Day, Socially Inept by Night

Leo makes a beeline to the control panels and sets the Archimedes sphere back in place. Ara hangs her Octopi over one shoulder and makes her way to the stairs, but then she spots Nico.

He's usually at the top mast or in Hazel's room until it's time for bed and he leaves to... wherever he sleeps. But he's leaning against the stern's handrail today, looking right at her. Ara lets out a heavy sigh, he wants to talk to her, and it won't be fun. 

"What?" She asks.

Nico eyes her before replying. "You got your stuff back?"

Ara leans on the railing and stares at the sea. "You ate?"

"Yeah, the birthday cake they made for you," he replies sarcastically. "I thought you'd died so I didn't want to waste it."

Ara lowers her gaze. "Did you tell them?"

Nico snorts. "I thought you would've told them all about you by now, that's how it always is with you."

She makes a face. "Some of it, not all. But Leo knows it all. He was always asking for stories and Jason had no memories, so I had to give him context."

Nico looks at her with a sarcastic smirk she's grown to loathe. "Bet it felt good to be someone's hero at last."

"Can we not do this today?" Ara groans. "Tomorrow we can do the whole thing all over but... it's the worst birthday of my life, man. I'm already going through it. Can't you enjoy in silence?"

That seems to bother Nico. "I take no pleasure in seeing you suffer, Ara. It annoys me that you try so hard to be something you're not."

"What are you talking about?"

"You can be who you are unapologetically and for some reason, you prefer to walk around in that stupid cloak, completely unlike you, and it makes you miserable—"

"The cloak gives me purpose—"

"Nemesis talked to you, right? Hazel said you never told them who you saw, so who was it?"

She hates having to look up when talking to Nico, he's a year younger than her and yet he could get half the things she's gained way easier. He could be happy, and he could've been the friend Lily needed when Ara failed her. Now both of them left their friend alone, standing on the remains of their broken promises.

"That is none of your business," she says tensely.

Nico's gaze is unwavering. "I talked to Achilles before taking Percy, and what he said—"

"Let me guess," Ara tilts her head, an ironic smile on her lips. "Something about ambition being our worst enemy or whatever? You're too late, Hercules already warned me about it."

The boy frowns. "I can't believe you chose to follow their path. Every win they got sent innocent people to their early graves."

Ara's heart stings at his comment. "Don't talk about them like that."

"I'm talking about you, you should know better," he glares at her. "You saw Percy take risks for nothing, you saw Mike die thanks to it. Beckendorf, and Bianca—" He cuts his speech short, turning away, then clears his throat forcefully. "You and Lily treat your birthdays like they don't matter, and all I can think is... she can't even have that."

He lets out a dry laugh and shakes his head.

"'Course—she joined the hunters before dying, so she would still be twelve years old no matter what." Nico runs a hand over his face and squeezes his eyes shut. "She wasn't allowed to grow old, but you are, and don't want to."

It would be easier to stab his soft spots until he shows his fangs again, but she can't bring herself to do it. Ara's lost her brother, Annabeth, and Leo is next. She's tired of the fights.

Ara moves slowly to make sure he knows what she's doing, giving him the chance to step back. He doesn't. The boy takes a shaky breath, keeps his eyes closed, and lets Ara absorb some of his hurt. As soon as she does, her heart squeezes in a way that takes the air out of her lungs, she tries to talk, but her throat is tight with grief. 

Nico relaxes only enough to keep talking. "I know it sounds... cruel... but I'm glad she's not with them. I prefer missing her than resenting her my entire life."

"I regret not convincing her to stay," Ara admits hoarsely. "We were the same age, but Bianca was braver. If I'd taken my lessons seriously since the start, I could've shown her what camp could offer us..."

"Us?" He opens his reddened eyes, still scowling at her.

"Orphan kids." She looks down in shame. "I wasn't a hero, Nico, you're right. I chose what was best for me. I'm sorry." 

It's the first time she apologizes to Nico. It might be the grief she's absorbed, but Ara couldn't phantom the extent of Nico's pain until now, it feels just like when she lost Mike. She never showed regret, if anything, she'd made it clear that she thought nothing of Bianca. Now her words are coming out like they had been lying there for ages, rotting her core.

The way Nico reacted when Percy told him about Bianca, now that he and Annabeth are in Tartarus, she understands it. He's the only person on this ship who shares her anger and doesn't treat it like a scary thing.

The girl cleans her nose with the back of her sleeve. "I shouldn't say it now that I have their blessing, but I hated them for a while too. When Jason came and Thalia found him I realized it was you and Bianca all over again. My fate is to watch everything fall apart."

Nico stares at her, sighs tiredly, and dries her tears, his knuckles are cold against her skin but surprisingly gentle, which makes her feel even guiltier for all the times that she's punched his face. For the first time, he looks worried for her.

"It's okay if you don't want cake," he says. "But you should eat. The Kerkopes handed your ass to you."

Ara sniffs again. "I'm taking this conversation as you wishing me a happy birthday, so I'll say 'What the Tartarus you mean by 'happy', you jerk? Read the room', then I'll walk away and you can insult me and we can pretend this didn't happen."

"Tu sei sciocca."

Someone clears their throat in front of them and Ara looks back, spotting Leo. He's looking at them weirdly. Ara realizes she's holding Nico's hand. "You had issues putting the sphere back in place?" She asks, letting go of the boy.

Leo glances at Nico before replying.  "Came to ask if we should hold a meeting now or wait until tomorrow."

It's not like she's enjoying her birthday, but she's not in the mood to hold a second meeting today. "Let's call it a day. I'm tired."

Leo nods, unable to shrug off the jealousy. "Yeah, I'm tired too."

Nico walks past them. "I'll take the night watch."

"Thank you," Ara says kindly. Her boyfriend frowns at their behavior but says nothing.

Leo comes to her cabin before sundown, and Ara makes room for him to sit. The boy enters reluctantly, like he'd rather be somewhere else.

"What you saw," she starts right away. "It's nothing."

Leo pulls out screws and wires from his belt and braids them to avoid her eyes. "Looked like something..."

"I can explain it," Ara pouts.

"Forget it," When he smiles it looks genuine, but the girl knows it's not real. "Came to give you a present."

"Oh?" She blinks. "You didn't have to..."

"You thought I'd let the day pass by?" The boy raises a brow. "I'm better than that!"

"Well, it was a busy day," Ara chuckles. "What is it?"

"I'm new to this whole getting-presents-for-my-girlfriend thing, and you're not easy—you don't have hobbies outside pretending to watch movies with me," he teases her.

The girl tilts her head with amusement. "So?"

"So... I'm a mechanic and an inventor. I could build you the weapon of your dreams," he makes a face. "Then I realized Almighty is pretty much it—I was going through my options and it wasn't looking great..." Leo rambles.

"I don't care for presents," she admits. "I spend all my birthdays in camp, so it's more like a day to do whatever I want—"

"I know," he interrupts her. "I know you're all about practicality and utility."

He pulls an item out of his tool belt: a black hair tie. It's decorated with a bronze dove, the wings spread open like it's either taking flight or landing. Leo holds her hand and places it around her wrist.

"Then I thought, Ara is always losing her scrunchies, her hair is always on her face while we're fixing stuff—and I know it drives you crazy. So I made you this."

He presses on the dove's breast and moves back when it expands, creating a large shield with an Omega engraved at the front. Ara turns her arm to examine it, her mouth falling open. "What!"

"Hercules and Achilles had stuff made for them. You needed a shield," he says, fidgeting with scraps from his belt as he waits for a full reaction. "I know your compass turns into a shield but if you needed to also use it as a sword you'd be... though you aren't helpless and also have Lily's dagger but..."

While Leo rambles, Ara turns her arm and spots a bronze buckle on the leather strap. She snaps it open and the shield goes back to being a hair tie. The girl throws her arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Leo stops talking and laughs, vividly glowing. It's like the setting sun is shining directly on him through the porthole window. His arms wrap around her waist. "Don't mention it."

Ara cups his face, a bunch of annoying butterflies making her mind fuzzy. "It must've taken you ages, I don't know what to say..."

He smirks. "Took me like a month, it wasn't that hard—but if you insist I wouldn't mind a few kisses if you're that grateful."

Ara kisses his face and neck effusively, making him giggle like a little kid, then she finds his lips and Leo makes a vastly different noise at the contact. This day doesn't seem so bad now.

"Y'know..." he mumbles in between kisses. "If you really feel like thanking me, you can give me my present in advance?" He pulls her close, and Ara blushes down to her neck. 

"What?" She squeaks.

Leo laughs. "I'm just messing with you."

"Don't joke like that!" She tries to escape his grip.

The boy grabs her chin and gives her another kiss, falling back with her on top. "Sorry, doll. Can't help it! I love how flustered you get."

Ara leans down and gives him a butterfly kiss, making him squirm a little bit. He's always been a big fan of small affectionate gestures, of any affectionate gesture, as long as it's Ara doing it. She pushes herself up and smiles. "También te amo. Now get out of my cabin."

Leo's eyes brighten. "No! Let me—let me hear you say that again!" He begs while Ara gets to the door. "Sunshine, let me stay over! It's your birthday!"

"Yeah, exactly. I want to sleep alone. Your birthday is in two days, if you want to sleep with me then, I'll comply."

Leo looks at her with a huge smile. "For real?"

"Well, I'm learning Spanish, which must mean I don't joke about commitment," Ara gestures at the exit again. "Now leave me alone."

"You're so rude," Leo says, though he sounds delighted. "I'll respect your autonomy today, but on my birthday, I'll have none of that. Be ready to have a Leo Valdez all over you on the 7th!"

The boy kisses her cheek effusively when he walks past, and Ara leans into it laughing. "The warning should go to the rest of our poor crew, not me."

"I don't love them enough to warn them."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh

[pedrito-friskito]

give what you take - frank castle x fem!reader (hell’s angel part ii)

summary: close calls in the windy city, and frank just can’t stay away from you.

warnings: okay so I thought the first one was raunchy? uh. canon-typical violence (if you watched the show you can handle this) - oral (m and f receiving), the briefest mention of squirting, brat!kink, dom!frank, frank’s filthy mouth, fingering, cursing, more than a few soft moments in this one cuz frank has taken up residence in my heart THANKS

a/n: yeah….I really wasn’t expecting the reaction I got from head to head but then I blinked and there was a whole series idea in my head, so here is part 2! it is LONG (I make no apologies though cuz I actually think this is some of my best shit lol) - almost 11k words, but there’s actually plot??? so enjoy 🥰

| main masterlist | series masterlist | ao3 |

Location: Chicago, Illinois

You scramble up the nearest fire escape, heartbeat in your throat, slamming against your ribs like its trying its hardest to burst from your chest. Below, a gunshot ricochets off the metal, making the whole fucking ladder shake with the impact. You grip the rail tighter, biting back the whimper that crawls up your spine. Chancing a look over the side, you see your pursuer staring back at you, a shit-eating grin on his face, an unkind laugh echoing its way up to you. The gold card in his hand glints up at you, catching on the strained sunlight barely breaking through the gloomy clouds above.

It’s too fucking early for this shit.

“Can’t run forever, Angel!” he calls. “I’ll just find you again!”

You turn back, continuing up the steps until you’re on the rooftop, rolling over the edge and sprawling flat on your back on the gravel. Your arm stings something fierce; his aim was shit but he’d managed to graze your shoulder. Blood wets your palm when you grip it, squeezing the wound over your coat. Fuck. You just had the thing dry-cleaned, too.

Panting, you pull yourself up, shuffling along the roof so you remain out of sight, to make him think you’ve taken off across the skyline. With any luck, he’ll head for the streets, try and pick you out overhead and come up empty. Even so, you reach into your coat, procuring the pistol.

It’s the same pistol Frank Castle had kicked towards you that night in New York. When he’d come to dance and you’d ended up doing everything but. Part of you still genuinely wonders if he’s a good dancer. Maybe you’ll never find out.

Maybe he’ll call you from that burner you left him, and you’ll get to learn.

Curling your fingers around the gun’s grip, a memory sparks, flooding your brain and leaving your body tingling. Frank, pressed against the wall of the house you’d claimed as your own, kicking the pistol towards you, giving you a nod, his lips parted and chest heaving. The Punisher, giving you the go ahead, trusting you to take down the man gunning for him.

It quickly bleeds into another image: Frank with his tongue down your throat. Frank with his big hand wrapped around your neck, cupping your chin. Frank with his face buried in your pussy, holding your legs  around his ears and making you cum on his tongue.

Another gunshot rattles you back to present day, whistling upwards and hitting the light mounted to the roof, not twenty feet from where you’re propped up. Another whimper slides up towards your teeth but you bite it back. Don’t cry, don’t cry, you do not fucking cry.

Except, fuck, you really want to. Things are not looking good.

He’d tried to grab you in broad fucking daylight.

And it was…him.

Betrayal tastes just as bitter the second time around, but here, in a city that’s not your own, that you’re not familiar with, it hurts double. And this time, he’s not just after your cash. He’s after your life. You’ll be damned if you let him have it, but it makes anxiety seep through your bloodstream, mixing with the adrenaline and leaving you queasy. Maybe you should have stayed in New York.

Maybe you should have stayed with Frank.

Shaking your head, you sink down deeper, rolling onto your stomach. The blood’s stopped flowing for now, and you army-crawl on your good arm, heading for the corner of the roof. If you can just line up a good shot, maybe you can end this here and now.

But when you finally make it to the corner, pull yourself carefully up to the edge to peer down at the street below, you find nothing but an empty alleyway. Fuck.

The sound of a door opening bursts through the too-quiet afternoon air, and you whirl, lifting your pistol. “Easy, lady!” It’s not him, which takes you a second to realize, and you lower the gun, shoulders sagging with relief as you haul ass to your feet, brush past the startled young dude you just pointed a gun at, and slip through the open door behind him.

There’s a Chinese restaurant in the lower level of the building, and you slip straight through the dining room and into the kitchen, gun still in hand, ignoring the shouts of protest and snagging a take-out container of noodles as you go, disappearing through the back door and heading straight into the next building.

The convenience store has a counter manned by an elderly woman who looks half asleep as you bee-line for the back, pushing your way into a disgusting bathroom and stowing your stolen noodles and your pistol in the pockets of your coat. You peel the sleeve off your injured arm, wincing as you go, covering the bloody skin with a wad of paper towel before pulling your coat back into place. You should send the fucker your dry cleaning bill, just for that.

You snag a chocolate bar and a bottle of gatorade, actually paying for the items — when you emerged from the bathroom, the old lady was watching you like a hawk — before heading back out. You scan the street before you step through the door, immediately crossing the street and heading into the business complex that takes up the other side of the road.

And that’s how it continues, blood pounding in your ears and your shoulder pulsing with every step, until you get…home. Or, more aptly put, the almost-shit-hole hotel you’ve been calling home for the last few weeks. It’s been nearly two months now, since you left New York, since you woke up in the arms of the Punisher and immediately knew you needed to get the hell out of dodge.

Biggest mistake of your life? It was certainly starting to feel that way.

But you’d left him that burner, the number you used most often the only one programmed in, and hoped that he’d call. You’d thought about making the first move yourself more than once since you left, but something always stopped you. And you definitely weren’t about to turn tail back to New York, not after the mess you’d left behind.

It feels like an eternity before you finally step through the door, immediately closing and locking it behind you, going to far as to drag the desk chair over and jam it under the doorknob. It’s not much, but it’ll at least give you a heads up if he decides to come knocking.

You stick the noodles in the microwave, pull your first aid kit out from where you’d stashed it under the bed, and carefully shrug out of your jacket. The paper towel from the convenience store has done a shit job of soaking up the blood, more just smearing it around your skin and getting caught in the gash. Your grit your teeth as you pull it away, reaching into your kit for supplies.

More memories spark as you clean the wound. Gauze pressed to your shoulder, Frank’s wide palm wrapped around your thigh, fingers getting dangerously close to your wet heat. His hands on your hips, pulling you down onto his cock, calling you good girl. Fingers on your chin, tracing your bottom lip, looking at you the way he did.

You really are something, sweetheart, you know that?

Your fingers shake as you stitch, and you curse, knowing it’ll leave a ragged scar, an ugly reminder of this time in your life. Tying off the thread and wrapping your arm in a bandage, your head feels heavy, the weight of the day catching up with you, the threat that seems to be following you around like a shadow — and not the sexy shadow Frank had provided — making hot tears crawl up your throat.

You turn on the TV, strip off the rest of your clothes, and perch on the edge of the unmade bed in your underwear, poking through your stolen noodles, pistol on your thigh. You haven’t had the courage to keep it anywhere out of arm’s reach lately, the cold metal a reminder that you know how to take care of yourself, that you’re perfectly capable of keeping yourself safe.

But right now? You really wish you didn’t have to.

You sniff hard, wiping wayward tears from your cheeks, and as if on cue, your phone starts to ring, vibrations shaking it across the table on the other side of the room. You all but toss the noodles aside, gun sliding into the sheets, and you pick up the phone, eyes scanning the number rolling across the screen, breath hitching in your throat.

Frank.

Sliding a shaking finger across the screen, you clear your throat hard, swallowing back the tears you’ve let fall thus far. Lifting the phone to your ear, you shove a hand through your hair. “Was wondering when I was gonna hear from you,” you drawl, masking your emotions best you can.

It earns you a husky laugh in return, one that makes you melt back onto the edge of the bed. Who the fuck is this guy, anyway? Why does he have such a hold on you, even three states away and after only one night in his bed? What the fuck?

“Woulda called sooner,” he rasps through the phone, and you sprawl back on the mattress, fisting a hand in the sheets. “Got into a bit of trouble after you left.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmhm, took care of it,” he mumbles. “You still bumming around Chicago?”

“For now,” you say, sitting up, retrieving your noodles from where they’re balanced on the mattress edge. “The Punisher making an appearance in the windy city?”

“Not him,” Frank says, “but Frank Castle just might, if you’ll have him. Not hunting you this time, sweetheart, not unless you want me to.”

You hum. “That’s an enticing offer. My bed has been rather empty since I left New York.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl, and the possessive tone in his voice when he whispers good sends a thrill through you, distracting your clouded mind for a moment. You let your eyes sink shut, remembering how warm his skin was, how good it felt when he pulled your hair, that satisfying fill of him inside you. You need it again, there’s no denying that.

“Can be there in twelve hours, princess,” he says, and you chew your lip at the nickname. “You gonna meet me somewhere?”

You rattle off the name of the hotel, telling him you’ll send the address to the burner. “I’ll leave a key for you at the front desk,” you say, “under…” You tell him your name then — your real name — and you don’t miss the sharp inhale on his end of the line when you say it.

He repeats it, the syllables slow but sure on his tongue, and it sends a chill down your spine.

“Just do me a favour,” you continue, “and keep calling me Angel.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replies, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “See ya soon.”

And the line goes dead.

+

As promised, a little under twelve hours later — yeah, he sped a bit on the highway, who gives a fuck? — Frank is in Chicago. He parks in the lot, slings his bag over his shoulder, sticks a handgun in the back of his jeans, and heads inside. He gives your name to the scrawny kid behind the counter, still silently delighting in the feel and sound of your name, and lifts a brow when the kid scrambles to find him the card, sliding it across with shaking hands. “Third floor,” the kid tells him, and Frank just nods, takes the card, and heads for the elevator.

The room is a fucking mess when he steps in the door, sheets strewn across the king-sized bed, empty takeout containers everywhere he looks, your godforsaken coat draped on the chair in the corner. There’s blood on the sleeve, and Frank tilts his head to the side. No way you would have left the thing stained for that long, and New York was almost two months ago.

He shuts the door behind him, flicks every lock and slides the desk chair beneath the handle. He tosses his bag on the bed, toes off his boots, drops his coat on the desk.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, light streaming into the otherwise dark room, steam curling around the door jamb. He nudges through the door, waving a hand through the steam, and you lift your soaked head, big eyes pinning him in place.

You’re crying, eyes red and bloodshot, and even through the wet glass, he can see the poorly stitched gash on your arm, weeping red across your skin. You say his name so quietly he can’t hear it over the pounding water, but he watches it curve across your mouth, your lip wobbling before your teeth sink into it.

In an instant, he’s stripping out of his clothes, jeans and boxers and t-shirt forming a heap on the floor, and he slides the glass door to the side, stepping into the scorching spray. He grits his teeth as it hits his skin, but you’re right there, tangible and real in front of him, not just a memory of that night in New York, not just a figment of his imagination invading his dreams during the few hours of sleep he manages to steal each night.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since that night, doesn’t know if he can stop.

You say his name again, and this time, he can hear it, your voice cracking halfway through, and it makes his chest tight. What happened to you? What happened to the crazy bitch who levelled a shotgun at his head on a dark road?

More importantly, who’s responsible?

He gathers you into his arms, turning you to the side so the water doesn’t drown you both, the heat starting to change from unbearable to comforting. “What happened, Angel?” he asks, one hand moving up the back of your head to knot in the wet strands of your hair. It’s shorter than he remembers, curling around his knuckles; you cut it. He likes it. “Tell me.”

You bury your face in his chest in lieu of an answer, hands curling into fists that rest on his pecs. You’re shaking, and worry seeps into his blood like a disease. He needs to know what happened. He needs to know who’s responsible, so he can fix it.

He has to fix it.

Tilting his head to the side, Frank grips your bicep gently, careful of the wound on your arm, and swipes his thumb across the stitches. You did a half-decent job, the stitches a little jagged and uneven, but at least it’s closed. He cups his palm beneath the water, lets it wash over the gash, over and over until the water runs clear instead of bloody.

“Who hurt you, sweetheart?” he asks, the hand still in your hair massaging at your scalp, dragging his nails lightly along it. “Who did this to you?”

Finally, finally, you lift your head, those big watery eyes looking up at him. There’s makeup smudged beneath your lashes, and he moves his hand from your hair to cup your cheek, swiping his thumb through the black smear. “You weren’t the only one with a gold card,” you say, your voice a little clearer, a little less shaky. You blink slow, leaning your face into his palm. “It was my…” You trail off, shaking your head once.

“Who, Angel?” he asks. “Tell me who hurt you. I’ll get every fuckin’ last one of ‘em, I swear to god.”

You inhale deeply, fists unclenching on his chest, nails scraping his skin. “It was my old partner.”

His brow grows hard, and you turn your head, looking away from him, hands slipping down and arms crossing over your chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

“We used to work together in New York,” you say, and he can hear the hurt slink back into your tone, a tear slipping out of your eye and down your cheek. “Before I was a regular at Sister Margaret’s, we ran jobs together. Underground shit, I don’t know. He handled all the contacts, I was usually the bait. I didn’t mind it at first, but then this one job…” You shake your head. “He was willing to let things go way too far, and I wasn’t having it, so I left. Finished the job myself, took the cash, and stayed off his radar.” You turn your head back to face him, and Frank can see the pain in your eyes. He doesn’t need any more elaboration than that. The details don’t matter to the rage bubbling in his gut. “And he didn’t like that.”

Your voice cracks and you almost collapse against the tile. Frank pulls you against his chest, holding you tightly, mouth pressed to the crown of your head. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs to you. “You’re safe. Nothin’s gonna happen to you, promise.”

You lift your head and your bottom lip wobbles, more tears leaking from your eyes, and Frank has both hands on your cheeks now, brushing each drop that falls from your eyes. You haven’t even given him a name yet, but his mind is already going; how many different ways can he make this fucker pay for making you feel like this? Treating a woman like that, his partner. Putting this much fear into your head, making you feel unsafe, making you scared for your life. What sort of sick, twisted shit can he force this guy to endure before he—

“Frank,” you call, your voice still wobbling, and Frank’s reverie breaks. You’re staring up at him, your hands having migrated to his hips while his mind had wandered somewhere violent, and he bites back a low groan when you squeeze lightly, thumbs digging into his skin. “Can you…” You trail off, dropping your head, leaning it against his chest.

“What, sweetheart?” he asks, moving a hand back to your hair, tugging lightly. “What do you need? Just ask.”

Slowly, you lift your head, leaning it back in his grip. “Can you wash my hair for me?” you ask, and Frank is already nodding. “I tried, but my arm—”

Frank lowers his mouth to yours, cutting off your words, the kiss soft and slow and deliberate. You taste just like he remembers, that quick mouth tinged with whiskey and salt. You come to life under his touch, and he feels it, your body reacting in ways he’s admittedly been dreaming about since he woke up alone in that bed. Your mouth slots perfectly against his — it feels right — and Frank’s mind has only one thought: keep her safe, make her feel good.

If your asshole partner tries anything while he’s with you, the Punisher might need to make an appearance, after all. But in the meantime, Frank’s attention is solely on you, on distracting you, on turning you into a pleasure-soaked mess.

You melt further into him as he washes your hair, massaging your scalp under his fingers, dipping you back slightly with a tight grip on your waist and pushing the suds away, the pads of his fingers pressed to your ribs. Your eyes fall shut, lashes plastered to your cheeks, and once the water runs clear, the soap all swirling down the drain, he leans in to close his mouth around your pulse. Your arms tighten around his neck, and he turns you from the spray again, pulls you upright and pushes until your back hits the tiles.

He drags his mouth up to your cheek, kissing it once, moving his head and nipping your earlobe. You make the tiniest noise, this mewling little whimper that goes straight to his cock, a groan slipping between his lips as your legs part around his knee, one thigh sliding up the outside of his. Frank curls a hand around it, squeezing once as he hitches your leg over his hip. “Lemme take care of you, babydoll,” he whispers, mouth dragging along your jaw. “Nobody’s gonna keep you safe better than me,” a soft kiss to your parted lips, earning him another tiny whine, “you hear me? He tries to lay a hand on your again and I’ll fucking kill him.”

Your eyes flash open, bright sparks in them now. There she is. “I missed you, Castle.”

“You missed me,” he starts, reaching for your wrist, tugging your hand between your bodies, “or you missed this?” 

The words are said against your lips, which part as your fingers curl around his hard cock, sighing with satisfaction when it twitches in your grip. “Hmm,” you hum, tongue peeking between your lips to swipe across his lower one. You give him a quick squeeze, and Frank slams his other hand into the tile, palm smacking the ceramic. “Both.”

His forehead presses to yours, nose pushed into your cheek, and you do it again, fingers tight around him, your body heat and the warmth of the water almost overwhelming. You start to slither down the wall, your leg slipping out of his grip, and Frank can’t find it in him to stop you, no matter how good he wants to make you feel.

“I’ve been dreaming about you,” you say, your voice a whisper above the sound of the shower, “every night.” You grip his hips again, nails digging in enough to leave little marks on his skin, leaning forward to drag your tongue over his hip bone. “About this, about your body. What you feel like, what you sound like.” He braces both hands on the tile, looking down at you knelt before him, sucking in a hard breath when you tilt your head back and freeze him in place with those big, shiny eyes.

He’s achingly hard now, and his hands curl into fists when your mouth drops open and your tongue peeks out, flattening along the underside of him, body arching with the movement. Your chest presses against his thighs, and Frank chokes on a breath, hands curling into fists on the wall. “Fuckin’ tease,” he grits, and you grin, leaning up slightly, drawing your tongue back into your mouth and pressing your lips to his tip, featherlight kisses that turn his blood to flame.

“You never said no teasing,” you quip, and Frank grins. There she is. There’s his Angel, that smart mouth, that somehow familiar light in your eyes peering back up at him. “Just living out my dreams, baby. Can’t fault me for that.” Another drag of your tongue, and Frank drops a hand to your hair, twining his fingers through the wet strands.

Your eyes stay glued to his as you open your mouth and take him all the way, tip hitting the back of your throat with ease. He groans, hips twitching forward, but your eyes don’t waver, nails digging in deeper. You’re just as good as he remembers, just as talented, moaning around his cock and staring up at him. He tightens his grip on your hair, curling his wrist as you bob your head, nose scraping the hair at his base. Then you pull back, one hand moving to grip his cock while your mouth closes around his tip, sucking hard enough that his eyes roll back.

“Tha’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he groans out, body starting to stutter, vision blurring at the edges as the pleasure makes a home at the base of his spine. “You looks so good with your mouth full of my cock, y’know that?” He adjusts his grip on your hair, petting a hand across your scalp. “Pretty fuckin’ thing, on her knees for me.” You just keep going, mouth sliding down to meet your fingers, one hand moving around his hip to grab his ass, squeezing his cheek. He moves his other hand from the tile, holding your head between his hands, mussing your hair over your head, his jaw dropping open as the pleasure flares like kerosene on kindling. He could get lost in this, he knows; he’s already getting lost in you.

“Fuck, Angel, I’m gonna—” he chokes out, body stuttering forward into your hot mouth. Your gaze still doesn’t waver, locked on his face, scanning his features as he cums harder than he has since that night in New York, his own fist and the memory of you no match for the real thing. It’s blinding, his head tipping against the shower wall, and he sinks into the orgasm, the feeling of it snaking up his back and spreading through his limbs and setting his nerves on fire. God, you are so fucking good.

You swallow him down, taking him deeper again, letting him paint your throat with his pleasure, groaning out sweetheart and Angel until the feeling returns to his limbs and his knees don’t feel like jell-o. He hisses when you pull off him with a quiet pop, his hands sliding out of your hair to grab your forearms, hauling you back up against him, pressing you into the tile once more. He grunts when you lick your lips, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb and then sucking the pad clean.

He takes your chin in his hand, like he had in New York, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. “I was gonna take care of you, babydoll,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth over yours. “Kinda rude, beating me to the punch like that, don’t you think?”

“Sorry,” you murmur back, nipping at his mouth, draping your arms over his shoulders again. “But the night’s not over yet.”

“Damn fuckin’ right,” Frank grumbles, and reaches over to turn the shower off. You gasp when he sweeps an arm behind your knees, lifts you up, and steps out of the stall with you in his arms. He sets you carefully on the ground, reaching for the fluffy towels hanging on the wall, wrapping you in one. You reach for a second, hastily drying your hair while Frank wraps a towel around his waist, tucking it in at his hip. You go to hang your second towel on the hook, and Frank grabs you again, carrying you out of the bedroom and into the main part of the hotel room.

You look so small as he sets you on the edge of the bed, wrapped in that big towel, hair curling about your face, and you stare up at him, like you had in the shower, that mischievous glint still in your eyes.

He plans to keep it there.

“I dreamt about you too, y’know,” he admits as he tugs at the corner of the towel, pushing it down your arm until your shoulder is exposed, and he leans in to kiss the scar that’s remained, the evidence of his stitch work after he pulled that shard of glass out of you. “Never should have left New York, sweetheart.”

“I’m definitely starting to believe that,” you reply, tilting your head to the side, giving him more access to your throat, releasing the towel so it pools around your waist. “But you know I couldn’t stay.”

“I know,” he says, and he reaches for the towel again, pulling it open, reaching a hand between your knees. “Y’know, I haven’t stopped thinking about that night.” Moving his mouth to your throat, he pulls your knees wide, fingers sliding up the inside of your thigh. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches, legs twitching wider to accommodate him. “You made the prettiest noises, Angel. Got me hard just thinking about ‘em, those sounds.” He drags two fingers through your folds, sighing heavily into your skin when he finds how wet you are.

Frank sinks to his knees in front of the bed, his own towel falling to the ground as he goes, a cushion between him and the hard floor. You whine at the loss of his mouth on your skin, but a tiny gasp falls out when he hitches your legs over his shoulders, pulling you to the very edge of the mattress. You’re absolutely dripping, glistening in the low light coming from the bedside lamp, and Frank lowers his mouth, licks a stripe up the very core of you, moaning into your pussy at the taste. He’s been dreaming about that too.

“Fuck, Frank,” you groan, hands finding their way to his hair. “God, you’re so good.”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispers against your thigh, eyes flicking up to you as you stare back at him. “Use your words. I wanna hear you, yeah? Wanna know how good I make you feel.”

You nod almost violently, your whole torso shaking with the movement, and you moan his name again, head tipping back on your shoulders. He grins against you, licking again, pulling your thighs tighter around his ears as he delves into you. Your muscles go taut in his hands, warmth and wetness flooding his tongue as he sucks at your clit, gently scrapes his teeth against your pussy, prods his tongue into your sopping hole.

Your noises don’t stop, those tiny whimpers like you’d made in the shower interspersed between his name moaned lowly and god, Frank, fuck, right there, oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your knees lock around his head, keeping him trapped, and Frank growls, releasing your legs to wrap one hand around his again achingly hard cock, the other sliding to the curve of your ass, where he pinches your flesh once before moving to your pussy, two fingers sliding into you with ease.

Back arching off the bed, you make the most delicious noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “Oh my fucking god,” you curse, hands locked in his hair still, “you make me feel so fucking good!” Your voice climbs at the end as he curls his fingers, thrusting them deep as he closes his mouth around your clit. He strokes himself, moaning into you. He can feel it, the way you’re getting tighter and tighter, thighs trembling around his ears, your body curling forward, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, over and over.

Still thrusting his fingers, he wrenches his head back, tilting his face up to yours, releasing his cock to curl his hand around your throat. “You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he asks, kissing you hard, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You take it gladly, hands scraping his back, nails leaving thick tracks he knows he’ll feel later. “Huh? You gonna be a good girl?”

Nodding dumbly, your mouth falls from his, lips making a perfect o as he curls his knuckles against that place he knows makes you see stars.

“Tell me,” he growls. “Words.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you babble, still nodding, throat stuttering in his grip. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard, Frank, I—”

“Good girl,” he says, and lowers his mouth again, still gripping your neck. It doesn’t take much more, one curl of his fingers and a soft suck at your clit, and your whole body seizes in his grip, chest heaving with each breath. He releases your throat, reaches down to grip himself again. He can’t stop, groaning when your orgasm coats his tongue, the taste making his eyes roll back, that heat in his spine taking up residence once more.

He’s lost in you.

You take everything he gives, tongue caressing you over and over until you’re cumming again, no words this time, just your open mouth falling against the top of his head, fingers locked in his hair, pulling hard. You must see what he’s doing, jerking his cock with every pulse that rattles through you, because once you catch your breath, you start to speak.

“You make me feel so fucking good, baby,” you whisper, your voice low. “You like the way I taste, huh? This pussy’s just for you, you know that?” You tug on his hair until he lifts his head, fingers still crooked inside you, making you gasp when he presses against your walls. “You gonna make yourself cum, Frank? Huh?” Your mouth glances off his temple, body going tight again as he moves his fingers again. He can feel it, and he tilts his face up, cheek pressed to yours.

“I want you to cum again, Angel,” he murmurs. “I want you to cum with me.”

You nod, skin scraping his stubble. “Yes, baby,” you reply, and one hand moves to cup his cheek, eyes meeting his. “Please.”

It’s the pleading in your voice that gets him, that pleasure-soaked tone reaching his ears. He curls his fingers again, his own jaw dropping as wetness covers your thighs and his forearm, your mouth open against his forehead as he keeps moving within you, keeps dragging his own hand along his cock, groaning loudly as his cock starts to pulse, cum coating his hand.

It’s quiet for a moment, as you both come down, nothing but the sound of you both catching your breath and the soft noise of his lips meeting yours, mouths seeking out each other. He kisses you slowly, languidly, pulling back only to kiss from one cheek to the other and back again, peppering your jaw, pushing his face into your throat again.

You whine when he pulls his fingers out of you, and it slides into a satisfied hum when he pushes them between his lips, sucking the taste of you from his knuckles, sighing at the taste. How do you taste so damn good?

He nearly topples over when you reach for his other wrist, fingers now lax around his softening cock, and you pull his hand to your mouth. He just watches, awestruck, muscles tightening as you clean his cum from his hand, tongue laving over his fingers, cleaning every last drop. “Sweetheart,” he groans, still licking your taste from his other hand, sucking at the meat of his palm. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, you know that?”

You just grin around the two fingers in your mouth and Frank groans, moving onto the bed with you.

+

The phone is ringing.

Your eyes shoot open, taking in the mess of your hotel room. The towels and clothes strewn across the floor, the slit of light breaking through the curtains that don’t quite close properly.

The large, scarred arm wrapped around your chest, calloused palm gripping your breast.

Frank.

Your body is aching from last night’s…exertions, and the burn is delicious as you stretch your arms over your head, arching your back and pushing your ass into his very prominent morning wood. He grumbles something unintelligible, squeezing your breast and burying his face in the pillow. You drag your palm along his forearm, feeling every ridge of muscle and scar that marks his skin.

Shit. The phone is ringing.

It’s not your burner — you’re pretty sure that’s still in your coat pocket — but the hotel phone, the red light on the base blinking brightly as you reach for the receiver. You roll back as you hold the thing to your ear, and Frank adjusts, moving himself onto your chest, planting his ear at your sternum. You can’t stop yourself from diving a hand into his hair, dragging your nails along his scalp. It makes him hum.

“Hello?”

“Just for the record,” a familiar voice says by way of hello, “I don’t want you dead, okay? This is a shitty business we’re in, okay, and there are rules for a reason.”

“Weasel?” you ask in disbelief. “How’d you get this number?”

“Does that really matter?” he throws back, and you shrug. Man’s got a point. “I don’t want you dead, all right, and when that sleaze of an ex-partner of yours showed up, asking for your card, I couldn’t say no, okay? I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Fucking stupid fucking dumb ass rules, okay?”

“I get it, Weas,” you say, almost laughing. “You don’t want me dead. I knew that already. Why are you calling, then?”

“I have a lead,” he says, faster than you’d ever heard the bartender speak before, “on the guy who ordered your hit.”

You sit bolt upright, jostling Frank from your chest, and he grumbles loudly, but you throw up a hand, pressing it to his bare chest. “Where?”

“There’s a gala at Willis Tower tonight,” Weasel continues. “Word is, he’s an investor of some sort, all dirty money and bullshit like that, but he likes to pretend he’s legit. He’s gonna be there.”

You’re nearly shaking, and Frank’s looking at you like you’ve got three heads. “You don’t have a name, do you?”

“No,” Weasel admits, and you can hear the letdown in his voice, “but I do know that wherever he goes, he’s got these two Russian thugs as bodyguards. Bald guys, crazy tattoos of bears on the backs of their heads.”

“Bears?” you repeat. “Are you serious?”

“Hey, I didn’t fucking tattoo the freaks, okay? I’m just relaying the information. You find those two, you find your guy. Take him down, and get the hell out of dodge, all right?”

You grin. “I owe you one, Weas.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” he shoots back. “Just don’t get yourself killed, okay? Like I said, I don’t want you dead, Angel.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Good, now fuck off.”

“You called me!”

And the line goes dead.

Frank’s still sprawled on the bed, head pressed into the mattress, and when you hang up the phone, he rolls onto you, hands covering your side, dragging his tongue up your spine. “We got a lead?” he asks, making you shiver as he moves his mouth down your back, pushing the blanket back so he can bite your ass.

You reach back, swatting at his head, earning yourself another bite. It feels good. “We do,” you reply, pulling at his ear, “and you’re gonna need a suit.”

+

Frank’s always known how to clean up okay. He knows he can, can pull off the bow tie and the jacket and the whole nine yards. He can’t even remember the last time he wore a suit; maybe senior prom? After that, it was dress blues or bust, medals on his chest and a hat tucked under his arm.

But the suit, he can pull it off. And judging by the way your eyes had gone dark and raked up and down his body in the dressing room, you think so too.

He’s been perched on the edge of the bed for almost an hour now, having gotten ready in about fifteen minutes, letting you muss with his hair until you were satisfied and disappeared into the bathroom to get ready yourself. He paced the floor for a while, even picked up the clothes and towels and takeout containers littering the ground, cleaning up best he could and retrieving the handgun from his bag to tuck into his waistband. Just in case.

You’d done a bit more digging on what the gala was for, doctored invitations for you both and printed them off at the public library after you’d bought his suit. He’d tried to follow you into the boutique where you bought your dress, but you’d shooed him off to the barbershop across the street instead, pushing a twenty into his hand with a grin.

There hasn’t been much talking since this morning. Not that there was much last night either, the passion having spoken for itself, but he can tell that you’re antsy.

“There’s a good chance he’ll be there tonight,” you’d told him when you returned to the hotel, outfits in hand. “If he tries anything, I—”

“If he puts a finger on you, I’m putting him down,” he’d told you. “Simple as that.”

There’d been a flash of something nameless in your eyes, the corner of your mouth quirking, but you said nothing.

The bathroom door creaks open and Frank shoots to his feet, adjusting his cuff links — he still can’t believe you made him get cuff links — for the millionth time. He sucks in a breath, lifts his head, and you’re…gorgeous.

It’s not a shock, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s like someone’s punched him in the gut. You look…

You look like an angel.

Lips painted a deep red, eyes lined black, shimmer catching the light along your cheekbones and collar, the tip of your nose and your cupid’s bow. Your hair piled on your head in artful curls, a strand curling at the back of your neck and around your temple.

And the dress? He’s got no words for that either. It looks like stars, black velvet dotted with silver, tight around your torso and flaring at your hips. Thin straps at your shoulders, the bodice dipping just deep enough to make his throat go dry, and when you take a step forward, he sees the high slit that bares your leg to your thigh, the strappy heels at your feet.

He’d fuck your brains out if you didn’t have to go like right now.

“So?” you prompt, reaching down to adjust the strap around your ankle. It shows him more of your leg, and Frank can feel his pants tighten. He had you completely naked in bed earlier, but this is just as sexy, if not more so. “How do I look?”

Is that even a fucking question? He realizes he’s just been staring, open-mouthed like a fish, gaping at you. “You…you look good, Angel.”

Your painted mouth quirks, eyes sparkling, and you turn. “Zip me up?”

Frank nods, closing the distance between you, gaze zeroing in on the open zipper at your back, the bare notches of your spine. He pinches the zipper, dragging it up slowly, and as he does, he leans in, inhaling the sweet scent of perfume on your skin.

There’s a tiny pair of angel wings tattooed on the back of your neck. He never noticed. “This is new,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over it. Before you answer, he leans in and presses a kiss to it, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s cute.”

“Well, you know,” you say quickly, slinking out of his grip. “New city, fresh start, that’s what girls do, right? Get stupid tattoos and run from their murderous ex-boyfriends. Sounds like a romcom.”

Frank scoffs, fiddling with his cuffs again. He can feel himself blushing, the scent of your perfume going straight to his head. “I’d watch it.”

He can feel you eyeing him, crossing to the mirror to inspect your makeup a little closer. “Y’know,” you say, meeting his gaze through your reflection, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked me, Castle.”

“Fuck,” he replies, rolling his eyes. So this is how you’re gonna play this. “Trekking across three states wasn’t enough of a clue for you?” He comes to stand behind you, hand reaching out to rest on your hip, palm sliding on the material. “I’m here for you, Angel. I said you’re safe with me and I meant it.”

Slowly, you turn under his hand, fingers knotted in front of you, lips softly parted.

“If this guy, this ex of yours, if he shows his face tonight, if he tries to hurt you,” he says, shaking his head, unable to take his eyes off your mouth. “If anyone tries to lay a finger on you, I…” He trails off, reaching up and pinching your chin in his other hand. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, do you understand that?”

You’re just staring at him, eyes wide and shiny, but Frank needs to hear it.

“Tell me, Angel,” he says, “do you understand that?”

You nod, head bobbing in his grip, a whispered yes meeting his ears.

He can’t stop himself from kissing you.

He’s careful, that much is true, careful not to smudge your makeup too much, though he knows your mouth is a write-off now. Frank wants nothing more than to plunge his hands in your hair again, to tug and pull until you’re squirming beneath him, letting him have his way with you again. He settles for you waist, other hand joining the one already on your hip, and he squeezes lightly, nudges his nose along yours before he kisses you bottom lip, then the top, bottom again, top again. Over and over, until it’s imprinted in his brain, muscle memory. 

That little mewling sound of yours reaches his ears, and he can feel his trousers tighten. Your nails drag light along his scalp, palm grazing the freshly trimmed hair at the back of his head, and he sighs, sinking into your touch.

And all too soon, you’re pulling away. You’re blushing, eyes a little watery, and for a moment, he thinks you’re going to pull away completely, disappear into the bathroom again, but your hand lifts, catching his chin, rubbing lipstick from his mouth. Your gaze is glued to his jaw as you rub, perfectly filled brows pulling down on your forehead. There’s something in those eyes, something he doesn’t have a name for. Once the lipstick is gone, you turn towards the bathroom, reaching for your small purse on the counter and pulling out the tube. “I have to fix my makeup now, you jerk,” you throw over your shoulder, but the quip is halfhearted, and that unnamed emotion spreads through your features before you turn back to the mirror and reapply, lips parting softly.

+

There’s not nearly enough booze at this party.

You’re tucked in the corner of the room, a half-filled flute of champagne in your hand. It’s watered down, you think, especially since you’re on your third glass of the evening without so much as a slight buzz in the back of your brain.

Frank’s gone for the harder stuff, a tumbler of whiskey gripped in his big hand since you walked through the double doors. There’d been no issue with your ‘invitation’, not so much as a second glance before you were ushered into the ballroom. It’s fancy, no question, all high glass ceilings and crystal chandeliers, a damn orchestra playing quietly in the corner and waiters in tuxedos passing out caviar and what you think is a fig wrapped in cheese.

Nearly three hours in, however, and still no sign of your Russian bears.

You’ve managed to avoid conversation for most of the evening, ignoring people past a quick hello or an unenthusiastic wow, I love your dress! And Frank’s been stoic as anything, no more than half a foot from your shadow at any given moment. You’d called him on it earlier in the evening, and he’d just shaken his head, the tips of his ears turning red, and mumbled, “I don’t do parties, sweetheart, and you’re…distracting.”

You reached out and pinched his earlobe between your fingers, bumping your hip against his. You liked that you made him blush, that you hadn’t so much as moved all night without his eyes following you. You liked those dark eyes, the way he squinted a little when he concentrated, even more so when he laughed. You liked the way his ears stuck out, made slightly more noticeable by his haircut, and that big nose that suited his face so perfectly. You liked the cadence of his voice, the way he sighed a little after he said your name, how the tone would grow gravelly and low when you teased him.

You liked Frank Castle.

Fuck.

It was that realization that had you reaching for a second glass — and the third — and it’s what has you pouring the rest down your throat before plucking Frank’s glass out of his hand and tossing it back as well.

He narrows his eyes at you, licks his lips, and shakes his head once before he leans in, pushing his face into the curve of your jaw and nipping at your skin. As his teeth sink in, there double doors push open, a man in a suit stepping through, and your breath hitches, hand reaching up to grip the back of Frank’s neck, holding him against you. He keeps at it, and it’s a little more than a love bite, joined by his hand snaking from your waist to your ass, squeezing hard before he pulls away. “You want another?”

You nod, feeling your heart crawl up your throat and make a home there, trying to offer him a genuine grin. But he notices — of course he notices — and his hand returns to your hip, squeezing lightly.

“What, sweetheart?” he whispers, and you can see the darkness seeping into his features. Maybe the Punisher has come to Chicago after all. “Russians?”

You pull your eyes away from the door long enough to meet his, reaching up to push two fingers under his chin, leaning forward to kiss him once. “Nothing. I want Macallan, if they have it,” you whisper to him, lips quirking. “Two fingers.”

“Two?” he replies, mischievous smirk, tilting his head to the side. “That’s really all it takes, huh, Angel?”

Glaring at him, you shove at his shoulder. “Go, you menace, before I drag you out of here by the collar.”

The smirk widens to a grin. “You should try it, sweetheart,” he says lowly, leaning in to kiss your cheek before he pulls away completely, turning towards the bar, “I might like it.”

You roll your eyes at his back, watching the way he scans the ballroom before crossing to the bar on the other side of the room. He does look stupidly good in that suit, and you allow yourself more than an eyeful of his ass as he disappears through the crowds of people.

But then your attention prickles at something else, a shadow at your shoulder, and the wound on your arm, carefully covered by makeup, barks in response.

“Your bodyguard’s handsome,” Max whispers, his mouth suddenly right at your ear. It takes everything in you not to flinch, or reach for the knife holstered at your thigh beneath your dress. You sink your teeth into the inside of your cheek, bunching your hands in your dress. “Don’t worry yourself, Angel. You really think I’d try and take you out right here, right now? Make a scene? You don’t know me at all.” You feel his nose brush against your hair. “Besides, I know your boyfriend isn’t exactly shy about making a scene, and I’m not about to have my brains smeared across the dance floor.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” is all you can manage to spit back, and Max just laughs. Fucking asshole.

He presses his knuckle against your spine, drags slowly up, and you freeze, goosebumps rising on your skin. “Coulda fooled me,” he whispers. “You might need to get your eyes checked, baby, cuz the way he’s looking at you? I’ve seen that look before.” Max’s hand reaches the top of your neck, and you feel his thumb press into the very top of your spine, right where the wings are tattooed. “I used to look at you like that.”

Finally finding yourself, you whirl, stepping out of his grip and turning to face him. “Yeah, and then you tried to sell me like a piece of meat.” He tries to reach for you but you bat his hand away, anger flaring in your gut. “Looking at me doesn’t exactly make up for that.”

His handsome face goes feral, jaw going tight as he speaks through his teeth. You’ve seen that look before, quietly curse the girl that look used to turn you into. “I never would have let anything happen to you, you know that.”

“Says the man holding the gold card with my name on it.” You step closer, leaning up on your heels, getting in his face. “If you knew what was good for you, you’d get the fuck out of this city and leave me alone.”

Max just grins. “And if you knew what was good for you, Angel, you’d come with me.” When your gaze falters, courage snapping in half at his words, he laughs. “I’ve got snipers in the next building, all eyes on your boy over there.”

Your jaw clenches, and Max grips your forearm. You try to wrench out of your grip, but your eyes find Frank leaned against the bar, a smile on his face, talking animatedly with the bartender. “Thought you didn’t want to make a scene.”

“I don’t,” he continues, brows raising. “I just want you to take a little walk with me upstairs. For old time’s sake, hmm? You come with me, nobody lays a finger on him. Or puts a bullet in his head.” He lifts the hand not gripping your arm in an iron vice. “Scout’s honour.”

“Fuck your honour, Max,” you spit, baring your teeth. “You don’t have any. What is this about anyway, huh? What do you want from me? You want money, the price on my head? That what this is all about?”

“Maybe,” he grits, staring down his nose as you. You could break it. “Maybe I just want to see firsthand what Frank Castle does when someone plays with his toys.” Your hands curl into fists. “What, Angel, worried he won’t want you anymore when I’m done with you? When I’ve had my way with you again?”

“Please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Just put a bullet in my head now if you think I’m ever sleeping with you again.”

His grip tightens and you clench your jaw against the pain. “You come with me now, or Castle dies.”

You lift your chin. “And why should I believe you have snipers, hmm? Give me one good reason.”

“You want a demonstration? Lots of easy targets in here.” He taps his ear, turning his head to the side so you can see the earpiece sitting there.

“Fuck you, Max.”

“That’s the spirit.”

You don’t have a choice. It’s a game of cat and mouse, and you’re the mouse in the corner with a knife strapped to her leg. It’s only a matter of time, now, to see if you actually get to use it.

+

Frank watches from the bar. Watches him put his hands on you, watches him grab your arm and you pull out of his grip. Good girl. He watches the words exchanged, his eyesight not good enough to read lips at this distance, but the sinking look on your face is enough of a clue.

You’d given him the name, earlier in the day. Not like it mattered. Not like he really needed to know the fucker’s name. It wasn’t gonna change the outcome. But he’d watched it from his spot at the bar, watched the fear sink into your features like he’d seen it when he’d first arrived, found you crying in the shower, injured and scared.

The handgun is a welcome weight at the small of his back, and he nods to the bartender as your drinks are slid across the bar, pushing a ten dollar bill across the bar top. He downs his own drink in one gulp, snatches yours, and turns on his heel.

The fact that you’re not trying to run from Max is what has Frank worried. Something’s up, something decidedly not good, and the feeling only doubles when he sees you being dragged from the ballroom, throwing a look over your shoulder in his direction, eyes searching for him in the sea of faces.

Nobody’s gonna keep you safe better than me, you hear me? He tries to lay a hand on your again and I’ll fucking kill him.

It’s a good a promise as any, and he plans to keep it.

He skids through the door just as Max’s palm connects with your cheek, slapping you so hard you topple sideways, knees and palms hitting the marble floor, and Frank sees a drop of blood fall from your mouth. But before he can do anything more, Max has you hauled up over his shoulder, sprinting down the hallway and disappearing around a corner.

Frank takes off, stupid dress shoes skidding on the tile, handgun sliding easily out of his waistband and into his hand. He sees the flash of your dress as he rounds the corner again, and keeps going, spurred on by that fear in your eyes, and the memory of that unnamed emotion he’d seen back at the hotel. He has to keep you safe. He has to fix it.

There’s more rounding of corners, almost tripping up staircases in these stupid fucking shoes, and he loses you. He goes left when he should have gone right, ends up having to retrace his steps twice, cursing inwardly at his own mistakes, doubling back and darting up another stairwell. At least he knows you’re heading up.

He hears a door slam as he steps onto another floor, what looks like an office, and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting glass, a crackling thump that he makes him see red. Max isn’t as smart as he thinks he is, and he’s already enough of a fucking idiot for thinking Frank wouldn’t have his head for touching you. Big fucking mistake. Huge.

Rage tinging his vision, Frank barrels towards the source of the sound, your crumpled figure on the floor coming into view as he sprints for the door. It cracks open easily when he shoves his shoulder into it, lifting his gun with both hands and levelling it with the fucker’s head.

You’re curled on the floor, blood on your mouth and your cheek split open. Spitting red onto the carpet, you bare your teeth, and Frank’s gun nearly clatters to the floor when he sees the knife curled in your grip, blade smeared with crimson.

Max stumbles back against the large table in the centre of the room, clutching his throat, all gargling noises and wide eyes. His white dress shirt is a bloody mess, red spraying from the wound on his neck. Frank only blinks, lifts the gun, and puts a bullet between his eyes. The shot echoes through the empty floor. Like he said, big fucking mistake.

He drops the gun on the table, immediately on his knees and trying to help you, wiping the blood from your lips and inspecting your cheek. Not deep enough to need a stitch, but the fucker must have decked you hard. And when he glances up, Frank can see the glass wall has splintered, he assumes from you being thrown against it, and your eyes are a little foggy when you blink up at him, almost dazed. Your dress is torn, the slit riding higher on your leg, and Frank almost loses it when he sees red marks on your thigh, deep enough to draw blood.

“Are you okay?” he asks instantly, pulling his coat off and draping it around your shoulders. You’re shivering, blood-smeared teeth chattering as you stare up at him. “Did he touch you? What happened?” He glances over his shoulder, at Max’s body now slumped on the table. “I swear to fucking, God, Angel…”

You take his chin in your hand, nails digging in, pulling his gaze to yours. “I wanna go home, Frank.”

“Okay, baby girl,” he says lowly, and reaches down to pull the knife from your grip, sliding it into his pocket. He fumbles for the gun, sliding it back into the waistband, cursing the burn as it slips against his skin, but he grits his teeth against the pain. He turns back to you and collects you carefully into his arms, hauling you up, the fabric of your dress dragging against the floor as he goes. “I got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth to your temple when you sag against him. “Let’s go home.”

+

You wake up alone.

Back in the hotel room, your head buzzing with a combination of a champagne hangover and the impact of Max slamming you into the glass. Your mouth tastes terrible, and you blink heavy eyes open, finding your dress a pile of fabric on the floor, Frank’s suit half-laid out on the chair across from you.

Memories swim through your murky mind. Max’s hand on your thigh, clawing into your skin. He pulled the knife out, danced it under your chin, pushed the tip of it into the middle of your bottom lip. He told you how he planned to kill you, how he was waiting for Frank to show, so he could make him watch. So he could break the already broken man, the man who had already lost too much.

He hadn’t been expecting your knee between his legs, or the ease with which you’d pulled your knife from his grip and plunged it into his throat.

And then Frank was there, your knight in shining armour, pulling the trigger like it was the easiest thing in the world. Gathering you into his big, strong arms and whisking you away into the night, taking you home, wherever home happened to be.

You were starting to worry that home might look like him.

He’d brought you back to the room, cleaned the blood from your skin, tended to your wounds. Kissed you with such care and softness that it brought tears to your eyes, left your body feeling weightless, left your heart aching in your chest with the need to make him feel the same.

You’d whispered into the dark, when he laid down with you, begged him to touch you, to feel him inside you, and he’d obliged, moving so slowly against you, dragging the pleasure from your exhausted form so purposefully that the ache only grew deeper.

You know how it’d go down, if another one like Max came along, if the man who’d put out the hit on you — the man who you still knew almost nothing about — sent someone else after you, or if someone came after Frank. 

If Frank stuck around, if you kept yourself glued to his side like you so desperately wanted to be, it wouldn’t end well. You’d lose him, he’d lose you; either way, the fairytale ending didn’t exist, and you’d done enough research on the Punisher’s history during your time apart to know just how devastating his past was. You’d both end up dragged through hell, him for a second time, and you couldn’t have that on your head.

Pushing the blankets off and swinging your legs over the side of the mattress, you see a hastily scrawled note on the nightstand, in what you assume to be Frank’s surprisingly legible handwriting. You’d assumed it would be chicken scratch, but you’re wildly incorrect.

Went for coffee. Didn’t wanna wake ya. Take an Advil and clean your cheek. xoxo F

You can’t drag him through hell again. Not after everything he’s been through.

So, walking slowly toward where his bag sits on the counter, you fish out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before, inhaling the manly scent of him. Pulling it over your head, your decision is made.

You have to remove yourself from the equation. To spare you both.

+

The room’s empty, when he walks in, coffees balanced in his hand. And fuck, if it doesn’t feel like a knife in the gut.

Your coat is there, folded neatly on the now-made bed, beside his packed bag. Bathroom’s empty, your makeup and toothbrush and your kit, all gone. No sign of you, just like the morning after the first time, when he’d woken up alone. But it feels different this time, more purposeful.

You were still asleep when he’d left initially, your face shoved in the pillow, brows pinched with a dream, but they’d softened when he leaned down to kiss you. He swore you murmured his name in your sleep.

Frank runs his fingers over the fur collar of your coat, fishes the burner you’d left him in New York out of his pocket, hits the speed dial.

The number you have dialled is not currently available. Please try again later.

“Fuck,” he whispers, the word not nearly heavy enough for the feeling in his gut. He sniffs hard, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

There’s no note this time, no explanation. Just an empty room, a fur-lined coat, and him.

—————

I have a taglist! if you’d like to be tagged in future works, please fill out this form! 💕

frank tags: @saintmurd0ck @moonlarking @mindidjarin @freshabogados @steadyasthe-flowers @whosfrankie @ancientbeing10

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[headcanonsandmore]

'The More Things Change...'

Summary: Donna insists that the Doctor come along with her to a relatives get-together in Australia. Turns out, he knows one member of her family already...

~~~~~~~~ Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~

‘Australia?’

‘Yes,’ replied Donna, with a roll of her eyes. ‘My mum has family over there, and I haven’t seen them in years. There’s a reunion happening this week, and I want to go.’

‘And you want me there with you?’

‘Listen, you’re dropping me off; you might as well come along.’

The Doctor shrugged.

‘I never did agree that I was going to.’

‘Too late; you’re coming along, spaceman.’

The Doctor rolled his eyes, and hit a lever on the TARDIS console. The whole console room shook, and Donna grabbed hold of one of the railings.

A few moments later, they had landed, and the two friends stepped out of the box.

‘Nice spot,’ Donna said, nodding in approval at the sea in front of them. ‘You’re getting better at landing.’

‘Cheek!’

The two friends laughed, before heading down towards the large function room next to the beach.

Immediately after entering, they met a large and loud exclamation of ‘Donna!’ from the assembled family members. An older woman -probably well into her eighties- hurried forward and pulled Donna into a hug. The Doctor stood nearby, giving a nervous wave to everyone.

‘Good to see you, Donna,’ said the elderly relative, smiling. ‘It’s so good of you to come all this well. Tell your mum and grandad hello from all of us.’

‘Thanks, Auntie Jovanka,’ Donna said, giving the older woman a hug. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

The Doctor’s mouth fell open.

‘Donna…’ he said, in an undertone as the elderly lady walked away. ‘Did you say… Jovanka?’

‘Yeah,’ Donna replied, cheerfully. ‘My mum’s cousin married into that family a few years after she moved here.’

‘Right,’ the Doctor said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. ‘I… I think I probably best get back to the TARDIS-’

‘Skinny man, you’ve barely been here five minutes; at least have something to eat.’

‘No, I really ought to get going and let you enjoy the get-together-’

‘Doctor, I swear, I can’t take you anywhere.’

‘Doctor?’ said a very familiar voice from behind him. ‘Oh, you’ve got some nerve…’

The Doctor turned, putting an awkwardly cheerful smile on his face.

Sure enough, a pair of irritated brown eyes were glaring up at him. Tegan Jovanka was stood, hands on hips, a few metres away. Her brown hair was cut short in a loose bob, and she was wearing a button down shirt over a pair of green trousers.

She also looked as unimpressed with him as she always had done.

‘Tegan….’ he said, wilting slightly under the glare of the Australian. ‘Hiiii…’

‘Don’t “Tegan, hi” me, Doc,’ said Tegan Jovanka, folding her arms. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve hijacked my little cousin too.’

‘Cousin?’

Ignoring the time lord’s confusion, Donna pushed past him and pulled Tegan into a hug.

‘Hi, Tee,’ she said, smiling. ‘Lovely to see you again; I didn’t know you knew the Doctor.’

‘Not by choice,’ Tegan said, glaring at the time lord over the redhead’s shoulder. ‘I ended up stumbling into that box of his in the eighties.’

‘Hey!’ the Doctor exclaimed, sounding offended. ‘I got you back to Heathrow, didn’t I?’

‘By accident,’ Tegan shot back. ‘You overshot it by several centuries, if my memory serves correct.’

Donna laughed.

‘At least you’re improving over time, spaceman.’

‘Oh, wonderful,’ the Doctor groaned, running a hand through his quiff. ‘Now I know why Donna seemed so familiar.’

‘Because she keeps you humble, no doubt,’ Tegan cheeked, grinning at her cousin. ‘Good on you, Donna.’

‘Tegan, I got your drink; they’d run out of orange juice so I got you some cranberry juice instead…’

‘Thanks, love,’ Tegan said, smiling at the woman who had just joined her. She was maybe a little taller than Tegan, with long curly hair and bright grey-green eyes. ‘You’re so sweet-’

‘Nyssa?’ the Doctor exclaimed, mouth hanging open. ‘How… when…’

Nyssa of Traken stared at him in confusion.

‘Tegan, who is this?’

The Australian rolled her eyes and fixed the Trakenite with a fond smile.

‘Take a wild guess.’

Nyssa’s eyes widened.

‘Doctor? Gosh, it’s been a while; how are you? I see you’ve regenerated again.’

The Doctor gaped at her.

‘Nyssa, what are you doing here? How are you here? We left you on Terminus; when did you get to Earth?’

‘Doctor, you were literally there when we found Nyssa,’ Tegan said. ‘Don’t tell you’ve forgotten?’

‘I think I’d remember that.’

‘Have you not changed into that northerner with the leather jacket yet?’

‘That was my last face!’

‘Wait,’ Donna said, turning to the Doctor. ‘Spaceman, you used to wear a leather jacket? Since when were you that cool?’

The Doctor’s mouth fell open, looking rather shocked.

‘I’ve always been cool!’

‘Oh, come off it; you, with your skinny suit and spiky hair?’

Tegan and Nyssa chuckled as the Doctor spluttered angrily.

‘Well…’ Nyssa hypothesised, stroking her chin thoughtfully with a finger. ‘It’s possible that the version of the Doctor that Tegan and I met last time had those events happen further along in his own timeline, as it were.’

‘Timey wimey stuff, yeah.’

‘Timey wimey?’ Tegan scoffed, with a snort. ‘Is that a scientific term for it? You’re losing your touch, Doc.’

The time lord glared at her.

‘Lovely to see you again, Tegan,’ he said, irritably. ‘Really excellent.’

‘Oh, she doesn’t mean it,’ Nyssa said, smiling at the Australian. ‘Tegan, I would say that you needed to be kinder to the Doctor, but if you did, you wouldn’t be Tegan Jovanka.’

Tegan chuckled, wrapping an arm around Nyssa’s shoulder.

‘That is true, Nys.’

‘So,’ the Doctor said, glad that the initial tension seemed to have dissipated. ‘Nyssa, you and Tegan are living together here on Earth?’

Nyssa chuckled.

‘Something like that, yes.’

‘Good; you two were always close friends.’

Tegan exchanged a look with Nyssa, and the two women then rolled their eyes.

‘Doctor,’ Tegan said. ‘You really are as oblivious as ever.’

‘What?’

Tegan moved her arm off Nyssa’s shoulders and linked her fingers through those of the Trakenite’s, squeezing gently.

‘Did you never wonder why me and Nyssa seemed to share a bed?’

‘Oh, that’s just… oh…’ the Doctor’s eyes widened, and his mouth flapped open slightly, looking a little stunned. ‘Oh…’

Donna snickered.

‘Er… congratulations!’ the Doctor said, with a quick smile. ‘Really; well done to you both.’

‘Thank you, Doctor,’ Nyssa said, as Tegan rolled her eyes again. ‘We are hoping to get married at some point. Well, when Australia finally legalises marriage equality, anyway.’

‘Married?’ the Doctor breathed. ‘Wow, you two have grown up.’

‘And you seemed to have grown down,’ Tegan cheeked. ‘Pretty sure you’re young enough to be our son now, Doctor.’

Donna laughed, as the time lord put his hands on his hips.

‘I’ll have you know I’m over nine hundred years old, Tegan Jovanka!’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Tegan said, airily. ‘Whatever you say, celery man.’

‘Technically, not a man,’ the Doctor said. ‘Not my fault people keep presuming.’

*

Tegan gave a last hug to Donna, and both her and Nyssa shook hands with the Doctor. They then watched as the two time travellers headed back up towards the waiting blue box. There were a final set of waves, and the TARDIS doors closed behind them. A few moments later, there was the familiar sound of ancient chains clanking, and the wondrous box dematerialised.

‘Well, that was a turn up for the books,’ Tegan muttered, settling down on a bench overlooking the sea.

Nyssa chuckled, and rested her head on her partner’s shoulder.

‘It was nice seeing him again, though,’ she said, softly. ‘At least he’s travelling with another person this time. The one with the leather jacket was… lonely.’

‘Be that as it may, he better not put my little cousin in danger,’ Tegan said. ‘Or he’ll have me to deal with.’

‘I’m sure he’s well aware of that already,’ Nyssa giggled, before pressing a kiss to the Australian’s cheek. ‘Besides, Donna seems to be good for him.’

‘Yeah, she’s a good egg.’

‘Reminds me of you, to be honest.’

‘What, mouthy?’

‘No! I mean she’s passionate and she cares about people. Just like you, my darling.’

Tegan smiled, turning her head to rest it gently on Nyssa’s.

‘Thanks, love.’

The two women watched the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon. It was a lovely evening.

‘Nys?’

‘Hm?’

‘Love you.’

Nyssa smiled, and pressed her lips gently to Tegan’s.

‘I love you too.’

~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! Given that Donna's back now, I thought it might be nice to write something chill and low-stakes regarding her (and this also ties into my headcanon that Donna is Tegan's cousin). Of course, I had to include my girls Tegan and Nyssa here, especially since they're confirmed canon for the third (?) time. Hope you enjoyed this fic!

[softguarnere]

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter Seven: Nvwatohiyadv & Saoirse

Summary: If this is what Hell feels like, at least it’s not as lonely as all those days back home in her room.

A/N: An update? After all this time? I'm just as shocked. I'm trying my hardest to keep up, but I have so many papers and projects due this semester that updates may be a little infrequent for the next few weeks.

Also a massive thank you to the wonderful @latibvles for supplying the name of Zenie's first kiss 🫶🏼You are so beloved And for those of you who like chapter titles, nvwatohiyadv is the Cherokee word for liberty, while saoirse is Irish for freedom - just trying to combine both parts of Zenie's heritage

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, religious trauma, period typical attitudes and terms in regards to race, homophobia, improper binding techniques, language, brief mention of vomit

Taglist: @liebgotts-lovergirl @latibvles @mrs-murder-daddy @lieutenant-speirs

August 1943, New York

Most of them are spilling their alcohol soaked guts onto the docks with retches that hurt to listen to. The few of them that didn’t partake in the guzzling of whiskey the night before are strong stomached until they step onto the SS Samaria, and then they too are sick to their stomachs.

Hardly any of them have ever been on a ship before, and it’s taking them a while to get their sea legs. Funny, how they can fling themselves out of perfectly good airplanes, hurling themselves toward a cold and unforgiving ground, but a ship against the rocking of the waves is what makes most of them feel ill.

But something else is getting to Zenie. Not the usual nerves that send a chill down her spine whenever she spares the occasional moment to be anxious about the possibility of being found out. This is something else. It’s almost like homesickness, or tender feelings for the place she’s about to leave behind.

Life jackets on, they all pack together on the deck as the Samaria leaves New York. She’s short enough that she manages to claim a place by the rail without anyone complaining that they can’t see. After all, just like her, everyone is vying for a peek of Lady Liberty herself.

She’s beautiful. Tall. Elegant. Set against the hazy backdrop of orange sky and mist rising from the waters around her, she’s more of a figure, looming larger than life as they sail by.

Zenie has only met her paternal grandparents a handful of times, but now a memory of her grandfather’s voice whispers to her in his thick accent. “. . . I looked out across the water, and there she was. Her torch guided the ship like a lighthouse, pullin’ us in. All my doubts about leavin’ Ireland left me then. How could I be nervous, with such a lass watchin’ over me?”

Guilt turns into a rock in her stomach. Her father’s parents worked hard to get out of Ireland, to get themselves and their descendants to America. And here she is, willingly going back to the place that they fled.

And now the fine lady watches Zenie as she goes in the opposite direction – leaving America for Europe. If the statue were real, she might recognize something of her Irish grandparents in Zenie and offer her the same strength that she did them so long ago.

What about her other grandparents? The ones who are one hundred percent all-American, whose parents and their parents and the ones before them had been in America since time immemorial. Lady Liberty never welcomed them – they were already here.

It’s silly, really, to wonder whether or not a statue could afford some fondness or sense of protection on a person, but Zenie can’t help but wonder if the figure protects her and her liberties, too, when the world seems so keen on keeping those rights away from her and other Indians.

No. A statue can’t protect anyone, or their liberties. Not really. It’s Zenie and these men and all the other people fighting this war that are protecting those freedoms. The statue is just a reminder of what is often overlooked; it gives an icon to an ideal. If anything, the statue doesn’t represent some omnipresent force that welcomed her grandparents when they immigrated, but rather regular people and their beliefs. The statue only exists because someone believed in something enough to give the world a giant reminder of it.

Well then, what does Zenie believe in?

The lady looming over the water must have some sort of answer. Just as she welcomed Granda into America so long ago, she now watches Zenie leave it – both McGlamery’s traveling towards something that they believe in, though their journeys go in opposite directions.

Go, the godlike figure on the island seems to tell her. Go forth and protect and defend what I represent. For people like your Irish grandfather, who believed in liberty. And people like your Cherokee Granny, who hardly got to see it.

Lady Liberty is stuck in place. Zenie knows what that feels like. But she’s not immobile now. She unstuck herself because of feelings of suffocating in one place. Now she keeps going because she believes in what she’s doing. She believes that she’s a part of something that’s good.

How could she feel guilty with such a lass watching over her?

The longer that they’re on the ship, the more grateful Zenie becomes that she’s not in the Navy, or the Marines, or the Coast Guard. Or any sort of sailor, actually, carrying her secret or not. It’s hot and crowded and miserable. The men stink and personal space is quickly becoming a foreign concept. Her large feet trip her up on the ladders several times, and the only thing that keeps her from tumbling down and crashing onto the decks are the quick hands of her friends that fly out to catch her by the arm.

Toye claps her on the back once after helping her stay upright. She hopes that he mistakes her wince as one of relief and not her dread that he might feel her bandages.

If anything, her secret is only making her experience aboard the Samaria more miserable than everyone else’s. The farther down into the ship they go, the hotter and more crowded it becomes. The binding around her chest makes it harder to breathe, and even though the men all have a few beads of sweat along their hairlines, she feels like she’s glistening with it. All she can do is hope that by some miracle, the ship will reach her destination faster than anticipated, because the second that Zenie sees the hammocks packed together to provide them with a place to sleep, she has a feeling that she won’t be doing much of that – not when the mercury is so high and the oxygen so scarce.

If her feet don’t floor her in this crowded place, the realization that hits her does: where will she change? Clean up? Relieve herself? They’ll toss her out to sea before the ship even sets sail.

“You look like shit, Tommy Boy,” Bill deadpans.

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, I’m bein’ serious. Have a cigarette or somethin’.”

“Maybe you should find Doc Roe,” Luz suggests. He slings his pack over his shoulder and sighs up at the racks above them, resolving himself to climb up to the top where there are still a few that are unoccupied. “If anyone wants to offer a trade, now’s your last chance.”

Toye makes a show of stretching out on his rack, which is close to the ground. “I’m good.”

Bill flips open his lighter and holds it to the end of his cigarette. “Same here.”

Finding Gene is probably her best option. He’ll have some sort of suggestion; he always knows what to do. But right now the boat is hot and she’s exhausted.

A vague memory of a church sermon from her childhood flashes through her mind. The pastor, his booming voice like a canon as it echoed off the walls of the church, lecturing the congregation about the fires of Hell that awaited them if they strayed from the flock. He gave the lecture so many times that she could be remembering any given Sunday of her childhood. As a young girl, the danger of the Underworld seemed to lurk right beneath her feet, the ground threatening to split open and reveal lapping flames that would swallow her up if she so much as fidgeted during the service. The Sunday after she had her first kiss – with that pretty Lucy Jordan from out of town, with the pretty hair and the soft lips – she sweated in her family’s pew as she awaited the inferno to take her. When nothing happened, the fire and brimstone didn’t seem quite so threatening, or even all that real.

The heat generated from the bodies all tightly packed around her does make her wonder, though, if this is what the nether regions of the afterlife feel like. At least she’s surrounded by friends. The thought makes her chuckle to herself as she plops down on a rack. She removes a cigarette from the mostly untouched pack in her pocket, nicks Bill’s lighter, and fills her lungs with the smoke, hoping it will help her nerves.

She glances around, chuckling again as she picks up pieces of scattered conversations from the men. If this is what Hell feels like, at least it’s not as lonely as all those days back home in her room.

Yeah, she thinks. Not too bad. 

“My brother’s in North Africa,” Bill’s voice draws her out of her thoughts. “He says it’s hot.”

“Really?” Malarkey snarks from behind him. “It’s hot in Africa?”

“Shuddup.” Malarkey’s hard expression melts as he laughs. Bill rolls his eyes. “Point is, it don’t matter where we go. Once we get into combat, the only person you can trust is yourself, and the fella next to ya.”

Or woman. Lady. Lass. Dame. Whatever slang term Philadelphians use for girls.

Would they trust her, if they knew her secret and then found themselves next to her on a battlefield? Eugene would; he had said she was brave. If there’s anyone I would trust in combat, it’s someone as fearless as you.

Maybe someone else on the ship is fearless in the same way that she allegedly is. Maybe they share the same secret. That’s a nice thought. She would trust these men – these fellas – if the bullets were flying, but if they knew the truth, they would probably never trust her again.

“Long as he’s a paratrooper,” Toye says.

Zenie might not be a man, but she is a paratrooper. She went through the same training as everyone else here.

“Oh yeah? And what if that paratrooper turns out to be Sobel?” Luz asks as he hauls himself up the racks. Looks like he couldn’t convince anyone to trade spots with him.

Above them, someone else’s voice sounds off with a response that she misses over the din of whoever is above her shifting his weight, making the rack squeak. Another thing that reminds her of Sundays in church: learning to tune things out. She doesn’t need to get her feelings hurt by listening to them talk about who they do or do not trust – because while Tommy falls into one category, Zenie most likely falls pretty firmly into the other.

The next thing that she knows, the rack beside her is shifting as Bill stands, and then the people around her fall quiet as Liebgott’s voice fills the space. “I’m a Jew.”

“Congratulations.” She can’t see him, but Zenie can hear the smug smirk on Bill’s face when he responds, “Now get your nose outta my face.”

He deserves it, friend or not, when Liebgott swings at him. He should know better than to say something like that, and she’s planning on telling him so when she jumps up to help the others hold the two men apart.

A sharp pain blooms in her chest, sending her stumbling back into the racks. A gasp escapes from her lips. No one notices – they’re all too busy trying to keep the first Easy Company casualties from occurring before the ship reaches England.

She’s never been hit in the breast before. And now someone’s elbow has just jabbed her there, managing to hurt even through the bandages.

That’s it. She’s got to solve this problem.

It’s a miracle that she doesn’t get jabbed again as she pushes through the throng of bodies. The miracle balances itself out with the fact that she doesn’t see Gene anywhere among them, and no one seems to know where he is when she throws the question out to them. Instead she finds –

“Tommy!” McClung yells above the rest of the voices that swirl around them. In a second, he’s pushed through the crowd and caught up to her, Popeye and Shifty right behind him. “Where’re you off to?”

“Any of y’all seen Doc Roe?”

“No.” Popeye tilts his head. “Are you as sick as ol’ Shifty Boy here from all that whiskey?”

“Just eat somethin’,” Shifty suggests with a nod. “A couple of those donuts from the Red Cross girls had me right as rain.”

Popeye claps him on the back and flashes her a winning grin. “He learned that from me.”

“No, it’s –“ She offers a vague, sweeping gesture with her arm. The heat. The tight space. The lack of privacy. “I just need some air.”

“We were goin’ up top, anyways. We’ll come with you!”

It’s easier to push through the crowd when she’s got three friends helping her clear people out of the way. Earl pushes through the crowd like it’s nothing. Popeye calls out greetings to people as he goes. Zenie scans everyone’s faces, looking for Gene, reassuring herself with the thought that he’ll know what to do and he’ll come up with a plan for how to handle all this bandage business.

“Fuckin’ ridge runners,” someone scoffs as they force their way through the crowd.

At her sides, her hands immediately ball themselves into fists. She scowls, looking around for whoever might have said it. Cobb is sitting on a rack nearby, and she’s willing to bet the comment was thrown from his direction.

“Hey.” A gentle hand places itself on her shoulder and urges her forward from behind. “Just ignore him. Been enough fights on this boat for one day.”

“But –“ She feels herself deflate under Shifty’s touch. He’s right; they’ve been called worse.

The salt on the breeze is unlike any kind of wind that she felt back at home. During the more pleasant times of year, mountain breezes feel friendly and teasing as they play with her hair and snap flags on their posts. The wind from the sea that greets them abovedeck carries a sense of adventure. It’s powerful – powerful enough to carry them somewhere new.

It fills her lungs and whispers to something in her soul. All those days of sitting in her bedroom feeling suffocated and sorry for herself. Now she’s the farthest away from home that she’s ever been, and (as long as she’s not crammed in the bowls of the ship with the other men) she can breathe.

“Feelin’ better?” Shifty asks. His hand hasn’t left her shoulder. Zenie finds that she doesn’t really want him to remove it.

“Much.”

Earl gestures to all the space around them. “Look at this! This is way better than being trapped belowdecks.”

“Well, it’s a long way to England. We can probably spend as much time up here as we want.” I know I will be, Zenie doesn’t add as she relishes in the cool breeze and the sound of the waves.

“We oughtta sleep out here,” Popeye says. “Better than sweatin’ for hours at a time and listenin’ to everyone snore and complain about the heat.”

Shifty nods in agreement. “We oughtta.”

So they do.

The first night of the voyage, they return to their racks with everyone else. Zenie stays awake all night, listening to people pant in the heat, grimacing every time a rack squeaks as someone shifts their weight. Some people manage to doze, but she spends the next day groggy and vows that she’ll take Popeye’s suggestion. Her friends don’t take much convincing.

“Like camping.” They’re all sprawled out on the deck, hoping that any non-coms or officers that catch them won’t send them back below. The waves slapping against the side of the boat are loud but soothing. In the growing darkness, Zenie can just make out Shifty’s smile. He’s in his element. The others agree, and she doesn’t admit that no one has ever actually taken her camping before.

Instead she’s intent to just be there, the ocean sounds sending that thrum of adventure running through her core as it carries her far, far away from that noble statue back in New York. Far away from the loneliness of her room and straight into the next leg of her adventure. Surrounded by friends.

Not too bad.

[leelei1980]

Want to start reading the story from the very beginning? Here is the link to my Masterlist!

Made for you- Part 9

Thanksgiving

🛑Mature content! Smut warning- 18+ Minors DNI🛑

Veronica

" I can't wait to see everyone again!!" I clapped my hands as Eddie pulled into my Mom's driveway and put the van in park.As much as I loved my apartment, it was so nice to be home. I was looking forward to spending some quality time with my Mom, I really missed her.

" I can't wait to play Dustin's campaign. The kid is stoked, it's going to be brutal. It's going to be so fucking weird playing and not being DM. He's going to crush it though. I'm not going to back down from anything. Give that little shit a taste of his own medicine." Eddie grinned widely. I knew how much he missed the 'Shrimp Squad.' And how excited he was to see his young protege in action. " I hope you don't mind Sweetheart but I'm sure that D&D is going to take up most of the night."

" Perfectly fine Baby, I'm just going to be helping my Mom make pies and prep for Thanksgiving dinner anyway. It's our tradition. I'm so glad Wayne is going to join us!"

" He's pretty excited." He opened his door and hopped out then came around to my side and opened the door for me. Always a gentleman. " I can't believe that we are finally going to get the opportunity to sleep together in your bedroom the entire night and I don't need to climb in through your window." He leaned in and kissed me.

" I can't believe that we are now sleeping in the canopy bed that I lost my virginity in because my mom gave me my bed for the apartment, and my grandparents gave her this one for when I come home."

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows. " Why didn't they just give you the canopy bed?"

" Because it's only a full size bed and not a queen."

" Am I a sicko for hoping that it still has the Holly Hobbie comforter on it? "

I laughed. " Why, do you think we are finally going to have sex in my girly girl bedroom?"

" A man can dream can't he? " He smirked then kissed me one last time before grabbing our suitcases and heading up the stairs. I ran ahead of him and opened the door." Mom, we're home!"

I heard an excited scream come from the kitchen, then rapidly approaching footsteps.

" My girl's home!!" My Mom ran at me and wrapped me in a tight embrace. " I'm so glad your home !" She pulled away and ran over to Eddie, gave him a big hug." Eddie, Sweetie I missed you too!"

" Missed you too Lucy." He hugged her back smiling.

" Why don't you go run your bags up and I will fix you guys a snack!"

I laughed." We've literally only been here 5 minutes and your already trying to feed us!"

" That's my job! I'll have it ready for you when you come back down!"She took off towards the kitchen, and we headed up the stairs.

I threw open my bedroom door and giggled. There is was, pink canopy bed  complete with Holly Hobbie comforter set. I ran and flopped back on the bed, arms above my head.

Eddie set down our suitcases, shut the door and walked over, shit eating grin on his face. " Aww Princess this is fucking perfect!" He crawled on top of me , then bent down and trailed light kisses down my neck. I felt my body get hot. " You can't possibly know how badly I want to fuck you in this bed in this room. So many good memories made in here." he smirked and lightly wrapped his long fingers around both of my tiny wrists pinning my hands above my head. He leaned down to my ear. "Could you imagine getting railed in this bed? Springs squeaking , canopy shaking , as I pound into you? Or me cuffing you to this pretty pink headboard and making you cum on these sheets ?" He hummed.

I gulped." Jesus Christ Eddie. It isn't fair."

" What isn't fair Sweetheart?"

" Putting thoughts like that in my head when you damn well know it's not going to happen. Not with my mother in the next bedroom."

He let go of my wrists." But it's fun to think about isn't it?"

" It's torture, and now I'm all fired up and there is nothing we can do about it. Thanks for the blue balls Munson."

Eddie laughed. " I promise I will make it up to you somehow, my sweet girl." He kissed me again then lifted himself off me, then took my hand to help me up.  I popped up and kissed him one last time before we headed downstairs.

" Sorry about the Holly Hobbie - I have been so busy I haven't been able to run out and get new ones." Mom set down a plate with various crackers and cheeses on it .

" No worries, it's just bedding Mom." I popped a piece of cheese in my mouth then one into Eddie's.  I saw him look down at his watch.

" I apologize ladies for my hasty departure, but I mustn't keep the boys waiting. I know Dustin is probably super excited and anxious, and to be honest, so am I . I can't wait to see what he's got in store for us." Eddie smiled and rubbed his hands together.

" They must be losing their minds with excitement over you coming home." Mom smiled, " I put together some snacks for you to bring." She handed  Eddie a Tupperware container. "Enjoy."

Eddie smiled again and kissed her cheek." Thanks Luce, your too much."  He kissed my cheek as well. " See ya later Dollface. Have fun Ladies!"

" Have fun Eddie." I watched his ass as he walked out of the room and smiled. "Girl time!"

" What better way to celebrate girl time then with a little wine!" I watched my mom pop open a bottle of wine and pour generous amounts into two wine glasses. She slid one to me and I lifted it in the air.

" Here's to Mother/Daughter bonding time, baking and wine! Cheers!" I brought the glass up to my lips, it was fruity and sweet. I raised my eyebrows ."This is good!"

" Nothing but the best for my baby girl."  She polished off half of her glass." Now my girl, we have a lot to catch up on."

*************************************

Eddie

Dustin's campaign was brutal and sadistic and I absolutely loved it. The little shit did an amazing job and I was so incredibly proud of him. I knew that he would do a good job. It was awesome being back with the Hellfire Club again, with the exception of  Jeff, who was traveling for Thanksgiving. Hanging with the guys, and Lady Applejack was a blast.

It was interesting being on the other end of the gameplay , and the discussions. Erica Sinclair , god bless her, always up for a fight , she had bigger balls when it came to playing then any of the guys and I respected that. It came down to the two of us versus Dustin in the end and we prevailed. It was a fucking blast.

I looked down at my watch , the hours had flown by and couldn't believe how long we had played. It was late.

" Outstanding job Henderson, couldn't have done it better myself." I pat Dustin on the back.

" You don't know how much that means to me Eddie. I'm glad you were able to come."

" Wouldn't have missed it for the world. We will be in town a couple of days. Let me know when you can hang again."

" Absolutely." Dustin gave me a hug. "Missed ya Ed's."

" Missed you to Henderson." I said goodbye to the Hellfire crew and gave Mike and the Sinclair's a ride home. When I walked into the Carver house I was greeted by Bill, who had a huge smile on his face.

" Hey Eddie, good to see ya! " He pat me on the shoulder.

" Hey Bill good to see you too!"

" So I'm going to give you a heads up kid, the ladies are in the kitchen, they have been making pies and food prepping for tomorrow, but they have also consumed about 2 bottles of wine so they are in rare form."

I raised my eyebrows." They are drunk?"

" Yeah, you could say that. "

I could hear uncontrollable giggling coming from the kitchen." Oh boy."

" Good luck kid. Your going to need it."

I strode into the kitchen and was greeted by." Eddiiiiee!" I couldn't help but smile. Both women had rosy red cheeks and flour on their faces and looked absolutely adorable.

" There's my Honeybuns!" Princess ran up to me and threw her arms around me. " How was Dusty's campaign? Did you have fun? Did you beat it?"

I kissed the top of her head. " We did! He did awesome, nice to see the crew again. Wow, looks like you ladies have been busy."

" Don't our pies look amazing? " Lucy smiled wide.

" They look delicious."

" So, we drank wine, it's delicious," Ronnie pulled away and brought a wine glass up to my lips." Taste it." She tipped it up and I took a sip. It was super sweet, not exactly my cup of tea but apparently it was hers.

" Mmmm. Tasty." I fibbed." Now I can see why you guys have 2 empty bottles on the counter. "

Lucy's blue eyes went wide." Holy shit,we drank 2 bottles? "

Veronica burst out in a fit of giggles. "No wonder we're drunk Mom!"

" Oh I'm not drunk baby girl, I'm just feeling good. There is a difference."

I leaned back against the counter and smiled.

" Well I am drunk. " Ronnie laughed. "I'm all warm and fuzzy inside."

Lucy walked over and pulled her daughter into a hug, chuckling." I love you so much Sweetie." She rocked her back and forth in her arms."I miss my little girl but I love hanging out with my big girl."

" Aww Mom."

" Eddie get over here, I want to hug you too. I love you for taking such good care of my daughter. I never have to worry about her when your around."

I walked over and wrapped my arms around two of the most beautiful women I know. " I'm one lucky guy."

" Well I'm lucky to have a big strong man like you to help get me up to my room, because there is no way I can do those stairs myself." Ronnie smiled up at me eyes half closed.

I kissed the tip of her nose and looked at Lucy. " I think that's my cue."

" Get her on up to bed, I will finish up down here."

" Yes Ma'am."

Bill snickered as we walked past him. "Need any help?"

" I think I've got her but thanks." We made our way up the stairs, laughing as she stumbled her way into her bedroom.

" I can't believe I got drunk with my mom." She smiled as she started taking off her pants bracing herself against the bed.

" So you like wine Sweetheart?" I closed the door behind me and walked up to her.

" Yup, it makes me relaxed and happy." She pulled her shirt up over her head and threw it to the floor then reached down and started unbuttoning my jeans. " You know what else it makes me ?" She looked up at me and bit her lip.

" I've got a pretty good idea Princess. "

She slid my pants down then pulled off my shirt." Baby I want you so bad." Veronica started kissing my lips, neck, my collarbone.

" Baby," I breathed," Are you sure you want to do this? Here?"

" Uh huh." She continued down my chest, nipping at my skin lightly with her teeth.

" Fuuck Sweetheart-"

She placed a finger against my lips then  whispered."Baby we need to be very,very, quiet." She nibbled on my ear then slowly walked over to her door and carefully turned the lock. She tiptoed back and slowly dropped to her knees in front of me, pulling down my boxers and freeing my rock hard cock.

I ran my hands over my face then looked down to see her lean in and lick my throbbing tip. She looked up at me with her big beautiful eyes as she took me into her mouth. I had to bite my lip to hold in my groan. I ran my hand over her soft hair as she bobbed back and forth, taking me fully in then pulling off with a pop only to swirl her tongue around and lick my length. I lightly tugged her hair and reached down, placing my finger under her chin. As amazing as this felt I had to stop her. I needed to be inside her. I pulled her up to her feet then whispered." That feels so fucking good Angel, but I need to be inside that sweet pussy of yours."

Ronnie quickly stripped off her bra and panties and crawled on the bed, and much to our dismay it squeaked liked a motherfucker, which if the circumstances had been different I would have welcomed but with our current situation it was worse case scenario. I saw a look of disappointment on her face.

I grabbed a pillow and the extra blanket from the bottom of her bed and spread it out on the floor, motioning for her to come down. She slid to the floor and laid down before me. I smiled as I lowered myself to the floor and crawled on top of her. She spread her legs in invitation and I ran my fingers through her fold, she was wet and ready for me."Now I can fuck you as hard as you want me too and they won't hear a thing." I whispered.

" Please Eddie, fuck me, I promise I'll be quiet. "

I ran the tip of my cock through her slick, teasing her clit, before plunging into her. I watched as her head tilted back and her mouth opened in a silent moan. She was fucking exquisite. I leaned down and kissed her breast, licking and sucking ,causing her back to arch as I thrusted into her. She clawed at my back and raised her hips to mine driving me in deeper. I clenched my teeth, she felt so fucking good. I changed pace and slowly rolled my hips , knowing if I continued at the pace I was previously going at I wouldn't be able to last as long.

Veronica pulled my lips to hers and moaned into my mouth as she climaxed , my own orgasm hitting me hard and fast shortly after. I rolled off of her breathing heavily." Was that good Sweetheart?"

" So good, it's hard to be quiet when it feels so fucking good." She rolled over and rested her head on my chest. "Thank you baby."

" Any time Dollface." I ran my hand through her hair. " How are you feeling?"

" A little fuzzy but thoroughly satisfied." Her soft lips kissed the heart tattoo with our initials . " I've got to get up but I don't want to."

" Let's get up and get you in your pajamas, get you tucked into bed, yeah?"

She nodded and I got to my feet and pulled her up. I slid my tshirt down over her head and handed her her panties so she could she could at least run in and use the bathroom. When she came out I slid her into a pair of my old flannel pj pants that she had claimed and we both got comfy under her Holly Hobbie blankets and fell fast asleep.

*************************************

It was strange waking up in Veronica's bedroom considering how many nights we had tried to avoid this exact scenario. I laid there motionless trying not to disturb my sweet Princess as she slept, head on my chest , arms and leg's tangled up with mine. I looked around the room and saw the umbrella that she was fully prepared to beat my head in with the first time I snuck into her bedroom window, the closet that I snuck into the morning that I fell asleep in her room and didn't sneak out before her Mother got up for work. There were pictures of us from our first date hanging on a cork board with random movie tickets and a program from the Battle of the Bands that we won. We have made so many good memories in the short time we have been together.

I felt her start to stir , I tilted her chin up and kissed her and she smiled. "Good morning Princess."

" Good morning Baby." She crawled on top of me and sighed as the springs squeaked underneath us. " I don't remember this bed being so loud before, but I also wasn't trying to have sex in it either, and the one time I did there was barely any movement soooo."

I laughed and pulled her close and kissed her. " I would love to make these springs squeak with you Sweetheart, if only under different circumstances."

She brushed the hair out of my face and smiled down at me. " I'd love for you to stuff me like a turkey baby."

I died, a loud laugh bursting from my chest, Ronnie laughing hysterically. " I fucking love you."

" I love you too. Happy Thanksgiving Eds ."

*************************************

The fact that Jason Carver would be coming home for Thanksgiving dinner was not even on my radar, until the door opened while Bill and I were watching TV. How could I have been so oblivious. I was in my own happy little world and now reality was hitting me right in the face.

" Hey Dad, Happy Thanksgiving." He walked in and Bill got up from his seat and pulled him into a hug. I froze like a deer in headlights. I saw his eyes flicker towards me then away. One of my last encounters with Carver had ended in a fistfight which fortunately I ended up on the right side of.

" It's nice to see you kid, glad you could make it." Bill pulled away and smiled.

Jason turned to me," Munson," he acknowledged. I was flabbergasted.

" Carver." I nodded to him.

" Truce?"

I raised my eyebrows at him ." Truce ."

" Good." He looked at Bill." So what time do we eat? I'm starving."

" I'm sure Lucy has some appetizers in the kitchen, just go in and ask."

Jason nodded at his father and took off.

I turned to look at Bill and he just shrugged.

" Maybe the therapy is finally working, or maybe it's because you beat his ass. Either way it's a win."

" Absolutely."

Wayne came over shortly after Jason's arrival, it was so good to see the Ol Man. It was nice to see him relaxed and comfortable at Bill and Lucy's house. This past year was the the first time I had ever seen Wayne acting social, actually hanging out with people outside of work. It was kind of comical seeing my Uncle and the Carvers, Wayne was quiet , his weathered face most of the time looking serious, then Lucy with her bubbly personality and Bill with kind smile and kind eyes. They were the most unlikely group of friends I had ever seen, but it worked and I was Thankful for that.

This was the first time in my life that I had sat down to a real Family Thanksgiving. This was what normal was like. This is what our new normal would be. This was what it was like to be a part of a family, and this year I had a lot to be thankful for.

[lettalady]

Wine & Punishment - Part 2

[To refresh on the original/ Part One click here... cause this has sat in the drafts for.... gdi years]

The city is an unavoidable, and much needed, change of pace. As executor of the will you have to be present. Last thing to take care of to get the extended family to let you well enough alone. How can you properly grieve with them breathing down your neck? Probably would take her house and land right out from under you if they could. 

Fuck the lot of them. They just want their piece of the pie – whatever your mother may have bequeathed them. And while you’re at it, fuck the city for continuing on as though nothing has changed. Fuck the world for forever moving forward without one Kathleen Marie Faye claiming her place in it. 

Her place. Her place -- interred alongside your grandparents. 

At least she’s no longer suffering, and with family. Even if it leaves you alone to deal with the rest… the insufferable, greedy, unwilling to even come and sit with her to keep her company after learning of her diagnosis but more than happy to hold out a hand when it might mean a payout, asshole lot of them… 

The anger is a distraction from the loss that allows you a half dozen more steps of forward progress before the pang of loss hits you anew. You edge closer to the buildings as it brings you up short again. Rather than clog the sidewalk you can cling to brick and mortar until the immobility passes and you can continue on your way. While you wait you continue your mental railing against those surrounding you. 

Fuck the people that continue walking past, able to remain in the ebb and flow as dictated by the crosswalks. And - you inhale sharply, sucking down a lung full of crisp, fuel emission tainted air when you note one man in particular walking down the sidewalk in your direction - fuck Thomas William Hiddleston, especially.

Alright, true, he didn’t press charges after the incident at your mother’s wake - a spectacular scene carried out while you were supposed to be honoring her memory. That doesn’t mean that you care to interact with him now. Don’t even really want to walk past him, or have him walk past you, since that appears to be the more likely thing when you consider your temporary immobility. Undoubtedly he would feel the need to pause and try to chat and given your wild swings in temperament you just might bait him into another argument. 

Should you turn your back to the street and hope he doesn’t spot you? Better not to risk it. Walking back the way you came will just make you late... Cross the street. Cross now before he has the chance to cast a leisurely glance at his surroundings and spy you, before complications arise. Then he can continue on his merry way, none the wiser, and you can keep trying to tread water as you desperately seek the shore. 

Why hadn’t you crossed at the last intersection? Because there had been no need, then. Heaving a sigh you shove yourself away from the security of the brickwork at your back. Your desire to keep from having a confrontation on a busy sidewalk at least gets you moving. 

Lady Luck finally smiles on you, creating a pause in the traffic so you don’t get run down while avoiding something as simple as an exchange of words with a man you’d once considered a friend and neighbor. Considering how frequently, and how thoroughly, you’ve been cursing anything you believed in before your mother passed - Lady Luck included - it’s a small miracle to have this one little thing go your way. At the corner you pause with the crowd and take a breath, muttering a quiet thank you before going back to mutually assured indifference. 

“Hey! Carrie! I thought that was you!” 

You shut your eyes and give your head a quick shake. The thanks was spoken two seconds too soon. 

Tom. Tom followed you across the street and is breathless as he closes the distance. “Good to see you out, in the city... er... are you...” 

The light changes and you move along with the crowd, ignoring Tom’s half-spoken sentence. Maybe he’ll get the hint and leave you be.

Or not.

“You here job hunting? I could always put in a word with... someone. Reference wise. If you... if you’d stop for a minute.” 

Even considering your poor behavior the last time you saw him he’s willing to provide references to help you in the job market? Kathleen Marie Faye would be mortified for the way her daughter is acting. You swallow and slow your steps, seeking somewhere out of the way to come to a complete halt. You end up standing between a streetlamp and a trash can, not that Tom seems to notice. 

“You know if I didn’t know better I’d think you were avoiding me, the way you dashed across the street like that.” Tom inclines his head towards the motorway as he speaks. 

You mumble the first half of your reply, “And still you followed.” Again, the thought occurs that your mother would be indignant at your behavior. First you cause a scene at her wake and now this. Even if he deserved that slap... You force your voice to be level as you shake your head, hoping that civility might bring a quick end to this moment in time. “No. Not here job hunting, Tom.” 

He draws his eyebrows together into a thoughtful frown. “No? Oh. I just thought since it’s been a few weeks...” 

Three emotions roll from within you, visible in your expression as warning for what comes out of your mouth in response. Shock. Surprise. Anger. “A few weeks and I should be out seeking adventure, that it?” You take a step towards him, internally a little triumphant that he takes a hedging step back. “I’m here to settle my mother’s estate!” You jackass - being the unspoken ending to the sentence. 

[merv606]

does terry wear his hair up in a ponytail during sex or lets those curls loose? imagine daniel humming while helping him wash and comb it 💘😭

Confession - I’m not a fan of the longer hair 😳

I will admit the soft grey waves at the beginning of season 4 weren’t bad but I really do not like his hair in KK3 at all 😂

When I picture him it’s usually TIG as he was in EF (the SIZE DIFFERENCE) or Behind Enemy Lines. So, maybe my HC is he cut it / esp if he’s trying to get Daniel back. New look - new start - new Terry - help dissociate Daniel from the memory of the old Terry as well.

But for the sake of this prompt we will say Daniel does like it and god I will wholeheartedly agree - that is an adorable image. Daniel sitting on the side of the tub to wash it because if not he has to kind of stand up in the tub to reach it properly. Their size difference doesn’t allow for Terry leaning back against Daniel behind him to be as comfy as when the positions are reversed - Daniel resting against a broad chest as Terry smokes his cigar (something he mocks Terry for insistently - and don’t get him started on the bone China floral teacups “WITH SAUCERS, Terry”) Besides Daniel fits so perfectly - like he was made for Terry’s lap, and it usually ends up with Terry’s cock nestled between his cheeks soooo.

Plus the idea of Terry’s hair falling out as he’s giving it to Daniel good and proper does have it merit …… Daniel yanking the hair tie out as he’s being railed within an inch of his life …… before Terry pins his arms down, leaning forward to slide that much deeper inside , tendrils of hair tickling Daniel as he does covers him.

BUT, now it has me thinking though, of how Terry would react to the first sight of grey …..

This seems more cutesy so I’ll try to keep it away from NSFW territory 😂

Daniel still has his thick, dark hair - not a grey in sight and although Terry has no problems keeping up with his boy - thank you very much (there are still many nights he wears Daniel out) he’s still painfully aware that he’s not getting any younger.

At this point too Daniel would prob be early thirties so how Ralph was in NINY ���

Daniel finds the boxes of hair dye and one night while he’s perched in Terry’s lap, cock nestled safely deep inside, he wistfully says that he can’t wait for Terry to start turning grey, twirling a strand around his finger - opening up his big brown eyes for added effect.

He knows it will look soooo good on Terry - how sexy he’ll be as Daniel’s silver fox.

How everyone will be so jealous of Daniel.

So when Terry finds out how much Daniel likes it - he relaxes on the whole issue.

Plus when Daniel cheekily stays calling him old man - as more grey starts coming in - well he just has to use that to teach his little brat a lesson in manners ……

Chasing his boy around the mansion until he easily catches him - putting him over a shoulder before roughly throwing him on their bed and showing him exactly what this old man can still do.

Daniel must admit - Terry’s stamina seems to be getting better the older he gets.

And hell, maybe the first time the grey really starts to show or when he finally goes all grey is when Daniel calls him Daddy for the first time 👀

Great ask - thanks 😊

[shadowglens]

wip wednesday (even though it’s almost friday)

tagged by @arklay​ & @denerims​, thank you both so much! 

i don’t have any recent wips because ... well, you’ve all seen me bitching i’m sure, but i found this old thing deep in my wip folder so here! it’s my attempt at a ‘hawke got left behind in the fade and fenris will be damned if he lets her rot there’ fic. the inquisitor in this isn’t even my main inquisitor anymore - that’s how old this wip is. rip to hugo, but nuala has your spot now.

also, since i’m never gonna finish it, i’m just posting like ... all of it. enjoy lol!

“Broody.”

The wet shaking sound of the man’s breath hits Fenris in the cheeks from where he’s pinned below him, arms loosely clutching at Fenris’ wrist on – in – his chest. His skin has paled to a sheen of glass, veins bulging purple against his throat and jaw. Fenris tightens his fist, feels the slippery organ fluttering manically against the cage of his fingers.

“Fenris.” Varric tries again, the dwarf’s shadow appearing in his periphery. “Fenris.”

“Give me one reason, dwarf,” he snaps, spit landing on the face below him and pooling in the crevice below his eye.

A hand on his shoulder then, tugging, urging. When Fenris turns Varric looks on the verge of collapse. “He’s our only chance. Please.” A beat. “Let him go.”

He takes a moment, feels the heart pulsing out of time in his fist. Sees the tear slipping from the corner of the man’s grey blue eyes. Senses the pressure of the growing crowd around them, the promise of a sword through his spine or a bolt of fire down his throat should his fingers clench any further. Fenris leans close enough that not even Varric, beside him, could hear, his mouth centimetres from the man’s ear.

“You will take me to the Fade,” he growls. Feels the man’s body begin trembling. “You will take me there and you will help me bring her back, or I won’t hesitate to tear it out for good.”

Hugo Trevelyan gasps as Fenris pulls back his hand, the Inquisitor’s whole body all but convulsing for a moment as his heart stutter-starts back into his ribcage. Fenris stands from his crouch, flexes his hand, and storms out of the Skyhold foyer before anyone has even made it to the Inquisitor’s side where he lays sprawled on his back beside his throne.

*

“It’s not his fault, Fenris.”

The metal of the railing is near frozen where he grips it with his bare hands. The tavern is raucous with laughter and shouting a level below, ale spilt and shared. A headache blooms in the crease of Fenris’ brow.

“We’re leaving at dawn.” A sigh, and the creaking of floorboards as Varric wanders off. “I’ll … meet you at the gate. Try and get some rest.”

Fenris turns just as the dwarf is about to disappear down the stairs. “Thank you, Varric.”

The smile he offers Fenris slips away far too quickly. Fenris doesn’t try to reciprocate.

*

She lingers, in his dreams. Fair haired and bare skinned, face turned away from him. His fingers graze her elbow, and she fades into white smoke at the contact, as if she’d never existed at all.

*

The fade is amorphous and vast, ever changing, different between one blink and the other, but the best suggestion anyone poses is to return to Adamant. Fenris would rather not set foot on the sand-caked place ever again, would rather wipe it and the past few months from his memory and play at being in Kirkwall again, stench and blood and all, and yet.

And yet.

The blackened walls of the keep shimmer into existence on the horizon, the burning red of the sand obscuring his vision enough that Fenris doesn’t let himself look anywhere but forward. Varric lingers at his left, a buffer between him and the still-hesitant form of the Inquisitor. He lets the dwarf be.

“We should head for the centre,” Trevelyan says, flexing his hand where the veins glow green. “If I can open a rift near where the last one was, our chances will be better.”

“Am I the only one who remembers the demon that tried to eat us last time?” the Tevinter mage mumbles, as if everyone cannot hear him in the deafening silence of the desert.

A cleared throat, and then, “The likelihood of us entering in the same location is very low. I doubt the demon has lingered.”

“No one likes a pessimist, Chuckles,” Varric pipes up, glaring not so subtly at the elven mage. So many Maker damned mages.

“It’s not pessimism, Varric, merely practicality. We should be prepared for a fight regardless. It is still the fade.”

[my-precious-treasure]

Better Than A Dream

Original Works Mlist

Inspired by Sleep -Johnny Orlando

She stares out the window, her hair dancing around her face in the cool breeze and arm outstretched through the car window. The streetlamps whiz by, illuminating her face in 3 second intervals. The stars twinkle playfully beside the moon and the cloud coverage is minimal.

She inhales deeply, closing her eyes for a moment before casting her gaze upon him. The man beside her could only be described as beautiful; ethereal, almost. His already messy hair was pushed back by the wind, sharp eyes focused on the road ahead. A small smile graces his lips. With one hand on the wheel and the other arm resting on the car door, he could only be described as relaxed.

There was something about summer nights, but this one was different. She’s hit with a wave of nostalgia as realization washes over her. This is their last drive together. Graduation is tomorrow, and the day after, they fly to opposite sides of the continent.

Her vision blurs as she stares at him. This stupid, annoying, wonderful man was the bane of her existence and love of her life. But did he love her enough to do long-distance or was this their end? Do the sweet nothings he whispered to her in the darkness truly mean nothing?

Pushing the thoughts aside, she looks out the window once more, listening to the soft music coming from the radio and breathing in the fresh scent of the woods surrounding them. These were thoughts for another day. For now, she should enjoy this moment of peace with him.

As the car comes to a slow, crossing the yellow line and into a small lot overlooking a cliff, she finally looks at him again. He sees the question in her eyes but merely tells her to get out and follow him.

As they approach the railing, she sucks in a breath. It’s beautiful – the city in the distance, the lights shining like stars fallen upon the Earth.

“I thought you might like this.” He watches her lean against the rail, imprinting the view into her memory. “I wanted to take you somewhere special before our big day. Four years at that damn university; I would have dropped out long ago if it weren’t for you.” She finally looks at him, a small smile forming on her lips.

“You should give yourself more credit. I didn’t do anything.”

“You supported and helped me as my manager. You were my best friend, always brightening my day. But most of all, you love me. You saw me in my worst, but you stayed. You dragged me out to strange new places and gave me the best memories of my life. After everything we’ve been through,” he gently takes her hand in his, “you at least deserve a thank you.”

She turns to face him fully, the view long forgotten. Tears begin forming in her eyes again, “Why does this sound like a goodbye? I-I’m not ready to let go yet. . .”

“Neither am I.” He pulls her close, kissing her forehead, cheek, nose, and finally her lips. He’s warm.

All too soon he pulls away, putting his hand in his pocket. Carefully, he pulls out a small box, opening it. The ring inside draws a gasp.

“I know it will be hard at first, with the long-distance stuff, but we can make it work. I want to make it work because I love you so much. All the scenarios I see of my future, you’re there. I can’t imagine a life without you in it. So, I. . .uh. . .please don’t cry! Was it something I said? If you don’t want to, I can return it!” She shakes her head as his hand comes up to cradle her face, thumb whipping at her tears.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” Hope fills her eyes as he shakes his head.

“We’re wide away.” He slips the ring on her finger, softly kissing her hand.

“Good.” She grabs his face, slamming her lips into his once more. “I love you so much more than you realize. This – you – are so much better than a dream.”

~ ~ ~

Tag List

@raekwon88 @breadforhowl

[sukirichi]

Breakfast for Choso with ingredients #17 and 34 with #2 sugar? Wine is optional.

EASY 

— Nothing is ever easy with Choso, but for him, you’d push through hell and back.

meal order: breakfast + 17, 34 (fake dating, rentboy au) + 2 (enemies to lovers) + biting, scratching, choso eating reader out, sex on the beach

warnings: mature content, unedited fic, choso is mean and harsh when he’s angry

notes: thank you so much for this anon! I really enjoyed writing this and this totally made my day. I hope you like it!

word count: 10k+ LOL CHOSO BRAIN ROT

check out the fanart @tigressnej-chan made, it s so beautiful HURRR

Your day was absolutely ruined. Dark, deep bags covered your under eyes as you stormed through the convenience store downstairs your apartment, body clad in an oversized hoodie and socks visible through slippers, hair greasy and lips chapped. You’re aware you look like a mess, but did you care?

Absolutely not, especially when you haven’t been sleeping well the moment you moved into this cursed apartment because of a certain fucker.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. That specific fucker – the cause of your ruin and the devil who prevented you from living a good life – waltzed inside the store, the small bell chiming to signal his presence. You scoffed at his confident, suave walk, further irritated because he just had to be insanely attractive – in an alternative, laid-back kind of way.

He wasn’t even your type; you preferred more refined men who wore pressed suits and leather shoes, but you had to admit this man was insanely attractive.

With deep, sunken eyes, a dark tattoo across the bridge of his nose and dark hair twisted into twin ponytails, large, muscular body covered in a black sweatshirt and a red scarf – he looked very much like a former member of a gang who retired because their barbaric ways wasn’t his thing. It was an odd theory, and you sat there at the corner of the store, glaring at the man who tiredly pressed the coffee maker machine for a dark roast.

As if feeling eyes on him, his lazy eyes slid over to yours, and almost automatically, one corner of his lips tilted up in humor. This fucker knew how much he annoyed you, and he only further pushed your buttons by walking over to you, the steam of his coffee nearly blocking your gaze.

“Good morning,” he greeted sarcastically, well aware that it definitely not a good morning for you.

“Have fun last night, neighbor?”

“Yes.”

“Jeez, you won’t even bother denying it?”

“I see no point in it,” he invited himself by sitting next to you, long legs crossed over his muscular thigh. You found yourself staring at how he seemed so firm even in loose sweatpants, averting your gaze and staring at your soggy ramen noodle cup instead.  “And you’re not trying to hide the fact you’re listening, either.”

“I wasn’t listening!” you slammed your fist down the table – he didn’t even flinch, only continuing to sip his coffee as if you weren’t burning in anger beside him – as you hissed, “The walls are too damn thin and you’re so fucking loud.”

“No, I wasn’t. She was loud, though.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms against your chest. He really was shameless. You already knew this man didn’t have enough shame in his body, but you didn’t think he’d have absolutely nothing.

Upon witnessing your stupefied state, he reached over to knock at your skull. “Still there, princess?” you cringed at his nickname for you; you didn’t even know this guy’s name, for pete’s sake! “Or are you still too bothered by the fact I got some good fucking last night?”

You flicked his arm away from you, nearly seething in your seat. “God, you’re insufferable. I should move out.”

“Yes, I think that would be for the best too,” he nodded to himself as he stared at his now empty coffee cup. Had it been that long already? Apparently, it was, because your noodles turned cold and your neighbor was already leaving your seat, dipping for a mocking bow. “Have a nice day, neighbor. Don’t think of my cock too much,” he teased, even going as far as winking until your jaw dropped.

You watched as he threw the paper cup in the proper bin, a little surprised he was decent enough to do mundane tasks like that. Sometimes, it was so easy to forget your neighbor was also a decent human being, but whatever.

You absolutely, utterly hated him, and you kept mumbling to yourself of the different ways you’d get your revenge on him as he walked out the door, his annoyingly gorgeous ass in view. “Yeah, right,” you scowled to yourself, “As if I can get that image out my mind now.”

He would not be an easy feat.

Despite your constant pleas for him to at least be silent during the weekdays to give you enough peace of mind to study for the finals, he didn’t stop. Hours just after the sun sets, you’d hear giggles and sloppy kisses on the hallway.

No matter how much you pressed your hands into your ears and set your music on full volume to block out the noise, you could always hear them.

Your neighbor was undeniably a fuckboy. 

Every night, he’d have a different girl dangling in his arms. You knew, because the voices squealing his name while he fucked them right next door were always different. Some days, it was deep and throaty, and on other days it’d be high-pitched and nearly scraping at your ears. They all said the same thing though, such as fuck, right there, you feel so good or harder, harder, please, I’m so close!

To say you were traumatized was an understatement. You never wanted to hear such things again, but alas, your neighbor apparently couldn’t give a single shit because he was fucking someone again.

As if things couldn’t get worse, the person he brought home this time around just had to have the most fucking annoying voice ever. Or maybe it sounded like the others, but you were in the middle of memorizing veins and brain chemicals in alphabetical harder when you heard the headboard of his bed slam against your wall, the sound hard and loud enough you dropped your book in surprise.

They didn’t stop. If anything, he kept going harder until nothing but his low sexy groans and his partner’s screaming – that was right, she was fucking screaming – like she was having her insides rearranged.

You didn’t doubt the possibility that maybe she really was. Your neighbor was such a huge, attractive guy, after all, it would make sense he was capable of such. Before you knew it, you could no longer understand the words in your textbook. You kept rereading the same line over and over again, but nothing registered into your mind. You were so close to screaming at them to stop and shut the fuck up because it was three in the morning and they were still going at it, but you weren’t that mean.

Yes, you hated him, but you weren’t going to blue ball someone or make sex awkward. Sex with your ex was always awkward, so you knew how painful it was to live with that memory. No matter how much you hated your neighbor, you wouldn’t go that far.

So you trudged all the way up to the building’s public balcony, bringing a blanket with you to survive the chilly bite of the night.

You used your phone’s flashlight to read all over the textbooks, keeping your little note cards organized and color coded beside you. Finally, you could make sense of things a little bit more, and you chugged at your Red Bull to keep you awake. Time passed by so fast whenever you were lost with your nose stuck in a book, and your attention was only ripped away when the balcony door swung open, revealing your neighbor with messed up hair and bruised lips.

He looked totally fucked out.

“Oh, fuck, no – what are you doing here?”

“This balcony is for all tenants,” your neighbor barely blinked as he walked closer to you, but instead of joining you on the table, he leaned against the railings and stared into the night sky. He seemed so placid, a little approachable despite his intimidating face even, and for a moment, you were studying his sharp, masculine features before he turned your way with a passive face. “Last time I checked, I’m a tenant, therefore I have the rights to be here.”

“I don’t care,” you retorted childishly, pulling your books closer to you as if he wanted to steal it. He only raised a brow at your actions, the large muscles of his arms bulging up from where he stood.

It felt so hard to not salivate at the sight, but for the sake of your pride, you had to push those thoughts down and remind yourself why you hated him so much. “I evoke your rights. You’re not welcome here.”

“You’re awfully harsh to a stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger, you’re my neighbor who brings girls in his home every night and I can never get a wink of sleep because all I can hear is them moaning and the sound of balls slapping!”

“Vulgar,” he smirked, and he had no business looking so attractive with that arrogant smirk on his face that it took all energy you had in you to not whack him with your book.

“I think I deserve an apology.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

You stood up with a scowl, nearly shoving the book right in his chest. “Bro, I’m this close to slapping this book right in your pretty face. You see how thick this is? I’m not kidding, this will hurt. Listen, I’ve got a final exam and a suture practice this weekend. All I’m asking for is just a few hours of sleep – that’s all. I just don’t get why you always seem to be balls deep in someone at every god forsaken hour; I can’t focus on my work when the noises are so distracting. At this point, I remember their begging more than I’m familiar with nerves. I need to study, okay? I really want to graduate.”

He fell silent at your sudden rant, then, he tilted his head to the side, a small smile on his lips. “You think I have a pretty face?”

“After everything I said, that’s all you remember?”

“It’s kind of hard to listen to every word when I’m distracted by your eyes.”

His comment caught you off-guard, and your eyes widened, arm coming up to hide your face that soon began to felt warm. He only chuckled at your reaction, the sound deep and throaty that it went right straight into the pools of your belly. “My eyes – what are you talking about? Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You’re so creepy!”

“Hmm,” he snickered, “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

“What, no one tells you you’re creepy?”

“No, people always say I’m handsome,” he said it with such a straight face that you gave him an are you serious look, and he raised one shoulder to shrug. “I’m surprised you’re not attracted to me, to be honest.”

“Wow,” you drawled out, shaking your head with a laugh as you plopped down back to your seat in defeat. “Aren’t you full of surprises? First, I get a really horny man as my next door neighbor who keeps me up at night with his shenanigans, and now he’s got the audacity to ask me why I’m not attracted to him?”

“I mean,” he scrunched his nose cutely, a huge contrast to his domineering stature. “Why aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I give up. I’m just gonna crash at my friends tonight,” you mumbled to yourself while gathering your things, leaving your neighbor all by himself. As you reached the door, you called out to him one more time, “Oh, and by the way, you reek of pussy. Go shower or something.”

“So how’s your exams going?”

“They’re fine,” you lied through gritted teeth, slicing through the fish a lot harsher than you intended. The knife scraped against the plate and you winced at the sound, ignoring your father’s loud munching. “Not too much of a big deal. My professors are nice and my classmates are nice too. I’m fitting in really well and I think I’ll even come out on top of my class this time if it weren’t for that stupid little bastard…” your last words ended up as a whisper, eyes glazing to the side as you glared at nothing in particular.

“Stupid little what?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you waved your hand in the air, “Someone’s just distracting me from my studies, is all.”

At the mention of someone distracting your usually composed and unbothered self, your father straightened up in his seat, a large smile on his face that made him look younger than he really was. “Is it a guy? Do you finally have a boyfriend?”

“Ugh, dad, really, you’re the only father who’s so eager for his daughter to have a boyfriend. Shouldn’t you be more proud that, I don’t know, I’m pretty and smart? I don’t need a boyfriend or anything.”

Your father nodded, “True, you don’t need them, but trust me when I say life is going to get pretty lonely when you grow old and you’re all by yourself. It’s still better – and life is a lot happier – when you’ve got a stable supporting and loving figure in your life.”

“I have you for that.”

“And you always will,” he patted your hand gently across the table, “But a parent won’t always be there for their child, and if you’re still not prepared for the future or ready to stand on your own two feet, then that means I didn’t do a great job at raising you; that means I’ve failed as a parent. Tell me, have I failed? Have I raised my wonderful daughter to be so repulsed by the idea of love that she’s willingly closing her doors and locking herself away in isolation?”

“No…”

“I didn’t think so,” he grinned to himself, and you watched with a frown as his eyes crinkled in happiness. Your father was such the complete opposite of you; he was always so loving and open to everyone, while you were mopey and afraid of attachment.

“Don’t be too afraid to love, child. It’s one of the most wonderful things in this world – it’s a blessing – the absolute core of our being. Why do we exist if not to love?”

“Not everyone is a romantic like you, dad,” you sighed, “Plus…how is it so easy for you to finally find someone after Mom died? Isn’t she your soul mate?” you questioned, putting your fork and knife down as you looked your father in the eye. “I just can’t believe you’re getting married again.”

“It’s already been years since she passed away, Y/N. And yes, she is my soul mate, but that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of loving someone again. Our hearts aren’t limited like that, and your mother wouldn’t want me to keep mourning her when she’s resting in peace,” he gestured to the both of you after swallowing his food, “She would’ve wanted the both of us to be happy.”

At the mention of your passed mother, your shoulders deflated, and your eyes watered at the thought of her kind smile. You wished you could see that again.

“I miss her…”

“I know, child, I know,” your father smiled encouragingly, “I also know the reason you’re so afraid to love is because you’re scared they’ll end up leaving you too, like how your mom just slipped past our fingers like that, but it’s only her body that withered. She’s still with us, right in our hearts and in our memories.”

“You really do sound like a lovesick fool.”

“That’s because I am,” your father laughed with a slap to his knees. When his phone buzzed for his alarm, he quickly dabbed a towel on his lips, standing up to excuse himself. “Now, this lunch was lovely and I dearly missed you, but I need to go back to work. We doctors just never get a break. This is a life you have to prepare for if you want to follow my footsteps.”

“I won’t follow your footsteps – I’ll surpass you.”

“I’ll be waiting for that to happen then,” he announced proudly; pride bursting in his chest at how determined his daughter was. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yes?” You squinted at the mischievous look in his eyes, wary of what your cunning father had in mind this time.

“You won’t outsmart me. You better bring a boyfriend or at least introduce someone to me on the wedding – or else I’m pulling you out of the university hospital.”

“Wha – Dad, that’s not fair!”

“All is fair in love and war, child, you’ll learn soon.”

“Oh, I just hate men!”

You really did hate men.

Your final exam was tomorrow already and you’d lost count of the coffee and Red Bull you’ve inhaled today, all so you could study one last time for the test, but no, something – or rather someone – just had to get in your way.

“I’ve had enough,” you announced before slamming your door open; not hesitating as your fists came banging down on your neighbor’s door. “Hey! Keep it the fuck down – someone’s trying to study here! Seriously, man, is it really that hard for you to keep it in your pants for one night? This is what, the sixth woman you’ve had around the past four days? Don’t you get tired? Because I sure as hell am very tired of you!”

The moans and the sounds of bed creaking stopped. For a moment, you almost smirked to yourself when they fell silent.

If only you knew it would be that easy to shut them up, you would’ve done so long ago. You were about to turn back into your room when his door swung open, and you were met by his sweaty and muscular chest heaving up and down – either in anger or from his previous activities – you couldn’t tell.

Your throat felt dry as you peered at him under your lashes, almost afraid of the way he loomed over you. Thank goodness he found the time to wear pants, though, because had he been baby naked, you would’ve run for the hills already.

His dark eyes cut through yours as he seethed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m the one who wants to ask you that,” you were surprised to find your voice despite the way your pussy actually ached just by the sight of his chiseled body, but when you did, you forced yourself to stand up taller, refusing to back down from his gaze. “It’s literally three in the morning and you’re about to fuck a hole through my wall!”

“I thought you said you’d be crashing at your friends. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to have your permission to come back home. Next time, I’ll give you a heads-up, good sir. And for your information, unlike you, I actually don’t like bothering the people around me so I came home. Now would you please kick her out and shut the fuck up for once?”

“Babe, are you coming back here or what?”

Red acrylic nails wound from his body out of nowhere, and your mouth fell open as you watched the naked woman press kisses on the blades of his shoulder. You were conflicted, torn between feeling jealous that she got to touch him like that because damn was he fine, but you also felt appalled your neighbor would be this type of person.

“Babe?” you repeated with a sarcastic laugh.

Stepping away from your neighbor’s tempting pecs, you waved to the stunning woman behind him. “Hi, I’m his neighbor, I don’t mean to be a cock block or anything but I’ve been a witness to his fuckboy ways for months now. If you think you’re special to him, I assure you, you’re not. Yesterday he was just banging two girls until the sunrise. If you’re really as sane as I hope you are, I suggest you skedaddle before this man feeds you with more lies. You’re not special, hun, he’s just going to fuck everything that walks on two legs.”

“Is that true?”

“Nadia, you know how this works—”

“I was literally just on the phone with you last night!” the woman named Nadia pushed him away, but because he was bigger, he didn’t budge. Nadia turned to you, her lipstick smudged and a suspicious white stain on the edge of her lips. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look down her head, and you and your neighbor both watched as she got dressed and left, hands up in the air. “Thank you for this. I should’ve known better than to waste time and money on him.”

You snickered as Nadia pressed on the elevator buttons, a scowl sent his way. Turning to him with pride swelling up in your chest, you smirked, “How does it feel—”

“Happy now?” he growled, his eyes so dark and slit into tiny cuts you took a step back, your heart pumping frantically for different reasons. You never thought he’d be this bothered for not being able to bust a nut. “Satisfied now, Y/N? Do you even realize what you’ve just done?”

“Uhm, yes,” you scoffed, matching his tone. “I just saved that poor girl’s life. Who else knows what you would’ve done and said to her. We don’t deserve to be looked down on and treated like this, you know.”

“Neither did I. I’m just doing my job.”

“Job? You don’t even have a job! You don’t even go to university for fuck’s sake – your apartment is rundown and smells like sour cunt and feet! Maybe you should even thank me because I’m trying to give you ideas on better things to do!”

“Yeah, and be like you?” he snapped, tugging at the strings of your hoodie until you fell a step forward. “Dressed in loose shirts to hide the fact you’ve got no tits and your ass is flatter than your back? Lying to her neighbor that she’ll crash somewhere but ends up waddling back home anyway because she’s always cooped up in her apartment studying to prove that she’s not as worthless as she is and that she doesn’t have a life or friends to begin with?” tears pooled at your eyes at his words, and you knew it hurt because it was true, but did he really have to say it that way?

However, his anger got the best of him, and he didn’t stop there. “I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to skip meals and lose sleep studying for something I don’t care about because I don’t know anything else other than following daddy’s footsteps so he’d notice me more than his new bride. I’m happy with my life.”

“How did—”

“Like you said, the walls are thin. You’re not exactly so quiet to yourself, neighbor. It’s kind of pathetic you talk to the walls when you think I’m asleep because you’ve got no one else to talk to.”

Hands balled into fists at your side, you stood on your tiptoes to spit the words out. “You’re a terrible human being,” no matter how much you tried to exert dominance over him, your lips still quivered as you fought back the urge to cry. “Go fuck yourself.”

“You’re the one who needs to go fuck yourself and get laid,” he didn’t let you have another word as he slammed the door in your face, but you still heard him through the door anyway. “Uptight bitch.”

You were wrong.

Your neighbor wasn’t just difficult – he was completely impossible.

[Dad:] Don’t forget your date!

[You:] Dad…don’t push it.

[Dad:] I find it hard to believe my beautiful daughter can’t have one. Go out there and make some friends, Y/N, I know you isolate yourself too much. It doesn’t even have to be a boyfriend. You could date a girl for all I care. I just don’t want you to be too bored at the wedding. Bring a friend.

[You:] Fine, fine, okay.

[Dad:] But a boyfriend would still be better. Your old man isn’t getting any younger and I want grandkids in the future.

[You:] Dad!

[Dad:] love ya kid !

And so it was the turn of your events that had you groaning in your swiveling chair, the grip on your phone so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up breaking it. As if your week couldn’t get any more horrible with your neighbor’s hurtful words still living at the back of your mind, your father hadn’t stopped talking about you to his co-workers and his equally crazy mother that your grandmother didn’t waste time in calling you.

You loved your nan, you really did, but more often than not, she was much more of a pain in the ass than your father was. The old woman was ruthless, shooting you question by question on why her pretty granddaughter was still single, then came the demeaning comments of how you “weren’t living life to the fullest.”

Frustration eating away at you, you let out a silent scream.

The escort site blinked back at you mockingly, temptingly, as if to remind you that your problems could easily be solved with just a click. You chastised yourself for always having the need to solve problems fast and as easily as you could, because before you even realized what you were doing, your heart started beating a mile a minute as the other line kept ringing.

You ended up lying to your grandmother that yes, nan, I have a boyfriend, can I study for my exams now please, to which the pressing woman responded with, oh, finally! well, I won’t bother you anymore. study well, my dear, I can’t wait to see him!

Just thinking about how she would react if you came alone at your father’s wedding had you breaking out in a sweat, and you chewed at your nails while waiting for the site to pick up.

You were truly desperate now, so much so that you were actually calling a rental boy site.

“Good afternoon, thank you for calling Kamo Escorts! I’m Ijichi, here to assist you. What can I help you with?”

You held back a really painful cringe, biting the insides of your cheek as you got your heart to calm down. “Uhm, yeah…so this is like my first time c-calling a site like this and I don’t know what to do but…yeah.”

“I see, we get new callers too. Would you like a guide?”

“Yes, please, that’d be great thank you.”

“Kamo Escorts is all about, well, as you can see on our webpage – we have men and even women you can hire to escort you on special events. We mostly cater to clients who only need a pretty face to dangle off their arm for social company or even care, or whatever reasons the client may have and the relationship is purely business and professional, but in some cases, the escorts may have sex with the client too under the condition they are paid more.”

The gasp that left your lips was barely stifled, and you furrowed your brows at the implication. “Wh-what, so that’s like a real thing? Isn’t this…?”

Ijichi chuckled from the other line, almost as if he’d been asked this question many times before. “In a way, it is, which is why Kamo Escorts is commercially advertised for purely social company only. You may, however, negotiate with your escort if you would like more services, but we do require that you keep our escorts’ dignity and not look down on them. The service we provide may not be your typical honorable one, but we are dedicated and equally eager to be of service to this society. Should we find that you’re dehumanizing or harassing our escort, we won’t hesitate to…take some action,” the light warning of his tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, and Ijichi took note of your hesitant silence. “Would you still like to proceed?”

“Ye-yeah, I didn’t want the sex anyway.”

“Very well, then. What event are we looking for?”

“It’s for a relative’s wedding,” you supplied, “I need a date.”

“Any preference in escorts? Male, female, tall, short, sociable or introverted?”

Your eyes widened, your back flattening against your chair. “Oh, wow, so this is like a Build-A-Bear, okay, wait,” you chewed your nails again, racking up on your mind on who or what exactly you liked. “My ideal guy is…someone tall, and has pretty broad shoulders…I think I prefer a more introverted one too because people with too much energy sort of drains me…and someone caring and attentive, yes. Handsome too – but if that’s too much to ask for then—”

“It’s okay, Miss. I assure you all our escorts are definitely blessed in the gene department.”

At his confidence, you scrunched your nose and made yourself small on your chair. “Okay, but now that you say it, if he’s too handsome then I’m going to look like a potato next to him.”

“We’ll find someone compatible for you; we always never fail to please our clients. We’ll be able to match you with a more suitable escort if you’re more descriptive with what you want.”

“Okay, okay,” you continued, “Oh, and I like guys with long hair too, but really, anything is fine. I just want someone to effortlessly pretend they’re enamored after just one date and that they’re very glad to be there with me on the wedding. It’s even better if they’re introverted but can communicate well and isn’t shy at all. My relatives are kind of…freaky.”

Freaky couldn’t even begin to describe the chaos of your relatives.

In fact, had you not been paying for this service, you would’ve almost felt bad for the guy. He had no idea what he had coming for him – but then again, neither did you.

“I think we’ve got just the perfect guy for you,” Ijichi answered after a beat, “May I ask when is this event and how long you’d like to book the escort service for?”

“The event is in two weeks. I don’t need to meet him before the wedding because I’m very busy with exams, so I hope this guy can just act really well. As for the duration…I think just one day is enough. After the wedding, I’m coming right back home.”

“Convenient then,” he mused to himself, and you heard slight clicking from his side. “Let’s see…someone introverted and able to communicate well…definitely not Satoru, and his entirely booked by sugar mommies too…” Ijichi whispered to himself, followed by a slight humorous snort. “One last question: would you like someone older, younger, or the same age as you?”

“I’m in uni – I’d be more comfortable if they were closer to my age.”

“Oh, perfect, his schedule is oddly open for the whole month. Wonder what happened, he’s barely had free slots before…” the man was speaking to himself again, and you sat there pouting, even more dumbfounded at how this whole process worked.

Ijichi talked about this escort service and guided you so easily you almost couldn’t believe that it was as…simple as that. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but deep down in your mind, you were waiting for something fishy or weird to happen.

“I found someone for you. He’s one of our best escorts and I believe he’ll be great for this event. However, due to privacy issues, the disclosure of contacts and personal information can only happen once the escort agrees to this service. We’ll shortly get back to you if he’s up for the job. If not, I’ll find you another one quickly; you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Okay, thank you so much!”

“It’s our pleasure. Thank you for contacting Kamo Escorts – we hope to see you again!”

Once the call ended, you fell back on your bed with a sigh. Your neighbor wasn’t around the whole day, leaving you in peace and silence, and you took advantage of the rare quietness by pulling out a book. Hours passed, and you were nearly finished with half the textbook, fingers slightly numb from practicing sutures over and over again when your phone lit up with a text.

It came from an unknown number, but the words were loud and clear. Hey, this is Choso, I’ll be your escort for the wedding. Please text me here for the details and what else you expect from my service. I’m only a text and call away, please don’t hesitate to ask me for anything else.

You blinked at your phone, unsure of how to process the whole thing.

So it was official now – you rented an escort and you had a date for the event. Quite frankly, you were kind of expecting that escorts would be a lot more…flirtatious or even eager to please, but this Choso guy sounded too formal for you to picture yourself having this stranger be a good company for your event. Ijichi sounded so sure though that you no longer questioned it; smiling instead now that you’ve finally solved one of your problems.

Life felt a lot easier.

At around four in the morning, you were too worn out to keep going. Your exam was in the afternoon so you still had plenty of time to sleep, your stomach grumbled, prompting you to leave your unit to get some snacks.

Keys in hand and feet cold in your socks, you locked your door, halting in your steps when you saw your neighbor. Different from his usual comfortable clothing, he was dressed in a formal white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his large, masculine hands coming up to loosen his tie. He wasn’t aware of your presence, almost blindly walking to his door and sighing. You didn’t miss the fact his shoulders were slumped, and he looked absolutely worn out.

For a moment, you actually felt worried, until you remembered what he said to you.

“What, no pussy to fuck tonight?”

He froze in front of his door for a moment, slightly tilting back to see your aggravated stance. Upon seeing it was just you, he shook his head and turned back to unlock his door. “No thanks to you.”

“Aw, did I ruin your reputation?” you mocked sarcastically, “I’m surprised people aren’t smart enough to pick up the smell of women’s perfume on you already. Seriously, are people that desperate for touch?” It was ironic; you’d never admit it, but you weren’t any better than them. You were equally desperate to be touched despite your aversion to romantic relationships, but he didn’t need to know that.

“It’s normal when you’re someone people are naturally attracted to. Not that you’d get it, of course, because it’s clear you don’t get some.”

“At least my apartment doesn’t smell like pussy.”

“At least I don’t masturbate every night then pass out after one weak orgasm.”

Your cheeks burned at his offhanded comment, and even with his back turned to you, you could see the slight smile tugging at his cheeks. He must’ve felt so cocky, thinking that he’d defeated you, so you blurted out the most intelligent thing possible: “How dare you!” while grabbing onto his shoulders to make him face you. “Look me in the eye and take that back!”

“Whatever you’re planning,” he crooned, head tilted to the side and making strands of his bangs fall over his eyes. He looked absolutely handsome under the flickering lights of the hallway in that moment, and you hated how you weren’t able to take your hands off of his strong shoulders, his masculine and spicy perfume clouding your mind. “It’s not going to work. Surprise surprise, but you’re not as cute as you think you are.”

Your eyes burned with fire, the nerves in your body so closing to popping. He infuriated you so much. “And you’re not as sexy as you believe you are!”

“Oh, yeah?” The positions are suddenly switched as he cornered you beside his doorframe, both of his arms planted beside your head. Because he was taller, he had to lean down to look you in the eye, his warm, minty breath brushing over your lips. You stared at him with wide eyes, fingers raking over the wall in a silent attempt to flee. Upon seeing your pursed lips, he laughed.

“Then why are you so shaky? Do I make you nervous?” his head dipped down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Say…you only pretend to hate me, but you actually wish it was you I’m fucking every night, don’t you? Tell me…do you touch yourself when you hear me eating someone out?”

“I-I’m not—”

Before you could combust under his gaze, he pulled himself away from you, a satisfied smirk on his face at your flustered state. He chuckled lowly, keys spinning on his thick finger. “I was just teasing you, princess. No need to get so worked up.”

“I never want you near me again!”

He raised both brows as if to challenge you, and you knew from the glint in his eyes he was up to no good. “Princess, you jumped on me first.”

“I didn’t!” You shouted, immediately slapping your palm over your lips after realizing people were sleeping. He snickered at your reactions, and you pushed past him back to your unit, suddenly losing the appetite to get your precious snacks. “God, I hate you so much.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual.”

Difficult. Unbelievable. Complicated. Idiotic. Nothing was ever easy with him.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” your father scolded from his chair, his body barely moving as the stylists fixed his hair and makeup, but his eyes glared at you from the mirror. “You’re a lot more nervous than I am, and it’s my wedding.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it.”

Your father sighed to himself, standing up after they were done with him. He checked his appearance in the mirror for a while, nodding to himself in satisfaction. It was still a little surreal that he was going to get married again, to a woman half his age of all people, but he was happy, and his bride seemed to really love him too, so you no longer questioned your father’s decisions. He was an adult, anyway, he could make his own decisions.

“You’re waiting for your boyfriend, you say?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s he like?”

You stiffened at the question. Not wanting your sharp-eyed father to pick up on the smallest cues, you lied through your teeth despite not having any idea on who or what kind of person the escort was.

Other than discussing details of how you two supposedly met, conversations had been crisp and short. You were lucky that the escort seemed to be nice and smart enough to not always ask you to explain everything, and he was crisp and curt in his texts too. No flirty or suggestive messages, not even a single emoji. He seemed a little stiff, and while you worried if you could fake chemistry with someone who seemed like a wall, you were also assured by the fact he wasn’t some creep.

“Nice. He’s sweet. You’ll like him.”

“And when did you meet him?”

“Dad, do I have to tell this story all over again?” you groaned, “We met after exams, he goes to a different uni and he studies law—”

“Law. Impressive.”

“Of course you’re impressed,” you rolled your eyes. Coming from a family of doctors and engineers, your father, and pretty much everyone else in the family, also expected that you’d date someone who was equally intelligent and had enough connections in different industries at least. It just so happened you were really lucky your escort also really did study law for a bit before he became an escort; a detail you never got enough explanation for. “He’ll be here anytime soon. Just you wait.”

In reality, you were the one who couldn’t wait.

You were excited and nervous at the same time to see this mysterious escort, and you were in the middle of talking to your father and his bride when someone called you.

“Y/N?”

You turned around with a bright grin. That must be him! You clasped at the hems of your dress so you could meet this mysterious, rigid man properly, but the moment your eyes met his equally startled gaze, you choked on your own breath. “Y-you—”

Choso stood before you; handsome as ever in his suit and tie, his iconic twin tails still there. How ever would your father believe you now that he was a lawyer, especially with his messy hair and face tattoo? You loved it and found it sexy on him, no denying that, but your father was a little bit more traditional. But that aside, it was Choso?!

His professionalism arose and he regained his composure quicker than you did, the smile on his face so natural and alluring even you almost fell for it.

Choso wrapped an arm around your waist before kissing you on the cheek, and the skin felt extremely hot under his lips. You couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak, because Choso was pressed flush against you, and he looked at you with stars shining in his eyes you didn’t know whether to be flattered or afraid.

Maybe a fucked up mix of both.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad,” he explained with a small smile on his lips, and he looked so handsome and smelled so good in that moment you were left gaping at him as he bowed to your father, arm politely extended. “You must be Y/N’s father. It’s very nice to meet you sir. I’m her boyfriend, Choso.”

To your surprise, your father eagerly shook his hand with the brightest grin he’d worn the whole night before he faced you with a laugh. “No way,” he beamed, gesturing to Choso. “He’s your boyfriend? You managed to snag this fine man?”

“Dad!” your ears burned with embarrassment. Choso only laughed; making you painfully aware of his large, warm hand resting at the small of your back.

“I heard you’re a lawyer, son?”

“Yes, sir.”

Your father nodded in approval, the two exchanging over words about what his plans were for the future and how his studies were going. You stood there with a pounding heart, fearful that Choso could fuck up any moment, but he was so effortless and easy going. Had you not been the one paying him, you would’ve been fooled too.

So this was the life of an escort.

“So how much did my daughter pay you?”

“Dad, I didn’t—”

“I mean, there’s no way she actually charmed you with her non-existent social skills. My daughter here can’t even talk to someone and look them in the eye, much less ask someone out, so how did this happen?”

Choso laughed at your father’s lighthearted comment, saving the day for what seemed like the hundredth time already. “I approached her first, sir. We were both eating in this small diner and it was cramped, so we shared tables and started conversation,” Suddenly, his grip tightened on you as he pulled you closer, your ear now resting above the lulling and steady beating of his heart. How was he so calm?

He lightly squeezed your hip and it had you freezing under his touch, stiffening even more when he looked down at you so adoringly. “Guess it went downhill from there.” God, you had no idea who this man was.

“Really? What did you guys talk about?”

Choso opened his mouth to speak, but it was there, that damned glint on those dark eyes again that you clutched at his bicep. He may be damn good at this job, but knowing Choso, he was enjoying this way too much.

Anything you couldn’t predict or control properly was a huge no in your game, and you pulled Choso away before he could say something downright humiliating.

“Dad, just go focus on your wedding. I want to spend time with my boyfriend, okay?” You couldn’t even begin to fathom the inward cringe upon your words, the feeling only worsening when Choso fought back a laugh masked with a cough. Before your father could say anything else, you dragged Choso rather harshly, but he didn’t mind; he followed you obediently. “Come with me. I need to talk to you,” You didn’t stop until you were both alone in a desolated corner, and finally, you hissed at him. “What are you doing here?!”

“I should be asking you the same thing – but it turns out you’re my client.”

“Client? So you really are my escort?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So those women…”

“All my clients,” he confirmed your thoughts. “I assure you they knew what they were getting into. In fact, they were the ones who asked for that special service that caused you to lose your sleep every night. That woman the other day was just pissed because she booked me for three days, but I lied that I was available until the duration she wanted when I wasn’t.”

“You mean you were still working an escort for somebody else?”

He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Why did you lie then?”

“It’s more money,” Choso stared down at his hands before his eyes flitted back up to yours, his face unreadable. “I’m saving up so I can move somewhere else. Our apartment isn’t exactly the most ideal considering my profession. I need to find someplace quieter with thicker walls this time,” he smiled, “That way, I’ll no longer bother my sweet neighbor,” your lips felt dry at his words, your tongue darting out to lick at them while Choso scrutinized you under his gaze.

“I have to admit though – you asking for escort service is the last thing I’d ever imagine you doing. Not that I’m complaining since it’s still money in my pocket, but you’re not the most pleasing company to be with.”

“Oh, you bet, Choso. Had I known you were going to be my escort, I would’ve declined long ago,” you groaned, your head dropping in your hands. “What was Ijichi thinking when he said I would be compatible with you?”

“You’re not,” he stated, “But I am compatible with you – as I am with pretty much everyone else. I’m one of the best escorts, and soon you’ll see why.”

You didn’t understand what he meant by then, but it seemed Choso was quite eager to show his skills off when he dragged you back inside the reception event. The whole time, you couldn’t pay attention to anything or anyone else other than Choso. It still felt hard to believe that the whole time, he really was doing his job, and upon seeing how easily he had people believing you two were an item despite you just standing silently beside him, you felt guilty that you disrupted his “work” like that.

Guilt gnawed at you as Choso made everyone laugh, and soon your relatives were cooing, praising you and congratulating you that you were “happy” now.

Back then, you always looked down on him and even called him a mere fuckboy, but Choso was so much more than that. He was intelligent; his past as a lawyer proved that, and whatever happened that caused him to work in this industry kept lingering in your mind.

There was no denying it now.

You respected this man – admired him even.

“And now it’s time to join the newly married couple on the dance floor! Come on, people, bring your dates up here for a twirl!”

You remained planted in your seat, too comfortable with Choso’s jacket draped around your bare shoulders. You’d lost count of how many times your head ducked down for the lack of sleep, and as much as you loved your dad, you wanted nothing more than to go home and rest.

Choso offered his hand to yours, a teasing smile on his face. He wriggled his eyebrows up and down, and he looked so utterly ridiculous that you couldn’t believe the boring man you were texting was the same infuriating yet undeniably attractive bastard who was your neighbor was the same fun. The world is very small, it seemed, and you weren’t sure whether you were brave enough to venture these strange places and feelings.

“Uh-uh. No. I’m not dancing.”

“Two left feet?”

“No, I’m wearing heels. My feet hurts.”

“Then take it off.”

“And get my feet dirty?” you scoffed. As if to prove your point, you snuggled deeper into his jacket that smelled heavenly like him, closing your eyes as you pretended to sleep. “Sitting here isn’t so bad. Plus, look at them, all staring at each other with goo-goo eyes. It’s revolting,” you shuddered.

Through the sickeningly romantic music playing in the background, Choso fell silent. You cracked an eye open, frowning when Choso studied each of your features carefully. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You seem to hate the idea of love.”

“Because it’s pointless.”

Choso narrowed his eyes at your answer, brows bunching up at the way your shoulders squared to keep yourself away. Then, he stood up and sighed, offering his hand to you once more.

“I won’t really ask you to explain why, because frankly, I don’t care,” you stared at his large palms for a few seconds. There must be a ghost possessing your body because you looped your fingers through his and allowed him to guide you on the dance floor despite your mind’s protests, and soon, Choso’s eyes were all over you. “But if you don’t want your money to go down the drain and you really want to convince everyone, I suggest you forget about that mindset for just a few more hours,” his voice dropped down to a low whisper, his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes turned solemn, his hand on your waist gentle. “Dance with me. Let’s show them how madly in love we are with each other.”

“We met just last week, remember?”

“Love at first sight, princess,” Choso kissed your forehead, sending your heart thumping and running to another dimension. Oddly enough, you didn’t mind, and your hands travelled from his strong arms to his broad shoulders instinctively. “Take your heels off. You can step on my feet and I’ll dance for us both. Just put your arms around my neck – yes just like that,” he nodded with a smile when your fingertips nervously played with his hair, and Choso began to dance you both in time with the music. “Are you good?”

“I don’t like this lack of space between us.”

Choso smirked, “Why, do I get you all hot and bothered?”

“Jesus, Choso, you can’t be serious for a minute, huh?”

“It’s kind of hard to be serious when you’re so flustered and adorable right now,” you pulled at his hair in response, but of course, he wasn’t really hurt.

“Look at me,” he demanded, but you refused, keeping your gaze planted on your bare feet on top of his again. “Hey. I said look at me,” he tilted your chin up until you’re forced to be like prey under his gaze, his breath tickling the bow of your lips. “I am your escort for tonight – and I humbly ask that you do your part as my client so I can perform my job well. I need you to look into my eyes and pretend you’re in love with me.”

“I don’t want to fall in love with anyone,” you suddenly admitted, “I’m scared.”

“You don’t have to be,” he replied, softly this time, and his hands ran down tenderly to your hips to pull you closer to him. “I’ll be there to catch you.”

You couldn’t remember who leaned in first. The only thing you remembered was that the music faded in the background when you kissed him – or maybe he kissed you – fuck, you didn’t really remember. Eventually, the kiss grew too heated, his hands squeezing your waist while you moan at the taste of chocolate and wine on his expert tongue.

Choso easily read your mind and swooped you away from the crowd, the both of you stumbling until you made it out to the venue and onto the beach.

The salty air kissed your skin while Choso carried you bridal style, arms looped around his neck while he kept moving his lips above yours. He was laughing through the kiss with how messy and eager you were, tugging at his shirt to encourage him to unbutton it. Choso set you both down on the darker, isolated part of the beach where nothing but the sound of waves lapping against one another could be heard with your breathless pants and his chuckles.

You were lying on his jacket, dress bunched up to your chest while your legs were spread wide open for him. “Ch-Choso,” you choked out when his tongue ran flat across your slick folds, his hands keeping your hips pinned down to the sand. “I-I, please.”

“I got you, princess,” was all he said before he completely dived into your heat, his sharp nose brushing into your cunt.

It didn’t take long until you were spasming in his hold, legs closing around his head. Choso groaned into your pussy, a finger working its way inside your sopping cunt while he licks and slurps your arousal like it was fucking water. Now you understood why those girls always lost their mind – Choso was a fucking expert when it came to worshipping pussy.

Choso pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine at the sudden emptiness, but he was kind, eager to please you that he immediately replaced it with his tongue.

You cried out when you felt his tongue entering your hole, one thumb pulling the hood of your lips up to reveal your sensitive pearl. Choso rubbed your clit fervently, his other hand reaching up to squeeze and tug at your breasts while he drank your juices dripping down his tongue as if you would be his last meal – and he honestly wished you were, because you tasted like heaven on him and he wanted more.

Once he felt you clamping down on his tongue so tightly he struggled to retrieve his warm muscle back, he helped you reach your high by pinching your clit. You moaned out his name, the sound sending blood straight down his cock, and he groaned into your pussy the moment you grinded on his face as you relaxed from your orgasm.

Choso didn’t give you the chance to recover from your orgasm, pulling you up to his lap before he’s kissing you again. You moaned when you tasted yourself on his tongue, his face and cheeks sweet from your arousal and cum.

You should be ashamed, but you couldn’t find a single bone in your body that felt shy right now. Choso was right – there was no point in being shameful when it came to your pleasure.

The kiss was sloppy, more tongue than lips and teeth clashing onto another. Choso grinded you on his hardened erection in search of your heat that would bring him relief, but he slowed down and pulled away from you, a string of saliva connected from your lips. He wanted you – wanted to fuck you so badly – so he searched your eyes for the answer when you aligned the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Is this okay? Are you sure with this?”

“Yeah,” you gritted your teeth when his tip entered your tight cunt, your walls sucking him in greedily already. Choso’s head dropped down to your shoulder, his teeth sinking down to your shoulder. You slowly sat down on his thick length, but then froze before he could bottom out. “Wait, no, I’m broke! I can’t pay for your extra services!”

“It’s free for you, princess,” he rasped out, “Now sit on my lap so I can feel you around me already.”

“Do you always have to be so vulgar?”

Through the pleasure that had his abs rippling, Choso managed a laugh. “You might want to get used to it.”

“Why would I?” you breathed out, eyes shutting tight once he fully slid into you. He allowed you to get used to the sudden stretch; it had been too long since you’ve been touched this way that you were impossibly tight around him right now. Your chest rose and fall with each faltering breath, your nails running down his back when Choso gave a deep, experimental thrust that immediately hits your sweet spot.

You moaned, cheek resting on his shoulder as Choso set the pace, squeezing your ass as he bounced you up and down his cock. “You’re gone after this. Once this contract is over, you’re moving away and I won’t get to see you anymore. I-I won’t lose sleep anymore after hearing you fuck all those women and gosh, I hate you so much, you know that?”

“I hated you too,” he groaned through your skin, “Or at least, that’s what I told myself so I wouldn’t get hurt.”

“Hurt? I would never hurt you,” Really, you praised yourself for still being able to form coherent sentences even after Choso kept fucking into you.

“I’m an escort, princess, I’m everybody’s and nobody’s at the same time,” he explained almost angrily, and his lips zealously sucked love bites to the sensitive flesh of your neck, “Even if you won’t hurt me, we’re bound to crash and burn at some point. This is why we’re not allowed to get attached to anyone,” his lips brushed over her collarbone, his canines dragging along to make red marks. “Why we’re not allowed to fall,” he squeezed her breast in the palm of his hand, twisting the peaked nipple until you whined, hips bucking deeper into his cock. “Why we’re not allowed to love.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“I’ve always liked you,” he laughed through the pleasure, holding your hips down so he could drive his cock deeper into you. Yes, he was selfish, yes, he was frustrated – and his feelings burst through the way Choso powered into you. You fell limp in his arms and he easily caught you like he always did, his eyes blown wide as he stared right into your eyes, his dick still pummeling through your gummy walls.

Choso inhaled sharply when you clenched down on him, an elongated moan spilling past your lips. “I liked you the moment you moved in and you fell flat on your face before you could greet me.”

“Shut up, don’t remind me of that!” you raked your nails down his back hard enough to draw blood, and Choso concealed the pain with light chuckle, the pain only prompting him to absolutely use you. “You’re seriously bringing it up now when you’re – ah, fuck – b-buried in me?”

Choso tugged at one of your legs and wrapped it around his waist, the sudden change of angle had you pressing down deeper into him. It felt like you were sinking closer and closer to his cock, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix until you’re crying out in his arms, scratches evident on his back.

“For now,” he breathed out, “I want to at least be selfish enough to want you now, just for now if fate won’t still allow it.”

“W-we can try,” you said in your lust-filled gaze, lips crashing down messily to his while you bounced on him, your hips slamming down at the same to meet his thrusts. “It’s not going to be easy, but we can try, right?” You cupped his face, surprised with the sudden vulnerability from his hooded eyes, looking so innocent and beautiful as if he wasn’t painting your insides white.

“Okay,” he nodded, brows pinching together. And that was all the both of you needed before Choso sank his fangs down the column of your neck to hold on his low groans; your head thrown back as you both drown in the pleasure of being with one another.

In the blink of an eye, all tenderness is Choso’s touches replaced by the hunger in his eyes and the power of his lust-filled thrusts. You were a moaning mess by the time your hips sit flat on his pelvic bone and his balls brush on your ass from how deep he was hitting you, and you felt his teeth nibble at the side of your breasts again as he warned, “But for now, I’m not going to go easy on you – not when I’ve wanted you for so long and I’ve been so hard for you these all time.”

And you allowed him. Because nothing was ever easy with Choso, but for him, you’d try pushing through hell and back.