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trblsvt · 11 months

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in this life | choi seungcheol

summary | honestly, you didn’t really care what choi seungcheol did anymore. but, when his mom called you saying there was an accident, you found yourself at the foot of his bed. genre | fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; exes!au warnings | swearing, mentions of hospitals, injuries from an accident (not life threatening), mentions of drinking, suggestive… for like a flashback, nudity (non-sexual and not descriptive), miscommunication possibly…, jealousy…, insecurities/self-doubt word count | 13.47k words pairing | choi seungcheol x fem!reader minli | lowercase intended i literally have nothing to say about this. sort of a monster to write. i had so many ideas for this, yet little brainpower to execute! it was a fun concept and the longest fic i’ve written for this blog… italics mean flashback or past event… update | i forgot a few things to tag under warnings, sorry :( they have been added

you were doing great, just great. it started raining when you left your umbrella back at your apartment. you were late to work, and you spilled your coffee on the way out of the door. things were great, and it had been seven months since you and your boyfriend called it quits.

you’d like to say it ended in a big blaze of glory, something movie-like, but it was just the opposite. you had sat down with seungcheol and told him that you were unhappy. he was always too busy and refused to make time for anything other than his work. as for you, well you were tired. when you told him, he sort of just looked at you blankly and just shrugged.

he fucking shrugged. great. so that was it. you just stared at him blankly. he wasn’t even going to put up a fight. two years down the drain.

“so that’s it?” you had asked before you left.

“yeah, i guess so,” he had replied.

and that’s how it ended, you packed up your stuff and went back to your apartment. you technically weren’t living with seungcheol, you still had your lease and whatever, but you spent a lot of time at seungcheol’s.

you finally made it to the office and clocked in. nothing important was going on today which was nice, but also this meant your day was going to be endlessly boring. at least it was friday.

you sat down and logged into your computer. “shouldn’t you change your home screen?” a voice startled you out of your thoughts of the hours to come. you spun around in your chair and stared at your friend minjeong. you looked between her and your computer screen. you knew what she was talking about, but you decided to play dumb. “what are you talking about?” you asked. minjeong sort of glared at you.

“that’s from your vacation to jeju,” she frowned.

the same vacation seungcheol took you on.

“yeah, it’s a sunset for jeju. what about it?” you huffed. she didn’t respond, just gave you a look. you knew that look. it was the “i know better than you, why aren’t you listening to me?” look. “seungcheol isn’t even in this picture,” you defended your screensaver.

“but seungcheol was there. that’s a memory with seungcheol,” she countered. she was right. you probably should’ve changed it, but whether it was with seungcheol or not, it was a nice picture. “yeah, it is, but we’re on good terms so what’s the big deal?” you blurted out.

there was the “you’re such a liar” look. “really? when’s the last time you talked to seungcheol since you broke up?” she entertained you even though you both knew you hadn’t contacted seungcheol once since you broke up. “well, it’s not like i keep track or anything, that would be weird,” you brushed her off. you could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “seriously, ___, i don’t think this is healthy for you to still keep remnants of your relationship with him around. it’s going to prevent you from moving on,” she explained.

“i know, just- just give me a little time,” you sighed.

“time? it’s been seven months! how about we go out tonight? you can get your sights on some new man. i think i overheard that changkyun is going out tonight at that new bar.”

“now why would i be interested in where changkyun is going tonight?” you scoffed. minjeong had a theory that changkyun had been crushing on you since he first joined the company, but you were too “lovesick” with seungcheol to see. “he’s so into you! i’m not saying to marry the guy, just take your mind off seungcheol. it’s his loss anyway,” minjeong laughed.

you wanted to believe that, you really did.

you had every intention of going out with minjeong, but the day was going on so momentously, you weren’t sure if you could stand up straight for another second. you both had to unexpectedly stay longer and work overtime, and it might have been the death of you. you heard minjeong’s cheery humming coming around the corner. “are you ready to get absolutely wasted?” she smiled.

“i was going for more of a buzzed thing,” you yawned.

“oh no, don’t do that. you get so quiet when you’re tired before you drink,” she whined. you looked at her, but she was right. you had about three different moods when you were drunk. one, loud. two, quiet. three, insane. and most of the time, the way you ended up correlated to how you were feeling before you drank. you couldn’t explain it, but it just happened.

you were about to offer a clever rebuttal when your phone started ringing. “one second,” you didn’t even bother to check the caller id. “hello?” you replied.

“ah, ___ thank you for answering,” a familiar voice floated through the phone. you paused. you pulled your phone away from your ear and looked at the name on the call.

mrs. choi.

“mrs. choi, hello, i wasn’t expecting you to call me,” you said almost breathlessly. you glanced over at minjeong and she stared at you, wide-eyed. “___, dear. i’m so glad you picked up. i need you to come over,” she sighed. she sounded tired like she had been crying. wait. she wanted you to come over? for what? “come over? what’s going on? is everyone okay?” you asked, logging off your computer and placing the few things you took out of your bag, back into the bag.

“i have hope that it will be. seungcheol was in a car accident.”

you apologized profusely to minjeong and left the office rushing to the seungcheol’s apartment. you knew the way to his apartment, to him, like the back of your hand. you punched the code in that bypassed the need to be buzzed in, and made your way to the elevator.

after you pressed the button to the fifth floor of the complex you felt your hands become inexplicably sweaty. why did you rush over here like a lovesick fool? you weren’t even dating him anymore. why did his mom call you? what was going on? the elevator dinged, alerting you that it was time to get out.

you made your way down to his apartment. 5-12. it looked the same since the last time you were there. you stared at the door. it had been so long since you had been there. your heart was beating so fast, you didn’t know what to do. so, you just knocked.

the door flew open almost instantly. “___, my dear, come in,” mrs. choi welcomed you warmly. you smiled and bowed slightly. when you stepped through the doorway your first instinct was to run away, but you couldn’t. you kicked your shoes off and followed mrs. choi in the direction of seungcheol’s bedroom.

she lightly grasped at your arm. “the car crash happened a couple days ago. we just got out of the hospital. he broke his right leg. it was jammed against the dash and steering wheel. he also has a bruised lung from the airbag, and a mild concussion from the collision,” she explained. you nodded. that sounded awful. where did he crash? did someone crash into him, or did he crash into someone else?

almost reading your mind, she added, “he didn’t hurt anyone else. it was raining the other day. it was dark and his car hydroplaned into a barrier. the cops thought it might’ve been a drunk driving incident since they found newly bought alcohol in the back of his car, but there wasn’t any in his system.”

you were still rendered speechless. seungcheol was the safest driver you knew. he always warned you about hydroplaning and what to do if it happened. why didn’t he do what he always told you?

you realized you were spaced out when mrs. choi rested a hand on your shoulder. “i was surprised that you didn’t come the other day, but seungcheol insisted that you were away on a trip of some sort. he didn’t want me to call you, but you’re his girlfriend! i had to tell you at some point, and you’re obviously back in town,” she exclaimed. “thank you so much for coming, ___. i don’t know where seungcheol would be without you.”

you’re his girlfriend.

what the fuck?

you certainly were not his girlfriend anymore. why did she think you were together? it had been seven months. mrs. choi was sharp, she wouldn’t accidentally slip and say you were his girlfriend unless that is if…

then it dawned on you.

for whatever reason, seungcheol never told his mom the two of you broke up.

fuck.

seungcheol was sick. he was more than sick. he was hurt, physically. and his mom only wanted what was best for her son. she brought you here for something. you weren’t about to make this poor woman’s day worse by telling her you weren’t dating seungcheol anymore, so you played along. “yes, i just got back from a business trip. i always tell seungcheol to call me if something’s the matter. i’m so glad you called me, i wasn’t going to come over for another day or two because of his work schedule,” you pretended. she looked at you fondly. “i always knew you were a good one, ___,” she smiled. it pained you to lie to her, but it seemed like the best option for now.

“we just got back from the hospital a few hours ago. he’s all set up in there. i’m not sure if he’s awake now, but do you want to see him?” she asked. you nodded quietly. you didn’t know what you were going to do in front of seungcheol. you preferred not to think about it.

“before you go in, i have a large favor to ask you. i understand you’re a busy person, but if you could, oh my i feel so embarrassed to ask this. if you could stay with him for a while. take some time off and take care of him because i really cannot stay. my father is ill and i must return home to care for him,” she laughed bitterly. “i would stay, and i would never dream of dumping this sort of responsibility on just anyone, but you’re his girlfriend. not saying girlfriends and wives are only meant for taking care of husbands and boyfriends, but i know you care about seungcheol. i just thought it-”

“yes, i can do that,” you cut her off. why did you say that? “i can contact my manager and work remotely.” why do you keep saying things like this? suddenly mrs. choi’s arms were around you. “thank you, thank you, thank you, dear. i am so grateful for you, and i know my son is too. thank you! i must get going, but i already stocked the fridge. you can go in. once again, thank you so much. our family owes you so much,” she cried. you rubbed her back. “oh, don’t say that. you don’t owe me anything. i’m just happy he’s alright,” you whispered.

that was the first truthful thing you said in that entire interaction.

when you entered the room, mrs. choi accompanied you. seungcheol was awake. he stared longingly out the window on the opposite side of the room away from the door. “honey, there’s someone here to see you,” mrs. choi called gently. you wanted to hide, so you tried to. partially behind her and you looked over her shoulder. seungcheol tried to adjust himself and he slowly turned over to look at his mother. “mom, i really didn’t want to see anyone-” he began, but his eyes met yours and he froze.

“oh come on, darling, it’s ___. she’s agreed to help out some. she cares about you,” she cooed. seungcheol looked like a child who got caught going through the cookie jar.

due to the dim light, you couldn’t really see that well, but you noticed the large soft cast that he had on his right leg. it looked like he was having a hard time breathing, that was the bruised lung. he had some cuts on his face that had already scabbed over, but you noticed some dark spots on his pillow, maybe he had been picking at them. he had a habit of picking at his scabs.

but the most striking thing to you was how pale he was. he looked like a ghost, which was strange since seungcheol loved to go outside to read or watch people. what had changed since you left? you noticed a wheelchair and a pair of crutches.

“mom, i- why did you call, ___? i told you she was busy,” seungcheol asked weakly. before his mom could nag him, you decided that you could save this entire situation from becoming more awkward than it needed to be. “cheol, don’t you remember? i came back yesterday, but i knew you were going to be busy with work,” you forced a smile. you thought you were going to throw up his mother grinned and squeezed your hand. she made her way over to seungcheol’s closet and started rummaging through it looking for something.

you looked back at seungcheol and it looked like he might cry. his eyes yelled at you, what are you doing here?

if you were honest you weren’t sure.

you saw mrs. choi out while she continued to thank you profusely for looking about for seungcheol. “of course, no need to worry. seungcheol is safe with me,” you assured.

“what would i do without you, ___? i hope someday you can join the family officially. i mean you’ve been dating seungcheol for over two years now,” she grinned hugging you.

yeah, i did too, you thought.

she left and instructed you to just heat something up that she left in the fridge. you locked the door behind you and made your way into the kitchen. you pulled out a tray of noodles and plated them. she left you a few tips about seungcheol so you decided to look at it.

he has work off, so no need to worry about driving him to work. once he is better and the doctors clear his concussion can start working from home.

please make sure he is eating three meals a day. he’s been acting differently and hasn’t been eating as much.

for showers, there’s a cover for the cast because he can’t get it wet. i set up a chair in his shower, so he should need minimal help in that area. maybe just changing.

pain medications are in the cabinet next to the fridge. dosage is two tablets every six hours. but, if he isn’t hurting that much give him one, or if he isn’t in any pain don’t worry about it.

he has a doctor’s appointment in a couple of weeks to see how his leg is healing is progressing.

thank you so much <3 call me if you need anything

you frowned at the second one. not eating well? seungcheol always ate well. this seemed pretty manageable. you had already called your supervisor, who approved your request to work remotely. you did have to lie and say you were taking care of a family member, but otherwise, it was a mostly truthful story.

when you put the sheet down, the microwave had finished and you brought the plate into seungcheol’s room. he wasn’t looking in your direction, instead, he was looking out the window. “seungcheol, i brought you dinner. your mom made it,” you announced. no response. you huffed and looked around the room. you didn’t want to push him, but you needed him to eat. “i know you’re not sleeping. you’ll heal faster if you eat. your mom needs you to eat,” you continued. yet, to no avail, he still stared out the window, body closed off to you. you sighed, you wished it didn’t have to come to this. “seungcheol, i need you to eat. please, for me,” you pleaded. there was a slight shift, but still no response. “well, i’ll just leave it here, but eat it soon. it’ll get cold,” you sighed, placing the plate on the nightstand where he could reach it.

why did you sign up for this? it wasn’t like you owed him anything. why didn’t you just tell his mom you were broken up? so many questions were flooding your mind, so you almost missed his whispered question. “what, did you say? i’m sorry, i missed it,” you asked, turning around from the door.

“do you- do you have something to eat?” he asked, breath labored.

something in your heart stuttered.

you silently nodded.

“that’s good,” was all he said.

it was almost 9:00 pm. you had your plate of food, and you thought it would be best to run over to your apartment to pick up some clothes and belongings, especially since you were supposed to live here for a while. you would run in and check with seungcheol and let him know you were leaving and then you’d be back in thirty minutes.

you knocked on the door, but no response. you hoped that it wasn’t going to be like this for the rest of his recovery. “i’m coming in, seungcheol,” you called opening the door.

but when you entered you were met with an empty bed. your eyebrows furrowed. you noticed the empty plate of his dinner. then you noticed his wheelchair was gone, and the faint glow of light from under the bathroom door.

you didn’t hear the shower running, so maybe he was just using the bathroom. yet, something in your gut told you otherwise. you made your way over to the bathroom door and pressed your ear against it. you heard quiet sniffling.

oh.

“seungcheol? are you in there?” you asked. dumb question, but you didn’t know what else to lead with. no response. “seungcheol, are you okay?” obviously not. “seungcheol, if you don’t answer me, i’m coming in.”

“no, please. please don’t come in,” he responded finally. “i’m fine.”

“no you’re not. i can help, seungcheol. let me help. what’s going on?” you called. there was a hesitation before he spoke, “i- i don’t know how to do this.”

“what is this?” you asked again for clarification.

“cleaning. i don’t know to do it with this thing on my leg.” that made sense. you already knew he was going to need help with that. you just wished he would’ve come to you first. “can i come in?” you hoped he would say yes.

“no,” he said.

“why not?”

“i don’t want you to see me like this.”

“this isn’t the time to act modest. i’m here to help.” there was a deep sigh on the other side of the door. finally, you heard some shuffling and the door was open. you walked in and took in your surroundings. seungcheol was without a shirt and pants. he sat slumped in his wheelchair as he quickly tried to wipe his tears. you saw some bruises that covered his abdomen. you also noticed how he looked skinnier. that must be why his mom wanted to make sure he was eating. the cover for his cast was sitting on the counter, so you grabbed it.

you knelt down next to him, he wasn’t looking at you. you looked into the shower and noticed the shower chair. “seungcheol, i’m gonna put a towel under you right now, so can you lift yourself up a little?” you said grabbing a towel to put onto the seat of the wheelchair. he did, and you tried your best to arrange it. “can you stand at all?” you asked. he huffed and pushed himself up, and used you as a brace.

you guided him into his walk-in shower and helped him sit down. you paused and looked at him closely. he looked so tired, which was expected, but there was something else there. you just couldn’t put your finger on it. “i need you to take off your underwear, unless you want to shower in them,” you directed. he glared at you and mumbled something. “what was that?” you asked.

“i don’t-” he began.

“now is not the time to be modest,” you chided.

“no! i don’t want you to see me like this! i don’t want you to see me all broken and bruised! it’s not right that my mother asked you to do this! just leave! i know you don’t want to be here, so just go. it’s already humiliating enough,” he heaved. you felt your jaw tighten and your fingers clawed at your sides. you didn’t want to respond to that, at least not at that moment. “take off your underwear, seungcheol,” you ordered, crossing your arms. he finally looked at you in your eyes, and he pushed his underwear off. you had to help him get it over his cast, but otherwise, it was seamless. next, you grabbed the cast cover which was essentially a glorified plastic bag, and slid it over his bandaged leg.

seungcheol’s eyes were downcast again, and he refused to acknowledge you. his shower head was detachable and handheld, so you took it down and placed it closer to him. he still wasn’t looking at you. although you really needed to get some stuff from your apartment, you could stay. when you started rolling up your sleeves on your work blouse and slipping out of your house slippers, seungcheol stared at you incredulously. you stepped into the shower and turned on the water. you made sure the head was facing the ground as you waited for it to warm up. “what are you doing?” he asked. he almost sounded angry, but that could be addressed later. you snatched the washcloth that was hanging on a hook inside the shower and found his shampoo and conditioner. he leaned over and grabbed your wrist, it wasn’t harsh or forceful, just him. “what are you doing?” he repeated.

“taking care of you,” you said shortly. “now close your eyes. tell me if it’s too hot.” he released your wrist and there was that look again. you had to figure out what that was about. you raised the shower head and soaked his hair, and promptly began to lather his shampoo into his hair. he seemed to relax at that. you ran your hands through his hair like you used to. he liked it when you tugged at his strands. it brought him a comfort he couldn’t describe. yet, his hair was shorter now, not the longer strands that you were used to. you wondered what made him cut it, but you knew now wasn’t the time to ask about it.

the rest of the shower went without any hitch. your hands running over the broad expanse of his back. something about that moment was so domestic, intimate, yet you knew you couldn’t have it the way you wanted it. the way you wanted him. so, you pushed it down, just like the way you did when you noticed him distancing himself from you and drowning himself in his work.

you helped him get into some clean clothes and bed after he brushed his teeth and dried his body. after you brought him his pain medication with a glass of water to stick next to his bed, you were about to go out and run to your apartment. he saw you rustling around in your bag that you left in his room. “what are you doing?” he asked.

“looking for my keys,” you replied.

“why?”

“so i can go home and grab some things. i’ll be working from home, i mean, i’ll be working here while i help you.” god, why did you call his apartment home? it hadn’t been your home for so long. “i’ll be back soon. i’ll be quiet when i come back so just sleep.”

“no, don’t go.”

“pardon?”

“don’t go.” he stared at you like a petulant child. was this a symptom of a concussion? “seungcheol, i have to go get some of my things. i don’t really want to sleep in my work clothes,” you tried to reason with the pouting man.

“you left some of your clothes. t-shirts and stuff. sweatpants. just wear that. it’s too late for you to leave now. it wouldn’t be safe,” he shrugged but winced. that was the bruised lung. you didn’t know you left your things over, if you did you would’ve made one more trip to pick them up.

but…

seungcheol didn’t throw out the clothes you left behind. was he stashing them in case he had another girl come over that needed to borrow clothes? was he saving them for a special time to burn them? why did he keep your clothes?

no matter, it was no use arguing with seungcheol, and you were tired. you hadn’t even had time to process the fact he had been in an accident, to begin with. “where?” you asked turning back around.

“in my closet, where your clothes usually are.” he looked at you like it was obvious. why would it be obvious? you wanted to scream. a normal person after a breakup usually burns the things their ex left behind, or they maybe just throw them out on the street. they don’t keep it in the same place in the closet. you breathed deeply to calm your mind. now was not the time to address the elephant in the room. “i’ll be getting a shower then,” you said, eyeing him suspiciously. he just nodded and turned to face the window.

the shower was uneventful other than the thousands of thoughts flowing through your mind. you hoped that they would leave you and flow down the drain. when you finally got out of the shower, you realized you would have to walk through seungcheol’s bedroom to get to the couch. hopefully, he was knocked out. you slid on the clothes that you had left there. it was an old sweatshirt and pajama bottoms, but it would get the job done for the night. the smelled like they were cleaned with his detergent, and you weren’t sure if you loved it or if you wanted it off of your body forever. you tried the best you could to open the door as quietly as possible, and it seemed to work. you were basically out the door without seungcheol waking up or noticing you. that is until he did. “where are you going?” he asked. you hung your head, your hand leaving the doorknob. “to the couch,” you replied.

“why?”

now, there was something seriously wrong with him. you glanced around the room, searching for an answer. “because i’m going to sleep on the couch,” you scrutinized him a bit further. he stared at you with the same confusion. he seemingly picked up on the mutual tension and confusion in the air, “i’ll sleep on the couch, you sleep here,” he clarified. you choked on air. he must have more than a concussion, he had amnesia of some sort because you don’t just let your ex sleep in your bed, especially after you had been in a serious accident.

you had to snap yourself out of the trance you were in before seungcheol could even attempt to get out of bed, which he was already in the process of trying. rushing over to him and pushing him back under the covers was more of a feat than you thought it was going to be. he seemed adamant about having you stay in his bed while he went to the couch. you were getting deja vu or something to the fights leading up to the end of your relationship.

“no, i’ll take the couch,” he had insisted.

“no, this is your home and your bed. i’ll just stay on the couch since you don’t want me to go to my apartment,” you had refused. “talk in the morning?”

“yeah sure.”

“no, you’re the guest here, i’ll take the couch,” he shrugged, once again trying to push himself up. you placed a hand on his shoulder. “seungcheol, i wasn’t the one in a car accident,” you reasoned. “you won’t be comfortable on the couch.”

“just- just let me do something for you,” he muttered under his breath. you don’t think you were supposed to hear it, but you did.

“the best thing you can do for me is to sleep in your own bed and heal.” his gaze lifted and looked at yours. he looked utterly exhausted, and to be honest, you probably looked the same. he inhaled deeply and sat back against his headrest in concession. you smiled at him and before you could stop yourself, you ran your hand through his hair which he happily accepted. “good night, seungcheol,” you said.

“good night,” he replied sounding more at ease. in another lifetime, there would be more to this than a simple good night, but in this lifetime it was different. so much different than you ever hoped for.

“i love you, cheol.”

“i love you too, ___.”

the crick in your back was going to be the death of you, but oh well, you already called into work and took the next week off before you started working remotely. minjeong was surprised that you even agreed to this in the first place. “___, he was an asshole to you,” she pointed out over the phone. you were currently lugging your stuff down the hall to seungcheol’s apartment, phone dangerously stuck between your shoulder and cheek. “he wasn’t an asshole,” you argued. for some reason, the need to defend seungcheol still ran through your veins.

“he was, ___. he was,” minjeong sighed. you knew that she was right, but you needed to believe that the breakup was caused all just a big misunderstanding and move on. “i’ve got to go, minnie,” you sighed reaching seungcheol’s doorway.

“___, don’t- ugh, don’t do anything you’ll regret. he didn’t treat you right. he wasn’t toxic, but he was definitely neglectful to you,” she groaned.

“it’s not like i’m going to crawl back to him. i’m just helping him.”

“but why should you?”

seungcheol had some bad habits, and it didn’t always end up well for you.

“cheol, what are you-” you were promptly cut off when seungcheol pressed his lips against yours with an energy that felt unfamiliar. it was just the average evening, so you didn’t understand why he was kissing you like that. not that he had to have a reason to kiss you, it’s just that it hadn’t happened in so long. you had been with him long enough to know how passionate he was about, well, everything. but, this felt different. not saying it was bad. you craved him being this close for weeks, and he was finally in your grasp. his hands were planted firmly on your waist and he moved you to where he pleased. “come on, baby, just let me feel you,” he smiled against your lips.

call you touch-starved (which you were), but you couldn’t help melting into him. this was the most attention you had felt from him in so long. “cheol, please,” you gasped as his lips traveled down your neck. he pulled you infinitely closer and you let him. yet, something was nagging at you. your stomach began to drop as his hands began to slide under your shirt. sinking suspicions started to bubble up through your heart. “cheol, kiss me,” you begged, not wanting your thoughts to be true. he hummed and obliged. he pressed his lips against yours in this new fervor. the heat between you was becoming unbearable as your suspicion was correct.

beer.

the faint taste of it lingered on his tongue, and it made you want to throw up. for the first time in who knows how long, he touches you like he’s never done before but only because he’s intoxicated. great. you pushed him away. “did you drive home by yourself?” you asked gazing into his tired eyes.

“no, i had joshua drop me off,” he murmured, hands still not leaving your skin, but that’s all you wanted him to do. just get off of me, is what you wanted to yell. how dare you come here drunk and treat me better than you ever have sober for the past months, is what you wanted to scream. “i think it’s time for you to go to bed, cheol,” you opted for instead. he shook his head still grasping at you. “don’t touch me anymore, seungcheol,” you hissed, swatting his hand away and pulling him to his bathroom.

she didn’t sound angry, just exasperated. she had a point. there was no reason why you should offer your help to him. seungcheol never made time for you when you were together, why were you making time for him yet again? it was major deja vu. “look, he wasn’t nice to me, yes. i hated him for a long time, maybe i still do. but, his mom called me, so i feel like i’m doing it for her. not for him,” you attempted to justify. minjeong scoffed. it was a deserved scoff, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. minjeong was there when things ended with seungcheol, so she would know the entire situation from the most unbiased, well sort of unbiased, outside position. she was your friend, and it was only natural for her to want to protect you. you couldn’t fault her for that. “i just want what’s best for you, and i’m not convinced helping him through recovery is the best plan,” she sighed.

“i know. you know he hurt me, i won’t let it happen again. i have no intention of getting back with him. you’re right. he was an asshole. i’ve got to go. talk later?” you asked carefully reaching for the spare set of keys his mom gave you.

“let me kick his ass if he hurts you again.”

“i will.”

“talk later! i’m going to miss you at work. love you!”

“love you too.”

after you successfully hung up without dropping your bags, phone, or keys, you opened the door to the kitchen light on. that’s weird. you were pretty sure you left it off when you went to get your stuff. you kicked off your shoes and made your way into to kitchen, your luggage bag dragging behind you.

you were greeted by seungcheol attempting to push himself up from his wheelchair to wash some fruit in the sink. “seungcheol! what are you doing?” you rushed to his side. he glanced over his shoulder at you. he sort of gave you some dumb look like he didn’t know what was wrong. “you shouldn’t be pushing yourself like this,” you chided. “i can wash these. you need to go back to bed. you should rest.”

“i think i can handle washing some fruit,” he scoffed slumping down in a chair. you rolled your eyes. “it’s not about washing fruit, i know you’re perfectly capable of washing fruit. you were in a car accident a few days ago. you shouldn’t be pushing yourself to get up,” you explained. he just mumbled something under his breath and tried to maneuver his way out of the kitchen. you watched him carefully as he made his way back into his room, and you heard him sigh when he shut the door behind him.

you had a sinking feeling that this was going to be a long recovery process, for the both of you.

it once again time for seungcheol to go to the doctor. the past few weeks had been back and forth to doctor’s appointments. his concussion was going down. to say things were going well would be a stretch. seungcheol barely spoke to you. you didn’t necessarily expect him to be buddy-buddy with you, but it was strange. he always tried to avoid looking at you. you weren’t sure what you did to deserve this treatment, after all, he was the one who broke up with you.

sleeping on the couch for the past weeks was not ideal. working from seungcheol’s home office was not ideal either. it was weird getting on video calls when you were so used to walking to meetings with minjeong. seungcheol tried his best to not disturb you, but sometimes he would knock on the door and sheepishly ask you for help with something.

the drive to the doctor’s and the check-up itself were uneventful. his leg was healing nicely, and they even decided it was time for a boot, which was great because you could tell he was getting sick of sitting down all the time. “well, mr. choi, it looks like your lung is looking a lot better based off of the scans, and according to your…” dr. hwang paused looking in your direction. seungcheol looked at you briefly like was afraid of what you were going to say.

you weren’t necessarily worried about getting kicked out because you weren’t immediate family, but for some reason, you chose against saying you were his friend. “i’m his girlfriend,” you bit the bullet. you hoped it didn’t seem too unnatural when you said it. you saw seungcheol’s ears perk up, but he still didn’t address you.

dr. hwang looked between the two of you seemingly wanting to say something but didn’t. “ah, i see. well you’ve been taking amazing care of mr. choi. according to your girlfriend, you seem to have an easier time breathing. she also said you’re reporting less pain in your head. this is good, since we usually expect swelling and inflammation from a concussion goes down pretty quickly. your concussion should be largely gone by next week, but i would advise against going back to work for some time. you can start walking on this as soon as you feel comfortable, until then use crutches. but, don’t drive until i give you the okay,” dr. hwang rambled, turning back to his computer.

you could tell seungcheol was excited, maybe he was excited that you would be leaving soon. your stomach sank at the thought, but you didn’t know why. seungcheol barely spoke to you, he couldn’t even look you in the eye most of the time. so, why did you feel bad about the thought of leaving him? you were snapped out of your thoughts when you realized dr. hwang had asked you a question. “um, if you could give me a moment alone with mr. choi, that would be great. i can take him out front once we’re done,” dr. hwang fiddled with his pen as he addressed you.

“yeah, of course. i’ll uh, i’ll just be in the waiting room.

after what seemed like an eternity, the two of them came out. dr. hwang smiled at you, and seungcheol looked nervous, finally putting a little weight on his foot with the help of some crutches. “thank you so much, dr. hwang. you’ve been so helpful,” you smiled at him. dr. hwang reciprocated it and patted seungcheol on the back. “mr. choi, look out for yourself. i’ll see you in a few weeks,” he said. seungcheol nodded.

the ride home was quiet, as always. by now you had grown used to it. when you arrived at seungcheol’s apartment and parked the car, he grabbed your hand before you could leave. “do you want to watch a movie tonight?” he asked. hold on, what? “we can order some take out or something.” maybe dr. hwang was wrong. maybe the swelling in his brain was actually worse.

your lack of response must’ve freaked seungcheol out. “we don’t have to! i was just thinking it could be a celebratory thing,” he tried to backtrack.

“no! i’d love- no, i mean, i’d like to watch a movie tonight. that would be nice,” you rushed to cut him off. your heart fluttered at the notion of watching a movie with seungcheol. maybe you could pretend just a little longer…

“what?” minjeong exclaimed. she was not happy with the current situation.

“minnie, when he asked me if i wanted to watch a movie with him my heart fluttered. what’s wrong with me?” you cried, flopping against the couch, turning down the volume on speaker phone. seungcheol had left to get showered and changed. luckily, you didn’t have to help him much with that anymore. “you’re still in love with him, ___,” minjeong sighed. “i feared this would happen. you cannot let him get in your head! remember how he treated you before! just yesterday he wasn’t even speaking with you, he’s probably just manipulating you or something.”

you couldn’t fathom him doing that. sure, he neglected you in your relationship, but he was never manipulative. “i don’t-” you began, but you were promptly cut off.

“you don’t get it, ___! you’re in a vulnerable state because you still love him and you’ve been waiting hand and foot to him, so he sees this as an opportunity to make something out of nothing.”

“if i love him, how is it nothing?”

“because you’re going to make it nothing. you can’t just let yourself fall back into his lap because he decided he wanted a movie night!”

“i don’t think it’s that easy.”

“you’re right, it’s not. that’s why you need to wrap up business there and get back to your life. your life where you can be free and meet whoever you want. where you don’t have to worry about the asshole who treated you like shit.”

“he didn’t treat me like shit.”

“he treated you like you barely even existed.”

you knew she wasn’t trying to be mean, but it did feel like she was opening an old wound.

so much for that dinner you made. the time you wasted was eating at you as you picked through the remnants of your food. it was your first day off in a while and you hoped to spend some of it with your boyfriend before having to go back to work the next day.

it was your bad to even think seungcheol would be home at the time he had said. you stared at seungcheol’s now cold meal. for the fifth time, you flipped your phone over to see what time it was. 11:47 pm and no word from him. you sighed and went to clear your plate. you wrapped up seungcheol’s meal and put it in the fridge. after all, he would be hungry when he got home.

“hello? ___, are you still with me?” minjeong snapped you out of your thoughts.

“yeah, sorry,” you rushed out. “look, i think seungcheol is almost out of the shower. i’ve got to go. i’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“i’m sorry if i come off too cold.” she sounded like she was regretting what she said earlier. she knew how to read you like a book even if it was just over a phone call. “it’s alright. you’re my best friend, i know you wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt me. now, i have to go now, for real this time,” you chuckled and hung up after you said goodbye to her.

you jumped a mile when you heard a clanking noise behind you. when you whipped around you saw seungcheol standing there, eyes wide, you felt something stir in your chest. he was leaning on a crutch with his leg wrapped in the bandages. he told dr. hwang that he wouldn’t wear the boot to bed. dr. hwang was reluctant but relented since the break was healing nicely and the boot wasn’t needed at night. his hair was damp, a plain white t-shirt clung to his body, and pajama pants hung loosely off his hips. something about this image looked so familiar, yet so distant.“sorry,” he mumbled leaning over to pick up the bowl he dropped, surprisingly it didn’t shatter on the hardwood floor. “no, wait, i’ll get it,” you said, pushing forward, frowning at the precarious nature of his stance. he straightened up and watched you pick up the bowl. “how long were you standing there? i could’ve helped,” you asked turning to go place the bowl in the sink.

“not long,” he rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “do you still want to watch a movie with me?” you nodded quietly and made your way to the couch. he followed behind and landed on the couch with a thud. “what do you want to watch?” you asked flipping the tv on.

“um, i’m not sure. i haven’t watched a lot of movies lately.” he shrugged. this was going to be harder than expected. instead of attempting to engage in this painful discussion, you opted to start scrolling through one of seungcheol’s million streaming apps.

you scrolled through movie after movie with varying enthusiasm levels from seungcheol. “stop, let’s just watch this one,” he suddenly said. if you were being honest, you stopped paying attention to the movie titles a long time ago. so when you saw “the notebook” as the selected movie, your jaw slackened. “you want to watch this?” you asked, making sure he meant that.

“i mean, i remembered when you showed me it, and i rewatched it recently. i really like it nowadays,” he said nonchalantly. you had shown him “the notebook” a long time ago. you had to beg him to watch it, and you remembered how he ended up crying by the conclusion. but now, it was strange to hear that he enjoyed the movie. not only that, but he remembered that you showed him the film. it was years ago, and he remembered. “okay, yeah, let’s watch it,” you said pressing play.

you were getting major deja vu while you watched it. seungcheol was curled up next to you, and somehow you found yourself curled up next to him. this hardly happened when you were together, and it made your heart hurt that it was happening after you had broken up. was a car accident what you needed to be close to him? you didn’t need to think about it now, not when you could smell his shampoo and fabric softener. it was so familiar, but you knew you couldn’t get too comfortable. after all, you weren’t his anymore, and he wasn’t interested. yet, something was scratching at the back of your throat. an urge. a desire. a feeling you thought was better to push down.

the movie was long over, but seungcheol had drifted off to sleep about twenty minutes before the movie ended. you didn’t have the heart to wake him, so you let him rest for a while before you lightly shook him awake. his eyes fluttered open and held your gaze with an expression you couldn’t pinpoint. “alright, sleeping beauty, time to get you into bed,” you smiled softly involuntarily running a hand through his hair. he seemingly leaned into your touch while looking around. “is the movie over? why didn’t you wake me?” he asked. you just shushed him quietly and helped him up. he held onto your shoulders and let you guide him to his bed. after a bit of work, you got him under the covers and on his pillow. when you moved to get up, his hand shot out and grasped your wrist. your neck whipped back at him. “what’s wrong?” you quizzed.

“stay,” is all he said, eyes closing.

you sighed. you couldn’t give in to him. you had set your boundaries, you were here to help that’s all. but, the longer you were with him, you realized the reasons why you hated him melted away within hours of being around him more. minjeong needed to be here to snap you out of it. “of course, he’s being nice to you now. don’t forget why you broke up in the first place,” she would’ve said. yet, she wasn’t here, and you were weak for him. as much as you would like to deny it, you knew you’d always crawl back to him. in this life and the next.

there couldn’t be any harm in staying with him, right? it was just one night. he wouldn’t try anything. he wasn’t like that. he didn’t even feel that way for you anymore. he definitely didn’t seem too bothered when you gave in and slid under the covers with him. to your surprise when you started to situate yourself, you felt his arms wrap under your body and pull you to the opposite side of the bed. just like old times. he always insisted to sleep closest to the door. he had told you it was a win-win for the both of you. he could have the comfort of feeling like he was protecting you, and you got the nice view out of his window on the opposite side of the room. you assured him back then that you didn’t need protection, but you never fought with him to switch positions.

you had grown used to his arm around your waist each night, and after you broke up you longed for his presence. you had cuddled your pillows and called minjeong. everything and anything to keep your mind off the empty space in your bed. so, now when you felt his arm wrap around you and his body pressed against yours, you froze. why did the thing you wanted for the past seven months cause you so much discomfort? being this close to him was like stepping into the salty waves at the beach with a cut you thought healed. your eyes began to sting, and you pleaded with your heart to not start shaking your body. you naturally moved closer to him when his grip became tighter around your waist, but your heart cried for the rest of the night.

when you woke up, you surprised yourself realizing you had a dreamless night. your chest hurt, but your eyes were dry. you turned over and noticed seungcheol’s side of the bed was empty. his boot was gone, so he must’ve put it on. you didn’t hear anything coming from the kitchen right outside the room, albeit his apartment was quite small and his living room was right there too. you slid on a hoodie and made your way out of his room to find where he went. maybe he was just as freaked out as you were, so maybe he just left to get some air. if you were him, you probably would’ve done to same. you wanted to kick yourself for falling into his lap again. maybe he regretted inviting you to stay, and now he was disgusted with himself for letting his ex sleep in the same bed as him again. your rational mind told you that wasn’t true. he wasn’t like that. yet, that’s what you told yourself when he show up late to numerous dates or just forget to message you.

you heard quiet arguing as soon as you stepped out of his room. you looked down to the front door and saw seungcheol leaning against the doorframe. his body wedged between the door and doorframe, effectively blocking your view of who was there. you quietly shuffled forward, trying not to startle him. “i just don’t understand why you’re here?” seungcheol asked, almost sounding stern.

“i’m just dropping off some paperwork,” the person on the other side of the door said. the voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “how’d you know where she was?” seungcheol grilled, sounding more frustrated with every passing second.

“look, dude, i’m just here to drop off some stuff from work. minjeong told me,” the guy tried again to reason with seungcheol. you recognized seungcheol’s tone, he got like that whenever he was jealous, but you couldn’t fathom why he would be jealous. you looked past seungcheol and saw changkyun standing there with a case file in hand. “oh my god, seungcheol, stop it. this is changkyun from work,” you nudged seungcheol to the side trying not to surprise him, but you were still upset he was berating your work friend.

“oh, hey, ___. minjeong sent me with these files. let me or minjeong know if you need anything else,” changkyun smiled at you. “i’ll let you go, you seem- um- preoccupied. but, we miss you at the office,” he glanced at seungcheol who was scowling at the ground.

“yeah, sorry about that. thank you for bringing this around. this is super helpful. i was getting tired of reading pdfs,” you laughed. “i’ll see you later.” changkyun nodded and left without another word. you shut the door and brushed past seungcheol. you heard an audible huff behind you but ignored it. after you dropped off the case of files in the office, breakfast was seemingly the best option for you.

seungcheol was already in the kitchen leaning against the fridge. it was highly inconvenient given you needed to get in there for some fruit. however, he wasn’t moving. “what are you doing?” you asked crossing your arms. he didn’t respond, just looking anywhere but at you. “what’s going on with you? what was with that attitude with changkyun?” you grilled, but you were only met with a scoff. now, that was weird. he sounded jealous, but there was nothing to be jealous of. “what’s wrong with you?” you frowned.

“why does it matter?” he mocked. you squinted your eyes at him. compared to last night’s situation, this was an entirely different person. “why does it matter? it’s just weird that he’d show up here unannounced,” seungcheol shrugged.

“he was here because minjeong sent him,” you stared him down.

“why couldn’t she come then? just seems like it’s a cover for him to see you. you didn’t tell me you were talking with someone else.”

“because i’m not talking to changkyun. i’m not talking to anyone. but, why does this matter so much to you? it’s not like he came in the house and started wrecking anything. he just dropped some stuff off.”

“we miss you at the office.”

“what?”

“that’s what he said.”

“i’m not following.”

seungcheol sighed and pushed himself off the fridge and over to his chair, groaning and stretching his leg once he was sitting. “god, ___, don’t be blind. he’s obviously into you,” he laughed humorlessly. now you were even more confused. “so what if he is? i’m not,” you shrugged, opening the fridge to get your fruit and yogurt.

“yeah, sure. whatever, that’s not the point,” seungcheol huffed again.

“then what is the point?”

“that he tried to come here and flirt with you when i’m right here!” he finally snapped. “it’s embarrassing! he looked at me with all this pity when i opened the door. i don’t want his pity. then you come around the corner, and he’s smiling ear to ear.” seungcheol looked like he was about to cry. you wanted to say something, but all you could was look at him, confused. “you pity me too. everyone does!” he rambled. “it’s so humiliating. and, and, i’m sure that you’d be happier at the office where he is. he’s more handsome than i am, and i’m sure he’s smarter and kinder than me. you deserve to go out and just leave me here. you don’t even want to be here. i see the way you look at me. it’s not the same way i look at you, so i couldn’t possibly as you to stay. why don’t you just go date a guy like that? i’m sure he can treat you better than- than me.”

you stood there dumbfounded. your heart ached for seungcheol, but you couldn’t stop the boiling anger in your stomach. how could he possibly think so lowly of himself? did he not see how you were still so infatuated with him? did he not realize the reason why you hadn’t talked to anyone new was because of him? and for him to accuse you of pitying him, after all the care you put into helping him get better. to accuse you of not wanting to be there, with him. you wouldn’t haven’t been here if you didn’t care. you knew you cared too much for seungcheol, for someone who you knew didn’t even care about you. what made him any different from back when you were dating?

“you’re so cruel,” you whispered, grabbing your food and heading to the office.

there was radio silence for the next few hours. you would occasionally hear something, but seungcheol never knocked or tried to come in. the tip-toeing around each other was killing you. it felt awfully familiar to when seungcheol became distant from you before the two of you broke up. work was monotonous and nothing was holding your attention. all you could think about was what seungcheol said. you didn’t realize he felt that way about himself, or you for that matter. it hurt, and it hurt even more to wallow in it when he was right on the other side of the door.

you couldn’t be the same person you were seven months ago. pushing down your concerns, hoping they would pass. they wouldn’t, you knew that, unless you talked to him. he would be getting better soon, and you could put this in the past. you could leave again once this was all over, never to look back. you couldn’t take another heartbreak because of him again.

so your resolve broke and you pushed yourself out of the office chair and went to find seungcheol.

he remembered the day you left like it was yesterday. he heard you gather some things from your room and left without another word. “yeah, i guess so,” he muttered to himself angrily. “you’re such an idiot,” he continued. he didn’t even understand why he said that to you. it was uncalled for, especially given you wanted to talk about your strained relationship. he knew he was distant, but he didn’t know what else to do. so, he pushed it down until he couldn’t take it anymore, well, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

not having you around the apartment for the first few weeks felt like torture. he had drafted and re-written several messages to you and even considered calling, but he never pulled through with any of it. his mind was constantly unfocused on his work. the work he sacrificed everything for. the work he tried so hard to keep up to help you, help the both of you. he couldn’t bring himself to eat as much as he usually did, when the pit of his stomach was killing him from the inside out.

now that you were gone he constantly tried to take his mind off of you. he couldn’t let a breakup disorient him like this. he had broken up with other people before, but never like this. he couldn’t stop replaying everything that went wrong in his mind, everything he could’ve done to stop it. maybe if he put up a fight you would’ve stayed. but, he didn’t fight at all. he cowered at the suggestion of breaking up, and instead of facing it, he fled and accepted fate. waves of uncertainty lapped at his feet and eventually, the waters rose until it was unbearable. if you wanted to break up with him then that’s what would happen, no matter what ran through his mind and heart.

no matter the fact he had a little velvet box in the bottom of his sock drawer.

he was going to a party. he said he would buy alcohol, so he did. while he was driving he felt something shift within him. he thought about all the parties he had taken you to, and how all parties with you there were so much more bearable. all he could think about was how bored he would be. he loved his friends, but something was missing if you weren’t also there sharing a drink or discussion with him. yet, he let joshua convince him to come out. joshua had told him not to drown in any more work. joshua saw how the work was wearing down his friend, and he couldn’t take it anymore. so, seungcheol was going to a party he didn’t particularly want to attend, but he was getting there, even if he felt himself push the accelerator down more than he should.

but something stopped him from going to the party, and now he felt like he was floating above his body. he felt waves wash over him, and when they retreated he felt cold and vulnerable. he felt dazed and had a throbbing pain in his head, leg, and heart. he remembered the beating rain against his windshield and feeling the tires give out on him. he remembered your smile and your fingers running through his then-long hair. you told him everything was going to be alright, and he believed you. then, there was a rhythmic beeping next to him, some rustling by him, and your voice was gone. his head hurt too much, but he forced his eyes open.

in some sort of last-ditch effort of hope, he thought it could be you. you could be there fixing some magazines in the room or adjusting the blinds. yet, he opened his eyes and he didn’t see you there, just a nurse organizing some of the tubes next to him. seungcheol tried turning his head around, groaning. the nurse noticed and left to go get someone. maybe it could be you. no, that wouldn’t make sense. it couldn’t be you, and it wasn’t. it was his mother. she cried and asked him if he was alright. she asked where you were and what he was doing, but he didn’t have a good response to any of her questions. when she started to pry about you, he realized he had forgotten to mention the fact you were broken up. she had called soon after it ended because it was time for her to call her son, but he went into auto-pilot and told her you were fine, and he just never got around to telling her the truth. she loved you, and he knew that.

he definitely couldn’t do it then. it would break her, just like it broke him.

when he saw you standing at the door behind his mother, he wanted to burst into tears, but it would probably hurt his lung. besides, he didn’t need you to see how broken up about it he was. everything hurt, but it only hurt more when he saw you. you looked gorgeous, and your voice was like music to his ears. what if you had a boyfriend? the thought flashed through his mind. any person would be lucky to date you, but the idea caused his stomach to roll.

your hair looked so pretty too, but your clothes looked like a mess. he hoped he didn’t cause you too much worry. yet, he was worried now. his lie was going to be exposed. he saw the way you looked at him, helpless and injured. you wouldn’t spare him, not after what he did. his mom was talking to you just like everything was normal, but he saw the look on your face. you were confused and probably angry. he knew you, and he knew you would correct his mom as soon as you could. so when she backed away and went to get something from the closet, he couldn’t tell what you were thinking, and that scared him.

the last thing he expected was for you to agree and help. he also expected you to correct his mother when she went on and on about how you were his girlfriend and how she knew how much you loved each other. he could sense your discomfort anytime he was around, so he made himself scarce and tried not to be a bother. what you were doing was already such a help to him, and he had no idea how he was ever going to repay you.

he recalled when you pushed him around in his wheelchair at the supermarket, and all he wanted to do was disappear. it was his first visit to the store for a while, and there was something especially embarrassing about having your ex push you around the market, even if they didn’t know he had broken your heart. he didn’t know why he agreed to come. he would feel your hands brush past his shoulders as you would reach to grab something before dropping it in the shopping basket sitting in his lap. the tiny bit of contact from you had him going insane. he wanted to apologize for having you here, for his mom calling, for lying, for breaking your heart. he was scared, that if he opened his mouth, his heart would betray him and he’d say something that would make you run away again. but, he knew it wasn’t the time for that, so whenever your fingers graze his shoulder he swallowed whatever apology or confession (whichever came out first) down until it reached the bottom of his heart.

you were wheeling him past the bakery and he saw the sweet milk bread he would always get as a treat on weekends. maybe you could share it again like you used to, but he doubted it. though, before he could process it, he was clearing his throat. you paused and he sensed you looking at him. “uh-,” he paused, coughing. “can, can we get the milk bread over there?” he asked. you looked around to where he was motioning. you saw it. he felt you pause. maybe he shouldn’t have asked. “it’s no big deal, actually. it was a dumb request. never-” he rambled but all of a sudden your hands brushed over his shoulders and you walked over to the table where the freshly baked bread was packaged. you inspected one and brought it back, placing it gently on the top of seungcheol’s basket. “do you need anything else?” you asked, quietly standing behind him again. he shook his head.

for the first few weeks, it was awkward and humiliating. he couldn’t bear you at his beck and call. he could barely even talk to you, too embarrassed. he needed to get out of the wheelchair as soon as possible. he willed his body to heal faster, so then maybe the pain that festered in his chest would go away. one night, he woke up and he was parched. he had run out of water, he must’ve forgotten to get more before he went to bed. he also noticed his stomach was growling. he had refused to eat anything for dinner. once again, his bad. it reminded him of the time when he would come home late to a dark home. he was starving, but he knew you had eaten. you had long gone to bed, but he smelled the food you cooked. he looked in the fridge and saw his helping there. he sighed. he knew it was your day off that day, but he couldn’t seem to draw himself away from his work. got too distracted.

so, he needed water and food, but to get there he would have to get out of his room and into the kitchen. specifically, he needed to get past you on the couch without waking you. pushing himself out of bed, he reached for his crutches. he got them secured under his arms and made his way out of his open door. you had insisted on keeping it open, so you could hear him if he needed anything. but, he saw the way you walked into his room deflated, leaving his dinner on his bedside table, cleaning the barely touched food an hour later, and retreating to the couch to sleep after a presumably hard day at work. he wouldn’t be able to bear it if he woke you up now.

he stepped as lightly as he could given his situation, but you were out like a light. he contained a chuckle seeing you all curled up on his couch. though, he did feel bad. the couch was no place to sleep for a long time. if only he could share his bed with you and not make it weird… he quietly ate a protein bar and got a glass of milk. he watched from the kitchen how smooth your breathing was. he frowned when you began to toss and turn. he wiped his mouth and moved over to you. after resting his crutches on the floor, he sat on the ottoman in from of the couch, closest to your head. he leaned forward and watched your troubled expression. sometimes he would press a kiss on your forehead, but that would be entirely inappropriate. yet, he couldn’t do anything while he watched this perfect person in front of him suffer.

so, his hand was reaching forward and caressing your cheek before he knew it. your skin felt amazing under his fingertips. he missed holding your hand, hugging you from behind, and kissing your lips. he wondered how he could’ve messed up this horribly. he felt your breath even out, and he noticed how your brow un-furrowed. gently pulling back his hand, he smiled and made his way back to his room. it was only then after he crossed the doorway, he realized what he had done. the clear boundary he had tried to maintain melted within those twenty minutes of him getting a midnight snack. he didn’t deserve the treatment he was getting from you. he wished you would yell and scream at him for what he did. resentment. he yearned for you to resent him, but no, you had to come and be the amazing person you were. he couldn’t let himself feel this close to you again.

but, he broke his promise. just like he always did. he invited you to sleep in his bed after a movie night he suggested. after offering, he realized he probably shouldn’t have offered the movie in the first place, but hindsight is 20-20. it felt too inappropriate, unspeakable even. especially, after he caught what minjeong was saying to you before you turned on the movie. he shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but minjeong was yelling on the other side of the phone and no matter how much you could turned down the volume, he still would’ve heard it.

“he treated you like you barely even existed,” minjeong had said.

now, he didn’t want to believe that, but he knew it was true. working longer hours, barely seeing you, and coming home at odd hours of the night were all factors which were purely his fault. he could’ve requested time off, but he didn’t. it was his ambition that blinded him. the thought that if he worked hard enough now, he could be with you more later. but, he had forgotten he wasn’t the only person in the equation, and you only had so much patience. the patience he had wrongfully wasted.

your back was turned to him. he didn’t know why it hurt so much given the situation. being face-to-face in bed would be too intimate. too dangerous. yet, that’s all he wanted. he longed to feel your body next to his, to know that what was once shared between you was still there. so, he took a risk. he reached forward and pressed his chest against your back, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

he waited and waited for you to pull away, and much to his surprise, you never did. you stayed in his arms like old times, but he knew it couldn’t be like that. he didn’t know if he could ever have you like this again. the recovery period of you taking care of him was painful on a multitude of levels. he was giving you space since he already felt like a burden, and it appeared to him like he was the plague. it was for the best, but he still wanted to hold you and kiss you to show his thanks. all he could do was say thank you and quietly retreat back into his mind. so, he held you like it was the last time, which it likely was, and he fell into a deeper, quieter sleep for the first time in weeks. the waves retreated and did not come back for the rest of the night.

who was this guy standing at his door? why were you smiling so widely at this guy? why was this guy smiling so widely back at you? did he just sleep in the same bed with you when you had a boyfriend? so many questions, and so little patience left on his end. this guy was so handsome, with a sharp nose and intense eyes. he could see how you could go to someone like that, someone completely opposite of him. any hope of last night not being a one-off thing leaving his mind. the guy glanced over at him and gave him a look he was all too familiar with. the old ladies at the supermarket gave him this look. his mother gave him this look. even you sometimes. he was broken and mangled and people loved to look. so, to hide their nosiness, they concealed it with concern and pity. he hated that. sometimes you would do it, and he wanted to rip his hair out. he hated it when you would generate idle conversation or say his name like some sort of swear word. what ever happened to being your cheol?

the doubt came flooding back into his mind, and he was lost in the sea of his own thoughts again. the waves were back, and he didn’t know how to keep them at bay. the tide was coming in stronger, and he could feel every brick he had built crumble under the pressure. when could this conversation be over?

he didn’t mean to lash out at you and your work friend. it was the waves. the waves that splashed into his face. the water that fell into his throat and choked him. he had to spit it out or it was going to drown him. every little thing he had hidden away came out. the confessions, insecurities, and everything else that held him back now and back then. he just needed to get it out before the waves came crashing in on him again when you would inevitably leave.

“you’re so cruel,” you had said, and you were right. he was. how could he be so cruel to one of the only people who ever showed him unconditional kindness? it was over, and he knew it.

all of his memories felt disjointed. almost as if someone had glued them together into a scrapbook. you were trying so hard to follow what he was telling you. the entire time he refused to look at you. his hands were clasped together, face flushed. “i suppose that was a long winded way to say i’m sorry,” he said finally looking at you for the first time. “i’m sorry for treating you so horribly when we were together, and even now. i’m sorry for standing you up and coming home drunk. you’re right, i am cruel, and i will never forgive myself for how i treated you,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes.

you knew he had problems with anxiety and doubt, but you never thought it was this bad. you were mad at him, but you wished he had told you. told you about how he felt like he was drowning everywhere he went. “seungcheol, i-” you began but he cut you off.

“i understand if you want to leave. i can just have joshua take me to physical therapy and my appointments. i’ve asked you to stay for too long. it wasn’t right of me. if anything, i owe you so much. you shouldn’t have to be forced to be anywhere you don’t want to be,” he said.

you stared at him. you had never seen him so defeated. when you came to talk to him, you didn’t expect him to be the one prepared with an apology. you just wanted to talk, but now that you began piecing together the things he told you. you realized how much he did care. he saw the food you made for him. he saw the effort you put in. for some reason, that just made you feel a little better. you always felt like he didn’t see you, but he did. this entire time. “what if i want to be here?” you asked, meeting his gaze. his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips. “then, i would ask you to stay. i would promise to treat you the way you deserve. i would make every wrong i made right with you,” he confessed, moving closer to you on the couch. he reached forward and grabbed your hand. “i'm sorry for being such an asshole to you. i would apologize every second of every day.anything to get you to trust me again,” he continued. “anything so i can be yours.”

your heart felt full. it was healing. for some reason, you believed him. minjeong would probably yell at you for “falling for his trap,” but you had a feeling he was telling the truth, that he wasn’t going to mess it up again. “then, let’s start over,” you smiled, eyes welling up. he lifted a hand and gently wiped the tears that threatened to fall with his thumb. “gladly,” he smiled. you pulled your hand away from the one he was grasping at, and extended it to him. “i’m ___, nice to meet you,” you smiled. he grinned, glancing between your face and your outstretched hand. “nice to meet you too. i’m seungcheol,” he said clasping your hands together. he felt the waves were receding, and by the look on your face, you felt it too.

you were out shopping for what felt like the fourth time this week. you just kept forgetting something on your list that honestly couldn’t wait until the next week. then your phone began to ring. you slid it out of your pocket and answered it. “what am i forgetting?” you asked as soon as the line connected.

“nothing, i was just wondering if you could get some milk bread,” the voice on the other side of the phone asked. you laughed quietly to yourself. “what’s the occasion?” you joked.

“it’s the weekend, and i love you,” seungcheol said. you felt your heart soar. you sighed happily and made your way over to the milk bread. you were still on the line with him, and you could hear him humming. maybe now was the time you brought it up. “so, you want the same kind from the bakery, right?” you asked, stalling.

“of course,” he scoffed. “the fresh ones from the bakery are obviously superior to the ones that one brand makes.” it was funny since he said it like it was obvious. you hummed and placed one of the loaves in your cart. “is there anything else?” you asked. you heard seungcheol shifting around. “nope, that should be all for me,” he replied.

“everything i’m getting is for you,” you rolled your eyes. he chuckled. you continued to chat with him as you walked through the store, picking up a few leftover things. you decided it would be a good time to end the call when you got to the register, but not before you brought it up. “look, cheol, i’m at the register, so i’ll have to go,” you said, getting in line.

“oh, okay, sounds good. i’ll see you at home?” he asked to confirm.

“yes, after i get back, though, can we talk about that red velvet box in your sock drawer?” you smirked.

“yeah, sure of co- wait! how do you know about that?” seungcheol took a second to process what you had told him. he sounded frantic on the other side of the phone, and it made you laugh. “oh, looks like the line is moving, i’ve got to go! we’ll talk more when i get back, right?” you smiled.

“yes, for sure, yes! we will be talking because you weren’t supposed to see that!” seungcheol exclaimed. “see you soon, i love you, ___.”

“i love you too, cheol,” you replied easily. because, in this life, you loved him, and he loved you back.

minli | sort of proofread! working on it… i think the plot makes sense… right… please say it does. this has sort of been my child for the past month or so… i actually used the max amount of pictures in this LOL ASLDKJ. please leave some feedback if you want :) likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated :)

tagging | @a-wandering-stay @cinnamoroxie @wonwoosthetic

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beaversatemygrandma · 2 years

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Ordering things that have restrictions in some parts of the countries while hardly any others will bring you right back to the anticipatingly stressful times of 4-6 week shipping times of times of nostalgia.

#taks speaks #i don't miss those times #it's said 'coming tomorrow #for two weeks now #bc they made some law on the PACT update recently and now it's like #'yeaaahhhh so there's this inspection and processing and shit to make sure you didn't buy something illegal'#when it's legal and i could literally go down the street and buy it #its too late to go back now #and im going to Lose My Actual Shit if it comes the one day i'll be unable to sign for it #as in thursday. i've got an appointment and i'll be across town #the last possible day to be within '20 business days' is friday... so. fuck.#that or monday idk if the 4th was a business day or not #UNLESS it meant the 'processing/inspection' would take 7-20 business days #if that's the case. what the fuck man.#knowing me im not going to be like 'uhhh lost order' and get some assistence #ugh. my vape is broken and i just want the new one already bc it was cheaper to buy it online than at the store #like half the price....#even with the absurd taxes that come from it bc of these laws that shot up from nowhere #i mean yeah. getting the 21+ signature thing was necessary due to kids ordering them #but... $10 added on AFTER state tax? now. Come on. that's just stupid #(tbh it was like 6 per thing and im bitter)#so. about $18.#i get why shops in town are overpriced now but.... ahh??#it's cheaper to get cigarettes now but cigarettes are literal poison and smell like shit #ah the us tobacco industry... its now treating vapor products from the west coast like i'm ordering illegal weed #literally just got an ad for that 'real cost' thing and its literally working with the tobacco industry now #'these kids got addicted to juuls and addiction DRIVES Them TO Digging their juul from the toilet to hit it'#'but god save them if they smoke a cigarette which is just as bad if not worse'#i dont even remember when i last saw one of those and it had stuff about cigarettes #*drive the healthier alternative down so the tobacco industry won't die*

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straykeedz · 6 months

Text

day 27: changbin x reader x i.n. + squirting

straykeedz

tw: female anatomy; dirty talking; praise kink if you squint (you don’t have to squint so hard lol); nipple play; clit play; fingering; degradation kink if you squint; ♡

wc: 5k (oops);

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡

🔖 : @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; @tooskathepiratefromshield ; ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

⛲︎

The story of how you ended up fucking your roommate Changbin and his gym bro starts with you eavesdropping. Accidentally, of course.

“- and she squirted.”

You stop right in your tracks, and that causes you to spill water on your clean pajamas and fluffy socks, and you swear under your breath. Changbin, your roommate, and Jeongin, his hot gym bro, are sprawled on your couch, empty bowls of snacks and cans of beer in front of them.

“What conversation did I just walk in to?”, you furrow your eyebrows at them, and chuckle when you see Jeongin starting to get red in the face. He is cute, all flustered and embarrassed - as if he wasn’t just talking about squirt.

“Noona!”, he squeaks, tips of his ears red. “Ah, we were just… just…”, he stutters.

You sit down next to Changbin, and he scoots to make you enough space on the couch. “Ah, Jeongin was just updating me about Chan’s date.”, he explains.

“With the bookshop girl?”, you ask, getting comfortable on the couch, leaning on the cushions, suddenly interested in the conversation, especially since Chan’s been pining over this mystery girl for weeks. Changbin and Jeongin nod. “What happened? I wanna know everything.”

“Yah, you’re so nosy!” Changbin chuckle, shaking his head, playfully slapping your thigh. It isn't unusual for him to be touchy with you, and skinship between the two of you is perfectly common and not weird at all, but it makes your body jolt nonetheless.

“Yah, hyung, don’t be rude to y/n-noona!” Jeongin scolds his hyung.

“I’m not being rude to her, Jeongin-ah.” Changbin clarifies. “Plus, y/n knows I love her.” Another playful slap on your thigh.

You know he meant it in a friendly way - that’s just how Changbin is, playful and easygoing with everyone, a social butterfly. Yeah, he doesn’t love you in a romantic way, he probably just meant it as a friend. He loves you as a friend and a roommate.

“Anyway,” Changbin changes the subject after a few awkward seconds of silence “Chan and this girl went out last Friday.”, he informs you.

“Oh, wow, I’m happy for h-“, you start, but you are quickly interrupted by Changbin.

“And they fucked.”

You blink a couple of times at your friend’s bluntness, then you giggle. “Well, things escalated pretty quickly. Although I didn’t peg him for the kind of guy to kiss and tell.”, you admit. “Not so quickly, at least.”

Both Changbin and Jeongin chuckle at that. “He usually doesn’t, but he had pretty big news this time.”, the older says.

“Yeah, apparently she squirted.”, you giggle, and Jeongin nearly chokes on his own spit - Changbin has to pat him on the back to help him regain his breath.

“Yeah, you…” Jeongin clears his throat. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”, he says, a bit red in the face - kinda cute, considering that he was talking to Changbin about the filthiest things mere minutes before. Changbin chuckles at Jeongin’s reaction, and the younger boy glares at him.

“Wait, but-“, you start, but interrupt your own thought before you could voice it out properly. It’d be weird to ask them such a thing, wouldn’t it?

“What?” Changbin doesn’t let it slide, of course. Moreover, he sounds genuinely curious about what you were about to say.

“Never mind, not important.”, you wave your hands and desperately try to change the subject, but you should’ve known that it wouldn’t work on them. Curious little fuckers.

“No, no, no, you can’t leave us hanging now, noona!” Jeongin protests.

“Yah, the maknae is right, you can’t.” Changbin adds.

“And I’m the nosy one.”, you shake your head. “I was just curious about…”

“About…?”

Seo Changbin is a menace. Both you and Jeongin glare at him, and he finally shuts his mouth.

“Do… do you guys actually like it?”, your question comes out a lot shyer than you actually intended to, but it really isn’t your fault - it is kinda embarrassing to talk about something like that with your roommate and his friend, who is also your friend, but not the point.

“Like what?” Jeongin asks, eyebrows furrowed, and Changbin has a matching expression on his face. Dumb and dumber.

You groan. “When - ugh, I really hate you…” you sigh. “When a girl… you know… squirts.”, you clear your throat.

Their eyes widen, and their mouths fall open. Then they blink. And then they exchange confused looks. And you feel terribly stupid and ridiculous. You should’ve never opened your mouth, no matter how much the curiosity was eating you alive.

“When you… said us guys…” Changbin clears his throat, and even though he’s trying his best to look you in the eye as he speaks - he can’t help but drop his gaze to his fidgety hands every now and then, unable to hold your gaze. “Did you mean, you know, just guys - like, in general, or… us guys? As in… us?”

Us - as in him and Jeongin, that’s what he means. Jeongin, beside him, raises his eyebrows, but judging by the look he has on his face, you can tell he was probably thinking the same. Actually, your question was a general one - you didn’t mean to direct it specifically to them, but now you have to be honest with yourself and admit to yourself that the curiosity is eating you alive.

“Oh, I- I meant in general.”, you quickly respond.

Changbin nods, then fidgets with the rings on his fingers. “Well, obviously I can’t speak on behalf of all guys, but most of them like it.”

After a few seconds of silence, another question comes out of your lips. “And what about… you?”

Changbin’s eyes widen. Then, he clears his throat. “Uh… I like it.”

“Oh.”

“I like it, too. Very much.” Jeongin butts in after a couple of seconds of silence, raising his hands a bit, which is kinda stupid now that he’s thinking about it, so he lowers it immediately. “And I know a lot of guys who like it, as well.”, he quickly adds. In his defence, he was just trying to make things less awkward.

“A lot?”, you didn’t mean to sound this shocked.

“Duh?”, it’s Changbin who speaks this time, as if you just asked him the most stupid question with the most obvious answer. “I mean, who wouldn’t love to know they’re making their partner feel that good?”

It actually makes sense when he puts it like that, however you’d never been able to see it that way, and you were never able to let yourself go in bed, at least not that much. Having an orgasm during sex isn’t exactly rare for you, but there’s just something about… squirting, that freaks you out. You are scared of making a fool out of you, or that your partner won’t like it, or to simply embarrass yourself - especially during oral or fingering, where you usually feel exposed the most.

“I don’t know, I just thought…”, you shrug “That, you know, they’d find it gross.”

“Gross?”, they say in unison.

You nod. “Yeah, gross.”, you repeat. “I always… hold myself back, you know? When I feel-“, you notice their shocked expressions, their mouths agape. “Wait, maybe that’s tmi.”, you giggle, embarrassed, just realising what you just said.

Maybe it’s not exactly appropriate to talk about your sex life in front of your roommate and his friend, maybe you shouldn’t have told them how you hold yourself back from squirting every time you feel you’re about to do it. And maybe they shouldn’t feel that way about knowing.

“Maybe it’s- maybe it’s not my place to say, but…” Jeongin starts. “If you feel like holding back… then maybe you shouldn’t sleep with people with whom you don’t feel comfortable around. Sex is supposed to be fun and intimate, and you should be free to explore your fantasies. If you can’t do that… maybe you’re not having sex with the right person.”

Jeongin’s right, you know he is. But it’s not that simple - letting yourself go like that is not something you’re sure you’re capable of doing, at least not in front of someone you don’t have a connection with. Plus, the last time you had sex with a man was ages ago, and you can’t even remember what it felt like. And when you’re alone… well, you’ve never felt that sensation. Simple as that.

“I know, and you’re right, but…”, your drop your face into your hands. “It’s incredibly hard to find someone whom I’m comfortable enough with.”

Jeongin seems to have something in mind, but neither you nor Changbin are prepared for the words that left his mouth mere seconds later.

“But you’re comfortable around us, right? Changbin and I.”

The implication behind those words is clear. Changbin, too, stares at him with wide eyes - not because he doesn’t want it, too. The opposite, actually. He wants it a little too much, and Jeongin knew it well - they’d talked about it before, how incredibly hot you are in their eyes. Changbin is about to say something, but you beat him to it.

“Yeah, I am.”

Changbin looks at you shocked, eyebrows raised and eyes open wide. Then, his gaze shifts to Jeongin, who’s smiling from ear to ear. Changbin really can’t believe his friend’s boldness and straightforwardness, but at the same time he wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction from you. He knows you know what Jeongin meant, so what’s the meaning behind your words? Does this means what he think it means?

“We can help you, if you want.”

“Jeongin-ah!” Changbin nearly shouts.

“What?” Jeongin furrows his eyebrows, looking at Changbin as if he just said the most normal thing in the world. “She said she’s comfortable with us, and we both think she’s hot!”

Changbin blushes even more as he mentally takes note to punch Jeongin for that comment, even though he does think you’re hot.

But then, you say - “Alright.”

And when he finds himself in your bedroom, back and shoulders against the headboard as he sits on the mattress, you in his arms, your back against his naked chest, Changbin finds it pretty hard to hate his younger friend for bringing up the subject. You’re in your tank top, not wearing a bra, and your pajama bottoms are lying somewhere on your bedroom floor. You’re not wearing your sexiest panties, but neither Changbin nor Jeongin seem to care.

“We need to get you nice and relaxed for us first, is that okay?” Changbin asks you, running the pads of his fingers up and down your naked arms. You nod, welcoming in his touch.

“Tell us what you want us to do.” Jeongin whispers, his cold, veiny hands on your thighs, making you shiver under his touch. “Tell us what you like, how you want to be touched,” two of his fingers climb all the way from your ankle to the back of your knee, and it makes you get goosebumps all over your skin, “where…”, he bites his lip when his fingers brush your inner thigh, so close to your most sensitive spot, yet so far away.

“I like, uh…”, you start speaking, but you’re distracted by Changbin’s delicate touch, now on your hips. “Dirty talk.”

“Dirty talk?” Jeongin raises one eyebrow at you, intrigued by your confession. “We can do that, am I right, Bin-hyung?”, he then smirks, glancing quickly at his friend. You can’t see Changbin biting his lips, but you can surely feel him nodding from behind you. “Anything else?”

For a second there, you consider not opening up to them, but that’s not the whole purpose of tonight. Tonight you’re supposed to let go, forget your inhibitions and abandon yourself to the pleasure Changbin and Jeongin are here to provide you.

“My… nipples. I like when someone plays with them.”, your cheeks are slightly pink as you say the words. “And my thighs. I like kisses on my inner thighs.”

Changbin and Jeongin exchange looks quickly. Then, you feel Changbin’s hand toy with the hem of your tank top as his other fingers lightly brush your nipple over the fabric, as Jeongin places his lips on one of your calves. “Can I touch you here?”, he whispers in your ear, his voice vibrates in his chest against your back.

You nod, then lean your head back to rest your head on Changbin’s chest. “Please do.”

Changbin’s hand slips under your tank top - his fingers much warmer than Jeongin’s, it’s a pleasant sensation against your skin. Jeongin’s peppering your leg with kisses - delicate, soft, openmouthed kisses, all the way up until he brushes his lips on the back of your knee, which makes you shiver, considering it’s one of your most sensitive spots. When you whimper, he smiles against your skin.

Changbin cups your boobs with his large palms, and he’s kinda amazed by the way they perfectly fit, almost as if they were made especially for him - the perfect size for him. “You like it when Jeongin kisses you there, don’t you?” Changbin whispers huskily in your ear, which makes your toes curl. You’re about to answer, but he unexpectedly pinches one of your nipples, and you whine.

“Mh, I think you do.” Changbin chuckles, toying with your nipple, continuing to pinch it delicately, squeezing it with the pads of his fingers. “You’re such a good girl…”, the way he’s whispering in your ear is making you shiver, and you grab his forearm as you pant. “You have such pretty tits, such perfect nipples…”

Jeongin’s mouth has now reached your inner thigh, finally. A couple of inches, and his lips would be brushing directly your clothed cunt. You want nothing more than to run your fingers in his dark hair and beg him to do something, to touch you there - however, you know this is not the reason why he’s between your legs right now. They’re not here for bringing you mere pleasure - they’re here to get you as relaxed and turned on as possible, they’re here to make you lose control. So you trust them completely with your body, and let them do whatever they have in mind.

“I think she likes to be praised, hyung.” Jeongin grunts against your skin, kissing and licking the skin of your inner thigh as his fingers brushes the other. “Think she likes it when you compliment her tits.”, his teeth scrape your soft flesh delicately.

“You would too, Jeongin-ah, if you touched them.” Changbin says. “They’re so fucking… soft, and delicate, so sensitive…”, he pinches your other nipple, and you yelp. “And so responsive.”, he chuckles.

You kick your head back and close your eyes, letting go of Changbin’s forearm to fist the sheets beneath you when Jeongin’s kisses move a bit closer to your pussy, a wet patch clearly visible on the thin, pastel material of your panties.

“She likes it when you kiss her there, Jeongin-ah.” Changbin tells his friend. “Her heart is beating so fast right now. Maybe we should give her what she wants.”, he suggest, but Jeongin shakes his head, his bangs tickling your skin.

“Mhh, not yet, hyung.”, his nose brushes your clothed labia as he presses an openmouthed kiss on your groin, and you choked on air. “Just a little bit more.” Jeongin chuckled, satisfied.

Changbin nods, hands still on your boobs, index toying with your nipples delicately, teasing you - your panties are now entirely soaked. Breathing heavily, your fingers finally find their way in Jeongin’s hair.

“Neck.”, you pant. Before either of them could ask you what you mean by that, you elaborate. “I like it- no, I love it when someone kisses my neck. I’m so sensitive there.”, you let out an exasperating whine, and Changbin nearly moans, too. You sound so desperate, it’s driving him crazy. By now, he’s sure you can feel his hard member against your back, but he can’t really help it - he’s so fucking turned on by this.

“Oh, so you…” Changbin’s nose brushes your jawline, and you shiver. “You want me to kiss you… here?”, he continues, before placing his lips on the side of your neck. You fist the sheets harder, knuckles turning white.

“Fuck, hyung, she’s soaked.” Jeongin comments, furrowing his eyebrows and biting his lower lip at the sight of the big, wet patch on your panties, much larger than before. “I can smell her arousal- fuck, it’s driving me crazy.”

Changbin grunts, licking the skin of your neck, squeezing one of your boobs just a bit harder in his hand. “Fuck, baby, you really like this, huh?”, he sucks delicately, he surely won’t leave a mark. Too bad, you kinda want him to. “You like having two men touching this perfect body, don’t you? You like driving both of us crazy?” He pinches your nipple once more, and you can’t help but think of how much you’d want him to wrap his plump, soft lips around your sensitive bud.

You don’t respond. Instead, you spread your legs even wider, granting Jeongin a better access to your groin, where his face is buried - his lips still licking, sucking, kissing your soft flesh.

“Take it off.”, you pant, eyes still closed, head spinning.

“Take off what?” Jeongin grunts, then licks a long stripe on your groin. It makes you gasp, and your legs shake involuntarily.

“Top, panties. Everything.”, you nearly grunt exasperatedly.

“You heard that, Jeongin-ah?” Changbin asks, letting go of your boobs only to start fidgeting with the hem of your tank top, lifting it slowly, revealing your naked stomach. “Our pretty girl wants to get naked for us. She wants us to undress her…” Changbin chuckles, kissing you on the cheek. “Lift your arms, baby, let me take this off. Show those pretty tits to Jeongin, I’m sure he can’t wait to see them.”

You lift your arms just like he asked, and he wastes no time in delicately pulling the thin piece of clothing off of your body, letting your naked breasts bounce free, before tossing your tank top somewhere in your room. You hear him groan from behind you at the sight of your naked boobs, perfect nipples on full display for him to see, for him to touch.

“Fuck, you’ve really got the prettiest tits.” Changbin starts to lick and kiss your neck once again, then cups your breasts with his hands. “You turn me on so much, oh God.” A gasp escapes Jeongin’s lips as soon as his eyes take in the sight of your boobs - Changbin’s hands all over them, his fingers on your nipple.

“Fuck-, lift you hips.” Jeongin instructs, hooking his fingers on each side of your panties. “Let me take these off, let me see your pretty pussy.”

He slides them off easily, dragging them over the curve of your ass, slowly revealing your naked cunt to his eyes - clit swollen and lips glistening with your arousal, incredibly wet. As soon as his eyes take in the sight, he can’t help but think it’s going to be insanely easy to make you squirt, considering how much you’re turned on now.

“You have no idea…” Jeongin mutters, licking his lips. “No idea - how bad I want to kiss your beautiful clit and lick that pretty hole of yours right now.”, he grunts.

A smile spreads on your face, and you open your eyes. You drop your gaze on Jeongin, who’s staring at your pussy. “Make me squirt and I’ll let you. Both of you.”

Jeongin swears under his breath, and Changbin bites on your naked shoulder. Hard, with a grunt.

“How do you want us to do this?” Jeongin asks, a hint of desperation in his voice.

You sigh as Changbin resumes licking the skin of your neck, alternating soft kisses with delicate bites. “I don’t… I don’t know.”, you’re cut off by a choked moan. “Do whatever you want. I trust you, both of you.”

Changbin and Jeongin exchange looks once more.

“Can I finger you while Changbin-hyung plays with your clit? Is that alright?”

“Yes. Fuck-, yes. Please.”

Changbin hums against your skin, then places another kiss on your neck. “We’re gonna make you feel so, so good, baby.” You choke on air at the pet name that leaves Changbin’s lips. One of Changbin’s hands lets go of your boob, then travels all the way down your stomach, then your abdomen, until it reaches your navel.

Right before he could touch your bare pussy, he pulls away his fingers. You’re about to whine and complain, but then you see him brings his fingers to your mouth. “Suck them for me.” Two of his fingers enter your mouth, and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them gladly, humming against the skin of his digits as you coat them in your spit. “Good fucking girl.”, he grunts, pulling his wet fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting them to your lips. “Now I’m gonna touch your clit, okay?”

You nod vigorously. A gasp leaves your parted lips when his fingers finally touch you right on your swollen, sensitive clit. Jeongin, in the meantime, starts to caress your naked legs, all the way from your ankles to your knees. He decides to wait a little more before pushing his fingers inside of you, wanting for you to get adjusted to Changbin’s touch first.

Changbin starts to rub gentle circles on your sensitive bud while still playing with your nipple with his other hand. He must’ve done this countless of times, because he’s insanely good at it, and you can already feel the familiar warm sensation building up in your stomach.

“Fuck, hyung, you should see this- she’s clenching so fucking hard around nothing.” Jeongin licks his lips, kneeling between your legs but not daring to move his gaze from your naked cunt. “I think she’s close.”, he grins, his slender fingers brushing your inner thighs.

And then… Changbin removes his fingers. You think you could genuinely cry. You open your eyes, and quickly turn your head to look at Changbin with a shocked expression on your face. He simply chuckles. “I can’t let you cum, not yet. Jeongin hasn’t touched you yet, it wouldn’t be fair to him.” He kisses your temple, then his gaze shifts to Jeongin, and he nods. “Your turn.”, he tells him.

Sneaky bastard.

It’s now Jeongin’s turn to chuckle, as his fingers get closer and closer to your groin. Then, the tips of his digits finally brush your wet folds, collecting some of your arousal on his pads. “Now relax for me. I’m gonna make you feel good, I promise. I’m very good with my fingers.”, he smiles cockily.

Jeongin looks you in the eye as one of his fingers penetrates you, parting your folds and sinking in your wet heat. You wrap your fingers around Changbin’s wrist, gripping tight. “It feels good, right?” Changbin whispers in your ear, and you clench around Jeongin’s finger.

“Fuck, she’s so tight, hyung.” Jeongin moans, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you. “I almost can’t move my finger, fuck. So tight, and wet, and warm…” He continues to thrust his digits before he decides it’s time to add another.

A second finger slips in easily, and another choked sound leaves your mouth. He pumps both fingers inside of you for a while, giving you enough time to adjust to his fingers moving in and out of your wet heat. Then, almost unexpectedly, he bends said fingers, and starts his quest: finding your g-spot.

It only takes him a couple of attempts before he succeeds, the pads of his fingers brushing the soft, spongy spot inside of you, rubbing it a couple of times to stimulate it. A couple of swear words fall from your lips as he keeps on rubbing you there, applying a light pressure on that sensitive spot inside of you, which makes your eyes widen as you feel something you’ve never felt before.

Jeongin’s head snaps up to look at Changbin, and when their eyes meet, the younger simply nods. Changbin uses his own spit to coat his fingers this time, then places them back on your clit. “Now all you have to do is relax.” Jeongin tells you.

“Take a deep breath and empty your head. Not a single thought has to be in there, alright?” Changbin whispers in your ear. “No worries…”, one rub on your clit, “no holding back…”, another rub. “Just pleasure.”, a kiss on your neck. You clench around Jeongin’s fingers.

“Relax.” Jeongin repeats, still stimulating your g-spot relentlessly, adding a bit more pressure. “And when you feel like you’re about to cum… just let go. It’s going to be good, I promise.”

You think you’re being already stimulated enough by Changbin’s fingers rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit and Jeongin’s on your g-spot - but then, you feel Changbin’s lips on your neck, and his fingers pinch your nipple. it’s making your head spin, as your chest falls and rises quickly as you pant heavily. The knot you’re starting to feel in your stomach is something you haven’t felt before, not this way.

“You like it when I play with your pretty clit as Jeongin fucks you with his fingers?” Changbin grunts in your ear, drawing tighter circles on your clit. You nod, kicking your head back as you struggle to breathe properly, tightening your grip around Changbin’s wrist. “You’re so fucking dirty, letting two men play with your cunt. Dirty girl.”

“Changbin.”, you whine.

“Shhh…” Changbin shushes you. “Don’t talk, just feel.”

You’re already feeling. In fact, you’re feeling so much you think you’re about to fucking explode right now. You’re so close to your release in a way you’ve never felt before - they’re touching you in ways you’ve never experienced, in places you were never able to reach, and they don’t seem to be bothered at all by the fact their pleasure is being completely neglected. You’ll make sure to take care of both of them after this.

“Okay,” Jeongin starts, as he begins to apply more pressure on your g-spot in a way that has you seeing stars, “when you feel like you’re about to let go, remember: don’t fight it. Don’t worry about a single thing, me and Bin-hyung are fucking loving this.”

Changbin nods, placing a kiss on your jawline. “He’s right, we’re so loving this.”

When you feel like you’re about to cum, though, you can’t help but clench a bit harder, doing the exact opposite of letting go - you suppress it. Jeongin, however, notices it. “Ah, ah, don’t. Relax. Breathe. You’re safe, it’s just us.”, he places his other hand on your inner thigh, soothingly caressing your soft skin.

Tears well up in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”, you mumble, looking at him disappointed in yourself for ruining this, but he shakes your head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. We’ll get you there again, don’t worry.”, he reassures you.

Changbin thinks he knows the secret to help you empty your head and lose control. Maybe dirty talking to you can be the solution. He places a kiss behind your ear. “You’re so fucking hot like this, all naked, legs spread for us…” he whispers, as he keeps on rubbing your clit.

You’re starting to feel it again - the knot in your stomach, as your toes begin to curl, your breath gets heavier. Jeongin doesn’t stop applying pressure on your g-spot just like Changbin doesn’t stop rubbing your sensitive clit - and sooner than later, your legs start to shake. You’re close, so close - already seeing white as you kick your head back against Changbin’s chest, clenching your jaw.

“Yeah, like that. Good girl, cum for us, fucking soak our fingers.” Changbin moans in your ear, then pinches your nipple. “Show us what that pretty pussy can do, fucking cum for us.”

It’s the last push you needed, before you feel it. You’re cumming, but it’s different than all of the other times, it’s a different orgasm, and your release practically gushes out of you, almost as if it’s out of your control. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m cumming- Jeongin, Changbin, I’m cumming. Oh, God.”, you whine pathetically, as your release coats Jeongin’s wrist and forearm, soaking the sheets beneath you as you clench incredibly tight around his fingers.

It feels like hours, but it’s probably been a few seconds. However, your legs don’t stop shaking for a while, even though your orgasm already washed all over you and is practically over. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, your heart in your throat, and you feel absolutely spent, as if all the energy you had in your body had magically vanished. The two men immediately stop moving their fingers.

“Fucking hell.” Jeongin and Changbin mutter in unison, as they take in the sight before their eyes. Sheets completely soaked in your arousal, together with Jeongin’s skin.

“It was the hottest fucking thing ever.” Jeongin mutters, admiring how your release coats his fair, glistening skin. His arm is a bit sore, but it’s definitely worth it.

“You were so good to us…” Changbin kisses your temple, enveloping you in a tight hug as he rests his forehead against your naked shoulder - his hard-on still poking your ass. Jeongin, too, is hard in the confines of his black boxers.

You can’t wait to return the favor.

It takes you a while to finally regulate your breathing and come off of your high, heartbeat much more regular now, and even though you feel a bit sore already, you think you can go another round, or maybe a couple more. They’re a bit surprised when they see you kneel on the bed between them. You motion for Changbin and Jeongin to do the same.

You let your hands travel all the way to their toned chests to their stomachs, until you reach the waistbands of their boxers. They both hiss when you palm their cocks over the think fabric of their underwear, but it’s nothing compare to the grunts they let out when you slip your hands under the waistbands and actually wrap your fingers around their heavy cocks.

And by the way you’re looking at both of them they know you’re just getting started.

⛲︎

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 21 days

Text

Winter's King 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: friday, my day, am i right?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

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I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You turn your legs over the bench, feet dangling over the floor as you look at the king, dumbfounded and dozy. He sits in the chair by the table, toying with a grab between his fingers as he watches you. Your heart hammers behind your ears as your breath licks like flames in your lungs. You daren’t ask it aloud but what is he doing there?

“I only meant to look in upon you,” King Geralt says as if he can hear your thoughts. “I fathomed the night was long tending to my wife and I would make sure you are well-rested.”

“Your highness,” you stand and smooth the front of your shift, realising you wear nothing more. No dress, no apron. You feel vulnerable to his golden eyes as they follow your hands. The fabric pulls taut on your chest before you can right yourself. “I... Apologies, I am unkempt.”

You search around and go to take your cap from where you hung it. You cover your shorn locks and tie it tight above your nape. The king’s eyes narrow at you.

“What is the purpose of keeping your hair short?” He wonders as he drops the grape back to the plate.

You look at him, shuddering, “I do not... it is only as I’ve been bid, your highness. In Debray, all the maids do so.”

“You are not in Debray now,” he muses.

You’re quiet. You’re not sure how to answer that. You gulp and grab the clean dress from the pile and throw it over your head. It hangs loose, not like Jazlene’s carefully cut and laced gowns. You reach for your apron and the king clears his throat. You stop and look at him.

“Your highness?” You blink, still dazed by his unexpected appearance.

“I did go to see the lady of Debray,” he intones, “she was in a poor state. She would not permit me in her chambers for her condition.”

“Oh my, your highness, I am sorry to hear. Shall I go look in--”

“She has maids a plenty,” he insists, “I hoped...” he leans forward and reaches to his belt. You notice the top of his slate grey tunic is untied and shows the trim of his chest hair, “to share a pastime with her. I hoped perhaps we might see past our differences at last and start our progress towards the kingdom. Alas, despite my warnings, she overindulged and has left herself incapacitated.”

You stare at him, clutching the apron. He flicks his fingers dismissively as his other hand brings forth a pouch, “leave that. Come, sit.”

You can only obey. You put the apron down and cross the chamber. As you near the table, he pushes the tray of dishes out of the way. You lower yourself onto a stool as he opens the mouth of the pouch. He pours out the rattling contents. Carved diced in varying shapes, symbols painted on each side, and man longer pieces that look like bone.

“It is a game,” he explains as the contents roll out, “I’d like to teach you.”

You look down as he sorts out the many pieces into sets. He is lithe in his arrangement. When he is down, he presses his hands flat to frame the assortment.

“You don’t mind?” He wonders, “if you are tired still...”

“Your highness, I am awake,” you rub your eyes and drop your hands to your lap. “A game? How do you play it?”

You lean forward and he seems pleased by your intent. He curls his fingers and takes a breath.

“It is like bartering at a market, or the like,” he begins, “you see how the pieces differ,” he points to the longer ones, “there are tick marks here,” he shows you how one has an ex, another a line this way and the next that way, and a circle in another. “We each have our dice,” he divides those up and pushes a set towards you, “it is a matter of trade and cost.”

“Hmm,” you push your lip out, concentrating.

He continues to explain the balancing and leveraging of each roll. How once you have collected all the pieces with a particular mark, you may wield a greater demand. You tilt your head thoughtfully, your own fingers drawing lines in the air as you make sense of his instruction. You think you understand but remain uncertain.

“We may begin simple,” he intones.

So suddenly are you swept up in the intricacy of the game, that your shock at his appearance dissipates. You can only think of the pieces as he rolls a die. Then the next. You follow his lead and when at last the first trade comes, you hear his offer but have no response.

“You have a question?” He prompts.

“I am thinking, your highness,” you squint as your forehead lines.

“I can tell,” he says brightly.

You peer up at him and smooth your expression. His cheek twitches as he leans back. You counter his offer and he clucks.

“Mm, I see,” he rests his chin on his knuckles.

He hands over his pieces and you bite the inside of your lip. You gather them to your side of the table and frown. You toy with the dice and wait.

“Your turn,” he urges, “unless you are not having fun.”

“It is an interesting game but I don’t want to be let to win,” you mutter.

“I am not letting you win. It is the first turn and it is a long game,” he chides.

“Mm, yes,” you pick through the dice, “your highness.”

He exhales and leans on the armrest, “take your time. I am no hurry to be away.”

You peer up at him and find his gaze set on you. You return your attention to the dice and toss them. He’s a king, should he have better things to do?

⚔️

“It appears you have bested me,” King Geralt sighs and puts his dice down, pressing his hand flat over them, “you have the mind of a councilour.”

“Your highness,” you bring your hands back to wring in your lap.

“Truly, you’ve taken well to it,” he remarks, “it has been some time since I had harrying competition.”

You offer a slight curve of your lips and look away. The window is dulled as the sunlight descends. You blanch and slip forward on the chair.

“Your highness,” you stand, “it is late. I should--”

“You may remain,” he assures you as he shows his palm kindly, “no hurry, little maid.”

“But... shouldn’t you--” you keep yourself from asking after his duty. That is not for you to mind, “the queen will need dinner.”

“As I said before, this place is ripe with servants,” he says coolly, “you should sit and bask in the time you have off your feet.”

You face him and slowly sit. He drags his fingers along the wooden armrest as his expression tightens. He watches you as his square jaw clenches, “unless you would rather be away from me?”

You twist around to look at the door, then to him.

“I will go wherever you command, your highness.”

“Yes, yes,” his hand balls to a fist, “that is not what I...” he sighs with exasperation, “I want to know what you desire. What do you want? What do you need?”

There’s a stirring in your chest as he leans slightly forward, his eyes alight. You peer into the golden pools and your lips part. He is a king and yet speaks as if he would serve you.

“I...” you wisp and clamp your lips tight, measuring your words, “I want to serve you and the queen, your highness. I want to serve the realm.”

He huffs again and grimaces, “for yourself. Not the queen, not me, not the people.”

“Hmmm,” you look down and shrug. You shake your head. You can’t think of anything. “I have a new dress and a hot bath and good food. I can think of nothing. What of you, your highness? What do you want?” You lift your chin slowly, “just for you?”

Your question seems to startle him. He winces and for a moment, seems breathless. He stands suddenly and takes a step forward. He’s close and you think he might lunge at you. You shy away, expecting the same wrath you inspire in the queen. He falters and backs away.

“I want...” he grits and turns his back to you.

He walks to the window and looks out onto the lawns. He hangs his head and grips the window’s edge. He lets out a gravelly sigh.

“I want you...” he utters, “...to come walk with me in the gardens. I would like to do so before we must depart.”

You rise again, “yes, your highness, I will put my shoes on then.”

He puffs out into the deepening dusk. You can feel his frustration roiling from his figure. You grab the stockings and the shoes and return to the chair. You roll the stocking onto your foot and pull it up your leg, rumpling up one side of the skirt as you do. As you hike up the next, the king faces you, surprising you before you can drop the fabric back down to your toes. You sheepishly bend to put your shoes on, embarrassed.

“Thank you, little maid,” he approaches and offers his hand, “for keeping a miserable king company.”

You look at his hand. It’s big and calloused and lined like a map. The invitation seems overly friendly. You accept it, not so bold as to turn him away.

“Your highness,” You murmur as he squeezes your hand then lets his arm fall straight, tugging you away from the table.

Silently, he lets his grip brush from your hand and instead hooks his arm through yours. It is an overly familiar gesture but you allow it. What more can a maid do? As you near the door, he stops and untangles from you completely, stepping away as if struck by the oddity of his actions. He reaches for the door handle and inhales.

He opens the door and steps into the corridor, you follow him, just a pace back. He looks over his shoulder at you then turns ahead. You scurry to keep up with his long strides. He stops at the end of the hallway and you nearly collide with his elbow.

“I am not miserable because of you,” he angles his head towards you as he keeps his voice low, “if you worried...” he shakes his head at himself, “come, little maid.”

You do as he says and trail him through the corridors. It is late and while soldiers remain on watch, most of the lords and ladies have tucked away for their evening meals. The king continues his unstoppable advance with you at his heels. Down a flight of stairs and across the great hall.

Outside, several soldiers bow their heads at his passing and another nears. He dismisses them without a word. You carry on, sensing how his mood darkens with the sky. You’re uncertain of his demeanour, so suddenly shifting from affable to affronted. You didn’t say what he wanted and now he is unhappy. He can be rather like his wife.

He stalks onward to the archway that marks the green gardens of the capital castle. He passes between the leafy pillars and stops to look this way then that, then opts to walk along the middle row. You flit between the hedges behind him as the sky ripples with the looming night and a cool breeze stirs around your skirts.

He is silent as he walks, almost as if he’s forgotten you. You wonder if you fall out of step, if you are lost behind him, would he even notice? Finally, he slows before a pond dug into the center of the gardens, amid lilies and daisies and blue bells. The moon shines down and reflects off the tepid pool.

He treads around the edge of the pond as you stand by the bushes. He circles around to a wooden bench and sits. His shoulders slouch and he leans his head back. The silver light limns his strong features. When he opens his eyes, they glow as they did in your dream.

“I have come this far, I have conquered as I vowed to, I have vanquished the old king,” he speaks to the sky, “I have done all I sought to and yet I am wanting.”

You dip your head, sad for him. You might assume a king would be happy for all his gold and power. That a crown would bring delight as much as glory. All you see is a man in mourning. For all he’s won, he’s lost just as much. Loyal men and many months.

“I have a wife who is petulant, I have an ally who is cowardice, and I have nothing left here to claim,” he continues, “should I remain any longer, I might give it all up.”

He hangs his head and leans forward, gripping the edge of the bench. He sits in silence as he watches the water. A frog hops onto a large stone protruding from the shallows and steals your attention. You watch it leap again and again until it meets the other side.

“Little maid...” the sultry purr crawls over you and you glance over to find the king observing you, “sit with me.”

You shiver and cautiously make your way around the pond. You near him and sit at the end of the bench opposite him. You fixate on the moonlit water. He leans to grab your wrist and hauls you closer. You sidle down until you are almost against him. He slips his hand around yours, covering it in his grasp. He pulls it onto his thigh and rests it there.

He clings to you just like that. You feel a pluck in your chest for him. He has a wife who should share in his troubles but she is too buried in the anguish she made for herself. Yet, she is not there, and you are; a paltry substitute for what he truly needs.

Silence pervades the night but for the chirping of insects and the sweet singing of birds. The king’s grasp on you tightens, then lessens, and tightens again. He eases his hold entirely and pets your hand.

“Will you play another game with me?” His timbre is silty as he looks over at you.

“A game, your highness?” You babble.

He hums and nods, “a child’s game,” he explains, “it is simple.” He sits straight and pushes back his hair, “you will run and I will catch you.”

Your heart lurches. Your lashes flutter. You played the game before, when you were young, with the queen even. But that was years ago and you were smaller and faster. You look at the king.

“Your highness,” you utter.

“It’s my command,” he says, “run.”

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #dark geralt #dark!geralt #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

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bellaxgiornata · 6 months

Text

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Six]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.5k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: Another angsty and sad installment, but hey there's finally an update for this fic! There's also some POV switches in this one but it should be obvious. Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt hadn’t meant to show up at the office in such a foul mood that Friday morning. That wasn’t his intention. He’d gone through a multitude of emotions last night, barely getting any sleep after he’d stopped by your apartment and found out that you were pregnant. Eventually he’d finally decided that he would seek your forgiveness for how awful he’d treated you, wanting to prove just how serious he was about being there for the both of you. And he was not going to give up until he’d somehow managed it. Until he proved himself to you. With a focused calm after that silent vow, he’d put back his apartment after the destructive mess he’d made of it in his self-loathing fury.

But yet somehow as he stepped into the office and heard both Karen and Foggy working at their desks, he couldn’t stop that bit of bitter anger that suddenly burned white hot in his stomach. Because they both had to have known that you were pregnant this whole time. He knew Karen had been spending time with you, and he figured Foggy’s rage at him back on Monday morning had to have been due to him finding out the truth, too. And yet neither of them had said a thing.

Feeling irrationally angry, Matt slammed the door harshly behind himself before roughly storming his way to his office. He heard the way both Foggy and Karen had glanced up from their desks at his loud entrance, probably exchanging a look with each other about his bad mood.

Dropping his briefcase onto his desk in his frustration, Matt folded up his cane before he also slammed that onto his desk. Closing his eyes, he blew out a rough breath, his hands aggravatedly readjusting his tie.

This wasn't on Foggy or Karen, he reminded himself. This was between the two of you. What had happened was due to his actions. You were allowed to be friends with them still, allowed to have confided in them. Even if it hurt him to be the last to know.

But as much as Matt tried hard to calm himself down and not lash out, ultimately his anger won out.

Swiftly turning on his heel, Matt stormed back out of his office, his teeth grinding together. Hands rising to roughly grip his hips, he couldn’t fight the near growl in his voice when he spoke.

“Both of you knew, didn’t you?” he called out into the office. “That she was pregnant? With my child?”

He heard Foggy sigh, gradually sliding his chair back and making his way around his desk before exiting his office. Karen hesitated for a moment, running her fingers through her hair before she slowly rose from her desk, too. Both of them entered the main room of the office a moment later, focusing on Matt.

“So you finally spoke with her?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah,” Matt snapped. “I did. Turns out she’s pregnant. But you both knew that, didn’t you? Before I even did?”

“Yes,” Karen replied. “Wasn’t exactly my place to tell you that, though.”

“She was planning to tell you herself, Matt,” Foggy added. “That was her place to do so, not ours. I know you know that.”

Matt’s lips thinned out in irritation. Of course he knew they had a point, he wasn’t that much of an asshole, but that didn’t stop him from being angry that he’d been walking around this office entirely oblivious while both of them knew what was really going on. While both of them knew he was going to be a father.

“I…take it the talk didn’t go so well?” Foggy asked carefully.

Matt’s eyes narrowed back at him behind his lenses. “No, Fog, it didn’t,” he answered. “She told me to leave. Told me she was raising our child by herself, even after I practically begged her to let me be a part of things with her.”

“I mean,” Karen began cautiously, “can you blame her?”

Matt’s head darted in the direction of Karen’s voice. He heard the way she crossed her arms over her chest and leant up against the doorframe of her office. His eyes narrowed even further at her words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked sharply.

“It means that you’ve been throwing yourself out there as Daredevil for so long now, Matt,” Karen explained. “You don’t even think about the consequences of it anymore. You were supposed to be in a committed relationship with her. And things had been going well between you both, but in the entirety of your relationship, nothing crazy had been happening in Hell’s Kitchen until just recently. And then you prioritized that over her,” Karen continued. “So can you blame her for not wanting you around for this? For not wanting the added stress of wondering if you’re actually going to show up for her when you say you will? For not wanting to wonder if she even matters to you? If you’re even going to be any help to her when she needs it?”

“Well, I–”

“Because you have absolutely no idea what she’s been going through for the past few weeks,” Karen barreled over Matt. “The fear and the loneliness she’s been feeling. Struggling with uncomfortable pregnancy symptoms while trying to take care of herself all on her own. She’s been in this alone for weeks now, Matt. Because you couldn’t have just put her first for a single damn minute and listen to her the other week when she begged you .”

Matt stood there dumbfounded when Karen finally finished, his mouth falling open as his hands dropped from his hips, coming to hang loosely at his sides. In all his anger at himself since finding out that you were pregnant last night, he admittedly hadn’t thought too much about what you’d been going through alone. Sure, he figured you were scared, he’d certainly thought about that last night–cried over it repeatedly–but he hadn’t thought about what you must be feeling from pregnancy on top of all of that. The memory of you having been sick last night surfaced in his mind and guilt burned through him, dissipating the anger within him immediately.

“She thinks you wouldn’t want to be a father,” Foggy added softly. “That you’d care more about the city and Daredevil than raising a child.”

Matt shook his head firmly, a pain hitting him hard in the chest at Foggy’s words. You’d said that to him last night, too, but it still hurt to hear.

“That’s not true,” he breathed out, still shaking his head. “Nothing could ever be more important to me than my own family. Nothing . Especially because I never–” the words caught in his throat, his eyes closing sharply, “–I never really had one. And I wouldn’t–wouldn’t do the same to my own child. Wouldn’t have them growing up feeling like I ever abandoned them. Because I wouldn’t ,” he nearly snarled out. “I would never . And I will do everything in my power to get her to understand that.”

"I believe you," Foggy said.

The words caught Matt off guard, his head tilting to the side as he heard the truth in Foggy’s heartbeat.

"I know you, man," Foggy continued. "I know how difficult it was for you not having your family once your dad passed. We talked about it often at Columbia. So I believe you."

Matt felt his throat closing up with emotion at his friend’s words. Tears were brimming in his eyes behind his glasses and he blinked them back, not wanting to cry in front of Foggy and Karen.

"For what it's worth, I do, too," Karen added gently. "And we have both told her that. But honestly? You do have some changes to make, Matt. You need to learn balance if you're ever going to make things work. Because it's not Foggy and I that you need to convince."

"You're right," Matt readily agreed, fighting to keep his voice steady. "You're right, I do. And I will prove to her that she can depend on me. That I want to be in this with her."

"Good," Foggy firmly replied. "Cause I think you've got some work to do, buddy."

Matt kneeled down on the roof of your building, hunching over and turning an ear towards your apartment below so he could listen in better. He'd passed by here earlier when he'd first gone out tonight as Daredevil, which was something he had been avoiding ever since the breakup. He hadn't wanted to catch so much as a single beat of your heart, afraid the sound alone would shatter him to pieces, only reminding himself how much he missed you. But after the past couple of nights, stopping by your apartment was all he ever seemed compelled to do.

Earlier when he stopped by you'd been curled up on your couch, quietly watching some of those shows he knew you liked. He'd noticed you were tired, close to drifting out of consciousness as you lay there focused on the television. He could hear the exhaustion in your body and the countless times you'd yawned. He'd been itching to hop down onto your fire escape and slip through the window as he listened, desperate to peel off his suit and hold you on the couch like he used to. To let you drift to sleep in his arms while he buried his nose into your hair, breathing in the scent of you.

He'd focused on the baby, too. He'd listened to that fluttering heartbeat for quite a long while, having to eventually tear himself away from it only when he overheard someone screaming for help in the city. He hadn't wanted to go, deluding himself into feeling like he was there with you both if he focused hard enough. But ultimately you both were safe inside that apartment and somewhere in the city someone else needed his help.

But he'd come back one last time before he planned to head home for the night and try to sleep because he'd heard you up and about in your apartment. He knew it was early in the morning and he'd been curious, wondering if you were alright. Because you should have been asleep at this point.

So he had settled on the roof, and now he heard you rummaging around your kitchen. A loud rumble of hunger from your stomach met his ears and he understood immediately why you were awake–you were hungry. Making something to eat in the middle of the night.

His shoulders sagged as he placed a gloved hand to the floor of the roof as if that would somehow bring him closer to you. He'd have made you anything you asked. Would have ordered you whatever you wanted, any time of the night.

He'd have done anything for you.

Too little, too late , the bitter words of the Devil reminded him.

"Yeah, I know, I'm going as fast as I can," he heard you say. "Don't forget you're the one who woke me from a dead sleep at two in the morning wanting a grilled cheese. So you'll just need to be patient cause I am not awake, and that weird hunger-nausea is not helping.”

A smile slowly pulled Matt’s lips upwards under the mask as he listened in. You were talking to the baby, your tone a mix of tired, affectionate, and frustrated. He wondered how often you did that. This was the first time he’d stopped by and overheard you.

"Would be a lot easier if you craved things like an apple," you continued, heating the pan. "You know how much work it takes to prep an apple? None, my little devil."

Matt's hand curled into a fist at those three words you'd spoken so lovingly from your lips. My little devil . You used to call him that when he'd make his way back to you at night, running your fingers so delicately across cheek, just beneath his mask, as you inspected him for injuries.

Now you were calling the baby that? It was almost too much for Matt to bear. Sitting on the roof, bent in half over his knees, he became very aware of how much he wasn't quite a part of any of this with you. How separate he felt from you and his own child growing within you. Because of his own mistakes, his inability to prioritize the different parts of his lives. Because he should have just listened to you when you’d asked him to stay.

The burn of tears unexpectedly hit him fast and hard, his heart thumping heavily in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to slip through your window right now and pull you into a kiss, to wrap you in his arms and just hold you. He’d love nothing more than to settle you on the couch and make you the best damn grilled cheese you’d ever had. Afterwards, he'd happily clean up the kitchen and take you back to your bed, curling himself around you and falling asleep. You'd always fit so perfectly in his arms.

But you’d probably have yelled at him if he tried to step foot into your apartment again to help. He honestly didn’t think he could handle hearing you tell him yet again that he wasn’t wanted. That he had nothing to offer. That there was nothing here for him. Because that part wasn’t remotely true–you and that unborn child meant more to him than you clearly knew.

“I don’t understand how this smells like the best thing in the world right now,” you said to your belly, Matt’s ears picking up on the way you were rubbing a hand across it. “Yet coffee makes me want to throw up. I have never been a grilled cheese person. Your dad can attest to that.”

It wasn’t until he heard a few droplets land on the roof beside his fist that he realized he’d been crying. His tears had somehow managed to slide out beneath his mask as he’d been listening in to you making your late night snack. His throat had felt like it was closing up the second you’d mentioned him. And the emotions that stirred awake inside of him when you’d referred to him as dad were strong and foreign to him.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he croaked out between his tears. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. Talked to you like that. And I–I certainly shouldn’t have left you when you’d needed me.” He slammed his fist against the roof, grimacing at the force as his knuckles stung beneath his gloves. “I should’ve been better. You deserved better. But I’ll fix it. I swear to you, I will fix it.”

“Wonder who you’ll take after more,” you mused softly, entirely oblivious to Matt sitting on the roof of your apartment building listening in. “Me or your dad.”

Raising a gloved hand to his mouth, a muffled sob slipped out of Matt and into it. As much as hearing this was further twisting his heart in his chest, he couldn’t tear himself away. He couldn’t stop listening, wishing he could be part of the conversation with you.

“Hopefully you get your father’s intelligence,” you continued on. “He’s a smart man, even if he’s stubborn and makes absolutely terrible decisions sometimes.”

A humorless laugh fell out of Matt next, still muffled against the palm of his glove. More wet tears trailed down his cheeks, the brisk night air biting unforgivingly against his damp skin. You weren’t wrong on that.

“I wonder what your favorite animal will be, too,” you said, turning off the stovetop. “Dogs? Cats? Koala bears?”

He heard you hum in thought as you plated your grilled cheese, walking your way over to the small table in your kitchen. The same table he’d sat at with you for many dinners, flirting with you over a meal he’d helped you cook or one you’d both ordered out. The same table you both eventually crawled out of bed in the mornings together to have coffee at, with Matt often pulling you down to cuddle in his lap while he slowly woke up.

“Or will you like narwhals maybe?” you murmured, breaking through the memories playing through his mind. "What do you think, my little devil?"

Matt forced himself to stop listening in to that one-sided conversation when he heard you take a bite of your food, shaking his head roughly as he rose to his feet. His heart ached far too much, the tears continuing to drip down his chin and land on the cement roof with an echoing plop each time. He wiped the sleeve of his suit across his face below the mask, trying to dry the tears even though they still kept coming.

He didn’t think he could sit up on your rooftop any longer. It wasn’t the same as actually being there with you. Touching you. Smelling you. Holding you. He needed to find a way to do more than this. To be welcomed back into your life, even just a little bit, so that he could prove himself. He couldn’t just sit here pathetically crying on your apartment building’s rooftop while he eavesdropped.

With a frustrated growl, Matt threw himself over to the next rooftop, heading back out into the night.

Groaning, you woke up to that familiar, unpleasant dizziness as your alarm rang out on the nightstand beside you. Pulling a hand up from out of the sheets, you turned off your alarm before running your hand across your forehead, keeping your eyes closed and waiting for the sensation to pass. It was a few minutes before it finally did, and you slowly began to toss the sheets off of yourself.

Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you reached over and grabbed the half-full tumbler of water from your nightstand. You had been keeping one there every night lately, noticing that the cool water sometimes helped ease the nausea that woke you from a dead sleep.

Bringing the tumbler up to your parched lips, you slowly drank a few sips down. Your stomach immediately grumbled, churning once the water reached it. Groaning again, you stopped drinking, not wanting to push your luck and end up hunched over your toilet again. Apparently you still had a few more weeks before the morning sickness generally wore off for most women in pregnancy, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t counting down the days. You’d celebrate with a cup of coffee–assuming the scent of it didn’t still deter you.

Rising up onto your feet, you groggily trudged your way out of the bedroom and across the hall to your bathroom. You flipped on the light, setting your tumbler down on the bathroom counter so you could relieve your very full bladder. You’d woken up a handful of times to pee in the middle of the night, but yet somehow there always seemed to be more to empty.

When you’d finished in the bathroom, you shuffled your way down the hallway, throwing a hand over your mouth as you yawned. If only you could have crawled back into bed and taken the day off of work. It was the last thing you felt like doing today. But as you made your way past your couch in the living room, something had caught your eye and you paused.

Doubling back you stopped at the armrest of the couch, staring down at what was positioned in the middle of it. A blue plush narwhal with a gold horn sat smiling back at you. One that hadn’t been there earlier.

For a moment all you could do was stand there and stare at it, confusion washing over you. Until you remembered how you’d gotten hungry in the middle of the night last night and made yourself a grilled cheese. And you’d been talking to your baby bump aloud, musing what they may or may not be like in the future.

You gasped when realization dawned on you, your hand flying back up to your mouth. Matt must have been nearby, eavesdropping on the conversation you were having. He must’ve heard you mention narwhals last night, and then apparently decided to run out and buy one–and the thought of him doing that dressed as Daredevil was admittedly amusing–before slipping into your apartment and leaving it here for you to find. For the baby.

As you trudged your way over to the couch, setting your tumbler down onto the coffee table and collapsing into the couch cushions, you didn’t know what to make of that. Picking up the stuffed narwhal, you hugged it to your chest, your eyes closing. Half of you wanted to be pissed that he’d been listening in without your knowledge, wondering if he’d been doing that often, but the other half of you was touched. It may not have been a grand gesture, but it was a gesture that clearly meant something. But what exactly still remained to be seen.

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @thychuvaluswife @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this--is--music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @lilthbunny @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii @senjoritanana @mischiefmanaged71 @xxdrixx @jess-rye @hannahbohen @theclassicvinyldragon

The tags aren't working for some and I'm not entirely sure why (could be a settings issue or just tumblr being annoying, I'm sorry!)

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock #daredevil

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greenishghostey · 1 year

Text

Peppermint Haze

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ content MDNI, bath sex, p in v, unprotected sex, handjob, hair pulling, fluffy smut, established relationship, Eddie getting to chill out, dirty talk, creampie, soapy boobs, winter themed porn, lots of grinding, this is really just mushy fluffy porn so yeh

Word Count: 3,361

Author’s Notes: Please pretend that bath sex is not a logistical nightmare and that bubble baths aren’t terrible for vaginal health. The cosy, comfy vibes were too good to pass up so here we are :))) DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY WORK

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Hawkins always got indescribably cold by the middle of November. Snow would pile up on tree branches and sidewalks - becoming less of a Christmas card backdrop and more of a slushy inconvenience.

That was definitely the case at Forest Hills Trailer Park. The dirt track roads were frozen solid and covered in a thick layer of powder and wintery mush. A lot of the park’s residents took turns digging out sections of the roads since everyone still had to get to work. Winter wouldn’t stop the likes of Wayne Munson from making it to his Friday night shift.

Eddie and Wayne had been shovelling out Patty, their hippy elderly, neighbour’s grey hatchback when you showed up at their trailer. Friday night was date night, and the shitty weather meant it would be an evening in Eddie’s trailer.

Both you and Eddie had planned an extremely relaxing night since the week had been hell for you both. Eddie had been working late at the craft store because the holiday rush was beginning - he‘d kept you updated on his projects that mainly consisted of measuring fabric and lifting all of the heavy boxes. You had been dealing with an influx of school kids at the library - rushing to get books for their last-minute assignments and begging you for help finding specific titles. So, a little indulgent date was much needed for the pair of you.

Gloria, one of your coworkers, had gifted you with a small Christmas “spa” hamper as a thank you for all your hard work. It consisted of peppermint bath oil, vanilla body wash that doubled as bubble bath, and a cocoa butter lotion. It was all super nice stuff which made you feel a little bad for only having Christmas cards to give to your colleagues. However, the festive kit led to you and Eddie agreeing on your main date night activity.

A really really long bath. He was the one to suggest the idea after you gushed over the gift - the suggestion was mostly innocent, surprisingly. Honestly, you both just wanted to be all cosy and gross in the privacy of his home.

That’s how you found yourself submerged in an amazing soapy bath that smelled like heaven. Only your face was poking out from the bubbles as you breathed deeply - floating and listening to the muffled sounds of Eddie rummaging around his room for tapes. He said he’d made a tape, especially for the evening, making you melt even further into the minty bliss. Your sinuses were going to be so clear after this.

Eddie barged into the steamy bathroom in his usual loud, sort of clumsy way. The tile floor was more slippery than he’d anticipated so he had nearly crashed into the room. You poked your head up and gave him a little wave from the bubbles - hair soaked and a touch of foamy stubble on your jaw.

Once your sleepy eyes focused on him properly, you saw that he was butt naked while fiddling with his stereo on the counter.

You leaned on your forearms on the edge of the bath. “I don’t tell you enough how nice your butt is.” You sighed, smiling up at him when he glanced at you.

“I’d say it’s a little better than “nice”, at least “premium goods” status.” Eddie huffed jokingly, now slapping his stereo in an attempt to get the tape deck to stay closed. He was a firm believer in if you smacked technology around a little and showed it who’s boss then it would work. “Babe, you’re objectifying me while I’m trying to set a romantic mood, all for you.” He shot you an exaggerated pinch glare over his shoulder.

In reality, he really liked when you ogled him and made him feel hot. “This is a small bathroom and your ass is right at my eye level. Get over it, dude.” You smirked, sinking back into the warm water.

“-I bet you say that to all the boys,” purred the voice from the stereo. Damn, Eddie knew how to set a weird, but really good mood. Meat Loaf wasn’t exactly his usual music choice, but he knew you loved a good ballad.

“Hey hey! See? A few loving taps and viola, she sings.” Eddie grinned, turning to you with a flourish of his arms, “kinda like you.” He sniggered as you splashed some water at him.

“Hurry up and get “the goods” in the water. I’ll give you a head massage.” You sighed, letting your body sink back into the water.

Eddie laughed again, softly, and dipped his foot in the water - testing the temperature so it wouldn’t burn his balls. He slowly sank down, the warm water being a stark contrast to the chilly trailer outside the bathroom.

“By all means, take your time there.” You chirped, forming a bubble beard while you watched him. Eddie was so pretty in the steamy, honey light. A small sheen of sweat painted his chest, and he couldn’t hold back a giggle when he saw your foamy facial hair.

“Once I’m balls deep, I’ll be all good. Don’t rush me.”

You snorted, “not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Give me like… ten minutes and you might be so lucky, sweetheart.” Eddie winked, finally sitting down fully in the bath with a deep, satisfied groan. The sound shooting down your spine and fuelling the budding ache between your thighs. “I’m a fucking genius for this idea. God.” Another groan faded into a purr.

“You’ve really outdone yourself. Using my work present for your benefit. What a gentleman.” You sniggered, hiding behind the suds when he lightly kicked your leg.

“Let me soak in peace, woman.” He grumbled, trying to hide his sleepy smile and failing.

You watched Eddie quietly and full of adoration. His eyes were closed and his face had relaxed significantly, any harsh lines or fatigue melted away with the steam from the bath. Eddie allowed himself to slide fully into the water, soaking his wild curls and pushing his bangs out of his face. He started working his calloused fingertips into his scalp. You watched, unblinking, as his large brown eyes rolled back into his skull and he sighed.

Eddie had said he needed ten minutes but you weren’t going to be able to wait that long.

You wiped away your soap beard. As much as Eddie adored you being a goof with him, you knew when it was time to get serious. Both of you knew where the night was heading, so you may as well speed things up a little. The cosy air and the melodic cries of Meat Loaf were perfect.

“Eds? C’mere. Said I’d give you a head massage, and I’m a lady of my word.” You stated, giggling as he quickly started to twist himself around, making the porcelain squeak.

Eddie situated himself between your legs and rested his wet hair on your chest. The bastard even started twiddling his thumbs while he waited for you to start, “I’m ready when you are.” He shot you a bright, toothy smile, swaying a little to really drive home his oh-so-innocent intentions. Eddie was always such a tease.

You gathered some of the vanilla and peppermint-scented foam and started lightly massaging Eddie’s scalp. Your blunt fingernails slightly scratched him as an added luxury, but mostly because you wanted to make him feel extra special. Eddie’s hair was such an integral part of him. Not only was it for his own self-expression, but he fucking loved when you played with it and pulled it just enough that a shot of pain coursed through him.

“That good?” You whispered, one of your hands wandering down his chest to caress his spider and demon head tattoos. The spider was your favourite. One time when he had picked up from a party after getting too drunk, you’d named it Edith, and kissed her goodnight. Eddie had damn near melted under you when you did that. You were just too sweet to him sometimes.

“I’d even go as far to say it’s nice.” Eddie breathed. The feeling of you rubbing his hair and scalp was the greatest high he could ever experience.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, pretending to be annoyed. “Change your tune and I’ll keep this hand going lower?” You breathed into his ear, your wandering hand now grazing the wispy dark hair on his belly.

“See, I don’t think you’re gonna stop either way.” Eddie groaned. He started nuzzling his head against your tits, leaving a few small pecks between them. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while later.” He sang.

“Aw, aren’t you just my best guy.”

“Would hope that I’m your only guy - oh f-fuck.”

You finally traced your hand down Eddie’s thick cock. He twitched under your touch, your pruned fingertips dancing along the prominent veins on the underside of his shaft. Eddie’s pleased whining and soft panting showed you that he wanted you to wrap a hand around him and drive him crazy. But your goal was lower.

Your warm hand caressed and massaged his balls as he let out a surprised moan. “God. Harder.”

The pressure of your hand increased as you rolled his heavy sack in your hand. “You’ve been saving these for me, haven’t you?” you purred, Eddie having shifted to starting mouthing at your hard nipples. “Neglecting your balls when you're jerking off because they’re all for me, yeah?”

“They need a woman’s touch, what can I say - shit, yeah, don’t stop.” Eddie groaned, almost shouting. Your hand that had been massaging his scalp was now slowly pumping at his cock. All teasing, soft touches - you knew it wasn’t enough for him. Eddie liked to be handled with an intimate roughness that only you could give him.

Eddie’s large hands were moving everywhere. Massaging your legs, squeezing your arms and running up your neck blindly. The distinct warmth and softness of your body were addictive to him. You were the first person to let him touch you everywhere - no grimacing, no catch. Just encouragement and admiration. Said admiration came in the form of a low moan when Eddie’s fingers caught on a piece of your hair and tugged.

“Babe, babe. We gotta stop or I’ll blow my load too fast.” Eddie huffed, pushing himself up and back to his original position across from you. He held out his arms wide, gesturing excitedly for you to come to him.

You really loved how excited he still got when it came to you. In any scenario, he was always happy that it was you.

Eddie grabbed your ass as you straddled him. Reaching up to bring you into a hungry, wet kiss. His mouth was restless. Lightly chapped lips pressed to yours, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip, tongue massaging yours just enough to drive you crazy - he always drove you crazy.

The flushed, hard head of Eddie’s cock rubbed against your clit as your hips wiggled in his lap. “Fu-fuck yes.” Eddie groaned, pulling you down on him more. Your warm-up was one of his favourite parts. “You want your cock? You gotta wait, sweetheart. I’ve barely gotten my hands on you yet.”

You whimpered, hips still grinding with more impatience. “But you're all wet and warm.”

“And now I’ve got to get you like that,” Eddie chuckled with a smirk. “Do me a favour. Get some of the bubbles and play with your pretty tits for me?”

“You just wanna see soapy boobs.” You quipped, already gathering large handfuls of foam in your palms. The mint and vanilla scent had weakened, but it was still comforting.

“I do. Now, get to it.”

Eddie had moved one of his rough hands down to your aching cunt. Pinching your clit between two fingers, and rubbing it with his thumb.

God, yes. You could feel yourself becoming slick under Eddie’s touch. Your clit slipped under his calloused thumb as your wet hard nipples rolled between your fingers. Both of you released any and all noises that felt right. The needy moans and heavy pants harmonised with the lapping of the bath water. Eddie loved watching you play with your tits for him, applying just the right amount of grip to the soft mounds to make you whimper and hiss.

Such pretty, sensitive tits were a heaven he wasn’t sure he deserved, so he was going to make sure they were looked after.

“Someone’s having fun,” Eddie chirped, picking up the pace of his massage to your clit. God, he was evil. How were you going to hold a conversation under this level of pleasure?

“Woman’s touch, right?” You moaned and ground harder onto his hand, catching the hot tip of his cock at the entrance of your weepy cunt. Eddie whimpered and his smirk melted into a delirious smile.

The grinding, the moaning and the messy kissing continued for some time. Both of you basked in the intimate little world you had created in the steamy, trailer bathroom. There was nothing but time for relaxation and ecstasy - the night was still young and outside was just so cold, it was too horrible to think about.

Eddie had started to angle his hips and yours so that the head of his swollen cock prodded your hole. When your movements synced up perfectly, his tip slipped into you - providing a delicious tease.

Large hands were now groping and spreading your ass cheeks. The occasional short, sharp slap joined in. “Can I fuck you? Please. I know we got time, but I need it.” Eddie panted, his eyes laser-focused on your soapy tits that were in his eye line. “Promise you won’t be walking for the rest of the night. Fuck, rest of the weekend if you let me.”

Now that was a tempting offer. “If you get to be inside my pussy now, then you won’t be leaving any time soon.” You smirked, playing with his soaking hair and twirling it around your fingers.

Eddie didn’t respond to you. He lifted your hips up, thumbs massaging your love handles and slammed you back down onto his cock. Your gasp fizzled into mewling as Eddie started moving to grind into your sweet spot. He really wasted no time when it came to making you feel incredible.

“Aw, there she is.” He teased, one hand running up your back to tangle in your hair. “You were getting a little mouthy there. But I’m gonna help you turn that brain off, isn’t that right?”

“Mhmm, please.” The sensations coursing through your sweating body were exactly what you needed. Big hands tugging lightly on your wet hair, Eddie’s fat cock fucking into your g-spot and his growling breath tickling your chest. You needed to stop thinking for at least a little while. You needed Eddie.

Eddie needed you - maybe even a bit more than air at that moment. The embrace of your hot, spongey walls always had him reeling. You allowed him to see you in a vulnerable light, and he did the same. It was like a small weight off his shoulders that he hadn’t fully noticed was there.

“This pussy - my pussy. F-fucking god. Lean back for me, I wanna see you, pretty girl.” Eddie had started to work you on his cock, thrusting slowly and so deep into your cunt.

You gripped the rim of the bathtub and leaned back, an amazing tension forming in your thighs. “Want - sh-shit - more, Eds.”

“Fuck yeah, I’ll give you everything, baby.” A thumb started flicking your puffy clit again and Eddie grinned up at you. “Uh-huh? Taking such a big cock so well, like a good girl.” Christ, he was almost too good at speaking absolute filth.

“Can - can you cum in me? Please. Please, oh my fucking god.”

The entire image of you on top of him set his blood on fire. Tousled, wet hair. Soap-dripping tits. Heavy-lidded eyes trained on where he was fucking you down onto his cock. You sparked something almost animalistic in him, and now you wanted him to empty his balls inside your cunt.

Huff. Huff. Groan. Eddie couldn’t find the words to respond to you. So, he fucked you harder, causing desperate pleasure to pulse through both of you. He tugged your head back and began sucking along the column of your throat.

“Gonna fill up my gorgeous girl. God, your pussy’s gonna be so fucking messy.” Eddie was essentially delirious by that point. The only thoughts in his head were fucking you, cumming in you and suggesting that bath sex became a regular thing. The vanilla-scented stuff had you smelling like some fancy dessert, the poor guy was losing his mind.

You wanted to be messy. Eddie was pounding into you so well that your mind was calm and blank. The bathroom could be swimming with sudsy water and you wouldn’t even know.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” you squealed. “Want to be full all night. Need it, Eddie. You need it too. Uh-huh?”

“That’s right, babe. Always so smart for me.” His voice sounded far away, but in the best way possible. Eddie had a single goal in his sight and the tightness in his balls felt so fucking amazing.

The way you begged always short-circuited Eddie’s brain. You were so lovely, so amazing. Hearing you say his name in your hoarse, needy tone made his cock twitch violently.

Your cunt clung to his thick cock, trying to milk him dry and chase your own orgasm. Your release washed over you in a pulse of heat and electricity - momentarily making your body go limp from the euphoria. It didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop until Eddie did. His cock was splitting you open roughly as he used your sopping hole to cum inside.

“I’m gonna fucking cum.” He groaned, his jaw hanging slack. “Can you say my name, babe? Tell me who’s gonna fill you up.”

“Eddie - you, Eds.” A fucked out whimper is all you could manage. But it worked just as well, if not better.

Eddie came deep inside your slick cunt with a deep scream and a slurred string of curse words. Panting and water lapping were suddenly the only sounds in the green-tiled room. It was a sticky but not unpleasant atmosphere. You loved it.

You had collapsed onto Eddie’s chest as he ran a weak hand through your hair. “I feel all tingly.” You sighed.

“Like good or bad? Swear my jizz isn’t radioactive or anything.” Eddie snorted, his voice sounding sleepy. Christ, he was almost too warm, but like hell was he moving from his current position.

“I meant good tingly, like romantic tingly. Way to ruin the post-sex mood.” You huffed, flicking one of his nipples until he let out a little shriek.

“Okay, okay, easy there.” Eddie splashed some water up into your face. He was lucky he was so cute. “That was an incredibly romantic start to the night, in my humble opinion.”

You hummed in agreement as you lifted yourself off of Eddie’s softened cock, settling back to straddling his thighs. Bath or not, you were getting your post-sex cuddles.

“Want to be full all night. Need it, Eddie.” Eddie whined, mimicking your high-pitched moans as best he could. As much as you hated when he teased you like that, the impression was actually pretty solid. “That’s what you said. That’s love right there.”

“And I was being entirely honest.” You replied. “Bear my horny little soul to you and look where it gets me? Bullied.” The next few seconds moved by quickly. One second, Eddie was fixing you with an eye roll, and the next he was pouring foamy water over your head. “Dick!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll blow dry your hair before round 2.” Eddie grinned, moving close to you and pressing a kiss to your now dripping face.

“I want some of that conditioner stuff you use in your hair too.” Demands would have to be made as a form of repayment after your boyfriend tried to waterboard you. “The one that smells like coconuts.”

“I’ll braid your hair too, how does that sound?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie Munson x fem!reader #eddie Munson smut #eddie Munson #smut #fluff #fic #eddie #stranger things #my writing

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n30nwrites · 3 months

Text

Fetch (Shifter! Tf141 x Male! Reader)

Chapter 4 of Good Doggy

Masterlist

Tw - Drunk Assholes (inspired by real stories from me :)), Slight blood warning, Language (its a COD fanfic??), OKAY SO LIKE I GUESS SLIGHT SUGGESTIVE STUFF?? I WANTED TO MAKE IT LONGER. A SMALL SCENE OF NSFW BUT NOTHING TOO DEEP BUT STILL PUTTING A WARNING, ITS IN BETWEEN THE NSFW GRAPHICS. Gaz has a praise kink.

Beta Reader/Editor - @letmelickyoureyeballs

Updated: 3/5/2024

The bar is filled. It’s a Friday night, of course it is but you hate it. You don’t like dealing with assholes. Not after the conversation with Maya.

“I cannot serve you anymore. If you don’t decide to leave I will call the cops.” The man in front of you shouts profanity after profanity, angered by the law. Humans were stupid that way. “Here’s a water.” You slam it down, annoyed.

Idiots. Drunken idiots.

Yeah by Usher starts playing. The club you worked at was loud, you have ear plugs in just so you wouldn’t be overstimulated by everything, but you could still hear enough.

“Why do you have a mask on?” He's irritated already which means that this conversation will not end well. You usually strive to give your coworkers the assholes, not caring that he'll have to deal with it.

"It's to stay safe, I don't want to get sick-"

The man cuts you off and you debate on spitting in his drink, "That's not gonna keep you safe, the only way to stay safe is to build your immune system." He keeps yelling, and some spit leaves his mouth. You place down the menu in front of him as he keeps yelling, "That's the only way to stay safe, not a stupid mask!"

You walk away, going to your coworker and telling him to get his order cause if you do you'll be fired. You instead went over to the list of music that was going to play and put on a favorite song of yours, not caring for some disgruntled noise from other patrons as you bobbed your head to the beat, distracting yourself from the day you had.

"Ye lik' this song mo gaol?" It's the familiar accent and the way the hairs on your arms stand makes you more irritated. It was roughly 1 a.m. and most people would be tired. You'd reckon it would start slowly down in 20 minutes, which meant you could get some work done.

You turned to face Soap.

"I'd hope so, I chose it." You tell him as you get closer to him. "You still stalking me?"

"Ah'ahmnot a stalker, juist wanted a drink." He smiles boyishly, as if he wasn't Sergeant John ``Soap" MacTavish with more confirmed kills than unconfirmed.

"At the bar I work at?"

"Juist a coincidence"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't lie to me." You told him while you mixed a drink. "You obviously have something for me."

"A'm in loue wi' ye"

"Not possible." You tell him, interrupting his "confession". You set the drink down in front of him. "$13" You tell him the price.

"I didnae orda a drink?" He looked cheeky, and you wished some part of you didn't find him attractive. But he looks up at you and you can't help but imagine other scenarios, particularly some where you're both naked.

"Well you can either pay for the drink and drink it, or pay for the drink and I'll drink it and talk with you some more." Soap immediately puts down two 20s.

"Th' rest can go to mah bartender." You slip the extra cash into your pocket, going to your POS system and breaking out for your thirty minute break that was required. You grabbed the drink on the counter and left your work area, Soap following behind like a puppy. You found a booth in the corner most people avoided. Sitting down at what could fit five others at most. Your mind goes back to Maya, who’s probably taking care of Icarus, your dog, and Marigold, her familiar. Maya worked as well, but it was an in-house job where she dealt with customers in need of assistance.

"You hurt our feelin`s earlier," He says first as you take a sip of the drink you made. "Hae we dane something tae offend ye?"

"Don't want to get your hopes up." You tell him, "I'm not one for soulmates."

"So ye know?"

"Of course I do. You reek of wolf." He starts to sniff himself and you want to laugh at how ridiculous it looks. "You wouldn't be able to smell it. And it's not a bad smell, just obnoxious cause there's four of you."

"So ye aren't human."

"Nope, never was."

"What are ye?" You never felt shame in what you were. Didn't feel shame in general, it took Maya for you to start walking around in clothes.

But you didn't want to tell him.

"None of your business."

Gaz knows that Price is going to talk about the bloodshed in the morning. He knows that Price already knows but doesn't care to stop it tonight. Price is just too drunk, Ghost doesn’t care, and Soap is who knows where. It wasn’t like he killed humans tonight, just some animals that were definitely going to get the town's attention (He might’ve killed a bear) but not the hunters.

He's decorated in blood and he loves it. It soothes some messed-up part of him. His teeth still have specks of flesh in it, that he licks clean

He smells you. Heavenly you. You who smells like some plant burning. He didn't understand it, but he loved it.

You're next to Soap, and Soap has the biggest grin as you walk together.

Though you probably don't see it as together. You probably see it as him stalking you, but you don't seem to have your usual air of distaste. You have sunglasses on, something he hates cause he can't stare at them. Your mask is black, and you also have a hood on. You look perfect, he just wishes you were in his bedroom.

Preferably naked and-

Nope.

He kind of hates it at the same time though. Soap getting so close to you, still determined to find a way to be with you. Soap didn't lose hope, not like Gaz did. But he'd be damned if he didn't do something. He lets out a growl, standing menacingly as he runs forward, towards both of you, knocking Soap down as he growls at him, his teeth snapping. If Gaz doesn't get to be happy, Soap shouldn't either.

He just wasn't expecting your reaction.

"Get off him." He followed your command, staring up at you and following your eyes when you bent down to be eye level with him. "God you are so..."

"Cute." Your voice gets higher as you gently rub behind his ears, the blood not bothering you at all. Gaz almost forgets how you looked at him earlier, your words that cut him melted away and he just thinks he has a chance.

You loved dogs, who wouldn't? Even if that dog was actually a grown (hot) man.

"Look who's such a pretty boy." You kept rubbing his head as Soap just stared in shock. "Such a handsome boy, who did you eat?" You coo at Gaz, who leans into your touch and praise, enjoying everything about this moment. Gaz has to take a moment to remember himself, that the praise you give him is nothing.

But he can't help but imagine scenarios in a different setting.

NSFW Start

It's such a simple setting. In his room, the lights are low. He's flushed, shirtless and on the floor, while you sit above him.

"Can't you be a good boy for me?" You lick your lip before biting it, you stare at him, your eyes actually showing, looking at him with lust and love. A perfect combination, and your lips, god, you were perfect for him. "Come on, you know you want to." You lower your shorts and Gaz gulps, he stares at your cock, mesmerized.

"You're hungry for it, aren't you whore?"

NSFW End

"Arr ye fecken' kidding me?" Soap says, breaking the peaceful moment, and Gaz's daydream. "A' it took wis a wolf fur ye to lik' us?"

"I still don't like you all, but dogs are always a great company." You keep petting him, Gaz's eyes closing slightly, and Soap sits up.

"Ah can do that toh." His accent gets thicker as he rushes to grab your hand, forcing it away from Gaz and instead putting it in his hair. Which was mostly shaved on the sides.

"You aren't a cute puppy right now." You yank your hand away.

"He's fooken' bloody!"

Gaz licks your face, and you slightly smile.

----

Listen, hating people is one thing but I could never hate a dog, let alone a wolf. Reader still doesn't feel comfortable around the boys, but he does like the dogs.

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anglingforlevels · 7 months

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Open House (Yandere House x Reader)

When people say the housing market is a nightmare, is this what they had in mind? (The story goes out to me because I’m trying to get an apartment and it is Suffering. Please pretend this count as yandere.)

CW: not proofread, unconventional captivity, swearing, I accidentally had too much fun writing Abby and forgot the point of the story-

Minors DNI

When you proudly had reached the saving milestone to buy a small house in the countryside, you had opted to spend some of that money on a real estate agent, figuring it was a good investment, hiring a Ms. Abby Bardot – who, over the phone, had insisted heavily on being called Abby rather than Ms. Bardot – who had twenty years of experience in the field.

Quite quickly, you realized that perhaps she wasn’t the most conventional real estate agent.

Ms. Abby, you quickly noticed at your first meeting, was all hand-wringing and nervous sweating, though she seemed sweet enough, having clutched a tin of home-cooked cookies in all shades of black and almost-not-black, and had heartily insisted you’d take as many as you’d like (which was zero).

She had insisted on bringing you to an open house for what she had called a hidden gem of a house, that it would be a private tour. To you, once she mentioned it would be at 1 p.m., it was quite obvious that “private tour” meant, “no one else has or will be showing up”.

Ms. Abby had also enthusiastically shown pictures of the place, pictures she had ready-at-the-go on her phone, presumably she really needed a buyer for the house.

“Ms. Abby.” You had said, interrupted with a small interjection of, Oh please, just Abby. “Ms. Abby, that’s not quite a house and more so a small manor. I went over my budget with you when I hired you.” Ms. Abby had quickly recovered from the rejection and puffed out her chest proudly.

“Why that’s the best part, this is within your budget!”

You had sent her a dubious look at this. “Are the pictures… How do I put this delicately? Are the pictures recent and unedited?”

Ms. Abby deflated so quickly that it almost felt impressive, almost urging you to clap as if it was a circus performance. Of course, it felt mean had you clapped at her dejected look.

“It’s well-kept, I assure you. These pictures are all recent, I’ve updated them every year for almost my entire career!” She said proudly, and you almost felt pity at the fact she didn’t seem to realize her own slip-up but instead paraded it around like a badge of honor.

Though, all-in-all you were charmed, and somewhat endeared, by the honesty. But not very much by the house at all. “I think I’d like to look at other options, it’s awfully big for just one person.”

“Ah, wait!” Ms. Abby said urgently. “Please, before we continue with other options, let’s first try out the open house this Friday.”

“Is this protocol, Ms. Abby?” Ms. Abby’s lips wobbled at this and… “Are you crying?!”

“No, I’m a professional. Real Estate Agents don’t cry, I’m simply sweating, is all.” Ms. Abby sniffled, dubbing her eyes with a handkerchief, presumably you were meant to believe her eyes were suffering heat stroke on this fine autumn day.

“…Alright, I’ll go to the open house. Just give me the address.” You eventually relented, if only to avoid seeing the pitiful sight of a teary-eyed Ms. Abby.

That’s how you ended up before a grand house out in the middle of nowhere, the closest town was an hour-long drive away. Forest and fields were most of the surroundings, which was why the house was in such stark contrast, standing as a sole presence, the forests and fields shying away to make room for it, leaving a vast vacancy around it, stretching on for at least fifty meters.

It really was a pristine house, when comparing it to the pictures, it seemed to match right down to the placement of every rock and plant in sight. As if someone had consciously placed each leaf and pebble.

The plants and trees of the garden donned vibrant colors despite the season. You wondered how often Ms. Abby came by, or if she had hired a crew for maintenance, as you could not spot even the slightest hint of dirt or spiderwebs.

The only thing that looked aged was, unfortunately, the “For Sale” sign.

It felt a little unnatural, but you chalked it up to currently being a display house, and thus not lived-in either. You took notice of the way the trees beyond the reach of the garden were withered and wrinkled, and the grass yellowy, dry patches, barely hiding the dirt beneath.

“Some more forest could really do this place some good.” You mumbled. You hesitated for reasons you didn’t fully understand before stepping beyond dead plants clinging loosely to your feet and entering the garden.

You felt a prickling sensation behind your eyes the further you traveled, the door felt so far when the weight of something cloyingly attentive seemed to drag you down as if to prevent your advances.

“You’re here!” A delighted Ms. Abby yelled out before the sound of pitter-patter was interrupted by a loud thud against the door that rattled the frame. With her energy dampened, a sheepish Ms. Abby appeared behind the front door, simply saying; “It opens the other way.”

Right, something attentive could only have been the attention of the overzealous Ms. Abby.

“Come in, come in!” She invited, all but pulling you stumbling into a most decadently, lavishly decorated foyer. From distasteful stuffed animal heads to the ruby red furniture and mosaic glass tables, it felt quite uncomfortable, all sharp angles and very little homeliness to it, like an ornate display of wealth rather than a welcome into a household.

“Not very welcoming, huh?” You commented, which Ms. Abby elected not to respond to, though the small “eep” suggested she had heard the negative impression.

Looking the room over it was impossible for your eyes not to rest at the centerpiece of the foyer: A huge painting above the staircase. A solemn-looking guy stared out into the air, curly locks framing his face. Old paintings always looked miserable, yet you couldn’t help but feel there was a glint of genuine misery in his eyes. Noticing your attention had wandered, Ms. Abby followed your eyes.

“Oh, that was an owner of the house who had it commissioned back during the Renaissance, they wanted it right here, in the heart of the house.” She explained though you couldn’t say you agreed to a decadent foyer being the heart of a house, and if it was, that wasn’t boding well for Ms. Abby’s already poor sales chances.

“I’ve never understood why someone would want to pay money to look miserable in a painting, like you’re paying for it, at least make yourself smile or something.” Your jab was met with Ms. Abby’s impressive ability to carry on like you had said nothing negative at all.

“You know, the owner claimed it was a Jan van Eyck-original too.” Ms. Abby said as if letting you in on a secret, or town gossip. “Really, we’ve had it appraised.”

“And the appraiser confirmed it was a Jan van-whatever original?”

“…The owner really loved art; you’ll see plenty of paintings throughout the place.”

So that was a no. And speaking of no’s:

“Listen, Ms. Abby, I don’t exactly have the budget for a big house, as I already said. I especially don’t have the kind of budget that the kind of person who’d commission an artist to paint them for their foyer would have.”

Abby laughed nervously. “Well, you see, the value’s dropped as I mentioned. We haven’t been able to sell it for a long time, so the price just kept falling.”

“Right. But even so, it can’t have fallen that much.”

At this, Abby avoided eye contact, wringing her hands before, after a big breath, blurting it out. “The person in the painting was the last person to own the house.”

…

“Is this place built on top of an oilfield or something?”

Ms. Abby laughed a hearty if a bit shrill, laughter, before sighing and mumbling. “If only.” She clapped. “But! This is a charming house, why, let me show you the many rooms!”

“Ms. Abby, have you ever considered a field outside of sale?” You asked dryly but nonetheless followed along, eager to leave behind the painting, as you felt watched. The house consisted of many sprawling hallways, enough to almost make one dizzy, and you struggled to remember where everything was.

The house had many rooms, none of them particularly inviting, reading more like a historical display room lacking any warmth or heart (and perhaps even worse, any semblance of renovation despite old age), and all absolutely clustered with trinkets, knickknacks, and in the case of the walls, paintings – leaving very little free space.

It really did read like a historical display, as some rooms seemed older than others, suggesting partial renovation must have been done on some of the rooms. You’d like a word with whoever had been in charge of that lackluster, nonsensical effort.

Perhaps the lack of replaced furniture or renovation was why the house periodically seemed to creak and moan in odd ways, at times you almost confused it as Ms. Abby groaning or sighing, only to realize it was the sound of the house itself.

As for Ms. Abby, she remained undeterred regardless of how many snide remarks you made, which you had to commend her for, though the charm you initially had felt from it was quickly wearing off. Ms. Abby actually seemed increasingly happy, humming to herself. She didn’t think the sale was going well, did she?

“How much of the house is there left to see, Ms. Abby?” You asked, increasingly impatient and tired, having been dragged through an unreasonable number of rooms, which inexplicably, almost all were bedrooms (and yet, you had yet to see more than a single bathroom).

“Well, we’re still missing a couple rooms like the kitchen, oh! I know, how about the master bedroom since you’ll be spending every night there.” She said with a beaming smile.

“That’s awfully optimistic, Ms. Abby.” You noted, at this you received a good-hearted chuckle.

“Oh, this place is too lovely to pass up on, I think it likes you – it’s a match made in heaven. If you don’t like some of the features or decorations, it’s easy to change those, so it would be a waste not to live here.”

“I can’t imagine a house as empty as this holding much affection, and I’m not up for a big project.” All you wanted was a small but cozy house, a simple place. You felt exhausted just thinking about the amount of work you’d need to pour into a house like this to make it feel like home.

“Well, it’s perhaps not an easy house,” Ms. Abby admitted, her cheer at this point an unshakeable force, as a sense of confidence seemed to have sprouted in her. “But that’s why when that rare fit comes by one must take the leap and hold onto it.”

You’d feel insulted by the suggestion you were a good fit for this distasteful and unpleasant house, had Ms. Abby not already shown herself as incompetent but well-meaning. You simply sighed, giving up the conversation, figuring you’d find another real estate agent when you came home.

“Well, take me to the master bedroom then.”

Ms. Abby led you through the foyer again, the bedroom apparently at the other end of the house. Your eyes were drawn to the painting once more, its eyes felt more sunken in than before, shadows forming beneath, to which you tiredly sighed. “Me too, buddy. Me too.”

The master bedroom seemed to be at the stopping point to the sprawling hallways on the right. You were just aghast at the fact you had gone through another set of sprawling hallways, you wondered who had come up with the confusing layout of the place.

Ms. Abby tried to imitate a trumpet to build up suspense but trailed off after you shot her an impatient look. After a weak cough, she simply said “Tadaah” and opened the door.

You stopped up, your right foot hanging in the air, about to cross into the room. A sense of foreboding filled you; it was a bit different from the first time, however. The prickling sensation you felt and the cloying attention, it felt smothering, less like a shove away and more like… Being held in place.

Ms. Abby waited patiently inside the room, not commenting on your hesitation, though you had been snarky and displeased the entire tour, so perhaps this just seemed like more of that. You swallowed and ignored the pressure as you put your foot down and entered the room.

The air felt different here. You had hoped the odd sensation would disappear if you just carried on, like when you entered the house, to begin with, instead, it worsened. The air clung to you, terribly heavy and sticky. It took you a moment to actually focus enough to realize Ms. Abby had spoken, so when you finally snapped back to reality, Ms. Abby was standing in the hallway.

“-tively spellbound already. I’ll give you some time to look around and get acquainted together, one-on-one.” And then she closed the door in your face. The room was, oddly empty, compared to every other room. Nothing but a big, red bed, the empty walls that you could’ve sworn were further away when you entered, and that feeling of being watched, lodging into your skin like stitching.

Nothing except an almost empty room that didn’t feel empty enough.

That’s it. Ms. Abby had officially used up all her pity points, you were leaving. You opened the door, a tad more aggressively than what was perhaps called for, but Ms. Abby was nowhere to be seen in the hallway.

For how annoyed you were with her at this point, you found that you missed her company as you walked down the hallway, nothing distracting you from the odd sounds of the house that seemed to have increased. It felt as if the floor beneath your feet moved and rumbled slightly, the velvety carpets uneven and bumpy, as if walking on something breathing, something living.

You wished that Ms. Abby had given you the floor plans, as you struggled to remember how to return to the foyer through the hallways and occasional rooms you had to cross seemed to hold no real rhythm and didn’t feel as if it obeyed any rules about directions.

At one point you could have sworn you turned back, only to be in another room than where you had emerged from originally. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you found the foyer again. Even in your rush to find the door, your eyes were drawn to the painting, though you continued to rush by it. In your haste, it almost looked as if the painting’s colors were smudged.

You attempted to open the door but found it didn’t budge. It was an odd choice to lock the door, but you were certain that was the reason, it had to be. A locked door was no issue from the inside, but even after hearing the click of the lock, the door didn’t budge when you attempted to open it.

You attempted to kick, pry, tear, and even throw your body weight at the door, but with no luck.

Settling in the foyer after your final attempt at prying the front door open, you huffed, out of breath. You laid on the stairs, trying to settle your heart and pulse, when your eyes landed on the painting again.

…You rubbed your eyes and sat up, thinking what you had seen was owed to your tiredness and the upside-down angle, but no. The painting really did look smudged. Like someone had blurred colors and borders together, the hair’s vibrant color having lost its radiance.

And the mouth, it was oddly smudged between the lips, that it almost gave the impression of a mouth being pried open.

…

No, that was silly, you were being silly. The painting was smudged out, which was already creepy enough on its own, or rather, the house was already creepy enough on its own – your mind was just working overtime and was making up new things to get scared over.

“Well brain, if you like overtime, I guess I’ll have to put you to use and think of an escape. But you don’t have a union, so it’s unpaid hours for you, I’m afraid.”

If the front door was a bust, then you’d find a window. You struggled to recall any windows on the ground floor, but surely there had to be some. Or… That’s right! The kitchen, it had a glass door. You never got around to seeing the kitchen, having mainly been shown the upstairs so far, but you recalled Ms. Abby mentioning it back when she had given her pitch for why you should show up.

You hadn’t been on the left side of the house, at least not on the ground floor, so you figured that was a good direction to begin, in your search for the kitchen. You opened the door, urgency in your steps, only to find you weren’t in an unfamiliar room.

Instead, you were back in the empty master bedroom, which somehow felt much more crammed than any of the other rooms. But… That didn’t make sense. The master bedroom was upstairs, you had fought through a confusing hallway to find the foyer, so this… this didn’t make sense at all.

The air felt oppressive in the room as if your heart would be forced to a halt from the sheer weight of it, like a physical presence. This time you were sure that the walls were closer than they had been before. A bed table had been added next to the bed, and the part of you still delusional enough to hope thought maybe it meant that Ms. Abby was still around. As if this was an elaborate prank.

You tried to swallow despite how dry your mouth felt, your heart hammering painfully against your chest. This was ridiculous. You slammed the door open again, the door shaking on its hinges. Beyond the door, it revealed a hallway, but even if the hallway was confusing, you had been through it twice by now, you could do this, you could find the kitchen or a ground-floor window.

Hurrying along the hallway, it felt as if the floor and walls shifted and moved. Were you dizzy, or was this actually happening? The restrictive air of the master bedroom followed you, as you dragged yourself through.

“Huh?” you furrowed your eyebrows when you opened one of the doors. You were sure this was the one you had gone through before, but the room behind was unfamiliar. Cold dread filled you as a horrible thought crossed your mind.

No, no, no. You ran to the next door but behind it was another unfamiliar room. Were the layout… Changing? Your hand trembled as you tried to open a third door, and you felt like crying when all it revealed was the master bedroom again.

A lamp now stood on top of the bed table. Were new things going to be added each time you returned to the room? You thought back to the cramped bedrooms Ms. Abby had so cheerfully shown off. You weren’t sure what to make of it but felt sick all the same.

“I don’t have time for this.” You had to snap yourself out of it. You could spiral and panic later, but for now, you needed to get out. So, turning on your heel, you returned to the hallway. You’d go through each door that didn’t lead to the master bedroom, hoping to somehow find your way downstairs.

You almost cheered audibly when you finally saw the staircase, rushing to it. Once again, as you passed it, your eyes were drawn to the painting.

The painting no longer looked the same as before, the person it had been long erased by smudged and changing lines. You couldn’t tell what it was changing into but felt your heart race with familiarity all the same.

The mouth was a gaping hole by now, outstretched awkwardly. You thought it might have been a smile, but it looked much more like a pained grimace to you.

You only took this as further encouragement to get out of there.

When you failed to find anything of use, you realized there was one room that you seemed to always find. So, as counterintuitive as it seemed, you walked upstairs again, and as confusing as the changing layout was, it didn’t take you long to find it.

You saw the familiar bed, the bed table, the lamp, and the newly added clock on the wall (which didn’t seem to be working) and closed your eyes for a moment. You took a deep breath. And then you decisively walked in to grab the lamp, shivering a bit as you brushed against a much-too-warm wall.

If you couldn’t find the kitchen or a window on the ground floor, then fuck it, you’d find one up here. Whatever broken bones or bruises you’d get from the fall, you’d accept. Finding a window upstairs proved much more doable, as one would line the walls every now and then.

You threw the lamp against the window and braced yourself for impact.

But nothing happened.

The lamp fell to the floor with a hollow thud. When you opened your eyes, you found not a single scratch on the window. So, you tried again. And again. You tried punching the window, earning nothing but a stinging fist.

Yet you continued. At some point, it became more of a tantrum, an expression of your desperation colored in violence, than an attempt to escape. Hitting the window, kicking the wall. “Why-“ you hated this house. You hated it. Hated, hated, hated it. You just wanted to leave. Your ears rang, whether it was from your headache, or the way the house’s groans and creaks had grown in severity, you didn’t know, didn’t care, couldn’t care.

Already unsteady on your feet, your final kick caused you to lose balance entirely.

Stumbling and falling onto the floor, without realizing it, you found yourself by the stairs, and face to face with the painting. Your blood ran cold as you stared into your own lifeless eyes staring down at you from above.

Quiet had fallen over the house like a blanket, only the slow rumble throughout the house bellied any activity. In the heart of the house rested a painting, donning a toothy smile and a certain glint in their eyes.

A satisfied Ms. Abby removed the “For Sale” sign out front and drove away with a hum.

#yandere #yandere monster #yandere exophilia #yandere x reader #minors dni #not proofread #yandere house #written in an hour without any planning #and it shows lol #does this count as yandere or horror? or is this just a really weird house-complaint

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seraphinitegames · 2 months

Text

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 29/March/2024

Very much a same-thing kind-of week! Writing and getting prepped towards the demo.

I mentioned before about having a different system in place for Book Four when it comes to editing and testing. The plan is to write one chapter, completely do all my own editing and testing on it, then move onto writing the next chapter. Whilst I then write the next chapter, the previous one can go to the editor before then going to the readers and testers.

Hopefully completely finishing up one chapter at a time will make things much easier than overwhelming my poor editor and readers with lots of chapters in one go, especially with there being so many more branches and variations that all weave in and out and together at this point in the series! It wasn’t as necessary for Book One and Two, but I definitely came to realise that things needed a more thorough go over by Book Three when it was all more intricate to work all the scenes and branches around each other!

But you know I LOVE my variations and branching, so I don’t want to compromise on writing those, it just meant a different process was needed.

It does mean I have to take more time between chapters, but in the end it should save time towards the end parts of the book when I usually save up a lot of my testing for then.

It’s all kind of an experiment, but I really think it will take the pressure off for a lot of the process!

Saying that, I already kind of got off plan because I started writing on Chapter Two because I hadn’t decided where Chapter One was ending, lol! :D

But I’m back to Chapter One and working my way through that, as well as dipping back into the character creator when needed as I go through it.

It’s a Bank Holiday weekend here in the UK, so we'll be back to it on Tuesday instead of Monday! (I do realise today is a bank holiday as well, but I really wanted to get just a bit more done on the editing!).

Hope you all have the most wonderful weekend! I’ll update you all again next Friday <3

#the wayhaven chronicles #update #twc book 4 #the wayhaven chronicles book 4 #progress report #hosted games #choice of games #choicescript #vampire #vampire game #romance game #interactive fiction

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runningfrom2am · 5 days

Text

cold nights // part thirty-two

summary: the end.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n:

the end!! omg!!guys thank you so much for being here through this whole story and this was LONG!! over 110k words of a lot of nonsense but to anyone who's made it this far,, ilysm. i'm gonna miss them!! stop they were everything to me :(

ANYWAY same with LTPF if you've read that, there will be an epilogue coming soon and also definitely more oneshots and maybe bonus content that i wish i included in the original series but just didn't make the cut. so stay tuned for that!!

if you liked this series, i'm obligated as well to plug my NEXT series that's coming soon, 'requiem'!! i am so excited about it so please follow me for updates on when that will be posted!! def soon!!

just one more time i wanted to say ily, and thank you :')

see you soon!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

You keep your books tucked firmly to your chest as you walk into your first class, wearing the spare clothes you brought to Sejanus's house on Friday just in case you had to change. In case you spilled something on your white dress, or just felt the need to change- ironically enough.

Your normal seat in the front centre of the room is obviously free, considering also that you were quite early this morning. You had some readings you needed to catch up on anyway, in order to be prepared for midterms which were apparently coming up quickly.

It isn't long after you open your book before others begin to shuffle in, and much to your surprise, you feel the chair next to you pull back and see someone sit down. "Hi, Victor." The boy's voice says, forcing you to look up from your book.

Dark hair and dark eyes, you think you remember his name was Cancor. "Oh, my name is Y/N." You correct him kindly, adjusting nervously in your seat.

"I know that." He says, eyes merely slits as he seems to look past your own eyes and into your soul.

"You're... You're Cancor, correct? I don't believe we've properly met." You add, sitting up straighter.

"Crane." He states. "My last name is Crane."

"That's... yes that's a lovely name." You smile nervously, unsure what to say but still wanting to fill the silence he seemed so comfortable with. "Alliteration is such a fun thing to consider when naming a child..."

"It means spider." He states. "Did you ever meet my sister?" He asks, ignoring your nervous ramblings.

"No, no I don't believe I have. What is her name?" You ask.

"Arachne." The boy says, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly while you take a moment to wrack your mind to place it. He's acting as if you should know her, and suddenly you feel like you do.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing the memory to hit you like a freight train.

The funeral.

All you really remembered until now was being chained to a truck and paraded down the street you now recognize as the Corso, the body of his sister's tribute swinging above you while people screamed and cursed at you. Then, Coryo sang the national anthem.

"Oh, yes. Of course." You nod slightly, a frown settling over your features. "I am so sorry for your loss. Truly."

"No, you're not." He spits. "You don't care, and the fact that you're pretending to is just vile. She meant less than nothing to you and those animals- otherwise, she would still be here!"

You stammer, pushing yourself back in your seat as you grip the bottom of the chair. "No, no- I am sorry, I am. That should not have happened. It- It was horrible."

"Cancor." You silently thank the universe for your professor's quick intervention. "If you wouldn't mind returning to your usual seat and leaving Miss Y/L/N alone."

"We were just talking." Cancor replies, suddenly sweet as honey- cool and collected as if he wasn't just berating you over your faults in his sister's death.

"Go." Dr. Nero tells him again, nodding up toward the back of the lecture hall. "Before I am forced to ask you to leave."

The boy sighs in quiet frustration, slightly aggressive about his movements as he grabs his bag and stomps up the stairs.

You look up to your professor who greets the look with a curt nod and the smallest of sympathetic smiles.

It does nothing to quell the lightness you feel that usually signifies the trembling of your hands, which would soon spread. You close your eyes trying to take deep breaths that wouldn't come, but all you can see is the bodies of Arachne Crane and her tribute by the bars that had separated them. You have to open your eyes to remind yourself you aren't standing in the street, wrists still shackled to a truck. You can feel the chains weighing your wrists down to the desk as you think about it. You had almost entirely forgotten about the whole event- and the guilt of that was suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Cancor had never had the privilege of forgetting the way you had.

Quickly, you shove your books into your bag and stand, heading for the door. "Y/N." Dr. Nero's voice forces you to stop and you just turn to look at him, knowing full well you're unable to speak. "It's 8:58."

You nod slightly, looking down at the marble flooring that lay between you. "Start without me." You mumble, not giving him the chance to respond before you're leaving, accidentally bumping shoulders with some of the final students to enter.

You hadn't missed a single class yet, attendance was important, but right now you couldn't care less. Why should you even have the privilege of attending classes at the university in place of some of the academy's brightest minds who never got the chance? Like Arachne, and the three other mentors who were killed because of the games. You knew it wasn't necessarily your fault, but you understood Cancor's anger being directed at you. In a twisted way, you felt like you deserved it. They were meant to survive, you never were. Yet, here you were- a walking reminder to those students' friends and families that for some reason, they had to lose someone they shouldn't have.

You quickly pace down the nearly empty hall, trying to hold back your tears as long as you could. Feeling like you can't breathe is making it exponentially harder, and you wonder how you even walked out of the arena as it was. Adrenaline is a crazy beast- and you wished you had some leftover now. Sometimes, in moments like this, you wonder if you had used up your life's supply of the chemical the last time you were here in the Capitol.

Coryo was already running late after spending probably far too long conversing with your brother in the car, but he couldn't resist taking a detour into the arts building. He would just pass through, past your room just to glance inside and see if you were really there. Just to get a look at you.

He doesn't need to, though, turning a corner and just catching a glimpse of your hair as you disappear with a left turn at the end of the corridor. He was sure it was you.

Walking past your classroom he looks anyway, just to double-check, and as he suspected, you were gone.

He quickens his pace, taking advantage of his height difference over you to try and catch up with more rushed steps. "Y/N?" He calls out as he turns the same corner, but you're already hidden from view and the door at the far end of the hall is slamming shut.

As he continues down the corridor, a furrow knits its way into his brow. You must be headed to where you normally eat lunch, that is all that would make sense.

Without thinking, he follows. The courtyard is almost empty, aside from your frame curled up on the grass, knees tucked to your chest and bag discarded halfheartedly beside you on the damp grass. The sun casts a shadowed glow where it isn't blocked by trees or buildings in its path of rising, the grass is wet under his shoes as he quickly approaches you.

"Hey- hey, Y/N/N, it's me." He calls out as he walks up behind you. You turn your head, and then stand quickly.

"It- It's okay. I'm fine." You stammer, wiping your cheeks frantically. "You should g-go, you're already late."

"I'm not leaving you like this." He shakes his head, holding a hand out toward you as you avoid his eyes. "Tell me what happened, love. Talk to me."

You shake your head, shoulders backed to an invisible wall as you hold your palms over your face. You can't look at him right now- especially right now, when all you want is for him to hold you.

"You're okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." He whispers, taking a hesitant step closer. By now, you know full well he wouldn't hurt you. Not in the way he's saying, at least.

"You should go." You choke over the words that feel heavy in your mouth.

"Y/N, love, I told you, I'm not going anywhere." He repeats calmly.

"I want to go home." You sob. "I shouldn't have won, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be alive!" You say, voice picking up in frustration. "It's not fair. Nothing is fair, nothing."

He frowns as you lower your hands, clenching your fists at your sides. "Of course, you should be here."

"You don't get it!" You snap, and you hardly even sound like yourself.

This was it. This was your breaking point.

Coryo is taken back by your outburst, almost flinching at the abruptness of your shift. He had never seen you angry- he didn't even know it was possible. Of course it was. He'd spent all this time, all this energy trying to convince people that you were human. Anger comes with that, hand in hand like your cat and the fur that's clinging to his clothes at this very moment. You couldn't have one without the other. "Then explain it to me." He urges you, trying to sound anything other than defensive.

Your eyes soften, as if you're suddenly realizing that your anger was not entirely placed on him. You shake your head. "It's not... I cannot explain it and that is the worst part." You sigh, but the rage flashes in your eyes again as you look down. "Why was it me and not any of them? Why did so many of your classmates have to die? Why did Marcus escape only to face a worse fate than the rest of us, when he tried to help me too? Why am I enrolled at this stuffy university when my spot belongs to Arachne Crane in rights?"

"Arachne Crane?" Coryo mutters, eyes widening with confusion while he wonders where on earth that came from. He shakes his head quickly to dismiss the thought. "Marcus tried to save you, yes, that could have been you who escaped, that's true- but you were too busy trying to save me. And you did." He knows better than to accuse you of regretting that. He knows you don't.

When you don't reply, just staring at him head on now, frustrated and confused, he continues. "If we're going by this unexplainable logic of the universe, I think that it was you because instead of saving yourself, you saved me. And you did it again in the arena, when you went back for Jessup when I was looking at the screen and begging you silently to just ditch him. Same exact thing when you tried to get little Wovey up into the rafters with you, and hell! When you stared down the barrel of my gun, shaking head to toe from fear just to save the life of the Mayor's daughter, who was nothing but awful to everyone!" He says, gesticulating wildly to get his point across. "I've been trying to tell you for months, Y/N. It was you because you are the only person in this whole damn country who cares about someone other than themselves."

You just shake your head, and it's frustrating to him that you're unwilling to accept what he knows to be true. "It didn't work." You sniff. "You're the only one who survived me."

"Listen to me," Coryo says, reaching out and holding your face in his hands- throwing caution to the wind regarding how he knows to handle your panic attacks. "I survived because I had to learn how to love you."

You look into his eyes, flitting your own back and forth between them in an attempt to place any signs of deception. Blue, baby blue. You find none.

"And I did. And I'll love you every day for the rest of our lives. I don't want you to think for a minute that I'm embarrassed by that fact." Your eyes are squeezed shut by the time he finishes speaking, his thumbs swiping over the tear stains left down your cheeks by anger.

"It's not your fault." You mumble, shaking your head under his hold. "I do not fault you for being embarrassed."

"I'm not." He says again. "Look at me, please, love."

You pry your eyes open to face him.

"I've... I've had all this pressure my whole life to be perfect, and now it's worse than ever and I should have never let that get pushed onto you. I want you to be happy, that's all. I want you to be free to do whatever you want, and right now, the cost of that comes with who we are in public. Do you understand?"

"Yes." You say softly, but he can see that's not fully true.

"Here, in the Capitol, everything is a social ladder. We cannot marry who we wish, we marry who we should. Rarely ever do kids here date for fun."

"Like Lucy Gray and the silly mistakes she made over and over again with Billy Taupe." You comment, trying to lighten the tension you feel radiating off his body.

"Yes." He chuckles, smiling hopefully at you, relieved that you understood. "But I want nothing more on this earth than for you to be the one I spend my life with. I want to make you happy, but first, in order to do that, you have to be someone that they will accept. And I am so, so sorry I didn't explain this to you sooner, but I want you to know I've never wanted you to change."

"We don't need them to like me to be happy. That will be an endless uphill battle, Coryo." You shake your head slightly, placing your hands over his as they slide down onto your neck.

"It will be uphill but we can do it." He assures you quickly. "You're already well-liked, we're-"

"Were you not happy in Twelve?" You ask, a sad look in your eyes.

He stops, tilting his head slightly at you. He was happy in Twelve, now that he considers it. He hadn't thought about it, he was so focused on hating everything but you that he just assumed it was awful, but really, it wasn't. Not in hindsight."Is that what you want?"

You smile in response. No one had asked in months what you wanted. What you really wanted.

"What do you want, love? I'll pack up and move us back to Twelve tomorrow if that's what you really want." He says again, nothing short of desperation in his tone.

Faced with the option, you're really not sure. Yes, of course, you'd like to go home. It was very tempting. But Coryo was right, this education was important. You imagine for a moment the life you could have back home if you stuck it out a few more years. And maybe by then, you'll be better accepted here. Maybe by then, the Capitol will be a different place, and you'll be truly happy here. With him, and he will have the power to make the games go away.

"No, no." You shake your head. "I want to do something splendid...something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it and mean to astonish you all someday." You say, and he can tell from your change in notation that the words are not your own. It was something new, unlike what he had heard from you before. He smiles. "I want to be with you, first and foremost."

"You'll always be with me. Where you go, I follow." He assures you. "I was happy in Twelve, if only because I had you."

"That should not be enough, though." You insist.

"It has been for you, hasn't it?" He asks, and you nod, biting your tongue.

He grins. "Then I promise, love, that would be more than enough for me."

"O-okay." You agree, suddenly flushed by his stare. Coryo smiles, looking briefly at your lips as you speak. To him, they seemed more tempting now than ever.

He starts to lean in and you move your head back quickly, a worried look crossing your face and you look around. "Coryo, we-"

"I don't care." He says quickly, gently pulling you back to him and pressing his lips to yours. Consequences are the last thing on his mind right now.

You take hold of the front of his delicately pressed shirt, pulling him closer with his hands on your neck. Here, in the middle of the university courtyard with the sun shining down on your back, everything is okay and at least for now, the cold night has given way to a warm, sunny morning.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie , @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @cascadingbliss

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 11 months

Text

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter Three

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Smut. Oral (f receiving). Mild angst. Word count: ~3.1k Series masterlist

Chapter summary: The dinner date happens, and much more besides that.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

She hasn’t been able to shake the memory of Aemond’s lips since they kissed on Wednesday evening. He’d dropped her home shortly afterwards, letting her know he’d pick her up at 7pm on Friday. Since then her tummy has fluttered every time he crosses her mind. If she closes her eyes she can almost taste the red wine and cigarettes on the plushness of his lips as they’d pressed eagerly against her own.

She knows it is foolish to wish for something more, to expect their arrangement to be something other than transactional, but that kiss had felt like he meant it, so she allows herself a tiny slither of hope to believe there is the possibility for a genuine connection to blossom between them.

Relieved when her last minute annual leave request for Friday is approved, she gets to work on making sure she looks her best. She intends to spend the day face masking, exfoliating and shaving until she is the very picture of perfection for her dinner date.

She’s startled by the buzzer to the flat, rushing to the door to answer the intercom. She lets the delivery driver up, assuming it’s something Mysaria has ordered, but balks when three parcels are handed to her, each of them with her name on.

She opens the first, it contains a black floor length Ralph Lauren off the shoulder gown with a thigh high slit. She holds it against herself in front of the mirror, she knows Aemond is generous to her, but she is still awestruck by the sheer extent of how much he is prepared to spoil her.

The second package is a pair of Jimmy Choo black suede open toe platform sandals with a stiletto heel and delicate ankle strap. She turns the shoes over in her hand, marveling at them, but also wondering how on earth she’ll ever manage to walk in them.

Her phone vibrates and she’s unable to keep the Cheshire cat-like grin from her face as she sees it’s from Aemond.

I saw the tracking information for my gifts update to state they had been delivered. Do you like them?

She fires off a quick response.

I love them :) Thank you xoxo

It’s only after she’s set her phone back down that she remembers there’s a third package, hidden among the wrappings of the first two she’d opened. Her eyes widen as she unwraps it. Agent Provocateur. Aemond has sent her lingerie.

Her palms grow sweaty as her heart races and her thoughts travel faster than her mind has the capacity to keep up with. This clearly meant he anticipated something happening between them this evening. What man sends a woman underwear if he doesn’t expect to see her in it? She isn’t experienced at all. What if he’s disappointed? What if he asked for a refund? Fuck, can sugar daddies even ask that of their sugar babies?

She is broken out of her mild panic when Mysaria comes home. “You in?” She calls out as she closes the front door behind her.

“In here.” She shouts back from her room.

She hears her flatmate toe off her shoes and then pad towards her. She leans against the doorframe, eyeing the packaging and clothes that lay scattered on the carpet and lets out a low whistle.

“Daddy been spoiling you? Lucky girl!” Mysaria says with a grin, which disappears when she sees her worried expression. “What’s the matter?”

She holds up the Agent Provocateur lingerie box by means of response and Mysaria nods in understanding.

“Nothing needs to happen until you feel ready. Why not just try it on and see how you feel?”

She sucks in a steadying breath, attempting to calm herself. There was no harm in trying it on.

It turns out to be a playsuit of sorts. An underwired, padded quarter cup bra with a basque constructed using satin covered black boning and satin straps to create a cage-like effect, complete with suspender straps with gold-toned sliders, with subtle, matching black satin bows. Inside the box is also a flimsy black lace thong and black silk stockings.

“The man’s definitely got taste.” Mysaria says, helping her into it.

They’ve had to boot up her laptop and look up the lingerie on the Agent Provocateur website in order to figure out the intricate series of straps and clasps, and she can’t help but notice the eye watering price that’s listed alongside it online. Fuck. There was no way Aemond wasn’t expecting to sleep with her.

She stands in front of her full-length mirror and runs her hands over her body, looking at the way her breasts sit within the cups of the bra and how the straps of the basque dip and flare with the natural curve of her waist and hips.

��It looks different on the model on the website.” She says nervously, chewing her lip. “What if Aemond doesn’t like it?”

Mysaria snorts derisively. “Girl, please, that model has been airbrushed to shit. You are real and you look hot as fuck. Daddy’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you in that.”

“You really think so?” She asks, turning slightly, still studying herself in the mirror.

Mysaria gives her a playful swat on the backside. “Oh, I know so. Now let’s finish getting you ready.”

Two hours later, her hair and make-up have been perfected by her flatmate, and she stands wearing the dress and shoes that Aemond had gifted her - she has done several practice laps of the living room in the heels, to ensure she doesn’t fall over - the lingerie is snug to her body underneath.

Her nerves disappear the moment Aemond steps out of the car to greet her. His long silver-blonde hair is loose. She has never seen it all down at once, it falls thick and lustrous, well past his shoulders. Yet another well-tailored black suit hugs the broadness of his shoulders and the length of his long legs.

Any uncertainty as to how she ought to say hello dissipates as he cups her jaw and presses a soft kiss to her lips.

“Hi.” He murmurs, keeping her close. “You look beautiful.”

“Hi yourself.” She whispers back. “You don’t look so bad either.”

He helps her into the passenger seat and the drive is spent in comfortable silence, though this time his hand lays a possessive hold on her knee whenever he’s not shifting gears. It leaves tingles across her skin in its wake and the gesture makes her feel lightheaded.

They pull up outside a restaurant called SOLA and Aemond takes her hand as he opens the car door for her.

“I took the liberty of choosing this place because it has a Michelin star. Never actually tried it myself.” He tells her as they walk in.

The dining room is small and intimate, elegantly decorated with an abundance of leafy green plants and sculptural lighting, but she is struck by the distinct lack of other diners.

“Why is no one else here?” She whispers to him as they’re ushered towards their table.

He smirks, watching her take in her surroundings with wide eyes once they are seated, his one seeing eye studies her closely. “I hired the place just for us for tonight. Wanted you all to myself.”

She giggles at that. Such a show off. She expects the food to be equally as flashy, a display of wealth for the sake of it. However, Aemond has ordered ahead of time for the both of them, with choices that suggest a more refined palate that goes beyond merely wanting to splash his cash.

They dine on Kindai bluefin tuna and oysters, paired with crisp white wine and the conversation flows as effortlessly as the wine.

She finds out that there isn’t much in the country from a business standpoint that the Targaryens and Hightowers don’t have a hand in. His father had worked to build an empire alongside his partners Otto and Daemon, prior to his death, and much of it has been left for his children to take care of now that he’s passed. Aemond oversees most of the legal aspects of the business, which is unsurprising to her considering how sharp his mind is.

He listens intently as she tells him more about her history degree and love of fine art. It saddens her when he tells her that originally he’d wanted to study history and philosophy, but had had to give that up to pursue a career in law when his family’s expectations were laid out to him.

It’s obvious there is an abundance of complexities and drama surrounding his family, but she knows better than to attempt to unpick all of that now, especially when the evening is going so well.

Her skin feels heated every time he reaches across the table to gently stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. His eye contact is intense and with every moment that passes she finds any apprehension she had about sleeping with him simply fading away. She wants him.

“Dessert?” He asks, as the meal draws to a close.

She shakes her head with a slight smile. “Couldn’t eat another bite.”

“A pity.” He says, taking her hand and tugging her from her seat towards him. “I’m still absolutely ravenous.”

“For what- oh!” She gasps as he sits her on the edge of the table in front of him, lifting the skirt of her dress to the side by its thigh slit.

He hums in approval as his eye roves over the bottom half of her lingerie. She feels like there isn’t enough air in the room, her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage as his hands run up and down her legs. His thumbs stroke the creases where her thighs meet her pelvis as he drinks her in.

“W-what if one of the waiters sees?” She asks nervously, squirming against the heat that pools between her legs.

“Well, I suppose we’d better put on a good show for them.” He tells her with a raise of his eyebrow.

He hooks two fingers into the lace of her thong, pulling it to one side before he leans forward, groaning appreciatively as the flat of his tongue strokes gently through her folds.

A soft moan escapes her. No one has ever taken the time or care to do this to her before, she is unsure of what she’s supposed to do in this situation, but the thought leaves her mind entirely as Aemond begins to flick his tongue against her bud before suckling it harshly. She leans back on her elbows as he devours her with his lips and tongue, doing her best to stifle her noises by biting her lip, her chest heaving with the effort to stay quiet.

Her hands fly to his head, burying themselves in his hair as she bucks against his face when he speeds up his movements. Sounds of enjoyment rumble in his chest, sending shockwaves all the way through her body, causing a telltale tightness to rapidly build within her lower belly.

She finally falls apart, shuddering atop the table with a strangled cry when uses the tip of his tongue to draw tight circles against the most sensitive part of her. He pulls away, his face shining with her slick as he lifts her underwear back into place. He grins, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“You okay?” He asks.

She nods, feeling dazed. “Yeah…just…I need a minute.”

Aemond chuckles, smoothing her dress back into place. “Understandable.”

“That was…wow.” Is all she’s able to say once she feels lucid enough.

Aemond stands, helping her from the table. “The bill was taken care of in advance. Let’s head back to my place. I want to be somewhere where you don’t have to stifle those pretty noises you make.”

His hand sits higher on her thigh on the drive back. A mixture of nervousness and excitement has her pulse thrumming from thoughts of what he’ll do to her, of what he’s just done to her. Nobody had ever gone down on her before, but now Aemond has, and on top of a fucking restaurant table of all places.

Aemond lives in the penthouse of a modernised high rise. It’s minimalist. All of the fittings and furnishings are a combination of matte black and shiny silver chrome. It’s clean almost to the point of feeling sterile. It’s obvious he doesn’t spend a lot of time here.

She grins when she sees the elderly doberman raise her head from her bed as they walk through to the living room.

“You must be Vhagar.” She coos softly, kneeling and offering a hand for her to sniff. She scratches gently around the dog’s ears, giggling at the way she narrows her eyes in satisfaction, lifting her salt and pepper snout towards the ceiling.

“She’s not normally fond of strangers.” Aemond muses, as he kneels beside her, ruffling Vhagar’s head.

“The trick is to approach from their level and offer your hand before you try to touch.” She tells him. “Most animals that don’t like people just haven’t been approached by the right ones.”

He stares at her for a few moments, a small smile upon his lips, before he finally breaks the silence.

“Can I get you anything?” He asks, standing and walking towards the kitchen.

“I’m good, thanks.” She follows him and they hover by the kitchen island, simply looking at each other before he surges forward to kiss her.

The force of it feels like it knocks all the air from her lungs, it’s hungry and possessive and she returns it with equal enthusiasm, whimpering as her tongue meets his. He dominates the movement, his hand cupping the back of her head as he backs her into the bedroom.

She topples back onto the bed at his soft but insistent shove. Black sheets of a no doubt ridiculously high thread count feel like buttery silk around her as Aemond kneels before her to tug off her dress.

“Fuck.” He mutters as she lays before him in the lingerie he’d bought for her. “Yeah, we’ll be leaving this on. And these.” He grips the heel of her shoe, as he places a kiss to the inside of her ankle, before letting it drop again.

She watches, transfixed as he sheds his own clothing. Aemond is a work of art. His chest and abs subtly toned, he is all lithe, corded muscle, and she clenches at the sight of him. He is already hard when he strips all the way off, and nerves nibble away at her as she looks at the sheer size of him. Long and thick, lightly veined with a blush pink tip, her mouth waters slightly at the sight, yet there is a part of her that worries it might hurt. She had only ever slept with her ex before, and despite her inexperience she knew enough to know he wasn’t well endowed, nothing compared to this.

Aemond crawls over the top of her, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses to her neck and collarbones that make her writhe beneath him, each one sending warm ripples of arousal through her.

His fingers dip between her legs, pushing past her thong to stroke at her. “Shit,” He hisses. “Still so wet for me, I don’t even have to prepare you.”

He takes a condom from the nightstand, tearing it open and rolling it over the length of him before repositioning himself between her legs.

They both suck in a sharp breath as he begins to push inside, the stretch of him against her sensitive walls is both too much and not enough all at the same time.

“So fucking tight.” He grits outs, his grip on her hips vice like as he bottoms out.

He lays like that, forehead rested against hers as they both adjust, only daring to move his hips once she relaxes.

His strokes are smooth, even and precise, tapping a spot inside of her with every thrust that has her clutching his shoulders and moaning his name.

“Feels so good.” She mewls desperately as his hips piston against her own.

“Oh she likes that.” He hisses, almost mockingly, placing one of her legs over his shoulder and pounding harder into her.

Her eyes roll back at the sensation, her hands grip frantically at Aemond’s biceps and then the bedsheets beside her as he rubs at her clit with his thumb in tandem with each of his thrusts.

“You gonna cum again for me, pretty girl?” He asks huskily. “I can feel you squeezing me.”

“Fuck!” Is all she’s able to cry out in response as she feels herself tighten and spasm around him, her back arching off of the bed with the force of the pleasure that washes over her.

Her own release triggers Aemond’s and he snarls, holding her tight against his chest as he stills and spills into the condom.

He pulls out, depositing it into the wastebin and pulls her into his arms.

She feels utterly spent, boneless and dazed in the wake of what she’s just experienced, but Aemond isn’t prepared to let her doze off just yet.

He moves down the bed, unbuckling each of her shoes and removes them. He ushers her to the bathroom with a firm tap to her thigh. Once she’s finished and settled back into bed with a glass of water, he begins to slowly unclasp each of the straps of her body suit, softly rubbing and kissing each of the indentations made by the bones of it as it falls away from her body.

“You’re gorgeous.” He whispers to her, stroking her hair as she drifts off to sleep.

She awakens the next morning, surprised at how refreshed she feels considering the events of the previous evening. She smiles to herself as she snuggles into the luxurious feeling plushness of the bed, thoughts of how good Aemond had made her feel playing on a loop in her mind. She is startled slightly when she rolls over to find his spot empty.

A note has been left on the bedside table.

Sorry, had to run. Have transferred you money for cab fare - A.

She sighs. She hadn’t expected breakfast in bed, but she can’t deny the sinking feeling in her stomach at the fact he hadn’t bothered to stick around. Rummaging through her things that lay scattered on the floor, she retrieves her phone to look at the time when she sees the banking app notification.

£5,000 from A. Targaryen. Her heart twists painfully in her chest. That wasn’t cab fare, it was payment for last night.

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matan4il · 2 months

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Daily update post:

On Friday, there was yet another Palestinian terrorist attack. Terrorists started shooting at Israelis near a yeshiva, and as security forces gave chase, an explosive device was set off through remote control, which shows just how sophisticated some of these terrorists are getting. Seven Israeli soldiers were injured. The explosives were homemade, and I heard one estimate that if they had been "proper," the number of casualties would have been much higher.

Friday was also International Women's Day, when we asked people to remember Israeli and Jewish women, including the ones still being abused by terrorists in captivity. Here's a small round up of a few related global events... In South Africa, Jewish women marched, asking their president and government to condemn Hamas' sexual violence, protesting against the extra burden of proof demanded of Jewish women. Similar protests were held in other places around the world, among them in front of the UN headquarters in NYC. Following an Israeli request, the US, the UK and France have asked the UN's security council to have an emergency session on the UN report regarding Hamas' sexual crimes, Israel's Foreign Minister and the families of the hostages are meant to attend. But maybe the most poignant news come from the Norwegian capital of Oslo, where protesters holding up signs in support of the Israeli women held hostage by Hamas were barred from participating in the International Women's Day March by its organizers, after other participants of the march were physically stopping the group supporting the kidnapped Israeli women.

Biden's recent MSNBC interview, where he's said that "there has to be another way to deal with the trauma caused by Hamas," has managed to piss off even left wing journalists here. I'm gonna pass along what one said... Biden doesn't get it. We're not fighting in Gaza to deal with trauma, this is not the equivalent of going to therapy. We're facing a terrorist organization that massacred us, rules an entire strip of land, and has turned it into the world's biggest base for terrorist activity, turned its 2.1 million people population into a human weapon, and if there is another way to make sure Israeli civilians are safe by destroying Hamas, with less casualties on the other side, let him present it in practical matters. So far, all he does is to give the vague, abstract, "Israel needs to do better," which is not a practical plan of action, and it's especially condescending, when we don't actually have historical examples of any country doing better during fights conducted under the conditions created by Hamas in Gaza.

I have written about the incident in northern Gaza, where over 100 people were killed in a stampede, as they were storming humanitarian aid trucks. It was a complex situation, in addition to those who died from the pushing and trampling (something we've seen in lots of tragic disasters around the world, which were by no means a massacre, such as a fairly well known stampede of Liverpool soccer fans), apparently some of those who died, were ran over when the (Arab) truck drivers were scared and tried to drive away from the mob, while a small number of suspicious people advanced menancingly on the soldiers. An IDF investigation report confirms the Israeli soldiers only fired at this smaller group, suspected of being terrorists, not at anyone else, and certainly not at the aid convoy itself. Of course none of this complexity was reflected in any anti-Israel propaganda posts, which labeled this a massacre. But now the size of the stampede has been confirmed as well, which in itself says a lot about this tragic chain of events: no less than 12,000 (!) Gazans were storming those aid trucks. Given the size of that crowd, it's almost a miracle that not more people were killed. Just compare the Liverpool fans stampede, where the size of the involved crowd was smaller, the situation less complex (no moving trucks or terrorists around), and the number of fatalities was practically the same, at 97 people killed.

This has got to be one of the worst things I've heard since Oct 7 brought new focus to the antisemitism problem on American college campuses. One of the morally clearest voices against this Jew hate has been a Jewish Israeli professor at Columbia University, Shai Davidai. Now apparently the uni has started an investigation into him, instead of... IDK, learning from the criticism he has raised regarding their failure to address antisemitism. They sure are doing a great job, showing Jews they're listened to and cared about, and protecting Davidai's freedom of speech, that last line of defense that all the college presidents fell back on when they had to address why calling for the genocide of Jews is not considered bullying or harassment on their campuses.

youtube

This is 100 years old Yocheved Gold (on the left, obviously).

Yocheved was born in 1923 in Germany. In 1936, as a Jewish teenager who was mistaken for a Christian girl, and despite her fear, she refused to hand a bouquet of flowers to Hitler at the Berlin Olympics. Two years later, at the age of 15, she was among the last Jews to flee Europe before WWII. She managed to make it to the Land of Israel, which saved her life. On Oct 7, she was in kibbutz Sa'ad, one of the southern Israeli communities attacked by Hamas terrorists. Eighty years after antisemites first forced her to flee her home, she had to do it again, and is maybe the only Israeli evacuee to be over 100 years old. Now she has returned to kibbutz Sa'ad, even though most still haven't (as they don't feel safe from Hamas), because she said she doesn't want to die away from home.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

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covetyou · 5 months

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homecoming

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist part one ⋆ part two ⋆ part three

pairing: cuck!Joel x f!reader, brief M!OC x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: cuckolding, daddy kink, protected and unprotected PIV, creampie, cum kink, pet names, ddlg vibes, questionable text message formatting word count: 3.8k summary: you follow through with plans to see Andrew for the first time

A/N: cuck!Joel was only ever going to consist of oneshots, but now this is a three part intro to cuck!Joel and Andrew.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

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He felt like he was making some kind of illicit deal, hanging around the parking lot waiting for people to file out at the end of the day. In a way, he was.

"Hey buddy! Wait up."

It had been as simple as that to stop him. A little small talk here, a little work talk there. Never one for elegance, Joel quickly cut to the chase. "I saw you looking at my girl on Friday."

Andrew startles, nervously rattling his car keys in his hand. There was no denying it, he wasn't stupid enough to even try. He knew he'd been too obvious. And he knew a man the size of Joel could easily deck him if he wanted to.

"She... I- I'm sorry, man, she looked amazing. I promise, meant nothing by it."

Tell Joel something he didn't know. "Look, I'll keep this simple. I'm out of town next weekend, she'd like it if you kept her company."

Keys drop to the gravel below.

"What are you -" Andrew is confused. Very confused. He was ready to apologize for overstepping an obvious mark, flirting with another man's girl right in front of him, and now this?

"Think you know what I'm sayin'."

Andrew did. He'd gone home Friday night and fisted his cock to thoughts of that silky dress wrapped around your body, your nipples so obvious beneath the fabric, dreaming that they were hard for him instead of Joel, his boss. He should not have been fantasizing about his boss's girl at all, but there was no stopping it.

"Don't have to be nothin', but," Joel shrugs, "If you both want it to be somethin'... I ain't got a problem with it."

It had been simple as that. Joel had handed over your phone number, telling him to get in touch, and it had all gone from there.

You were nervous.

Outwardly you probably looked the same as you always did, legs curled under, eyes focused on the TV ahead, occasionally checking your phone. No. The only outward sign that anything was different were the occasional deep breaths you had to take - deep sighs to stave off the hammering in your heart that little bit longer.

You didn't know how to do any of this. It had been a long time since you properly dated - Could this even be called a date? - and whilst there was no pressure and minimal expectation, you still felt the familiar bubble of nerves in your belly.

You'd texted back and forth from the day Joel gave him your number. You had one anxious phonecall to talk it out, a call that became both easier and harder the longer it went on. When it was over, Joel made you come on his fingers, before sliding the tip of his cock into your mouth for you to quickly swallow down his come. It seemed Joel was coming quicker and quicker lately, and you can't say you blamed him.

There was a knock at the door just as you took your next deep, calming, breath, and you choked on it as it was halfway down, making you cough and splutter for a second as you gasped in air.

Opening the door, it was clear to see he was as nervous as you.

It had felt awkward at first, and you briefly thought about running to the bathroom and calling Joel. Then you'd caught him looking at you, raking his eyes down your body, making him blush when his eyes caught yours, sparkling with laughter. He smiled at you sheepishly, and you openly dragged your own eyes across his body in return, his legs spread and arm thrown back on the couch, and that was the tension broken.

You both spent a long hour on the sofa of Joel's living room, ignoring the TV as you talked, working your way closer and closer to him, short touches getting longer and longer until his hand was resting on your knee. You'd made the first move, shutting him up with a kiss as he talked animatedly about a movie he'd watched with his nephew. It hadn't taken long for your clothes to be discarded around the living room and for you to be dragging Andrew up the stairs to Joel's bedroom.

He hesitated for a moment, asking if this was really okay, if you really wanted it, if Joel really wouldn't mind, before succumbing to his own desires and falling into bed with you. You had forgotten what it was like to get to know a new body, and to have unfamiliar hands on yours.

Still, it felt good, and fumbling hands quickly brought you to your first release of the night.

His tongue, and a quick look downward to the foreign face between your legs, had brought you to your second.

You tried to hold back your disappointment when he covered his cock with a condom. You understood, as much as you disliked it, and you didn't try to convince him otherwise.

Your third had been around his cock as it pumped in and out of you, the curve dragging across your walls in a way Joel's didn't.

You couldn't take a fourth, and he was coming into the condom inside you with your nails raking down his back just as it all started becoming too much.

He had held you afterward, talking and laughing into your mouth as you let your hands wander over one another until the early hours of the morning.

You couldn't wait for Joel to get home.

His truck is pulling into the driveway, replacing where Andrew's had been the night before. You run to the door, throwing yourself at him as soon as it clicks open to reveal his beautiful face.

You kiss him all over - his plush lips, the curve of his nose, the crinkles by his eyes as he laughs at you and tells you to calm down.

“Someone missed me,” he says, thinking how lucky he is to come home to you. You didn't live here, not yet, but he loved how you'd worn down his torn edges and leaked into every part of his life, slotting into the gaps he'd left for you to inhabit.

“Always,” you mumble, still dotting kisses all over him. He finally finds your mouth again, calming you with a deep kiss and sturdy hands, pressing you up against his warm body. He tastes like coffee, even this late in the day, and the bitter familiarity of it stirs something in your belly.

When he pulls back, he's searching your face, looking for any trace of worry, any upset that he may have to deal with. Finding nothing but unbridled joy, he smiles softly, throwing his keys onto the table by the door, the other still kept firmly wrapped around you.

“You have a good night without me?”

A laugh tumbles out of you. You're glad he asked so soon, having been eager to tell him all about it since the moment Andrew left. Still, you can't help but grin at the memory of Andrew and your evening wrapped up in Joel's sheets with him.

“I did.”

“S’good,” he says, knowing that the smiling tearing across your face is for more than just him. He's curious, painfully so, at what another man could've been doing with you to make you so happy. He wishes he could've been there to see it first hand.

“He make you come?” he asks, pulling you along to the couch with you still folded into his arms. You nod, the grin already hurting your cheeks, glad to let Joel know of the fun you had.

“S’good baby, so good.”

He kisses you again before he sits down, pulling you on top of him to straddle his thighs. His hands are roaming all over you, tracing the same trails over you that Andrew's had. The stroke of his fingers drag goosebumps across your flesh as he scrapes them down your hips to rest heavily on your legs.

Pushing his hands firmer into your thighs, you make him hold you tighter, relishing the feeling of his hands being back on you. Andrew had been hesitant to hold you at first, tentative to mark you or grip you too tight. Joel's hands were sure and steady, they knew you in ways that Andrew's were only just starting to know. The new and the old, you were excited for both.

“His hands feel different, baby?”

Joel's cupping your breasts now, gently squeezing and running thumbs over your nipples, making you arch into him with a soft whine. “Yes. Yours are bigger.”

Your hips start to move, first with the arch of your back as you push into his hands, but then with the realization there's a distinct hard shape below you, covered by the rough fabric of his jeans.

"Grind on me baby, that's it. I know your pussy's been all used up, but Daddy needs somethin' too."

“I need it too Daddy.”

“Y’always do baby. Always do.”

You're rocking your hips into him, his hardening erection pressing into your core through the thick denim. His hands reach under your shirt, dragging the fabric up as he moves, exposing your breasts and immediately capturing a nipple in his mouth with a scrape of his teeth.

"What did you like about him? What made you come the hardest baby?"

"His tongue. Uhhh. Came so hard on his tongue, Daddy."

“Oh fuck, I bet he ate this pussy nice and good.” His fingers are tickling up the legs of your shorts, stroking the sensitive apex of your thighs as you rock your body over him.

“You like his cock?” Joel finally asks, curiosity winning over his patience. The question makes you smile, your closed eyes helping you picture the shape of it all over again.

“Yes, Daddy. It was so pretty.”

Joel holds back a laugh. He'd been taken aback when you'd first called his own cock pretty, and when you'd explained in detail what you meant, he understood. If anything, it sparked a new found appreciation for his own dick that he didn't know he could have. If you loved it as much as you did then, damn, it must be pretty. It was no less funny now that you were using the same word to describe another man's cock. If he wasn't so pent up, he'd have you sit here and describe every little thing you liked about it too, but right now he needed to be inside you. He'd held himself back from coming at the thought of you two fucking in his bed last night, and he couldn't hold off any longer.

“That's so good baby. A pretty cock for my pretty girl.”

Joel talking about Andrew's cock makes your head spin in the best way. You lean forward and latch your lips to his just for another surface to find purchase on and stop you drifting off into space.

“Did he come too?”

It's a stupid question, Joel knows this, but one he wanted to hear the answer to anyway. There was something about his girl getting another man off that made pride swell inside him, pumping his cock up to near impossible levels of hardness.

You moan a yes into his mouth as you rub your cunt over the zipper if his jeans. His own fingers trail higher, making you pause your grinding as his index finger finds your hole, dipping in with ease at the excess moisture gathered there.

“He come in here?”

You bite your lip.

“Not like that."

Disappointment flickers across your face, and Joel sees it, well versed in the telltale twitch of your brow as you fight off a frown. He'll press the issue more later, you know, but for now he has one goal in mind.

“You suck his dick?”

“A little bit.”

Joel groans then, bucking up into you at the admission. Knowing his own mouth had been on yours, right where Andrew's cock had been not too long ago was sending him into a frenzy - he needs to calm down or get inside you, and quickly. He pulls you up and off of him, needing more than the heat of your cunt grinding in him over so many layers, and unzips his jeans, pulling out his weeping cock. He's so hard he almost feels bruised. It's okay, he reasons, he knows the perfect thing to ease an aching cock.

Pulling you back over him, he tugs down your shorts and panties, drawing them to the side so he can hook his cock through the gusset, trapping his bare cock against your bare pussy.

You could almost cry feeling his skin on yours and you want to claw your clothes off just to feel more of him on you. You know there's probably not time - Joel's cock is red and angry and it already feels so hot against your dripping slit. You'll have to make do with later, for now you'll just take him any way you can get him.

“Can I sit on it, Daddy? Please?” You plead with him, eyes pointlessly begging when you already know the answer.

“Rub that juicy pussy all over me first baby, gotta get it wet. I know you're all stretched out already, but I don't wanna hurt you.”

Your hips buck, sliding your cunt easily over his length, coating him in your arousal. His cock drags against your clit, jerking the sensitive bundle of nerves with each roll of your hips.

Your patience doesn't last long, and choosing to ask for forgiveness later rather than permission now, you waste no time in lifting yourself up, pushing his cock head to line up with your hole, and sinking down smoothly onto his rock hard length.

“Ohhhh, Daddy,” you groan as you take him to the root in one.

“Oh, shit, atta girl. Good fuckin' girl.” His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush to him. You fall forward, steading yourself on his shoulders. When his lips capture yours, you let out a moan, opening your mouth to the plundering of his tongue.

“Needed this so fuckin' bad, baby,” he grunts into your mouth, thrusting up now to prompt you to move. You start to rock on him, his cock sliding against a spongy spot on your inner walls, dragging back and forth over it in a way that makes your bottom lip quiver.

“Need you, Daddy.”

"Rock on me baby. Want you comin' on my cock before I fill you up."

“Oh, god, please.”

You'd gone without it from Andrew last night, and now all you could think about was being filled with Joel's cum.

You let your hips rock forward, the drag of your clit against the hair on his pubic bone pulling a sigh of relief from you as you move. He kept it trimmed short, all the more for you to grind against when you took him deep. It won't be long until you're falling apart over him, your brain had already been half way there before he'd even got through the door.

You rock faster, screwing your eyes shut as your moans get more desperate.

“Daddy, please.”

He knows what you need, he always does. He holds you tight in one arm, planting his other on your ass to encourage you on and on with your movements. You come with him whispering words of encouragement into your ear, shaking and stuttering on his lap, slick gushing around his cock and coating every glorious inch of him.

The remnants of your orgasm are still shuddering through you when he's pulling you to the side, keeping his cock seated deep in you, to lay you back on the couch. From this angle he can fuck into you on his terms, keep you covered and protected with his entire body as he claims your pussy.

He pulls his hips back, the head of his cock coming to rest just at your entrance, before sliding home. You squeal, gripping hold of his arms tightly as he sets a brutal pace fucking into you. Before Joel you're not sure you ever really knew what full meant. At this very moment, in this room, you didn't know what anything meant anymore as he fucked you with a determination that sent you stupid.

You can't help the loud moans that come from your mouth with each thrust of Joel's hips, the wet slap of his skin against yours rattling through your bones and echoing in your empty head.

“Talk to me,” he gasps into your ear. “Talk to me baby.”

“C-can’t Daddy. S’too- s'too good.”

He slows, hips still snapping into yours, but with a force that actually allows you to catch your breath. Not that you wanted to. You were ready to scream for him, but Joel wants more words from you than the shrill cries he'd have otherwise been tearing from your chest.

Joel lathes his tongue down your neck, tracing the faint marks Andrew had left on you. He sucks and nips on them, trying to taste him on you.

“You're so beautiful baby,” he praises. “All fucked out and used up and so fuckin' beautiful.”

"Mm. He was so good, Daddy. Felt so, so good."

You feel fuzzy thinking about it, and fuzzier still with the feeling of Joel's bare cock moving in you. You snap your eyes closed again, gripping Joel's thick arms tightly. His mouth is close to your ear. You can feel it. His breathing is loud, the smell of coffee and clean hair and Joel taking over your senses.

"You want his cum in you, don't you? Come on, no lying now. I know you do, it's okay. Tell me. Saw your face when I asked, baby. Need to hear it."

"Yes, Daddy," you whine into his neck. "I want his cum in me so bad."

Joel's heart hammers in his chest, his balls are so tight they could burst, but he's determined to last longer this time. He's waited two days for you, for this. All week he'd been coming in what felt like seconds, unable to keep the thought of your weekend activities out of his mind. He was worse than a damn teenager.

"I could be fucking it deeper into you right now. My dick would be covered in it. Could have it dripping off my balls. You'd lick it off and clean me up, wouldn't you baby?"

"Please."

You would, and you wished for nothing more than to be doing that right now. The need for it makes your eyes water, and Joel spots the signs, quickly capturing a small tear with the pad of his thumb.

“S’okay sweetheart. We'll get you filled up.”

His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly to him as pounds into you, whispering filthy promises in your ear before you finally get your fill. It doesn't take him long, relishing in the sounds of your moans in his ears, the pretty sounds of you begging for him, needing your Daddy so much you were crying for it. He whispers right back to you, telling you how much of a good girl you are, how beautiful you look when you're desperate, how much Andrew must have wanted you to have come to another man's house, to have fucked you in another man's bed, how very much he loves you, and you're his, you're his, you're his.

Your combined voices egging each other on and the wet grip of your cunt get him there, pulling him into you and painting your insides with his cum. Swollen lips find yours, and you swallow down his grunts as he jerks into you.

You feel warmed from the inside out when Joel finally looks at you again, taking your head in his hands and kissing you softly.

"Missed you," he mumbles into your mouth, and the warmth in your bones melts them, turning you to liquid right there on the couch.

"Missed you too, Joel."

Joel slips out from between your legs, stuffing a hand between you to quickly pull the fabric of your panties and shorts over your dripping center. He cups you there, holding you gently, soaking through your panties and shorts with cum as it leaks out of you. With his hand still between you, he rests his sweaty forehead against yours, letting your hands stroke soothing patterns up and down his back

A loud gurgle breaks the comfortable silence, and you both laugh. It was late in the day, neither of you had eaten but both had worked up quite the appetite.

"I made lasagna," you say, Joel's weight shifting off of you, removing the shroud of his body from over the top of yours. You'd spent half the day making it, needing something to keep you occupied as you waited for Joel to come back from his work trip.

Sitting back on the sofa, he assesses your relaxed form - legs still spread, dark patch forming on the front of your panties from your combined fluids leaking out of you, lips swollen and eyes glassy.

"S'perfect," he says, and you're not entirely sure he's talking about the food.

You'd eaten dinner together, finally peeling yourselves apart when the 40 minute timer had gone off. Afterwards, Joel had taken you upstairs, spotting the same sheets that were on his bed when he left you here on Saturday morning. You go to change them, cursing yourself for the oversight, but he tells you to leave it, pulling you in for a kiss before dragging you into the shower with him. You fall asleep soundly in his sheets that night, the smell of you and him and Andrew mingled together on the soft linens.

Joel, however, can't sleep. He can't get your face out of his head - the twitch in your eyebrow, the tear escaping your eye with how much you wanted something you didn't get. He knows you - he knows you would never ask, never make that kind of request of anyone. But he is not you.

So, at some time gone 11, cradling your sleeping form in one arm, he pulls out his phone.

Joel M. (11:13 p.m.): You seeing anyone else?

A. (11:20 p.m.): What?

Joel M. (11:21 p.m.): Are you fucking anyone other than my girl.

A. (11:21 p.m.): No.

Joel M. (11:28 p.m.): Good. Get tested. If you're gonna fuck her, you're gonna fuck her properly. She's on birth control, so no more of that condom shit.

A. (11:32 p.m.): You sure? She okay with it?

Joel M. (11:32 p.m.): She wants it. Too damn nice to ask for it.

Joel M. (11:33 p.m.): Just get yourself tested. Let me know the results.

Somewhere in an apartment across town, Andrew is rubbing a hand over his face, not quite believing his luck but not quite knowing what he's got himself into.

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